Timeless Moments

by Michelle Kidd

  What was Miss Jewel up to?

  “Forgive me . . .” Her chin sagged, rested on her chest before she jerked it up.

  Confused, Addie slid her hand around the bottle, shoving it farther into her pocket. Why would she feign a reaction to medication she hadn’t taken? Her actions were convincing. Addie figured it best to play along until it was clear what Miss Jewel was doing.

  “Perhaps you could take her to her room? I should have known better than to give it to her before she ate.”

  “Quite all right, Addie.” He tossed her an indulgent smile. “Give her as much as she wants. It won’t hurt her. It keeps her calm, and that’s good for the baby. Don’t worry about getting her to her room. I’ll see to it."

  The bewildered housekeeper stared after the couple. Miss Jewel was up to something, that sly little vixen. Whatever she was doing, she had convinced Dr. Wiltshire. Addie smiled. She’d never been prouder.

  *****

  Sleep. The last thing on Jewel’s mind was a nap, but from the moment she’d heard Hunsdon’s voice something inside her clicked to survival mode. Pretending to be under the influence of the medicine bought her an excuse to retreat to the safety of her room. Falling into a lethargic slump on her bed, she’d kept up the charade until he left her alone, and she caught the sound of the front door closing.

  Careful not to make noise, she eased her feet to the floor and crept to the window where she stood just behind the curtain. From there, she watched Hunsdon back the shiny new Lincoln out the drive and turn onto Rivermont.

  Jewel wanted to scream. Her body craved the laudanum so much her body trembled. Wrapping her arms around herself, she paced back and forth. He had done this to her. This was his fault, wasn’t it? Her mouth felt dry. What had made her think she could skip a dose? She should call Addie and demand . . . what? Just enough to take the edge off.

  Sweat formed on her upper lip. Her stomach hurt. She took several calming breaths to make sense of it all. One minute she blamed Hunsdon. After all, he had pushed her to take it. Small doses for the migraines, then more and more he’d forced on her until she couldn’t function without it. He said he’d medicated her to protect her, that she was delusional. Was that true? So many things blurred in her mind. It wasn’t possible he’d made up lies to keep her dependent on him, was it? Only a monster would do something like that.

  She considered the last few months, foggy as they may be. He’d never been more attentive. He catered to her every whim. Guilt over her deception pierced her. She wrestled with her conscience, ashamed for entertaining such an idea. Insanity! Her husband, the father of her unborn child, had kept her drugged for his own pleasure? No, too horrible to consider.

  A few more trips up and down the carpet and she was back to those nagging doubts, memories, and threats to take the baby . . . had she imagined those things? Images flashed in her mind. Had she blocked out certain events? Were they hallucinations as Hunsdon suggested? She needed insight. Addie would help, wouldn’t she?

  Addie. But how could Jewel trust her? She’d held the keys that kept her prisoner. Nothing made sense. She dug her fingernails into the palms of her hand to keep from yelling. She wanted to run—run away from herself, from this house, from everything. If only . . . if only she could think . . . could have just a sip of . . . her . . . medicine. She jammed the heel of her hands against her temples to clear her head. Think, think, think. What’s real?

  And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. The voice was almost audible in her mind, but rather than be alarmed by it, she found comfort. She swallowed and gave a shaky nod. You can’t ignore what your heart is telling you. Deep down, she knew the truth, didn’t she? Besides, it didn’t much matter how she’d grown so dependent on her medication. She must stop! She would never recollect clearly as long as she remained a victim under its influence. Responsibility. Hadn’t her parents taught her to take responsibility for her own actions?

  Life was far more complicated than she’d ever realized under the safety and protection of their care. How had life grown so complex? Her mother and father had been her strength . . . no . . . wait. She shook her head. That wasn’t right. That isn’t what they’d taught her. Her strength was in the Lord. She struggled to remember that verse . . . Trust in the Lord with all her heart . . . lean not on her own understanding? In all her ways acknowledge the Lord and he would direct her path.

