Uncharted Destiny (The Uncharted Series Book 7)

by Keely Brooke Keith

  “For something, sure. But it takes a man longer than a few months to learn how to make lifetime commitments, how to be faithful. You’ve spent your life running away.”

  The last flicker of hope in Revel’s heart struggled to stay aflame. He stepped away from Connor. “Well, I’m not running anymore.”

  Connor stopped him. “Eva told me your mother lives here in Southpoint. If you’re really ready to put your life in order, go talk to her while we’re here.”

  That was the last thing Revel wanted to do. But Connor was right. Again. “Fine, I will.”

  Connor widened both eyes and swallowed whatever he’d planned to say next. “Okay, great.”

  “Great,” he repeated in the flattest tone he could. It wasn’t great. Speaking with his mother wasn’t much better than having to return to the inn, but he’d do anything to prove to Connor that he was ready to put his past behind him and build a stable life for him and Bailey.

  Chapter Twelve

  Gray leaf-scented air rushed out of Bailey’s lungs as she sat up coughing. Silky ribbons of soft light illuminated a nearby window’s sheer curtains. Her vision zoomed in on the tiny florets embroidered over the curtain hem, then on the woven wicker back of a chair beneath the window, then on the perfect stitches on the quilt covering her legs.

  This wasn’t the Colburns’ house or the Inn at Falls Creek. The room’s quaint perfection and the gray leaf’s unmistakable aroma left no doubt she was still in the Land. And still alive.

  She yanked her hands out from under the warm covers to check her skin. No purple welts. Her arms looked normal as did her bare legs. No sign of the poisonous vine’s cruelty at all. The gray leaf medicine had fought it and won.

  Her stomach growled as she lowered her feet to the rag rug on the floor. The soft cotton of a thin nightgown slid down to cover her legs. Wherever she was and how she got here didn’t matter, but she dearly hoped Sophia had been the person who dressed her.

  Sitting on the edge of the narrow bed, she twisted to look across the room. Her back and leg muscles were no longer aching from days of riding. Oh, the kindness of the gray leaf! As she scanned the room, she expected to see Sophia sitting nearby, maybe at a desk studiously writing medical notes or dozing in a comfy rocking chair. Instead, the only other person in the room was a thin, bearded old man lying on an identical bed a few feet away. “Tim?”

  He was flat on his back facing the ceiling. “Tim, are you awake?”

  He turned his head toward her but didn’t answer for a long moment. Finally, he opened his eyes. His expression brightened. “Bailey? Where are we?”

  She scanned the rest of the room. “Southpoint, I guess.”

  “You guess?”

  “I don’t remember coming here yesterday. I hope it was yesterday. Never know how much time has passed with the gray leaf.” She pulled the quilt off her bed and wrapped it over her nightgown. “How do you feel?”

  “I’ve been better.” His gruff voice sounded painful. “Why don’t you remember coming here?”

  She tiptoed across the cold floor not wanting to wake anyone in case it was as early in the morning as the delicate light made it seem, then knelt by his bed. “The vine I told you about… the plant that covered the western slope of the mountain—”

  “The one you said caught your ankle and almost pulled you off the summit?”

  “That’s the one. It injected me with some kind of poison. Made me swell up and get weird bumps. By the time we got across the river and gave you the gray leaf medicine, the vine’s poison was taking me down. I was covered in welts and hallucinating. It was horrible. I had to inhale the gray leaf vapor too.”

  Tim rubbed his sleepy eyes with the heels of his hands. “Is that what was in the glass vial the young woman shoved into my mouth?”

  “Yes.”

  “It smelled like eucalyptus mixed with burning rubber.”

  “No, it doesn’t.” She tightened the quilt around her body. “Sort of like eucalyptus maybe, but the gross smell was devil vines, I think.”

  “Is that what you named them?” He chuckled. “Devil vines?”

  “No, I don’t know why I said that.”

