Forsaken Dreams (41 page)

Hayden seemed equally oblivious to the city’s charms. In fact, he appeared to be searching for someone—or something—as his gaze stretched down the street.

“I’m surprised you decided to stay with us, Hayden.” Blake transferred his duffel bag to his other shoulder.

“I thought I’d investigate what Brazil has to offer. Besides, just like the rest of you, there’s nothing for me back home.”

The sun disappeared, offering them a reprieve, and Blake looked up to see a mass of dark clouds. Where had they come from? A breeze tore in from the bay, cooling the sweat on his skin.

They turned down Rua de Direita. Fine shade trees lined a broad paved road edged with flagstone shops, restaurants, and stores. Scents of fresh-baked bread, garlic, and oranges swept away the stink of the city. Blake halted and rubbed his sore leg. “This could be any street in America.”

“Indeed,” James said. “I am quite astonished.”

Hayden stretched his neck to see over the crowd. “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” And without another word, he sped off as if he had a pressing appointment.

“But you won’t know where to find us,” James called after him.

“I’ll find you; don’t worry.” He shouted over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

As if nature was unhappy with the man’s curious departure, thunder cracked the sky and released a violent deluge. One minute, all was dry as a bone. The next, sheets of rain fell on them as if they stood beneath a waterfall. Though some citizens ducked into shops and houses, most of the workers continued onward as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Keep going!” Blake shouted to the colonists behind him. “We are almost there!” Yet he could no longer make out their faces through the wall of water. He longed to backtrack and ensure Eliza was well, but he was the only one who knew how to get to the immigrants’ hotel. Raising his duffel bag against the rain, Blake plunged forward. Lightning scored the sky. Thunder shook the sodden ground beneath his boots, and within minutes, water flooded the streets and gushed down gullies and alleyways like a raging river. Blake had never seen so much water rise so quickly. It covered his boots and stormed around his ankles, making his feet sink into the mud like anchors. He glanced at James beside him, who, with head down and breath heaving, forged through the torrent as best he could. Then just when Blake thought they might be in danger of being washed away, the rain ceased and the hotel appeared before him.

What he expected was a large shack or a small stucco house at best. What he saw before him was quite the palatial setting. Rain dripped from the eaves of a grand, white, two-story building that would rival any hotel in Charleston. In front, rows of imperial palms lined a walkway that led from the gate to the steps while marble fountains and benches dotted a garden rich with beautiful flowers. Sunlight chased the clouds away, transforming puddles into shimmering pools and sending steam rising on the marble steps. Setting down his duffel, Blake shook the water from his hair and turned to find Eliza.

Clutching Blake’s hand, Eliza allowed him to help her up the slick porch stairs. With her legs still wobbling from the sea and the rain making everything slippery, she could imagine tumbling onto the walkway in a heap of stockings and petticoats. His chuckle brought her gaze to his, and she wondered if he was reading her thoughts. Water pooled on his lashes, dripped from the tips of his dark hair, and covered his skin and clothes with a slick sheen that brought a musky smell to her nose. She couldn’t help but smile. “You look like a drowned raccoon.”

“And you, a beautiful mermaid.” He brushed a saturated lock from her cheek. The tender gesture only further befuddled her mind. Oh fiddle, but she would miss him. At the thought, she lowered her gaze.

His finger on her chin brought her eyes back to his. He cocked his head, studying her. “Why the frown? I much prefer your smile.”

Laughter emanated from within the hotel as the colonists congregated in the lobby for further instructions. The men who brought up the rear leaped onto the porch, drew off their hats, and slapped them against their legs. After nodding toward her and Blake, they slipped inside.

Eliza swallowed. She might as well get it over with and tell him now. Turning, she gazed over the gardens where sunlight transformed raindrops into diamonds, and then beyond to the odd city with its hilly streets and brightly colored houses. The
drip-drip
of water tapped a nervous cadence on her heart. “I cannot stay, Blake.”

His eyebrows collided. “What are you talking about? The vote was in your favor.”

“Barely.” She bit her lip, still not meeting his gaze. “I came on this voyage to get away from the hatred. At least back home I have a chance to change my name, move somewhere where nobody knows me. Perhaps Kansas.”

“They will grow to love you in time. As the rest have.” Gray, pleading eyes swung her way.

As you have?
She waited for words that never came. “Perhaps.” A breeze chilled Eliza’s damp gown, and she hugged herself. “Perhaps not.” She wouldn’t tell him the truth. That it was her love for him that drove her away. Instead, she fought back tears and forced a smile. “Thank you for wanting me to stay. That means more to me than anything.”

“Then stay.” He grabbed her arms and turned her to face him. “We need you.”

But did
he
need her? Want her? She nearly crumpled beneath the pain in his eyes, the desperation—desperation for her as a nurse or for her as a woman? His breath warmed the air between them and filled her with memories of their kiss. She tried to tug from him, but he wouldn’t let go. “The doctor can handle things,” she said.

“I cannot believe you’re giving up so quickly. After all we’ve been through.”

Eliza met his gaze, those stormy eyes filled with angst. “Don’t you see it’s because of what you’ve been through, what they’ve all been through, the pain and loss of the war, that I must leave?” She stared at his necktie and the way the hollow of his throat rose and fell with each breath. “My presence will only be a reminder of your loss.”

If only he’d say he forgave her. That he loved her. If only he’d take her in his arms and beg her to stay, she would. For him. Instead, he just stood there, the muscles in his jaw bunching as if engaged in battle. Then releasing her, he took a step back, leaving her cold and shivering.

She faced the yard, which was even blurrier beneath her tears. “After Captain Barclay deposits you on shore near your new home, I intend to sail with him back to America,” she finished.

