Timeless Moments

by Michelle Kidd

  “I feel so helpless. I’d love to help, if I knew how.”

  “Then respond back and say that. Explain you want to clear up any confusion your letters might have sparked. I’d express my concern that Jewel’s letters have stopped and you only want to be sure she is okay.”

  “Thanks, Sam. You’re right. I can’t sit back and do nothing.”

  “Call me the minute you hear something.”

  “I will. I promise. Talk to you later.”

  They ended their conversation, but Samantha sat with the phone in the palm of her hand wishing she could do more. It seemed to her that with the vast wealth of resources available today she should be able to find out what happened to the Wiltshire’s. If only they had more information to go on. They knew he was a prominent doctor, there should be a way to trace him through the health system.

  Sam remembered seeing archives of the Virginia Medical Monthly. She thought she recalled several announcements of society’s doctors’ comings and goings. Maybe she needed to dig a little deeper to see if it held any information. As she recalled, there were several issues for 1917. She’d pull them when she got to work and see if she could find the actions of the good doctor.

  Chapter 25

  Addie Truscott could taste the bitterness of fear, a combination of dry mouth and sour stomach. Nasty business, this sneaking around. She didn’t enjoy snooping, but like anything else distasteful she found it best to close her eyes and avoid thinking about it. After all, a person didn’t spend a lifetime cleaning up other people’s messes by being squeamish.

  She let herself into the forbidden room using a ring of keys that had appeared as if from nowhere. The metal cut into her palm. She realized she was gripping them like a vise. Take it easy! She took a calming breath still curious about the mysterious ring. Something about its unusual appearance told her not to reveal her discovery to anyone. Who had ever heard of a colorized picture—colored, not painted! The American flag emblazed in front of two buildings of equal height. Addie had never been to the larger cities, but she knew such structures weren’t possible. In gold letters it had the words: Never Forget. Never forget what? She shivered and ran her thumb over the smooth trinket. Focus, old girl. Now’s not the time to lollygag.

  Inside the chamber, she removed the bundle of envelopes from her apron. Many still bore smudges of blood from the day she’d found her mistress. They’d littered the floor like so much confetti. Had this been the real reason for the fight between them? She’d read through each missive countless times, puzzled and fascinated by what they contained. Such nonsense about the future.

  She’d always possessed a curious mind, and if there was one thing she couldn’t resist it was a good mystery. Strange things were happening under her roof, and she didn’t like it. She’d never been one to meddle, finding it best to do her job and not get involved. But Miss Jewel was something special. Without warning, the young woman had wormed her way into Addie’s heart. She flinched as her conscience reminded her how freely she’d jumped to conclusions.

  Not wanting to stay in the room a moment longer than necessary, she hastily replaced the letters. Dr. Wiltshire must never know she’d taken them. She had intended to approach Miss Jewel and ask her about this mysterious Jack, but Dr. Wiltshire’s sudden return had prevented her from questioning her. Just as well, she didn’t think in her present state Miss Jewel could remember the truth.

  Addie had to wonder if it was a coincidence. Many of the things she’d read, letters penned months earlier, were now coming to fruition. This had all the elements of one of her mystery novels. Just like the pages of her books, it was hard to resist, seeing each detail through till the end. This puzzle twisted and turned with hidden compartments, secret messages, and what was shaping up to be a devious villain.

  She still hadn't solved the riddle of how the letters got into the window seat. Was it possible the correspondence was from the future as indicated in the earlier notes? Doubtful. Not that she believed in such things, but she'd left her own message and was curious to see what would happen. The room had remained locked and there were only two sets of keys. She kept one herself, Dr. Wiltshire held the only other key.

  How her heart thumped with irrational anticipation. It was time to see if she’d received a response. She took a step, mindful of the boards that groaned beneath her weight; she’d have a good laugh at herself when she opened it and found her own note still there. Such a foolish old woman entertaining this nonsense. Still . . .

