Vestige of Hope

by Sara Blackard

  Viola and Beatrice exchanged another puzzled look. Beatrice opened her mouth to say something when Viola spoke over her. “I don’t think we are going to understand what Hunter is talking about completely. Why don’t we let him finish telling us what happened.”

  Hunter eyed her with gratitude. “Thanks, Viola. So, I reached the land bridge right at dawn, watched the sun crest the horizon, and then took off down the opposite side at a fast clip. I got maybe three-quarters of the way down when I came around a boulder, right into the mountain lion. I was booking it fast and didn’t have any time to do anything but dodge the best I could.” He peered down at his tightly wrapped chest. He shrugged sheepishly. “Guess I didn’t dodge fast enough. When he got me, my momentum took me tumbling straight down through the talus. The last thing I remember is falling headlong into the ravine at the bottom of the mountain.”

  “Thank God you didn’t break your neck,” Viola said as she finished tying the bandage. “Do you want to try to eat a little something before you lie down?”

  “Yeah.” Hunter pushed back so he leaned against the cabin wall. “That’d probably be smart.”

  As Viola went to the cookstove, Beatrice returned to the phone, enthralled with it. Viola ladled what appeared to be stew from a pot at the back of the stove and brought it to him. It smelled delicious, full of meat in a thick sauce.

  “There’s no ravine anywhere near where we found you,” Viola said, shaking her head as she sat back down in the chair. “There’s only the runoff ditch you were laying in.”

  “No,” Hunter said, taking a bite and sighing as the savory flavor hit his tongue. “I definitely fell into a ravine. I remember thinking it would hurt.”

  “I don’t understand.” Viola touched her neck, pulling on the collar of her dress.

  “What if you travelled through time like that Rip Van Winkle fellow from Washington Irving’s story,” Beatrice suggested as she gaped at the phone, turning it to face Hunter. “Who are these men?”

  “That’s my army unit, and what do you mean by Rip Van Winkle?”

  “Don’t you remember how he fell asleep next to a tree and woke up twenty years later?” Beatrice answered as she flipped through the pictures on his phone. “But instead of you waking up twenty years in the future, maybe you woke up 142 years in the past.”

  “What? That’s crazy!” Hunter replied. The stew he ate soured at the thought of being in the 1800s.

  “Bea, why would you say that?” Viola asked, her eyes as wide as saucers.

  “Think about it,” Beatrice said, looking up from the phone. “We know for a fact that it is 1877. He’s convinced, and by the look of his outfit, I’m pretty convinced myself, that he’s from the year 2019. So either this is some kind of outlandish dream, or he travelled back in time.”

  “But that’s impossible!” Viola whispered, sounding only slightly unconvinced. She stood up fast and began to pace.

  Hunter nodded his head in agreement and ran his hands down his face, weariness settling upon him. There had to be an explanation that made sense. If he could get his SAT phone to work, he’d call for help. Or maybe he needed to rest, recharge, then look at the problem with a clear head. Because there was no possibility that what Beatrice was suggesting had happened. People didn’t just jump through time. This wasn’t Dr. Who, for Pete’s sake.

  “Why is it so hard to imagine? God did it to Philip.” Beatrice shrugged, looking back at the phone.

  “What are you talking about?” Hunter asked in impatience.

  “In Acts, chapter eight, Philip is baptizing the Ethiopian one moment, and in the next moment he’s in a town over thirty miles away,” Beatrice explained. “One minute he’s dunking the man in the water, and the next, poof, he’s gone. It shouldn’t be so hard for you to imagine, Viola. It happened to Pa, after all. One minute he was walking along the creek here in Colorado, the next he was lying in an alley in Pittsburgh. Why couldn’t it happen to Hunter?”

  “I’m sorry. Did you just say your dad time traveled?” Hunter’s voice was full of doubt he couldn’t hide.

  “Pa didn’t travel through time. He just traveled to a different location, like Philip did,” Viola pointed out.

  That distinction made this whole situation so much easier to believe. Hunter tapped his fingers on his leg in frustration.

