16

GRACE

JULY 4, 1912

WASHINGTON, DC

I stood with my parents in the Congressional Cemetery in Washington, DC, staring at Hope's closed coffin. Heavy clouds hung overhead, drizzling on the mourners who had come to say farewell to my twin sister. Though I had spent the past couple of days with her in Salem, trying to make sense of what happened at the Boston air meet—and what we learned about our mother, Tacy—I still couldn't believe she was gone from 1912.

Her death in this path was final—and that stung like nothing ever had before.

Daddy and Mama stood under one black umbrella while I stood under another. It was the first time I'd felt truly alone in my entire life. Hope was usually at my side—but I would never see her here again.

A sob caught in my throat as the weight of reality settled on my shoulders.

Mama wept and laid her head against Daddy's chest as the pastor said the final prayer. Hope's coffin was lowered into the ground next to Mama's father, Senator Edward Wakefield.

"Ashes to ashes and dust to dust," the pastor said, sprinkling a handful of dirt onto Hope's coffin. "Lord, we commit our sister Hope unto thee. Amen."

I felt numb as tears slipped from my eyes. Losing Hope in 1912 had created more than just grief. For days, confusion, uncertainty, and fear had overwhelmed me—but now I just felt dull and void.

Mourners walked past the three of us, murmuring words of comfort and consolation.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," one of our older neighbors said as she reached for my cold hand and gave it a squeeze before moving on to Mama and Daddy.

"You must be devastated," said another. "My thoughts and prayers are with you."

"My heart is breaking for you," said a third. "Whatever you need, be sure to ask."

I glanced at each person, but I didn't really see them. I was too bereft. For me, for Hope, for Mama and Daddy. My parents would never see Hope again, and though I would wake up tomorrow in Salem and she would be there, everything had changed.

Now a question repeated with every beat of my heart.

What would happen on my twenty-fifth birthday? Would I continue with my plan to stay in 1912—forsaking Hope? Or should I abandon my plans and stay in 1692 with her?

Neither option appealed to me.

My heart was so raw, I couldn't possibly make that decision now.

I tried not to shiver in my long black dress, which was getting soaked by the rain as it blew against my back. It felt like a hundred people passed, giving me hugs, shaking my hand, or simply nodding, without saying a word.

Until I heard a beautiful and familiar voice. "Mon c?ur est avec votre c?ur, aujourd'hui et toujours."

I looked up as tears spilled down my cheeks.

Sadness filled the depths of Luc's eyes as rain dripped from the brim of his black fedora. "My heart is with your heart, today and always."

"You came," I whispered.

"Of course I came," he said gently.

He had been there with me when it happened. As Hope was ascending into the sky, my gaze had fallen on Luc. He strode across the airfield, his blue-green gaze intent upon me, his shoulders broad and confident—and I had been speechless, my heart thudding with a strange beat. It was the first time he had sought out my company, and he had come to tell me that he had read several articles I had written. His comments had been thoughtful and intelligent, and I knew he meant every word he said.

I should have been watching Hope—but all I could see was Luc.

There had been a gasp, and I had torn my gaze from Luc as Mr. Willard's body careened through the air. My stomach had dropped, and I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Then, seconds later, Hope had been thrown from the aeroplane, and my world shifted irrevocably.

I had fallen to my knees, unable to think or move or speak. I knew, immediately, that she had died. My body trembled from head to foot, and I began to weep. As everyone ran toward Hope's body, it was Luc who stayed behind to help me to my feet. I wanted to see Hope—needed to see her, to know for certain. He tried to take me away, but I insisted, so he took me to the place where they had laid her, waiting for the ambulance.

I had regretted my decision immediately.

As the ambulance took her away, Luc put his arm around me and protected me from the crush of people who ran onto the field, trying to salvage souvenirs from the wreckage of her aeroplane. Without a word, he brought me back to my hotel and then left to purchase a ticket for me to travel to Washington, DC. At the station, he bid me farewell, promising that he would take care of all the arrangements and would have Hope returned to us in Washington.

And now here he stood, three days later, anguish on his face, looking as if he hadn't slept in days.

"Thank you," I told him, shivering from the cold and my emotions. I put my hand on his. "For everything."

"You're freezing." He laid his warm hand over mine, enveloping it with unexpected tenderness.

