Abandoned Memories (46 page)

Ahead, Blake assisted the others through the final hole back into the temple. Turning, he reached down for Angeline and James. The ground trembled. The entrance crumbled, filling with dirt and stones. Heat scorched James’s back. Angeline struggled through the opening. The bottoms of her muddy, seared shoes were the last thing he saw as the hole narrowed even more. He thrust his arm through, and Blake hauled him up. Rocks scored his skin.

A tremor struck the temple. Debris rained down on them. Something sharp speared James’s shoulder. Pain radiated across his neck. The temple columns began to quiver like noodles. Water sloshed out of the steamy pond. The moon and stars dislodged from the wall above the altar and clanged to the ground.

“The temple’s collapsing!” Hayden yelled as they all darted for the front.

“Where’s Dodd?” Angeline shouted.

James glanced back toward the tunnel entrance. The opening was barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through.

“Get out!” He nudged her forward, grabbed a shovel one of the pirates must have left and dug around the entry. Steam poured from the shrinking hole. A mighty roar sounded. Dust erupted from the opening. The tunnels must have collapsed. No one could survive that. Hand covering his mouth and nose, James turned to leave, but Angeline darted past him. “There he is!”

A flash of light hair appeared among the rubble. Dodd’s face, barely recognizable beneath the mud and blood, gazed up at them. “Help me!”

“Give me your hand!”

A sack of gold appeared instead. Disgusted, James shoved it back. “Your hand, man. Your hand!”

“Take the gold first.” He breathed out. “I can’t lift it.”

“Leave it! Leave it, or you’ll die.”

Dodd closed his eyes. The entrance toppled in on him. Dirt and rocks filled the space where he’d just been. Dust filled the air.

Angeline coughed and batted it aside. “No!”

A hand burst through the rubble.

James grabbed it. Angeline clawed away the dirt. Groaning, James tugged with all his might. Dodd’s shoulder appeared.

The ground shook. Temple walls cracked. The dirt loosened, and Dodd’s other hand punched through the debris. Bracing her shoes on the wall around the entrance, Angeline pulled, she on one side, James on the other. Dodd’s chest popped through. Finally his legs appeared. But his feet remained. Fire leapt up from below. Dodd screamed. James yanked him the rest of the way. Looping Dodd’s arm over his shoulder, James hoisted him up and dashed toward the portico, whispering a prayer. Angeline ran at his side as they both dodged slabs of stone and tumbled down the stairs and across the courtyard. Obelisks fell left and right. Weaving around them, they burst through the gate into the arms of their friends at the edge of the jungle. All seven of them fell in a heap on the ground, covered in mud, blood spilling over face and arms, chests heaving.

But clinging to one another in victory.

The roar of a thousand cannons pummeled the sky. A plume of flaming rock fired into the air above the temple. James shot to his feet and hauled the others up, ready to run. The wall surrounding the temple collapsed with a thunderous crash. The temple shook as if some giant child thought it nothing but a toy. Then it flattened as if that child stepped on it. Stones larger than a house folded inward and sank into the ground. A wave of dust blasted over them. James squeezed his eyes shut. Coughing, he clung to Angeline as they both fell to the dirt, gasping for air.

The shaking stopped. All grew quiet. Not a breeze stirred, not a bird sang. Afraid to open his eyes and discover he was dead, James sat there holding Angeline, listening to her breathe. He felt her move and push from him. Finally he opened his eyes. Ash and soot showered over them like snowflakes.

The temple was gone.

HAPTER
39

W
ilt thou, Angeline Moore, have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God’s ordinance…” Angeline smiled at James as he continued, half reading from the
Book of Common Prayer
, half gazing at her with his bronze eyes so full of love they seemed ready to burst. Was it proper—or even legal—for him to perform his own marriage ceremony? Angeline supposed if they were breaking some cardinal rule, God would make an exception in their case. For she wouldn’t be able to stand another day—another night—without this man. Especially not the time it would take to travel to Rio de Janeiro to see a priest.

James took her right hand in his. Strong, bruised fingers intertwined with hers, the sensual action sending her breath spinning. A salty breeze tossed his hair over the collar of his shirt. The shirt that was missing two buttons and was singed in one spot where the heat from the tunnels had burned him. A badge of honor for his godly mission to restrain evil. One that he had accomplished with great courage and God’s power. They all had, in fact. But James had been their leader. The prophet, the forerunner.

And she couldn’t be more proud.

Nor could she be more excited that today he would become her husband. This preacher-doctor who looked more like a sailor stranded on an island than a groom. A sailor who had picked a fight with otherworldly beasts from the looks of the cuts and bruises on his face, neck, and arms. But as he stood there on the sandy beach beneath a bamboo arbor laden with orchids and red ferns, his hair and shirt blowing in the wind, he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. The thought that within minutes he would become her husband made a tingle spread clear down to her toes.

“I, James Callaway, take thee, Angeline Moore, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

Someone sniffed in the audience, and Angeline saw Magnolia lift a handkerchief to her eye. Beside the Southern belle stood all the people who mattered most in the world to Angeline: Hayden, Eliza, Blake, Sarah, and Thiago. Next to them, Moses shadowed Mable who perched beside the Scotts. In the distance, Captain Ricu watched along with a group of his pirates. Those who had sided with Patrick—apparently over half his crew—were conspicuously absent. They had been “reward their due” Ricu had explained when asked, and Angeline hadn’t wanted to inquire what that meant.

