“Dear lady, I have not achieved second in command under the captain general of the Leeward Islands by following the instructions of a common sailor.” The major raised a haughty brow and brushed a leaf from his coat as easily as he brushed off Abigail’s concern. “But I do wish that you, Miss Hope, would consider joining us.”
Hope cringed, too weak to disguise her disgust. “I thank you for the offer, Major, but I would prefer to stay here.”
“With these”—he wrinkled his nose—“men?” He spoke the word as if it hurt his lips.
Hope nodded. “Indeed.” She gave him a labored grin and turned to Abigail. “I would prefer the company of savages to you,” she whispered.
Major Paine huffed. “Very well.”
The muscles in Nathaniel’s arms twitched. “I will pray for you, Major, for all of you.” Frustration edged his tone.
“Pray if you will.” Major Paine waved a hand through the air. “But when we sail into Kingstown Harbor, it will be by my wise ability.” He fingered his mustache, paused to study Hope, then spun around and strutted away.
Hope stared across the beach toward Mrs. Hendrick and Elise, fear clawing at her unsettled stomach.
Grunting, Nathaniel watched Major Paine leave. “The fool. He’s leading them all to their death.”
CHAPTER 19
“Ah, the water is most refreshing.” Abigail dove beneath the surface of the pond, sending circular ripples across the clear aquamarine water. Chuckling, Hope shook her head. No sooner had they arrived at the pool than Abigail had stripped down to her chemise and splashed into the water, seemingly unconcerned with the utter lack of privacy.
When she broke the surface, it was with a smile and a burst of laughter. “Come in, Hope. It will do you good and improve your humor, which I daresay still wallows in the mud after Major Paine’s visit.” Water dripped off her chin and cheeks and glittered in pools on her lashes, making her look all the more like the angel Hope suspected she truly was.
Hope dug her bare feet into the silt lining the shore and allowed the cool mud to steal away the last remnants of both her fever and her frustration. “He is an odious bore.”
Abigail splashed water on her arms. “You mustn’t say such things, you know. We never know what causes a man to behave a certain way.”
In the major’s case, Hope assumed it was an overblown sense of his own importance coupled with a mind as shallow as a basin, but she doubted she would find agreement with the saint splashing in the water.
Hope loosened her final bindings and stood, watching as Abigail dipped below the surface again and swooped back up, water streaming down her face. “Is there no one who meets with your disapproval?”
Abigail drew her long chestnut hair in a bunch over her shoulder and squeezed out the water. “There are some, to be sure.” She gave Hope a sly look. “But I try not to voice those opinions. They serve no purpose other than to invoke pain.”
Expounding on the faults of others had always improved Hope’s humors, but perhaps Abigail was right. To malign someone’s character, no matter how true her observations were, was not the mark of a proper lady. As difficult as it would be to practice such restraint with someone like the major, Hope must try to follow the same rule.
Putting all thoughts of the offending man aside, Hope took in the abundance and variety of plants surrounding the pond, reflecting their beauty in the tranquil waters. The cheerful melody of a multitude of colorful birds flitting from branch to branch coupled with the soothing rush of the waterfall loosened the tightness in her back and chest. She had been here once before with Nathaniel to wash his wound. Their playful banter brought a smile to her lips, but she brushed the memory away. That meeting had not ended well.
The clear water of the pond beckoned, reminding Hope she had not had a proper bath in weeks. Even as her nose wrinkled at the malodorous scent emanating from her, the location gave her pause. She shot a wary gaze at the surrounding trees, not altogether sure they were alone. Yet they had told only Nathaniel of their intended destination, and Hope knew he would not intrude upon their privacy. Major Paine, Mr. Keese, and the sailors were another sort of animal altogether. But the major had stormed off in a huff. Gavin and Nathaniel had gone fishing upon the reefs, and when Hope and Abigail had left the camp, Hanson and Kreggs had been fast asleep in the sand.
Abigail dunked beneath the waters again, then rose with arms spread over the green liquid and twirled around and around. “Come in, dear Hope.”
