Abandoned Memories (35 page)

No sooner had she reassured them of their wives’ safety than Ricu and his men hauled them off to dig in the tunnels. The rest of the day went by in a blur as Angeline’s mind and heart whirled with thoughts of God, of being loved by her Creator. Excusing herself from supper, she retired early. But she couldn’t find sleep. How could anyone sleep with such a glorious feeling bubbling up inside? All warmth and love and peace and protection. Angels’ songs called to her in the night, celebrating, rejoicing, inviting her to a feast.

It was the voice of her heavenly Father welcoming her home.

Tears dampening her cheeks like the water dampened her bare toes, she strolled among the waves till well past midnight, one minute begging for forgiveness, the next laughing and singing, and the next dancing through the lacy foam, until, exhausted, she finally dropped to the sand and fell deep asleep.

She dreamed she was a princess captured by an evil magician who had imprisoned her in a dark dungeon for years and years. But one day a prince came. White-robed, with gleaming sword in hand, He stormed the fortress, fought for her, and loosed the shackles that bound her hands and feet, drawing her from the dungeon into the light. She shrank back, ashamed of the filth that covered her. The prince drew her close. She resisted. How could she allow someone so clean and beautiful to touch her grime and muck? He persisted, and finally she fell into His embrace. Instantly, the dirt cracked as if made of dried clay and fell off her, piece by piece, until she stood wearing the white robe of a princess.

A light pierced her eyelids, flooding them with gold.

She slowly opened her eyes to see the edge of the sun arc above the sea. She was clean. Clean at last! She chuckled. All these years, she’d never wanted to trust anyone, never wanted anyone to rescue her. But as it turned out, she needed God to sweep in and save her most of all. And He
had
rescued her. In every possible way.

Rising to sit, she drew a deep breath of the salty air and allowed the gentle breeze to finger through her hair. She’d never felt so free, so light, so loved.
Thank You, Father. Thank You!

No more bad memories, no more guilt. No more lies. She must tell James. Regardless of the consequences, she could not continue their courtship without telling him the truth. He was a man of God, after all. Surely he would understand.

HAPTER
31

J
ames lifted the basket toward Angeline. She dropped an orange inside. He’d been thrilled when he’d spotted her climbing over the railing of the ship yesterday. He’d been more thrilled to find her unharmed when she returned to shore, bearing a good report from Eliza and Magnolia. And he’d been equally thrilled when she’d invited him to accompany her this morning to scavenge for fruit. She rarely enlisted his help for much of anything, especially something as easy as picking fruit. Which could only mean that she enjoyed his company and she was serious about their courtship. Maybe this time she wouldn’t change her mind and push him away. The thought put a smile on his face as he watched her scour the low-hanging branches. Rays of morning sun cut through the canopy and formed ribbons of shimmering ruby in her hair as her graceful arms reached to pick a mango. Standing on tiptoe like a ballerina, she cast an alluring smile at him over her shoulder.

Yet there was something even more alluring about her today. A lightness to her step, an unusual joy on her face. Was there ever a more innocent and chaste lady? She was the perfect woman for him. And he thanked God every day for allowing him to court her, to hopefully marry her one day. Soon, if he had his way of things.

“When you were on the ship, did Captain Ricu say anything about Eliza and Magnolia’s release?” He raised his voice above a particularly loud burst of squawking coming from the canopy.

“No, but I do have a feeling it will be soon.” She glanced up at a pair of blue and green macaws who seemed to be scolding them for trespassing. Stowy leapt on the tree trunk beside her and started toward them.

“I hope you’re right.” James pointed at a papaya hanging from a high branch to their right. “I’ll get this one.” He plucked the fruit, dropping it in the basket, then met her gaze. A shadow crossed her violet eyes, a momentary hesitation before she smiled and continued onward.

Perhaps she thought about the pirate gold and the fourth beast and what would happen to them should it be released. Something James never ceased to fret over. Though he’d recently tried interpreting more of the Hebrew book, his progress was slow. Ever since Ricu had taken Eliza and Magnolia aboard his ship, James had trouble keeping focused. And Blake and Hayden had been so consumed with getting their wives back unscathed, they’d all but forgotten why they’d gone after the gunpowder in the first place.

Or perhaps the beasts, the angelic battle, the prison alcoves, and fire lake were all just silly myths from an ancient book and none of it was real. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. On days like today, when he hadn’t seen a vision in a week, when the sun was shining and the birds were singing and his heart burst with love for Angeline, it was easy to entertain a smidgeon of doubt about the supernatural war they found themselves entangled in. Perhaps the disasters were just that, disasters. Perhaps Graves had been murdered by a
bandido
. Perhaps the visions were caused by bad water, as Hayden had inferred.

But James knew that wasn’t true.

Still, he didn’t want to think about it now. For the moment, he was strolling through a lush jungle with the woman he loved, serenaded by an orchestra of birds and breathing air fragranced with sweet orchids. He would allow himself this bit of pleasure.

The gurgle of water drew them to a brook tumbling playfully over rocks. Setting the basket down, he squatted and cupped water to his mouth. Fresh and cool, it soothed his throat as he splashed some on the back of his neck. Angeline knelt beside him and did the same then flicked droplets at his shirt, giggling.

He cocked a brow and shook his wet hand in her direction. Drops sparkled like diamonds in her hair and on her skin, making her look even more angelic—if possible. She feigned indignation and sprayed him again. They continued for several minutes, laughing and showering each other until water dribbled from their chins and hair. An odd, wonderful feeling bloomed within James and began to swell through every inch of him. Something he had never felt before—happiness. Not only happiness at the moment but hope for many more happy moments with this precious woman.

Stowy jumped onto the pebbly bank and began batting at tiny bugs floating in the stream.

