Timeless Moments

by Michelle Kidd

  His grandfather jerked his hand away. “No.” He brought the gun up and trained it on me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Aiden tried to remove the weapon from his grandfather’s hands, but he continued to resist. My heart stalled as they wrestled over it. I held my breath. The chair rocked back and forth as the two fought. Clearly, Aiden struggled, still unsteady on his feet.

  “How . . . can . . . you take . . . her . . . side . . .” The man I knew as Dr. Greyson gasped. He appeared to gain the upper hand.

  Aiden grunted a response and continued in his attempt to pry the firearm free.

  As the pair thrashed about, locked in battle, Aiden lost his balance and fell forward. The sudden loss of grip gave the elder an advantage as he pulled back too suddenly. All the weight shifted to the side. The chair tipped over sideways, flinging both men to the ground. The gun fired, ricocheting through the barn.

  A scream tore from my lips. Time slowed and froze.

  Several moments passed before adrenaline kicked in. I ran forward and fell to my knees. “Aiden! Aiden!”

  The horse reared, slamming her body into the sides of the stall and freed herself. Her erratic movements upset the lamp and caused it to shatter to the ground. With a sudden white-hot flash of light, the barn floor caught fire. She galloped out the cubicle, past us, and out the door.

  “Aiden!” I shouted. He landed on top his grandfather. Neither was moving. I shook him, tried to roll him over.

  He turned to his side, obviously still shaken. “I’m okay, Janie, but we need to get out of here.”

  “Not so fast.” We both turned at the heart-stopping click of the pistol. Dr. Greyson held the gun inches from us.

  “Grandfather, have you lost your mind?”

  “I’ll see you dead first.” Dr. Greyson had the barrel cocked and aimed at me. “Aiden, back away from her. She’s mine—she’s always been mine.” He used one hand to steady the gun, the other to push himself to an upright position. His legs flopped uselessly in front of him.

  “You can’t be serious!” Aiden’s voice cracked.

  “I promise you, I am. This doesn’t concern you.” He motioned with the pistol. “Leave! My battle isn’t with you.”

  Having witnessed his unpredictable mood, I wasn’t about to let Aiden take chances. “Do what he says,” I pleaded. The heat of the flames behind me licked up the distance between us. Already the blaze fed on the old wooden structure, digging into the walls. It climbed up to the loft above and worked its way across the beams overhead.

  Aiden leaned in, positioning himself between his grandfather and me. “You’ve gone mad! I’ll never let you hurt her.”

  The blistering heat on my back made my clothes feel as if they were melting to my flesh. We didn’t have much time. My lungs ached for fresh air. From overhead, burning debris rained down. “Aiden . . .” I pulled on his sleeve.

  “Grandfather, give me the gun. We can talk about this. You’re a doctor, for goodness sake.” He shouted to be heard over the roaring fire. “Think about Janie’s baby. You’re not a murderer . . . please . . . I know you’re a good man.”

  A look passed between them. Minutes stretched out. I was close enough to see the blue eyes waffled with doubt . . . the gun trembled, then lowered in surrender.

  Aiden snatched the weapon and tucked it into his waistband. Without warning, a beam fell between us and the entrance.

  “Better hurry. Get her out,” Dr. Greyson yelled.

  Aiden hesitated only a second before grabbing my arm.

  Before he could pull me to my feet, Dr. Greyson reached inside his jacket. He withdrew a small square of paper. “Wait! Take this.” He held it out to me, attempted a smile, and touched my cheek briefly with the back of his knuckle. In his eyes I saw, a sorrow, a brokenness. When I hesitated, he shoved the object into my hand. “I kept it close to my heart all these years. You’ll always be my Jewel.”

  I stood transfixed until Aiden tugged me forward. “We’ve got to go, Janie.” He pulled me along, shouting over his shoulder. “I’ll be back, Grandfather.”

  Beams tumbled from above. Soon we wouldn’t be able to get out. The smoke was too thick. I couldn’t make out the door. Aiden had a firm grip on my hand as we dodged obstacles. We struggled to the exit through the haze, rushed out into the cool night air, and stumbled to the ground.