"And you're getting wet." I took a step toward him and lifted the umbrella so it would protect both of us. My heart was beating that same strange rhythm it had at the air show, so I gently pulled my hand away from his.

He looked down at me, his eyes a stormy dark blue, matching the weather swirling around us. "I need to have a word with you—if I may. Will you have time?"

"There is a reception at my parents' home after the funeral. I hope you'll come."

"I would like that."

Neither of us spoke for a moment. I wanted to tell him how much he had meant to Hope—how much he still meant to her—but I couldn't find the words.

"I hope you are taking comfort in knowing that God is in control, even in the midst of this tragedy." The conviction in his voice told me that this wasn't simply a platitude—he'd experienced God's comfort before.

I swallowed and nodded. "I do take comfort in that knowledge. Thank you."

"Will you introduce me to your parents?"

"Yes, of course." The rain began to fall faster, so I stepped a little closer to him as we waited for my parents to finish speaking to their friends.

It felt strange to stand beside Luc without Hope nearby.

Everything was strange without Hope.

The friends finally moved away, and my parents turned to us in a sort of daze until they saw who stood beside me.

My mother's brilliant blue eyes glistened with unshed tears. Daddy stood straight and stoic, though I knew his heart was breaking.

"Mama and Daddy," I said as Luc and I stepped closer to them. "This is Lucas Voland—Hope's friend."

He glanced at me as a flicker of disappointment passed over his face. Had he hoped to be introduced as my friend, too?

Mama took Luc's hand in hers, gratitude in her every movement. "Thank you, Mr. Voland, for everything you've done to help us. You were a very good and loyal friend to Hope, and we could not be more grateful."

"I wish I could have done more."

Daddy took Luc's hand next. "Nonsense. You've done more than most. We are in your debt."

"You must come to our home for the reception we're hosting," Mama said.

"I've already invited him," I told her.

"Wonderful." She nodded. "Then we'll expect to see you there."

He said good-bye and then left the protection of my umbrella to walk out of the cemetery. My eyes followed him as I wondered what I would have done without him after the accident.

Before he turned the corner, he looked back. There was something in his gaze that made me catch my breath.

It was longing—but for what?

For Hope?

After all the mourners left the cemetery, I stepped into a cab with Mama and Daddy to make our way home to Lafayette Square near the White House. We drove down Pennsylvania Avenue as the rain stopped and the clouds began to break apart.

My parents' orphanage came into view not far from their home. The building was like a second home to me, maintained with love and diligence by Mama and Daddy through the years. It would be devastating to see them lose it.

I didn't want to add more grief to my parents' hearts, yet it couldn't wait.

"Without Hope," I said, swallowing the guilt plaguing me as I tore my gaze away from the brown-brick building, "we have no way to earn the money needed for the orphanage."

My parents shared a sad look, and Daddy finally nodded. "We've discussed this."

I couldn't meet their disappointed gazes. "This is my fault. If I hadn't exposed Mr. Thurston—"

"We've already told you it's not your fault," Mama said. "Mr. Thurston is to blame."

"I plan to return to New York in the morning to speak to him—beg him to reconsider."

"It's far too dangerous," Daddy said, his British accent strengthening with his certainty. "There is no talking to a man like Thurston. He's wealthy and powerful—and will stop at nothing to take his revenge. You cannot approach him."

"What will we do, then?" I asked. "How will we save the orphanage?"

Mama put her hands to her temples, and I knew it was too much for her.

Daddy laid his arm around her shoulders and said, "It's too soon to think properly. We'll find a way, even if we must solicit donations from a hundred patrons."

I nodded to pacify him, though they could never raise the money they needed by going door to door. But the conversation would have to stop for now.

And when I returned to New York, I would speak to Mr. Thurston, regardless of the risks it posed.

"I can't tell you how much comfort I take in knowing that Hope is still alive with you in 1692," Mama said, changing the subject.

"She misses you desperately," I told her.

"I worry about her being stuck there during the witch trials." Daddy shook his head. "But if anyone can survive them, it's Hope."

I had to look away. They didn't know I would accuse Hope—and I couldn't tell them.

"Any more news of your other mother?" Mama asked.

The morning after I learned about Tacy, I had told them the shocking news. Mama could hardly believe it, though she had always wondered why we were twins. She'd never known of time-crossing twins before. Perhaps we now had an answer.

