The Other Side of Anne (10 page)

Avery listened and Benjamin frowned as Anne explained about her and Avery traveling together to 1536, Anne’s delayed return on the second trip, and the nosebleeds.

“Th
is is not good news,” Benjamin said.

“I imagined not,” Anne
retorted sarcastically.

Benjamin leaned back in his
office chair and made a steeple with his hands. “I get them too. Within five days each time I return here after a fade.” He gave Anne a meaningful look. “Some of your fades from now on may be uncontrolled, like all of mine are.”

“
Lovely.”

Benjamin chuckled. “I am fond of your wit.”

The hairs on Avery’s neck bristled. How dare Benjamin treat this moment as deserving of humor?

Benjamin’s gaze turned serious. “You took Avery with you. That is wondrous. A couple of times when I faded, I
happened to be touching Charles or Bella. They never came with me.”

“Mmm.”

Benjamin started to talk quickly, dizzyingly, giving a rundown of the tests he would perform on Avery and Anne.

Avery interrupted Benjamin’s testing rundown: “If you get the time machines going again, can we see where I was...can we see my abduction?
Could I go back in time to witness it?”

“
Possibly, but it is not advisable.”

“I want to know my mother. And my father.”
No you don’t. This is the space-time continuum. Not advisable. Benjamin is right.

“Let’s discuss that later,”
Benjamin said. “Tests first.”

Avery crossed his
arms. “Fine.”

The n
ext few hours were a blur. Most of the time, he was vaguely aware he was in alien machines and that various gee-gaws did things to him. Needles drew blood, and other fluid samples were taken.

Testing finished around two p.m., and Benjamin urged Anne to stay at the building because of the risk of u
ncontrolled fades. She declined, and Avery took her to a restaurant.

“I will look for an apartment after lunch,” Anne said.

Avery stabbed his fork into his baked potato. “Anne, you really don’t need to move out.”

Anne shook her head. “I
do, for my own sake. I need to prove myself to me.” She rallied for a smile. “I look forward to the experience of living alone.”

Avery nodded, the fear
in Anne’s eyes scaring him.

**

Six nights later, Avery lingered outside Anne’s closed bedroom door. She was moving out tomorrow, and Avery wanted to clear the air between them. Anne said she was fine, that they were fine, but they had barely talked all week. He never should have kissed her.

Avery knocked.

“Come in,” Anne called, and Avery closed the door behind him.

“Cards are fun,” Anne said. She was playing what looked like Solitaire on her bed.

“Maybe we can play Monopoly.” That would certainly force them to interact for a good few hours.

“That is the board game that deals with money, correct?”

“Yep. Can I sit for a minute?”

Anne gath
ered up her cards. “Please do.”

“I want you to know you can call me anytime. You h
ave a question about something, call. Anytime.”

“I will.”

Anne was lovely tonight. There was a softness, a delicacy about her, and Avery remembered their kiss. Their bad kiss. He closed his hand over Anne’s. “I will miss you,” he said.

“I shall miss you also. But you plan to visit often before or after work, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You never asked me three more questions,” Anne said.

Avery knew what she meant. Her first night here, they had a conversation where Avery asked three questions—okay, more than three. Anne had said he could ask three more every day, but he had not. “I didn’t, you’re right.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re Anne George now.”

This made Anne smile, a little.

“If you want to talk about your past,” Avery said, “you can. Please do. Anything you want confidential stays confidential. But I want you to talk to me voluntarily, not because I’m asking three questions every day.”

Anne nodded. “Do you wish you had brothers or sisters?”

“I did, especially since my father was distant.”

“I miss my brother so much sometimes it hurts. I never bedded him. Never.”

“I know that.”

“George was a good brother. My best friend. We, we...” Anne sighed. “My sister’s child, Henry. He was not the king’s. He looked like my sister’s husband.”

“Was it odd having the same man your sister bedded earlier?”

Anne shrugged. “A body is a body.”

Avery could not help but grin. “In that case, will you call me Avery? Let’s dispense with the Sir Franklin formalities.”

Anne’s cheeks flushed—as if Avery had kissed her. Maybe in her mind, he had. Her breath would
be sharp and minty. Mouthwash. Her tongue would be surprised and hesitant but eager. Not like before, when it was a scared turtle hiding in its shell. Her pretend moan brought Avery to his senses, and he cleared his throat. “So what do you say, Anne? No more Sir Franklin?”

