Timeless Moments

by Michelle Kidd

  The voice resonated so distinctly that Boomer spun around to stare at Sam and Carlton as if one of them had spoken, but he knew that wasn’t the case. It wasn’t often he heard a prompting so clearly and not something he wanted to ignore. He started unbuttoning his shirt and removing his shoes.

  “What are you doing? You aren’t actually going out there, are you?” Carlton’s voice squeaked. “C’mon, man. You’ll never hear the end of it if you do.”

  “Maybe, maybe not.” Boomer skirted the water’s edge. Despite the warmth of the day, the water remained freezing. The river rolled rapidly. If he didn’t hurry, whatever that was, would be out of his reach.

  Boomer waded into the river waist deep, the cold stealing his breath. He could feel the current tugging him downstream. Mud squished between his toes; he slipped twice. Nothing to do but dive in and swim.

  The frigid water gripped him with an iron fist, momentarily stunning him. He split the water’s surface with quick, powerful strokes. The swiftly moving water caused him to tire long before he reached his destination. He could see now it was no mannequin. His worst fears proved true—it was a child or small woman. He pushed himself to swim faster.

  The lifeless form remained caught on a branch that protruded from the water. The body had wedged between the branches, the limbs managing to keep the head and shoulders out of the water, but just barely. He prayed he wasn’t already too late.

  Just a few more strokes and he would reach the log. His feet felt numb, hands and arms clumsy as they groped for a pulse. He couldn’t tell . . . he couldn’t be sure with the brown, muddy water swirling around them. It was a woman. He could see that now. She was much too pale. Her dark hair slithered like snakes in the water, wrapping around his wrist as he worked to untangle her from the branches. Gently, he pulled her into his arms, flipping her to her back. All the while being careful to support her head against his own chest, he started back for shore.

  He couldn’t be too late, he just couldn’t.

  At the river’s midway point, he could see Sam and Carlton watching from the shore. The water felt like stinging needles. He had already exerted much of his strength against the continuous pulling current. His arms trembled and threatened to give way as he struggled against the rushing stream and waterlogged body. He gritted his teeth, determined to reach shore.

  Boomer emerged from the river, trailing rivulets of muddy brown water on the sandy beach. His arms were like noodles as he stumbled to the blanket and laid her down. He tumbled beside her, his ear to her chest, listening for a heartbeat. He waited for the rise and fall of her chest, watching closely for any signs of life.

  Her body was cold, much like the river he had just pulled her from. At first impression, he had thought her to be a child, her body so light and delicate, but the gown, all but transparent with water, clung to her soft curves, leaving no doubt she was all woman. She was so pale, ethereal in appearance. Dark, wet, unruly hair tossed wildly about her head. How gentle and sweet her upturned face appeared. Sooty, black lashes contrasted sharply as they rested on her bloodless cheeks. With the back of his hand, he gently touched the wound that marred her otherwise flawless beauty, a ghastly, purple laceration on the side of her face, running from her temple down the whole left side.

  Dear Lord, what happened to her? Please, don’t let her die. He tipped her head upward, pinching her nose, and placed his mouth over her cold, lips, blowing several short breaths. He checked her mouth for obstructions—willing her to breathe.

  Please, God, please . . . help her.

  He repeated the process several times before, much to his relief, she sputtered and vomited up water. Quickly he rolled her to her side, cleared her mouth, before once more administering the mouth to mouth until the rise and fall of her chest grew steady.

  When he stopped to look, she watched him with the most expressive eyes he had ever seen. They were almost black, gratitude shining from their depths. He felt his stomach tighten with the intensity of her gaze. My God, he had never seen anything so beautiful.

  “You saved me.” Her voice was a hoarse whisper, the result of swallowing too much river water, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes.

  His heart beat faster. “Actually, we’re just fishing. We’ve thrown back bigger fish than you today.” Slightly embarrassed and feeling awkward now that the immediate danger was over, he said the first glib thing that popped into his head. Inwardly, he groaned. “Sorry . . . that was stupid . . . just nervous, I guess. It isn’t every day I fish a beautiful woman from the river.” His hand shot up nervously to the back of his neck, where he rubbed the short stubble of his crew cut.

