Chapter Eleven

Bieito transformed at the helm. Holding onto the tiller, he expertly steered them through the breaking waves, showing no hint of fear. He was right—it was a dance. Remy tried to stay out of the way as he raised and trimmed the sail. Soon they were flying. The little sailboat skipped over the choppy waves, riding on moonlight.

Their serious conversation from earlier was placed on an indefinite hold. Remy couldn’t speak right now even if she wanted to. The entire experience stole her breath away, and all she could do was hold on tight, smiling from ear to ear until her cheeks ached.

Let’s sail forever. Remy longed to just keep moving forward, into the unknown. To never see land again, and to live in the waves and at the whim of the wind. It blew all the thoughts and worries straight out of her head.

This was Bieito’s version of painting. The release of consciousness as he let his body live in the moment, just as Remy did with a brush. She looked back at him from her seat across the cockpit. The lines on his face were completely smoothed out in the silver light, and she could see the boy he used to be; a boy who got his love of the sea from his mother, and the respect of the sea when he learned how to ride it.

Remy could picture him as a teenager. When all of the other kids were preoccupied with courting and flirting, Bieito would escape down to the beach, and out onto the water. She bet he disappeared from sunup to well after sundown, only to return with sunburned skin and untamed hair. Not even the responsibilities and drudgery of adulthood in the coming years could keep him away from what he loved. Fishing all day on a working boat wouldn’t be the same, and Bieito would still crave the solitude and freedom of his own small sailboat.

This is the real reason that Bieito never married. Nobody else can understand this passion. The sea was his mistress, and he would return to it every time. No other woman could understand always coming in second place.

It was the same problem with Jack. He could never reach Remy while she was lost in her own world, no matter how much he begged to be let in. Jack never got over the fact that there was a piece of Remy he could never touch. There was nothing in his life that drove him like painting drove Remy, and she believed that a part of him deeply resented her for it. Maybe even blamed her for it. It took walking away from her marriage to see that Remy needed a partner in life, not another person to complete her. Jack wanted to fill the role as her other half, but she was already a whole person. Painting was already her other half, her true soul mate.

Watching Bieito now, Remy’s hand itched to hold a brush, to preserve the wild and distant look in his eyes forever. Bieito had never found his other half because he didn’t need one.

The coastline was rapidly disappearing behind her. The only evidence of land was the white foam crashing onto the shore, and somewhere far up the cliffs, lay Remy’s village. Would they land back on shore in Bieito’s time, or Remy’s? Would she walk up onto the sand, only to find herself alone again?

The wind shifted, bringing up a large wave that crashed over Remy and into the boat. The shock of the water only added to her adrenaline.

“How far can we go?” she shouted.

“All night, if you want.”

“How far have you sailed by yourself?” Remy asked, scooting closer to him.

“By accident or on purpose?”

“You’ve gotten lost before?”

“Many times. But you do not have to worry. Because of all those times, I can find my way back home wherever I am, no matter the weather.”

How nice it must be to always be able to find your way back home. Technically, his home is my home. So if I’m with Bieito, I guess I can always find my way back home, too.

“Right now, we are sailing upwind,” Bieito explained. “Feel how the wind pulls the sail forward? When we turn around, we will be sailing downwind. That’s when the ocean and the wind will push us back to shore.”

“Oh, so upwind pulls you, like an airplane wing.”

Bieito looked confused. “A what?”

“Never mind.”

“Is that a type of sail? Or a boat?”

“It’s a complicated explanation. Tell me more about sailing.”

“When I move the tiller, it turns the rudder underneath the boat. Would you like to try?”

“Am I going to capsize us?”

“I will be here the whole time,” Bieito promised.

Remy tentatively gripped the wooden stick, surprised by the immediate feel of drag underneath it due to the current. “It’s fighting me!” She almost let go when it yanked her sideways. Bieito’s arms latched around her waist and he pulled her back down onto his lap. Placing his hand behind hers, they steered the boat together, and Remy got a feel for it.

“I can see why this is addicting,” she said into his ear. She couldn’t help but give it a nuzzle with her cold nose and laughed when she felt him jump. “There’s no roads or anything to restrict you. You can just go wherever you feel like, day or night.”

“That’s why my mother loved it. The one place in her life that there were no restrictions, no judging eyes. The rest of the village never truly understood her. They thought she was odd. You remind me of her.”

Remy leaned away. “I remind you of your mother?”

“Only in the way that you care not what others think. You live by your own schedule and whims. It is frustrating for me, especially when you disappear for days on end, but I am beginning to trust that you will always find your way back to me. That is all I could hope for.”

Well, when he puts it that way, it doesn’t sound so bad.

Another wave burst above the boat, spraying Remy again. She shivered and felt Bieito’s arms tighten around her. “We have been out too long. You are cold. This was thoughtless of me to take you out in the dark. You should be sailing in the sunlight, comfortable.” He cranked the tiller to the right and the boat spun around, bobbing like a cork, insignificant in the sheer amount of water surrounding them.

“Downwind, then?” Remy asked, and Bieito looked pleased that she had been paying attention.

“Yes, downwind. We should be back to shore in much less time.”

“I still can’t believe you can get us back to where we left. I can’t see anything!”

“I can feel it calling to me. Stay warm, mi amor. Stay close. We will be there soon.”

Remy didn’t need to be told twice, and was lulled into a trance by the waves, darkness, and Bieito’s unending warmth. Yawning against Bieito’s shoulder, she said, “Do you promise we can do this again soon?”

“Anytime you like, mi amor. I would be overjoyed to share this with you.”

“Do you think she’ll be jealous?”

“Who will be jealous?”

“The sea. Having to share you.”

Bieito kissed her temple, and Remy closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, she felt a bump on the bottom of the boat and her eyes flew open. They were at the beach once again. Bieito gently disentangled himself from her and leaped off to pull the boat in.

