New York City, 1862. Fabienne Beaumont lies bleeding in a filthy alleyway. Desperate to escape the Civil War, her family had been trying to hustle passage home to France - unsuccessfully. In her last moments, Fabienne thumbs the hands of her old pocket watch - unaware that sheâs about to awaken from one nightmare straight into another.
Hartford, Connecticut, 1864. Two years earlier, Union war hero Brayden Marshall married the beautiful Fabienne - but sheâs been like a stranger to him ever since. Everything changes when heâs summoned home on a mission for his secret time travel organization. Itâs like meeting Fabienne for the first time. Sheâs passionate, curious - and desperate to remedy her past. Could her mysterious pocket watch explain the sudden change? And can Brayden risk his future on a woman so obsessed with her past?
Savannah, Georgia, 2008. Spirited high-schooler Emily is reluctantly researching her family history for a Civil War assignment when she finds the diary of her ancestor, Fabienne. It contains the secret of time travel - and could save Emilyâs dying mom. But what if the only way to secure her present is to tear Fabienne and Braydenâs marriage apart in the past?
New York City, 1862. Fabienne Beaumont lies bleeding in a filthy alleyway. Desperate to escape the Civil War, her family had been trying to hustle passage home to France - unsuccessfully. In her last moments, Fabienne thumbs the hands of her old pocket watch - unaware that sheâs about to awaken from one nightmare straight into another.
Hartford, Connecticut, 1864. Two years earlier, Union war hero Brayden Marshall married the beautiful Fabienne - but sheâs been like a stranger to him ever since. Everything changes when heâs summoned home on a mission for his secret time travel organization. Itâs like meeting Fabienne for the first time. Sheâs passionate, curious - and desperate to remedy her past. Could her mysterious pocket watch explain the sudden change? And can Brayden risk his future on a woman so obsessed with her past?
Savannah, Georgia, 2008. Spirited high-schooler Emily is reluctantly researching her family history for a Civil War assignment when she finds the diary of her ancestor, Fabienne. It contains the secret of time travel - and could save Emilyâs dying mom. But what if the only way to secure her present is to tear Fabienne and Braydenâs marriage apart in the past?
New York City
May 1862
When it came down to it, the life of Fabienne Beaumont was decided by a simple pocket watch.
She turned it in her hand and started winding it, if only to soothe her nerves. The floral-engraved lid was rubbed smooth from her constant touches, and a little dirt had gathered in the crevices. It would take some time before cleaning the watch would make sense; first, Fabienne and her brother and sister had to get out of trouble.
The dockside tavern offered only basic protection against the early morning drizzle. It was the first place theyâd come upon after being rejected from the ship for not having enough money for the tickets. The rotting wooden floor was slick with mud and things whose origins Fabienne dared not contemplate. The few lanterns along the walls provided illumination, but little warmth. At least the furnishings matched the general feelâthe bar was worn out with indentations and scratch marks, and rickety chairs, surrounding the few tables, looked like they were ready to fall apart at merely a glance.
Next to Fabienne, Marion shivered in her dirty cloak. The fine velvet material had long since gone shabbyâa toll of the journey from New Orleans through a war-torn country.
âVoici.â Fabienne untied her cloak and wrapped it around her younger sister.
But a month ago, Marion wouldâve complained she was treating her like a child. Now, her chin shook in a cold-induced nod. âHow long is this going to last? IâŠâ Her eyes flicked to the dozing bartender. âI donât like being here.â
Fabienne surveyed the other side of the tavern, where her brother Antoine sat at a table with three other men, deep into a game of vingt-un. The place was empty, save for those men, and they matched the feel just as well as the furniture. Doubtful they were early risers. Fabienne suspected theyâd never gone to bed in the first place. But regardless of how they looked, they had the one thing the Beaumonts needed mostâmoney.
Antoine scratched his ear, and Fabienne smiled with relief. Dieu merciâhe has good cards! Heâd banked the last of their money on that game. If he lost⊠Anxiety took over her again, and Fabienne clicked the crown of the watch, up and down, up and down. It was that or stealing something from behind the barâand the way people in the North had received them so far, fidgeting with the watch was much less risky.
