34. Chapter 34
Chapter 34
F abienne dusted off a vase and filled it with a small bouquet of anemones, gathered in the clearing outside. As a finishing touch, she tucked one behind Robbins’ ear. She sat and calmed her breathing, waiting for the effects of the time freeze to pass.
The quiet buzzing of a world in movement came back, and Robbins stirred.
He inspected the vase. “Most impressive. How long was that?”
“About two minutes.” Fabienne gave him a smug smile. “I didn’t want to overexert myself.”
“Commendable. You have truly made an improvement.”
When he nodded, the flower bounced with him. A short laugh escaped her.
“What?” Robbins looked around.
She motioned with her eyes. Robbins felt his hair and retrieved the flower.
“As I’ve said… commendable.” He battled between a frown and a grin as he tucked the flower in with the rest. “I’m proud to say we’ve achieved our goal.”
“We’re done?” Her heart skipped a beat. She put everything she had into practice in the previous month. The sooner she succeeded, the sooner she’d no longer have to meet with Robbins, and when Brayden came back, she wouldn’t have to lie to him. Again.
“Almost.”
“Will you tell me about the mission?”
“All in good time, Mrs. Marshall. All in good time.” He stood and brushed his coat.
“You’ve been saying that for months.”
“We’ll meet again in a week. I’ll have the details then. Practice moderately in the meantime, and—”
“Make sure I’m healthy and well prepared,” she continued the mantra.
He opened the door and dipped his hat to her. “Good luck, Mrs. Marshall. And good day. One week!”
Fabienne waited fifteen minutes, then took a new path out of the forest. The budding, bright green leaves on the trees and bushes brought new life into it and suppressed the nightmares, allowing for a relaxed walk. In a week, she’d get resolution, redemption; everything she’d wanted in September.
Then why wasn’t she happy?
Gertrude waited at the house as Fabienne approached. “Ah. I was about to inquire if anyone was at home.” Her eyes glanced toward the forest, but she made no further comment.
“How can I help?”
“I don’t require any help. I…” Gertrude raised her chin. “I merely wanted to ask if Brayden had written to you. I was wondering how he’s faring.”
Fabienne observed Gertrude in a few seconds’ stand-off. “He had,” she said. “He’s doing well. He’ll be coming back shortly.”
Gertrude nodded. She started to walk away, but Fabienne still caught a glint of pain, and something else, something deeper, in her eyes. No family left. She was lonely.
“Would you like to come inside for some refreshments?”
Gertrude stopped and slowly turned. “Do you intend to serve that vile concoction you call tea?” Despite the words, her voice lacked its usual sharpness.
“You’ll be happy to hear there’s none left.” Fabienne had run out of the mix Robbins gave her weeks ago. She was still waiting to receive a new batch—though she had to admit, she welcomed the taste of regular tea. “Come. We’ll read his letter together.”
The next day, Fabienne waited outside the house as the carriage rolled up, bringing Brayden from the train station.
Her chest felt full—of happiness, expectation, dread—all tied neatly with Robbins’s words. Une semaine . Then she’d see her family.
And all of this would be gone.
It would’ve been easier if Brayden had hated her in the light of her revelations. Well, his notes from Washington had been rather brief. Perhaps in time apart, he’d realized her lies were too much.
And yet, as she waited for him to exit with bated breath, she found herself hoping—perhaps even praying—that it wasn’t so.
Brayden stepped out, his gaze stopping on her.
Fabienne tensed. Words stuck on her dry tongue.
Brayden strolled to her, grasped her hands and kissed them in greeting; but more than that, the caress of his eyes, golden flecks shining and dancing, told her she’d been forgiven.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” she breathed.
“Me too.” He hugged her. “Me too.”
They stayed like this for a minute, Fabienne too afraid to break their new bond. Then he whispered, “Fabienne,” and his tone changed to a low, urgent one. “I need your help.”
She stepped back, keeping her hands on his shoulders. “What for? What’s wrong? Something happened in Washington?” Her stomach swarmed with nerves.
“No, it’s not…” Brayden swallowed visibly. “I’m going to steal something.”
***
Brayden had the entire journey home to think through the plan. The idea was absolutely insane, born from the anger of Donnovan’s news, but the more distance he gained, the more insanity shifted into necessity.
A long time ago, Fabienne told him one doesn’t need to subscribe to the wide ideas of their country, just because they live in it. Perhaps the same went for the Watchers. Brayden had let them mold him into a good, obedient soldier, and drag him into their soup of murky intentions and questionable inaction. They did some good, and he’d stay loyal to them, but it was time to do something.
