Forsaken Dreams

by Marylu Tyndall

  “Hmm.” Eliza obliged him by taking a bite and was instantly rewarded with a burst of succulent sweetness.

  “And this is biscoito de polvilho.” He pointed toward another dish. “Cakes made from the mandioca root. Very good and nutritious, I’m told.”

  “And here we have palmita.” He continued gesturing to different dishes and enlightening her with his knowledge of Brazilian cuisine.

  But Eliza wasn’t listening anymore. She was so enamored with his lively manner and his presence, she could hardly put two thoughts together. Wearing a single-breasted waistcoat over a white shirt, black trousers, and his usual tall boots, he towered over her by at least a foot. Had he always been this tall? Or perhaps she had shrunk with her recent sorrow. He smelled of soap and shaving balm, and she drew a deep breath of him.

  “And this, believe it or not is tatu, or armadillos.” He chuckled and offered her a smile that reminded her of the days they’d shared before he’d discovered her identity.

  She shook her head, trying to dislodge what was surely a fabrication of her desperate heart. “And how do you know all of this?”

  “The man who is to be our guide, Thiago Silva Melo”—he gestured to a tall man with a tanned complexion standing by the door—“informed me of each dish when they first set the table.” He stared down the line. Plucking a small piece of cake from a platter, he plopped it in his mouth then served her a piece.

  Eliza took a bite. Sugar and almonds filled her senses. Their eyes met, his warmly glazed, hers searching for the reason behind his attentions, daring to hope.

  “There’s a”—he gestured toward her mouth—“a …” He brushed her lips with his thumb. “Crumb.”

  “Oh.” Embarrassed, Eliza dabbed a napkin over her mouth still tingling from his touch.

  He leaned toward her ear. His breath warmed her neck. “Lucky crumb.”

  Eliza’s heart sped. Her toes tingled. Even as her anger began to simmer. What cruelty was this? Did he wish to torture her into changing her mind about staying? He lengthened his stance. His gray eyes churned like a turbulent sea. He hesitated, opening his lips as if he wished to say something, before flattening them again.

  The quadrille ended, and people crowded around them seeking refreshments, but Eliza barely noticed. Blake took her gloved hand in his. “Would you care to dance?”

  “No thank you.” She didn’t want to dance. She wanted to stare into those eyes for as long as she could. She wanted him to keep looking at her as if she were Dodd’s lost pirate treasure.

  He frowned and glanced across the people lining up for a reel. His fingers loosened on her hand, and for a terrifying moment, she thought he might leave. Her heart braced for the impact. Instead, he tightened his grip. “Perhaps a stroll in the garden?”

  Though her insides screamed to run away, to leave, lest her heart suffer a wound beyond repair, she could do nothing but allow him to lead her around the dancers and out the side door. Moonlight dusted the landscape in sparkling silver. Lofty palms swayed above dancing ferns and graceful orchids of every shape and color. Eliza slipped her hand in his elbow as they walked in silence. Lanterns hanging from trees spread snowflake patterns over the grass beneath their feet. Water bubbling from a fountain blended with the fading gaiety coming from the hotel as he led her away from the crowd. She gazed at him, memorizing every detail, every movement, his hobbled gait that was more a march than a casual stroll, the tightness of his jaw, as if he bore all the problems of the entire world, the three lines creasing his forehead, his adorable awkwardness in these social situations. Who would help him when he had one of his episodes? Who would hold him until it had run its course? Who would comfort him?

  Sorrow threatened to overwhelm her.

  He stopped and faced her, taking both her hands in his. Eliza’s pulse raced. He shifted his stance and gazed across the garden.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  He smiled and released a tiny snort. “I fear I’m not very good at this.”

  Eliza waited. Her breath retreated back into her lungs.

  He kissed her hands then bowed on one knee and gazed up at her.

  Eliza’s heart stopped beating.

  “Will you marry me, Eliza?”

  Blake braced himself for her rejection. Aghast, she stared at him, her tiny brows bowing together as if he’d asked her to align herself with the devil. Perhaps he had. What was he thinking? He’d done nothing but show her his disdain most of the voyage. And now, without an explanation, he begged for her hand?

