Elusive Hope

by Marylu Tyndall

  Completely opposite from the wolfish gait of the man before her.

  She drew in a breath of sweet jungle air, remembering Samuel’s impeccable manners and how he always smelled of cedar oil and cigars.

  The pesky bug swooped down upon her again. She shrieked.

  In a move so quick she had no time to react, Hayden spun around, gun in hand, cocked it, and fired.

  Magnolia squeezed her eyes shut, her one thought being that perhaps she’d been premature in her feelings that she was safe with this man.

  Shock buzzed through her as the smell of gunpowder stung her nose. No pain seared her body. Her head felt intact. Her heart still beat. Slowly, she opened her eyes to see Hayden shoving the gun into his belt. He gave a wink before he continued onward.

  “You”—she struggled to find a voice but it felt as if it had been shot clean through—“could have killed me.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Why did you do that?” She stumbled after him, glancing around for the bug that, no doubt, had been blown to pieces.

  “I was tired of hearing you moan and groan every few minutes.”

  “Well, mercy me, I’m sorry to have disturbed you, but since you make me keep up with your impossible pace and won’t give me a moment’s rest to catch my breath or take a drink, you are bound to hear a little moaning from time to time.” She swept a large vine aside with her parasol, shrinking back at the colorful lizard scampering up it. “I’m doing the best any lady could do under the circumstances.”

  He continued onward. “Perhaps if you remove that cage you wear under your skirts, your gown won’t scrape against the branches as much.”

  Ugh. She wanted to swat him with her parasol. Instead, she burst into tears. “And you won’t even speak to—” She barreled into him, realizing he’d stopped.

  His hand was raised; his dark brows dipped. Only then did she notice the normal hum of the jungle had quieted, replaced by a crackling sound. It sizzled all around them yet seemed to come from nowhere. “What—?” Hayden laid a finger on her lips, silencing her. His body stiffened. He scanned the tangle of green. His gaze froze while his chest rose and fell like a ship in stormy seas. “Did you see that?” he whispered.

  “No. What?”

  “Not what, who,” he mumbled before rubbing his eyes and starting forward again, his steps cautious. After a few minutes the crackling ceased and the thrum of the jungle returned. Tension spilled from Magnolia’s shoulders. The last time she’d heard that sound, Martin—the fiend who’d destroyed her life—had appeared out of nowhere. And she was in no mood to deal with him.

  Within an hour, the sound of rushing water drew them to a stream cutting through a narrow gorge. Steep, moss-covered cliffs rose on two sides where cascades of water plunged some sixty feet over bare rocks, splashing into deep pools at the base. With no more than a “stay here,” Hayden went off in search of fruit, leaving Magnolia to stare at the refreshing pond. She longed to disrobe and plunge beneath its swirling waters, but Hayden could return at any moment. Instead, she settled for removing her stockings and shoes and dipping her feet in the cool liquid. The reflection of her legs bounced off the water in squiggly lines and a frightening idea occurred to her. If she hung her head over the water, what would her face look like now? Had she simply been delirious with exhaustion two nights ago? After one quick glance over her shoulder, she leaned over the calm pool.

  Hayden plucked a ripe mango and scanned the tree looking for another one, wondering if he’d lost his mind. Perhaps the assault of insects, the stifling heat, and the overwhelming temptation of Magnolia had finally sizzled away all his reason. Or at least his eyesight. For he was sure he had seen old Mr. Carson sauntering through the jungle as if he were walking down East Plume Street in Norfolk. But of course, that couldn’t be. Unless the man had immigrated to Brazil, which would be totally out of character for the timid, weak-minded goosewit. Besides, what would he be doing alone in the middle of the jungle?

  Shoving the impossibility aside, Hayden spotted a banana tree and headed in that direction, thankful for a moment’s reprieve from Magnolia. Not because she annoyed him. Quite the opposite, in fact. Though he’d maintained a rapid stride the past two days, she’d kept pace with him, offering nary a complaint. An occasional moan and hapless sigh, yes, but no complaint. At night, she’d helped gather firewood and ate what he provided without a single grumble. Not one—even though he knew her feet ached and she was hot and weary and covered in bug bites. Even though he was returning her to an abusive father and keeping her from a fiancé she loved. He found her resilience admirable, her forgiveness commendable, her company, dare he admit, pleasurable.

