As soon as I’d signed the papers for Nurse Emily, I dressed in the clothes brought to me. The pants were of a make I’d never seen before, with a seam that magically pulled together with the aid of a small lever. Their black color and thickness kept me astonishingly warm, the fabric sewed better than anything from my own time. A white shirt without buttons or a necktie was the only top I was provided, save a leather jacket that matched the legwear. Expertly made socks were also offered, as well as short, plain boots. Having no means to comb my river-styled hair, I brushed the shoulder-length locks out of my face with my fingers and headed in the direction I’d been pointed, hoping I would somehow recognize Charlotte Mercer when I saw her.

It was easier to study my surroundings as I walked through the hospital, no mass of people shepherding me around in a rush. I was all but ignored as I made my way across the polished floors, watching as the caretakers of this place hurried from room to room, writing things down, clicking away at the boxes on their counters, and speaking into devices they held up to their ears. A flimsy bag made of a product I wasn’t familiar with had been given to me, stuffed full of my cut-up uniform, redcoat, and boots. They’d dried somewhat during my stay, but there was still a weight to them that matched the lump in my throat as I thought of all the problems I’d created by coming here.

My messmates would have noticed I was missing by now, or would soon. Smith had known my plans to propose to Olivia and could perhaps assume we had stayed in Bear Tavern for the night. When we didn’t return promptly though . . .

My regiment would label me as having abandoned them. The men I’d fought beside would think me a coward. A deserter. Someone may look for us, but there would be nothing to find.

My family would receive letters detailing the shame of my demise. Of course, with no proof of any turncoat actions, I would only be labeled as missing. No one would know the truth, but everyone would assume I was a traitor.

Taking a steadying breath, I steeled my emotions. Whatever happened here would be worth it, so long as Olivia lived.

Several minutes went by as I wandered the hallways, passing by paintings of flowered fields and buildings that towered into the heavens. Doors opened and closed, each person quietly weaving around me like water rushing past a pebble in a riverbed. As I was beginning to think I was in the wrong place, I finally came across a large sitting area. Chairs lined the walls and formed rows in the middle of the floor, accented by potted plants that matched the fabric of the seats. Cabinets with glass fronts held food, an advertisement with different prices listed on them. The money was not a kind that I recognized, and once more I felt the sickening twist in my stomach that reminded me I was not in a place that was at all familiar.

Several people rested on the cushions. A family with small children focused on another slate with flashing lights and music that came from nowhere. An older man appeared to be sleeping in the corner, his head rested against the wall and arms folded over his chest, the brown of his heavy coat somewhat muddied. The pages of a book turned slowly as a woman read, seemingly unaware of everyone around her.

I knew Charlotte Mercer as soon as I saw her. There must have been something about her all black attire, or the way she stood in front of the window staring out into the snowy night that reminded me of her brother. As I stood there, watching her, she turned around, and our eyes met. My stomach lurched as I realized she had the same blue gaze as Gabriel. Thankfully, that was where their similarities ended.

Where his hair was light, hers was long and dark, pulled back at the nape and curled over her shoulder. She was much shorter than him if I remembered correctly, and his well-muscled form must have looked overly bulky next to her slender, lithe one.

It was more the air that surrounded her that reminded me of her brother, however. Each of them possessed a quality of authority and knowledge, as well as self-assured superiority. Where Gabriel had worn his as more of a condescending wave, Miss Mercer displayed this as a shield of calm understanding.

Pulling her hands from the pockets of her long jacket, she strode from her spot, the heels of her boots clicking across the floor. “August,” she said warmly with her low voice, a smile gracing her lips as she stopped in front of me. “How are you feeling?”

Swallowing thickly, I nodded. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.”

A knowing flash passed through her gaze. “And Olivia?”

Closing my eyes, I took another deep breath.

“I see.”

Staring at her, I cleared my throat, folding my arms. I didn’t have anything else to say to her, other than to ask her why she was here, helping me. This didn’t seem the opportune place to do so, though, and so I remained silent.

“She will be fine,” Miss Mercer stated confidently, mistaking my silence as having been worry for Olivia. “I know for certain.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

She smiled knowingly. “I do.” Gesturing to the hallway I’d been walking along before, she moved to continue down the path. “Walk with me, Mister Bancroft. We have a lot to talk about.”

Her easy manner confused me. With no other solution or place to go, I did follow her, the pair of us moving silently down the hall until we came to an unremarkable door and she pushed it open for me.