Dodd, bandages on his feet and legs, sat on a boulder to the right. She smiled at Mr. Lewis, who sat beside him, having reappeared from the jungle yesterday, dazed and with no remembrance of the past two months. Had he turned into a man-wolf, this Lobisón, as Thiago still insisted, and then somehow changed back when the beasts were imprisoned? Angeline didn’t know, nor did she want to think about it on such a glorious day.

The crash of waves and serenade of birds provided the music. An overskirt the ladies had woven from purple and pink flowers made up her wedding gown. Yet she might as well be wearing taffeta silk for the way James looked at her.

Shifting his stance he turned to Blake, who fumbled inside his waistcoat pocket for a ring. A band of gold? Yet what else could shimmer so beautifully in the afternoon sun?

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship.” James slid it on her finger and adored her with his eyes. “And with all my worldly goods I thee endow.” His lips slanted. “As scant as they are.”

Tears glazed her eyes. She smiled up at him. He brushed a thumb over her lips in such an intimate, caring gesture, her knees turned to mush.

“I now pronounce us man and wife, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Cheers of joy filled the air. Yelps and whistles and a few Portuguese words emanated from the pirates as the colonists flooded the couple with congratulations.

But Angeline couldn’t take her eyes off her husband.

Not during the excruciatingly long celebration that followed, not when they entered the private hut prepared for their honeymoon. And not even an hour later when, to the gentle lull of waves, James and she became one in flesh in the eyes of God.

Afterward, they held each other and talked and loved and prayed and spoke of their adventures, their God, their future, and their dreams. They were both still awake when the first blush of dawn creased the horizon. Pulling aside the canvas flap that faced their private beach, Angeline sat to watch the sun rise on a new day, happier than she’d ever been. James inched behind her, straddling her with his legs while encasing her with his arms. She leaned back on his chest and sighed, thanking God for cleansing her, for forgiving her, for loving her. And for making all her dreams come true. “I never want this night to end.”

James nibbled on her ear. “We will have many more nights together. A lifetime.”

She sighed as wind tossed her curls that smelled of coconut and orange blossoms over his face, tickling his skin. He twirled a finger around one of the delicate strands, longing to wrap his entire body in the silky web.

And remain there forever.

Last night, his eyes had been opened to what real love was. Not selfish pleasure, but giving everything of oneself. The melding of soul, spirit, and body in a love that was as close to perfection this side of heaven. No wonder God held marriage so sacred, so holy. It was a taste of paradise, of God’s unconditional love, a bonding that was more spiritual than physical. And to dishonor it by using it only for one’s pleasure, to fulfill a physical need, absent of real love, was to spit in the face of God Himself and His incredible gift to man. It was also to do great harm to one’s own body and soul.

James hadn’t understood that until now. But God had cleansed him. He had cleansed Angeline. And together throughout the night they had danced across the heavenly realms.

The golden arc of the sun peered over the horizon, curling ribbons of saffron and scarlet over sky and sea. Squeezing her against him, he trailed kisses up her neck, his body reacting in delight when she moaned.

“If you keep that up, Mr. Callaway, I fear we will never leave this hut.”

“If that were to happen, Mrs. Callaway, I fear I will die a very happy man.”

“Upon your honor, Captain Ricu, please assure me that you aren’t kidnapping these people.” Blake squinted into the sun and stared at the ostentatious pirate, his red plume fluttering in the wind, his Portuguese bark sending men to assist the colonists into two waiting boats. “I wouldn’t want them pressed into piracy.”

Ricu faced Blake. “Colonel, do I lie? I take them to Rio, of course! Though you give me good idea. I can always use more men.” His eyes twinkled mischievously.

Angeline chuckled at the disconcerted look Blake exchanged with James.

“No fears,” Ricu continued with a grin, sunlight winking off his silver tooth. “Your God has much power. More even than me.” He chuckled as if that were beyond comprehension. “I no cross swords with Him. Deliver people safe.”

“What of your gold, Captain?” Angeline asked. “And your lady?”

He waved a jeweled hand through the air. “Gold stay buried with monsters. I value life more than wealth. Wealth I find. Life, I have one.” He shrugged. “Perhaps two. Besides”—he grew serious and leaned toward Blake and James, crossing himself—“I see much evil as I cross seas. And what I see in tunnels should not be free. Not for gold.” He stood back and shouted an order to one of his crew. “And my lady? If she prefer gold over golden heart”—he laid his hand over his heart and winked at Angeline—“then she not the lady for me.”

Angeline gave him a smile of approval as sobbing drew her gaze to Magnolia and her parents. Poor Mrs. Scott wilted like a sun-bleached flower in her daughter’s arms. Mr. Scott stood beside them, looking as if he attended a funeral. They had decided to leave with the rest of the colonists—first to Rio and then on a ship back to the States. Angeline couldn’t blame them. The jungles of Brazil were no place for landed gentry so unaccustomed to discomfort.

An argument ensued that seemed to have something to do with Mable, but finally the slave slid behind Magnolia while Magnolia’s father planted a kiss on his daughter’s cheek and led his weeping wife to one of the boats.