Devil's Island (14 page)

“I heard you were leaving town,” she said, deciding at last that he must have come to say good-bye. She hadn't expected a farewell visit, not after the way she'd treated him.

“I was . . . I am,” he corrected himself. “But I wanted to see you first.” Abraham hesitated, then with an obvious effort at self-control, he said, “I think you owe me an explanation, Elizabeth. And I want to hear it.”

She bowed her head in shame. “You're right,” she said softly. “I owe you that.” She didn't know where to start, however.

He filled in the silence. “My better judgment tells me I should just cut my losses and leave, but for some reason I have to know why you let me fall in love with you when you're going to marry someone else. I thought you had the same kind of feelings I did. You came to see me every single day, and you seemed so happy to be with me.”

“I was,” she whispered so faintly that he missed it.

“Day after day you sat in my room, with the sunlight streaming through the window, making your hair look like a flame-kissed halo. You hung on to every word I said, and your laughter . . .” He bit his lip and looked down for a moment. “Your laughter was like the music of heaven to my soul. My very own angel—”

“Abraham, stop. Please.”

“Why did you do it?” He was angry now. “Why did you keep coming back? Was it just to torment me? In all that time, didn't you realize I was falling in love with you?”

“I didn't let myself think about the possibility,” she said unevenly. “And when I finally realized it, it was too late. I'm sorry, Abraham. You can't imagine how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you, I didn't.”

“Well, you did hurt me. And I suppose there's nothing to be done about it now.” He stood up and turned to face her. “You helped heal the wound on my face, but you've left one in my heart.”

“Please forgive me, Abraham.
Please
.” Surely he could hear the anguish in her voice and know how truly remorseful she was.

But he did not offer his forgiveness. “I just hope he makes you happy, Elizabeth. I would have spent every moment of my life making you happy, and I hope to God he does the same.”

“He won't make me happy,” she protested. “He'll make me miserable, and I don't want to marry him, but I have to.” She wished she could make Abraham understand.

He sat back down on the bench. “Am I going to have to drag it out of you, or are you going to tell me the story?”

“You're still speaking to me?”

“Well, I still love you, so I guess I can tolerate hearing your voice a little while longer. Besides, if you really don't want to marry this man, maybe there's something I can do to help.”

“H-help?” She hicccuped when she tried to speak, tears beginning to flow in spite of her effort to stop them.

“You have to stop crying first, though.”

She nodded her head yes.

“Promise?”

“Yes,” she said finally. “I promise.”

“Let's go inside,” he suggested. “Someplace a little more private.”

Elizabeth led Abraham from the atrium into the adjoining dining room. “We'll be comfortable in here,” she said. “And we can talk freely.” They arranged themselves on the long sofas, and Elizabeth dried her eyes on one of the large linen napkins draped over the edge. Then she related the story of her engagement.

She had just turned sixteen when she accompanied her father, Rufus, on a business trip to Rome. It was by far the most thrilling adventure of her life—a whirlwind of exciting new places and people—and she had loved every minute of it.

Well, almost every minute. While in the capital they made frequent visits to the home of Senator Lucius Mallus Balbus. Elizabeth had found the senator pompous and boring, and she thought even less of his eighteen-year-old son, who had quickly become infatuated with her and wanted to monopolize her time. As much as she disliked the boy, she was unfailingly polite; his father was a valuable business associate.

“Young Mallus is quite taken with you, Elizabeth,” her father said one night as they returned from a dinner party at the senator's home. Rufus seemed pleased.

“The feeling is
not
mutual.” Elizabeth frowned but quickly added. “Don't worry. I'll continue to be nice. I know his father is a very influential man.”

It was not easy to be nice, however, especially after the day she and Drusilla, the wife of Senator Mallus, had returned early from a shopping excursion. From an upstairs window of the villa, Elizabeth had observed a disturbing scene: the senator's son had kicked a dog for no reason, sending the poor, defenseless creature halfway across the courtyard. The sight had sickened her, and she confronted him about it after dinner that night.

He denied the incident. “It wasn't me,” he said. “Must have been someone else.”

“I was upstairs,” she said. “I saw you.”

“It doesn't matter what you think you saw,” he said. “I did no such thing.”

His defiant look intimidated Elizabeth. She knew he was lying simply because he could get away with it; no one challenged the senator's son.

As much as she had loved Rome, she hated her visits to the Mallus family, and Elizabeth was both disappointed and relieved when it was time to depart.

In spite of several hints from her father, Elizabeth had remained oblivious to what was going on behind the scenes. It wasn't until their ship was almost to Ephesus that she learned her father had concluded more than one business deal in Rome: he had signed a marriage agreement with Senator Mallus and had promised a spring wedding for his daughter and the senator's son.

“I can't believe you did it without consulting me,” Elizabeth said when Rufus finally told her. Distraught, she paced the deck of the ship.

“And I can't believe you're so upset about it,” her father replied. “It's a good match, with a good family. A powerful family.”

“Is that all that matters to you? Marrying me off to a powerful family to advance your career?”

“Elizabeth, you're of marriageable age. It's my responsibility to find a suitable husband for you. Young Mallus is a fine young man, and he—”

“He's perfectly dreadful, that's what he is!”

“Now, Elizabeth—”

“Well, he is. I can't stand to be in the same room with him, let alone spend the rest of my life with him. How could you do this to me?”

“Tell me, daughter, just what you find so objectionable about him.”

Her father sounded as if he was losing patience with her, but she didn't care; too much was at stake to hold her feelings inside. “What about him
isn't
objectionable?” she shot back. “He's rude and arrogant. Swaggers around like everyone should be in awe of him.”

“Perhaps the boy is still somewhat immature and full of himself, but he'll settle down. He has an excellent military and political career ahead of him.”

