Echoes of Time

by Calia Read

  “Of course, I have. I was merely jestin’,” Étienne says solemnly.

  Ian shakes his head and gives a short laugh. “You have a weird sense of humor, but whatever.”

  Oh, God. This is so bad, yet so entertaining at the same time; Étienne and I have switched roles. He’s become the visitor and I the ambassador. As much as I’d love to continue watching from my hidden spot in the hall, Ian leans back in his chair and stretches, turning his head slightly and spotting me.

  “Serene,” Ian calls out.

  “Yeah?”

  “Where did you find your fiancé again?”

  “I built a time machine and plucked him from the 1900s,” I say dryly as I step forward.

  “Oh, you’re so funny, Serene,” my brother replies.

  Étienne gives me a murderous look. Sometimes, the truth is less believable than we think.

  “Either way, I think you’re cool, dude,” Ian claps him on the shoulder. “Now that you’ve met the rest of the family, and you’ve knocked up my sister, we should hang out again.”

  “Certainly,” Étienne agrees.

  “I’m meeting Bradley for drinks tonight. You should come.”

  My brows lift at my brother’s invitation. Is Étienne ready for that? I stare at him pointedly, hoping he’ll look my way, but he doesn’t.

  “I believe I will come. I appreciate the invitation.”

  Ian laughs and shakes his head. He says good-bye, and walks toward the door. Once he’s gone, Étienne faces me. He crosses those tree trunks for arms over his chest and gives me a cocky smile.

  “Did you see that?”

  “You and my brother forming a bromance? Yeah, I saw sparks fly.”

  Étienne’s brows become knitted. “What’s a bromance?”

  “Long story. Let’s focus on you and my brother.”

  “Yes, let’s. He said I was a cool dude.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “No,” I draw out slowly. “He said, ‘You’re cool … dude.’”

  “Serene, the intention behind his words is still the same.”

  “What was he doing here anyway?”

  “He came for a visit.”

  “How pleasant of him,” I say as I place my laptop on the coffee table. “Well, while you were perfecting your present-day bro vocabulary, can I show you what I’ve been looking at?”

  “What have you been lookin’ at?”

  “I’ve been in the bedroom for the past few hours on the internet researching your company and your family’s shipping company.”

  His eyes widen. “And?”

  “Nothing came up.”

  Étienne averts his gaze, rests his elbows on his knees, and hangs his head.

  “All I can find is it’s a company that was founded in Columbia, South Carolina in the early 1900s. Found some momentum and during their glory years, it purchased your company.”

  I don’t relish saying those last three words. Watching Étienne’s face wince makes me internally cringe.

  “However, I did find out that Clearwater Real Estate was started by brothers Albert and Cecil Leviss in 1865 in Wilmington, North Carolina.” I lift my gaze. “The name sounds familiar?”

  “In North Carolina? I’ve never been to North Carolina!”

  “They probably bought the company to branch out their company,” I suggest.

  Étienne nods, but I can tell he doesn’t want suggestions. He wants answers.

  “Okay. Well, the Meridian Company was established in 1899 by Lionel Forrester in Lexington, South Carolina. Ring a bell?”

  “No, and I’ve only been to Lexington once. But did you find out who sold my company?” he utters slowly. Within seconds, he transitions from jovial Étienne to businessman Étienne. Instantly, I regret telling him what I found. If I could press rewind on the past few seconds, I would.

  “It doesn’t go into that much depth.”

  Étienne slouches against the couch and drags both hands through his hair. “But I’m going to keep looking. There’s always a chance I’ll stumble across a document that happens to be the very one we’re looking for. It’s always an adventure in ancestry land.”

  “It wasn’t Livingston. I’m positive. He wouldn’t let anything like that happen.”

  After a moment of silence, I ask, “Do you think he would’ve been advised if the payout was good enough?”

  Étienne’s arms drop to his lap. He stares at the ceiling, jaw clenched. I know even thinking about the very idea infuriates him, but we need to consider all angles. Maybe we’re putting all our eggs in one basket when there’s no need.