Remy, not wanting to be additional weight, jumped off as well, and grabbed onto the rope to help. Together, they hauled the boat out of the water and up onto the sand. In the boat’s usual spot, however, there was already somebody occupying it.

“Father?” Bieito asked, incredulous.

The figure, who had been laying down, popped his head up at his name. “Where have you been, son?” Afonso demanded. “I have been waiting here for hours for you to return.”

“What happened? Is something wrong?”

“We need to discuss Lino,” he said. Then, seeing that Remy stood next to Bieito, remembered his manners. “My dear, you should not let my daft son talk you into sailing at night!” He turned to Bieito. “And you! She will catch her death of cold out here. I thought you were trying to woo this woman?”

“It was my idea,” Remy said, feeling a bit ridiculous that two middle-aged, consenting adults needed to justify their choice of date to a father waiting up for them.

Bieito moved forward to help his father out of the sand and onto his feet. “We are not the only ones who will catch a sickness out here. Why on earth could you not have waited for me at home?” Bieito demanded.

“Bah! You have been gone at all hours lately. I had no idea when you would return. I thought to check the beach, and when I saw the boat was missing, I knew you would at least be back here, though I did not know you would be bringing Remy along.” He paused and turned to her. “It is good to see you again. You had us all worried.”

“What about Lino?” Bieito asked. “Is he in trouble?”

His father hesitated, looking around the deserted beach cloaked in darkness. “I am not comfortable discussing it in the open.”

“Father,” Bieito said, exasperated. “There is nobody else around. Remy will not breathe a word, either.”

“You never know who is listening. They could be anywhere.”

“We saw nobody else earlier, and you have been guarding the beach for quite some time. Unless you heard anyone, I doubt they are down here in the middle of the night.”

His father shook his head. “You have your head in the clouds most days, Bieito. You do not realize just how bad it has become lately. I am afraid there has been much more than just talk and grumbling. Are you even listening at the port and in Ortigueira? People are angry, and they are ready to take action. Have you been looking out for your brother?”

“Of course, Father. We spend every day together on the fishing boat, then he goes home to María. They are newlyweds, and together you and I decided to give them time alone—”

“María came to me tonight. She was quite distraught, asking why we were making Lino work extra hours. I told her that we had been sending him home to her early, and she said she knew nothing about that. Bieito, your brother has been disappearing, leaving his new wife alone at home. Lying to her and us. I fear the worst.”

Remy couldn’t keep her mouth shut anymore. “I can’t believe he’s having an affair!”

“No, Señora Remy. My son would never break his vows. I fear it is much worse than that. Politics.”

Bieito’s eyes were dark and stormy. “We do not know for sure what he is tangled up in, Father. We need to tread carefully. If he is involved somehow, these are dangerous people we need to get him away from.”

“What do they want?” Remy asked.

“Independence,” Bieito’s father whispered.

“And they need Lino to help them get it?”

“They need sympathizers,” Bieito explained. “People to spread their message. Give them supplies. Help with the movement in any way they can.”

“A revolution?”

“Yes.”

Remy remembered being on Maggie’s couch, warm, sleepy, and full of takeout. Maggie had been reading to her from her Galician history book. A revolution. Martyrs of something. Martyrs mean failure. Uh oh.

“Oh shit,” she said, and both Bieito and his father jumped at her curse. Then, Afonso nodded seriously. “Mierda is right,” he agreed.

“You guys have got to talk him out of this. It is doomed to fail.” They assumed she spoke out of fear for Lino, when really Remy was telling them an actual historical fact.

Bieito held up his hands, silencing the other two. “I will speak with him, and find out how involved he truly is, and what he has been doing for them.”

“Bieito, he met with a group of them at his own wedding,” Remy pointed out. “I think it is safe to say he’s pretty involved. And going so far as to abandon María—though we all know how crazy he is about her—I think it is safe to say that Lino is in way over his head. Confronting him might not be the way to go; he will just get defensive. You might just have to follow him and see what he gets up to.”

“Spy on my own brother?” Bieito managed to look both saddened and offended at her suggestion.

“I don’t think you’ll get the whole story or big picture out of him any other way.”

Bieito shook his head. “That is not what my brother would do. He trusts me. I need to trust him as well, to be honest with me. I expect he will want to confess. My brother has never been one for keeping secrets. He is also against violence.”

“Even if he is the smallest bit involved with them, Bieito, isn’t that still treason? You have to save him from himself!”

Bieito’s voice rose. “You accuse my brother of being a traitor! Of already assuming he has committed the worst!”

“Well, no, I—” Remy sputtered, caught off guard at the vehemence of his outburst.

“My brother is an idealist, yes. He was probably tricked or pulled into this, but you cannot be certain he has committed a crime!”

He is also a grown-ass man, who is married to boot. I’m willing to bet he knows exactly what he’s doing. Poor María…

“Bieito, maybe your father is right. We shouldn’t be discussing this out in the open. Let’s all go back to the cottage and see if we can’t come up with a plan.”

Bieito took a deep breath and looked over at his father, who had been watching the exchange between him and Remy without a word. His gaze must have spoken volumes to his son, though, because the next words out of Bieito’s mouth stunned Remy. “I think my father and I need to handle this alone, as a family matter. I will make sure you get home safely, though.”

“Bieito, seriously. I can help. I know more about this than you think, and if we are going to get Lino out of this alive—” Remy’s vision started to tunnel, cutting off her plea. Not now, not now, she begged, trying to hold onto consciousness. I need to stay here. I need to help them.

****

Apparently her plea to the universe, the village, the Camino, or whatever else was yanking Remy around fell on deaf ears. “God damn it,” she moaned, finding herself on the hard ground behind the main house once again. She sat up with a sigh, head pounding. Not only had she been yanked out before she could tell Bieito and his father what she knew, but it had been in the middle of her and Bieito’s first fight. Double crap.

