Walking past the bookcase, he inspected the medical instruments on a long countertop between the bookcase and the patient cot. The cabinet above the countertop was filled with bandage materials and more medical instruments, most of which were made of silver. He picked up a few of the instruments. Medical tools were gory no matter where he was.
He was already familiar with the contents of the doily-covered side table next to the cot, but he had yet to flip through the pocket-sized books that were stacked on top of the table. He felt like he was riffling through a display of antiques as he picked up the first book. Its cover was made of thick leather and read The Gospel According to John. The inside pages were the same grayish paper Lydia had at her desk, and the printing appeared to be the work of an old block press. In small print at the bottom of the first page, it read Printed in Good Springs in the Year of Our Lord 2024. The ancient looking book was only a year old.
Holding the scripture book between his hands, he looked up at a framed picture hanging on the wall over the table. It was a silhouette of a woman’s profile. The contours looked similar to Lydia but not exact… probably the silhouette of a relative. The only other picture in the room hung on the wall next to the door. It was a drawing of an ornate tree formed by cursive writing. He studied it for a moment then moved closer to read the words and realized it was Lydia’s family tree. The spiraled writing indicated John Colburn as her father and listed a date of death beside her mother’s name. Connor glanced back at the silhouette and made the connection.
As he returned to the cot and sat on its edge, he opened the scripture book. The text was small and neatly printed. Though the translation was from a tradition even his grandmother’s church would have considered archaic, he found the words to be his first glimpse of familiarity since he had awoken in this place. He read for a moment and then the door opened. He assumed it was Lydia and continued reading.
His senses sharpened the moment he smelled coffee. When he saw it was John, he stood up, almost at attention out of habit.
John slowly closed the door with his back while carefully holding a steaming cup in each hand. He had a folded pair of brown pants tucked under one elbow.
“Connor. I am glad to see you are well. Do you drink coffee?”
Connor accepted the ceramic cup; its handle was large enough to put his whole hand through. As he sipped, the coffee’s warmth rushed through his system. It was dark and bold, and endowed with the taste of high quality. Definitely not a military blend. “Thank you, sir.”
“My pleasure.” John tossed the pair of trousers onto the cot. “Those should fit. You might have to cuff them.” He took a sip of his coffee and squinted at the t-shirt Connor wore. Then he looked down at Connor’s bare feet. “I will get you a proper shirt later and shoes as well.” He sat in the chair across from the cot and motioned for Connor to sit back down. “I apologize if I disturbed your reading.”
“Not at all,” Connor replied, glad for the company.
“Do you understand what you are reading?”
“Yes, sir, I do.”
“Excellent.” John took a sip of his coffee. “You are welcome to attend our church while you are here in Good Springs.”
Connor rubbed his chin. He was grateful, even comforted by John’s graciousness, but he was still in active service. Even though the military’s resources were stretched thin, he assumed a search party was looking for him. He intended to find them or be found before he was declared dead. “Thank you, sir. But I can’t stay here.”
“That is true. Since you have fully recovered, you must come to my house. You may stay as my guest.”
“Again, thank you,” he said, unsure how to explain the situation. “I meant that I must return to my people. I’m required to return to duty.”
“I do not know how you will leave the Land.” John turned his head toward the window. “I still do not understand how you arrived.”
Connor nodded. “I’ve thought about that a lot myself. I don’t know how I will leave, but I can tell you how I arrived. I’m a pilot. I fly aircraft for the Unified States military. Do you have any type of aircraft here?”
John only shook his head.
“Do you know what an airplane is?”
“No.”
“Do you have cars here?”
“No. I am not familiar with anything of the sort.”
Connor scratched his head as he thought of an explanation. “An aircraft is a machine that flies in the sky. The aircraft I fly have a crew of two: the naval aviator and the weapon systems officer.” He held out the scripture book and flew it like an airplane. “Imagine this is the aircraft. We were flying high in the sky over the South Atlantic Ocean. That ocean.” Connor pointed to the east. “My people have highly sophisticated technology and can make the aircraft fly very high and very fast. But something went wrong and I was ejected.” He was concerned his explanation would not make sense, but John appeared to be focused as he listened. “The ejection seat deployed a parachute so I could float safely to the ground. That’s what Lydia saw from the beach the evening she found me.”
