And nearly bumped into his father.
The man blocked the way with a body that looked more real than the trees. Yet the colonel strode right through him as if he wasn’t there.
“Who do you think you are, boy?” His father clicked his tongue in disgust. “You’re leading these people to their death. Just like you led me.”
Guilt gripped James’s heart, threatening to squeeze his remaining courage. He brushed past him. He appeared in front of him again, looking more like James remembered—tired, aged, and worn. “That wasn’t me last night,” he snarled. “That was just a foolish dream. I don’t forgive you at all. You’re nothing but a failure.”
James halted, gut clenching. Those words were more what he’d expected to hear from his father.
“Believe the truth, reject the lie,” a voice within him whispered.
But what was the truth? The truth was God’s Word: forgiveness, love, grace.
Clamping down his jaw, James charged forward. “I don’t believe you. Leave me alone,” he said as he passed right through his father.
That’s when the wind picked up.
Blake glanced up to see patches of dark sky through the canopy. He’d grown accustomed to storms rising quickly in Brazil but not this quickly. Wind whipped leaves and dirt in his face. The wound in his side ached. Ignoring it, he shoved aside a swaying branch, drew Eliza close, and continued forward. They wouldn’t allow a little storm to stop them.
But he would allow his brother.
The boy appeared ahead on the trail in his Confederate uniform, leaning against a giant fig tree, unaffected by the battering wind. A vision. Only a vision. Blake stiffened his jaw and proceeded, but the boy’s call to him halted him in his tracks. How could he ignore his only brother? He missed him so.
Jerry lifted blue eyes—so like their mother’s—to Blake. “Why did you marry the woman whose husband murdered me?” Those eyes, now burning with hate, shifted to Eliza. “Why?”
Blake’s heart shriveled. Thunder shook the ground. Drawing a deep breath, he led Eliza forward.
“How could you?” His brother’s voice haunted him. “Do I mean so little to you?”
Blake’s breath clogged in his throat. Agony burned behind his eyes. But he kept going. Father, help me. Please, help me.
“I love you, Blake. Don’t you love me?” Sobbing came from behind, and Blake turned and stared at the boy he would gladly have given his life to save. But it wasn’t his brother. Jerry was dead and in heaven. This was a monster. No matter what form it took.
“Leave me alone!” He yelled above the rising tempest. Then drawing Eliza close, he lifted an arm to protect them from flying debris, and proceeded.
Lightning scored the sky.
“Did you see something?” Eliza shouted over the wind. She’d felt her husband stiffen beside her several steps back, had witnessed him stop and stare at a tree, then stop again and shout something. Now, he gripped his stomach as though someone had stabbed him.
Another flash of lightning lit the darkening skies. Thunder roared. Eliza jumped and dodged a flying branch as she huddled beneath her husband’s arm.
“It’s nothing.” Blake gave her a reassuring smile and kissed the top of her head. “I wish you didn’t have to come along. Especially being with child. It isn’t safe.”
“I would be in more danger if I didn’t come.” She hoped her words reached his ears in the torrent of wind. His nod confirmed they had.
She glanced up to see how the others fared and wished she hadn’t. Her father crossed the clearing up ahead, one hand behind his back, the other rubbing his chin. Turning, he started back the other way, deep in his musings, pacing as she had so often seen him do in his study back home. The sight of him stole Eliza’s breath. He was young once again, strong, determined, so handsome in his suit of gray broadcloth, his thin mustache and dark hair clipped to style, his regal stride. She knew he was a vision, she knew she should ignore him.
But she couldn’t.
Finally his eyes met hers. “You left me. Disobedient girl! Left me all alone. Ran off with that Yankee! Broke my heart.” Anger turned to despair.
Eliza reached out to him. He withdrew. Lines creased his skin as it folded and drooped. His dark hair shriveled and turned gray, falling out in clumps until all that remained were feeble wisps atop his head. His shoulders stooped, his eyes grew cloudy. And she turned away as she and Blake passed him by, unable to bear watching him age. Seeing the agony in his eyes. The loneliness she had caused. She tossed a hand to her mouth to subdue a sob.