  Addie shoved aside the cushion, spotting the folded sheet of paper that protruded halfway from the crevice. She blinked at the neat square that lay there, challenging her to deny its validity. It was not the message she had left the day before—that much was obvious. Incredulous, all she could do was stare.

  Suddenly, Addie’s heart seized. Her blood froze. She heard the distinct clip of Dr. Wiltshire’s shoes on the stair, their steady pace resounding like the minor keys of a funeral dirge. Trapped! She had mere seconds.

  Frantic, she snatched the note, shoved it into her apron, and scoured the room for a place to hide. Her eyes fixed on the wooden armoire. Flinging the doors open, she squeezed inside and made herself as small as possible. She hadn’t even known her stubby legs were capable of such deftness. Oh, how she regretted her midnight raids of the pantry. She waited breathless, shuddering as she tried not to think about what Dr. Wiltshire might do if he caught her.

  The jingle of keys never sounded more ominous. The door swung wide as he strode into the room and over to the cushion. Watching him through the sliver between the closet doors, she saw he wasted no time checking the window seat. She was sure she heard the sound of her own heartbeat threatening to give away her location. Thank the Lord she had removed the telltale note—if she’d been seconds later . . .

  Addie eased her hand into her pocket, clutching the paper to reassure herself, as she watched him lift the lid. Upon finding it empty, he let it slam close. His eyes darted about the room as if he searched for something before stopping to rest on the armoire.

  Did he see her? Spikes of fear paralyzed her. She held her breath, hand flying to her mouth. Addie sought the power to disappear, but found none. All she could do was pray.

  Just as she thought he’d descend upon her, he swiveled and headed in the opposite direction—to the bed. She shoved a knuckled fist between her lips to stifle the gasp of relief. She stared with disbelief. His expression was almost unrecognizable. Where was the calm, reasonable doctor who carried out orders with such efficiency? She didn’t recognize this wild-eyed man that stalked about like a hungry lion? His hair, always so meticulous and groomed fell across one eye, casting an eerie shadow on his features.

  He dropped to the bed, drawing the pillow to his face with all the tenderness of a lover. What was he doing? Dear Lord!

  His lips moved, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. He pulled something from the slip cover. It looked like . . . it couldn’t be . . . was that a clump of hair—Miss Jewel’s hair . . . tied with a satin ribbon. She observed, horrified, as he caressed it, twirling it around his finger. The clothes and walls of the closet threatened to close in on her. She was hot, suffocating, she had to get out.

  Addie closed her eyes and willed herself to breathe. Why wasn’t he at the hospital? She had watched him drive away this morning. Only when she was certain he had gone could she venture from the room. Did he suspect something?

  It seemed an eternity passed before he gained control of himself, returned the lock of hair, and smoothed his ruffled appearance. He checked the window seat once more before turning to leave.

  She waited until the sound of his footsteps faded before unfolding herself and leaving the cramped space. Her muscles were stiff from the tiny area, but better sore than the alternative. On noodle legs, she eased to the door. She hesitated, listening for sounds of movement. What if he was waiting in the hallway? With a deep breath, she turned the knob. Locked! Oh, lands! Locked in from the outside!
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  Addie back-stepped trying to figure out what she should do. Her face glistened, damp with sweat. She dabbed at the perspiration with the corner of her apron. The keys dangled, useless in her hand—the lock was on the other side of the door. If only . . .

  Fear muddled her thoughts even as she recognized she must keep her wits to escape. Think! Culpeper would help her, but where was he? With hope, she moved to the window. Yes! There, trimming the hedges in the garden!

  She pecked at the glass trying to get his attention. He had to see her. He did not look up at first, but after her persistent tapping he cast a wary glance upward. She read confusion on his face even from a distance. Why was he standing there? Didn’t he understand she needed him? She continued to motion for him. Oh, how she wished he’d hurry.

  After several attempts, he seemed to understand that she wanted him to come inside. He laid aside his pruning shears, looked from side to side as if assuring himself he wasn’t being watched, and headed to what Addie hoped was the kitchen entrance. She moved to the door to await his approach. It seemed forever, before she heard the familiar shuffle of his feet.

