32. Chapter 32
Chapter 32
M uddy snow crunched under Fabienne’s feet as she slowly progressed through the path in the forest. Every step added an invisible weight, dragging her down, pulling her back. Wind sprayed her with fresh snow from the branches. She wrapped her cloak tighter and forced herself onward. One step. Two. Three. Je peux le faire. She found it hard to focus, to think of Robbins and the mission when she was still overwhelmed with grief for Caddie, but she’d forcibly beaten some reason into her heart. She was lucky Robbins had decided to give her another chance despite her missing the deadline and not being able to stop time yet. She’d come too far to give up now.
In the peaceful clearing, the little cabin looked like something out of a winter fairytale. Halfway to it, a scream stopped Fabienne. She whirled around. No, nothing. No one. Except for the thing that moved—
She turned to follow the spot at the edge of her vision. Nothing. Only dark, bare trees. Were they closing in on her?
Her lungs squeezed, and she leaned over, gasping for breath. The forest shrank, the twisted branches reaching out for her. Spots muddled her vision until they turned into crimson-red patches in the snow.
“Stop, stop, stop!” She squeezed her eyes shut. Think of something else. Sun, warmth, the briny smell of the sea. The little pouches of dried lavender Maman put next to her pillow to help her sleep. The calm trickle of the stream where she liked to sit and relax. Apples and cinnamon mixed in Mrs. Tatham’s delicious pies. Marion’s adorable laugh that sounded like hiccups. Antoine, making faces over the dinner table. Brayden’s embrace, warm and safe.
Gradually, her breathing returned to normal, and the forest into its usual inanimate self. She paused for one last reassuring breath and strode into the cabin.
She stopped dead before a figure sitting in Robbins’ chair.
“I thought you were afraid to come here again,” Brayden said. The light from the window behind him cast his face in shadow, but his tone, though gentle, left no doubt— this was not good .
“I… I…”
“I gather I’m not the one you expected.”
“I didn’t… expect anyone.”
“No?” He casually laid a hand on the table. “What about the man you’ve been meeting here?”
The bottom of her stomach turned to lead. Oh, no. Please, no.
“I’m not meeting any man,” she tried, her voice rising in pitch.
“Gertrude kindly warned me of a man she’d seen exiting the woods. Several times. Each time shortly after or before you.”
She saw her? “That explains everything. You know she doesn’t like me. She’s making things up.”
“Fabienne.” Brayden’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. He came over to her and reached out, but at the last moment, he let his hands fall by his side. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?”
“I—I am.”
“I saw your nightmares. I know what they are, because I share them. I held you when you trembled from them. Do you expect me to believe you’re coming here, week after week, because you need a destination for your walk? Are you calling Mrs. Beasley, who’d provided me with your schedule, a liar, too? You’ve been doing this since last September. You’ve been meeting him.”
She squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t ask me to explain. Please.
“Is he your lover?”
She remained silent.
“I wish you’d tell me. However horrible it is, it can’t be worse than not knowing.”
Oh, she knew just how that felt. Moments of your life being a complete void, your confused brain coming up with the worst explanations. And she couldn’t give Brayden one that would make him feel better. What was she supposed to tell him—that she wanted her siblings back for the price of deleting their marriage? If he even believed her. He’d only think her mad.
“It’s not what you think,” she said.
“Well, I’m thinking nothing.” His voice rose, then fell again. “And all of it. I don’t know what to do. With you, me. Us. I don’t know what to do because I don’t know where I’m going wrong.”
He walked to the door. “I don’t know how to make you happy. Keep you happy.” He laid his hand on the knob.
“You’re leaving?”
“I’m hardly going to watch, am I?” His voice sounded sick, resentful. He turned on his heel and left.
This was all wrong. Brayden shouldn’t be like this. She shouldn’t have made him like this. In the chase to fix her mistakes, she’d turned him into collateral damage. He shouldn’t have to pay for Antoine and Marion’s deaths.
She sat down, only vaguely aware of her surroundings, and brought out her watch. Brayden liked to run from her. She liked to run, too. Run into a different time, into another version of him, another version of her. Versions that were so much happier.
