“Cam—”
“Peter, no—”
“Cam, listen to me. I have cost you a marriage … and a child.”
“A child?” She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You and Jacket were to have a child. That child is gone.
Simply by the fact of my being here. Mertons showed me the calculations. It’s true. And I—I with a wife and child who cannot even have the comfort of a name in their final resting place—I have no right to interfere. Cam, I knew what perfect happiness was once. I won’t take it from you.”
“You fool.” She wanted to shove him and hug him at the same time. “That mythical future baby is gone because that baby wasn’t meant to be. Was it because of you? Yes. Was it because of me? Yes. Was it because of Jacket? Yes.
Don’t you see? Everything we do in this crazy beaker of ooze sends ripples in every direction—left, right, forward, backward. So what if your being here took away a child?
Did you happen to ask if staying would bring me another one?”
“Cam …”
“Fight them. We’l do it together.”
She heard an odd rushing noise and wheeled around.
Mertons was brushing snow off his coat, a sort of telescope in hand, looking momentarily confused. “Ah,” he said, spotting them. “There you are at last.”
Mertons wore an odd, unreadable look, and she dreaded what he was going to say. Peter shifted, growing tal er and broader. She couldn’t help but notice Mertons avoided her eyes.
“My negotiations have been successful.”
“What negotiations?” Peter asked.
“You didn’t tel him?” Mertons said to Cam.
Peter’s gaze cut to her. “Didn’t tel me what?”
Mertons made a show of placing the scope in his pocket.
She swal owed. “I wanted you to have a painter’s life.”
The look of confusion on Peter’s face grew. He looked to Mertons and back. “What, Cam? What did you do?”
“I promised to show them how I travel.”
“So they can shut it down?”
“Yes.”
“And in return,” Mertons said to Peter, “you wil be given a painter’s life. Money, time, recognition. You’l have it al .”
Cam looked at Peter. She could see the effect this offer had on him.
“No,” Peter said. “I’d rather stay. Even if it’s only for a short time.”
Merton’s face purpled. “Are you insane? Do you know what you’d be giving up?”
“Aye, I think I do.” Peter caught Cam’s hand and squeezed.
“No, Peter,” Mertons said. “You don’t. I haven’t just negotiated any painter’s life. I’ve negotiated your painter’s life. You wil be al owed to return to Ursula.”
Peter gasped. After a moment that seemed like forever to Cam he said, “I have no wish to return to her knowing what wil happen. You might as wel tie me to a rock and let what wil happen. You might as wel tie me to a rock and let an eagle feast on my entrails.”
“You won’t know.”
“What?”
“I said, you won’t know. The Guild has agreed to let you return to your former life insentient of your future or hers.
Peter, think of it. You wil fal in love with her again. You wil paint her again. You’l have more than a decade to live over.”
Peter’s posture changed. The lines around his eyes grew softer. “And she wil die, stil the same?”
“We cannot change that,” Mertons said sadly. “You know the limitations. But, Peter, listen. I have gotten special permission for a variance. It wasn’t easy, and I had the team triangulating the calculations for the last hour to support it. I have gotten permission to al ow you to marry her.”
“Oh.” It came out like a faint puff of wind, and Cam felt her world break in two.
“Your name,” Mertons said. “She’l have your name. And so wil your son.”
Peter blinked, dizzy with the wealth that had just been laid at his feet. “I-I—”
“But you must come tonight.”
“Tonight!” Cam cried. She felt as if she’d spent the evening having chunks of her happiness hacked away with a butcher knife. “No, please.”
Mertons looked down, ashamed. “I’m sorry, Miss Stratford. The Guild insists. The whole affair’s been an embarrassment to them. They want it to end. Peter, you’l be back in your studio by morning.”
Peter was lost in a world he’d let slip through his fingers.
Cam watched him work
