Echoes of Time Read online

  Mom turns around and ushers Dad into the foyer, leaving the door cracked. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I don’t need to. Judging from my dad’s facial expressions, I know she’s telling him who Étienne is to me. When they step outside, my dad avoids looking at me and keeps his gaze focused on Étienne. I hold my breath while Étienne seems unfettered. How?

  Every time I went to different eras, I felt as though I was dragged behind a Mack truck and could sleep for days. At times, I even became sick, but that could’ve been from nerves.

  Not Étienne.

  He has one of the best poker faces I’ve ever seen, and at times, it’s maddening. Right now, it’s probably good because he doesn’t crack under Dad’s scrutiny. Not for a second. Not even when Dad gives him a thorough once-over and raises his brows at Étienne’s clothes.

  Neither one says a word, and for that, I’m grateful. I don’t want this conversation to happen on the front porch where everyone can see.

  “I hear my daughter has a lot to explain,” Dad says after a long stretch of silence.

  “Just a little,” I say with a nervous laugh.

  My parents look at me, and I want to drop my face into my hands. This is not how I pictured this going. Actually, I don’t know how I ever imagined this playing out because I never in a million years dreamed that Étienne would get the chance to meet my family.

  My dad gestures to the front door. “Let’s go inside.”

  Étienne momentarily meets my gaze as he takes my hand. His green eyes widen, the look in his eyes saying, “Here we go,” as we walk toward the front door. I’m not ready for this. We need a plan, a course of action, and a plausible explanation as to why Étienne has now suddenly arrived with no warning, dressed the way he is, and with nothing on him.

  This talk could go south real quick. The moment we step into my family’s home, I watch Étienne from the corner of my eye. They don’t make homes like Belgrave anymore. The attention to detail in his childhood home is nothing short of stunning, but Hambleton House is a close runner-up.

  Étienne continues to look around the room. He hasn’t spoken in minutes. His eyes run up the length of the staircase and momentarily land on the window between landings.

  “Let’s all talk in the living room,” Mom says with a weak smile.

  The wood floors creak beneath our feet, only highlighting the silence among the four of us. Étienne and I sit on the blue suede sofa with a tufted back and curved arms. Mom and Dad take a seat across from us on the white and blue floral armchairs. From the serious expression on their face, I feel like a teenager caught making out with my boyfriend after curfew.

  While I make myself comfortable, Étienne lovingly pets the cushion as though it’s a dog. “Fascinatin’,” he says none too quietly. “What material is this?”

  “Dude, not now,” I say under my breath.

  Immediately, he stops. When I look at my parents, I see my mom staring at Étienne as though he’s lost his mind. Nervously, I shoot her a smile.

  Lightly clapping her hands, Mom looks back and forth between Étienne and me. “I’m not certain where we should start.”

  The three of us watch as Étienne’s large frame slowly stands. “I think it’s best if I introduce myself.” He takes a step forward and holds his hand out to my dad. “I’m Étienne Lacroix.”

  At first, my dad hesitates to shake his hand, but then he does. “Dan Hambleton.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Hambleton. Serene has spoken quite highly of you.”

  When Étienne shifts his attention to Mom, Dad gives me an accusing look. I know he’s wondering exactly how long Étienne and I have known each other, and what I’ve said about my family.

  I turn my attention to Étienne and my mom right at the tail end of their introduction and listen to Étienne laying on the charm. I swear his accent grows thicker with each word he speaks. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am.”

  Judging from the way my mom’s eyes soften, I’d say Étienne’s Southern charm and good manners have worked on her. All he needs to do is throw in some French, and he’ll have my mom wrapped around his finger.

  Est-ce important ce que je dis? Bien sûr que non. C’est Français.

  He takes a seat, settling his large body beside me. When he firmly curves a hand over my knee, it’s a gesture my parents don’t miss.

  “So, Étienne …” Mom starts out.

  At the sound of his name, Étienne’s shoulders straighten. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Charleston, South Carolina.” His answer is instantaneous.

