Faithfully Yours (The Forever Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1)

by Spradling, Carol A.

  Hope's eyes perked, and she wet her lips.

  Faith slammed her hand on the table. "Not my husband," she said. She shook her head at her sister's single-minded thoughts, and rubbed her palm. It might be better to actually hear the words that had been troubling her than to keep them to herself. They certainly did no one any good there. "I haven't been sleeping well," Faith said.

  The blood drained from Hope's cheeks, and she rubbed her temple. She closed her eyes as if blocking out a bright light. "Oh? What's preventing this?" she asked. She spoke as though she knew something but didn't want to lead Faith in the conversation.

  "It's my dreams, which is odd because I don't generally remember them...except for ones that involve Aidan."

  "That doesn't sound like a problem, sister." Hope scooted closer to the table, and Faith frowned over at her.

  "What do you remember from our childhood?" Faith asked.

  Hope sat back in her chair and snarled her lip. "I'd rather hear about your dreams involving your husband."

  Faith rolled her eyes heavenward. There was only one way to harness her sister's train of thought. "He caught me swimming nude. Is that enough for you?" she blurted out.

  Apparently this answer only ignited Hope's curiosity instead of tempering it. She blinked like she tried to understand a person's lack of basic comprehension. "I suppose there's more to that story, but I'll add my own thoughts later to complete the scene."

  Faith sighed and shook her head. Their discussions were the same now as they had been five years ago. How had her parents' managed to keep control of Hope during all of those barn raisings?

  "Faith, there are only a few years between us in age," Hope answered. "Our memories should be similar. We were children of sharecroppers and then orphaned."

  Faith sat forward with her arms crossed on the table. There had to be more to it than that simple explanation. "What do you remember about our life after our parents died?"

  Hope pulled away and tilted her head. She rubbed the spot under her eye. "I'd rather not talk about it." She glanced to the window. "So when are you expecting the corrupter of young girl's dreams to return home? And you do know that he is capable of corrupting big girls too...and their dreams?"

  Faith looked closer at the mole on her sister's cheek. Although it sat high on the bone and in the same place as her own, the spot under Hope's eye looked different than what Faith remembered. It was smaller, almost nonexistent.

  "Are you troubled by something, Hope?" Faith asked.

  Faith's stare seemed to trigger an irritation of the blemish. Hope brushed her finger over her cheek. "Why do you ask?"

  "You said you had not come to share your woes." Faith pointed to a place below Hope's left eye. "And the mark on your face looks as though it has been scoured off."

  "That's ridiculous." Hope scoffed and turned her cheek into the shadow. If she couldn't deny it, she could hide it.

  Faith leaned in the same direction Hope had turned and kept her attention focused on her sister's face. Never one concerned with the thoughts of others, Hope was concealing something.

  "It's odd," Faith said, "how every female in our family has that mark, except for Grace."

  "Maybe mine is disappearing with age," Hope suggested and swaggered her head. "And as for Grace, she'll get hers soon enough."

  Faith cringed, waiting for her sister to clear her throat and spit on the floor. She hoped she wouldn't be so crude. "I suppose," Faith tentatively said and then relaxed her back against her seat. "I didn't get mine until I was thirteen." She paused and looked to the side, trying to remember why she could remember such a trivial detail. She dragged her attention to Hope, staring wide-eyed and opened mouthed. "That's around the time the odd dreams began."

  "You said Aidan was part of your dreams," Hope reminded her. "You didn't meet him until you were sixteen."

  "Isn't it peculiar that I would dream about a person I didn't even know?"

  Hope lifted her chin, and in the center of her eyes, a window opened into her soul. Faith pulled against an invisible tug. She didn't want to enter the darkness, but she would never get another chance to ask such a seemingly ridiculous question.

  "Hope, what do you know about time travel?" Speaking the words into the open seemed to expend all of Faith's energy. Her limbs felt lifeless, but she waited for an answer nonetheless.

