“Marigold!” The emotion in my own voice startled me.
I had never in my life cried over a girl—not once. But then, no one had come close to meaning as much to me as she did.
I wondered when she’d done it, exactly, completely broken through to me. Was it when I saw her standing at Wishing Cross Station for the first time? Or when she was showing me around town the first day I worked for old Wilson?
Was it when we made angels in the snow? The memory of her sparkling, covered in crystals of ice, was so beautiful and so painful now.
Maybe it happened when I saw her shining bright in the flickering flames of the candles surrounding the perfectly-decorated Christmas tree.
If not a moment before then, it was when I heard her singing a lonely hymn, accompanied by Mr. Best’s haunted melody. No doubt, it was a moment that changed who I was. Forever.
No. I realized now that I really only came to love her, truly, in the moment that had just passed between us, the one in which we both understood where she’d really come from, and how little she belonged here—or anywhere. God, how I wanted to be the one to give her a safe place to belong, for the rest of her life, enclosed in my arms.
There and then, I’d have given my own life to stop her pain.
I slipped on the snow but finally caught her, and when I spun her around by the arm her eyes were wild and desperate.
“No! I have to get away from here! I don’t belong…I don’t belong anywhere!”
“Where are you going, Marigold?” I asked softly, touching her face. “There’s nowhere far enough for you to go to outrun who you are.”
“I wish I were dead,” she cried, breaking down with her head in her hands. Her knees gave out and she sank into the snow. “I was never supposed to be born.”
“But you’re here, and you’re this amazing, incredibly sweet, kind, loving, giving soul,” I said, gently putting my hands around her waist, raising her up, and steadying her on her feet.
I stroked her cheek but failed to catch her gaze. She closed her eyes tight, shaking her head against my hand.
“It’s not your fault Aurelia and John Fox fell in love, and it’s definitely not your fault they acted upon it and you were born. Hell, you are absolutely the best thing J. Howard Fox ever did for this or any other world.” I pulled her into my arms and buried my face in her shoulder, fighting emotions burning with too hot a flame to be completely controlled.
I hated the way it felt; I was always supposed to be able to control myself and my feelings. I was supposed to be rational, follow my head, not my heart.
But there she was, sobbing in my arms, and all I knew was it was absolutely killing me.
“I understand Fox now. I know why he took such risks and kept coming back here. He wanted to get back to you, yes, but he wanted more. He was trying to find a way to manipulate time, so he could go back before you were born and take you both with him, into his world. So he could prevent Aurelia from dying. He wanted so badly to find a way he could stay here.” I looked deeply into those honest blue eyes I had come to adore. “Just like I wish I could stay here.”
She took hold of my shoulders and before I knew what had happened, she kissed me.
We stood there for an instant, enveloped in the steam from each other’s rapid exhalations. She was waiting for me to reciprocate, and I wasted no time.
I took her face into my hands, kissed her forehead, her nose, and finally pressed my mouth to her lips and held nothing back. It was an embrace unlike any other I had ever given, and it deepened my ongoing transformation. I was more myself in that moment than I had ever been on my own.
She trembled against me as her lips slowly parted, tenderly letting me in. It took a moment before her arms encircled my neck, but once they did, she held on tight. My hands moved from her face to her shoulders, over her arms, clasped at her hands, and then grasped hold around her waist, pulling her against me.
I could feel my heart pounding and was certain she could, too. She leaned back and looked at me, eyes at once startled and somehow alight with a new life. It was as if she never believed any man could desire her, let alone one who she clearly wanted so much as well.
God, how I wanted her.
I knew it wasn’t supposed to happen, but I wanted her anyway.
I knew especially, in this time, intimacy of the kind we longed for was reserved for married couples.
Only, Marigold and I could never get married. Hell, Marigold wasn’t supposed to exist and I wasn’t supposed to be in 1880. We had already done so much that could change the future, it hurt my head to try to keep track.
All I could think of was the feeling of her body pressed to mine. The way her breathing changed with every kiss I placed against her soft, elegant neck. She didn’t want me to let her go any more than I wanted to.
“Marigold,” I moaned.
Her hands found their way over the front of my shirt and down to my waist. She pressed her lips to my cheek and brushed soft fingers over my neck and the top of my chest.
“What do we have, if not right now?” I struggled for breath. “I don’t want to let you go.”
“I have nowhere to go, to rightfully call home unless you give me one.” She regarded me with longing; the spark ignited desire in me like never before, her hands grasping hold of mine. “Please. There has to be one place I belong, just once in my life, for a moment. Take me there.”
I swept her up and carried her in my arms, sliding over the slippery ground beneath my feet, to the stairs and up to the apartment.
Before I knew what was happening we were back in my small room. I set her down and looked around frantically. Without a way to lock the door, we could be interrupted at any moment should Best decide to come back early. I moved the dresser up against the door with one fierce push. Now no one could enter the room.
