Barefoot, Faith walked toward the large oak tree that shaded the south side of the property. With the tree's roots so close to the surface of the ground, it was an unusable plot of dirt, good for nothing other than shade. It was doubtful she would find any answers to her dilemma on top of the uneven soil.
Aidan was literally the man of her dreams and somehow, she had actually manifested herself into his life. Still unsure if she believed Trista's explanation of how this had happened, she knew she would do whatever was necessary to stay with Aidan, and more importantly, stay with a man who loved her.
The tingling feeling she had experienced in the garden had more than startled her. The numbing sensation seemed to physically pull her away from Aidan. She wondered what would have happened if she had allowed herself to continue in the bedroom what she had started in the vegetable patch.
There was no denying the attraction she and Aidan shared with each other. She slapped her shoulder, hoping to kill a determined mosquito. In all actuality, she had stopped kissing Aidan earlier today because she feared Trista was right, and she would be transported back to Hank.
The old woman was certain that passion was the catalyst that sent Faith through time, but she had not been clear concerning the details responsible for the trigger. Although Trista had been vague, she seemed to be quite knowledgeable about time travel. Faith didn't fully trust the woman, but she had little alternative. The occurrence was as uncommon as a harvest moon in the dead of winter.
Faith stared across the yard. Worse than her fear of dying was the idea that she might not return to Aidan if she were to time travel again. She would endure any abuse from Hank to make that a reality, but she wondered if there were a limited number of times she could leap back and forth in time. She glanced over her shoulder to the bedroom window. The curtain hem blew gently through the open frame. Instead of wandering around their property on a moonlight night, she should be inside their bedroom, with her husband, making it difficult for him to sleep for more than five minutes at a time.
Not sure if she should risk intimacy with Aidan, she continued walking, making her way to her favorite spot by the tree. Her nightdress clung to her legs. From where she stood, she could see the curve in the river. Moonlight glistened off of the water like white stones dancing across the surface. A cool breeze floated up to her from the water's edge. She leaned back against the tree, and lifted her face toward the sky. Her skin tingled as the gust licked the sweat from her neck. Aidan's face accompanied the touch. It didn't matter how far she removed herself from him, everything would remind her of him.
Faith closed her eyes, and leaned her head back against the trunk. She slid her hands over her arms. Warmth encircled her, and she remembered the feel of Aidan's arms around her body. A soft breeze blew across the garden and past the tree. She inhaled, imagining the smell of his breath on her face, and she smiled.
Sweat trickled downward between her breasts and to her stomach. She pulled the muslin sleeping-gown away from her skin and fanned herself with the fabric. The water at the bottom of the slope looked inviting. A midnight swim might be just what she needed to help her sleep. She pushed herself away from the tree trunk, stepping careful over the tree roots, and made her way to the shoreline.
Grass tickled her feet as she stepped onto the soft dirt. She stripped out of her gown, tossed the garment onto a nearby bush, and then waded, hip deep, into the refreshing stream. A nearby pool hid behind an inclined boulder. Although the current still fed the secluded bend of the river, the water flowed at a slower rate. Faith lowered herself into the water, stretched her arms in the direction of the naturally made stream, and kicked her legs.
The river slipped around her, keeping her buoyant. Rising on its current, she turned from one side to the other, enjoying the cool freedom the river offered. Her sisters would never swim in the nude, or late at night, at least as far as she was aware. Late summer nights could become stifling. A cool dip in the refreshing stream did wonders to provide for a comfortable night's rest.
To her right, the water slowed. Enjoying her solitude, she dove under the surface, pulling handfuls of water past her body and forcing herself to the riverbed. Her hand touched the murky bottom. She righted herself, tucked her legs underneath her body, and launched herself upward toward the surface.
Her lungs burned, demanding air, but she let the current lift her to the surface at its whim. She and her sisters had always challenged each other to reach the bottom of the pond and then race to the surface. Of course, proof of success was essential. Not only did the girls have to touch the riverbed, but they had to be the first one to break the surface.
Faith had always made it to the bottom of the river, collected her pebble as proof, but instead of a rapid ascent, she preferred a slow rise to the top. She never won any contests, but she always enjoyed her time under water. It was an ideal way to avoid her sisters' heated accusations of cheating. The allegations flew between her siblings like hailstones to an open field. She wished the three women would come to some kind of appreciation for each other.
Faith stirred the water, propelling herself to an inclined position. Floating on her back, she stared up at the stars. The twinkling dots were mesmerizing. They winked down at her as though they hid every secret to all of her questions. She slowly scissored her legs as she considered the pieces of information she had collected.
She held her breath and sank bottom-heavy into the river. The water covered her face, and she dipped her head backward. The risk of leaving Aidan was too great to tempt any action, regardless of how pleasurable it would be. She wasn't sure how deeply the passion within her needed to be aroused before she would travel from him.
She kicked her legs, propelling herself upward, and set her mind on what she knew she must do. While here, and in this time with Aidan, she would have to settle with flirtatious smiles and lingering kisses. She scowled at the thought. She hated the idea of living a chaste life with someone she was developing feelings for, and she could only imagine what Aidan's response to her distant behavior to him would be.
