Vestige of Hope

by Sara Blackard

  “Oh no,” Viola replied, shaking her head. “You don’t want to know what I’ve been thinking.”

  He walked over to the table, pulled a chair closer to hers, and slid into it, noticing that she leaned away.

  “Please, Viola, I want to help you,” Hunter whispered, grabbing her hand from where it picked at the table and pulling her hand to him. He rubbed circles with his thumb on the back of her hand, hoping to calm her into opening up to him.

  “It’s not right,” Viola said. “I’d die if anyone knew what’s been going on in my brain.”

  “Viola,” Hunter reassured her, placing his other hand onto her cheek. “You can tell me anything, and I promise it won’t shock me or make me believe less of you. Remember, I’ve been through a lot, have seen and been privy to circumstances of every nature. I can tell you’re struggling, Viola. I felt you spiraling down deep out there on the porch. If you don’t trust me enough to talk to me about it, I want you to let me go get your sister to talk to her.”

  “No, Bea wouldn’t understand. I can’t talk to her,” Viola said looking down at her hand enveloped in his, then back into his eyes, vulnerability shining from her face. “Promise you won’t think less of me?”

  Hunter would promise her everything he could think of if he could. He’d promise to keep her safe. He’d promise to love and protect her with every ounce of his being, to die to save her from harm. Shoot, he’d promise to race to the mountaintops and capture the wind if she asked. He cleared his throat, which had become thick. “Promise.”

  “I feel this intense grief for Pa, that I’ll never see him again or that you’ll never meet him,” she said, squeezing his hand. “He would’ve loved you.”

  “I can tell I would’ve loved him too,” Hunter replied, grief at the loss of a relationship that never was to be heavy upon his heart.

  Viola’s mouth lifted in a teary smile before confusion crinkled her brow. She pushed off of her chair so fast she almost yanked him out of his. She curled her arms around herself and started pacing, a limp in her step from where the cranky horse had kicked her.

  “I don’t understand,” she said as she bit her nail and turned for another lap. “My emotions keep vacillating between sorrow for my pa and joy for having you. Intense pain that sears my heart, to a fullness I never imagined was possible. There’s something wrong, wicked even within me to be one moment on the verge of tears over my father’s death, and the next moment wondering if I’ll make it through my wedding night without combusting in a flame from intense desire. How can I be thinking such things, longing for such things, when I just found out my father’s dead?” She turned again and pinned him with a look of confusion from across the room. “Is it because the Sweeneys told us about his death already that I’m so easily swayed, or am I just a horrible, terrible daughter whose own selfish desires overshadow even her father’s death?” A tear slid down her face before she brushed it away while muttering, “Stupid tears.”

  Hunter got to his feet nice and slow, not wanting to scare her but also needing time to process the fact that she just told him she desired him, to the point she was worried she’d burst into flames. He knew he had to keep his ego and own desires in check, or he’d blow this whole conversation to smithereens. Lord, help me find the right words to say to her. Help me comfort her in a way that’s Godly and true. Show me the way Lord. Please help me build the trust we’ll need as a husband and wife to last as a foundation for the rest of our lives.

  He walked up to her, took her hand, bringing it to his mouth and kissing the inside of her wrist. She closed her eyes, her breathing rapid and shallow.

  “I don’t think you’re wicked, and you are the complete opposite of a horrible daughter,” Hunter stated, hoping she’d see the truth within his eyes. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear my desire and love for you reflected in your words. I also understand how confusing that must be. The last few days have been full of life-changing events, a death and a wedding.”

  He paused, took a breath, and sent a quick prayer heavenward before continuing. “I don’t know if it will help you, but I’d like to tell you about a conversation I had once with our chaplain.”

  “Okay,” Viola whispered, allowing him to lead her back to the table.

  He scooted his chair even closer before taking both of her hands in his. He started his story. “We’d just got off a mission. It was one of the worst ones I’d ever had. Although the mission was a success in the big wigs’ eyes, we came home with two of our fellow brothers dead. Men of honor. Men I loved like my brother. We were gathering our gear to go home, our commander giving us all some R&R to regroup ourselves, when one of the married guys in the unit said that he couldn’t wait to get home to his wife and the comfort of their bed and her arms.” He cringed when Viola gasped, forgetting that the people of this time were still sensitive to that stuff.

  “Sorry,” he continued. “People in my time aren’t very proper with that kind of stuff, especially not in The Unit. I was a little taken aback by what he said as well, but confusingly jealous at the same time. I visited the chapel before I left, hoping that prayer would help straighten out my thinking. Chaplain Dave came in and asked me what was wrong. I told him what had happened. Told him the talk in the barracks had upset and confused me. How could he have been so callous when our brothers weren’t even cold in the ground? Chaplain Dave nodded in understanding before answering. He told me that God made us for relationships, relationship with Him and relationships with others. One of the strongest relationships ordained by God is the one between a man and wife. Often when we face death, we want to cling to the relationship that is closest to us, the one that would give us the most comfort. When my parents died, all I wanted was to be with my brother. When those two fellow men died, what I wanted most was to have someone to hold and to hold me. To comfort and, I don’t know, prove that I was still alive. Of course, I didn’t have that, so I went home to visit Chase and focused on my relationship with the Lord.”

