The Lost Hearts

by Maya Wood

  “Alexis, it’s Henry. Please open the door!” a warbling, panicked voice called.

  “Just a minute!” Alexis flew to her bedside, struck a match, and lit a candle. As the door bowled open, she saw his pallid, sweaty face in the light. “Good God, what’s the matter?” she cried.

  Henry shook his head. “I don’t have time to explain, Alexis.” His lips were wet with spittle. He looked positively lunatic. “I just received a telegram. My wife… my wife is very ill. I swear I wouldn’t leave under any other circumstances. I must go home. I should never have come. I knew better. But I must go home. I have no choice,” he sputtered.

  “Wait,” Alexis protested, but she could see it was futile. His mind was already gone. “I don’t understand. What do I do?”

  “You must leave with me, of course!” he practically barked. “The Allegiant makes a return trip in just an hour. Get your things together now.” He had already turned to leave the room.

  “Please, just wait a moment!” Alexis exclaimed.

  Henry spun around, shadows filling the sockets of his eyes. “There isn’t a moment to spare, Alexis. Get your bag and meet me downstairs.”

  “But I can’t just leave. We’ve been planning this expedition for a year now. I just got here. This is absolute madness.” Alexis’ hands were buried in her curls, squeezing her scalp tight. She thought her head would burst.

  “I’m leaving, Alexis,” Henry said, and started down the hallway. It took a moment for Alexis to regain her senses and she leapt after him. They were in his room now, his bags open and stuffed with clothes.

  “Henry, I said I’m not leaving.” She hardly recognized her voice. It had the resolve of total confidence. It was indisputable. And it momentarily snapped Henry from his craze.

  He picked up a leather briefcase and extended his arm, his face turned as though he did not want look at it. “Do what you must. In it are all the documents you need, all the money you need to fund this expedition.” He raised his finger at her. “But I strongly suggest you rethink this decision. No one would blame you if you decided to go home right now.”

  She took the bag from him, her mind spinning. But Henry had moved on, and she watched him tear through the drawers of his dressing cabinet. When she heard the clasps of his suitcases lock shut she felt her insides congeal in terror. What on earth is happening to me, Alexis whimpered inwardly.

  Henry groped the frame of the door to steady himself as he pushed past her. “I must get home, Alexis. Tell Lawrence I’m sorry. And please forgive me. I can’t force you to go with me, but if you’ve any sense, girl, you’ll be on that boat, too.” Henry covered his face with the palm of his hand and disappeared into the black. “One hour,” she heard him call back.

  For a moment, Alexis stood in the black hallway, dumbfounded, unable to comprehend what had taken place. I’m all alone, she thought. Robotically, she walked to her room and closed the door. She moved one foot in front of the other until she stood rigid at the foot of her bed, in one hand the candle, in the other, the leather briefcase. Alexis believed that a month ago she had understood what it was to scrape the bottom of the psychological abyss. The sorrow of nearly losing her father, the shock of Philip’s betrayal, the terror of confronting a future as the woman she’d proclaimed herself to be. Now, as she stared dumbly into space, she knew that it had been nothing next to the utter horror of being stranded on this unknown island. Alone as any human being could be.

  Alexis did not sleep that night. She wretched viciously between fits of sobbing, spells of silent terror, and bursts of courage. What the hell am I doing here? What a joke, how could I have fooled myself into thinking I was ready for this? No, be strong, Alexis. In a state of delirium, she found herself rummaging through the leather briefcase that Henry had shoved at her just hours before the sun had risen. In it she found the same maps that she had brought to the island which outlined the sites they’d agreed to visit and research. Bound by a silver clip was a thick wad of British Pounds, enough to make her feel uncomfortable with it in her possession. She grabbed a small notebook with names and numbers of important contacts. In a separate folder she found a file organized chronologically of all the telegrams and messages Henry had received pertaining to the expedition, including the latest from a Trevor McFadden. The script itself looked self-assured: Patterson, I might be interested. Come to The Anchor tomorrow evening after sunset. I won’t do it for less than £4 per day. McFadden

  It sounded cold and presumptuous, the absolute antithesis of what Alexis needed in this moment. She gathered the contents of the briefcase, arranged them neatly inside, and tethered it shut. She paced the room for an hour, the floorboards squeaking and groaning beneath her nervous footsteps. She bit her fingernails until they bled. Finally, she made herself return to the washroom and let the cool water run down her body.

