Abandoned Memories (24 page)

James plowed into the sea. Waves assaulted him, stinging his eyes and shoving him back. In the distance, green fabric floated atop water where Angeline’s russet hair had disappeared. He fought off the next wave and dove into the foaming churn. Memories of another rescue at sea flooded his mind. Of another attempt by Angeline to end her life. God be praised, this time they weren’t in the middle of the ocean, this time he’d had enough warning. He’d seen her fidgeting in her seat, watched her frightened gaze skitter back and forth across the beach, saw her chest bellow like the wind, her lips tremble, her hands cover her ears. He had some idea as to the cause and intended to conclude his sermon posthaste in order to come to her aid. But no sooner had he glanced down at his Bible than she had already reached the water’s edge.

No vision, no matter how terrifying, was worth her life. Something else affected this poor lady, and James had allowed his affection for her to get in the way of being her spiritual advisor. Curse him for being a selfish fool! He thrust upward for air, gulped it down, then dove again. His hand touched her gown. Grabbing the fabric, he pulled her toward him and circled an arm about her waist. He kicked and they sped upward, breaking through the surface with a mighty splash. She spit and coughed until air took the place of water in her lungs. A wave thundered over them. James fought to stay afloat. She slumped against his chest, weighing them down. Breath heaving, he swam to shore, inhaling more water than air. Strength slipped from him with each thrust of his arm through the water. They went under. They weren’t going to make it. His feet struck sand. Gathering his remaining strength, he shoved against the seabed, burst through the surface, and hoisted her in his arms. Bracing against the crashing surf, he carried her to the women’s shelter and laid her on a bamboo pallet. Eliza ushered him out, promising to care for her as the other women gathered around.

Lungs still wheezing for air, James took up a spot beside Blake just outside the hut. He wasn’t going anywhere until he heard how Angeline was doing. He knew she was alive. He’d heard her breathing. But he was more worried about her emotional state. An hour later, Eliza and Magnolia emerged from the ladies’ hut, concern darkening their faces. A crowd formed to hear the news.

“She’s well, James,” Eliza started. “No harm done. At least not physical.” She frowned. “She spoke of seeing visions. More than one. And voices that told her to throw herself in the sea.”

Blake’s jaw tightened as he stared out over the waves. Magnolia brushed the back of her hand against a wayward tear. Hayden drew her close, and she gazed up at her husband then over the crowd that seemed equally stunned by the event. “Whatever she saw, it terrified her to the point of not wanting to live.”

“I can’t imagine.” Sarah hugged Lydia to her chest. “The poor dear.”

“I say the lady has gone quite mad,” Mr. Scott’s bellow fell limp in the wind.

“How can you say that?” Though her voice quavered, Mrs. Scott’s unusual defiance of her husband had all eyes shifting her way. “We have all seen these visions. Why, you told me just this morning that—”

“Enough, Mrs. Scott!” He moved to stand behind his wife, his shout dwindling into nervous laughter as he pressed a hand on her shoulder.

“Indeed, Mother.” Magnolia snapped angry eyes toward her father. “There isn’t a one of us who hasn’t seen something.”

“I swear there’s spirits haunting this place!” one of the famers said. “If it weren’t for these blasted pirates, we could all leave, go home, and be done with these visions.”

Thiago crossed himself and eased beside Sarah. Lydia lifted her chubby hands toward him, and Sarah gave him a coy smile as she handed him the child. “Even I see dead grandmother yesterday,” he said. “Last week, I see brother who died of sickness.”

Most of the colonists nodded, understanding glances exchanged between them. A few groaned and stared at the sand. Others gaped vacantly at the sea as if unwilling to even think about what they’d seen.

Confirming James’s fears.

“The visions are getting worse.” He ran a hand through his damp hair and released a sigh, heavy with dread. “I need to get back to the book. Interpret more.” He lifted his gaze to the storm brewing behind Blake’s gray eyes. The same one that brewed in James’s stomach. “This has got to stop before we
all
drown ourselves in the sea.”

