by Calia Read
“Everything Étienne has worked hard for is gonna crumble around us,” I state.
Asa turns. With a steely gaze, he looks me in the eye. “I promise I won’t let that happen.”
Asa has been a part of Étienne’s business since the very beginning. He has as much at risk as my family. I’m certain he will fight to keep the business intact, yet even he will find himself in a bind if there are legal restrictions.
It baffles me as to why Étienne didn’t have a tighter power of attorney or legal clause for his business. The only thing I can think of is he never once anticipated departing so abruptly.
“I have an idea.”
My back straightens with his words. To keep Étienne’s company all in one piece, I’m willing to hear what he has to say because I have nothing.
“There’s a close friend of mine, Beau Legare?” Asa dangles the name in the air like a worm on a hook, but it doesn’t sound familiar.
“He’s from Mount Pleasant,” Asa continues. “Has a good family and a brother, Prescott—”
“Étienne hired Prescott!” I say, the last name finally sparking a memory.
“Yes, he did,” Asa confirmed.
When Étienne let Edward go from the company, he was certainly more critical of the people he hired. It took him nearly six months to hire a new accountant, and that was only because Asa begged him because the work was becoming too much. Asa recommended Prescott Legare, a friend of the Calhoun’s. Étienne only had a business relationship with Prescott, and my brother was sure to keep him at arm’s length, but Prescott appeared to be a loyal accountant.
Not everyone in life was going to betray him the way Edward did.
I’d spoken to Prescott a handful of times. Before I moved to Savannah, I heard whispers of him proposing to Imogene Alton, a childhood friend. I haven’t spoken to either one as of late, but that’s to be expected when your entire life has been turned upside down to care for a loved one.
“Back to the point. Beau is a brilliant man,” Asa continues. “He’s three years younger than Prescott, but they both were in the same classes before Beau went to law school. He’s an incredible lawyer.” Asa gives me a pointed look.
“Go on,” I say, my heart hammering with every word Asa says.
“If Beau reads through the will, perhaps he can find a bit of ambiguity. It will make it easy to circumvent havin’ to face sellin’ the company.”
It’s quite possibly the largest “perhaps” ever presented to me, but I’ll accept it. When I smile at him, it is genuine and pure.
“That sounds great.”
“I’ll speak to him immediately.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
Asa stares at me for a second longer before he looks away. I watch his Adam’s apple bob. “There’s no need for thanks. You are like family to me.”
The hope I momentarily clasped between my hands slips away. I’ve heard those words from Asa Calhoun more times than I can count. My shoulders deflate, and an uncomfortable silence settles around us.
Asa clears his throat. “I should be going. I have work to do at the office.”
“Of course. I’m sorry to keep you for so long.”
I step back and allow Asa to walk past me. Typically, I would walk any guests to the front door and watch them depart with a smile on my face, but I don’t have many smiles left in me. Once I hear the front door close, I sigh. My bottom touches the edge of the desk. I reach behind me to rest my hands on the mahogany surface but miss, and an item lands on the floor with a loud thump.
Even though Étienne isn’t here, I feel a small sense of guilt for being in his office. He always has everything in its correct order, and it wouldn’t do not to put everything in its place.
My skirt billows around me as I kneel. I blindly pat the surface of the carpet, searching for what fell. Biting down on my lower lip, I continue to reach around the empty space. When I finally grasp something cold, I don’t think twice and tug.
Sitting up, I watch as my newfound treasure comes into sight. My heart sinks when I see it’s Étienne’s pocket watch. He carried it wherever he went. Thus, more proof that when he left, it was abrupt and unplanned. My fingers graze the smooth surface of the pocket watch before I release a piece of paper hooked around the clip.
Frowning, I tug on the paper and unfold it. The more I read, the wider my eyes become. What’s in this letter could very well hold the explanation to Étienne’s disappearance and validates what Asa saw today. Slowly, I lower the letter until it rests in my lap.