Hope slipped from her gown, eyeing the foliage, then stuck a toe into the water. The cool liquid sent a rush of refreshment up her leg, and unable to resist it any longer, she plunged in the pond after her friend. Careful not to go beyond where she could feel the soil beneath her toes, she took a breath and sank into the water, allowing it to envelop her and draw away all the tension. She rose for a breath of air. “Oh, sweet mercy, I forgot how good it feels to bathe!” A spray of water showered over her, and she turned to see Abigail, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
“Of all the...” Hope giggled and splashed her friend in return, and soon they were frolicking like schoolgirls on a summer day without a care in the world.
Except Hope did have a care in the world. She had many cares. Not the least of which was getting back to Charles Towne safely. But that was not the concern consuming her thoughts day and night. It was how to erase her shameful past and become a lady—a lady like Abigail.
Abigail flung water into the air, then closed her eyes as the droplets sprayed over her. Joy and peace flowed from her like the water pouring over the cliff into the pond. It sprinkled on everyone around her and brought as much refreshment as the cool water surrounding Hope. A flower petal floated by, and Abigail picked it up, her face and eyes aglow with delight as she examined it. She seemed to live her life as if every moment was a precious gift, yet she had neither love, family, nor fortune.
Hope could make no sense of it. Diving into the water, she scrubbed her chemise, her skin, and her hair, washing away all the filth, the sickness, the despair of the past months.
After their swim, Hope perched on a boulder by the edge of the pond to allow her undergarments to dry, while Abigail stretched out in a sunny spot on the sand beside her. Shaking the water from her hair, Abigail leaned back on her arms and gazed over the pond. Her sodden chemise clung to her tall, thin body—a body that did not lack feminine curves in the appropriate places. Long chestnut hair, glinting with gold and red in the sunlight, danced down her back in the light breeze. With those striking hazel eyes and noble cheekbones, the lady could make a fine match back in the new colonies, where title or fortune did not matter as much as in England. Yet she chose to deny herself the basic comforts of life and follow a God who had allowed her parents to be butchered.
Lifting her face to the sun streaming in through the branches, Hope drew a deep breath of the fresh air perfumed with musky earth and tropical flowers.
“How are you feeling?” Abigail asked.
“Much better. The fish and guava Gavin gave me seem to have given me a burst of energy, though I’m still a bit lightheaded.”
“’Tis to be expected. You shall regain your strength in full soon. I’ve no doubt.” Abigail cocked her head and smiled. “You are the perfect example of one of God’s miracles, you know.”
Hope snorted. “Most who know me would not agree.”
“It matters not what most would say, does it? It was God who valued you enough to save your life. His opinion is all that matters.” Abigail inched her feet into the water licking the shore.
Hope swallowed. She was not fully convinced God had healed her. If she admitted to that, then she’d be forced to ponder why. “You wouldn’t believe that if you knew me, and knew what I’d done.”
Abigail reached over and took Hope’s hand in hers. “You could have killed a hundred men and been the town harlot, for all I care. God values everyone.”
“Well, I haven’t been that bad.” Hope chuckled, an odd w
ave of comfort flowing through her as she thought how different this girl was from her sister Grace and from all the haughty, captious women in Charles Towne.
“Well, there you have it.” Abigail grinned and released her hand.
A light breeze rustled the leaves of a nearby fern and brushed a lock of Hope’s hair from her face as if God Himself had reached down to caress her. A warmth that came not from the sun blossomed within her.
“Do you believe someone who has been ... compromised”—Hope gauged her friend’s reaction, but Abigail stared out over the water unmoving—“who has been sullied, can be restored?”
Drawing her knees to her chest, Abigail clutched her hands together. “God is a God of fresh beginnings. He makes all things new.” A hint of sorrow rang in her tone, yet she said the words with assurance.
“But surely He cannot restore one’s purity?” Could Hope dare to believe she could start over?
“He cannot erase things that happened in our pasts, but He can erase the stain of them.”
