The Condemned (Echoes from the Past Book 6)

by Shapiro, Irina

  Would Jo remember him? Rhys wondered as he studied the colorless sky. They’d met several times before, mostly at work functions, where one was introduced to countless people and forgot their names as soon as they walked away to speak to someone else, but he knew Jo, and she had known him. They’d chatted more than once, and even walked over to the bar and had a drink together the night Jo was due to receive her award. She’d been nervous about making a speech, and Rhys had taken it upon himself to help her relax. She wasn’t a woman accustomed to making speeches, she’d told him that night. She liked being on her own, with no one to tell her how to do her job or offer criticism or unwanted advice. He’d liked her, and he thought she’d liked him, but more as a fellow professional, not as a man. She’d been very attractive, he did remember that. Would she look the same?

  “Mr. Morgan?”

  Rhys hadn’t even noticed the woman approach. She was in her thirties, with wide blue eyes and silver-blond hair pulled into a neat bun. She had a lovely smile, and those perfect teeth all Americans seemed to have. “I’m Dr. Stein. I’ve been looking after your friend. Shall we talk in my office?” she asked.

  “Of course,” Rhys agreed, and followed her toward the lift. They made small talk about the weather until they reached their floor and walked down the bright, scrupulously clean corridor. Dr. Stein led Rhys to a well-appointed office that was flooded with sunshine.

  “Please, have a seat. Would you like some coffee? I have a Keurig,” she explained, jutting her chin toward the coffeemaker. “Can’t live without it.”

  “Yes, thank you. I’d love a cup.”

  “Choose your flavor,” Dr. Stein said with a conspiratorial grin. “I like hazelnut, with a splash of milk.”

  “Hazelnut with a splash of milk it is, then.”

  Dr. Stein made two cups of coffee, added milk, and set one in front of Rhys. “Now we can talk. Mr. Morgan, I’m sure you understand that the situation is somewhat complicated, and not only health-wise. Since you are not Ms. Turing’s next of kin, normally I wouldn’t be able to divulge any details of her condition to you. However, Ms. Turing hasn’t been able to provide us with any contact information, or even the name of a relative or a friend. Up until two days ago, we were still referring to her as Jane Doe. You’re the first person to come asking after her, and we’ve had her at this facility for over six weeks. Can you help me out?” she asked. “Any information you can give me would be extremely helpful.”

  “Ms. Turing’s attorney is Mr. Luis Richards, Esq., based in Leicester, England. I am here on behalf of Jo Turing’s twin sister, Dr. Quinn Allenby. Ms. Turing has two other siblings, Doctors Karen and Michael Crawford, with whom she hasn’t been in contact for some time.”

  “I see.”

  “Dr. Stein, I’m not asking you for confidential medical information. I simply want to see her, and talk to her, if possible. Surely she’s allowed visitors.” Dr. Stein nodded but didn’t immediately reply. “I was told she suffered a subdural hematoma,” Rhys tried again.

  “Yes, that is correct.”

  “May I speak to her neurosurgeon?”

  Dr. Stein smiled. “You are. I performed the surgery, and I had her in an induced coma for five weeks. A coma allows for the swelling to go down and proper brain activity to resume at its own pace. Ms. Turing was woken from the induced coma only two days ago. It was fortuitous that you helped us identify her before we woke her up. She responded to her name, which is always a good start.”

  “Will you send me away?” Rhys asked. He was trying not to get upset, but Dr. Stein’s serene countenance was beginning to grate on his nerves.

  “No, Mr. Morgan. You’ve come all this way in search of someone you obviously care about. I’m not going to send you away. If I were, I wouldn’t have given you any information about Ms. Turing’s condition. I think it will aid her recovery to see a familiar face and maybe be reminded of people back home, as long as you don’t tell her anything that might upset her. You can speak to her for a few minutes each day, and we’ll see how things go. Is that acceptable?”

  “Yes, that sounds reasonable.”

  “Good. Shall we go see her, then?”

  “Please.”

