Page 36 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
“What do you think I should do?”
Jenny paused for a long while. “It’s not my place and not my heart. William is as good a man, perhaps a better one, if that’s your heart’s desire. It’ll be up to you to choose the life you want.” She left the room, leaving me full of confusion.
I sat there, staring at the wall. Did I even know which path was the one for me?
I would have to make a choice, and my actions would hurt someone.
With a monumental decision to make, it was fitting that Death chose this time to make an appearance.
Ten
Twelve years, with not a word or a whisper.
Twelve years of looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to appear.
Twelve years, and he was back the day before we were to leave.
The announcement of his arrival came in the form of a pocket watch. It was golden and perfect, etched with intertwining spirals and a curlicued letterNon the back.
It sat on my dressing table, not there an instant before.
One glance, and I knew it was from him.
As I held it, an image of William popped into my head, echoing our conversation about time. My time had finally come, and all I could feel was dread.
A pristine white rectangular card sat beside the watch, the paper silky soft. It named a local tearoom frequented by the Creole women of color I knew for tomorrow morning at nine.
I was to leave for France at one.
Why did it have to be the morning of the trip?
Why did it have to happen at all?
Sickness roiled through me the rest of the day, indecision rippling as I gathered my stories, switching them from the pile I would take, to the trash, to back again. What would he want to see? Taking the watch as inspiration, I selected everything I’d written related to time: the way I had experienced its passing and, in doing so, had borne witness tomiraculous developments—the growth of my friendship with Eulalie, the flourishing of her business, and her family. The rising fortunes and prospects of the Creole women who worked beside me. The progression of my courtship with Jacques. I added all the articles I’d written for the paper, returned to me by its editor, and pulled everything together, hoping it was close to what he wanted.
The enormity of my task rushed back. What if I failed? Everything—everyone—would be forever gone in the blink of an eye.
The day passed in a haze as the picking and packing were completed. I could see no further than nine a.m. the next day.
I slept fitfully that night, images of fire sweeping across the earth, the screams of thousands in the air, and the steady ticking of a clock in the background.
I awoke as dawn broke across the sky, dread thick in my belly. I couldn’t lie there, so I pulled on my clothes.
“Where are you going?” Jacques asked, stretching.
“Just a quick stop. I want to say goodbye one last time to Eulalie,” I fibbed. I’d already dropped by the day before to say goodbye and see her new babe, a little girl my friend had named after her love, very pale with wisps of blondish-brown hair and hazel eyes.
Jacques nodded. “The boat leaves at one p.m. sharp. I’ll have William drive you there.”
“That’s not necessary.”
He shook his head. “He’ll need to drop the carriage with my brother for storage after taking the last trunks to the dock.”
“Jacques—”
“No arguing. We’ll have a smooth trip together, you’ll see.” He jumped out of bed. We dined on the last food in the pantry, as all the other goods had gone with Sarah and Jenny—Eulalie had taken them on.
Jacques gave his last directions to William. “Get her there on time! And let me know about the horses.”