  She smiled, looking self-conscious. In fact, she seemed suddenly and most uncomfortably aware that he was still angled half on top of her with only her nearly transparent garments separating them.

  He immediately sought to rectify her discomfort by putting distance between them, and called to Sam. “Hey, hand me my shirt, will you?”

  For the first time, she apparently noticed the two young men standing in the background. She looked startled. Sensing her fright, Boomer laughed. “Don’t worry about those two; they’re pretty funny looking but otherwise harmless. They won’t hurt you. The big one is Sam, and the skinny one is Carlton.” He took the shirt Sam offered and wrapped it tenderly around her. “There, that’s better. You must be freezing. We need to get you to the hospital.”

  “Hos-hosp—no, I—”

  He cut her off kindly, but firmly. “You have a nasty gash on the side of your head.” One he suspected was going to leave a serious scar. “And you almost drowned. I’d feel a lot better if we took you to the hospital and they checked you out.”

  Without another word, he scooped her up. Now that he wasn’t fighting the river, he marveled at her light frame. “Say, what do they call you anyway?”

  She opened her mouth and snapped it shut again, confusion dulling the light in her eyes. Tears gathered and threatened to spill over. “I-I don’t know . . .”

  Chapter 10

  Father, we thank you for these blessings we are about to receive. We ask that they nourish us to the glory of your service. We thank you that Jack made it here safely and ask that you bless this night of fellowship.

  Amen.

  Jack felt Amanda’s little fingers wiggle inside his large hand. She looked up at him when the prayer was over and gave him one of her wide snaggled-tooth grins. He returned the smile, reaching over to tug one of her pigtails.

  “Mom, Amanda didn’t close her eyes during the prayer again. She’s too busy ogling Uncle Jack.” Nine-year-old Megan pulled on her mother’s sleeve.

  “H-m-m. . . And how would you know that? What have I told you about tattling, young lady?” Cindy gave her eldest daughter a reproving look as she dished chili into a bowl and passed it to Jack. “So, did you have any trouble on the way over? It’s been some storm, huh?”

  Jack accepted the warm bowl. Setting it down in front of him to cool, he waited while Megan took her time selecting a roll. “The main road is pretty clear. Always is on Rivermont because of the hospital.” She handed him the basket, with what looked like an apologetic smile. He only winked as he took the basket of oddly shaped mounds, plucked one from the basket, and laid it on his plate. “The side roads are a little icy.”

  “You’re welcome to stay the night. I made up the extra room, just in case.”

  “Oh, stay! Stay,” the girls chanted.

  Jack chuckled. “We’ll see. Although, I doubt the roads are that bad. The snow had already begun to taper off when I came in.”

  “Aww . . .”

  “Girls, let Jack eat.” Jeff slathered yellow butter on a piece of bread and popped it in his mouth. “Besides, I’m sure you two will get another snow day out of it.”

  Cindy uttered a groan. “More like a week the way schools are around here. A flake of snow falls, and the schools shut down.”

  “Better safe than sorry.” Jeff gave her a wink. He held up the bread.
“Did you make this?”

  Cindy shot him a withering glare. “You saw me make it.”

  “Delicious. My compliments to the chef. Jack, you’ve got to taste it.”

  Jack’s lips twitched. “Don’t pull me in the middle of this.” It had been a long-standing joke that Cindy’s cooking talents did not extend to bread-making. “I think I’ll just sit over here, nursing my broken tooth, and mind my own business.”

  “Okay, you two.” She cocked a brow. “Jack, I could have left you all alone to your turkey pot pie, or whatever frozen entree of the week you were going to nuke tonight.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He tried his best to look contrite, but a few seconds later he held up his bread, eyeing it with care. “Say, Cindy, would you mind if I took a few of these home tonight?”

  She jerked her chin suspiciously. “Why? You like them that much?”

  “Of course I do. Plus, I could use a few extra to throw in the back of the truck for ballast. Might come in handy if I get to sliding on the way home.”

  “Oh, you!” She picked up the closest thing she could find and sent the dishtowel sailing at his head. “You just wait.”

  Jeff high-fived him from across the table.

  “Cindy, you know I wouldn’t give you a hard time if I didn’t love you so much.”

  “Humph! Love me a little less, will you—and speaking of love. Just for that little comment, I may not introduce you to the super nice librarian I met the other day.”