  Rhys followed Dr. Stein down the corridor. An unnatural hush permeated the entire floor, the nurses slipping by on silent feet as they attended to the patients, most of whom were hooked up to machines. They walked past several open doors before reaching Jo’s room. From the doorway, Rhys could see Jo’s lower body covered with a white hospital blanket, but he couldn’t see her face.

  “Just wait outside for a moment, please,” Dr. Stein said. “I’d like to give her a heads-up.”

  “Of course.”

  “Good morning, Jo,” Dr. Stein said cheerily as she walked into the room. “How are you feeling today?”

  Rhys couldn’t hear what Jo said. Her voice was barely audible. Dr. Stein checked her vitals while she continued to talk softly. “Someone’s here to see you, Jo. Would you like to see your visitor?”

  Jo must have agreed because Dr. Stein beckoned for Rhys to enter the room. He walked in slowly, not wishing to alarm Jo with his presence. She looked small and fragile, her pallor accentuated by the white walls and bedlinens. Rhys had expected her to be bald, given the head injury, but her abundant dark hair framed her lovely face, and the bandage at the top of her skull was clean and discreet. Healing cuts crisscrossed Jo’s face, and the gauze of a bandage showed just above the neckline of her hospital gown. An IV line snaked toward the bed and into her left hand. The nightstand was depressingly bare. There were no flowers or get-well cards, or even a piece of fruit or a bar of chocolate.

  “Jo, do you know who this is?” Dr. Stein asked carefully, once Jo had a moment to look at Rhys.

  Jo’s brow furrowed as she tried to place him. “Morgan. Rhys Morgan,” she finally said. “Why are you here?”

  “There are some people back home who are very worried about you. I was able to track you down using my press connections,” Rhys replied, purposely vague. Now wasn’t the time to spring news of a twin sister.

  Jo’s face dissolved into a grimace of sorrow and her eyes filled with tears. She turned to Rhys, her eyes pleading. “Did she send you?”

  “Who, Jo?” Rhys asked softly.

  “No, she couldn’t have,” Jo mumbled. “She wouldn’t have.” One of the machines started to beep, and Dr. Stein immediately checked the monitor. The green lines on the black background appeared to be spiking.

  “Mr. Morgan, I think that’s enough for today. Jo is clearly upset.”

  “Jo, may I come and see you again tomorrow?” Rhys asked. Jo nodded miserably.

  “Out you go,” Dr. Stein said more forcefully. “Jo, Mr. Morgan will come back, and you can talk some more. Now, you must rest.”

  Jo closed her eyes, but her face was pale and tense, her brows knitted in concentration. Her lips were moving, but no sound came out.

  “Perhaps tomorrow you can show her some photos. I think that might help. Have you a place to stay?”

  “No. I was brought here directly from the air base.”

  “There are several decent hotels in the area. I suggest you get a room and find something to occupy yourself with until you can see Jo again. You can come back tomorrow at ten, if that’s convenient. I’ll leave word with the front desk.”

  “Thank you,” Rhys said. “I’ll do that.”

  Rhys collected his case, thanked the guard for calling him a taxi, and stepped outside. The sun sparkled on freshly fallen snow, making the world look clean and fresh. Rhys took a deep breath and turned his face up to the sky, offering up a silent prayer of thanks. He couldn’t wait to get to the hotel and call Quinn. Finally, he had something to tell her.

  Chapter 38

  September 1620

  Virginia Colony

  A brutally hot August finally gave way to a slightly cooler September. The days were still unbearably warm, but once the sun went down, a hint of a breeze moved throug
h the trees and the smell of hay was fragrant on the air.

  “How are things with John?” Nell asked as the two women sat in the shade of an old maple tree, enjoying a cup of ale.

  “Much the same,” Mary replied with a shrug. She hadn’t told Nell the whole truth, but had been honest about her dissatisfaction with the marriage. “He’s a cold fish, if I ever saw one.”

  “Some men just don’t know how to talk to women. At least he doesn’t treat you cruelly.”

