by Calia Read
Pretty detailed—and accurate—description. But I wasn’t giving Étienne the pitiful expression. Right? Because that would mean I felt something for Étienne besides barely contained indifference.
“Would you rather have me glare at you like before?”
“I would prefer that over your pity any day.”
“It’s not pity I felt.”
His piercing eyes meet mine. “Then what?”
“I feel… I feel…” I can’t think straight with him impatiently waiting for my reply. “Pity implies that I feel sorry for your misfortune, and on some level, I suppose that’s right, but what I feel is pain.”
“Pain,” Étienne repeats, skeptically.
“Yes, pain,” I say curtly, because just as Étienne hates being vulnerable, so do I. “Pain that your whole family had to go through that. Nathalie and Livingston? I like them. They’re good people. And you?” I peruse him carefully. “You’re not all bad.”
“Thank you. I think,” he says, straight-faced.
I reach out to give his strong shoulder a reassuring squeeze, yet stop short at the last second. He probably wouldn’t react well to my sympathy. My hands fall to my sides as we walk in total silence.
“You didn’t deserve what happened,” I say, breaking the silence.
He dips his head in acknowledgment, and that’s the end of the conversation.
We reach Belgrave, and Nat rushes out the front door. “Where have you two been?”
Étienne steps forward and answers before I can. “We took a walk.”
Nat stops and stares, her eyes volleying between us. “Oh, I see,” she says, although it’s clear she doesn’t. “Was it… a pleasant walk?”
“God, Nat, we simply walked down the driveway. No one was harmed.” He looks at me from the corner of his eye and smirks. “Although Serene did handle my pocket knife.”
My stomach dips. That smile is going to be the death of me.
I quickly step into the conversation. “Other than that, it was a great walk.”
The two of us walk into the house, leaving a confused Nat on the front porch to untangle our words.
“THERE YOU ARE!”
I lift my head from the book in front of me and find Nat standing in the doorway. “Have you been looking for me?”
“Yes.” Nat flounces into the sun-room and sits in the wicker chair across from me.
“Where did you think I was?”
She shrugs a bony shoulder and smooths her dress around her knees. “I don’t know. You’ve been preoccupied lately. I feel as though I never see you anymore.”
Two weeks have passed since my talk with Étienne in the woods. I grabbed a paper from Étienne’s office a week ago and kept a tally dating back to when I first arrived on April 12th all the way to now, Friday, May 3rd. I’m inching closer to the one-month marker. The unnerving part is not the fact that I’m no closer to finding a way to go home, it’s that I’m growing more comfortable in this time. The fear and anxiety that clung to me when I first arrived are becoming hazy, and it has everything to do with one person.
Étienne.
Every night after dinner, we meet in his office and answer each other’s questions about our own times. In fact, we talk about anything and everything. I now know that Livingston’s name is their mom’s maiden name and that their grandparents on their father’s side spoke strictly French to them because they didn’t want them to forget where they came from. I discovered that Étienne’s middle name is Alexandre and when he was a child, he got so frustrated over people mispronouncing his name that he insisted on being called Alex. Although that only lasted for a few weeks. He had a love/hate relationship with school because he liked the challenge but hated being told what to do. (No surprise there.)
He told me he’d broken his nose twice. The first time he was ten, and when he was roughhousing with Livingston and Asa, his brother accidentally elbowed him in the nose. The second time was in college when he got into a fight with a fellow student.
In return, I told him that my brothers’ nickname for me was Se. I confessed that my brothers Ian and Bradley explained to me that the best way to defend yourself against a guy is to knee him in the coin purse and that my brother Ian demonstrated by kicking Bradley in the nuts. He dropped to the ground quicker than a sack of potatoes.
That led us into a funny conversation where I explained slang and sayings from my time. He didn’t get pale or all huffy. Quite the opposite. That night was the first time I saw Étienne laugh genuinely from his gut.
I confessed that sometimes I get overwhelmed with all the aspects of running a business. I told him that my favorite finds for my store are pictures because they are a portal to the past. (In my case, literally.)
We talk about it all except for two crucial aspects of our lives: my fiancé and the wife I replaced.
At the tail end of each of these conversations, we attempt to figure out ways for me to go back to my own time, but those discussions are short and sweet because we’re honestly both in the dark when it comes to the actual reason why I’m here.
Last night, after I finished explaining all the things Microsoft Word can do, we got down to work. For the millionth time, we went over his closest friends and family while I did my best to think of every living and distant relative in my family. The only difference was that this time, we wrote each name down with the intent of cross-referencing them. We stared at those lists until I went cross-eyed, but we found no links.
He’s coming around to the idea that perhaps it was him that brought me back through time, but I can tell he isn’t all too thrilled with the idea. My gut is telling me to look closer at the people he works with. Specifically, Asa Calhoun.
I haven’t mentioned him since our walk, although I still stand by what I said. Something is off about him. Something that’s screaming at me that he could be a potential danger.
“What have you been doing?” Nat asks.
I look at the book in my hands and use it as my excuse. “Reading.”
