Echoes of Time

by Calia Read

  My eyes widen. “The entire family?”

  “Yeah. You know, so everyone can see what a riot your fiancé is.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. We’re moving into the condo soon, and—”

  “We’d love to,” Étienne cuts in.

  I thought I was doing Étienne a solid by saving him from a night of rapid-fire questions and awkward conversation, but it appears he has something else in mind entirely. I just wish he’d clue me in on his thought process.

  “Great,” Ian says. “I’ll talk to everyone and give you a call.”

  “Sounds good,” I say faintly.

  Once again, Étienne and I wait for the elevator while Ian walks into his condo. The elevator opens, and we step inside. I press L and remain silent until the doors shut. The minute they do, I turn to Étienne.

  “So … dinner with my family? You think you’re ready for that?”

  “Serene, is anyone truly prepared for anythin’ in life? No.”

  “You havin’ to deal with the hodgepodge of questions from them is the last thing we need.”

  Étienne looks at me from the corner of his eye. The stubborn tilt of his jaw shows he’s already made up his mind. “But I don’t mind. I will answer every question that comes in my direction because I would be just as apprehensive if this was Nathalie.”

  “Fair enough, but—”

  Étienne smiles softly. “There are no buts. It will be strained at first, but this meeting is somethin’ we cannot avoid while I’m here.”

  I know he’s right. It’s just I can’t help the urge to guard Étienne against harm. I saw the way Ian looked at Étienne when he asked what braces were. Or how my mom looked at his outfit when he first arrived. He’s uniquely different. But different causes discord, and discord inevitably leads to anger.

  And at the end of the day, if I have to choose between my family or Étienne, it will be Étienne. Without a second thought.

  “By the time I leave this time, everyone in your family will know I am the right man for you,” Étienne declares confidently.

  The elevator dings, and the steel doors slowly part in the middle.

  Sighing, I adjust my purse and step out before him. “If you leave …” I say cryptically.

  “He was walkin’ home from a night of debauchery. He had one lady with him. No, two. Wait. Should I make it one?”

  I press my foot against the floor, preventing the chair from rocking any further. “I prefer one,” I reply.

  “Fine. One,” Rainey continues. “The trail of broken hearts Livingston leaves across Charleston is fuel for his silver tongue and devilish smile. The ladies despise him, yet they all crave to be with him because each one wants to snare the elusive Lacroix brother. Livingston was with a beautiful woman on the night he was hurt. What he didn’t realize is this lady of the night happened to be married to a love-sick man. He saw Livingston leavin’ his home, got his dander up, and trailed Livingston. The man waited for the perfect time. Revenge was his.”

  I muse over the start of Rainey Pleasonton’s melodramatic retelling of how Livingston got hurt. I would love to say it’s farfetched. However, this is Livingston we’re referring to. He’s evaded more husbands than I care to know. But Rainey’s words divert our attention from the severity of the situation.

  Rainey and I have done this all our lives. Fables are a part of us. Fables brought me through the pain of my parents’ and brother’s death, and tragedy in Rainey’s family. Chances are, this wouldn’t be the last fable she told.

  Tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear, I make the mistake of looking in Livingston’s direction, and when I do, my stomach churns. At first glance, Livingston appears to be sleeping. His chest rises and falls, his eyes are closed, and the sheets are drawn up over his stomach. It’s the bandage encircling his head that shatters the peaceful image.

  The doctor Miles sent for said he had a severe concussion and a deep laceration to the back of the head. He explained the extent of Livingston’s injuries, yet my attention drifted toward my older brother who looked so fragile and helpless. In an instant, our roles reversed, leaving me feeling unprepared and overwhelmed.

  Étienne has always been overprotective and dependable.

  Livingston jovial and good-humored.

  Together, I could always depend on them.

  With both of them suddenly gone, I was left to make fast and effective decisions and trust they were the correct ones.

  I swallow, looking away from him, and focus my attention on Rainey. “In your story, does Livingston fight back?”

