Page 92 of Across Time

I head out in search of Henri once she leaves. I don’t have to wander long—he’s on the far side of the barn, chopping wood as if it’s life or death. For a moment I just watch: his shirt is off, his bare chest rippling with muscle and flecked with sweat and sawdust.

He swings the ax viciously and the wood goes flying, nearly to my feet. His eyes widen at the sight of me, and he carefully leans the ax against the tree stump and turns to me. “Have you been there long?”

I shake my head. “Just briefly admiring the view.”

He gives me a small smile. “I’m filthy. You have strange taste.” He glances at the house. “Is Marie still mad?”

I close the distance between us. “It was a lot to throw at her. She went into town to cool off a bit.”

His hands go to my shoulders, his thumb grazing my collarbone. “You’re so small,” he says quietly. “I forget sometimes how fragile you are, how vulnerable.”

“I’m not that vulnerable,” I reply with a grin. “I can disappear when necessary, remember?”

He swallows. “That you can disappear is never far from my mind,” he says heavily. “But you’re far more vulnerable than me in the one way that matters right now: your future isn’t already decided. Mine is, and Marie’s as well.”

I stiffen. I already know where he is going with this. I knew from the moment Marie refused to move south that we’d circle back to the point where we began.

“I want you to marry me,” he says. “And then I want you to leave. Just until the war ends.”

I lay my head against his chest. Sweat, sawdust…I want all of it. I want all of his highs and lows, as long as we can be together through them. “I already promised I’d go home just enough that I can escape if necessary.”

His arms tighten around me. His heart is hammering now, just beneath my ear. “It’s not enough. Anything can happen. What if you get pregnant and I’m gone? You’ll be stuck here.”

“Then I won’t get pregnant.”

He laughs unhappily. “After the past two months are you still under the impression that it’s entirely within your control? And don’t expect me to believe you’d vanish if trouble came. You won’t leave me, just as I would not leave you.”

My hands clasp his face. “I’d rather have a few years with you than an entire life without you.” Something calm settles over me as I say the words aloud for the first time. Yes, I still want a future with him, but even if I don’t get much more than what I’ve had, it’s…enough. If I had to trade every future autumn in order to keep the one we just spent together, I’d do so without hesitation.

I just hope it’s a choice I’m not forced to make.

* * *

The air is thick with tension when Marie gets home that night. I decide I’ve created enough trouble, and quietly excuse myself, leaving them in the kitchen and going to the room I now share with Henri. As soon as the door shuts, the arguing begins. First, a quiet, hissing sort of anger, followed by shouting on both sides.

“This is ridiculous!” Henri cries. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”

“How easy for you to say when everything has always gone your way,” she screams. “Our mother left and your life didn’t change at all, whereas mine completely stopped. If you truly loved her, you’d understand why I’m determined to stay.”

“My life went on?” he asks with an incredulous laugh. “You have no idea what I’ve given up. And Amelie has made every one of those sacrifices worthwhile. If I lose her because of your stupidity, I will never forgive you.”

“Don’t put that on me!” Marie screams. “I’m not asking anyone to stay.”

She needs to know about the prophecy. In another world, she might have time to choose a course for her life, but this isn’t that world. When he goes silent, I’m certain he’s thinking the same thing, so I walk into the kitchen and take the seat across from him. He meets my eye—should I?—and I nod.

“There’s something you should know,” he finally says. “You’ll be angry that I didn’t tell you sooner, but I was doing so at Maman’s request.”

Her eyes go wide as she looks between the two of us, wondering what’s coming.

Henri’s shoulders sag. He leans forward, hands clasped above the table. “Maman thought the prophecy was about you. She believed you were the hidden child. And I suspect she was right.”

Her face is completely blank for a moment, and then she laughs. “Me? Why?”

He exhales. “You meet all the requirements: you were conceived during a great war and born after it. The day after it. In France.”

“But—” she begins.

“I know,” he says, cutting her off. “You can’t be the only one to meet that description. But Maman didn’t tell you the most important part of the prophecy: the hidden child is a product of one of the first families.”