Nat peers at the cover. “Directory of the City of Charleston.” She’s quiet for a moment, her brows forming a tight V. “What possessed you to read that?”
I scramble to come up with a reasonable explanation. “I saw it in Étienne’s library, and my curiosity got the best of me.” Not true. Étienne had a copy at his office and brought it home for me.
“You despise readin’ unless it’s one of your coveted magazines.”
“You’re right. I’m not the biggest fan of reading,” I lie. “But I’m trying to broaden my horizons. Discover more about the town I’ve grown up in.”
“About the town you’ve grown up in, you say?”
I nod.
“What has gotten into you?” Nat asks in her jovial tone, but I hear the suspicion in her words.
“Nothing.” I give her what I hope is my most reassuring smile, hoping it will put her mind to rest.
It doesn’t.
She taps a nail against her lip, staring at me speculatively. “No, you’ve been very peculiar lately.”
“Oh?” My shoulders stiffen. I close the directory. “How so?”
“For starters, your demeanor.”
“My demeanor?” I repeat.
“Yes.” Nat crosses her legs and leans against the throw pillow to her left. “You’ve always been… oh, what’s the word?”
“A bitch?”
Nat looks momentarily shocked, but the expression quickly dissolves and is replaced with a smile. “No, silly goose. That’s not what I meant at all.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“You’ve severed all communication with your friends. You rarely go shopping. You haven’t spoken about having a soirée in weeks. It’s almost as though you’re a different person.”
Nat is a sweet, naive girl. But she isn’t stupid, and I need to throw her off the trail. She’s getting too close to the truth.
“We need to spend some time together,” I blurt.
&nb
sp; Nat’s brows lift in surprise. Then she jumps up and claps. “I agree!”
I place the directory on the table in front of me and make a note to myself that I’ll look through it tonight. “What do you have in mind?”
A slow, devious smile spreads across her lips. “How adventurous are you feeling today?”
Within seconds, I’m sitting up straight in the chair. All I heard was the word adventurous, and I’m hooked. “Very.”
Nat smirks. “Good. Now follow me.”
“ARE YOU READY?”
I grip the handlebars tightly and look at my feet resting on the ground. This isn’t my first time riding a bike. I practically lived on one as a kid. Growing up out in the country gave my brothers and me hours to explore the property. We created our own paths and used our imaginations as much as possible.
But that was with a bike not considered a relic in my time.
At a few auctions, I’ve seen this bike. It’s a Raleigh All Steel Lady’s bicycle. It’s possible to find some that are well-preserved, but most times they’re in bad shape. This one is in pristine condition. The tires are white, and the rims and cranks are all steel. Nat’s bike has a wicker basket attached to the front.
I point at it. “What’s the basket for?”
She glances at it and smiles proudly. “This spring, I plan on going out in the woods and collecting flowers.”
“Ah. I see.”
“I know that’s not somethin’ you enjoy. But who doesn’t want fresh flowers in their room?”
I smile and bite my tongue. “So what are we going to do today?”
“Explore,” she says before she sets off down the drive.
Like everything else from this time, my mind whispers, You’re touching a piece of history.
It’s more than overwhelming. I force myself to place one foot on the pedal and push against the ground with the other. I find myself smiling as I pedal after Nat. Right when I think I’ve caught up with her, she lifts herself off her seat and speeds down the drive.
“Come on, Serene!” she shouts as she looks over her shoulder and grins at me.
Unable to back down from a challenge, I furiously pedal. The wind whips through my hair, destroying all of Hannah’s handiwork. It feels like freedom, and from the burst of laughter from Nat, I know she’s experiencing the same emotion. That moment stands out to me because it’s the first time I’ve had an actual glimpse into how most women feel in this era. From their clothing to daily choices, everything is restricted. When the opportunity for independence strikes, they happily take it. If I could show Nat a small glimpse into my world, how would she react to all the freedom at her disposal?
I pick up the pace until I’m directly behind Nat, then she abruptly stops. Her back tire sprays gravel onto the grass, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She looks over her shoulder at me and gestures for me to come closer.
“We have to be careful,” she says solemnly.
“Why?”
“Because technically, where I’m taking you is no longer Lacroix property.” She places a foot on one of the pedals and points toward the right. “It’s down here.”
Down here looks like absolutely nothing. But I don’t say anything and quietly follow. At this point, I’m more curious than anything.
We weave in and out of the trees. Twigs snap beneath our tires. There’s no gravel, just a small dirt track that bounces me around on my seat so hard I almost fall off a few times. The narrow ribbon of a trail extends beyond us, seeming to go on for miles.
Étienne has told me that Belgrave Plantation was originally run by his mother’s family. When his parents were married, his father took over. Years later, he wisely sold off his share of the sugar plantation until all they owned were two hundred acres instead of the original thousand.
We break out of the wooded area into a field where the sun shines brightly on us. No one has bothered to cut the grass, so it’s turned into thick weeds so tall they graze my handlebars. Ahead of me, Nat hums an unfamiliar tune, utterly unfazed by her surroundings.