“Is this . . . a closet?” I asked, moving inside the small space and flinching as the door shut and plunged us into darkness.

“It is,” she answered without explanation.

A small click permeated the air and light flooded the closet, lighting up the shelves and floor with bright clarity.

Blinking, I stared down at her, frowning. “Why are you here?” I asked, unable to hold it in any longer. “Did you think I was Gabriel when you came here? If so, why help me when you realized the truth? I find your actions to be quite perplexing, Miss Mercer.”

“Gabriel stayed in the past.” Folding her arms, she frowned for the first time. Anger filled her face, and she shook her head, her voice grating as she shared her true opinion of her brother. “Probably because he knew I would kick his ass if he came back through. That punk thinks he can change history and I wouldn’t do anything about it? He’s got another thing coming if I ever get my hands on him again.”

Shocked, I leaned away from her, regarding her form with a newfound curiosity. “You and he do not share the same views?”

“Hell no!” She appeared to be offended I would even think such a thing. “Louis and Gabriel have always had a skewed view of how the world should be. When they came up with this dumb plan for political power, that was when Mom and I decided enough was enough.”

“I beg your pardon,” I interrupted her. “Louis?”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “My father. Well, my biological one, anyway. I haven’t seen him in years, ever since the big fallout between him and Mom.”

Narrowing my gaze, I tried to follow the quick conversation. “You stayed with your mother and Gabriel went with your father when the family dissolved?”

She nodded and then shook her head, an expression of frustration covering her features. “That’s not important right now. We have a lot of things to go over before you meet up with Olivia. There won’t be a chance to get it all out until later, and that will be too late.” She laughed, the sound humorless, and her eyes widened slightly. “Time is limited, especially once you’ve figured out how to travel it.”

Shoving her hands in her pockets, she produced a handful of items, handing them off to me as she listed what they were. “This is a social security card. Memorize the number on it and keep it in a safe place. It was probably the hardest thing for me to get for you so I would appreciate it if you don’t screw it up somehow.”

I took the little, blue scrap of paper without question, staring at the digits on it and then quietly tucking it into my pocket.

“This is a driver’s license, but don’t get behind a wheel. It’s the most common identification used here, so you need to have one, but you don’t understand anything about cars. Just because you have it doesn’t mean you can use it for that, got it?”

Taking the second card, I nodded, brow furrowed. “I know what a car is,” I answered defensively.

“But nothing about how to drive,” she answered with the same flippant candor. “So you’ll leave that to someone from the twenty-first century, capeesh?” Another card was passed into my hands without leaving space for me to reply. “Insurance,” she stated without explanation. “Credit card—there are only five thousand dollars on there, so don’t go crazy—and this is the key to your hotel room.” She shoved the other cards into my grasp as well and then met my stare again. “You’re staying in a Park Suite at The Rittenhouse. I’ve taken the liberty of leaving more clothes for you there, and any food you want to order to the room will be paid for. Of course, if you want to stay with Olivia that will be fine too. Some things have changed while she was gone though, so you have this option if you need it.”

Confused, I stared at all the things in my hands and then at her. “How will I get to this place?”

She pointed to the credit card. “Take a cab and pay for it with this. The driver will take you wherever you ask. If you require anything else . . .”

Miss Mercer reached into her pocket one last time, revealing one of the strange flashing boxes I’d seen most everyone using here. “This is a cell phone,” she stated. “You can use it to call me. My number is already saved inside. If you hold this button on the side and wait for it to ding, you can ask it to call me, and the phone will do the rest. Understand?”

I nodded, though I didn’t have the faintest idea of what she had meant, and took the object from her, carefully stowing it in my jacket.

“I’ll call later, so we can meet up. Right now, you and Olivia should take a few days to yourselves.”

Pushing the door open, she motioned for me to follow her out into the hall, leading me through the hospital and into another section where there appeared to be sick and injured people.

“You’re leading me to Olivia?” I asked, finally grasping the direction we were headed.

“Yes,” Miss Mercer confirmed. “You’ll have to speak with a nurse or doctor before they let you in there, but you’ll at least be able to see her through the window if they won’t let you in.” She paused, motioning to a room with a closed door and covered windows. “Or at least you would have been if they’d opened the blinds.”

The lump in my throat returned as I stared at the closed off room. “Why are you helping me?” I asked quietly.

She smiled, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Because,” she answered with ease. “You and me . . . We go way back. You just don’t know it yet.”