  “Addie? What you do’n in Miss Jewel’s room? You fix’n to get yourself in a mess of trouble.”

  “Where’s Dr. Wiltshire?” she hissed.

  “He gone.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes’m, I seen him drive away not more than five minutes ago.”

  “I’m locked in and need your help. I’ll slide the key under. Can you let me out?”

  “How you lock yourself in?”

  “Not now.” Addie pulled the object from the ring and shoved it beneath the door. “Please, just hurry.”

  There was a brief pause and the scratching of metal against metal, before the knob turned and Culpeper’s bent figure smiled at her. “There you go. You want to tell me how you got yourself locked in there? Dr. Wiltshire ain’t gonna like it when he find out.”

  “He isn’t going to find out.” Addie did her best to restore her dignity, pulling herself up straight and squaring her shoulders. “This has to be between you and me. Our lives could depend on it, Culpeper. Swear?”

  “I swear. You know I ain’t no fan of Dr. Wiltshire, that’s a fact. But you better be mo’ careful from now on. Ol’ Culpeper may not be around to let you out next time. This got something to do with Miss Jewel?”

  “Yes, she’s in trouble. I’m just not sure to what extent. We’ve not done right by her, Culpeper. Just keep your eyes and ears open. Be alert. Things aren’t what they seem in this house.”

  “I know that’s right.”

  Minutes after watching Culpepper limp back to finish his gardening, Addie hurried to the privacy of her room off the dining area. It was a cozy little space filled with shelves perfect for her mysteries. She pulled the crumpled letter from her pocket. She’d put herself at risk to intercept this note. Now she was praying it would shed light on her unanswered questions. With clumsy fingers, she unfolded her spectacles, fastened her greedy eyes to the words on the page, and prepared herself for whatever truth the message may lend.

  Consider me a friend who wishes to express my deepest concern over the disappearance of my friend, the woman I have been corresponding with named Jewel. I fear for her safety.

  I am not sure how little or how much you know about me, but I write to you from the year 2014. As incredible as it seems, somehow our worlds have overlapped, allowing Jewel and I to communicate. Her letters stopped abruptly two months ago, and I’m worried that she may be in trouble. My intentions for writing were never to cause her any grief, but to learn more about our unusual circumstances. Please, if you could tell me what happened to her, I’d be so grateful.

  Sincerely,

  Jack Vines

  Addie made the sign of the cross, fanning her flaming cheeks with the letter. Lands! How could this be real? If this was to be believed, Miss Jewel wasn’t crazy. All this time she’s been drugged and held against her will, and she, Addie, had a hand in it. Lord, forgive me!

  It also meant she needed to use extreme caution when dealing with Dr. Wiltshire. He had tried to kill his wife, and almost gotten away with it. What would he do if he found out she had read the letters?

  Oh, Lord, why? What am I doing?

  Thoughts stung her mind like many bees. Her first priority would be to get Miss Jewel off the medication. That would not be easy given that Dr. Wiltshire controlled the dosage and had convinced his young bride of his devotion. Weaning her away from it could be dangerous, too. She needed a miracle, that’s what.

  Then there was the business of the letters. Somehow she must let this Jack-person know that Miss Jewel was in danger. But did she dare sneak back inside the room? What if Dr. Wiltshire figured out what she was doing?

  The police were not an option. Who would believe such a story? Even if she reported it, it would be the doctor’s words against her own. Who would the authorities be more inclined to trust . . . a doctor or an addle-brained housekeeper? That’s what he’d say. She’d experienced the ease in which he lied. No, she’d have to figure this out on her own.

  As she collected a pen and paper, she tried to think what she should write. She positioned herself at the desk, touched the tip of her tongue to the nib, and scratched out a message. With resolve, she did her best to push down the feelings of doubt and disbelief.

