The nurse who'd been there when I woke up, I could see now resembled Dye. Could I have glimpsed her and brought her into my dream as a young servant? And Ennis had said the name of my mysterious benefactor was St. James. I'd surely heard the name mentioned while I was in my coma. It would make sense that I'd incorporate it into the dream.
If it had been a dream.
I was torn between wanting those eighteen months to have happened and hoping that it had all been in my head. If it was a dream, it would fade, taking the empty hole in my chest with it. If they weren't real – if he wasn't real – then I wouldn't hurt like this once my mind and heart accepted that none of it was real. I could get my strength back and move on with my life.
But if it wasn’t real, then that meant the man I loved was only a figment of my imagination. We hadn't fallen in love. Hadn't gotten married.
Hadn't lost our child.
I wasn't sure which would be worse. The pain of loss, or the pain of knowing that none of it had ever existed at all.
I could find out, I supposed, if I truly wanted to. But I didn't know if that was what I wanted. Hell, I didn't know what I thought about anything anymore. I could barely wrap my head around the fact that I was sitting in a room with electricity.
My train of thought was interrupted as the door to my room slowly opened, and a man walked in. Raven black hair. Tall. Lean.
Gracen.
I felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. He was here. Dressed in slacks and a fitted short-sleeved shirt. Hair cut shorter than I remembered.
And a scar on his left cheek, a jagged cut down his cheekbone to his jaw.
It didn't have that faded look of a scar he'd had for years, but it wasn't one that was still healing either.
My mind raced with possible explanations, only to stop at the idea that I had dreamed all the past events in my mind. I'd created Gracen Lightwood from this man. That had to be it. There was no other plausible explanation.
Especially since he was walking toward me without a trace of recognition on his face.
“Miss Daviot, this is Gracen St. James, the gentleman who owns the center.” The nurse was back, but I didn't even look at her when she spoke.
Gracen St. James.
My heart sank. I had taken both names and brought them into my dreams. I'd caught a glimpse of the nurse and created Dye. I'd seen this man's profile on the side without a scar and had made him into my husband.
It was the only plausible explanation, and it was killing me.
“Miss Daviot, I cannot tell you how pleased I am to see you awake.” His voice was smooth, cultured, with a hint of a British accent.
Exactly how I remembered him sounding...except without any of the familiar warmth I'd become used to.
“Where has your brother gone?” he asked, looking around. “I don't believe I have ever seen your room without some member of your family in it.”
“He went to call our parents.”
Gracen glanced at the nurse. “I have some paperwork for Mr. and Mrs. Daviot to fill out. If you could retrieve it from my office for me, then let Ennis know that I need to speak to his sister but should be finished by the time his parents arrive.”
“Of course.”
Before the door had finished closing behind her, Gracen was coming toward me, his eyes blazing. I had half a second to register the change before he captured my mouth in a fierce, consuming kiss.
When he finally drew back, my head was spinning for a whole new reason.
“You know me.” The words forced their way past the lump in my throat.
He drew back, his eyes meeting mine, confusion and fear written in their depths. “Of course I know you, my love.” He put his hand on my cheek. “You are my wife.”
The world spun again, but, this time, it felt more like it was righting itself rather than spinning outside my control. Still, it didn't answer the millions of questions racing around my head.
“How...?” I didn’t even know where to start. “What...?”
My eyes fell on the scar on his cheek. That was something I could ask about. It looked to be at least a few months old. I reached up to touch it, stroking his cheekbone gingerly even though it was past the stage of causing him any pain.
“Was this from...Trenton?”
Gracen nodded, his eyes darkening as he caught my hand.
“What happened?” It pained me to realize that I'd hurt everyone I loved. My family had lost me for nearly two years, and then Gracen had lost me for who knew how long.
He slid away from me, turning his head so that the scar faced away from me.
“Gracen, sweetheart,” I murmured. “Don't hide from me.”
“I’m sorry that you have to look at it.”
I gently turned Gracen’s head so that he was looking straight at me. “I’m not. God, I’m so glad you’re safe. That you're real.”
“I'm real.” He leaned his forehead against mine. “And we are here. Together.”
Chapter 27
As much as I wanted to sit here and enjoy the fact that I hadn't lost him, I knew that there were things I needed to hear before my parents arrived.
“What happened, Gracen?” I sat back. “I feel like I'm losing my mind.”
He gave me a soft smile that still carried some pain in it. “It is a long story, but I can give you all of the important parts before your family returns.”
I took his hand and squeezed it. Whatever he had to say, I needed to hear it.
“That day, at Trenton, I saw you disappear.”
I sucked in a breath. Fuck.
“One second, you were there, and I was trying to warn you about a soldier behind you. Then he hit you with the stock of his musket, and before you could land on the ground, you were gone.” He squeezed my hand this time, tight enough to tell me how much that moment had affected him. “I went a little crazy when I saw that.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How crazy?”
