Chapter 22 #2
“Richmond, Virginia.” Tony pointed to another article. “This guy was my other partner, Remy Benoit. He fought the night before Patrick. That was a hell of a fight, too.”
That information struck Bastien dumb, and he could barely stand. “If you don’t mind, I have a bum leg and need to sit. Where was Remy from?”
“Come this way. You can sit in here.” The Irishman led him into the back room, and Bastien eased into an upholstered chair. “Remy was originally from New Orleans but probably lived close to Patrick.”
“How well did you know them?”
“Pretty well. They sold me this bar. They had a friend with them, but we couldn’t tell anybody he was Italian, so he pretended to be Irish. Ma fell in love with him. When they all left, she and my brother, Phin, went with them. That was thirty-two years ago.”
Was this happening? Bastien tried to get comfortable but was too unsettled to manage that. “The drum set out there”—Bastien pointed with his chin—“was it Remy’s?”
The Irishman’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Wild guess. So, Patrick and Remy were here in 1896?”
“I’ll never forget it. They changed my life.”
Bastien tried to swallow the knot in his throat.
He was on the verge of either cursing Remy out or crying like a baby.
“Remy saved my life,” Bastien said. “A suicide bomber blew up my truck, and a piece of metal sliced through my leg. Remy reached me first, tied off what remained, and got me to the hospital in time to save me. We’ve been friends for most of our lives.
I thought I knew everything about him. But if he was here in 1896, I don’t know him at all. ”
The Irishman’s gaze went straight down to Bastien’s feet. “You walk like you have two perfect legs.” Bastien pulled up his pant leg to show off his prosthesis. The Irishman shot Bastien a swift glance, in which surprise mingled with sympathy. “You’re from the same place Remy and Patrick are from?”
“By asking if I’m from the same place, you’re asking if I’m from the same time.”
The Irishman nodded. “When Ma and my brother went home with them, I didn’t believe I’d ever see them again.
Ma told me they wouldn’t return, and I told her I’d be okay.
I just wanted her to be happy. I don’t know if it turned out for her or not.
” Then he gave Bastien a serious look. “Have you met her?”
“There are so many people in the MacKlenna Clan that I can’t keep them all straight.”
“She fell in love with a man named Gabe Moretti. Do you know him?”
“I do. Gabe’s a great guy.”
“But you haven’t met Ma.”
“I don’t know, but I’ve seen Gabe with a beautiful woman with long red hair. Is that her?”
Tony closed his eyes and sighed. “Her name is Roisin, and she’s a dressmaker. But what about Phin? He should be about your age. Everybody always said he was a version of me.”
“I could have seen him, but I don’t remember.” Bastien rubbed his aching leg.
“Your leg must hurt. Several men around here lost a limb in the Great War. They complain about the pain. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I function very well, except that this prosthesis is battery-operated, and the charge lasts only forty-eight hours. After that, I won’t walk as well.”
“Oh.” The Irishman studied the prosthesis. His head tilted in concern. “Will you need crutches?”
“My gait will be stiff, but I can still get around.” He didn’t want to talk about his leg or the prosthesis. It needed to function now more than ever, and the thought of being out of commission fucked with his mind.
The Irishman stepped over to the chest, opened it, and pulled out a bottle of whisky. “I think you need more of this.” He refilled Bastien’s mug.
Bastien cleared his throat to remove the knot lodged there.
“I don’t understand time travel, but if Remy and Patrick’s fights were thirty-two years ago for you, the fights were only a couple of months ago for us.
I saw Remy when his bruises were still fresh.
He told me he boxed a big German guy and won, but got beaten up doing it. ”
The Irishman stared in disbelief. “A few weeks? How’s that possible?”
Bastien took a sip, his hand shaking. “I don’t know.”
“If I saw Ma again, I’d be older than her, and she’d be barely older than my daughter.”
“You have a family?”
“My wife died several years ago, leaving me to raise our daughter.” The Irishman finished his drink. “Can you climb stairs?”
“Sure, why?”
The Irishman stood and reached out his hand. “Come upstairs. You’ll be more comfortable in my apartment.”
“I don’t want to put you out.”
“You won’t. My daughter has an apartment Uptown. I have an extra room, and it’s yours as long as you need it. Any friend of Patrick or Remy is a friend of mine. Come on.” As they climbed the stairs, the Irishman asked, “Do you know David McBain?”
Bastien stopped, almost too shocked to keep going. “Fuck. You know McBain, too? Who else?”
“I go through the list often, so I won’t forget anyone—Kenzie, Pete, Sophia, Elliott, Meredith, Erik, Sam, Maira, Akeem, Jack, Gabe, Isabella, Tavis, and Mark.”
“Jesus Christ. Even Elliott? Man, what a surprise! But why were they here?”
“Their friend, Aislinn Kennedy, was here by mistake, and they came after her.” He gave Bastien a strange look. “What about you? Are you here by mistake?”
“It’s definitely a mistake, and I don’t know how to get home.”
“Maybe they’ll come to get you like they came for Aislinn. I’ve always hoped someone would return and bring news of Ma and Phin.”
“They don’t know I’m here.”
“Their brooch took them home. Why can’t yours?”
“I don’t have it. I hurled it across the room, believing I could break the fog’s hold. It didn’t work.”
The Irishman stopped at the landing. “Let’s find your sister first, and then we’ll figure out how to get you home.”
“What’s your name? You never told me.”
“It’s Tony. Tony McSorley.”