by Calia Read
“Nothing,” I say before he can finish his sentence.
If Livingston expects that to be what helps me move on, he’s wrong. She’s the most beguiling woman I’ve ever met. Even when I despised her, a part of me was begging to understand her.
I more than loved her. She’s a religion, and I’m a believer. For the rest of my life, I’ll worship every single part of her.
I can’t stop wondering whether she has moved forward with her plans to marry Will. I shouldn’t obsess, yet my mind is fixed on the idea. Is he holding her right now? Kissing her? Touching her?
The idea makes me clench my fists.
How much time has passed for her?
Hours?
Days?
Weeks?
Will she give up on coming back to me and marry Will as the second-best option? God, I hope not. There’s a strong possibility she could time travel again. Although she was only here for two months, she’s had a lasting effect on my life. Hell, on my entire family.
“Come on.” Livingston pats my shoulder. “Let’s go inside.”
I don’t put up a fight and quietly follow him back inside.
“We’ll speak later. All right?” Livingston says.
I can read between the lines—the conversation about Serene is not over.
“For the time being, you need to try to take your mind off of her. You have more pressing matters to focus on.”
Finally, something we can agree on. I head back toward my office. “Are you stayin’ while I speak with him?”
“Of course. I want to hear his excuse.”
Just thinking about the betrayal has my anger boiling. “Me too, me too.” I call, “Ben!”
Within seconds, he’s in front of me. “Yes, Mr. Lacroix?”
“I have a colleague arriving shortly. Please direct him to my office.”
“Yes, sir.”
My footsteps echo throughout the foyer as I walk toward my office. The silence in the house never used to bother me. In fact, I enjoyed it. That was before Serene. She added color to my black-and-white life. She was a storm during a long drought. I know without a doubt that if she were still with me, right now she would be having a lively conversation with Nat. Every few minutes, their laughter would reverberate through whatever room they were in and travel throughout the halls.
I enter my office and look at the ledger one more time. I’ve lost count of the number of times I poured through it. Days ago, Livingston admitted to me that he’d caught Serene sneaking out of Asa’s office the night of the dinner party. She was carrying the ledger. All this time she had her suspicions, and I never gave them a passing thought. I should’ve though because my company is suffering. Thousands of dollars of company funds have disappeared into the hands of an employee I trusted.
Lacing my fingers behind my head, I mull over Asa’s behavior recently. He’s been distant at work and easily distracted. There have been quite a few times he’s been late to work, and when I ask where he’s been, he always gives a weak excuse.
I’ve waited days to speak with him, but I can wait no longer. Time to sort this out. If I can make it to the end of this meeting without causing the man bodily harm, all the better.
Manners are embedded in me, but I stay seated as he walks into my office. He shakes my hand and smiles. “Étienne, this is an unexpected time to have a meeting.”
“Indeed it is. But the matter is urgent.” I gesture to one of the seats across from my desk. “Please have a seat.”
“Is something wrong?” he asks, concern coating his words.
There’s no easy way to approach this subject. Might as well get straight to the point. I open up the two ledgers in front of me before I turn my attention to him.
“I’ve been pouring over the books, and I’ve noticed some inconsistencies.”
He arches a brow. “Inconsistencies on my part?”
“It appears that way.”
He leans forward and tries to peer at the ledgers on my desk. “That’s impossible. I go over the numbers multiple times before I write them down.”
“I do not disagree with you on that.”
The weight of my words and their meaning sinks in for him. Arching a single brow, he sits up straight in his chair. He knows he’s been caught.
I open the drawer to my left and pull out another ledger. My ledger. “I may not have the skill with numbers that you have, but I also didn’t get this far in life by being an imbecile. I have my own record book so that I can cross-reference all the numbers with my own. These errors, for lack of a better word, on your part would’ve been discovered sooner rather than later.”
I slide all the ledgers across the desk. His eyes volley back and forth between the three books.
After a few seconds, he lifts his eyes to meet mine. “I apologize. I’d never knowingly let something like this happen.”
Liar.
He’s a fucking liar. I want to tell him just that, but I hold back. My father taught me many things, and one of them was never to let my displeasure show while stakes are high. Right now, I need to appear calm and in control.
“What did you plan to achieve by doing this?” I ask.
He leans back in his chair and rests a foot on his knee. He appears calm and in control, but his body language screams, uneasy and fidgety.
“I know what you’re accusing me of, but you’re going to have to try a lot harder to intimidate me.”
“Intimidate you?” I frown. “I would never do that. However, when someone mishandles funds in my company, I’m going to become concerned. So enlighten me. Tell me what happened.”
“Nothing happened. I’ve simply made some minor errors.”
“Minor errors over the past few weeks?” I challenge.
“As I said, I pride myself on double-checking my numbers. It’s clear that at one point I didn’t, and that one time has made the numbers wrong.”
His answer makes sense, but my gut is telling me he’s not telling the whole truth. Deception can be simple to spot. Body language says it all, and right now, he’s fidgeting. His left leg is bouncing, and he keeps lacing and unlacing his fingers.
