Elusive Hope

by Marylu Tyndall

James nodded, happy his friend didn’t think him a fool. He was about to thank him when one of the night watchmen stormed into the hut, his face aglow with excitement. “There are three men heading toward our town, Colonel. And one of them looks like Captain Barclay!”

  James and Blake exchanged a puzzled look. The man who had captained the ship that brought them from Charleston to Rio? But as soon as they saw the old sea dog’s ruddy, bearded face emerge from the greenery, hearty greetings were exchanged. In fact, everyone in town soon gathered around to welcome the captain and his mates, anxious for news from home.

  “I didn’t expect you back so soon, Captain,” Blake said as everyone clustered near the meeting shelter to partake of breakfast and drill the seaman with questions.

  “Nor did I!” Barclay laughed and drew off his neckerchief to dab his forehead. “I feel like a pig roasting on a spit! Is it always so hot here?”

  James laughed as did many of the colonists. “You get used to it.”

  “I won’t be here long enough, I hope,” he said. “Ah, but yes, I picked up my cargo in New Orleans, delivered it to Norfolk and then passed by Charleston for another group of colonists headed toward Brazil. I just dropped them off in Rio and thought I’d gather your mail from the immigration office and bring it to you.” He plopped a piece of mango into his mouth and groaned his pleasure as juice dribbled into his beard. “So here I am!” He reached into his pouch, withdrew a packet of letters, and began reading off names.

  James hung back, sipping his coffee. There’d be nothing for him, of course. He had no one back home who would be writing to him.

  His gaze landed on Angeline. She sat beneath the bamboo roof of the meeting house, her apron still on from helping prepare breakfast, a forlorn look on her comely face. He longed to know her story, for it appeared she had no one at home either. Nor did Blake or Eliza, though they seemed to be enjoying the colonists’ excitement. Hayden was leaning on a tree at the edge of the clearing. James had heard the man intended to leave again, and he was sad for it. But he could understand in light of his father’s presence. Would that Patrick Gale would leave instead, but they couldn’t force the issue. They’d left the South to find freedom and it wouldn’t be right to dictate who could stay and who couldn’t.

  “Miss Magnolia Scott. Magnolia Scott!” Captain Barclay shouted, and the lady emerged from the crowd to retrieve her letter, a look of confusion on her face.

  Magnolia gripped the letter, still not believing the return address: Samuel Wimberly, 235 Washington Street, Atlanta, Georgia, United States. Her fingers began to shake as she left the others to find a quiet place to read.

  My dearest Magnolia,

  When I heard you had immigrated to Brazil, I could hardly believe it. What possessed your parents to drag you to such an uncivilized post? I sincerely hope it was not because of the way things ended between us, for I have been wallowing in misery ever since. The despicable war stole away the years we should have been together. But now that hostilities are at an end, at least the formal kind, I have found myself in a position of great influence in aiding the North as they rebuild our precious South. Great influence and great wealth, my dear. Enough to provide for you and your family in the manner in which you were accustomed before the unfortunate incident with that incorrigible confidence man. Do write back to tell me you’ll return and marry me. Better yet, send no post but hop on the ship that delivered this letter and come back to me post haste. I wait with great anticipation to see your lovely face again.

  You are ever in my fondest dreams,

  Samuel Wimberly III Esquire.

  “Oh my.” Magnolia’s mother flung a hand to her mouth as she perused the letter Magnolia had reluctantly handed her. Curiosity had driven her to Magnolia’s side within minutes of receiving the post, had opened her mouth to finally speak to her. Something she hadn’t done in days under the watchful eye of her husband.

  “This is wonderful news! Just wonderful!” Her mother squealed. “I knew he wouldn’t forget you.”

  “Why are you speaking to her?” Magnolia’s father burst around the corner of the hut. “I told you—”

  Giddy with delight, her mother shoved the letter toward him, stopping him in his tracks. “What’s this?” he puffed out, his chin doubling as he perused it.