  Dear Mr. Vines,

  I am writing this letter on behalf of my mistress to let you know she is in danger. Please understand that I overstep my station in telling you this information, and, I pray you are a man of honor. I find this most remarkable, and have difficulty believing that you are, as you say, from the future. Still, I have seen your letters as proof, and I must take this at face value and not some sort of hoax.

  Mrs. Wiltshire is being held here in the house against her will. She is in the upper tower. My employer is a cruel man, and I fear for all our safety. He has convinced Miss Jewel that she has some sort of break from reality and that you are part of this insanity. He has her heavily medicated, and controls the distribution and dosage of the drug. I feel helpless as to how best to help. It is my duty to look after Mrs. Wiltshire.

  I . . .

  But Addie didn’t get to finish that thought. Urgent pounding at the door startled her from her deep thoughts, causing her to drop the unfinished message to the floor. What in the world!

  “Addie, I need you to come quickly.”

  “Dr. Wiltshire?” Her voice squeaked despite herself. With a haste she didn’t know she possessed, she gathered the letter, folded it, and shoved it as far back into the pigeonhole as she could. She piled several books to the front, hiding any trace of the paper. “Just a moment.”

  She swung the door open and stepped out into the hallway. “What seems to be the problem, Dr. Wiltshire?”

  “It’s Culpepper. I’m afraid he’s had a terrible accident.”

  “Accident, wh-why I just saw him not more than thirty minutes ago.”

  His ice blue eyes glittered. “Addie, that’s the thing with accidents, you never know when one might happen.”

  The hair on her neck bristled. “Well, is he all right . . . where is he?”

  “It’s a mercy I found him.”

  “You? But I thought you’d gone for the day?”

  “Gone? Why, Addie, I never left.”

  Chapter 26

  1967

  I unwrapped a piece of hard candy and popped it in my mouth, savoring the sweet and sour lemon flavor that always set my teeth on edge. Once I started, I couldn’t stop eating them. Dr. Greyson kept a bowl in his office, and by the time our session had ended, it was normally half-empty. He hadn’t arrived yet, so I amused myself by looking around trying to gain insight into my benefactor.

  A sense of regimented order prevailed throughout the room. I realized even the pencils on his imposing desk stood at attention. Sunlight spilled from a beautiful arched window. On either side, heavy Damask draperies were captured with tie backs to expose fin
e, sheer panels. Several framed diplomas lined the wall, and expensive looking books graced the bookshelves, but nothing personal—not so much as a photograph or figurine lay in sight.

  Void of personality, my eyes flew to the only thing of interest in the room, a gray shadow box that hung off to one corner. This leaned, slightly askew. It struck me as odd in a room full of order. The contents contained two military style caps, several medals, a pair of dog tags, and a mess kit. The knife, fork, and spoon were neatly displayed side by side. Nestled among the artifacts rested a small, photograph of Dr. Greyson. He stood erect in uniform. Even in black and white, his piercing eyes sent a jolt through me. He had been quite handsome. I reached out to touch the glass.

  “Ah, you’ve discovered my WWI memorabilia.”

  Startled, I whirled around. “I hope you don’t mind. I—”

  “Of course not. That’s why they are on display. Sorry to have kept you waiting.” He wheeled himself in and closed the door. The carpet muffled the sound of his wheels as he rolled behind his desk. “Please, have a seat.” He indicated that I should choose either of the two seats located near him.

  I selected the charcoal one with the tassels, as I usually did, and tried to make myself comfortable.

  “So, how are you doing this week? Have you started that journal?” He opened his top drawer and pulled out a pad.

  “I did. Although, I must admit it was difficult.”

  “Oh? How so?” He peered at me over his glasses.

  I shook my head, thinking my meaning should be obvious. “Because I can’t remember anything.”

  “I see.” He jotted something on the paper. “What do you make of the images you had the other night? Do you want to talk about it?”

  No, not really. I took a deep breath. “It’s hard. I only saw flashes, nothing solid.”

  “Do you think they were from your past?”