“This is more than that,” I say. “Bank deposits are taking longer than usual, and there have been duplicate payments listed. Having an error or two is understandable. This is not.”
I wait to hear what his excuse will be, but he says nothing. He’s run out of charm and justifications, and now I’m seeing the real him. He remains quiet for a few seconds before he clears his throat. “I don’t know what to tell you, Étienne.”
“That’s fine because I know what to tell you. I’m gonna have to let you go.”
His eyes widen in shock. His leg slips from his knee and drops to the floor. “Because of one simple mistake?”
“Honestly? No. One mistake is logging the incorrect amount. What you’ve done is more than a mistake.”
His cheeks turn a fiery red. The color spreads across his face and down his neck. It’s hard to say whether he’s embarrassed or enraged. “I’ve been with this company for the past six years.”
“I know, and that’s what makes this even harder.”
“Étienne,” he says slowly, “in my opinion, this one mistake is hardly—”
“I’m not paying you for your opinion,” I cut in quietly. “I’m paying you to do a job and do it thoroughly.” I tap the paperwork. “You’ve proven that you’re not capable of that job.”
I stare him down, waiting for his next move. Is he going to apologize? Or perhaps he’ll suddenly become remorseful and claim to never repeat this mistake?
He does neither of those things. His eyes bore into me with a fierceness that can only come from hate. All this time I’ve thought he was my friend, and I’m seeing now that it was all a ruse.
“It’s time for you to leave,” I say, trying to keep my anger constrained. I want nothing more than to reach across my desk and wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze with all my might.
Wit
h a heavy sigh, he curls his hands around the armrests as he hefts himself up. His body language is blasé as he makes his way toward the office door. You’d think we’d just played a round of pool rather than me firing him. Before he leaves, he stops and turns, giving me a chilling smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes and then walks out the door.
Closing my eyes, I hang my head and breathe deeply through my nose. I stand and stop in the middle of my office. Before I met with him, I was considering whether I should gather all the evidence against him and hand it over to the police. Now I know, without a doubt, that that’s precisely what I’ll be doing.
I glance at the calendar on the wall next to my desk. June 13th. First thing tomorrow, I’ll go to the police.
If only Serene were here. I’m a prideful man, but I would gladly admit to her that she was right. Someone in my inner circle was out to get me. Knowing her, she’d probably celebrate being right and that the entire ordeal is over. But it’s not over, because she’s not here.
I inch toward one of the windows that overlooks Belgrave property.
Time is what brought us together, and it will break us apart. I’m far from patient, but for Serene, I’ll wait for the rest of my life if I have to.
She will come back to me.
WHEN I ARRIVE back at the hotel, it’s close to four in the morning. I’m dirty, exhausted, and deflated.
The employees behind the front desk aren’t as perky and welcoming as Karen and give me wary glances as I walk past them.
In my hotel room, I immediately take off my clothes and get into the shower. I set the water to scalding hot and stay in there until my skin is red and my fingers resemble prunes. Once I get out, I change into pajamas, grab my laptop, and get into bed.
My body is dead tired. My limbs feel like lead and my eyes burn, but I have one last thing to do before I get some sleep.
I need to look at Johnathan Whalen one more time.
I pull up Ancestry.com and type Johnathan’s name in the search bar. What Cordelia told me yesterday about him has been weighing heavily on my mind, leaving me anxious and unsettled. The first time I investigated Johnathan, I was so focused on researching my family and Étienne’s that I gave his information a passing glance. This time, I delve deeper. My hunt for details on his life is incredibly underwhelming. Like before, I only uncover that he never married or had children and spent the rest of his adult life in Falls Church.
My dad told me that when researching ancestry, if you can’t find someone on the first try, you need to get creative. Documents can be misspelled. Often there are clerical errors. Over a hundred years ago, censuses were done by hand. The handwriting can be almost impossible to read, and names were inadvertently changed.
I try searching for John Whalen. Then Johnny Whalen.
When I come up empty-handed, I focus my attention on his last name. I type in Johnathan Whallen.
Still nothing.
The blinker flashes, taunting me to think fast. I try John Whelan and finally get a hit.
To my shock, it’s a photo of Johnathan at Ravenwood. He’s leaning against the fence with horses behind him, giving the camera his megawatt smile. There’s no one else in the photo. When I look at the details of the picture, it only has Johnathan’s name misspelled and the year—1916, two years after he relocated to Falls Church.
That small error opens the gate to a slew of newspaper clippings on Johnathan. I notice that the articles don’t misspell his name, but the person who posted them on Ancestry made the error. One article is of him at Ravenwood, another at the Kentucky Derby.
I click on the first article. A win for Ravenwood! the headlines say.
“Real estate developer and investor, Johnathan Whalen, can celebrate once again another win with Ravenwood owner, Teddy Parow. This is the third consecutive win at the Kentucky Derby. Ravenwood, which was founded a mere six years ago, has swiftly become a household name for their Thoroughbreds. Most recognizable is Bravoure, who set a record mile trot at 1:51.
