Mystic Memories (27 page)

Keoni laughed. “You are a contented little
keiki
who would rather sleep than wake up to the early-morning sunlight,
kaikuahine
. It is time to open your eyes and enjoy the dawn.”

His kind words silenced her as she weighed their meaning in her mind. She thought of her life before she’d stepped through the portal. Looking back at her grief-stricken loss of Mark six years earlier, she could see how his death had pushed her forward, strengthening her clairvoyance in her effort to find his murderer. With her life-path irrevocably altered, she had gone into private investigation. And yet, she still hid her psychic abilities from most people, though not as much as when she was a child. Her fears had almost turned away Mr. Charles, had it not been for Aunt Gaby. Now here she was, living day to day on little else but her supernatural instincts.

“I still find it hard to accept myself as a mystic. Maybe that’s why my stomach is giving me fits.”

“See? Even your
ʻōpū
says you cannot avoid your true calling any longer. And maybe it’s also trying to tell you that your husband has a right to know everything about you, especially about your journey from the future time.”

“And he will find out.”

“After you have gone?”

The knot twisted in her stomach. “Keoni, please . . . just get back to cutting my hair. I’ll deal with one problem at a time. For right now, I must focus all my energy on Andrew.”

She heard the shears behind her left ear as Keoni asked, “Do you still sense the boy on that ship?”

“Yes, more than ever. But—” She hesitated. “I have a really bad feeling that I can’t quite figure out.”

“Someone getting hurt, maybe?”

“I’m not sure. It’s like there’s a black veil obscuring the picture in my head.”

“You betta be careful.”

“I will.”

He patted her shoulder. “
Pau.
Finished.”

“
Mahalo
, Keoni. I owe you one.”

“You pay me back by telling Blake the truth.”

“Soon,” she repeated. “I promise.”

Chapter 17

O
ver an hour later, Blake needed a few more minutes to give final instructions to Mr. Bellows, in case a hasty departure became necessary. Concerned about his minor delay, he sent his steward to bring Cara up from the cabin. Jimmy reappeared shortly, with a nervous look in his youthful eyes.

Blake scanned the deck for his wife. “Where is Mrs. Masters?”

“Sir, she wasn’t in your quarters, sir.”

“What?”

“Sir, I said—”

“I heard you, dammit. Where the hell is she?”

“I’m right here, Blake.”

He spun around. Cara had been standing with her back to him, not ten feet astern. Dressed in white duck trousers, red neckerchief, and checked shirt, she was hardly recognizable.

“You cut your hair.” He strode toward her. “How? Who—?”

“Keoni proved to be quite helpful with a pair of scissors,” she explained with a sheepish grin. “If he ever gives up cooking, he could become a barber.”

He still did not know how she could bluff anyone with her disguise, but then his opinion was a little bit biased.

The cook walked up and stood beside him. “She make a good sailor, eh,
kaikaina
?”

“Sometimes I wonder whose side you are on, big brother—hers or mine?”

The
Kanaka
laughed. “Both, of course.”

Blake eyed her neatly clipped layers, hardly two inches at the crown and shorter at the nape of her neck. He addressed his question to Keoni. “Is this your revenge for that black eye?”

“Naw, I forgive and forget.”

“Ha!” Though he feigned anger with his friend, he felt a crooked grin tug at the corner of his mouth. “You have turned my wife into a man, for devil’s sake.”

Cara spoke up. “Could you stop talking about me like I’m your pet poodle after a hack job at the groomers?”

“What?” they asked in unison.

“Oh, never mind,” she said with a resigned sigh. “Let’s go, Blake.”

Keoni stepped forward. “I want to go along with you, in case there is trouble.”

Blake looked at Cara, wondering if her psychic insight sensed the need for the brawny
Kanaka
’s support. Her glance darted between him and Keoni, then she nodded solemnly.

“Very well, he goes, but—” He held up his finger. “Keep your eyes downcast and do not smile. Your pearl-white teeth will surely draw unwanted attention to your face. No matter what I say, go along with it.”

She nodded, and he knew how much it cost her.

After Keoni went down into the boat where Jimmy waited as steersman, Cara climbed down like a regular sailor, took her place next to the
Kanaka
and manned an oar.

“I’m a little rusty at this,” she warned Keoni while Blake settled in the stern sheets. “Just don’t put too much muscle into it or we’ll be going in circles.”

