I can't believe I responded to his proposal like that. I've lost the ability to function. He must think I've lost my mind given that I was the one who proposed the marriage idea in the first place.
All I've been thinking about is being married to him and now he's here, actually offering and I clam up? What on earth is wrong with me? Just say 'yes', Catalina!
Maybe it's because you know it's serious, that voice comes again. Maybe it's because you know it would be real for you.
Maybe it's because it seems like he agrees. The thought slams into my chest with the force of a freight train. I glance over at Marcos and he looks sad but not distraught.
It was a good choice, I convince myself. It will give me time to think this through and decide what to do.
"Are you ready to go?" he asks after I don't know how long.
"Yeah," I say, standing.
"We've got to hurry if you want to make the early train," he says simply, clasping his hands in front of him.
"I need help with my dress," I reply, searching frantically for everything I've left laying about. "Will you ring for me?"
"We don't have time for that. I'm afraid you're stuck with me if you'd like to make it to the train on time."
I narrow my eyes on his frame, struggling to understand what his angle is. His eyes dart around the room like he'll look at anything but me.
"Fine. Close your eyes."
Once again, he does. Turning his back to face me to give me extra certainty.
I'm alone to struggle into the pieces of my dress, tying them as well as I can until I have it all assembled. "I'm ready," I tell him, pulling my fingers through my hair and twisting it up behind me with only my ribbon to help me. Unlike my dress, I'm used to doing my own hair, having often had to repair it while I was off playing outside in ways less than becoming of a young lady.
He turns to face me and I swear he gasps but he doesn't say anything else, merely walking around behind me and lacing everything up.
When he's done, he holds my peineta and mantilla out to me.
"You did a much better job today," I say, admiring my dress fit. It's definitely still inappropriate in the bosom area, but the shawl should fix that.
"Thank you." He pushes the peineta to me again.
"Could you?" It's an offer, an olive branch, a plea. It's also a challenge. Prove how you feel about me, Marcos. Would you really send me away?
His small nod is accompanied by a bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows, stepping toward me with shaking hands.
"I didn't mean what I said before," he says when we are face to face. "About sending you ahead on your own."
"Yes you did," I whisper, no idea where my confidence has come from.
His hands slide the comb through my hair, securing it inside the intricate braids I'd spent the last several minutes perfecting.
"I didn't mean it how you took it," he says on a breath. "I only meant that if you should not want me to accompany you... I only meant that the most important thing for me is to make sure you are okay. To make sure you arrive safely. I don't want you back with your father. And I don't— I don't know."
"Okay." I duck my head and wait for him to drape the mantilla over my small frame.
My mind is entirely occupied by why he would say we should part ways if I didn't want to marry him and then come back and say he didn't mean it after proposing I marry him.
"My preferred outcome here is that you are willing to marry me," he says finally, letting his fingers glide down the edge of my veil. "I only meant that if you do not wish to do that, it might look a certain way if you arrive in your new home on the arm of a man you are not married to. That is all. I was only thinking of you."
I have a feeling he was also thinking about himself. But if he was thinking about himself, why get rid of me?
There are only two possibilities I can see. Either he does not love me and wants to be rid of me. Or he loves me and wants to marry me for real.
My heart races at the thought. That is what he said, isn't it? Why is it so hard to believe?
"We have to go," he says suddenly, picking up his case and placing his hat on his head. "Are you ready?"
I can only nod, quickly surveying the room to make sure I've collected all of my belongings. "I'm ready."
I trail behind him through the door and into the hallway now lit by low candles and the sliver of light coming through the windows as the sun begins to rise.
He places his finger to his lips, and I nod. I'm not about to make unnecessary noise. I'm an expert at sneaking out.
Halfway down the hallway, a crash from behind us makes me jump and let out a little yelp.
"What was that?" Marcos presses me into the wall and steps in front of me, eyes searching the corridor in the direction we've come from.
"I don't know. But I'd like to leave before it catches up with us."
"I agree." He steps away from the wall and grabs my hand. "Let's go."
I fly behind him down the corridor, out the front door, through the expansive grounds and down an additional street before he allows me to stop. Fire burns my chest and breaths come hurried.
"We are safe now," he says, head swiveling to survey the area as if he's not sure we're safe at all.
"Still, we should keep moving. Get to the train on time."
"Yes," he agrees, taking my hand once more and leading me around the corner into a little cafe.
"I don't think we have time for breakfast," I whisper, tugging on his hand to get his attention.
"I know."
"Then why are we in a cafe?"
He doesn't get the chance to answer before a gruff man comes out from the back room and guides us through a narrow door and into a small, dark passageway.
I stop at the threshold, glancing around the shop and then to Marcos's eyes.
"We've arranged a carriage to wait for us at the end of this passage," he says. "Less time waiting and almost no time out in the open where we can be seen."
"That's very intelligent." I'm sure my eyes narrow as I give him a once over. "How many times have you run away from your father?"