  “Oh, so is that the real reason you visited Charleston this past December?” Mom asks.

  Étienne is honest to a fault. I give him five minutes before he stands back up and spills his guts. I place my hand over his and speak before he has the chance. “Yep. That’s exactly why.”

  “And I take it that’s where the two of you met?”

  “No, we met in Chicago at an antique show over a year ago. We started speaking afterward, and that led to a relationship.”

  One more falsehood to flow from my lips far too easily. Even Étienne is giving me some major side-eye. But you know what? It works because my mom nods.

  “I still don’t understand why you felt you couldn’t tell us.” This remark comes from my dad.

  “It’s not that we didn’t feel we couldn’t. It’s just …” I look away as I try to formulate the right words.

  “Our feelin’s were simply so powerful we didn’t know how to handle them. We knew a love like ours was not somethin’ that was given twice. We were swept up in the moment and didn’t always handle everything correctly, but I love Serene with everything I have,” Étienne says fiercely, leaving no room for argument.

  My mom blinks rapidly. “Oh,” she says.

  What can you really say to that? Nothing. Not even I have a reply. A vein of truth runs through his words because our love is powerful. At first, neither one of us knew how to handle it. And to be honest, sometimes I still don’t.

  Étienne gives his attention to my dad. “I regret not meetin’ you sooner and askin’ for your daughter’s hand in marriage, but I felt as though time was of the essence.”

  “Why? What made you think you had to get engaged immediately?”

  Étienne pauses. “Nothin’ per se. However, when you find your soul mate, why be reluctant?”

  “Fair enough. But you can understand my wife’s and my shock and hesitation.”

  “Absolutely. You have every right to feel the way you do.”

  My dad leans forward. I have no doubt in my mind he’s ready to unleash a barrage of questions in Étienne’s direction.

  “I know you guys have a lot of questions, and you’re entitled to them and more, but Étienne and I have to go; we’re heading to the hotel.” That’s not precisely the truth, but I need to make it seem as if Étienne’s visit was planned, and he didn’t drop from the sky.

  Mom frowns. “How long are you staying in town?” she asks Étienne.

  I glance at him. He appears completely lost by the direction of the conversation and lets me do the talking. “We’re not certain.”

  “Why not?” my dad asks.

  “Because Étienne took off time from work so he could meet you guys. But his sister is newly married and lives in Georgia, and he wants to visit her.”

  “Yes, that is correct,” Étienne says solemnly.

  Only he can make four simple words sound like a vow. “We don’t want to impose on you guys. If I had my own place, believe me, we would be there.”

  Letting a virtual stranger stay in her home is far from my mom’s first option, but gleaning as much information about Étienne is. As for me, it’s best to stay here. There’s no telling how long Étienne will be in this time. When the times comes, and we do leave—whether it be separate or not—I don’t want to have built a career and have a home of my own only to abandon it all.

  Mom waves my words away. “
Nonsense. He’ll stay here with us.” She looks around the room. “But where is his luggage?”

  Slowly, my dad turns his head and stares at Mom. He won’t say it, but it’s clear the last thing he wants is for Étienne to stay here. Again, understandable. But I don’t have a lot of options right this second.

  “Serene?” Mom prods.

  I shake away my thoughts and focus on Mom. “It got lost. He gave the airline my number, and they’ll call when it’s found.” I shrug. “You know how it is.”

  “Say no more. Been there; done that.”

  The four us become silent once again. Nervously, my legs bounce up and down. Étienne isn’t exactly a man of many words, and I’m too busy formulating lies for every question my parents present. All in all, this conversation went better than I thought and far longer than I wanted it to go.

  “Well, if that’s it, I’m going to show Étienne around the house and let him lie down upstairs. I’m sure he’s tired from all the traveling.”

  “He’ll be lying down in a guest bedroom, I’m sure?” Dad questions.

  “Absolutely,” I immediately reply.

  Fat chance.

