Abandoned Memories (36 page)

Angeline’s heart crumbled to dust. She had expected shock, perhaps a bit of disgust, but she hadn’t expected hatred.
Oh, Father, help me. Please help me cope with this pain
, she breathed a silent prayer as all her dreams of happiness shriveled beneath the rage spewing from James’s lips…from his eyes.

“I will lure you no further, sir.” She took another step back, intending to leave, when he grabbed her shoulders and shoved his mouth onto hers. Forcing her body against his, he clutched bunches of her hair and kissed her rough and angry, not loving and gentle as before. Agony screamed within his groans. She shoved her hands against his chest, trying to free herself, but he was too strong.

He withdrew, his breath stinging her face. “Is that the way you like it, Angeline? Is this what your clients did to you?” His voice bit like a viper.

He released her and stepped back, shame flooding his eyes before he turned and wiped his lips as if her taste was poison.

Angeline couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel her legs, her arms. Darting to the water, she scooped up Stowy and stumbled from the clearing, tears finally pouring down her cheeks.

James stayed in the clearing until the sun set. Ignoring the taunts flung his way from Tabitha and Abigail, he dropped to the sandy dirt and stared at the water flowing past, dashing over rocks and plummeting into troughs, sparkling when the sun alighted on it and turning ashen when clouds hovered overhead. On and on it flowed, no matter the obstacle, no matter whether the sun shone or gloom set in. Much like life. Or was it? For he felt as if the obstacle before him was much too large for him to ever get past.

He stayed in the clearing because he couldn’t move. Whether it was rage or fear or despair that kept his legs locked, he didn’t know. Perhaps it was shame. Shame for the way he’d treated Angeline. Shame for the things he’d said. For the way he’d forced his kiss on her. The thought of her allowing men to grope her, touch her—bed her—had ignited a rage in him he could not control. Something dark and evil had come over him, shoving aside all decency. But he wouldn’t blame some unseen force. He wouldn’t blame anyone but himself.

Once again he’d been played a fool by a beautiful woman. Once again, he’d given his heart only to have the vixen tear it to shreds and destroy his life in the process.

A chill came over him as the sun sank behind the trees and shadows crept through the jungle, stealing the light. Finally he rose and trudged back to the beach. But instead of joining the others, he borrowed some rum from one of the colonists and made his way beyond the cliffs to a private section of beach. Hours later when the night was spent and the sky spun around him, he toppled backward in the sand. The last thing he heard before he drifted into a welcome oblivion was the eerie howl of a wolf.

He was on a ship. The smell of salt and fish swirled about him as he balanced on the swaying deck. There was peace out at sea. In the purl of the waves, the creak of the ship, the endless horizon, the snap of sails that sped the ship on its course far away—far away from all life’s problems. James allowed that peace to roll over him as sunlight stroked his eyelids with warmth.

But then it was gone. The light, the warmth. Even the scent of the sea had turned putrid, metallic. He opened his eyes, gripped the railing, and glanced over endless swells of dark red—
blood
red. Panic sent his thoughts spinning. He barreled down the foredeck ladder. “Is anyone here? Hello!” But the ship was empty. Only a single rat scampered across the deck and disappeared below. A grating sound drew his gaze to the ship’s wheel spinning in its casing as if directed by some maniacal sailor.

James sped to the railing again. Blood clawed the hull, maroon fingers reaching for him. His stomach convulsed and he wretched its contents into the sea. Hanging over the bulwarks, he gasped for air, his heart thumping in his chest. Lightning arched a white blade across the sky. In the distance, a gaping darkness loomed on the horizon. No, it wasn’t darkness at all, but rather a complete absence of light. Like a hole in the universe that sucked everything, including the earth and sea, into its black void.

And the ship was heading straight for it.

Dashing onto the quarterdeck, James grabbed the gyrating wheel and struggled to keep it steady, but it leapt from his hands and spun wildly, first to the right and then to the left. A
meow
shot his gaze up to see Stowy perched atop the binnacle, wind tossing his black fur while his amber eyes stared off the bow.

A scream penetrated the rush of wind. James leaned over the starboard railing to see a small boat just ahead of the ship filled with people. Grabbing a telescope, he leveled it upon the craft. His heart sank. His friends. Blake, Eliza, Magnolia, Hayden, and Angeline sat in the dinghy, gripping the thwarts, fear blaring from their eyes. Blake and Hayden rowed and rowed, their faces sweaty and red, but the boat continued to drift toward the darkness. Angeline stared at James. Struggling to stand, Magnolia waved her arms. “Help us! Save us, James. Save us!”

Panic sent him racing across the deck, seeking another boat he could lower. There were none. He tried to stop the wheel again but to no avail. A rope. There must be a rope. He found one coiled by the foremast. But what could he do with a rope?

One thing he knew. If he didn’t get to his friends in time, they’d fall off the edge of the earth and be swallowed up in darkness. And in that tiny boat, they would never survive.

“James!” Someone gripped his shoulder. “James, wake up!”

But he didn’t want to wake up. He had to save his friends. He swatted away the offending hands and moaned, “Leave me alone.”

“It’s Blake. Get up.” But it wasn’t Blake’s voice. It was Hayden’s. James pried his eyes open, immediately sorry he did. Sunlight pierced straight through them and stabbed his brain with a dozen hot pokers. Pain radiated down his back into every limb. He blinked, and Hayden’s face came into view.

“Get it together, man. We need you.” Urgency branded Hayden’s tone.