  Magnolia waited while he read, her mind still whirling in shock and confusion. She’d never thought she’d hear from Samuel again. Mercy me, she hadn’t even been sure he’d take her back if she had managed to return home. But this. That he missed her and still wanted her! It was wonderful news.

  Wasn’t it? It wouldn’t be wonderful if Hayden loved her and still wanted her. The news would bear no effect on her whatsoever, except the pain at writing Samuel a letter of rejection. But that was only a dream.

  “That settles it.” Magnolia’s father slapped the paper. His smile appeared at odds with his normally flat lips “We head home immediately!”

  “This is my decision.” Magnolia straightened her shoulders. “And besides, you disowned me.”

  “For accepting the courtship of that nincompoop!” He waved the letter toward the center of town. “This changes everything.”

  “If I accept, it does, yes.” For once Magnolia returned her father’s pointed stare. Yet no fear crawled up her spine at the fury blazing in his eyes.

  “Surely you aren’t still considering receiving the attentions of that ghastly man! Why, he’s the son of the beast who ruined us.”

  “I’m well aware of that, Father.” Despite that sordid fact, Magnolia would have Hayden if he wanted her. She hugged herself as the sound of laughter and gaiety drifted from the meeting area of town.

  Her mother laid a hand on her arm. Was it Magnolia’s imagination or were there more streaks of gray in her mother’s brown hair since last she saw her? “We hear he’s leaving town anyway, dear. Abandoning you just like his father did.”

  She tugged from her mother and backed away. “He’s not abandoning me. He’s hurt and confused.” Then why did it feel like a boulder just dropped in her stomach?

  “This is what you want!” Her father clenched his jaw to keep from shouting. “You’ve been complaining about coming to Brazil from the moment we set foot on the ship. You tried to sabotage the voyage, for Pete’s sake. And all your poor mother and I have heard since we arrived here is how miserable you are.”

  “Then, why did you take me away from Samuel in the first place?”

  “You know very well we couldn’t locate him after the war.”

  “And he didn’t have enough money or power to suit you. Odd how you’ve changed your mind now that he does.” Magnolia cocked her head. She’d never spoken to her father with such an imperious tone. She’d always been so afraid of him. So fearful of his disapproval. But something had changed within her. And she found it exhilarating!

  His dark eyes narrowed but not before she caught a hint of pain within them. “You’ve acquired a sharp tongue these past few days.”

  “I’ve acquired far more than that, Father. Confidence, for one. Freedom, for another. And along with both the realization that I can take care of myself.”

  “Bah!” He folded the letter and handed it back to her.

  Magnolia took it as her mother’s pleading eyes shifted between them. “Please don’t quarrel. Not when we’ve received such good news.”

  “Your mother is right.” Her father expelled his fury on a long sigh. “Let us put things behind us, dumpling. Finally, we can leave this jungle and live the life we were destined to live.”

  Magnolia didn’t miss the use of her pet name, the one he used to call her when she was young and still in his favor. Nor did she miss the slight catch in his throat. For a moment, a brief, happy moment, he had looked at her like he used to before Patrick came into their lives. She swallowed down a burst of emotion. Perhaps things could be mended between her and her father. Perhaps he loved her just a little. She’d already made up her mind to return home anyway. Even if Hayden left,
Patrick would still be here, and she couldn’t stand to be in the same town with that man.

  She glanced at the letter in her hand. She had loved Samuel once, hadn’t she?

  “What if Patrick finds gold?” she asked her father.

  “Then he can send it to us. I’m sure Blake will see to it.” She’d never seen her father’s expression so soft, so placating. How quickly the power had shifted between them.

  With or without the gold, if she married Samuel, her debt to her parents would be paid. And the idea of sleeping in a proper feather bed, of having steaming sudsy baths, a wardrobe full of the latest fashions, and a bevy of servants to wait on her every need was not without some appeal. No bugs. No thirst. No excruciating heat. She looked at her hands, once soft and white, now bruised and scraped. No mud. No hard work.

  No purpose. No fulfillment. No love.

  “Darling.” Her mother tucked a strand of hair into her bun. “We must get you married before the bloom of youth is gone. Or it will be too late.”