HAPTER
21

M
agnolia eased her face over the surface of the water, searching past the ripples for any sign of youth in her reflection. Was it her imagination or was there a clarity to her eyes that hadn’t been there before? A plumper look to her skin? A few blond hairs among the gray. She sat back with a sigh. Mercy me, becoming beautiful on the inside was sure taking a long time!
Lord, can You work a little faster?
She bit her tongue, wondering if she was wise to ask for such a thing. Didn’t that mean more struggles and trials?
Oh, bother, Lord. You will be gentle, won’t You?
Of course He would. He was her Father, and He had proven Himself loving and trustworthy. She smiled and ran fingers through the cool water as a flock of thrushes warbled a happy tune above her. Eliza had sent her to find some fresh water for Angeline, and along the way, she’d happened upon this lovely creek surrounded by clusters of multicolored ferns. Which made for a bit of privacy off the beaten track. Privacy that had become a rare commodity since they’d moved to the beach, and Magnolia couldn’t help but stay just a moment and breathe in the peace.

If only peace would settle on the entire colony, but with everything that had happened and with pirates guarding their every move, how could it? Her thoughts sped to Angeline, and she lifted up a prayer for her friend. What could she have possibly seen that had stolen her hope and driven her into the sea? Perhaps it was a combination of the disasters that had struck the colony, the uncertainty of their future, the threat of pirates, and these hellish visions. If Magnolia hadn’t found her strength in God, her peace in His watchful eye, she’d most likely go mad as well.

“Thank You for that, Father,” she whispered. In fact, she had much to be thankful for. Her husband, for one. “And thank You, Father, for Hayden—”

“Someone call me?” The leaves rustled, parted, and her husband strolled into the clearing with the fluid assurance of a panther stalking its prey.

What a luscious sight he was. But she wouldn’t let him know her delight, lest it go to his head. She feigned a frown. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people. How did you find me?”

“You are not supposed to venture out alone, remember?”

“I know.” She pouted. “But I wasn’t going far. And Eliza needed water.”

He knelt beside her, grinned, and ran a gentle thumb over her cheek. Their eyes met, and she saw a familiar gleam within his that sent an eddy of warmth down to her toes. Suddenly conscious of her appearance, she patted her windblown bun and stuffed wayward strands behind her ear.

“Where is your brush and mirror?” Hayden twirled one of her curls around his finger. “The ones your father gave you. I haven’t seen them since the flood.”

“Because I lost them in the flood.” She stilled his finger and brought it to her lips for a kiss.

He gazed at her curiously, moving his hand to caress her jaw. “But during the mayhem, you insisted on going back into our hut for something. I thought it was to gather them. They were so important to you.”

She reached inside the pocket of her skirt and withdrew the wooden toad.

Hayden’s look of shock brought a smile to her lips. “You went back for that silly thing?” He chuckled.

“How could I not? You made it for me.” She ran fingers over the smooth wood. “It reminds me of our time in the jungle. When we first fell in love.”

Hayden swallowed up her hand with both of his and gazed at her with such adoration, she nearly melted into the sand. “I still cannot believe you are my wife.” He sat beside her and kissed her cheek then leaned his forehead against hers.

Magnolia drew in a deep breath of him as her body itched for his touch. “It hardly seems like we are wed anymore.” Not since all the colonists had moved onto the beach and she’d been forced into the ladies’ shelter. Oh, how she ached for her husband each long night. But she wouldn’t dare say such a thing. Women weren’t supposed to have such longings, were they? She pressed a hand over her flat belly. “How am I to give you sons and daughters when we are never alone?”

He cocked a brow, a twinkle in his jungle green eyes. “We are alone now, Princess.”

She gave him an inviting smile that lured him to trail kisses up her neck, across her chin, until finally his mouth claimed hers. Every cell within her tingled as he laid her back on a bed of soft leaves and consumed her with his love.

Dodd didn’t like this one bit. Not one bit. Though he’d told the pirates there was nothing but evil and death here, warned them that a man had been decapitated by some unearthly being, still they insisted on descending into the tunnels beneath the temple. Now, as Dodd felt his way along the stone walls and attempted to find footing on the uneven ground with only a single torch to light their way, a heaviness settled on him like none he’d ever felt. It squeezed the breath from his lungs and made his soul feel clogged with soot. Patrick stumbled before him with pirates fore and aft, while Moses and a few other colonists brought up the rear. All excitement faded into silence as they descended into the oppressive heat.

