Abandoned Memories (34 page)

“You no bigger than sprite.” He guffawed. “A bela sprite, I say.”

“But I should warn you, Captain, this sprite has a vicious bite.”

At that, he swung around, his frame filling the narrow hallway. Two lanterns creaked as they swayed from hooks on the walls, their shifting light barely chasing away the gloom. The pirate behind her bumped into her, but Angeline steadied her thrashing heart and stood her ground. Instead of striking her as she expected, Ricu laughed, a deep husky laugh that bounced over the bulkheads like thunder. “I bet you have bite, little one.” He turned and continued down a ladder. Hoisting the sack over her shoulder, she tried her best to navigate the rungs as carefully as possible while holding her breath against a stink that would send even the staunchest sailor reeling. The last thing she wanted was to slip and tumble down on top of the man.

“Perhaps we try your bite soon.” Ricu stopped at the bottom and held up his lantern. Maniacal threads of light twisted across his face as eyes as dark as onyx assessed her.

The pirate behind her chuckled.

Angeline resisted the urge to kick him in the groin. “Where are my friends?” she demanded.

Grunting, he jerked the lantern to his right. “Faro will show.” Then turning to the rotund pirate behind him, who had more hair on his chin than his head, Ricu spouted off a string of Portuguese before climbing up the ladder with a groan as if every step caused him pain.

Down the hall, the pirate unlocked a door, shoved Angeline inside, and slammed it shut. A squeal of delight etched across Angeline’s ears before arms surrounded her in a strong embrace.
Eliza
. Or at least Angeline thought it was Eliza in the darkness, for the woman could embrace like no other. She could also grip quite hard as she shook Angeline’s shoulders. “What are you doing here?” Her tone had turned from delight to anger.

Finally her face came into focus as Angeline’s eyes grew accustomed to the shadows. Muted light drifted in through a tiny porthole near the deckhead, offering the only reprieve from the gloom. A pile of sailcloth was stacked against the bulkhead on the left. Beside it, a chamber pot fumed from the corner. Atop the rickety table hooked to the wall sat an empty pewter plate and an old book. Two chairs framed it, providing the only place to sit, aside from the narrow cot on her right—the cot from which Magnolia now rose. The Southern belle flung an arm around Angeline’s waist and squeezed. “How fares Hayden, Blake, and everyone else?” The woman’s attempt to keep her tone light failed as desperation rang in her voice.

“Everyone is well. Tormented with worry, but well. How are you both?” Angeline squinted to see her friends in the shadows and, thankfully, saw no cuts or bruises, nor additional tears to their already tattered gowns. “The pirates haven’t…they haven’t…”

“No,” Eliza said. “Not yet, anyway.”

Magnolia hugged herself. “That beastly captain drags both of us to his cabin each night and then just sits there staring at us while he drinks his brandy.”

Relief settled over Angeline. “That’s good news. He’s keeping you from the other pirates as well.”

Eliza drew a ragged breath. “I fear one of these nights he will drink too much and forget about this woman you say he loves.”

Angeline feared the same. The ship teetered over a swell, creaking in complaint. Balancing her feet on the deck, she flung the sack on the table. “I brought gifts.” Opening the pouch, she pulled out the fruit and fish and set them on the plate, then reaching back into the sack, she withdrew a small wooden object and handed it to Magnolia. “Hayden said this would bring you comfort.” Though Angeline couldn’t imagine why. What woman preferred a carving of a toad over fresh underthings or soap or a hairbrush? But as soon as Magnolia saw it, she clutched it to her chest, her blue eyes pooling.

“He also said he loves you very much and bids you be strong.”

Brushing aside a tear, Magnolia nodded, her face beaming with such intense emotion, Angeline looked away. That same emotion, a desperate longing, now burned in Eliza’s eyes—so unusual for the stalwart woman—as her gaze shifted to the sack.

“And Blake sent this.” Angeline pulled out a Georgia Army belt plate, which Eliza gobbled up in her hands as if it were made of gold. “Strange gifts, if you ask me.”

“Not strange at all.” Eliza pressed the belt plate to her chest. “This is Blake’s most prized possession. I’m surprised he risked it falling into the pirates’ hands.”

“He told me to tell you that he would have sent his heart, but you are already in possession.” At the time, Angeline had thought the phrase too sentimental and trite for the staunch colonel to say, but now as she repeated the words and saw their reaction on Eliza’s face, she knew it had been the perfect message.