Étienne knew Old Serene was back.
After our visit to the Lacroix House, Étienne and I walk around Charleston. We find a restaurant and attempt to eat lunch to distract ourselves from what we saw and heard from Sylvia, but it was pointless.
What we didn’t say echoed in our eyes. We were both thinking about Belgrave, about Nathalie and Livingston and everyone left behind. Our shoulders slump as though we’re wet laundry that’s been wrung out repeatedly before being hung to dry.
After lunch, we move through the streets with no place in mind. I’ve attempted to hold a conversation with Étienne, but he’s giving me one-word answers, and I don’t have the energy to keep up this façade.
Throwing my hands in the air, I face Étienne. “All right. I’m calling it.”
He stops walking and gives me a questioning glance.
“We’re both thinking about it, and we’re both exhausted,” I say.
Étienne’s only reply is a brief nod. Once again, we’re quiet as we head back to the hotel. The moment we get back into the room, I’m taking a long, hot shower and then will continue to research Belgrave and Étienne. Maybe something has changed now that we’ve stepped through the Lacroix doors.
What once used to be exciting to me—research and the genealogy—is now frustrating and tedious. I’m beginning to form a headache just thinking about it. Apprehension settles at the base of my spine at the thought of what I’ll find.
Life once felt long and adventurous, but it’s now become short and uncontrollable. I can’t decide if the blame rests on my shoulders or time.
It’s both. Time holds immense power over Étienne and me. I’ll never stop searching for answers, even when my mind and heart want to quit. Every time I inquire about the fate of my future and search for the people I love the most, I get a small piece of the power time holds.
That’s something worth remembering.
The moment we arrive at our hotel room, Étienne falls back onto the bed. I forego my shower to snatch my laptop from the desk and start it up.
Étienne lifts his head and looks at me before he lets it fall back. “You’re truly goin’ to look my sister up?”
“Yes,” I reply, my focus on the screen. “I have to.”
Getting logged on to the hotel Wi-Fi takes longer than I expect. By the time I’m on Google, Étienne’s curiosity has gotten the best of him, and he’s sitting beside me, ready to see what information I may find.
“Nathalie Lacroix Claiborne,” I say aloud and press enter. While I wait for the results, I turn to Étienne. “Is it bad that I don’t think of Nat as a Claiborne?”
He contemplates my question. “No. There are many times I’ve found it hard to believe she’s a married woman.” He stares down at his hand for several seconds before he abruptly looks at me. His green eyes are raw and so incredibly sad. “I believed Oliver was a good man.”
Ignoring my laptop, I face him. “He is.”
“Then why did he not help my sister and family better?”
“Maybe he did. Maybe he took care of her the best way he could, but he just couldn’t fix a broken heart.”
Étienne nods, but I know he’s not receiving my words the way I intend them. “This is not makin’ sense to me.” He leans forward, his elbows resting on his thighs as he remains lost in his thoughts. “Oliver made a vow to me when he asked for Nathalie’s hand that he would never let any harm come to her. I told him not to let me d
own. I trusted him.”
Trust is a powerful thing to Étienne. To him, it’s nearly akin to love. He doesn’t hand the two out freely. Mainly because he hasn’t felt the urge to trust and love many people in his life. And when he does, he holds those people close to him.
I could tell from the way Étienne bobbed his leg up and down that he was getting wound up again just as he did outside the Lacroix House. I make soothing circles against his lower back and carefully think of my next words, but Étienne speaks up before I can. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to research Nathalie.”
My hand drops from his back. “I think it is.”
“No, you don’t. You’re upset, and you want an outlet.” I don’t reply, and instead, I focus on the screen. I know he’s right. I just don’t want to admit it.
“Fine,” I grit out. “I won’t look up Nat.”
“Good. You’ll thank me later.”
“I’ll simply look up Old Serene.”
At that, Étienne lifts his head and stares at me as though I’ve officially lost my mind. “Why? Why do you continue to research people?”