Blake only stared at her in silence. Though she wanted to look at him—to see if there was anything else besides anger in his eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Finally, he spun around, marched into the hotel, and slammed the door behind him.

C
HAPTER
31

B
lake’s newfound joy washed away with the last remnants of rain from the storm. Stubborn, independent woman! After he’d set aside his misgivings about her allegiances, set aside his animosity, his anger. After he’d called for a vote and all but begged her to stay! No doubt she had more Yankee blood in her than she admitted.

The man standing behind a massive mahogany desk stuffed his thumbs into his lapels and shouted over the din in a Southern accent that Blake found comforting. “Ladies and gentlemen! Ladies and gentleman!” Within a few moments, the chattering ceased and all eyes swept his way.

“I am Colonel James Broome, formerly of the 14th Alabama Infantry, and currently manager of this fine establishment. Welcome to Brazil!”

Excitement buzzed through the saturated crowd once again as Blake spotted Eliza slipping through the door to stand in the back. This should be the happiest moment of his life. They had made it to Brazil! Despite all the countless struggles and tragedies, Blake had successfully led these colonists to the promised land. And from the looks of the abundance in town, it was indeed a land flowing with milk and honey.

Then why did his heart feel as though it had been rolled over by a howitzer? Shaking off his grief, he made his way to the front and introduced himself as the expedition leader. Colonel Broome welcomed him adamantly and then began the business of showing the new arrivals to their chambers.

Blake found his room neat and clean, the walls beautifully papered and the ceiling gilded and frescoed. Two iron-framed beds, a washstand, and a table and chairs—all painted green—bordered the southern wall. After the tight, dirty confines of the brig, Blake felt as though he’d entered a palace. James followed on his heels, throwing his pack onto one of the beds and whistling. “Look at these lavish accommodations. I never would have expected this.” The sparkle in his eyes vanished when he looked at Blake’s face. “Perchance has the rain soured your mood? We have made it, Blake.” He slapped him on the back, the action sending spray over them both.

“Eliza’s not staying.”

James flinched. “Why not?”

Slipping out of his saturated coat, Blake tossed it on the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Apparently not enough people voted in her favor to suit her.”

James walked to the window, his boots squishing over the wooden floor. A breeze ruffled the plain cotton curtains, bringing the scent of flowers and rain-freshened air. “I can’t blame her, really. Did you see some of the looks the nays gave her? The Scotts, Mr. Dodd, and those soldiers, Wood and Adams?” He shook his head. “Hard to live so close to people who wish you dead.”

Blake tore off his shirt and grabbed a towel from the washstand. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“Which is?” James spun around and struggled to remove his drenched coat.

“For her to stay, of course.”

“Stay for you or for her?”

“Why does everything have to be so black-and-white?” Blake sat and tugged off his boots.

“Life is black-and-white. Good and evil. There is no middle ground.”

Blake rolled his eyes. Of course there was middle ground—a thousand different shades of gray between black and white. Grays such as killing your fellow American on the battlefield in a nonsensical war, lying to protect a neighbor, stealing to avoid starvation …

And courting the enemy that murdered your family.

Standing, he opened his duffel bag and pulled out his best suit. “We need her skills.”

James grinned.

Blake shoved his legs into a dry pair of trousers, pulled them to his waist, and sat back on his bed with a sigh.

“It’s obvious you adore her.” James leaned back on the window ledge. “Yankee husband or not.”

Blake stared at his friend but found no mirth, no mockery in his eyes. In fact, he found none within himself. Instead, the words “adore her” settled in a comfortable place in his heart.

“Come now, are you going to deny it?” James arched a brow.

Blake leaned forward on his knees. “Truth is, I can’t imagine life without her.”

“Then why not ask her to marry you?”

“Marry?” Blake punched to his feet. “Ridiculous notion,” he mumbled. Grabbing a shirt, he flung it over his head and fumbled with the buttons—anything to keep his mind off the thought of Eliza as his wife. A thought that was both alarming and thrilling. “Marrying her won’t change the way the others feel about her.”

“No, but it will change the way
she
feels. The others will come around when she is your wife.”

Wife
. After the war, Blake had never thought to take a wife. What woman would want a broken shell of a man? Without family, fortune, or name, what did he have to offer a lady?

“If you don’t do something soon, it will be too late.” James’s voice sent turmoil into Blake’s already churning gut. “We set sail again tomorrow and will be at our new land by sunset.”

Blake tucked in his shirt and reached for his belt.

“Do you love her or not?”

Why didn’t the blasted man stop talking? “It’s not that simple.” Blake eased on his vest and turned to look in the mirror. Yet all he saw staring back at him was a bitter, damaged, used-up ex-colonel whose mind was so tortured from the past, he didn’t know what to think anymore.

“It isn’t as complicated as you make it, Blake. Come now, you two are made for each other. Anyone can see that.” James tugged his wet shirt over his head and tossed it in the corner.

Blake ground his teeth together. But it
was
complicated. More complicated than devising battle plans. More complicated than following orders that sent young boys to their death. More complicated than anything Blake had thus endured.

Even the luxury of a steaming bath had not soothed away the pain in Eliza’s heart. Neither had Angeline’s noble attempts to cheer her up, nor—once Eliza had told the lady her plans—her vain pleadings for Eliza to remain with the colonists. Not even Stowy balancing on the edge of the porcelain tub and slipping accidentally into the water had lightened Eliza’s mood. Though he had looked rather comical with his sopping fur flattened against his lanky body. Why Angeline hadn’t left the cat on board the ship, Eliza couldn’t guess. Yet when she’d watched the lady gently dry Stowy with a towel and saw the way the cat nuzzled against her and purred, Eliza supposed the two were inseparable.