Chapter Twenty-Nine
Twenty-Nine
Rose had always liked the moment when an airplane touched down: the bounce of the wheels on the tarmac, the rising roar of the engine, and the feeling that a new little segment of life had begun.
But as this plane landed at Heathrow Airport in London, she looked out at the cement-gray late-afternoon sky and the tarmac with a feeling of dread.
Henry’s white-knuckled grip on his armrest relaxed.
He unbuckled and threw off his seat belt.
“Wait,” Rose said as he stood up in the aisle.
“Sir, please sit down and remain seated until the pilot turns off the seat belt sign,” a flight attendant scolded him.
He sat back down again as they taxied to the gate. “The sooner I am out of this prison, the better.”
“I know,” she said sympathetically.
He’d seemed close to having a panic attack when the plane had taken off, which one wouldn’t necessarily expect from a guy who’d just casually crushed a big attacker on the street.
While they had waited at the gate at O’Hare, Jason had called them.
He’d apologized to Henry for not telling him to be cautious.
As far as Jason had been able to tell, Henry and Rose had still not been identified as the thieves.
Jason hadn’t thought anyone would be targeted other than himself, but he guessed that Henry and Rose had been sought out as close friends who might have information.
Jason’s group had already taken care of it.
Among Reuter’s enemies were members of a Russian mob who had used stolen art and artifacts for drug trafficking collateral before.
Jason’s group had planted a credible rumor, with a tip to the media, that Reuter and his men were behind the theft.
He expected them to be on the defensive before long.
Rose said to Henry now, as they waited to deplane, “At least we got to fly first-class.” She’d never gotten to do that before.
“Splendid accommodations, indeed,” he groused, and plucked at the blanket on his lap. “A blanket the thickness of paper, and mortal terror.”
On the flight there, Rose had told Henry more stories about growing up in Peoria and Cicero.
She’d told him a lot about her college years already, but not about the various jobs she’d worked in the past, which Henry had seemed to find fascinating.
Henry had told Rose about hunting with his father, which he’d hated, and about how he’d helped to discover an asteroid, in the time he’d studied at the Paris Observatory.
It was as though they were giving each other as many parts of themselves as they could.
Once they were walking off the plane, Henry asked, “Is someone going to grope me again and search my bag as though I am a common thief?”
She leaned closer to murmur, “You are a thief.”
“Hardly a common one.”
“That’s for sure. But no, nobody pats us down on this side.” When they’d gone through security at O’Hare, a TSA employee had opened up the suitcase and looked at the clock, but nothing had come of it, and she hadn’t really even been nervous.
In the airport bathroom, Rose changed from her black dress to the yellow one she’d packed.
It was Sunday now, after all. She then lingered in the terminal, waiting for Henry, who was changing into his 1818 clothes.
When he walked back to her, he got a couple of curious and amused looks, but for the most part, people were staring at their phones or rushing to their gates.
Rose sighed as he walked back to her. He was every inch the perfect gentleman she’d asked for. Maybe, when she’d done the spell, she should’ve specified “forever.”
They found the driver they’d hired in advance, a man with black curly hair and glasses who was taking them to Everly Park.
He greeted them without smiling and made no attempt at conversation as he led them to his small, bright green car.
Maybe British people didn’t smile as much, Rose guessed.
Or maybe his last customers had been jagoffs.
Despite the cramped back seat, she fell asleep on the hour-long trip.
“We’re almost there,” the driver barked, and Henry stirred next to her. He’d gotten a nap, too.
Rose opened her eyes to the rolling green landscape. “Wow. It’s pretty out here!”
“I have always thought so,” Henry said, clearly pleased, and then pointed. “Look! There it is!”
Rose gasped. Most tourist attractions, in her experience, looked slightly less magical in person, but the massive palace looked like something out of a fairy tale.
“I still can’t believe this is your house!” she exclaimed. “I mean, the house where, uh, you used to work!”
“You used to be on staff here?” the driver asked.
Henry gave a melancholy smile. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
The man’s black brows drew together as he looked at them in the mirror above the windshield. “You know it’s closed.”
“Yes,” Rose said. “I’m just taking pictures of the grounds.”
“Too bad it’s about to rain.”
“It’ll look more English that way,” Rose said, and was gratified when she got a smile out of him.
Henry leaned forward and pointed. “Leave us on the west side, if you please.”
“The knot garden? It’s locked, mate.”
“I’m going to take a picture of the gate,” Rose said, improvising. It actually would make a nice photo, if the original wrought iron gate was still there.