Hope sighed. “But aren’t they the same thing?”
“Not at all. If you allow your past to dictate who you are now, then it still holds you in chains, does it not?” A wounded look filled her eyes, giving Hope pause.
Scooting off the boulder, she took a seat beside Abigail. “Did something happen to you?”
Abigail stared down at the ground. She twirled a finger through the sand and released a heavy sigh. Hope placed a hand on her shoulder. A slight shudder passed through her. Abigail’s face, flooded with anguish, lifted to Hope’s.
“What happened, Abigail?”
Abigail shook her head.
Hope took her hand in hers. “You can trust me.”
“On Antigua, two years ago.” Abigail studied Hope as if deciding whether she should proceed. Finally she took a deep breath and continued. “I wasn’t feeling well, and my parents left me home while they ventured to deliver some food to a nearby village. A wealthy landowner who had just purchased a nearby sugar plantation sent his son to call on my father. Apparently, there was some disagreement between his father and mine regarding treatment of slaves. When the son found me alone in the house...” Abigail squeezed her eyes shut, and Hope grabbed her hand and swallowed against a burning in her throat. She didn’t want to hear the rest, didn’t want to know what her heart was already telling her, but she waited in silence for her friend to continue.
Abigail faced Hope, a tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away. “He assaulted me.”
Hope drew Abigail close, and she leaned her head on Hope’s shoulder and released a shuddering sigh.
How could anyone hurt this precious lady? Toiling with a strand of her hair, Hope tried to quell the fury rising within her. “What did your father do?”
“I never told him.”
Hope nudged her from her shoulder. “Why not?”
Abigail brushed the tears from her face as if the casual motion could as easily erase the awful memory. “It would have killed him. Besides, the damage was done, and the young man sailed back to England within a fortnight.”
Hope wondered if she should share her own harrowing story, but her mind refused to budge beyond the shock of what she had just heard. “I don’t understand.”
“What?” Abigail drew her shoulders back and smiled as if the telling of the tale had released some burden.
“One would never know such a travesty happened to you. You are so kind and sweet, so humble and willing to serve others. And this God of yours. This God who did nothing to protect you.” Anger raged through Hope, anger at the spoiled landowner’s son, anger at her own attacker, but mostly anger at God. He had not protected Abigail, and He had not protected Hope.
“Why should I blame God for the actions of men?” Abigail picked up a stick and twirled it in the sand. “If I did that, I’d be perpetually angry at Him.”
“But He could have prevented it.”
“Of course. But He didn’t. For what reason, I may never know.” She smiled at Hope. “Perhaps for the very reason of this exact moment when I have shared it with you.”
Horrified, Hope shrank back. “I could not bear it if that were so.”
Abigail patted her hand. “Let us let God be God, shall we?”
Shame trampled over Hope. While her heart had grown bitter and angry and she’d allowed her dreadful incident to define who she was—who she’d become—Abigail had risen above it and had allowed it to make her a better person, a stronger person.
Abigail rose to her feet and stretched her arms above her. “Let’s not talk of such things. ’Tis too fine a day to be in a bad humor. We have food, safety, your good health restored, and I’m sure we soon shall be rescued.”
Hope laughed at her friend’s exuberance. “You have a far more hopeful point of view than I, for we have no promise of rescue or even that our food will hold out. And no one knows where we are.”
Abigail flashed a knowing grin. “God knows.”
Hope studied her friend and lowered her gaze. “I wish I could be more like you. I wish I could erase my past and start over.”
“But you can.” Abigail kneeled and took Hope’s hands in hers. “If you allow God to help you.”
As Hope forced a smile, a flash of red over Abigail’s shoulder caught her eye.
“What is it?”
“I thought I saw something in the bush.”
“We should be going anyway.” Abigail rose and grabbed her dress from a nearby bush. “It grows late, and I’m sure Nathaniel will begin to worry.”
At the sound of Nathaniel’s name from Abigail’s lips, Hope cringed. She ran her fingers through the tangles of her hair, wondering whether she’d ever be pure enough, good enough to attract someone like him.
