Faithfully Yours (The Forever Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1) (25 page)

"Since your attention is needed elsewhere," Mr. Rhodes said, readjusting his hat.  "I'll not bother you more.  I'll bring my tobacco over tomorrow and add it to yours."

"What?" Aidan asked.  His full attention turned to the conversation.  "Bring your tobacco here?  No.  Mr. Rhodes, I thought we discussed this weeks ago.  As I mentioned to you then, I am unable to take your crops to market."

Mr. Rhodes glanced up at the loft.  Several bundles of wrapped leaves lined the second level.  He returned his gaze to Aidan and repeated their conversation from over a month ago.  "I'm sure you'll not cheat me, if that's what concerns you.  I trust you to fetch a good price." 

He seemed no more inclined now to accept Aidan's answer then the first time they had talked. 

"My crop is small, nothing like yours," Mr. Rhodes continued.  He turned his head away from Aidan and appeared to inspect a tobacco bundle.  "Of course, I don't have the best farm on the mountain," he mumbled under his breath.  "How were you able to afford something so costly?  Did your family leave you money?"

"What was that?" Aidan asked, annoyed at the man's rudeness.  This intrusion needed to end, and now.  He motioned the man toward the door.

Mr. Rhodes patted a bundle of tobacco.  "I'm glad your crop isn't overly large.  You'll have plenty of room for my crops."  He moved toward the front of the barn and spoke over his shoulder.  "And don't you worry yourself about me.  We can settle the money once you return."

Aidan looked up at the ceiling and shook his head.  He was doing all he could to remain civil with this man, but his temper continued to rise.  Mr. Rhodes needed to leave before Aidan forgot himself completely.  One thing was certain, conversation with this man was as insufferable now as it had been then. 

"Mr. Rhodes," Aidan said.  "As I mentioned only moments ago, I am concerned for my wife's safety.  I presently cannot concentrate on anything but her well being, and before I go to Charlotte, I would like to make sure she has not been harmed."

Mr. Rhodes shrugged.  "Eh, you know how new brides can be.  She might be with her mother."

Aidan ran an exasperated hand through his hair, nearly pulling a fistful of dark locks out by the roots.  "I'm aware that you and my wife have yet to meet, but Faith would not wander off without telling me."

The balding head in front of him turned around quickly, but the brim remained facing forward.  "Faith?" he asked.  "Your wife's name is Faith?"

"Yes, and I believe you may be right about her visiting a neighbor.  I'm sure she'll be along momentarily."  He pushed open the barn door and waited for Mr. Rhodes to walk ahead of him.

The barrel-chested man remained where he stood, half of his body bathed in daylight, the other half in shadow.  "I'm sure you'd like to think so, but you can't be so certain," Mr. Rhodes said, contradicting his earlier suggestion.

Aidan's arm shot forward.  He caught the man's atrophied arm above the elbow.  The skin slid easily around the bone as though it was unattached.  Aidan was certain blood stopped flowing through the limb he held.  "What do you mean, I can't be certain?  You seemed convinced of it moments ago.  Why not now?" he asked.

Mr. Rhodes glanced from his held arm to Aidan's face.  "I didn't mean anything by it.  If I see your missus on the path while on my way home, I will see that she is kept safe."

Aidan didn't like the man's choice of words.  He liked even less the empty feeling that dug through the bottom of his stomach.  There was nothing outwardly offensive about Mr. Rhodes.  But still, Aidan couldn't explain the unsettled feeling he had whenever the man was nearby.  Aidan's hand flexed, wanting to snap the flabby arm he held in two.  Although he had never acted on his urge, he didn't know how long he would be able to restrain himself.  For Mr. Rhodes own safety, he needed to leave the premises. 

"You do that," Aidan said, releasing the man.  He was anxious for the two of them to part company.  He needed to concentrate his full attention on finding Faith, and Mr.  Rhodes was an unwelcome distraction.

"Since I know how much she means to you," Mr. Rhodes said.  "I'll even bind her to a post until you meet up with her." 

Aidan's arm flinched.  In his mind, he could feel each bone snap under the pressure of his fists.

