Forsaken Dreams (30 page)

“Not with me.” What could this poor woman have done? “Whatever your past holds, you can start fresh in Brazil. It’s a new land with unlimited possibilities.”

“You don’t understand. Once my secret is known …” Angeline set Stowy down and hugged herself. “Let’s just say no one will want me around.”

Eliza sighed. “I certainly wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone.”

Stowy leaped into a hammock and reached a paw out to touch Angeline when she passed, but the lady was so deep in thought, she didn’t notice. Halting, she raised remorseful eyes to Eliza. “I’m so sorry, Eliza. I’m being insensitive to your predicament.”

Eliza shrugged. “What’s done is done. Your worst fears are my reality. But I’ve survived, and you will too.” She plucked Stowy from the hammock and nuzzled the feline against her neck. Though she longed to know what horrible thing Angeline had done, it wouldn’t be proper to ask. If she wished Eliza to know, she would tell her. “We’ve all made mistakes, done things we’ve regretted. People may not forgive us, but God does. He has taken care of me, and He will do the same for you.”

Angeline gave a unladylike snort. “I’m afraid there are some things even God does not overlook.” She fingered the lace fringing her neckline and gazed out the porthole.

“That’s not true. There is nothing He cannot forgive. But He will have to reveal that to you in His time.”

“You’ve been very kind to me, Eliza.” Angeline’s tone had the tenor of a farewell. Stowy reached for her from Eliza’s arms, and she gathered him up and drew him to her chest.

“Seems you’ve made another friend, as well,” Eliza said.

Angeline smiled and kissed Stowy on the head.

“Whatever happens”—Eliza touched her friend’s arm—“you will always be welcome wherever I am.” Though with no home, no family, and no prospects, she wouldn’t tell the lady that might be the poorhouse.

“Thank you, Eliza.” Angeline sniffed and waved her away. “Now, you go on. There are people who need you far more than I.”

After hugging the lady, Eliza left and headed down the hall. Fear clambered up her throat—fear for Angeline, fear for the sick people below.

Fear for them all.

Eliza’s stomach grumbled. Embarrassed, she pressed a hand over her belly and glanced over the assembled group: the doctor, Sarah with Lydia strapped to her chest, and two other passengers. That was everyone the doctor could find who was willing to fast their evening meal and come together to pray against the evil that had invaded the ship. Eliza had been disappointed not to see Blake. His quick dismissal of the power of prayer broke her heart. She knew the war had wounded his faith. What she hadn’t realized was that it had ripped it from his soul.

The small group joined hands when a knock on the storage room preceded Moses who entered, floppy hat in hand. “D’you mind if I pray wid you?”

An uncomfortable silence was the man’s only answer. One passenger, a farmer named Gresham, coughed and shifted his stance.

Moses turned to leave when Sarah stretched out her hand. “Of course, Moses. We’d love to have you.”

James shifted a pointed gaze over the group. “Yes, we would.”

“I ain’t praying with no colored.” Mr. Gresham’s tone hardened, along with his jaw.

Moses froze. James closed his eyes. “God accepts all of His children, Mr. Gresham. If you do not, I suggest you leave.”

Eliza raised her brows, pleased with the doctor’s strong conviction and a bit embarrassed at her own hesitation. Most people had been raised to believe that Negroes were a lower breed of humanity, less capable, less intelligent. It would take some time for that mind-set to change. Yet she, of all people, should understand what it felt like to be judged for something that had nothing to do with who she really was on the inside.

Scowling, Mr. Gresham stomped out.

“And you, Mr. Bronson?” James asked.

“A prayer’s a prayer. I don’t suppose it matters who it comes from.”

Moses hesitated, but at James’s prompting, he finally joined the circle.

“Very well, let’s pray, shall we?”

James proceeded to deliver the most eloquent yet powerful prayer Eliza had ever heard. He went on for at least twenty minutes, expounding the mercies and grace of God and praising Him for His goodness and love. He continued by thanking God for His power to answer prayer and His presence among them. Standing beside Eliza, Moses, filled the air with “amens,” confirming the word James spoke and bringing a smile to Eliza’s lips at the man’s faithful exuberance.

Finally, James brought the prayer to a close. “And now, Father, we speak to the evil on board this ship, the evil that has caused so many to fall ill. And we command that evil, that sickness, to depart and never return, in the powerful name of Your Son, Jesus.”

“Yes Lord!” Moses shouted, startling Eliza.

“We thank you for hearing our prayer, Father,” James concluded. “Let Your will be done.”

“Amens” parroted around the group as eyes opened. Eliza and Sarah wiped tears from their cheeks. The men nodded, smiling.

A heaviness seemed to lift. Eliza couldn’t explain it, but the room, the air, seemed lighter, the heat less oppressive, the smell less offensive. Even the light from the single lantern seemed to glow brighter.

“God is here among us.” James scanned the deckhead.

“I sense Him too, Mister James,” Moses said.

Sarah seemed equally delighted, thanking God for making Himself known. Yet aside from the airy feeling, Eliza felt nothing. Oh how she envied their closeness to the Almighty.

Mr. Bronson clapped James on the back. “Never heard such a good prayer.”

James smiled. “We know God heard us. Let us pray His answer comes swiftly.”

And that it did! The very next day, Eliza noticed slight changes in most of the patients: their fevers were reduced, their breathing was steady, and some of the sick were able to eat. In the corner of the dark hold, the prayer team reassembled to thank God for His healing, lifting words of praise and worship. Overcome with joy, Eliza slipped away to see how the captain fared.

