Captive Embraces (10 page)

Esteban Arroya pointed to the farthest berth and watched for Sirena's expression as she drew in her breath, amazed. “Tio!” she exclaimed. “He did it! He really did it! Abuelo Córdez made his dream come true!”

Sirena's eyes skimmed over the graceful ship, her sharp gaze committing every detail to memory. The sleek vessel seemed to come alive beneath the hands of the artisans. On the bow, men spread shimmering coats of varnish on her deck stanchions and rails while others, with smaller, more delicate brushes, dabbed at the figurehead of a lusty, buxom woman. Awestruck, she watched as men began taking in a main mast, shortening the purchase as it upended. Not daring to speak, Sirena knew that if all wore well, the great spar would drop to keelson. She waited, praying. The masts were the spines of the ship. They were as essential as life and death.

“Tio, I still can't believe it! Grandfather said he would do it someday and he has. My hands itch for the wheel. Tell me, what was the reaction of the others in Cádiz when they heard he finally built his dream ship? And see the copper bottom? Just like a petticoat peeking from beneath a lady's skirt. How did he manage to design her to be so graceful? Look at the way the bowsprit and the jib boom point toward destiny. It's almost as if she had the confidence instead of her captain. I never thought I would live to see this,” she cried excitedly. “Look, Tio, at the dolphin striker, the blade of her cutwater, the swooping sweep of her cathead.”

“I see, I see,” the elderly man laughed indulgently. “I wish your grandfather had lived to see this ship.” Then the old eyes clouded over. “No, I'm glad he wasn't here to listen to the ridicule and the jibes the other builders would have heaped on him. Today, they still claim she'll never make open water. Your grandfather drew the plans and had her nearly finished when he died. Your own father and Tio Juan were too busy with the business to care much for his dream. So here she stayed in dry dock, nearly completed. I saw to it that monies came out of the business to keep her sheltered and in prime. If your father and uncle ever knew, they never said anything to me and I never pressed them. I had extreme confidence in your grandfather, Sirena, and I knew that his dream only waited for the right captain. I believe that captain is you, and I wish you well with her.”

“
Gracias
, Tio, thank you for everything. And you will be there to see this sea spirit skim the waters like the nymph she is. She is years ahead of her time and may the heavens bless my grandfather for having had the courage to build her. He designed my frigate, Tio, and there is no finer ship in water than the
Rana
.”

Señor Arroya smiled at the young woman who radiated with delight. Sirena Córdez had loved the shipbuilding industry ever since she was a child and she still retained that joyful ebullience like a child at Christmas. She had come into his offices that afternoon, somber and constrained. The break in her marriage and the loss of her son had taken their toll and there had been a bitterness in the thrust of her lower lip and in the fine lines between her brows. He had been right in ordering the completion of this ship. He had given her back some small happiness, an indefinable part of her beginnings, a glad eye to the future. The elderly gentleman narrowed his eyes and scanned the day and the weather. Aside from the busy carpenters' pounding, the day was quiet. The gentle lap of the water against the wharf was calming. A flock of gulls screeched and swooped down from the sky and flew off again, leaving behind a stillness. As he looked again at Sirena, he imagined he could hear her heart thumping and her pulses racing as she committed every line and detail of the ship to memory. “She's a beauty and she'll sail you true to your course, Sirena. Whatever it may be.”

“Oh, Tio, I can't wait to get her into open water,” Sirena laughed, her green eyes flashing. “And yes, Tio, I believe you are right. The
Sea Spirit
will carry me on whatever course I chart. For now, my bearings lead me to England, to Regan.”

Her voice became soft, almost a whisper as she murmured Regan's name and the lawyer muttered a silent prayer that this beautiful woman would find that which she sought.

 

Reluctantly, Sirena followed Frau Holtz and Señor Arroya back to the carriage that would take them to the Villa Valdez on Via Arpa. As they settled themselves in the jostling coach, Señor Arroya broached a problem. “Your aptly named
Sea Spirit
is considered a disaster. I doubt you will find a reliable crew.”

“No problem, Tio, my own has decided to remain with me. Sons of the sea, they're as reliable as the rising sun.”