  As the sun began its descent over the hills, Alexis sprung from her bed, her heart pounding furiously. She looked down at her body, swathed prettily but conservatively in a short-sleeved, ivy-green button up dress, the wispy skirt billowing femininely around her legs. Prepared for the mud, she wore heeled leather shoes which rose and cinched above her ankles. She pulled a silver flask from her luggage and twisted its cap. She let a shot’s worth of the pungent brandy collect in her mouth before she swallowed. She was going to meet this McFadden. She was going to stay in New Guinea.

  In the port district, Alexis bumped along the road, her legs swinging over the edge of a donkey cart. A young boy sat atop the bare concave of the animal’s scarred back, slapping the leather whip against its side and yelling, “Yah!” She caught him looking back at her, bewildered by the sight of the pale, red-haired woman asking to be dropped off in the notorious haven of scandal, booze and prostitution. When the cart slowed and stopped, Alexis leapt onto a raised wooden platform and pressed a coin into the boy’s palm.

  The sky was gray now, and all around began to fade into the throat of darkness. She stood before a worn looking building, music drifting through the cracks and thin window panes. A wooden sign with a fire-scarred emblem of an anchor swung and creaked over the entrance. Alexis smoothed her dress, gulped hard, and opened the door. She was first assaulted by the heavy scent of cheap perfume and tobacco smoke. Wherever she was, it looked almost identical to her boarding house, except she could see that the common room was more colorful, gaudy even, compared to the one where she stayed. A milky nebula of smoke billowed from its entrance, behind which carried the sharp laughter and exaggerated, loud banter of men and women warm with whiskey.

  She crept to the entrance, her heart lashing. She had been so brave when she informed Henry that she didn’t like being told where she should or should not go. But now as she stood just inches from the moment of reckoning, she suppressed the violent urge to turn and bolt. I could find that boy, taxi to the pier and catch the next boat to Australia. It would all be over in a matter of hours, she thought, attempting to convince her foolish, stubborn self. She could not bear to imagine the leers of drunken, lustful men. Hadn’t Henry said this was the Wild West? That men would take what they wanted? There was nothing to stop them?

  Whimpering inwardly, Alexis pushed herself into view. Just like in the western movies she had seen a handful of times where the stranger enters the saloon, the conversations halted abruptly. Men playing poker just seconds before lowered their cards, their lips curling into sneers and inscrutable smiles. A couple of women, clad scantily in shabby cocktail dresses, watched her over their caramel-colored shoulders, chortling at this saintly apparition. Alexis’ heart thumped wildly against her chest and she focused every atom of her being to steady her breath.

  “We don’t need religion in here, Red,” a razor voice barked, cutting her from across the room as a chorus of cruel laughter rose up from behind. Every eye studied her, waited for her to go, believing that she was nothing more than a foolishly intrepid woman here to save their damned souls. She shook her head and wiped the band of sweat above her eyebrow. />
  “I’m looking for McFadden,” she scratched out meekly.

  The men looked crossways at each other, shrugging their shoulders. One of the women sauntered over, her face seductively impassive. One of the straps of her dress fell down over her shoulder, her large breasts barely covered by the black, satin garment. Her raven hair tumbled in a silky coil over her collarbone.

  Alexis’ mouth went dry and she swallowed hard. “Please, I’m…I’m looking for Trevor McFadden.”

