Page 34 of The Tides of Time (Storm Tide #1)

A rmitage must have been exhausted. Lying wrapped in his blanket on the floor of the lower light, he slept deeply long after Lili had awoken and changed into her now-dry clothing.

She laid the blanket she had been using atop the one already draped over Armitage, then pressed a light kiss to his stubbly cheek, careful not to wake him.

She had realized something as she’d sat in the dark the night before. Mr. Pierce had encountered a stranger pulled in by the Tides of Time. That stranger had pled with his son to learn French, had insisted it was imperative that he do so. And that warning had been given twenty-five years before 1873.

It was now the very year that would have happened. She was a traveler over the Tides of Time. She bore no family resemblance, as Armitage did, which would make her entirely unknown to the Pierce family. And Mr. Pierce had known when he’d met her in 1873 that she was a traveler on the tides. He’d known, she now understood, because he’d recognized her. He hadn’t merely recognized the indications of a person pulled through decades, which was why he’d not known the same truth about Géraud, but he’d recognized her. Because they had met before. On the Loftstone beach in 1848.

That moment had been in his past, and he must have known the entire time that it was in her future. He had known where life was taking her. He had known.

Lili pulled on Armitage’s coat. Her shawl hadn’t made the journey with her, but she suspected she would be cold without something to protect her from the wind off the sea. She slipped from the tower, closing the door quietly and carefully.

Bird calls mingled with the sounds of crashing waves. Other than that, the morning was quiet and still. The air was chilled but not cold. It was likely closer to summer than winter. Still, she was grateful for Armitage’s coat. He felt nearby, offering her company as she embarked on a task that made her more nervous than she would have guessed. It also made it feel as if he, in a small way, were part of the warning that would save his parents’ lives in the end.

Her gaze wandered to the cliff face, then upward to the lighthouse and the keepers’ quarters. It had been a safe haven and a home to her ... twenty-five years in the future. It would likely be oddly unfamiliar were she to step inside now.

Armitage’s family was in that home, family members he hadn’t seen in years, whom he mourned deeply. They were so close, but his grandfather’s retelling of the encounter had been of only one traveler, and an unknown one. She didn’t know if changing the past would have unforeseen consequences for the future.

M. Romilly might not actually learn French. Mr. Pierce might toss Lili out when she arrived at the lighthouse in a quarter century. She might somehow erase Armitage.

She wouldn’t risk it.

An hour must have passed as she walked back and forth on that small patch of beach, her eyes alternately on the waves and on the lighthouse. In that hour, she rehearsed what she needed to say when the time came. Mr. Pierce had recounted the conversation. She wanted to re-create it as closely as she could. And she was desperate to convince them to believe her and heed the warnings she’d been charged with delivering.

“Halloo!”

She turned at the sound of the distant voice. Three people were making their way down the cliffside steps. Two men and a woman. Though Lili could not yet see them clearly, she knew who they were. Her stomach twisted, aching in a way that had nothing to do with not yet having eaten. So much rested on this single moment.

As they drew nearer, doubt began bubbling. Had she pieced this puzzle together correctly? Was she certain it was the year she thought it was?

She could see them clearly now, and all three faces made her heart ache with longing and familiarity. In M. and Mme Romilly, she had found refuge and belonging. When her own home had become a place of crushing danger, their home had offered relief. Even in the midst of a blood-stained Paris, there had been hope. Because of them.

Lili hadn’t expected to ever see them again. Yet, there they were. Whole and alive, not facing the dangers of revolutionary Paris. And fifteen years younger than she had known them.

M. Romilly looked so much like his son. How had she not realized the connection sooner?

Mr. Pierce reached her before they did. Beloved, darling Mr. Pierce. Grand-père. She had only just begun calling him that and had found reassurance and hope and tenderness in saying it.

“I would be honored to be your grandfather,” he had said. And he had hugged her and encouraged her.

But he, like the Romillys, looked at her with no hint of recognition and no tender familiarity. She was so pleased to see them that she could have cried, which she never did. And they had no idea who she was.

She needed to focus on her task, and she remembered well what Mr. Pierce had said were her first words to them.

“What year is it?” she asked.

Hesitantly, he answered, “1848.”

Twenty-five years in the past. She was in the right time and place.

“Are you lost?” Mme Romilly asked. It was so odd hearing her speak English, though the French in her voice was unmistakable.

“ Non, je vous attends tous les trois .” She watched M. Romilly and saw confusion. “Do you speak French, monsieur ?”

“I don’t,” he said.

It was the right year, and the warning had not yet been given. This was her chance to make certain this remarkable man, who had saved so many, learned to speak French well enough to survive the journey he and his wife did not yet know they would be making.

“Why do you not know the year?” Mr. Pierce folded his arms tight across his chest. Suspicion dripped off him.

“I cannot tell you that.” She didn’t remember him saying that she had explained her origins, so she dared not do so now. “But I can tell you that I wish only to help. I need to help. It is so very important that I do.”