  In fact, he felt a strange urge to provide for her, to protect her, if only to draw an adoring look from those sapphire eyes. But that would make him like all the other men who fawned at her feet, begging for one favorable glance, one cherished kiss. And he hated himself for it. He wouldn’t allow himself the indignity. Not the great confidence man, Hayden Gale. So, what else could he do but try to ignore her as best he could? A task made all the more difficult when, even covered in filth and bug bites, she glowed like a lantern on a dark night. No wonder insects surrounded her. If Hayden could fly, he’d hover around her too, just for the chance to land on those luscious lips.

  Slapping a mosquito on his arm, he reached for a bunch of bananas when sizzling filled the air. A chill iced down his spine. He scanned the jungle. Nothing out of the ordinary. Snapping off the bananas, he headed back to the waterfall, determined to ignore the puzzling sound. Just his imagination. Or perhaps merely a swarm of insects in the canopy. Though the sound didn’t come from above. He batted aside a leaf and froze.

  Mr. Carson sat on a tree stump.

  Hayden closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. When he opened them Mr. Carson was staring at him inquisitively.

  “You aren’t real,” Hayden said.

  The man flinched then glanced over his body. “I assure you, sir, I am as real as you.”

  “What are you doing here, Mr. Carson? Did you move to Brazil?”

  “Brazil?” He glanced over the jungle as if seeing it for the first time. “What does it matter where I am, Mr. Grenville, or whatever your name is?” Steel eyes speared Hayden.

  He swallowed and began to circle the man, remembering the vision of Katherine that had seemed so real in the temple. But she hadn’t been there. And neither was this man here now.

  “You sold me a shipyard that wasn’t yours to sell.” Mr. Carson released a heavy sigh, following Hayden with his eyes. “Turns out it belonged to a shipwright named Paine. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

  Hayden stopped a few yards from the man, resisting the temptation to pounce on him to see if he was flesh and bone. “What do you want? If it’s your money back, I don’t have it.”

  The man’s gaze grew distant, his face folding in sorrow as if he remembered something dreadful. “I trusted you.”

  For being only a vision, Mr. Carson sure was causing a rush of guilt to burn in Hayden’s throat.

  “I lost everything. My wife left me. Took the children and went back to her father’s farm.”

  Hayden had no words to say. What could he say? Mr. Carson was a gentle man with a limited mind—the perfect target. He’d wanted to be a shipwright. And Hayden had found an empty shipyard that had recently been sold to another man. It had been easy to forge the necessary papers.

  “I killed a man,” Mr. Carson said. “Mr. Paine, in fact. When he came to claim his property.” He swallowed and looked down. “I thought he was trying to steal from me. We fought. I pushed him.” He thumbed a tear from beneath his eye. “I didn’t mean to shove him so hard. He fell out a window to his death.”

  Hayden’s heart crumpled like old vellum—old and stained with guilt. The vision of Katherine rose fresh in his mind as well as the other dozen or so people he’d cheated. And for the first time in his life, he felt like sinking into the mud beneath his feet—deserved
to sink into the mud and be buried like the scoundrel he was.

  “I’m sorry.” The words echoed hollow and heavy in the humid air. “I’m truly sorry.”

  Mr. Carson only stared at him, his eyes now blank and lifeless.

  A woman’s shriek drew Hayden’s gaze over his shoulder. Magnolia! When he looked back, Mr. Carson was gone. Shaking the vision from his mind, Hayden wheeled about and dashed through the jungle, plowing a trail of scattered leaves and branches. He found her sitting near the creek, face in her hands, sobbing and muttering something about being grotesque and repugnant. His anger sparked. But her wails continued, long and painful. This was no act. Dropping beside her, Hayden took her hands. They trembled just like his. Something horrible was happening to them both, and the sooner they got out of this jungle, the better.