The date had been going so well, too. Seeing and experiencing that part of him…Remy was more sure now than ever that he was her match, and that she could truly build a life with him. Or a half-life, maybe, split between his time and hers. She would explain it one day and have the best of both worlds. That is, if she could ever figure out the rules of the village and learn to control this jumping back and forth. Not only was it frustrating, but it was starting to get dangerous.

Remy’s heart ached for Lino, as well as for Bieito and Afonso. She couldn’t let anything bad happen to them. Lino was headed down a path that was guaranteed to fail, if he really was as deeply involved with the separatist forces as she suspected.

“Take me back,” she begged. Only silence answered her plea, her village devoid of any other signs of life. Why was it doing that to her? Giving her what she wanted, and then taking away? “Did I do something wrong?” she yelled. “I need an answer!”

The cool night that surrounded her while she was with Bieito moments before was gone. The sea breeze that had wrapped around her like an ethereal cloak had been stripped away, leaving her raw and exposed. Now, Remy stood in the midday sun. Everything was too harsh, too bright, too real. The broken-down buildings in this hard light seemed more like a nightmare she needed to wake up from, rather than a familiar home. It was just too painful to be here, and she felt more alone than ever before.

She had no idea if it was mere moments after her time hop, or if weeks had gone by. The good news was that her village was still standing, and her painting was still up. Remy hoped it meant that people weren’t worried about her too much. Either that, or they had given up completely that she would ever return.

“What did I do?” she yelled at the sky. Open palmed, she slapped the painting. “Let me back through! Don’t take him from me now.”

With all of the variables surrounding the time shifts, there were no guarantees when she would return to him. If her past luck was any indication, it might be too late already. If anything happened to Lino, it would destroy Bieito, and any semblance of a future with him would be gone as well. He would never recover or open his heart again.

Remy knew she had a role to play in all of this; she just couldn’t figure out exactly was it was. As she clawed at her painting, trying to rip her way back through to Bieito, she replayed the last few moments with him.

I assumed my role was to tell them about the revolution, but as soon as I tried, I got yanked out. But if she wasn’t supposed to be there to help, why had she traveled back in the first place? Is it some grand ‘spoiler alert’? I can’t just be expected to witness and not say anything. Remy held valuable knowledge about the future, and about the direction in which Galicia itself was taking. It was powerful, to be all-knowing. She could save lives. She could transform the future.

It hit her like a truck. That’s the problem. Remy had been allowed to stay with Bieito until she opened her mouth and threatened to reveal too much. She thought back to all the other times she had been yanked out—asking for Bieito’s phone number, talking about photography…

I need to play by the rules, she realized. The game was so obvious it about smacked her in the face. I can be with Bieito, as long as I don’t upset his time period. The minute she broke the rules, she would be pulled into her own time again, as punishment until the powers-that-be let her in again.

Remy couldn’t control her trips, not really, but she could control her actions in order not to get pulled out again. “All right,” she announced. “I will do it your way. I won’t tell him.” At the same time, she also made a promise to herself. I won’t do anything to change too much, unless it comes down to life and death.

Playing puppet master would be difficult, especially because Remy only had the most rudimentary knowledge of actual events from a small excerpt in an old history book. If she had time, Remy could have thrown herself into studying everything she could about the uprising—names, dates, places, and more. Instead, she only knew that some colonel organized a failed coup, there were lots of sympathizers in Ortigueira, and ultimately all of his followers were executed.

And Lino might be one of them. Being armed with the minimal knowledge that the revolution would fail would have to be enough. There was no time to become an expert on some obscure little rebellion in a tiny former kingdom of Spain. It had barely made a blip in the history books.

But Lino was real, not a piece of history. Dealing with flesh and blood altered the stakes. Remy had to get back and help any way she could, and subtly nudge and cajole Bieito’s family to safety. The only rule was that she couldn’t reveal too much.

Remy started to sweat, her heavy dress now dried in the sun but stiff from her sailing adventure. The essence of the sea mingled with the salt on her skin, and the stinging sensation brought Remy back to her body. It forced her to remember that, no matter how much she plotted, there was currently no way to get back right now.

“Argh!” I have a plan, I understand the rules, and the more time I spend here, the greater the chances that something disastrous is happening on the other side! Nothing in her own world mattered at the moment—the crumbling buildings, the time she had spent away, the messes she had to clean up, her worried friends, her angry ex-best friend and ex-husband…An event that happened more than a hundred years ago was the most pressing matter in her life. If she could help Bieito and his family, then she would be able once again to focus on the village in the present, but until she knew that the danger had passed, every waking moment of hers would be devoted to finding her way back to him as quickly as possible.

If anything happens to them while I’m gone, I will never again be able to live in the village. “You know that?” she challenged. “I swear to God, if anything bad happens to them while I’m stuck here, I’m selling this crap heap and leaving for good!”

She slapped the main house for emphasis, and as soon as her hand hit worn stone, the earth lurched from underneath her once again. Thank God.

As an experiment, Remy tried to hold onto consciousness for as long as she could, to find out exactly what happened when she “disappeared,” but her efforts proved futile. She caught a glimpse of a flash of light and felt a tingling sensation throughout her limbs. As the tingle moved up her spine and into her head, she blacked out. There was no fear or apprehension this time around. Remy felt more in control than she had been on her previous trips and felt confident she could stay longer this time by playing by the rules.

The forces of the universe severely underestimated her need to be in control. It was only a matter of time before Remy would be calling the shots. She just had to learn a little bit more and bide her time. The uncertain aspect now was where she would end up and how much time had passed. Oh, and who I will scare the bejeezus out of by randomly appearing.

****

Save Lino from being an idiot. That was her first thought when she could open her eyes again. Remy’s brain wasn’t as scrambled, probably because she had been anticipating the jump. It’s nice not being so confused. But she wondered if her first thought also influenced who discovered her first, because María was the person who tripped over her.

The newlywed stumbled, throwing her basket of freshly baked bread into the dirt in one spectacular arc. “Ayyyyy!” she shouted, hands coming to hit the ground.

