Forsaken Dreams (31 page)

She spun around and slammed out the door, but not before he saw her eyes moisten. Fisting his hands, Blake hung his head.

C
HAPTER
23

S
teadying the hammock with one hand, Magnolia wiped a cool cloth over Hayden’s head with her other. Hair the color of dark coffee fell away from his moist face, once tanned and healthy, now pale and blotched in red. Most of the other patients had awakened and were recovering from the terrible illness that had plagued half the ship’s passengers.

All except Hayden Gale.

Why Magnolia cared, she had no idea. The man was obnoxious beyond all toleration. Obviously of low birth and morals. Uneducated. Uncouth. Mercy me, he was a stowaway! Probably a thief and murderer. Or worse, a ravisher of innocent women. Which she was still certain was the reason for his presence in her cabin when they’d first set out from Charleston. It mattered not that he had a bullet in his side; his kind didn’t allow such trivial matters to keep them from their lecherous desires. She dabbed his cheeks as her gaze took in his masculine features. Dark stubble circled his mouth and sped a trail up his jaw where sideburns reached just below his ears. A strong Roman nose, prominent cheeks, and brows and lashes as dark as night completed the noble visage.

“I suppose you
are
handsome in a provincial, boorish sort of way,” she breathed out. Actually, now that the man was asleep and not assailing her with his sarcastic quips, he did remind her of someone. A man equally as handsome but with a heart as dark and fiery as Hades itself. She gulped the memory away.

Her association with that man had cost her everything.

The ship canted, and Magnolia clung to the hammock. Cheery voices rose around her from recovering passengers as they ate their noon meal of hardtack soaked in chicken broth. But why not Hayden? Dipping the cloth into a bucket, she wrung it out and pressed it on his chapped lips. Something about the man intrigued her. His mysterious past, his wolfish good looks, or was it the way he looked at her when he thought she took no note?

“Yes, you are quite a fascinating man, Hayden Gale. What brought you to our ship? What secrets do you hold in that handsome head of yours?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Magnolia gasped and snapped her hand back.

One eye open, he peered at her as a grin quirked the edge of his lips.

“How dare you? How long have you been awake?” Magnolia stomped her foot on the moist deck, the hollow thud muffling the impact she intended.

Hayden opened his other eye. “Long enough to know that you find me handsome and fascinating.”

“Ohhhhhh!” Magnolia tossed the cloth on his face. He snatched it away, but his grin remained.

She narrowed her eyes. “It isn’t polite to listen in on other people’s thoughts. And besides, I was just being nice. They say people can hear things even when they are delirious with fever, and since you hadn’t woken up like the others, I thought saying something nice—though it carried not a speck of truth—would help you recover quicker. That’s all. Oh mercy me, don’t look at me like that! I’m telling the truth. You are a true cad, you know.” She planted her hands on her hips. “What do you have to say for yourself? Stop smiling at me!”

Hayden instantly forced a frown, though laughter twinkled in his eyes. “How can I get a word in with all your blabbering?”

“Uhhhh!” Magnolia grabbed the rag and dropped it into the bucket. “You are the most infuriating man.”

“Yet you are still here.”

“Magnolia Scott!” The commanding voice filled the hold, drawing all gazes to Magnolia’s father as he stormed down the middle aisle, handkerchief over his nose. “Your mother and I forbade you to tend to the sick in this cesspool.” His outraged glance took in the hammocks then the crates and barrels lining the hold. “This is beneath your station. Simply beneath you!”

Magnolia closed her eyes, wishing she could disappear, mortified that her father continued to berate her in front of everyone.

“And look at you! You’re a mess. Stains on your dress, hair jumbled like a bird’s nest, and what is that?” She could feel his breath on her neck. “Perspiration!” He said the word as if it weren’t a natural condition, as if she’d purposely bathed herself in sweat to offend him.

She opened her eyes to see Hayden gazing at her with pity.

She hated pity. Especially from someone like him. “Papa, I like helping the sick. It makes me feel useful.”