  Free from the blinding smoke, we dropped to the grass, gulping sweet oxygen. Nothing ever tasted so delicious. Before I could stop him, Aiden jumped up and hurried in the direction we’d just come.

  “I’ll be back.”

  “Wait, Aiden, you’ll never make it!”

  “Grandfather’s still in there! I’ve got to try!”

  The idea was foolish. We both knew it was impossible. I lifted my hand to stop him, opened my mouth to warn him, but let it snap shut. Of course he would risk his life to save his grandfather. There would be no peace between us if he didn’t try.

  I watched as he struggled to re-enter the burning building. The intense heat and scorching rubble blocked his path. From the open doorway, we saw a fire-clad figure dragging its way a few feet, then collapsing. He was too late. Sections of the stable were crashing down. It was impossible to reach Aiden’s grandfather.

  Sirens wailed in the distance. They’d never make it in time. The structure groaned as flames shot out the roof and sides. I sat on the ground staring in disbelief, barely aware of the cool, damp grass seeping through my clothes. Despite the penetrating heat of the fire, I shivered. Aiden needed me, but my legs refused to move.

  My own horror subsided as I pushed myself to my feet and went to his side. I placed my fingers inside his, and we stayed that way until the firefighters pulled us back so they could tackle what remained of the inferno.

  Both in shock, we could only stare into the dancing white flames. Red-hot cinders floated upward dissipating into the dark night, bathing God’s firmament with an unnatural glow. Neither spoke, but the warmth of Aiden’s fingers entwined with mine gave me courage. With a start, I realize I still clutched the slip of paper. I opened my palm, staring at the small crumpled scrap.

  “What is it, Janie? What did Grandfather give you?”

  I swallowed hard, unable to believe what I saw in the shifting illumination of the fire’s glow—a photograph. I jerked my hand from Aiden’s flipping the photo over and read:

  To Hunsdon with love,

  Jewel.

  2/14/1915

  Tiny dark dots danced across my vision.

  The image in the photograph was my own!

  Chapter 41

  1967 ~ Three months later . . .

  Soft, white clouds stretched across a vivid blue sky. The sun shone with golden brilliance, painting the fall afternoon with an ochre-colored hue as it fell upon the changing leaves. I found I was far more absorbed in the scenery than the book resting atop my bulging stomach. At last, the endless summer haze had given way to the warming glow of autumn. A stiff breeze stirred the trees, and I tugged at the two edges of my sweater in vain. Nine months pregnant. I smiled, wondering if the ends would ever meet again.

  My eyes drifted closed. I allowed my head to fall against the swing and took a deep breath. The apple-scented air from the orchard released some long coiled up tension. I exhaled slowly, feeling as if it was the first real breath I’d taken in months.

  A band of sun broke free, streaming down to bathe my protruding belly with warmth. Heat radiated through my blouse, and after a few minutes there was a strong kick against my lower abdomen. I watched amused as my stomach rolled from side to side.

  “Are you getting too uncomfortable in there?” I rubbed my middle and tried to reposition myself so I wasn’t in the direct sunlight.

  Every morning I awoke wondering if this could be the day. Would I ever get to meet this little person growing inside of me? I wrestled with the bittersweet emotion. As much as I wanted to see my baby, the uncertainty of our future gnawed at me.

  A tree bereft of most of i
ts foliage stood directly in my line of vision. A handful of leaves refused to release their grip on the small branches of the white birch. They stuck fast despite the stiff gust sending them flapping like small yellow flags in the wind.

  It struck me that like the leafage, I too stayed fixed—bound to my past. As long as I clung to the former, I’d never move on with my future. Aiden pushed me daily to get married, to give the baby a name, and as much as I wanted to, I remained wedged between two worlds. Six months had now passed, and I still hadn’t recalled anything about my life. At times, I found myself dwelling on the possibility that Dr. Greyson’s account might be true. Although, I knew trusting in such nonsense was insane.

