Chapter Nineteen #2
One of the guards muttered something in disgust to the other. Henry guessed it was along the lines of We’re wasting our time or They’re not here, anyway. They made their way toward the door.
The couple Rose had chatted with stepped up to the counter to order. Rose pressed up against Henry.
“I think we’re safe for now,” he murmured, wrapping his free arm around her and squeezing her tight.
When she pulled back from him and nodded, she looked more exhilarated than terrified. “Let’s get some hot dogs. I’m starving.”
Henry nodded. “Whatever those are, I am hungry, too.”
“The guards might still be outside, though,” she murmured.
“They don’t recognize us,” he reassured her.
When they reached the counter, the woman smiled at Rose. “What do you want, sugar tits?”
“Two char dogs, two regular fries, please,” Rose said loudly over the din.
“Dragged through the garden?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Henry turned to Rose and asked, “Drag them through the garden?”
“All the toppings,” she explained.
The cook laughed at Henry’s confusion. “This bitch is from England and doesn’t understand English.”
Henry had never in his life been referred to as a dog, never mind a female dog. Astoundingly, the insult didn’t give him a moment’s distress. Clearly, the staff members doled out insults to entertain the crowd, and by chasing away the guards, they had earned Henry’s gratitude.
The woman looked Rose up and down. “Baby, you don’t want a strawberry shake? I know desserts hate to see you coming.”
Rose laughed and rolled her eyes. “Not this time!”
She paid and stuffed a twenty-dollar bill into the tip jar. Once they had their baskets in hand, they moved toward the door, but the woman shouting again made them turn.
“Are you on drugs?” she demanded of the customer.
“What?” the man protested. “I just want ketchup on my hot dog.” Several people in the crowd booed loudly.
“Did he want walnut ketchup, or oyster ketchup?” Henry asked as they went outside.
She raised her eyebrows. “Tomato ketchup.”
“I have never heard of it.”
They made their way to an empty table. “Well, you can try it. But not on a hot dog. This is Chicago.”
As they sat down, Henry attempted to discreetly search the area for their pursuers, and realized Rose was doing the same.
“I don’t see them,” she murmured, and Henry shook his head to indicate that he didn’t, either. He tucked the messenger bag firmly between his feet, looping the strap around one ankle in an abundance of caution.
Rose whispered, “That was insane!”
Henry’s guilt unfolded like a dark bloom.
Although he’d never considered himself an especially good man, he’d at least been raised to believe his word was a sacred bond.
He’d tacitly promised Rose that he wouldn’t steal the astrolabe.
While he could not bring himself to accept that what he’d done was truly a crime—it was his, after all—Rose had made it clear that she had no intention of taking part in such a thing. He had forced her into it, anyway.
He cleared his throat. “My dearest Rose, I must—”
“I’ve never run that fast in my adult life,” she said. “I think it was the adrenaline.” She picked up her hot dog and took a big bite.
He said heavily, “You are not usually chased like a doomed fox.”
“We were clever foxes. I mean you’re a genius, obviously, but I never thought I’d be good at the sneaking around, and the danger—” She gasped, her eyes widening. “Scorpio rising!”
Henry had no idea what she meant. “Even so, I am certain you were very surprised by what happened this evening.”
“You mean, finding our astrolabe using the moonstone?” That hadn’t been what he’d meant at all, but his mind snagged on the way she said our.
“I am surprised! For years, I would do these little spells, and when they worked, I wasn’t sure if they were coincidence.
I wasn’t even sure I helped break Griffin’s curse.
But now I know I can do things with crystals.
Big things.” She paused for a breath, then peered at him. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
Henry looked around them, but even the people at the other table, loudly joking among themselves, were not within earshot. Traffic whined from the street, punctuated with frequent honks.
He said, “Rose, by stealing the astrolabe, I went expressly against your wishes. I put your safety, your freedom, and your good name in grave danger. Once I had it in my grasp, and the alarm was sounded…” He shook his head at himself. “Never in my life have I done such a rash thing.”
She gave him an impish smile. “Oh, I wanted to take it, too.”
“What?”
She spread her hands. “Even before we went into the arcade room, I was thinking about it. And when the alarm went off, I knew we didn’t have a choice. Not if we were going to try to get you back.” She took another bite of her hot dog, as though she had no cares in the world.
“We were both of one mind,” Henry said, his guilt diminished, if not dismissed.
“Eat,” she urged. “You must be starving, too.” He was. The hot dog was some kind of mild sausage on a roll. “But take those peppers off. You’re not going to like them.”
Henry removed the narrow peppers and then took a bite. The sweet flavor of the unnaturally green relish, the sharp mustard, the fresh tomato, the onion, and a pickled cucumber spear all blended with the slightly charred meat.
“It’s very good,” he said once he’d swallowed.
She smiled. “I’m glad you like it. I’ll call us a car in a few minutes. Let’s not talk about it while we’re in the car, okay?”
Henry nodded. “That is wise.”
Rose used a napkin to wipe off the faint black smudges under her eyes. The paint she’d applied to her eyelashes had smeared in her exertions. She then attempted to smooth out her chaotic curls.
“I’ve never felt more beautiful,” she quipped.
But Henry found the disarray of her curls suggestive of a very different activity, as was the fresh bloom of her cheeks, which anyone would’ve admired.
“You always look like a goddess,” he said. Her smile faded, and she looked uncertain.
It reminded him of an earlier conversation. “Do you remember what you said at the party, about liking the Venus statue?”
“Yes?”
“How did you know about that statue? It wasn’t in the pictures we looked at.”
“No, I remember seeing it.” She shook her head. “It must have been on the website.”
Henry was positive it had not been. And it was not the first thing she’d known of his life that she had no reason to know.
When he’d first told her and Jason that the astrolabe had been a gift from his wife, Rose had behaved for all the world like she remembered that.
The fact that Rose had quoted the same Shakespeare as Charlotte could, of course, be counted a coincidence, but could her handwriting?
Too many strange things were adding up. And Rose believed she’d lived past lives.
She said she didn’t remember anything…but with the right questions, or in the right situation, might those memories come back to her?
He couldn’t speak to her of the highly unscientific theory. The past few weeks with her had been some of the happiest of his life. He cared for her deeply, for the person she was, here and now.
But why had the moonstone found its way to Rose? Why had her love spell summoned him?
Was Rose the reincarnation of Charlotte?