Eliza laughed and cried at the same time, and Angeline wondered if she’d ever share such an incredible bond with James.

“I can’t believe Captain Ricu allowed you to come.” Eliza finally gathered her emotions, still staring at the belt plate, but then her gaze snapped to Angeline. “You aren’t a prisoner too, are you?”

“Possibly.”

“You risked too much.” Magnolia sat in one of the chairs, the toad still cradled in her hands.

“Not too much for my friends,” Angeline replied. “Besides, Hayden and Blake would go utterly mad if they didn’t hear word of your well-being.”

“I fear I will go mad if I do not see my husband soon.” Magnolia sighed. “Please tell us you bring word the pirates will release us soon.”

Captain Ricu’s voice bellowed from above decks, followed by the stomping of feet. Angeline bit her lip. “I wish I could, but I have no idea.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Golden light from the window oscillated over Eliza with the sway of the ship. “God told me we will soon be returned to the colony.”

Magnolia lowered her chin. “I wish I could believe that.”

“I have faith for us both, Magnolia.” Eliza knelt before her friend and gazed up at her. “We
will
get out of here.”

Angeline wasn’t so sure. How could God speak to people? He was way up in heaven and, obviously, completely unaware of what was happening here on earth. But it would do no good to shatter her friends’ hopeful illusions.

Rising, Eliza faced Angeline. “But you. You shouldn’t have come.” Angeline shrugged. “Even if they keep me here, I deserve it more than either of you.”

“Why would you say such a thing?”

Unaccustomed to the wobbling deck, Angeline lowered onto the other chair. She was so tired of keeping secrets, pretending to be someone she was not. “You think you know me, but you don’t. I’ve done terrible things.”

“I doubt that,” Eliza said.

“It’s true.”

“Whether it is or not, the past no longer matters.” Magnolia reached for her across the table. “God has forgiven you.”

Had He? Angeline hadn’t asked Him for forgiveness. Mainly because she wasn’t sure He would give it, but also because if she was honest, she was angry at God for what had happened to her. “Perhaps I haven’t forgiven
Him
,” she said. “He hasn’t been very kind to me. Why did He allow my father to die? Allow me to become—” She stopped. “Allow all the horrid things that happened afterward.”

“Did you ever ask Him?” Eliza said. “Did you ever seek His will during those difficult times?”

Angeline shook her head.

Eliza sank to the cot and stared at the belt plate. “I fear we are very much alike, Angeline. I spent most of my life making my own decisions, going my own way, thinking I didn’t need God. I wanted to live my life without anyone telling me what to do. And I made such a mess of things. I caused myself and a lot of people tremendous pain.” Angeline studied her friend. Eliza caused people pain? Unlikely. At least not the enormous amount of pain Angeline had caused. Tugging her father’s ring from beneath her bodice, she fingered the beautiful jewels. “I assumed God didn’t care what happened to me. He wasn’t there when I became an orphan, when my uncle tried to…”—she gazed at her friends, who both stared back with such loving eyes, she couldn’t help but continue—“ravish me.”

Magnolia raised a hand to her mouth. Eliza remained silent, listening.

Waves rustled against the hull.

“What happened?” Magnolia asked.

“I ended up begging on the street.” Angeline hugged herself and stared at the stained deck. “I became a trollop.” There, she’d finally said it. The words floated through air thick with stink and steam before the weight of their shame plunged them to the deck. Wind whistled against the window. The ship canted to the left. Angeline cursed herself for a fool. Why, oh why had she said anything? She could feel Magnolia and Eliza’s eyes piercing her—eyes, no doubt, filled with disdain and disgust. She couldn’t bear it another minute. Rising, she clutched her skirts and started for the door, intending to bang upon it until the pirates released her.

Magnolia grabbed her hand before she took a step. “God was there with you.”

Eliza blocked Angeline’s path. “There and loving you as He is now.”

Overcome by the concern on their faces, tears filled Angeline’s eyes. “With me? God was with me? Then why did He allow me to become…what I became?”

“You never asked Him for help,” Eliza said. “God hated what your uncle did to you, but afterward, I know He was there waiting to love and help you. But it sounds like you ran away from Him instead. You wouldn’t allow Him in your life. How can you blame Him now for the choices you made?”