Without having to mull over the decision, her fingers went to work, moving the hands of the watch. A long-gone summer sounded like heaven right now.
***
In June of ‘63, they were walking along the stream near the forest. Brayden led the way, his golden locks and a light summer jacket fluttering in the gentle breeze.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He turned to check on her and quirked an eyebrow.
“What?” she asked.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
He laughed, prompting her to do the same. She missed this—an absurdly simple conversation, the summer, him. Both of them.
“You’re still doing it.”
She forced the probably stupid smile off her face and tried to remember a sensible answer for this period. “I’m happy you’re here. I was wondering how changed you would be.”
“And am I?”
Now she had an excuse to look at him properly, and she made a show of it, puckering her lips and knitting her eyebrows in a pretend examination. “I don’t think anyone can stay the same, regardless of how little happens to them. A lot has happened to you. But I think you’re faring well.”
“I hope so. Come, let us continue. I intended to show you something.”
As they drew closer to the forest, a conglomeration of strange-shaped rocks emerged in the distance.
“Have you been here yet?” Brayden asked.
“No.”
“If you’d like to expand your recreation options, I have a few horses at my house.”
“Really? Are they visiting as house guests?” She gave him a teasing smile.
“In the stables. ” The corners of his mouth turned up. “They’re well behaved, if you’d like to ride them.”
“A very kind offer, but I’m not much for riding. I prefer my own feet.”
“As you wish. If you change your mind, you can come by and talk to my housekeeper. I’ll inform her.”
Oh, right. “You’re leaving soon.”
“In about a week. Our regiment has been moving while I’ve been here. They’re in Leesburg now.” He stopped. “Don’t go spreading that around.”
“My lips are sealed.”
His eyes clouded as he looked into the distance. Then he blinked, smiled, and the moment of deep thought was gone. “This is what I wanted to show you.”
Fabienne tore her focus from him. A structure, like an old pavilion, was nestled at the edge of the forest. A few arches and parts of a fence still stood, thanks to the vines that had overgrown and bound the ruins together. A cooperation of nature and man, to create this whimsical and, in the soft morning light, almost fairytale-like place.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Brayden said. “It’s been here as long as I can remember. We used to play here until the adults chased us away, telling us it was too dangerous. It had a ceiling back then that fell down eventually. Not while we were here—but my father still used the opportunity to say ‘I told you so’.”
“What did he make you recite as punishment that time?”
“I don’t remember. Maybe he went with the good old classic, the Constitution.”
“Could’ve at least shaken it up with an amendment or two.”
He laughed. His eyes shone fondly from the memories. “I suppose extreme patriotism can be a flaw sometimes.”
“Regardless of his flaws, you loved him.”
“I did. He was the closest family I had. Flaws are natural to us all. It doesn’t mean we don’t deserve to be loved.” He looked down at his shoes, wiggling one foot in the grass. “Isn’t it strange, how, once a person is gone, you only remember the best? My mind doesn’t go to the days I was angry at him. I remember how we went fishing and laughed and had fun. How he’d pat me on the shoulder and say he was proud of me.”
“I know exactly what you mean. I do the same.”
In the silence that followed, his eyes bore into hers, gentle, but seeking.
She cleared her throat. “So, what is the meaning of this pavilion?”
“I’ve no idea. I thought it would make a picturesque spot.”
“It is lovely. A nice place for a picnic. But you didn’t bring anything.”
“Ah, yes, that. Well, I… I had something else in mind.”
She smiled. “If I didn’t know you, I’d be worried about my honor.”
“I did phrase that awkwardly, didn’t I? What I meant… well, I… you know, when I said I’d be leaving soon…”
His shoulders tightened. He chose one of the more stable pillars to lean on and looked at the glistening stream.
“I’d hoped I’d still find you here when I returned. I… I wondered, many times, when I was reading your letters…” He brought his hand to his face. “This is much harder than one would think. It’s all Caddie’s fault.”
“What did she do?”
“She said… Fabienne, would you marry me?”
“Caddie said that?” Fabienne teased, trying to ignore the quickening of her heartbeat and the warning in the back of her mind. This was serious. Not the simple walk she’d planned.
