Chapter 83
Eric
It wasn’t even a difficult decision.
By the time the ink dries on the letter, I’m already certain I am following Hattie. My hand doesn’t shake as I write it, but my heart thumps in my chest. Not from doubt, but from the ache of everything I’m leaving behind.
Dearest Colin and Levi,
This is not a goodbye you can understand. Just know I love you both. I always have.
I’m chasing something bigger than time, deeper than reason. If I succeed, you may never see me again. But you’ll know I lived and that I loved.
Tell Father and Mother I love them. Tell them I carry their strength with me. Everything they taught us, every story by the fire, every hard earned lesson, I won’t forget a moment of it. They gave me the roots I needed, and now I’m following my heart where it leads.
Let the others know I’m proud to be their brother. I wish I could’ve said goodbye in person, but some paths don’t leave time for farewells. Tell them to hold tight to each other. To look out for each other.
Brothers, I ask you to grant me this one last request. Never allow my house to be sold. Don’t let the land be broken up or my cottage be torn down and built over. Pass down through the generations the importance of keeping our land in the Thomas name. Leave my house in my name. Let it stand. Let the story be told, generation after generation, that one day, I will return.
Until I find my way back,
Eric
I sign it, fold it carefully, and leave it on my desk where I know Colin will find it.
The candle flickers low in its holder, casting golden shadows over the walls I’ve known all my life. And I’m leaving it behind.
I blow out the candle. Smoke curls in the air like a ghost.
On the porch, the night air wraps around me, cool and damp. The stars are scattered across the sky, and I wonder how different they will look in the future. Will the constellations still be the same? Will Hattie and I sit beneath the same stars, centuries apart?
My boots press into the wet grass as I walk toward my cottage. With every step, I feel lighter and heavier all at once. The pull of the well is real. It’s like a rope tied around my ribs, tugging me forward. Toward Hattie. Toward fate. Toward the unknown.
The trees part ahead, revealing the clearing bathed in moonlight. The well gleams softly in the silver light. I spot a figure beside it—hope rising sharply, then falling just as fast. It’s not Hattie. It’s Charlie.
She’s curled on the ground beside the well, her face hidden in her hands, her small shoulders shaking.
“She’s gone,” Charlie whispers before I can speak.
For a moment, I can’t breathe.
Once I steady myself, I reach out and offer her my hand. She takes it, and I help her to her feet. I gently place my hands on her shoulders as we stand facing each other. “Did she say anything before she jumped?” I ask.
Charlie nods without lifting her head. “She said to tell everyone she loved them.”
My throat tightens. “She waited?”
“She waited,” Charlie says, looking up now. Her face is streaked with tears and dirt. “She kept looking back. But midnight came and went, and she just felt she had to go. You missed her by mere minutes.”
I nod, swallowing against the lump in my throat.
“You have to promise me something, Charlie. No matter what happens, no matter how many years go by, you have to protect our land. Make sure my brothers understand. My house, my piece of the Thomas property. It has to stay in the family. Untouched. Preserved.”
“For two hundred and fifty years?”
“Yes.” My voice cracks. “Because I’m coming back one day, and when I do, I need a place to return to. A place Hattie and I can call home.”
“I’ll tell them. I swear I will.”
“Tell them everything,” I plead. “Tell them Hattie and I loved each other enough to risk everything. That it wasn’t madness, it was hope. We believed in something stronger than time.”
“I will.” Charlie crosses her heart with a shaky finger. “I’ll tell them every word.”
I pull her into a hug, and she clings to me for a moment like a child.
“I wish you didn’t have to go, too,” she murmurs.
Charlie’s just a child, but she’s had to carry more loss than most grown people I know. Her brother John died in the battle, bleeding out in the dirt while I held him in my arms. Now Hattie, her closest friend, has stepped into another century, leaving Charlie behind.
I’m next. I see it in her desperate, lonely eyes, red-rimmed with fresh tears. She’s losing me, too, and though she nods and says she understands, I know it’s another cut on a heart already full of scars.
“I’m sorry, Charlie,” I say quietly. “You’ve lost too much, and now I’m just adding to it.”
She shakes her head, but her chin trembles. “I understand. You have to go.”
“That doesn’t make it right,” I whisper. “John… Hattie… now me. It’s not fair to you.”
Her voice cracks. “I don’t want to be the only one left behind.”
“I know,” I say, my voice thick. “And I wish I could take that pain from you. If I could carry it instead, I would. But I promise, what you’re doing matters. Keeping the story alive… it’s everything. You’re not just being left behind. You’re holding the door open for me to come back.”
The well stones glow faintly in the moonlight. The air above it hums, charged and alive. I climb up slowly, one leg over, then the other. I glance down. Darkness stares back. And yet, I’m not afraid.
Hattie is on the other side.
I close my eyes for a moment, letting her name steady me. Hattie. I see her face. I think of the way she looked at the world, always ready to fight for someone else. I hear her laugh, the one that made everything feel lighter, even in the darkest moments. How she saved my little brother from drowning in the creek. How she had the courage to tell me about the outcome of the battle in an attempt to save my life. She saved the life of an enemy soldier boy and worked around the clock for days, caring for wounded soldiers on both sides. She never turned away from a soul in need. Not once. And now, she’s waiting for me.
I remember the way she kissed me before she left. The urgency, trembling, but still soft and sweet.
“Hattie,” I whisper into the well. “I’m coming.”
And then I jump.