Hope donned her dress, trying to shake off the feeling of foreboding that rose to sour one of the most glorious days she’d had in a long time. But as the stale scent of her dirty gown covered her clean body, it seemed to foretell bad things.
“Let’s be gone. The sun is beginning to set.”
Pushing aside the thick leaves, Hope followed Abigail down the narrow path pounded out from their many trips for water. Although Abigail kept a slow pace, Hope had difficulty keeping up with her. The leaves and fronds spun around her, and she clutched her forehead to still the whirling when her foot hit something hard. Sharp pain spiked up her leg, and her toes refused to budge. She toppled to the ground.
“Oh my!” Abigail dashed to her side. “Let me help you up. I’m so sorry. I should have realized you still required my assistance.”
“’Tis not your fault. I’ll be fine.” Leaning on Abigail, Hope clambered to her feet, but burning pain seared her ankle. She tested it and moaned. “My ankle. I don’t think I can walk.”
Abigail led her to a small clearing, where she eased her down upon the fallen trunk of a tree. “Wait here. I shall run and get Nathaniel.”
“No, don’t bother him. I shall be fine in a moment.”
Abigail gave her a patronizing look and squeezed her arm. “You stay here. I will return before you know it.”
Abigail disappeared into the foliage, casting a reassuring smile over her shoulder. But no sooner had she left than dread surrounded Hope like a dense fog. The warble of the birds became an eerie chant. The leaves and branches rustling in the breeze seemed to claw at her. Leaning over, she rubbed her ankle, willing herself to remain calm.
The swish of foliage jerked her attention upward in anticipation of seeing Nathaniel. But it was not Mr. Mason who entered the clearing.
CHAPTER 20
Major Paine smirked at her as a ravenous wolf might regard an injured lamb.
“What do you want, Major?” Hope took a deep breath in an effort to stifle her rising terror.
“Well, well. I went in search of fruit, and it appears I have found a luscious morsel.” After a quick glance around, he stepped toward her and raised his brows.
“I asked you what you wanted.” Hope heard the tre
mor in her voice.
“What do I want?” He laughed. “Now you wish to know what I want. Earlier today you did not give me the impression you cared what I wanted. In fact”—he laid a finger on his chin—“I remember something about preferring savages to my company.”
“That is not precisely what I said.”
“Then you do not prefer savages to my company?”
Placing one hand on the trunk of a nearby tree and all her weight on her good foot, Hope struggled to rise, all the while keeping a steadfast eye upon the major. “At the moment, I am not so sure.”
The major spluttered. “Yet I have treated you with naught but civility.” He licked his lips. “Certainly more than your situation deserves.”
Fury replaced her fear. “And what situation is that?”
Shrugging off his red coat, he tossed it onto the log Hope had vacated and loosened his cravat. “Stifling hot in these tropics. Almost makes one wish we could abandon the need for clothing.” His gaze scoured her, lingering.
“You!” Hope shouted. “’Twas you I saw lurking by the pond.”
He stroked the greasy strands of his hair. “I must protest, miss.” He lifted his lips in a smug grin. “I never lurk.”
Hoped peered about, seeking an escape, seeking an ally. Her gaze locked upon the fan of leaves into which Abigail had disappeared. “Mr. Mason will be here any moment, sir. So I suggest you state your business and leave.”
“Egad, you think that mere carpenter—mere sailor—frightens me?” He flicked one tip of his cravat through the air. “Why, last I saw him, he and that degenerate companion of his were fishing several miles down the shore. Nay, I don’t believe he’ll arrive anytime soon.”
Hope’s chest tightened.
Major Paine took another step toward her. She could smell the mildew of his clothes and the staleness of his breath. She tried to step to the side, but a sharp pain stabbed her ankle. Moaning, she leaned back against the tree and met his bold gaze with a defiant one.
“Ah, the little dove’s wings have been clipped.” He clicked his tongue. “And she cannot fly away.”
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