“No! No, that’s my question.” He covered the distance between them and took her hands in his. “I should probably kneel as well.”
“I understood.”
“Right. Yes. I know this is sudden, but these are not times to be hesitant. You still being here, and some hints on Caddie’s side—well, I…”
He was adorable. For the moment, her wants won against her warnings. She squeezed his hand and smiled.
“Fabienne?” He blinked rapidly. “I knew I should’ve kneeled. This hadn’t turned out as planned.”
Not for me, either.
“I have to leave soon, but my enlistment will be up in a year, and I don’t have to extend it. I should’ve waited until then, shouldn’t I?” He broke their hold and passed a hand through his hair. “I was too fast. I’m normally not this impulsive. But I was worried if I waited longer, you’d leave and I wouldn’t be able to find you, and I’d never get the chance to tell you—”
She put a finger on his lips to shush him. In a single beat, thoughts rushed through her head. I’ll only make you hate me. I’ll only mess everything up.
Could she change the past? If she said no, would it work? It would be the sensible thing to do. So much hurt spared.
His eyes, glowing gold in the soft morning light, searched her intensely. One gaze—gentle and ravaging, loving and burning, all at once. Nobody else would ever look at her that way. Her world tumbled and sense flew away, leaving only raw feelings.
“Yes,” she breathed, “I’ll marry you.”
Brayden opened his mouth, but no words came. He leaned in, and when it was clear no resistance would come, pressed a quick kiss on her lips; the most innocent, slightest brush.
He rummaged through his pockets and held up a ring with a tiny amethyst, nested in an intricate floral pattern. “Forgot about this, as well. It was on a quick notice, but I thought you’d appreciate something.”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“And please, don’t tell Caddie how I did this.”
“I won’t. As far as she knows, you did everything perfectly.” A freeze passed through her chest. “Will you allow me a moment?”
Brayden nodded, and she retreated behind a pillar, where she leaned back and closed her eyes. I’m sorry. For Brayden, for Caddie—for her past self who wouldn’t have heard or understood any of this.
But after all this time, she finally understood. She knew how she ended here, with Brayden. It was no emotionless agreement, no marriage of necessity for her to survive in this land. In this moment in her present, Fabienne Marshall said yes.
And two years in the past, Fabienne Beaumont married a man she’d come to love above everything else.
After she returned from her time trip, she sat at the table for long minutes, watching the shadows elongate into the corners of the cabin. Robbins was bound to arrive at any moment.
But Brayden had left.
The chair screeched as she rose and rushed to the door. She paused with her hand above the knob. Robbins—or rather, his superior—would not be happy with her missing the meeting.
But she’d have to. She tore the door open and ran after her husband.
***
Brayden sat in his study, idly playing with his watch. He twisted the stem so the watch twirled on the desk, then settled down with a dull thump , its polished golden surface gleaming in the lamplight.
Ah, but what lay beneath the surface… the intricate mechanism, every wheel and jewel and spring so important in making the watch work. Making it what it was.
If only it were so easy to discern people, too. To see the parts and understand the whole.
A knock sounded on the door. He put the watch away just as Fabienne walked in. Determined at first, she stopped halfway to his desk. Then, wringing her hands, she moved to the window, mirroring herself in the glass as she leaned on it.
Brayden watched her with uncertainty that prevented him from speaking.
“The morning in New York, when Antoine and Marion died,” Fabienne began, “was my fault. I separated us because…”
She clutched her hands tighter and lowered her eyes. “I tried to outwit the gang. Create a distraction so we could all get away. And I did, but they… they…” Her voice broke. “They died because of me. My actions. Marion was seventeen. My little sister.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“But it was! I could’ve let the cheating slide if I’d realized how dangerous those men were. Antoine would still have lost the game, but at least we’d all get out. Or I could cooperate and give them the watch. I could’ve even sold it earlier, never put us in that tavern in the first place. So many things I could’ve done…”
She sobbed into her sleeve, each whimper melting Brayden’s resolve. He went to her, and she readily accepted his support as she leaned on his shoulder. He stroked her back while she calmed.
“And I’d never even figure out the man was cheating at cards if I… if I didn’t steal.”