  Hope closed her eyes and shrank back into her chair. "It's evil. Don't do it."

  Air seemed to leave the room in a vacuum, and Faith struggled to draw breath into her lungs. She should be relieved to know that her experience had not been a hallucination, but instead, her ears rang and her heart seemed to barely beat. White spots continued to float across her vision. She slowly pushed herself to her feet and stumbled to a nearby bucket. Her hand moved as if in slow motion as she dipped a cupful of water. The liquid soothed her dry mouth as she sipped and forced her throat to swallow. Hope had confirmed her fears, but added a lethal caution.

  Faith's throat felt as though it had been rubbed raw with a bristle brush. "It's too late for me," she rasped. "I've already traveled."

  Hope's hands were as cold as the blood flowing through Faith's body. "You must never do it again," she warned.

  Faith locked her gaze with Hope's. She had barely enough energy to do much more. "I cannot regulate it."

  Hope nodded, and Faith tried to draw strength from her sister's insistence. "Yes, you can. It is always within our control." Hope pulled her hands away and looked to the floor. "But, it is not always an easy choice."

  Realization of Hope's words covered Faith like a cold stream in winter. She made her way back to her seat and sat down, grateful for the strength to return. "How often have you traveled, Hope?"

  Hope grimaced and rubbed the nearly depleted mole. "Apparently one time too many."

  "It's the mark," Faith said, touching her hand to her own blemish. "Everyone in our family who bears this mark can travel?"

  Hope nodded in answer. She appeared helpless, and spoke as though she was filled with regret. "Maybe it would be better if you knew about our family talent."

  Faith sucked in her breath and sat up straight. From the way Hope spoke, she wasn't certain she would like what Hope said, but if she was to remain with Aidan, she knew it was necessary that she listen.

  Hope glanced over at Faith, her eyes pleading with her younger sister. "If I tell you," she cautioned. "You must do everything possible to not use your ability."

  Faith drew her brows together, not sure how to answer.

  "Faith," Hope tilted her chin. "Pledge your word."

  Faith sank into her seat, her shoulders bowed. She shook her head, not meaning it to be her answer. "Each time I have traveled, it was not intentional," Faith tried to explain. Her heels bounced on the floor, and she fought the urge to run. "I need you to teach me. I want to stay with Aidan. Please, Hope. Tell me how to control it."

  Hope narrowed her eyes the way she did when looking for a way out of an uncomfortable situation. "I'll explain your dreams first. This might help you understand," she said. "You have thoughts of Aidan at thirteen because you met him at thirteen. All of the dreams that you remember, actually happened."

  Faith stared over at Hope, trying to make sense of what she said. Her dreams were real. Her wedding night made this easy to understand, but that explanation didn't help secure her future to Aidan. Faith refused to live her life with only remembrances of the man she loved.

  "For our family, time traveling is part of growing up," Hope continued. "You don't become a woman over night. It happens slowly. Time travel is the same type of transition. Your ability to travel begins around the age of thirteen, starting in small doses like a dream. By the time you are grown, you are able to control it."

  Faith could not believe what she heard. Her sister spoke calmly, like she was giving her directions on making lye soap. "How do you know all of this?" Faith asked.

  Hope shrugged. "Mother taught Honor and me. She died before you were old
enough to learn how to use your gift."

  "The dreams seemed so real." Faith stared down at her hands and spoke absently.

  "They were real," Hope corrected her. "The events happened."

  Faith leaned into the table, curious about a major part of her lesson. "Hope, if I learn how to control the time traveling, can I prevent it from happening again?"

  Hope shifted in her seat. "It is impossible to prevent the inevitable, but you can control your traveling."

  Faith breathed a sigh of relief. Her shoulders lifted as though she was being drawn up through the center of her being. It didn't matter if her body lifted off the chair and hovered amidst the rafters, she finally had a shred of hope to cling to.

  "You will need to practice before you have full command," Hope added. "This is not something that happens instantly."

