Eternal Time Shadows Box Set 2 / Volumes 11-20: Sweetly Romantic Time Travel Mini-Adventures

by Lisa Shea

  Eternal Time Shadows

  Box Set 2

  Volumes 11-20

  Sweetly Romantic Time Travel

  Mini-Adventures

  Lisa Shea

  Copyright © 2016 by Lisa Shea / Minerva Webworks LLC

  All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Lisa Shea

  Book design by Lisa Shea

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Visit my website at LisaShea.com

  Half of all author’s proceeds from this series benefit battered women’s shelters.

  11 – Civil War Destiny

  I stared at Robert’s outstretched hand as the noise of battle echoed all around me in the dense twilight. Cannon fire shuddered the earth, and men’s screams were punctuated by musket fire.

  Robert, the enemy, dressed in his Rebel greys, stood before me. A bloody saber was in one hand. The other was held out to me, palm up. His gaze pleaded with me to take it.

  I glanced back over my shoulder, then told him, “No.”

  His throat tightened. “Elizabeth, even though you don’t know me, you have to trust me.”

  “I do trust you,” I stated, and to my surprise it was true. Until this moment he had been naught but a dream. A figment of my overwhelmed mind which had seen far too many grisly amputations and battered bodies.

  But somehow, beyond all reason, I trusted him.

  I pointed behind us, to the large, white tent in the sea of smaller sleeping tents. “My father’s in there. If we’re in danger, then we have to get him out, too.”

  He glanced behind him at the enemy lines, then up at the sky, and drew in a breath. Nodding, he spun into motion, grabbing my hand and racing toward the tent. “Stay with me.”

  Visions of our other flights together flashed in my mind. Our race from the erupting volcano at Pompeii. Our fleeing from the angry mob in Scotland. Each time he had been by my side, steadfast and determined to keep me safe.

  I ran at his side through the darkening night, matching his speed with my own. “I vow it – I will stay with you. Always.”

  My feet flew as we dodged around tent lines and leapt over the remnants of a low stone wall. We came up to the open flap.

  My father turned around, putting down the forceps he was cleaning. “There you are. I’ve got the fire ready to boil –”

  He stared at Robert, his eyes sweeping down Robert’s greys, and he turned white.

  My father’s voice came out tight and pleading. “Don’t hurt her. Please, I’ll do whatever you want.”

  I took a step forward. “Father, this is Robert. The man I’ve been dreaming about. You have to come with us.”

  My father shook his head, his eyes going back to Robert. “She’s just a child. This war has been more than she could bear; her mind is having trouble coping. I beg of you, let her go. Take me, instead.” His eyes went to the bloody wound at Robert’s hip. “You need a doctor?”

  There was a shout from the other side of the tent, and Robert’s hand closed on his saber.

  I realized, suddenly, that he was deep within enemy territory. If he was found, he would be slain in an instant.

  I turned to my father, my voice urgent. “Yes, he’s wounded. I’m his hostage. All he needs is for us to go with him and stitch him up. Then he’ll set us free without harm.”

  I pointed at my father’s bag. “Grab that and let’s get going.”

  This demand was one he could wrap his logical thoughts around. He drew the leather bag up in his hands and jogged to our side. “I’m ready.”

  Robert poked his head out the opening. “Damn. There’s three soldiers there. I don’t want to kill anyone I don’t have to.”

  My father looked at him askance, but I dove to the pile of clothes in the corner of the room. The ones we took off of soldiers during the course of operations who then never needed them again. I drew out a jacket and a cap. “Here, put these on.”

  He nodded, and in a moment he was neatly outfitted in the top half of a Union soldier’s gear. Hopefully the growing darkness would shield the pants.

  He took me by the arm. “All right. We’re heading up and west. Up and west. You stay by my side.”

  “I will.”

  He glanced at my father. “And you?”

  My father’s lips pressed into a line. “You just don’t hurt her, and I’ll do whatever you say.”

  Robert nodded. “Then off we go.”

  He slipped out of the tent in a crouch, head down, and I followed behind him. Something was different about the tenor of the shouts around us. Before they had been the fierce cries of battles – noises I had heard for so long that they almost seemed a natural state of the world. But now there was an edge to the calls.

  That unmistakable note of despair.

  Robert glanced again at the sky, as if judging the time. “We have to hurry. They’re coming.”

  My father’s brow creased. “Who is coming?”

  There was a roar of sound, and suddenly a wave of men were racing in at the far edge of the camp.

  Rebels.

  We didn’t need any urging to go faster. Our feet had wings, and we scrambled hard past tents and tethered sheep, past piles of cookware and the ashes of fires. The sun was dipping lower now, making shapes harder to see, and I stumbled over an outstretched root. Robert was right there at my side, lifting me up, half-carrying me.

  A sentry was up ahead. He turned at our approach. “Who goes –”

  My voice carried high. “It’s me, Elizabeth. We’re overrun! This solder’s helping me to safety!”