  Hunter sighed, tracing her slender fingers in his, hoping what he was saying was helping and not confusing her even more. He peered into her face and saw unshed tears balancing in her exquisite eyes. He wished there was a way to help her, make it so she never hurt again. Hunter leaned forward and placed his forehead against hers.

  “God brought me here for you,” he whispered. “I’ll do whatever I can to make things better, to protect and help you.”

  He hoped he hid his surprise when she pushed him back and climbed into his lap, snuggling up against his chest. He pulled her as close as he could get her and wrapped his arms tight around her.

  Viola surprised herself as she climbed into Hunter’s lap and wrapped her arms around him so she didn’t hurt his ribs. Her boldness should embarrass her, never being in another man’s lap but her father’s as a child, but she wanted nothing more than to escape into the comfort Hunter gave. She needed to be bolstered by the strength that seemed to seep through his very pores. She exhaled as his arms tightened around her, pulling her close, and nuzzled her head into his neck.

  “I’m glad the cloud of doubt that has been hanging over us since the Sweeneys showed up has cleared,” Viola confessed. “Maybe now my stomach will stop churning with anxiety,” she said wistfully and far too self-indulgently. “I just wish our wedding day wasn’t wrapped up in all this mess. That Uncle Dan wouldn’t have forced you to marry me, and we had found out sooner about Pa. Now a day meant to be beautiful will forever remain marred by ugliness.”

  “A lifetime of beautiful days are waiting for us,” Hunter answered, his deep voice rumbling beneath her cheek. “We’ll have our share of bad days, but I think having this difficult situation and turbulent start of our life together can only strengthen us.”

  He ran his fingers up and down her arm, sending those tortuous jolts through her body once again.

  “Besides,” he continued. “Someday, we may look back on these last few days and realize they were beautiful, despite the
tragedy.”

  Viola pushed away from him to peer into his face. “Do you think it’s possible?”

  He gazed into her eyes, and the assault on her arm stopped as he said with all sincerity, “I see beauty laced in it already. In the sun that shined through your golden hair as you stepped out of the cabin in your pretty green dress. Having Dan here to join us in marriage, a marriage I was trying to discover a way to expedite. In Dan, your family, being here to share good memories together, memories I’m glad I now have of a man I will always wish I’d met. You and Beatrice haven’t had any time between when River showed up with that letter to today to really process and grieve. Dan being here gave you that. And in us, expressing what I felt since the first moment we met.”

  He winked and gave her a cocky half smile that had Viola’s mouth tugging upwards. She lifted her hand and traced the side of his lips that hitched up, remembering how he’d looked as he’d kissed her in the faint morning light. She remembered the look on Beatrice’s face when she had helped Viola get dressed for the wedding and the laughter in stories of Pa that had lifted her soul. Viola realized her heart had found what it was missing in this wonderful man from a different time.

  Viola stared in his eyes and agreed. “I think you’re right. Beauty is laced through today, breathtaking beauty.”

  He turned his head and pressed a kiss to her palm. She was glad God had sent her this husband from the future.

  Gathering her courage, Viola whispered, her voice huskier than normal, “I don’t want the beauty to stop there.”

  Hunter peered into her face, his eyes darkening to a deep blue and his voice deeper than before. “What are you saying?”

  “Take me to bed, husband,” Viola answered, blushing despite her boldness.

  “You sure?” he asked, his voice rasping.

  “Positive,” she whispered.

  Hunter leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss steeped in possessiveness. A fire ignited deep in her core. He slanted his head to deepen the kiss. The fire spread from her core to flow into the rest of her body. Viola gasped at the intensity, wondering when her hands had become fisted in his shirt. She shrugged, spread her hands across the fabric, feeling the muscles she could easily picture bunching beneath her touch. She leaned forward and kissed him with as much passion as he had given her, hoping she’d ignite a fire within him as well.

  She shrieked as Hunter stood up and carried her across the room. “Wait! Your ribs!”

  “My ribs are fine,” Hunter answered as he squeezed her close. “Come on, wife. Let’s go to bed.”

  The desire thickening his voice turned the fire within her into an inferno she wasn’t sure she’d survive. One she was sure she’d relish.

  Chapter 20

  Hunter lay on his back, running his hand through the hair he’d dreamed of caressing since the first day Viola had leaned over to check his ribs. Ribs that were now protesting the earlier exertion, not that he’d tell Viola. She’d have him back in bed for a week. However, if he could convince her to join him, it wouldn’t be such a bad confinement. He warmed at the thought.

  Her breath blew soft across his chest where her head lay. Her body was warm where it pressed up next to him. This was what his dad had been telling him about. Hunter had never quite understood until now, this closeness of two people that transcended any other earthly relationships. He mourned for all those guys he knew that threw this away with one-night stands. This was such a sacred bond for two to have. He couldn’t imagine sharing it with anyone but Viola. He thanked God He had provided the strength to overcome when Hunter’s desires ran away from him.

