Page 140 of Disturbing the Dead
“And that we solved the case.”
He smiles. “I think they will care more that you are alive and well, but yes, they will know you solved the case.”
“We did. All of us.”
As we rise, I look up at him, and my smile breaks into a grin. I want to throw my arms around his neck. I want to do a silly little dance of joy. I’m not sure why this is such a big deal, but it is. My parents know I am well. I can send them missives from the nineteenth century.
Gray takes my hand and squeezes it. “I am happy for you.”
“Thank you.” I look up at him. “Now, what were you saying before?”
“Hmm?”
“Before you saw that the letters were gone. You said that, if I woke, you would tell me something.”
“Ah. Yes.” He plucks at his collar. “I would tell you…” He rolls his shoulders. “I would tell you that if you could go home again, and you wished to do so, I would understand. I would understand that you might change your mind.”
“I appreciate the sentiment. But I really have made a choice, and I don’t regret it.”
“Still, if you ever did—”
“No.” I meet his eyes. “I need to make a life here, Duncan. Yes, I can’t predict the future, but I need to commit to this as my future.”
He meets my eyes, and something in his, some… I don’t catch it before he glances away, busying himself with getting something out of his pocket.
“Speaking of the case,” he says… which was not what we were speaking of at all. “I bought you a gift. You wanted this, and I agree that—after your attack in the tunnels—you need it.”
He opens his hand to reveal a derringer pistol. I may let out the kind of noise others make on seeing a puppy. It’s adorable, and unlike any derringer I’ve ever seen. It’s silver—nickel-plated, I suspect—with scrolled engraving. The butt curves as if to fit around a finger.
I hug it to my chest. “I love it. Thank you.”
“And you will learn to shoot it, as I presume it will be different than you are accustomed to.”
“I will. Thank you. Really.”
“You are very welcome. I thought to also buy you a pair of trousers, but they would not fit in my pocket.”
I laugh. “True.”
“Also, they would likely not fit you. You require a tailor’s help. Jack has suggested one that might prove suitable. I suggest we head there to arrange a fitting. If that is acceptable to you.”
I smile up at him. “It is all very acceptable to me.”
He waves me toward the bedroom door. I tuck the derringer into my pocket and as I leave, I glance over my shoulder at that floorboard, those letters gone and with them a link to my life in the modern world. Then I turn my gaze ahead, and walk out the door, toward our next adventure.