  Magnolia studied Hayden as he scoured the jungle for wood. She rubbed the aches from her stockinged feet, proof that they’d walked much longer today than usual. No doubt Hayden wished to get back to New Hope as soon as possible and rid himself of her. Though she’d really been trying to be less whiny and annoying and not cry all the time. But when she’d seen her aged face in the pond earlier that day, she’d been unable to stop the tears.

  Of course Hayden had pretended not to be annoyed, had tried to console her, but she could see the frustration on his face. Or had it been fear? Regardless, since then he’d seemed preoccupied and had hardly spoken a word to her. As usual.

  And she was still old and ugly. Was this to be her curse? Never to see her reflection as it truly was? Only to see how she would look in sixty years or longer? Never to see if she had a hair out of place or a smudge on her cheek. Never to see when she truly aged.

  What had the old woman said? That Magnolia’s reflection was a picture of her insides. But how could her insides be that ugly? She was a nice person, wasn’t she? Even after Hayden had dragged her back into the jungle, she’d tried hard not to complain. She’d even thanked him for taking care of her. Why, she hadn’t even mentioned the blisters on her feet! Perhaps if she tried even harder to be kind, to think of others, then that gruesome reflection would disappear. Oh, how she wanted it to disappear.

  Hayden tossed another log into the fire, took a seat, and picked up the chunk of wood he’d been whittling. Strands of dark hair hung over his jaw and jerked with each strike of his knife. Magnolia reached for another piece of turtle meat and plopped it into her mouth. “Um.” She hoped to draw those magnificent jungle-green eyes to hers, but he remained focused on his wood. She swallowed the turtle. It was actually quite delicious. At first she’d been hesitant to try it, but after all the effort Hayden put forth—not to mention skill—to catch the thing and then break the shell and roast the meat, it would have been rude to refuse. Besides, she was so weary of fruit.

  As darkness fell, shadows crept out from the jungle like unholy specters. Frogs began to croak. Crickets chirped. Somewhere in the distance an animal howled. She hugged herself, longing for conversation, companionship, anything to get her mind off the dangers surrounding them. As well as the ones she’d face when they returned to camp.

  “You must think me mad,” she said, “crying like a fool by the pond.”

  “No. I think you have an unnatural obsession with your appearance that is making you see things.”

  The sentence contained more words than he’d spoken to her in three days. She was so thankful to hear his voice, she didn’t even mind the insult. Well, not entirely. It was quite loutish of him to say. Nevertheless, she’d just promised herself to be kinder to others and kinder she would be. As a start, she would forgive his affront. There. That was easy. Yet as she watched him stare at the flames and sensed a deep sorrow cloaking him, her chest suddenly felt heavy. She tried to force herself to not care, to still be angry at his deception, but found the task fruitless. Something bad had happened to Hayden, aside from his being an orphan and having to struggle to survive. And it had to do with this Mr. Godard. She wanted to know. And baffling as it was, she wanted to take his pain away.

  “Is there something bothering you, Hayden? Do you wish to talk about it? Perhaps it will make you feel better. My mother always said that keeping problems to yourself makes you old before your time.”

  The flicker of surprise in his green eyes quickly faded. At least he looked up at her. “It’s nothing,” he said, returning to his work.

  Oh, mercy me, this wasn’t going well.“It’s me, isn’t it? My whining?” Though she’d been so well behaved, she doubted that was the case.

  “Not everything is about you, Princess.”

  Magnolia blew out a sigh. She took another bite of turtle, desperate to draw out Hayden’s sad tale, but not wanting to anger him or, worse, push him away. Perhaps a change of topic. Her thoughts drifted to the old woman in the church, the way she had gazed at the figure of Jesus with such love, such complete devotion, as if that immovable sculpture actually loved her in return. Was it possible to love and be loved by a God she couldn’t see or hear?

  “Do you believe in God?” she asked.

  “Not sure.” He stomped his boot on a spider crawling in front of him as a low growl rumbled through the trees. Drawing his pistol, he laid it beside him on a rock.

  “Do you suppose God cares what we do? I mean, do you think He watches us?”

  Hayden shrugged. “If He exists, I’m sure He has better things to do than look after us.”