  He lifted one hand in a weak shrug. “It’s your discovery. Name it whatever you want.”

  “I don’t want to name those vines or study them or ever see them again.”

  A half grin curved his chapped lips. “Some scientist you turned out to be.”

  “I’d rather study the gray leaf tree.” She recalled the sensation of its healing power working against the poison in her veins. “That’s why we came to the Land, right?”

  “It’s one reason.”

  “True.”

  The main reason she had wanted to come here was for a chance at a peaceful life and to meet the relatives Justin Mercer claimed she had. She’d found the Colburn family, but because of what happened when she came to the Land, she hadn’t had a chance to start building a new life yet. “Now that you’re safe, we can go back to Good Springs and study the gray leaf tree and forget about the war and the outside world.”

  He grimaced in pain as he rolled onto his side to face her. “No.”

  “Right, we will never truly forget, but you know what I meant.”

  “It isn’t that, Bailey.” He drew a labored breath. “I’m not going to make it to Good Springs.”

  His words opened the fresh wound in her heart. “Don’t say that. Of course you will. Maybe you need a second dose of gray leaf. Sophia said that happens sometimes.”

  “It won’t help me.” His bloodshot eyes begged her to accept the truth. “I don’t have many days left. That’s why I’m so grateful that I got to see you again.”

  Her throat tightened. She tried to swallow its threat of crying. “It isn’t enough. I want to get to know you as my father. I want to hear about my grandparents and aunts and uncles if I have any. Do I have cousins? What diseases run in our family? Do we—”

  “Well, diabetes for starters.” He gave her the same look he used to in class when she asked too many questions. And just like old times, once she closed her mouth, he spoke. “Your grandparents were hard working, middle class, debt-ridden Americans. They divorced when I was a kid. I had two older sisters, who both had families. So, you had two aunts and five first cousins. None of them survived the water poisoning and plague.” He took her fingertips in his thin hand. “But don’t let that matter to you because it won’t change who you are. You have a new life and a new family here. From what you told me over the radio about the Colburns these past few days, those are the people you need to get to know.”

  His eyes closed and she waited for him to open them again. His hand went limp and released her fingers.

  “Tim?”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Dad?” The term still felt odd coming out of her mouth, but she was determined to say it.

  His chest rose and fell intermittently with shallow breath. He was still alive but wouldn’t be for long—or so he said. She laid his hand on the mattress and held it as she prayed for his complete healing.

  “Get some sleep,” she whispered to him, then stood, holding the quilt around her body.

  If she could get Tim back to Good Springs, Lydia would be able to help him. Sophia had done all that she’d been told and had probably stayed with them all night. Still, Tim needed expert care. He needed Lydia.

  She found her belongings near the closed bedroom door. Her clothes had been folded and draped over a quilt rack with her black backpack propped beside it. Her wool coat and hat hung from a wooden peg on the wall above the rack. Her hiking shoes had been wiped clean but were still without laces.

  After changing her clothes, she slipped on her shoes and carried her backpack out the door. Warm daylight filled the hallway from a sitting room on the far end of the corridor. It was later in the day than she’d first thought. Possibly mid-afternoon.

  She found a washroom at the end of the hallway. When she came out, Revel was perc
hed on the edge of an armchair. Before she could sling her backpack over one shoulder, he stood and wrapped her in a tight hug. The sudden closeness triggered her defense-trained muscles, but she stopped them before her flinch could turn into a shove. This was Revel, the man who had saved her life.

  He didn’t loosen his grip. “Thank God you’re all right.” He pulled her back and searched her freshly washed face. “You look better. Back to your normal self. Are you all right?”

  He was acting more like she imagined a worried grandma would act than a twenty-eight-year-old man. She put a hand on his chest—partly to calm him, partly to hold him back from another surprise bear hug. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

  “I am now. You’re alive and well.” He traced a finger down her jaw. “And smiling.”

