A Tale of Two Centuries (29 page)

She lets her words sink in and then clears her throat delicately. “All you needed was to
challenge
yourself to figure it out. And to help you do so, I might have given you a little push in the right direction.”

I note the inflection on the word
challenge
and the sharpness of her gaze, and it clicks in my mind. “You are Miss Edwards.”

She winks. Rubbing my tense forehead, I ask, “So the other night when you said that the decision was not in your power, you meant it was in mine?” She gives me a knowing smile, and I shake my head in amazement. “This was certainly much easier than I expected.”

Reyna chuckles. “Alessandra, I have learned that our world is filled with two kinds of people: old souls, and people who were born before their time. You, dear girl, are the latter.”

My chest swells, knowing that is as close to a compliment as I may ever get from her. I lower my gaze to the table and land on the white candle. “So that is it?” I ask, wondering why she lighted it if so. “No spells to perform? No magic tricks?”

She shakes her head. “Once you walk out of this tent, history will be forever changed. So you must be sure that this is what you want, for once history is altered you cannot go back.”

Amazement and profound relief that I—formerly timid me—actually took a stand for what I wanted and
won
consume me. But then I remember everyone I am leaving behind.

How is it possible to feel so much happiness and sadness at one time? Can a heart withstand such turmoil?

I know this is the right decision. My parents are grown, and my father has always told me to follow my heart.

You are a good girl, Alessandra, with a good heart. Follow that, and you shall never be led astray.

The memory of his words brings fresh tears to my eyes.

This is what my heart is telling me is right…but that doesn’t keep it from shattering. Never again will I feel Mama’s arms hold me. I will not hear her singing or the lilt of my father’s laughter, or see the crinkle around Cipriano’s eyes in the very rare moments he shucks his overwhelming sense of duty and smiles.

I brush away a tear as it glides down my cheek. “What will my family believe happened to me?”

Reyna purses her lips and considers me. “I suppose we can handle it any number of ways. It was my intention for them to awake in the morning with the belief that you ran away for love. But if you wish something different, I am open to your suggestions.”

I do wish something different, but I have asked for so much already. It seems selfish to request anything more—and what I want may not even be possible. But I have to try. “If I wrote a letter telling them good-bye,” I say, “could you get it to them?”

Reyna snickers. “You are just like your cousin. I transport the pair of you across hundreds of years and rewrite history, and you think me unable to perform the simplest of tricks.” She shakes her head with a grin. “Yes, I think I can manage sending a letter.”

Mumbling to herself about skeptics, she reaches into the small dresser behind her and pulls out a piece of parchment and a pen. After sliding the materials onto the tabletop, Reyna says quietly, “I will give you a few minutes alone. If you need anything, just call.”

I watch her disappear into the dark. Then, holding the pen in my hand, I stare at the paper. I think about all the things I wish I could have told my family before I left, things I want them to know and remember about me, and as the words come for my final good-bye, salty tears splash on the thick paper.

Dear Mama, Father, and Cipriano,

I know my disappearance may come as a shock. But please know that I am stronger than I ever gave you reason to believe. It is because of your love and endless faith in me that I am now able to step out in faith, choosing a life filled with love, hope, and possibility. Do not doubt that I have loved every moment of my life, and a portion of my heart will forever remain behind with you.

I cannot explain where I am going. I cannot even tell you how you can reach me to reply to this letter. Just know that I am safe and that I am happy. Father, I am finally following my heart. It is my fervent prayer, if fate and Signore will it so, that we shall all meet again someday. Until then, know that I am forever thinking of you and missing you.

Your loving daughter and sister,

Alessandra

Postscript: Tell Lorenzo I shall miss my childhood friend, and that “Goddess
Victoria” wishes him well. Also, tell him to continue painting…he has more admirers than he could ever dream.

Chapter Thirty

Back on the streets of Hollywood, I close my eyes and savor the sounds of the future. The wail of the ambulance, the honks of disgruntled drivers, and the squeal of tires provide a beautiful melody of my new home. The very things that terrified me when I first arrived, standing in this spot crowded with painted creatures and ill-mannered people, are the very things that will be a part of my everyday life. And I can’t wait.

Confidently strolling to the curb, I tell Cat’s driver that I would rather find my own ride, and with reluctance, he agrees. But he does not drive away. Grateful for the caring way he watches me, I take a few steps, thrust my hand into the air, and let a whistle rip. Almost immediately, a yellow taxi pulls over.

Yes, I can do this.

Grinning wide and proud at the driver in the black car behind me, I slip into the backseat of the cab. The smell of food lingers inside, just as it did for my first ride, but this time it is almost pleasant. The cloth seat is comfortable and dry, the ground under my feet not sticky.

A very good omen.

I rattle off the address, and the driver eases into traffic. As the streetlights and sights I once found scary fly past, I think about my last moments with Reyna.