  Beatrice looked at Hunter with a new excitement in her eyes, an excitement that put dread in his. She had a look of admiration that didn’t quite add up.

  “I’ve always read that story in the Bible, and thought about Pa’s adventure, and imagined that God would take me somewhere off this mountain. Somewhere not so isolated from all mankind.” She sighed, looking down at the phone. The longing in her voice tugged at his core.

  How many times had he wished to get away from it all? To have a life that was simpler, more wholesome. But his responsibilities were too great, those to his country, his unit, his brother. How could he leave, knowing the threat that existed was always looking to attack the country he loved? No. He may have wished to get away, to start anew, but his conscience would never allow him to leave.

  “Why would God do that? I’m no one special,” Hunter argued. His head was spinning so quickly he thought he might pass out again, and wouldn’t that just be the embarrassing icing on the cake.

  “He must have a reason,” Beatrice said. “He has a plan for you here. You are special. There must be something about you that makes you uniquely equipped for what He needs you for.”

  “Beatrice, this is nonsense,” Viola said, not sounding at all convinced that it was in fact nonsense and looking washed-out as she sank to the chair.

  “It’s not nonsense, in fact I find it fascinating,” Beatrice said with a confidence that threatened to crumble the thin hold Hunter had on consciousness. “God is the author of time and space. If he can move Pa over thousands of miles in the blink of an eye, what’s stopping Him from moving someone back or forward through time? Time and space are all relative to Him.”

  Hunter’s vision began to tunnel, and his head throbbed as the room spun. With that completely logical stream of crazy talk, Hunter lost the battle with oblivion.

  Chapter 5

  Viola stared at Hunter as he slumped sideways onto the bed into unconsciousness. She knew how he felt and wished she could just pass out into oblivion too. But there was work needing done.

  Turning to Beatrice, Viola shook her head, “How can you be so sure?”

  Beatrice turned the telephone around so that Viola could see the image. It was an image of Hunter and a man who was younger than him but very similar, maybe his brother. They were standing next to a shiny red machine with wheels. The younger man smiled broadly, while Hunter’s grin seemed more amused.

  “This is how I’m sure,” Beatrice answered. “There are too many advancements in his gear and things we’ve never even dreamed of, like this eye phone, for him to be from this time. There is no way this invention wouldn’t have spread through all the papers, even if we got it late, someone would’ve heard and spread the news at the outpost.”

  “But how is it even possible?” Viola questioned as she started grabbing Hunter’s clothes from the pile on the bed, folding them, and placing them on the table.

  “Why is it so hard to believe that anything is possible with God?” Beatrice countered. “God stopped the sun and moon for Joshua, gave Elijah superhuman speed, brought Lazarus out of the grave after three days, and I’ve already mentioned Phillip. It makes perfect sense that the Creator of time could bend it to His needs.”

  Viola picked up the sat phone and turned it over in her hands. It was bigger than the eye phone Beatrice was once again fiddling with, but it still resembled nothing she’d ever read about or seen. She stared at the pile of items still laying on the bed and realized Beatrice’s crazy suggestion was just about the only thing that made sense. Which opened up a completely new problem. If Hunter was from the future, how could he get back? And what if he couldn’t?

&
nbsp; “Who do you think he is?” Beatrice asked as she turned the little box to face Viola again. The same man from the first picture with Hunter was there. Though he looked much younger and his hair was different, he appeared to be laughing at some hilarious joke.

  “He might be a relative of Hunter’s, like his brother,” Viola answered. “They look very similar, especially in the image you showed me earlier.”

  Beatrice whispered so soft Viola almost missed it. “Of course he’s from the future, while I’m stuck here.”

  “Come.” Viola reached for more of Hunter’s items, ignoring the comment she was sure her sister hadn’t meant for her to hear. “Help me clear off the bed and get him comfortable. I don’t want him to wake up hurting any more than he is now.”

