Faithfully Yours (The Forever Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1) (13 page)

What had she been thinking by telling Aidan she loved him and then running away from him?  No wonder he hadn't come to their bedroom last night.  Why should he?  She had made it clear that she didn't want to be with him.  Loved him, indeed.  She scoffed and plunged the cloth back into the pail.  Gray rivulets dripped back into the bucket as she twisted the cloth until the fibers strained in her hand.  Dirty mop water trickled from her wrists to her elbows. 

Aidan had been so patient and caring yesterday, giving her time to explain her sour disposition.  She huffed her breath and shook her head.  How could she explain she was a time traveler who was married to a man who had quite possibly killed her?  Now that was an attractive quality no bride should be without.  What man wouldn't move mountains to bed a woman like that?  She shook her rag out and threw it to the floor, pouncing on it like a lion on a gazelle.    

"Honestly, Faith.  How clean does something underfoot need to be before you are content with your work?"  A familiar voice spoke to her from the doorway.

Faith glanced up from under her sweat-drenched forehead.  Perspiration beaded on her eyebrows, ready to drip into her eyes and burn sensitive tissue.  She wiped her hand upward, pushing the moisture into her hair.  Her sister, Hope stood in front of her, leaning against the open door with her arms crossed over her chest.  Her smile was filled with more sarcasm than concern.  She entered the room and closed the door behind her.

Hope studied the floor as though she looked for a dry spot to stand in.  Moving to the far wall, she said, "I haven't seen you this angry in a long time."

Faith tossed the dirty cloth into the bucket and stood to her feet.  A small, airy hump bubbled in the center of the rag and then slowly sank out of sight.  "Who says I'm angry," she snapped.  She held her one hand in the other and rubbed her thumb across the tips.  Bright red skin peered up at her.  It might do her fingers, not to mention her knees and back, some good to take a break from her housework.

Hope leaned her hip against a worktable.  "Why do you think Grace, Honor, and I used to irritate you so much when we were growing up?  You do your best cleaning when you are riled.  You could have the entire house scrubbed from top to bottom by mid-day without us lifting a finger."  She ran her gloved hand down the curve of her hip, smoothing the fabric, and then stepped to her side.  She leaned forward and peeked into Faith's bedroom. 

"So, sister," she said, turning her attention back to Faith.  Disappointment pulled down the corners of her mouth.  "Where is that handsome groom of yours, and why isn't he here redirecting your frustration from the floor to the bedroom?  Although," she said, smirking.  "The floor has served me well on many occasions." 

Faith rolled her eyes.  Her sister had made it no secret that she enjoyed the company of men.  At least, as far as Faith knew, she was somewhat particular with whom she spent her time.  The man who caught Hope's fascination had to be well above average in appearance and means.  These qualities had to be balanced with position and power.  Being an upstanding member of society wasn't always a prerequisite for her sister's immense criteria.  No amount of warning or pleading from her family had persuaded Hope to live a more subdued lifestyle.

"Aidan is working," Faith guessed.  There was no need to let Hope know differently.  And for all she knew, he was most likely in the fields.  Even though the crops had been harvested, he wouldn't let the grounds rest without preparing them for next season's planting.

"He is well?" Hope asked.

"I suppose he is in fine condition."

Hope raised her eyebrows into softly arched peaks.  "You suppose?" 

She adjusted the bottom of her jacket, shifting her shoulders as though she tried to position her form into a tighter fit of the material.  It didn't take a tailor with a staunch thread and a provocative imagination to show the ample blessing Hope had received from her creator.  All of the women in their family had been blessed with a womanly figure that caused male mouths to drop open. 

"And, my sweet sister," Hope said.  Her tone combined a preacher's haughtiness with a harlot's charm.  "Fine is not the word I would use to describe a man like yours."  Her delicately boned hand traveled over her breast and down to her waist.  "Worn hard and hung out to dry.  That is the condition I would expect my groom to be in so soon after our wedding." 

