Chapter Text
Night had nearly fallen by the time Lou's mind was calm enough to allow her to take in the scenery. She’d followed the winding road for miles and miles, just like the friendly old man at the gas station instructed. Her destination was far, but the road, though long, was easy. The ease of her task had allowed her thoughts to steal her focus—thoughts of home, of Daniel and New York, of New Orleans and her family, of arguments and apologies she ought to give and receive, of plans she ought to make and plans she ought to break. She’d left behind a world of chaos when she’d crossed the Atlantic, and in none of her worrying had she come up with a solution.
But all that could be set aside for now, because the landscape around her was changing. The last haze of sunlight was enough to see her surroundings become eerily familiar, recalling grainy photographs and oft gazed upon etchings in ancient books. Words floated past Lou’s minds, snippets of description that reflect the new world around her—“Velvet green darkness.” “Mad tangles of trees.” “The deceptive gentleness of the feudal Lord’s manicured wilderness.”
Lou had found it. This was Claudia’s home.
The excitement she felt was almost enough to rid her of her worries. Finally, after years of searching for the precise location, Lou had found Claudia’s final dwelling place, and just in time too. War was threatening to sweep the continent in the coming year, and in the tumult it’s very likely that Claudia’s writings would be lost forever, a massive loss that would go horribly unremarked. Lou was one of the only scholars studying Claudia’s life and works, and it had been sheer luck that she’d managed to chase down the provenance of Claudia’s lost manuscripts to this rural French village. Apparently, a few people around here were aware of the literary treasures they had, and the works had been preserved. Lou had corresponded with a local librarian, who had arranged for her to pick up the manuscripts and shepherd them home to New York. They would be far better cared for in Barnard’s special collections than whatever manor house they'd been moldering in. Lou would bring Claudia’s remarkable work to the light.
Lou’s heart lifted as she rounded a gentle bend in the road. She’d been very anxious about making this journey. Not only did war seem imminent, if not an immediate threat, Lou had hated to leave New York in the state she’d left things. Even thinking of it threatened to undermine her sense of hope, but Lou tried to turn her mind away, ignoring the glint of the engagement ring on her finger. She hadn’t been able to bear the thought of taking it off despite her barbed words, and even remembering its presence made her heart twist. But the hopefulness brought on by her discovery accomplished the difficult task of lifting her spirits. Soon Lou would have the manuscripts and be home once more, and her work and her life would fall into order again.
Lou rounded another curve. The friendly old man at the gas station said that the road would start to curve like a snake and that’s how you knew you were close to town.
Just on the other side of a cresting hill came a canvas-covered truck loaded down with everything a family possessed. An upright piano had been poorly tied down, and when the truck went right, it went left, careening into Lou’s front windshield. She never saw it coming.