When he pulled up, she smiled and tugged Henry’s sleeve. “Look, it’s still the same!” She loved the ornate scroll pattern of the ironwork, mounted between two columns of golden-beige stone.
Henry turned to stare at her, wide-eyed, as though she’d said something insane.
Right. An ordinary American tourist wouldn’t know that a gate hadn’t changed in over a hundred years.
Still, it wasn’t that big of a deal; this random driver didn’t care about them.
He unloaded their luggage out of the trunk, just two carry-ons with wheels, and Rose thanked him before he drove away.
She could feel her face flush, the way it did when she was emotional. Before long, if all went according to plan, she’d have to say goodbye to Henry.
“He was right. It’s started to rain,” Henry said.
Rose lifted her face, appreciating the sensation of the fine drops on her hot cheeks. “It’s barely more than a mist.”
Henry pulled her close. “Nonetheless, I’m afraid you’ll catch a chill,” he murmured.
He felt strong and warm, and his arms around her made her feel safe. She hugged him back, burying her face against his chest. She could feel his heart beating. When she looked up, he was staring at his big mansion.
“What is it?” she whispered.
“My love,” he said, his voice hoarse and tight. “I thought when we came here, and I set eyes on Everly Park again, I would be strengthened in my resolve to return to my time.”
She looked up at him. His dark hair was damp enough to be plastered to his forehead. “Aren’t you? This place is beautiful.”
“I know that it is,” he agreed, “and yet when I look upon it, it feels as though I am returning to a prison. A lifelong sentence, after a glorious reprieve.”
Her throat felt tight and sore. “What are you saying?”
He cupped her face in his hands and looked down at her with an anguished stare. “I am saying that meeting you, loving you…has brought me joy, when I thought joy had gone forever from my life.”
So that’s what it feels like, she thought, when your heart skips a beat.
“Love,” she echoed. “You don’t mean—”
“Yes, I love you!” he said fiercely. “Can you doubt it? For your kindness, and your beauty, and your…extremely confusing magic. I love you for the way you see the beauty in the world and show it to others. And for your impractical nature, and your cursing—and in fact, for your utter lack of propriety—because they are all part of the free-spirited woman I adore.”
Rose gave a strained laugh that threatened to turn into a sob, and she covered her mouth with her hand. He saw her. He loved her for her.
A tear leaked out of one of her eyes. Henry kissed it away.
“I love you, too, Henry,” she confessed, her voice wavering.
“You don’t even realize how wonderful you are, and it doesn’t have anything to do with being a duke or a gazillionaire, or even super smart, though obviously, you are, and I had no idea how hot that would be.
” She shook her head. “I know I’ve caused you a lot of trouble, but when I did a spell to find an old-fashioned gentleman… I think it worked out perfectly.”
Henry pulled her into a deep kiss. And even as he filled her senses, she realized that she was going to ask him the question she’d been dying to ask him.
She hadn’t dared to before. But even in the shadow of Everly Park, she knew their love was enough. She was enough.
She broke away and looked up at him seriously. “Henry, will you come live with me in Chicago?”
He gaped at her. “Are you certain?”
“Yes!”
He lowered his head and kissed her hand. Oh no. He was being gallant before he turned her down.
Then he raised his gaze to meet hers. “My love, there is nothing that would please me more.”
He said yes!
She threw her arms around him, squeezing him hard. “Yay!”
He laughed. “We have come all the way to England to take a walk in the rain for nothing.”
“I think it’s perfect,” she declared. “Why don’t we at least take a walk on the grounds, one last time?”
“Excellent idea. But first…” He stooped and plucked a few white starflowers growing near the gate. He put them in her hand and wrapped her fingers around them.
“These are just like the flowers on the Six of Cups card,” she mused, looking up at him.
“The one I used in the first spell? The boy is giving the girl star-shaped flowers.” It was the card about happy memories and coming home.
She shook her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that before. After all the times…”
Her world swerved and wobbled on its axis. She swayed and grabbed a bar of the iron gate for support, closing her eyes.
She had not been saying normal things. Saying the gate was still there. Saying they should take one more walk on the grounds…
Henry’s strong arm wrapped around her shoulders, steadying her. His other hand wrapped around her hand that held the flowers, which had gone ice cold. When she met his gaze again, his eyes were glossy with tears, filled with fear and hope.
“After all the times…?” he prompted.
“After all the times,” she whispered, “that you plucked these and put them in my hand.”