Do you have any idea how dangerous this place is?”
“Probably more so with you telling everyone that I’m a prostitute.” I snapped.
He removed the hat and then ran a hand through his hair as though he was agitated. “You don’t get it. You’ll be lucky if they don’t burn you as a witch.”
“A witch?” That caused me to draw up short.
“You bet your sweet ass. At least a prostitute has some level of protection as far as society goes. But a lone middle-aged woman that no one knows?” He shook his head as if unable to contemplate it.
I lifted my chin to glare at him. “You’re just mad because I’m here to stop Clara from becoming your eternal anchor.”
“Is that really what you believe?” He laughed. “Oh, of course, it is. You think me to be nothing more than a selfish bastard, like all the other men in your life.”
“What do you mean?”
He held up a hand. “The boy at school who took your virginity as some sort of souvenir. Your father who left, your grandfather died, your first husband is a woman and your second ran off with another woman. Hell, even the manager at the diner let you down. Haven’t they all aggrieved you in some way?”
I shook my head. “I’m not some kind of untrusting shrew. I am just—”
“Cursed with bad luck?” Robin raised an eyebrow. “That’s what you were going to say isn’t it?”
It was. I had to press my lips together to keep the words from tumbling out. But could I really continue to blame luck? I’d made choices in both timelines. Smart choices, terrible choices. Some had turned out well, others, not so much. But they’d been mine. So could I really keep blaming bad luck for everything that went wrong?
Robin took a step closer. “And now you’re here, in 1769 to right a wrong on your family.”
My chin went up. “That’s right I am.”
Robin sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “You can’t undo it, lamb. Clara must make that bargain with me. If she doesn’t her son will die, as will your whole family line.”
I shook my head, unable to believe what he was saying. “There has to be some way.”
“I wish there was.” His expression was pure regret as he added, “I truly do. But this is one of the knots you cannot untie. Not without unweaving the fabric of the universe.”
My arms came around my body. It was all for nothing? One last trip, me blowing my wad for no good reason? “No, there must be a way. You told me that this couldn’t happen.”
“Not if you were journeying within your own lifetime. I had no idea you would go and do something like this.” He shook his head. “But that’s just you all over. Unpredictable, rash, driven. Stubborn. It’s not enough for you to fix your old life, you needed to rescue the puck who bargained herself into her role.”
“You’re using her wrongly.” I step forward and poke him in the chest. “She wanted to help me as well as free herself. But what she really wanted was to live out her life where she belongs. I messed up my life and it had nothing to do with that car accident. At least one of us can have a normal life.”
“So you came here? What, did you have a hankering for diphtheria?”
I raised my chin. “Finding out she’s part of my family only makes me more determined to help her.”
“Clara’s son marries a girl and they have five children. The first Whitmore generation born in the independent United States. No bargain and those children aren’t born. No Grandpappy. No Prudence Whitmore.” His eyes are more solemn than I’d ever seen as he adds, “No you. You will erase yourself from existence.”
I clung to the thread of possibility. He didn’t know everything. “Well, what if I didn’t? Maybe her son will live. You don’t know that.”
“Even if he does, your interference will create a paradox too big for the space-time continuum to right. No Clara the puck means you will never come back here to stop her from entering the bargain with me. And if you don’t come back here, Clara will become my anchor. It is inevitable.”
I blew out a sigh and paced the dusty floorboards of the small room. There had to be some way out. Some way I could save Clara two and a half centuries of servitude without putting my family tree through the wood