Chapter Fourteen

Remy woke up trembling. She whipped her head around, trying to take in all of her surroundings at once. Her head and heart pounded in the same rhythm while she searched for danger. The familiar buildings of her village encircled her. I’m back, Remy realized in shock. It actually worked.

She still didn’t trust it, though. Could she have brought back some of the army with her? Were they here, waiting and lurking around the corners for her to make a move? She froze and listened. There was no time for a slip up. Bieito was in serious trouble, and she needed to get him to a hospital as quickly as possible. With a gasp of horror, Remy groped for a body that wasn’t there.

“Fuck!” The words echoed through the empty streets, promising Remy that she was as alone and isolated as she feared. The price of pushing everyone in her life away. “Help! Help, somebody, help me!” Even as her desperate cries echoed in her ears, Remy knew that there was nobody to hear her calls.

So far, the village had given her everything she desired. She didn’t believe she could be kneeling in the middle of it, experiencing so much pain. To have everything and nothing, all at once. Her art, her village, and her normal life had all been returned to her, but in a perverse way. Her desires had been twisted and manipulated so much along the journey that she had no idea how she ended up back here, in a foreign country, holding onto only the memories of a dying man from another time.

Just as she was losing faith and cursing the village for bringing her only doom and destruction, she heard her name being called.

“Remy? Is that you?” A gentle, British accent tempered by disbelief called back to her.

“Maggie?”

Her friend appeared from around the bakery, dusting off her hands on the front of her well-worn jeans. Flyaway gray hair was tamed into submission by a handkerchief, and a pair of sturdy work boots were on her feet. “My dear, where on earth have you been?” Then she saw that Remy was covered in filth and blood.

Before Remy could ask how or why Maggie was at her village, her guardian angel whipped out her phone and dialed, speaking in rapid Spanish. Huh, I can’t understand it anymore, Remy realized, just as she collapsed into Maggie’s arms.

****

Beeping monitors. Bright lights. Sweat-soaked clothes. Goosebumps on her skin.

“Bieito!” Remy called, and she sat bolt upright. To her right, the person who had been holding her hand nearly fell off the ambulance bench.

“Breathe, child,” Maggie instructed, once she had regained her composure. “You’re in good hands.”

Instead of sagging back against the pillows in relief, Remy was bombarded with memories from her last few moments with Bieito. “He might still be alive! Where is he?” She struggled to sit up, ignoring the spots that appeared in front of her eyes.

“Who?” Maggie asked. “Were you with Bieito? Did something happen? I was so afraid you had been injured, with all that blood…What happened?”

“No one else is here? You’re sure he didn’t come through?” Maggie shook her head, and Remy’s eyes filled with tears. If he hadn’t come through to her time, then his gunshot wound was certainly fatal. The last-ditch effort to save him didn’t work. It was like losing him all over again. He’d been dead over a century, but Remy grieved for him now.

An EMT opened the back door of the ambulance, surprising Remy enough to keep from completely melting down. Straight ahead, the familiar sight of her village greeted her. The EMT spoke in Spanish to Maggie, and Remy tuned them out. She stared at the buildings, hating them, yet loving them at the same time. Home. How could she be here without thinking of Bieito? Every piece of it held a reminder of him now.

Maggie’s voice interrupted her meditation. “They need to check some more vitals, Remy, but they don’t need to bring you to the hospital. The blood on you was not your own, and is a story for another time, I think. They said you are very dehydrated and sleep deprived, but otherwise you are healthy. You just fainted. I know I overreacted by calling them, but seeing you in such a state…my heart could not handle it. We have all been incredibly worried.”

Remy swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to figure out some way to tell Maggie her unbelievable tale. “First, can I ask—how long have I been gone?”

Maggie’s eyebrows shot up. “Over a month. I was the last person to see you before you disappeared.” Maggie sniffed. “Quite a terrible position you put me in. Then there was no sign of you for weeks. I agonized over whether or not to list you as a missing person…I told myself you would be back. We had too many plans for the village, and I told Sebastian there was no way you would abandon it. He’s been sick with worry as well. I decided to leave Madrid and come to Ortigueira and get to work on it while waiting for you to get back and explain to me just what in heaven’s name you have been doing!”

Remy winced at the obvious anger in Maggie’s tone. She felt terrible that she put her friend through such an ordeal. There must be some way to explain it to her without sounding delusional, and she tried to gather her thoughts. Where do I even start? Start with the basics. At the beginning. “Maggie, do you remember telling me that you felt something odd about the village when I bought it?”