  Jack grimaced. “Eww, nice librarian, huh . . . uh, as tempting as that sounds, I’ll pass.”

  “Really, Jack, you’re getting on my naughty list tonight.” Cindy plunked down her spoon. “What’s wrong with librarians?”

  “Just picturing some mousy brunette with horn-rimmed glasses. Nice? That’s what you say about ugly people.”

  “H-m-m . . . I told her you were nice, and she still seemed interested.”

  “Well, there you go—she is obviously desperate.” Jack picked up the dish towel Cindy had thrown at him and wiped spilled chili from his jeans.

  “Like you’re not? Honestly, Jack, when are you going to settle down? What’s this talk about ghosts?”

  Jack cut an accusing stare at Jeff.

  “What? She has ears like an elephant—not really, baby, I love your ears.” He puckered his lips and blew an air kiss in his wife’s direction. “But you know you listen to every word I say.” Turning to Jack, he continued, “Don’t blame me, you were the one asking about a ghost.”

  “Yes, Jack . . . what’s all that about?”

  “Ghosts? Uncle Jack, you have ghosts in your house?” Amanda piped up. “Oh, Mommy, can I go see the ghost?”

  “No, honey. There aren’t any such things as ghosts.” Jack spoke to Amanda but looked at Cindy and Jeff as if to convince them he wasn’t crazy. “It was only a question . . . a simple question.”

  “That’s what I mean. You have far too much idle time on your hands.” Cindy eyed him over her sweet tea. The ice clunked together in her glass as she drained it.

  “What’s this librarian chick’s name?” Jack wanted to steer the conversation away from ghosts.

  “Samantha Rose.”

  “Samantha Rose? Seriously. It sounds like the name of a romance writer.”

  “Samantha Rose, Samantha Rose,” sang Amanda.

  “I have to agree with Jack on this one.” Jeff picked up the dipper and scooped more chili into his bowl. “You’re going to have to give us a better description than nice and librarian.

  “Okay, how about hot and redhead? Honestly, you two, there is more to a woman than her looks.”

  “Take it easy.” Jack laughed. “We’re just giving you a hard time.”

  “Do you want to meet her or not?”

  Not. But Jack thought better of a flat out refusal. Maybe a nice librarian could be handy if he planned on going to look up articles in the library. He planned to do research on Lynchburg in the 1900’s and finding out more information on Jewel and her husband. “Tell you what, I’ve got a few things I need to look into at the library. How about you get her to help me, and if I like what I see, I’ll ask her out. Fair enough?”

  “What sorts of things?” Again, she eyed him suspiciously.

  “It’s for work. I’m starting renovations on a new house downtown . . .”

  Jack piloted the conversation to safer waters for the rest of the evening. No more talk of ghosts.

  *****

  Jewel picked the missed stitches from her embroidery for the fourth time before giving up and laying it aside. She could not keep her mind on the delicate flowers entwined intricately to form a wreath. She glanced at the clock. Almost five.

  Even though she expected it, the light rap on the door startled her. “Coming, Addie.” She decided on a light dinner and had asked to have it brought to her room. Her skirts rustled around her legs as she hurried to the door. “If I’d been thinking, I could have brought it up myself.” She opened the door and moved aside to allow Addie entrance.

  “Quite all right, miss. I don’t mind a bit.” She set the tray on a nearby table and brushed a soft strand of white hair off her brow. Her cheeks were rosy and moist from her efforts. “Would you be wanting anything else?”

  “Oh, no, Addie. It smells wonderful. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re quite welcome. Culpepper said to tell you to set the tray outside your door, he’d be around to pick it up later.”

  Jewel had never gotten used to having others wait on her. It troubled her to think of the older man doing something she thought herself capable of doing. “No need, I can take it down myself. Can you please tell him not to worry about it?”

  The expression in the older woman’s eyes softened. “That’s kind of you, but I think he rather enjoys looking after you. Don’t steal away his simple pleasure.” She pressed her lips together tightly as if she realized she’d overstepped her position. “Begging your pardon, miss.”

  “It’s all right, Addie. If that’s what you think, I’ll defer to your wisdom. You’ve known him longer than I have.”