  The bloom of youth, the bloom of youth, the words chanted over and over in Magnolia’s mind as she strolled through a field of spring flowers, brushing her fingers over their colorful petals. Aquamarine, purple, gold, vermillion, amber, crimson—a thousand shades like dots of paint swaying on a canvas of green. A gentle breeze refreshed her skin and fluttered the delicate curls at her neck. She closed her eyes and breathed in the perfume-scented air. Sunlight blanketed her in warmth. Was there ever a more beautiful sight? Clutching her skirts, she ran across the field, dancing and laughing as the soft blooms tickled her stockings. Near breathless with glee, she stopped to pick one particularly beautiful blossom and drew it to her nose. A mixture of lilac and vanilla delighted her senses as she examined the crimson and orange petals, admiring their beauty and their silky feel.

  The bloom of youth.

  The flower began to shrivel in her hand. The petals browned and curled inward, then wilted into parched folds, drooping from the stem. Tossing down the blossom, Magnolia mourned the loss of such beauty when suddenly all the flowers around her began to brown and wilt and shrivel into dry, wrinkled twigs. Within minutes, the field became a crackling desert.

  A chilled wind whipped the hem of her gown and blew the dried flowers away as if they’d never existed. Leaving nothing but gray, cracked ground. Leaving Magnolia all alone. In a dry and barren place. An ugly place. A tear slipped down her cheek.

  A white speck appeared in the distance, gliding toward her. A person. A lady. The lady Magnolia had met in the church in Rio. The beautiful version with her glittering white robe, shimmering golden hair, and a face that would put Helen of Troy to shame. Halting before Magnolia, she smiled.

  “Favour is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman that feareth The Lord, she shall be praised.” Each word was as crisp and resonant as the plucking of a harp string.

  “What does that mean?” Magnolia asked. “What happened to the flowers?”

  “For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away.”

  The woman smiled again and Magnolia smiled back, sensing only kindness, not judgment in her peaceful expression.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  She raised a small mirror to Magnolia’s face.

  Magnolia turned her head. “I don’t want to see.”

  “You must, child. You must.” Grabbing Magnolia’s chin she forced her to look at the hideous, wrinkled reflection. “This is—”

  “I know. I know. This is my true appearance. What’s inside of me.” Magnolia squeezed her eyes shut against the sight and began to sob.

  “Look again, child.”

  Magnolia shook her head. “No. Take it away.”

  “Look again.”

  Slowly prying her eyes open, Magnolia noticed the woman had flipped the mirror around to the other side. Beauty, pure beauty like she’d never seen before, stared back at her. The woman in the mirror glowed. She sparkled like a diamond, her skin luminescent, her hair spun silk, her eyes pools of glittering sapphires.

  She couldn’t pull her gaze away. “Who is she?”

  “This is how God sees you when you turn to Him. When you accept the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus, you are cleansed, purified. You become His beautiful princess. Man looks on the outward appearance, but God looks at the heart.”

  Magnolia woke with a start, the lady’s words echoing in her mind. God looks on the heart. God looks on the heart. A dream. A bizarre dream. Glancing to make sure she hadn’t woken Sarah and Lydia, she swung her legs over the cot and rubbed her eyes.

  Hadn’t she discovered recently that she was more than a beautiful face? That she had value beyond her appearance. Besides, she was no fool. She knew her outward appearance would fade one day, that the bloom of youth would shrivel as her mother had said. And if Magnolia focused only on that, spent her time perfecting only that, what would be left when it was gone? Wasn’t her soul, her character, more important? More lasting? Something that would never wrinkle or fade or die? But would only become more beautiful?

  She’d once thought Patrick handsome but now that his true heart was revealed, she found him repulsive. And what of Sarah? She was no beauty and yet, she was the sweetest woman Magnolia had ever known, and more beautiful for it. Magnolia’s heart shrank as she wondered how people truly saw her.

  All these years her father, and oft times her many suitors as well, had spoken only of her appearance: complimenting, commending only her outside. Seeing her beauty as her only value. Making her believe she had no other redeeming qualities.