  The guard’s eyes moved from me to the wave coming in, and in a moment he was racing to his fellows who were setting up a defensive line. The way before us was now clear.

  Robert tucked an arm beneath my waist, driving hard up the wooded hill before us. “They won’t last long,” he muttered. “We have to get up to safety.”

  My father’s eyes went wide as he glanced at the chaos behind us. Even as we watched the hospital tent was torn down amidst cheers and yells. “Good God. They would have killed us.” His eyes went to me. “Or worse.”

  Robert’s voice was low. “Just keep moving. If we’re caught, I can’t take them all on.”

  Our movements had fresh energy now. We scrambled and dug, scrabbled and climbed.

  At last we made it to the summit of the hill and paused to look down into the camp.

  It was completely overrun. Union soldiers lay sprawled, dead, like autumn leaves scattered by the wind. The rebels had found the officers’ stores of whiskey and were popping open the bottles in celebration.

  My father put his hand to his chest in shock.

  Robert groaned and then staggered. Blood soaked the side of his jacket.

  I turned to my Father. “We have to get him somewhere safe. And then we have to stitch him up.”

  My father turned to Robert with respect shining in his eyes. “You came in, alone, to save us. You could easily have been killed both by our forces or by your own. And yet you took that risk. Why?”r />
  Robert took my hand in his, and his eyes glowed.

  My father looked between him and me, and at last he drew in a breath. “All right, then, man of her dreams. Let’s find somewhere we can patch you up.”

  Darkness was descending in earnest now, and we made our way down to a stream. Then we followed it west, always west, for at least a full hour. Robert must have been in agonizing pain, judging from the wound’s location and the sweat drenching his brow, but he never spoke a word of it as we pushed our way through the muck.

  A large, dark shadow loomed before us, of a structure of some sort, and we dropped into a crouch. I put a hand on Robert’s arm. “You two stay here. I’ll go take a look.”

  His voice was tight. “I should go –”

  “If it’s the Union, they’ll shoot you on sight for your pants. And if it’s the Rebels, they’ll do the same for your jacket. Let me go. I’m an innocent, either way, and if I need help I’ll call for it.”

  His hand dropped to the knife at his side. “Here, take this.”

  I took it with a smile. “I have two more on me. I’m a nurse, remember? I know how to use these things.”

  His mouth quirked up into a smile.

  I was lost.

  It was him. The Robert of my dreams. The man who had sat with me on an elegant ship, soothing my fears. The one who had stood loyally by my side when we were trapped in a prison-city. I did not understand where the places and times were, but I knew the emotion that had resonated between us. I knew, whatever came, that he would be there for me.

  I nodded to him and leaned forward to press a kiss against his brow.

  And then I was in motion.

  It was a farmhouse, two story, with dark windows looking out over a quiet meadow. I crept through the bushes until I reached the edge of the clearing, then carefully made my way across the open space. There were no sounds of life within or without. I reached the door.

  It was locked.

  I eased along the house’s edge to the back side. A small chicken coop sat empty.

  The kitchen door was locked as well.

  The window to its right was slightly ajar, and I carefully pressed it up. It gave a low creak, but nothing else stirred. I tucked the knife into my waist and hoisted myself up and into the window. Then I lowered myself within.

  The house was clean and organized. The four chairs were pushed in at the table and the plates were neatly stacked on a shelf. The ashes in the fireplace were cold. I went to them and placed my hand on them. Not a hint of warmth there. It could have been days or weeks that they lay untouched.

  I ran my finger along the top of the polished table. The thinnest layer of dust lingered there.

  I carefully crept into the living room. A pair of portraits hung over the mantle, of a man and a woman. A simple sofa and a pair of chairs were arranged facing the fireplace.

  There was a creak from upstairs, and I drew the knife from my hip.

  I pitched my voice to be low and friendly. “I got lost in the woods and just wanted some food. I can barter with you. Please, come down to talk with me.”

  Silence.

  My brow creased. Maybe it was a child who was frightened? I kept the knife out, just in case, and began ascending the stairs.

  Each footfall set my heart pounding at higher levels and by the time I reached the top I could barely breathe. But I had to keep going. Robert was out there, bleeding, and he relied on me to get him to safety.

  I would not let him down.

  I reached the master bedroom and pushed open the half-open door.

  A pair of large eyes stared at me from the bed.

  A scream erupted for me, and I waited for the muzzle blast, for the shot which would pierce my heart –

  The eyes blinked, and then a fat raccoon ambled his way down from his cozy nest in the blankets. He moved over to the half-open window and climbed out of it.

  I put my hand to my heart, willing it to return back into its ribs.

  There was a massive crash from below, of the front door blowing open. Robert’s voice rose high in concern. “Elizabeth? Elizabeth!”

  “I’m all right,” I called down. “There’s nobody here.” I turned and came down the stairs to his side.

  His hip was soaked in blood now, and he half-fell against me.

  My father took him by the arm. “Let’s get him to the kitchen. There’s a table?”