He gestured to his cheek with his free hand. “I attempted to – what is the phrase? Ah, yes. Go out in a blaze of glory. As you can see, it didn't work. I woke up in the medical tent with my face sliced open.”
“Gracen...”
He gave me that smile again, the one that was only a shadow of what I remembered. “While I was there, trying to figure out how I could live without you, Washington came to see me. He told me that the battle had been won, and that one of the men we had taken prisoner was a British officer. Corporal Quincy Axe.”
My eyebrows shot up. That was definitely not where I'd seen this story going.
“Axe said that he had information for me that I would consider important.”
“You already had all of the essential dates and information written down,” I said. “About the war, and about other things in the future.”
“Which was why I intended to say no,” he continued. “But Washington asked me to speak with Quincy as a personal favor.”
I could see that, but I wasn't sure what Quincy could possibly have known that would be important enough to talk about when time was limited.
“Quincy wanted me to speak with Washington on his behalf, to request that he be released back to the British army. As you may imagine, I was not feeling very generous, but I told him that if I found what he offered to be worthy, I would speak to Washington on his behalf.”
“And was it?” I asked.
Gracen nodded, the expression on his face tight. “Quincy told me that our son was alive.”
It felt like all of the air had been sucked from my body as I shook my head. “That's not...no...no.”
He leaned toward me, wrapping both of his hands around mine, careful not to jar my IV. “My father had confided in Quincy that he intended to raise our child, to fix the mistakes he made with me.”
“I was there, Gracen. When the baby was born.”
“You passed out,” he reminded me. “My father made sure that I would stay away. He sent Dye on an errand that would keep her from you. He paid the d
octor and the midwife to send Alize and Celina away, then to bring the baby to him, to lie to us and say our son died from birth defects so horrific that we could not see our child's body.”
“We left him.” Panic was rising in me again, and I couldn't stop it this time. “We left our son with your father. In the past. Gracen, what did we do?”
“Honor.” He put his hands on my cheeks. “He's here.”
“What?”
“Our son.” Gracen's voice was calm, controlled. “Listen to me. Our son is here. I didn't leave him.”
“How is that possible?” I clung to the words, knowing that Gracen wouldn't lie to me, not about this.
“I'd come up with a plan, but it would only work if I was dead,” he continued. “So I made a deal with Washington for information on the future. He put me on the list of those killed in action and delivered a letter to Benjamin Franklin on my behalf.”
“How did that get our son back?”
“It was not only about getting our son back. It was us trying to get to you.” Gracen lifted our hands and kissed my knuckles. “Once I was declared dead, I went back to the estate and enlisted the help of Dye to kidnap Alexander.”
“Alexander?”
Gracen smiled. “My father named him George, after the king of course. What better way to show one's loyalty? I changed his name to Alexander, in honor of our friend, Alexandre.”
“St. James.”
Gracen nodded. “My plan needed me to have a new name. Once I took Alexander from my father, I set out to find Alize and Celina. With their help and instructions delivered to Benjamin Franklin, I arranged to have investments and businesses set up in the name Gracen St. James. Including several veteran charities that I hoped would help me find you.”
I stared at him. For someone who'd never seen a single time travel movie, he sure as hell knew what to do.
“Once I had everything set, I took Alexander to the place where I first found you. It was the best place I could think of to begin looking for a way to you. Right after we arrived there, I was ambushed and lost consciousness. When I woke, Alexander and I were here.”
“And then you found me?”
He nodded. “All of my instructions had been followed to the letter, so I found myself in possession of a large estate, and more than enough money to produce all of the papers I needed for Alexander and myself, as well as search for you.”
I shook my head, trying to imagine how strange it would have been for him to be popped so suddenly in the twenty-first century. Planes. Trains. Automobiles. And so much more.
“But how did you get along?” I asked him, trying to conceive of the enormity of it. “I mean identification? Money? A driver’s license.”
He grinned. “I just pretended I was a foreigner and people were very helpful. I had money, so I hired a driver and rode in that metal death trap you call a car.”
I laughed, wishing I could have witnessed him seeing a plane for the first time. Or a phone. Or a toilet! But we could talk about all of that another time. Right now, I needed to know what happened.
“Once I found you, I had you transferred to one of the several non-profits established in the name of the St. James family...since Alexander and I are the last living relatives of Alexandre St. James. Quite an elaborate paper trail had been set up by Alize and Franklin claiming that Alize married a man in secret, then was widowed shortly after the conception of their child. She and Celina moved out West, so there was nothing to dispute the line of descendants to me. But even with all the wealth at my disposal, I still had to wait for you to wake up.” He pulled me into his arms. “It has been the longest three months of my life, watching you lay there, not knowing if you would open your eyes.”
This all seemed too good to be real. I'd made the decision to stay with him, but I'd had no more control over staying than I had over going. Not actively looking for a way back to my own time was different than planning to leave everything behind. He'd sought out a way to get to me.
“You gave up everything for me.”
He pulled back and looked down at me, a strange expression on his face. “No, my love, you are everything.”
