It was easier to study my surroundings as I walked through the hospital, no mass of people shepherding me around in a rush. I was all but ignored as I made my way across the polished floors, watching as the caretakers of this place hurried from room to room, writing things down, clicking away at the boxes on their counters, and speaking into devices they held up to their ears. A flimsy bag made of a product I wasn’t familiar with had been given to me, stuffed full of my cut-up uniform, redcoat, and boots. They’d dried somewhat during my stay, but there was still a weight to them that matched the lump in my throat as I thought of all the problems I’d created by coming here.
My messmates would have noticed I was missing by now, or would soon. Smith had known my plans to propose to Olivia and could perhaps assume we had stayed in Bear Tavern for the night. When we didn’t return promptly though . . .
My regiment would label me as having abandoned them. The men I’d fought beside would think me a coward. A deserter. Someone may look for us, but there would be nothing to find.
My family would receive letters detailing the shame of my demise. Of course, with no proof of any turncoat actions, I would only be labeled as missing. No one would know the truth, but everyone would assume I was a traitor.
Taking a steadying breath, I steeled my emotions. Whatever happened here would be worth it, so long as Olivia lived.
Several minutes went by as I wandered the hallways, passing by paintings of flowered fields and buildings that towered into the heavens. Doors opened and closed, each person quietly weaving around me like water rushing past a pebble in a riverbed. As I was beginning to think I was in the wrong place, I finally came across a large sitting area. Chairs lined the walls and formed rows in the middle of the floor, accented by potted plants that matched the fabric of the seats. Cabinets with glass fronts held food, an advertisement with different prices listed on them. The money was not a kind that I recognized, and once more I felt the sickening twist in my stomach that reminded me I was not in a place that was at all familiar.
Several people rested on the cushions. A family with small children focused on another slate with flashing lights and music that came from nowhere. An older man appeared to be sleeping in the corner, his head rested against the wall and arms folded over his chest, the brown of his heavy coat somewhat muddied. The pages of a book turned slowly as a woman read, seemingly unaware of everyone around her.
I knew Charlotte Mercer as soon as I saw her. There must have been something about her all black attire, or the way she stood in front of the window staring out into the snowy night that reminded me of her brother. As I stood there, watching her, she turned around, and our eyes met. My stomach lurched as I realized she had the same blue gaze as Gabriel. Thankfully, that was where their similarities ended.
Where his hair was light, hers was long and dark, pulled back at the nape and curled over her shoulder. She was much shorter than him if I remembered correctly, and his well-muscled form must have looked overly bulky next to her slender, lithe one.
It was more the air that surrounded her that reminded me of her brother, however. Each of them possessed a quality of authority and knowledge, as well as self-assured superiority. Where Gabriel had worn his as more of a condescending wave, Miss Mercer displayed this as a shield of calm understanding.
Pulling her hands from the pockets of her long jacket, she strode from her spot, the heels of her boots clicking across the floor. “August,” she said warmly with her low voice, a smile gracing her lips as she stopped in front of me. “How are you feeling?”
Swallowing thickly, I nodded. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.”
A knowing flash passed through her gaze. “And Olivia?”
Closing my eyes, I took another deep breath.
“I see.”
Staring at her, I cleared my throat, folding my arms. I didn’t have anything else to say to her, other than to ask her why she was here, helping me. This didn’t seem the opportune place to do so, though, and so I remained silent.
“She will be fine,” Miss Mercer stated confidently, mistaking my silence as having been worry for Olivia. “I know for certain.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You do?”
She smiled knowingly. “I do.” Gesturing to the hallway I’d been walking along before, she moved to continue down the path. “Walk with me, Mister Bancroft. We have a lot to talk about.”
Her easy manner confused me. With no other solution or place to go, I did follow her, the pair of us moving silently down the hall until we came to an unremarkable door and she pushed it open for me.
“Is this . . . a closet?” I asked, moving inside the small space and flinching as the door shut and plunged us into darkness.
“It is,” she answered without explanation.
A small click permeated the air and light flooded the closet, lighting up the shelves and floor with bright clarity.
Blinking, I stared down at her, frowning. “Why are you here?” I asked, unable to hold it in any longer. “Did you think I was Gabriel when you came here? If so, why help me when you realized the truth? I find your actions to be quite perplexing, Miss Mercer.”
“Gabriel stayed in the past.” Folding her arms, she frowned for the first time. Anger filled her face, and she shook her head, her voice grating as she shared her true opinion of her brother. “Probably because he knew I would kick his ass if he came back through. That punk thinks he can change history and I wouldn’t do anything about it? He’s got another thing coming if I ever get my hands on him again.”
Shocked, I leaned away from her, regarding her form with a newfound curiosity. “You and he do not share the same views?”
“Hell no!” She appeared to be offended I would even think such a thing. “Louis and Gabriel have always had a skewed view of how the world should be. When they came up with this dumb plan for political power, that was when Mom and I decided enough was enough.”