Johnathan Whalen is now reaping the benefits of being one of the few investors in Ravenwood.
Ravenwood is set to be a thriving operation that produces record-breaking Thoroughbreds and brings home championships.”
I check the newspaper clipping and notice the year is 1918.
The next article is similar to the first. Although by this time, Ravenwood was established as a top horse farm. The date is 1920. Two years before Johnathan died.
I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe an article that would reveal some hidden secret or a picture of Teddy that would finally show me who my great-great-great grandfather is. Although Teddy’s family background is cloaked in mystery, I know in my gut that he’s linked to Charleston.
My eyes flutter open and shut. I’ve pushed myself to my limits. Closing my laptop, I put it on the end table, then I set my alarm and fall into a deep sleep.
MY ALARM GOES off at three in the afternoon. Even though I’m incredibly tired, I get up. My flight leaves tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to spend my remaining hours in Charleston sleeping.
Peering out the window, I stare down at Church Street. The temperature has dropped drastically since yesterday. Clouds roll in, and I make a mental note to bring my umbrella with me to Belgrave tonight. I watch people filter into an Irish pub on the corner. Another group of people hurries across the road, laughing and blissfully unaware of the cold.
I’m free to come and go as I please, but somehow I feel locked up, watching everything around me with new eyes. This isn’t the Charleston I remember. Buildings I remember are now historical landmarks, but everything else has been updated, making me feel confused and lost.
As the sun becomes covered with clouds, the sky unleashes the rain. It starts slow, then picks up speed until the droplets are falling so fast, they look like pinpricks stabbing the ground. I don’t know how long this weather will last, but it won’t stop me from going back to Belgrave.
Tonight, I make sure to be extra prepared. I put new batteries in my flashlight and take backup batteries. I tuck my pant legs into my brown boots and put on a sweater. I grab my jacket and blue beanie, making sure I have my phone before I head out the door.
I ARRIVE AT Belgrave around eight, and this time, I spot a white vehicle with Security emblazoned on the side. Anxiety and fear mingle inside me, telling me the car is a sign I should go back to the hotel. They tell me that I should give up.
My heart says something entirely different. With every steady beat, it tells me to be fearless. It tells me that the reward of seeing Étienne is more significant than all the risks standing in my way.
The heart is a funny thing. It pumps blood through your body, but it does so much more than that. Hearts can lie, can pull the wool over your eyes. But I know I’m doing the right thing by listening to mine.
It does make me wonder though—will my heart and mind ever be in sync?
The chances of getting the answers I’ve been so desperate for are dwindling away. I’m hitting dead end after dead end. At some point, I might have to accept that there are no leads left for me to follow. I might have to admit defeat.
My heart lurches at the thought. I’ve never been good at giving up or letting something go. Étienne came into my life like a thief and stole my heart. It makes perfect sense to me that I find a way back to him so I can capture his soul.
This is my last shot to do just that.
Softly, I close the car door. The rain has let up; now it’s just a soft patter. For the past fifteen minutes, I’ve watched the security guard making a giant loop around Belgrave property. Right now, he’s clear on the other side of the property, so I hurry toward the same gate I used last night.
There’s something ominous about tonight. Last night, I heard the sounds of animals moving around in the woods. In the distance, I could hear dogs barking or a car alarm going off. But there’s no noise tonight, other than the rain. It’s almost as though the world is holding its breath, waiting to see
what tonight will bring me.
I button up my pea coat and put on my beanie. My hands are shaking as I punch in the security code. Once again, it works, and I open the gate. The hinges screech in protest.
“Hello?” someone shouts.
I whip around in time to see the security guard in the car, shining a flashlight in my direction. Quickly, I pass through the gate, and instead of hiding like a rational human being, I run directly toward Belgrave.
“Hey! Get back here!” the guard yells.
“Shit,” I hiss.
I hear him getting out of his car and entering through the gate. He shouts something else at me, but I can’t hear him over the pounding of my heart. He’s expecting me to enter Belgrave, so I do the opposite and veer toward the driveway. The trees will be the perfect place to hide. I run as fast as my feet will take me. My lungs burn, and my heart furiously beats against my rib cage. I want to stop running to take a deep breath but I can’t because if I do, there’s a good chance I’ll be caught by the security guard. And I didn’t make it this far to get caught.
I’m reminded of my dream of running down one of the long corridors in Belgrave. The same fear is there. My heart beats the exact rapid tune.
Just when I think I’ve lost the security guard, I see him in front of me, shining his flashlight down the driveway. Without thinking twice, I duck into the trees. The ground is wet and muddy. My feet slide, and I lose my balance and fall. Broken twigs dig into my palms, making me wince, but I don’t utter a word.
Deep breath in.
Deep breath out.
I wait for the security guard to leave. I don’t know how much time passes until I see the faint glimmer of his flashlight skim the tree I’m leaning against. I close my eyes and pray he doesn’t see me. The flashlight pauses, then he walks by me, saying on a walkie-talkie that he can’t find the intruder.
I open my eyes, staring at the tangle of skinny, dark limbs above me, and smile. So close.
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: