“When did he first travel?” Malcolm asked, fitting his hand over mine, interlocking our fingers atop his leg.
Derrick stifled a sigh, forced down a new conversational path. “I don’t know for sure. His early teens, I think. By the time I met him, when I was about nine, he had established himself as his twentieth-century persona, ‘Franklin’ Yancy. My father went along with everything he said because Fallon knew things. Not only about our lives – our future lives, I might add – but about money. Our family achieved its status and wealth only because of him, as Father is always quick to remind me. And I’ve always taken that wealth for granted. I’ve lived a shallow little life and I’ve never regretted it until this past week.”
“Even if your life has been shallow to this point, what you did to help us negates all of that,” I insisted, conviction blazing in my chest. “It was completely unselfish. I can never thank you enough.”
“Oh, it wasn’t unselfish, I assure you.” Derrick inhaled through his nostrils, fixing his gaze straight ahead. “You realize I’m in love with your sister, don’t you?” He issued a short, self-deprecating chuckle. “Not that she’d ever notice.”
I chose my words carefully. “I think what you believe is love is really unfinished business between the two of you. You were married, but unhappy, in this life. And, on top of that, Dredd’s father attempted to have Patricia murdered. Of course you still have strong feelings. But Tish isn’t the woman for you. It’s time to let go of all that ancient anger and bitterness. Maybe that’s part of why you realized you had to help us…to also help yourself.”
Derrick glared at me. “Spare me the goddamned psyche analysis.”
“Do not speak to Camille in that tone.” Malcolm’s voice stayed even but there was no room for doubt in his words.
“Seriously, this century,” Derrick muttered, plunging both hands through his uncombed hair. He pushed back his chair. “I’m going to lie down.”
“Oh God, I wish I had a cell phone,” I muttered as Derrick retreated, his footsteps echoing on the stairs. “I hate not knowing what’s going on. I know Ruthie tried to reach me earlier, I felt her, Malcolm.”
“Waiting is worse than about all else,” he agreed. “As bad as living in constant fear.”
I moved to sit on his lap, needing to be closer to him. He latched his arms around my waist and rested his face between my breasts, inhaling slow and deliberate as I twined my fingers in the thick waves of his hair, taking care not to bump the bandage tied around his battered forehead.
“You were so brave today. You saved our lives in a dozen ways and they hurt you so much. You’ve been in harm’s way hundreds of times, haven’t you?” I kissed his temple, lingering there against his warm skin. “I can’t bear to think about anyone hurting you, ever again.”
What about you, my heart demanded. Your leaving will hurt him more than anything.
Malcolm met my eyes, not quite able to manage a smile, as if discerning the direction of my thoughts. But he spoke with unquestionable sincerity. “I’ll heal, don’t you worry. I don’t want to cause you a moment’s worry, Camille. This time that we’ve shared is a gift I could never have imagined. A gift I’ll be grateful for until the day I die.”
Tears blurred my vision. “Me too. Oh Malcolm, me too.”
“And once you’ve returned home to the life you remember, your real life, I want you to live it without a single regret. And know that I’m living mine the same way. All regrets washed away, washed clean. I swear to you, love, my sweet love, they’ve washed away.”
“Do you promise?” My voice shook.
“I swear,” he repeated, kissing my lips with utmost tenderness. “I’m no saint. I won’t pretend to be. But I would never ask a mama to be apart from her babies. You go back to those little ones, your Millie and Brantley and Henry, your little Lorie and James.” He clenched his jaws, as if gaining strength. “And to Mathias. I’m frightful jealous of him, I can’t lie, but you need him. You spoke his name, last night. You spoke both our names, but he’s who you need, I ain’t fool enough to pretend I can’t see it.”
My heart throbbed with love and pain, in equal parts. “Promise me the same, Malcolm. I want you to be happy. Truly happy, here in this place and time. But it hurts so much to think of…” The sentence fractured around the depth of emotion clogging my chest. “Of never seeing you again. I don’t want you to be alone here…I can’t bear it…”
Tears wet his dark eyes as he whispered gently, “Now, that’s enough.” He stroked my hair, slowly, both hands sinking deep into my curls. “I want to tell you something I believe. Something I’ve been thinking about for a long time now. Last autumn, when I met Marshall Rawley and heard his story of traveling through time, it was hard to swallow the tale, at least at first. But there must have been a part of me that had always known, somehow, that souls returned to the earth for another go-round. When Marshall told me of your family – of you – I wanted nothing more than to set eyes on you, to know that my Cora was alive again, thriving and happy, with children of her own. She wanted so much to be a mama. You have given me that knowledge, Camille, and I couldn’t ask for more.”
“But she’s not here,” I whispered, aching and overcome. “And I want you to be happy here,
