The Other Side of Anne (7 page)

“She was a good painter.”

Avery’s lips tightened. “Moving on. I can ask Benjamin to draw up false papers for you. A fake driver’s license, all that.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you know how to drive?”

“I do not.”

“I’ll teach you. What name would you like to use on your papers?”

George, dear brother.
“My name could be Anne George.”

“Anne George. I like that. Want a middle name?”

“Elizabeth. I can become Anne Elizabeth George.”

“Perfect. Happy birthday, Anne
Elizabeth George.” Avery finished his beer in a long swallow and yawned. “I’m more tired than I thought. Better hit the hay.”

The idea of sleep
scared Anne, especially since the unknown Pegasus man lurked outside. “You may ask me something, Sir Franklin,” Anne said. “Three questions. You have permission to ask me three questions about my other life.”

Avery’s eyes went wide. “
Um…um…I don’t mind studying you from a distance. I’m not like my father. I won’t poke and prod you.”

“Three questions,” Anne
commanded. “Now.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Ask three questions. Publish an article with my answers after I am gone. Will people believe you? Will they believe this ludicrous story?”

“You will not die
until you are ready for it,” Avery said with quiet emphasis.

“
Incorrect. I may well die. Question one.”

Avery shifted uncomfortably. “I really...”

“Why does learning about me frighten you, Sir Franklin? You seemed fine when I mentioned Elizabeth earlier.”

“
It’s different when you bring up a topic.”

“Like I said, I grant permission.
No violation.”

“Do I get to record this or write notes as you speak?”

“No. Question one.”

Avery
thought a second. “Why did you give in and have sex with Henry? What was the trigger?”

“The time had come,” Anne said simply.

“But why?” Avery urged. “Why was it time?”

“Like your book said, I had reached more prominence during the French visit. The nobility was more tolerant of me. Henry was getting too frustrated that the pope would not grant his divorce.”

“Did your father have a say in when you would bed Henry? Or was the decision wholly yours?”

“Of course he had a say in the matter,” Anne retorted. “A tremendous say. I was a puppet. My father knew the lusts of men, and he knew how long Henry was willing to wait. You know as well as I do, Sir Franklin, that being a woman in Tudor times was no better and no more powerful than being a dog. Question two, please.”

“When you were pregnant with Elizabeth, were you afraid she would be a girl?”

“Yes. Oh
yes. I kept up a brave front. The baby would be a boy, the future king of England, and that was that. Inside, I was unsure. Henry had to be as nervous as I, but from the way he puffed and thumped his chest, you would imagine him capable of peeking inside me and seeing our baby’s penis. A girl...” Anne’s voice trailed off. “When Elizabeth was born, when I found out she was a girl, I refused to think anything except: ‘The next baby will be a boy.’ I was afraid for Henry to come see me. To come see us. But he did. He had to. He was the father of my child.”

“What was that meeting like?”

“Henry stood in the doorway a long time. Only Elizabeth and I were in the room, and he was a shadow. I was exhausted from the labor. I wanted to weep and sleep. I held the baby, and at last he approached. He looked at her. He looked at me. His face was still and contained. He had big fingers, Henry did. Thick. He touched one of his fingers to her nose. ‘Elizabeth,’ he said, and his voice was angry and sad and sweet and desperate. I knew for certain I was dead if I failed to soon produce a boy. Then my husband left.”

“Did you love him?” Avery asked. “At any point?”

“No,” Anne said defiantly.

“Was he good in bed?”

Anne gave a mirthless laugh. “The things people want to know.”

“Your Majesty—”

“I will answer tomorrow if you ask the question again. We are finished today. You have asked more than three questions.”

“Very well.
” Avery rose to his feet.

Anne’s throat tightened. What had she been thinking, ending the conversation?
Now she felt more isolated and distressed. “I suppose Henry was serviceable,” she said.

Avery’s quirked brow indicated that he wanted to know Anne’s
definition of serviceable but was too polite to ask.

Anne wrapped her arms around herself.
How very stupid she was. She wanted to be in the movies again, in the darkness with Avery. Or in 1536 with Avery inside her. She wanted Avery’s arms around her, for a bleak bed held no use. On occasion when she was a child, she climbed into bed with her brother or sister. Once in a while, the three of them slept together.

Avery yawned again, and Anne knew her new friend was lost for the time being. “Good night,”
she said.
I hope Pegasus lacks equipment that can see through walls.

Anne awoke in a pool of sunshine. She scrambled to orient herself and find the clock. 9:43. Goodness. She must have fallen asleep right away. She remembered scuttling into bed and then…nothing.
I am rested. I am refreshed. I am alive.

The door creaked open, and
Avery peeked into the room. “You’re awake! Good morning.”

Anne patted her hair. “Good morning. I apologize again for intruding in your home. I truly hope you are not inconvenienced.”

