The Surviving Trace (Surviving Time Series Book 1)

by Calia Read

  I’m so nervous that the security guard is waiting me out that I sit there until my butt is numb and the wet ground soaks my pants. I finally gather the courage to stand. Once again, my feet slide in the mud. This time, I instinctively grab onto the tree. The jagged edges dig into my skin, and it takes me a moment to gather my equilibrium. A memory of Étienne and me standing in these woods flashes through my mind. It’s there and gone before I can fully grasp it, but it prompts me to grab my flashlight and scan the tree. My breath becomes caught in my throat when I see the engraving:

  SERENE WAS HERE

  Choked laughter slips past my lips. Dropping my flashlight, I blindly trace the words. It’s still here. My eyes close and I rest my forehead against the bark. If this isn’t a sign, then I don’t know what is.

  Over and over, I trace the words with my fingertips. “You have to help me out here, Étienne. I need something more than this.”

  What do I expect? For him to come out of the woods and say, “Here I am”?

  God, I wish it was that simple. Lifting my head, I stare at the sky.

  “Give me something!” I yell, disregarding the fact that there’s a good chance the security guard will hear me.

  Let him.

  I don’t care anymore.

  “Anything!” In frustration, I throw my hands in the air before they land on the tree. “Because I’m close to giving up!”

  “We should probably go back. Dinner will begin soon,” I hear behind me.

  With a gasp, I whip around. There’s nothing behind me, but the words continue to echo in my ear. Vividly, I can imagine the night Étienne said that to me. The darkness of the night. The sound of the frogs in the distance and the smell of the fresh air. I picture the tree Étienne leaned against as he delivered those words. Gently, I place my hands back on the engraved words and close my eyes.

  Seconds go by, yet nothing happens. I feel ridiculous, but I still don’t move. The decaying house, the trees surrounding the property, and the soil Belgrave stand on are the only things I have left, and it’s not good enough. I drop to my knees.

  Like a car that’s run out of gas, I slowly drop my hands to my sides.

  I give up. There’s nothing left in me.

  Water seeps through my jeans, soaking my knees. But I don’t notice because a violent pain rips through my head. It feels as if my brain is being cut in half. Clutching the sides of my head, I close my eyes and try to breathe through the pain.

  Gravity becomes my enemy, pressing me forward until my forehead is almost touching the muddy ground. The blinding pressure in my head trickles down my body until it feels as though I’m going to blackout. My limbs become numb as I feel as if I’m sinking into the ground. My hands fall from my temples and land on the dirt in front of me. I dig my fingers in and remind myself to breathe; the pain can’t last forever. Can it?

  Miraculously, the suffering recedes with every breath I take until I have enough strength to open my eyes and lift my head from the ground.

  And when I do, I see the transformation happening around me. The pitch-black sky blends into a kaleidoscope of colors: dark gray, navy blue, blue-gray, then a pale purple before it settles on a bright sky blue. The raindrops pause all around me and reverse back into the clouds. One by one, the clouds draw back like curtains. The wet ground becomes dry. When I lift my head, I watch the tree limbs become coated in a healthy green. The dead grass that’s matted to the ground slowly rises. The wind stops, and the cold air becomes heavy with humidity. Suddenly, my coat and jeans are no longer necessary. The noise from the security guard has vanished.

  I take a deep breath. Carefully, I stand, and as quickly as the pain arrived in my head, it vanishes. My trek back toward the driveway is wrought with anxiety. I want to believe that I did it, that I’m back in his time, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.

  Cautiously, I move forward, telling myself this all might be a trick of the imagination. I step onto the driveway, and the packed dirt is covered in fresh gravel that’s recently been raked. The live oaks and Spanish moss serve as a canopy from the sun. The sparse grass circling the trees is trimmed, revealing that this property is lived in.

  I look toward Belgrave and stop short. No longer does the beautiful mansion stand in disrepair. The vines are gone. The stucco’s a fresh white. The windows aren’t broken in. The roof isn’t caving in. All four pillars stand proudly in the sunlight. It’s back to the grand home I best remember it.