John sat quietly, and his brow creased as he stared into his coffee cup. Then he looked up as if a thought had occurred to him. “You mentioned two people were in the aircraft. Was the other person ejected too?”
Connor widened his eyes, somewhat surprised by John’s perception. “I hope so.”
“If so, where is that person now?”
“I don’t know, sir.” The possibility of Lieutenant Mercer’s death knotted Connor’s stomach with grief. “I was knocked unconscious during the incident. I awoke here. I don’t know what happened to my weapons system officer… or to the aircraft... or my boots for that matter.” The absence of his gear, especially his boots, was worrisome.
“You will have to ask Lydia about your boots,” John said. “I recall her remarking on missing equipment and boots when we went back to the beach with her that night. I have not heard anyone mention anything that would suggest knowledge of the event—aside from my family. Levi and Lydia are aware of your mysterious arrival, of course, but the others in my household only know Lydia is treating an injured traveler, which is common here from time to time. And I often invite travelers to stay in my home. The trouble is: everyone—my family and the people in our village—will ask where you are from. I cannot tell people that you fell from the sky, nor will I lie.” John’s blue eyes were serious and full of concern. “What shall I tell them?”
“Arizona.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m from Arizona. It’s a state in America.”
“I see. I was hoping for an answer that would not draw more questions, but I appreciate your honesty. And what about your name? Bradshaw, was it?”
“Yes, sir. Bradshaw. Why is my name a problem?”
“Eight families founded our society. There are eight surnames in the Land. Not one of them is Bradshaw.” John’s matter-of-fact explanation attested to the simplicity of his society.
“Hasn’t anyone ever changed his name here? You know, come up with something new?”
“It is forbidden.” John’s expression remained serious. “Our genealogy is very important to us. Anyone wishing to take a wife must compare his lineage to hers to ensure quality breeding.”
“Quality breeding?” Connor wanted to laugh at the concept but could tell this was a serious matter for the isolated society. “As in no cousin marriages, that sort of thing?”
“A man may not marry a woman with whom he shares a great-grandparent.” John gave a quick glance out the window as if something outside caught his eye. “We will try not to mention your name… or Arizona.” He walked to the door then turned back to Connor. “Come into the house with me. I want you to join my family for breakfast.”
“Thank you, sir.” He was grateful for the chance to leave the cottage and be around people—no matter how bizarre the situation was. And he was beginning to like John Colburn. He reminded himself of the desti
tute condition of the rest of the world and pushed aside any notion of enjoying the place.
This was not his real life, and he had to find a way back to his carrier. He had no idea how to do that without an aircraft or a boat, but he had to get out of the cottage before he could begin to plan his departure. At present, he could leave the Colburn property and use his survival skills to live in the wild, or he could accept the invitation to be a welcomed guest in the home of a leader in a peaceful community.
* * *
Lydia opened the door to the kitchen pantry and stepped inside the cool, dark room. The morning sunlight that was beginning to brighten the kitchen spilled into the pantry. She filled a bowl with fresh fruit from the bushel baskets that lined the floor. The baskets were heaped with recently picked pears and plums and three varieties of apples. Villagers often brought fresh produce from their gardens and orchards to the overseer’s home. She’d never seen the pantry go empty.
Isabella lumbered into the kitchen. With her cane, she felt the floor to detect anything out of place. Isabella grunted as she lowered herself into her usual chair at the end of the table. Then she reached for the linen napkin on her plate, snapped it open, and smoothed it over her lap.
Lydia washed the fruit and placed it in a bowl on the table between a bowl of boiled eggs and a plate of bread. She greeted her aunt, and Isabella mumbled a response.