  Every feeling she’d felt when Revel gave her the gray leaf vapor and promised to take care of her rushed back. She’d found him handsome and strong, which he was, but she may have said too much and given him the wrong idea. She drew her head back to regain a little personal space. “Thank you for taking care of me yesterday. Am I right in assuming that was yesterday?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I never know how much time has passed while the gray leaf knocks me out.”

  “It was only one day.”

  She pulled back a little more. “Look, if I said anything weird while all that was going on yesterday, I’m sorry.”

  He moved his hands to her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “Awesome. When do we leave here?”

  He released her shoulders but squeezed her arms gently all the way down to her hands before he finally let go. “The overseer’s wife insisted we stay here another night while you and Tim convalesce.”

  “Oh, I’m totally fine. All convalesced out. Yep, I’m good.” She held her backpack with one hand and pretended to flex the other arm as if he could see her bicep through the bulky sweatshirt. “See, fit and ready to go. When does the trader’s ship leave?”

  “It left yesterday, but it will be back tomorrow morning and we’ll sail to Riverside.” He pointed a thumb down the hallway. “Is Tim awake?”

  “He was for a few minutes, but he fell back asleep.” She wanted to tell Revel how Tim didn’t think he would be alive much longer, but she couldn’t bring herself to repeat the words as though saying it aloud might make it come true. “We need to get him back to Good Springs soon.”

  He pressed his lips together and nodded solemnly. She didn’t have to say anything else. He understood what was up. As he gazed at her, she noticed the hazel of his irises was a distinct mix of blue with yellow flecks. How had she never seen that before?

  And the look he gave her, so intense, like he could see past her scars and walls and fears. It was only a look, but it was more intimate than she could bear. She looked away. “So, we’re staying here one more night?”

  He didn’t immediately answer but continued watching her. At last, he broke his gaze and slid his hand into his pocket. “Yes, tomorrow we’ll be on the ship to Riverside, but don’t worry, you won’t have to go into the sterncastle. It will be a much faster trip with the wind at our back.”

  “Thank goodness. And then back to the inn for a night?”

  He looked down at the floor and blew out a breath through puckered lips. “Since we must.”

  The thought of visiting the inn again stirred the joy that had settled to the bottom of her heart while they were at the mountains. Revel wouldn’t share that joy though. She could understand a person wanting or needing to move away from where they grew up for whatever reason, but how could anyone hate such a beautiful place as Falls Creek?

  She had loved her time at the inn. If it weren’t for needing to help Tim, she would saddle up Gee right now and ride to Falls Creek. She wanted to be there more than anywhere else at the moment, but she also cared about Revel too much to say that. Instead, she gave his hand a quick squeeze. “I should show Sophia I’m alive. Where is she?”

  He pointed to the far end of the hall. “She’s helping Mrs. McIntosh in the kitchen. Come on. I’ll show you. Then I must… run an errand.”

  * * *

  Autumn wind blew dry leaves down the brick road ahead of Revel as he walked to the red cottage three houses down from Southpoint’s chapel. It had been years since he’d visited his grandparents’ house. He climbed the stone steps and raised his hand to knock on the door, but paused with his knuckles hovering over its thickly varnished wood. What was he going to say to his mother?

  Before he could think it through, Annabelle Roberts opened the door. A plump woman in her late fifties, she spoke with a rising intonation that made every phrase sound like a question. “I thought that was you.” A broad smile lit her round face. “Come in, come in.”

  He bent down to hug her, breathing in the scent of his childhood. “Hello, Mama.”

  After a long embrace, she flopped her dishtowel over her shoulders and mashed her hands on both sides of his face. “You’re certainly not my little boy anymore, are you, Rev?”

  “I’m sorry it’s been so long since I—”

  “No apologies necessary. You’re busy. I’m busy.” She shooed away his words with her dishtowel then waved him into the cramped parlor. “Come, sit yourself down. You look tired.” She pushed a pile of her mending work to one side of the wood-framed divan before disappearing into the kitchen. “I’ll get you a cup of fresh buttermilk.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Are you sure?” She called out, already clanking in the kitchen. “Before lunch, Belinda brought over a jug from her dairy.”