“Steal?”
She nodded into his shoulder. “I don’t do it intentionally. But when I’m anxious, it feels good. I need to do it. I like it. Small things. Cutlery, toilet items. Jewelry.”
A thief. His wife was a thief, a criminal.
“I try to return things when possible. Sometimes it’s easier with lockpicking. Breaking into a house so I can return what I stole.”
But strangely enough, with the revelation, the pieces making up Fabienne started to make sense.
“I can’t tell anyone,” she whimpered. “It’s immoral. They won’t understand I don’t mean to do it. Maybe I am immoral. There has to be something wrong with me if I can do these things. And this is not all.”
Brayden paused the stroking and braced himself against a sickly feeling in his stomach—a feeling that Fabienne’s secrets may be deeper and darker than he’d imagined. But he needed to know. “Go on.”
She tore herself out of his embrace and straightened her spine. “I knew the men in the woods. They were prisoners of war, trying to return home. I helped them. Brought them food and some other supplies. Not the gun. They had that beforehand.” She took a shaky breath. “Even though I knew they were the enemy to all of you, I helped.”
A part of him that remembered how it had felt to pull corpses of his dead friends off the battlefield, screamed— traitor, deceiver, liar . It grew so loud it almost snuffed out another thought—that those men had been armed, and could kill her at any time.
“They only wanted to go back to their families, not the army,” she said.
“I see,” he clipped.
“And the other man…” she glanced at him, to establish he knew who she meant, then once again turned her gaze on the floor. “I met him because he could help with my family. He isn’t, and never was, my lover. Barely an acquaintance. I may be immoral, a thief and a traitor, but I was only guided by loyalty to my brother and sister. And as I stayed true to that, I stayed true to our vows.”
“How could he…” He hesitated. This was a sore topic for her, and reminding her she couldn’t bring her siblings back from the dead seemed cruel. Especially when she considered herself at fault. Was that it? “Did you think you could get justice?” he tried, speaking as softly as he could. Perhaps the man offered to track down the gang or find details about their deaths.
“In a way,” she said in a low voice.
How could he blame her for that? Yes, she’d lied, but he understood her reasons. She’d tried to fix something, make herself feel better, against all the logic of the world. If only he had some of her tenacity!
“Will you turn me in?” She stood with her hands clenched in front, the defendant before the jury.
He stepped to his desk and leaned on it. Each of her admissions had unleashed a wave that racked his insides, tore at his soul. He wanted answers, hadn’t he? The parts that made up Fabienne. Those were it. But instead of confident, grateful, they left him feeling raw and vulnerable. He couldn’t reconcile the two sides—Fabienne the thief, Fabienne the fighter; Fabienne the liar, Fabienne the loyal.
Fabienne who, inadvertently, caused Caddie’s death.
He needed time, and distance. “I have to leave for Washington soon.” And to think that, when Lowe gave him news of his assignment a week ago, he even thought of taking Fabienne with him so she could have a change of scenery. “I believe it’s better for you to stay here and put an end to your meetings. You know it can’t go on.”
She stared at him, dumbfounded.
“Gertrude knows some of this. We also know she’s not fond of you. If she goes to the authorities, if anyone else, the wrong person, finds out, they’d brand you a traitor, possibly a spy.”
She gave a terse nod. She must’ve known what that meant. There were no trials for spies. Only execution. “I’m sorry,” she said. “For everything. Will you be safe?”
Safety. That was a tricky one. Fabienne was in him, so deep strands of her soul had mingled with his. There was no untangling the good from the bad—no taking only the safe half of her. She’d spilled into his very being, pain and darkness and trickery imbuing a world he’d thought just, fair, moral.
Surprisingly, this didn’t make the world worse. Only imperfect.
“Let’s make a deal,” he said. “You’ll do what you need to keep me safe. I’ll do what I need to keep you safe.”
She looked so lonely, pale, fragile against the dark backdrop of his study—but only at a first glance. She held herself straight, and a glint of determination passed through her eyes. The dark things that hid in the corners of her past forged a steel bone in her body, one that kept her straight and kept her going.
“Deal,” she said.