"No," I said. "But I plan to start looking for her as soon as I return to New York."

"Is that a good idea?" Daddy asked. "Aren't you supposed to avoid other time-crossers? Your mama has been avoiding her own mother all these years."

My grandmother Libby was a time-crosser and was living in New York at that very moment. She was only seventeen and didn't know we existed. I had been warned my whole life not to look for her—and if I saw her, not to tell her who I was. It might jeopardize her journey. If I intervened and told her how her life would play out, she would make different decisions, and ultimately, I might not be born. It was a strange part of our gift, and it made me wonder who else might be crossing my path.

"I don't know anything about Tacy's future," I told Daddy. "I only know about her past. I want to find her, if for no other reason than to tell her what happened to us."

Daddy nodded, and Mama gave me a sad smile.

As the cab pulled to a stop in front of our house, there were already mourners lined up at the door for the reception.

It would be a long day—yet there was the promise of seeing Luc again.

My parents' home was full as I walked from room to room, accepting more condolences and visiting with old friends and neighbors. Everyone wanted to know about Hope's flights and her accomplishments, and I was happy to tell them. She was remembered fondly, though some people had a knowing smile as they recalled her strong will.

I tried to remember what people were saying so I could relay it to Hope. Most people didn't have the benefit of hearing what others said about them at their funeral.

Today was America's Independence Day, and there would be fireworks all throughout the city that evening. Picnics had already been ruined by the rain, but that wouldn't stop people from going out for the evening festivities. I loved the Fourth of July in Washington, but this year would be much different.

The thought saddened me. For the first time, I wasn't sure if I would be here with Mama and Daddy for next year's fireworks display—or if I would be in Salem with Hope. America was still an English colony in 1692, and independence was not even discussed, let alone celebrated.

As I moved from the dining room into the front parlor, my eyes caught on the newest arrival.

Luc had entered the house and stood in the foyer, speaking respectfully to Daddy. I had seen Luc with leaders and diplomats from all over Europe and the United States. They usually looked up to him with admiration, but here the tables were turned. Luc knew my father had been a Pinkerton agent and guard for Abraham Lincoln, and that he had been the head of the Secret Service in later years. Though Luc wasn't American, he had a deep appreciation for our country and history. He seemed in awe of Daddy.

I watched them for a few moments until Mama came up to me and said, "He's a very handsome young man, isn't he?"

My cheeks felt warm at being caught watching Luc, but I smiled.

"He's also very daring and adventurous," she continued in a quiet, knowing way. "And kind and thoughtful and intelligent."

"All reasons Hope is in love with him."

"Ah," she said, quietly. "I didn't know. Was he in love with her?"

Had the longing I witnessed at the cemetery been for Hope? If so, why hadn't he told her? "I don't know—but she's devastated about losing him."

"If they knew each other that long and you're not sure if he was in love with her, then it probably wasn't mutual."

Luc glanced our way and caught us looking at him. My cheeks grew even warmer. He said something to Daddy and then came our way.

"Thank you for coming," Mama said to him. "We are so grateful for your friendship to both Hope and Grace."

When Luc met my gaze, there was a question there. Were we friends? He hadn't liked me in the beginning—and I hadn't liked him—but something had shifted along the way. Something I was just starting to see.

"Grace mentioned that you needed to speak to her," Mama said. "The rain has stopped, so perhaps you should step out into the garden for privacy."

I led the way through the dining room and into the hallway that ran past my parents' office, and out the back door.

It was a small, walled-in garden with a plethora of plants, flowers, and trees. Mama's roses were her pride and joy, and their colors looked vibrant against the backdrop of the lush greenery. Drops of rainwater glistened on the delicate petals, begging to be touched.

A stone path meandered through the flower beds. I started to follow it, and Luc joined me, his hands behind his back. Neither of us spoke, and I was comfortable with the silence. There was peace in knowing that we didn't need to fill the space.

But there were things I wanted to say—and things I wanted to hear, though I didn't know what he would tell me.

"Thank you, again, for coming," I told him. "I wasn't sure if you would."

He was quiet for another heartbeat and then said, "Hope was very special to me." He paused, and I stopped to search his face. His grief was just as strong as his guilt. Had he loved her? "There is much I'd like to say." He took a deep breath. "But I must apologize first. I should have tested the Blériot for her before she took up a passenger. She wasn't familiar enough with it to handle it properly."

