24. Chapter 24
Chapter 24
A shiver of dread crept up Brayden’s spine. She doesn’t mean it as a rejection. He was tired from work and over-thinking about Henson—he was projecting that into Fabienne’s reaction.
“No, I mean… I don’t want to…” she spoke strangely, as if she couldn’t remember the words. “I need to focus. I need you to go. Please.”
No. Not this again. “What’s wrong?” He reached for her hand.
She flinched—visibly balked, scurried away like a frightened rabbit, and gripped the washstand.
This wasn’t her usual coldness. Something was wrong.
“Don’t do this,” he said.
She stared at him, lips pressed in a tight line.
“Please, tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix it if I don’t know.”
“Nothing is wrong. I made a mistake. This shouldn’t have happened.”
This— them ? She’d called him a mistake before. For some reason, it had been much less heartbreaking when she’d shouted it.
“So you’re regretting it again.”
She didn’t answer. She reached out to a small tin can at the washstand. Brayden watched her curiously, warily. She’d had outbursts, but she’d never thrown things. Her fingers curled around it and drew it… toward her pocket?
“Fabienne.” He edged toward her and gently grabbed her wrist. “Tell me.”
She shook her head. Her eyes were clouded with emotions, but there was no fury—not even fear. For a moment, before she averted her gaze, she looked hurt.
What could’ve upset her? If it were something with the household, the servants would’ve told him. If it were him, she would definitely tell him. If someone else had said something to her—well, this was Fabienne. She’d tell them right back. His Fabienne would.
His Fabienne was only a ghost. She’d disappeared once again.
“Very well.” He let her go, and the can clinked on the porcelain, stopping at the bottom of the basin. “How far away do you need me to go?”
“What?” she breathed.
He squelched his desire to hold her, shake her, if need be, to rattle the truth out of her—to tell him why she acted like she loved him one day and hated him the next. Why she’d accepted his proposal with a smile and a kiss but needed five minutes to choke out a very nervous I do . Why she never made sense, and why he still wasn’t able to let go of her.
Instead, he continued with a business-like voice. “I have a project at work, but I’m still scheduled to return to the front after the holidays.”
For the first time in a while, he didn’t look forward to leaving. He could hardly recall the younger version of himself that strode confidently—and naively—into a fight. The Brayden who buckled his boots and buttoned up his coat and went to serve his country—what had he turned into? A man who saw fighting as an escape? A man who always ran?
He didn’t want to. Oh, how much he didn’t want to.
“Don’t,” she said with a barely perceptible peep. She weaseled away from his reach and turned to stare stiffly at another corner. “Don’t go back.”
He waited. Nothing else came. He issued her a nod and left the room.
During the next few days, Brayden continued to observe his wife’s unusual behavior. Fabienne avoided him when she could, spoke little when she couldn’t, and spent hours alone in her bedroom where, according to the servants' reports, she stared at a pendulum she’d borrowed from his study.
Things were no better on the Watchers’ front: Brayden had contacted the team responsible for setting the regulators in the watches, but they only confirmed Henson’s watch was set properly, and the man had never caused them any issues. He did turn the watch in late after the Edict had been declared, but he was out of the country at the time. Again, there was a sliver of suspicion—and again, no proof.
At least this and the research for the healing project kept him occupied.
***
Robbins had said practice was the key.
She should’ve asked him how much practice.
Two weeks after the terrible falling-out with Brayden, Fabienne was exactly where she’d started. Every time she’d sit down, fix her eyes on the slowly swinging pendulum, and tell herself today was the day. Today, she’d succeed. Today, she’d stop time—and all the hurt in Brayden’s eyes and all the tearing in her heart would be worth it. Because she’d tell Robbins she could do it and he’d whisk her away on her family-saving mission and before she knew it, she’d be back in Provence—unburdened, free, clueless of everything she’d lost in a future that no longer existed.
The next meeting with Robbins was in two days. As if the pressure wasn’t enough, she also worried about David and Jackson, who hadn’t left yet. Fabienne had brought them supplies, but the weather had been brutal lately, and they were safer in the cabin until they gained more strength.
Caddie and Jim visited frequently, and while the latter happily chatted on, Caddie’s eyes lingered too often on Fabienne, and it wasn’t a wonder she stayed behind after one visit.
“You’re looking a bit down. Don’t tell me I have to check your temperature?” Caddie posed it as a joke, but Fabienne didn’t find it in her to smile.
“I’m fine.” The practiced answer easily slipped off her tongue.
“If you say so, dear.” Caddie patted her shoulder. “Why don’t you come by my house tomorrow? I have something that might cheer you up.”
“What?”
Caddie grinned. “I can’t tell you. What would be the point in that?”
When Fabienne knocked on Caddie’s door the next day, Gertrude opened, her face immediately darkening. “Fabienne.”
“I came to visit Caddie,” Fabienne said, in case Gertrude thought she was looking for a rematch.
“She’s gone out.” Gertrude raised her chin.
“To the city?” It wasn’t like Caddie to invite her, then bail.
Gertrude sighed, as if all this was a waste of her time. “A cooking pot cracked. Caddie remembered we used to have another one in my brother’s old cabin in the woods. She went to fetch it.”