“I’m sorry!” Remy said, coming from her butt to her knees to help the poor girl.

“Remy! What? How? Why are you in the middle of the street?” María took a shaky breath and held a scraped hand to her heart. “You gave me a fright! I did not mean to stumble over you as if you weren’t there. My head has been in the clouds lately, I apologize.”

“It was completely my fault. You couldn’t have seen me.”

María looked apprehensive, and Remy reminded herself to be more cautious with her words. Any slip could send her away.

“How are the brothers?” Remy asked, knowing full well that was what had María so distracted. The other woman’s face went from apologetic to closed-off in an instant, like a mask had slipped over her face. Is she mad at me? After the day she’d had, Remy was in no mood to play games. She needed information, quickly. Namely, what day it was and what she’d already missed.

“Did I do something wrong?” Remy asked.

María’s face flushed, obviously not used to any sort of confrontation. “My brother-in-law has been very concerned about you.”

“I know you are loyal to them, so you feel like you have to be short with me. I haven’t been the most reliable of late, and I know you have a lot to worry about without adding me and my drama into the mix. But I would really appreciate it if you would give me one more chance. I had a wonderful time at your wedding; it was absolutely beautiful. You treated me like a sister, and then I disappeared without a word. I’m so sorry.”

María’s big brown eyes filled with tears, and she looked away, trying to brush them off. “I know you don’t mean harm. There is so much happening, and no one will speak frankly with me…Your honesty is refreshing. No one here is speaking honestly anymore, and it is driving me crazy!”

Her outburst turned a few heads across the street, the other villagers noticing the two women sprawled on the ground for the first time. A young boy rushed over to them. “Señoras! Are you hurt?”

María waved him off. “We are fine, thank you.”

“Yeah,” Remy chimed in. “You’ve never seen two people having a conversation in the dirt?”

The boy pointed a little way up the road, where a cart and horse were approaching.

Remy sighed. “I guess we’d better get up unless we want to get run over. María, can we go to the cottage?”

Remy witnessed as the other woman held an internal battle with herself, longing to have another female to talk to, but worried for the safety of her family. “I need to go to the bakery again, first,” she compromised. “Would you like to come with me?”

“I would love to.”

They picked up the scattered loaves of bread. “Food for the chickens and pigs now,” María said, brushing off the clumps of mud and what Remy suspected was a little bit of horse manure. She offered to carry the dirty bread, which María handed over without much protest. I deserve it, Remy conceded. She would have to earn her way back into the woman’s good graces, after what she put Bieito through. María was fiercely protective of her family and her new brother-in-law, and from what Remy had heard from their father on the beach, her disappearance from the wedding had put Bieito into a tailspin.

During their walk over to the bakery, however, María’s frosty exterior began to crack. By the time they stood inside the oven-warmed building, María was happily chatting with Remy as though no time had passed.

“Isabella was furious with me after the wedding.” She giggled. “She wouldn’t speak to me for days! It was this past Sunday that she finally spoke to me in church. Informed me that I had ruined my own wedding and cursed my marriage by including ‘the American.’ That’s what she called you.”

“What a charming woman. What did you say to her? I hope it was ‘thanks for the best wishes’!”

María gave a small, scandalized shriek. “I could do no such thing! I wish I could, though. I was speechless in the moment. Lino pulled me away and told me not to give her any more thought.”

“Does she hate me because of Bieito?”

“Yes, and now she hates me because I allowed you two to be together.”

“Well, she was probably ecstatic when I left.” As soon as she said it, Remy regretted it. The last thing she wanted to do was bring attention to her weird behavior in public. María, thankfully, seemed to have the same aversion to speaking about Remy’s disappearances in front of others, because the two lapsed into an awkward silence while the baker handed her the fresh loaves.

“So, um, back to the cottage?” Remy suggested.

The wall was back up between them, but common sense and courtesy still ruled María, and she couldn’t turn Remy away. “Yes. We have much to discuss.”

Remy wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that, but she would have to pay the price and listen to the lecture in order to get back into Bieito’s family’s good graces. They needed to trust her if she was going to have any chance of getting Lino out of the danger he was unknowingly dragging himself, his family, and his village into.

Remy was not surprised that the cottage was empty when María opened the door. The men were still at work down at the port. It would be at least a few hours before she would see Bieito again.

“So,” Remy said, but María interrupted her before Remy could step inside. “You can take the bread out to the chicken coop.”

“Got it,” Remy said, and did as she was asked. Walking back to the cottage, she wiped her hands on her near-unrecognizable dress and gathered her thoughts for the imminent conversation. Cringing, she marveled at María’s manners not to say anything about her attire, even though she was probably dying to ask. There was no way she didn’t recognize the dress from the wedding. What sane person would still be wearing the same dress, possibly weeks later?

That’s my first order of business. Find out what day it is.

Full of purpose, Remy opened the door and let herself in. María jumped in surprise at the unexpected entrance.

“Can I help you prepare dinner?” Remy asked. This would be easier if they both had something to do with their hands.

María gestured over to the freshly washed carrots that sat on the counter. “You could chop these, if you want.”

Once they were both at work with their task, the silence between them transformed from strained to comfortable, but neither of them appeared to know where to start. Remy thought maybe she should let María lead the conversation, considering she was the wronged party, but the young woman seemed unwilling to begin.

“Like what I’ve done with my dress?” Remy asked.

María’s eyebrows flew up and her knife stopped moving. “I—ah—”

“Totally kidding. I’m a freaking mess. No need to be so polite about it.”

María gave a nervous giggle. “I didn’t know how to ask—”

“Ask how I got to be so fashionable? Easy, I spend a lot of time in the dirt.”

Now María’s face broke into a full-blown smile. “I think it is still salvageable.”

“Only with your help. I think I’ll make it worse.”

“Tonight,” she promised.

“Just exactly what day is ‘tonight’?” Remy ventured.