  Mom appears shocked by the abrupt conclusion of the conversation. I know I’m suddenly putting a pin in it, but I have to talk to Étienne alone. I have to know why he’s here and tell him I’m pregnant.

  Étienne and I waste no time hustling out of the room. I all but drag Étienne up the stairs while my parents undoubtedly discuss the fact their only daughter is in love and got engaged behind their backs. Normally, I would defend my decision and Étienne, but I have to trust they’ll see what kind of man Étienne is.

  They’ll understand why I fell in love with him.

  Étienne stops once to stare at the stained-glass window above the intermediate landing. It takes me more than a few tugs to snap him out of it. We reach the second floor and head toward my bedroom. The second my door closes behind us, I turn and face Étienne. My heart hasn’t stopped pounding since the second I ran out the front door and saw him standing on the street. There’s so much we need to discuss. Where do I start?

  The pregnancy?

  How he ended up on my family’s doorstep?

  My mouth opens, but Étienne steps forward and seals his lips over mine. Closing my eyes, I sigh and kiss him back. Unlike the kiss we shared outside, this one isn’t so sweet and contained. Adrenaline continues to course through us both. I can feel it in the way his body quivers against mine, and how his hands tightly grip my hips as though he’s afraid I’m going to slip through his fingers.

  I’m clinging to him, too. My hands are laced around his nape, my fingers curled around his collar for dear life. It’s an overwhelming torrent of emotions between us. Loving in its core. Sharp around the edges. Impossible to prepare for.

  Together, though, we can share the passion.

  Étienne pulls away first, and the corner of his mouth kicks up. “Hello,” he murmurs.

  I rub his bottom lip with my thumb before I kiss him on the nose. “Hi.” My opposite hand squeezes his forearm before I lace my fingers through his.

  We stare at each other, at a complete loss for words.

  “This is—” I begin to say the same time he says, “I know you—”

  Abruptly, we stop speaking. I give him an awkward smile.

  “You go first,” I rush out.

  “No. After you.”

  I exhale and shake my head; I still can’t believe this is happening. “I was just going to say this is unexpected.”

  “I don’t think either one of us could have foreseen this.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “I just arrived. One moment, I was in my time readin’ a letter, and the next, I felt an agonizing headache. My legs collapsed, and I slipped through the floor and was swallowed by darkness.”

  “Did you feel like you were going to blow chunks and pass out?” I ask anxiously. More so, because I’m excited someone finally has experienced what I have. Even though it’s a horrible experience to bond over.

  “More or less. I think I passed out from the pain, and when I woke up …” Étienne extends his arms and gestures to the room. “I was here.”

  “Wow,” I murmur. Something tells me I’ll be saying that a lot over the next few days. With my hands covering my mouth, I begin to pace my room. How should I tell him I’m pregnant? Do I blurt it out in typical Serene fashion or try to think of a gentle segue into the conversation?

  “There is somethin’ I need to discuss with you.”

  A feeling of dread courses through me, so I brace myself, expecting the worst yet hoping for the best. I stop pacing and slowly face him.

  Étienne’s solemn hazel eyes meet mine. “Before I time traveled, I received a letter from the private detective who searched for you. Old Serene. He finally found her. I believe that’s the reason I time traveled.”

  For a moment, all I can do is stare at him as I process his words. I expected him to tell me years had gone by in his time or, God forbid, one of his siblings had passed away. Instantly, my mind went to tragedy, and while this isn’t tragic, it certainly is a game changer.

  Old Serene has been found.

  All this time, I believed that whenever I time traveled back to 1912, I took over Old Serene’s life. Did she slip into an alternate universe? I don’t know. That’s too bizarre for me to even consider. As bad as it sounds, her existence wasn’t a top priority when so much was at stake in my own life.

  When I time traveled to 1914, and I discovered no trace of Old Serene, it made sense to believe my actions had erased her existence. I never thought twice about her and moved on with my day.

  I should’ve known better.