“I’m glad you invited me to come along. I was so worried about you yesterday.” James kissed the water from her lips, drawing in a deep breath of her coconut scent. Circling a hand around her back, he pressed in for more when she nudged him away. Her sad smile dissipated the gaiety of the moment like the water drying on her skin. “I need to speak to you about something, James.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It is.” She flattened her lips, those luscious lips he’d just kissed and longed to do so again.

He sat back on a rock, leveling his elbows atop his knees. “Very well.” The look on her face caused his gut to clench as she picked up Stowy and stroked the cat’s fur.

“It’s something about my past that you should know before…”—she glanced at the stream—“before we continue courting.”

Relief washed over him. Whatever sin she’d committed, it couldn’t be worse than what he’d done. Perhaps she had lied, cheated, even stole something. Though he doubted such an angel could even do that. “Whatever it is—”

“Let me tell you, please.” She drew a deep breath and bit her lip. “There’s no polite way to say this, James.” Her eyes misted, and she glanced down.

James reached for her hand, hating to see her so distraught. “There’s no need to tell me.”

“Yes, there is.” She met his gaze, wiped a tear from her cheek, and swallowed hard. “I was a prostitute.”

The word spun gibberish in James’s ear before the breeze carried it away. “If that was meant as a joke, I don’t find it amusing in the least.”

Yet he found no teasing, no humor, in her eyes—eyes that had dried to a hard sheen.

He stared at her, unable to process what she’d just said. It bounced around in his head like some intoxicated balloon.

“It was only for a short while, a little over a year,” she continued, looking away. “I was cast out on the street. I had no food, no home, no means of support. I would have died, James.” She searched his eyes, pain and hope screaming from her own.

But he had gone numb. Finally the balloon struck the tip of his reason and popped. Jerking away from her, he punched to his feet, his heart imploding. Shock became anger. Anger became disgust. All three stormed through him like the horsemen of the apocalypse, trampling everything in their path. His reason, his sympathy…

His love.

Releasing Stowy, Angeline slowly stood, fear appearing on her face for the first time.

James wiped the back of his hand over his lips and spit. He’d kissed her! A tramp! “I thought you were a lady.” His voice came out strangled. “I thought you were pure and innocent.”

Pain scoured her eyes. “Are any of us really innocent, James? Are you?”

“I never sold my virtue to strangers for money. I never sold my soul to the devil!”

Feminine laughter drew his gaze over Angeline’s shoulder to Tabitha, sashaying about the clearing, her lips upturned in a coy smile.
Of all the times for a vision!
Ignoring her, he glanced back at Angeline, whose expression had sunk into that look that had become so familiar to James during the war. The same look that had appeared on many a soldier’s face when James had told them they wouldn’t make it through the night.

“Is that what you think of me?” Angeline asked, her voice barely a whisper. “That I am allied with Satan?”

“What am I to think? You led me to believe…you accepted my courtship, knowing what you were…”

“What I
was
, yes. And what I am no longer.” Strength permeated her trembling voice, and James looked away, unable to bear the sight of her—the thought of her with another man.

Many men.

“I’m sorry to have bothered you, Mr. Callaway.” Her voice came out wooden. Turning, she started to leave. He gripped her wrist. She winced and tugged from him, tearing her sleeve, exposing the scar on her arm.

“This scar. It’s a knife wound.” He grabbed her again. “Who did this to you?”

“A man.”

“What man?”

She met his gaze. “One of my clients, if you must know. Turns out he preferred to slice women rather than enjoy them.” Her breath came heavy. Her lip trembled, but she stood her ground.

He wanted to feel sorry for her, wanted to consider how horrible her life had been, but he was too angry. Everything was starting to make sense. Her aversion to being touched, the pistol she used to carry around, the distance she kept. It wasn’t because she was chaste and timid around men. It was quite the opposite. He felt sick to his stomach.

And to make matters worse, she merely stood there with shoulders drawn back and chin stiff. Not dissolving in shame, not begging his forgiveness, and not even lashing at him in anger. Which only increased his fury.

How could she have deceived him? How could she have allowed their courtship? Heat raged through him, tightening his jaw and forming sweat on his neck. He’d come to Brazil to escape women like her, to start a new society without the immorality and decay they caused. And then he fell in love with the only prostitute on the journey! What was wrong with him? “Do you know what women like you have done to me?” He tightened his grip. “Ruined me! Tore my life from me. Made me a failure.” And caused his father’s death. But he wouldn’t tell her that.

She raised her chin. “It seems to me, Doctor, that you give a great deal of power to women who, in your assessment, possess none at all.”

Tabitha giggled. “Oh, touché, my dear. She’s good, James. I must say, I’m growing quite fond of her.”

“Shut up!” James shouted at the insidious vision.

“I’d be happy to if you’d kindly release me.” Angeline yanked from his grasp. Stowy circled her skirts, looking as if he would pounce on James.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” James let go of her wrist, his frustration at the boiling point. He waved a hand at her. “Go.”

Angeline glanced around the clearing, wondering who else was present, then took a step back from James, rubbing her wrist. Inside, a storm of agony raged. Outside, she maintained control. She’d learned that useful skill during her time working in a brothel. She’d also learned how to deal with enraged men. She should leave as he’d ordered. Yet he looked so distraught, so lost. And all because of her lies.

James took up a pace. “I trusted you. You knew how I felt about immoral women.”

“Which is why I didn’t tell you until now.” She drew a breath for strength. “And I am no longer immoral. I am forgiven. As a man of God you should know that and forgive me too.”

“Don’t you dare”—he pointed a finger at her—“Don’t you speak of God to me.” His bronze eyes hardened. “Women like you know nothing of God. Women like you lure men to their deaths.”