Elusive Hope (33 page)

Lydia began crying, and before Sarah could get up, Eliza slipped inside the hut to retrieve the baby and handed her to her mother.

“I don’t think it was a nightmare.” Sarah rocked her daughter. “I was awake, couldn’t sleep all night. I stepped out of the hut for some air and that was when I saw him.”

“Who?”

“My husband. My dead husband. Only he wasn’t dead.” She glanced over the crowd. “I’m sorry to wake everyone.”

Eliza shared a knowing look with her husband.

“I’ve seen visions too,” Blake said, lifting his voice for all to hear. “My dead brother for one.”

“Me, as well,” one of the colonists added.

“And me,” Angeline spoke up.

Several of the remaining colonists offered their own stories, and soon the air was filled with tales of various sightings. Despite the frightening accounts, an odd relief swept through the crowd as each person realized they weren’t alone.

Yet James couldn’t shake the dread settling like a stone in his stomach. If they weren’t crazy then…he fingered his chin and stared at the ground.

Blake eased beside him. “What is it?”

“Just something I read in that book from the temple.”

Blake hushed everyone. “What?”

“Something about visions. No, it was delusions. I didn’t think about it until now. My Hebrew is a bit rusty. I can’t make out all the words, but it said something about four generals, Deception, Delusion, Destruction, and Depravity.”

“Generals? From what army?”

James shook his head. “I don’t know, but there was an entire section on Delusion that used words like vision, memory, manipulation, torture….Not pleasant stuff at all.”

“Perhaps it’s just some account of a war the Portuguese and Indians fought long ago,” Dodd offered.

Eliza hugged herself. “Do continue to read and let us know, won’t you, Doctor?”

“Of course.”

“Superstitious rubbish,” one colonist grumbled and ambled away.

“I see things too.” Thiago crossed himself. “It comes from temple. There is evil there. We should leave. Find another place. My charms not strong enough.”

“God can protect us, Thiago,” Eliza said.

“Exactly,” James added. “We have nothing to fear.” Then why did he suddenly feel so terrified?

The orchestra wasn’t at all like the one Magnolia had enjoyed at the soiree in Rio, but the fiddle, guitar, and harmonica, accompanied by a young lad slapping a beat on a wooden stump, delighted her ears nonetheless, drowning out the normal thrum of the jungle. As well as her father’s constant castigation. She wished the music would delight her spirit, but that, along with her body, had been kept locked behind a prison of her father’s wrath and her own guilt for three days. Three long, miserable days during which he had not let her out of his sight. Not even at night. Though she’d tried twice to escape.

The first day she’d been home, her father had worked himself into such a frenzy yelling at her about what a spoiled hoyden she was, he’d nearly collapsed from exertion. In fact, Mable, their slave, had been forced to run into the jungle and pick fresh fruit just to revive him. Once back to sorts, however, he continued his castigation, stating how Magnolia had not only broken his heart but her mother’s as well—though the woman didn’t seem heartbroken at all, simply upset that her husband was shouting so much. Then he growled on about how she’d worried them sick, though for the life of her, she found No evidence in his tone. But finally he got to the crux of the matter—the real reason for his anger. Magnolia had run out on her debt to them. Her debt to make up for her courtship with Martin. For bringing him into their lives, for falling for his schemes. For allowing him to ruin her family.

“Your beauty is our only hope to reinstate our wealth and name in this new land,” he had said, stomping back and forth on the dirt floor of their home-in-progress, barely a frame of wood and stones. But of course he hadn’t wanted to shout at her in town where everyone could hear. “And then you run out on your mother and me, leaving us destitute and without hope. You ungrateful girl!”

She should have shown him her reflection. That would certainly crush his hopes to toss her as bait into the pond of rank and fortune. How his face would wrinkle in disgust and his eyes pop out in horror if he saw the image she saw in her mirror. For some reason the thought brought a smile to her lips, though it quickly faded at the remembrance of that reflection earlier when she’d been dressing for the party. So upset at the sight, Magnolia had decided not to look at it ever again. Besides, now that she was home, she had Mable to fix her hair and ensure her face was clean.