Avery waved off the comment. “Anytime. How did you sleep?”

“Very well. And you?”

“Same. Come on, let’s grab breakfast.”

Over
Corn Pops, Avery said: “I canceled my class today. Actually, that’s a lie. I videotaped my lecture and uploaded it to Blackboard.”

“What is Blackboard
?”

“
It’s the online system Quentin University uses for classes. I assigned a mini-project, so that means we’re good to take our time and get your paintings at Pegasus when you’re ready.”

Anne
was relieved that Avery had cancelled his class, but she would not let him see that. “There was no need.”

Avery
grinned and stuck a spoonful of cereal in his mouth. “I’m a big boy. I can make decisions just fine.”

An
ne disliked the gentle teasing in his tone. “Why do you live out here?”

“Why not? Peaceful. Quiet. Lots of land. No nosy neighbors. I like it.”

“I see.”

“Anyway, the day is wide open. Anything you want to do
other than get your paintings? Buy new clothes?”

Anne dipped h
er spoon into a section that held mostly crisp pieces of cereal. “Perhaps later I shall purchase additional clothing. You own much land, I believe. It has been ever long since I walked for a goodly time and felt the air, the cold and the wind on my cheeks.”

“That sounds
great. Can I tag along?” Anne saw the real message in Avery’s expression, in his tight, taut mouth:
Safer to not go alone.  No one can sneak up on you and seize you.

“
You may accompany me, yes.”

“
Awesome. It’s really cold out, so bundle up.”

**

The doorbell rang moments before Avery and Anne were to leave on their walk. He peered through the peephole, and his stomach knotted. Not a visitor from Pegasus. Worse.

“Shit.”
Avery turned to Anne. “It’s Cindy, one of my cousins. She’s Mom’s sister’s daughter.”

Another insistent doorbell ring and
Cindy called: “Yoo-hoo! I see you!”

“Shall I go to my bedroom?” Anne
offered.

“N
ot unless you want to. I’ll get rid of Cindy as quickly as I can.” Avery undid the deadbolt and opened the door. He forced a smile. “Cindy!”

Cindy tore off her winter cap. Her hair
had turned pink. Pink!

Avery’s jaw fell. “Wow.”

“Like it?” Cindy asked. She was a statuesque brunette—temporary pinkhead—who looked fifteen years younger than she was.

“It’s striking. Uh, come on in. Get out of the cold.” Avery indicated Anne. “We were about to go on a walk. This is my friend, Anne George. Anne, this woman with the Pepto-Bismol hair is my cousin, Cindy.”

Anne smiled good-naturedly, and her aura was different. She was no longer a distant and haughty queen. She was softer. More approachable. She held out one of her gloved hands. “Pleasure to meet you. Your hair is delightful, ma’am.”

Cindy beamed.
“Call me Cindy. And thank you.” She shifted her attention back to Avery. “You left so suddenly after your father’s burial. I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine. Needed to get out of there. Too many people. It was overwhelming.”

Cindy pursed her lips, not believing Avery. “Anne, where are you from? Your accent...”

“Anne is European,” Avery supplied. “She spent her childhood all over.” Anne sounded
precious little like a modern Briton or a modern Frenchwoman. Best to make her out as some sort of European mongrel.

“Ah.
” Skepticism leaked from Cindy’s voice.

“I wish you would’ve called.” Avery zipped his jacket shut. “Like I said
, we’re about to go on a walk.”

“
That’s perfect. I’ll go with you.”

Great. Not.

**

“This land truly is beautiful,” Anne murmured.
Cold stung her cheeks in the best way, and gray-green mountains loomed in the distance. No imposing walls hemmed Anne in. If she were alone, she would run across the land and revel in her freedom.

“Does it remind you of Europe?”
Cindy asked.

“In some ways, yes.” Anne liked Avery’s
cousin. The woman was friendly and warm without being intrusive. She obviously cared a good deal about Avery.

“How did you and Anne meet?”

“Ah, well.” Avery cleared his throat. “I met her in England a few years ago. I said she was welcome to stay with me if she ever visited this side of the pond.”

“What do you do, Anne?”
Cindy asked.

“She’s a painter
.”

“Why don’t let you let her answer?”

Avery held his hands up. “Fine. Fine.”

“I am a painter,” Anne echoed timidly.

“That’s your job?”

Anne nodded.
“I have not sold much yet, but maybe one day I can.”

“I hope you do. Good luck.”

About an hour after they left on the walk, the threesome headed back to the house. “I passed a blue car on my way in,” Cindy said. “It was parked right across the road. Weird. Know anything about that? It seemed like the driver was watching your house.”

Anne slowed her
steps, her chest constricting.

“I don’t know. Something to do with a neighbor?” Avery s
uggested, but the guilty shift of his eyes gave the lie away. As did the fact it made no sense—because his house was the only one that could be seen from where the car parked.

