Page 69 of Across Time

This isn’t now. This is fall, when I'm no longer here, and this shouldn’t be happening. Even if I didn’t have a boyfriend it shouldn’t be happening. I don’t know what I’ve just done, but I know I need to escape from it, especially given that I’m now standing in front of him naked. I vanish before I can give myself even a moment to change my mind, returning to the moment I bookmarked so fast that I barely manage to stop as I feel it approaching.

I land and see my clothes resting in a pile, so I scramble back into them just as Henri pulls up. He’s climbing out of the truck when I emerge, and the sight of him there makes my breath come short. That kiss was like nothing I’d ever imagined. And I still don’t know what happened. He’s been restrained with me even at times when I would not have shown restraint. What the hell happens in the next week to change that?

We make a mistake.

If I stay another week or two as promised, he and I will make a mistake. We will sleep together or come close to it, changing things for us both. Why else would he kiss me the way he did?

"You’re staring at me like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says, his smile fading. "Is something wrong?"

Yes.

"No," I reply, looking away. "I just think it’s time for me to head home."

* * *

My last full day with Henri and Marie is a sober one. Henri spends most of it outside and Marie spends it baking, worrying her lower lip with her teeth until it is raw.

"What if you're not well enough to get home?” she asks. "Don't you think you should stay a few more days, just to be safe?"

I watch Henri walk to the pump, his t-shirt clinging to him, drinking water he's cupped in his hands. "No," I reply, my voice a little faint. "I think it's best that I get back right away."

Marie stays home that afternoon, so there is no evening picnic, no ride to the meadow to watch the setting sun. Somehow I didn’t think it would be over so quickly. I thought I’d have a chance to say goodbye to each of the places I loved with him, but I won’t.

Dinner is painfully quiet, and before it’s even done, Marie tears up and excuses herself for the night. Henri and I clear the table, and every time his arm or hip brush against mine I’m thinking about that kiss in the orchard, and wanting it all over again.

“Come on,” he says when we’re done, placing his hand at the small of my back.

I let him push me toward the door. “Where are we going?”

He laughs. “Where else?”

We walk to the hay bale, the site of so many picnics and the infamous chocolate incident. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, wishing I could relive each of them.

He spreads a blanket and we sit side by side, leaning our heads backward to glance at the sliver of moon visible through the clouds. “Tomorrow, that and the sun are going to be the only things we share.”

My throat swells to the point of pain. I don’t want to live in a world where he is not. “It’s not enough.”

“No,” he says softly. “It’s not. So are you glad you wound up staying here?”

I laugh, brushing tears from my face. “Of course. Are you glad I wound up staying here?”

He smiles, but his eyes are sad. “Of course. Although I’m going to be spending the rest of my life fielding questions about my beautiful cousin.”

I shrug. “Beautiful? As I recall, you told Madame Beauvoir when I got here that you didn’t find me attractive but not all men could afford to be picky.”

“That’s what you deserved for pretending you didn’t understand us. My God,” he says, his laughter a low rumble in his chest, “your face when I said that. I was certain you’d crack.”

“You knew?! All this time?” I exclaim. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why tell you? It was so much more fun to say awful things about you in front of your face and watch you try not to explode.”

We both laugh and then it fades to silence again.

“I’m sorry about the dance,” he finally says.

“Which part?”

“All of it. That I hurt your feelings. That I probably ruined it for you with my jealousy.”