43. Chapter 43
Chapter 43
E mily had never been so happy to see the familiar, old-fashioned-garbed figure waiting in front of the bakery. And to think she used to be scared of him. There wasn’t a person in the world less threatening than Gramps.
Will was looking at the brightly decorated jars of cookies on display. She planted her feet next to him. “Mmm, those look delicious.”
“Emily. You’re here.”
“Sure am.”
“You were upset with me.”
“Yeah. I tend to do that. Not just with you.” She grabbed his arm. “If you want cookies, I know a shop down at the riverfront. They’ll let you taste all the flavors for free. Awesome for funds-lacking time travelers like you.”
Emily led the way and the conversation. Given how their last talk went, she stuck to safe topics for now. New movies that came out. How cute that dog over there was. Buses.
The long, red-bricked buildings of the Factor’s Walk and their turquoise doors and windows gleamed fresh and new after the rainstorm that had passed earlier. Emily led them down a steep set of stairs, and Will paused on the paved street below.
“I still find it strange,” he said, “how so much progress has been made, and so many things are different, but then there are these”—he gestured toward the black, wrought-iron walkways above them—“that remain the same. And here…” He touched one of the mismatched stones in the wall. “I could swear they’re the same ones still.”
“They probably are. People are very protective of Savannah. Apparently, decades ago, it had all started to fall to ruin, but they got their act together and cleaned everything up, renovated buildings, saved what they could.”
“And you say you don’t know history.”
“You weren’t stuck practicing with Debbie for the past few weeks.” She smiled and put her outstretched palm against the wall. “If they are the same, you can touch this stone in two different eras. You can go to the past and be like, ‘Hey, stone!’”—she knocked on the wall—“and then pop right back here, and it’s the same one. Only it’s seen so many things while you were gone.”
“As strangely worded as that sentiment is, I understand what you mean.”
She gasped. “Will, that’s it!”
He raised his eyebrows.
“That’s what we need—a time capsule! For emergencies, like the one we had with our watches.” She clapped. “If something similar happens again, we’re covered when we can’t use time travel.”
“A time capsule?”
“Sounds cooler than it is. Schools bury a container with letters and pictures to be uncovered decades later by a new generation. They can see how we lived. But that’s not the point—it’s the idea . We need a place that hasn’t changed since you were here in the past. A place like this.” She knocked on the wall again. “In your time, you can take out a stone and hide something behind it to use in an emergency. If you get stuck in the present again, you can come here and get what you need.”
“Behind the stones? It doesn’t seem very practical.”
“It’s a place that won’t change for sure.”
He scratched his chin. “I suppose it could work.”
“Just be careful of ghosts when you come dismantling the wall at night.”
“Ghosts?”
“Oh, yeah. Plenty of them. Dark shadows emerging from the blocked passages to the street below. Or you might hear steps behind you, and when you turn, nothing. Poof!” She spread out her clenched fists to emphasize the notion.
“You know a lot about ghosts.”
“I used to have some,” she said. “But I think I’m all done with them now.”
She led him to a cobblestone alley, opening to the riverfront. Twilight descended, covering the city with a hazy purple filter, the street lamps lighting up in their fight against the darkness. The brisk walk turned into a lazy glide. Will seemed to enjoy the view, so Emily let him stray off to the railing by the river.
She leaned on the fence beside him. “I wanted to thank you for seeking me out. Even if it wasn’t because you wanted an awesome time travel companion.”
“I never said I didn’t want that,” Will said. Why was he looking so sour?
Oh. He thought she was saying goodbye. She had to tell him her decision—but she needed a grander gesture.
Behind her back, she pulled out the watch and pressed the button to concentrate the energy for a time stop. She imagined her heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Will froze. She ran down the street, past unmoving people and notes of suspended music, and entered the sweets shop. She chose a jar of mixed cookies and put it on the counter. When the time freeze stopped, she already had her money out, handing it to the surprised salesman.
“Thank you!” She activated the watch again. Another twenty seconds, and she was back at the railing. Will had turned toward the street.
“Cookies?” she offered when the time stop ended, drawing his gaze back.
“Emily. You…” His eyes dropped to the jar.
She smiled.
“You can do it,” he said.
“I practiced a lot during the last few weeks. You’d be proud of me, Gramps.”
“Does that mean…”
“Yeah. I’ll help you. I can’t say I have much courage or many skills, but what I’ve got, it’s yours. Or your mama’s. Whoever needs it the most.”
Suddenly bashful, Will avoided her gaze. She didn’t mind that he didn’t express his gratitude in words; it was clearly written on his face. Besides, it wasn’t about gratitude. It was about family.
“I brought this, just in case.” He pulled a thin roll of papers from his inside pocket. “It’s the proof you’ll need to deliver when you go back.”
Curious, Emily unrolled it. “This is Fabienne’s writing.”
“It’s her testimony to the things Henson had her do.”
“Great, but why do I need to deliver it? Why can’t she put it forward, and we can skip all the problems?”
“She can’t risk it. Henson has a man, a time traveler, who can do terrifying things. And he has leverage. So she can’t write this—not yet, not before Henson is caught.”
“But Henson can’t be caught without it.” Emily scrunched her nose. All these time loops were making her dizzy. “She writes it after she escapes to France. She gives it to you, you give it to me, I deliver it to right before she escapes.”
Will nodded. “And that’s why it’s crucial you do everything the right way. She has to leave.”
“But if she leaves, then how does the proof help?”
“You won’t give it to her.” Will picked at something on the railing. “You’ll give it to Brayden.”
Oh. Oh .
“I trust you,” he said. “I trust in you.”
So that was the part of the diary—perhaps non-existing, perhaps just in another book—she never got to read. She wondered if Fabienne wanted to leave. If she was like Mama. But she wouldn’t bother Will with that—he seemed too sensitive about that part of his mother’s life.
The purple haze continued to thicken. The interiors of the bars and restaurants lit up behind them, beckoning them inside their warm bellies. But Will and Emily stayed outside; she let her hair get caught by the wind coming across the water; he watched the massive, white-painted body of a riverboat dock upriver. The passengers spilled out, and their voices carried down on the breeze, reaching them as soft buzzing. Emily leaned her head back and closed her eyes, enjoying the spit-spat of raindrops in the trees.
On impulse, she reached for her phone and searched for the right song.
Will cocked his head at the first gentle strums of the guitar, soon joined by a laid-back male tenor. The phone’s speakers slightly mangled the song but couldn’t stop the charm from coming through.
“It’s beautiful,” Will commented after a while. “I like that part. Two drifters, off to see the world. ”
“I knew you would. You’re just the type.” She laughed, but more gentle than mocking. “It’s Moon River . This one here.” She nodded toward the water.
“Can you play it again?”
“Oh, boy. I’ve unleashed a jazz monster.”
Will laughed, too, and they looked out at the river together. It was a nice evening. Peaceful, without a hint of a storm brewing.
But if there wouldn’t be one coming, then Will probably wouldn’t feel the need to squeeze her hand reassuringly.
One evening of peace. Then she’d get ready.
Operation Save Fabienne was a ‘go’.