"Ryan, I want to," she finally replied in a choked voice. "I'd love to be able to see a whole different world, to—to be with you, even if only a bit longer." She paused awkwardly and glanced down. "It would be like something from a dream. But I can't. You must understand. My father is here. He's been ill. He'll only become sicker if I don't reassure him of my safety very soon."
Ryan sighed heavily. This wasn't going to be easy, but he had to find a way to convince her. He wasn't thrilled with the prospect of what would challenge them in the year 2008
given their vastly different cultures. In truth, he had no idea what he would do with her, their situation was so unprecedented. But in all fairness to Hope, he needed to try and convince her.
Especially since he planned on taking her with him no matter if he succeeded or not.
"Haven't you wondered why I came through the mirror? Why I've been trying to warn you about being in danger?"
"I didn't fully understand in the beginning, but now I assume it was because you somehow knew I was going to be kidnapped by Diamond Jack."
"It was, in part."
"What do you mean, in part? " Hope asked slowly.
Ryan dug his thumb and forefinger into his eyelids, feeling the burn of a physical exhaustion that had been held at bay by adrenaline. Until now, anyway. He wished he had more energy for this, but he plunged ahead, anyway.
He proceeded to tell her about the newspaper articles and police reports concerning her disappearance. He put his arm around her when he explained about her death, glossing over the gruesome details of the decomposed body found in the Chicago River. She listened with a quiet, avid intensity but showed no signs of distress. At first he thought she might be in shock but then he began to suspect that the bizarreness of the circumstances made the whole scenario seem far-fetched and removed from her.
Ryan had to agree in part. Who could imagine that the lovely woman who sat beside him, studying him with solemn midnight eyes, could possibly transform into a lifeless corpse sometime soon? Ryan couldn't fathom it.
In fact, that was the main reason he was here.
"You say that you read documents—newspaper clippings, police reports, things of that nature—that reported the year of my death was 1906?"
Ryan nodded warily. Bizarre or not, it wasn't news even the most strong of heart would ever relish hearing. "That's why I want to bring you back to the year 2008. If you're alive in my time, there's no way you could have died a hundred and two years ago."
Hope's eyelids narrowed thoughtfully. "And did any of these documents you read indicate what happened to my father after my death?"
Ryan resisted an urge to state point-blank that she was not going to die for a very, very long time. Instead he focused on the facts. "Yes. They said that he went on to champion anti-white slavery legislation and eventually successfully closed down the Levee District."
Ryan's sense of alarm grew when Hope merely stared fixedly at the cold hearth. "Tell me what you're thinking."
"There'
s been some sort of mistake, Ryan."
"Honey, I know it must be hard to take in—nobody would want to learn the date of their death—but—"
She shook her head adamantly. "There has been a misunder-standing. Perhaps you successfully changed history by intervening tonight at the Sweet Lash?"
Ryan thought of those black-and-white photos he'd found in the twenty-first century—photos of Hope and him in the year 1906.
"I'm not so sure I've changed anything," he stated grimly. "It seems that history has bent to accommodate me."
But Hope continued as though he'd never spoken.
"I don't mean to place undue importance upon my person, but it is extremely unlikely my father would have flourished as greatly as those reports indicated if I died anytime in the near future. If it were true that I'd been brutally murdered, I would expect my father to be devastated ... diminished, not infused with a sense of purpose in the manner that you describe from the historical record."
"But isn't it possible your death would drive him all the harder in his mission in order to change the circumstances that allowed your death—"
Hope shook her head again resolutely. "I see your point, but no. You don't know my father like I do. He was devastated by my mother's death, almost to the point of giving up all hope. His grief was protracted and intense. If it weren't for the fact that he had me to live for, I have no doubt he would have just given up and soon followed my mother.
Perhaps—"
But Ryan cut her off with a slashing movement of his hand. He abruptly blew out the candle.
"What—" Hope asked, forgetting to whisper in her surprise over his actions.