“I beg your pardon,” I interrupted her. “Louis?”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “My father. Well, my biological one, anyway. I haven’t seen him in years, ever since the big fallout between him and Mom.”
Narrowing my gaze, I tried to follow the quick conversation. “You stayed with your mother and Gabriel went with your father when the family dissolved?”
She nodded and then shook her head, an expression of frustration covering her features. “That’s not important right now. We have a lot of things to go over before you meet up with Olivia. There won’t be a chance to get it all out until later, and that will be too late.” She laughed, the sound humorless, and her eyes widened slightly. “Time is limited, especially once you’ve figured out how to travel it.”
Shoving her hands in her pockets, she produced a handful of items, handing them off to me as she listed what they were. “This is a social security card. Memorize the number on it and keep it in a safe place. It was probably the hardest thing for me to get for you so I would appreciate it if you don’t screw it up somehow.”
I took the little, blue scrap of paper without question, staring at the digits on it and then quietly tucking it into my pocket.
“This is a driver’s license, but don’t get behind a wheel. It’s the most common identification used here, so you need to have one, but you don’t understand anything about cars. Just because you have it doesn’t mean you can use it for that, got it?”
Taking the second card, I nodded, brow furrowed. “I know what a car is,” I answered defensively.
“But nothing about how to drive,” she answered with the same flippant candor. “So you’ll leave that to someone from the twenty-first century, capeesh?” Another card was passed into my hands without leaving space for me to reply. “Insurance,” she stated without explanation. “Credit card—there are only five thousand dollars on there, so don’t go crazy—and this is the key to your hotel room.” She shoved the other cards into my grasp as well and then met my stare again. “You’re staying in a Park Suite a
t The Rittenhouse. I’ve taken the liberty of leaving more clothes for you there, and any food you want to order to the room will be paid for. Of course, if you want to stay with Olivia that will be fine too. Some things have changed while she was gone though, so you have this option if you need it.”
Confused, I stared at all the things in my hands and then at her. “How will I get to this place?”
She pointed to the credit card. “Take a cab and pay for it with this. The driver will take you wherever you ask. If you require anything else . . .”
Miss Mercer reached into her pocket one last time, revealing one of the strange flashing boxes I’d seen most everyone using here. “This is a cell phone,” she stated. “You can use it to call me. My number is already saved inside. If you hold this button on the side and wait for it to ding, you can ask it to call me, and the phone will do the rest. Understand?”
I nodded, though I didn’t have the faintest idea of what she had meant, and took the object from her, carefully stowing it in my jacket.
“I’ll call later, so we can meet up. Right now, you and Olivia should take a few days to yourselves.”
Pushing the door open, she motioned for me to follow her out into the hall, leading me through the hospital and into another section where there appeared to be sick and injured people.
“You’re leading me to Olivia?” I asked, finally grasping the direction we were headed.
“Yes,” Miss Mercer confirmed. “You’ll have to speak with a nurse or doctor before they let you in there, but you’ll at least be able to see her through the window if they won’t let you in.” She paused, motioning to a room with a closed door and covered windows. “Or at least you would have been if they’d opened the blinds.”
The lump in my throat returned as I stared at the closed off room. “Why are you helping me?” I asked quietly.
She smiled, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Because,” she answered with ease. “You and me . . . We go way back. You just don’t know it yet.”
The doctor shut the door behind him, leaving me alone in the room as he went to get Gabriel Scott. After watching him go, I glanced around the hospital room, looking at all the modern machines, listening to the beeping of my heart monitor, and feeling the heaviness that came from being under anesthesia. It was all too real and painful to experience just now. Covering my mouth, I let the tears stream down my face, muffling my sobs in the palm of my hand.
How had this happened?
Earlier this evening, I’d been in the year seventeen seventy-seven, agreeing to marry August and stay in the past forever. Now, I was waking up from surgery in my own time, finding out that I’d been restored to the exact moment I first traveled to the past from, and August was gone. He had saved my life, sending me here after Gabriel stabbed me, but now we were separated, and I had no idea how to return to him.
If I tried to travel back at the George Washington Monument Bridge, would it take me to August, or would I go further, to when I first arrived in the past? I had no idea. It was clear I didn’t understand much about time travel to begin with, but now? The number of things I didn’t know was astounding.
The only good thing I could think of was that Gabriel was in this year as well. I would be able to question him until I found the answers I wanted, but I wasn’t going to be able to do it right now.
To put it simply, it hurt too much.
I didn’t want to look at the man. Everything about him reminded me of what happened, how I’d accidentally followed him to the past, how he abandoned me there, how we became reluctant allies, and how we unwittingly became enemies. Most of all, it reminded me of August. Every single particle of my memories of the past was linked to him, and Gabriel had twisted it all together.
Even more frustrating and angering, he had stabbed me! He was going to get away with it and complete the ruining of my life. None of it was fair.