He angled away from her but never stopped watching her. Where was the trusting and loving grand-père who had shown her so much kindness? She had depended on him during those early days at this lighthouse twenty-five years from now. He was eyeing her now as though she were an intruder, not an honorary granddaughter.

She needed to focus on her task. She couldn’t let herself be distracted.

Setting her shoulders once more, she turned back to M. Romilly. “You must learn French, sir.”

He smiled, and the resemblance to Armitage grew tenfold. “It is a beautiful language.”

She shook her head, attempting to not grow frantic. If she failed ... “I speak not out of a love of the language but from a place of concern. It is crucial that you learn. Essential.”

“ Pourquoi ?” Mme Romilly asked.

“I cannot tell you why.”

Now they were all looking at her with distrust. Three people who had never doubted her, who had buoyed her own confidence when it had flagged, and they were now showing her nothing but skepticism.

“I am not being stubborn,” she told them. “I do not know what might happen if I tell you things you are not meant to know yet.”

At last, some of the suspicion eased in Mme Romilly’s expression. And contrary to what Lili would have expected, that suspicion wasn’t replaced with confusion. There was determination in her eyes instead. “He needs to speak it well, oui ?”

“Extremely well.” Heavens, she could feel tears of desperation sting the back of her eyes. If they didn’t learn, they would die in France. She might never meet them there. They wouldn’t get to continue living their lives together. “Please. Please do not neglect this. I do not want you to lose—” She had to be very careful. Letting her own tenderness for these three beloved people push her to emotional confessions would put them all in peril. “I am asking out of love, which I know makes no sense. Please, Monsieur —Mr. Pierce must learn French. He must.”

“You know his name?” her would-be grand-pére asked, his lips pressed in a tight line.

“ Oui. I know all your names. Monsieur Selwyn Pierce, Monsieur Romilly Pierce, Madame Eleanor Pierce. ”

Was she convincing them? Would they actually listen?

She held M. Romilly’s gaze. “If you will not learn for yourself, learn for your wife. It is important.”

“Essential, you said. Crucial.”

Lili nodded. “More than you could possibly guess.”

“I promise you,” Mme Romilly said, “he will learn.”

“I will,” he said.

“Do you both swear to it?” Lili pressed. “Solemnly vow.”

That brought enough gravity to their expressions to allow her to breathe more easily at last. They had heard her, and they believed her. The Romillys would survive in France long enough to meet her, long enough to save others. They would be together and be as safe as they could be.

Mr. Pierce’s posture had eased a little. He clearly still didn’t trust her, but he, too, was listening.

“I wish I could have heard your wife sing.” Lili clamped her mouth shut. Was she meant to have mentioned the woman she’d heard so many stories about? She would do well to be more circumspect.

“My Peony sings beautifully,” Mr. Pierce acknowledged, his expression softening a little.

“I know.”

“Have you a place to stay?” M. Romilly asked.

She’d been so focused on delivering her message that she’d not even thought about what to do next. “We have only just arrived and have nowhere to go.” But Armitage couldn’t live with his family. If Lili were assessing the situation correctly, his mother was pregnant ... with him. Who knew the consequences of a person meeting his past self? “May we stay for a short time in the lower light? Only until we can sort what we will do next.”

“‘We’?” Mme Romilly repeated. “Have you arrived with someone else?”

Lili nodded. “But I cannot tell you who. Do not ask me more questions, s’il vous plait . There is so very little I can safely tell you.”

“The lower light has to be lit every night,” Pierce said, “and extinguished every morning. Us can’t do that without going inside, where this person us ain’t supposed to see would be.”

She took a breath and proceeded with great caution. “We can do that for you.” Silently, she pleaded with them all yet again not to ask too many questions. She could see how deeply intrigued they were.

Mme Romilly came to the rescue, speaking in French. “There is not much of a store of food in there. I’ll bring a basket and leave it by the door so you’ll not be hungry. When you’ve determined where you mean to go, hang a rag from the high window facing the upper light; then we will know to begin anew the tending of that light.”

Seeing this woman, who had shown her such kindness and protection, younger but still so obviously the same person made Lili’s heart swell. Hearing her speak French brought a sense of peace. “Thank you,” Lili said in their native tongue. “Thank you for everything.”

Emotion bubbled over. This was the woman who had proved a dear friend in Paris, who had saved her. She was also Armitage’s mother, whom he grieved and longed for. And Lili wouldn’t ever see her again.

Adieu did not seem the appropriate farewell. Lili’s past self would meet Mme Romilly’s future self. She settled on, “ á bient?t. ”

Lili very nearly ran, afraid she would turn back and reveal too much. The door to the lower light was unlocked. She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, doing her best to simply breathe.

But Armitage stood at the window, peeking out from behind a curtain, no doubt watching his parents walk away. Lili crossed to Armitage and wrapped her arms around him. Emotion shuddered through him even as her tears began to fall.