“No!” Julia insisted. “No. They pulled themselves out. I remember it well. A small incident, nothing more. They were but wet and chilled. Stop this insanity! Why do you keep shaking your head at me like that?”
My mother lost the ability to speak and fled our chamber in tears. When Archie returned, his face was the color of chalk. I wanted to pull him aside, but Julia wouldn’t have it.
Our friend tried to be brave as he explained that the trees we’d pulled from the earth in that previous time were gone. Those mighty oaks did not exist in this time. I stumbled backward as though he’d struck me when he whispered, “The roots, man. Don’t you remember? The roots had weakened the ice near the shore. The girls were able to break free and wade to safety because of the roots. Without them, the ice was too thick near the edge, and . . .”
I fell to my knees before my beloved as the truth struck home. “Forgive me,” I whispered. “May God forgive us all, for we’ve killed our sweet girls.”
I sat back hard in the chair, hand covering my mouth.
“Read it, did you?”
I jumped up. I hadn’t heard Collum enter. Tears blurred his features as I gulped. “I—I can’t believe it. It’s so awful. Those poor people.”
I glanced at the portrait next to the mantle. Jonathan’s family, still whole and happy. I tore my eyes away, unable to bear looking at the faces of the cheerful little girls.
Collum didn’t move from his spot near the fireplace, lit even in summer against the chill evenings. “Read the rest,” he said quietly. “It’s on the last page.”
Hesitant, I picked up the book and flipped through a series of blank pages until I reached the final one, written in Jonathan’s looping scrawl. It held only a few words.
Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.
“My fault,” I whispered, translating the Latin phrase. “My fault. My most grievous fault.”
And just below.
Must find the Nonius Stone. Tesla says it’s the only way.
I turned back to Collum, but he was frowning down into the flames. I knew what he was thinking. The Nonius Stone. If his father was still alive, it was the only thing that might save him.
“But doesn’t this prove that anything we touch could affect the timeline?” I asked.
“Unlikely,” he said. “Other than this, and the King John treasure debacle, we haven’t found that to be the case. The Carlyles were too close to their own time. And on their own property. Plus, they made a deliberate change. But it doesn’t mean we aren’t very, very careful.”
At my horrified expression, he sighed and replaced the poker. Sitting, he scooted his chair close, until our knees were almost touching.
“What if I mess everything up? I mean, I have no idea what I’m doing, Collum. What if—”
“Hey,” he said, shocking the tears away when he took my cold hands between his own. His level, serious gaze captured mine. “You’ll be fine. You’re smart. Smarter than anyone I’ve ever known. And Phoebe and I will be with you. I—we—will keep you safe.”
“But—”
“No,” he interrupted. “We need you, Hope. And that’s the end of it.”
Collum withdrew a soft, worn handkerchief. With gentle swipes, he dried my cheeks. Then, as if startled by his own kindness, abruptly stood.
I shivered and watched him go.
Chapter 16
JUST BEFORE DAWN, IN THE CHAMBER DEEP BENEATH THE MOUNTAIN, everyone said their goodbyes. No fog machine this time, though it was cold enough that our breaths streamed out to twine above our heads and snag briefly on the neon strands.
“It’s a go,” Doug huffed as he pounded down the steps. “Lines 212, 486, 510, on the latitude. Lines 101, 419, 771 on longitude. Fits with the location. Forested area several miles outside London. Same sequence as when you all went before, Lu, so the date checks out.”
“You have your lodestones?” Moira’s eyes brimmed as she snipped a thread here and checked a seam there. “Phee? You know how forgetful you are.”
“Gran.” Phoebe jangled the bracelet on her wrist before pulling her grandmother into a fierce hug. “Hope has her necklace, and Col his ring. And we’ve the extra bracelet for Sarah. Don’t worry about us. We’re good, aye?”
I squeezed the lump of the opal pendant concealed beneath the ruby bodice of my gown, reassuring myself it was still there.
Standing alone, I shifted my weight from one boot-clad foot to the other. Ran a finger over the intricate black embroidery bordering the round neckline. Tugged at the scarlet ribbons that laced up the sides and cinched the cream-colored sleeves to the bodice. The long folds of midnight-blue wool that made up the skirt swished around my stockinged legs as I forced my knees to stop shaking.
Once we . . . arrived, we’d walk a thin line. Not draw attention to ourselves, yet appear wealthy enough so that doors would open for us.