“Resist it!” Blake shouted, squeezing her shoulder. “It isn’t real.”
Nodding, she drew a deep breath and faced her father, who now walked beside her. “Go away. I want nothing to do with you.” It was the hardest thing she’d ever said, yet as soon as she spoke the words, hatred fired from her father’s eyes before he became a dark mist and blew away in the wind.
The sky broke open, releasing an army of rain.
Droplets stung like pinpricks. Magnolia ducked beneath a banana tree. Stopping beside her, Hayden plucked a giant leaf and held it over her head. “We should keep going!” he yelled above the tapping of rain and roar of wind.
Oh, how she hated what the rain did to her hair! Matted it to her face like strands of oily rope, making her look like a wet cat. But why was she thinking of that now? She hadn’t been overly concerned about her appearance in months. Still, she hated that Hayden saw her like this. Would he still love her looking so hideous? Taking the leaf from him, she shielded her face from his view and dashed onto the trail again. Up ahead she spotted the blurry shapes of Blake and Eliza.
And someone else.
Someone wearing a gray cloak and limping across the trail. Splashing through the growing puddles, Magnolia drew near, curious who the intruder was. Perhaps a colonist who had followed them? A gust of wind nearly knocked her down. Clutching her close, Hayden tried to use his body as a shield, but the tempest shoved them both to the side as if they weighed no more than a feather. Leaves and twigs struck them from all around. Batting them away Magnolia peered once more toward the strange person.
Gray, spindly hair flowed from beneath a hood covering the woman’s head—a hood that stayed put, despite the tempest. A flash of white light blinded Magnolia. Crack! Snap! Magnolia followed Hayden’s gaze above to see a wide branch cascading through the canopy, heading straight for Blake and Eliza.
Releasing Magnolia, Hayden charged forward and barreled into the couple. All three of them tumbled into the middle of a large fern as the branch struck the ground with a thunderous roar, flinging mud into the air.
The earth shook. The cloaked figure reappeared. With a long pointed fingernail, she slid the hood from her face. Rain pummeled skin, shriveled and blotched. Drooping, sunken eyes met Magnolia’s. The skin beneath them hung in blue, veiny folds. Magnolia gasped. It was her! Her old self that appeared in her reflection.
She screamed. Wind whipped her skirts against her legs, stinging her skin. Rain slapped her face. And an overwhelming terror gripped her that she would never be beautiful again.
“The LORD seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart.”
Yes. Yes. She closed her eyes and hunkered down against the wind. That was true. She knew that. And with God’s help, her heart was getting better every day. Hadn’t she noticed improvements in her reflection? It might take a lifetime, but she would end up looking like a princess in the end. Bracing against the buffeting wind, she drew a breath and stood. The old woman gave her a malicious grin. But Magnolia waved a hand at her. “Be gone. I’m beautiful in God’s eyes.”
The vision faded, but Magnolia couldn’t help the tears flowing down her cheeks.
Hayden darted to his wife and absorbed her in his arms. Sobbing, she buried her face in his shoulder. When he nudged her back to ensure she wasn’t hurt, her sapphire eyes skittered over the jungle seeking something. Or someone. Wi
ping wet strands from her face, he kissed the droplets of rain from her eyes. “They aren’t real!” he shouted. “I love you.” Then dipping his head to brace against the wind, he led her forward. Water rose on the soggy ground, gripping their ankles and making it difficult to walk. A branch struck his shoulder. Pain throbbed across his back. Covering Magnolia with his arms, he continued.
A silver slipper appeared in his vision, enclosing a very delicate foot dangling from a tree limb. Hayden glanced up to see Miss Sybil Shilling, casually sitting atop a branch as if she were a little girl on a summer’s day. Her satin gown with velvet trim fell in lavish folds over her legs, completely dry. Her hair, a bounty of chestnut curls, remained untouched by wind or rain. He remembered her well. He’d swindled her out of a dowry that would have provided the homely, bird-witted girl the only means of a good match.