  They placed his items on the table, often stopping to show each other a shiny package here and there. Beatrice found a small square item made of leather. When she opened it, they found paper money printed in the future and a thin, hard card that had Hunter’s picture on it with his birthdate showing March 22, 1990.

  “This is just so hard to believe. I know it happened with Pa, but honestly, I haven’t thought much about his story since we were little. Plus traveling to a different location seems much more plausible than traveling through time,” Viola said as she put the last of the items on the table.

  If she were honest, she hadn’t thought much about it since her mother’s death when she was fourteen. She couldn’t understand why God would go through such amazing lengths to bring them together, only to take her away much too early. She’d been angry with God for a long time after that, until Pa had spoken to her about life being too short to be angry with God. So she had forgiven God and chosen to remember the joy and love their family had for each other. Viola grabbed Hunter’s calves and swung them onto the bed.

  “I think it’s exciting,” Beatrice said. “What does God have planned for him that no one here could do?”

  “Help me get him onto his back. I don’t want him to remain scrunched over like he is with those broken ribs,” Viola said as she grabbed under his shoulders. After they got him laid out with only a few moans of pain from him, they both sat to catch their breath.

  “We will have to help him adjust and when he gets better, search for a way back,” Viola said as she stared at his face.

  “What if he can’t get back?”

  “I can’t imagine how upsetting this will be for him,” Viola said, pointing to the eye phone. “Especially if he has family back home.” Viola bit her lip. “What if he has a wife and children?”

  Beatrice shook her head. “I don’t think he does. There were only images of him, that man I showed you, the military men, and different places. No family images.”

  Viola shoulders sagged in relief. “Thank God. At least he won’t have to worry about a wife or children. We must help him in whatever way we can. Be praying for him, Bea. He will need a lot of prayer.”

  Viola turned to the table and started methodically packing his supplies into his bag, anything to keep Beatrice from seeing the emotion on Viola’s face. Viola knew the joy she felt at the likelihood of him being single shone from her. She attempted to keep her thoughts in check, but maybe God had brought Hunter back for her. Viola scoffed at herself, snorting a laugh at that ridiculous thought. She huffed and shoved the last of the items in the bag. She would do well not to count her chickens before they hatched. She understood too intimately those eggs could easily be crushed.

  Hunter awoke to the sound of soft breathing rhythmically going in and out as it blew across his hand. He opened his eyes against the headache that fired rapid rounds behind his eyes. The light was dim that shone from an old-time oil lamp and glowed softly onto Viola.

  She was on her knees with her hands clasped upon the bed as in prayer, and her cheek rested upon her hands. Her mouth was slightly open, and a stray section of hair blew forward and back with her breath. Hunter lifted his hand and tucked the errant golden strands behind her ear, taking his time and rubbing the golden strands between his fingers. It was soft, like silk sliding over his fingers, and he couldn’t resist sliding them through the strand again, just like he had when he’d grabbed her braid earlier. The breathing stopped and Hunter gazed into eyes that were wide awake.

  “Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Viola sat up and brushed the hair from her face. Even in the dim light, Hunter could see an adorable flush climbing up her neck.

  “Oh goodness, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. How are you feeling?”

  “Besides my head trying to explode, my ribs clawing from my chest, my ankle throbbing a two-step, and the lion’s mark stinging like crazy, pretty good.” Hunter chuckled and then breathed in at the reminder he shouldn’t do that. “What time is it?”

  “It’s almost dawn. Do you want to eat something? If not, I can make you some willow bark tea,” Viola asked, a look of extreme concern marring her beautiful face.

  “Yeah, tea would be helpful,” Hunter replied as he attempted to push himself up to sit. “Though Vicodin would be better.”

  “Please, Hunter, just lie there.” Viola placed her hand upon his shoulder. “I don’t want you hurt more than you are.”

  Hunter lay back down and sighed. “I’m not very good with lying still.”

  Viola got up and moved to the cookstove. Pulling the kettle off the back, she poured hot water into a pan she had waiting on the table.

