Echoes of Time

by Calia Read

  No, it’s not my marriage that causes me to smile a bit wider than normal.

  Although Scarlett was artful with her words, I know the direction of her questioning. How is Étienne? Wherever my brother is, I hope he’s with Serene because they belong together. I feel a bit of sympathy for Scarlett’s plight. I understand what it’s like to be in love with someone who doesn’t return your feelings. To hold a candle for someone for years and have an opportunity present itself, only to have it snatched away.

  I know her pain all too well, but she will heal. It will simply take time.

  There are three knocks in rapid succession before the door to the sitting room opens. Livingston’s tired face pokes in. “Is Étienne home?”

  I give my brother a weak smile. “No, he isn’t.”

  The door widens, and Livingston’s lean frame fills the doorway. He’s not eating enough. “Where is he?”

  Since he’s woken up, there’s an urgency to his words as though he knows he doesn’t remember pieces of his life. It’s apparent it scares him from how his bright green eyes are wild with fear.

  “He’ll be back. He’ll be back,” I say reassuringly. “I’ll let you know the minute he arrives. I promise, Livingston.”

  I go to pat his arm but hesitate. I don’t know how to properly treat my older brother. I don’t want to scare him, but I want to remind him of all the wonderful memories we’ve had. Of what an amazing brother he is. Of the amazing brothers he has. I think he wants that too. Thus, the reason for the constant request to see Étienne. He was quite taken by the idea of having a twin, and only minorly disappointed when he found out he and Étienne were not identical. There were portraits to prove that.

  Just then, Rainey makes a sharp turn, causing her shoes to slide across the floor. When she sees Livingston, she points a finger in his face as she gathers her breath. “You!” she pants. “You escaped.”

  Livingston rolls his eyes. His barrage of insults isn’t as up to par as they used to be. But it’s as though some part of him instinctively clashes with Rainey. “I did no such thing.”

  “We were playin’ cards. I left the room for one second, and you disappeared!” Rainey retorts as she approaches us. Once she’s beside me, she gestures to where she came from and back to Livingston. “You. Upstairs.”

  Livingston mimics all of Rainey’s pointing. “You. Leave.”

  I think Livingston continues to talk to Rainey because she’s the only person who speaks to him as though he’s okay. If I’m being perfectly honest with myself, I am grateful for that. Many times, I feel as if I have to wear kid gloves around my brother. I know he’s unsure of his surroundings—of everyone—and it hurts so much because I just want to fix him.

  Before he departs, Livingston turns to me. “Are you positive about this woman?”

  Numerous times, I’ve given Livingston detailed descriptions about the people who come and go in Belgrave. I may have embellished—a lot—when I said he got along with Rainey, but I couldn’t help myself. My voice has gone hoarse from the unexpected trip down memory lane as he requested stories behind the paintings of our ancestors hanging on the walls.

  To make matters easier, I had the painting from Livingston’s home that was hanging above the fireplace removed and hung in his temporary room at Belgrave. That way, if he asked how many siblings he had or their names, I could simply point at the massive painting. It was incredibly old, but it was the last portrait of our family of six.

  “I am positive,” I assure him. “You and Rainey are wonderful friends!”

  “Oh, Nathalie, don’t lie to the poor man.” Rainey gives her attention to Livingston. “We loathe each other. And that very reason is why I’m lettin’ you win the firsts round of cards. The second round, I will not be as forgivin’.”

  An ungentlemanly growl tears from Livingston’s throat as he narrows his eyes at Rainey. “We’re playin’ a new game so I can beat you. Again.”

  “Excellent.” Rainey sweeps her hand forward and gives Livingston a sweet smile. “After you.”

  My brother walks away, muttering under his breath. I watch Rainey watch him with the faintest smile playing on her lips before she remarks, “Works every time.”

  “Is this the only reason you came downstairs?”

  “No.” Rainey looks behind her to make sure we’re alone and then back at me. She lowers her voice. “Nat … Asa is here.”