  That’s what she would teach her child. She tilted her chin with determination. Many unanswered questions loomed in her mind, but two things she knew. She would protect her sweet baby . . . and . . . something else. Despite being alone, she crept closer to the mattress, looking over her shoulder as if being watched. As she lifted it, her heart pounded. Sliding her fingers beneath, she removed a worn letter and clutched it to her chest. No need to read it—she’d memorized the lines so many times the ink had blurred. The words were etched in her memory, paper crinkled in her hand. Proof. Jack was real.

  Chapter 32

  1967

  With a tall glass of ice tea in hand and chem book tucked beneath his arm, Aiden slid his terrace door open and breathed deeply the heady scent of pines. The recent storm had saturated the woods. Their clean, crisp fragrance filled his nostrils. Finally, a chance to be alone and study for finals. If he didn’t ace this thing, Grandfather would be furious. He wasn’t worried. Other than the one mishap, early on his college academics, chemistry was his forte.

  He sat and crossed his bare feet on the railing. With the book balanced on his chest, he took a sip of tea. The sweet, lemon brew felt good on the back of his throat. Rolling his neck, he closed his eyes and let the refreshing breeze blow over him.

  Temperatures had been killer this week. For the moment, he was content to sit still, relax, and listen to the lazy drone of bees buzzing in and out of the Crape Myrtle that grew alongside his balcony. In fact, there were all sorts of insect voices when you took the time to be alone and heed them.

  As for complete solitude, however, he’d much prefer the company of a certain dark haired, dark-eyed beauty. He’d be relieved when they could move past this friendship pact and be free to pursue a real relationship. It was becoming harder than ever to keep up the charade of amity when he wanted it to be so much more. Not even the idea of having a ready-made family scared him off. From the moment he’d laid eyes on her, and experienced that small flutter of life, he knew he desired her, lock, stock, and baby.

  What would his grandfather think of his plans? Aiden couldn’t be sure, but he certainly seemed taken with her. Although a bit overprotective at times, Aiden was positive Grandfather approved. He took his grandfather’s diligent care as a good sign.

  Hilda Albrecht was another matter. He didn’t care at all for her attitude. In fact, he’d been unable to recall her ever reacting in such a manner. Her behavior bordered on the bizarre, far beyond her normal brusque personality.

  He’d grown accustomed to her short snipes, attributing them to a lifetime of his teasing. Although he chose to believe she enjoyed their banter in her own cantankerous way. What he saw with Janie differed in that Hilda appeared almost . . . jealous? Which was completely ridiculous. What difference did it make who he dated? Whatever her problem, it was unacceptable. He’d told Grandfather so.

  A sharp knocking prevented further speculation. He frowned.

  So much for studying, not that he was doing much of that anyway. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Aiden.”

  “Janie?” Aiden couldn’t open the door fast enough.

  “Are you busy?”

  “Never too busy for you. Come in.” He stepped back, allowing her to enter.

  Instead, she nibbled her bottom lip, her eyes scanning his room. “Uh . . . I hoped we might go for a walk.”

  Of course, she’s not coming into your bedroom, idiot! “Sure. Let me get my shoes. Everything okay?” He left the door standing open while he backtracked and rooted around under the bed for them.

  “Uh huh
. Just have something I want to share with you.”

  The mattress sunk as he sat down and slipped his foot inside a sneaker. “Something good?” He tied his shoe in a double knot and eased on its mate.

  “A little of both.” Venturing a step closer to the door, she lowered her voice. “I’d rather tell you when we get outside.”

  Aiden frowned. Something was wrong. He finished tying the other lace and stood. “Ready?”

  They walked down the hall in silence, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. Aiden took the opportunity to study her. Almost overnight she had blossomed. Her tummy protruded from beneath a sleeveless top and peddle pusher jeans. He suppressed the urge to smile as she teetered slightly sway-backed. She was nowhere that big, but she was every inch adorable. As they descended the stairs, he laid a protective hand in the small of her back enjoying the warmth of her skin through the light fabric of her shirt. The one, intimate act was all he would afford himself.