  “Of course. One might say his injuries would’ve been far worse if it wasn’t for him turning around at the last second while he was on the ground and capturin’ the metal bar so his assailant couldn’t deliver a final blow. Livingston hit back before he blacked out.”

  I lean forward. “What makes him reach for the metal bar?”

  “Sheer stubbornness. Livingston yields to no one,” Rainey explains. “He fought with everything inside him.”

  Her explanation puts a smile on my face and soothes my worry. While Livingston isn’t as headstrong as Étienne, he’s still a Lacroix.

  I shift in my seat, trying to ignore the ache in my backside. Rainey becomes restless and stands. She walks over to the window and pushes the curtain away. With the lamp turned on, all she sees is her reflection.

  Upon returning to Charleston, I arrived at Livingston’s home where Rainey and Miles were waiting for me.

  “Nat?”

  “Yes?”

  “Where’s Étienne?”

  My eyes veer to the ground. Sooner than later, this question was bound to arise. “Étienne is travelin’.”

  Rainey doesn’t hide the skepticism in her eyes. “Travelin’?”

  I nod.

  “He calls off his engagement to Scarlett Gould and then travels. When Miles tries to find him to inform him Livingston is hurt, he is nowhere to be found. That sounds … strange.”

  “I understand. Étienne never travels, but he needed time away. He is always workin’ and thinkin’ about everyone else but himself,” I explain to the best of my ability.

  Rainey mulls over my reply before she nods. “I suppose you’re right.”

  I go back to staring at Livingston’s unmoving form and rock back and forth in my chair. “He’s gonna wake up, right?” I ask, unable to mask the desperation seeping into my words.

  “I don’t know,” Rainey responds after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

  Now isn’t the time for truths. Right now, I need one of Rainey’s fables.

  Her eyes remain rooted on my brother’s sleeping form. We say nothing for several minutes, both feeling the severity of the situation.

  Wake up, Liv. Please! I plead in my head. I am desperate for Livingston to give me a sign. Anything to show me that he’s aware I’m here. For the current situation, I recognize I’m asking a lot, but my exhaustion is getting the best of me. I need something to fuel my hope.

  Two days ago, he said his first word since his attack.

  “Help,” he croaked.

  His voice came out gravelly as though he’d swallowed shards of glass. His throat constricted and his brows squeezed together in pain before he tried to sit up, felt his head, and then promptly fell back against his pillow.

  At once, I rushed to Livingston’s side, concern drawing my brows together. “Livingston?” I said loudly.

  He groaned and slipped back into a deep sleep. Since then, when he woke up, it was a fight to get him to eat his soup and drink. He had a disoriented and glassy look to his green eyes that never ceased to send a chill down my spine. When it came to his baths, Rainey and I would call her brother, Miles, or a servant to take over because Livingston would fight them as best as he could. I’ve lost count the number of times he’s suddenly woken up and become sick, causing Rainey and me to have to send for the doctor.

  The doctor told us it’s common for people with concussions to b
e sick and sleep often. But we needed to watch Livingston. Rainey and I took this seriously. When Livingston was awake, he was a man of few words, but his facial expressions became his new language. I gauged his pain level by how his eye crinkled at the corners while he slept, or the way his brows furrowed when we cajoled him into taking one more sip of soup, or how when he touched his bandaged head, I perceived he was experiencing a violent headache.

  What soothes him best are washcloths drenched in cool water.

  I shake away the memory and drift back to reality. The two of us sit in a silence that highlights what’s missing in my life and my heart. My eyes flick to my best friend. And what’s missing in Rainey’s heart too. I can’t think of a single soul who wants to be reminded of their pain on a daily basis. It’s akin to a thousand paper cuts.

  The life I once pictured for myself has drifted away. My marriage isn’t heading down the path I envisioned it would, and even though I know I should give myself more time, I can’t help the panic that courses through me.

  For Rainey, as much as she claims to oppose Livingston, I’m positive she considers him a friend. After seeing how wonderful she’s been with taking care of him over the past few days, I’m tempted to think she holds him in higher esteem.