“Thursday, of course. You mean to say you don’t know the date?”

“Ah, yeah. That too.”

“April fourth.”

“Shit,” Remy said. “Bieito is going to kill me. If he even wants to talk to me, after last time.”

“He has been rather occupied with my husband, so I doubt he has room in his heart for anger,” María said, with a sting of bitterness.

“Is Lino still being a dick?”

María’s jaw dropped open. “A what?”

Remy tried to backtrack. “I mean, is he treating you okay? Now that you’re newlyweds and all?”

The other woman’s brain still seemed to be stuck on the fact that Remy called her husband a dick. “A dick,” María repeated, trying the word out on her tongue. “Yes,” she decided. “That’s exactly what he has been!”

Seeing the sweet, conservative girl say the word “dick” had Remy doing all she could not to burst out laughing. “María,” Remy said. “You are adorable.”

The young woman flushed, pleased with the compliment. “Now if only you could remind my husband of that.”

Remy set the knife she had been using on the counter and reached across for María’s arm. “I don’t think his behavior has anything to do with you.”

María shook herself free and slammed a pot down on the stove. “That is exactly what Bieito told me. And my father-in-law. But they don’t understand. Lino is not the same man that I married. When he is here, he is not really here. Like he would rather be somewhere else, far away from me. I speak, and he doesn’t listen. He agrees with whatever I say, gives me whatever I want, but it doesn’t feel real. I tell him what I want is for his old self to return, but he denies anything is different. Then he disappears for hours on end! I never thought…it is simply that…Remy, has he grown tired of me already? Is there someone else?”

Remy wanted to punch Lino for putting his wife in this position. It wasn’t fair to her, but Remy didn’t know what to say in order to prove to María that it wasn’t about a lack of happiness in the home. After watching Bieito and Afonso discuss the revolutionaries’ ideas in such a hushed, fearful way, Remy decided to keep her mouth shut. Telling María anything could put her in danger.

If I tell her, though, maybe it would force Lino to reconsider his involvement. Maybe he would extract himself without us having to intervene any more. That would be the ideal situation—Lino would decide on his own that this failed coup wasn’t worth the risk. It would force him to evaluate what he would be giving up if he decided to rebel against the Spanish crown. If anyone could talk him out of it, it was María.

Remy took a deep breath and was about to reveal what she knew to her friend when the cottage door slammed open.

“Lino? Lino!” Bieito yelled. He stopped short when he saw Remy there, standing in his home without apology. “You’re here?” he said, more question than statement.

“Ta-daaaa.”

Bieito crossed the threshold in three great strides and swooped Remy up in his arms. He clutched her tightly and whispered, “I’m sorry, my love.”

Guess I’m forgiven. The warmth that spread from Remy’s chest threatened to ignite them. “I’m sorry too. I don’t like fighting with you. And I’m especially sorry that I left again in the middle of it. It wasn’t planned.”

Bieito set her feet back down on the ground. He gave her a meaningful look. “You were right,” he told her.

Remy’s heart sank, even though she knew the news was coming. Lino was heavily involved in the coup, no doubts about it now if Bieito was admitting this to her. María, however, had no idea what they were talking about. “Remy was right about what?” she asked. “Why isn’t Lino with you? What happened to my husband?” She looked at both of them with wide, fearful eyes.

“It isn’t what you think, María.” Remy rushed to console her.

“Why do you know more than I do?” she asked, betrayed. “Bieito, why didn’t Lino come home with you? Where is your father?”

“Lino didn’t come to work today,” Bieito said. “He said he had some business to do in the port, and that Father and I should walk on ahead without him and get the nets ready.”

“And you let him go alone?” Remy asked. The subtext of, I told you he was up to something was clear in her tone, and Bieito hung his head.

“I trusted him. He’s my brother,” he said, by way of explanation. “I watched him carefully all week at the port, and there was nothing suspicious. I thought that whatever his involvement may have been, he was through.”

“María told me that Lino had been disappearing for hours on end!” Remy said.

“What.” Bieito rounded on his sister-in-law.

“He was having trouble sleeping. He left to go for walks to clear his head, often in the middle of the night.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Bieito demanded.

“I was ashamed! My husband was leaving our bed in the middle of the night. Why should I let that be known?” María burst into tears. “I knew something was wrong,” she said, through her sobs. “But everyone—Lino, you, Afonso—kept saying everything was fine. Well, everything is obviously not fine!”

Bieito moved from Remy’s side to embrace María. “It is my fault,” he assured her. “You did nothing wrong.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Remy said. “It’s Lino’s. He’s already been gone for hours. If we have any hope of finding him, we need to move fast.”

María hiccupped, her tears still flowing fast down her cheeks. Her voice, however, was steady when she said, “Nobody is going anywhere until they explain to me what is going on.”

Bieito swallowed.

“She deserves to know,” Remy said.

María looked back and forth between them, becoming more enraged. “Why have the two of you been keeping secrets about my husband?” She stared them down.

After a beat of silence, Bieito broke first. “We think Lino may be involved with some dangerous men.”

“Not maybe,” Remy corrected him. “Most definitely.”

“What sort of men?”

“Separatists,” Bieito said. “Those who want to go back to the old days of the Kingdom of Galicia. People who want independence from Spain.”

María gasped. “Why on earth would you think Lino was involved in treason? He isn’t a soldier, he is a fisherman, for God’s sake! He has never ventured outside Ortigueira! He is a sweet and hardworking man, no matter how he has been acting lately. You must be mistaken.”

“I know this is difficult,” Bieito said. “I didn’t want to accept it at first, either. But you cannot deny the gossip and grumbling throughout Ortigueira and even our small village. People have been angry for a long time. No one will come out and declare it, but there are many sympathizers in the area. My little brother is an idealist; he always has been. He is a man of action, not just talk. Remember how he wooed you until you agreed to marry him? Lino doesn’t give up. Now I fear he has latched onto some dangerous ideas and has not considered the consequences.”