Torches were lit and couples began dancing across the cleared area beside the meeting shelter, drawing Magnolia’s gaze. She envied their happiness, their freedom. Their peace. At least her father had given her a slice of that peace today. He hadn’t said a word to her. No doubt he’d exhausted not only himself but his store of insults. For the time being, anyway. However, his silence had finally given Magnolia a chance to steal away and tell her mother what had happened. Though obviously hurt that Magnolia ran off, her mother seemed to understand and even sympathize with the harsh treatment Magnolia received from her father. Regardless, the woman refused to say anything negative about her husband, always kowtowing to his needs, his wants, while ignoring her own. Magnolia wondered how she could be related to such a weakling. But the truth was, even if her mother wanted to leave, she had nowhere to go and no money to get there.

Just like Magnolia.

So now, she sat, squished between her father’s stiff presence on her right and her mother on her left—like two sentinels guarding their most precious asset.

Worst of all, she’d been forbidden to speak to Hayden. Ever. At least they had allowed her to attend tonight’s celebration—in honor of her return and the pirates’ defeat—though she was sure it was only to save face.

One of the ex-soldiers came up to ask her for a dance, but her father waved him off before the man uttered a word.

The scent of roasted wild boar still lingered in the air from dinner. Although delicious, the food hadn’t settled well in her agitated stomach. She scanned the couples, seeking the one face she so desperately longed to see. Had he meant what he’d said on the ship? That he’d always come for her? That he wanted something more than a frivolous dalliance? Or was he simply playing the part of the charming gallant in order to woo the lovely lady? She had to know. Must speak to him.

Before he left tomorrow.

Which frightened her all the more. He was leaving her. Magnolia’s mother had heard from Mrs. Matthews who had heard from Sarah that Hayden was going on an excursion to seek this Mr. Godard, and he didn’t know when he’d return. Or if.

“It’s for the best,” her mother had said, patting Magnolia’s hand. “You know how your father detests him.”

Perhaps he wouldn’t if he knew that Hayden had saved her life more than once, cared for her and protected her. But that probably wouldn’t make a difference. Hayden lacked the two things her father sought the most—wealth and rank.

Blake swung Eliza past in a polka, and she smiled at Magnolia from her husband’s arms. The colonel’s hobbled gait was barely noticeable when he danced with his wife. The sight warmed Magnolia. As did the sight of Thiago, one hand on a tree trunk, leaning over to smile at baby Lydia in Sarah’s arms. Across the way, James extended his elbow for Angeline and led her onto the makeshift dance floor. Mr. Dodd leaned over a table beneath the meeting shelter staring at a map in confusion. Perhaps he hadn’t found his gold, after all. Lewis, ever the cheerful besotted soul, sat on a wobbly chair drinking from his flask and bobbing his head to the tune. Of course he was happy, he had spirits to numb his soul.

She raised her hand and noticed the slight tremble. Another thing she’d been denied these past days. Finally Mable returned with a tray of drinks. Not the kind Magnolia needed, but warm lemonade would have to do. She took a sip, her lips puckering. They were running short on sugar.

Moses headed toward them, across the clearing, hat in hand. Magnolia’s attempt to warn him with her eyes failed as his were locked on Mable. He stopped before them. “Missah Scott, would it be all right if I ask Mable to dance? If she wants to, dat is.”

Mable’s eyes lit up as she gazed up at the tall black man.

But Magnolia’s father had a way of crushing any happiness that crossed his path.

He waved him away. “Slaves don’t dance.”

“Oh, let her dance with him, Papa,” Magnolia said, resisting the urge to pour her lemonade on his head.

