I inhaleddeeply and left Finn to climb the stairs that led to the deck abovemy quarters. Up there, I could see out over my ship and everyone onit. I could be alone but present at the same time and I oftensought refuge at my post. The warm wind tousled the straggly blackcurls that hung from underneath my hat and I gripped the woodenrailing tightly. Lost in thought.
Drowning inworry.
I didn’teven notice Henry climb the stairs until he approached me from theside. His sudden presence made all the tiny hairson my body stand on end. Iwasn’t ready to talk to him. Even if I were, I’d no idea what tosay. But, still, my heart hurt to see the pain and guilt thatflooded his body.
“I justwanted to see how you were doing,” he told me, head hanginglow.
It took everyonce of my being to hold myself together. “I’m fine.”
Despite thewarm breeze, a cold silence hung between us as we stood there, notable to reach one another’s eyes. I didn’t tell him to go because Iknew, deep down, Henry was killing himself over what had happened,and he probably felt the need to comfort me. But how do you comfortsomeone when you’re the one that hurt them? His conflictions wereobvious. I understood them. I had my own, after all.
“Do youwant me to leave?” he asked after a while.
“Do youmean right now or in general? Because, to be honest, I’m not surehow I feel about either at the moment.” I regret the words thesecond they left my lips, but I really was being truthful. Myfeelings were all over the place and I was in no position to make adecision like that.
His tremblinglips pursed under the blonde scruff of his face and he nodded.“Very well, then.” He stepped back, heading to the stairs. “I’llleave you be.”
What a burdenit is to harbor such conflicting emotions. I ached to be near himand, yet, my logical mind warned me to stay away. I was at war withmyself and there was no way to tell which side would win.
Be smart, cutmy losses, flee everything once we reached England and find a wayback to the future? Or stay. My chest suddenly filled with anxietyat the thought of leaving Henry and my mouth took on a mind of itsown as I called after him descending the stairs.
“Henry!”I spewed out. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. But my minddrew a blank. I searched for words, to tell him to wait, havepatience with me while I processed what happened between us. Butall that came out was, “I love you.”
He smiled, onethat didn’t reach his eyes. “And I you, Time Traveller.”
The sky beganto fall with warm droplets of rain as he continued down the stairsand strolled across the ship’s deck with a heavy weight on hisshoulders. I remained where I stood, unable to move even if Iwanted to. My mind weighed down with the burden of my thoughts andmy heart ached for the man I loved.
I feltlost.
I stayed upthere, letting the rain soak into my clothes until they stuck to melike a second skin. The sun had gone down, and the crew busiedabout to make sure everything on the ship was secure. Finally, Ipeeled myself from my post and made my way down to my quarters tochange and dry off. It didn’t take long for Lottie to comeknocking. I opened the door to find her, tray in hand, and curiouseyes that were eager to talk.
“Comein,” I said and walked over to the little table and chairs by thewindow.
Lottie enteredand shut the door before coming over to join me. She set the traydown and sat.
“I sawyou up there in the rain,” she began as she poured tea into twocups. “Figured you’d need something to warm your bones.”
I scooped upthe tiny china cup and held it in both hands while inhaling thesteam. “Thanks. It’s just what I needed, actually.”
Lottie chewedat the inside of her mouth, bubbling in thought. We both sat insilence, the only sounds were that of our frequent sipping.Finally, she spoke. “So, are you going to tell me what the Hell isgoing on?”
I pinched thebridge of my nose. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Toobad,” she replied sternly. “Aren’t you the one who says talking isthe way to heal?”
“Yes, butit’s not–”
She set her cupdown hard. “So, heal.”
I wanted toprotest, tell her to mind her own business. But, in the end, shewas right. I was getting nowhere with my own thoughts. Perhapstalking through it will help me process it all.
“Henryhad another episode last night,” I told my friend. She leaned backin her chair, inviting me to continue. “Only, it was worse thanbefore. I woke up to him flailing about in bed, clearly having anightmare. I tried to wake him but…”
The words diedon my tongue. I couldn’t say it. And I realized then, my problem.It was denial. I so badly wanted to ignore what happened, to justforgive and forget. Pretend it never happened. Because it would bethe easier way.
But Icouldn’t.
“Butwhat?” Lottie prompted, leaning forward to rest a comforting handon my knee. “Did he hurt you?”
“No. Imean… yes. Sort of.”
Her browfurrowed in confusion. “Well, which is it? Either Henry hurt you orhe didn’t.”
“He wastrapped in the nightmare and grabbed my arms as a reflex. He wasdefending himself, in a way.” I stopped to swallow hard as Irelieved the events in my mind. The fresh bruises on my armthrobbed like a second heartbeat. “He thought I was… Henry had beendreaming of Maria.”
She reclinedagain, eyes wide. “Christ.”
“Yeah, Iknow,” I said. “But that wasn’t the worst part.”
Her browsraised. “There’s more?”
“After Ipushed him off the bed, he went into this sort of attack mode,” Itried to ignore Lottie’s confused expression at my words, butcorrected them anyway, “Uh, like, as if he were fighting someone.Physically.” That seemed to get translate so I continued. “Stillasleep, he drew his sword. How he knew where it was, I have noidea.