Sh
e pushed back a wayward strand of her dark hair. The movement was casual, graceful, and her black eyes shimmered. A sexual, aroused shimmer. “I like Sir Franklin,” she said.

“Okay.
I’m sorry I make you uncomfortable.”

“Do not be sorry,” Anne said. “Shall we play Monopoly?”

**

Hoppity, skippity, jumpity,
Anne thought the next night. She liked the phrase, which she had invented.
Hoppity, skippity, jumpity
. A few days earlier, she found a jump rope at Avery’s house and skipped on his back deck, where no one could see her. Avery had been working in his office, and Anne was actually pretty good.

Sh
e got out of bed. She rummaged through her suitcase for the jump rope, which she had sneaked in with her. Unlikely Avery would miss it. She brought it back to bed with her. Amazing how fast she moved out. She had taken the first apartment she and Avery looked at. It would do, and she was not in the mood to be selective. She wanted to get matters over with.

So, a week after that
confusing kiss, here Anne was for her first night in her very own Eastern Market studio apartment. It was in a converted townhouse about five minutes’ drive from Quentin University. Nate, of course, lurked outside the apartment building. The good news was that test results on her and Avery had come back with normal results. The bad news was that Anne’s nosebleeds had continued. Benjamin had her documenting the times, durations and flow. Now she experienced about one a day, at varying times, still lasting about two minutes, with no noticeable increase or decrease in flow. Avery had not experienced another nosebleed.

Who knew what was going on? Certainly not Anne. She wrapped the jump rope around one of her arms and tried not to cry.
No feeling sorry for herself! She must embrace freedom and learn to live on her own. Getting entangled and dependent on Avery would cause problems in the long term. Their relationship would be unhealthy. At least she would get to see him tomorrow when she met him at a nearby Starbucks after his classes.

The past week had been busy.
At Avery’s behest, Anne met several times with Greg Hernandez, a friend of Mandy’s who owned an art gallery. He had loved Anne’s work, more for her strong images than for her technique, which was not as refined as it should be. He would shoehorn her in one of his art shows next week.

Life is good,
Anne thought.
Life is good, life is good. Life S-U-C-K-S.
She could be a potty mouth if the occasion called for it.

*beeeeep*
Her phone.  It was from Avery. “Good night,” he texted.

Anne’s heart strained. If she replied, she would say something like:
“Come get me. I dislike being alone. I think I may be falling in love with you.” Anne tucked the phone under her pillow and pictured Avery, his smile. The perfectly rounded buttocks. He was like everyone else, flawed and imperfect—but very sweet, unlike other men Anne knew. And that made him perfect.

“Good night,” Anne said. “I am sorry we are over before we began.”

**

“Feels weird without Anne,” Avery said.

Yep,
Mandy agreed.

“She’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. This was needed, really. She wants to be independent.”

Yep.
Mandy picking up on the dubiousness in Avery’s comment.
Hey, Avery. Do you think you love her?

“Anne?”

Yes.

Avery raised an eyebrow. “Of course not. Love takes time to develop.”

You lust her.

“I...” Avery sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”
Yes. I lust her very much.

Wow,
Mandy said.
No kidding. An imbecile could’ve seen you lust after her. Hey, when are you gonna get me?

“Shut up,” Avery said.
  “Why are we talking about Anne? She’s gone. She’s out of here.”

Okay. Geez. Never mind.

The morning of May 19, 1536

Benjamin Franklin glanced around him and shivered despite the relatively warm morning. Maybe he should not have come. The queen was lovely, more so than when she was around him. She carried herself with regality, and her gaze betrayed no terror. Funny to think that for the past two and a half hours, she had been living an entirely separate life, thanks to him.

“Good Christian people,” Anne, consort queen of England from 1533 to 1536, said, “I am come hither to die, according to the law, for by the law I am judged to die, and therefore I will speak nothing against it. But I pray God save the king and send him long to reign over you. For a gentler nor a more merciful prince was there never, and to me he was ever a good, a gentle and sovereign lord. And if any person will meddle me of my cause I require them to judge the best. And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me.”

Benjamin squirmed.
Lop her head off already.
He glanced around him again. Guilt made him paranoid, but he saw no need to tell Avery and Anne—or anyone—that he and Charles had been fibbing about the time machines being broken. Nate did not know, nor did Ted or any of the scientists. Benjamin, Charles and Bella had invented a better time machine. Shortly before her death, Bella had figured out the pattern to Benjamin’s fades. He was safe; his next fade was in a few weeks. He would prefer to be like Anne, of course, and control his fades. Bella had died working on the puzzle of how Anne could control her fades while Benjamin could not his, and Benjamin wondered sometimes if Bella had not known a car was hurtling toward her because she had been deep in thought over the dilemma.