  My entire body locks up over those four words. I drop the letter and stare at Rainey. “What?”

  “Asa’s here,” she repeats as she hurries into the room. Once she reaches me, she places her hand on my arm. “I was comin’ inside from the gardens when I heard him speakin’ with Ben.”

  Since Livingston’s horrific beating, Rainey has consistently been by my side. No matter what I need, she does. There are even nights she sleeps at Belgrave to help care for Livingston. Those moments are growing more frequent, and Rainey’s dedication to Livingston has my curiosity growing by the day. I’m so accustomed to the two of them at war that this newfound peace feels tenuous at best and … deeper. My childhood friend is hiding something from me, yet I’m doing the same to her, so I won’t prod.

  Rainey’s demeanor, whose personality is virtually identical to Serene’s, stares at me with compassion.

  “I can’t see him,” I confess.

  Asa gave me the greatest wedding present by not showing up for the ceremony. When I moved to Savannah, I concluded our paths would rarely, if ever, cross. Being away from Charleston had one shining light: I could build immunity against Asa.

  That immunity would grow with time, but it wouldn’t blossom in just a matter of months.

  “I can tell Ben you’re restin’ after takin’ care of Livingston and not receivin’ any callers,” Rainey graciously offers.

  If Serene were here, her first instinct wouldn’t be to run upstairs and hide in her childhood bedroom like a little girl. Oh, no. She would face her problem head on. All the while wearing a smile on her face.

  Jutting my chin, I take a deep breath. “No, I’ll see him.”

  Rainey watches me with uncertainty. “Are you sure? Because you just said you couldn’t.”

  “Quite sure. I changed my mind.” While she continues to look unconvinced, I smile at her. “It’s all right. I no longer have feelin’s for Asa. I’m married now.”

  She nods several times before she turns away and walks out of the room, closing the doors behind her.

  Placing my palm on my racing heart, I try to calm down. Without Rainey to thwart Ben, I know I don’t have much time. Rushing to the gilt mirror above the fireplace, I attempt to fix my hair. My dark hair is swept into a low bun. This morning when I left my bedroom, it was the picture of perfection, but hours later, tendrils have escaped near my ears and temples. It looks as though I’ve been caught in a windstorm.

  Frantically, I begin tucking every piece back into my bun. After I’m certain every hair is in its rightful place, I move to my clothing. I didn’t foresee entertaining guests this afternoon. If that were the case, I would’ve taken more care in my attire. My white blouse is tucked into a long, black plaid skirt with a velvet-lined hem. It’s one of my favorite skirts, but today, it appears drab.

  My hazel eyes are drained of life. There’s a slight blue tinge beneath them from a lack of sleep. Without rouge, my face is abnormally pale.

  The sound of the solid knocks on the door causes my hands to immediately fall to my sides. I face the entrance in time to see Ben open the doors. He steps to the side and allows the man who held the fate of my heart in his hands for twenty-two years to enter.

  I force a polite smile across my face and watch Asa Calhoun saunter into in the room. The stubborn tilt of his square jaw hasn’t changed, and his hair is still the color of rich chocolate. He is always frowning, and because of that, lines have begun to appear between his thick brows that are somehow a shade darker than his hair.

  He’s still as sophisticated as ever.

 
; I track his every move and remind my heart to maintain a calm rhythm, but old habits die hard. I’ve spent nearly my entire life pining for him. I have to continue building the wall around Asa that I started when I married Oliver. One brick at a time.

  Asa stops and stares at me for a beat longer than necessary before he dips his head. “Nathalie.”

  Before I reply, I look at Ben. “Please close the door.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies.

  I wait until I hear the door click into place before I give Asa my full attention. In the stillness of the room, the sound of the door quietly shutting sounds like a gunshot. My shoulders become erect, and I immediately look away. We stand on opposite sides of the room, yet he feels far too close. I grip the edge of the wingback chair in front of me for balance and remind myself to take deep, steady breaths before I look at Asa. When I do, I find his solemn brown eyes fixed on me. He appears nonplussed as though no time has passed since we’ve seen each other. As though we didn’t share a kiss over a year ago.

