Timeless Moments

by Michelle Kidd

  At this point, Jewel set the letter on her lap. “Astonishing!” She leaned over and absently stroked Theodosia’s ear. Could this man be mocking her? Were these things truly possible, or could he be spinning fancy tales that she had no way of verifying? Why, the next thing he would tell her, that people were living under the ocean. It all seemed too fantastic, but as far-fetched as it sounded, she somehow knew Jack wouldn’t make these things up. Why she trusted him was a mystery itself, but she did.

  She skimmed the lines once more picking up where she’d left off.

  I know these things must seem impossible to you. I’ve tried many times to put myself in your shoes. I apologize if all this is a bit overwhelming. It may reassure you to know many of the things that you know and love are still here. I used the Internet to see what would have been a part of Lynchburg in your time. Rivermont is still here and the houses up and down the street. Many of the churches, colleges, and hospitals have survived. I also checked the location of Lynchburg High School, it took some digging, but the school has been moved three times, and now goes by another name but still is in operation. There is a big movement in downtown Lynchburg to restore many of the older buildings and streets. A number of old buildings remain, including the train depot.

  A little more about me . . . I was born in Lynchburg and lived here until seventh grade when my parents moved to Denver. When I was a boy, I rode by this house every day with my mother on my way to school, and I made up my mind that someday I would own this house. Our house.

  I think I told you in my last letter that I never married. I don’t have many friends, mostly I spend my time working. I do have one very good friend. He and his family have sort of adopted me, like the family pet. I envy their relationship. I’ve never been able to find the right person for me. You are lucky to have found love so young. You don’t look older than twenty, if you don’t mind me saying. Please tell me about yourself and your husband. Do you have children? I don’t mean to pry, but you seemed so sad that morning in the garden. I don’t know if there is any way that I can help you, but I’ve been told I’m a good listener.

  There is only me rattling around in this big, empty house—me and a crazy cat that I haven’t named. I would very much like for us to be friends. I believe that God must have brought us together for a purpose. As I told you before, I don’t believe in chance.

  Your friend,

  Jack

  Jewel reread sections of the letter trying to digest everything she had just learned. Mankind had certainly advanced in knowledge and know-how. Trying to imagine such things gave her a headache. Besides, these things had small consequence on her life. What did stand out were a few lines that Jack had written regarding himself and the family adopting him. His humility touched her. He had jokingly referred to himself as a family pet. Her lips curved in a soft smile. She liked his sense of humor. What a pity he had never found love.

  His letter said he envied her. Oh, Jack . . . if you only knew . . . Should she tell him? There was a part that wanted to hide the ugly truth, but what could it hurt—him living almost a century in the future? It wasn’t as if she had any close friends. Hunsdon had alienated her from just about everyone important to her. Perhaps God had brought him into her life for such a time as this . . .

  She snatched a pen and stationery, determined to write her heart before she could change her mind.

  Chapter 11

  Dear Jack,

  My heart is full with so many things I’d like to say. You paint a picture of the future that sounds quite fantastic. One can hardly imagine such things, yet if you tell me they are so then I shall believe. I sit staring out my window as the moon peeks between the clouds and try to imagine men walking up there. I’m afraid it takes quite an imagination to visualize many of the things you speak of in your letter. One thing that came across is your personality and the sincerity of your character. Your sense of humor makes me smile, and that is rare.

  My father is a Baptist minister, a most kind man. You are about the same age and have the same gentle quality as he does. Sadly, I do not get to see him as much as I would like. My mother passed away not long after I married. I do not have many friends or access to my family. You speak of finding love and how alone you feel, but I assure you there are worse things than remaining by yourself. I hope I do not shock you too much, or I’m not too forward regarding my own situation. You see, Jack, I am married to a very cruel man. What I thought to be love, turned out not to be the case. You are a wise man to wait until the true thing comes along. I have not spoken of this to anyone. I reveal this to you because you are so far in the future, and I wonder what it could possibly hurt. You speak of being alone, I understand, for I too am alone. We make quite a pair, two lonely souls living in the same house nearly a century apart.

  I do hope you will tell me more concerning the events of the future in upcoming letters. I’ll admit history has never been my forte, but your descriptions of world events have piqued my interest. So many of my friends from LHS are talking about the war in Europe. It’s all anyone speaks of these days. The newspapers are filled with talk of the Germans and their submarines. They attack both civilian and military ships. Many fear their attacks will force Wilson’s hand in joining the war. With all the talk, it does make one fearful that we are on the brink of a great war.

  I should also like to hear more of your family. Do you have sisters, brothers, or pets? I have the sweetest kitten that I named Theodosia. I keep her in my room as Hunsdon does not like animals in the house. She is a great comfort to me. We live here with a male servant, Culpeper, and our cook, Addie. Both are very good to me.

  I hope I haven’t bored you to tears. I am told I possess the tendency to run on, and I wouldn’t want you to think me a complete goose. I hope that you will write me back soon.