Before she even opened his mouth, Hayden said, “I’m sorry, Sybil.”
“You’re sorry!” She leapt from the tree as if she were a monkey and landed before him. “I never married, you know. Old spinster Sybil, the joke of the town.”
Magnolia stared at Hayden, but he knew she couldn’t see the woman. All the more reason for him to ignore her as well, ignore the guilt that tore his gut, ignore the look of anguish on her face.
“You told me I was beautiful. You told me you loved me.”
He had. He’d flattered her more than any of his other victims. Perhaps because he’d felt sorry for her. But in the end, he’d not only broken her heart, but her life as well. How could he have done such a thing? How could he have been such a monster?
“Forgive me.” Halting, Hayden’s legs gave out. He lowered his chin and fell to his knees in a puddle. A chill soaked into his trousers. And his heart.
Magnolia gripped his drenched shirt, forcing him up to face her. Water slid down her face, dripped from her lashes and chin, as her sodden curls lashed about her cheeks. “You aren’t that man anymore!” She shouted, tugging on his shirt. “Do you hear me? You aren’t him anymore!”
How did she know what he’d seen? But then again, she always knew when he was hurting. Drawing her close, he pressed her head against his chest and kissed her sopping hair. She was right. He was a new man in Christ. The old things had passed away. Strength returned to his legs. He stood. The vision of Sybil crumbled to dust and blew away in the wind.
Swoosh. Swoosh. Swoosh. The beat of many wings filled the air. Dark blotches covered the canopy, swooping, diving, screeching, and stealing what remained of the light.
Angeline rarely screamed. She’d seen too much horror, suffered too much at the hands of unscrupulous men to shriek like a fribble-hearted female at every frightening thing. But when the bats started diving for her, she screamed louder than she ever had. The hideous creatures’ shrieks pierced through the rumble of the storm, sounding like tortured mice—murderous mice.
James grabbed a fallen branch and began swatting them away. A few fell into the puddles at her feet, twitching from their wounds. Bile rose in her throat, and she covered her head with her hands.
“They are trying to stop us!” Spinning to face their friends behind them, James cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “It’s the beasts! They don’t want us going to the temple! Keep moving. They can’t harm us!”
In defiance of his words, lightning flashed, thunder blasted, and the rain thrashed down harder than ever. Wind shot droplets through the air like pellets, stinging Angeline’s skin through her gown. Water gushed over the ground, picking up the dead bats and carrying them away as if they were leaves.
James pulled Angeline to her feet. Shielding her with his arms, he sloshed forward down the trail.
Above them, the bats disappeared into puffs of black smoke.
Which only made her heart beat faster. She knew they faced an unearthly evil. She’d just never witnessed it firsthand. Not like this.
James squeezed her. “It will be all right. Stay close.”
The confidence in his voice, in the way he held himself, emboldened Angeline to ignore the dozens of customers who now assailed her at every turn, their eyes hungrily licking her, their mouths voicing obscenities.
“Whore! Trollop!” one shouted.
“Filthy slut!” another spat.
Covering her ears, she slogged through the rising water. Above her ankles now. Oh, God, not another flood.
“You think you’re cleansed, eh? You think God forgave you?” Her uncle’s wicked chortle echoed through the storm, transforming into thunder.
Halting, Angeline closed her eyes. She couldn’t face the man she’d killed. She couldn’t face the man whose assault had led her down the path to darkness. Not now. Wind whipped her blouse, her hair, branding her skin. Rain hammered her like punishment from God.
Branches, twigs, and leaves flew at them from all directions.
James covered her with his arms and led her onward, ducking and diving beneath the onslaught. The din of the storm grew louder. The force of the wind and rain more violent. Doubts rose within Angeline that she knew if she entertained, would surely send her running back to the beach. Sweet saints, how could they ever fight such power?
Yet James believed they could. She could feel his faith in the steel of his arms, the rock-determination of his body next to hers, in every confident breath he expelled. And it gave her strength to go on. On and on, head lowered, ramming into the wind, dodging wooden missiles and slogging through a river of water, until finally the crumbling walls of the temple appeared.