  “Please don’t let this be a dream,” I whisper. “Please don’t let this be a dream.”

  I walk toward Belgrave, deliberately slow. It’s almost as though I’m creeping up on a feral animal and I don’t want to scare it away. I’m afraid to blink. Afraid that this beautiful image will dissipate into the sky.

  But the seconds tick by and the image remains. Confidence grows inside me, and I pick up my pace. Sweat trickles down my neck, so I take off my coat and blindly toss it to my left. I’ve run more in the past hour than I have in the past year, and my legs ache. Nevertheless, I find myself sprinting toward Belgrave.

  There’s a faint breeze behind me, and I swear it’s slowly pushing forward because time is also behind me. Its talons are reaching out, trying to sink into me and drag me to the present day. I resist with everything I have.

  I feel the moment it gives up. I hear the resounding sound of something that’s familiar to a door closing. I feel more stable, my footing more grounded.

  I’ve officially made it.

  When I reach the circular driveway, I stop. Panting, I place my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath. Seconds pass, and I lift my head. The circular driveway is well maintained. Water spouts in the fountain and the shrubs surrounding it are trimmed.

  And standing next to a Model-T parked in the driveway is Nat. She doesn’t see me because she’s too busy talking to some unknown girl. Nat’s dark hair is the same length, pulled back in a loose bun. A green velvet hat with an ostrich plume on one side is perched on her head. Even in this sweltering heat, she’s wearing a deep green sailor dress with three-quarter sleeves. The striped collar is loosely knotted. A striped belt is tied around her midsection, with a row of buttons traveling down the hem of the dress.

  Her friend is also primly dressed, only she has a white lace parasol perched on her left shoulder. A glove-clad hand slowly spins the umbrella.

  I take a moment to absorb the scene in front of me. I smile, then I laugh because I can’t believe I did it.

  I can’t believe I’m back.

  The sound pulls Nat out of her conversation. She turns in my direction, looks me up and down, and goes pale. Her mouth opens and closes at the same time her eyes widen.

  “Nat, it’s me!” I say excitedly.

  As I step forward, she walks back toward the front steps.

  “Étienne!” she shouts.

  Panic trickles up my spine. Does she not remember me? How much time has passed since I’ve been gone?

  “Étienne, you need to come outside. Now!”

  Then I hear him somewhere in the house. “What do you need?”

  Étienne! My heart all but sighs his name.

  “Come here!” Nat demands, her voice taking on a panicked note.

  I step closer. Immediately she steps away as if she sees a ghost.

  The front door opens and out walks Étienne. With the sunlight beaming down on me, I can only see his outline. Those broad shoulders and long legs. He’s distracted as he walks onto the porch, staring at a piece of paper in his hands. He’s changed since I’ve seen him last. He has a beard that makes him look more rugged, if that’s even possible. His hair is longer, almost touching his shoulders.

  He’s always had this wild energy, but now it seems untamable.

  His white dress shirt is unbuttoned at the collar. So is his navy vest. His clothing is the only thing that hints that he’s a man of social standing.

  I smile because I see that hasn’t changed.

  “Étienne,” I call. I
can’t take being this far away from him any longer.

  Immediately his head lifts. His eyes connect with mine, and my legs threaten to buckle. The color drains from his face. There’s a desperation and sadness in his eyes I’ve never seen before. I’ve dreamed about him, obsessed over him, ached for him, and now here he is. In flesh and blood. It physically hurts to see him.

  My mouth opens and closes, but not a sound escapes.

  The paper in his hands floats to the ground as he unhurriedly walks down the steps. His eyes never leave mine. Wordlessly, he brushes past his sister and the girl next to her. His footsteps are heavy. The sound blazes a trail to my heart and reminds me that I’m not dreaming this.

  But I won’t be one hundred percent convinced until I’m holding him.