Once I completed my carefully worded letter to my family, she took it in her hands. She did not read it but merely folded it in half, then folded it again, forming a perfect, neat square.

Then, she thrust it into the flame of the white candle.

Of course, I screamed—I worked hard on that letter and it was my only chance to tell my family good-bye. But she merely grinned, assuring me this was how it worked.
A magical form of delivery
, she said, and I had no choice but to trust her. She is the expert, after all.

Once I calmed down (though to be honest, my tender heart may never fully heal, always having a hole where my family should be), Reyna led me to the entrance of the tent. She told me where to find an account that had been set up in my name for college, a modern-day version of a dowry I suppose, courtesy of the stars.

Then, staring deep into my eyes, she said, “Never forget your strength, Alessandra. Follow your heart, and you will always find your way.”

Hearing her reiterate my father’s words, although I never shared them with her aloud, was my cosmic sign that everything would be all right.

Of course after that, she shoved me out of the tent.

I laugh quietly at our gypsy girl. Reyna is impossible to figure out. She never seems to act the way I expect, and she loves speaking in incomprehensible riddles, but underneath all the veils and mystique, she is a kindred spirit. And I will dearly miss her.

The taxi slows to a stop, and the driver glances at me over his shoulder. “Here you go, miss.” He looks back at the bright red meter beside him and says, “That’ll be twenty-five fifty.”

I smile, knowing exactly what he means. Then I pat my lap and remember I am in my costume. With a sinking in my stomach, I open my purse and find my cell phone, a pack of gum, and a pair of dark sunglasses. But no wallet.

It is well and good that I understand modern currency now, but it still helps to carry it.

Sighing, I lean forward and ask, “Sir, do you mind waiting for a moment? I somehow forgot to put any money in my purse, but I know the person inside will be happy to help.”

The man chuckles under his breath. He yawns and rubs a hand over his eyes. “No problem, honey. This kind of thing happens all the time.”

I guess if nothing else, it is reassuring to know I’m not the only forgetful person in this century.

I thank him profusely for his understanding and hop out of the backseat. Jogging to the front door, my only thought is yelling from the rather high rooftop that I am here to stay. Before I even think about the time, my finger shoots out to depress the doorbell. And as the very loud
ding
s chime inside, I stare at the intricate carvings in the glass, impatiently shifting my weight from foot to foot, peering inside for signs of life.

Finally, a dark figure appears on the other side. I know the moment he realizes who is at the door because Austin’s slow pace transforms into a run, and then his front door is open, and I am in his arms.

Soon I will go home and twirl around the room, dancing with Cat in celebration, and tomorrow we’ll invite Lucas over so he can stuff me full of pizza, but right now, this is exactly where I need to be.

Leaning away, I manage to say, “Guess you’re not getting rid of me,” just before his mouth descends upon mine, and any other words I would have said fade into oblivion.

Austin lifts me into his arms and buries his face in my neck, breathing roughly and squeezing me so tight it is as if he wants to meld us together. “I told you to believe, didn’t I?”

He sets me down and brushes the hair away from my face, gazing at me so reverently that my heart clenches. In this moment, I know that every heartbreak was worth it to get me here.

“Austin, I’ve always—”

A quick interrupting
beep
of a horn reminds me that we are not alone.

“Oh, yes,” I say. “That would be the taxi driver. It appears that in my fancy modern day purse, I forgot to pack anything remotely useful. Such as
bucks
.”

Austin looks at me strangely, obviously not getting my private joke from the first day I arrived. “You know, Princess, I don’t think we need my challenges anymore. I can already tell life with you is going to be adventure enough.” Then he smiles, a shiver-inducing grin that has me wanting to pull him right back into my arms, and says, “Be right back.”

As he runs down the driveway to pay the kind gentleman driver, I glance up at the stars and issue a silent
thank-you
. I look down to see the man wave his hand out his opened window, reverse down the drive, and be swallowed up by the moonlit night.

“Now, where were we?” Austin says when he returns, sliding his hands around my lower back and tugging me close.

He lowers his head for another kiss, and as much as I would enjoy giving him that very thing, I lay a palm against his chest.

“Before we get to
that
,” I say with a grin of my own, “there is something I need you to know.”

Austin runs his fingernails over my back, his gaze curious, but he doesn’t say anything.

I take a breath.

“I’ve
always
believed, Austin,” I tell him. “At first, I believed solely in the power of destiny and fate. Then, magic. But I’ve learned during these last few days that there is something even more powerful than those things.” Austin raises an eyebrow, and I grin. “Choice. True happiness is something we create ourselves with our own choices: whom we want to be with, whom we let into our worlds, and how we choose to spend what little time we are given in this world. And I, Alessandra D’Angeli Forlani, choose this life,
this
time.” I press my lips against the curve of his delicious mouth, then draw back just far enough to whisper, “And I choose
you
.”

Acknowledgments

I’ve always heard that second books are hard. Pressure mounts, a blank page looms, worries descend. Since
A Tale of Two Centuries
is technically my third book, I figured I’d be spared the drama. (*insert snort laugh here*) Yeah, I was wrong. So many people stepped up, providing encouragement, support, commiseration, and love. So many times over the past year I’ve shaken my head and then looked above, thanking God for all that He’s given me. What an amazing ride this has been!

My Super Sweet Sixteenth Century
found an audience with enthusiastic, wonderful readers, and not letting them down was forever at the forefront of my mind. I’m a reader first, so I know how many fabulous books are out there, and I’m so grateful and honored you chose to read this one. I hope Less, Austin, Cat, and Lucas gave you a fun and flirty escape from the real world. Thank you for reading!

Speaking of readers, my Flirt Squad rocks my world. This group of enthusiastic readers and bloggers made what could’ve been a terrifying, lonely, stress-filled debut year an absolute joy. They encourage and inspire me daily, are made of all things sparkly and awesome, and I’ve formed AMAZING friendships with them. A few in particular though went above and beyond, so here’s a HUGE Flirt Squad shout out to Ali Byars, Alicia Marie Ezell, Amy Fournier, Anubha Agrawal, Atmika Singh, Caitlyn Santi, Cassie Frye, Ciara Byars, Cynthia Bolasina, Daisy Richeson, Daphne from Winged Reviews, Denice Cordero, Denise Zaky, Diane Abbas, Erleen Alvarez, Gabriela Ledesma, Gaby Navarro, Hawwa Alam, Hikma Saleem, Jana Cruz, Jared Mifsud, Jenna DeTrapani, Joie de Lire, Justine Bowman, Katlyn Charlesworth, Kelsey Ketch, Kelsey Simpson, Kyra Morris, Laura Nuez, Mandy Reupsch, Megan Tuckerman, Myra White, Nobonita Chowdhury, Paige Bradish, Samantha Weck, Sara Ahmed, Staci Murden, Vi Nguyen, and Zoe Leonarczyk. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I love y’all!

Shannon Duffy, Trisha Wolfe, and Rose Garcia worked magic with this book, making me laugh with their comments, and smack my head against the desk catching my silly errors. Mindy Ruiz rocked so hard, answering random questions and advising me on fun activities for Austin’s challenges. And as always, emailing with Cindi Madsen, Tara Fuller, Lisa Burstein, and Melissa West kept me sane. The five of us debuted together, and I look forward to a long future of shared releases. Seriously, if it weren’t for these eight incredible ladies, I probably would’ve bitten off all my nails and eaten gargantuan amounts of ice cream. Oh wait…

So much love to Stephanie Kate Strohm and Fiona Paul. You ladies ROCK!! Jenna DeTrapani, Heather Self, Amber Troyer, Lisa T. Bergren, and Tiffany King, I’m blessed to know all of you. The crew at Houston YA/MG and West Houston RWA have taught me and inspired me more than I can say. Hugs, love, and gratitude to Lauren Hammond and Pam van Hylckama for believing in me and in my writing. My literary cheerleader, Tara Gonzales, my ninja goddess, Heather Riccio, and the angel in my corner, Kelly P. Simmon, work miracles, fill me up, and make me happy dance. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you ladies.

Stacy Cantor Abrams and Alycia Tornetta—there are no words. But, I shall try (*grin*). For all the emails, for all the texts, for all the encouraging and hilarious comments about Austin’s muscles and Alessandra’s hair, thank you. For taking this story and making it better than I ever imagined it could be, thank you. For always having my back, thank you a thousand times over. I love you, I trust you, and I’m blessed to call you my friends. Liz Pelletier, thank you for giving my writing a home. By providing such a welcoming family at Entangled, I felt comfortable to take this story where it needed to go. Mwah!

And last on the page but first in my heart, my family deserves an entire book filled with thanks. My mother-in-law, Peggy, is a constant source of encouragement, my godmother-in-law, Joann, gifted me with my first ever book club visit (it was a blast!), and my cousin, Brookelyn, never fails to make me smile. My parents and brother live next door and help me in too many ways to name, so I’ll just say THANK YOU!!! My daughters, Jordan and Cali, are my biggest fans and publicists, making sure to tell anyone and everyone their mama is a writer. Their enthusiasm and support mean the world to this homeschooling mama’s heart. (Girls, I love you to infinity and beyond!) And finally, my husband, Gregg, is my rock. He came up with this title (good job, hun!), helped me figure out character arcs and plot holes, gifted me with hotel rooms away twice during drafting, and continues to tell me that he believes in me. He is the inspiration for every love story I write and is proof that a HEA can be found in the real world as well as fictional. SHMILY, baby!!