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 cœur est avec votre cœur,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 heraeroplane. 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 hestillmeant 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.