  Take care, Jack.

  J.

  P. S. I hope you will find my initials carved on the underside of the seat. I’m excited to see if your idea works.

  Jack smiled at her words. He would never consider her a goose. Endearing, perhaps, but never a goose. He assumed that meant silly. How he loved her quaint expressions. From the little he knew of her, he found her charming.

  Anticipation and eagerness made him put the letter aside for the moment to check the underside of the bench. He strained to see anything resembling her initials. There were definitely scratches, but he couldn’t make them out as initials. It appeared someone had perhaps scratched through them. At any rate, they were illegible.

  He had an odd sensation that caused the hair to rise on the back of his arms. Yes, the seat had considerable age, but the underside should not have seen much wear. Had someone found the initials over the years, and scratched them out, or . . . was it possible this husband had discovered the initials. Had he unknowingly put her in danger? He clenched and unclenched his jaw in an attempt to gain control of his thoughts. The idea of someone showing cruelty toward Jewel made him angry. Did that explain the fear he had seen on her face that first night?

  His eyes traveled across the elegant script, scanning different parts of her letter. Her reference to being on the brink of a great war also caught his attention.

  He tried to recall what events occurred during 1917. No one had ever accused him of being a historian, but he recalled the United States entering WWI later that same year. Tomorrow, when he went to the library, he would research the surrounding events leading up to Wilson’s decision. Maybe he could make copies of the news clippings and send them along with his letters.

  He pulled out a yellow legal pad and jotted down details he wanted to research. Hunsdon Wiltshire would be at the top of his list. His nostrils flared. What sort of cruelty had he inflicted upon Jewel? He would find out everything about the man, and then he would . . . what? What could he do to protect her? The thought would make sleep difficult that night. He couldn’t wait to get to the library and begin his search.

  *****

  Jewel paced the floor, indecision twi
sting her stomach into knots. Had she done the wrong thing by confiding in Jack? She had chewed the cuticles of her fingers until they were raw. She imagined Hunsdon’s sharp reprisal when he discovered the condition of her hands.

  The hour grew late. She knew she should go to bed, but sleep would be impossible. If only he would write her back tonight and give her some indication that he didn’t see her as . . . well, weak or stupid. She didn’t want Jack thinking ill of her. She found it puzzling as to why a stranger’s opinion would matter so strongly, but it did. Something about him made her feel . . . stronger. She longed for a confidant and friend.

  Jewel lifted the cushion once more to be sure he hadn’t written anything but sighed and let it fall back into place when she found it empty. Of course, he wouldn’t write back at this late hour. She would check again first thing in the morning.

  Undoing the buttons of her gown, she slipped from her dress and hastily pulled a soft flannel gown over her head. The room had grown rather chilly. Theodosia had long since curled up on her cushion and fallen asleep. She stifled a yawn. Yes, she would check again in the morning. She turned down the gas lamps and crawled into bed.

  *****

  With stealth that rivaled that of a hungry lion, Hunsdon Wiltshire slipped through the dark night, sliding his key inside the lock. He stood poised, absorbing the silence, becoming one with the darkness. Everyone would be asleep. His spine tingled with the thrill of anonymity that the shadows provided. Careful to avoid the second step and its telltale squeak, he climbed the stairs to Jewel’s room.

  Prone to insomnia, Hunsdon’s nocturnal senses took over. He effortlessly maneuvered through the grand house unimpeded. The knob to Jewel’s room turned easily enough beneath his hand as he let himself in.

  Cat-like, he sidled up to her bed, staring down at her petite frame. She was practically lost in the blankets, all but her glorious hair as it spilled across the pillows. He stood mesmerized by the sight. The urge to bend over, lift it to his nose, and inhale her sweet scent became too great.

  In the dancing firelight she had an ethereal appearance. With cheeks rosy from the warmth of heavy quilts and lips parted in slumber, she took on the look of an angel. He shook his head to clear the illusion. More like a witch casting her spell over him.

  Beauty was deceptive. “For even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light,” Hunsdon recalled the familiar Bible verse from Corinthians. I will not let Satan have this one, he promised himself.

  He loved to watch her sleep, breathe in the scent of her, and study the slight rise and fall of her chest. This one was not beyond salvation. His Jewel would not end up as his mother and sister. He would succeed where his father had failed. He did not like to remember what he’d been forced to do.

  She stirred before coming fully awake, then bolted upward. Her disheveled hair framed her face as she drew the blankets against her chest. An attempt at modesty? Doubtful. He wagered more likely another coy attempt to lure him into her bed.

  Instead of looking relieved to see him, he sensed fear. Good.

  His father’s voice rang in his ears, “For the one in authority is God’s servant for your good, but if you do wrong, be afraid, for rulers do not bear the sword for no reason.” She had nothing to fear as long as she behaved, the little temptress.

  “Hunsdon?” Her voice snapped him from his reverie. “Did something happen? You’re back early.”