  As though he didn’t ruin the most memorable kiss I’ll ever have by saying, “We did something foolish. Let’s not speak of this again.”

  His stoic reaction merely reinforces that the feelings I had for him were always one-sided. He would never reciprocate.

  “I apologize I have no sweet tea and food for you. I didn’t know you were visitin’.”

  Asa lifts a shoulder. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “Oh.” I take a deep breath. “Is there somethin’ I can help you with?”

  “I’m here to visit Livingston. I hear you make quite an impressive nurse.”

  Asa has been made aware of Livingston’s attack, yet I haven’t spoken to him. It certainly wasn’t Étienne or Rainey. Loyal to a fault, she gives him terse hellos and goodbyes when she saw him in Charleston. That leaves one person. “You’ve been speakin’ with Miles?”

  “Correction. Pleas has been speakin’ with me.” Now that I think about it, Rainey’s brother did mention he spoke to Asa about the attack, but that he was away on business. I was so focused on Livingston I didn’t think of it until now.

  Asa punctuates his words with a grin that makes my heart come to a standstill. A smile from Asa Calhoun is truly a sight to behold. Dimples appear on both cheeks, and perfectly straight teeth come into sight. Such ease and happiness radiate from him. When Asa chooses, he can be quite charming.

  However, when I don’t smile back, the dimples slowly fade.

  Two couches, a coffee table, and a rug in the middle of the room prevent either one of us from rushing to each other without the consequences flowing through my mind.

  So why does Asa feel entirely too close? Why do I feel every intake of his breath, and the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat as if he’s standing beside me?

  He clears his throat, reminding me he came here for a reason. I meet his gaze. “How are you?”

  “I am well.”

  “You look sick.”

  His blunt tone makes me veer back. “Pardon?”

  “You look sick,” he repeats. “Are you not feelin’ well?”

  “No, but takin’ care of your injured brother tends to be tirin’,” I reply hotly.

  Asa takes a step forward. Sympathy seeps into his gaze. “Nat, I—”

  I’d much rather his indifference than pity, so I speak up. “If you’re here to see Livingston, he’s upstairs,” I blurt.

  “I came to see you, too,” he cuts in.

  Repeatedly, my mouth opens and closes. The clock on the fireplace mantel taunts me, reminding me time is ticking, and I haven’t said a word. I need to appear polite, gracious, and unperturbed by an innocent statement. “That’s kind of you but not necessary,” I reply.

  “Have you forgotten about your friends from the past now that you’ve become Mrs. Claiborne?” he asks brusquely.

  With the subject of my marriage to Oliver in the open, my eyes widen. Nervously, I lick my lips; a habit I developed as a little girl. It gave me time to calm myself when I felt uneasy, but at this moment, all it does is guide Asa’s attention to my lips. A slight tremor begins in my hands and spreads up my arms. I link my fingers together and squeeze tight.

  “You were friends with Étienne and Livingston. I was merely their little sister.”

  It’s impossible to ignore the way he flinches from my words. “I would like to be friends.”

  “Can we be friends?” I ask sincerely.

  Languidly, his eyes travel up my face and meet my gaze. “I would like to be friends,” he repeats.

  I have nothing to say to that.

  “Where is your husband?” he asks. The last word is said with disdain. Even his face becomes twisted as though he’s swallowed something bitter.

  “Oliver is in Savannah. He’s engrossed with work but is regretful he can’t be here,” I lie.

  “Yes, work can be quite consumin’. As can marriage, I hear,” he replies although his words sound condescending. I am tempted to point out that Asa introduced me to Oliver in the summer of 1913. At the time, it felt as though he was placing Oliver Claiborne in my path as a consolation prize for his refusal to pursue me. Heartbroken, I took the prize. Anything felt better than the pain I felt at that moment.

