Hector sat back in his chair and looked about the room in alarm.
“Padre Dios,” he muttered. “Who you people think we are?”
The man shrugged and took another bite.
* * *
Evelyn was not among those who found a monkey more appetizing than a human child, so she quickly drained her beer and departed to find Adele. The poor woman’s nerves must have been in a dreadful state.
As Evelyn had not slept the night before, she was eager for a proper bed, and her exhaustion was more acute than her hunger. She had looked forward to reaching this hotel since she had heard of it, and now she could acquire what it was she had so keenly anticipated.
When she stepped into the sleeping quarters, however, she was thoroughly disappointed. The forty beds were all crammed into one room. They were stacked three high, and were no more than wooden frames with stretched and soiled canvases. The floor had not been swept, so dust and rubbish had begun to collect along the walls. The space was sparse and smelled of mildew and urine.
Evelyn stood hard-faced in the doorway a moment, hand balled in a fist against her hip. Bartie was crying for want of food, and Josephine was searching for the flatbread she had saved from the afternoon meal.
Adele was sitting on a bed, staring blankly at the wall.
“It’s not exactly Buckingham Palace, is it?” Evelyn sighed.
She huffed into the room and sat beside her friend.
“I don’t think I shall ever get accustomed to this kind of life,” she added.
“This is not our way of life,” Adele murmured. “It is only our journey. I have to remind myself of that, as well. One day, the both of us will have homes to call our own, where we can bake fresh, hot bread whenever we wish, and I shall never see another jungle for as long as I live.”
Evelyn smiled, feeling that some internal change had taken place within her friend since that afternoon. She gladly indulged her.
“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”
Adele looked at the floor.
“This place has tried me greatly, my dear Evelyn. I shall always remember Panama as my ‘dark night of the soul’, and I am most eager to leave it behind.”
“I understand. But do you believe California will be any different?”
“My husband seemed to believe so. After all, he sacrificed his life to get there. I owe it to him to give it my best effort.”
“Will you not turn back and return to England?” Evelyn asked, a question that had been at the back of her mind since the incident in Chagres four days ago. “Surely without Mr. Whitfield, you and Bartie would be better off living with your family, in your home.”
“No,” Adele replied with a shake of her head. “This was Stephen’s dream, and because I loved him, I adopted it as my own. I would betray my own destiny if I betrayed his.”
“Then you will continue your religious obligations?”
Adele grimaced.
“I do not know what I shall do in California,” she replied. “It is strange to think that I shall be on my own, without my husband to guide and assist me. We had discussed opening an inn: some place where the miners could stay and we could grow to know them, love them, and help them, should the need arise. But as Stephen is no longer with me, perhaps Josephine and I will find a school or a hospital where we may be of some use. I do love children, and should God place some helpless babes in my arms, I would not protest.”
Evelyn looked at her friend earnestly.
“You will not be on your own,” she told her. “I will do all that is within my power to see that you thrive in California. I will do whatever you ask of me. I should like to accompany you in whatever path you take. You are my friend, and I wish to remain with you and your son, and Josephine also.”
“How kind of you to say, my dear Evelyn. But surely your guardian has grown weary of our company?”
“Lucius? On the contrary! Have you not seen the way he adores Josephine? The way he looks after you and Bartie? Adele Whitfield, I should be frightened to see Mr. Flynn apart from you, for your family brings out pieces of him that I have not seen since we were children. If you should leave us, he might very well return to his selfish ways, and that would be a terrible tragedy indeed!”
“He does seem to have altered a great deal since we arrived in Panama.”
“A valid reason why we should remain as one company.”
“But what of Mr. Donnigan? I am not blind to the change that has occurred between the two of you.”
Evelyn’s shoulders tensed.
“Yes, well, recent events have proven that Mr. Donnigan is not quite the man I hoped he was. I do not much care what becomes of him, and I do not suspect he will remain with us much longer. I have given him no reason to.”
“Such a pity. He was so handsome.”
“Indeed. But what of our dear Winston?” Evelyn teased in hopes of changing the subject. “Do you believe he shall join us?”
“Oh, my poor Winston,” Adele sighed. “I do hope those were not close relations of his in the dining room. I am sorry to have fled, but I could not stomach the thought. The poor creatures looked so much like infants, what with their hair removed and all.”
“How did you know they were not?”
“One had only look closely, my dear. I have a child of my own, you know, and these Panamanians are so dear. I was not about to believe they were in the practice of eating one another.”
* * *
The following morning, the shade of the sky was only just beginning to lighten when Evelyn opened her eyes.
She awoke to a symphony of sounds. Men were slumbering all around, their arms thrown across their eyes, their mouths open and snoring loudly. Outside, the mules shuffled and brayed while a plethora of birds filled the air with screeching, cawing, whistling, and singing. Somewhere nearby, a rooster crowed.