A more urgent thought entered her mind. While the emotion she experienced with Hank was still passion, albeit fear and anger, warm liquid did not spread through her extremities the way it did when she thought of Aidan. Hank had fought with her, and she had not imagined the hard shove she had felt in the middle of her back. The blind attack had sent her tumbling over the edge of the cliff.
Hank and Trista were the only people on the ridge when she fell. Earlier today, Trista seemed uninterested in helping her learn everything she wanted to know. If Faith did travel back to Hank, he might not be enthused to see that she was still alive. How did she survive a fall from that height? She lifted her hand in front of her face and wiggled her fingers. Clearly, she was still alive.
After the fall, she had traveled forty years into her future. As difficult as that was to believe, and if that was true, Hank would be seventy years old now. Most men she knew only lived into their early sixties, if that long. Perhaps Trista was wrong about Hank being alive. That was a comforting thought. It could also mean that she wouldn't travel back in time to Hank, and away from Aidan.
It was probably unlikely that Hank was still in fine health. The way he had fallen against her before she fell over the cliff was enough to indicate she had stabbed him in a critical area. She flinched as the weight of the water seemed to squelch her torso, mimicking the placement and pressure of his body. She righted herself, desperate to break free of the sensation. Treading water, she fanned her hands, swirling small funnels next to her sides. Was it possible that he had died the same day she had traveled? Trista had been there, and had seen both of them walk onto her property. Surely she would have known the truth, but how could Faith get her to tell her?
Her muscles relaxed and an internal warmth flooded through her like dammed water bursting through a mud wall. Euphoric, in the same manner a guiltless man must feel after spending a lifetime of uncertainty at the hands of a
cruel warden. She chastised herself for the morbid giddiness she felt with the thought of Hank's demise. But if he was dead, she wouldn't have to fear his continued brutality or the possibility of leaving Aidan.
Water splashed near her and she turned her head toward the bank. A male form dove under the water. His nightshirt lay on top of hers. Aidan's head broke the surface. He shook his head like a dog, flinging water droplets in all directions. Not giving her a chance to swim away, he reached for her and drew her to him.
She pressed against him, water surging between them. "How did you know where to find me?" she asked.
Their legs bumped against each other as they kicked to stay afloat. "You couldn't sleep, and it's a warm night. Where else would you be?"
She laughed. "Where else, indeed?"
Aidan stared down at her as though looking into her soul. After what he faced at dinner, he most likely wanted to see how lightly he needed to tread. He kept one arm around her waist and guided her toward shallower water. Nearing the flat-topped boulder, his legs stopped their back and forth motion.
Faith stretched her feet, searching for solid ground. Her toes brushed against Aidan's shin. He hadn't pulled her close enough to the shore for her to be able to stand on her own. She would have to tread water or rely on him to keep her afloat. Remaining buoyant wasn't her only concern. They were both naked, with nothing but water and an unresolved argument between them. He had apparently thought through his actions. From the way she kept bumping into him, it was obvious that he had forgiven her. What she wouldn't give to show him that she accepted his forgiveness. It would be impossible to do that until she was certain she could remain in this time with him.
He stared down at her as though he was afraid to divert his gaze. His mouth came down hard on hers. What started as stiff and fervent slowly turned to tender and compassionate. It felt as though his kiss had not been meant to be punishing, but was initiated from fear.
"Are you ready to talk with me?" he asked. Terror hid in the depths of his eyes, and he looked at her as though he risked losing something precious.
Faith nodded and threw herself at him. She pressed herself against him, holding him tightly.
"I don't care what I did to upset you earlier," he whispered in her ear. "I apologize for anything...for everything. Please, forgive me." His voice sounded hollow and distant, his apology catching in his throat.
Faith stared dumbfounded, not knowing what to say. He hadn't asked the cause of her tantrum or demanded that she refrain from demonstrating such an emotion. He took all of the blame on himself. She reached her hand and cupped his cheek. She was one with him, and his pain was as raw to her as though it was her own. He had done nothing that warranted forgiveness.
Earlier today, she had acted like a child and should be the one waiting for absolution. Touching his face wasn't enough to reassure him of her devotion to him. Although he held her by the waist, she wanted, needed, to make a closer connection to him. Did she want a life filled with unfulfilled desire or worse, Aidan's possible hatred of her for rejecting him? She shook her head knowing what she must do.
"I love you, Aidan," she said with certainty. "But I can't bear the thought of you hating me." She pushed away from him and swam to shore.
"Faith!" Aidan shouted from behind her.
She picked up her nightdress and didn't turn back. Running into the tree line, she pulled the fabric on over her head. His voice shook her from the inside out. He had every right to be angry with her, but she had to know for certain if Hank had died from the knife wound. From the two times she had time traveled, it appeared the two men were her anchors. If one of them was no longer living, it seemed reasonable that she would stay in the current time.
