Abandoned Memories

by Marylu Tyndall

  “When you were on the ship, did Captain Ricu say anything about Eliza and Magnolia’s release?” He raised his voice above a particularly loud burst of squawking coming from the canopy.

  “No, but I do have a feeling it will be soon.” She glanced up at a pair of blue and green macaws who seemed to be scolding them for trespassing. Stowy leapt on the tree trunk beside her and started toward them.

  “I hope you’re right.” James pointed at a papaya hanging from a high branch to their right. “I’ll get this one.” He plucked the fruit, dropping it in the basket, then met her gaze. A shadow crossed her violet eyes, a momentary hesitation before she smiled and continued onward.

  Perhaps she thought about the pirate gold and the fourth beast and what would happen to them should it be released. Something James never ceased to fret over. Though he’d recently tried interpreting more of the Hebrew book, his progress was slow. Ever since Ricu had taken Eliza and Magnolia aboard his ship, James had trouble keeping focused. And Blake and Hayden had been so consumed with getting their wives back unscathed, they’d all but forgotten why they’d gone after the gunpowder in the first place.

  Or perhaps the beasts, the angelic battle, the prison alcoves, and fire lake were all just silly myths from an ancient book and none of it was real. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. On days like today, when he hadn’t seen a vision in a week, when the sun was shining and the birds were singing and his heart burst with love for Angeline, it was easy to entertain a smidgeon of doubt about the supernatural war they found themselves entangled in. Perhaps the disasters were just that, disasters. Perhaps Graves had been murdered by a bandido. Perhaps the visions were caused by bad water, as Hayden had inferred.

  But James knew that wasn’t true.

  Still, he didn’t want to think about it now. For the moment, he was strolling through a lush jungle with the woman he loved, serenaded by an orchestra of birds and breathing air fragranced with sweet orchids. He would allow himself this bit of pleasure.

  The gurgle of water drew them to a brook tumbling playfully over rocks. Setting the basket down, he squatted and cupped water to his mouth. Fresh and cool, it soothed his throat as he splashed some on the back of his neck. Angeline knelt beside him and did the same then flicked droplets at his shirt, giggling.

  He cocked a brow and shook his wet hand in her direction. Drops sparkled like diamonds in her hair and on her skin, making her look even more angelic—if possible. She feigned indignation and sprayed him again. They continued for several minutes, laughing and showering each other until water dribbled from their chins and hair. An odd, wonderful feeling bloomed within James and began to swell through every inch of him. Something he had never felt before—happiness. Not only happiness at the moment but hope for many more happy moments with this precious woman.

  Stowy jumped onto the pebbly bank and began batting at tiny bugs floating in the stream.

  “I’m glad you invited me to come along. I was so worried about you yesterday.” James kissed the water from her lips, drawing in a deep breath of her coconut scent. Circling a hand around her back, he pressed in for more when she nudged him away. Her sad smile dissipated the gaiety of the moment like the water drying on her skin. “I need to speak to you about something, James.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “It is.” She flattened her lips, those luscious lips he’d just kissed and longed to do so again.

  He sat back on a rock, leveling his elbows atop his knees. “Very well.” The look on her face caused his gut to clench as she picked up Stowy and stroked the cat’s fur.

  “It’s something about my past that you should know before…”—she glanced at the stream—“before we continue courting.”

  Relief washed over him. Whatever sin she’d committed, it couldn’t be worse than what he’d done. Perhaps she had lied, cheated, even stole something. Though he doubted such an angel could even do that. “Whatever it is—”

  “Let me tell you, please.” She drew a deep breath and bit her lip. “There’s no polite way to say this, James.” Her eyes misted, and she glanced down.

  James reached for her hand, hating to see her so distraught. “There’s no need to tell me.”

  “Yes, there is.” She met his gaze, wiped a tear from her cheek, and swallowed hard. “I was a prostitute.”

  The word spun gibberish in James’s ear before the breeze carried it away. “If that was meant as a joke, I don’t find it amusing in the least.”

  Yet he found no teasing, no humor, in her eyes—eyes that had dried to a hard sheen.

  He stared at her, unable to process what she’d just said. It bounced around in his head like some intoxicated balloon.

  “It was only for a short while, a little over a year,” she continued, looking away. “I was cast out on the street. I had no food, no home, no means of support. I would have died, James.” She searched his eyes, pain and hope screaming from her own.

  But he had gone numb. Finally the balloon struck the tip of his reason and popped. Jerking away from her, he punched to his feet, his heart imploding. Shock became anger. Anger became disgust. All three stormed through him like the horsemen of the apocalypse, trampling everything in their path. His reason, his sympathy…

  His love.

  Releasing Stowy, Angeline slowly stood, fear appearing on her face for the first time.

  James wiped the back of his hand over his lips and spit. He’d kissed her! A tramp! “I thought you were a lady.” His voice came out strangled. “I thought you were pure and innocent.”

  Pain scoured her eyes. “Are any of us really innocent, James? Are you?”

  “I never sold my virtue to strangers for money. I never sold my soul to the devil!”

  Feminine laughter drew his gaze over Angeline’s shoulder to Tabitha, sashaying about the clearing, her lips upturned in a coy smile. Of all the times for a vision! Ignoring her, he glanced back at Angeline, whose expression had sunk into that look that had become so familiar to James during the war. The same look that had appeared on many a soldier’s face when James had told them they wouldn’t make it through the night.

  “Is that what you think of me?” Angeline asked, her voice barely a whisper. “That I am allied with Satan?”

  “What am I to think? You led me to believe…you accepted my courtship, knowing what you were…”

  “What I was, yes. And what I am no longer.” Strength permeated her trembling voice, and James looked away, unable to bear the sight of her—the thought of her with another man.

  Many men.

  “I’m sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Callaway.” Her voice came out wooden. Turning, she started to leave. He gripped her wrist. She winced and tugged from him, tearing her sleeve, exposing the scar on her arm.

  “This scar. It’s a knife wound.” He grabbed her again. “Who did this to you?”

  “A man.”

  “What man?”

  She met his gaze. “One of my clients, if you must know. Turns out he preferred to slice women rather than enjoy them.” Her breath came heavy. Her lip trembled, but she stood her ground.

  He wanted to feel sorry for her, wanted to consider how horrible her life had been, but he was too angry. Everything was starting to make sense. Her aversion to being touched, the pistol she used to carry around, the distance she kept. It wasn’t because she was chaste and timid around men. It was quite the opposite. He felt sick to his stomach.

  And to make matters worse, she merely stood there with shoulders drawn back and chin stiff. Not dissolving in shame, not begging his forgiveness, and not even lashing at him in anger. Which only increased his fury.

  How could she have deceived him? How could she have allowed their courtship? Heat raged through him, tightening his jaw and forming sweat on his neck. He’d come to Brazil to escape women like her, to start a new society without the immorality and decay they caused. And then he fell in love with the only prostitute on the journey! What was wrong with him? “Do y
ou know what women like you have done to me?” He tightened his grip. “Ruined me! Tore my life from me. Made me a failure.” And caused his father’s death. But he wouldn’t tell her that.

  She raised her chin. “It seems to me, Doctor, that you give a great deal of power to women who, in your assessment, possess none at all.”

  Tabitha giggled. “Oh, touché, my dear. She’s good, James. I must say, I’m growing quite fond of her.”

  “Shut up!” James shouted at the insidious vision.

  “I’d be happy to if you’d kindly release me.” Angeline yanked from his grasp. Stowy circled her skirts, looking as if he would pounce on James.

  “I wasn’t talking to you.” James let go of her wrist, his frustration at the boiling point. He waved a hand at her. “Go.”

  Angeline glanced around the clearing, wondering who else was present, then took a step back from James, rubbing her wrist. Inside, a storm of agony raged. Outside, she maintained control. She’d learned that useful skill during her time working in a brothel. She’d also learned how to deal with enraged men. She should leave as he’d ordered. Yet he looked so distraught, so lost. And all because of her lies.

  James took up a pace. “I trusted you. You knew how I felt about immoral women.”

  “Which is why I didn’t tell you until now.” She drew a breath for strength. “And I am no longer immoral. I am forgiven. As a man of God you should know that and forgive me too.”

  “Don’t you dare”—he pointed a finger at her—“Don’t you speak of God to me.” His bronze eyes hardened. “Women like you know nothing of God. Women like you lure men to their deaths.”

  Angeline’s heart crumbled to dust. She had expected shock, perhaps a bit of disgust, but she hadn’t expected hatred. Oh, Father, help me. Please help me cope with this pain, she breathed a silent prayer as all her dreams of happiness shriveled beneath the rage spewing from James’s lips…from his eyes.

  “I will lure you no further, sir.” She took another step back, intending to leave, when he grabbed her shoulders and shoved his mouth onto hers. Forcing her body against his, he clutched bunches of her hair and kissed her rough and angry, not loving and gentle as before. Agony screamed within his groans. She shoved her hands against his chest, trying to free herself, but he was too strong.

  He withdrew, his breath stinging her face. “Is that the way you like it, Angeline? Is this what your clients did to you?” His voice bit like a viper.

  He released her and stepped back, shame flooding his eyes before he turned and wiped his lips as if her taste was poison.

  Angeline couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel her legs, her arms. Darting to the water, she scooped up Stowy and stumbled from the clearing, tears finally pouring down her cheeks.

  James stayed in the clearing until the sun set. Ignoring the taunts flung his way from Tabitha and Abigail, he dropped to the sandy dirt and stared at the water flowing past, dashing over rocks and plummeting into troughs, sparkling when the sun alighted on it and turning ashen when clouds hovered overhead. On and on it flowed, no matter the obstacle, no matter whether the sun shone or gloom set in. Much like life. Or was it? For he felt as if the obstacle before him was much too large for him to ever get past.

  He stayed in the clearing because he couldn’t move. Whether it was rage or fear or despair that kept his legs locked, he didn’t know. Perhaps it was shame. Shame for the way he’d treated Angeline. Shame for the things he’d said. For the way he’d forced his kiss on her. The thought of her allowing men to grope her, touch her—bed her—had ignited a rage in him he could not control. Something dark and evil had come over him, shoving aside all decency. But he wouldn’t blame some unseen force. He wouldn’t blame anyone but himself.

  Once again he’d been played a fool by a beautiful woman. Once again, he’d given his heart only to have the vixen tear it to shreds and destroy his life in the process.

  A chill came over him as the sun sank behind the trees and shadows crept through the jungle, stealing the light. Finally he rose and trudged back to the beach. But instead of joining the others, he borrowed some rum from one of the colonists and made his way beyond the cliffs to a private section of beach. Hours later when the night was spent and the sky spun around him, he toppled backward in the sand. The last thing he heard before he drifted into a welcome oblivion was the eerie howl of a wolf.

  He was on a ship. The smell of salt and fish swirled about him as he balanced on the swaying deck. There was peace out at sea. In the purl of the waves, the creak of the ship, the endless horizon, the snap of sails that sped the ship on its course far away—far away from all life’s problems. James allowed that peace to roll over him as sunlight stroked his eyelids with warmth.

  But then it was gone. The light, the warmth. Even the scent of the sea had turned putrid, metallic. He opened his eyes, gripped the railing, and glanced over endless swells of dark red—blood red. Panic sent his thoughts spinning. He barreled down the foredeck ladder. “Is anyone here? Hello!” But the ship was empty. Only a single rat scampered across the deck and disappeared below. A grating sound drew his gaze to the ship’s wheel spinning in its casing as if directed by some maniacal sailor.

  James sped to the railing again. Blood clawed the hull, maroon fingers reaching for him. His stomach convulsed and he wretched its contents into the sea. Hanging over the bulwarks, he gasped for air, his heart thumping in his chest. Lightning arched a white blade across the sky. In the distance, a gaping darkness loomed on the horizon. No, it wasn’t darkness at all, but rather a complete absence of light. Like a hole in the universe that sucked everything, including the earth and sea, into its black void.

  And the ship was heading straight for it.

  Dashing onto the quarterdeck, James grabbed the gyrating wheel and struggled to keep it steady, but it leapt from his hands and spun wildly, first to the right and then to the left. A meow shot his gaze up to see Stowy perched atop the binnacle, wind tossing his black fur while his amber eyes stared off the bow.

  A scream penetrated the rush of wind. James leaned over the starboard railing to see a small boat just ahead of the ship filled with people. Grabbing a telescope, he leveled it upon the craft. His heart sank. His friends. Blake, Eliza, Magnolia, Hayden, and Angeline sat in the dinghy, gripping the thwarts, fear blaring from their eyes. Blake and Hayden rowed and rowed, their faces sweaty and red, but the boat continued to drift toward the darkness. Angeline stared at James. Struggling to stand, Magnolia waved her arms. “Help us! Save us, James. Save us!”

  Panic sent him racing across the deck, seeking another boat he could lower. There were none. He tried to stop the wheel again but to no avail. A rope. There must be a rope. He found one coiled by the foremast. But what could he do with a rope?

  One thing he knew. If he didn’t get to his friends in time, they’d fall off the edge of the earth and be swallowed up in darkness. And in that tiny boat, they would never survive.

  “James!” Someone gripped his shoulder. “James, wake up!”

  But he didn’t want to wake up. He had to save his friends. He swatted away the offending hands and moaned, “Leave me alone.”

  “It’s Blake. Get up.” But it wasn’t Blake’s voice. It was Hayden’s. James pried his eyes open, immediately sorry he did. Sunlight pierced straight through them and stabbed his brain with a dozen hot pokers. Pain radiated down his back into every limb. He blinked, and Hayden’s face came into view.

  “Get it together, man. We need you.” Urgency branded Hayden’s tone.

  “Bother someone else. I was having a perfectly good nightmare.”

  Clutching his arm, Hayden pulled James to sit. His stomach did a flip, and something foul-tasting flooded his throat. “What on earth is the matter?”

  “It’s Blake. He’s been attacked by a wolf.”

  C

  HAPTER 32

  Blood bubbled from Blake’s side where fangs had torn flesh and muscle from bone. Despite Angeline and Sarah’s furious e
fforts to restrain the life-giving fluid, it dripped onto the pallet, sliding over bamboo and soaking into the sand beneath. James sped from the shelter and heaved into the bushes—only the third time since Hayden had woken him twenty minutes ago. Of all the nights to drink to excess…something he hadn’t done since he’d recommitted his life to God.

  Hayden slapped him on the back, not a friendly smack, but one that harbored a threat in its sting. “Get in there and do something. Now.” James glanced over his shoulder at the women hovering over Blake then at the crowd of worried colonists swarming the front of the makeshift clinic. Thiago, Delia and her children, even the Scotts and their slave, Mable. Others too, nearly the entire colony, save those men Ricu had dragged to the tunnels.

  James faced the bushes again, air vacating his lungs until he could barely breathe. “We must get Eliza and Magnolia from the ship.”

  Clutching his shoulders, Hayden jerked him around. Dark strands of hair wavered over fierce green eyes that pierced James’s very soul. “We can’t. You have to do this. You have to save him.”

  Sarah approached and touched his arm. “You are the only one who can, James.”

  Angeline glanced up from where she pressed a bundle of rags to Blake’s wound, her eyes hollow and distant. He stared at her, wondering how she could even look at him after the way he’d treated her—wondering how he could even look at her. Yet, he couldn’t seem to pull his gaze away. A spark of pleading penetrated the distance between them and went straight for his heart.

  James rubbed the scar on his cheek and cursed under his breath. NO! I can’t do this, God. Why have You put me in this situation—again? Visions of his father lying in a puddle of blood burst into James’s mind, reminding him that no matter how much he’d wanted to save him, he’d been unable to move. Or even breathe. And his father had died in his arms. What would make this time any different? Lowering his chin, he squeezed his eyes shut, searching for another solution, someone who could perform the surgery, anyone with enough skills to follow his command. But there was no one. No one but him.