Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
The next night, after work, Emily went with Rose to her apartment to commiserate and to pick up the astrolabe from Rose, so she could hide it in a clock once Jason found the right one.
“I just don’t see how a love spell could’ve gone this wrong,” Rose said, digging her spoon into the bowl of ice cream she’d picked up from Rainbow Cone. For a proper heartbreak like this, she figured she deserved the best.
“I’m so sorry,” Emily said, curled up at the end of her sofa with her own bowl. “I know it’s no consolation, but it’s incredible that you could do that spell in the first place.”
“Is it possible to become a more powerful witch and a worse one at the same time?” Rose wondered aloud.
“If you’re getting more powerful, it might take some practice to get things under control.”
Rose nodded. “Well, I get another try with the astrolabe, since I’m going to try to send him back. It’s going to be so awkward traveling with him to England.”
Emily gave her a sympathetic smile. “Henry just wasn’t ready for another relationship. You’re an amazing person, and I bet the next guy will like you for you.”
Rose sighed. “I mean, Henry kind of said that he did. He said that all of my life experiences had made me the person I was, and that there had never been anyone like me before.”
“Oh,” Emily said, uncertain now. “That kind of does sound like he’s into you, and not just missing his wife?”
“As long as he has this idea that I used to be Charlotte, how can he know for sure how he feels about me?”
“I see what you mean,” Emily admitted.
Rose took another big bite of the ice cream. “It’s just so stupid. Can you imagine me having a past life as a duchess?”
“Um…” Emily squinted at her. “Are you looking for an honest answer here?”
“I guess.”
“Then yeah, I can imagine it. When I first met you, you were wearing one of your maxi dresses—the white one with the empire waist? I thought you looked old-fashioned.”
Rose hadn’t expected that. “Well, I can’t imagine it.
A lot of people who think they have past lives imagine they were royalty or whatever, but I never have.
I couldn’t have been that kind of person who has everything she wants, and who has people taking care of her.
I’m the one who takes care of everyone else! ”
“You do,” Emily said. “And you’re good at it. You take care of your brother, you’ve taken care of me and Griffin before…but it’s okay if sometimes, other people take care of you.”
After Emily left, Rose tried to cheer herself by watching episodes of an old TV show about two brothers who were demon hunters, but even that didn’t make her feel better.
She took a bath with a lavender bath bomb and tried to go to sleep, with no luck.
Finally, she got up and checked the time on her phone.
1:07 a.m. Ugh. Before long, she’d have to go to work.
She had three new texts. The first one she opened was from Aaron.
Hey, just thinking about you. Hope you’re having a good week.
She wondered what he had thought of meeting Henry, aka Horatio, the other day. Well, she was going to avoid Aaron as long as he was still investigating the mystery of the painting. Maybe someday she would go out with him…but she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
The next one was from Ryan.
Jason said you and Henry had a fight. Everything ok?
Why did Jason keep talking to Ryan? She texted back, explaining Henry’s delusion, but leaving out any details about her romantic involvement with the lost-in-time duke. It was over now, anyway.
And finally, she had texts from Jason. He’d linked the address of a hotel, adding, Henry’s in room 4343, under my name. Let me know if you need anything.
Jason wanted her to get a better handle on using the astrolabe to time travel, but he didn’t know how to help. Rose didn’t know, either. Her nerves felt like old, thin rubber bands, the kind with no stretch left in them.
Maybe she should do a spell for divine intuition. She’d told Jason she’d do one, in order to ask for guidance about working the astrolabe.
She sighed, got out of bed, and lit the white pillar candle on her altar, the one that represented the element of fire.
A little dish of rock salt represented the earth, and she lit a stick of incense, because the smoke represented air.
She chose one infused with frankincense resin, her favorite for clearing away negativity.
For the element of water, she took the little alabaster goblet to the bathroom sink and refilled it.
She’d always done a little meditation while she did this—I fill my own cup, meaning that she had the power to make herself happy—but she couldn’t bring herself to do that tonight.
She got up and went to the kitchen, taking the astrolabe out of its pizza box.
It looked more magical than ever, sparkling with its thin layer of frost, and even though she’d handled it before, she had the ridiculous fear that just by touching it, she’d be whisked off to some other era.
Maybe back to the time when Illinois had been underwater, and she’d drown amid all those weird creatures that had been discovered in fossils.
With a shudder, she took it back to her room and set it on the bed next to her altar.
Then she knelt down in front of the altar, took a deep breath, and let it out.
Instead of trying to think of an incantation, she recalled other names for Hecate and asked from the heart.
Hecate, Mother of Witches, Keeper of the Keys, She Who Lights the Path in Darkest Night, give me the key to using the astrolabe correctly.
Give me the power to return Henry safely to his time.
She had an intrusive thought. You’ll have to hold on to the astrolabe and go with him.
That didn’t make sense. Why had Henry come to her before, when he’d only been touching it?
Because you both wanted to be together.
Rose waited for her inner voice, or whatever it was, to elaborate, but it didn’t.
It didn’t make sense. She had wanted that, but Henry most definitely hadn’t. He’d wanted to be with Charlotte.
“Fuck,” she breathed aloud.
Was there a possibility, even a remote one, that what Henry was saying was true?
She’d been gutted when he’d called her by his dead wife’s name. But if she took her feelings out of it, she could recognize that there were a lot of coincidences.
“I would remember,” she murmured.
No, she wasn’t going to gaslight herself. She had to hold firm. Men were always expecting her to accommodate them too much. She’d been willing to try to accommodate, and it had always ended in her feeling like garbage.
