Chapter 10
Ten
Twelve years, with not a word or a whisper.
Twelve years of looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to appear.
Twelve years, and he was back the day before we were to leave.
The announcement of his arrival came in the form of a pocket watch. It was golden and perfect, etched with intertwining spirals and a curlicued letter N on the back.
It sat on my dressing table, not there an instant before.
One glance, and I knew it was from him.
As I held it, an image of William popped into my head, echoing our conversation about time. My time had finally come, and all I could feel was dread.
A pristine white rectangular card sat beside the watch, the paper silky soft. It named a local tearoom frequented by the Creole women of color I knew for tomorrow morning at nine.
I was to leave for France at one.
Why did it have to be the morning of the trip?
Why did it have to happen at all?
Sickness roiled through me the rest of the day, indecision rippling as I gathered my stories, switching them from the pile I would take, to the trash, to back again.
What would he want to see? Taking the watch as inspiration, I selected everything I’d written related to time: the way I had experienced its passing and, in doing so, had borne witness to miraculous developments—the growth of my friendship with Eulalie, the flourishing of her business, and her family.
The rising fortunes and prospects of the Creole women who worked beside me.
The progression of my courtship with Jacques.
I added all the articles I’d written for the paper, returned to me by its editor, and pulled everything together, hoping it was close to what he wanted.
The enormity of my task rushed back. What if I failed? Everything—everyone—would be forever gone in the blink of an eye.
The day passed in a haze as the picking and packing were completed. I could see no further than nine a.m. the next day.
I slept fitfully that night, images of fire sweeping across the earth, the screams of thousands in the air, and the steady ticking of a clock in the background.
I awoke as dawn broke across the sky, dread thick in my belly. I couldn’t lie there, so I pulled on my clothes.
“Where are you going?” Jacques asked, stretching.
“Just a quick stop. I want to say goodbye one last time to Eulalie,” I fibbed. I’d already dropped by the day before to say goodbye and see her new babe, a little girl my friend had named after her love, very pale with wisps of blondish-brown hair and hazel eyes.
Jacques nodded. “The boat leaves at one p.m. sharp. I’ll have William drive you there.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He shook his head. “He’ll need to drop the carriage with my brother for storage after taking the last trunks to the dock.”
“Jacques—”
“No arguing. We’ll have a smooth trip together, you’ll see.” He jumped out of bed. We dined on the last food in the pantry, as all the other goods had gone with Sarah and Jenny—Eulalie had taken them on.
Jacques gave his last directions to William. “Get her there on time! And let me know about the horses.”
“Of course, Mr. Boudreaux. I’ll take care of everything.” Soon, the carriage was loaded with cases to drop at the ship, and I stepped inside.
“See you there!” Jacques called, waving.
I fidgeted in the carriage the whole way over, trying to breathe, my stays digging into my ribs.
I thought my feelings toward William might have faded with a bit of distance, but if anything, they were stronger.
I noticed everything—how he had cut his hair, his new coat, how his hands held the reins, and how he smelled.
I clenched my jaw, unsure if I was prepared for what the day would hold.
“You okay, Miss Noelle?” he called back.
“I’m fine. Nervous, that’s all.”
“Nervous for what? The trip?” He half turned to face me.
“I have something I need to do first. Someone I have to meet.”
“This isn’t about Silas, is it?” He turned in his seat, face serious. “I told you the Cormacks took ill and went back to the country.”
“I know. It’s not about my brother.” My shoulders tensed as the carriage rolled to a stop outside the tearoom.
He jumped from the driver’s seat and opened the door. I hadn’t been that close to him in weeks, but the heat had built between us. Sparks flying as if fueled by his forge. He cleared his throat, as if that would get rid of the tension between us.
“Noelle, about that day—”
“William. I have to get inside.”
He nodded, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes.
“After I’m done, we can talk.” If there even was an after.
“Are you going to be all right in there?”
“Of course,” I said, forcing a weak smile, then gathering myself and walking in. Two women sat at a table near the far window, primly sipping tea. I chose one nearest the door to see the wagon where William still waited, the horses pawing the ground.
I pulled the watch out of my pocket for the time.
Ten seconds to nine.
As the second hand crossed the nine, my hair stood on my neck.
Death had arrived.