The Iron Quill (28 page)

We shared the best breakfast possible, just the two of us and, of course, the perfect three-sided view from his dining room. Finally full, I leaned back and finished off my cranberry juice.

Deciding to capitalize on all the things I was grateful for, I brought up something I was sure Wes would feel good about—besides our new life together.

“I’m really happy that you have Dr. Thomas back. It’s like fate knew exactly what you needed. Now you’re about to release one amazing cure and who knows how many more to follow. It’s perfect.”

He took his last sip of orange juice and then reached over to touch my cheek with his fingertips. “Yes . . . it is.”

He smiled softly, but it didn’t move up to his eyes, telling me he was holding something back. A few quick thoughts of what it might be ran through my mind, hoping it wasn’t related to last night in any way.

Sure, finding a cure for the cancers and diseases would be hard, but working together with him and Dr. Lyon would be perfect. Even fun, I imagined. So why the look of seriousness?

“What’s the matter, Wes?” I asked, feeling self-conscious.

He shook his head nonchalantly, “Nothing.” Then he leaned over and gave me a kiss. “Nothing at all
Mrs
. Wilson.”

Hearing him say my new name made me smile, and pulled his smile into his eyes, but I pressed further, “Then what’s going on?”

He leaned back about to change the subject, so I moved myself onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck with his eyes turned to me.

“Tell me, Wes. Please. ‘Be honest with each other,’ remember?” His gaze melted into mine and he put his arms around my waist. “Please?” I whispered again.

I waited for a few moments as he gathered his thoughts. When they didn’t turn into words, I gave him a squeeze.

“Okay.” His voice was soft and flowed through my soul in a way where I knew nothing would take away anything we had accomplished up until this point. At least, nothing I could think of.

“Sophie,” he began, interrupting my self-assuring thoughts, “I didn’t want Dr. Thomas to come with me just so he could find cures for other people.” He repositioned me so I was facing him more directly, and the sparkle in his eyes returned. “I want him to . . . find a cure . . . for me, too. I want him to fix me.”

“You
what
?”

“I want him to change me back.”

“But I don’t understand. How, I mean . . . what are you thinking? You can’t change back.”

“Why not?”

“Because everything in you is changed already. Your blood, everything.”

“Yeah, but what happens if he replaces it with regular blood again. Maybe he can reverse it.”

“
What
?” I stood up. “Wes, you’re scaring me now.”

He pulled me back down. “Listen.”

I shook my head. “I can’t. Please don’t. We just got to a point where everything is perfect, and I was content knowing that if I die, I’ll find you again. And now you’re talking about putting yourself at risk. No.
No way
.”

“Everything is not perfect. If anything happens to y—”

“Nothing will. I’m cured. I’m perfectly fine.”

“I know you are, but it’s not over. You still have to be monitored for side effects. These cures take time to perfect and anything can go wrong. I won’t sit around while we wait and see.”

“I can’t think about something happening to you. Please don’t make me think that. It’s too risky.”

“Sophie, they have things like dialysis now and ways I think it could work. I mean, I don’t know, but it’s worth looking into. If Dr. Carter can’t do it, then we won’t try it.”

“Even if it were possible, why? Why would you? If something happens to me, you’ll die and we won’t ever find each other again.”

He moved my bangs out of my face and raised my chin to his. “I don’t believe that. I think the whole reason you have never had a full life is because our destinies have been artificially altered. I want to set it right. Like it’s supposed to be.”

“Wes, you were supposed to die at sixteen years old. You’re trading
my
life for
yours
. No.”

He started swaying his knee back and forth, calming me with a rocking motion, and then he got a look in his eyes that spoke of more secrets.

“Wes, what else are you not telling me?”

“Nothing, it’s just . . . “

My eyes widened.
More?
“What? What is it?”

“I’ve been having dreams.” He paused, and I waited anxiously. “Of us. You and me.”

“Okay? What about you and me?”

“I was old and you were, too.”

The sound of those words softened my heart, but my brain still twisted with anxiety.

“Wes, I won’t risk your life for a dream.”

He grabbed my face, demanding my complete attention, as if he didn’t already have it.

“I don’t think they were dreams. I think they were memories.” I shook my head, not understanding. “Did you hear me?
Memories
. We were wearing clothes, not of this century or even the last one, and we were rocking in chairs on a front porch of some farm I’ve never seen. It was us.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I think there is more history to our lives than Wes and Amelia. Something further back, that neither one of us remembers.”

I took in what he was saying, trying to make sense of it. If we were true soul mates then we could’ve been together before Wes was changed, but it didn’t solve anything.

“It doesn’t change the way things are now,” I said.

“Yes it does. Sophie, I believe that I was saved in 1916 for a reason. To help others, but I wasn’t meant to be this way forever. Now that I’m close to fulfilling that medical purpose, I want to go back to being normal, with you, the way I’ve seen us.”

“But what if it’s not possible? Do you understand what you’re risking? I might die anyway, and then we might never find each other again.”

“I would find you anywhere. I know that now.”

“No,” I growled.

He looked deeply into my eyes, and his intensity slowly softened, but his words spoke with an unfamiliar excitement. “It sounds crazy, I know, but I’m willing to risk it to have a long, normal life with you. Please, will you just consider it? I wouldn’t do anything hasty. I just want to explore the possibility.”

I had been so wrapped up in his words that I’d neglected to fight the tears that were welling up in my eyes, and in that instant one snuck up on me and spilled over, traveling slowly down my face. He wiped it away and kissed the wet trail.

I thought about saying something, but couldn’t form any words. Instead, I leaned into his collarbone and squeezed him, hoping and hanging on to this moment. I couldn’t think about his insane thoughts or my fears of tomorrow.

I found myself unable to hold back a second tear, which traveled slowly down my cheek. Once it reached the bare skin of Wes’ neck, he held me tighter, still rocking me, and after a moment, he whispered the familiar words, “Please don’t cry . . . Everything is going to be all right…