Elusive Hope

by Marylu Tyndall

  She stopped and stared at him. “I’ve told you. His name is Samuel Wimberly, and he’s a renowned solicitor.” She sat taller as if trying to convince him of the man’s worth. “He was an adviser to Jefferson Davis, you know.”

  “If he was such a great match, why are you here in Brazil and not playing the doting wife back home?”

  She released a heavy sigh and gazed into the fire. “My parents didn’t think Samuel was good enough for me. They wanted someone with more money and a better name to help our family recover from my—” She froze, her eyes widening.

  “From your…?”

  “From the war.”

  “From your war?” he teased.

  “Don’t be silly.” She waved a hand through the air. “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, Samuel must have gone into hiding after the war because we couldn’t find him. And my parents got some harebrained idea of pawning me off on a wealthy Brazilian of royal blood or a rich American who came here to escape the war. Apparently many of both can be found in Rio.”

  “Then why didn’t they stay in Rio with you when we first arrived?”

  “Because…” She glanced at him and flattened her lips. “Because they want to get settled first, establish a presence, a name…to attract the right sorts…you know, appearances and all that.”

  “Hmm.” Either the woman was lying or she and her parents had beans for brains. “Surely being part of the landed gentry, your parents could have found a suitable match for you in the States. Why come to an unknown country?”

  Knowing how much she hated Brazil, Hayden expected her to agree vehemently. Instead a shadow rolled across her face as she fingered a wet strand of her hair.

  “My father says a woman’s appearance is all that matters. And because I was born beautiful, it is my duty to marry well. That’s what beautiful daughters do, you know, they are useful for making alliances that help the entire family move up social and economic ladders.” She wobbled on her stump then perched her chin in her hand. “Trouble is I can’t seem to keep myself presentable enough for him.”

  A lump formed in Hayden’s throat.

  The shadows beneath her eyes deepened. “I can never seem to please him. I can’t keep my hair in a proper coiffeur nor my skirts without wrinkle and stain. And I’ve tried so hard. So very hard. Which is why he dragged me to Brazil.” She stared down at the strand of hair in her hand. “I owe it to him to form a good alliance. To pay off my debt. And now I’ve gone and run away. Ruined everything for him once again.” Her voice caught, and she released a long sigh. “I simply can’t stand another minute in this place, surely you understand? The jungle, the dirt, the bugs…and I love Samuel. And he loves me. How am I to find a proper man out here in this desolate cesspool? I want to help my father, I do, but I fear he’s given up on finding me a match anyway, and I’m fast becoming an ugly old spinster.” She dropped her head into her hands and began to sob.

  Hayden ground his teeth together. He had never cared for Mr. Scott, but now he liked him even less. How dare any father treat his daughter like a commodity? Treat her beauty as if it was something to barter with, something with which to increase his own station in life? Look what he had created. A miserable woman not only obsessed with her appearance but desperate for a father’s love. Perhaps life behind the gilded doors of the pampered elite wasn’t as merry as they pretended. Sympathy rose for the woman before him, and Hayden found himself longing to bring her comfort.

  The fire spat and sizzled. A lizard sped across the clearing and disappeared into the darkness. “What could you possibly owe your father?” he asked.

  She looked up, eyes swollen and face moist. She swayed to the left, blinked, and finally balanced herself on the stump. “I made a mistake. A big mistake. It cost my family dearly. And tore my heart in two.” A flicker of awareness strengthened her glossy gaze. “But I can’t tell you about it.”

  “It was a man, wasn’t it?” It had to be. A suitor, perhaps, who took advantage of her innocence. “Someone close to you?”

  “How did you know?” She snapped her gaze to his then shifted to stare at the fire. “An evil man. A trickster. A liar.”

  Hayden’s stomach twisted. Like him.

  Rising, she began to pace, her skirts floating over the dirt. She wobbled, held out her arms, then turned to go the other way.