"I'm sure Faith will be home shortly," Aidan said.  "But thank you for your
offer
." 

Mr. Rhodes turned at the corner of the barn and headed along the road that followed the river.  The way Aidan refused the man's tobacco crop, he hated to imagine his response to something important.  Leaning his arm against the barn door, Aidan stared in the direction of the rose bush as Mr. Rhodes walked past the plant.  The man swiped his hand at a single bloom, pulling it free of the vine.  From his balled fists, individual petals tumbled to the ground.  Aidan pulled back as the fragrance floated to him.  Maybe a visit to Mr. Rhodes farm would be a good place to begin his search for Faith.

Chapter 26

Faith sat on the bare ground and rested her head against the cool, damp cobbles.  Tears rolled down her cheeks, following a dreary path to her chin.  She stared straight ahead, not willing to blink.  The gray colored stones blurred as her eyelids refilled with another flood of moisture.  She sniffled, shaking the liquid onto her skin.  There was no need to dab her face, no one would ever see her again.  She drew her legs up to her chest, hugging them tightly.  Her body shook as she gave into her dismal surroundings.

Hank had shoved her over the circular opening and into the well last night.  Her head struck the rotted pulley hanging over the abyss, and her shoulder and hip had taken the brunt of her abrupt landing.  At least the twenty-foot drop had been dry and free of debris or vermin.  Hank had not waited to see if she survived the fall.  Her loud cries and threats she had hurled up at him most likely satisfied any doubt he had about her survival.  His laughter had followed him away from the well, leaving her in quiet darkness.  Piled in a heap at the bottom of the abandoned water source, she had righted herself and checked for injuries.  Other than bruises that were sure to surface, none of her bones appeared broken.

Left without food, water, or a blanket, she had shivered throughout the night in an attempt to keep warm.  The few times she had nodded off to sleep, she imagined herself wrapped in Aidan's arms with her head nestled on his shoulder.  His image had kept her encouraged and hopeful of escape.  She glanced up the narrow cylinder, scanning the tall, rock layers.  Even with a good rope, she would need to be strong and sound to climb out of this dungeon. 

Her throat tightened as though she had nothing left to breathe.  She tilted her head back and stretched her neck upward.  There had to be a wisp of fresh air floating among the dank, stagnant vapors of her prison.  Supporting her arm with her other hand, she rubbed her shoulder, touching it gingerly.  Her body still ached after bouncing from one side of the cistern's walls to the other. 

Tremors rolled through her, knocking her knees against her chin.  She held tightly to her shins, and tried to calm her fears.  Being alone in the dark had never frightened her, but being without Aidan and having no way back to him was worse than any nightmare.  She could only imagine what Aidan had thought when he found her missing.

Despair descended over her and covered her like an old blanket.  She dropped her head to her knees and her tears dripped to her feet.  It was a ludicrous thought, but if she had to have dreams, why couldn't she fantasize of a happy reunion?  She drew her brows together, and hid her face in her hands.  How she wished she had broken her neck and died when she landed in this hole.

Since death wasn't an option, she stretched her legs in front of her as far as they could go.  The bottoms of her feet nearly touched the far side of the barrier.  It was impossible to be comfortable in the confined space, and she didn't want comfort as much as she wanted to escape Hank and return to Aidan.  She shifted her back and tried to smooth the stone wall she leaned against.  If she pressed hard enough, maybe she could break through the stone and tunnel her way to freedom. 

A round burst of sunlight shone from the top of the well, looking like a raw egg yolk.  At least she had a target to concentrate on.  With daylight shining down around her, Faith looked across from where she sat to the moss covered stones.  She followed the jagged lines surrounding the cobbles upward.  Mortar had been used with the initial construction, but the cracked and crumbly cement now made the system ineffective, much to Faith's relief.  She couldn't imagine treading water for any extended length of time. 

