“How bad is it?”
She attempted a smile but gave up. “I can make it down into the boat on my own.” I hope.
He carefully lifted her to her feet. Swaying with dizziness, she gripped the front of his torn and dirtied shirt to steady herself.
He cupped her jaw, the pad of his thumb stroking her cheek. “This is turning out to be one rough-and-tumble honeymoon.”
She chuckled, then winced. “I think I have a couple of cracked ribs.” In a low voice meant for only his ears, she added, “We might have to postpone the wild nights for a while.”
“No kidding.”
By sunset, the Valiant had fled the Chilean coast, leaving behind a captain cursing the theft of his property and vowing to seek revenge. Blake doubted that the threat would be carried out, not as long as there were more profitable ventures along the coast than chasing after a mere child.
His concern focused on Cara as she slept in their bed, her ribs tightly bandaged as per her instructions. It seemed she understood the care of injured ribs as well as rattlesnake bites, he thought to himself, staring down at her peaceful face.
As for Andrew, he had yet to speak to anyone. Resisting all attempts to be taken below, he now sat on deck, huddled in a little ball. Bud seemed to be the only one allowed to join him in his silent misery.
Mr. Bellows had given his account of the surprising bravery of the dog. Apparently, the crew had been anxiously watching the Ballade when they saw the boy jump overboard. Before anyone could respond, Bud had leaped into the water. The first mate had quickly dispatched two men to fetch the dog and the child, who were dragged into the boat and hauled back to the Valiant.
Shortly thereafter Blake had returned with the others, ordering the first mate to sail immediately. In the organized chaos, and because of his worry about Cara, he had barely taken the time to acknowledge the presence of the boy.
Now Blake sat on the edge of the mattress, gazing down at his battered and bruised wife. Renewed fury raged within him, recalling the sight of her fallen body at the feet of that bastard aboard the Ballade. Chastising himself for his belated arrival on deck, he slipped his fingers beneath her hand and stroked the back of her scraped knuckles. He should have been there for her.
“Quit blaming yourself.” Her soft voice drew his head up.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’ve had better moments in this bed.” Her meager attempt to laugh at her own humor only caused her more pain. “I didn’t think I had so many body parts that could hurt so much.”
“I should have killed him.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.” She raised his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it. “I’m also glad you didn’t get yourself killed, by him or the captain. I was afraid if I closed my eyes, I would wake up and find out I’d lost you.”
“Never.”
Her smile faltered. “I wish I could believe that.”
“What is there not to believe? You are here with me now. After my obligations are fulfilled in Boston, we will set sail for the Islands and live out the rest of our lives there.”
“You’re forgetting about Andrew,” she reminded him with a sad smile. “Is he still on deck with Bud?”
“Aye, he is. And a sorrier sight I’ve never seen before.”
“Probably a lot like you when Keoni’s family took you in.”
Blake acknowledged her perceptiveness. “I suppose I am the only one aboard who truly understands his fear and isolation.”
“Talk to him. I think you can bring him out of his shell.”
“I will give it my best, but I doubt I have the touch you do.” Releasing her hand, he skimmed a fingertip along the contour of her cheek. “Mystical and motherly—a healing combination.”
“Do you think you could coax him to come down to see me?”
“If I fail, Bud will surely lead him to you.”
“It would probably work. That dog is his hero.”
“I can make a bed for Andrew here on the floor so we can keep an eye on him. When he realizes Bud sleeps here, he may be willing to stay as well.”
“You don’t mind sharing the cabin with him?”
“He needs to feel safe, lauaʻe. As long as he remains frightened and withdrawn, he should be here with us.”
“What if he can’t pull himself out of this state of withdrawal?”
Blake shook his head sadly. “I don’t know, Cara. We can only do our best with him until we take him back to his parents.”
“We?” She jerked upright, then groaned and fell back onto the mattress. “This is my responsibility, Blake. You can’t go back with me.”