A better time machine
did not mean a perfect machine. Every time Benjamin tried to go back to meet again with Charles and Bella, the machine truly did not work. The universe apparently did have its limitations.

Benjamin kept replaying his conversation with Avery about liberty. He was glad
his mentors’ son had left when he did. They would have gone on for hours in circles. Swirling, colorful and philosophical circles. Circles nonetheless. Benjamin had not kidnapped Anne; he liberated her from death. The death she was about to undergo.

How was he to know she would later fade? And that he would start fading after she did?
Not that he would change anything. Life was about risks. His first life was too timid. Full of false, calculated risks. True risks were the way to go. Plunging off cliffs, hurtling toward water and feeling the wind on your cheeks, that was life.

One of the ladies
removed Anne’s hood, and Anne scanned the crowd, grabbing what last sights she could. She reminded Benjamin of a bird smashing against a window and trying to get out. He wore a wig, had smeared dirt onto his face and wore different clothes. Anne would not recognize him this way. At least he hoped so. He had also been to the executions of Marie Antoinette, Catherine Howard and Mary, Queen of Scots. Something addictive about women being executed. In this case, his presence was entirely proper. Retrieving Anne had been his idea, and he needed to see her death through.

What are you thinking, Anne?
Is your new friend Avery dead? Did you have a long, happy life with him?

She noticed Benjamin
.

Anne’s eyes went wide, and their gazes met for an agonizing second. Her lips parted. “Benjamin?” she mouthed
. She might have voiced the word, but if she did, Benjamin was too far away to hear.

Benjamin’s heart hammered.
None of the history books had mentioned her mouthing the name “Benjamin.” Probably no one had noticed. Or maybe Benjamin Franklin had just messed with history. He wanted to look away, but he was spiked to Anne’s witch eyes. She would know he had been there. Wherever she was in modern times when she was beheaded, be it in 2012 or in 2037, she would know he was using the time machines again. She would return and be furious at him.

Yes, Anne would be
manic. He should have been more respectful toward her from the beginning. He thought he had been, but something in his eyes and his smile must have given away his impure thoughts about the queen.

The ladies blindfolded Anne, and she
kneeled. “To Jesus Christ I commend my soul. Lord Jesu, receive my soul.” Her strong voice carried over the crowd to the heavens. Did she expect him to save her? He could not. Well, maybe he could, but no. History was as it should be. He would not further tamper with it.

Anne again: “To Jesus Christ I commend my soul. Lord Jesu, receive my soul.” Hysteria tinged her voice.

The executioner lifted his sword.
Finally.
Put the woman out of her misery.

WHOOSH

Anne’s head came off clean. Blood spurted, and a thrill ran up Benjamin’s spine. Anne’s body twitched and twitched and then was still. Her ladies rushed to scoop the head up.
That poor woman
, Benjamin thought. He felt bad about taking pleasure, even a tiny bit, at witnessing Anne’s execution. Maybe he ought to snatch little Elizabeth and reunite the child with her mother. Something to think about, at any rate.

BOOM. BOOM. Cannons were announcing the queen’s death for the king’s benefit.

Benjamin wished he had never read books about himself. He missed the excitement of not knowing what the future held for him. At least he could still have that excitement in his 2012 life. He had accomplished great things in his first life and was doing marvelous wonders in his second life. But it was not the same. His first life would end relatively soon. Unlike Anne, when Benjamin faded, he stayed in his first life a significant time, and the spans had gotten greater with each fade. He had been whisked to modern times for the first time when he was forty-two years old. In contrast, when he last left his natural time, the year was 1783. He was seventy-seven and seven years from death. The Revolutionary War was newly won, and Benjamin had just signed the Treaty of Paris. He would die in 1790, and he would spend the last vestiges of his life as little more than an invalid nursed by his daughter Sally. It was possible that his fade in a few weeks’ time would be the one to take him to his first-life death.

Benjamin took a tentative step, then another, toward Anne’s ladies. They had wrapped the body in a white cloth, and several men
carried an arrow chest. Benjamin wanted to ask if he could help, but his voice would draw unwelcome attention.

So he watched. He waited. The men hauled up the chest and carried the dead queen away. “Goodbye, Anne,” Benjamin said.