“Useful, humph.” He grabbed her arm. “Come with me. Your mother is feeling better and is asking for you. If you want to feel useful, attend to your own.”

Magnolia glanced over the myriad eyes staring at her with sympathy—eyes of the patients, Eliza, Sarah, and the doctor—as her father dragged her like a ragamuffin up the ladder. Would she ever be free of her debt to him?

Within three days, nearly all the sick on board had fully recovered and everyone was back to their normal routines. Though shipboard life could be incredibly dull, Eliza discovered that after all they’d endured, she quite enjoyed the mundane pace. Now, at the starboard railing, she looked in awe of the most beautiful sky she’d ever seen. A pearly ribbon circumscribed the horizon. On it rested a broad belt of vermilion, interspersed with streaks of gold, followed by a swath of bright cream that extended to a delicate pale blue. Another day had dawned, and Eliza thanked God that the horizon was not only stunning but clear. No storms, no weird mist, and no pursuing ships. At this rate, they should sight the coast of Brazil within a day or two. A warm breeze flowed over her, fluttering her hair and casting a pinkish hue into the air. She glanced up to see red powder dusting the windward side of the sails and rigging.

“African sand, Mrs. Crawford,” Captain Barclay said as he joined her. “At least that’s what I’ve heard it called.” Sunlight accentuated the lines on his face and sparkled silver in his beard. “Always see it at this latitude sailing windward of the islands.”

“What causes it?” Eliza feigned a casual tone, though she was glad the man actually spoke to her.

He shrugged. “Just dust saturatin’ the atmosphere. All the way from Africa they say.”

“Well, it is very pretty. It’s as if God were painting us with vibrant color.”

He scratched his whiskers then dropped his gaze to his boots. “I wanted to thank you, Mrs. Crawford, for helpin’ the sick on board, and for tendin’ to me as well. The doc told me what you did.”

“It was my pleasure, Captain.”

She had barely finished her sentence when Captain Barclay turned and charged back across the deck. Despite his abrupt departure, Eliza was warmed by his attention. In fact, as she glanced over the ship, several passengers met her gaze with a nod or a smile, not with the loathing glances of before. James stood by the foredeck talking with Angeline and Sarah. The Scotts sat together on chairs beneath a sailcloth while Mable attended to their every need. Mr. Dodd, thumbs stuck in his waistcoat pocket, talked to a group of passengers about his favorite subject—gold. At the far end of the foredeck, Delia and Moses laughed as Delia’s children dashed across the deck. The Jenkins’s little girl, Henrietta, gazed up at them from the main deck as if she wished to join them. And Mr. Graves stood at the stern smoking a cigar and staring into the frothy water bubbling off the back of the ship.

Even Hayden smiled at Eliza as he made his way to Angeline. Halting before the lady, he said something and proffered his elbow. She hesitated, glanced at James and Sarah as if obtaining their permission, then slipped her arm through his. Both Magnolia’s and the doctor’s gazes followed them as they took a turn around the deck.

Blake stood at the bow of the ship staring straight ahead as if he could make Brazil rise from the ocean by sheer will. If anyone could move continents purely by resolve, it was him. She’d never met a more bullheaded man. He glanced over his shoulder, and their eyes met, but he quickly turned back around. If only his heart would soften like the others’ hearts, perhaps she could convince him to allow her to stay in Brazil.

“Oh Lord, let it be Your will.” For she didn’t know how she’d survive back home. Yet wasn’t it like her to ask God to conform to what she wanted? Or worse, to go ahead and do what she wanted and then ask God to bless it? Oh fiddle. She would try to change. She truly would.

Closing her eyes, she tilted her face to the sun, basking in its warmth. It was far too pleasant a day to think of past mistakes. There had been no ill tidings since the deadly mist, no freak accidents, no inclement weather. Perhaps their luck was about to change. She felt rather than heard someone slip beside her. The spicy scent of cigar smoke swept past her nose, and she tensed, knowing she would find Mr. Graves close by. Sure enough, when she opened her eyes, the politician stood not a foot away. His smile lacked the warmth of most people’s. In fact, it chilled her to the bone.