“Bother someone else. I was having a perfectly good nightmare.”

Clutching his arm, Hayden pulled James to sit. His stomach did a flip, and something foul-tasting flooded his throat. “What on earth is the matter?”

“It’s Blake. He’s been attacked by a wolf.”

HAPTER
32

B
lood bubbled from Blake’s side where fangs had torn flesh and muscle from bone. Despite Angeline and Sarah’s furious efforts to restrain the life-giving fluid, it dripped onto the pallet, sliding over bamboo and soaking into the sand beneath. James sped from the shelter and heaved into the bushes—only the third time since Hayden had woken him twenty minutes ago. Of all the nights to drink to excess…something he hadn’t done since he’d recommitted his life to God.

Hayden slapped him on the back, not a friendly smack, but one that harbored a threat in its sting. “Get in there and do something. Now.” James glanced over his shoulder at the women hovering over Blake then at the crowd of worried colonists swarming the front of the makeshift clinic. Thiago, Delia and her children, even the Scotts and their slave, Mable. Others too, nearly the entire colony, save those men Ricu had dragged to the tunnels.

James faced the bushes again, air vacating his lungs until he could barely breathe. “We must get Eliza and Magnolia from the ship.”

Clutching his shoulders, Hayden jerked him around. Dark strands of hair wavered over fierce green eyes that pierced James’s very soul. “We can’t. You have to do this.
You
have to save him.”

Sarah approached and touched his arm. “You are the only one who can, James.”

Angeline glanced up from where she pressed a bundle of rags to Blake’s wound, her eyes hollow and distant. He stared at her, wondering how she could even look at him after the way he’d treated her—wondering how he could even look at her. Yet, he couldn’t seem to pull his gaze away. A spark of pleading penetrated the distance between them and went straight for his heart.

James rubbed the scar on his cheek and cursed under his breath.
NO! I can’t do this, God. Why have You put me in this situation
—
again?
Visions of his father lying in a puddle of blood burst into James’s mind, reminding him that no matter how much he’d wanted to save him, he’d been unable to move. Or even breathe. And his father had died in his arms. What would make this time any different? Lowering his chin, he squeezed his eyes shut, searching for another solution, someone who could perform the surgery, anyone with enough skills to follow his command. But there was no one. No one but him.

And he could not let his best friend die.

God, please don’t let me fail
. He drew a deep breath, opened his eyes, and lifted his hands before him. They trembled like leaves in a storm. His eyes met Hayden’s.

“God can calm the storm,” was all the man said before dragging James back to Blake’s side.

James pressed a hand on his roiling stomach and stiffened his jaw. “I need boiling water, needle and sutures, clamps, a strong lantern, plenty of clean rags, and any alcohol you can find.” He snapped stern eyes to Hayden. “Steal it from the pirates if you have to.”

Hayden gave an approving nod and sped off.

From the outskirts of the shelter, Thiago crossed himself. “I hope Lobisón not bite him.”

“Surely you don’t believe that nonsense anymore,” Sarah chastised him as she gathered a pile of clean rags. Without looking at James, Angeline found scissors, clamps, needles, and sutures and laid them all neatly on a tray.

Thiago lifted one shoulder. “I believe there is still evil in world, yes?”

“Indeed.” James swallowed, trying to settle his nerves, still not looking at Blake’s wound. Evil he could deal with. But blood?

“What can we do to help?” Mrs. Jenkins shouted.

Sarah exchanged a glance with James before turning to answer. “Pray.”

“Now, if you please, I need room to operate without a dozen eyes upon me.” Though the colonists were at least four yards away, James felt as though he stood in the center of a courtroom, surrounded by accusers. And he, on trial for his life. His pulse throbbed. Sweat slid down his chest.

The crowd retreated, but only inches, as Angeline placed the last instrument on the tray. Her hand quivered.

“Can you handle this?” James asked her.

Violet eyes assessed him. “Can
you
?”

He flattened his lips as Hayden returned with a bottle of rum. “The pirates left it on the beach.”

Blake coughed. Blood trickled from his lips. At least he had lost consciousness. James couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t do the same. He released a ragged sigh, concentrating on the crash of waves, the soothing chorus of myriad birds, not on the hammer of his heart and the tremble in his hands.

“James.” Angeline gazed up at him, her hands pressed on blood-drenched cloths. “I can’t stop the bleeding. He’s growing pale.”

“Do something!” Hayden’s shout stiffened every nerve. Bracing himself, James nodded for Angeline to remove the rags then lowered his gaze to the gaping wound. A mass of mangled flesh stared back at him. Broken ribs floated atop a pool of blood, where it appeared a pulmonary vein had been nicked. Blake didn’t have much time before he bled out.
God in heaven, help me. I can’t do this without You
.

Can a lady admire a man who broke her heart into a million pieces? A man who had insulted her in every way possible, who had
assaulted
her in body and soul? The answer, Angeline discovered, was yes. For she could not help but respect the man who, with erratic breathing, sweat streaming down his face, and quaking hands, had diligently worked for hours, sewing up the insides of a man he loved more than a brother—a man whom they all loved more than a brother.

While doing her best to quell the agony of her heart, she obeyed his every command, stood by his side, ignored her own queasiness, and watched him as he grimaced, winced, huffed, and concentrated harder than she’d seen anyone do. Sarah also assisted, while Hayden stood to the side, his face mottled in agony and fear one minute, while in the next, he bowed and whispered prayers to the Almighty.