  We’re both dedicated to Livingston’s recovery and willing to do what it takes. Deep down, I believe we’re so desperate to see Livingston through this because it’s a chance for us to fight for the people we’ve lost so our lives can go back to how they once were. But is that possible? After something so life-altering occurs, echoes of the past always remain.

  If Livingston wakes up, he might have lasting adverse effects. And that’s a significant if.

  “The two of you are aware it’s the middle of the night, correct?” Rainey’s brother, Miles, asks as he ambles into the room.

  He kisses the crown of his sister’s head and pats my shoulder, then looks toward my brother. He walks around the bed and sits in the chair beside the window, causing the chair to creak beneath his weight. He sighs and props his ankle on top of his opposite knee.

  There are siblings who resemble one another, and others who don’t. For my brothers and me, we’re in the middle. Rainey and Miles are the latter. Look at them side by side, and you marvel how they have the same parents.

  What further separates them are their personalities. Miles’s insouciant and forgiving. Rainey’s astute and forgets nothing. I remember Rainey and Miles’s daddy before he passed away. Rainey has his stubborn streak, and Miles is calm like their mama.

  At times, I often wondered why I never developed a childhood infatuation with Miles. He too was close with Livingston and Étienne. With his light brown hair and blue eyes, I considered him handsome. He was never harsh. But for my naïve heart, it was wasn’t enough. He wasn’t Asa.

  Sighing, Miles closes his eyes and rubs his temples. He leans forward, places his foot on the floor, and rests his elbows on his knees. “While I have the two of you here, we need to discuss Livingston’s livin’ arrangements.”

  “What of them?” Rainey asks.

  “He cannot stay here. It has been a week since Livingston’s attack, and we’re all aware of how the upper echelon talk. I presume you want Livingston’s attack to be private for as long as possible?”

  I nod. The three of us share a look. Secrecy is not possible in a city such as Charleston. It was only a matter of time before Livingston’s attack becomes public knowledge. News of what happened would spread quicker than the Charleston earthquake of 1886.

  “As I thought. What are your thoughts of takin’ him to Belgrave? If he goes there, that gives everyone privacy.”

  Rainey and Miles stare at me expectantly.

  “I have no qualms with that,” I reply. I miss Belgrave so much.

  “Have you been able to reach Étienne?” Miles asks.

  “I-I … I have not,” I lie.

  Rainey arches a brow. For me to say Étienne is inaccessible is akin to a true Southern woman not having manners.

  “He ended his engagement with Scarlett, and he needed time alone,” I explain.

  “Of course,” Miles says agreeably.

  Rainey doesn’t say a word, but I’m certain she’ll have questions when her brother leaves.

  “Do you think it will upset Étienne if we take Livingston to Belgrave?” Miles asks.

  My answer is instantaneous. “No, of course not.”

  Miles slaps his hands against his knees, sighs, and stands. “It’s settled. We will move Livingston tomorrow night.”

  Rainey stands with him. “Why at night?”

  “Do you want to explain to any passerby why we’re removin’ a comatose Livingston from his residence? It was hard enough bringin’ him in without the watchful eyes spottin’ us.”

  Once I arrived, Miles and Rainey told me about the fateful night of Livingston’s attack. Miles was the first person to discover Livingston’s body on the street. He heard shouting and a woman running, but he didn’t get a clear look at her. Rainey heard the commotion and rushed outside. Livingston was unconscious and bleeding from the head.

  “The explanation is easy. He’s sleepin’ off a night of debauchery,” Rainey replies dryly.

  Miles shakes his head and itches the back of his head. “Be that as it may, we need to be careful.”

  “Of course,” Rainey says and rubs her eyes.

  Miles stares at his sister carefully. “You seem exhausted. I can stay with Livingston for the rest of the night,” he offers.

  Immediately, Rainey’s posture becomes erect. “I’m not tired. I’ll stay with him.”