Bethany hummed as she came in and sat at the table next to Isabella. She plunked a stack of schoolbooks on the table’s edge and reached for a slice of bread. She hummed as she buttered the bread then stopped humming and took a bite. As she curled her long legs beneath her body, Lydia sat beside her and sent her a parental look. It went unnoticed.
Levi shuffled into the kitchen and walked straight to the cupboard near the sink. He yawned as he took a coffee mug from the upper shelf and yawned again as he moved around the table to his chair on the side by the fireplace. As Levi pulled his chair away from the table, its legs smacked into the stone edge of the hearth. Lydia flinched as the motion set off a memory of her mother’s death. She pressed her palm against her stomach and immediately removed it when Levi glanced at her.
Lydia looked over her shoulder at the back door and wondered if her father would bring Connor into the house for breakfast. She glanced back at Levi as he reached for the coffee pot. His face changed. Levi glowered at the back door.
John and Connor were chuckling about something as they walked into the house. Their smiles didn’t dissipate as they moved to the table. Connor glanced at Lydia and rubbed the top of his head to smooth his extremely short hair.
Lydia had assumed her father would bring the stranger into his house as a guest. He usually invited travelers to stay if they had no place else to go, and she expected he would treat Connor no differently. She also assumed Levi had realized that too, but the way he froze and glared at the two men suggested otherwise.
“Good morning, all,” John greeted. “This is Connor. He is a traveler. He will be staying with us for a while.” John stepped to his seat at the head of the table and motioned to the empty chair at his right. “Have a seat, Connor.”
Lydia left the table to retrieve silverware and a plate for Connor. The first plate she drew from the cabinet had a slight chip, so she put it beneath the stack and took the next plate. As she returned to the table, she noticed how Levi slid his knife through the butter and slathered his bread without taking his eyes off Connor.
“Connor you know Lydia, of course, and you have met my son, Levi.” John picked up the bowl of eggs, took one, and passed the bowl to Connor as he continued the introductions. “This is my youngest daughter, Bethany, and my aunt, Miss Isabella Colburn.”
“Just call me Aunt Isabella. Everyone does.”
Bethany craned her neck to see around Lydia and stared at Connor while chewing with her mouth open. She smiled when Connor glanced at her, then she returned her attention to her food and heaped a spoonful of preserves onto her bread.
“It’s good to meet you all,” Connor said. His greeting was met with complete silence.
Lydia froze and waited for their reactions. Maybe he didn’t realize there was a difference in his dialect. It was slight but noticeable to them. Levi sighed. Bethany looked up from her food; her eyes were wide. Isabella raised her brows and her lips twitched. Lydia braced for her aunt’s reaction.
“Goodness, man!” Isabella broke the silence. “What sort of speech is that?”
“Aunt Isabella,” John interjected. “Connor has traveled a long way. He was injured a couple of days ago. Lydia has been attending to his medical needs in the cottage.”
“Oh, you are the fellow who suffered the head injury!” Isabella said as if she had put it all together. “It has affected the way you speak—made you slack-jawed or something. Poor creature! That happened to my cousin as a child. He never did fully recover.” She lifted a porcelain teacup to her mouth; her audible sips echoed in the silent kitchen.
Lydia grinned at Connor. His brows were furrowed and his eyes shifted as if he were confused. John shrugged and took a bite of his breakfast. Bethany snickered. Levi groaned and shook his head.
John gracefully redirected the conversation and asked Bethany about school. She launched into her usual discourse on why she should not be required to attend school at all when many of the other students were away harvesting. She contended her time would be best spent at the pottery yard while the weather was favorable. When her complaints went unendorsed, she raised her voice for more attention.
As Lydia drew a breath to correct her sister’s impertinence, Bethany huffed and left the table.
When John finished eating, he left the kitchen and returned with a pair of shoes for Connor. Lydia glanced at her father as she cleared the table. “I will be going to the Cotters’ to check on Doris and the baby today. That is,” she said as she looked at Connor, “if you are all right.”
Connor lifted his chin at the door and mouthed something. Lydia realized he wasn’t sure if he should speak again in front of Isabella. She nodded and set the dishes in the sink, then wiped her hands on her dress and walked outside with Connor following her.