Fabienne’s heart stopped before her pulse spiked. “A cabin?”
“Yes, a small hunting lodge. Hasn’t been used for years. Not intentionally, at least, although squatters will always—”
“How long ago did she leave?”
“Five minutes.” Gertrude crossed her hands under her chest. “What’s going on?”
Caddie was going to the cabin where David and Jackson were hiding. If she ran, she might be able to intercept her.
Without another word, Fabienne took off.
She ran as fast as she could. Her skirts caught on thorny bushes—she tore them free with a jerk. Snow fell on her from the branches—she shook it off. Fresh bootprints, small enough to be a woman’s, showed she was on the right track.
“Caddie!” she called when breath allowed. No response came. Her rapid breathing whistled in her ears. Mud splashed. Branches snapped as she ran past.
At last, she noticed a figure through the trees. Caddie! Nearly at the cabin. She yelled her name.
Caddie turned. “Fabienne! What’s the matter?”
Before Fabienne could catch enough breath to respond, Caddie turned back around.
“I say, who are you?” she said to someone Fabienne couldn’t see. Some mumbling followed. Caddie’s tone turned to panic. “Now, there’s no need…”
Fabienne ran out into the clearing just in time to see David pointing the rifle at Caddie’s chest. A sharp crack rang in her ears, and thick white smoke rose from the weapon.
“No!” Fabienne leaped forward. As she was in the air, for one moment, one short second, all slowed down. Everything went quiet. Lonely snowflakes dotted the air like tiny suspended fractions of the sky. David stood motionless, clouded by wisps of smoke. The look of surprise was frozen on Caddie’s face. Something small and metallic dangled in the air in front of her. And then the moment was over, the sounds rushed back, and the bullet buried itself into Caddie’s chest. She staggered back.
Fabienne screamed and ran to Caddie, collapsed on the ground. Conscious. Breathing. She clutched the wound as her eyes darted around. Beneath her, blood spread like a crimson flower on the sparkling snow.
“Why did you do that?” Fabienne shouted at David. Help. Have to help Caddie. She tore a piece of her skirt and pressed it on the wound.
“Y-you said n-no visitors.” The rifle danced up and down as David’s hands shook wildly. “Only your man! No other people!”
“She’s a friend! She didn’t mean you any harm!”
“Fabienne,” Caddie croaked.
“Shhh. It will be all right. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Your friend? You brought her here!” David said. “You say y-you’re one of us, but you’re j-just as bad as them, consorting with them Y-Yankees.” He pointed the rifle at her.
“David, listen.” In her trepidation, Fabienne’s voice came out as if she were gurgling water. “You’re scared. So was I. I know how it feels. She came here by mistake. I had no idea she knew about the cabin. Let me get help for her, and then we’ll sort it out. Please.”
Jackson ran out of the cottage, stopped a few feet away, and stared at the scene in shock.
“You’ll tell them we’re here,” David said.
“I won’t tell anyone. I can say it was a hunting accident. Please, David.” In her lap, Caddie was slipping into unconsciousness. Please, I need to help her—please, don’t do this—can’t move, he’ll shoot me—please, please, please—
“You’re a traitor! That’s how you can live up here. That’s what you are, a traitor!”
“You can run. Take everything and run,” Fabienne said.
He flinched, but stood his ground. “May God forgive you.” He repositioned the rifle to aim at her chest.
Can’t run. Can’t leave Caddie. He’s going to—
A shot went off. The bullet whizzed past her—but not the bullet from David’s rifle. It tore a hole in his coat. He stumbled back, fired. Something hard, hot, stinging hit Fabienne’s side. David collapsed, groaning and squirming on the ground before he stilled. Jackson bolted. Pain blurred Fabienne’s vision, melding the runaway figure with the trees.
She clutched her side; the hand came away bloody. So much pain—swirling all inside her, swallowing her thoughts. She dropped next to Caddie. No, can’t fall. Need to get out of here. Both of us out of here…
In her periphery, a dark form passed and stopped by her. She tried to focus. A face loomed above, golden hair and warm eyes. Autumn forest eyes. Brayden?
She felt him examining her wound, asking her to remove her hand, and then he was gone, stepping over to Caddie. He murmured something. With an effort, Fabienne turned her head. He clutched Caddie’s hand and bent his head so she could whisper something to him.
He can’t carry us both. Can only take one at a time… too late for the other when help gets here…
Caddie touched his cheek, and he nodded solemnly. Fabienne didn’t know whether it was the physical pain or that of the realization, but tears poured down her cheeks, and she glanced away. Brayden wasn't going to pick her, and that was fine. She'd hurt him too much, disappointed him too many times. If she were in his place, she wouldn't pick herself, either.
Above her, the bare tree branches spread dark against the gray winter sky, like bony limbs of nightmarish monsters, reaching out with their long claws. From the edges of her vision, they multiplied, leaving but a lonely point of light in the center. Too hard to focus on it—but at least the pain was going away. It was all muted now, as if someone had rolled her in a soft, protecting cloud, separating her from all other feelings.
I’ll see my family sooner than I thought. The point of light disappeared, and darkness took her.