  The woman laughed dryly and rolled her eyes. She nodded her head toward the corner of the room at the table where the man had shouted at her, called her Red. The men were playing half-heartedly now, distracted by the attractive, albeit pious-looking newcomer. Above them swung a low-hanging fabric-chandelier, burgundy with gold fringe. It swayed softly from the breeze of a cracked window, a pendulum of light which every now and then would illuminate the tan, angular face covered in stubble, the dark eyes flashing beneath the heavy eyebrows. Alexis stumbled forward, blindly, as though she were being pushed from behind despite all her effort to resist.

  Chapter Twelve

  She stood at the table. The room had stilled once more. “Trevor McFadden?” Alexis asked, hoping that any of the six brutish men would own the name aside from the glowering figure with his back to the wall. The dark brows furrowed, his eyes unmoving beams that bore into her.

  “I said we’re not looking for religion, honey. Are you deaf?” he said again, through his teeth.

  “I’m not...” she choked, clearing her throat again. “I’m not a missionary.”

  Trevor slapped the table with his large coarse hand, throwing his head back in callous laughter. “Well, then have yourself a seat on my lap, darlin’.” He motioned comically, and her eyes followed his hands to the wide expanse of his thigh. The table erupted with howls of vicious amusement.

  Her fear vanished, swallowed by ire. Her face boiled with blood. “No thanks,” she said tersely. “You made an engagement this evening to discuss a trip through the Southern Highlands, did you not?” She lifted her chin, a challenge of defiance. Her cold exterior cracked as she felt a large warm hand crawl up the back of her thigh. She flinched, and looking down, saw the ugliest man she’d ever captured with her sight. His pink mouth gaped around a toothless smile.

  “I’ll make an engagement with you right now, honey.” He licked his lips.

  Alexis felt herself go numb as he pulled her to him, his hand climbing higher. The rotted mouth hissed with laughter. In a single fluid movement, she saw Trevor pull something from his boot, and his torso folded flat against the table. He had buried a blade deep into the wooden table, pinning the fabric of the man’s sleeve underneath.

  Trevor’s eyes narrowed and locked on the man. His nostrils flared. Alexis shuddered as she felt her admirer’s grip loosen from beneath her dress and the hand slip away. She gagged on her heartbeat. She could not guess McFadden’s motive. No doubt he was as despicable as the rest. But he was the alpha male here, and he had just claimed her.

  Trevor leaned back in his seat. His eyes seemed to drain of light, his jaw flexed. He shot off words in a tongue Alexis did not understand and chucked his cards to the center of the table. The chair snarled at the floor as he shoved it back against the wall and rose, never dropping his gaze from her eyes. She was breathing from her nose, which flared softly as she fought the instinct to flee. His boots were heavy against the floorboards, each thud sending electric shocks through her body until he loomed above her.

  She stared at the wall of his chest. She could smell him, a leathery, sweet musk. A startling shiver grazed her body. She raised her eyes, saw the sheen of sweat over his neck and Adam’s apple, the dark bristles of his unshaved face climb from his throat to cast a shadow on his square, angular jaw. “Is this a joke?” he growled, folding his bare muscular arms over his chest.

  Buying time to steady her voice, she shook her head, unable to meet his gaze when he was standing so close to her. “No. I…I believe you received a message from my colleague, Dr. Patterson. We were hoping to use your services. We…uh…we heard you were the best person to talk to, knowing these parts and all.”

  “Where is this Dr. Patterson?”

  Alexis dared to look him in the eye. It wasn’t a lost cause. He was still talking to her, wasn’t he? “I’m afraid Dr. Patterson had to leave the island. A personal emergency.”

  “So, who else goes on this little outing?” His voice was sharp again.

  “Um…”

  “Well, lady?”

  “Me,” she spat the word out like it was a bad taste.

  For a moment, he said nothing. He only locked her with his eyes and scratched the stubble on his chin. He snorted, tossed his head back, the black wavy locks of hair whipping the nape of his neck. “Give me a break,” he sneered and turned his back to her. “Do I look like a tourist guide? I would never in a million years agree to traipse around the island and babysit a woman.”