"It's not your fault—"

"I was her instructor."

"She was done with her lessons."

"But I knew better than she did. She was not used to flying with a passenger. I should have taken her up first to let her get a feel for the differences. I was too preoccupied with—" He paused and shook his head, looking away from me.

What had been preoccupying his mind that last day?

I put my hand on his forearm, drawing his gaze back. "It was not your fault, Luc."

He stared at me for a heartbeat, as if looking for the truth in my words.

"No one blames you—least of all Hope." I desperately wanted to tell him that Hope was still alive in 1692 and that she had not accused him of being at fault. But I couldn't. He wouldn't understand—and perhaps he wouldn't believe me. He'd think it was grief talking.

"I wish I knew that for certain," he said, swallowing his emotions as he looked down at my hand. "Because the guilt is eating me alive. She was too young and—" He paused as his gaze lifted to mine. "I cannot comprehend the loss you must feel. Your twin sister. There was no one she loved as much as she loved you. My heart breaks for you just as much as it does for her."

Grief threatened to consume me as I felt the weight of his compassion and removed my hand. Yet I wanted to ease his guilt. "Hope knew exactly what she was doing when she made that flight. It was an accident. Pilots are killed all the time. If you fly, you know it's a matter of time before something goes wrong. Hope knew that, too."

"You seem very sure of yourself."

Tears pooled in my eyes, and I had to blink them away. "She died doing something she loved. You should take comfort in that."

We walked again, both in our own thoughts. Finally, Luc took a deep breath and said, "I have something to tell you. I wasn't sure if I should wait, but there's not much time."

I paused, afraid of what it might be.

"Armour and Company contacted me yesterday afternoon with a proposition," he said. "They wanted me to convey their condolences to you and your family—and make you an offer."

"Me?" I turned to him, my skirt brushing the edge of a rose bush, sending a cascade of water across the dark fabric. "What kind of offer?"

"Everything is ready for Hope's flight in September—everything but a pilot. They have asked if you would consider making the flight in Hope's place."

My mouth slipped open as I studied him to see if he was teasing. "Me?"

"You are almost as famous as your sister," he said. "With your articles and with your photograph alongside Hope in Calais. Hope's death has grieved the world, and Armour and Company believe that you will bring healing to everyone if you complete her trip."

"It's a ridiculous idea." I shook my head, not even contemplating the proposition.

"It's not ridiculous," he said, slowly. "Perhaps a little unexpected—but anyone can learn to fly."

"Yes, but you must want to fly first. Besides, the trip starts in eight weeks. I could never be prepared to fly across the country in such a short amount of time."

"You could if you let me teach you."

I crossed my arms and began to walk again, shaking my head. "It can't be done."

"Armour and Company has not only guaranteed that you'll get the prize money if you complete the trip in thirty days," he said as he stayed where we had been standing, "but they are willing to pay you ten thousand dollars even if it takes you longer than thirty days."

I stopped and turned to him. "Even if I don't make it to California in thirty days?"

"Oui. But you must get there to collect the money."

I wasn't foolish enough to think I could complete the flight in thirty days—but a guaranteed ten thousand dollars would be more than enough to save the orphanage if Mr. Lorenz would extend the deadline again.

I put my hands on my cheeks, feeling torn between fear and hope. Could this be the answer to our problem? Yet how could I even contemplate such a thing? The thought of flying had scared me to death before it killed my sister. Now it terrified me.

"So much could go wrong."

"Oui," he acknowledged, "but I will be with you every step of the way."

"You would still come? Even though we've never—" I couldn't finish the sentence.

"Gotten along?" His eyes were now a brilliant green in the sunshine as he smiled at me. How had he known what I was thinking? "I believe we can overcome our differences." His accent had deepened as his voice lowered. "For your parents' orphanage and for Hope's memory."

If he was willing to proceed with the plans, shouldn't I be willing? But there was so much to consider. I couldn't say no without thinking about Mama and Daddy's future. If I was going to leave them in October, I wanted to make sure they were financially stable.

"I will think about it," I promised him, though I couldn't imagine learning to fly and spending thirty days with him, trying to make it across the country.

It was ridiculous—no matter what he said.