In the house, Avery fixed
hot chocolate and s’mores, and Cindy left just before one o’clock.

“Well,” Avery said, exchanging a smile with Anne. “
Stuck with me again. Sorry about her.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. Your
cousin is wonderful. I enjoyed seeing you with her.”

Avery raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Okay.”

“You are a very nice person, Sir Franklin.”

Avery
laughed. “You might change your mind after our first driving lesson. You up for that? Then we can head to Pegasus.”

**

Benjamin had the paintings wrapped and lined in the hallway outside his office, formerly Charles’s office. While Anne checked to make sure each painting was accounted for, Benjamin and Avery talked about preparing a fake license and fake papers for Anne.

“
The surveillance outside my house has to stop,” Avery said.

Benjamin offered a smile.
“Not possible. An emergency may arise.”

“The car is freaking Anne out.
She is jittery. Call it off. This is not negotiable.”

Benjamin crossed his arms. “You
fail to appreciate the gravity of the situation. We are dealing with many, many unknowns. You are correct the car issue is not negotiable. The car stays. You have my word, however, that the car is only there to help if an emergency arises.”

“Give an example of an emergency.”

“Anne fades and comes back bleeding or hurt in some way. Or she fades and does not return.”

Avery
sighed. He hated to admit it, but Benjamin’s argument, which amounted to better safe than sorry, was more persuasive than his.

“Has Anne faded since she left Pegasu
s?” Benjamin asked.

“
Uh…that is not for me to answer.”

Benjamin picked up on the delay
in Avery’s response. “She
did
fade.” His voice was angry. “We need to know this. We have to document everything. Where, when and for how long?”

“Not my place to say.”

“Did something aberrant happen?”

Aberrant?
Gee, I think so.

“It is not my place to tell you,” Avery
repeated.

Benjamin scribbled
digits on a business card. “This is my phone number. If there is a problem, we need to know. We absolutely need to know. Okay? Understand? If I am not here—if I have faded—Anne should talk to whomever is doing the surveillance.”

Avery
wanted to ask why Benjamin was not like history described him. Benjamin Franklin was supposed to be a thoughtful, reasoned scientist and statesman. A womanizer, sure, but many politicians and powerful men were. Heck, most men. The old Benjamin Franklin was not a kidnapper. Look at his list of virtues. But doubtless the years spent in this time had changed Benjamin. The line between good and evil in science was sometimes blurry or interchangeable.

“Don’t you have a famous quote that goes something like giving up essential liberty isn’t worth it?”
Avery asked.

Benjamin furrowed his brows
. “They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither safety nor liberty.”

“That one, yeah.”

“What of it?”

“Why is depriving Anne of her liberty okay? Why is expecting her to accept it okay?”

“I’ll tell you something, Dr. Franklin,” Benjamin said. “People change. My thinking has changed. Not as much as you might believe, however. I have always been like this.”

“Have you?”

“Mmm. Times change. Situations change. This situation is...” Benjamin grimaced. “It’s one of a kind. I’m looking out for Anne. You may disbelieve me, but I am. I made mistakes with her, but I genuinely care for her safety. Of course I do! It was my idea to get her. I
knew
we had to after I read your book.”

“Why was kidnapping okay?”

“It wasn’t kidnapping! It was saving her life.”

“You misjudged her. You and my father and my mother.”

Benjamin fiddled with a pen. “Tell you something. I was beyond thrilled when I was retrieved. I love this time. I love learning more, more, more. I thought Anne would be too. She would be grateful to us. We saved her life, right? We did not realize how traumatized she was from her life in her first time. Your parents and I, we are
thinkers
. You know what I mean? Anne is reactive at the expense of logic. She is emotive. She’s stubborn and uncooperative.”

“
She has to be. She was never in charge of her own life.”

“
I can tell you this. We could have had all the therapists in the world, and Anne would have reacted the same.” Benjamin tossed the pen aside. “I would not trade this experience for the world. Neither would Anne. She knows it. We all do. She just can’t admit it to herself.”

“Good for you.”

Avery got up to help Anne carry the paintings to his truck.
I would not trade this experience for the world.
The sentence stayed with him through the drive home, and exhilaration rushed through Avery.
Wow. I have Anne Boleyn in my truck.

The situation no longer seemed ridiculous or impossible. Just miraculous. That was how Avery
needed to look at it. His father and mother had messed up, but Avery was taking over the case. He would give Anne Boleyn a true second life. She was no doomed queen but a damned miracle. She was a damned survivor, and she would come to realize it. Avery needed to coax Anne out of her shell and make her feel comfortable with him. He could do it. He could. Yes. Why not start with a bang? There was a roller-skating rink about ten minutes from the farmhouse. Avery and Mandy had loved to go skating together, and he had not gone since her death. Maybe the time had come for him to start again.