  “My brother and Pa aren’t very good at sticking to bed either,” she said with a shake of her head and a smirk. “Pa once busted his leg when his horse got spooked and threw him. Just about drove him crazy, staying in bed the four weeks Orlando forced on him. Orlando said it should’ve been more like eight weeks with the break he had, but Pa would hear nothing of it. Orlando sure had his hands full that time.”

  “Is Orlando the doctor or your husband?” Hunter asked, a jealous anxiousness prompting the question in response to Viola’s smile when talking about Orlando.

  “No, he’s my older brother,” she replied. “Though with all his studying of medical books and Indian healers, he’s about as good as anyone could ever hope for by way of a doctor in these parts. Better, if you ask me.”

  “Why aren’t they here now? Your dad and brother? Did they get stuck in the storm?”

  Viola grabbed the pan and strained the tea through a cloth into a mug. She spooned a dollop of honey into the concoction and brought it to the bed. She was quiet. Too quiet. A line of concern creased her forehead as she sat down on the edge of the bed and helped Hunter lean forward enough to drink the tea. The stuff was still nasty with a sweetness of honey that did little to help it. After he had drunk it all, she sighed and set the cup on the table.

  She gave him a small, sad smile, got up, and sat in the chair next to the bed. “My father never returned from his winter trapping, so Orlando took off about six weeks ago to find him at his normal trapping area.”

  Viola began ringing her hands within her apron again, a habit Hunter recognized as nervousness.

  “Does this happen often?” Hunter questioned.

  “Never.” Viola sighed. “Which is why I’m so worried. I have a bad feeling something terrible happened this winter.”

  Hunter reached out and placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry. And now here I am, just another stress to add on.”

  “Oh no, you aren’t a stress,” she said, sincerity shining from her face. “Well, maybe a little, but I’m just thankful we were there to find you. Plus, it’s nice having a man around again.” Viola slapped her hand over her mouth. Her face turned a fantastic shade of red.

  “Even one laid up and useless?” Hunter teased.

  “Oh dear Lord, please hold my tongue,” Viola whispered in a prayer Hunter was sure she didn’t want him to hear. “I apologize for being so forward. That was unseemly of me.”

  “That was nowhere near unseemly.” Hunter shook his head. “You forget, I’m in the Army. I’m surrounded by
unseemly. You … you’re refreshing.”

  Hunter watched as a full smile bloomed across her face, brightening her eyes and cheeks. It was as magnificent as he imagined it would be. He inwardly sighed and basked in success. Viola’s forehead knit in thought, and the expression he’d worked so hard to coax out disappeared. So much for basking, he thought.

  “Hunter …,” Viola began as if afraid he’d pass out again, which he determined would not happen. “I know this sounds loco, but what if Beatrice is right, and God brought you back here, to our time?”

  Hunter gaped at her, and shook his head. He’d witnessed a lot of crazy things his eleven years in the military, especially after joining Delta Force, but time travel? That was a bit too far-fetched, even for him.

  “You are definitely from the future,” Viola insisted. “Your things are far too advanced to be anything remotely from now, plus your identification card says you were born in 1990. So, unless this is some kind of elaborate hoax, somehow when you tumbled into the ravine, you tumbled back in time.”

  “What if you’re part of the hoax?” Hunter responded, rushing on when Viola looked to protest. “I’ve read about it before where children are born in a family or community and aren’t told the truth about how life really is. They’re kept apart from society, never knowing the real world is out there. Shoot, there was even a great movie on that very idea, made about fifteen years ago. With your location here in the middle of the mountains, it wouldn’t be hard to sell you the lie.”

  Viola shook her head, her forehead scrunched in concentration. “But in order for that to be, wouldn’t we have to remain here, in the mountains? We may look like we live isolated and stay isolated, but we’ve traveled before. We’ve gone to Denver multiple times, and when my grandfather was still alive, we travelled to Chicago, New Orleans, St. Louis, and other cities to visit him. We haven’t been sheltered or lied to, Hunter. There’s no way entire cities and months of travel could be fabricated, all so me and my siblings would believe we lived in a different time.”