Page 13 of I Know You

“And if not?” I can’t help asking. The reality that I am in 1901 seems to press down harder and harder on me every second since I accepted that I’m not lying in a hospital in a coma.

He squeezes my hands. “Don’t give up,” he says with firmness. “Everything will be fine. I promise.” The rising confidence in his voice does lift the weight, though that doesn’t make sense.

I lean toward him, anxiety still flickering through my stomach like the few wrong notes of a song my father was just starting to learn. “I haven’t known you very long,” I say. “Why should I trust you?”

Ben casts me a charming smile before letting me go. “Who else have you got?”

I laugh. “Good point.” That laugh keeps at bay a hundred small little things, like the fear that we won’t make it home and the pounding in my heart that just holding Ben’s hand has produced. I can smell his cologne with him standing this close. It has hints of citrus and something woodsy along with sharp fragrances that I don’t know.

We stare at each other for a moment longer before we both spin back on the mirror, my cheeks hot from the moment of awareness between us. We take turns putting our hands on it, running fingers along the frame, looking for secret buttons or something that will release the secret. Ben has lunch sent up, and not long after we’ve finished eating, one of The Villa servants comes to the door to tell Ben that our things are ready for our trip.

“Thank you, Albert,” Ben says, opening the door wider for him to enter. “Come in and see to the mirror, please? I’ll help you.”

“Yes, Mr. Mitchell.”

If Albert thinks anything of finding me alone with Ben in his room, he doesn’t react. Ben doesn’t seem concerned either, which surprises me, considering how careful he was about no one seeing me come in. Maybe he trusts the staff to keep their mouths shut. He’s lived here long enough to gain that trust.

I raise my eyebrows at Ben in question when Albert disappears into Ben’s bedroom.

“One of the many eccentricities the staff are used to here,” he says in a low voice. “I take the mirror everywhere I go.”

It also explains why he rarely leaves. That must be a pain. “Of course you do.” I hadn’t thought of it before, but knowing that the mirror will be with us makes me more comfortable about our trip to the city.

Albert brings in a specially made wooden case. I stand and walk over to inspect it as Albert and Ben lift up the mirror. They lay it gently in and then Albert busies himself checking all around the case, fitting in padding, and nudging the mirror to make sure it’s secure. He lifts the lid on himself to cover it and then disappears.

“Annabelle will probably be waiting with your traveling things,” Ben says after Albert has gone. “I’ll meet you downstairs.”

I nod at him and peer out the door. The hallway around Ben’s room is empty, so I hurry out and down the hall, passing Albert returning with another attendant, probably to bring the mirror downstairs.

I bite my lips against a smile as I head for my room. Going to San Francisco feels exciting. Terrifying too, if I’m being honest. There are so many ways to mess this up. But I know it will be thrilling. And with Ben by my side, nothing can go too wrong, can it?

Chapter Five

Mr. Allen is also waiting when I go down to meet Ben.

“Are you coming to San Francisco too?” I ask as he holds out an arm. I’m doing better at balancing in the heavier dresses, but I won’t say no to another handsome escort. Besides, I still can’t place my finger on that little something that makes being around Mr. Allen as natural as hanging out with Ben, even though we’ve spent way less time together. The spark isn’t the same between us. It feels like—familiarity. As though I’ve known him a long time.

“Ben says your President McKinley is visiting, and he seems quite eager for everyone he knows to witness the event.” He raises his eyebrows, and his faux-innocent expression makes me press my lips together to suppress a giggle. Mr. Allen glances at Ben, who shakes his head and gives a smile at the teasing.

“He’s only coming because he likes Mrs. Guthrie’s cook,” Ben says. I immediately like the friendship between these two men. I can picture them joking around with each other in the future, maybe even playing a video game together, though it’s hard to place either of them in such a modern setting.

“Mrs. Guthrie?” I question Ben.

“A good friend in San Francisco. We’ll be staying with her.” Real affection plays across Ben’s face as he says this, and I’m intrigued. The traitorous question of how many married women are in Ben’s inner circle dances through my brain, but I shove it away. He’s done nothing but flirt—and only barely—with Mrs. Halloway while I’ve been here. I should wait before making any judgments.

“How do you know her?” I can’t help asking. I have a drive to know everything about him, maybe because he’s my knight in shining armor. Maybe because this is some delusional dream and I think there’s some kind of happily-ever-after for us. I can’t really say. Just in the day I’ve known him, I’ve found him to be compassionate, generous, smart, and fun. When we get home, I want to see if there’s something there. Why wouldn’t I with someone like him?

“She had a boarding house in San Francisco,” Ben replies. “She let me stay there and help her until I got on my feet after I arrived.” There’s undisguised affection in his words, very different from his attitude around Mrs. Halloway. Warmth tickles my stomach at the way he speaks of Mrs. Guthrie, and I think of his words yesterday: Yes, someone helped me.

Poor Ben. He dropped into this world without any help—just his brain and his ability to think quickly. And Mrs. Guthrie must be the benefactor to him that he is to me. Whatever his relationship with her, it’s real, and I won’t fault him for it.

“She has a very fancy house and no boarders now, though,” Mr. Allen says in a mock whisper. “So you shall be quite comfortable.” And I know without Mr. Allen saying it that Ben has repaid Mrs. Guthrie several times over. I turn to look at him. His cheeks are red, and he gives a small shake of his head, as though he doesn’t deserve any praise for what he’s done. I glance away, a smile on my lips and my chest warm from his kindness.

The train ride is jarring and uncomfortable. Ben arranged for the special case with the mirror to ride in the compartment with us, and every time the train shudders, he reaches out a protective hand to steady it. The ride from the station in San Francisco to a large brick mansion is no better and downright terrifying. It’s no wonder Ben doesn’t travel often. The anxiety of worrying over the mirror is enough to give me a heart attack, and I haven’t been stuck here for two years. I’m so overwhelmed by it all, I have to bite my tongue and resist voicing the fear that the mirror could have been broken.

Ben has steered me right so far. I need to trust him.

Besides, like he said, I don’t have anyone else to trust.