Faithfully Yours (The Forever Time Travel Romance Series, Book 1) (5 page)

As the landowner of the property, Hank had leased the land to her parents.  In return for a residence, Faith's father had become a sharecropper.  It was the closest her family would come to owning their own property.  Faith wondered if her papa would have reconsidered entering an agreement with a man who would blackmail his daughter into marriage.

She could have refused his proposal.  Hope and Honor had encouraged her to do just that.  But where would the four girls have gone if Faith had not accepted Hank's offer?  Their nearest relative lived three hundred miles away.  Not only were they without a means to contact their aunt, they had no provisions for travel expenses.  Faith set her chin, certain that she had made the best decision for all of them by marrying Hank.

"Hank was here earlier," Faith said, coming to stand next to Hope.  Her sister looked straight ahead, not bothering to acknowledge the statement.  Of all of the girls, Hope was the one who was the most leery of outsiders.  Whenever Hank approached the girls' home, he never went to the door if she was in the area.  From the reaction of both Hank and Hope, they must not have seen each other earlier this morning.  Faith rested her arms on the hewn timber and looked out over the pasture. 

The split rail fence separated Hank's property from the old woman's.  While the crone never ventured off of her land, she had specific boundaries to her home.  The river bordered two sides of her acreage.  Hank had added the rail to clearly define his property from the woman's.  For some unexplainable reason, she didn't seem to mind that this side of her property flowed into someone else's front yard.  The fourth side of her property, however, was harsh and unforgiving.  As though sliced with a knife, a stone cavern lay at the bottom of a dizzying height.  Having explored the ravine as a child, she knew the wall to the ridge from the bottom would be impossible to reach.  And a fall from that elevation would surely end someone's life in a most horrific manner.

Hope withdrew her arm from the pasture and turned her attention to Faith.  She cocked her hip to the side and placed her hand on her curve.  Even from a side view, Faith could feel her sister's condescending scowl.  "I thought your husband agreed to stay away from our house if you kept your part of the bargain."  Her eyes lowered to Faith's neck, and her lips stretched in a knowing smile.  "From the looks of you, it would seem you have met his demands."

Without turning to acknowledge Hope's insinuation, Faith pulled the fabric of her blouse upward.  She kept her hand in place to hide a second peek at the marks.  Aidan's face, and the possible means in which the marks had come about, floated through her thoughts.  Her cheeks warmed and a slight smile pulled at the sides of her mouth. 

Hope scoffed next to her.  She rolled her eyes and shook her head.  "Don't tell me you enjoy that man's touch."

Faith jostled herself from her daydream.  "Hank?  No.  I don't fancy him.  And his touch…is not something I enjoy." 

She wrinkled her brow, and her mouth hung open.  How had she not realized it sooner?  Hank must have known about the marks before he left for the fields this morning.  But if he was responsible for them, why had he accused her of unfaithfulness? 
Aidan. 
She mouthed the name of her phantom husband, just like she had done during the night.  At least, she thought she had spoken his name in silence.  She turned her head toward the ridge.  Had she said his name aloud while she slept?

A simple whisper of another man's name, no matter how innocent, would be enough for Hank to act as he had.  That would also explain why he mentioned the cow being in the lower pasture.  It was a warning for Faith to remember her vow to remain faithful to only him.  If she wanted her sisters to remain in their home, she would remain in his bed.

"If those bites aren't from your husband…"  Hope pulled back and lowered her gaze to the ground.  She slowly raked a haughty glare up Faith's body.  Faith shivered as though her sister's blue glare skinned her alive.  Hope leaned sideways, resting her weight on the rail.

"Don't tell me you've taken up with that Watson boy you had a crush on as a child."  She turned and lifted her foot to the lower rail.  Leaning forward, she jutted her lips forward and tapped her fingertips together.  "Although…if I had my choice between Ken Watson and Hank Rhodes…"  Her wet tongue jutted from her mouth, and she licked her lips.  "More than my neck would be discolored," she glanced over at Faith, "not to mention his."

Faith ignored her sister's lifted, right brow, and shook her head with disgust.  "You're shameless."

Hope laughed.  "I'm not the one with an indiscretion visible for the world to see."

"I have not been indiscreet."

"Clearly."

Faith held her hand to her throat.  "These marks are from my husband, not a liaison."

"That is sad news to hear."  Hope turned and rested her back against the fence.  She propped her elbows on the rail near her ribs.  "I think you would have had a more enjoyable time with, well, anyone other than Hank."

Faith wasn't sure if she was uncomfortable because of Hope's insight into an intimate situation, or because she didn't want to make Hope aware of her fantasy involving Aidan.  Either way, the conversation had gone past appropriate limits of polite conversation.

"Besides," Faith said, trying to justify her thoughts of unfaithfulness.  "Ken's family moved away from the ridge years ago.  An encounter with him would be impossible."

Hope tipped her head forward, looking like a judge staring down his nose at a guilty client.  "You haven't heard?  Of course you haven't.  I doubt your devoted husband would allow any news, especially one so delicious, to penetrate your ears."  She stood in front of Faith and stepped closer.  "There is a rumor on the ridge that Ken Watson is moving back to his parents' home."  She grabbed Faith's hands and practically squealed.  "And he's all grown up."

Faith's heart dropped to her feet, and she thought back to the days of her childhood infatuation.  Ken had been a lanky youth nearing manhood when he told her that his parents were returning to Georgia to help with his grandparents' failing health.  He had promised to return to her when he was of age, and they would be married.  Like any young girl in love, she had believed him and had agreed to wait for his return.  This hope was what had sustained her in keeping Hank away from their door.