María shook her head. “He wouldn’t. He just wouldn’t. What would they want with him, anyway?”

Remy jumped in. “Quite a lot, actually. Lino works at the largest and most important port in the area. If they are smuggling things in—supplies, weapons, food—it would work out quite well to have a man on the inside. Something spooked him today, though, if he didn’t show up for work, Bieito.”

“I’ll find him.” Bieito’s face set into a grimace.

“We’ll find him,” Remy corrected.

“You will stay with María,” he said. “These are dangerous men.”

“I will not.” Remy stared at him without blinking. “I know more about this than you could possibly imagine.” It was a risk, saying that, and internally Remy braced to be yanked out, but she had to level with Bieito. It must have been vague enough, however, to follow the “rules” set for Remy to be there, because she remained rooted in place. She let out a tentative sigh of relief.

“Then where is my brother?”

Bieito had a point. If I had read the history books more closely, I could tell you exactly where he is, Remy thought, cringing internally. Remy knew the outcome of the coup, but what good was that when Lino’s life was on the line, and Remy didn’t know his location? This was almost worse than not knowing anything at all about the revolution. Everyone else was navigating this blind, but Remy could see the train wreck coming, with no way to stop it.

“I—I don’t know, exactly.”

“Then you will stay here.”

Remy drew her shoulders back, preparing for the inevitable argument. Bieito’s eyes blazed with as much passion as her own, and they were about to launch into a fight when the door opened. It was Bieito’s father, face drawn and white. “Did you hear? It has begun.”

“What has begun?” Bieito asked, all readiness for the argument forgotten. “Did you find Lino?”

“The uprising. I know you didn’t want me to do this, Bieito, and bring suspicion onto Lino, but when he didn’t come to work today…He is my son. I need to do everything I can to find him. I was asking all of the dockworkers if they had any idea where Lino had disappeared to, or who he could have been consorting with.”

Bieito motioned impatiently. “Yes, yes, I understand, Father. What exactly did you find out?”

“The port received word this afternoon. Two days ago, a colonel started an uprising in Lugo. We are ordered by the Spanish government to be on the lookout for any suspicious activity from boats in or out of the port. They don’t know how far this insurrection has spread and are preparing to send armed forces into our province as a precaution.”

“Lugo. But that is days from here. Even if we leave now…”

“Bieito, there is no guarantee that Lino is even in Lugo.” Where ever the hell that is, Remy added internally. “You can’t go running off to there. What if Lino is already at the next place they are planning on taking over? There is no way to know.”

Bieito’s lip curled in disgust, and he slumped down into the chair closest to the fireplace. “I cannot believe he would do this to us. His family.” Turning to María, he said, “Most of all, I cannot believe Lino would do this to you.”

María sighed, looking more resigned now that she knew the truth and the shock was beginning to pass. “I knew I married an optimist. It is what I love about him. Lino can make anything seem possible, if one wishes and tries hard enough.”

“You shouldn’t wish for anything,” Remy said automatically. Three heads turned to stare at her. “Wishing is dangerous.”

Bieito nodded, agreeing with her but for a different reason. “Wishing will not return Lino to us unharmed,” he said. “María, did Lino ever say where he went on his midnight walks? Have you noticed anything out of place in your bedroom?”

She jumped up, grateful for something productive to do. “I will go look right now.”

“Father, what other talk did you hear in the village about the coup?”

While Bieito’s father launched into the gossip he had heard on the way home, Remy sat there silently, weighing her options. I can go back right now, and find the exact information they need, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to return. Tomorrow? A week from now? And what if something bad happens to Bieito while I’m gone? I just want to take him with me, to know that he is safe. Damn it, Lino! Why did you have to go and screw everything up?

Looking at the somber faces of Bieito and his father as they discussed the overwhelming situation, Remy knew what she had to do. Shit. She had to roll the dice, hope that the time jump wouldn’t be too long, and that she would be able to get the information they needed before it was too late to find Lino.

“I’m sorry about this, Bieito. I promise I’ll see you again as soon as I can. This will help in the long run.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“iPod! Internet! Cellphone! Facebook!” Remy closed her eyes and braced to be yanked out. Nothing happened. She tried again. “Obama! Microwave. Cable TV…” Bieito stared at her like she had sprouted a second head. “What the hell, this should be working. I’m breaking the rules! I’m talking about stuff I’m not supposed to talk about! That means I go nighty-night now and wake up in my village!” Remy shouted at the ceiling.

Wide-eyed, Bieito’s father poured a glass of wine, handing it to Bieito, who then tried to hand it to Remy.

“I don’t get it,” Remy whispered. “I’m not supposed to be stuck here. I need to get to my village and find out where Lino is. That’s why I’m here, to help.” What if I’m stuck here forever? The very real possibility that she could never return to her own time struck an icy fear through her limbs. I’ve been playing with fire. Remy thought she was in control, that she was special enough for the village to show her incredible things. But now, stuck here with no way back, Remy realized just how bad she had been played. “I don’t know what you want from me!” She threw her glass into the unlit fireplace, where it shattered against the sooty stones.

María returned from the bedroom to find the two men watching Remy’s breakdown. “What did you two do to her?” she demanded. Both men sat there, unable to move, mouths agape. What nobody could understand, however, was that Remy was currently fighting an internal battle with her greatest fear.

Make the wish, a voice inside her insisted. You know it is foolproof. It is the only thing that will work.

Remy hissed. “I won’t be forced into doing that,” she murmured, ignoring the stares around her.

The rules of the game have changed. It has been unfair to you. Time to even the score.

“It is never even. It will come with consequences.”

But maybe not. You aren’t in your own time. It could work differently here.

Remy began to pace around the room. “It is too great of a risk.”

Lino is in trouble. You have the power to save him.

Had this been the plan all along? To force Remy into making a wish, to upset the universal balance for some other, greater goal that was even bigger than she could understand?