âCard,â Antoine said.
Across the table, the gang leader repeated the command. The others called him Slick; with his wiry frame, long fingers, and greasy hair, it felt rather appropriate. But the first thing Fabienne had noticed was the dull shine of the few remaining brass buttons on the dark blue jacket underneath his coat. A soldier. Probably jumped in to get his funâkill some peopleâand once his year was up, he resigned.
One of Slickâs compatriots dealt the cards; the other leaned back in his chair, observing the game with a lazy vigilance that sent shivers down Fabienneâs spine.
âAny moment now,â she said to Marion. Antoine would lay down the cards, get the money, and theyâd be out of this rancid place. And out of America. She rubbed Marionâs shoulders, and her sister managed a tiny smile.
A ruckus at the table made Fabienne twist and her heart thump. Did Slick not take the loss well? She hoped Antoine didnât do that snicker thingâ
Slick swept the coins on the table toward himself, grinning. Antoine turned, shock frozen on his face, and Fabienneâs wildly thumping heart quieted and fell.
No.
Antoine walked up to them. âI⊠heâŠâ
Fabienne had never seen him so flabbergasted. Yes, Antoine lost card gamesâoccasionally, when he wasnât trying too hard. But not today. Not right now. Heâd scratched his ear. How could he have lost?
âStroke of luck,â Antoine said. âMustâve been, no? Itâs bound to happen one day. Logically, an opponent can get the perfect cardsââ
âAntoineââ
âWeâll have to think of something else. The place weâd passed earlier onâŠâ His voice faltered, and he scratched his head.
âWe donât have the time,â Fabienne said. âThe ship leaves in less than an hour.â And they would be on it. They hadnât come this far, bled and starved and lost almost everything, just to be stopped one step short of home. She took Antoineâs hand, unclenched his fingers, and put her watch in his palm.
âNo,â Antoine said. âItâs your lucky charm.â
âThen itâll bring you luck.â She gave him a brief smile of encouragement, which faded as she looked at Slick, grinning with his compatriots. She closed Antoineâs fingers with determination. âYou go and win us the money for the passages, and bring me back my watch. Yes?â
âYou know Iâm the older brother, donât you?â Antoine said with an amused lift of the eyebrow, then pecked her forehead. âIâll get us what we need.â
She relaxed. Slick may have had a lucky round, but he wouldnât have it twice. Antoine would succeed.
âOhĂ©.â She grabbed his hand before he walked away. âDonât scratch your ear.â
âWhat?â
âWhen something is going well for you, you always scratch your ear. Heâll figure you out.â
âNo, I donât!â
âYes, you do.â The bit of banter brought a smile to her lips.
âI would knowââ At her challenging look, Antoine receded. âFine. No ear-scratching.â He squared his shoulders and turned around. âHey, Slick! Up for one more?â
âSee, itâll all be fine,â Fabienne comforted Marion as the men arranged another game.
ââŠbut it doesnât even work!â Slickâs voice drifted to them. Heâd opened the watch and poked at the unprotected dial. Fabienneâs pressure rose. How does that crĂ©tin dare toâ
Antoine snatched the watch from him, closed the lid, and put it on the table. âYou can still sell it for the material, canât you? Look at the casingâsolid gold.â
Slick murmured something to his compatriots and nodded. The game commenced. Too nervous to watch closely, Fabienne bid Marion to sit and headed for the bar. The bartender flinched as she approachedâhe hadnât been dozing off, after all. For a moment, he reminded Fabienne of Slickâs croniesâseemingly inattentive, but vigilant. She brushed the thought away. âMight I have something warm to drink?â
âYou got money?â
âWell, Iââ
âNo money, no drink.â
âCard,â Antoine announced. She caught him lifting his hand toward his ear before he stopped midway through and placed it back on the table. Good cards. Yes.
