by Olivia
"Don't say it." He sealed her lips with a finger. "It is part of the past that must now be forgotten."
She removed his hand and stilled it between hers. "But you must know how I—"
"I know how. It was Sujata who took it. Isn't that what you want to tell me? You paid her well to."
Olivia gulped, mortified. "How did you—"
"It was surprisingly easy." It might have been her imagination, but something stirred in the depths of those veiled, silver-fish eyes, something she had never seen before, a faint twinkle. "I know Sujata's perfume," he explained with halting care. "Wherever she has been it lingers."
Her eyes widened. "You haven't—"
"No." Again he caught her thought before she could complete it. "I have not harmed her, nor will. She has gone to Benares." He sensed Olivia's quick stab of jealousy and caressed it away. "You must forget Sujata now. We have both done things we are not proud of. I more than you, Olivia, I far more than you!"
Forget. Two simple syllables, yet two of the most demanding in the English language. So much to forget! Fleetingly, Olivia's thoughts turned errant again. Theirs would be a hesitant happiness, their hopes stolen from a still-grudging fate, their future touched by fears of the unknown, of the unknowable. Once again she would sail across uncharted seas. There would be doubts and discoveries, resentments and earnest resolutions, inevitably at least some persistent barriers. There would be suspicions and pain, losses and gains—oh yes, gains!—and always with them would be that past never wholly forgotten. It had not yet been fully lived out, perhaps; it would resist healing balms, and some scars would remain, always itching faintly.
And between them, unforgotten and unforgettable, there would be Freddie. And Alistair—as much a part of herself as was Amos.
No. The past could not all be obliterated yet. Its agonies would linger for both, and sometimes also divide them. Within, they would share a world as close to magic as any world could be. But the world they faced outside would be savage in its refusal to forgive. Would she truly be able to bear that? Yes, a hundred times yes! He was justified in his insecurities but wrong in his conclusions. In all this, all this that was yet to come, she had a source of strength that he had not considered: they would never again be on opposite sides.
And without him life had no meaning anyway.
He followed her through the labyrinth of her deep inner silences, tilted his head to a side and raised an eyebrow. With matching intuition, Olivia understood his unasked question. "No." She straightened, squared her shoulders and shook her head. "No second thoughts. Not now, not ever. I was merely trying to tailor the past to fit the future."
"And you are certain that it will fit? A square peg in a round hole?" He was still sceptical.
"No, I am not certain. But if my determination can bring me you again, then it can also make a square round. I am, after all, renowned for my resourcefulness."
At that he laughed. Finally. A full-throated laugh, fluid and free flowing, a laugh empty of doubts, filled instead with the wonder of revelation. As he had done once many lifetimes ago, he removed the chain from his neck and fastened it around hers. "I can still give you nothing that I value more. You wear it now with my mother's blessings." His hands at the back of her neck stroked it, then cupped her face. "With it I bequeath you my past. My future appears to be yours already."
It was a commitment, this time irreversible. And this time, Olivia knew, it would be mutually honoured. She raised the locket to her lips, then, taking his hand, kissed the bruised knuckle with which he had punished himself. "Come. Let us go to the carriage," she said, laying his palm against her cheek. "I have brought your son to return to you."
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