Now as she sat by his side in the big cabin, she noted that he, too, seemed much improved over yesterday. Color had returned to his weathered face, and he slept so peacefully, he hadn’t heard her enter.

“Father, You healed everyone on board. Just like we asked.” Eliza could hardly believe it. Yes, she believed in God, believed He could do whatever He wished, but she’d also seen so many prayers go unanswered. Her own, as well as a multitude of soldiers’ prayers as they lay dying in a hospital.

Taking advantage of a moment alone, Eliza caressed the back of her neck and rubbed her tired eyes. She’d hardly slept in four nights, and her eyelids felt as if cannonballs sat atop them. Every movement renewed aches throughout her body, resurrecting memories of her time nursing the wounded right after a major battle. With the distant sound of cannons and muskets peppering the sky and the stench of blood and gun smoke saturating the air, bodies had poured into the tent hospital like some macabre theater of horrors. So many of them, Eliza had no idea where to start. Screams and moans and pleas for help assailed her from all around. Outstretched bloodied arms reached for her as she hurried past. She couldn’t get to them all. She could never get to them all.

Blake halted and gazed at Eliza as she sat on the stool beside the captain’s bed. With her head in her hands, rebellious trickles of silken hair dribbled about her face. Was she sleeping? Praying? He took a step toward her. She didn’t move. The poor lady was no doubt beyond exhaustion, yet here she was checking on the captain, tending to a man who would have marooned her on an island without so much as a “by-your-leave.”

Sunlight angled in from the stern windows, shifting over the captain’s desk with each sway of the ship. Thank God they’d had good weather these past days and no ship sightings. Nothing Blake and the first mate couldn’t handle alone. And now that they’d passed the fourteenth parallel, Blake had been sent down to inform the captain of their progress.

But he couldn’t keep his gaze off Eliza. Sunlight sprinkled her hair with glittering amber and shimmered over the green sash tied about her coral-colored gown. He swallowed. She must be asleep, poor girl. Blake took another step forward, unable to resist staring at her when she was unaware, unguarded. With her face anchored in her hands, her lashes fluttered over her cheeks like dark ribbons on ivory sand.

He knelt beside her, studying her, wondering how such a caring lady could have betrayed her country, her family, her friends. Him. The planks creaked beneath his boot.

Her eyes popped open. “Oh!” She leaped from the stool and threw a hand to her throat, her chest heaving.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Blake stood.

She rubbed eyes that were firing with anger. “You have the audacity to stare at me inches from my face while I am asleep, and you didn’t mean to startle me?”

“I was merely curious as to whether you had stopped breathing.” He bit down the lie, for he could never reveal the truth. Nor could he reveal his overwhelming urge to take her in his arms and kiss away the pain and stress on her face.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Colonel.” Her shoulders lowered, and she widened her eyes as if straining to keep them open. “I must have fallen asleep.” She gathered an empty teacup and then leaned over to lay the back of her hand against the captain’s cheek. Her locket dangled in the air—back and forth, back and forth—hypnotizing Blake. Or maybe it was her feminine scent.

“His fever has broken,” she said.

“I hear everyone is recovering.”

“Yes. God chased away the evil on board. It truly is a miracle.”

Blake huffed and crossed arms over his chest. “If you say so, Mrs. Craw … Watts.”

His use of her real name sent a rod through her spine. She raised her chin. “I do say so, Colonel. There is no other explanation.” Zeal burned in her golden eyes.

“There is always another explanation,” Blake said, regretting his combative tone. Blast it, he hadn’t wanted to fight with her. Quite the opposite in fact. These past two weeks, his mind had been at war with both his emotions and his mouth. And though he had commanded a regiment, he seemed incapable of ordering them to task. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “You should go. Get some rest.”

“Yes, I’m sure you find my presence bothersome.” Clutching her skirts, she turned to leave.

Blake blinked at the woman’s change in demeanor. Ever since her secret came to light, she’d been remorseful, sad. Now she had turned defiant, angry. For some reason, instead of igniting his anger, it brought a smile to his lips.

“Regardless, I thank you for caring for the sick these past few days. You’ve sacrificed much for people who wished you ill.” He wanted to say something, anything to keep her from leaving.

Halting, she faced him, her eyes searching his. “I’m a nurse. It’s what I do.” She started to leave again but stopped. Her eyes dipped to his recently injured leg. “However, I owe you a great debt for wounding yourself on my account.”

Blake blinked, studying her, his mind spinning. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t.” One corner of her lips raised in a delightful grin. “But it was quite a noble act.”

Blake resisted the smile pushing against his lips. “No matter what you’ve done, I couldn’t allow a woman to be in danger.”

“It does seem that God wishes me to remain on your precious voyage.” Anger laced her tone.

If her words were true, then Blake owed God a debt, for despite himself, despite his fury, despite his pain, he was glad Eliza was on board. He wanted her to stay on board. And he hated himself for it.

“Perhaps God wishes me to stay on at Brazil? Surely you will need a nurse.”

His right leg ached, reminding him of the bullet wound he’d received at the siege of Petersburg. Reminding him that the lady’s husband—the man with whom she’d shared a name, a home, a bed—was responsible for many of his soldiers’ deaths, his friends’ deaths, even his brother’s. Guilt tore his recent sentiments for the lady to shreds.

Steeling himself against those luminous gold eyes, he stared at her. “God has no say in that, Mrs. Watts. You will head back to the States as soon as we reach Rio. And that’s final.”