CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

A REASONABLE SUGGESTION

I lay in bed later that night, gazing at the ceiling, pondering what I should do.

Mark’s words had been wise. Of course, he was right. Phoebe would ignore my advice to marry neither man. In returning to the past, I would risk my freedom to no avail.

Perhaps, instead, I should advise her on which of the two to marry. After all, she did ask my advice.

But whom did I think would be best?

Jacob could give her a simple life, a life that she would understand and enjoy quietly. Certainly his interest in farming and his willingness to move to the wilds of the North Carolina mountains hinted at unknown depths.

I found myself also warming to William, who had been so bewitched by my sister that he was willing to fight his world for her sake.

Both were fine men.

Yet I knew something that they couldn’t know. Phoebe wouldn’t live long with her husband. Should I allow this knowledge to inform my advice?

Indeed, yes. What value was there in living in the future if I didn’t embrace its benefits?

* * *

As Sherri and I drove home from a lovely hour of shopping on Wednesday, we passed Mark on his bike not far from the entrance to the neighborhood. Dismay tugged at my gut. I didn’t wish to discuss my purchases.

Once the car had stopped in the garage, I hurried upstairs and hid the bag before he could get home.

Below me, I heard the noises of his arrival and opened the door to eavesdrop. In the laundry room, Sherri banged the lid of the washing machine. The tread of Mark’s shoes crossed the floor.

“Gross, Mark. Kiss me after you’ve showered.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

They both laughed. His footsteps faded toward the kitchen and hers followed. I tiptoed to the stairwell, straining to hear.

“Did you have a good day?” she asked.

“Yeah. Great.” The fridge opened and closed. “Where’d you and Susanna go?”

“To the fabric store.”

“Why?”

Merciful heavens, she was going to tell him.

“She wanted lace, thread, and buttons.”

“Buttons?”

“Yeah, gorgeous buttons made of wood and glass.”

I slumped onto the top step of the landing. I had taken a chance in not begging her for silence.

Mark asked, in his most nonchalant voice, “How many?”

Please, Sherri. Don’t…

“Forty or so.”

A bottle slapped down hard on the countertop. His footsteps sounded on the stone floor, headed this way. I stood and ran back through the door of my apartment.

“Is something wrong, Mark?”

“I’m about to find out.” He thundered up the stairs and walked in without knocking.

I stood rooted to the floor in the center of the room. He approached me, jaw taut.

“What are the buttons for?”

“Phoebe. They are currency where she lives.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, eyes blazing. “You get points for not lying.”

“I do not need ‘points.’”

“When were you planning to go?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Would you have said anything?”

“No.”

He gaped at me in utter disbelief. “You promised not to go back.”

“I am breaking that promise.” His entire demeanor condemned me, and it was deserved. “I’m sorry, Mark. I meant to honor my promise, but I’m to blame for Phoebe’s quandary.”

“You were going to disappear again. Just go off and let me wonder.”

“Yes.”

His eyes closed, as if in pain. “How can I trust you now?”

I stiffened, taken aback at the depth of emotion that crackled about him. “You can trust that I will always to do the right thing for those I love.”

There was a long silence, fraught with tension. When his eyes opened again, he looked dazed. “What’s the rush?”

“Phoebe must give her answer by the middle of October. Today is the twelfth.”

“She gives an answer in 1801, Susanna. You live in 2016.”

“The waterfall has always returned us to the same day, different year.”

He raked a hand through his sweaty hair, leaving it in disarray. “How about waiting until next spring? Ask the waterfall to take us back to April 1801. Then maybe you can prevent this whole mess from ever happening.”

Here was the reason I had hoped to avoid this argument. He’d given a reasonable suggestion which I had no intention of taking. “I cannot bear to wait that long. I need to act now.”

He shook his head, over and over again. A dozen times or more. “Okay, Susanna. Let’s hear the plan.”

“Pardon?”

“How are you going to get there?”

“I shall take my bike.”

“You’re not good enough.”

“Perhaps…” I started to protest but the narrowing of his eyes stopped me.

“You’re not good enough yet and you know it. What if you fell and broke something? What if you busted a tire? Would you know what to do?”

I had not considered problems with the bike. “You have given contingencies I had not pondered.”

“Great. Give me a moment, and I’ll come up with others.”

I turned my back on him. I didn’t want to be dissuaded. “Phoebe is worth the risk.”

“You are worth more.” He stepped closer, the heat of his breath tickling my neck. “Susanna, your sister is a big girl. She can make her own decisions.”

“She might pick Jacob. She will have a hard life and die young.” My voice trembled.

“How would marriage to William be better?”

“She loves him.” I shook at the intensity of my feelings, unable to imagine the pain of saying goodbye forever to Mark. It would bring grief without end. I could not stand by and let my sister go through the same—not when it was my fault that she’d fallen in love. “If her life is fated to be short, why should it not be at the side of the man she loves?”

He slipped his arms around my waist, his lips brushing my temple. “I’ll go.”

Had I heard him correctly? “What did you say?”

“I’ll go in your place. I’ll take the buttons and the message. I’ll talk to her.”

I spun in his arms. “Mark, it is dangerous for you too.”

“Pratt wants you more than me.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’m faster on the bike. He’d have a hard time catching me. An hour over, an hour there, an hour back. I’ll be fine.”

“It is too much.”

“Oh, you’ll pay.”

My eyes widened at the edge behind his words. “How?”

“You have to promise to stay here.”