Page 85 of Across Time

I cast her a doubtful glance. “You want me to tell you what it was like to have sex with your brother? Because I have a brother myself, and honestly I’d be scarred for life if someone provided me that information.”

She flushes and smacks her head. “Ugh. Dieu. No. I meant the reunion. I’m going to forget you even said the rest.”

I bite my lip, trying to recall the parts of our reunion that weren’t sex. “It was great,” I say vaguely. I think of him pushing me against the refrigerator and want to chase him into the fields for another round. “We argued a bit. He was worried I wouldn’t stay and I was worried he didn’t want me to stay and then it all worked out.”

“Yes, I figured all this,” she says, waving her hand. “But what are your plans? Have you set a wedding date?”

I glance at her. I don’t understand how we went from no talk of marriage whatsoever to setting a date. “Um…not yet. I just got here. I’m not even thinking about marriage yet.”

She raises a brow. “Well, that makes one of you, then. I’m certain my brother would not say the same.”

I throw out my hands. “We haven’t even dated yet.”

“Dated?” she asks with an incredulous laugh. “What did you think occurred here all summer? Did you think Henri always takes picnics and goes riding and watches the sunset each night on his own? The two of you courted more than any married couple in this entire province. Possibly more than any couple in this country, if you look at in terms of hours.” Her smile fades. “Amelie, I love you and I want nothing more than for you to be with my brother, but if you’re not serious about him, you can’t do this.”

“I just gave up living in my own time!” I cry. “Of course I’m serious about him. What I did is far more serious than any stupid piece of paper.”

“Except that stupid piece of paper is all Henri will have to know you’re bound to him,” she replies. “And you were perfectly ready to agree to that stupid piece of paper with a man you don’t love just a few weeks ago, so why not with Henri? If you’re still unsure, I think you need to tell him that.”

I know I’m not unsure about him, but she has a point. Why am I so reluctant to go down that path? If Henri and I were living in my time and he asked me to marry him, I’d agree with ease, because I know that world. I know who I am in it. But I don’t have a place in this one yet.

“In spite of my months here, I don’t really know how to function in your time,” I explain. “It’s just…a lot.”

“But I’ll help you,” she says eagerly. “I’ll teach you to cook and show you how everything is done. And when you have children, we’ll figure it out together, I suppose.”

I exhale. When I came back here, I wasn’t picturing much of anything beyond moments with Henri. It seemed so easy to give up my own time because I wanted him. And I still do, enough to suffer in all the ways I will to stay. But I’m not sure that life on the farm is what I want forever. I can learn to cook and clean and do the laundry and rear children in a rural village, but the part of me that wanted to finish college and have a career is still there. And she doesn’t want to spend long afternoons over a copper tub scrubbing laundry or making cassoulet. That future I laid out in Paris, when Henri asked what I’d do if I had to stay—was it a ridiculous fantasy for him? Because it wasn’t for me.

“It’s not that I don’t think I am capable of doing these things,” I finally reply. “It’s just that where I’m from, women at least theoretically have the same opportunities that men do. There are fathers who stay home while their wives work, and there are couples who share all that stuff. So I’m willing to live in 1938, but Henri will need to be willing to make our lives a little more modern than he may want. It’s not that I’m worried I’ll change my mind. It’s that I’m worried he’ll change his.”

She glances at me uncertainly. “I know my brother will agree to any condition you lay out, but there’s not much here for a woman to do. You could teach, or work in a shop, I suppose. And you’ve seen how much time the farm takes for Henri. You can’t expect him to come home after that and start making the bread?”

I swallow. “No, of course not.”

I leave the conversation there, because Marie does not understand that Henri isn’t exactly wed to this life either. He’s doing this for her, but once she’s made her choices, once she’s no longer his to hide and protect, he’ll be free to do anything. And I hope that he will.

I remain inside through the afternoon with Marie, helping her complete all the mind-numbing domestic tasks that are a part of her day. Despite what I told her, she is determined to teach me how to do these things on my own. It’s impossible for her to understand how much easier life will be very soon— that machines will replace so much of her labor.

All afternoon as I make the bread and scrub the floor and help with dinner, I’m looking out the window, longing just for the sight of him.

“Thirty-six,” Marie says out of nowhere.

“Excuse me?”

She smiles. “You’ve looked out the window thirty-six times in the past two hours.”

I shrug, trying to pretend I’m not embarrassed to be called out. “I did just travel back five decades to see him, you know.”

“You looked out the window back then too,” she says. And then she laughs. “Ah. Poor Amelie. So stricken any time he went to the pump for water.”

I raise a brow. “I can’t believe I’m taking shit from a girl infatuated with a priest.”

Her mouth purses. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. But if you want to tell Henri that dinner is nearly ready, go ahead.”

I glance at the stove, where the water isn’t even boiling yet. “Dinner’s nowhere close to being ready.”

She bites her lip, barely hiding her grin. “Yes, but I thought it might take you an hour or more to get the job done.”

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