  An uneasiness settled over me when I considered his bizarre tale. Despite our best efforts, Aiden and I failed to find anything supporting his grandfather’s fantastic story. Every record we encountered verified that Richard Greyson was who he claimed to be, but my gut told me we were missing something.

  Hilda’s attack and why she believed I was Dr. Greyson’s wife remained a mystery, although her belongings provided more information than the search of Dr. Greyson’s effects. She’d left diaries, countless entries of her delusions and obsession over Aiden’s grandfather. Decades of detailed accounts. The police removed them along with most of her things during their investigation.

  Despite the journals, there was no concrete evidence of anything she wrote. They were more the ramblings of a mad woman. Perhaps Greyson persuaded her of his strange fantasy as he had tried to convince me. I’d certainly come close to believing him; only such things weren’t possible. But even as I denied it, there remained a niggling doubt. There must be an explanation regarding the photo. The image in the photograph wasn’t just someone who looked like me—it was me. The writing on the back still had me puzzled. Had he forged it? If so . . . why?

  The familiar sound of the Lizzy Bug’s engine rumbling up the drive pulled me from my troubled thoughts. I heaved myself out of the swing, arched my aching back, and smiled as I waited for Aiden’s approach.

  “You’re late getting back from class,” I commented, as he slid out of the van and mounted the steps two at a time.

  “Detective Bishop dropped by today,” he announced.

  “What did he want?” I asked a little more snappish than I intended.

  He studied me a moment before responding. “Don’t frown, Janie. He’s really very nice.”

  I let out a sigh that sent my bangs flying. “I just don’t like the way he stares at me. It’s . . . unnerving. Almost as if he’s trying to see through me or something. What was so important that he had to stop by the university? We told him everything that happened months ago.”

  Aiden shrugged, took me by the arm, and guided me to the swing. He waited until I’d settled into the cushion before continuing. “They finished with Grandfather and Hilda’s things and wanted to return them. He asked about you . . . if you’d had the baby. Just following up to be sure we were okay after all that happened. As I said, he’s a nice guy.”

  “I guess,” I answered. “But it’s still creepy the way he looks at me.”

  His lips trembled as if he wanted to crack a joke, but thought better of it. Those dark eyes always spoke volumes. “Maybe this will put your mind at ease,” he said and pulled out the small photograph that his grandfather had given me. “I know this has been worrying you, and I may be able to explain that, too. You see, my grandfather was in the same unit as a man named Hunsdon Wiltshire. This photo belonged to him. Detective Bishop said his father had been investigating a missing person’s case . . . the lady in this picture. She disappeared in 1917 right before the war.”

  “So you mean the story might be true?” My pulse did a quick step.

  “I didn’t say that, just that this Wiltshire’s wife was part of a police investigation. It’s possible that if they were in the same unit, Wiltshire confided in Grandfather. I’m speculating, but something with the stroke might have caused details of the events to get muddled in Grandfather’s mind. Seeing you may have triggered memories of the photo and Wiltshire’s story. Who knows? Grandfather was ninety-four, and he certainly wasn’t himself that night.”

  “Anything’s possible,” I hedged. Something still didn’t sit right with me, and Aiden’s explanation made even less sense. “Your grandfather had that stroke long before the fire.”

  “Like I said, I can’t be certain what happened, but that might be why Detective Bishop looks at you the way he does. You are the very image of this woman.” Aiden held the picture up to his eyes, comparing me to the snapshot. “Only more beautiful.”

  I ignored the comment. “I still don’t see why he wasn’t willing to look into the possibility of what your grandfather said being true. Most people aren’t going to admit to murder.”

  “He thought it made for interesting fiction, but in his line of business, crimes are not normally that well planned. The criminals usually make mistakes. He did promise to dig into it a little deeper. My personal theory is that Grandfather had that story planted in his brain all those years ago and somehow in his confusion got things mixed up.”

  I remained unconvinced. It seemed a little too simple for me. “It still doesn’t explain who I am.”