  What in the world was he going to do? He was married to a woman he’d met weeks ago, one hundred and fifty years earlier than he was supposed to be, a time as foreign as anything he’d ever encountered in the army. More so, if he was honest, with the antiquated weapons and lack of any amenities. He did not know how to earn an income in this time and this wilderness. How was he to provide for the wife he had and a child that may come just as quick? What if he failed as miserably in this time as he did in the mission to save Hope and her parents? He had even less control over circumstances here than he did back home. What if his brother went off the deep end without him there? He’d already lost their parents. Hunter had witnessed Chase’s dance with trouble and victory over it. What if losing Hunter as well ripped Chase from his trust in God? What if God hadn’t brought Hunter back to marry Viola, but only for a short period of time?

  Hunter breathed out an unsettled breath and ran his free hand down his face. This was ridiculous, this lack of trust. He felt ashamed and weak-minded, like the wave being tossed in the sea like the book of James warned believers about in the Bible. Hunter placed his hand over his eyes and silently prayed.

  “You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in You.” Hunter heard the verse from Isaiah chapter twenty-six being spoken within his heart, the verse his father had recommended he memorize when he first enlisted. Then followed just as quickly the verse in Isaiah chapter forty-two. The chaplain had suggested he read it after his parents had died, and it now played through his head. “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.”

  He sighed in relief as the peace of God settled upon his spirit. Whatever this life brought, if Hunter kept close to God, God would stay close to Hunter. This world and its worries would not drown him in despair and worry if he remembered God was with him, no matter what happened.

  “Thank You,” he whispered, as all tension left his body.

  Viola stirred and pushed herself onto her elbow, her hair cascading over her shoulder like a tumbling river of gold. Her brow wrinkled in concern, and her eyes roamed his face.

  “Are you all right?” she questioned.

  “Yeah,” he answered, his voice thick and husky. “I’m fine.”

  And to prove how fine he was, he kissed her until all traces of sleep disappeared.

  Viola woke up hot with what felt like an iron blanket thrown on top of her. She wondered why Beatrice had put so many furs on the bed when it was this late in spring. Trying to push out from under the covers, she found the blankets to be solid arms and legs that laid heavily upon her and the heat was the muscled chest pressed against her back. Viola sighed in contentment and allowed the arms to pull her even closer within their embrace. She figured the heat wasn’t so uncomfortable after all.

  As she settled back to sleep, she huffed in frustration at the sun shining brightly on her eyelids. She sucked in a breath and sat up so quickly that Hunter flopped onto his back behind her. She pulled the sheet to her neck and stared out the window. The sun shone in all its glory through the calico blue curtains her mother had sewn years before, with the cheery white daisies scattered across them.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Hunter sat up, pulling Viola behind him on the bed with one arm as he reached for the revolver on the nightstand with the other.

  “It’s late,” Viola answered as she pushed his arm out of the way. “The sun’s halfway up the sky, and I haven’t even started breakfast, let alone the other chores. Uncle Dan and Beatrice could be here any minute. What if they come in and breakfast isn’t done? Oh dear, how embarrassing.”

  Viola glanced back at Hunter, her cheeks burning at the thought of being caught again. Sure the bedroom door was closed, but her sister and Dan would know.

  Hunter chuckled, drawing his hand up and down her arm. “Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

  “It is late this morning.” She huffed in frustration as she pointed to the window. “Just look at how high the sun is, Hunter. Now turn around so I can get out of bed and dress.”

  “I see the sun, and it’s barely peeking its bright head over the mountains. It’s just after sunrise and you know it,” he teased, a roguish gleam in his eye.

  “I ha
ven’t slept this late in years and only when sick.” She shook her head in disgust. “I need to get up and stop lazing about.”

  “Oh, if I remember right, there wasn’t much lazing about happening,” Hunter replied. “In fact, I think we might just need to do a little more lazing about, it being our honeymoon and all.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Viola said as Hunter kissed up her shoulder and neck, her resolve weakening with each kiss.

  “And why not?” he whispered against her neck, sending shivers up and down her spine.

  A knock on the bedroom door ripped a gasp out of Viola. She heard Hunter groan, then begin to chuckle. Viola turned and glared at him.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Beatrice said through the door.

  “When do we not have a problem?” Hunter asked, grumbling as he hurried to put on his clothes.

  “We’ll be right out,” Viola called to Beatrice. She turned to Hunter. “I told you it was late.”

  Viola stood and hissed. A sharp pain wrenched from her knee up her leg.

  “Are you alright?” Hunter asked, grabbing her arm.

  “It’s just my knee,” Viola answered, then as quickly as her knee would allow, got dressed and followed Hunter into the front room.

  Beatrice stood at the door, her revolver drawn and her head turning as she scanned the yard. Viola could tell Beatrice was upset from the tightness in her shoulders and the way her free hand tapped upon her leg.

  “Talk to me, little sister,” Hunter said as he walked up to Beatrice.

  Beatrice turned and glared at Hunter before moving out on to the porch and into the yard. “The corral’s empty,” Beatrice’s voice clipped back.

  Viola scanned the corral and around the yard, closing the cabin door. She scowled as she noticed the horses they kept there were missing. The gate to the corral sat wide open.