âPlease,â she said to the bartender. âEven if itâs just warm water. Itâs for my sister. Sheâs not feeling well.â
âDâyou not hear what I said? Now get lost.â He waved at her as if swatting at a fly. As she turned, he murmured, âSouthern trash.â
Heat rushed into her head. She couldnât help if sheâd picked up a slight southern lilt during their two-year stay with their aunt. If anything, she was to blame for thinking bad manners only applied to Yankee soldiers.
The pressure made her need grow. She had to steal something, right away. Not from the bar, thoughâthe bartender was too attentive. She strolled over to the table, flexing her fingers. The thrill rushed to her fingertips, making her feel as if sheâd captured electricity itself.
Slick squinted at her and guarded his cards.
âJust checking on my watch.â She moved past him to the dealer. A piece of paper peeked out of his jacket pocket. Perfect. Fabienne waited until Antoine got the dealerâs attention by calling for another card, swiped the paper, and hid it in her sleeve. It didnât matter how worthless it wasâall that mattered was the rush of relief and the excitement of knowing sheâd done it without anyone noticing.
Calmed down, she sat next to Marion, who blew her nose into a torn handkerchief. âItâll be better on the ship,â Fabienne said. âThink about it. Antoine may even win enough money to get us a pretty cabin.â
âIâd rather think about home,â Marion said.
Fabienne was pleased with the glimmer of hope in her voice. It helped her believe, too. Three ship passagesâall that separated them from France. From the warm, dry sunâso different from the humidity of New Orleansâand the slightly floral, sweet smell of grapes, mixed with the mustiness of recently drenched earth. Home.
Marion sneezed again.
âHold on, Iâll see if I have something betterâŠâ Fabienne rummaged her pockets for a handkerchief. The stolen piece of paper slipped out of her sleeve and flew to the ground. It landed face-up, showing the intricately drawn, mirrored faces of a king.
Fabienne looked at it momentarily as realization formed, then stood up, nearly overturning her chair. âCheater!â
All eyes turned on her. She picked up the card, strode to the table, and snatched her watch. âSlickâs cheating,â she told Antoine. âThe dealer is hiding extra cards. He gives him whichever one he needs.â She slammed the king down in front of the dealer.
In the long, quiet moment, as he processed the information, Antoine glanced from the dealer to Slick. Then, as if time itself had to catch up with the delay, everything happened in a second. Antoine rose and thumped his fists on the table. Startled, Fabienne backed away toward the counter. Slick pulled out a pistol and peered it at Antoineâs chest. Marion screamed and ran to him. Another click notified Fabienne the bartender had a pistol pointed at her.
âTake it easy,â Slick said. âGive us that watch and weâll let you all go.â
Fabienne clutched the watch to her chest, but it did nothing to steady her heart, which threatened to burst right out. Weâre going to die. It didnât matter if she gave them the watch or notâtheyâd shown just how fair they play. Theyâre going to kill us either wayâŠ
âFabi.â Antoineâs steady voice drew her out of her thoughts. No, she wouldnât go down like this. Theyâd been so close.
âCome on, sweetie. Hand it over.â Slick signaled with his free hand.
They had their tricks. But so did Fabienne. Keeping her eyes on Antoine, she winked her left, then her right one. Itâs been a long time since theyâd used their distraction tactic, and this time, it wouldnât be for something as innocent as getting away from their parentsâ scolding. But Antoine rememberedâsurely, he did?
Antoine mirrored her responseâright wink, left wink. Fear transformed into adrenaline. Fabienne waited until he stretched his hand to a cowering Marion and squeezed it reassuringly. He gave no other sign, but she knew what to do.
âHey,â she barked.
Slick couldnât help itâhe instinctively swung his head toward her. Antoine punched his arm, sending the pistol flying. Fabienne ducked. Antoine grabbed Marion, and they disappeared through the front door. Fabienne sped for a door at the back, taking advantage of the confused scuffle ensuing from the gang.
âNo, her! Go after her!â Slick yelled.
Behind the first door was a small room, a combination of storage and kitchen, as dirty as the front. Tant pisâbetter not to have a drink from this place anyway. She rushed through the door at the end, out into the cold, dreary gray morning. Far to her left, the running silhouettes of Antoine and Marion disappeared into the mist. He was leading them down the docks, toward the ship. Good. But she couldnât get to them from hereâthe river blocked this side of the backyard.