Following her parents' funeral Hank had spoken with Faith.  He would allow the girls to continue living on his property, but there were conditions that had to be met.  He had offered marriage, but Faith had refused.  His only other solution enslaved the girls as sharecroppers.  This arrangement had worked well for three and a half years.  But during that time, Ken had not returned to the ridge as he had promised, and the girls' home had burned to the ground by a lightning strike six months ago.  Hank refused to rebuild the site unless Faith accepted his marriage proposal.

What would Ken think of her now?  She was married to another man.  She closed her eyes and tried to squeeze the painful thought from her mind.  Perhaps he had married someone else while living in Georgia and was only returning to the ridge because of his family's holdings.  That thought only added to her pain.  She swallowed, trying to lubricate the tightness in her throat.

"I'm sure he and his wife will be very comfortable there," Faith said.  She didn't need more of Hope's comments about how she had dug a grave from which she would never escape.

"Did I mention a wife?" Hope asked.  She crossed her arms and tapped her long, bony fingers against her sleeve.  "I have to wonder, Faith.  You have been married, how long is it now?"

"Four months," Faith answered, knowing full well that Hope knew the answer to that question.  She and Hank had married as soon as the burned house had been rebuilt.  It was unlikely that any of the girls would forget that date.

"If Ken had been here a month prior to your nuptials, would you have been so agreeable to Mr. Rhodes' terms?"

Faith raised her chin and stared into her sister's eyes with deadly clarity.  "Are you saying that I would not have looked after all of us?  That I would have abandoned the three of you for selfish reasons?"

Hope's eyes narrowed the way they did when she was annoyed with the person she spoke with.  "Not at all," she said.  "I'm stating it plainly.  If there had been someone who was younger and better looking than that horse-faced, drudge of a man you married, would you have been as self-sacrificing as you were four months ago?"

Faith took a step back, staggered by her sister's accusation.  While she hadn't come right out and called her a martyr, she had implied that she would have reacted differently if Ken had still been in her life at the time.  Faith stared at her sister, open mouthed, not sure of her answer.  She would like to think that she and Ken would have been able to provide for all of them, but the truth was, Ken might not have been able to extend as generous an offer as what Hank had done.  She blinked in wonder.  Could she have married a man to provide for her family while a man she loved looked on?

Composing herself, she stepped toward the house, pausing next to Hope.  "We'll never know, now will we?"  She continued moving forward and asked over her shoulder.  "Are Honor and Grace inside?"

"They are," Hope answered.  "Faith," she called from behind her.  "We are grateful for a place to stay, but don't ever feel as though our every breath is contingent on your sacrifice.  The three of us will be gone from this place within a matter of years, and you will still be shackled to a man who is incapable of providing you with the happiness you will come to crave." 

Faith forced her body to continue moving, Hope's haunting words echoing in her ears.  Tears rolled down her cheeks.  She couldn't help but wonder if her sister had stated the obvious or if she had merely cursed her.

Chapter 6

Faith carried the carrot bread into the house and laid it on the table.  Her conversation with Hope had been as lifting as the dense loaf in front of her.  The cloth around it fell open, exposing a golden crust dotted with orange vegetable chunks.  Grace had served her a thick slice of the treat while she had been at her sisters' home.  Washed down with a glass of buttermilk, she was sure it tasted delicious.  Grace excelled with her kitchen skills.  But today, Faith had barely tasted one morsel.  Hopefully she had been able to give a good semblance of interest to the conversation and appreciation of the hospitality. 

She cast a sideways glance out the window.  The barn door hung open the way it had when she left earlier today.  Not caring if the tobacco was hung or not, she pulled a chair away from the table and plopped down on the seat.  It didn't matter how tidily she completed the task, Hank would undoubtedly ridicule her method of securing the leaves to the rafters.  For once, she would earn his scolding. 

Faith braced her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her palms.  She thought about the thing's Hope had told her.  Ken was moving back to his parents' home.  Her stomach churned.  Its distaste coincided with her feeling of dejection.  Why couldn't Ken have returned home sooner?  She waited for the carrot loaf sitting in front of her to answer her silent question.  The vegetable was as unresponsive as she had been when learning the news.

She shifted her gaze to the left and leered over at the kettle hanging on the hook.  Cold ashes lay beneath it.  She would need to start a fire if she planned to cook.  She sneered, not having ambition or desire to strike a flint, much less prepare an entire meal. 

It was hard to rationalize her melancholy state when a marriage to Ken was highly unlikely to have ever occurred, regardless of how appealing his physical appearance was.  Before his family moved from the ridge, Ken had shared with her his grand ideas for his future.  He dreamed of working in print shops and publishing houses.  The ridge was filled with farmers.  Other than a weather forecast, there wasn't enough interest among the local residents to support either of his ambitions.  Ken would need to go to cities like Boston or Philadelphia to achieve his goals. 

Faith had no desire to leave the ridge.  This was her home, and her dreams were minimal.  She preferred to live on a small farm where she and her husband would work together.  She flicked a glance to the window and thought about Hank's interpretation of working together.  He barked orders, inspected her work, and doled out punishment when she didn't meet his expectations.  His interest in her consisted of nothing more than an extra pair of calloused hands. 

It was easy to understand why he chose her over her sisters.  According to Hank, Honor was too bookish.  He would never tolerate a woman who challenged everything he said.  Grace was too young, although he conceded that she would make someone a good wife one day.  And Hope had too much of a temper for any man to tame.  He neither had the patience nor the stamina to temperance Hope, and although he would never admit to it, he didn't have the intelligence needed to motivate Honor. 

Faith had become his wife by default.  She could be controlled through the concern she had for her family's well being and care.  He exploited the fact that she would do whatever was needed in order to keep them safe.  Sadly ironic, Hank was a lonely man in need of someone who demanded no emotional care.  She shook her head at the thought, and shrugged.  To Hank, a wife was apparently cheaper than paid field hands.