  Mary leaned against the tree trunk and gazed up at the sky through the canopy of leaves. Cruelty wasn’t always obvious, identified by a bruise or a harsh word. John’s form of cruelty was much subtler. He’d robbed her of companionship and hope for the future. He’d denied her affection and understanding. “No, he doesn’t,” Mary said at last.

  “Do you wish you’d remained in England?” Nell asked.

  “I don’t know, Nelly. Perhaps I do. This place is so wild, so remote. At times, I feel as if we’re the only people in the world, toiling on this tiny bit of land, trying to avoid extinction. We could vanish off the face of the earth, just like that other colony.”

  “What colony?” Nell asked.

  Mary instantly regretted her slip of the tongue. She hadn’t meant to mention the colony Walker had told her about. And in any case, she didn’t know what had happened to them, only that the settlers were there one day, gone the next.

  “What about you, Nelly? Do you ever regret coming here?” she asked, hoping to distract Nell from her question.

  “Never,” Nell cried. “Mary, I have a home of my own, land, a man who treats me kindly, and soon, I will have a baby,” she said, smiling happily. She placed a hand on her belly, caressing it as if the baby could feel her love.

  “Oh Nell, that’s wonderful news,” Mary gushed. “When?”

  “Mid-April, I think. What about you, Mary? Any signs?”

  Mary shook her head. “John has not been as diligent in his husbandly duties as your Thomas.”

  Nell laughed, the peals like silver bells. “Oh Mary, you don’t need diligence. Why, Tom comes in from the fields so tired, he can barely keep his eyes open long enough to have supper. I can count on one hand the number of times he roused himself long enough to finish what he started. But it took, and I’m so glad. Just think, a baby of my own. And now we have the handsome Dr. Paulson to look after us. He’s quite something, don’t you think? They say he has a wife in England. I wonder what brought him out here.”

  Mary shrugged. “I suppose he has a pleasant countenance, but there’s something about the man that puts me off.”

  “You’re too fanciful, you are,” Nell chided. “Of course, he doesn’t hold a candle to Simon. I don’t know how you get anything done with that handsome scoundrel about. If the devil is temptation, then the rest of us have nothing to fear since he clearly lives at your house.” Nell giggled happily. “And he’s not indifferent to you, Mary. I’ve seen the way he looks at you in church.”

  Mary shrugged. Let Nell think Simon was sweet on her. It was certainly better than the truth.

  “Don’t despair, Mary,” Nell said, laying her hand over Mary’s. “This place is odd, make no mistake about that. What with the Indians, the wilderness pressing in on us, and not a child in sight to gladden the heart. But more ships are coming, bringing more women for the colonists. In a few years, this place will be unrecognizable. Jamestown will ring with the sound of children’s laughter, and the wilderness will be pushed back as more homesteads are built and more fields are plowed. Someday, this part of the world will be as populated as England. There’ll be towns and villages, and large, loud families to fill them.”

  “I like your vision, Nell. I’m just not sure I’ve the patience to wait for it to happen. I feel the isolation pressing in on me, chipping away at my resolve not to despair. I’m glad autumn is finally on the way, but what will winter be like in this desolate place? I think I shall go mad with loneliness.”

  “Winter always gives way to spring, Mary,” Nell said. “And who knows, maybe soon, you’ll have your very own baby to look forward to. Nothing fills a woman’s heart like a child, and nothing keeps her as tethered. You’ll have no time to feel lonely, or sad. You’ll be too busy suckling a newborn.”

  “I hope you’re right, Nell.”

  “Just you wait and see.”

  “I have to go back. There’s too much to be done at the plantation.”

  Mary got to her feet and shook out her skirts. She wished she could stay a while longer, but Nell had supper to see to and Mary had her own chores to finish. Nell waved her off and Mary set off in the direction of home. Visiting Nell usually lifted her spirits, but today she barely held back tears as she walked down the narrow path. She didn’t begrudge Nell her happiness, but for some reason it made her own existence seem that much more barren. The golden afternoon only served to emphasize her loneliness as she trudged along.

  An unexpected sound startled Mary out of her reverie. It was the unmistakable pop of a twig breaking beneath a man’s foot. Mary stopped and looked around, suddenly frightened. She’d come this way many times and never encountered anyone on the path, but there were natives in the woods, and not all of them were as friendly as Walker.