The cook grinned. “Aye-aye, Lady Captain.”

The gig was shoved off, and they began to row toward the
Ballade
. Within a few strokes, Cara managed to give the appearance of knowing what she was doing. Once again, she was grateful for the crash course on seamanship she’d taken in preparation for the reenactment role in the twentieth century. Little did she realize at the time that she would be actually living the part.

Her stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation. She recognized the good sign, knowing a bellyache would’ve meant she was on the wrong track. Instead, she sensed that the end of her search was getting closer and closer with each stroke of the oars.

Her back to the bow, she looked across at Blake, facing her. “If I can make a suggestion . . .” She pulled the oar with all her strength, able to speak only during the reach. “When you go with the captain to his cabin . . . I’ll go with Keoni to visit with the crew.”

“I don’t want you out of my sight”

“Too risky to take me along . . . only your steward would go with you . . . but not me, not a regular sailor.”

“Then I will provide an excuse for you to accompany me.”

Keoni spoke up without the need to hesitate between each stroke. “She has a point, Captain. We three have a better chance of finding him belowdecks, especially if one of us has an opportunity to slip away.”

Blake glared at his Island brother, then at Cara. “Very well, but if anyone is going to snoop around, let Jimmy do it.
You
stay with Keoni.” He turned to his steward. “Those are my orders, James. Do
not
let my wife undermine them or there’ll be hell to pay.”

The wide-eyed adolescent nodded vigorously. “Aye-aye, sir.”

Keoni echoed the affirmative response, prompting Cara to do the same.

With a few more strokes, they came alongside the
Ballade
. Blake gave his name to the mate in the gangway, who called out to his commander, “Captain Blake Masters of the
Valiant
coming aboard, sir!”

While the four of them climbed onto the deck, Cara felt an eerie tingling throughout her body. A sense of evil seemed to emanate from every plank, stem to stern, throbbing like a pounding heartbeat. The sickening sound pulsed inside her head. With a difficult swallow, she forced down a wave of nausea.

Glancing toward Blake, she saw his eyes narrow at her unspoken alarm. Then, just as quickly, his cool composure returned.

A bellowing voice came up from the companionway. “Bring Captain Masters down to the cabin.”

“Follow me, sir,” invited the first mate, a dark-haired man of average height with thick and hairy forearms.

As Blake departed for the aft cabin, Keoni headed forward, prompting Cara and Jimmy to step lively to catch up with the
Kanaka
’s long strides. Acting as if he would be welcome anywhere—and well he would be on most ships—he put his head down into the forecastle and received a stiff yet polite invitation to join the shipmates of the
Ballade
.

The partial crew of seven seemed cordial enough, sitting around and smoking pipes while the other half stood watch topside. Cara, however, sensed an undercurrent of tension that lay just a hair’s breadth beneath the surface of their friendly smiles and light banter. Keoni introduced himself and Jimmy, dismissing Cara as a new boy who had come on the
Valiant
in San Diego from a whaler heading back to Lahaina.

“Edward appears to have a disease of the mind,” he added, cleverly using her former surname. “Doesn’t talk. Doesn’t look at you. Wanders off, making more work for the rest of us.”

“What’s your cap’n want with a ‘soger’ aboard?” asked one young man. To a sailor, there was nothing more insulting than to be referred to as a no-account soldier, or “soger.”

An old salt winked at her. “There be reason enough, eh, dandy-boy?”

Comprehending the deviant implication, Cara dropped her gaze, shuffling back into the shadows.

Keoni responded in a none-too-pleasant tone, “Captain Masters has a new bride in his quarters. Edward here assists Jimmy.”

“He’s right,” piped up the steward, getting his ire up. “A fine an’ fair gentleman, the cap’n is.”

Keeping her eyes downcast, she listened to the exchange, hoping it wouldn’t get out of hand. The one thing she didn’t need right now was a brawl, at least not before she could have a chance to snoop around. Although Blake had given those particular orders to Jimmy, it was quite obvious that the steward was in the thick of the conversation and would be missed if he were to sneak off. On the other hand, Keoni had set up a perfect scenario for her. If she were caught, the crew already knew she had a feeble mind and a reputation for roving.

The tension soon passed, much to her relief, and the men settled into amicable banter. She stared at her feet, trying to appear bored and distracted while her nerves were taut as a bowline. Anxious to get going, she finally slunk far enough into the shadows for an easy exit.