  Faith pulled her attention from her daydream. Practice. "Only a moment ago, you told me to not time travel, made me vow," Faith said, her voice set at a higher pitch than what she was accustomed to.

  Hope rolled her eyes, and blew out her breath. She looked as though she was teaching basic instructions to a simpleton. "You are so literal. I meant after you have full control. Honestly, Faith. Maybe it would be better that I not teach you."

  "No!" Faith shouted, afraid she would be left to figure the technique out on her own. "I can learn. If this will prevent me from traveling on impulse, I want to know how to do it."

  One side of Hope's lip pulled into a sneer. Faith wasn't certain if her sister had a distaste for teaching or was thoughtful of a bad experience.

  "I assure you," Hope said. "You will have full control. And if I remember correctly, it is more than an impulse that sends you through time." She smirked. There was no doubt that she enjoyed the blush of color that warmed Faith's cheeks. "Now stand up."

  Faith scrunched her face. There was no need to pretend innocence to what her sister referenced. Apparently, Hope had gone through a similar experience while in her early years. Faith stood to her feet, and the hairs on her arm stood on end. She was certain she could feel an excitement in the air that wasn't there before. Hope turned opposite of her, her face deadly serious.

  "You need to concentrate on where you want to go," Hope said. For the first time since learning of the family talent, Faith wondered how many places Hope had been. "If you have someone's name, a place, or a date in mind, that information, regardless of how small, will help you with control." Faith nodded her understanding. "This is the most important part." Faith pulled herself taller as Hope spoke. The excitement of knowing she would be able to control her traveling almost choked her. "You have to create a rhyme," Hope said. "The lengthier it is, the more precise your landing will be."

  Faith's shoulders drooped, and she blinked over at her sister. "A rhyme? That's how I'll control time travel?" Faith asked, her voice deflated. "I thought there would be more to it than that."

  Hope shrugged and then sat back down. "I include hand and arm gestures. It doesn't really add anything to the rhyme, but it will frighten off anyone who might be spying on you. That trick will come in handy if you ever travel to the Boston area."

  A soft voice sang its way into Faith's memory. Recognizing her mother's lilt, Faith smiled. "Is that why mother encouraged us to increase our vocabulary?" Faith asked.

  Hope's eyes sparkled at her question. Both girls shared the same fondness for their parents. "Yes," she answered. "Even though you weren't old enough to learn the details to time travel, you needed to have the words. Not to mention, she thought it important for us to speak properly."

  The sensation of falling through the air jolted Faith. She reached her hands to her sides, splaying the air as though she searched for something to break her plummet. "Hope, what happens if you die in one time?" she asked, her voice quiet.

  "You can never return to that time. It is sealed from you."

  Faith raised her gaze, a nervous giggle erupted into the room. "So I can never return to a time and a life in which I have died? Is that what you are saying?"

  "Yes."

  Excitement shot through Faith and she moved to the window. She searched the grounds and the horizon, looking for any sign of Aidan. She would no longer have to keep him at arm's length, like Trista had suggested. She laughed softly to herself. Crazy, old woman. She didn't know as much as she tried to make people believe.

  Faith turned her back to the window. Hope sat at the table, peering down at her hands. She seemed lost in thought. Could she envision something in her palms that was more difficult to accept than a time traveling capability? She had said it was controllable. Wasn't that enough to calm her fears?

  "Hope? Why haven't you told me any of this before now?" Faith asked.

  Hope hesitated to look up. When she finally lifted her gaze, she said. "Is there something more I need to know?"

  A myriad of questions raced through Faith's mind, but one thought stood out among the rest. "Forty years have passed, but you and I look the same now as we did then."

  "Why wouldn't we?" Hope asked. "We can time travel into any year. We will be our natural age. As we grow older, we will look that age."

  "What about Grace and Honor?"

  "Since Grace doesn't time travel, she is currently forty years older than when you last saw her."

  "And Honor?"

  "Honor chooses to not time travel, at least that she will admit to."

