Forsaken Dreams (46 page)

A tear spilled down her cheek, instantly cooled by the breeze. “I can’t lose him. Please.” She swallowed the burning in her throat. “But what is Your will? What would You have me do?”

There, she had asked. Now she would wait a few minutes, give God a chance to answer, and if she heard nothing, she’d do what she felt was right. Which was not telling Blake.

A wavelet crashed ashore, spreading a circle of bubbling foam over the sand. Palm fronds stirred by the wind sounded like gentle rain. It was so peaceful here. Yet out of that peacefulness came a voice.

You must tell him, child
.

A voice that did not come from within or without. Neither was it a shout or a whisper. But Eliza had heard it, nonetheless. And her heart sank into the sand beneath her.

“Father? Was that You?”

You must tell him
.

Tears poured down her cheeks. She dropped her head into her hands. “I can’t.”

Trust Me … for once
.

Eliza sat up and looked around. No one was there. Nothing but the crabs and the surf. Yet
“for once”
kept ringing in her ears. No one would know that but God. No one would know that she’d been disobedient her entire life. Gone her own way. Done whatever she wanted. And she’d gotten herself into mess after mess.

If you love Me, you will obey Me
.

“I do love You, Father. You’ve always been there for me, no matter the mess I’ve made of things. You’ve always helped me, forgiven me.”

Then stop fighting Me
.

Eliza wiped the moisture from her face. Who could fight God? Yet, as she thought over her life, she had indeed fought Him. Just as she’d fought her own father. And anyone else who tried to control her, smother her. She’d always thought that if she obeyed God, she’d be restricted, imprisoned, unhappy with choices that were not her own, when in reality, the choices she’d made had stolen away her freedoms even more. Stuffed her in a cage from which there was no escape.

In fact, God had neither smothered her nor reprimanded her. He was the perfect Father, the perfect gentleman. Almost too perfect, for He had allowed her too long a leash. Her rebellion had caused so much pain, not only for herself, but for her father, her aunt and uncle, even Stanton. And now Blake.

“I’ve been such a fool!” The tears came again, this time sliding down her cheeks in abandon. “I’m so sorry. If I’d only listened to You.”

I love you, precious daughter
.

Eliza closed her eyes, sensing the caress of God on her face in the gentle breeze. “I love You, too, Father.”

Moments later the crunch of sand sounded, breaking Eliza from her trance. Batting tears from her face, she stood and turned to see the shadow of a man coming her way.

“What on earth are you doing out here by yourself, Eliza? It isn’t safe.” Blake’s voice reached her ears. Before she could protest, he took her in his arms, surrounding her with his strength, breaking her resolve to do the right thing.

She pushed away from him. “I must tell you something, Blake.”

C
HAPTER
34

A
ir seized in Eliza’s throat. She drew a shaky breath. “I must tell you now, Blake, or I never will,” she rasped out.

He kissed her forehead. “Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. This time tomorrow we will be wed.” The desire dripping from his sultry voice was nearly her undoing. As were his lips touching hers.

Pushing against his chest, she backed away. “Hear me out, please.”

He must have sensed her dismay, for he took her hand in his. “What is it, Eliza?”

Waves stroked the shore in a soothing pulse that defied the one thundering within her. She searched for his eyes in the darkness, glad when she couldn’t find them. At least she wouldn’t see the pain, the anger that would burn within them when she told him the truth.

A wavelet tickled her foot, and he led her aside. “If someone has upset you, tell me, and I’ll speak to—”

“It’s about my husband.”

He caressed her fingers. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. I’ll be your husband tomorrow.” He leaned down to kiss her, but she laid a finger on his lips.

“You’re scaring me now,” he said. “What is it?”

“Something I learned only yesterday. But something you must know.” Her heart pounded so forcefully against her ribs, she worried it would break through. Reaching into her pocket, she felt the watch and slowly pulled it out. Then turning toward the moonlight, she held it out to him.

He stared at it but made no move to touch it. The buzz of the teeming jungle, the crash of waves, and the distant crackle of fire and chatter of the colonists all combined to scrape against Eliza’s nerves. Furrows appeared on Blake’s brow, slight at first, then deepening with each passing second. Seconds that ticked out Eliza’s last moments with him in an agonizing slowness. Finally, he reached for it, held it to the light, flipped it over. And gasped.

His chest rose and fell like a sail snapping in the wind. He stumbled.

Eliza gripped his hand to steady him. His eyes met hers. Or at least she felt them meet hers—dark, gaping holes staring at her in shock, in confusion so thick she could feel it thicken the air between them.

“Where did you get this?”

She’d found it. She’d bought it. She’d stolen it
. A dozen lies forced their way onto her tongue, vying for preeminence. “Stanton.”

He released her hand. It fell to her side, empty and cold. “Your husband gave this to you?” His voice rose, etched in pain.

Eliza nodded, fighting back tears.

“This is my family’s.” He pointed to the engraving. “These letters stand for Frederick Evan Wallace, my great-grandfather.” He closed a fist over the watch and glanced at the dark sea, where waves churned and frothed as if heightened by his anger. “The last person to have this was my brother, Jeremy.”

“I know.”

He snapped his gaze to her. His silence stole the remainder of her hope. She knew James had told him what he’d seen that day in Antietam. She knew Blake was putting the pieces together—laying the bricks one atop the other to form an impenetrable wall between them. “Your husband murdered my brother.”

The words hung in the air like a massive judge’s gavel ready to pound Eliza into the sand.

“I didn’t know, Blake. I didn’t know any of this until James saw the watch yesterday. It was a gift from Stanton. I thought he’d had my initials engraved on it. Flora Eliza Watts. I’m so sorry, Blake. I’m so very sorry.”

He pulled away from her as if she had a disease. “Your husband killed Jeremy,” he repeated numbly. Then, enclosing the watch in his fist, he thrust it in the air, chain spinning about his arm. “For this watch!” he shouted.

Tears coursed down her cheeks. She hugged herself as Blake’s breath came out heavy and hard. A breeze flapped the collar of his shirt and the ends of his necktie but did nothing to cool the anger steaming off him. His face grew dark, indistinguishable with the night.

“I’m so sorry, Blake, I didn’t know.” She laid a tentative hand on his arm.

He shrugged her off and backed away.

“Blake?”

“I never want to see you again.” His voice was hard as steel and cold as the chill darting down Eliza’s back. Then turning, he stormed back to camp.

Eliza crumbled to the sand in a puddle of agony. Minutes later, or maybe it was hours, Angeline and Sarah surrounded her with loving arms and useless words of comfort before leading her back to the tent, where they tucked her into bed. But her mind and heart refused her sleep. Instead, she watched tree branches cast eerie shadows on the canvas roof, like giant claws reaching for her, trying to pull her into the abyss of despair. Was Blake asleep, or was he as upset as she was? Oh what did it matter? He never wanted to see her again. She would leave with Captain Barclay as soon as he readied the ship to set sail. There was no other choice. Tears slid onto her pillow. Angeline murmured a name in her sleep, and Eliza reached out and grabbed her hand, hoping to comfort her in the midst of her dream. She would miss her terribly. And Sarah. And even Magnolia. And all the friends she’d made among these people.

“Lord, why?” she whispered. “Why, when I obeyed You? When I did what You asked?” Wind flapped the tent, sweeping beneath the canvas and wafting over her.

I love you, precious one
.

Despite her agony, despite her pain, Eliza found her anger dissipating. God was with her, and He loved her. In fact, she spent the remainder of the night talking with Him. About her life, her father, Stanton, her bad choices, and her good ones. She prayed for each of her new friends: for Angeline to find peace, for Sarah to find love again, for Magnolia to … well, just for Magnolia. For James to find healing from the internal wounds he seemed to carry around, for Hayden’s agitated spirit to settle, for Dodd to find a treasure far better than gold, for Mr. Lewis’s bitterness and drinking to ease, for Mr. Graves to let go of his quest for revenge and power, and for all the rest to find what they were looking for in this new land.

And finally for Blake. For him to forgive all those who had hurt him in the war, for his nightmares and episodes to stop, and for him to find a woman to love him.

The last prayer was the hardest of all, but once Eliza had uttered the words, she realized what true love was. It was selfless and pure and sought only the best for the object of its devotion.

By the time the first rays of the sun set the tent aglow in pinks and saffron, Eliza felt at peace for the first time in her life. She had done the right thing. Against her own wishes, she had told the truth. She had done the hard thing. She had obeyed God. And though the outcome was worse than she could have imagined, the guilt, the burden of fighting her Creator, of trying to run her life on her own terms, was gone, lifted from her shoulders in the same way the pulley had lifted the cargo from the hold. She had spent the night with God and found Him to be a loving, caring, wise, compassionate Father. Never again would she forge out on her own. Never again would she decide her own fate. Why would anyone do such a thing when there was a God who created them, who knew the past, present, and future? And who always knew the right choice to make, the right path to choose.

Noises from camp drew Blake’s gaze to James sitting by the fire, stirring the red coals to life. Men stood and stretched while a few ladies emerged from the tent. Rising to sit from the place in the sand where he’d dropped from exhaustion, Blake rubbed his eyes. The arc of the sun peered over the horizon, the train of its royal robes fluttering over sea and sky in an array of vermilion, gold, and coral. Such beauty should have been prohibited on a day like today. It should be dark and gloomy and stormy, not bright and cheery. Picking up a shell, Blake tossed it into the sea, feeling as empty and devastated as he always had after fighting a major battle. Only this battle had been on the inside, not on the outside. Somehow, it seemed much harder.

People pointed and glanced his way, leaning their heads in gossipy prattle. No doubt word had spread throughout camp of what had happened. He wanted neither their pity nor their advice. Advice he was sure to receive now as James headed toward him bearing a steaming mug.

Leaping to his feet, Blake dusted sand from his trousers and met him halfway—passed him, actually—holding up a hand against the outstretched mug.

“Coffee. You look like you need it.”

“Not if there’s a price.” Blake huffed, continuing onward.

“It’s free.” James kept pace beside him.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“What?”

“Your opinion.”

“Good, ‘cause I wasn’t going to give it.”

Ignoring the stares shot his way, Blake wove through the camp, kicking sand as he went, and retrieved the machete from its spot wedged in a tree stump.

“If you intend to hack Eliza to pieces, I’m afraid I
do
have an opinion on that.” James gave a wry smile.

“Don’t give me any ideas.” Blake spun about and marched toward the jungle.

Still James followed. “Telling you the truth was hard for her to do.”

Blake spun around. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew that soldier was her husband.”

Planting his fists at his waist, James glanced downshore. “Not until I saw the watch.”

Blake grunted and started on his way again.

“Unforgiveness will destroy you, Blake.”

Ignoring him, Blake plunged into the tangled web and began hacking his way through the vines and branches, releasing his fury on the plants. Yet after several minutes, rather than appease his anger, every strike seemed to add fuel to the flames. One glance over his shoulder told him James had not followed him. Good. He faced forward and slashed left and right, back and forth, focusing on the vision in his mind. The one that had been there all night. The one he couldn’t shake—Eliza’s husband plunging his blade into Jeremy’s chest. And her, the adoring wife, sitting at home waiting for him to return. Blake raised the machete.
Slash!
Receiving his family’s watch as a love gift from Stanton. Sure, she hadn’t known what he’d done, wouldn’t have approved, but how could she have married such a monster?
Hack!