I have the power to change history in my hands. But should I? Remy felt it, deep in her gut, that a wish now could cause such an unbalance that it would ripple the consequences through space and time. It could alter her own reality in the future. Whatever the fallout would be from making such a request, Remy was sure it would be even greater than life or death.

You don’t have to wish to save him, the voice reminded her. Just to find him.

Just his location. That couldn’t be that bad, right? It seemed a far lesser request than wishing that Lino would return home, alive, this very instant. Information was all she was after. There would be no messing with the absolutes of life and death. This was not comparable to her brother and her beloved dog, or wishing for the creation of life inside of her. This exchange was more modest. Maybe it would be worth the consequences.

At least it would give them a place to start. Whatever happened after the wish would be up to Remy’s actions in order to influence the future. Remy was sure she would eventually be punished, but the fallout would be significantly smaller with a simpler request.

Remy took a deep breath and stopped pacing. She turned to face her audience. “I wish we could find Lino.” Finite. Clear. No going back now.

“I know, mi amor,” Bieito said, crossing the room to her. “I wish we could find him, too.”

“No, that isn’t what I mean.” How could Remy make him understand? Make him see what she had just sacrificed, and hope he would still love her after all the pieces landed?

“I need some air,” Remy said, and excused herself. Her knees were shaking, and the words “I wish” still lingered on her tongue. There was always a compulsion to say it again after she let it all out. It felt so good to be that uninhibited, even for a moment. Such a rush to make her mouth form the words that always caused immediate change, whether for good or bad.

Now standing outside, she watched as the villagers clustered in small groups, talking in hushed tones. People split off and ran to join other gossipers, spreading what they knew. Most looked proud, but afraid. They were Galicians, through and through, just like the people of Ortigueira that Remy had gotten to know in her own time. They were proud of their land and heritage. It was just that, like most average people, they had all been too cautious to do anything to take it back. Now that the colonel had started it for them, Galicians all proclaimed their love for their country, and felt validated enough to whisper that maybe the coup wasn’t a bad thing after all.

Whispers hadn’t been enough for Lino. As futile as Remy knew this coup was, she couldn’t help but admire Lino’s courage to actually fight for what he believed in. Granted, it pulled the rest of the family into a minefield to deal with it and try to save him, but at least Lino had acted.

Remy felt a chill pass over her skin and looked around to see what could have caused it. Isabella was staring at her from across the square, with murder in her eyes. I should have known, my biggest fan. Unable to help herself, Remy gave her a little wave and a wry smile. Yep, I’m back. Deal with it, lady.

To her surprise, instead of running away to spread nasty rumors about Remy, Isabella strode forward until the two women were almost nose-to-nose. Remy cocked an eyebrow, unwilling to deal with Isabella’s attitude right now when she had Lino’s life to worry about. “Can I help you?” Remy asked.

“Most women I know wouldn’t dare show their faces again after causing such a scene at my poor cousin’s wedding. And here you are, still wearing the same clothes, even! Such a display…You should be ashamed! Are all American women as barbaric and rude as you?”

“I don’t know,” Remy responded. “I would ask you the same thing, but so far you’re the only Galician woman I’ve met who has a stick stuck up her butt, so I’m thinking it isn’t a regional thing.”

Isabella’s hand flew to her mouth and she stepped back. Once she had gathered her wits enough about her, she didn’t bother keeping her voice down while she said, “You stay away from Bieito. He deserves better than you.”

“Honestly, Isabella, we have bigger things to worry about right now. I think your people’s coup tops that list. And since I know you’re the biggest gossip in the village, you’d better have useful intel for me.”

“Like I would tell you anything!”

“Listen, if you really care about Bieito—truly care—then you’ll tell me whatever you know.”

Isabella sniffed. “I care a great deal more for him than you.”

“Then prove it. What have you heard? Anything about Lino?”

“Lino? What does he have to do—oh!” Isabella looked like she had just been given a juicy treat.

“If you won’t tell me, then you need to tell your cousin. María is beside herself with worry that something has happened to him.”

Isabella seemed to be weighing her options. “I’ll help,” she said. “But I will be the one to deliver the news to Bieito. Not you.” The woman twitched with anticipation, having been given the information to put two and two together.

Remy sighed. “Whatever you want. I don’t really care as long as he gets told.” Though personally, she wondered at the glee in which Isabella seemed to be taking at possibly giving devastating news. Was Isabella punishing Bieito as well as Remy? Or did she just take perverse joy in starting drama?

Isabella reminded Remy a little bit of Anita, and the thought of that comparison to her former friend made Remy’s stomach queasy. How had she put up with Anita’s insatiable need for gossip all these years? Even going so far as to spread personal news about Remy. And I forgave her for it! Remy had always been the one to forgive Anita for her inappropriate comments and boundary stomping. If she had met Anita today instead of fifteen years ago, would she really expect them to be friends? No, Remy realized, and she felt a little less guilty about taking Anita’s rental car.

If Isabella is the one with Lino’s location, then this will be the most roundabout wish-granting ever. Maybe dealing with Isabella would be the price for the wish. But Remy wasn’t naive enough to think that the entire fallout from her wish would be dragging Isabella into her personal life. This was only the start, and it would only get worse from here.

“Are you going to invite me in?” Isabella asked. “Just a moment; you don’t live here.” Then, like a queen, Isabella sidestepped around Remy and let herself into the cottage.

The murmur of conversation ceased when Isabella appeared in the doorway. María’s eyes were red as she looked up from the close circle she made with Bieito and Afonso, their heads bent close together.

“Oh, my lovely cousin!” Isabella said, sweeping her arms wide and running forward to embrace the shell-shocked woman. “I came as soon as I heard the terrible news. Lino is missing!”

“How did you—”

But Isabella had already let go of María and turned her attention to Bieito. She grasped him by the shoulders and kissed him on both cheeks. “Terrible, terrible!”