“Your ship is a work of art. Two thousand tons, carved from the finest oak and hard pine, and fitted with wooden nails. She carries miles of canvas on her yards. She's every captain's ideal.”

“No, Tio, the Sea Spirit is
this
captain's ideal. She's mine and only mine. A small wager, Tio. How long do you think it will take me to reach England?”

“Three weeks, plus a few days,” the gentleman offered, giving Sirena a conservative length of time.

“Two weeks to the day,” Sirena smiled. “I can see my departure now. When we release her mooring lines and ease away from the wharf, her sails will gleam as the crowds watch. I can see her heel in the wind, just enough to show the unusual. Her hull will pick up reflections of the water, like first morning dew on the petals of a flower. She's born to the sea. I can feel her pulsate and throb with life. She's magnificent!”

The old Spaniard grinned. “Two weeks, eh?”

Sirena answered, her face wreathed in smiles, “Not a day more.”

“Then a wager it is,” he laughed again, a sound like the rustling of dry papers. Usually much more conservative in his bets, Señor Arroya glanced at the long-legged creature sitting opposite him. He was a fool to wager with her. If Sirena Córdez said she would dock in London in two weeks, then two weeks it would be.

The ride to the Villa Valdez was short. “What do you think of Cádiz, Frau Holtz?” Sirena questioned. “You've been so silent since leaving Tio Esteban's office. Perhaps you don't look forward to another trip, is that it?”

“Ach! My poor feet are not even accustomed to the feel of land and already you talk of more weeks on water. Also, I am not so impressed with your new ship as you are, Mevrouw.”

“What troubles you, Frau? Don't you think the
Sea Spirit
gorgeous?” Sirena smiled indulgently at the elderly housekeeper, knowing that the woman would never find beauty in a ship. Now a house, that was different!

“Who ever heard of a ship with a copper bottom. Ships should be made completely of wood. Wood at least floats!” the Frau blurted, her brows pulled down in a scowl.

“If Grandfather designed her, she will float,” Sirena soothed, patting Frau Holtz's gloved hand. “If you like, you can remain behind in Cádiz. Tio Esteban will watch over you for me.”

“Watch over me, will he?” the Frau sniffed haughtily. “And who will watch over you?
Nein,
I go with you but I do not like it” Not for all the tea in China would she allow Sirena to go off to England without her and, if it meant she must sail aboard a doomed ship to stay with her mistress, she would do it.

The carriage wheels clattered over the worn cobblestones up the winding streets toward the Valdez Villa. Before reaching the top of the incline, Señor Arroya begged to be let off a short distance from his home. When Sirena protested that they could drive him to his doorstep, he insisted that the short walk would help to increase his failing appetite. After warm
adios
and a promise to come for lunch the next day, Sirena and Frau Holtz continued on to their destination.

“You still haven't told me what you think of my birthplace, Frau Holtz.”

“All the buildings look alike,” the German woman complained. “Why are all the houses so white? And the streets, they are all so narrow and winding. I wouldn't care to walk them after dark.
Nein,
I do not think I like it.”

“All the streets lead to the sea and they twist about so the incline is not so steep. Cádiz is an ancient and wealthy city. Ah, good friend, you lack the soul of a romantic. We'll have to do something about that. However, we will only remain here long enough for the
Sea Spirit
to be completed. At the rate the carpenters are working, it will only be long enough for me to walk again the halls of my mother's home and to taste the fruits of my homeland.”

“Ja,”
Frau Holtz murmured, not at all convinced.

“When you see the Valdez estate, you will fall under its spell,” Sirena chattered on to relieve the housekeeper's apprehension of strange places. She had lived so long on Java it was understandably difficult for her to acclimate herself to new surroundings. “At one time many gardeners were employed to keep the gardens and orchard in prime. The Valdez home was the most beautiful in Cadiz. Tio Esteban said the house had been kept in good repair but I'm certain it will require your firm hand.” With that statement the Frau seemed to glow. “And the gardens, wait till you see them. Oranges and grapes in the arbor. And home-pressed wines! We'll have a bottle of Valdez wine with our dinner tonight. Oh, Frau Holtz, you have no idea how much I've missed Spain. Even I had forgotten how much a part of my homeland I really am. Java seems like a lifetime ago.” A frown settled over her lovely features. “It doesn't matter now,” she whispered as the Frau reached for her hand. “Look! There's the villa!”