She shoved her fist through an armhole and glanced back to the river. Aidan would forgive her. She had to believe that.
Chapter 12
Aidan stabbed his pitchfork into the back of the wagon and hefted a large amount of straw from the load. There were better ways to expend his energies, but after the way Faith had been last night, he didn't dare approach her with any of them. I can't bear the thought of you hating me, she had said. He winced at the thought. He had not given her cause to think this, and she had never indicated such feelings before yesterday. Not certain what had happened, he was convinced that more than bumps and bruises bothered her.
Spreading straw over a harvested tobacco field was not how he planned to spend the week following his wedding, but the soil did need to be covered before winter, and Faith seemed to need time alone. Aidan scooped another load of straw and swiftly tossed the spindly stalks over the side rail. Dust particles trailed behind the clump, following it to the ground. The bunch landed below him and spotted the dirt like golden colored gopher holes.
It didn't matter what he did for a distraction, Faith was always in his thoughts. Gray clouds grew darker overhead, reminding him of her fear of storms. At the first crack of nighttime thunder, Faith would press her body next to Aidan's side, whimpering like a kitten. There was nothing he enjoyed more than holding her in his arms while she slept, feeling her breath, soft and sweet on his face. He would gently stroke her back until she relaxed against him.
He leaned on the end of his tool, while memories of their wedding night floated back to him. He could still feel the warmth of her skin, radiating through her wedding dress. As nervous as she was, he had taken his time undressing her. Small glimpses of her nude skin appeared from beneath one layer of clothing at a time. Her cheeks grew to a deep crimson with each garment that fell to her feet. He secretly hoped she would always maintain some of her innocence. He tugged the speared straws off of the metal tines and tossed them to the ground.
He sat on the cart rail, the pine walls creaking under his weight, and dragged the pitchfork toward him. The metal tips scratched the wood floor of the box. Standing the tool on end, he leaned his elbow against the handle. With his other hand, he swabbed a cloth over his brow, wiping the moisture away from his eyes. He shivered despite the full sun and sweat drenched shirt he wore. His thoughts of last night dominated his other memories, chilling him through.
The cold swim, and even icier reception he had received from Faith last night, left him as off balance as if he had dived into the river and then not found the shore. He rubbed his thumb across his forehead. Everything about that day had not made sense. Their morning had started out as ordinary as possible, but when she had returned that afternoon, she was noticeably upset. Although she gave no indication as to what had caused her irritation, he was certain that a lack of mushrooms couldn't have disturbed her that desperately. While a caring woman, Faith was not prone to irrational emotions.
All through mealtime, he had remained silent. Nothing would have pleased him more than to take her by the shoulders and shake the words from her. Force and intimidation was not the means to win a person's trust. He should have taken her in his arms and kissed her until she was no longer able to stand on her own. This tactic had worked well for him on their wedding night, but she had been less than interested in passion last night. Instead of doing something he would regret, he had left her alone and gone to their bedroom. He was certain she would talk with him before retiring for the night. He had been wrong. How could he help her if she wouldn't share even sensitive areas of her life with him? It wasn't until she was at the river that he thought to follow her and coax her to talk with him.
He tossed the pitchfork to the floor of the cart. The handle wedged between the spoke and the axel wheel, and the tines protruded over the edge of the opening. He hopped down from the back of the wagon. The fork would be fine until he got the straw spread evenly over the field.
He kicked his foot at a small mound, wishing he could care as easily for his wife. What had caused the change in Faith from yesterday morning? The talk they had had at the river may have created more of a problem between them than a solution. One thing was certain; the closeness they had enjoyed up until now was no longer there, and he wondered if it was
lost to them forever.
She had seemed relaxed in the water last night, stretching and gliding her body through the glistening currents. He shook his head, remembering how he had tried to look away, wanting to give her privacy. No matter how noble his intent, he could not keep his attention away from her. Her youthful figure was more developed and womanly than it had been when they had first met. She had curves that entered his dreams and nudged him awake, demanding that he touch and enjoy every part of her. Even now in a tobacco field, his blood pulsed, heating areas of his body that would not easily cool. He cast a glance toward the river and considered a strongly needed diversion. He breathed deep. It would take more than icy water to keep his manhood from responding to wayward thoughts of his wife.
He swiped a rake across another clump of straw, frustrated with where his thoughts kept going. Even immersed in his work, he couldn't prevent himself from thinking of her. Last night, her long lines had cut across the surface of the river. She turned in the water and floated on her back. Aidan's hips pushed forward with the memory. Did she have any idea what she did to him and what he was willing do for her? All she had to do was ask, and he would give her anything. Everything about her filled him with desire, even when she refused to share her troubles with him. It didn't matter how much she denied him, he would always want her.
She had been warm and responsive each time he held her in his arms. He wasn't sure which was more difficult to face, her refusal to ask him for his help, or her thinking she had to shoulder her burden alone. Something unresolved festered in her mind. Her moonlit swim must have been her attempt at a resolution. Aidan's heart sped up just as it had last night. He had peered at her from the shore, remindful of their many nights along the bank.
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