The Reigning and the Rule

by Calia Read

  “Nat—” I start to follow her out the door when she begins speaking to Scarlett’s back.

  “Scarlett, please don’t be upset with me. I wasn’t made aware of Étienne’s intentions until before dinner, but I think this—”

  Abruptly, Jack turns and sneers at Nat. “My daughter won’t be speaking to anyone in the Lacroix family.”

  Livingston was standing by the front door like me. Within seconds, we’re circling Jack. My brother’s good nature disappears as he solemnly stares at Jack. “Don’t ever speak to our sister in that way again,” he says at the same time as Nat shoves her way between us, and hollers, “What did you say to me?”

  I expected the conversation to go bad. But I didn’t anticipate everything to crash and burn so quickly. I don’t know where to interject, but I do know it’s taking all my willpower not to wrap my hands around Jack’s throat and choke the life out of him for speaking to my sister like that.

  “Don’t ever expect to see my Scarlett again,” her father says.

  “You don’t have to do this, Jack,” I interject. “Nat and Scarlett are friends—”

  “I won’t have my daughter’s name smeared by spending time with the likes of you.”

  Livingston’s lips draw into a tight line. He dips his head slightly and gestures toward their car. “Then by all means, go.”

  Nat opens her mouth, but I make eye contact with her and shake my head. Right now, there’s no use trying to reason with Jack. And Scarlett’s too hurt. She needs time. My sister briefly closes her eyes, shakes her head, and watches as Scarlett and her father get into their car.

  Gravel sprays behind the back wheels as they head down the driveway. Livingston walks past me, muttering how he didn’t drink enough during dinner to deal with this.

  Nat chews on her bottom lip and watches the car until the live oaks swallow it from sight. “Do you think she’ll speak to me again?” she finally asks.

  I place a hand on her bony shoulder and sigh. “I know she will. It might be a while. Now, will she speak to me again? That remains to be seen,” I tease.

  Nat elbows me in the gut, but a smile appears across her lips. She crosses her arms and turns toward me. “What have you done?”

  “I do not know.” I stare at my sister. “But I feel the right thing was done.”

  Her eyes imperceptibly widen over my confession. “You do?”

  I nod.

  She pats me on the back. “Where do you go from here?”

  “I go nowhere. I stay at Belgrave and wait for Serene. Even if it takes my whole life for her to come back.”

  Nat’s worried expression doesn’t fade, causing me to laugh. “There is no need to worry. It was only an engagement I called off. It was out of my own volition. What could possibly happen?” I rhetorically ask. I muss her hair and turn toward the front door.

  Before I walk inside, I hear Nat say from behind me, “Oh, Étienne. When will you learn?”

  The second I arrive back at Ian’s apartment, I don’t waste any time before I’m digging into the envelope Allie handed me at lunch.

  I wanted to pore through the documents and pictures in my car, but I knew if I did, I would’ve spent all day in there. So I sped through town and arrived back to my brother’s condo in record time.

  Slamming the guest bedroom door, I jump onto the bed and dump all the documents onto the comforter. There’s so much here. I don’t know where to start. My historical heart hammers in my chest with excitement. I all but rub my hands with glee.

  Pictures first or letters?

  There’s a decent number of letters between Margo and Emmeline and a smaller stack of photographs. Pictures are always my weakness. It doesn’t matter if they are black and white or in color. They both transport you to a certain point in time.

  But I can’t ignore the fact that letters were the very thing to send me back to Étienne last time. I pull one letter out of the Ziploc bag and unfold it. Quickly, I scan the paper. Seeing the cursive script makes my heart pound. What information awaits me in this letter? I’m about to find out in a matter of seconds.

  December 28, 1913

  Dearest Margo,

  It is fascinating to me how people define success. To some, it might be accomplishing a goal. For another, it’s reaching for stars and going for their dreams. For others, it’s never enough.

  I’m beginning to accept that Uriah is firmly stuck in the third option; the success of Hambleton’s isn’t enough. He wants to open another store in St. Louis, Missouri. My dream is to have a chain of department stores across the Midwest, but I want to tread carefully because the quicker the climb, the faster you fall.