  He’d better settle her before she fell. Slowly, Hayden made his way to her. The last thing he needed was her darting off into the brush on a whim. Over the years, he’d seen alcohol cause people—especially distraught people—to do dangerous things. And he didn’t relish the idea of traipsing after her through the jungle. Especially in the dark. She stumbled over a root and barreled into him. He steadied her. She smelled of sweet rain. “Regardless of what you feel you owe your father, you shouldn’t have to sacrifice your life for it.”

  Her eyes wavered over his. A tiny furrow formed between her brows. Finally, she reached up and ran her fingers over his jaw. “I always wondered what that felt like. So rough and prickly.” She scrunched her face and studied him. “You are quite handsome, Hayden Gale.” She slammed a finger over her lips and grinned. “But I’ll deny I said that tomorrow.”

  “And since I am not a gentleman, I will, of course, remind you.”

  Raising her nose, she jerked from his embrace and took up a pace again, charging straight into the stump she’d been sitting on. “Ouch!” She started to topple. Hayden caught her, hoisted her into his arms, and carried her to the shelter. Kneeling, he placed her inside. It was best that she got some sleep before she said something she’d regret. And before he did something he would definitely regret.

  Lying down on the soft leaves, she threw a hand to her head. “Everything’s spinning. Why is everything spinning? It’s a fine shelter, Hayden, it truly is, but what of all the spiders and lizards, ants, and snakes!” She sat up and reached for him. “Don’t leave me, Hayden. It’s so frightening here in the jungle.”

  Hayden could only stare at her. Was she kidding? God, if You’re up there, this is far too much temptation for one man. Especially a man like him. It was the first prayer he’d uttered since his mother’s death fifteen years ago. That time, God had not answered him, why did Hayden think He would answer now? “The critters will leave you alone.” For the most part. “Besides, I’ll be right by the fire. You’re safe.”

  “There’s room for two.” She lay back down and patted the leaves beside her. “You made the shelter—you should sleep in it.”

  She had a point. A very delectable point. Groaning, he forced himself to stand. “Good night, Princess. Sleep well.” At least she would get some rest, for it would be a long time before he settled down enough to fall asleep. A long time, indeed.

  During those hours, Hayden made a pact with himself. This woman not only stirred him physically, but she had begun to stir his heart. And that was far too dangerous. Dangerous for him and dangerous for her. He’d made a practice of never mixing business and pleasure, of never getting too close to one of his “clients.” Which was why he must keep his distance from the lovely Magnolia for the rest of the trip. He was only flesh and blood, after all.

  CHAPTER 13

  Finally some level ground! Magnolia trudged after Hayden, every inch of her legs and feet aflame. For the past two and a half days they’d ascended one hill after another as they wove their way through a range of verdant mountains—through steamy jungles, up windswept crests, and even down to an occasional beach, so close were they to the sea. Hayden told her they traveled near the coast to avoid the larger mountains inland—a range of majestic peaks she could now see rising in the west like angry gods spying on intruders to their land. She half expected them to grow weary of holding their heads above the clouds and suddenly collapse, swallowing her and Hayden whole. Part of her wouldn’t care if they did. At least she’d be able to rest. But the muted sounds of a large city kept her plodding forward. That and the glimpses of civilization they’d passed—if one could call them that—in t
he form of several small farms and mud homes abuzz with naked children like bees around a hive. The adults greeted them with unabashed friendship and grand enthusiasm, beckoning them to come and share a meal. At least that was what Magnolia surmised from their exaggerated gestures, once they realized she and Hayden didn’t speak Portuguese.

  But Hayden declined each time, trying to make them understand that he and Magnolia were in a hurry to get to the city. Unfazed by the refusal, they continued to smile and wave at them until they were out of sight. Magnolia couldn’t help but remark at how friendly Brazilians seemed to be.

  “Beware of smiling faces and beguiling invitations, Princess. Everyone has a motive.”

  Those were the first words he’d spoken to her in days, other than grunts and nods and an occasional “Hurry up.” Magnolia couldn’t imagine what she’d done to prick his ire. Yes,she’d overindulged in drink that one night, but she had no memory of saying anything untoward or rude. Like she usually did when besotted. All she remembered were the personal details they shared of their lives. Which should make people feel closer, not push them apart, shouldn’t it? Yet, all their intimate conversation had done was erect an impenetrable wall around this man.