Bieito wiggled out from underneath her claw-like grip and turned to Remy, question and confusion written all over his face.

Isabella continued to babble. “Never in my life would I have thought one of our own would turn criminal!”

“Now just a minute—” Bieito’s father tried to interrupt.

“None of this started until she got here.” Isabella pointed a finger at Remy. “Bad luck or bad influence? We can never know with outsiders—”

“Isabella, be quiet!” María snapped, the force of her words greater than her small figure. Remy was willing to bet money that María had never used that tone on anyone in her life. “If you have something useful to say, then say it. Otherwise, get out.”

“Strong words from a woman whose husband is committing treason,” Isabella said.

“You have no proof of that,” Remy pointed out. They all knew the truth, but Isabella was just speculating, seeing if she could get a rise out of the family. However, much to Remy’s surprise, Isabella did have useful information.

“Well, if he wasn’t committing treason, then why did Juan see him riding his horse through Ortigueira, galloping as though the devil himself was chasing him?”

“Which way was he heading?” Bieito’s gaze could have burned a hole right through Isabella as he stared at her, which Remy was gratified to see made the woman squirm.

“West,” Isabella said.

“Toward Lugo?” Remy asked Bieito.

“Or the many other towns along the way.”

“At least someone saw Lino alive this morning.” Remy knew her words were cold comfort. Evidence of Lino’s involvement was mounting.

“Fleeing the area and going toward the colonel,” he pointed out.

“We can track him. Somebody else will have seen something.” Remy laid a hand on Bieito’s arm, noticing that Isabella couldn’t take her eyes off their contact. Remy rubbed it with comforting strokes.

“Yes, Bieito,” Isabella said, voice raised to an uncomfortable pitch. She looked desperate to get back into Bieito’s good graces. “I will ask around. With everyone’s tongues wagging, we will find what Lino knew, where he is heading, and who his accomplices are. But for the life of me, I cannot figure out why these rough men would desecrate the back of the main house before disappearing. What purpose could that have served?”

“Isabella, what are you speaking of?” María asked. “I found Remy behind the main house mere hours ago. There were no damages.”

“The entirely inappropriate drawing on the back wall. Rather vulgar, in my opinion.”

Remy’s heart nearly stopped. “Was it a painting? A painting appeared?”

“If you could even dignify it by calling it anything other than vandalism,” Isabella said. “At first, we thought it was a cruel joke. But now with talk of the coup movement, nobody is sure. That was what we were all discussing before I was needed in here to help you all.”

Is it my painting? It was completely plausible. Nothing else that major had followed Remy through her time hops. The red door had been strange, the wine, her clothes…but the idea that her artwork, a piece of her soul, had traveled to this version of the village to be displayed to the public struck her as significant. There was a reason if her painting had appeared here, the most intimate part of her laid bare for all to see.

My wish.

Remy was out the door and onto the street before anyone inside could react. By the time they joined her behind the main house, Remy had recovered while they were all out of breath. Just as she had suspected, her spray paint mural stared back at her. There is something…wrong about it though. The essence of the painting was still the same, perhaps a bit more sensual looking now that she was looking at it in the context of a more conservative time period.

“It’s beautiful,” María murmured. “How can hands that insist on fighting create this?”

“That’s because they didn’t,” Bieito said. He stood, transfixed, next to Remy. He grabbed onto her hand and squeezed it. He knows.

There was a message here, Remy was certain of it. Her subconscious had created it, and then her wish had sent it to her. The answer to Lino lay in the painting, but Remy was too emotionally connected to her own work to see it. “Where is it?” she whispered.

She tried looking at it like a map. Nothing. Remy felt like a foolish art critic, the very column writers she despised who would come to her shows and demand an explanation for each and every painting. “What was your inspiration? What are you trying to tell us? What is the greater message within the context of a post 9/11 world?” On and on. Then they would type up their own interpretation anyway, ignoring most of what Remy said, praising work they had no real understanding of. The reviews gave Remy the notoriety that she needed, all while she bit her lip so hard she drew blood, nodding and smiling and giving the people what they wanted. Critics wanted to feel superior and insightful. She never told them they were wrong, just got a gold star for keeping silent. To ease her frustration, she told herself it didn’t matter, as long as she knew the true message.

The same was true with this mural. It was only for Remy, so only she could find the message within it. She took a deep breath and forced her eyes to relax. Remy let go of Bieito’s hand and took a couple steps back, never taking her eyes off the wall. The contrast, light and dark, positive and negative, were in equal parts within the painting. In fact, had Remy tried to purposely create the painting with this exact ratio, she wouldn’t have been able to do it. Exactly fifty percent of the artwork was black spray paint, the other fifty percent was negative space. Half and half.

Remy stared so hard her eyes started to water, the figures swirling together until they no longer looked like two people entwined and instead looked like a jumbled mass. Colors appeared, but when Remy focused on them too hard, they turned back to black again. The painting was in constant movement, until Remy started to see a pattern emerge.

What she had mistaken earlier for a crescent moon now looked like a C. The space between the bodies pressed together was arrow shaped, or an A. The curve of their pointed feet formed two R shapes. The hands reaching in prayer formed another A. Remy’s eyes jumped from point to point all over her painting, searching for more hidden letters. The final letter almost hit her in the face with its obviousness. The legs crossed to form the letter L, though it was upside down.

C. A. R. R. A. L.

Remy imagined Maggie’s voice saying the word. Her friend had mentioned the revolution and how the coup had failed. Yes, the Martyrs of Carral. That’s what we are trying to avoid. Wait, what is Carral? Remy had originally thought it was just a strange title they had assigned to the executed men. But what if it was more than that? What if it was a location?

“Bieito, what is Carral?”

He jumped at her voice, and Remy realized she must have spent several silent minutes in her trance. “Carral? The city?”

“It’s a city?”

“A town, I guess. A bit bigger than Ortigueira, but not as populated as Santiago. Why?”

“That’s where we will find Lino.”