  My body has a mind of its own and moves forward. Slowly at first, then I’m running toward Étienne. We crash into each other. My hands curl around his neck. My legs wrap around his hips. I bury my face into his neck and breathe him in.

  I’m back where I belong.

  “With each passing moment, I’m becoming part of the past. There is no future for me, just the past steadily accumulating.”

  ―Haruki Murakami, Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman

  “SERENE?” HE SAYS, his voice ragged.

  He pulls back and cradles my face in his large hand. My hair becomes a curtain around us. His eyes sweep over my features with an intensity that has my stomach in knots.

  At first, all I can do is nod. I find my voice, although it comes out hoarse. “It’s me.”

  Then he kisses me so hard, so swiftly, I feel the breath knocked out of me. I breathe in through my nose and twine my arms around his neck. Every lost conversation, every touch, every smile that we’ve missed by being apart is wrapped up in this kiss. No goodbye, hello, or I missed you.

  This kiss brings me back to life.

  I faintly hear a gasp, but I ignore the sound and drag my fingers through Étienne’s hair. This time around, I’m not so naive. I know that time is working to take us away from each other. And I think Étienne knows that too, because we hold each other desperately, frantically, the way a soldier holds a loved one before he deploys.

  He kisses me so deeply, I slowly become convinced that nothing will tear us apart. If that’s not the perfect kiss, then I don’t know what is.

  Moments pass before we break apart. With our foreheads touching, I ask, “How long have I been gone?”

  “Almost a month.”

  My heart sinks. Étienne slowly lowers me to the ground. I ignore the delicious feeling of his body against mine and ask him a question I’ve been dreading. “What’s today’s date?”

  “June 14th.”

  One day till the fire that takes the life of him and his sister. I’m confident the horror I feel is written across my face because Étienne watches me with concern.

  “Serene, what is it?”

  “I need to talk to you about something important.”

  “Serene, is it really you?” Nat asks as she walks up to us.

  Étienne turns, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulder and pressing me close to him.

  “When did you get back from Europe and why didn’t you tell me you were leavin’?”

  As Nat hurls hundreds of questions in my direction, I give Étienne a questioning glance. I’ve spent so much time trying to figure out how to get back to Étienne, I never stopped to think about what the reaction to my reappearance would be from his family and other people.

  “I had to explain your absence,” he murmurs in my ear. “You’ve been on vacation, traveling around Europe.”

  I nod and reluctantly step away from Étienne to hug Nat. “I’ve missed you,” I tell her.

  She stiffens for a second, apparently shocked by my honesty. But I formed an unlikely bond with her, and now I think of her as a close friend. I’ve genuinely missed our conversations.

  When I pull back, I smile. “I needed to get away. Had to take a breather. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I’m back now!”

  “Indeed you are.” Once again, she looks me up and down. “What are you wearing?”

  Nat and her friend are staring at my outfit with shock. Her friend looks close to passing out, but that could be from the layers of clothes she’s wearing.

  Glancing at my muddy jeans and sweater caked with dirt, I try to think of a good reason for my appearance. “I… uhh… took a walk. In the woods?”

  She frowns. “Why?”

  “The questions can wait until later, Nat,” Étienne interrupts. “She’s back, and that’s all that matters.” Étienne laces his fingers through mine and guides me toward the front porch.

  Ben opens the door and doesn’t blink twice at my attire. “Mrs. Lacroix, nice to see you again.”

  Étienne’s walking so fast that I have to look over my shoulder and give Ben a wave. “Nice to see you too!” Facing forward, I try to keep up and laugh. “Étienne, not so fast.”

  His strides are determined as he moves toward his office. He stops long enough to usher me inside, shuts the door, and locks it. When he faces me, he gives me a heart-stopping grin that turns my mind to mush. He cradles my face in his shaking hands and moves in to kiss me.

  As much as I would love to do just that, there are more pressing matters. I lean back and wrap my hands around his wrist. “I really need to talk to you.”