  “I have. He’s grown very fond of you, if you don’t mind me saying. We both have,” she added. She coughed and shuffled her feet on the carpeted floor.

  “Oh, Addie, you are such a dear.” Jewel reached out and hugged the woman. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without either of you.”

  Unaccustomed to displays of affection, Addie’s already pink face grew a shade darker. “Well, yes . . . uh . . . Will that be all?”

  “Yes, of course. I know you are dying to get to your book. Please feel free to retire to your room. I shouldn’t need anything else for the evening.”

  “As you wish.” She gave a slight nod as she waddled from the room.

  The tantalizing smells drew Jewel over to the tray. Steam rose as she lifted the lid. She breathed deeply the aroma of chicken stew. Her eyes feasted on fresh bread, iced tea, and for dessert, a fat slice of Addie’s freshly made lemon pound cake.

  She plopped down immediately, spreading her napkin across her dress, and said a hasty prayer before sampling the thick, rich broth. She closed her eyes and sighed. Everything tasted heavenly. If she didn’t stop eating so much, she would have to have her dresses let out.

  She sopped up the last of the stew with her bread and lifted the fork to sample the cake. Addie would be pleased to see she had cleaned her plate. She savored the tangy lemon glaze. Maybe she would steal down to the kitchen later to enjoy a second piece. She laughed at herself; normally she did not have such a ferocious appetite. Perhaps nervous energy could be to blame.

  Jewel eyed the cushion. Her fingers itched to check again. Was it wrong to be this anxious for a return letter? Her intentions were harmless, but would Hunsdon think so? She knew without a doubt how angry he would be if he found out. She wrung her hands until she could not wait any longer. Then she made her way to the window seat, lifted the cushion, and hunted for the secret compartment. It sprung open readily un
der her nimble fingers.

  Her heart took a disappointed plunge when she didn’t see the annual. Why hadn’t he written her back? Maybe she had offended him in some way. She sat back on her heels, her shoulders sagging.

  Just then her eyes snagged on something white. She spotted something after all. Slipping her hands into the narrow partition, she drew back an envelope. It had her name on it and had most definitely not been there before. How had he managed to send her a letter, without the yearbook? Maybe the letter would have the answer. She hurried to open it.

  Dear Jewel,

  I hope that you will receive this letter. As you can see, I did not include your class-annual because I’ve been working out a theory in my head about how this is all possible. We assumed that the annual somehow held the key, but on that first morning we met, I retrieved a handkerchief you dropped. That got me to thinking, what if it has nothing to do with the book and more to do with the house? Whatever is in your time, and has remained is something we each can see.

  I’m wondering if you would do an experiment of sorts. Would you be willing to carve your initials in the top of this secret compartment? If what I think is true, I should be able to see them. I am not sure how our lives overlapped that day, or why we haven’t been able to since . . . Perhaps we only had a small window of time that made that possible. It appears we can still send letters back and forth, but I’m not sure how long that will last, either. I would love to know more about you and your life. I am eager to tell you about all the changes in the world.

  I hope you are sitting down as you read this because some of these things I think will shock you. Let me start with things you are already familiar with; I tried to do as much research as possible for accuracy. Let’s start with the automobile. I’m sure you are familiar with this, and possibly even own one since you are living in the wealthiest section of Lynchburg of the day. But did you know that today, almost everyone has an automobile, or car, as we call them. Most have two. They come in every color, size, and shape you can imagine. You mentioned a trolley in your last letter. The trolley no longer runs, though I did see pictures of it in old photographs while researching, The telephone has evolved quite a bit to a hand-held device that allows you to speak with people all over the world. You can take pictures with it, like a camera, and instantly send them anywhere. There is something called the Internet and this allows you to do all sorts of things. I can do my banking, go shopping, and look up information, all without leaving my nice comfy chair. It works sort of like a typewriter. But this typewriter is connected to a box and it sends and collects information I guess in the same way the telephone does. It’s all done through wires and cables. It is powered by electricity, which I know that you have in your day. It’s amazing. You may have trouble with this next thing I’m about to tell you because it’s hard to fathom the intelligence it takes to make such a thing possible, but try to imagine how impossible the airplane seemed until the Wright Brothers accomplished it. Flight evolved to the point that in 1969 we were able to put a man on the moon! Can you see that, a man walking on the moon!