My breathing was ragged, my body crying out for hers. I took off my snow-drenched shirt and tossed it across the chair beside the bed.
She removed her hat, her coat, and took deliberate steps toward me.
She reached up and untucked the end of her hair from the style holding it back so properly. It fell in loose, deep golden waves far beyond her shoulders.
Her dress was a complicated affair, and she seemed in a hurry to dispense with it. Reassuring me with an unwavering, smoldering stare, she unbuttoned the elaborate jacket and blouse of her walking suit, revealing the corset and skirts beneath.
Just as I’d imagined so many times, the tops of her perfect breasts spilled out over that corset, the same flawless, ivory shade as the rest of her skin.
She stood trembling before me, arms open, waiting for me to act. I found myself at a loss, all of her so mesmerizing I didn’t even know how to begin making love to her.
Then, something occurred to me. The bed was horrifically squeaky. I could take no chances, should Best decide to skip church and come home early…
“Just a second,” I said, ripping the mattress from it and tossing it to the floor.
She smiled at me in a way I’d never seen. I didn’t need to explain.
For the first time in my life, I was not thinking straight at all.
I wasn’t considering the consequences of my actions if I saw this through. I only knew I wanted to be a part of her, to try to fill, somehow, the seemingly endless void existing where her self-worth should be.
I didn’t want to just tell her what she meant to me. I wanted her to know.
“Keigan,” she spoke my name and it was as if I was hearing it for the very first time.
She ran her fingertips up and down over the hair on my chest as my hands found her corset laces and took hold. She gasped with pleasure I was certain she’d never felt before, and all I wanted to do was give her more.
I unlaced the corset and then withdrew my hands. The fabric hung slack, barely covering her now, and I hesitated. If I touched her once, I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop, and I needed to be entirely sure.
“Keigan,
” she murmured again, her tone both commanding and tender this time. She pressed her body against mine, lips tugging at the flesh of my neck. “Please, I need you. Just once, tell me…am I…pretty?”
“Oh God. Marigold…you’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”
I buried my face in her shoulder, her hair, taking in the sweetness of her scent and the incredible way she felt beneath my hands. My lips moved along her jawline, over her throat, slowly trailing downward.
I felt her hands working my belt free, a dizzying, amazing sensation. Her hands were everywhere, all over me; she knew what she wanted just as I did.
She pulled me down with her onto the mattress on the floor as we fought to find each other beneath our remaining layers of clothing.
Finally we belonged to each other completely. My body above hers, her eyes staring back at me with love and something I can only call a devotion I never imagined I’d see in my lifetime.
We caressed each other clumsily at the start, but soon found our way. At times we held on tenderly; at other times ferociously, certain we would never have another night like this.
Moments blurred together and turned into hours, and we lay entangled, still, as the clock struck midnight and the church bells began to ring.
I looked at the tears in her eyes and wondered if she already regretted what we’d done, but her actions soon turned my worry to dust. She began kissing me again, in a way meant to lead us back to each other, once more.
***
At last she slept a little, and when I heard Mr. Best come down the hall and into his room, Marigold was still lying against my bare chest. I could only hope he’d just go straight to bed, and not question me at all tonight.
We were lucky; he did.
The sound of his footfalls outside the door startled her. My arms tightened around her, assuring her for the moment, everything was all right.
“I can’t go back to Finch’s house now,” she whispered into my ear. “Not yet. I only hope she went straight to bed.”
“Me too.” God, how I wished we had more time.
I knew with the way she was under such scrutiny and surveillance, there was no way we’d be left alone again.
I didn’t want this night ever to end.
As I pressed my lips to the top of her head, I was haunted by the knowledge that just days from now, the wormhole was supposed to open again, if it were on time, and I had to be aboard a train that would disappear from this world.
I’d disappear forever from Marigold’s life.
How was I ever going to leave her?
I couldn’t take her back with me.
I couldn’t risk her life, and live with myself, knowing Jasper Wilson had died in the attempt. At least here she was alive. Even if we were never able to see each other again, I could console myself with the fact that her life would go on.
I was going to have to leave her. I just didn’t know how.
“Don’t think about it now, Keigan,” she whispered, stroking the stubble on my chin, stumbling over her words as she fought tears, wiping them away angrily with the back of her hand. “I can’t go with you, at least not now. Not until you get back and figure out if there’s a way, or should be a way. You…you can’t stay, I know.”
“God, Marigold, if I could stay here, I would.”
She caressed my cheek again. “There’s nothing we can do to change the future. Just be here with me, and tonight, don’t let me go.”
I couldn’t speak so I kissed her, and kissed her, and kissed her... and knew no matter how old I lived to be, there was no way anyone else could ever be to me what she had become.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE CANDLES BURNED DOWN again to almost nothing. By this time, it was three o’clock in the morning, and Marigold needed to think about sneaking back into Finch’s house.
We dressed in silence. I watched as she fought a losing battle against her hair, struggling to tame it before she finally just left it down, put her hat atop her head, and shrugged.
Carefully, we moved the dresser away from the door, and I managed to get her down the back steps and outside without Best knowing.
So much of what would happen in the days ahead had been decided for us by history, it seemed, but the one thing I hadn’t decided yet was whether or not I had to destroy the book, or if it was something Marigold would have to do after the train took me away.
I didn’t know if I could leave such a weight upon her, risk that she might not be able to bring herself to do it. It was, after all, her life story, and it would be the only thing she’d have left to hold on to once I was gone.
Gone. How could I ever be gone from Marigold now?
What if I just stayed? What if she risked it and came with me? What if I’d already altered things so much in my time here that there would be a different outcome for us than there had been for Charles Kelly and Jasper Wilson?
I could argue either way, and that was the blessing and the curse of my nature. After all, she only existed because of the errors in judgment another man in my place had made in a previous cycle of the wormhole. A decision I could not possibly judge him for now, since I was guilty of the same thing.
What if Marigold ends up carrying my child after last night, and I just leave them both behind?
My God, what have I done?
We stood in the light of the waning moon, holding each other close and kissing in the middle of this early Christmas morning when we heard a sound that shattered us both.
Off in the distance was the sudden, unmistakable, singular wail of the Aurelia Belle.
“No!” Marigold cried.
I feared she might wake Best, and so kissed her again to silence her. Then I did the only thing I could do.
“Wait for me,” I pled, and I hurried back up the stairs, grabbed my backpack and the book from the nightstand, and then ran back outside.
I was dressed in my 1880s clothing; that was how I’d have to go back to 2015.
There was no time for anything more now. My time in Wishing Cross was up a week earlier than either of us had expected.
“No,” she cried again.
“Come on,” I took her hand and pulled her along with me.
“Keigan, I can’t,” she objected, struggling to free herself from my grip. “I can’t watch you leave.”
“You won’t even give me a chance to say goodbye?” I asked as we hurried across the street and over to the station. “Please, don’t take that from me, not after tonight, after everything. Besides, we have to decide what we’re going to do with the book, and we have to hurry, Marigold, the train is almost here.”
“But I don’t want to say goodbye.”
“I know.” I was devastated at the thought of leaving her. “I know.”
The place was deserted at this hour, no one expecting a train, least of all the only person meant to board it.
I stood on the platform at Wishing Cross with little more than I’d brought with me. In fact, I was missing my Grandfather’s’ pocket watch and had no chance to retrieve it. Not that I wanted to. I had already decided to give it to someone I felt deserved it more than I did, for all the good he’d done for me.
I shivered against the cold. It was an especially clear night, and the sky was a deeper blue than I’d ever seen, studded with faceted stars. The train was still chugging toward the station, and seemed to be picking up speed.
I looked at Marigold helplessly.
She held her hands out to her sides, a hopeless gesture as her eyes reflected her sorrow. “Not yet. Not so soon.”
“My watch,” I said, as I pulled out my wallet and removed all of the local currency from it. I tucked it into her coat pocket. “Take this, and add it to the earnings Mr. Best would’ve given me for the time I’ve worked for him. Ask him to take my watch out of pawn and keep it, with my thanks.”
“Keigan, no!”
I held her face in my hands. “We’re running out of time. You must listen to me.”
Now that the moment was here, I didn’t think I could do it.
Then I looked upon her again, standing there, wringing her hands with grief, and I knew I couldn’t. I held the book in my hands, trembling, hoping and dreading at the same time at the last minute we’d decide we could dismiss the warnings of history and she would just get on the damn train with me.
No matter what I wanted, though, I couldn’t risk her life.
At least here, in this time where she’d been born, whether she was meant to be here or not, she’d continue on. She would live, and that was the best I could ask for now.
All my resolve to keep a brave face crumbled when I saw the look upon hers.
She took hold of me again with a confidence I had never seen in her before, and, unlike just about every other conversation we’d ever had, she didn’t start out with an apology. Quite, in fact, the opposite.
“I’m not sorry for what we’ve done,” she announced.
Her breath made soft clouds in the air, those perfect lips I had come to know so well, and that I wanted to kiss every day, night, and morning for the rest of my life, if only there were a way.
“You don’t have to do it, Keigan,” she continued. “It’s my life in that book. I should be the one to ensure it can do no more harm.”
“Alone? That’s not fair.”
“Life is never fair.” She pulled off her gloves and tucked them into her pocket. “You have to go back. If you don’t, you’ll die.”
She reached up and caressed my unshaven face. I dared not ask what she was thinking now, because I imagined she was remembering the hours we’d spent holding each other just as much as I was, and to know that for sure would be more than I could bear.
“Give me the book, Keigan.”
“Marigold…”
“The book.”
I sighed and handed it over to her. She set it down on the bench beside us.
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