Maggie still looked frustrated with Remy but nodded. “It is a property with a personality. One of the stranger pieces of realty I’ve sold over the years.” She moved out of the way as an EMT checked Remy’s pulse. He moved with quick efficiency and seemed uninterested in the developing conversation. “I wasn’t prepared to sell a property like this. I think it fell into the right hands—your hands—but I would be lying if I said I hadn’t had my doubts about whether it was in your best interest or the village’s. Sometimes I wonder if I should have just shown you an apartment in downtown Madrid instead…”

“Oh, Maggie, sometimes I wish that too. It’s been more complicated than I ever imagined.”

“With the renovation?”

Remy hesitated.

“With your mental health?” Maggie prodded. She was being remarkably patient with Remy’s roundabout answer, but the question cut to the core of the issue. Remy had vanished without a trace and was currently lying on a stretcher recovering from shock and exhaustion.

“In a way…” Remy began. “You have to promise not to ask any questions until I’m done explaining. I don’t expect you to believe it, but you also have to promise not to have me committed or tell anyone else. If it helps, just pretend I’m just an eccentric artist telling you a crazy story.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve been seeing things lately. Things that aren’t, well, in this time.”

“Ella está bien,” the EMT interrupted her. He turned to Maggie to explain the rest, knowing that Remy didn’t speak Spanish. When he was done, he helped Remy sit up and assisted her off the ambulance bed. He escorted them both to solid ground and looked at Maggie with a stern expression.

“I’m supposed to tell you to follow up with your regular doctor this week,” Maggie said.

“That won’t fix what’s wrong with me.”

“You have to tell him that you will, otherwise he will take you to the hospital right now instead.”

Remy sighed. “Fine. Okay.”

He seemed to understand at least that much English and patted her shoulder. The team boarded the ambulance and headed down the driveway. The village’s second visit from an ambulance in two months. They are going to think this place is cursed with bad luck. Once the sound of tires crunching on dirt disappeared, it was oddly calm. Don’t think about Bieito. Don’t think about Bieito. Focus on finishing the story. Remy felt that once she told her story, it would release all of her emotions in a flood, and she could say goodbye to Bieito properly. She couldn’t do him justice here, in front of Maggie.

“So you think that your village is haunted.” Maggie said it so matter-of-fact that it surprised Remy. The older woman caught on quickly.

“Sort of. More like…it has a mind of its own. And has been showing me stuff.” Is that less weird than telling her it took me back in time?

“Why would the village show you things? What sort of things?”

“People that used to live here. Stuff that happened.”

“Are you alone when these ‘visions’ take place?”

“Yes, usually when I’m by myself in the village.”

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist if I ask this, but have you been drinking or doing drugs?”

“No!” Then Remy remembered the copious amounts of that delicious wine she had been drinking during the first few instances. “Not always. Sometimes,” Remy confessed.

“But this Bieito you’ve been frantic over…Is he real?”

Remy bit her lip, not knowing how to explain further. “Not anymore.”

****

The pain in Bieito’s eyes. The light fading out of his gaze. The strength of Remy’s grip around his body. The roar of the storm.

Remy tossed and turned as she tried to sleep in her tent. She couldn’t bring herself to go near the cottage yet. It had been three days since she’d been back, and her thoughts refused to break out of a destructive cycle. I should have stayed with him. I shouldn’t have risked the wish. At least then I wouldn’t have left him to die alone.

Beside her, Maggie stirred in her sleeping bag. Even though Remy had begged her older friend to check into a hotel downtown, Maggie refused to leave Remy on her own. The Englishwoman had tried to talk Remy into going to the doctor, but every time Remy tried to leave the property, panic set in.

“Anxiety attacks,” Sebastian had diagnosed. His exuberance at Remy’s return could not be contained, and he took it upon himself to spread the good news throughout Ortigueira. He came to visit Maggie and Remy each day to check in but returned home in the evening. Remy was thankful for the supplies and food he brought with him, because Remy had yet to leave the village, even to grocery shop.

Whether it was trauma or guilt keeping her there, Remy didn’t know. All she could feel was some unknown force that would not allow her to leave. She was tied to the village, an invisible tether keeping her within its borders.

The next morning, after another sleepless night, Remy decided to reach out to Jack and Anita, just to let them know she was okay. Maggie left to run an errand, and let Remy borrow her phone. If Jack doesn’t answer, then I’ll leave a message. Anything to keep her mind off Bieito and her loss.

It felt like forever since Jack’s accident. An entire lifetime had passed since he showed up, unwanted, in her village. She assumed he had gone home. How long did it take for someone to recover enough from head trauma and some broken bones in order to fly to New York?

So much had happened between the last time she saw him and now. Most importantly, she had gone from being staunchly secure in her divorce to madly in love with another man. Maybe it’s me. Bad things happen to men who love me.

She dialed Jack’s number and couldn’t believe who answered it.

Anita. Voice thick with sleep, she mumbled, “Who is it?”