  I tuck my legs underneath me and face him. “You’re the brains behind your company, and nothing ever moved forward in the shipping company without your approval. If you’re gone, how can these businesses function?” Étienne doesn’t reply, but I know he’s listening, so I continue. “Sure, they may continue under Asa’s or Livingston’s tutelage, but it won’t be the same as you. Everyone will recognize that, so when the first buyout comes along, maybe they take it. Because it’s far better to go out on top than end up at the bottom.”

  Étienne turns his head my way and arches a single brow.

  I nudge his arm. “Don’t give me that look. It’s a distinct possibility.”

  “It is,” he says after a moment of silence.

  “But what?”

  “But somethin’ doesn’t feel right. I-I cannot place what it is exactly, but somethin’ is wrong.” Étienne stares down at his lap and abruptly stops speaking. There’s more he’s not telling me.

  Frowning, I lean in. “Wrong how? Wrong with the situation? Wrong with the direction we’re going?”

  “I don’t know!” Étienne shouts. He surges to his feet and begins pacing in front of me. This burst of anger has more to do with his company than with me. “I am happy to be with you and learn the ways of your time, but somethin’ is pullin’ me back and weighin’ heavily on my mind.”

  The anguish in his eyes and the torment in his voice are something I can relate to. I’ve been there more than once.

  “Do you think it’s out of line for me to enjoy this time?”

  “No, not at all. If you focus on everything you’re up against, you will drive yourself insane.”

  Étienne’s hulking frame continues to pace although his breathing slows to normal. I find myself standing and intercepting him, my hands curling around his massive biceps. He finally stops. My hands move up his arms and frame his face. My thumbs brush across the stubble on his cheeks.

  “You’re going out tonight with my brothers for drinks. Shut your brain off for the night and simply relax.” I press a quick kiss to his lips. “I know that’s hard for you to do, but try. All right?”

  Étienne wraps his arms around me, and he hauls me closer. A small smile crosses his lips. “I can try.”

  “That’s all I ask,” I reply.

  For now, everything seems okay. For now.

  Who knows what tomorrow will bring?

  “Are you good?”

  “I’m quite fine,” I reply as I try to open the car door. The handle keeps moving on me, though. Ian snorts and starts laughing. “Dude, you’re not fine. You’re fucking drunk as hell.”

  While I continue to pull at the handle, the man who Ian called our Uber driver keeps pressing the unlock button incessantly.

  “You can’t even open the car door!” Ian says.

  “I am capable of openin’ a door,” I bellow. My words are meant to be delivered assertively, yet they fall on deaf ears.

  I pause my attack on the handle and laugh uproariously with Ian. Why are my words funny? I’m uncertain, but they are.

  The driver shakes his head, mumbling under his breath. It would be prudent if I found my way into the condo. I squint toward the direction of the building. It looms before me, blending in with the dark sky.

  I tap the window before I look at Ian. “I must go.”

  “Well, if you must go,” he says, mimicking my proper way of sp
eaking.

  Ian cannot place his finger on it, but he knows something’s peculiar about me. I would be lying if I said the thought of telling him who I was and where I truly came from hadn’t crossed my mind once or twice.

  I’m not willing to risk everything, though, just because of my sense of pride.

  Finally, I get the door open and nearly fall out of the car. My stomach churns as I step onto the sidewalk with unsteady steps. Ian pays the driver and staggers out. I would help, but I can barely keep myself upright.

  “Don’t tell Serene I let you drink this much. She’ll hang me by my balls,” Ian remarks as we walk toward the condo building.

  “What makes you think she won’t hang mine?” I mutter.

  Ian laughs and searches through his pockets before he throws his hands up in the air. “Shit. I keep forgetting this building switched to a coded entry system.”

  Foxed or not, I watch with fascination as he tries to remember his passcode. “When did they switch?” I ask.

  Ian shrugs. “About a month ago. I rarely use it, though. Most of the time, I slip in behind someone coming or going, ya know?”