Owing to her exhaustion, Evelyn had slept so soundly that the last thing she remembered was batting away a mosquito as she laid down her head the night before. Nothing had disturbed her in her sleep, not even the men as they lumbered to their own beds after supper. She looked about the room in the gray morning light and saw their heavy, sleeping forms. When was the last time she had been alone? Privacy was a rare privilege here. She had a moment- just a moment- to steal before everyone else began to stir, and she was resolved to take it. Feeling more refreshed than she had in days, Evelyn swung her legs over the edge of her narrow bed frame, her feet slipping silently to the floor. She pulled a robe over her nightclothes and picked her way across the room, stepping over piles of boots and napsacks. When she reached the exit, however, the number of sleeping bodies did not come to an end. She went outside, where men were scattered along the ground, tucked up against the wall of the hotel, sprawled around makeshift firepits, and curled into tight little balls here and there. One gentleman slept sitting up against the base of a tree, and even in the dim light, Evelyn could see a line of fire ants moving up and down behind him. The poor wretch must have passed out, and she wondered how many stinging welts he would find when he awoke.
She was not alone in this clearing any more than she had been inside the hotel. She looked around for someplace she might find solitude and discovered a narrow footpath that led away into the trees. Recalling what had happened the last time she wandered off on her own, she thought of Winston. She smiled to herself, wondering how she had ever thought of his cute little face as threatening. Where was he now?
Evelyn stole along the path, careful not to wander too far. She did not know exactly what she was looking for, only that she wanted a bit of peace.
She realized then that she had forgotten to put on her shoes. Her toes dug into the soft, dark earth and she smiled. For the briefest of seconds, she felt like a little girl again.
This would be her little secret.
She had not gone far when the ground began to slope, and, up ahead, the trees parted to the west, promising an open view to whatever lay beyond. She walked a little faster, her hear
t beating with excitement. What was out there? she wondered. Another cliff? Another village? A set of rolling hills or a plain?
When she came upon it, she stopped short and gaped at the sight before her. There, through the trees and between the mountains, was the Pacific Ocean. It lay glittering and opaline beneath the morning sky, stretching sleepily into the horizon.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice said from behind her.
Startled to find she was not alone, she turned around to see Lucius Flynn. He was leaning against a tree not ten feet away, his hair unkempt and a few days’ worth of beard growing along his jaw. He had not shaved since disembarking the Steam Rose, for he had seen no reason to do so. When he wished it, Lucius could grow a fantastic beard, a fact of which he was very proud.
Evelyn had been so engrossed in her little adventure, she had failed to notice him.
“What are you doing awake?” she asked, tugging at the collar of her robe.
“I could sleep no longer and thought I might catch the sunrise.”
“I thought I was alone.”
“So did I.”
Evelyn smirked.
“Well, good morning, then,” she said. She was surprised at herself, for though she had been searching for privacy, she was not altogether displeased at Lucius’ presence.
“Good morning, lass,” Lucius replied. “Did you rest well?”
“Aye. And you?”
“Oh, I don’t sleep much these days.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. Is it the humidity? Or the bugs?” Evelyn could go down a long list of the things that kept her up at night.
“No,” Lucius said. “Excitement. That’s all.”
“Excitement?” Evelyn cocked an eyebrow.
“I start thinking about what we’re doing, where we’re going,” Lucius continued energetically, “and I spend the rest of the night dreaming about it.”
Evelyn shook her head and laughed.
“I don’t understand you,” she told him.
He shrugged and smiled in return. He pushed off his tree and walked towards her.
“Do you know who greeted me when I came outside this morning?” he asked.
“Who?”
“None other than your furry friend from yesterday. Here to pay a call to the ladies, I’m sure.”
“Oh. You must mean Adele’s friend. I’m not quite sure Winston and I got off on the right foot. I was quite abrasive.”
“Are you kidding? You were fabulous.”
“I was out of my mind.”
“Well yes, you were quite daft. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“You are a terrible tease, do you know that?”
“I should hope so. I’ve had great practice.”
“Practice? You could have made it your profession.”
“I had other engagements which required my commitment.”
“Like what?” Evelyn asked, dubious.
“Why, you, of course.”
“Ah, I see. And our marriage caused you to change your habits for, what, six hours?”
“I may have removed my wedding band, but I had no intentions of compromising our agreement.” He looked at her sideways. “I still don’t, you know.”
There was a question in his eyes, but she did not see it.
“Until it is ended,” she corrected him.
Lucius nodded heavily.
“Aye,” he sighed. “Until it is ended.”
“You are faithful only because you are not surrounded by beautiful women to tempt your affections,” Evelyn added, baiting him with another jest. But Lucius had grown earnest. He took a step closer, his eyes bearing into hers. There, standing before him, was a very beautiful woman indeed.
“Am I not?” he asked.
His sudden intensity made her uncomfortable, and Evelyn felt herself weakening beneath his gaze. She abruptly looked away.
“You could not afford to entertain the thought,” she replied, training her eyes on the distant ocean. “You must have poured all of your wit and energy into this mighty excursion. I cannot imagine the months it must have taken to plan for something like this.”