  Her breath released in short bursts as if she had trouble breathing. Her eyes searched his, confused and conflicted.

  “I’m sorry.” Blake rose. “Forget I ever—”

  Her lips were on his. She flung her arms around his neck, pulling him near. He lost himself in her taste, in her passion, in the beat of her heart against his. He cupped her face and drank her in, desperate for more of her. His mind reeled at the impossibility. His body thrilled at her response. A little too thrilled at the moment. Withdrawing, he nudged her back, but she snuggled close and leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “If you’re trying to soften me for your rejection,” he said, “please don’t stop.”

  She looked up at him. “Rejection? I never kiss a man out of pity, sir.” Her voice was teasing, but then she grew sad and took a step back. “Have you forgiven me for marrying Stanton?”

  “Yes.” Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it. “I’m sorry it took me so long to understand, to let go of my bitterness.”

  She eased her fingers over his jaw. “You suffered so much. I hated it that my marriage caused you more pain.” Then a teasing look claimed her face. “Wait. You’re only marrying me for my nursing skills, aren’t you?”

  He gave her a mischievous grin.

  She turned her back to him, her skirts bouncing like lilies on a pond. “I won’t be married for charity.” Her tone was playful.

  Blake stepped toward her, longing to bury his face in her hair. Instead, he leaned and whispered in her ear. “It isn’t your nursing skills that captivate me.” She smelled of gardenias and jasmine. “Eliza, you are the most … You are the most … Oh blast it all, you enchant me. I can’t imagine my life without you.” He slipped his arms around her waist and drew her back against him. “It is I who should worry that your yes is but an act of charity.”

  “Nonsense.” She spun around, her golden eyes shimmering with tears. “I love you, Blake. I have loved you from the first moment you took my hand and welcomed me aboard the New Hope.”

  “My heart was lost then as well.” He caressed her cheek. He couldn’t believe she loved him! “So, you’ll marry me?”

  “Yes.” She embraced him. “Yes. Yes. Yes!”

  Gently, he pushed her back and gripped her shoulders. “Some of the colonists may never accept you. Can you handle that?”

  “With you by my side, I can handle anything.”

  Blake wrapped his arms around her. He felt the same way. Nothing would ever come between them again.

  Eliza woke to the sound of dozens of birds chirping congratulatory tunes outside her window. Joy! Joy everywhere! In her heart, in her spirit, buzzing over her skin, in the sweet tropical air, in the sounds of life filtering through the halls of the immigrants’ hotel. She was engaged to Colonel Blake Wallace! Could it be true? Was it only a dream? Yet when she turned and opened her eyes to see Angeline staring at her, she knew from the twinkle in the woman’s eyes, it was no dream.

  “Good morning, Mrs. Soon-to-Be Eliza Wallace.” She smiled. Stowy leaped on Eliza’s cot and performed a balancing act up her side and onto her shoulders before nuzzling his face in Eliza’s hair.

  “Come here, you little beastie.” Eliza grabbed the cat and sat up, placing him in her lap. “I can hardly believe it.” She touched her lips where Blake had kissed her over and over again in the garden before escorting her back to the party lest people began to talk. There they had announced the news, much to th
e delight of many and to the horror of some. But Eliza didn’t care what people thought anymore. She didn’t care about anything but becoming Blake’s wife.

  Two hours later, after a light breakfast of mangoes, some sort of bread soaked in milk and cinnamon, and the best coffee she’d ever tasted, Eliza joined the New Hope colonists as they made the long trek back to the bay, into boats, and back onto the ship that had been their home for the past two months. Aside from a few compliments over breakfast, Blake had been too busy organizing everyone, checking maps, and signing final papers to speak to her. Still his occasional smiles and knowing glances filled with love were enough to warm her inside as much as the rising heat of the day did to her outside.

  Once on board she positioned herself at the railing and gazed at the beautiful city, not sure when she’d be back. With God’s help, in a few years their new colony would thrive and they would have no need of constant supplies from the city. Their new colony! Eliza held back a shout for joy as Angeline and Sarah joined her. A colony she would now be a part of creating. A new life in a new world. She glanced over her shoulder at Blake and their new Brazilian guide, both men leaning over a map spread atop the capstan. Her heart leaped. A new life with a man she adored.