Remy cleared her throat but couldn’t find the words.

“Hello? Hello?” A pause and the rustle of fabric. “Babe, I think there’s someone on the phone for you.”

The thought should have sent her reeling. Her best friend and her ex-husband—it was the ultimate betrayal. Instead of feeling angry, though, Remy was just…numb. Picturing them together was like staring at two strangers. They existed in Remy’s memories, but she already knew they would not have a presence in her future.

If they wanted to be together, then by all means they should be. Remy had been through enough the past few months so that no jealousy or envy remained in her heart. Maybe they will be a better couple than Jack and I ever were. There was no way to predict which way this scenario would go, and it wasn’t important enough for Remy to need to know how it turned out. Hell, they could even get married and start a family together and live the life Remy always assumed she would. Even that wouldn’t make her wish she was in Anita’s shoes. Standing where she was now, Remy could see how that path would have been completely wrong for her.

Instead, she suddenly felt grateful for all the decisions that had led her to this moment in time. She wouldn’t have traded her time with Bieito for anything. Loving him was a singular experience that had brought her back from the brink. Remy had been marked, or chosen, or driven by some unseen force to live a compelling life. She should have run away from New York long ago and listened to that inner voice that told her she wasn’t home yet. Remy was nowhere near perfect. This entire journey she had questioned her sanity and her decisions and felt like a failure more often than not.

But this journey had brought her back to life. It had opened her mind to paint again. It had shown her that there was more to her than tragedy and curses, and that she could make a difference.

Jack’s voice spoke in her ear. “Who is this?” he said. “Do you know what time it is?”

Remy didn’t trust herself to answer. Anita and Jack wouldn’t understand why she was so okay with everything. It was hard for Remy to understand it herself, just that she was perfectly fine with it. They’d think she was lying, masking her pain. It would require interacting with them more than she wanted to. Ideally, this was how she would leave things with them. Closing the door and closing the chapter in her life, for good. She hung up the phone with a tiny smile.

Remy had been so focused on losing Bieito that she hadn’t thought much about Lino’s fate. When she had woken up on the ground in the village, it had felt like the past spit her back out for the last time. After breaking God knew how many laws of the universe, to think that the village would just let her pass back and forth with Bieito in tow was too far-fetched. It had been getting harder and harder to move between time periods, and after being stuck in Bieito’s time with no real way back for weeks, Remy was too scared to try it again now. Nothing was within her control anymore. She couldn’t risk it.

Not knowing Lino’s fate was agony, though. If she knew for sure he had survived, it might have eased her grief for Bieito. No, Lino has to have survived. Otherwise, why bother sending me back? Remy’s entire existence had been nudging her to that moment in time in order to change it. Would she ever understand the long-term significance of everything though? Why bother changing such a small thing if it didn’t have far-reaching consequences, further reaching than even she could imagine?

I wonder what María said to Lino when she saw him. Remy smiled at the thought of their reunion. She could just picture María landing quite the slap on Lino’s face before launching herself into his arms. But slowly this joyous reunion began to unravel in Remy’s imagination, for then she pictured Afonso emerging from the cottage, expecting to find both his sons. How Lino would look, dejected and thinking of himself as a coward for abandoning the brother who saved him. Regret at putting his family in this position in the first place. The confusion on his wife and his father’s face when they didn’t see Bieito or Remy beside him.

They would forever wonder what happened to Bieito and Remy. Remy’s heart ached for them, and for the loss of a family that could have become her own if she stayed. She could only hope that they would somehow find peace and acceptance in the coming years. They had saved Lino so that he and María could start a life together, and Remy fervently hoped that they would embrace the second chance that Bieito had given them instead of squandering it away due to guilt.

Bieito would think it was all worth it, Remy told herself firmly. He had done his part to keep his little brother safe. There was no cost too high for that. She doubted he would choose to have done it any differently, as long as Lino made it out alive in the end.

There was something frighteningly isolating about the only one to possess knowledge of an event, to be the sole holder of the truth. The amount of time that Remy had spent doubting her own sanity the past few months only made her more afraid to trust her memory. The coup was such a small blip in history. But if she had inadvertently created a new future all together…But everything else is the same, Remy told herself. That I know of so far. Time to focus on the future instead of the past.

The scent of sun-ripened fruit hit her nose, and the phantom sound of rattling wagon wheels rolled in the distance, combined with the joyous nonsensical chatter of happy neighbors and the memory of sweet wine on her tongue…

It was all still there. Somewhere on a different plane, in another time, just beyond her grasp. It wouldn’t be the village that Bieito left behind, but Remy believed she could build something just as wonderful. The essence of the place still yearned to be occupied and to serve a purpose. His was the glorious history of the village, while Remy represented a hopeful future.