Tugging from Magnolia’s grip, Angeline swept past her friends.

“I don’t mean to be cruel, Angeline,” Eliza continued, spinning to face her. “Just honest. It will do no good for me to placate you with comforts or flatter you with kind words that don’t get to the root of the problem. Life is cruel. Terrible things happen, but it’s how we react that matters. It’s who we run to for help that makes all the difference.”

Like a sharp knife, the words sliced through Angeline’s heart, leaving a winding trail of pain and shame. She backed away from her friends until she struck the hard bulkhead. Could her life have been different if she’d turned to God, begged for His help? Would He have answered her? Taken care of her?

The ship creaked and groaned, mimicking her tormented conscience. Eliza and Magnolia gazed at her with nothing but love and concern. Not disgust. Not repulsion. Not condemnation. Her throat burned. Her vision blurred. Shock sent her thoughts whirling. Shame for her own stupidity gutted her. She wobbled, and instantly her friends led her back to the chair.

Magnolia sat beside her. “Ask His forgiveness and start anew. I did. And it has changed everything.”

Angeline couldn’t argue with that. Just months ago, Magnolia had been nothing but a spoiled, vain, selfish lady. Yet, here she sat, imprisoned on a pirate ship, concerning herself with Angeline. Giving hardly a thought to her own predicament.

Maybe God could do that for Angeline. Change her. Make her new. Maybe He
had
been with her the whole time. A tiny spark of hope pushed away the blackness in her soul…like a match struck in a dark room. “You aren’t shocked, appalled, disgusted?”

“Hardly,” Eliza said. “We’ve all done horrible things.”

“But this…”

“Is no worse than my selfishness.” Magnolia rose. “Or my vanity, pride, or boorishness.”

“Or my rebellion, stubbornness, and independence,” Eliza added.

Angeline smiled and sobbed at the same time. “I’m so sorry.” She wiped moisture from her face. “I came to comfort you, and here I speak only of my own problems.”

“It’s quite all right.” Magnolia shrugged and shared a smile with Eliza. “What else have we to do?”

“Perhaps this is why God allowed us to be brought here,” Eliza said. “Just to have this talk with you. In that case, it is worth it.”

Angeline’s throat clogged with emotion even as her heart seemed to swell. This was certainly not the reaction she’d expected from her friends—not the reaction she usually received from proper women. Would God equally surprise her with His response? Warm arms enveloped her as both Eliza and Magnolia pulled her into an embrace. All three ladies stood teetering with the rolling deck, crying and laughing and encouraging one another until the clank of lock and key jarred them from their camaraderie and the entrance of Captain Ricu separated them. With narrowed eyes and a grunt, he dragged Angeline from the cabin.

“Thank you for allowing me to visit my friends, Captain,” Angeline remarked as he led her through the narrow hallway.

His only reply was another grunt.

“And I also thank you for not harming them. Your lady—
Senhorita
Abelena was it?—would be pleased.”

He wheeled around, his coiled black mane swinging about him, his eyes darts in the dim lantern light. The hall closed in on Angeline, and for a moment she’d thought she’d lured the mad pirate out from hiding. But then his shoulders lowered and he breathed out a sigh.

“I run out of rum to keep men happy. Soon they will want their turn.”

“Then release the women, Captain. Their husbands have suffered enough for their crimes.”

“Humph.” Turning, he continued up a ladder to the main deck where a blast of wind flapped Angeline’s skirts and swept away the foul smell from below.

His gaze took in the open sea as if he longed to be as free from Brazil as some of the colonists were.

“You can’t fool me, Captain,” she said, risking his anger but sensing something in his eyes.

He snorted and faced her.

She pointed toward his chest. “There’s a heart growing in there. You
are
changing.” She leaned toward him and whispered, “But your secret is safe with me.”

“Beware your words to me, bela sprite. I am still Captain Ricu, and I take what I want when I want!” He spat the words with venom, but there was no sting in his eyes as he shoved her toward his waiting men who assisted her into the boat below.

Somewhere between ship and sand, as the waves struck the small craft, showering her in mist, as the rising sun sprinkled her in gold dust, Angeline whispered her first prayer to God in years. Just a quick “hello” to see if He was listening. A tingling began deep within her. A burst of light. A flood of love raced through her veins, pumping them full of life. By the time she met Blake, Hayden, and James ashore, she could hardly think, could hardly form a coherent thought.