* * *
Lydia sat in the chair at her desk in the medical office and released a long breath. Connor followed her inside and closed the door. She grinned as she thought of Isabella’s reaction to the way Connor spoke. Knowing her aunt, Lydia was relieved Isabella said no more about it than she did.
“I planned to examine your eyes and reflexes once more before I release you from my care. However,” she smiled, “considering my aunt’s assessment, perhaps I should make you stay in bed a few more days, at least until your speech is more familiar sounding.”
“Yeah, I’ll work on my enunciation.” Connor grinned. “You have an interesting family, Doc.” He pulled the other chair closer to her desk and sat down. “Your dad is cool.” He held up a pair of leather shoes. Shoving his fist inside, he bent them back and forth then slipped them on his feet. “Not bad.”
Lydia picked up her pen and started to write on his medical chart. She looked again at the shoes and remembered the boots he wore when he landed on the beach. She had forgotten about them since that night. “What happened to your shoes? The boots you wore when you fell from the sky?”
Connor’s grin vanished and his gaze intensified. His swift expression change frightened her. The momentary comfort she had with him only seconds before was gone.
“Since I was unconscious when my boots were removed, I was hoping you could tell me what happened.” His tone was levied with just enough suspicion to put her on the defensive. She tried to not be offended. He was from a different culture and probably had different customs. Still, he could show some gratitude for her saving his life rather than hinting at accusation.
“I don’t know what happened.” She thought back to when she first saw him—a scene she’d replayed over and over in her mind. Dreams of a motionless man floating to earth had plagued her sleep since his ar
rival. She didn’t know how he flew in the sky, and he hadn’t answered her questions when she asked. Now that he had recovered from his injuries, she wanted answers. She looked him directly in the eye. “I was walking home along the shore that night. I was alone. It was dusk. There was a flash of light in the sky, and then you floated down to the earth. It looked as though you were going to land in the ocean, but the wind carried you with that cloth. You fell into the sand. I tried to pull you from the water’s edge, but you were too heavy. The tide was coming in, and the currents around the Land are deadly. I was afraid you would be pulled out to sea. You were unconscious and there was nothing I could do.” Her words were pouring out with more emotion than her professional training allowed. She tried to steady her voice. A fully qualified physician could handle harrowing situations. She kept her eyes on her desk instead of looking back at Connor. “So I left you there while I ran home to get my father and brother to help. When we returned, your boots were gone and so was the cloth that had carried you.”
Connor slid his arm slowly across the desk and took the pen out of her hand. She looked into his eyes, and where she expected to see animosity, she saw compassion.
She had so many questions. He came from a world she couldn’t imagine, and that made her afraid of the answers. She just wanted everything to go back to how it was before he arrived.
He laid her pen on the desk. “The cloth you saw is called a parachute. The machine I operate is called an airplane. It flies in the sky. Something went wrong with my aircraft. I floated to the earth using the parachute. That’s what happened.” His voice softened. “I can see the stress my arrival has caused and I’m sorry. You saved my life, Doc. I am grateful. Yesterday you asked me if I meant to come here. I didn’t. I don’t even know where this place is. I have flown over this part of the world many times and I’ve never seen any land here before, nor has anyone else that I know.”
As Lydia listened to Connor she remembered the founders’ writings and how they had acknowledged God’s providence from the moment they ran aground on this uncharted land. Connor hadn’t intended to come to the Land either. Maybe his arrival was providential too. Her desire to demand answers lessened. He’d spoken the truth, and that brought her peace. “I’m glad I was there to help you.” She thought again of what started their conversation. “However, I can’t explain your missing boots.” His description of his parachute proved it was a tool and held no power of its own, so another person must have removed it… and his boots. There was no one else at the shore that night. And for a person to steal from an injured man and not move him away from the incoming tide would certainly reveal a level of wickedness that—though innate in every person—was rarely acted upon in the Land. She glanced at the windows and felt cold. “Unless…”
The Land Uncharted (The Uncharted Series Book 1) Page 6