Yelling grew closer. No time. She took off toward the only other escape routeâa narrow alley that led into the slums. She could lose the pursuers in the labyrinth and, even better, lead them away from her siblings.
âThere she is!â The steps thundered behind her.
Bangâsomething whizzed by her ear. In the rush, she barely acknowledged the stinging in her shoulder. Fineâonly a graze. Another bang; a bullet lodged itself into the wall ahead of her, sending motes of brick flying. She ducked. They gained ground; she rounded a corner to lose line of sight; they followed. Her raspy breath, echoing in her ears, blended with the heavy boots. She slipped in the mud. Bang. Her leg buckled, pierced by liquid fire.
Fabienne let out an agonizing, angry scream. Canât give up. Antoine and Marion would be waiting⊠she had toâŠ
Gritting her teeth, she pushed onward, but her running had turned into hopping. There was no outpacing them.
She rounded another corner and halted at a solid wooden fence. Not so solidâit had a loose plank. She pushed it aside and squeezed through into a small backyard. Her skirt caught on a splintered piece and she furiously pulled it, scratching her palm. The sickeningly sweet smell of decaying food wafted past as she collapsed behind a crate.
Her heart pounded loudlyâtoo loudlyâas her pursuers passed⊠more and more feet, splattering the mud, all running past her hiding place. Her accelerated pulse counted the seconds as they went by, until finally, quiet.
She made it. Sheâd wait a bit longer, gather strength, and continue her escape. Her leg burned, but at least it wasnât bleeding too badly. The bullet must have only passed through tissue, she reasoned, ignoring a warning at the back of her mind telling her she wasnât feeling well at all.
No, no, no. Think positively. The lightheadedness was from running and shock; she simply needed a momentary respite. She flipped open her watch. Her fingers, somewhat clumsier than usual, accidentally brushed and moved the hands of the dial. To calm herself down, she performed her old ritual. Pull the crown up and down; wind the watchâŠ
âYou always were my porte-bonheur.â A few more minutes and sheâd get up.
Her eyes fluttered, and in the last moments before her hand fell to the ground, she thought she saw somethingâa blue rash, originating at the watch, spreading underneath her skin, darkening her veinsâand then, nothing.
Fabienne Beaumont wakes up in 1864 Connecticut with no memory of how she got there nor anything that happened after she was shot in New York City two years earlier. Her husband is a complete stranger to her, and she is consumed by grief and guilt at discovering her siblings both died on the day she was shot as they were trying to secure passage to France in a last-ditch effort to leave a country ravaged by the Civil War.
In 2008 Georgia, Emily is trying hard to keep up with her studies when she stumbles upon an old diary while doing research for a history assignment on the Civil War. A diary which, it turns out, was written by none other than her ancestor Fabienne and contains the secrets of time travel - a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Emily to attempt saving her dying mom. But danger lurks in every corner, and Emily's present efforts might just tear Fabienne's past life apart.
Time Watcher builds a fascinating story following these intersecting dual timelines to deliver a captivating read which is sure to keep readers guessing right up until the very end. Both Fabienne and Emily are compelling protagonists, each facing some truly heartbreaking choices while dealing with extremely painful circumstances, accompanying readers on a reflection on love, loss and the lengths to which people might go to get it back.
As with most novels centred around time travel, the plot is intricate and requires some attention on the reader's part not to miss the clues the author cleverly disseminates throughout the novel. Still, the author did a great job in making even the most complex temporal twists and turns easy to follow, with clear explanations seamlessly woven through the narrative mostly avoiding excessive reliance on exposition.
The historical background of the American Civil War perfectly conveys the sense of urgency and the climate of mistrust which allows the story to develop, while the contrast with the modern setting allows for some "fish out of water" type humour that balances the overall more dramatic tone. The romance is also sweet and works well within the story, complementing but never overshadowing it.
Overall, Time Watcher is a twisty read combining time travel, romance, history and family which is likely to appeal to readers seeking a multilayered story reminiscent of The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger.