Hack! Thwack! Blake halted to catch his breath. A shadow drifted among the greenery ahead of him. It moved slowly, methodically, the gray mist coalescing into a single shape, solidifying, until the leaves parted and out stepped …
Jeremy.
His brother, in his Rebel uniform with gray kepi atop his head, stared at Blake, a blank look on his face. Blake closed his eyes, his heart racing. The episodes had never produced anything so real before. Yet when he peered at the sight again, Jeremy remained.
Blake stumbled forward, reaching out. “Jeremy.” But the boy turned and ran into—no through—the tangled shrubbery, stirring not a leaf. A shiver bolted across Blake’s shoulders. His hands began to tingle. Raising his machete, he darted after his brother, slashing away the branches as he went.
He burst into a clearing. Jeremy lay on the ground. Blood bubbled from a wound on his chest and trickled to the dirt at his side. His vacant eyes stared into nothing.
“No!” Blake headed for him, his mind spinning at the impossibility. But then Jeremy faded into black smoke and disappeared. The crackling began again, and Blake fell to his knees. “No!”
He choked on his own breath. His leg burned.
“God help me!” he shouted.
I am here, son.
Jumping to his feet, Blake swept his blade across the clearing. The crackling ceased. Sunlight broke through the canopy in shafts of glittering light.
“God?” Blake breathed out the question.
The shafts danced and twirled, growing larger and wider until they spilled over him with warmth, chasing away his chill and forcing the shadows back into the jungle. “You’re real?”
Yet what other explanation was there for the intense sensation that now poured down on him? Blake’s mind twisted. If there was a God and He was here … He raised the machete. “Why did you allow my family to be killed? My brother?”
James’s words returned to fill his mind: “God gave mankind a wonderful yet dangerous gift—free will.”
“But You could have stopped it. All of it.” Blake fell to his knees again and hung his head. “But then we would all be puppets without free choice.” He tried to recall James’s words. “And love given without choice is nothing but empty servitude.” Finally, Blake understood why God allowed man to have a will of his own. He lifted his gaze to the canopy. Dozens of tiny white butterflies danced in the light.
A sensation struck him, a flash, a flicker, a vision, and suddenly he knew that Jeremy and his parents were happy and well. He couldn’t say how he knew, but he knew—could sense them smiling down on him. Along with God. A sense of belonging, of family, filled his chest till he thought he would burst. There was life after this world, and God would set things straight in the end.
“I’m so sorry I doubted You. I’m so sorry I blamed You.” Leaning forward, Blake touched the spot where Jeremy’s blood had spilled. But there was nothing there.
His thoughts sped to Eliza.
Sarah had told him unforgiveness would make Blake bitter and sick. That it was a prison. Blake bowed his head, trying to force the picture of Jeremy’s bloodied and bruised body from his mind. Yes, he could forgive Eliza. She’d been young and impetuous when she’d married Stanton. How could Blake blame her for the actions of her husband? Still. Would Blake’s family forgive him for marrying her? Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the five bands and gazed up at the rays of sun piercing the canopy. Somehow, he knew they would. Knew they no longer cared about such things. He laid the bands on the spot where Jeremy’s body had lain, an offering of his sincerity. “I forgive her, Lord.”
Then forgive him as well.
Stanton? Blake swallowed as he realized the man was probably in a very bad place right now. A place Blake wouldn’t wish on anybody. Yet anger still burned in Blake’s gut. He felt no forgiveness in his heart toward the horrid man, but he could say the words. He could do that one thing. Take that small step. “I forgive him, Lord.” Nothing changed after his declaration, yet he’d obeyed. “I suppose I have some work to do on that one.” He shrugged as Eliza’s beautiful face filled his thoughts.
Eliza!
Blast it, she might already be sailing away with Captain Barclay.
Rising, Blake shouted his thanks to God, grabbed his machete, and raced into the jungle.
CHAPTER 35
Eliza stood on the beach, arm in arm with Angeline and Sarah. Their support and love had sustained her through many a dark moment on board the ship. And now it sustained her in her darkest moment as she waited to leave Brazil—forever. Above them, the merciless sun hurled fiery blades on sand and sea. Perspiration beaded her neck and brow. But she didn’t care. These were her last moments with her friends. Her last moments as part of the colony.
Lydia cooed, and Sarah spread a lacy shawl over the baby’s head, rocking her back and forth. Eliza ran a finger over the child’s soft cheek, wondering if she’d ever have a baby of her own. Most likely not. Who would marry a traitor?
Shouts drew their gazes to Captain Barclay storming across the deck of the New Hope, issuing orders that sent some of his crew skittering up shrouds and others dropping below. Upon discovering there would be no wedding, he’d decided to leave forthwith. Thankfully, he’d allowed Eliza to remain ashore to say her good-byes while he prepared the ship. Yet now as Eliza and her friends watched in silence, those preparations seemed to be coming to an end. Soon he would signal the final boat to bring her on board.
Stowy circled Eliza’s feet and rubbed the fringe of her gown as if saying good-bye. Bending over, Angeline bundled the cat in her arms and stroked his fur. From several yards down the beach, where the colonists loitered about camp, wind brought the scent of cooking fish to Eliza’s nose. Her stomach grumbled, but she had no appetite. She’d already said good-bye to most of them. Several had expressed their sorrow at the way things had turned out, which gave Eliza a measure of comfort.
However, aside from Angeline and Sarah, James seemed the most distraught. Even now he paced through the camp, glancing occasionally at the jungle as if he expected some miracle to occur and Blake to appear. Over her shoulder, Eliza studied the thick greenery where she’d been told the colonel had disappeared earlier that morning, but there was no sign of him. She hoped—no prayed—he was all right. She would have loved to have had one more chance to apologize, one more chance to gaze into those stormy, gray eyes. But perhaps God was sparing her that pain.
“The captain’s signaling the boat.” Sarah’s voice was solemn, bringing Eliza’s gaze to the sailor waiting by the small craft down shore. He gestured for her to come.
Straightening her shoulders, she drew a breath for strength and fought back the burning in her eyes. “I pray you both find the happiness you seek in this grand new world,” she addressed her friends, forcing a smile.
Angeline sniffed and raised a hand to her mouth. “It will seem so empty without you.”
Eliza squeezed her arm, but no words of comfort formed on her lips. She’d already said them all.
The trio began walking down the beach. Eliza’s feet felt like anvils, her heart like a stone. A tear broke free and slid down her cheek. They halted before the boat, and the sailor held out a hand to assist her on board where her valise awaited her.
“I will pray for you every day, Eliza,” Sarah said, shifting teary eyes her way.
“And I shall pray for you both as well.” Eliza drew her friends into an embrace.
“Finally!” James’s voice thundered across the beach. Swiping tears away, Eliza looked up to see Blake hobbling out from the jungle. He scanned the beach, his eyes latching on hers. Raising a hand to ward off James’s approach, he started toward her. Stripped to the waist, the muscles in his chest and belly surged and rippled with each step. Sweat glistened on his skin. His dark hair, normally combed, was now ruffled by the wind. Like a cannon to its target, he sped her way. Eliza’s heart lurched into her throat. Did he intend to push her into the sea?
“Oh my,” Angeline said.
Sarah tugged on the lady’s arm. “Come, Angeline, it appears the colonel has something to say to Eliza.”
Eliza cast a pleading look at her friends. She opened her mouth to ask them to stay, but a mere squeak emerged from her lips. Sarah offered her a comforting smile and a wink before dragging Angeline and Stowy away.
Blake halted before her. He smelled of sweat and forest musk, and she was afraid to look into his eyes. Afraid of what she’d see. Instead, she stared at his bare chest, raw muscle flexing from exertion.
“Eliza,” he breathed. Placing a finger beneath her chin, he raised her gaze to his. Remorse and affection burned in his eyes. Her legs wobbled. He took her hand and led her down the beach, away from prying eyes and ears.
“I’ve been a complete fool.” He halted and stared at their locked hands.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he placed a finger over it and smiled. “Let me finish.” He dropped to one knee—his bad leg—and grimaced. “I love you, Eliza. It was wrong of me to hold you responsible for Stanton’s actions.”
The words trickled over her mind like water over a rock. Cooling, soothing, yet not remaining. Not making sense. It must be a dream. But then that dream spoke again.
“I’m sorry for the way I behaved. I love you, Eliza. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please say you’ll forgive me, and that you’ll still marry me.”
His voice, the sincere urgency in his eyes, sparked her heart to life like a match to kindling. If this was only a dream, Eliza must give it a happy ending. She knelt in front of him and took his hand and placed it over her heart. “Yes. Now and forever, I am yours.”
He smiled and gathered her in his arms. And together they laughed and cried and kissed, oblivious to all around them. Until clapping and cheering sounded from down shore.
Eliza’s face warmed. “Does this mean I’m staying?” She gestured to the sailor waiting by the boat, a confused expression on his face.
Blake waved him off before facing her again and helping her to her feet. “By my side forever.” He picked her up and swung her around and around, their laughter mingling in the air above them.
Within minutes, the sailor rowed back to the New Hope where the boat was hoisted on board, and Captain Barclay waved his farewell to all of them. Soon, with all canvas spread to the wind, the brig drifted away.
Three hours later, Blake, bathed and in his best suit, stood beside Eliza beneath a bamboo arbor festooned with passionflowers and seashells. James, open Bible in hand, stood before them. The sound of waves kissing the shore and an orchestra of birds provided the music.
“Charity suffereth long, and is kind; Charity envieth not; Charity vaunteth not itself …” James read from the Bible, but all Blake could think of was how glad he was that the beautiful lady beside him would soon become his wife. “Charity … beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth.” Closing the Holy Book, James looked up. “You may face your bride.”
Finally. Blake turned and took Eliza’s trembling hands in his. Dressed in a creamy silk gown she’d borrowed from Magnolia, she glistened like an angel dropped from heaven. The locket she cherished so much hung about her neck. Sunlight glimmered in the maple ringlets dangling about her shoulders. A violet and pink orchid adorned her hair. She smelled of gardenias and sweet fruit, and Blake licked his lips in anticipation. Not just of their night together. But of their life together. Of making her his.
James opened the Book of Common Prayer. “Repeat after me. Do you, Blake Wallace take Eliza Watts to be thy wedded wife …?” As James continued, Blake focused on each precious word, eager to promise her anything. Finally, the man concluded.
“I do,” Blake said emphatically, smiling at Eliza and silently thanking God for revealing Himself to Blake, for forgiving him and helping him to forgive others, and for this amazing woman before him.
Eliza repeated her part, barely audible over the crash of waves, her tone timid and quavering. Nervous? The dauntless Eliza Watts? Blake couldn’t help but smile.
“… till death do us part, according to God’s holy ordinance.” She finished and gazed up at him, her eyes glossy with happiness.
Blake slid the green band one of the ladies had woven from vines onto her finger. He would buy her a better ring in Rio when he had the chance. And the money.
Yet she glanced down with such pride in her face it may as well have been covered with diamonds.
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.”
But Blake didn’t need an invitation. He swooped Eliza into his arms and pressed his lips against hers.
Cheers and laughter filled the air around them, along with the sound of a fiddle and a harmonica. Eliza pulled away from him, seemingly embarrassed, yet the promise in her eyes spoke of the night to come.
Sunlight brushed Eliza’s eyelids like the gentle caress of a wave. Back and forth, warm and inviting, luring her from her sleep. The crash of the sea, the warble of birds, the chatter of people, and deep male breathing swirled in an eclectic symphony over her ears.
Male breathing?
Eliza moved her fingers. Warm, firm—and hairy—flesh met her touch! Flesh that rose and fell like a bellows. Memories flooded her sleepy mind. Wonderful, glorious memories! Rising on her elbow, she propped her head in her hand and stared at the man beside her, still not believing what her eyes beheld.
Blake. Her husband.
Thank You, Father. Thank You. You have blessed me far beyond anything I could have hoped for. And deserved. Wind tore at their tiny shelter of bamboo and palm fronds—a wedding gift from the men to give them privacy. The leaves fluttered, allowing the morning sun to dapple patches of gold over Blake’s body.
A magnificent body that reminded her of the night they’d spent in each other’s arms. A night that far surpassed her wildest dreams—far surpassed any moment she’d spent with Stanton. She ran her fingers over Blake’s bare chest. He moved. Groaned. Opened one eye. And smiled.
He drew her near. “Is that my wife I see?” His voice was groggy with sleep.
“Pray tell, sir, who else would be in your bed?”
He grew serious. “Only you, forever.” He kissed her forehead and brushed his hand down her back. “Hmm. Methinks the lady forgot her clothing this morning.”
His touch gliding down her bare skin sent a shiver to her belly. “Does it offend you?” She gave him a coy smile. “If so, I can be dressed within a minute.”
“Don’t you dare.” He gently flipped her onto her back and planted his arms around her, pinning her in. “We still haven’t finished discussing your terms of surrender.”
Five days later, after the donkeys and wagons had arrived, the colonists stood before the jungle, all packed and ready to go. Excitement and uneasiness crackled in the air as everyone waited for Blake’s command to forge ahead. And if he admitted it, Blake’s own nerves were tight as a drum. He felt as though he were leading troops into battle, not farmers into the forest. Yet just like a battle, the outcome was unknown. They were entering a new land, creating a new world of their own, trekking into a jungle few had even seen. Who knew what struggles, what trials, what triumphs, and pleasures awaited them?
Thiago, their guide—a man Blake found to be both intelligent and kind—stood to Blake’s left while Eliza stood on his right. Her sweet scent was driving him mad, but there was nothing to be done about it now. She slid her hand in his and gave him such a look of approval, of love, he had to whisper another thanks to God for allowing this precious woman to be his wife.
In front of them, Hayden, James, and several men held machetes, ready to hack a path through the jungle. Angeline, carrying a cat of all things, and Sarah with Lydia strapped to her chest, joined them, while Magnolia and her parents stood off to the side, looking none too pleased at having to enter the steaming knot of greenery. Nor had they, along with a few other colonists, been pleased to discover the wagons were not meant to carry
them, but to haul what remained of their supplies.
Blake glanced across the crowd. Renewed zeal flickered in Mr. Dodd’s eyes, causing Blake to chuckle. He truly hoped the man found his blasted gold. Even Mr. Graves seemed unusually excited as he gazed at the jungle like a scientist studying a specimen. Mr. Lewis folded his hands over his corpulent belly as if he hadn’t a care in the world, while Moses, Delia, and her children brought up the rear.
Blake faced the jungle again. Waves thundered behind him. Birds and insects chirped and buzzed before him, luring him onward.
Something moved among the leaves. A shadow.
Blake’s vision of Jeremy rose stark in his mind. It had seemed so real.
“Are you ready, Blake?” James glanced over his shoulder.
But Blake was still looking at the forest. A chill traversed his back.
“What is it?” Eliza stared at him quizzically.
“We should go before it gets too hot,” Hayden urged.
“I thought I saw something in the jungle,” Blake said.
“What?” Angeline followed his gaze.
“I don’t know. A darkness. A shadow. It’s probably nothing.” Blake shook his head, feeling silly. Yet the sense of foreboding remained.
James cocked one brow. “Never fear, God is with us, my friend.”
Blake nodded and slapped him on the back before facing the colonists. “Move out!” he shouted. Then hefting a sack onto his shoulder, he squeezed Eliza’s hand and led her and the band of colonists into the thicket.
James was right. Whatever was in this jungle, they would not face it alone. They had God on their side.
AUTHOR’S HISTORICAL NOTE
Disillusioned by the loss and devastation of war and persecuted under the vengeful thumb of the North, nearly three million Southerners migrated from the former Confederate States in the years following the Civil War. Many of them remained in the United States, moving out west or to larger cities of the North. A great majority traveled to Canada and Mexico. Exactly how many immigrated to Brazil is unknown due to poor record keeping at the time. Southerners were not even required to have passports. They simply boarded ships and sailed away!
Forsaken Dreams Page 34