“I can and I will,” he stated adamantly, brushing a short lock of hair off her forehead. “You once said Andrew was your son, then recanted the story. Yet you never clarified where he was from.”
“California,” she said weakly, staring out the aft windows. “I have to go back right away.”
Her words slammed into his stomach like a fist. “You can’t! Even if you were not hurt, you could not risk traveling alone with the boy. Besides, Captain Pritcher will be sailing these waters, keeping an eye out for Andrew at every port. You must come to Boston with me. As soon as I dispatch my duties to the shipowner, I will be free to go with you. Better still, I will captain another ship around the Horn, one that will take Andrew to California, then take you and me to Lahaina. From there, we will go to Kaua'i.”
A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “You make it all sound so easy, so perfect.” Her face turned toward him. Her gaze penetrated deep into his soul. “I wish we could be together forever, Blake.”
The finality of her words made him wonder if her injuries might be far worse than she had initially claimed. “And I wish you would not talk as though you were dying, lauaʻe.”
“I’m not going to die,” she reassured him. “But it feels like it whenever I think of saying good-bye to you.”
Fear coiled around his heart, squeezing tight. “I cannot lose you . . .”
“It’s not up to me.” She paused, struggling to go on. “There’s a possibility I may not be able to find my way back to his parents. I only have a vague idea how to reach them. But I have to try, for their sake and for Andrew. If I fail, I’ll stay and raise Andrew as my own son.”
“What if you succeed?”
“If I succeed . . . I won’t ever see you again.”
“Then you must fail,” he demanded, shoving himself up from the bed. He walked a few paces, then turned back to face her. “Forget taking him back. Stay with me. We will raise Andrew together.”
“Is that what you want for him? To deny him the chance to see his parents again because of our own selfishness? What if Keoni’s parents had kept you from being reunited with your real parents?’ ’
After a moment of thought, he reluctantly acknowledged the validity in her compassionate words. “I would be angry and resentful. For years I had dreamed that my mother and father were still out there, somewhere, looking for me.”
“Andrew is only ten. He has so much time left to spend with his own family. I must try to take him home.”
“Then let me help you,” he repeated, his frustration mounting.
Shaking her head, she beckoned him with an outstretched hand. The sadness in her eyes drew him to her. “I need to tell you something . . . This is so hard . . .”
“Say it.”
“Blake, I’m not from here. Neither is Andrew. We are both from a distant time. The future, Blake. One hundred and sixty-five years in the future, to be exact. The day I left in search of Andrew was March thirteenth . . . 1998.”
“That is impossible.”
Chapter 18
I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” Cara sighed with tremendous disappointment. “But I am telling the absolute truth, I swear to you.”
She read the myriad emotions dashing through his mind—shock, doubt, astonishment, suspicion, wonder. He could not begin to sort them all out, she knew.
“Keoni? He knows about this? You told him, yet you didn’t see fit to tell me? Why?”
“If you could hear yourself right now, you wouldn’t have to ask why. Keoni believes in the supernatural. He accepts it more readily than even I do. After all your years as brothers, you should know this.”
“I do, but it hurts nonetheless that you went to him rather than me.”
“He is my friend. My big brother. He understood me when I needed someone to listen without prejudice, without judgment of my sanity. There’s no reason to be jealous. He hasn’t stolen me from you.”
“I am not jealous! I am angry that you have been lying to me.”
“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t reveal the entire truth.”
“Our marriage . . .”
“You know as well as I do the wedding was never meant to be real. We were both fabricating the marriage to appease Mr. Bellows and the rest of the crew. You said yourself there would be no consummation.”
“But there was.”
“And everything changed between us. I didn’t plan it, Blake. It just happened. Just like everything else. As much as I desperately wanted to make love with you, I died a little inside every time I thought of leaving you to take Andrew back to my own time.”