And a darkness invaded Angeline’s soul. No. More than darkness. A heaviness weighted with despair and hopelessness.
She hated this temple.
James stopped to wait for the others and pressed her against the wall, shielding her with his body. There, battered by the elements and about to do battle with unimaginable evil, terror squeezed all hope from Angeline. Were they all about to die? What if these were her last moments with James? She couldn’t bear the thought. There, barricaded by his strength and warmth, she knew there could be only one answer to his question. The answer God had reassured her was the right one during their trek there.
She lifted her gaze to his, but inches apart. “Yes.”
“Yes?” His breath wafted on her cheek. His hair whipped his forehead. He searched her eyes before understanding widened his own. “Are you agreeing to marry me?”
She nodded, smiling.
He drew her to his chest. A rumble of joy burst from inside him, caressing her ear. Thunder cracked the sky. The ground shook. Water tugged at her gown. But Angeline didn’t care.
Nudging her back, James cupped her face in his hands. “You have made me so very happy.” He kissed her forehead, her nose, and proceeded down to her lips—would have kissed her as she so desperately wanted if someone hadn’t coughed.
Hayden’s hair flailed in the wind like sodden pieces of rope, but his grin and subsequent wink sent heat flooding Angeline’s cheeks. She stepped back from James as the others approached. No time to celebrate.
Covered in scratches, their clothes torn, and with water dripping from their hair, the six of them looked as if they’d fought the kraken and lost. James turned and barreled through the wind and rain, leading them around the wall. The water hugged their ankles as, one by one, they slipped inside the broken gate.
No sooner had they entered the courtyard than the wind stopped, the rain ceased, and the water receded. The sky, however, remained black and ominous, still emitting its menacing growl. Dripping and panting, they stared at each other in numbed shock.
Blake’s features tightened as he donned his warrior’s mask. “Let’s do this.”
Trying to settle her beating heart, Angeline slipped her hand in James’s as he ushered her onward, slogging in the mud past the gruesome obelisks and into the temple. Steam rose from the stagnant pond, and a glimmer drew her gaze to the gold moon and stars hanging above the altar. James led her into the tunnels, followed by Blake and Eliza, and finally Hayden and Magno
lia. Angeline lifted up a silent prayer for God’s protection and help. She knew her faith was weak, and she suspected Hayden and Eliza also struggled. Would God still honor their mission? Could He use such weak people to accomplish His will? If not, at least she would die trying to do the right thing. For the first time in her life. For the first time she would battle evil and fight for good. For the first time she believed in something larger than herself, believed in destiny and purpose, and that life had meaning. She only hoped that life would not end today.
A roar much like an approaching train blared through the narrow passageway. The ground shook. Torches fell from hooks on the walls and sputtered on the wet dirt. Darkness swamped them. Rocks pelted Angeline. Ducking, she covered her head with her hands. They were going to be buried alive.
C
HAPTER 37
James covered Angeline with his body. The ground leapt like a wild pony. Sharp pebbles stabbed his back and arms. Pain lanced through him. Something large struck his head. Momentarily dazed, he shook it off and gathered his wits. God, help us!
“No weapon that is formed against thee shall prosper.”
The silent words swept through him, sparking to life places shriveled in fear. God was with them, and He was more powerful than any beast. “Keep going!” James shouted over his shoulder. “They can’t harm us.”
Though the pain burning in his head spoke to the contrary. Though he couldn’t see a thing but thick, inky blackness. Drawing Angeline close, he stumbled forward over the heaving ground, their bodies shoved into sharp stone on one side then slammed against barbed rock on the other. Bruises formed. Angeline moaned, and he wished more than anything he could shield her from all harm. Rocks tumbled over them. Sizzling heat belched up from below like dragon’s breath. Gripping the wall for support, James shuffled forward on the pitching dirt. Knife-sharp rock sliced his hand with each jolt. If only he could see.
Abandoned Memories Page 31