  Uriah refuses to listen.

  I must confess, I am scared. Since I petitioned for divorce, the future has become unknown. Especially my time at Hambleton’s. I know Uriah desires to run the business on his own. Very slowly, my dream is slipping through my fingers like sand.

  All this talk of Uriah weighs heavy on me. I must say when I was reading your recent letter, I laughed. You painted quite a vivid picture of you falling on the sidewalk from a patch of ice. Did anyone see?

  How was Christmas with our family? You must tell me everything.

  All my love,

  Little Poison

  January 10, 1914

  My Little Poison,

  Fortunately for me, no one saw. It was early in the morning and not a lot of people were awake to see me flail about. So sorry to disappoint you.

  I know the story behind your nickname has been said numerous times, but I feel the need to describe it to you again. You were six and mother’s wedding ring disappeared. She cried and cried for weeks. She searched the house, and Father yelled at her because he thought she had misplaced it. She asked me, you, and Otto if we took it. You stared her straight in the eye and told her you didn’t have it. The whole time, it was hidden underneath our mattress. Two weeks later when mother was cleaning, you came into the kitchen and handed her the ring and walked out without saying a word. When she asked why you took it, you said you thought it was pretty and you wanted it.

  I believe you should take what you want and ask questions later. This is your company. Didn’t you once tell me that this is a man’s world, but women rule it? Rule your world. Reign over your company yet smile at the correct times and allow those men to believe they’re in charge. We know the truth. You are breaking the mold, and Uriah realizes that. Don’t forget that.

  Love,

  Margo

  January 20, 1914

  Dearest Margo,

  Things with Uriah have progressed from bad to worse. I prefer to see the good in every situation. At times, I’ve even thought to myself I could trek my way through even the darkest of times. However, I am struggling. I am beginning to believe I’ll never be free from Uriah. Our union has been short, but I see the error of my ways. Margo, how could I be so foolish?

  It is difficult to see the end of this bumpy road. It appears to stretch out in front of me, reaching toward eternity.

  I find myself growing angry. Resentment is beginning to grow inside me. I ask myself frequently what I desire out of life. Perhaps I envisaged more than I should be given. I simply want freedom. I want my son to be safe. I want my company.

  Do you know it took me twenty seconds to write my life’s desires down, yet it will most likely take me twenty years to achieve them? Even then that is an ambitious estimation. If Uriah has any say in the matter, I’ll never be able to see my goals come to a successful conclusion.

  All my love,

  Little Poison

  “Serene, you home? Myen and Bradley are here with the baby!” Ian shouts.

  “I’m in the guest bedroom. Just give me a sec!” Quickly, I hide the letters by throwing the comforter over them. I jump off the bed as though it’s on fire.

  When I step out into the hall, I can hear everyone talking. They’re all congregating around a black car seat in the living room. From my viewpoint, I watch as Myen shoves I
an and Bradley out of the way as she unbuckles the straps and carefully grabs the small baby inside. She cradles him in her arms and smiles at me. “Come here, Auntie Serene!”

  That is one name I’ll never get used to. Hesitantly, I step forward. Nora is sitting on the couch avidly watching some show called Doc McStuffins. If she cares about having a new little brother, she doesn’t show it.

  “Who is this handsome fella?” I say in a hushed voice.

  “I’d like to present your first nephew, Johnathan Cain Langley.”

  Warning bells begin to go off in my head at the name Johnathan. It’s been so long since I’ve heard the name Johnathan that the minute she says it, my heart stops and my mouth falls open.

  “Did you say Johnathan?”

  Myen nods and lovingly brushes the back of her hand across the baby’s forehead. “Mmm-hmm. Named him after my grandfather.”

  “Your grandfather’s name is Johnathan?”

  “Yes,” Bradley says slowly. “You have heard of the name Johnathan, right? It’s pretty common.”