Shoulders shaking, I continued to cry into my hands, overwhelmed by what I’d lost and the anger I felt for Gabriel Scott Mercer. My eyes closed, the visions of my last moments with August playing through my mind.
The door to the room creaked open, and I squeezed my eyes shut harder, knowing Gabriel now stood in the entrance. “I won’t tell anyone what happened,” I stated, hiccupping. God, I couldn’t look at him. I was so angry and hurt, all I wanted was for him to leave. I’d figure out how to find and question him later. Or maybe I wouldn’t. Through my confusion, I found myself sharing the emotions I felt the most right then. “But I don’t want to see you anymore, Gabriel.”
“Olivia.”
The sound of the voice washed over me like a cool wave, soothing me the way it always had. At once, the sense of safety I’d been missing was back, the fear and anger over seeing Gabriel vanishing as I opened my eyes in shock and stared at the man in the doorway.
He wore all black, the clothes looking like something fresh off a runway. He was handsome enough to be a model, but the expression of confusion and relief on his face, paired with the waterlogged treads of blond hair hanging around his shoulders, made him appear more like a beautiful evacuee from a terrible tragedy.
I didn’t know who had taken pity on him and dressed him so nicely, or how he had ended up in my century, or at the hospital for that fact. It didn’t matter to me in the slightest. All I cared about was that he was here.
Suddenly, I had the horrible thought that it was all a dream, that I was in surgery, or just waking up from the anesthetic. As soon as I spoke to him, he would vanish, and I would wake up in a cold sweat, alone.
“August?” His name was nothing more than a whisper on my lips, the word trembling from me as I dared to hope what I was seeing was real.
His eyes teared up as he nodded, stepping in the room the rest of the way and letting the door fall shut behind him. “It’s me,” he answered quietly. Voice catching, he cleared his throat, taking another hesitant step toward me. “Are you well now? They have fixed your wound?”
I glanced down at my stomach, not really feeling anything then. I was still drugged, pumped full of painkillers and anesthesia that wouldn’t fully wear off for hours. However, when I put my hands on top of where the gash had been, there was a small sense of soreness. It increased as I tried to sit up better, causing me to wince and suck in a sharp breath.
August was by my side in an instant, his arms wrapping around my shoulders and beneath my knees, assisting me in the motion without any effort. The action brought our faces close, bodies entwined as I settled into the bed.
Staring into his blue eyes, the eyes that had captivated me from the moment I’d first seen them in an old painting—a portrait I had made of him that somehow withstood the test of time and wound up in my hands once more—I felt fresh tears slide down my cheeks.
“I thought you were gone,” I whispered, wrapping my fingers into the neck of his coat as I continued to hold onto him. “Left in the past, never to be in my arms again.”
He laughed slightly, the sound throaty. “I believed you dead or dying.”
“I’m alive,” I whispered, mouth trembling as tears continued to drip off my chin.
“And I am right here with you,” he muttered, releasing my knees to brush away the wetness on my face.
A relief filled chuckle broke from me, and I nodded, crying harder as I pulled his mouth to mine and kissed him like we’d been apart for lifetimes.
August’s lips pressed against mine, filled with a desperation I’d never felt from him before. His hands gripped the sides of my face, fingers pressed into my hair. Heavy breath mixed with my own, a shudder of fear moving through his trembling touch. It was as if he were dying to pick me up and hold me to him, but too afraid of hurting me at the same time.
Touching his neck, I allowed my free hand to fist in his shirt, struggling to pull myself closer to him and failing entirely as the surgery site let off a twinge in my middle. As I flinched, I let out a small gasp, eyes opening in a small amount of shock at the feeling.
H
e pulled away in an instant, gaze sweeping over me, the concern on his features increasing. “I apologize,” he stated hastily, letting go of me and moving back. “I allowed myself to be carried away, rather than remember your condition.”
I waved a hand, looking down as a warm blush covered my cheeks. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I was the one getting riled up.”
The assurance did little to appease him and the worry in his stare.
“Olivia . . .” He hesitated, his brow furrowing as he peered at the door, sliding his hands into his pockets. Then, staring at me, his shoulders fell, as did his expression. “I have to tell you something. I recognize you have just woken up and are going through a lot, but I do not think this can wait.”
My anxiety rose a few levels. The tone of voice he used was carefully guarded and clipped, revealing he didn’t quite think I was going to be thrilled with whatever it was he needed to say. All of the different possibilities of what it could be flashed through my mind. Was he leaving? Did he dislike it in this time so much that he already wanted to find a way home? Would he leave me behind? Maybe once he’d seen this century in person, he’d realized it was a mistake to come here with me. I couldn’t really blame him if that were the case.
The worries of losing him all over faded away as I realized he would never do that to me. If the man would give me his room and let himself be captured as a prisoner of war in a battle he never should have been at when we were complete strangers, he wouldn’t abandon me here to fend for myself after I’d been stabbed as his fiancée.
Abandoning Anarchy (The Lost in Time Duet #2) Page 3