One Last Time (20 page)

“Averie!” He slaps his hand against my face, and I hear the anguish in his voice. “Averie!”

Choking, I open my eyes, finding myself cradled in his arms. He’s alive. I’m alive. I cough and choke some more.

“Somebody bring her water.” His voice is filled with desperation. He lifts me off the ground and carries me back to the porch. Jeb and the boys gather around, along with Mike and Emily. Mr. Faulkner’s here, too, holding a pistol.

“Whatever happened?” Elizabeth Faulkner appears out on the veranda. “James, did I hear a gunshot? Whatever are you doing holding that pistol?”

“Go back inside, dear,” James calls from the lawn. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Elizabeth gasps. “There’s a dead body in my grass. I’d say it concerns me. I’m having an elite dinner party in less than a week when the crème de la crème of society will be here attending.”

Emily brushes past her mother, retrieving the water Quillan has requested. “Oh, Momma, for Christ’s sake!”

Elizabeth gasps. “James, did you hear your daughter?”

“For Christ’s sake, Elizabeth, I heard her! Now, do as I said and go to bed!” James bellows, taking the porch steps two at a time.

Elizabeth posture stiffens as she turns to go indoors. “Boys, take care of that body and clean up whatever mess you have to. I am not canceling my party!”

We bury little Hope under a weeping willow tree in the shallow part of the pond where fish come to nibble on the plants. It was my idea to put her there. Laying her to rest under the water seems serene and erases any scent of her the hound dogs could possibly trace.

Quillan fired the first shot, hitting Seedy in the arm and knocking the gun from his hand. The blast woke Mr. Faulkner who grabbed his pistol and came running, meeting Emily on the staircase. The gunfire woke Mike from his stupor. He was still in the garden, star gazing and contemplating the mysteries of life when he heard the shot and scrambled to the front just in time to see two more of Slimy’s cohorts scouting the property, looking for any evidence of the Underground.

The second gun blast came from James. He gunned down the man driving the wagon, after watching him purposely run down little Hope. She was escaping across the grass, trying to get away from the fighting when he ran her over. Her body caused the big bump that knocked Slimy off his feet and gave me my chance at escape.

According to Emily, Quillan and Mike fought off the other two men before Quillan could save me. She said Quillan looked like a wild man, beating the snot out of Slimy before Mike intervened and stopped Quillan from committing murder.

Mr. Faulkner threw the four unconscious men and the deceased driver into their own wagon and personally drove them into town, turning them over to the Sheriff as trespassers, would-be robbers, and rapists. James Faulkner holds a lot of weight in this town, so the Sheriff apologized profusely for the inconvenience, admitting the men from Georgia caused enough trouble, and promised to send them packing as soon as they came to and were able to travel.

I’m sore all over. I have a splitting headache and Tylenol hasn’t been invented yet. It’s been a long night, and I’m about ready to crawl up to the third floor and tell Lunar to scoot over so I can climb into bed with him. If it gets any worse around here, we might have to turn the third floor to an ICU.

Emily instructs Pearl to heat up some water and, together, they draw me a bath. It feels heavenly to sit and soak while Pearl takes a big scrub brush and washes me from head to toe. I feel bad for her waking in the dead of night just for me. She insists on helping, assuring me the gunfire woke her. I soak until the water turns cold, and then Pearl towels me off before rubbing sweet-smelling lotion on my skin. She helps me slip into my gown and then walks me to my room.

Quillan is waiting for me with the covers turned back and extra pillows fluffed up ready for my throbbing head. Pearl hands me over, and he escorts me to bed, helping me in before handing me a steaming cup of chamomile tea. I take a swallow, but my throat hurts, so I hand it back.

“I’m sorry.” He takes the cup from me.

I lean back on my pillow. It feels heavenly as it cradles my head in comfort.

“I’ll never make light of your fears again.” He lays down beside me. “I know what it feels like now.”

“What does it feel like?” I ask him, wondering how he will describe it.

“It brings a hopelessness that weakens you until you’re afraid you won’t be able to fight back. And even though you may be fighting against it, it taunts you, whispering in your ear the two words, what if.”