If no one else would, he’d uncover Henson. For good.
He sat behind the desk in his study, while Fabienne paced in front.
“You’re going to steal something,” she repeated incredulously. “What happened in Washington?”
“It wasn’t just Washington. It’s all of it. I’m tired.”
“From the journey?”
“Of losing,” he explained. “Of not being able to achieve anything. Right when I’m so close, and I think I have it, it all falls apart. Am I a fool for not trying it some other way? Going beyond the rules?”
Fabienne kneeled beside him and took his hand. “I don’t know what’s come over you, but this is not… you’re not… I am the shifty one. I’m the one who always does the wrong thing. I’m the criminal. You’re kind, and good, and—”
“Ah, wonderful,” he scoffed. “Kind and good. What has that ever brought me? Or anyone, for that matter? Who remembers people for being kind and good?” Pushing away her hand, he rose and started pacing.
“You know how to properly destroy railroads? Pile the rails up on the bonfire, with the middle above the flames. When the metal is red hot, two people pick up the piece and twist it around a tree. You have to be careful to make a nice spiral; if you simply bend it, it’s easy to repair. As you gain experience in the procedure, you get cocky with the ‘designs’. Once, we made a U and an S from the pieces and sprawled them out like a calling card.
“So when trains can’t travel and bring supplies, people starve and soldiers go barefoot. Can’t have a fighting spirit if you can’t keep yourself up. This kind of fighting is cruel, but efficient, and it’s gotten us this far. The South may curse Sherman’s name, but to us, he’ll always be a man who achieved something great for our country. A hero. He gave us good news when it was sorely needed, and he didn’t do it by being a kind man.”
“And that’s who you want to be?” Her voice was bitter. “A man who destroys other people’s land?”
“I was a part of his army. I didn’t stand by and watch. Not that time, at least. But too many other times.”
“What do you mean?”
“I let my suspicions go because I believed someone else would take care of it. That justice would fall from the sky and do its thing. But it doesn’t, does it? You don’t win a war with waiting. You win with doing .”
He didn’t blame Fabienne for the small wrinkle between her eyebrows. It made little sense to her, but he had to put it all out. And he had so few people left to talk to. So few who would understand.
“There’s a man. A corrupt politician.”
“So, just a politician.” A corner of her mouth raised, but she quickly sobered. “I’m sorry. Present company excluded. Go on.”
“I believe he’s been sabotaging things. Preparing something, at the risk of sounding melodramatic, nefarious. The others won’t do anything about it.”
“How so?”
“There’s no good proof, and there are reputations at stake. At some other time, perhaps, but we’re facing too many issues right now. So I’ll do it. I’ll get proof myself. If there is any, I’ll find it.”
“That’s the stealing part.” Fabienne’s voice was near whispering.
And his career, possibly more, on the line. This went so far beyond the legal means Lowe had emphasized the man would probably spontaneously combust if Brayden told him of his intentions. “I don’t want to drag you into this. But it’s safe to assume there’ll be locks to pick.”
“You need me to be your partner in crime.”
“No. If anyone’s going down, it will only be me. Chances are I will, if I’m wrong. If the signs are only in my head.”
“But if you’re not wrong, you need to act.”
“Yes.”
“You won’t tell me any more details? If I’m robbing someone, I’d love to know who.”
“The less you know, the better. I won’t have you implicated if this goes badly. If I find proof, I’ll have to submit it, and that may not turn out in my favor. As my wife, you could be scrutinized. So you must know as little as possible. They can’t catch you in a lie if you’re not lying.”
She leaned on the desk. “Let me get this straight. Your actions could harm your reputation and end your career. You’re admitting this is a bad idea, and I’m supposed to go with it.”
“Look on the bright side. If you get rid of me, you’re left with all of this.”
She trailed a finger on the wood.
“I’ll help you. Not because I want an easy way out of our marriage.” When she looked at him, her eyes gleamed with determination—and something akin to joy. “Whatever he’s done, I want to fight with you. Perhaps, for once, you’ll be doing something immoral, but I’ll be doing something good. For you.” A small smile crossed her lips. “I think I’d like that.”
“Thank you.” The words were simple, but loaded with relief.
“And so you know…” She came to him and played with the collar of his jacket. “I still like you when you’re kind and good.”
“Maybe after this is all over, we can go back to normal.”
She smiled, but there was a glimpse of something else in her eyes. Not worry, exactly; he didn’t think the criminal aspect of his proposition would worry her. It looked more like… regret.