  I roll my eyes and feign indifference. “Shut up, Bradley. I misheard her at first.” I smile at Myen and tell another lie. “Johnathan is the perfect name.”

  Myen beams like every new mother and holds her arms out. “Do you want to hold him?”

  I freeze up and stare at the perfect, innocent baby as though he has three heads. “Hold him?”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Ian asks. “Are you deaf?”

  Ignoring him, I stare at the newborn. It’s not that I haven’t held a baby before or that I dislike children. It’s merely that when I pictured holding a baby, I always imagined it to be Étienne’s and my child. And now I’m forced to face the glaringly obvious fact that I’ll never be able to have that. It was all one delusional dream.

  “Just had a long day and am really tired.” I reach out and pat Myen on the shoulder. “Although I’m assuming I’m not as tired as you are.”

  Myen nods and smiles along. The dark circles underneath her eyes speak for themselves. Sleep hasn’t visited her in a while, but she doesn’t seem to mind. In spite of her lack of sleep, she has a happiness about her that can’t be denied. Looking at her and her baby brings an unexpected pang to my chest.

  I can’t hold him. I just can’t.

  Instinctively, I take a step back, garnering a strange look from Ian. I fake a few coughs, and immediately, Bradley and Myen stare at me as if I have the plague. Hell, Myen even goes as far as to cradle the newborn with her free hand.

  “Are you sick?” Myen says in a hushed whisper.

  I feign pain as I swallow and gently pat my throat. “I haven’t been feeling well all day, and my throat is feeling kind of crummy.”

  “So you decide to hang around a newborn baby?” Bradley snarks. “Maybe later you can just spit in the baby’s mouth and call it a day.”

  Is it my imagination or is he shifting back to the Bradley I knew in McLean? I glare at him before I look at Myen. “I’m really sorry. I just wanted to say hi and see your baby. But I think I’m gonna go lie down.”

  Everyone in the room all but pushes me out. As I walk down the hall, I smile victoriously and try not to run back to my room.

  I shut the door and hurry back to my bed where the letters and pictures are waiting for me.

  My heart races and palms tingles. The power within these letters and pictures is indisputable. Yet as I stare at these time capsules, I realize one thing. When you play with time, you’re doing irrevocable damage. Something very wrong that you can’t take back.

  Every action I take creates a ripple effect that always hits the people I love.

  But at the end of the day, I have two choices. I can stay here in the time I was born in, or I can find a way back to Étienne’s era—the one where I belong—with one massive stipulation. I can’t morph time, no matter the situation.

  Can I do that?

  And can I say goodbye to my family forever?

  You said goodbye to your family the second you pulled the trigger, my mind whispers to my torn heart.

  The weighty truth slams into me. I fall back against the pillows and press the heels of my palms into my eyes. I think I’ve known the truth for a long time. I’ve simply pushed it to the back of my mind because loving Étienne can be so easy. The consequences of being together is the hard part.

  The last time I was with him was wrought with arguments, but I was near him, and there was a sense of placidity.

  I will never control time, but I will gladly admit it controls me as long as it brings me back to Étienne. I know the consequences of my decisions. I know what I’m saying goodbye to, and I know it will not be easy. However, this must be done.

  A few minutes later, someone knocks on my door. My hands heavily fall to the bed. I open my eyes. Once again, I throw my comforter over the letters and pictures and roll my shoulders.

  Look relaxed, my mind demands.

  I need to pretend my only care in the world is my fake sore throat. Not switching eras indefinitely.

  Quickly, I grab the remote from the nightstand and turn on the TV. “Yeah?”

  The door opens, and Ian’s head appears. “Myen and Bradley left. Once you announced you were fake sick, Myen became paranoid that the baby was getting a fever, and they hauled ass out of here.”

  At his words, I sit up. “How did you know I was faking it?”

  Ian opens the door wider and leans against the doorframe. “Please. I know a fake cough when I see it.” He coughs and pats his throat. “My throat is feeling kind of crummy,” he says, mimicking my voice.