"More times than you've run from yours, I suspect," he says with a laugh. "Are we going to catch that train or not?"
"We're going to catch that train," I say. Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention and I turn to see a deep green carriage with a crest I recognize. "My father."
"Yes, which is why we need to go."
"No." I point at the street. "I've just seen his carriage."
"Someone tipped him off at the house?" He's incredulous. "I thought no one had seen us."
"I don't know," I whisper, dragging him into the passageway. "It doesn't matter now. We have to go."
The journey is dark and damp but manageable with his hand in mine. In no time at all we exit onto a bright street I don't think I've seen before and into the open door of a waiting carriage for hire. Nausea bubbles inside me as the carriage bumps over the uneven road, but I say nothing, choosing instead to grip my abdomen through my dress.
"We're almost there," Marcos says, squeezing my hand. "Get ready."
I look up at him for the first time since we entered that narrow tunnel. He looks like I feel.
Exhausted and terrified.
"It's going to be okay," I reassure him. "We're almost there."
"There is but one place a couple on the run would go after leaving the manor house," he says suddenly. "They cannot be far behind."
"They?"
"I've seen my father's butler," he says simply. "We are running out of time."
"What if they're waiting for us at the train?"
"Then this carriage shall carry us to another town as quickly as possible," he says. "And we will figure it out."
"What if—?"
"We must go now, Catalina. Prepare yourself for a swift exit."
"I'm very good at running away," I say, squeezing his hand and reassuring him with a smile. "We'll get to the train."
"Even if we do, they could follow us," he muses. "We'll need to be ready to go somewhere else at a moment's notice."
"I'd do that for you," I say. "And just in case things don't go as planned..."
"We really must prepare to leave the carriage," he says, knee bouncing his worry.
"No matter how things go, I want to marry you," I finish. "Just so you know."
"You have excellent timing." A small chuckle escapes him with the shake of his head. "But we have to go. Now!"
The next thing I know the door is thrown open and Marcos is racing past me into the street, lifting me out of the carriage with one arm and placing me lightly on the ground.
"Go," he calls, reaching back inside for his case and hat. I hesitate only a second before I do as he says, racing toward the station and the train as the conductor begins to call for all passengers aboard.
"Hurry," I call back, reaching out my hand and pulling him along behind me.
We push through the small crowd with little more than a muttered apology when we crash into people. They are starting to close the carriage doors when we arrive at the train, racing down the side to find our assigned car.
"Here," Marcos stops me, pointing to an open door with small metal stairs leading into the train. "You go first. Find our seats. I'll get the case put away."
No sooner are my feet on the stairs than a commotion draws my attention. Several men in black suits are racing into the station, shouting something I can't quite make out.
"Go," Marcos says, pushing me onto the train.
I can barely keep upright, I move with such speed.
Once I'm safely in the car I turn to face him, instead of finding my seat like he said I should.
His head is on a swivel, foot on the first step.
"Come on, Marcos," I reach out my hand to pull him in, but his eyes narrow on the entrance to the platform.
"I'm sorry, Catalina," he says, pulling me into a quick hug. "Be safe."
I don't have time to process what's going on before he shoves me backwards with his case, leaving me sitting on the floor holding it as he folds the stairs inside and closes the exterior door. With a sickening click I realize he's trapped me inside the train and himself on the platform.
"What are you doing?" I whisper, racing to the nearest empty row to press myself against the window.
"Get down," Marcos shouts. "Please."
His eyes plead with me, speaking a language straight to my soul. My body complies, folding into the seat and hiding my face behind my hand.
He says something indecipherable and races to the entrance of the platform where he meets the detectives in black suits and... as the crowd parts for him I can see my father standing next to a man who I assume to be Marcos's father. The physical resemblance is uncanny.
"He saved me," I whisper as the train starts to roll out of the station. He went back to his own father so he could throw mine off the scent.
He freed me from my own struggle only to dive himself back in.
The tears well in the corner of my eyes and I cling to his suitcase for comfort as the train reaches full speed. I need to find a way back to Marcos. But I can't throw away his parting gift.
I don't know what I'm going to do, but I do know one thing.
I can never go back.
~ * ~ Author's Note ~ * ~
The last day of my ONC recommendations comes with two more suggestions! First, "ctrl alt del" by BrianMullin0 .
Join the search for MetaAppleSoft's Zack Murkerberg, who is wandering somewhere out in the countless worlds of the Virtual Universe, untethered from his recently vaporized earthbound body, before time runs out and Zack's brain waves become digital junk files - and stop Murkerberg's 'killer,' who wants to delete Zack and the Virtuaverse for good...or evil.
And finally, FranklinBarnes 's "The Mechanical Muse."
Faust meets artificial intelligence in this college drama, where an enigmatic professor offers Chris Marley access to Project Narcissus, a cutting-edge AI tool that promises Chris all the fame he's ever wished for. But everything has a price, and the devil's always in the details...