  He was strutting back to the table, his friends flashing cocky smiles of triumph. A flash of panic struck her. “I can make it worth your while!” she called out. “In your message to Dr. Patterson, you asked for £4 per day. I’ll double it.”

  Trevor stood still, his head cocked slightly. He was in front of her again, glaring from beneath the dark, heavy brows. He watched her hard, searching for anything that might explain what this tiny, stunning, crimson-haired woman was doing on the island. “Bored, rich girl, eh? Well, you’ve got my attention…Ms..?”

  “Dr. Alexis Scott.” She was startled to hear herself speak the words with inflated self-importance, succumbing to the uncharacteristic need to distinguish herself. And besides, it wasn’t even true. She still had years of research and her dissertation to complete before she could claim the title.

  “Right,” his voice oozed sarcasm. “Make it snappy.”

  In the corner of the room, revived now with gambling, booze and flirtation, Alexis shifted uncomfortably as she made her offer. After what seemed to span an excruciating eternity and a series of snide, mocking remarks from Trevor, they finally agreed on a price, a timeline of two months, and a speedy procurement of the transport and supplies needed to make the journey into the nearly impassable Southern Highlands of New Guinea.

  “Please contact me at the hotel, then. To let me know that we’re ready to leave on time,” she said in a vaguely imperious tone.

  Trevor’s eyes rolled sideways and narrowed into slits. “Just because you’re paying me doesn’t mean you own me. Do you understand that?”

  Alexis recoiled. “I don’t think I’m behaving as if I own you at all. I am paying you, and I do expect you to advise me of the status of our trip. I don’t have time to lose.” Alexis squirmed at the sound of her own voice, so high-pitched and condescending.

  Trevor relaxed against the wall. He looked positively bored. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of his attention. She looked just like a spoiled princess, the clear skin and passionate eyes. The chin jutting out at him. From the edge of his vision he saw her writhing in her own skin. He loved watching the surface of her face twitch from nerves, especially when she was trying so damned hard to hold herself together.

  “Time, huh?” he finally replied when he felt he’d antagonized her enough. “Time’s a funny thing on this island.”

  Alexis cocked her head. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll see,” he replied breezily.

  Her hand went to her hip, and her face flattened with annoyance. “Could you tell me now?”

  “Well, alright. If you insist. See, on the island, time stretches in ways the mind can’t even fathom. A single day out there,” he nodded his head north toward the Highlands, “can seem to you and me like a year. No exaggeration. Think a pretty, sophisticated gal like yourself can do that kind of time?”

  Alexis searched his eyes. They didn’t move from her. They were pools of dark liquid in which she saw that he spoke the truth. She swallowed hard over the dryness of her th
roat. All that time, she thought, spent next to this cretin. Once again she reminded herself that she need only walk out the door of this poor excuse for a bar, find a boy with a donkey, and run away to the pier.

  “I can do it if you can,” she said, her voice cool with bravado.

  Trevor laughed. It was the first genuine and disarming sound that had come from his lips and Alexis was surprised at its sweetness. He quickly recovered and raked her body with his eyes.

  “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

  Alexis folded her arms across her chest, ready to launch into a new round of negotiations. She might as well make it clear that he treat her with respect. “I’ll have you know -”

  “I’ll see you in a week’s time,” Trevor cut her off, his voice bristling with impatience.

  “How do I know you’ll honor your commitment?” There was the high-pitched whine again. She still had questions, but he was already ushering her toward The Anchor’s door.

  His lips curled into a grin. “You don’t know, Red, do you?”

  When Alexis finally locked the door to her boarding room, she sank to the floor, the unfinished surface of the door grating her back. Lying with her face buried against her knees, she was unable to decide which of the sweeping thoughts barreling through her mind were most accurate: the relief or sheer stupidity of having invited Trevor McFadden into her life.