  I nodded. “And lamps. I know what to do.”

  In a moment Robert was laying down on the table and I was carefully easing the clothing away from the wound. It was bad. The knife had severed a number of blood vessels.

  My father moved with quick precision, laying out his tools. “Got the water, my dear? Good, good. You’re always such a capable lass. And the fire?”

  “Nearly there,” I murmured, getting the tinder to catch. Thank God that the family who had left the house had kept everything in good state. The tinder box was right where it should be, and ample logs were stacked up alongside. It was only a few minutes before I had a decent fire going and was sterilizing the equipment.

  My father turned to Robert. “We don’t have any painkiller with us. This is going to hurt, son.”

  Robert’s eyes drew to mine and his voice resonated with conviction. “I have seen your daughter endure far worse, in order to save you, her family and friends.” His brow creased. “My God. Mary. Sofia. Anna. Are they all right?”

  It still shook me, that he knew so much about my world. “All safely back in Boston,” I assured him. “I write to them regularly, although I can never be sure if my letters make it to them.”

  He fell back against the table. “They’re safe,” he murmured. “I should have known. You wouldn’t have left them behind, had they been there.”

  My mouth quirked into a smile. “You know me well.”

  His eyes drew to mine, and they were fathomless. Deep.

  We both knew each other well.

  I nodded and looked to my father. “Let’s begin.”

  Time passed. The lamps went down, the fire settled, and still we worked through the dark night. Robert was clearly in immense pain but he didn’t make a noise. His fingers gripped the side of the table so tightly that I was sure the wood would splinter beneath his grasp. My entire world became the open wound. My focus was on the delicate work needed to reconnect parts which had been ruthlessly severed.

  My father sewed … sewed … and I did my best to mop away the blood and fluids to give him a clear view of his work.

  Slowly, piece by piece, the items were reconnected. The bits were eased back into their homes. And the outer layer of skin was neatly, carefully, drawn together into a whole.

  Finally my father looked up, his brow shining with the effort. “There. The worst of it is past. Bedrest is what you need now.”

  Robert looked to me. “Elizabeth, I –”

  Stomping boots came from the front door. A deep voice called out, “Union forces. Show yourselves.”

  I looked in fear at the grey pants Robert still wore. Then my fingers flew at the laces of his boot.

  Robert shook his head. “Elizabeth, no –”

  I had one boot off and tossed it onto the floor. The second came off just as easily.

  My father called out, “I’m a doctor! I’m working on a patient. We are unarmed!”

  I tugged down Robert’s pants. I knew the yanking must be sending his raw wound into agonizing pain, but I could not stop. Not when danger was so close.

  The pants came off and I tossed them deep into the fire –

  A trio of Union officers came around the corner, their swords out. They looked between my father and me, and then down at the man on the table. Their eyes took in the Union jacket and cap thrown over the far chair.

  My voice bubbled up out of me. “We were overrun at the hospital tent and this soldier was wounded defending us from attack. He led us out to safety - but the wound was too severe to go any further. We had to get it closed.”

 
The bloody evidence of our work was all around us.

  The lead officer nodded in satisfaction. “You two have gone above and beyond the call of duty, to help out an injured man like that, when danger was so hot on your heels.” He turned to Robert. “And you, lad. I will see that you receive a commendation for your bravery.”

  Robert kept his voice even. “I was only doing my duty, sir.”

  “You did that duty when many others fled,” pointed out the officer.”

  I twined my fingers into Robert’s. “He is beyond brave. But now I need to get him upstairs so he can rest.”

  “Of course,” agreed the officer. “We will be using this house as a new base of operations, but he can have whatever bedroom you feel is best suited.”

  “I’m sure a small one will do,” I assured the officer.

  My father came around to Robert’s other side, and between us we helped Robert move his way through the living room and up the stairs. The furthest room in the back held a single bed and we eased him down into it.

  Robert’s voice was tight with pain. “You two should go. Get to safety.”

  I shook my head. “If it were me lying here injured, and I told you to leave me, would you go?”

  The shine in his gaze told me the answer.

  My father looked again between us, acceptance coming into his eyes. “Whatever there is between you two, I will not question it further.” He turned to me. “But, Elizabeth, he is right. We should get you to safety.”

  My voice rose high. “Father, I said –”

  He fondly patted my arm. “For now we will remain here to help Robert heal. And then you will guide him North, to get him free of the fighting.”

  My brow creased. “What about you?”

  “I can put in a transfer to the larger hospital, further from the front lines. I will still be able to do my job, but it will be less risky there. I am sure the worst of the fighting will be over soon.”

  Robert shook his head. “There’ll be nearly two more years of fighting.”

  My father’s eyes creased in surprise. “You know that? How?”

  Robert twined his fingers into mine. “Just trust that I know.”

  My father looked more closely at Robert. “You knew how to get her to safety, just now. Do you also know how to get her up to Massachusetts through the fighting?”