  “No, it doesn’t . . . and Janie, we may never know. We might have to accept that.” He took me by the hand. “I’ve been thinking . . . let’s sell all this stuff.” He looked around indicating with his eyes everything his grandfather had attained. “We’ll get married. We’ll move away . . . start a new life and never look back.”

  “You mean run away? Aiden, we can’t—”

  “No. Not run away. Hear me out. I love my grandfather, but this was never my life. I’m not comfortable with all this wealth—never have been. My dream is to teach. I want to take you and the baby and begin over where no one knows us.” He slipped from the swing onto one knee, reached into his pocket, and withdrew a small blue velvet box.

  I held my breath as he opened it. The sun sent thousands of tiny lights bouncing around the porch as they reflected off the diamond solitaire. “Janie, I love you and the baby more than I ever imagined possible. I don’t care about your past. I only want your future. Please, marry me.”

  Tears stung the back of my throat, my eyes blurred, and my heart wanted to burst with bittersweet joy. I opened my mouth to speak. Everything in me pushed to say yes, but the words, “I can’t,” tumbled out instead. I grabbed both his wrists and pleaded with him to understand. “Aiden, I want to marry you. You know I love you . . . but it isn’t fair—”

  “Oh, Janie, stop it.” Hurt hardened his voice. “You’ve said it all before. I’m not asking what’s fair. You wouldn’t even be in this predicament if life were fair. You are the sweetest, most generous person I’ve ever met. No one should have their life taken from them, their memories . . . their past . . . but you have. You may never get them back. Are you going to live your life, not to mention the baby’s life, in a state of limbo forever? I want to give this baby my name. Doesn’t the child deserve that? There’s nothing I couldn’t provide for you.”

  I bit my lip, unable to say the words he wanted to hear. My head dropped to my hands.

  He pushed away from me. His quiet footsteps fell across the porch and down the stairs. I didn’t attempt to stop him. When I looked up, he was heading in the direction of the pond.

  Oh Lord, what would you have me do?

  The lone cry of a hawk split the silent afternoon, its piercing shriek seemed my only reply. He sailed on silent dark wings across the sky. My eyes followed his graceful arch, as it grew wider. Oh, for the wings to fly away from all worry and trouble . . . to look at life from a higher perspective. Perspective . . .

  Oddly, I thought of Aiden’s explanation of the picture, of the two men whose lives had crossed, and it struck me—the medals that hung in Dr. Greyson’s study!

  With much effort, I struggled to get myself from the swing, walked across the porch, and entered the house. I dismiss
ed the pain in my back, attributing it to sitting too long on the wooden swing, and pushed through to the office. There, hanging on the wall, was the display of awards, mess kit, and Dr. Greyson’s souvenirs. Taking the frame by either side, I wrestled to remove it from the hook, but I wasn’t tall enough.

  “Janie?”

  I turned sharply to see Aiden standing in the doorway, surprised that he’d returned so quickly. He must have doubled back around.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Can you help me? There’s something that’s always bothered me about this frame.”

  Aiden crossed the distance, took hold of the display, removed it, and propped it against the wall.

  Of course! “Just as I suspected. The medals hid a safe.”

  “How’d you ever think to look here?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure . . . just came to me.”

  He sighed. “We still don’t have the combination.” His anger from moments ago seemed to have vanished.

  “Do you have the picture?”

  He raised a brow. “Of course, why?”

  “Try the date on the back.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  “Okay . . .” Aiden twisted the knob first one direction, then the other until all the numbers lined up, and then he pulled the handle. His mouth dropped when the door opened easily in his hand. “How—”

  “Just a hunch.” That he had chosen a combination with that significance only confirmed my suspicions. We must be getting closer to the truth.

  Aiden peered into the dark recess. “Looks like a box.” Reaching in, he removed a sterling silver chest and set it on the desk. The design was beautiful and intricately overlaid.

  “It’s a jewelry box,” I said and stepped beside him, gingerly tracing the complicated edging. “Do you mind?”

  He drew back, allowing me to flip it over and study the underside. The inscription read: