Forsaken Dreams (34 page)

All hope drained from her and washed away with the foamy wake trailing behind the ship.

She’d been a fool to think she could run away from her past. That she could leave it behind in the States. Like a ball and chain fettered to her ankle, she had dragged it on board with her. She would never be free.

Unless …

Yes, end it all. It’s the only way to find peace
.

Glistening onyx waves beckoned her from another world. A watery world where all was tranquil. Where the voices would not taunt her. Where no one would point accusing fingers her way. Where no one would lock her behind bars. Peace. Freedom.

Come … come to me and be free!

A cool mist moistened her skin and sent goose bumps skittering up her arms. She balanced herself over the heaving deck and gazed over the sea. Dark clouds had swallowed up the gleam of the moon and the shimmer of waves, making everything dull and lifeless.

Slipping off her shoes, she sat on the railing and eased her legs over the side. Twenty feet below, froth seethed off the back of the ship and disappeared into the dark waters. Just like she would do. She trembled. It was better this way.

Do it!

Her pain would end. No one need know.

“God, forgive me.” She drew one last breath and slipped off the bulwark.

C
HAPTER
26

A
line of defeated troops trudged across Blake’s brain. He raised an arm to rub his temples, but his head felt as heavy as a cannon, and he dropped to the bed again, mission thwarted. The creak of wood and gush of water reminded him he was on a ship. The feel of the lumpy cot beneath him told him he must be in the sick bay.

The troops in his head fired another round of humiliation into his memory. Ah yes, he’d had one of his episodes. And once again in front of Eliza and God knew who else. No doubt the entire crew. He moaned, more from shame than pain. Pain he could deal with.

Soft fingers slipped through his. Like threads of silk against burlap, they eased over his rough skin, bringing him more comfort than he cared to admit.

Eliza
.

He peeked at her through slits. Waves of maple-colored hair tumbled over her shoulders and down the front of her gown. She squeezed his hand and cradled it between her own; then lifting it to her lips, she placed a gentle kiss on his fingers.

Blake swallowed at her tender display.

Releasing a heavy sigh, she gazed at him, her golden eyes filled with concern, even fear.

Fear. The birds! The shots. Had she been hurt?

He snapped his eyes open. She jerked back, releasing his hand.

“The birds. Are you injured?” he asked.

She shook her head. “They are gone. Those that weren’t killed, the sailors chased away.” She dropped a rag into a basin. “It’s nearly midnight. You slept a long while.”

Blake’s body relaxed as his gaze took in the room. At least they were alone. No one else was here to witness his weakness. No one but the one person he least wanted to see him in this feeble condition.

“Who else saw?”

“Only one of the sailors.” Her voice was tender, reassuring. “He helped bring you below after you blacked out.”

Blast it!
Renewed pounding assailed his head, and Blake squeezed the bridge of his nose. “What kind of a leader can I be when I swoon like some limp-hearted female?”

She quirked a brow.

“No offense meant, Eliza.”

She gave a tiny smile, no doubt at his use of her common name. A slip on his part. “You’re suffering from the war,” she said. “It will pass in time.”

Blake tried to rise but thought better of it when dizziness struck him. “My last battle was over a year ago. Have you seen other soldiers recover?”

“No.”

“Then don’t shower me with your empty platitudes, Mrs. Watts.”

She swallowed and fingered the locket around her neck. Blake felt like a louse. He remembered the tender way she had kissed his hand while she thought he was asleep. The way she’d gazed at him like no woman ever had. The way it sent an unwelcome thrill through him. “You are kind to tend to me.”

“You protected me from the birds.” She smiled.

“So, we are even.”

“That’s not why I’m here, and you know it.”

He didn’t want to think about why she was here, caring for him, loving him with her eyes. “Ah yes, your obligation to tend to the sick and injured.”

She rose and picked up the basin of water sitting beside the bed. “Of course. What else?” Her jaw tightened, and she moved to the side table. “You should rest, Colonel. These episodes tax you, I’m sure.”

She was going to leave. He couldn’t blame her. But despite his anger, he didn’t want her to go. Straining against the throb in his head, he sat and swung his legs over the side of the cot. “Regardless, I thank you.”

“As you pointed out so succinctly, there is no need.” Her tone was curt.

“Yet you care for a man who is determined to send you home.” And who had earlier made a point of telling her just that in rather harsh and certain terms.

She swung to face him. Her skirts swished and bumped the examining table. A tiny smile graced those luscious pink lips—the ones he’d almost kissed the night of the dance—but then sorrow drew them down. “I cannot help caring. As you no doubt cannot help sending me home. I only hope we can part as friends and not enemies.”

Her statement jarred him. If they were friends, he would not want them to part. Ever. That she still considered him a friend sent a wave of astonishment through him.

She poured water from a pitcher into a cup and handed it to him.

He sipped it. She started to leave. The pain in his head mounted like a rising storm.

“Don’t.” His voice came out barely a scratch. “Don’t leave.”

Halting, she spun around, hair dancing around her waist, and stared at him quizzically.

“Why did you marry Stanton Watts?” He could think of nothing else to say, nothing that would keep her here with him.

She blinked and then searched his eyes. “Why do you wish to know?”

Blake sipped his water and set down the cup, forcing anger from his tone. “I want to understand why you became a traitor to your country. How anyone could do such a thing.”

“I married him before the war.”

“But things were already tense between the North and South. You knew that.”

“I did.” She lowered her chin and began picking at the wooden operating table. “I don’t know why I married him. He was handsome, charming, intelligent. He promised me a lavish life filled with adventure. Vowed to take me traveling with him to exotic lands. But most of all, it was a chance to be free from my father’s control.” She released a bitter chuckle. “In truth, I ended up in a far worse prison.”

“Did you love him?” Blake knew he didn’t have a right to ask, but he had to know. He had to know whether the emotion he now saw in her eyes was for the loss of her husband or because she regretted the marriage.

“That’s rather bold, Colonel.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder as if she could toss aside his question. But then she blew out a sigh. “I don’t know. I suppose I thought I loved him in the beginning. But in truth, the news of his death did not overwhelm me with sorrow. I’d only seen him a few times during our year of marriage.”

Her words broke through a hard place in Blake’s heart. He studied her, the defiant lift of her chin, the way she held herself with confidence, the depth of sorrow and loss in her eyes. And all his anger fled away. Shaking off the ache in his head, he stood with one thought in mind. To take her in his arms.

Halting just inches before her, he brushed a wayward lock of hair from her face then eased a hand down her arm. Warm and soft beneath the cotton sleeve. She looked up, her eyes shifting between his in wonder, in hope. Vulnerability lingered in her gaze. A trust he didn’t deserve.

He rubbed his thumb over her cheek. A tiny moan escaped her lips.

“Man overboard! Man overboard!” The frenzied call threaded through the deckhead, snapping Blake’s senses alert.

“Man overboard!” The thunder of footsteps rumbled down the hall.

Blake exchanged a look of terror with Eliza before he barreled out the door.

Eliza leaped onto the main deck to the sound of the captain ordering sails furled and the sight of sailors rushing in a frenzy across the brig.

“What’s happening?” Blake shouted, making a beeline to the captain, who stood on the quarterdeck.

“Woman overboard!” Captain Barclay gestured with his head behind him before he continued bellowing orders, “Hurry it up there, lads. Ease off jib sheet! Helms-a-lee! Bring her about, Mr. Simmons!”

Eliza’s heart felt as though it would burst through her chest as shock transformed into panic. She darted to the starboard railing and scanned the sea. Nothing but inky blackness met her gaze.

James popped on deck, his shirt askew, his hair like a porcupine’s. He gazed about wildly then took the quarterdeck ladder in a single leap and met Blake above. Eliza followed them to the stern where several sailors stood gaping at the churning sea.

“I heard the splash,” one of them said. “She was standin’ right here one minute, and the next she was gone.” He shook his head and rubbed his whiskered chin.

“Who was it?”

“The pretty lady with the reddish brown hair.”

“Angeline?” Panic clamped Eliza’s throat, forbidding further words. She gripped the railing and stared at the dark waters. A tremble punched from her heart down her back into her limbs until she could hardly stand. “We have to do something!”

“Can we lower a boat?” Blake stormed toward the captain as he tore off his boots, one by one.

“Not till we tack. Thank God we weren’t sailin’ fast.”

Spinning around, Blake’s eyes met hers, and she knew what he intended to do. He started toward the railing when James muttered “I’ll get her” as he tore off his shirt. And before anyone could protest, he took a running leap off the stern of the ship, leaving Blake behind.

James had no idea what he was doing. Not until he plunged into the cool water did the realization hit him that he’d actually dived off a perfectly sturdy brig into the vast ocean. When he’d first heard that a woman had fallen overboard, he’d darted above to offer his assistance. But after he’d learned it was Angeline, he didn’t remember a thing. He must have taken off his shirt, because now as his head popped above the waves, salty water thrashed his bare chest. He glanced behind him at the
New Hope
beginning its turn into the wind.

“Angeline!” he shouted, scanning the dark sea from his vantage point atop a swell. “Angeline!”

He’d been fascinated with the woman ever since she’d come aboard. There was a sweet yet somber spirit about her that tugged on his heart, and though he’d engaged her in conversation as often as she would allow, she’d been hesitant to share much of her past. He only knew that she’d lost her parents and had lived with an uncle. And that something terrible had happened to her. The last part he surmised. Yet she’d bravely stood up for Eliza more than once, putting herself in danger for her friend. And she’d worked tirelessly to aid the sick stricken with the mysterious illness.

Regardless, she was a human being. And after James’s fall from grace, he had vowed to God to save as many as he could from death—both physical and spiritual.

Something caught his eye in the distance, but then the wave passed, and he sank into the trough. He started in that direction, happy his father had taught him to swim in the lakes back in Tennessee. Still nothing had prepared him for such huge waves. What appeared like mere ripples from the deck of the brig now became giant swells rising like monsters from the deep. He hesitated as another wave swept him up toward the starlit sky. Focusing his gaze in the direction where he’d last seen something, he shouted, “Angeline!”

“Help!” A tiny squeak, barely audible, bounced over the sea.

Heart thundering in his chest, James pounded his arms through the water. “Lord, please don’t let her die.”

As the crest of each wave propelled James toward the sky, Angeline came more clearly into view before she disappeared behind the next ebony wall. James’s arms ached. His legs felt like rubber, but still he pressed on. Water filled his mouth with brine. Coughing, he spit it out only to take in more.