  She waited until they were outside, the crunch of gravel beneath their feet. He measured his steps, slowing down, so she didn’t have to try and keep pace with his longer strides. She turned, maneuvering her body so the facial scar wasn’t as visible to him.

  A barb of frustration penetrated his peaceful thoughts. Did she think him so shallow as to care about that? He wanted to spend a lifetime proving to her it didn’t matter.

  He watched her expression flicker from pensive to determination. “I found another note today.”

  Huh! He hadn’t expected that. He stopped abruptly. “Where—what did it say?”

  “Don’t be upset.” She laid a hand on his sleeve. “I discovered it in my room, this afternoon.”

  “Your room—in the house!” Obviously, in the house. Stupid question. But it was unfathomable one of the employees was capable of something this vicious. His jaw tightened. “Was it another threat?”

  She produced a limp piece of paper. “Here.” Clearly, she’d been clutching it the entire time.

  “’Stop pretending. We both know your secret?’” He stopped walking. “Are you kidding me? Who'd write this to you?”

  She shrugged.

  “Janie if you know who this person is, tell me. Someone is playing games, and you should take it seriously.”

  “It’s no big deal. Probably someone’s idea of a joke. Besides, that isn’t what I needed to talk to you about.”

  “There’s more?” Why was she so dismissive? It had to be someone in the house—

  “I remembered something. At least I think so.”

  Again, not what he’d expected, but this was good news. He slipped the note into his pocket and reached out for her hand. “Janie, that’s great! Have you told Grandfather?”

  “I wanted to tell you first. It isn’t much . . . a childhood memory.”

  “But it’s a start.”

  She smiled that sweet smile that melted his heart. “I thought so, too.”

  They stood staring at each other. Water from the recent storm dripped all around, producing the illusion of solitude from the world. The trees made a tranquil canopy overhead, allowing a small light to flicker through the branches. It was enough to catch on her chestnut curls, highlighting them to shades of amber. How fitting, that those fiery strands should appear. So like the fire he read just below the surface.

  He stood inches from her. Who would be the wiser if he stole a kiss? How he longed to taste those lips that promised such sweetness. He gave himself a mental kick for promising to keep things on a friendship level.

  “Have I showed you the log cabin here on the property?” His voice was much too husky. He swallowed, knowing it was a foolish thing to ask. Of course he’d never shown her. But she was too polite to point that out.

  “I don’t believe so.” A smile flirted on her lips. “But I’d love to see it now.”

  “Good . . . because if we stand here any longer, I may just have to kiss you.”

  *****

  The blatant admission made me laugh. Thank goodness. I’d been seconds from melting into his arms . . . and would it be so wrong? His nearness caused me to question my principles. Leave it to Aiden to turn an intense situation comical. His pitiful face was amusing.

  I stepped back. “We can’t have that, can we?”

  “We certainly cannot,” he quipped. “Look, missy, you’ll have to stay over there in your space, and I’ll stay over here in my space. You’re going to keep on topic and stop trying to get me side-tracked with those beautiful eyes.”

  “Can I hold your hand?” I teased.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “But what if I slip on this gravel . . . you’ll be way over there.”

  He pretended to consider the question. “Very well, take my arm if you must, but for goodness sake, be careful. Don’t go bumping into me.”

  “I’ll try my best.” I laughed. “It’s your own fault . . . you warned me about that dazzling charm of yours.”

  “Yes. Yes, I did,” he acknowledged as we walked along the path. “You wouldn’t listen, and now look at you. You’re smitten . . . Hopelessly, I’m afraid.”

  How did he manage to keep such a straight face? “Oh, really? You think so, huh?”

  “Absolutely. All the signs are there.”

  “And what might they be?” I bantered.

  “You know . . . the usual, googly eyes—”

  “My eyes are not googly. Besides, you just said they were beautiful.”