“Because knowledge is power. I know you’re afraid and so am I. But that’s why I want to be equipped with all the information possible.”
Étienne can be stubborn but so can I. I’m going to look up anyone I possibly can, and nothing is going to change my mind.
I pull up the blog I previously found that had Old Serene’s family tree listed. Although Étienne doesn’t entirely agree with me continuously researching everybody, he quietly remains by my side, intently staring at the screen.
“Serene Quentin, Serene Quentin,” I mutter under my breath.
I finally reach her name and am disappointed to see that nothing has changed with her information. She still doesn’t have a date of death. Defeated, I go to exit out of the page when Étienne says, “Stop right there.”
Looking from the corner of my eye, I see him pressed against my side. His brows create a deep V as he scans the list of names. I smirk. “See something that interests you?”
“Yes.” He points at the name on the screen. “That name.”
I find myself leaning in. He’s pointing at a name directly above Serene’s, attached to Serene’s mother. “Aida Tilcott Clark,” I read. Now it’s my turn to frown. “Delia’s sister?”
“The name sounds familiar.”
“Why?”
“If I knew that, I wouldn’t be baffled, now would I?”
I elbow him lightly in the stomach and stare at my screen. “We can look this Aida chick up,” I offer.
“Do that. Do that,” Étienne urges.
I pull up another window and type in Ancestry into the search engine. Once that loads, I search for Aida Tilcott Clark.
My expectations are nonexistent, but the results are staggering.
For me, what stands out are the location of the documents and photographs. It’s none other than Charleston, South Carolina.
My heartbeat begins to quicken as I realize Étienne might’ve discovered a missing puzzle piece for us.
“Does she have a family tree?” Étienne asks.
“Probably.” I scroll down the page until I find a family tree with numerous attachments and click on it.
Aida was born in Boston, Massachusetts, and moved to Charleston, South Carolina, with her husband, Samuel Clark, in 1900, shortly after they wed.
Nothing stands out to me other than the location. For Étienne, it might be a different case. I glance at him, and sure enough, I’m right. His face is pale white.
“What are you thinking? What’s running through that mind of yours?”
“I’m thinkin’ her husband, Samuel Clark, is vice president of Lacroix Shipping Company.”
My eyes widen. This is brand new information to me. “What? When?”
“Livingston and I made the decision in January 1914,” Étienne explains. He pushes off the bed and walks back and forth in front of me. His hands are on his hips, and he looks ready to murder someone. “I didn’t have an active role at the shipping company, and it was crucial we had someone well-qualified and experienced. That was Samuel. He knew our father for a time. My father spoke highly of him. I never once thought another person would betray me again!”
Placing my laptop on the bed, I jump up and intercept Étienne. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Who says he betrayed you?”
“Is my company in existence?”
“Did Samuel have the power to sell Lacroix Shipping Company to another company?” I retort.
“No.”
“There you go. So far, the only thing he’s guilty of is being Old Serene’s uncle.”
Étienne doesn’t reply. His jaw is locked, and his eyes are glued on the floor. Hopefully, he believes me. I want him to believe me. But I think the reason he’s so angry right now is he’s partially blaming himself.
“Calm down,” I say. “You’re jumping the gun and getting ahead of yourself.”
His eyes become shuttered. Étienne takes a deep breath and finally looks at me. “I need some fresh air. Excuse me for a second.”
Étienne brushes past me, and I watch him open the patio door. He slams the door shut so hard it ricochets off the doorframe and remains cracked open. Étienne braces his hands on the banister and hunches his powerful shoulders as he looks out across Charleston. It’s best to give him space and let him breathe, so I grab my laptop from the bed. Opening it back up, I click on my family tree.
Normally, I don’t think twice when I go through this process. However, I’m nervous this time because I don’t know what I’ll find. Results seem to be ever changing with anyone we look up, yet I have to make sure everyone in my family is where they should be.