With some time remaining before the next watch, all hands would be either topside or in the forecastle, giving her the opportunity to venture farther below. Unlike the
Valiant
, the lower hold of this ship was not filled to the beams with cattle hides, but with all sizes of crates and barrels, stowed and lashed, leaving little, if any, space to hide a child.

Her frustration mounted. She could almost hear a clock ticking off the seconds. Her hands balled into tight fists as she looked around, feeling the ever-present pulse of fear in the ship’s belly.

Come on, Aunt Gaby. Show up and tell me where to find him.

You have the answers within you, Cara
, came the voice of Gabriella.

No. I need your help.

Trust yourself.

You picked a fine time to leave me in the lurch!

I am here for you, Cara. But I can only tell you how to do it. I cannot do it for you. In the silence, you will know.

She squeezed her eyes shut, emptying her mind of the fears and the questions. As the black veil behind her lids blossomed into a violet light, she felt the tension ease from her body, replaced by a sense of calm knowingness. There were no words, no pictures, no voices. Yet she instinctively knew the direction to take.

In a matter of moments, she came upon the captain’s quarters, where men’s voices could be heard in a muffled conversation. Adjacent to the cabin was another door with a slide bolt mounted on the outside, above the knob. Moving quietly, she reached up to slide the bolt. Touching the metal sent a sudden jolt of fear up her arm as if she’d stuck her finger in an electrical socket.

He’s here!

With a silent prayer, she twisted the knob and opened the door. On a berth inside the closet-size cabin lay a small figure curled up on his side, his back to her. His blond hair was long and matted, but it looked to be the right color.

She took a soft step inside, closing the door behind her, then whispered, “Andrew?” When no answer came, she leaned over his head. “Andrew Charles?” She lightly touched his arm.

The boy yelped like a scared pup. She clamped her hand over his mouth. He squirmed, rolling onto his back. His blue eyes widened in terror.

“Shhh, Andrew. It’s okay. I’ve come to take you away from here. I’ve come to take you home.”

The boy fought her a little longer until her words seemed to finally sink in. He went still, staring up at her.

She smiled reassuringly, slowly lowering her hand to his chest. “Your father hired me to find you. It’s going to be tricky to get off this ship, but you have to be brave. Okay?”

He remained mute, unable or unwilling to acknowledge her instructions.

“Andrew? Do you understand me?”

His haunted eyes studied her. For weeks, Cara had wondered and worried about his safety, never thinking about how she would deal with his state of mind when she found him. Now that she needed his cooperation to escape, she realized he was too traumatized. He was incapable of conscious communication.

Running out of time, she took his hand. He yanked it away, then scooted backward, pressing his body against the bulkhead.

“I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. I’m here to help.”

Again she tried to reach out to him, slowly, cautiously, reassuringly. She touched his cheek. He froze. In her mind, she felt his fear. He thought she was a sailor coming to take him away like the one who had abducted him at the mission.

“I’m not a real sailor. And I’m not kidnapping you.” Her ability to read his thoughts startled him. “I’m a woman
dressed
as a man so I can rescue you.”

From what she could pick up, he was as confused as ever. But she couldn’t wait around for him to decide whether she was telling the truth.

“Come on, sugar. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Though reluctant at first, he finally let her take his hand and lead him out the door.

Cara had no way to signal Blake or Keoni that she’d found Andrew. Without their help, she could only head for the gig and hope to get as close as possible before they were inevitably caught. It wasn’t a matter of if they would be spotted, only when.

She brought Andrew up the companionway and nearly made it to the rail before the mate called out from the quarterdeck. “Where the hell you goin’ with that boy?”

Whirling around, she pulled the ten-year-old behind her with a hasty order under her breath. “Get over the side and into the boat. No one will hurt you down there. Now go!”

Andrew darted away from her side as she braced herself, ready for an attack from fore and aft. The chief mate bore down on her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw another man coming from the opposite direction and lunging for the boy. She heard a high-pitched scream.

Cara spun about as the sound of a splash came up from the water. “Andrew!”

She frantically tried to assure herself that he would know how to swim, recalling the sailboat docked behind his home in Huntington Harbour. But she couldn’t take a chance of being wrong. She swung one leg over the rail and paused to locate the bubbles so she wouldn’t jump on top of him.