Not me. Even though I’m growing more comfortable in this time, I still gawk at my surroundings. It’s as if I’ve lived in a bunker for the past ten years and this is my first time stepping outside. The stark contrast between this time and my own is so powerful, I can’t help but take everything in. I quickly get overwhelmed, but right here, with the insects chirping and the beautiful scenery, I feel as if I could lean against a live oak tree, organize all my thoughts, and take a deep breath.
Nat gestures to the open space around us. “This area used to be where the slave houses were. The buildings were torn down a few years ago.”
“Ah-ha,” I say. That explains the random cluster of trees spread through the land. In the middle of the clearing is a large building that’s practically falling apart. I point at it. “What’s that?”
“The old general store.”
“A general store? Wow.”
“That was before the Civil War,” she says quietly.
I nod in understanding. “Before most plantations collapsed.”
She smiles grimly. “Precisely.”
“Who owns this property now?”
Nat shrugs. “I’m not sure. Daddy sold off this land years and years and years before I was born. That would be something Étienne would know. He knows everything about Belgrave. Both of my brothers do. Livingston may not show it, but they were both raised to know everything about the family business.”
“Yet it fell on Étienne’s shoulders.”
Nat muses over my words. “I don’t think it fell upon him. It was natural. It’s clear that he’s the responsible one between him and Livingston.”
“I would’ve never guessed,” I tease.
She smiles. Right then, I have the strongest urge to talk about the parallel between Nat’s siblings and mine. But I can’t. It still makes no sense why my brothers aren’t here. They should be, but I can’t help but wonder—if they were, would they be same men I know and love? Or perhaps they would be caricatures. Maybe it’s better they aren’t here.
“We’re here!” she announces.
I’ve been so wrapped up in our conversation that I stopped paying attention to our surroundings and failed to notice the creek to my right. Marsh grass lines the murky waters and disappears beneath a solidly built deck. From here, I can see that on the opposite side of the creek is a rope dangling from a tree, showing that this once was a location the Lacroix kids frequently visited.
“This is great!” I say as I get off my bike.
Nat practically glows from my praise. She all but skips toward the deck. “I know Étienne has never taken you here, but you seemed so spiritless at home, and I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask you to come with me.
“I love it. This is exactly what I needed.”
She stops on the deck and turns around. “There’s only one thing.”
“What?” I ask as I take off my shoes.
“I didn’t bring my suit.” Nat stomps her foot. “I was so excited about coming here, I forgot it!”
I shrug and take off my stockings one at a time. “Who cares? You have undergarments on, don’t you?”
Nat turns beet red before she nods. She may be progressive for her time, but there are still lines she’s afraid to cross.
“Great.” I toss my stockings over one shoulder and move toward the dock. “Then you can swim.”
Nat’s mouth hangs open like a codfish’s. She looks around as though we’re surrounded by people and whispers, “That’s scandalous.”
“It’s no big deal.”
And it’s true. The layers of clothes beneath our dresses are more than I’d wear on a cold winter day. How would Nat react if she saw the bathing suits women wear in my time? Probably have a stroke.
“I’m sweating like a whore in church, and I know you are too. Now, we did not come all the way here only to go back home all because of some bathing suit. We deserve to be in that water, Nat,” I say emphatica
lly.
A wistful expression crosses her face. Sweat around her hairline drips down her face. She glances between the water and me, and I know that my passionate—and borderline dramatic—speech is getting to her.
“Are you in or out?” I ask.
She pulls her gaze away from the water, a look of determination in her eyes. For a fleeting moment, she looks identical to Étienne. “I’m in.”
Without waiting for my reply, she turns her back and starts to undress. To make her feel more comfortable, I do the same. I sigh with relief when the air touches my skin, and I turn toward Nat. Even though she’s wearing a slip over her corset and underwear, she crosses her arms self-consciously.
“Come on,” I cajole. “In this heat, you have to admit having all these layers off is not so bad.”
“It’s amazing.”
She smiles widely then surprises me by turning toward the sparkling water and running full speed down the dock. She tucks her legs close to her chest, tightly wraps her arms around her knees, and cannonballs into the water.
Some drops land on my warm skin, making me jump.
Seconds later, Nat’s head emerges from the water. She pushes her dark hair away from her face and cups both hands around her mouth.
“Jump in, Serene!”
I don’t have to be told twice. Copying Nat’s actions, I jump off the dock. I open my eyes while under the water, but it’s so murky I can barely see my hand in front of me. That doesn’t matter to me; the water feels amazing.
After a while of swimming and lying back so the sun can touch our faces, I glance at Nat. Since I met her, this is the first time I’ve seen her quiet. It’s hard to say how much time has passed. Minutes, hours, days? The outer world seems closed off from us, almost as if there’s a dome around the water. Even the animals in the woods are silent.
“Do you ever want something more out of life?” I lazily ask.
Nat lifts her head and glances at me, clearly perplexed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, do you want a life outside of Belgrave?”
“Oh…” Nat smiles knowingly before she tilts her head back, submerging her hair in the water. “I know what you’re doin’.”