“I said no! Why the colonel allows these freed Negroes to attend our party is beyond me. Now, go fetch the frond fan, Mable. I’m getting hot. And you”—he flicked his fingers at Moses—“run along.”

Dejected, Moses trudged away. Magnolia opened her mouth to say something she’d probably regret when the sight of Hayden stopped her.

He strode into the clearing as if he owned the place. No longer looking like a pirate, he wore gray trousers tucked into high boots, a white shirt, a black waistcoat, and a string tie. Unlike in the jungle when he wore his hair loose and wild, he had combed it and tied it behind him, so unconventional for the fashion of the age, but one of the things she adored about him.

Their eyes locked and he winked at her as if he knew a grand secret. And her heart nearly beat through her chest.

Still he made no move toward her. No doubt he knew the effort would be fruitless.

The dance ended and people scattered for refreshments. Blake approached. “Mr. Scott, if I may intrude on your time, something has come to my attention regarding your home. A few of the farmers passed by the other day and told me there may be a flaw in the frame that will compromise the integrity of the entire structure.”

Her father jumped to his feet. “Absurd! I know what I’m doing and have inspected every inch.’ ”

“Would you like me to show you, sir?”

“In the dark?”

“We have torches,” Blake said, his expression grave. “I fear we should not wait.”

Her father tugged on his waistcoat. “Very well.” He turned toward his wife. “Look out after her.” He nodded at Magnolia. “She is not to dance.”

Mrs. Scott agreed, her shoulders slumping. Yet as Blake led the man away, Magnolia saw a slight grin lift the colonel’s lips.

Moments later, Eliza asked Magnolia’s mother to taste an orange pie she’d made with mandioca root, begging the accomplished woman’s advice on the taste of the flour substitute. After Magnolia insisted she’d behave, her mother left, seemingly oblivious to the sparkle of mischief in Eliza’s eyes.

For the first time in three days, Magnolia was alone.

No, not alone. Hayden appeared before her and offered his hand. “Would you care for a stroll?”

C
HAPTER
28

H
ayden led Magnolia away from the party, relishing the feel of her delicate hand in his once again. It had been pure torture not being able to speak to her the past three days. Especially after he’d made up his mind. But she was with him now. His plan had worked, thanks to his friends. Unusual nervousness buzzed through him as he shoved through a fence of leaves and led her into a small, private clearing. Two torches, planted in the soft bank of a bubbling creek, cast flickering light over the water.

Magnolia smiled. “Did you prepare this for me?”

“Of course.”

She stared almost shyly at the reflection of golden flames bouncing across the dark water as if she were afraid to face him.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, caressing her fingers.

She swung her blue eyes to his, the shield over them dissolving. “I have missed you too.” Her voice was filled with longing. “Thank you for getting rid of my parents. Very clever.” She grinned.

He shrugged. “How else was I to speak to you?”

She lowered her gaze. “Papa has been horrible.”

Hayden squeezed her hand, tugging her closer. “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that.”

“Maybe I do.” Rare contrition shrouded her features.

“None of us are perfect,” Hayden said. “But no one deserves to be treated like a commodity. Especially not from a father.” It would almost be better to grow up without a father like Hayden had than to be reprimanded daily by an unloving one. His heart strung tight.

A breeze whistled through the canopy, joining the gurgle and splash of the brook and the buzz of katydids. She gazed into the jungle, sorrow shadowing her face, and he longed to bring the life back into her eyes that he’d witnessed on their journey. But it seemed every drop of hope had been squeezed from her these past three days. Magnolia attempted a smile. “Regardless, you have stolen me away from him for a brief time, and I thank you for that.”

“I hope to steal you away for much longer,” he said. Flames glinted in her eyes. He searched their depths for her response. Desperate to know. Feeling as if he teetered in the balance between life and death.

Then delight sped through him at what he saw in those sapphire pools.

“Whatever are you implying, Hayden Gale?” She thickened her Southern drawl.