  Though Magnolia hadn’t thought much about God, Hayden’s statement saddened her. “Our reverend back home said that God loves all of us, that He is always with us to help us.”

  Hayden chuckled. “If your reverend is anything like Parson Bailey, I wouldn’t put too much credence on his words.”

  “Well of course he isn’t! He doesn’t steal from people.” Magnolia bit her lip as her stomach churned with frustration. She reached for the flask sitting on the ground between them and tipped it to her lips. Hayden only allowed her a few sips each night and she hated to use them up so early, but the man was beyond infuriating. He eyed her, one brow raised. She corked it and set it down.

  “When will we arrive in New Hope?”

  He returned to his whittling. “If we get an early start, we should be there tomorrow evening.”

  Magnolia’s insides shriveled. Then she would have to face her father’s wrath. And her time alone with Hayden would come to an end.

  “When will you leave to search for Mr. Godard?”

  “Soon.”

  “You never told me exactly what he did to you.”

  “You ask too many questions.”

  “Perhaps it’s because I care, you big oaf.” She huffed. “You’re always telling me I’m self-centered and now that I’m asking questions, I’m too meddlesome.”

  She received the first smile from him in days.

  Prompting her to ask one more question. “How long will you be gone?”

  His smile faded. “If I had been able to purchase a guide, I wouldn’t be gone long at all, but as it is, it could be weeks.” He scraped his knife over wood, flinging shavings into the air.

  “I suppose you blame me for that.”

  “Do you see someone else here who robbed me of money that was my due?” He glanced around.

  She jumped to her feet, instantly regretting the movement for the pain in her tired legs. “Of all the nerve. Your lie was far larger than mine. Besides, at least you got something out of the deal. All I’m getting are blisters and bug bites.”

  He grinned. “And a trip to Rio de Janeiro like I promised.”

  “Oooh.” She fisted her hands, regretting that she’d ever felt sorry for the rogue or wanted to ease his pain. “I cannot wait to be rid of you. Bedeviled, odious toad!”

  “Ah, but according to the story, us toads are only princes in disguise.” His tone taunted her.

  “Even if I could chop off your head in the morning, you’d never turn into a prince.”

  “Just a headless toad.” He dug his knife into the wood. “
And then you’d be lost and all alone in the jungle.”

  “Quit patronizing me.”

  “Quit behaving like a minx.” His eyes glinted with amusement.

  Something moved behind Hayden. The fire crackled. Leaves fluttered. A man materialized from the jungle, tipped his hat at Magnolia, then dashed away. “Martin!” Clutching her skirts she darted after him, ignoring Hayden’s call to stop. Smacking leaves and vines aside, she caught sight of his suit up ahead, a gray mist floating through the darkness. “Come back here this minute!” The charlatan was obviously following her around Brazil. To taunt her, no doubt—to flaunt the fact that he’d ruined her and her family. Ruined Magnolia’s prospects and chained her to a debt she could never repay.

  He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. A shimmer of moonlight caught his smile. She knew that devious grin anywhere. He took off in a sprint. She tore after him. What she would do with him when she caught him, she had no idea. Kick him, for one thing, give him a tongue lashing for another. Tie him to a tree and leave him to rot would be her preference.

  She raced ahead, leaves and branches assaulting her as she went. Dashing into a clearing, she scanned the shadows, her chest heaving. Martin was nowhere in sight.

  A low growl stiffened the hairs on her arms. She slowly turned around.

  A pair of golden eyes gleamed hungrily from within the shadows. The creature stepped toward her, fangs bared.

  CHAPTER 22

  James eased aside the rotted doors of the ancient temple, trying to shrug off the morbid foreboding that had smothered him before they’d even spotted the dilapidated structure. What made the feeling worse was that Eliza had insisted on joining the expedition. Her smile as she passed him now and entered the courtyard did nothing to assuage his unease. He hadn’t wanted any of the women to witness the horror of this place. He hadn’t wanted them to feel the terror and grief of the hundreds, perhaps thousands, who had been tortured to death within its walls; but once Eliza got something in her mind, it took a battalion to defeat that will of hers. Not even her husband, Blake, seemed able to control her. And he was the leader of the entire colony!