As he stared silently at her, she saw the turmoil in his soul turn into despair. His eyes misted. “My God . . . you are telling the truth, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Her own eyes suddenly burned. “I wish I weren’t. I wish I could wave a magic wand and make my past disappear.”
“And Andrew?”
“I know . . .” She might want to wish away her previous life, but she couldn’t wish away Andrew. She was his only hope for his safe return to his parents.
Her heart went out to him as she recalled the tough little guy jumping into the water. When she had returned from the Ballade, she had tried to hug him, but he wouldn’t have any part of it. Not quite a young man and yet no longer a little kid, Andrew was torn between his grown-up determination to be strong and his youthful need to let someone else slay his dragons.
“Please go and get him, Blake. Bring him to me.”
“Of course.”
A few minutes later the door opened and Bud trotted in, heading straight toward the berth. Putting his front paws on the mattress, he nudged his wet nose into the palm of her hand, checking on her in his canine way. She smiled, then looked past him to the bedraggled boy in damp clothes and woolen blanket. Eyes downcast, he shuffled into the cabin with Blake’s hand cupped around his small shoulder.
“Hello, Andrew,” she greeted him, pleased to see that the simple touch had been allowed. He did not speak, but let his gaze go to the dog. Seeking a mutual connection, she directed her attention to Bud, petting him affectionately.
“We need to get you a big bone as a special thank-you for saving Andrew. That was so brave of you—just like when you saved me from that rattlesnake.”
Catching the look of surprise on Andrew’s face, she glanced up at Blake to see if he had seen the response. He nodded and stepped around the boy to pull a chair over to the berth.
“Maybe I should check his leg where the snake bit him.” When he sat down, Bud dropped his paws to the floor and put his chin on Blake’s knee. “No, not your face. I want your leg.”
The dog lifted his head, cocked it to one side, then propped his left paw on Blake’s lap. It was a gesture Cara had seen a dozen times whenever Bud wanted his ear scratched, but now it looked so real, as if the dog knew his role.
“No, not your left leg,” Blake mildly chastised, putting the paw down. “Your right leg.”
A quiet giggle came from Andrew. Cara watched as Blake turned to the child. “Can you help me out, Andrew? You see, Bud was hurt a few weeks ago. He almost died, but Cara saved his life. Perhaps you can coax Bud into showing off his scar.”
During a long moment of consideration, Andrew studied the three of them separately, as if putting together the pieces of a puzzle and coming up with a portrait of trust he was able to accept. Slowly and silently, he moved over to Blake’s side.
As if on cue, Bud repeated the signal for an ear scratch, once again placing his left paw on Blake’s knee.
“Wrong one,” sighed Blake, then dipped his head close to Andrew. “Tell him the right leg.”
Uncertain, the boy slid a sideways look at Blake, who nodded encouragingly. Instead of speaking, Andrew leaned over and gently took Bud’s left paw and lowered it to the floor, then reached for the other one. As he brought it up to Blake’s knee, he came nose to nose with the Labrador and promptly received a huge lick from a very large pink tongue. A grin spread across his face. The child’s giggles delighted Bud, inviting an onslaught of more canine kisses.
In that one single moment, Cara knew the healing had begun. With the help of Bud, Andrew was going to start to pull himself out of the worst of his nightmare. Like Blake, it would take more than a day or two. She watched them, realizing she’d worried for nothing. It hadn’t been her job to fix things for Andrew. It had been Blake’s. She could see now that the man and boy needed to be together, at least for a while. They would heal each other.
Gazing at Andrew and Blake inspecting the scar on Bud’s leg, Cara made her decision. She and the boy would continue on to Boston. From there, they would return to California with Blake. Hopefully, the shipwrecked Mystic would still be beached at San Pedro. And, with some divine guidance, she would find the doorway leading back to 1998.