“Good morning, Mr. Graves.”

He leaned an elbow on the railing. Pink dusted his black hair, giving it a mahogany sheen. “You astound me, madam.”

“How so?”

“You care for people who would just as soon throw you to the sharks as look at you.” Yet his tone was not one of astonishment but more of disappointment.

“Regardless of their sentiments or intentions,” Eliza said, “it isn’t right to allow them to suffer.”

He cocked his head and studied her as if she were an anomaly. Yet his frown remained. In fact, his intense perusal forced her gaze back out to sea. Perhaps if she got to know him a bit better, he wouldn’t frighten her so.

“Where are you from, Mr. Graves?”

“Northern Maryland.” He puffed on his cigar.

“Do you still have family there?”

Wind tore puffs of smoke from his lips before he’d had a chance to exhale. “My mother and father are dead, if that’s what you’re asking, madam.” His tone was one of annoyance. “Murdered in their beds by Yankee soldiers.”

Wonderful
. Someone else on board who had every reason to hate her. “I’m sorry.” The words fell impotent from her lips.

“My father was a senator from Maryland, only recently retired,” he continued. “I was to take his place, you see. I’d been trained to do so my entire life.”

“You were running for the Senate?”

“Yes.” His black eyes brightened for the first time since she’d known him. “And doing quite well, I might add.” But then his expression soured, and he peered down his nose at her. “That is until the South ceded from the Union and all my dreams were obliterated.”

He stroked his black goatee and stared out to sea. “I was to eventually run for president, you see. It was all planned from my birth. Every moment, every second of my life was spent working toward that single endeavor.”

The ship rose on a swell, and Eliza gripped the railing, thinking how strict and disciplined and terribly unhappy his childhood would have been. Even now, a dour cloak seemed to cling to the man.

“Why did you not remain behind, Mr. Graves? Surely you can still run for president.”

Eyebrows as thick and dark as night bent together as his chortle filled the air. “A Southerner as president? That will not happen in my lifetime. No, the war changed everything.”

“Then perhaps you need a new dream, Mr. Graves.”

Taking one last puff on his cigar, he flicked it into the sea. “There is no other dream.” The veins in his neck pulsed. “But I do have plans to rectify my reputation.” He twisted a gaudy ring on his finger, drawing Eliza’s gaze to the tiny golden snakes that formed the band.

Her blood ran cold. Part of her wanted to ask him what plans. Part of her didn’t want to know. “I do hope they are good plans, Mr. Graves. For the good of the colony. Perhaps you can run for office once we get established.”

“Ah yes, it is all about power, isn’t it?”

Eliza flinched at the insinuation. “I beg to differ, sir. It’s about service to one’s community.”

“Bah. That’s what they tell you, but it’s the power most politicians are after.”

“Is that what you are after?”

He shrugged. “Of course. But one can use power for good.”

True. But too often those who yearned for power weren’t good at heart. Eliza remained silent, wishing the disturbing man would leave.

A few moments of silence passed, ushered by with the rustle of water against the hull.

“I sense in you a rebellion against authority, Mrs. Crawford.”

Eliza swallowed. How could he know that? “I have had my problems obeying orders.”

His smile was brighter than she’d ever seen it. “Perhaps we are more alike than you think.”

Not wanting to consider that option, Eliza asked, “How can one so obsessed with power approve of rebellion?”

“Only by rebellion can you obtain power, no? Look at Lucifer. Once he was merely an archangel. Now, he rules an entire kingdom.”

A shiver coiled down her back. “A dark, evil kingdom.”

“A kingdom, nonetheless.”

C
HAPTER
24

B
lake woke to the ominous
rat-tat-tat
of drums. War drums. Drums that signaled his troops were on the march. Drums that meant they were about to face the enemy. Scrambling from his hammock, he nearly toppled to the deck in a frenzy to find his sword and pistol. Shadows leaped at him from all around. He batted them away, groping for his weapons. His men needed him. Were they already on the field? How had he overslept? A moan sounded. He swerved. Shapes formed in the darkness. A hammock swung to the rhythm of creaking wood.