  “So, you can speak” The path widened and she quickened her pace to slip beside him.

  “Only when I have something important to say.”

  “What are you implying?” Magnolia snapped, shifting her valise to her other hand while she shook out her aching fingers. “That I don’t speak of important matters?” She huffed. “Besides, what is so important about your cynical distrust of people?”

  He halted. Green eyes assessed her as if she were one of the pesky butterflies that continually landed on them in the jungle. Then turning, he moved on without saying a word.

  “You can’t trust most people, Princess,” he said after a few minutes. “Once you realize that, you’ll be better off.”

  Magnolia drew a sleeve over the perspiration on her brow, having long since given up proper etiquette. Trust. Something she’d sworn to never give another man. Yet, here she was trusting this one to put her safely on a ship heading back home. “Can I trust you?”

  When he didn’t answer, she stopped. “I can trust you, can’t I?” she called after him, but her voice blended with the annoying whine of insects darting around her head, and she wasn’t sure he heard her. In fact, she wasn’t sure she could take another step. Every inch of her body throbbed, from the pounding in her head to the crick in her neck from sleeping on the ground, to the strain across her shoulders, the gnawing hunger in her belly, the spasms in her arms and fingers, her sore calves, and blistered feet. And to make matters worse, she’d been shaking ever since she’d sucked down her last drop of rum over a day ago.

  In fact, she was quite sure she’d walked across the entire country, hiking up craggy cliffs with deadly drop-offs, sliding down muddy trails with no end, tripping on massive roots that crisscrossed the ground, all the while being strangled by the web of vines dropping from the canopy like ropes from a castle wall. Only climbing these ropes wouldn’t bring one to the safety of a fortress but to an entirely different world ruled by monkeys and bats and birds. And then there were the bugs. She’d thought Georgia’s insects were hideous. If she ever made it back home, she’d never complain about them again.

  She stared at Hayden, marching on his merry way, with that cocksure swagger of his, oblivious to her at-death’s-door condition. As usual. Yet he had taken care of her. Good care. Especially at night when he erected a shelter for her and provided something for dinner. One night he’d even caught a couple fish. Magnolia was sure she’d never tasted anything so delicious. Though he’d ignored her many shrieks during the night at the bugs invading her shelter, he’d stretched out and slept across the entrance like a sentinel. His presence had brought her more comfort than she cared to admit. And aside from that evening when he’d held her in her chemise, he’d been the perfect gentleman, stunning her with behavior so contrary to her initial assessment of the man. Mercy me, he’d even given her back her flask, though it had been nearly empty.

  Now, it was empty and she craved a drink. Picking up her valise, she forced her feet to move before Hayden disappeared from sight. Infuriating man! But they were almost in Rio, and she could rid herself of him soon enough. The sooner the better before he realized she’d lied to him about the money. She shuddered to think what he would do to her when he found out. Most likely take every last cent she owned before she could purchase a ticket home. Then, what would happen to her?

  No, as soon as Hayden led her to the harbor, she would steal away and buy a ticket on the first ship heading back to the States. Even now as the chatter of people and clank of the tramway convinced her civilization was near, her heart lifted a little. She needed a bath. That and some warm food and a ticket home had been all that had kept her going these past five days. Home to America. To Samuel. To comfort and safety and love.

  Grabbing Magnolia’s elbow, Hayden escorted her into the throng amassing on the streets of Rio de Janeiro. Sweat streamed down his back as he ushered her through the wall of humanity lined up to see a religious parade coming down the road. He glanced at the brutal sun firing waves of heat upon the scene and wondered how these people could stand being outside. Or how they could stand the smell. Body odor and animal dung mixed with spices and overripe fruit formed an exotic yet putrid aroma that pinched his nose and he found himself longing for the shade and fresh air of the jungle.