  “He is quite a catch, Eliza. I’m so happy for you,” Angeline said.

  “He is wonderful, isn’t he?” Eliza giggled, surprising herself. Giggling was not something she’d done for quite some time.

  “Now we have a wedding to plan, ladies.” Sarah laid Lydia over her shoulder and patted the infant’s back.

  “Yes indeed.” Mrs. Scott, Magnolia by her side, approached the group. “I’ve orchestrated many wedding parties before. Of course they were elaborate affairs, and we have nothing to work with here, but we shall make do. We’ll need an archway and lots of flowers and some sweet punch and cakes, and of course some of the ladies can stitch a veil from the lace in our old shawls. Oh it will be such fun!” Eliza wondered at the sudden change in the woman. Hadn’t she been one of the more vocal nays, alongside her husband? Yet weddings had a way of bringing women together, she supposed.

  While the lady continued chattering with the other women, Magnolia gave Eliza a sincere smile. “I wish you every happiness, Eliza.”

  Other ladies soon joined them, all aflutter about plans for a wedding on the beach, going on and on about what a wonderful way it was to start the colony and how it would bring them all good fortune. They continued to prattle, most completely unaware that the ship had struck sails and headed out of the bay to the open sea. Regardless, Eliza couldn’t help but relish in the acceptance of a few ladies who heretofore had done nothing but cast her looks of disdain. Perhaps the rest would accept her in time, after all. Soon a stiff breeze drove the women below, leaving Eliza alone.

  “You want to stay near to your beau, I suppose.” One elderly lady winked at her before joining the others.

  Eliza’s glance took in said beau—all six feet of steely muscle—assisting Hayden and a sailor as they heaved a line that led above to the sails. She longed to spend time alone with him, talking about their love and their plans for the future, but she knew that despite the first mate’s return, the captain had come to depend on Blake. Instead, she would gladly settle for a lifetime with him.

  With a huge smile on her face, she turned to gaze out over the azure sea, bubbling in frothy waves as if it held the same excitement she felt within. The wind tore her hair from its pins once again, but she was thankful for its cooling caress after the oppressive heat of land. She wondered if their new home would be as hot as Rio. No matter. She would grow accustomed to it.

  Several minutes passed while she gazed at the lush greenery passing by the ship. She felt, rather than heard, Mr. Graves slip beside her. With him came an outward chill, a shrinking in her soul. She couldn’t quite explain it. He stared at the passing shore, the lines on his face drawn and unyielding.

  “Good day, Mr. Graves.” Eliza forced down her unease.

  He nodded but said nothing.

  “You do not seem as overjoyed as the rest of the colonists at our arrival in Brazil,” she said.

  “Quite perceptive, madam.” He gripped the railing, still gazing at the land passing by them in an artistic blend of greens, browns, and gold.

  “I don’t understand, sir. Why did you join the colony if you did not wish to come here?”

  Breaking his trance, he turned to face her, leaning his elbow on the railing. “Forgive me, Mrs. Crawford.” He smiled. “I meant only to say that now that we are here, I am unsure whether the colony will be a success.”

  “Where is your faith, sir? We will succeed because we must succeed.” She would not allow this sullen man to spoil her newfound joy.

  “Faith?” He gave a repugnant snort. “Faith in what? Faith in people? Faith in God” The Almighty’s name spewed from his lips. “No. I have faith in something else.”

  Anger tightened her jaw. “And what is that, Mr. Graves? Yourself?”

  “No madam.” He faced the land again, and a smile coiled his lips. “In power. And the pursuit of that power.”

  “As you have told me.” She followed his gaze to the shore, her emotions running the gambit from fear to anger to sorrow for the man.

  “There is something here in Brazil I had not anticipated.” The snake ring on his finger winked at her in the sunlight.

  From the intense longing in his eyes, Eliza sensed his anticipation wasn’t sparked by the same thing that had delighted her—the land’s lush beauty.