  Rising, she grabbed her flask and tiptoed out of the hut, plopping on the bench.

  “Oh, Jesus. I’ve been so wrong. About You. About myself.”

  She sipped the pinga and gazed up at the few stars peeking at her through the leaves above. “Do you truly see me as beautiful as I was in that second reflection?”

  Wind stirred leaves by her feet into an exotic dance that tickled her legs. She giggled. “Is that You, God?”

  “PRECIOUS ONE. BEAUTIFUL ONE.”

  Falling to her knees, Magnolia couldn’t help the tears that streamed down her face. She tipped the flask to her lips again when the words “YOU DON’T NEED THAT ANYMORE” flowed like warm water over her soul. Corking the flask, she set it on the ground and bowed her head.

  “All this time I never spoke to You unless I wanted something. I never thought You cared. What a waste.” She wiped her moist cheeks. “I’m sorry for being such a spoiled, vain, selfish girl. I don’t want to be that way anymore. I want to be beautiful on the inside, not just the outside.”

  A whippoorwill sang in the distance as a sensation filtered through her. She had always been loved, regardless of what she looked like or what she’d done or what she would ever do. God’s love was a gift that carried no conditions, no prerequisites, no debt. And even before she’d been born, He knew her. He’d fashioned her in her mother’s womb as Eliza had said: special, unique, beautiful, and valuable.

  And for the first time in her life, she felt all of those things as God’s presence enveloped her.

  CHAPTER 35

  So you’re going to let her get on that ship and sail out of your life?” Blake asked.

  Hayden rubbed his aching eyes and stared at his two friends who had barged into his hut before the sun even had a chance to rise.

  “You tell us you gave your life to God, forgave your father, released your need for revenge, which I’m very happy to hear, by the way”—James crossed beefy arms over his chest—“and now you’re going to lose the woman God gave you to love. Just because of your foolish pride.”

  Hayden suddenly regretted telling Blake and James about his encounter with the Almighty. He wouldn’t have even mentioned it if they hadn’t insisted on knowing why he’d changed his mind about seeking revenge on his father and had decided to leave.

  “Besides, if you’re planning on going back to the States anyway, why not sail with Ca
ptain Barclay instead of walking to Rio?” Candlelight flickered mischief in James’s eyes. “Not that I want you to leave. Not that I want either of you to leave. But if you’re on the same ship with

  Magnolia, at least there’s more of a chance you’ll come to your senses.”

  “Or do something I’ll regret the rest of my life.”

  “Like marry the lady? Why would that be so bad?”

  “You don’t understand.” Hayden flung his shirt over his head and tucked it into his trousers. He’d hoped to sneak away that morning without anyone seeing. He’d said his good-byes to those that mattered the night before, painful enough as that was. More painful than he’d ever thought leaving people could be. Afterward, he’d had a fitful night of staring at the bamboo and palm fronds over his head, listening to the hoot of a nearby owl and the distant growls of jungle predators. A night of waiting for the first glow of dawn to give him permission to rise and slip away. But his friends had cornered him before he’d had a chance.

  “I understand more than you think.” The lines in Blake’s forehead deepened as they always did when he was concerned.

  Hayden studied him. Perhaps the colonel did know about revenge and forgiveness and the love of a decent woman. But his life had turned out well. His hopes had been realized. Hayden’s hopes never would be. A breeze whipped through the window, ripe with the scent of orange blossoms and rain.

  “She’s leaving because she doesn’t think you want her,” James said.

  Sitting on his cot, Hayden pulled on his boots. “She’s leaving because she will finally get to marry her rich solicitor like she’s always wanted.” The news had carved a hole in his heart while at the same time giving him the peace of knowing she’d finally be happy.

  Blake marched to the window, fists at his waist. “What other choice have you given her?”

  “She could stay with the colony. Work in the clinic.” Even as he said it, Hayden remembered how determined she was to repay her debt to her parents. Another reason to marry this Wimby fellow. He ran his hands through his hair and grabbed his only possession, his knapsack containing his knife, pistol, canteen, and the few supplies he’d purchased in Rio.