It starts with Emmeline, and from there, I scroll down, scanning each name carefully. In family trees, for anyone who’s living, it will simply have their name, and then directly beneath, it will say Living.
I have full access and can see all the names and birthdates of everyone in my family tree.
Except for myself.
The month and date when I was born are there, but the year is gone.
Which is impossible because I remember manually typing that in. I don’t make any mention of it to Étienne. It could just be a simple glitch, and I’m worrying over nothing.
I click on the year tab and type in 1988. I press enter expecting to see the year stay, but the tab remains empty as though the past few seconds never happened. I look around the room. What is going on? Once again, I put 1988 in and forcefully press enter.
Nothing.
Over and over, I press enter. Is the fucking button broken?
“Is everything all right?”
I’m so panicked and consumed by my laptop that I didn’t notice that Étienne had come back into the room. “No. Something is wrong. My birth year is gone.” I punctuate my sentence by repeatedly stabbing the enter button.
Étienne sits back down next to me. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not letting me put the year I was born into my family tree.” With every word, my voice goes up an octave. I can’t help it. Panic is starting to seize me. I load the page again, thinking the hotel internet is being slow, but everything shows up as it should. Except for my birth year.
Exasperated and scared, I stand and toss my laptop onto the bed. I stare at the device as if it’s the source of all my problems, which is ridiculous. No one made me look through my family tree but me.
But when I step back from the situation—as I’ve attempted to do each time before—it’s far bigger than that. The power will never rest in my hands, in Étienne’s, or even Old Serene’s. Hell, she might not even realize something is skewed. The power will always lie within time.
I’m fighting a losing battle, and Étienne was beginning to lose motivation. He merely realized it before me.
“Perhaps there’s a problem with your laptop?” Étienne suggests.
“The page loads fine. It’s not the laptop.” I meet his sober
gaze. “There’s been another shift in time. Someone has done something.”
“Could it be us comin’ to Charleston?” Étienne quietly proposes.
The two of us have been very careful not to revise history in any way, space, or form. That’s why we try not to look up Livingston and Nat. If we find something concerning, the urge to tell them will be too great. But Étienne brought up a good point. Perhaps us simply being here has caused a stir.
“Maybe,” I say.
“Where do we go from here?” he asks.
Sighing, I drag my hands down my face. I’m standing in the unknown. My present-day life is literally fading right before my eyes, and I haven’t been guaranteed a life in the past. My life hangs in the balance.
What do you do when you’ve been backed into a corner? You fight blindly. Fiercely. With all the energy left inside you.
Deep breaths in, deep breaths out.
I repeat that process until I slowly open my eyes and focus on Étienne. Fuck my laptop. The internet can give me only so many answers. We are here in the city where everything started. History is at our fingertips, and the ground? It’s positively pulsating with unearthed secrets.
I lean forward, my eyes filled with fire, and smile. “We’re not wasting time. We’re going to Belgrave. Now.”
“Before we get out, I’m going to ask you one last time. Are you prepared to do this?” Serene says.
“Absolutely,” I state confidently.
Serene gives me a questioning glance before she pulls the keys out of the ignition and rubs her temples. She doesn’t think I’ll be able to handle this. Belgrave is part of me. It runs through my blood. In my era, the Lacroix name is synonymous with Belgrave.
I knew we would visit Belgrave. Perhaps not quite so soon and I never anticipated Serene becoming so resolute. That will remain one of stark differences between us. Serene trudges through situations she’s uncertain of while I prefer to take a step back and equally weigh all my options so I’m resolute in my decision.
Never in my life have I had more questions. Uncovering the truth on how Nathalie spent the rest of her life and getting confirmation Livingston died prematurely should give me just the smallest bit of closure. After all, I know what happened to them. But the pieces aren’t aligning themselves as they should. It tears me apart to think of the pain she experienced. First, I left, and then she had to deal with the agony of Livingston passing away in World War I.