  Hope slowly pushed herself to her feet, wincing as though her joints were stiff and aching. "I should leave before your husband returns."

  Faith nodded and stepped to the side. "Thank you for visiting with me today," she said. "You will come back again, won't you?"

  Hope continued to walk outside without answering.

  "Hope?" Faith asked. "I will see you again? Hope?"

  "I will be nearby," Hope answered from over her shoulder.

  Faith stared after her. She couldn't help but think this was the last conversation they would share.

  Chapter 14

  The sun climbed higher over the tree line, and warm rays beat down through the darkening sky. Although gray, it would be hours before the clouds were full enough to release rain. Aidan bent his head forward and peered down at his leg. Blood drenched the top of his thigh, stopping at the knee. He flexed his calf to see how mobile the leg would be. If he planned to walk home, he would need both limbs to bear his weight. Pain clutched the top half of his leg, and the muscle cramped into a tight knot. He placed the heel of his hand over the wound and pressed downward. His stomach rolled, and he wondered if he had the strength needed to survive.

  This morning, it had taken him close to an hour to drive the straw cart from the barn to the fields. If uninjured, he could easily walk the roadway back to his house in less than an hour, but with a useless leg, he wasn't sure how he would manage the three miles of twists and bends that led along the river. The flat trail skirting the edge of the property was an easier alternative to the rough, rocky terrain that cut through the trees. Shorter by two miles, the jagged shortcut with downed trees and exposed boulders was not an option he could entertain.

  He turned his head toward the road to see if anyone traveled in the direction of his property. It was highly doubtful that someone would come to visit so soon following his and Faith's wedding. What he would give for one person to defy custom and intrude upon his and Faith's privacy. He would even invite them to return as frequently as possible if it would send someone to his aid.

  Cocking his head away from the road, he listened for the sound of a horse's hooves trampling the beaten down grass. Apparently no one had stumbled upon Hank, either. Or if they had, they didn't plan to return him. His calf spasmed reflexively, his body responding to his thoughts, and he winced. He gripped the tight muscle and worked his thumb into the knot.

  The beast's absence was just as well, at least until Aidan was thinking more clearly. Although the accident was not the horse's fault, it had happened just the same. Now left on his own, Aidan needed to find a
way home so his wound could be tended to properly.

  Strapped to his waist, his knife tip scratched the ground. He glanced down at his leg, and his double vision focused into a single view. Holding his head in his hand, he rubbed his fingertips against his forehead.

  He took a deep breath and reached for the handle of his knife, his fingers fitting perfectly into the worn grip. He hoped his assurance lasted beyond the next few minutes. This blade was always his weapon of choice, especially when hunting. The balanced weight made it easy to do the deed necessary, while not taxing the user. He hesitated, wondering how much of a bite he would feel from his own blade by day's end.

  He had nothing with him to build a fire. He sat on a field covered with straw. There was enough tender to keep it burning, but what could he use to strike a spark? Unprepared for what he may need to do, he leaned back and glanced up at the sky. Individual clouds rolled together, knitting themselves into one, cohesive unit, and he reevaluated how much time he had to take care of his leg before the weather changed. He hoped he could make it home before the first drop fell. Grabbing the handle of his knife, he pulled it free, and then pushed himself to a seated position.

  Locking one arm in place behind him, he waited for his vision to fade from white. The wind picked up, whipping at his face, cooling the sweat running down his neck. He stuck the tip of the blade into his breeches and sliced a line through the cloth from the wound to the top of his stockings. Pulling the material apart, he got a good look at the puncture. A red stream bubbled like a fresh well. He would have to get the bleeding to stop, or he would bleed to death in the field.

  He tucked one strap under his thigh and drew it toward the other. Tying it in a loop, he pulled it tight enough to keep the blood moving through his leg, but only trickle from the two inch hole. Although his limb was warm to the touch, he re-sheathed his knife, and breathed a deep sigh. He wouldn't have to cauterize the wound, but the field dressing wasn't going to last long.