Although the structure was useless as a water source, perhaps it was strong enough to support her weight.  Faith stood to her feet, and tested the strength of the formation.  Faulty construction, added to years of neglect, had shifted a few uneven rows of the hold to protrude past plum.  If she maneuvered carefully, it might be possible to keep the well from collapsing in upon itself and her.  If she took the stones one at a time, and kept her vision focused upward, she should be easy to scale her way to the top of her prison.  Deciding Hank's future could wait until she reached safety.

She took a deep breath, lifted her leg, and locked the side of her toe onto the narrow ledge.  A second protruding stone was above her head and just out of reach.  Even if she stretched, she would never be close enough to touch it.  Her calf muscle twitched, needing to release the coiled tension.  She bounced her weight on her left foot and pushed herself upward, aiming for the rock.  Her fingertips caught the corner, and she laughed nervously.  Enthusiasm rushed through her faster than the river current at Wheaton's mill.  Perhaps her plan would work after all. 

She shook the hair out of her face and rubbed her instep along the wall.  Her confidence built, and she connected with another foothold, eyeing her next support.  The stone was not in direct line with the one she held to, but it would suffice for her purposes.  She pushed upward, grunting as she made a jab for the distant handhold.  Ten more feet, and she could hoist herself back to level ground. 

Her left foot searched the wall, rubbing over the bumpy surface.  Nothing seemed to protrude enough to hold her weight.  Keeping her focus upward, she didn't dare look down.  At this height, she didn't want to lose her confidence and be stranded against the wall.  Her stomach fluttered, and sweat broke out on her brow.  She brushed her tongue across dry lips.  Sweaty, her fingers slid slowly toward the edge of her hold, and her foot vibrated.  She would have to ignore her fear if she planned to continue. 

Against her better judgment, she flicked a quick glance below her.  Too much empty space separated her from the ground.  She looked forward to the moment when she reached the surface and could gloat with smug satisfaction at her accomplishment.  With her goal set, she refused to lower herself to her starting place.  If Hank meant to keep her from returning to Aidan, he would have to think of something more confining than a well. 

Her freedom and the top of the well were several feet away, but she smiled as though finally free.  Exhilaration coursed through her body, filling her with a courage she had never known.  Hank had better be elsewhere when she surfaced.  If he were nearby, she would see that he was dropped into her prison.  He had merely left her in the pit.  She would seal the opening, tight and secure to ensure that he didn't escape.
 

Bolstered with a fresh confidence, her toes dug into the side of the wall, and she wedged her foot deeper into the crevice.  She pushed onward.  A crack sounded below her, and she froze, afraid to do anything more than blink.  Holding her breath, her heart leaped to her throat, and she hoped her stillness would freeze the world around her.  The support under her foot shifted.  Unwilling to play along with her game, the stone slid out from its secure hold. 

Faith scrambled, gasping and groaning, trying to cement herself to the wall.  She pressed in tighter, trying to imprint her shape among the aged form.  Her limbs shook like a pulled bowstring, and then grew limp.  All of her energy spent, she wobbled.  Her heart raced, fueled with her fear of falling.  The vibration of her action loosened her hold on her freedom and the firm support she tried to maintain.  She stared at the rock she held and willed it to remain lodged in place.  Dirt and mortar fell from beneath the stone in cloudy puffs and pulled free.  Sucking in a deep lungful of foul air, Faith screamed.  She flapped her arms, grasping for anything to break her fall.  Dirt and weeds raced past her line of vision as she braced for her plummet
.  

Her foot twisted under her weight, absorbing the impact.  Faith rolled to her side, and covered her head with her arms.  Rocks, dirt, and mortar fell on top of her.  She pulled herself into a tighter ball and waited for the falling debris to stop.  Coughing, she grasped for breath.  Gone was the gentle ease in which her breath generally flowed.  In its place were short, choppy attempts to draw air into her lungs.  Her vision blurred, and her throat squeaked with her forced attempt to inhale.  Dizzy, she rolled to her back, and foul smelling air finally flowed into her nose.  Weak, she pushed herself to a seated position.  Her arms still shook like a bowl of pudding.  She would not be able to attempt a second climb.  She wiped her hand across her face and glanced up, looking to see how far she had climbed.  At least she had fallen straight down.