These tunnels were their last hope. For two weeks, they’d folded the maps together in every possible combination. Four combinations, in fact, all leading to different locations. Three of which they’d dug up until they struck water or rock. Well, in truth, it was Dodd, three colonists, and Moses who’d done the digging, while Patrick and Captain Ricu attempted to best each other with exaggerated tales of conquest and valor. Patrick Gale could charm a snake into giving up its nest of eggs. Dodd only hoped his charm continued to work on the wily pirate.

As if in defiance of the thought, Dodd tripped and nearly barreled into the pompous shyster. A sharp crag on the wall sliced his hand. He cursed as they rounded a corner and began traipsing down a set of stairs hewn from the hard dirt. Why, oh why, did the final location for the gold have to be at this gruesome temple? Once Dodd had spotted the crumbling walls surrounding the shrine, his blood had turned to needles. He’d only been here twice before, but it had been enough to convince him he never wanted to return. At least not below ground. Something evil lurked down there. If there was such a thing. Good and evil. He’d never considered himself a religious man, but the sense of depravity that permeated these ancient walls was enough to make him reconsider his standing with God.

Perhaps Moses was doing enough praying for them both. Dodd could still hear the man mumbling petition after petition to the Almighty as he hobbled behind him. Forced below at sword point, the poor freedman’s face had nearly turned white—if that were even possible for a Negro.

Sweat pasted Dodd’s shirt to his skin. Colorful curses spewed from the pirates’ lips, most in Portuguese. The ones in English made even ole tavern-inhabiting Dodd’s ears curl. At least he wasn’t the only one suffering.

Up ahead, Ricu’s torch sputtered and grew dim. A darkness as thick as tar seeped into Dodd’s lungs. He wheezed in air. Something skittered over his hand. Stifling a scream, he drew his arm close. A stench that seemed to emanate from an open grave rose with the heat and stung his eyes.

They trekked down another flight of stairs and in through a hole that led to the first chamber. Ricu snapped his fingers, sending men to light torches and search behind every rock, every stalactite and stalagmite of the cave. While the pirates examined the alcoves and chains and weird writing on the wall, Dodd, Moses, and the other colonists hovered near the opening, saying nothing. Patrick, however, strolled through the cavern seemingly oblivious to the fiery heat, putrid odor, and the foreboding heaviness in the air. Odd. Everyone who had ever gone this deep beneath the temple had complained of all those discomforts and more. Everyone except Graves, and look where he was now. Six feet under.

The eerie
tap, tap, tap
of dripping water grated over Dodd’s nerves as Patrick returned to stand beside him.

“There’s another chamber below,” Dodd whispered as he gestured to a barely discernible cleft in the shadows of the rock wall. “If they don’t find the gold here, it could be there.”

Grinning, Patrick fingered his goatee. “Then we can come back later ourselves.”

Precisely what Dodd was thinking. Though the idea of returning to this horrid place sent a hornet’s nest buzzing in his chest. Yet, what was a little fear and heat when it came to finding enough treasure to make him a king? He was almost ready to believe that the torture of this place might be worth it after all when one of the pirates shouted something in Portuguese and pointed toward the other opening.

Confound it all!
Dodd ground his teeth together as they descended into the lower chamber. Though similar in shape and size to the one above, it seemed smaller. But perhaps that was due to the wall of rocks—some small, others as large as a man—stretching nearly to the ceiling and cutting the room in half. Instead of two alcoves, only one was hewn from the cavern wall. The same broken chains lay at the bottom of a tall metal pole that poked through the top of the circular recess. James claimed invisible beasts had once been chained in these alcoves—the same beasts that now taunted the colonists with visions. Dodd thought the idea as ludicrous as the preacher himself. A preacher who hardly preached and a doctor afraid of blood. And they were supposed to listen to him?