Frau Holtz leaned toward the window and looked to the top of the hill. There, in sprawling splendor, was Sirena's home. The tiled roof was constructed to overhang the walls on all four sides and myriad pots and ceramic jars were hung, filled to overflowing with bright blossoms and fragrant herbs. As the carriage approached, outbuildings could be seen in the distance and the Frau surmised these were the servants' quarters. The walkways were pebbled with white stones and glittered in the sunlight and directed the eye to the deep shadows where light, airy furniture, suited to the outdoors, blended in with the foliage. The two-story building sported grilled windows and a balcony embraced the top floor.

The next hour was spent doing all the things that women naturally do when taking occupancy of a new dwelling. The first action Frau Holtz performed was to survey the spacious kitchen area and the linens. Sirena reacquainted herself with several of the servants and was introduced to the others. She toured the home of her childhood and complimented the staff for their care and vigilance. She took Frau Holtz by the arm and led her through the rooms, pointing out this article or that and relating a story connected with each. Finally, with last instructions to a houseman on where he could find Jacobus and the message that the crew was to join her for dinner that evening, Sirena closed the door to her room and settled herself discontendedly on the bed where she had spent her girlhood dreams.

It's true then, she thought to herself, there is no going back. Only ahead. I don't belong here. This isn't my home. I should be feeling something, she thought sadly, I should be happy to be here. How many times in the past I've thought about it. But without Father, Isabella and Tio Juan here to share this with me, it's all so empty. My home was anywhere Regan was. Regan and Mikel. But Mikel was taken from me and I drove Regan away. No, she cried silently, closing her eyes against the cool greens and soft beiges of her room, this is no longer home. The Villa Valdez, it is only bricks and beams and long-ago memories. This part of my life is over. Perhaps one day Caleb would want to live here with his bride. If not, the house could rot and decay and become part of the earth on which it stood.

Without warning, a round ball of black fur jumped onto the bed beside her. “Ah,” Sirena said, “don't tell me you too are homeless with no one to love you. There is nothing in this life more terrible. I love him so much,” she crooned as she stroked the cat's sleek head. “I gave all I had to give and it still wasn't enough. I stopped giving and I destroyed the only love I'll ever want. I have nothing more to offer to any man. I gave it all to Regan.” Sirena nuzzled the kitten and whispered, “I'll make him love me again. He has to. I'll seek him out, tell him how much he means to me, that I love him. I'll beg, I'll plead, I'll do anything, say anything if only he'll love me again!” she cried brokenly, oblivious to the stranglehold she had on the animal. In defense of itself, it struggled from her arms and lashed out at her cheek, leaving behind a long scratch. As the kitten leaped from the bed, Sirena ran her slender fingertips over the wound and studied her bloodied finger. Her emerald eyes narrowed as she once again traced the length of the injury. “And if there is nothing I can say or do to make him mine, I'll kill him. He belongs to me and I to him. He loved me once and he'll love me again!”

As she stopped weeping, an anger rose in her for the life she had led. She held her bloodstained finger before her and recalled what life had had to offer her since she had last seen Cádiz. Raped at sea by pirates, drugged and raped by Chaezar Alvarez. A life of deceit and lies to gain vengeance on Regan because she blamed him for the deaths of Tio Juan and Isabella and the crimes against her. Marrying Regan, loving Regan, giving him a son born of that love.

A niggling voice whispered something about her destiny and nutmeg trees. Trees she had labored to plant to insure her son's future. Now her son was dead and the trees still stood. Regan deserting her. Refusing to wait until she had adjusted to Mikel's death. Assuming control of the inheritance left her by her family. Then insult of insults, offering to pay her three percent and poor Tio Esteban fighting for her interests. “Beware, Regan van der Rhys!” she intoned doom-fully. “I'll track you down and in one way or another we'll come to terms ... my terms!”