  “Can’t you feel it?” He gestured toward the land. “An energy, a preeminent, living force that supersedes our limited understanding.”

  She glanced at the man curiously before he went on.

  “I had thought to have my revenge, but I see now that if I had, I would have missed out.”

  Now, she knew he’d gone mad. Eliza’s breath caught in her throat. The man’s words had spilled numbly, almost unbidden from his twisted mind. “Revenge, sir? On us?” She remembered that the South’s seceding from the Union had ruined his political aspirations.

  He flinched and fingered his black goatee. “What does it matter now?”

  She thought of all the disasters that had befallen them on their journey. Could Mr. Graves have been responsible somehow? “What are you saying, sir? That you are the cause of our troubles?”

  “Me?” An incredulous brow rose above dark eyes burning with victorious glee. “How could I have caused those things? I’m simply a man.”

  Indeed. She eyed him. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because out of all the simpletons on board, I thought you might understand. You have a rare sense about you, Eliza. You are familiar with rebellion. And you’ve seen something, haven’t you?” He leaned toward her. “I thought perhaps to find a kindred spirit.”

  Familiar with rebellion? Yet it was his last words that caused the vision of Stanton standing on the beach to reappear in her mind. But that had just been a figment of her troubled imagination, hadn’t it? “Mr. Graves, if your intent is to ruin our colony, then, sir, I am most definitely not a kindred spirit.”

  “Ah.” He glanced over his shoulder at Blake. “Your recent engagement has no doubt settled your alliances.”

  “My alliances have always been with the colony. Where are yours, Mr. Graves?”

  “Where they should be, madam. Where they should be.” He gave her a malignant smile, tipped his hat, and strolled away.

  And the feeling of uneasiness left with him. Eliza drew a deep breath. She would have to inform Blake of her odd conversation with Graves. If he was responsible for any of the disasters that had plagued their journey and if he had any nefarious plans for the future of the colony, Blake should know so he could stop him.

  She glanced behind her, noting that she was finally alone. Now was the perfect time to do what she’d set her mind to do. Slipping her hand into the pocket of her gown, she pulled out the watch Stanton had given her. The initials FEW sparkled i
n the sunlight in beautiful scripted letters. Though the watch appeared a bit masculine for a lady, it was the only thing Stanton had ever given her that had a personal touch. He hadn’t even picked out the wedding ring he’d placed on her finger, but rather it was an heirloom that had been passed down through his family. One she’d been forced to return after Stanton’s death. Why she’d kept the watch, she didn’t know. Perhaps, deep in her heart, she mourned the loss of her first love, or what she had thought was love. Perhaps it gave her comfort that Stanton might have truly loved her after all. She sighed and flipped it over, allowing the chain to dangle over the churning waters. She’d retrieved it from her luggage for one purpose. To toss it into the sea. For she wanted no reminders of her past when she married Blake.

  James slid beside her and gripped the railing. Hair the color of wheat tossed behind him as his bronze eyes found hers. “Congratulations, Eliza.”

  “Thank you, James. I am very happy.” Perhaps she should tell the doctor what Mr. Graves had said. But no. It was too happy a day to ruin anyone’s mood. Even hers. She would put all thoughts of the odd man out of her mind for now.

  “God’s plans always work out for the best.” He slapped the moist railing and lifted his chin to the sun.

  “I see that now.” She paused and flattened her lips. “It’s amazing to see God turn my blunder into a blessing.”

  “I’m sure most of us have secrets we’d prefer to keep hidden.” The way he said the words and the glimmer of shame in his eyes made Eliza wonder just what nefarious secrets an honorable man like the doctor could possibly have.

  “I have no excuse for what I did save my stupidity and rebellion.” Eliza gazed at the Brazilian coast speeding by in a kaleidoscope of vibrant greens and creamy beaches. “I always jump into things without thinking, without consulting God. Even if I do consult Him, I still do as I please.”

  “A common human frailty. Submission is no easy feat for any of us.” He snapped hair from his face. “But I’ve discovered it is well worth it, for God always knows what’s best for us.” He chuckled. “How arrogant we are to assume we know better than our Creator. His ways are perfect while ours are so flawed.”