  I nod.

  Ian snaps his fingers as though a light bulb went off in his head, and he stabs the numbers on the key code.

  9-0-9-8-3.

  A small light near the key code flashes green the second I realize why those numbers seem familiar. That’s Old Serene’s birthdate.

  Ian walks through the lobby. I follow him, feeling a numbness coursing through me. Is it a mere coincidence? It can’t be. But I have so much alcohol coursing through my veins it’s hard to be anything more than a bit alarmed. I make a note to mention it to Serene tomorrow. If I remember.

  When Ian and I step into the elevator, he presses the wrong floor. The doors close. I press floor five and relax against the wall. Glancing at Ian, I see he’s nearly asleep. How is that possible? We reach the correct floor, and I have to tap his foot to jolt him awake.

  He shakes his head, his eyes groggy, and lurches out of the elevator. “See you later, man.”

  I wave and tuck my hands into the uncomfortable pants Serene had me wear from this time.

  I can’t remember the last time I drank this much alcohol. Perhaps when Livingston and I explored the Belgrave wine cellar when we were on the cusp of manhood. Our father found us in the basement, passed out with empty bottles of wine between us. One at a time, he dragged us up two flights of stairs to our bedchambers. He then ordered a servant to fetch large pails.

  “You will be sick. Aim in the bowl. I will see you in a day.”

  I never felt a headache so all-consuming in my life. As I drifted in and out of sleep, I hovered above the pail. My father’s point was driven home. After that, I tried to be careful. Unlike my twin who believed everything should be done in excess.

  And then Serene came into my life.

  She was excess personified whether it be her beliefs, her laughter, or her lush curves. After one taste of her, I realized how badly I craved the indulgence of desire. Merely thinking about her causes a crooked grin to appear across my face. It’s instinctive. Only she can elicit this response from me.

  My God, if she truly knew the power she had over me, I’d be in front of her, down on my knees, promising to give her everything she wants. I want nothing else but her.

  I quicken my step, anxious to see her, and almost fall on my face. I place my hand on the wall for assistance as I walk down the hall. Gravity is not my friend. I can’t walk a straight line to save my life.

  Finally, I make it to the door. As I look at my left and right, I’m momentarily confused. This isn’t Belgrave. Where am I? The door is far too small. There are no elaborate cornices and no haint blue on the porch ceiling. As I pound on the door with my fists, there is no Ben to greet me.

  After a moment, my muddled head clears.

  You are in the present day, you buffoon!

  And there’s no need for Ben to open the door because my sleepy fiancée does. She steps back and leaves the door open wide. I’m unprepared, so I half stumble into the condo. I find my balance and turn as though nothing is amiss. Serene shuts the door and stares at me with wide eyes. She fights the smile tugging the corner of her lips upward and crosses her arms. “Are you drunk?”

  Repeatedly, I point my finger at her as I attempt to formulate the correct words. “I am absolutely certain that I am.”

  Serene tilts her head back and laughs. It’s a pleasant sound that isn’t forced. I want her to continue, so I keep speaking. “Tomorrow, I will be …” I tilt my head to the side and scratch my brow. “What you describe as … hung to the over?”

  Another laugh, only louder this time. “It’s hungover.” She walks over to me and pats me on the back. “But let’s start calling it that. Sounds fancy as hell.”

  Yawning, I itch my shirt, suddenly feeling hot. When did it suddenly become so hot? I look around for the source of the heat while Serene guides me in the direction of the bedroom.

  “Exactly how much did you have to drink tonight?”

  “Not positive. Your brother gave me a drink called a Jägerbomb?”

  As I stumble down the hall, Serene shakes her head and grins. “Anything else?” “I can’t remember.”

  “Chances are, you probably won’t.”

  “I have a question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “What is porn?”

  Serene stops walking, causing me to nearly fall. Her eyes suddenly become wide, and her head whips in my direction. “Why?”