  Wealthy Brazilian ladies dressed in their finery stood at the windows of their homes where bright red curtains barely fluttered in the limpid breeze. Diamonds hung from their ears and necks, sparkling in the sun as they leaned on window sills, waving at the passing crowd. Odd music that sounded like a mix of an African chant and a French minuet flowed up the street. The mob shouted with glee as all turned to see a mannequin made of barbed iron sitting atop a horse leading the procession. “São João! São João!” the people yelled and prostrated themselves before the strange figure as it passed.

  Magnolia stopped, awestruck at the sight. The impassioned throng bumped and jostled her on all sides, yet when Hayden tried to tug her away, she refused to budge. Her gaze was fixed on a troop of little girls following the freakish mannequin. No more than six years old, they wore short skirts embroidered in gold that were full and puffed out as if they wore hoops. Two large wings of gauze fastened to their backs, and on their heads a diadem of jewels glittered in the sunlight. They leaped and danced to the rhythm of the music while scattering rose petals from a basket over the dirty street.

  The mob sang and swayed and worked themselves into a frenzy as they worshipped the figure on the horse and joined with the girls in dance. Finally, Hayden managed to drag Magnolia aside, away from the middle of the crowd. She leaned against him, weak and panting and looking like she was about to wilt. He must find shelter and food for her soon. She had endured far more than most ladies of her class ever would have been able to endure. More than he thought she would have. For a pampered sot, she had surprisingly kept up with his swift pace through the jungle. And aside from a few complaints here and there and some shrieking in the middle of the night due to bugs invading her bed, she’d stopped whining. One night, she’d even helped him gather firewood and palm fronds. He had wanted to thank her, wanted to tell her he was proud of her. But he thought better of it. No sense in teasing them both with a friendship that couldn’t last. One that would be quickly severed when Hayden’s deception came to light.

  Pressed against the wall of a shop, Hayden slipped his hand into hers, lest he lose her in the mad crush. Much to his surprise, she gripped it willingly, desperately, and he hated the overwhelming need to protect her that welled inside of him. He’d never felt that way about a woman before, especially one he was about to swindle. Clamping down his jaw, he shoved through the crowd, focusing his mind on his plan, his goal, while squashing his emotions. Emotions made him weak, made him lose his edge. Any confidence man
worth the money he swindled never allowed sentiment to interfere with a job.

  Elaborate churches rose like guardians of light over the shadows of debauchery in the streets as the crowd drank and danced in celebration. The idol worship offended even Hayden’s nonreligious sensibilities. Though he was sure they were shouting “Saint John! Saint John!” the entire festival seemed to have popped from the pages of some pagan ritual. Especially in light of the prostitutes lingering about. Large Negresses dressed in ruffles and lace, wearing high-heeled slippers, their necks and arms loaded with gold chains and ivory, and their heads adorned in colorful turbans, squatted before shops and dared to lounge even on church steps, baring bosoms to men who passed by.

  Hoping to protect Magnolia from the sight, Hayden hurried her along, but her gasp and “Mercy me” told him he had failed. Rounding another corner, he led her away from the celebration, trying to recall the way to the immigration office. A donkey-led tramcar clanked along in front of them as dozens of mulattoes in every shade possible wove through the crowd, carrying sugarcane, bananas, oranges, prawns, and fish.

  “Can you show me the way to the dock master? I need to see when the next ship leaves for the States.” Magnolia finally released his hand and drew her parasol from her valise. “Perhaps there’s one leaving tomorrow. I wouldn’t want to miss it. Of course you don’t have to accompany me. I could meet up with you later to say our good-byes.”

  Her voice sounded odd, hurried and clipped. When he glanced at her, she did not meet his gaze.

  “They are closed in the afternoon,” he said, not entirely sure of that fact, but it made for a good excuse to delay her plans. Besides, they’d passed several businesses and shops that had signs posted on their doors and no patrons within. Closed for the festival, no doubt. Which meant the immigration office might be locked up as well. Blast! He’d have to wait another day to find out about his father.