  “Are you sure?” her brother asks.

  “Quite sure.”

  He gives the two of us hard looks before he takes his leave. Rainey moves restlessly around the room. There’s a lot weighing on her mind. There’s a lot weighing on everyone’s mind. I’m in no position to ask.

  “Whatever happened to your friend?” Rainey asks suddenly.

  My brows pucker. “Which friend?”

  Rainey taps a finger against her lower lip. “I can’t remember her name. But she was one of your bridesmaids. I wasn’t able to speak with her.” She looks away. “She was quite comfortable speakin’ with Livingston.”

  The realization of who she’s referring to causes my heart to flip in my chest. “Oh, are you referrin’ to Serene?”

  Rainey feigns indifference. “I believe that’s her.”

  “What made you think of her?”

  Lifting her head, Rainey merely shrugs. “No specific reason. She was simply here one moment and”—she snaps her finger— “gone the next.”

  “Serene was here visitin’ for my weddin’. She writes to me often and hopes to visit soon.” I round my sentence off with a polite smile.

  If given the chance, I can be an accomplished deceiver. Anyone can be. You just have to ask yourself how much is at risk. When it comes to my family, I am prepared to go to great lengths to protect them. So if that means I need to tell a handful of white lies to one of my closest friends, then so be it.

  Rainey nods, readily accepting my words. She buries her head in her book while I remain fixated on her question. It simply isn’t sitting right with me.

  Livingston and I were of the belief that when Serene changed the trajectory of time, the people she didn’t impact wouldn’t remember, and those she did would. So if Serene was gone, why did Rainey remember her from my wedding? How did Serene effect Rainey’s life in any capacity?

  There are no immediate answers to my questions, and for now, I’m all right with that because I prefer to hold firm to the idea that Serene and Étienne are out there somewhere. Rainey’s memory of her serves as the surviving trace.

  That’s enough. For now.

  I pick up my wood hoop and resume my embroidery as Rainey reads. I’m unsure how much time passes, but this has quickly become our routine. The time easily slips by, and when the silence becomes too much, Rainey begins one of her farfetched stories. Rig
ht as we’re ensconced in the silence, there’s a noise in the room. Rainey and I raise our heads at the same time and stare at one another. Another sound and this time, it sounds like a croak. My eyes veer to Livingston and watch as his eyelids flutter. His tongue snakes out and moves across his lips before he makes another noise, this time a bit louder.

  Tossing my embroidery to the side, I stand, and the two of us rush to Livingston’s side.

  “Get your brother. Now,” I demand, my eyes never leaving Livingston’s face.

  After nearly a week, he appears to be the most alert.

  Before Rainey leaves, he points at her, and in a raspy voice, he says, “Who are you?”

  Life has taught me many things.

  The biggest being to accept disappointment and to treat happiness as a rare occurrence.

  Losing one’s parents and brother in the course of one day could cause a kind person to turn cold, a hard worker lazy and an already indifferent man suspicious.

  Suspicious that life has more in store for them. Suspicious that anytime I’m happy, it will be stolen from me. I slide my hands through one of the new shirts Serene picked out during our mall escapade while Serene moves between the bedroom and the bathroom with an efficiency nothing short of amazing.

  Two days ago, we moved into the condo across from her brother. I must admit, it was nice to be out of her parents’ home. Her parents still seemed unsure of me, which was expected. While I put Serene’s luggage in the car (And there were a significant number. How many clothes did she need?) I could hear her parents speaking to her in the sitting room, attempting to dissuade Serene from moving into the condo. Especially if I would be coming with her. Serene being her stubborn self said, and I quote, “I’m thirty years old, not a three-year-old. I can make my own decisions.”

  Her words brought a smile to my face. No matter the era, my beautiful girl remained headstrong. Nothing could change that.

  Upon arriving, Serene made herself at home by unpacking the many suitcases in the master suite. It truly wasn’t a bad condo. But what constituted a condo? Serene explained it to me. It was one of the many words and phrases I didn’t understand.