From the way Hope's upper lip lifted on one side, a stray thought must have crossed her mind.  Faith lifted her brows as she read her sister's expression.  Not sure what Hope was thinking, she looked as though she had been asked to walk barefoot through the chicken coop.  Faith nearly laughed aloud when Hope shuddered and closed her eyes. 

"I should be cursed with ugliness before being forced to the drudgery of housework," Hope said. 

She lifted her chin in the air and walked to the window.  Peering through the glass, she most likely counted her blessings that she lived an unencumbered life and was no longer tied to a farming existence.  She stood with her back to Faith, shaking her head as though she vehemently rejected a thought.  The perfume she wore softly filled the room.  At least she had chosen a light, fruity scent instead of the heavy, floral fragrance she was fond of wearing.  Something must have sparked in her mind.  She spun around, lowered her chin, and looked down the bridge of her nose at Faith. 

"I certainly wouldn't concern myself with a clean house while a man of his quality fades to ruin in the fields," Hope said.  "From what I saw when I arrived, his crop is in the barn.  Why isn't he here getting himself, and you, thoroughly spent?"

Faith picked up the bucket of dirty water and stepped outside the front door.  She dumped the contents of her container over a cluster of mums.  The small, orange nuggets innocently bobbed and dodged her torment.  It was too bad she didn't have the nerve to do the same thing to Hope.  She moved back inside the house and glared over at her sister.

"Good gracious, Hope.  Is nothing sacred to you?" 

Faith slammed the pail under the worktable and then returned to a standing position.  She placed her hands on her hips, and drew back her shoulders.  When she had dressed this morning, she had left several buttons on her blouse unfastened, anticipating the sweat she would endure from the rigorous cleaning she had planned.  What she had not foreseen was her need of an exhibitionist display.  Of all of her sisters, Hope was the most obstinate.  There would be only one way to quiet her on the subject. 

Faith feigned an itch and watched to see if her attempt to scratch her chest would draw Hope's gaze.  She waited, her hand lingering at her breast.  Her sister's blue eyes lowered and then widened.  Faith smiled evilly.  Just as she hoped, the proof of her amorous night with Aidan was still evident.  She fanned herself and walked to a chair on the far side of the table.

"If you must know, Hope.  Aidan is preparing the fields for the winter.  But I have not been neglected, and neither has he."  She cursed herself for declaring something she didn't fully believe.

"Preparing?" Hope moved her gaze to the window and mumbled as though to herself.  "He has the richest fields on the mountain.  I saw to..."  She closed her mouth and then thought for a long, silent moment.  Turning her head toward Faith, she stepped opposite of her, splayed her hands on the table, and leaned forward.  "Those fields could go fallow for two seasons and still produce beyond capacity.  Come, come, sister, dear.  You turned the man out on his ear.  Why?"

Faith drew her attention out from under Hope's demanding scowl and moved to the fire.  She snatched up a cloth and pulled the kettle toward her.  Aidan would be home for the noon meal soon, and she wanted it to be ready for him when he arrived.  She cast a side glance over her shoulder to Hope.

"Some things should remain between married couples, Hope.  Now if you would like to discuss your latest adventure...I would love to listen."

"I didn't come to burden you with my woes," Hope said. 

Faith tapped her spoon on the rim of the pot.  While Hope was the most willful of her sisters, she was also the one who was the most open to ideas and thoughts that were outside the realm of logical explanation.  This broadminded attitude could be what led to Hope's disreputable choices.  Trista had given Faith limited information concerning time travel.  Perhaps Hope had experienced something similar to Faith.  She laid the utensil on the hearth, pulled a chair away from the table, and sat down.

Hope followed Faith's movements, curiosity covered her face. 

Faith flicked a glance to the window.  From where she sat, she should be able to see Aidan ride in from the fields.  Her leg bounced uncontrollably, and she pressed her hands together.  What if Hope thought she was simple minded?  Would she ridicule her openly, distance herself from her permanently?  She took a deep breath and glanced over at her sister.  A nervous smile flickered on her lips.  "Do you mind if I share something with you?" she finally asked.

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.