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The soldier who holds off the Nazis, our daughter said.
Is it this? Is it because of me? The questions and the fear flood my brain and it’s impossible to think clearly. Had I listened to Quinn, had I not given into my hideous anger, this wouldn’t be happening.
The machine gun is directed at Henri, and even the tree he stands behind won’t protect him for long. Somehow I manage to shake off my terror and jump to the house, grabbing the weapon Quinn left behind. I aim at the soldier with the machine gun and strike him in the head, but his gun swings wildly as he falls, and a bullet comes through the window a foot from me. I dive, and when I stand again, I see Henri, coming at the remaining soldier at a run.
Once again I’m paralyzed, unable to think, unable to fire. I watch as the soldier turns toward him, takes aim.
Henri lands in the jeep, on top of him. The gun explodes and then they are both still.
I freeze. I can’t stand it if he’s dead, I think. I won’t be able to survive it.
Another shot is fired, and then...a miracle. Henri lifts himself off the soldier, and his eyes go to me, standing in the doorway, naked and stiff with shock. He climbs from the jeep and crosses the yard, pulling me tight. My knees buckle with relief.
He pulls away just enough that I can see the fury in his face, and the fear behind it. “You could have died. Why didn’t you leave?”
Why didn’t I? I could have stopped Quinn and time traveled back a few hours to warn us what was coming. Quinn is dead because I made the wrong choice. Because I wanted to kill more than I wanted us all to live.
I lean my head against his chest. “I wanted to kill them,” I admit. “And now Quinn is dead. He surrendered and I just watched him go. I should have stopped him.”
“This makes no sense,” he whispers. “Why didn’t he fight? It isn’t like him just to give up.”
My chest tightens with regret and sorrow. Henri’s right. It wasn’t like Quinn to just give up, but he was willing to make sacrifices for my family even I wasn’t willing to make.
“He did it for you,” I whisper. “You and our child. He thought he was buying us time to get away.”
He stills. “Child?” he asks. “I never told anyone about Cecelia.”
“Not Cecelia,” I say gently, looking up at him. “Our child. I’m pregnant. I figured it out this morning and he figured it out right after I did.”
“Pregnant,” he repeats, his eyes alight, but wary at the same time. “You’re certain? Because I thought the doctors said it wasn’t possible.”
“They said it was unlikely,” I amend. “And I’m very sure, because I met her.”
He blinks. “What? You mean, in the future?”
I shake my head. “Here. Today. Henri, she crossed an ocean to get here and her powers were...extraordinary. I think she may be the child mentioned in the prophecy.”
His jaw falls open. “Conceived during a great war and born in its shadow,” he recites. “But it’s not possible. This war will continue for years.”
“For some reason, I must jump forward,” I reply, and then my head hangs. I don’t want to tell him the rest.
He uses his index finger to tip my chin up, and then he studies my face. “What is it?” he asks.
“She was here to see you,” I tell him, looking at the ground once more. “She said you’d never met.”
I feel him stiffen, and then, slowly, his hand cups my jaw, forcing me to meet his eye. “And that’s why you wept this morning?” he asks. When I nod, he presses his lips to my forehead. “Nothing is set in stone, little thief. Maybe there’s another way.”
I nod, swallowing hard to keep from crying and praying he’s right.
“But this changes everything, Sarah,” he continues. “You’ve got to protect our child and leave the rest to me until she’s born. You’ve got to escape dangerous situations instead of staying behind to fight.”
Quinn’s body rests twenty feet ahead. He lies at an awkward angle, impossibly still for a man who was so very alive a few minutes before. I cross the distance and pull his dog tags up to the light.
Michael Robert Quinn. Waco, Texas.
He had no reason to sacrifice himself for us, but he did, and it’s time for me to give things up too. That ugly part of me has to be set aside so I can bring this child into the world and keep her safe.
I understand now why I named her after him. Not just because he sacrificed himself for us, but so I’ll always be reminded of what happens when I give in to the dark.