“What if?” I repeat.

“Yes, what if. What if she dies? What if you can’t save her? What if none of this works? And what if it does and she leaves? What if life isn’t the same without her? It hisses the what-ifs over and over until it steals your strength, your hope, your belief in your purpose, and then it steals your soul. You’re still breathing, but with fear in control, there is no life.”

“Did it steal yours?” I ask him.

“No, because there is one thing stronger than fear, and it will conquer it every time.”

“What is it?” I’m curious.

“Love,” he says.

Some weeks drag along and some speed by. Unfortunately, my last week here has sped by. Last month, when I arrived in 1859, my biggest fear was being stuck in this time, never being able to return home again. Today, my biggest fear is leaving. It’s funny how time changes things. It really does. Given time and certain knowledge, our perspective becomes different. What I thought was the direst circumstance of my life has transformed into the best thing that could ever have happened. This only proves that the bleakest hour of your life can become the defining hour if you stare fear in the face and call it out of its hiding place.

Quillan told me love conquers fear. He’s right. I think love gives you courage to face what threatens you, and when you do, you become powerful. Emily’s love for Lunar gave her courage to aid the oppressed. Her efforts in the Underground have helped many, and Lunar’s courage to stay here, instead of running off with her, will make a big difference for everyone.

Mr. Faulkner’s love for Emily gave him courage to take a rare stand, allowing him to walk a new road, a better path. I have a feeling things will change for the good around here on the plantation.

Quillan’s love for me gave him courage and strength to fight off five men, putting the man in jail that spearheaded the legendary attack on the estate, hung his father, and raped his mother, therefore killing him in the womb and destroying Emily to the point of taking her own life. Yes, it’s what happened that fateful night on September 16, 1859. Quillan told me the details of that evening, the night we sent Slimy and his cohorts to jail.

My love for Quillan gave me courage to face my circumstances and try things I never thought were possible for me to achieve. My love for him also gives me courage to leave tonight and face the future without him, because I will know Quillan Wilson got his chance and lived and walked this earth. Tears pool in my eyes. Love may damage fear, but love still hurts like hell.

Elizabeth is running around like a chicken with her head cut off this morning, barking orders at Pearl and the other house slaves. Her constant whining and bickering at the help has everyone on edge, so I slip from the house after breakfast and head to my favorite spot. I toss a flower into the water where Hope lays sleeping and wonder if word ever made it to her mother that she wouldn’t be coming. I catch my breath, realizing what I, too, will face less than twenty-four hours from now. I wonder if there is any word from my mother waiting for me.

The garden gate swings open and Quillan enters. He gives me a sideways smile when he sees me. My heart leaps as usual, but the pain of knowing I leave him tonight lassos it, pulling it down into the pit of my stomach.

“I have a surprise for you.” He extends his hand. I take it, eager to know what he has up his sleeve my last day here. He leads me to the carriage house where our horse and buggy are prepared for departure. Helping me inside, he informs me we are getting away from the big house for a while and having a seaside picnic. I’m thrilled. There’s nothing more romantic than a carriage ride, especially if the ride is with someone who warms your belly, and mine is on fire right now.

Quillan stops the carriage at a beautiful spot on the beach. I’ve been here before, not in this time of course, but back home. Usually, it’s overrun with people trying to squeeze more skin than they’re able into pieces of tiny fabric. Today, it’s abandoned, the only other beachgoers are seagulls gliding over the water looking for lunch.

Quillan lays out our blanket and the small feast he’s brought. The food smells delicious, but I’m not hungry. The thought of leaving him tonight has me in turmoil and has stolen my appetite. I nibble on the food. Nothing tastes good right now.

He notices. “You’re not eating much.”

“I can’t eat when I’m nervous,” I admit.

He tilts his head. “You’re still scared about the dinner?”

“No.”

I am not sure I should admit how sad I am about leaving tonight. “It’s not the dinner that worries me. I think we fixed that. I’m just nervous about returning home, not sure how it will be.”

The wind pushes the hair away from his eyes, and I see him looking at me in the reflective way he does that takes my breath away. He takes my hand. “Forget the food. Let’s go for a walk.”