  “He found her as in he found her death certificate?” I ask, my voice breaking on the word her.

  “No, she is very much alive.”

  Knowing Old Serene is alive alters everything. My mind feels as though it comes to a grinding halt, and every part of me wants to jolt forward from the impact of his statement. Automatically, I assumed it was my pregnancy that brought Étienne to the present day.

  I worry my lower lip between my teeth. Étienne thinks the only reason he came back was because of Old Serene, and that may be half true. But he doesn’t know the other half.

  Étienne sees the worry in my eyes, and his frown deepens. “What’s the matter? What are you thinkin’?”

  “I have something to tell you.”

  His shoulders tense as he braces himself. I take a deep breath. “I’m pregnant,” I blurt. “And you’re my baby’s daddy.”

  Ah, well it seems the typical Serene fashion is the way to go, I think to myself.

  Some couples make their pregnancy announcement a touching memory. They think of heartfelt gestures such as wrapping their pregnancy test up, buying a shirt that says, “You’re gonna be a daddy!” or sending the first ultrasound to the grandparents. What did I do? Ripped the Band-Aid off and broke the news to Étienne a la Maury Show style. “You are the father.”

  The fact I’m even pregnant is memorable in and of itself.

  The color drains from his face, and Étienne’s mouth opens and closes repeatedly. “What?” he finally says.

  “That one time we fucked in the ballroom at Belgrave? Well, surprise! We created human life.”

  My sarcastic reply flies over his head, and he leans closer, his hands gripping my shoulders. “Are you truly with child?” he asks gruffly.

  “No, I thought it would be fun to watch you have a stroke,” I deadpan. Before Étienne can say another word, I pluck one of his hands from my shoulder and direct us toward my bathroom. Upon entering, Étienne makes a slow circle. I gotta make this quick before he becomes captivated by the shower faucet.

  Opening the bathroom closet, I move the washcloths aside and pick up the pregnancy test. It’s been thirty minutes since I took the test but so much has changed. Even so, I can’t help but look at the test. It still says pregnant. I motion Étienne over
and hold the test out. His broad chest presses into my arm as he looms over me. My arm shakes so badly, he reaches out and places his hand over mine to steady my grip.

  “See?” I whisper. “Pregnant.”

  His hand snakes out as he grabs the test from me. It’s comical to see the small white wand held between his giant paws. Faint lines appear between his brows as he peers closely. The longer the seconds tick by, the paler he becomes.

  I’ve become used to his silence, but right now, I need to hear something from him. Anything. “Étienne?” I ask tentatively.

  He slowly lifts his head. His face remains stoic, yet it’s impossible to miss the slight tremor of his hand. “How were you able to get this result?”

  That’s what he’s worried about? The results? “I peed on the stick.”

  Étienne looks back and forth between me and the test with a mixture of horror and fascination. Something tells me he’ll be giving me that expression a lot while he’s here.

  “You need to tell me what you’re thinking,” I urge. “I’m not going to talk about the specifics of how a pregnancy test works.”

  He holds the test out to me. “I-I’m stunned.”

  Removing the test from his grip, I place it on the counter and cross my arms. “A good stunned or bad stunned?”

  “A good stunned. Why?”

  “Because since I broke the news to you, you look like I told you you’re getting a bone marrow transplant.”

  “Serene. I’m astonished, but we’re going to have a baby.”

  A rare Étienne smile appears, stealing my breath when his entire face transforms. Faint wrinkles appear near his eyes and around the corner of his lips. He steps forward, giving me a sound kiss on the lips. I think that kiss was meant to be a celebratory one, so my heart thrums with excitement and relief. Étienne finally knows. I smile against his lips, ready to pull back, but Étienne holds me close.

  Mere minutes ago, desire and the knowledge we were back together motivated our kiss. It felt beyond our control. This kiss was deliberate and slow but no less intense. I respond just as enthusiastically, and by the time the two of us pull apart, I’m ready to rip his clothes off right there in the bathroom.