  “Because a man at the bar was deep into his cups and was speakin’ awfully loud. When he spoke of porn, Ian laughed. I asked what the fellow was referrin’ to, and Ian laughed harder. He told me to ask you.” I frown. “He said I was a strange dude.”

  “I’m gonna kill him,” she mutters.

  Out of tonight, that was by far the most uncomfortable moment. It felt as though every patron in the bar knew what the foxed man was speaking of but me. The skin on my neck became hot with embarrassment, and to distract Ian, I asked if he would order us another round of those Jägerbombs. He readily agreed.

  A tender and fierce look fills Serene’s eyes as she gazes at me. “Fuck everyone else, Étienne. You are amazing. And that asshole talking about porn probably lives in his parents’ basement, talks about his glory days of high school, calls every girl who doesn’t want him a crazy bitch, and still does the March Madness bracket in hopes that his team will finally win. But guess what? They never do.”

  Her words fired with rapid precision, aimed to hurt the drunken man at the bar. They didn’t make sense to me—what was March Madness?—but I understood the intent behind them. She felt protective of me, and I smiled down at her.

  We walk into the bedroom, and she sits beside me on the bed, resting her head on my shoulder.

  There was a time I thought I would never have Serene beside me or hear her voice. There was a time I thought I’d lost her for good. At those moments, the fear that took hold of me was unlike anything I’d ever felt before. I always knew the pain was never far behind when we were together, but this time, I was going to make sure I wasn’t the driving force behind the pain.

  Turning my head, I look down at Serene. From my vantage point, I can see the sharp yet petite profile of her nose. Her dark lashes cast shadows across her cheeks. Without the bright sun, her hair appears a dark red, and her freckles are nonexistent.

  Her long, slender fingers pat my thigh. Even though I’m seeing double, my dick has no problem standing at attention. I feel like a reprobate because her gesture is soothing, and all I’m thinking about is how I can get my hands on her. Swallowing a groan, I rest my cheek against the crown of her head and close my eyes.

  “I love you, Serene,” I mumble.

  She shifts on the bed, causing her legs to part. She’s wearing indecently tiny shorts. Serene insists it’s common for her to wear them in her time. She calls them “sleep pants,” and she has once or twice. To me,
they’re nothing more than scraps of cloth covering her ass and displaying her long legs. They drive me mad each time, making me feel as though I’ve time traveled back to when I was on the cusp of being a man and had never been around a woman with curves.

  My eyes slowly trail down her body, momentarily locking on her smooth thighs before drifting back toward her face. She meets my gaze boldly with not a blush in sight and leans in. Her nose brushes against mine. Even in the dark and in my alcoholic stupor, I can see her smile. It causes me to smile back. “I love you, Étienne.”

  “I love you too much,” I say as I grab the back of my shirt and pull it up over my head. I don’t care much for a dirty room because I believe everything should have a place. Tonight, I blindly drop my shirt.

  “Is that so?” Serene says. She places her palms behind her on the mattress, unknowingly placing her breasts on display. I can see the outline of them. Under the weight of my stare, her nipples pucker. Being this close to her when she’s dressed in next to nothing and not touching her is virtually impossible.

  In the end, I succumb. Because she smells so good. Because she is giving me her ever-knowing smile. Because she is simply Serene. I’ll never be able to decide whether she’s the most desirable creature or my kryptonite. One thing is for sure, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to figure her out.

  “It is,” I confirm. Without warning, I surge forward. Serene falls back against the bed while I brace myself above her. Serene’s hands curl around my biceps, and her legs freely part. I thrust against her, causing her to suck in a sharp breath.

  Dipping my head, I say against her lips. “It’s dangerous how much I love you.”

  “You think your love is dangerous?”

  “Oui. Pendant que je respire, je ne cesserai jamais de me battre pour nous. Rien d’autre ne compte.”

  Serene closes her eyes. I know French is her weakness. The same way her body drives me mad so does my second language to her. I prefer it that way because there are still moments when my feelings for Serene overwhelm me.

  I shout in English.

  And confess the truth in French.