  “Married life is lovely,” I reply, not willing to budge.

  Stubbornly, Asa stares at me. He sees through my words and this veneer I’ve carefully constructed. He’s merely waiting for it to break and for me to become the Nat he once remembered.

  That will not happen.

  It is so quiet in the sitting room the only way I know time ticks forward is by the light footsteps above us, and the servants’ voices in the hallway.

  Finally, Asa clears his throat. “I won’t keep you any longer. I wanted to say hello before I stopped in on Livingston.”

  I can’t help but stare at him with confusion because he’s looking at me with indifference and anger. As if I hurt him. But need I remind him that he was the one to place the boundaries for us? Need I remind him he was the one to make it very clear he would never reciprocate my feelings?

  It’s of no use to say what I feel, though. I’m in no mood to listen to the many justifications Asa always has waiting up his sleeve. I’m watching Asa walk toward the door when he slows down and turns around.

  His gaze remains fixed on the floor. He slowly nods as if he’s considering whether he should speak his thoughts. Finally, he lifts his head and looks at me. “How long has he been gone?”

  The way Asa crafts his question causes my head to slowly tilt to the side, and my eyes to narrow. Silently, we assess each other before I say, “Pardon?”

  The only indicator I receive that Asa heard me is the slight arch of his brow and a dip of his head. It only takes a matter of seconds for the truth to wash over me. Asa knows about Étienne.

  However, the truth is so preposterous. Acknowledging it to someone outside my immediate family doesn’t sit right with me. Even with someone such as Asa.

  So, I say nothing.

  But Asa does. “I saw Étienne and Serene in New Orleans.”

  My mouth hangs open in shock. Forgetting about distance, I walk around the chair and rush toward him. “You did?”

  He nods. “I spoke to them briefly at the St. Charles Hotel.” Asa hesitates. I’ve never had conversations with Asa about Serene time traveling, although I’m certain he knows I’m familiar with Serene’s backstory and vice versa. It felt as though I’d be betraying Serene if I spoke about her experience to anyone outside the family. But this was a unique situation that bordered on being an emergency. I needed to speak with someone about this. Never thought Asa would be that person.

  “When did you talk to them?” I say, unable to disguise the urgency in my words.

  “It was March I believe?”

  There was a moment I thought Asa might say he saw them a week or two ago. It was rather foolish of me to believe something so outlandish. But at least I now have a reference point. A place where I can place them.


  “You were the last to see them.” Asa shakes his head, but I continue. “If Étienne, or Serene for that matter, were still here, they would find a way to let us know they’re all right.”

  Asa swears under his breath and drags a hand through his hair. “I knew somethin’ was amiss when Pleas told me of Livingston’s attack. I knew it.”

  I shake my head, knowing he’s wrong. I will never understand why we seem to place the heaviest burdens on ourselves at our weakest moments.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “For one thing, Pleas notifyin’ me. Before I came here, he said he couldn’t get in touch with your brother and—”

  “When is Étienne ever not dependable,” the two of us say at the same time.

  We smile at one another before a noise in the house shatters the moment. I gather my composure and look in Asa’s direction once again.

  “So what do we do?”

  “You continue to be there for Livingston, and I will handle the business side of Étienne’s company as best as possible.”

  I nod, but inside, I feel light as a feather. I would be lying if I said I hadn’t desperately been seeking a solution. “I can do that.”

  “I know you can.”

  With the conversation productively over, I expect him to walk toward the door. Asa lingers, though. His eyes remain fixed on mine. Quickly, I advert my gaze; my eyes are hungry, but my heart is not. It still bears the scars from our past encounters and knows better than to repeat the process and expect different results.

  Asa Calhoun and I are bound to be two ships passing in the night. We can see each other. Admire from afar. Remains from past pain may even find its way to the other person.

  But touching will never be permitted.

  “This time, I really should take my leave. I still must say hello to Livingston.”

  “I suppose you should. He’s spent far too long with Rainey. I don’t know if either one will survive the day,” I tease.