33. The Almanac
The Almanac
Blaze
“And that’s enough of that,” I drawl, slapping a few coins onto the table next to the now nearly empty pastry display. “As much of a displeasure this has truly been, I’m grateful we have to go,” I say to Jo’s miserable excuses for parents.
I’ve been steadily losing my patience with the damn Dashwoods and holding it together for my wife’s sake, but seeing her finally crack and lose the fucking plot breaks my heart.
How dare they hurt her this way? Do they not see or care about the impact their actions have had on her?
Thank the fucking stars for Mom and Pop, because I don’t know how Jo manages to smile every day with these assholes judging down the family tree.
Jo chews more quickly, dry-swallowing a chunk of cake in preparation to speak again, but I’m pulling the ripcord.
With a quick nod—mostly to myself to confirm that I am about to do what I think I’m about to do—I turn wholly to her, grab her waist and throw her over my shoulder, though not before she snatches another tart from the display.
Jo makes some unintelligible bird sound, her middle finger waving in my periphery.
Helena sucks in a breath like she’s auditioning to be the next Dyson.
George sounds like he’s rapping the entire alphabet backwards.
“I do so hope I don’t have the misfortune of breathing your same air again any time soon—unless so wished by my beautiful bride,” I call out over my shoulder as I stride away, and I punctuate my claim with a swift swat to Jo’s ass—grinning like a madman at her carb-loaded ‘eep’!
In the ten minutes it took to carry her home, Jo has successfully uttered every possible variant of the words fuck, shit, damn, and bitch that I’ve used since landing at her feet six months ago.
Even though most of them were directed at me for refusing to put her down, I’m rather impressed.
Aside from calling me a ‘chicken fuck’ when I suspect she meant ‘chicken shit’, she used every phrase correctly.
“I was just warming up! I can’t believe you carried me out of there like an ill-behaved toddler!” My red-faced wife glares in my direction after I finally set her down at the top of the stairs to the loft, and she crosses her arms with a huff.
“Oh, don’t I know it. That’s exactly why I intervened.
” I kick my boots off before stepping toward her, taking her face in my hands.
“I know they’re your parents and nothing I say could make what they’ve done hurt any less, but I hope they invent Legos a hundred years early and then someone places one under George and Helena’s feet after every six and a half steps.
May they suffer the discomfort of a hair stuck in their ass-crack, one that they don’t notice is there until the entire ton is watching them so they can’t just root around and dig it out.
The only person who maybe even barely deserves the privilege of standing in your presence is probably Gerty—but that’s just because ‘lesser of two evils’ or what the fuck ever—though I may never forgive her for the Johnson dress. ” I grimace at the memory.
“Have I told you recently how exotic your insults are?” Jo giggle-sniffs, relaxing slightly in my hold. Fuck, she’s trying not to cry. “Thank you.”
“Thank me? For what?”
“For just being you, I suppose. You have been blindly defending me since the very moment you dropped into my life. I know falling back in time has been a curse for you, but it has been such a blessing for me.” Jo looks up at me, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
“A curse? Josephine,” I chide, lowering myself to pick her up.
Her legs wrap around my torso, and I can’t resist nibbling on her neck as I walk towards her desk.
I sweep everything off the surface, papers fluttering across the room and inkwells crashing to the floor as I set her in their place and start untying her boots.
“I’ll admit it took a while to come to terms with everything—culture shock and all that, but,”—one boot hits the floor—“marrying you has been the greatest decision I’ve ever made.
I’ll go the rest of my life wondering what I’ve done to deserve this impossible fate.
” Boot number two hits the floor, but her ankle is still in my hand.
Now it’s her calf.
“You can’t possibly mean that, truly,” she whispers. I’m at her thigh.
“I’ve never meant something more in my entire life.” My voice is low, and I step closer, ignoring the puddle of ink under my foot, and push her knee with my hip so that I can stand between her legs.
Jo gasps softly, her head dropping to my shoulder. “What if you found out I was a liar and I’ve been keeping secrets?”
“Then you’re a liar, and I still mean it. You can keep your secrets as long as I can keep you.” I nip at her neck, untying her bonnet, throwing it to the side before burying my hand in her hair.
“What if…” she moans, “What if you could go home?”
“We both know I can’t, but regardless, at this point, I wouldn’t.” I really mean that, too. I miss my family, yeah, but leaving Jo?
“We don’t.” Her words come out with a cry as she melts into me.
I wait a minute for her reboot cycle to finish before asking, “We don’t what?”
“You said we both know you can’t—but that’s not true.” She grabs my wrists, pushing me back enough to jump down from the counter. “Blaze.” Her voice breaks. “I figured it out. You can go home, and I kept it from you because I’m a coward, and I’m selfish, and I don’t want you to leave me.”
“What are you talking about, wife?” I shake my head, trying to discern whether this is a bad joke or not. “I’m not leaving you.”
“But you have too. You have to at least try this one last time!” Jo starts hyperventilating, pacing in short, three-step intervals in front of me with her eyes so wide I can see more white than blue.
“What is there left to try that we haven’t already? We’ve done everything, Jo.” I can’t—won’t—leave her. “Nothing will work, Jo, and I don’t want it to.”
“The solstice, Blaze!” she sobs. “You fell through on the solstice.”
I blink.
Oh. I guess that has some merit. Myths and legends are always talking about the mysterious power surrounding solstices. Fuck, that might work.
“Are you sure? How do you know? What gave you this idea? Were you still looking for ways to get rid of me?” I vomit the questions, and now it’s my turn to pace.
“I wasn’t trying to get rid of you. I wasn’t even looking either—when you stopped searching, I stopped too because I didn’t want to find an answer anymore. It was an accident, stumbling on this. I saw the dates in your almanac.” She eases closer to me, arms wrapped tightly around herself.
My almanac.
“How long have you known this?” I ask, not that it matters, but if she figured it out when she slipped that letter in—the one I’ll never admit to finding—that was a very long time ago, and we most definitely were still trying to find ways to get me back to 2025 then.
“Recently, I swear. I’ve snuck it away a few times…I only noticed the entry on the winter solstice this last time.” Her shoulders sag and she drops her eyes to the floor. I quit walking back and forth like a zoo animal and pull her into my arms.
“I’m not mad, Jo,” I reassure her, nuzzling her forehead with mine. “I’m just confused. If you don’t want me to leave and I don’t want to leave…why are you telling me this?”
“Because the solstice is tomorrow! Because if you don’t try, I’ll regret it. I’ll regret not knowing if I could do this one thing for you after all that you’ve done for me and—and I think I’ll resent you for not trying and for making me feel guilty for not making you and I fear it will ruin us!”
I freeze. Tomorrow? Resent and ruin? My pulse quickens, and I only realize I’m holding my breath when the edges of my vision start to fade. With a shaky exhale, I ask, “Is that what you really want?”
My wife raises her head, tears now freely streaming down her lovely face, and nods. I struggle to swallow, and then nod back.
“If this is what you really want,” I murmur, “I’ll try.
For you.” I feel my heart break running down my cheek, her lips quiver as she watches it drop from my jaw and then, before the next one can fall, I kiss her.
I kiss her like it’s the last thing I’ll do, because it might be.
I don’t stop kissing her, not until neither of us can stay awake a second longer and we fall asleep tangled together.