  He grins. “I was thinkin’ about something else entirely, but we can talk first.” He pulls back. “What is it that’s so important?”

  My mind is reeling, and my heart is beating like a drum. How can you gently tell someone you know how they will die, that you don’t know what will happen to the business they’ve worked so hard for, and who is behind the destruction? The answer is simple: you can’t. I just have to say it and get it over with.

  “I know what will happen to you,” I rush out.

  Étienne cocks his head to the side and stares at me. “What are you talkin’ about?”

  “While I was back in my time, I did some research on your family, and I know when you’ll die.”

  He crosses his arms and his smile disappears. “And when will that be?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Just as I expected, he doesn’t take the news well. Who would? His face goes pale, and his mouth opens and closes over and over, but no sound comes out. He paces his office, his hands on his hips. I watch him, feeling utterly helpless. Abruptly, he pivots and faces me. “How?”

  “You died in a fire,” I explain quietly. “So does Nat. Ten servants also passed away.”

  Étienne swallows and looks me in the eye. “And Livingston?”

  “He’ll die in 1915 during World War I.”

  Étienne softly curses and drags his hands through his hair. “What about my company? The shipping company?”

  “I-I don’t know. Belgrave went to auction, and Asa bought it for $30,000. He fell on hard times, so he sold it to an investment company that wanted to turn Belgrave into a luxury resort, but—”

  “Enough!” Étienne interrupts.

  His lips are pulled into a flat line as he breathes through his nose. I know I’ve dealt him a crushing blow. The death of his family members and decline of Belgrave is a lot to hear.

  I rush forward and block his path before he paces again. “I didn’t want to tell you this, believe me, but you need to know. There’s still a chance to stop it all from happening!”

  Étienne turns and looks at me. He doesn’t appear consoled by my words, only further enraged. “The last time we intervened with fate, you were ripped from my arms and taken back to your time!”

  “But tomorrow you’ll die.”

  “I don’t want to lose you again!”

  “So you’re willing to let you and your sister die instead?”

  Étienne swears softly and walks toward the window. His hands curl around the window frame as his shoulders slump forward.

  I walk up behind him, wrap my arms tightly around his waist, and rest my
cheek against his back. “I don’t want this to be your fate, or Nathalie’s either.”

  He turns in my arms. Leaning against the window, he wraps his arms around me, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe. My body perfectly fits against his.

  He rests his chin against the top of my head and sighs. “So what do we do?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “We do the right thing. We right a wrong and go from there.” I tilt my head back and look him in the eye. “Maybe things will be different this time around. Maybe I’ll stay.”

  “We both know that’s not true.”

  I know it’s not a matter of if I lose him, but when, and knowing that it’s out of my power is agonizing. I have no idea when or how I’ll be pulled back to my time, but I know it’s coming. I just don’t want to face the truth yet.

  “No matter what happens, I am yours,” I whisper fiercely. “And you are always mine. Nothing can change that.”

  “SO SHE’S BACK.”

  I turn my gaze away from the fire and glance at the doorway. Livingston stands there empty-handed, not a smile in sight.

  I down my drink and set the glass on the mantel. “She is.”

  Right now isn’t the time for Livingston to remind me she’s been gone for nearly a month and will probably leave again. Which, judging by the way he’s looking at me, is precisely what he’s going to do. I don’t want to hear it; today I was finally able to hold her again. For the first time since she left, I didn’t feel as though I was going crazy.

  It doesn’t matter that we’re doomed to never be together. To have a future. Right now, none of that matters.

  She’s back.

  “If you’re here to tell me there’s a chance she’ll leave, you’re wastin’ your breath.” I level him a look as I walk across the room and sit behind my desk. “I already know that she might.”

  Livingston laughs without happiness. “I figured as much.” With his hands tucked in his pockets, he walks into the room. “Are you going to tell her what’s happened since she’s been gone?”

  “I have to. Don’t I?”