Later that night, when it was time for bed, Andrew became quiet and withdrawn again as he crawled onto the bedding Blake had laid out for him on the floor. With his back pressed to the wall, he wrapped his arms tight around a bunched-up blanket that he was using for a pillow.
Cara drew back the covers and started to go to Andrew, but Blake stopped her. “You shouldn’t get up yet.”
“I’ll be careful. And you can help me.”
“Very well. But I won’t allow you to stay up too long.” She smiled at him as he climbed out of the bed to assist her. With him standing behind her, she sat down on the floor in front of Andrew and took his hand.
His little-boy voice filled with a quiet sadness. “My mom used to . . .”
Sing to me. He did not need to finish his thought for her heart to break from the feelings coming through to her. Her connection to him brought visual images of his mother, a beautiful blond woman with kind eyes and a soft smile.
“I miss my family, too.” She smoothed a strand of his disheveled hair from his forehead, catching a glimpse of unshed tears.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his hand out of her grasp, then turned his face into the bedding so she couldn’t see him cry. His yearning for home and all things familiar was a physical pain that tortured his small body. She felt it in her own. How she longed to take on his suffering for him. But despite the fact that she could feel what he felt, she couldn’t alleviate his despair.
“Andrew?”
He refused to answer. She touched his shoulder. He pulled it away. How could she help him? What do you say to a frightened ten-year-old caught in the middle of a living nightmare?
Speak the truth. Speak from your heart. Touch his spirit with your own.
“I’m staying right here,” she vowed, again reaching out to him. This time he did not shrug her off. Her fingers curled around his thin arm and gently squeezed with reassurance. “I’m not going to leave you. We’re stuck together like glue.”
Cara sensed his unspoken plea: I don’t want you. I want my mom and my dad. Why didn’t THEY come to get me?
Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back and took a long, deep breath for strength. Speak the truth? Speak from her heart? How? How was it possible to explain the unexplainable? She didn’t know the whys or hows of this strange and mysterious universe, let alone dimensions in time and space that were not their own.
“I know you don’t wa
nt me here. I know you wish your mother was sitting here instead.” Her accuracy as to his thoughts startled him. His sudden tension radiated into the palm of her hand. “Your parents are worried sick about you. Believe me, they would be here themselves if they could. But it didn’t happen that way. I’m here with you. I’m going to take care of you. And I’m going to try to get us back home where we belong.”
His small voice murmured one word: “How?”
“I’m not sure, exactly. I’m going to take it one day at a time. Right now, we’re going to Boston with Blake. After that, we’ll be heading back to California to find the Mystic.”
“No!” His face turned toward her. His eyes were wide with terror. “I won’t go back. I won’t! I won’t!”
Cara held out her hands, trying to bring him back to her. He frantically shook his head. She was losing him. She could see it in his ashen face. It was all unfolding just as it had with Blake.
Please, don’t let it be the same.
She felt Blake’s hand on her shoulder. Then he dropped to his knees next to her. His eyes filled with anguish for the boy.
He whispered helplessly, “I can’t bear to see this, Cara. We must do something.”
As he started to reach out to Andrew, Cara grabbed his arm. “No,” she quietly insisted. “He doesn’t see you. He’ll think you are attacking him. Remember how you reacted to Keoni?”
“Then let him fight me and win. I’m willing to let him use me to fight his demons.”
“He’s not as big as you, Blake. You’ll frighten him all the more. Let me try to help him.”
The boy’s gaze was fixated on something beyond the present moment, on a monster from the past. Her fingers touched his sleeve. He jerked his arm away with a scream. Tucking his frail body into a tight ball, he shielded his head with his arms.
“Shh,” soothed Cara, trying to bring him back, to save him from the dark abyss of his memories. She slipped her arm around him to draw him close. He sat up and leaned into her. “You’re safe, Andrew.”
Her mind’s eye saw the nightmare he was reliving. She could see the beating by Captain Johnson in his slovenly quarters aboard the Mystic.
Mystic Memories Page 25