  “You seem surprised.”

  “Well . . . yes. We weren’t expecting you back for another day or two.”

  “We?” Hunsdon quickly seized the word. “What do you mean, we?”

  “Why, Addie, Culpeper, and I, of course. I’m sure that there is still something left in the kitchen if you’d like me—”

  “No need. I’ve already eaten. My business concluded earlier than expected. I decided to return home to see my lovely wife.”

  “Why didn’t you telephone us? I would have sent Culpeper to the station to meet you.”

  “And miss the surprised look on your face? No, my dear. Besides, I had a little time for shopping. Here, I have a gift for you. Open it.”

  When she hedged, he felt a flicker of irritation. “Go on, it won’t bite you.” He pushed the present toward her as he sat on the edge of the bed.

  When she didn’t unwrap it fast enough, he brushed aside her hands to assist her. “For heaven’s sake, why must you steal the joy out of everything!” He lifted the top off the box and pulled out what he felt the most appropriate day frock of white linen. Quite modest and unadorned.

  “Wh-why, Hunsdon . . . It’s beautiful.” She reached out to touch the garment, but her voice fell flat.

  She didn’t like it, he could tell. He supposed it wasn’t daring enough, or didn’t have enough of those gaudy beads and bows that women were so prone to wear. Well, never mind, she would wear it. “Where is that hideous gown you had on this morning?”

  “What? I—no, I do like it, Hunsdon. You are so generous to have thought of me.”

  Her words were meant to appease him, but he could see through her. Her deception fueled his anger. “Do you think I’m a fool? I asked where it is.”

  “Laying on the chair to be laundered. But I—”

  “Ah, yes.” With purpose, he marched to her embroidery basket and fished out her scissors.

  “Hunsdon, what are you—”

  He held up a hand to silence her. Snatching the gown from the chair, he extended both the scissors and the dress to her. “Now destroy it. I never want to see that thing again.”

  He remained silent while he waited for her to take the offered items. He tried to remain patient with her, but she made everything so complicated.

  The fire popped as tears pooled on the fringes of her dark lashes, tears that remained in check. She knew he loathed the sight of them. Mother and Kate had never learned. Their pitiful pleas only fueled his anger, making it easier to accomplish things he had not intended to do. But not his Jewel. She was intelligent, trainable, not prone to feminine theatrics. She simply needed a heavy hand to steer her in the right direction when she sometimes forgot herself.

  “Don’t make me ask you again.” Each word dropped in the room, like stones not to be crossed.

  “Hunsdon, please . . . My mother and I made this dress together. It was part of my wedding trousseau, and it is special to me.” She blinked the tears away and stared at him imploring. “Now that she is gone, it’s all I have left.”

  “All you have left?” His words sliced through the room like a bolt of lightning. “You dare imply all of this is not enough for you!”

  “No, Hunsdon, I—”

  “Look around this room and tell me that this . . . this . . .” He shook the gown. “This common thing is of more value than me and everything I’ve provided for you! You ungrateful witch!” In a rage, he grabbed her by the hair and ground her face into the gown as he would an errant puppy. “Have I ever denied you anything? I warned you what would happen if you made me ask a second time.”

  For an instant, he saw red. Blind rage coursed through him as he lifted the scissors above her. He wanted nothing more than to feel them plunge into her soft flesh, punishing her for pushing him too far. But something stayed his hand, bringing him back to his senses.

  Of course, he reasoned, she deliberately wanted to provoke him. She wanted to turn him into a monster. He was not a monster. He was her savior. Yes, that thought pleased him very much. His lips twisted into a smile.

  “Very well, as you wish.” He shoved a lock of hair off his brow with the back of his forearm and placed the scissors and garment on the bed next to Jewel. “I’m going to give you time to consider the importance of obedience.” He walked to the door stiffly before wheeling around and facing her once more. “You will fast in your room until you have come to your senses. Disobedience will not be tolerated.”

  He pulled a key from his pocket and dangled it in the air. “I’d hoped never to have to resort to this, but you leave me no choice. Y
ou will remain locked in your room until you see the error of your ways.” Pinning her with his eyes, he added, “And, Jewel, make no mistake, if you try to cry out, or make contact with the staff in any way . . . there will be serious repercussions.”

  His words rang with an ominous tone as he closed the door and locked it behind him.

  Chapter 12

  To Jewel the click of the lock sounded like the lid on her coffin sealing shut. She knew from that moment on, survival depended on her escape.

  Hunsdon’s punishments were always severe, his temper always volatile . . . but this had been something more. The memory of Hunsdon towering above her, brandishing her scissors in his hand made her weak. Wrapping her arms around her torso, she steeled herself against the fear that clawed at her heart.

  For a moment, she sat there stunned, her mind reeling. Certainly, he couldn’t keep her imprisoned—how would he explain her absence to Addie and Culpeper? By morning, he’d come to his senses and realize he couldn’t hold her against her will.