  Mary stood still for a few moments, listening, her mouth dry with fear. Everything seemed quiet and still, so she continued, but her sense of security had been shattered. She kept looking over her shoulder, expecting someone to step out of the woods at any moment.

  Mary was relieved when she finally got home, so thirsty her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. She opened the lid of the barrel outside the door and filled a cup with water, draining it in one gulp. She was just refilling the cup when she heard Travesty’s voice through the window.

  “You’ve got to be more careful, Simon.”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  “Do you?” Travesty challenged him. “If John finds out—”

  “He won’t.”

  “The consequences could be dire.”

  “There will be no consequences, Travesty. I’ve made sure of that.”

  “I hate that you’re doing this,” Travesty said with a deep sigh.

  “It’s a small price to pay,” Simon replied. “I love it that you worry about me.” Simon’s voice had grown soft and silky and Mary heard Travesty’s sharp intake of breath.

  “Go on with you,” she said, her voice gruff. “One of them will be back any minute.”

  “John won’t be back from Jamestown for at least another hour, and Mistress Mary’s having too good a time with her friend.”

  “Still.”

  “I was only trying to please you, Travesty.”

  “If you want to please me, do the evening milking. I’ve supper to prepare.”

  “Won’t you give me something by way of an incentive?” Simon purred.

  Mary didn’t hear Travesty’s answer, but whatever it was, it made Simon laugh. She heard his heavy steps on the wooden floor and then the door was thrown open. Mary had just enough time to step out of sight, behind the corner of the cabin. She waited till Simon passed, then left her hiding place and approached the cabin, making sure to pass in front of the window.

  “You’re back early,” Travesty observed when Mary came inside.

  “Nell had chores to be getting on with.” Mary tied her apron behind her back and turned to Travesty. “What needs doing?”

  “Here. Shell these peas for supper.”

  “I thought I saw Simon when I came back,” Mary said casually.

  “He’s doing the milking. He returned from the fields early.”

  “Where’s John?” Mary asked.

  “Had an errand in Jamestown. He’ll be back in time for supper.” Travesty turned her back to Mary and stirred the contents of the pot hanging over the flames. They worked in silence until they heard the hoofbeats of John’s horse.

  Chapter 39

  Mary shut the door and stood still for a moment, enjoying the silen
ce. Travesty had been called upon to help with the harvest and left with the men directly after breakfast. She’d been reluctant to go, but didn’t have much say in the matter. John and Simon had already seen to the bottom leaves of the tobacco plants and were now ready to harvest the rest of the crop. Once all the stalks were cut, they would hang them in the drying shed, which was now empty, since last year’s crop had been sold. Mary was grateful to have some time on her own. She had numerous chores to attend to, but it was nice to work at her own pace and not feel Travesty’s watchful gaze following her about, her mouth pressed into a thin line of displeasure.

  Mary washed the breakfast dishes and set them on a shelf before turning her attention to the daily task of making cornbread. She was heartily sick of cornbread, but John never purchased wheat. It was too dear, and he couldn’t justify the expense. Mary combined the ingredients in a large bowl, then filled two baking pots with the mixture, and covered them tightly before pushing them into the smoldering ashes in the grate. The cornbread would take a while to bake, which gave her time to peel and core the apples Simon and John had picked from a nearby tree. She wished they could make cider, but no one in Jamestown had a cider press, so apple jelly would have to do. It would come in handy during the winter months when they were desperate for a taste of sweetness on their tongues. She’d use some of the apples to make fritters. She had no idea how they would taste with cornmeal instead of wheat flour, but nothing containing grated apples and fried in lard could taste bad, in her estimation.

  Mary’s hands focused on the apples while she considered the conversation she’d overheard the day before. What exactly had Travesty been warning Simon about? Had she discovered Simon’s plan to blackmail John? Simon had more than four years left on his indenture contract, so whatever he planned to do wouldn’t happen for years to come. Perhaps Simon was stealing.