“He's cruel. And he lies.”

Rufus sighed with annoyance. “Elizabeth, what are you talking about?”

“He hurts helpless animals.” She shuddered, recalling what she'd witnessed from the window, and she told her father about the dog.

“Not everyone loves animals as much as you do, child. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm by it.”

“Then why would he lie about it? And if he'll lie about kicking a dog, what else would he lie about? You've taught me to value honesty and integrity, Father. And now you want me to marry a man who has none.”

“I think you're exaggerating the situation, Elizabeth.”

She knew she wasn't exaggerating, and she knew this marriage would be a horrible mistake. What she didn't know was how to convince her father of that fact. She stared over the rail at the ocean, thinking she might as well throw herself overboard; it would be preferable to a lifetime with a man she detested.

“You have to trust me to do what's best for you,” Rufus said.

“Is it really best for me to marry a man I don't love or respect?”

“After you're married, you'll grow to love your husband. Wait and see.”

For the first time in her life, Elizabeth did not believe her father. She felt as if she had received a death sentence, and she couldn't shake the feeling no matter what she did.

By the time they got home, she could not eat at all and could barely sleep. Day after day she stayed in her room and cried, thinking that if her mother had still been alive, she would never have agreed to this marriage.
Mother would have seen “young Mallus” for
what he was,
Elizabeth told herself.
And she would never make me go
through with this.

Rufus prepared for the impending nuptials, but Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to cooperate. Justina, Servius's wife, started sewing a wedding dress, but by the time she was finished with it, the dress hung loosely on Elizabeth because she'd lost so much weight.

She could not talk her father out of it, but she did finally persuade him to postpone the wedding for a year. “I'm too young,” she told him, “and not ready to be a wife. Surely you can give me one year to get used to the idea. Just one year. Then the Mallus family can have the rest of my life.”

Reluctantly, Rufus wrote Senator Mallus and told him. The senator wrote back and said that he was not at all happy about the postponement but that his son, now a tribune, had just received a commission. He was being sent to Palestine, where a rebellion had broken out. The senator said the army would quash the uprising quickly—in no more than a few months—and that they could delay the marriage until then.

But the war in Palestine was not over in a few months. Instead, it dragged on and on, and for the next four years, Elizabeth felt as if she'd been given a reprieve. She put the engagement completely out of her mind and went on with her life.

Then one day the letter had arrived. “Jerusalem has finally fallen,” her fiancé wrote. “We have some minor cleanup to take care of, then the troops will return to Rome with General Titus by the spring.”

And then he would come to Ephesus for the wedding, he said.

The tone of the letter was repugnant. “Tell Elizabeth she'd better be ready this time. She's not a little girl any longer.”

Elizabeth nearly fell apart as she read and reread the letter. It was the news she had been dreading for four years.

“You're lucky he still wants you,” her father said. “There will be no arguments this time—no more delays.”

As they reclined comfortably in the dining room, Elizabeth finished telling Abraham the story of her engagement. This time, he was the one who listened intently.

“I used to pray the war in Palestine would never end,” she told him with an apologetic look. “I'm ashamed to admit that, especially after you told me about all the suffering.

“Can you believe I did that? I knew it meant more people would die, but I prayed for the war to continue.”

“I think God understood your heart,” Abraham said gently. “You didn't want to have to face a future you couldn't fathom.”

“All that time, I put the engagement out of my mind. As long as the war was going on, I didn't have to think about it. Then, the day you arrived, my father received the letter from Damian.”

“Damian.” Abraham frowned. “That's his name? Your fiancé?”

“Yes, Damian. Lucius Mallus Damianus.” She pronounced the full name with disgust, noticing that Abraham had a strange look on his face.

Just then Justina entered the room, carrying a tray. “I had the cook prepare a light lunch for you and your guest,” she said.

“Thank you.” Elizabeth rose as Justina placed the tray on the table between the sofas. “I'll serve,” Elizabeth told her, wanting to continue her conversation with Abraham in privacy.

When the servant left, Elizabeth poured the wine and filled a plate with cold cuts for Abraham, who attacked the meal with relish. It gladdened Elizabeth to know that he had fully recovered his appetite; he bore little resemblance now to the half-starved stranger she had met at John's house.

“Tell me what this Damian looks like,” Abraham said after a few bites.

She couldn't imagine why Abraham would want to know what his rival looked like, but she complied with his request. “He's not very tall, maybe three or four inches taller than me. Dark, wavy hair. Rather slight for a soldier, but physically strong and tough. Very intimidating.

“Just being around him gave me an eerie feeling. He would get this mean look in his eyes, the meanest look I've ever seen.”

“Did he ever do anything to hurt you?” Abraham asked.

She shook her head. “No, but sometimes I remember hearing that dog yelp and scurry off with his tail between his legs, and I can't help wondering if Damian will someday kick me.”

Abraham set his cup of wine down on the table so hard that it splashed over the top.

“I'm sorry, Abraham. I've upset you again.”

“No, this Damian fellow upset me. If he ever laid a hand on you . . .”

Elizabeth was surprised at the dark glower that crossed his face. She had never seen Abraham look so fierce, and she didn't know what to say.

“You can't marry him, Elizabeth. You belong with me.” He spoke with such sincerity that it squeezed her heart. She wanted desperately to belong to him but knew she belonged to someone else.

“I can't do anything about it,” she said, her voice starting to shake again. “I have to go through with it.”

“If you were married to someone else, then you
couldn't
marry Damian.”

“Don't talk that way, Abraham. I can't go back on my word. I promised.”

“No, your father promised.”

“Yes, but I promised my father I would abide by the agreement. I couldn't break the contract and hurt my father like that. His reputation would be damaged. And Senator Mallus might do something to get back at him.”