But whatever fear I had once had for the hourglass door was swept away in a rising tide of peace. Without its counterpart, the door was just a door. It no longer had the power to hurt me or the ones I loved. It would no longer rule my life.
An impossible breeze began blowing behind me, a push of warm air that tossed my hair over my shoulders, across my cheeks, into my eyes. The sand beneath me swirled up in golden spirals, miniature tornados that raced across the bank toward the door.
The river hummed and thrummed.
The bank hissed in the breeze.
The sand built up against the front of the door, mounding higher and higher like desert dunes.
The breeze turned into a gust into a wind into a storm.
The door trembled and shook.
An enormous clap of sound rang through the emptiness—a shot, a shout. Or a door slamming closed.
A crack bisected the door vertically, a clean slice that traveled straight through the hourglass carved on the front.
The two halves seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and then, with a rumbling sigh, the door dissolved into uncountable grains of sand.
And then the river washed them all away.
Epilogue
The Cathedral of the Angels was built during the fifteenth century and has remained a classic example of Italian Renaissance architecture to this day.” Our tour guide gestured for the group of fifteen students wearing matching coats with the Emery College name and logo stitched across the breast to follow him deeper into the cathedral.
When Emery College announced that its winter study-abroad session would be held in none other than Florence, Italy, I was the first person to sign up—after Dante. An entire month of touring the finest museums, eating at the finest restaurants, and studying the classics? And doing it all with a gorgeous Italian man by my side? Sounded like a dream come true to me.
“Abby, Dante,” my classmate Katie whispered. “Are you guys coming or what?” She motioned us closer, but Dante slowed his steps, lingering in front of the painted mural on the wall.
“We’ll catch up,” I said, waving her to go ahead and rejoin the group. We wore the same coats as the rest of our classmates, but Dante and I were the only two students who had been to the cathedral once before, though no one but us knew that. The cathedral was still as breathtakingly beautiful as the first time I’d seen it, but the building certainly showed its age. In my memory, the stones were perfectly cut and polished, not crumbling along the edges. I remembered the gold leaf gleaming, not flaking off and looking tarnished.
While Dante studied the mural, I wandered back to the alcoves where a row of statues stood. I was curious to see if what I remembered had remained.
The angel was still there.
His wings were still curved, but the tip of one had been broken off completely. Tears covered his cheeks, but now he also wept from a crack that cut across his eyes.
He had been through a lot and had suffered considerable damage at Zo’s hands, but I was glad to see that he hadn’t been broken beyond saving.
Dante came up behind me and read the small plaque that had been posted on the wall next to the angel. “St. Raphael. Patron saint of—among other things—apothecaries, blind people, happy meetings, travelers, and young people.”
“Sounds like my kind of angel,” I said. I bumped Dante’s shoulder. “I think he looks a little like you.”
He leaned close. “Then you should know that he is also the patron saint of lovers.”
I turned and tilted my face up to meet his. “Is he, now? So, would he approve of us kissing in a church, do you think?”
“Absolutely.” Dante cupped my head in his hands and kissed me with an intensity and a focus that he usually reserved for when he was working with time.
“Abby,” he said, when he finally released my lips. “I have something for you. A present, a secret, and a promise.”
My eyes fluttered open. “A present? What’s the occasion?”
“The one-year anniversary of our first kiss.”
I smiled. “Um, I hate to break it to you, but in that case, you’re two weeks late.”
“Would you believe me if I said that I had lost track of time?” Dante held me loosely around the waist and arched an eyebrow.
“Maybe,” I granted. “It depends on the present.”
He reached into the pocket of his Emery College coat and withdrew a small golden box, which he carefully placed in my palm.
I looked at him, then down at the box. I lifted the lid and gasped.
Nestled into the soft interior was a beautiful, golden oval locket. Like my long-lost, heart-shaped silver locket, this one had been carved and marked on the outside. But the markings on this locket clearly displayed the initials D and A, intertwined until it was impossible to see where one letter started and the other letter ended.
“Do you like it?” Dante asked quietly. “I made it especially for you. I’ve been working on it for a long time; it took me longer to finish than I thought. I’m not as good working with metal as I am with wood, but—”
“I love it,” I interrupted, unable to take my eyes off the locket.
“Good,” Dante said. “And now, the secret. I have been meaning to tell you this for some time.” He hesitated, then said carefully, “I’m no longer a Master of Time.”
“What?” I looked up from the locket in surprise.
“I gave up being a Master of Time,” he said again.
“What are you talking about? When?”
“The day you set Orlando free. I told you then that destroying the door would mean that no one would be able to travel through time again.”
“I didn’t think that included you,” I said. “Otherwise—”
“Otherwise, what? You wouldn’t have burned the door? You would have stayed a prisoner to the bank? You and Valerie and Orlando?”
I didn’t answer; I didn’t have to. I brushed my fingers over the initials on the locket. My thoughts whirled in confusion. How had I not known? I thought back over the last few months, searching for a clue or a hint that Dante had been changed. But there was nothing unusual. Dante was in all my memories, right by my side. And in all that time, I didn’t remember him ever traveling to the bank or along the river. It hadn’t seemed suspicious; I’d assumed he hadn’t traveled through time because he didn’t have to anymore. I hadn’t suspected it was because he couldn’t anymore.