  I laugh, enjoying the rare jovial side of my brother. It’s a brief glimpse of the old Ian I knew. “That doesn’t sound like me, but I appreciate the effort.”

  He shrugs before he crosses his arms and looks down at his feet. “I appreciated your effort in that fake cough. Myen is sleep deprived. She didn’t notice you didn’t give it your best effort. But I have some studying to do, and if you held our nephew, they would have been here for the next hour.”

  Smirking, I dip my head in acknowledgment. “You’re welcome.”

  Ian crosses his legs at the ankle and looks deep in thought. After a few seconds, he shakes his head. “Man, Bradley has two kids. Can you believe it?”

  “I can honestly say I don’t.”

  Ian smiles at me. “Do you think that will be us?”

  “Perhaps,” I reply faintly.

  Ian shrugs and begins to back out of my room. Our brief conversation makes me believe that perhaps there’s a chance the Ian I grew up and loved is still with me. Do I want to leave my brother behind forever? I have to make one last-ditch effort and find out.

  “Ian, wait,” I blurt.

  When he turns, he’s frowning over the urgency coating my words.

  I stare at the comforter and think over my words carefully. I’ve accepted the fact I can never tell my family I’ve time traveled. It’s best for everyone involved. However, that doesn’t mean I can’t ask Ian if he remembers a different, better life. In a roundabout way, of course.

  “Do you have happier memories of our family?”

  Ian frowns. “What do you mean?”

  Patiently, I repeat my question.

  “Do you, and have you been holding out on me?” he teases.

  “Not exactly. But here look.” I flip the bedspread over and gesture to the letters. “I’ve been reading these letters from over a hundred years ago, and—”

  Ian’s groaning before I can finish my sentence. He rubs his temple and takes a deep breath. “This isn’t about Étienne, is it?”

  My breath catches in my throat, and my entire body locks up. I can feel my eyes rapidly blinking. “You know Étienne?” I whisper.

  My brother gives me a strange look. “Yeah, you talked about that damn antique store for a month straight. You prattled on and on about it so much that most of the time, I tuned you out. You mentioned a box of letters you found and how you needed to go to Charlest
on and speak to some guy, and well, we know how the story goes from there.”

  I’ve asked enough questions tonight that if I ask any more, I’ll look like a psychopath. All I can do is nod and pretend I know what Ian’s referring to. When, in reality, my head is spinning a mile a minute. Did I go to Charleston to find a way back to Étienne or to Asa? Or perhaps I merely wanted to speak to their relatives to see if they have knowledge of the letters? I don’t know.

  I’m still stuck on the fact the letters were found at an antique store with Étienne’s Christian name.

  The thought sends shivers down my spine.

  Ian snaps his fingers. “Yoo-hoo. You still with me?”

  I blink the room into focus and find my brother standing beside me with an expression of concern on his face. Sitting up straight, I smile at him. “Yep. I’m here. Just thinking.”

  “Why does that concern me?” Ian mutters under his breath.

  Gently, I shove him away. “Stop it, will you? There’s nothing to worry about. If you must know, I was thinking about this afternoon. I stopped by the old apartment. My former neighbor had a stack of mail for me, and apparently, the hotel I was staying at in Charleston found my luggage.”

  “Everything where it should be?”

  “Everything but my money and credit cards.”

  He snorts. “I’m not surprised. However, any credit cards in Mom and Dad’s name were shut off. So good luck to the person trying to use them.”

  Internally, I wince, hearing I had credit cards in my parents’ names in this new life of mine. Although it shouldn’t come as a shock to me.

  Play along, Serene, my mind whispers. Information is far easier to come by when you nod along.

  “I know, right?” I finally say.

  “Although I bet the credit card company is saddened by the charges they’ll lose on Dad’s account. It’s a crushing blow for them. Hell, I’m willing to bet that’s what brought you to that stupid store; you were on another shopping spree.”

  Bingo.

  “Well, the card’s useless now. So it doesn’t matter.” I tuck my hands underneath my thighs so Ian doesn’t see how much they’re shaking. I want to look up this antique store so badly.