I slip off my annoying heels. Actually, they’re not so bad. I’ve gotten used to them by now. He keeps his hand clasped around mine and leads me to the shoreline. The tide is out, and we walk along hand in hand, stopping to collect a pretty shell when we spot one.

“Averie,” he says after we’ve walked a ways.

“Yes, Quillan.” My heart stalls, wondering what he is going to say and hoping my aching spirit can take it.

“I want to thank you for everything you did this month. I don’t think you realize how much you changed the future.”

I shrug. “I’m actually glad I was able to help you. To be honest, it was great being a part of it all. I’m glad I got to see beyond the legend and know everyone as real people and not some creepy ghosts haunting an old abandoned house. The place will hold my heart from here on out.”

Quillan stops and turns me to face him. The wind blows from behind, whipping my hair in front of my face, obstructing my view. He smiles. “You never were able to get this mane under control, were you?” I laugh with him and pull my hair over to the side holding it down.

He opens his jacket and pulls out a small brown package tied with twine, like the ones he brought to the cave our first day. “I wanted to give you something to remember me by.” He hands me the gift. The lump is back, and I can barely swallow. I didn’t plan on getting sentimental. Okay, I do want him to confess his undying love, but now that he is standing here in front of me, asking me to never forget him, I might bawl like a baby. How could I ever forget him? How could I ever forget the most special time of my life? I do not need a charm to help me remember the one month in eighteen years when I actually lived.

“Open it,” he coaxes. I blink back the tears that flood my eyes and look down at the package. My fingers tremble as I fumble with the string. My heart is racing again, and I can barely hold on to the case. I pull back the paper and uncover a small velvet box. Lifting the lid, I discover a beautiful hand-painted locket attached to a silver chain. Intricately embellished on the front of the black porcelain jewelry is a shooting star surrounded by tiny diamonds representing the night sky.

I’m overwhelmed, and the tears flood my eyes, spill over, making their escape down my cheeks. “It’s beautiful,” I manage to say.

“Open it.” He smiles.

Again my fingers fumble with the latch. Engraved inside are the words
Averie Cooke, Quillan Wilson’s perfect dream. 1859.

I laugh, and when I do, the dam holding back my tears breaks and I sob, mixing my tears and laughter together. Reaching around my neck, he fastens the chain, and steps back to look. “Beautiful.” He smiles. I can see tears pooling in his enchanting grays as well. “I know I will dream of you one day, Miss Averie, because you found your way in here.” He takes my hand and lays it over his heart. We stare at each other. How can you find the right words at a time like this? We’ve saved his life, but it feels as if he’s dying because I have to say good-bye forever, only to be left with the memory. To be honest, I’m not sure I can survive this, and suddenly, I’m scared again.

It’s nearly eight o’clock. Most of tonight’s guests have arrived and are downstairs in the sitting room, drinking brandy and eating hors d’oeuvres.

I’m in Emily’s room. She is helping me with my hair. I now understand how Cinderella felt getting ready for the ball, knowing I, too, have a midnight curfew. According to Quillan, Mike and I must be in the passageway when the clock strikes twelve tonight; otherwise we will not transport back to the future. At the same time, he will simply fade out of view. Closing my eyes, I push the image out of my mind. My stomach churns, and I nervously shift in my chair.

“I’m sorry, am I pulling too hard?” Emily asks me.

“Oh no, not at all,” I assure her. “You’re making me look beautiful.” Which she is. She has a knack for hairstyling.

She chats on excitedly, telling me about the plans Lunar has drawn up for the slave quarters and the ones for their home, too. “You know,” she says, as she weaves ribbons into my hair. “A month ago, I would have never dreamed I would be planning a house with Lunar, let alone having my daddy’s blessing.” She smiles at me in the mirror, the way she does when she accuses me of being clairvoyant. “Everything got better when you showed up, Miss Averie. I’d say you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, not to mention, the closest friend I have ever had.”

I smile back. My sentiments for Miss Emily are the same. One thing’s for sure, Quillan is going to have an amazing mother. I sigh, wishing I could tell her I’ll be leaving tonight. I’d hate for her to think I left without saying good-bye.