There had been the anime guy, and the guy she’d always driven out to Park Ridge to see because he didn’t drive, although, well, trains and buses did exist, and there had been Jake the Snake.
She’d taken care of his python for a whole month while he was supposedly in Bucharest, even though she’d been terrified it would get out of its cage and hug her to death in her sleep, and it had turned out he’d never left town.
And then, of course, there was Aaron, who was like, Sorry I lied to you while investigating you for a crime.
But Sorry I think you’re actually my dead wife topped them all, didn’t it? Even if Henry was different. Even if she thought she felt a connection with him that she’d never felt with anyone else.
She’d always had strong intuition. That was a big part of being a witch. If she had been a little psychic with Henry, it wasn’t surprising.
She looked at the Venus art card, sighed, and closed her eyes. Bring Henry some peace of mind. And me, too. Even if we don’t wind up together.
—
At work hours later, after her staff meeting, Rose printed out a photo of the original painting of Henry, on the good color printer.
Jason had read that the Wilke painting contained clues on how to use the astrolabe; he hadn’t been able to find any, but who knew? Maybe something would jump out at her.
Were any of the book titles legible? Not in this photo, anyway…but maybe she could make them out in the original painting? She folded the photo, stuck it in her purse, and took another trip to the paintings conservation lab.
She half expected the painting wouldn’t be at Daniela’s station; they might be photographing it or doing some kind of test. But there it was on its easel, even though she didn’t see Daniela anywhere.
She raised a hand in greeting to one of the other conservators, who smiled back.
The conservators had seen her in the lab several times, taking pictures and shooting videos.
Even though she’d seen the altered painting before, the ghostly absence of Henry made her heart ache. If she succeeded, he’d be gone from Chicago, and their brief, beautiful affair had already fogged over with hurt and regret.
Keeping a respectful couple of feet away from the painting, she peered at it. Maybe there was some writing elsewhere? On the vases?
Her brain registered the image of the woman carrying torches…and on the vase next to it, the woman getting out of the sea.
A smile spread across her face. They were part of the key. Jason hadn’t made the connection, but then again, Jason wasn’t thinking about spells all the time.
A moon globe stood next to them…of course. Was there anything else? Her gaze drifted across a fancy inkwell, an even fancier box with a lid, playing cards on the bottom shelf…
The eight of clubs was turned face up.
“Ha!” She hadn’t meant to say that aloud.
Daniela’s boss, a willowy woman in her sixties, came over. “Hey, Rose. We’re supposed to restrict the lab to conservators. For now, anyway.”
“No worries! I was just looking for Daniela,” Rose said hastily. “I’m just leaving.”
She had to talk to Henry about this. It was good to have an excuse to call him. She still felt crushed…but she was constantly worrying about him, anyway. Not wanting to call him in her quiet office with her coworkers listening, she went to the café.
The phone rang five times before someone picked up. She heard Henry say good morning, but his voice sounded muffled.
“Henry, it’s me,” she said loudly. “Can you hear me?”
Some shuffling noises, and then his gruff baritone voice came through loud and clear. “Yes, I am here. Good morning, Miss Novak.”
He’d been talking into the wrong end of the receiver, she guessed. Any other time, the thought would’ve made her smile.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I am…” He seemed to be considering the question. “I am very ill, indeed.”
“Oh no.” Rose pressed her hand to her heart. He’d been healthy when he left, other than his maybe-delusion about her past life. “How are you sick? Do you need a doctor?”
“On the contrary. I mean to say that I…am not doing well.”
“Gotcha,” she said gently, sad but relieved. “Yeah, me neither. I’m at work, so I can’t talk too long. But can I come over to your hotel room after work tonight?”
“By all means.” His voice grew husky on the last word.
Oof. She hadn’t been trying to lead him on. “I want to see if Jason can come, too, and maybe Emily. I want to talk to you all about the ast—” She caught herself just in time. For all she knew, Aaron Coleman was sitting right behind her, taking notes. What else began with ast?
“About the Astroglide,” she said firmly. Yes, it was a brand of lube, but she couldn’t think of anything else. The man at the next table shot her a strange look.
What? she thought. People are allowed to plan sex parties on their work breaks. And you’re not invited.
“Ah. Of course,” Henry said stiffly. “Please come by at any time.”
He seemed to understand what she was really saying.
Given the tension between them, Rose felt grateful that Henry didn’t know what Astroglide was…
although, as curious as he was, he was likely to look it up as soon as they got off the phone.
Well, no, he couldn’t, because he didn’t have her computer.
Was he bored? He’d taken some of his library books with him. Would he read them even when he was feeling depressed? Maybe he’d find a sitcom to binge-watch or something.
She told him, “It’ll probably be around six or six thirty.” There was a little ache in her throat.
“Rose, there is something I must ask you.”
“What?” She felt like her whole body was listening.
After a long pause, he asked, “Would you like me to order dinner?”
“Oh.” She gave an awkward laugh. “Sure, why not?”
“What would you like?” Henry asked.
“I don’t know. No sushi, ha-ha!”
He didn’t laugh. He probably didn’t remember what that was, anyway. None of their time together was going to matter, in the end, and she felt close to crying. That made her feel pathetic…which made her feel even closer to crying.
“Whatever,” she said. “You know what I like. I should get back to work.” That was true, actually.
“I will not detain you.” He hung up.
He was mad at her. Or maybe not. He wasn’t used to phones.
Maybe he just didn’t know how to say goodbye.
She sure didn’t.
She sighed and thought of his question again. What would you like?
Oh, Henry. If I only knew.