  “Beautiful, googly eyes,” he amended. “And there’s the sweaty palms . . .”

  “Sorry, mine are dry,” I pointed out. “Yours on the other hand . . .”

  “This isn’t about me. We’re talking about you. Now watch your step. The cabin’s just up here to the right.”

  “Are we changing the subject?”

  “Maybe . . . I don’t want you to miss this glorious little cabin.”

  “Cabin huh?” I chuckled. “If you say so.”

  He didn’t reply. And we continued strolling down the path, my arm locked in his until the small log house came into view. It was a tiny structure, no more than one room, but it stood firm with an inviting front porch. The sun-weathered wood had long since turned a nondescript gray. A single crudely made chair lay on its side blocking the door.

  “Wonder why the owners built this place when they already had that beautiful house?”

  “Not sure. Maybe they used it as a hunting shack.”

  “Or possibly they were robbers and this is where they stored their ill-gotten gains.”

  “Perhaps the husband lured his young bride here for secret trysts.” He pumped his eyebrows up and down.

  I rolled my eyes and gave him my most exasperated look. “You’re such a flirt.”

  “You’re so much fun to flirt with,” he countered, as he moved the chair aside and we entered.

  The place looked even smaller on the inside. It consisted of one window on the far side of the room and a small stone hearth. A dilapidated table and twin chairs, possible relatives of the one on the porch, was the only furniture visible.

  “Cozy.”

  “What? You’re not impressed?” He walked over to the chairs, testing their sturdiness. “Now that I think about it, Tommy Phelps was a lot more awe-struck when I showed it to her.”

  A zing of jealousy coursed through me as I considered the other female that had come before me. “Her?”

  “Well . . . we were ten years old. She was quite the tomboy. We used this place as a fort.”

  “I see . . . and where is Tommy today?”

  “Last I heard she’d moved out west with her family. Sure miss that girl. She threw a mean curve ball and the best war whoop you ever heard.”

  I laughed. “Wasn’t aware that was important in a young lady’s arsenal of talents.”

  “What about you? You don’t strike me as the war-whooping-kind-of-gal.”

  “Of course I can’t be sure, but I’m fairly certain that I’ve never whooped for war as you say.”

&n
bsp; “So what do you remember from your childhood?” he asked growing serious. “You said you recalled something.”

  “I did . . . but I can promise you, it is nothing as exciting as your adventures. I remembered my mother and father . . . and this strange man coming to my house. I’m not sure what the significance may be, but the storm seemed to trigger the memory.”

  Aiden pulled at his chin as if trying to make the connection. “Was the stranger mean to you?”

  “No, quite the opposite. He gave me a beautiful pearl necklace, and told me I was his jewel.”

  Aiden frowned. “That seems odd for a grown man to say. What did your parents do?”

  “They appeared all right with it . . . I guess . . . the whole thing seemed. . . arranged. I don’t remember anything after that. But it’s something, right? From what I could tell, they were expecting him.”

  “You’re sure this guy was a stranger . . . not an uncle or something?” I got the distinct sense Aiden was not pleased.

  “Positive. I’d never seen him before, why?”

  “Just seems like an odd thing for an adult to say to a little girl . . . an inappropriate gift for someone you’ve never met.”

  He left the table and bridged the distance between us. So close. He was near enough to see the shadow of stubble along his jawline. I swallowed hard, trying to resist the urge to reach out and run my fingertips over the roughness. There was something demanding in his eyes, something drawing me. It was like standing at the top of a cliff, that dizzy sensation you get when looking down. All I had to do was take that one free-falling step and I’d be in his arms. The air sizzled around us. I placed my hand on his chest. His heart beat erratically against my palm. “Please . . .” Just one kiss, my mind pleaded. Just one . . .

  It was like colliding with a bolt of lightning when his arm wrapped around me and pulled me against him. I’d never experienced anything as strong. With my eyes closed to block any protest my conscience might offer, I waited for his lips to cover mine. Instead, I felt them soft and careful on my forehead.