Dante brushed his hand across my cheek. “Abby, it was my choice. Your wish may have set you free, but the power of it touched me as well. And the same way Valerie and Orlando had the choice to remember or to forget, I was given the choice whether or not to stay a Master of Time. It was a simple choice. Leo has seen five hundred years pass by, but we both know the toll it took. I didn’t want that to be my future. I didn’t want to live alone—forever. So when I had the chance, I took it. I chose to let it go.”
I couldn’t speak. Dante’s sacrifice was too monumental; I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.
“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened? Why did you wait until now?”
“Because I wanted it to be here.”
“In Italy?”
Dante shook his head. “Here, at the beginning of this new part of your life.” He covered my hands with his. His gray eyes shone silver, endless and bright. “Because the truth is I chose life—with all its unpredictability and impossibilities and messiness, and with all its joy and beauty and love. I chose you, Abby. I want to be where you are. I want to be by your side as your life unfolds. Not as a Master of Time who will never age, never die. But as me—as Dante di Alessandro Casella.” His voice dropped and his hands shook ever so slightly. “If you’ll have me.”
It wasn’t even a question. It wasn’t even a choice.
“Yes,” I said, and when the word passed my lips, I felt like I was standing on the summer sun.
We both looked down at the locket in my hands. “Dante and Abby. Always and forever,” he promised.
r /> “Always and forever,” I repeated.
“Until the end of time.” Dante fastened the golden locket around my throat, his fingers lingering on the faint scars on my skin. He slid his hands along the curve of my neck, and I turned my face to his, finding his mouth, claiming it with my own.
It was a kiss that shook me to my very soul. Somewhere deep inside me, I felt like a door had been flung open, spilling out white light, welcoming me to my new life. A life where I could be with Dante and together we could follow our dreams wherever they took us. Together. Always and forever.
I couldn’t wait to go through that door and see what waited for me beyond.
I knew I would never let go of this moment.
And I would never look back.
Reading Guide
1. Zo uses music to strip away Abby’s memories, while Dante uses poetry to bring them back. Are there songs, poems, or other works of art that have changed the way you thought or felt?
2. Orlando struggles in the story with wanting to be a hero but feeling like he has failed. What does it mean to be a hero? Which characters demonstrated heroic qualities in the story?
3. The characters all have different gifts and talents that work on the bank: Dante can see the future; Abby can speak the language of time. What are some of your gifts and talents? How can you use them to help other people?
4. Trust is an important element of the story. What is the relationship between trust and love? Can you trust someone you don’t love? Can you love someone you don’t trust?
5. The idea of not looking back is repeated through the book. Are there dangers to looking back too much? What about not looking back enough?
6. When Orlando says that he doesn’t like to make wishes and be reminded of what he doesn’t have, Abby says that he has missed the whole point of wishing. What is the point of wishing? What wishes have you made? Have any of them come true?
7. Dante writes letters to his parents to help reassure them that he will be all right and to tell them the good parts of his story. If you wrote a letter to your parents, what would you say?
8. Zo says that “a promise is a promise, no matter who makes it.” Is he right? Are there some promises that should be broken?
9. Dante tells Abby that forever is a blank canvas and a place where creation happens. What do you think forever looks like? If you could live forever, what would you do?
10. Dante asks Abby, “What did we come here for if not to change things?” Is there anything about your past you would like to change? If given the choice, would you choose to accept the good and the bad? Would you choose to remember, like Valerie? Or choose to forget, like Orlando?
Acknowledgments
Writing this trilogy has been a life-changing experience. I learned so much about myself, my craft, and my dreams that it would take another book to list them all. I also learned a lot about the people around me—namely that they are incredible, wonderful, devoted people who care about me more than I deserve and who love this story almost as much as I do.
Believe me when I say that the story of Abby and Dante would not have been possible without the help and support and encouragement of the following people:
The heroic team at Shadow Mountain, headed up by the Fantastic Four: Chris Schoebinger, Emily Watts, Richard Erickson, and Tonya Facemyer.
My stalwart writing group: Tony, Crystal, Annalisa, Pam, and Mary. And a special thanks to Heidi Taylor, who has read this book in more stages and more times than anyone else (maybe even me!) and who never failed to give me honest feedback when I needed it (and endless encouragement when I needed that, too).
My alpha and omega readers: Ally Condie, Becca Wilhite, Josh Perkey, Karen Hoover, Cindi Cox, Valerie Hill, Anna Maxwell, and Jackie Benack. Every single one of them gave me amazing feedback, asked the best questions, and helped make this book soar.
My mom, who, during my darkest days, reminded me of the light inside of me and helped me remember what I needed to know.
My brother, Dennis, whose help included writing a draft of the ending of this book for me as a birthday present. After careful consideration, I ultimately didn’t use his suggestions, though perhaps the story would have been more exciting with a zombie attack after all . . .
And I can’t forget two men whose words of wisdom rang through my house night after night as I wrote and rewrote this story: Tim Gunn: “Make it work!” and Steve Holt: “Steve Holt!”
And finally, to the love of my life, Tracy. There are a million and one reasons why I dedicated all three books to him and he knows all of them. This time, though, it’s for encouraging me to blow up the Buy More. For making me lose Lucky Strikes. And for knowing when to catch me when I fall, and when to let me fly. This victory is for you, Tracy. I love you—always and forever.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Reading Guide
Acknowledgments
Lisa Mangum, The Forgotten Locket
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