Chapter 28
The door opening broke the moment and Gracen pulled away. I almost asked him what was wrong, then I realized that, to everyone here, we were complete strangers. All my family knew was that some rich man had taken on my case because I'd been in the army. If they walked in on an embrace, things would be even more complicated to explain.
We had a lot we needed to figure out, but knowing that he was here, that our son was alive, gave me hope that we could get it all worked out.
“Mr. St. James, the Daviots are here.” The nurse opened the door wide and stepped aside.
Tears spilled over as my parents rushed in, Ennis following close behind. All the times I wished I had them with me for comfort or guidance came rushing back. Given a choice, I would have chosen to stay with Gracen, but that didn't make me appreciate my family any less. It didn't seem possible that I’d be able to have it all. My husband and son. My parents and brother.
“Where have you been?” Mom asked when she finally released me. “Where were you all this time?”
“Marcy.” Dad put his hand on her arm.
“It's okay, Dad.” I shot a glance at Gracen, and he gave a slight nod. He'd follow whatever story I told. I decided to keep it simple. “I don't remember anything.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Mom wiped at her eyes.
“Seriously, Mom.” I reached out and took her hand. “It's like I told Ennis. I remember renting a car, leaving the airport. Driving down the highway. The accident. And then, nothing. Not until I woke up here.”
“We're going to find the person who took you.” Dad's voice was gruff with restrained emotion.
“I'm back, and that's what matters,” I said.
“They won’t get away with what they did to you, what they put this family through,” Mom insisted.
“I don't remember anything,” I repeated. “And I'm guessing that there weren't any clues where I was found or any trace evidence on me or my clothes. I won't be able to give the police anything new.”
“We're not giving up,” Dad said. “We'll do whatever it takes–”
“Peter, Marcy.” Gracen came up to the bed, and it took all of my self-control not to grab his hand. “If I may. We have several excellent therapists on staff here, and their services are offered free of charge as well. They can help Honor come to terms with what happened to her, which may lead to memories returning.”
“That sounds good,” I said quickly. “I'll set up an appointment, and if I remember anything, I'll let the police know.” I squeezed my mother's hand. “But right now, I just want to enjoy being back.”
“We have your room all set up,” Mom said, brushing hair back from my face. “The army sent us your things, so it's all waiting for you at the house.”
Right. My room. At their house.
I couldn't stop myself from glancing at Gracen. His face was blank, making me wonder what he thought about my parents making plans for me to go home with them.
“I spoke with Dr. Fisher, and he advised that we keep Honor here overnight for observation.” Gracen addressed my parents rather than looking at me. “He'll be by tomorrow morning for a thorough check-up, then we can discharge her.”
“One of us has been here every day,” Mom said. “We can stay one more.”
I shook my head. “I'm fine. You guys should go home and rest. You look exhausted. All of you.”
And they did. When I was in the past, I felt some guilt over what I knew my parents must have been going through, but I told myself that I had no say in the matter. Now, seeing the toll my disappearance had taken, I couldn't help but feel like I'd been selfish for wanting to stay.
“We will take good care of her,” Gracen added. “And I'm sure you have some last minute things you might wish to get ready before she arrives.”
Dad nodded as he turned to Gra
cen, stretching out a hand. “We can't tell you how grateful we are for all you've done.”
“It was my pleasure.” Gracen shook my father's hand. “I am just thankful that your family has a happy ending.”
Something twisted inside me at his words. They sounded like a goodbye. I told myself that wasn't possible. Gracen hadn't gone through so much to get to me only to walk away.
“If you will excuse me.” He smiled at each of us, but it didn't reach his eyes. He left without looking back.
“That man has been a true godsend,” Mom said. “He brought on the best neurologists, hired nurses to care for you round the clock.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“There are three other families here,” Ennis explained. “And they all have the best things to say about this place.”
“How long has it been here?” I managed to ask.
“Established in 1989,” Mom answered. “By his father, I believe.”
I could feel the blood drain from my face. “His father?”
“Yes, dear.” Mom frowned. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing.” I took a slow breath. Gracen told me that he'd set up a paper trail for his fictional ancestors. That was the father she meant. Roston Lightwood was dead and buried. He couldn't hurt my family anymore.
“You should rest,” Mom said. “We don't want anything keeping you from coming home tomorrow.”
I nodded in agreement. I wasn't so sure about the rest, but I definitely needed time to think. I never imagined that returning home would be almost as jarring as when I'd gone back in time.
“We'll be back first thing,” she said as she leaned over me and kissed my forehead. “If you need anything at all, you have them call us.”
I nodded again even though I knew I wouldn't call. I loved my family, and I was thrilled to find them alive and well, but I had too much in my head and in my heart right now. I needed time to sort it out. Time...and a talk with Gracen.
After they left, I sank back against the pillows and ran my hands through my hair. It was longer than I remembered. Yet one more thing to adjust to, though definitely one of the easiest. Being back in my time wouldn’t be as simple as I thought it would be.