  He didn’t know who Belinda was and he’d just eaten a big meal at the overseer’s house. The last thing he wanted was a cup of buttermilk. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  He glanced around the parlor while he waited, feeling like a stranger. His grandparents’ favorite armchairs stood loyally against the wall with a polished tea table between them and the divan. He sat on the edge of the divan and studied the musty room.

  The same cross-stitched samplers still hung on the walls. The same silver knickknacks adorned the bookshelf. The same brightly colored glass bottles caught the light coming through the front window. Only one thing had changed since his rare childhood visits here. “Where are Grandma and Grandpa?”

  Annabelle returned with two ceramic cups filled with buttermilk. She frowned, which added years to her aging face. “The cloth trader promised to give you my message.”

  “What message?”

  She handed one of the cups to him “Oh, Rev, your grandpa died last month. I’m sorry.”

  It wasn’t a surprise and he’d never been close to the man, but the news still found a place in his chest to kick him. He set the unwanted cup of buttermilk on the tea table. “And Grandma?”

  Annabelle pointed at one of two closed doors. “She’s asleep.”

  He hadn’t seen his grandmother in years and probably wouldn’t see her again in this life, considering her age and health and his reluctance to visit. “Should you wake her to tell her I’m here?”

  His mother waved her shooing hand again. “I could drop a ten pound Bible on the floor in there and she wouldn’t stir. She sleeps most of the time and doesn’t know what is happening when she is awake.”

  “Oh.” He looked down at his hands. Yesterday, his hands had held Bailey while he rescued her. A few moments ago, they held her again while he almost told her he loved her. Now, they were empty because he’d kept his feelings to himself upon Connor’s insistence that Bailey wasn’t ready for that sort of relationship.

  She wasn’t the only one. John Colburn had told him many times that he shouldn’t bring someone into his future unless he was willing to make peace with his past. That was why he was here.

  While Annabelle launched into a one-sided conversation about which villager brought over what casserole after his grandfather’s death, Revel rubbed his hands over his face. His mother had been right when she said
he was tired. But every moment of this sleepless journey was worth it because it was all for Bailey.

  Annabelle flitted from one meaningless topic to the next until finally she settled back in an armchair and looked at him. “I really am sorry you didn’t get my message, Rev.”

  “About Grandpa?”

  She nodded. “The trader said he would deliver it to you within a week. I darned all his socks as payment. Didn’t he find you in Stonehill?”

  “No, I’ve been in Good Springs for months.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “James said he wrote to you about Everett Foster’s wedding and told you I was staying in Good Springs to work with Connor Bradshaw. I’ve been boarding at John Colburn’s house.”

  She shook her head and the loose skin below her jaw wobbled. “I never got your brother’s letter.”

  “This is one of the reasons I’m working with Connor. We’re going to set up a better communications system in the Land.” He looked out the little window at the front of the house, wishing he could see the overseer’s house from where he sat. “As well as training security teams in each village.”

  “Security?” She laughed one sharp cackle. “Heavens! What for?”

  He couldn’t tell his mother the details of the outside world and all that Bailey had escaped without her spreading it to every seamstress in the village and causing undue alarm. “Connor wants to keep the Land safe, and he sees ways we can improve life here. All the overseers agree with him.”

  “What needs improving?”

  “For one thing, our present communication system.”

  She waved her dismissive hand. “I don’t understand.”

  His toes curled inside his boots. “Messages, Mother. Letters. We need a faster and more reliable way for people to send mail to people in other villages. We’re setting up a system of mounted couriers like the Royal Road in ancient Persia.”

  She stared at him blankly. He didn’t want to explain this to her any more than she probably wanted to hear about it. His eyes returned to his empty hands. “Never mind.”