“Miss Brennan, do you really think me the type to go to such lengths?” Lucius grinned. “I despise deskwork. I hired a man to make the arrangements.”
“Ah, but of course. How silly of me. But what of your father? Will your hired man show discretion?”
“He kept his silence while we were in New York, when it was most crucial for him to do so. Sooner or later, my father will learn of my whereabouts, and when he does, it will not matter. He will be furious, but he will move on. That is the only option he has.”
“He could come after you, Lucius.”
“He would never. He will cut his losses and find a more willing man to take my place.”
Evelyn thought of what would inspire a man to betray his father, and she grew sad. Lucius had willingly chosen the life of an orphan, a life no orphan would have chosen for himself.
“Do you not believe that what you’ve done will break your father’s heart?” she asked Lucius softly.
“‘An eye for an eye’, as they say,” Lucius replied wryly. “He stole my past and sacrificed it in the name of industry. I am stealing his future and sacrificing it in the name of independence.”
His words were laced with a bitterness of which Evelyn was all too familiar. It was the same bitterness that had driven them apart. She could not have prepared herself for what happened between them when they were barely more than children, or how that single incident would change everything they once knew about each other.
She glanced at Lucius then, and was startled to find that underneath the few days’ stubble, he looked so very much like he had that day, six years ago. The day he had broken her heart.
Chapter Twenty-Five
She slowly opened the old door, careful not to acquire any splinters, and hoped that her pace would allow the boy a second or two to realize he was no longer alone. The door creaked loudly, disturbing the great silence and overcoming the boy’s quiet sobs. For one elongated second, it was the only sound either of them could hear.
The smell of the stables swept through the girl’s senses before her eyes adjusted to the space within, the sweet odor betraying the presence of hay and horses. As sunlight penetrated the darkness, she saw her father’s stallion relaxing against the gate of his stall, his eyes threatening to close from pleasure as a gentle hand caressed the bridge of his nose. As the door swung wider still, she saw the face to whom the hand belonged.
She had known him all her life, but in those twelve years, she had never seen him cry. His hair was wild, as it always was, and his face was dirty, as it always was; but the tears were new, and at the sight of them, her breath caught in her throat, and she was immediately distraught over his sorrow.
“Lucius?” she called, her voice gentle, quiet. She did not want to startle him.
The creaking door had been ample warning of company, so the boy was not surprised at her presence. Instead he turned his face away and used his sleeve to wipe his eyes and nose, leaving a new trail of dirt across his cheeks. He did not reply until he was certain of his voice, and even then, his words were brief.
“Go away, Evelyn.”
It felt wrong for him to say, but he felt threatened and vulnerable in her presence. He did not want her to see him like this; like the weak and disillusioned young man he had become. He was two years her senior. He was supposed to be strong.
He heard the rustle of her skirts as she drew closer, her strong will ever prevailing in moments when it was instructed to do otherwise.
“Why do you cry, boy?” she asked.
He coughed in an attempt to stop weeping.
“I’m not crying. Go back to your studies, lass.”
Evelyn always went outside between her lessons, and there was a time when he used to join her. But that was a long time ago now.
“I was picking the flowers on the other side of the barn when I heard
you,” she told him. “I know you were crying. You don’t have to lie to me, Lucius. Tell me what is bothering you.”
He looked down at the ground, and although he could not see her face, he saw the bottom of her dress where she stood just behind him, with her hand at her side, curled around a bundle of bluebells. Her favorite.
“Is it your da?” she persisted.
In reply, Lucius turned to a post, clenched his fist, and struck the splintering wood with sudden aggression. The sharp crack startled the horses, who shuffled their hooves and whinnied in protest, while Evelyn started in fright.
Yes. It was his da.
When Lucius lowered his fist, Evelyn watched as blood emerged from beneath his skin, pooling and spreading over his knuckles.
They were both quiet a moment.
“He has taken everything from me,” Lucius said presently, his throat hoarse.
His voice had changed in the last year. Evelyn had rarely seen him these past months, and the transformation was incredible. He was no longer the boy with whom she had once learned and played. His hair was darker, longer; his eyes sharpened by hard work and disappointment. He was her only friend, yet he was growing up unwillingly and, in consequence, they were growing apart.
He was nine when his father first took him to the docks. Lucius had long anticipated that moment, had anticipated all the glory of the sea wrapped up in the promise of the captain he would one day become. He could even hear the way his title would roll off the tongues of friendly traders and subordinate sailors, the way it tasted of respect when he imagined his own father calling him Captain instead of that empty, disappointing Boy…
But alas, how many days of dreams are forfeit to memories of disappointment.
There were to be no adventures. No seas but that teasing blue line that kissed the distant horizon. For Lucius there were only molds, restraints, expectations. Numbers, ledgers, politics, responsibilities.
He was an apprentice, a secretary. Nothing more. And one day he would be a partner. Nothing more.
The soles of his feet were glued to land. The dock planks knew the ocean more intimately than he, and thus it would remain for the rest of his life. His father had made sure of that.
Liberty Hill (Western Tide Series) Page 22