sounded childish.
Clio shook her head. “There’s someone here
who needs you as much as you need them. It’s your duty, your
privilege to find them. When you help them, then you will find
yourself and your inner strength.”
Fleur huffed, not sure if the sound she made
was more a sigh or an attempt to deflect from crying. As ire
coursed through her, she could no longer find words for how unfair
this was, because she was scared she’d yet again sound infantile
and whiny.
Erato suddenly knelt close to Fleur again and
chucked a finger under her chin. “Learning to pick your battles is
an excellent lesson, one which you will learn while you’re here.
And don’t worry about picking the wrong ones. Maybe fight all of
them, Fleur? Maybe you should be pissed at my sister and me? After
all, we sent you back more than three hundred years to a time you
hardly know, a place you know even less about, and more than likely
nothing about this is related to your work.” Erato smiled then
stood again.
Fleur swallowed.
“But I have to warn you of a couple things,”
Erato said. “First, Cromwell knows well of the Highlanders’
rebellion. We need you to finish here before his army comes into
Scotland. And we really should have warned our last glimpse participant better, but you can get hurt here as you would in your
own time. You can even die. So stay clear of Cromwell and his New
Model Army. They’re wiping the rebellion from the map and coming
here soon.” Erato looked toward the large stone house then sighed.
“The other thing is...well, you can probably guess it, but to be
fair I should tell you about...Helen.”
Fleur stood slowly, holding her hands over
her heart, holding her breath too.
Erato placed her head on her sister’s
shoulder. Clio instantly patted it, making Fleur a little jealous
of their relationship, how in tune they were to each other’s
needs.
It was Clio who said, “She’s sick.”
That’s when Fleur thought of the smell. It
permeated Helen. She knew it well because when her grandmother had
been in the hospital, Fleur had to walk through the cancer wing.
There was a sickly sour scent with cancer, especially if it was
terminal. There had been a scent from Na too, but Fleur’s
grandmother had had diabetes, a disease that made her Na smell too
sweet.
“Helen’s got cancer,” Fleur whispered.
The muses nodded.
Sighing, Fleur realized that the kindly muses
had given her a hint whom she was to find. Helen was sick. Helen
must need her. And Fleur knew, God how she knew it, that she hadn’t
taken as good of care of Na when she was dying as she had hoped.
Years of resentment had reared its ugly head when Na had needed
her. And although Fleur had held Na’s hand through all of it, even
as Na took her last shaky breath, she still regretted one
conversation they’d had. So she needed a good purging from the
guilt, the shame, by being in the presence of someone whom Fleur
could take care of. Helen. The pieces all fit into place then. She
was here to nurse Helen, finally lessen the past hurt, and
then—
“So when I find this person and help them,
then I can go back to my time, is that the way it works?” Fleur
asked.
Clio looked at Erato. They seemed to
communicate a whole conversation with just a few eyebrow arcs and
narrowed eyes. Finally, Clio turned back to Fleur. “I will tell you
this: Unlike others who have had a glimpse , you will have
many more choices. That might be a—”
“You might think it’s a blessing.” Erato
finished for Clio.
“Or a curse.” Clio nodded, then smiled. “But
like all of life, the choices you make will be your own.
Yours.”
Fleur nodded, thinking that it could be a
blessing. Maybe if she played along with the muses, she’d find
peace, and then she’d be back at her lab in no time, grinding
bones, discovering their ancestry through their intriguing
chromosomes.
“Thank you,” Fleur said on a wide grin.
“She thinks she’s got this all figured
Clio shook her head. “There’s someone here
who needs you as much as you need them. It’s your duty, your
privilege to find them. When you help them, then you will find
yourself and your inner strength.”
Fleur huffed, not sure if the sound she made
was more a sigh or an attempt to deflect from crying. As ire
coursed through her, she could no longer find words for how unfair
this was, because she was scared she’d yet again sound infantile
and whiny.
Erato suddenly knelt close to Fleur again and
chucked a finger under her chin. “Learning to pick your battles is
an excellent lesson, one which you will learn while you’re here.
And don’t worry about picking the wrong ones. Maybe fight all of
them, Fleur? Maybe you should be pissed at my sister and me? After
all, we sent you back more than three hundred years to a time you
hardly know, a place you know even less about, and more than likely
nothing about this is related to your work.” Erato smiled then
stood again.
Fleur swallowed.
“But I have to warn you of a couple things,”
Erato said. “First, Cromwell knows well of the Highlanders’
rebellion. We need you to finish here before his army comes into
Scotland. And we really should have warned our last glimpse participant better, but you can get hurt here as you would in your
own time. You can even die. So stay clear of Cromwell and his New
Model Army. They’re wiping the rebellion from the map and coming
here soon.” Erato looked toward the large stone house then sighed.
“The other thing is...well, you can probably guess it, but to be
fair I should tell you about...Helen.”
Fleur stood slowly, holding her hands over
her heart, holding her breath too.
Erato placed her head on her sister’s
shoulder. Clio instantly patted it, making Fleur a little jealous
of their relationship, how in tune they were to each other’s
needs.
It was Clio who said, “She’s sick.”
That’s when Fleur thought of the smell. It
permeated Helen. She knew it well because when her grandmother had
been in the hospital, Fleur had to walk through the cancer wing.
There was a sickly sour scent with cancer, especially if it was
terminal. There had been a scent from Na too, but Fleur’s
grandmother had had diabetes, a disease that made her Na smell too
sweet.
“Helen’s got cancer,” Fleur whispered.
The muses nodded.
Sighing, Fleur realized that the kindly muses
had given her a hint whom she was to find. Helen was sick. Helen
must need her. And Fleur knew, God how she knew it, that she hadn’t
taken as good of care of Na when she was dying as she had hoped.
Years of resentment had reared its ugly head when Na had needed
her. And although Fleur had held Na’s hand through all of it, even
as Na took her last shaky breath, she still regretted one
conversation they’d had. So she needed a good purging from the
guilt, the shame, by being in the presence of someone whom Fleur
could take care of. Helen. The pieces all fit into place then. She
was here to nurse Helen, finally lessen the past hurt, and
then—
“So when I find this person and help them,
then I can go back to my time, is that the way it works?” Fleur
asked.
Clio looked at Erato. They seemed to
communicate a whole conversation with just a few eyebrow arcs and
narrowed eyes. Finally, Clio turned back to Fleur. “I will tell you
this: Unlike others who have had a glimpse , you will have
many more choices. That might be a—”
“You might think it’s a blessing.” Erato
finished for Clio.
“Or a curse.” Clio nodded, then smiled. “But
like all of life, the choices you make will be your own.
Yours.”
Fleur nodded, thinking that it could be a
blessing. Maybe if she played along with the muses, she’d find
peace, and then she’d be back at her lab in no time, grinding
bones, discovering their ancestry through their intriguing
chromosomes.
“Thank you,” Fleur said on a wide grin.
“She thinks she’s got this all figured
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