The Dreamer (25 page)

“I
am
someone else!” I shouted bitterly. “I didn’t need anything as long as I had my books, my career. It was all I wanted. And then I had that stupid, mocking dream. And I threw everything away for it.
Everything
. To think I could be back in my office grading papers instead of this hell hole.”

My eyes filled with tears and I clutched that heavy piece of metal in my hand, the sharp corners digging into the softness of my palm. “You fool! You fool!” I suddenly cried, not referring to John Finley at all, and I threw the cross away from me.

It sailed over his head, and he made a panicked sound in his throat before chasing after it.

Not pausing to see if he found it, I turned and marched on.

It took at least a couple of hours to climb to the highest part of the island. Trees and shrubbery had been available to help in my ascent.

I stood at the top, breathing hard. The light was almost gone, and I could just see the pirate ship in the distance. The guyot would not emerge until nightfall, along with the low tide. They would wait and so would we.

I looked the other direction, at the empty, disdainful horizon. It seemed to laugh at me as I scanned it for anything …
anything
. But I could see nothing in the dimming light, and my heart sank even lower. I didn’t know it had further to sink.

Again I looked at the pirate ship, its white sails and standing masts. I was sure it would return for us after all. How could they pass up a couple of fools they could mistreat? It would be provocative icing on the pirated cake.

I looked down at the rocks below me. It was at least an eighty foot drop. Not quite the fall that brought me here, but enough.

I remembered that day, so long ago, when, full of indignant injury, I catapulted myself towards the ambitious, outrageous answer, nothing but elation and glee at my success, even as I struggled for my life amid crashing waves.

That had been the key, I remembered. The fact that I knew I would not die in that fall. I knew it. I jumped to my death, falling through the air helplessly, knowing I would not die, knowing I would be saved. Only devoid of emotion as I was could I unlock the key. One person in a million, in a hundred million, had the capacity to so successfully separate their mind from their emotion, their heart, as I had. And I had been doing it for years, as though I had been groomed for it. It was almost as if ….

I shook my head.

No more nonsense.

Again I looked over that cliff, the wind tugging recklessly at my loose skirt. I took a step forward but instinctively paused.

Suddenly my foot slipped on a loose rock, and I screamed as I fell to my seat. More rocks slipped away from under me, taking me to the very edge. I saw the pebbles tumble and fall over, sounding like rain on their way down the rocky cliff.

I frantically clutched at the shrubbery surrounding me, my heart pounding, and I was able to stop myself, my feet dangling over the lethal drop. Slowly I scooted back from the edge until I was safe, breathing in and out slowly to calm myself. I didn’t get up, and I didn’t release my grip on the shrubbery, even though I was no longer in danger of falling.

My heart continued to race, and I knew, I
knew
I could never go back. Never again could I do what I had done once before. I was someone else now, just as I had told John. All those layers of safe barriers were down and no longer could I separate my mind from my body. My life had been secondary to truth before. But that was no longer the case. Life had meaning, life could be beautiful. My life. And I couldn’t risk throwing it away now simply to prove a point.

I stood up and looked over the edge one more time. I’d never been afraid of heights, but I was afraid now. I heard a sound behind me, and I turned. John was there, breathing hard, and looking at me queerly. The cross, I saw, was around his neck again.

“Miss Madera?” he asked quietly.

“John,” I whispered, “I cannot go back.”

“Come away from the cliff, lass. You’re much too close to the edge.” He opened his hand to me, reaching out to me slowly, as though he were afraid I would throw myself off if he moved too fast.

“There is something out there,” I told him with dread, looking over the cliff again at the gaping, frightening distance below. “Something bigger than me.”

“I know,” he answered gently. “I understand. But this is not the answer.”

My eyes narrowed. He had no idea.

He gestured at me again with his extended hand.

I sighed. And then reached out and took it.

On the cooling shore we waited for hours, the sky around us turning to complete blackness as we sat. The only pins of light came from the ship that was miles away, probably in full swing of frantically loading the treasure by now. We saw the ship come closer to our small island.

“They are waiting for us,” John said as we sat side by side on that sandy shore, the pirate ship anchored in the distance.

“I know,” I answered.

Still we did not move.

“If we don’t go to them, they’ll come for us,” he continued.

I looked over the horizon. It was too dark to see anything.

We went to our rowboat and I got in while John pushed us out to sea. He rowed us over slowly and we did not speak.

The pirate ship drew closer, growing bigger and bigger with every stroke. I could not smile now. I could not pretend. Suddenly, I was very scared.

“John?” I whispered.

“Yes?”

“Why do you wear that cross?”

He was silent a moment. And then as before he said, “I wear it to remind me.”

“Of what?” I demanded, desperate for distraction, or meaning, or more, all the while never taking my eyes off that looming ship in the distance.

“We’ve had this conversation before, Miss Madera. Surely you understand religion.”

My breath came shallowly and it was difficult to speak. “To keep you comfortable and protected and safe? That’s what you said so long ago. Is that what you believe in?” I began to shiver and my teeth chattered.

That cross, terribly and maliciously mocking, had meaning, and I had to dissect it, knowing all along it would not save me once I reached the ship.

“Not for me. I am beyond all hope,” he said.

“What would save you?” I breathed.

“Sacrifice. Courage.” His voice was just above a whisper, but I could hear it clearly.

“And what do you know of those? What do any of us know?”

Our boat bumped up against the side of the massive ship, the ladder was dropped, and we slowly ascended.

Chapter Nineteen

Notes: I had a dream once that I flew. And flew and flew. And then I fell and crashed to pieces and there was nothing left.

Not even me.

The duke was there to help me back onto the ship. His touch was gentle.

I looked around to see the pirates working on deck. They were quiet, but the light was gone, and I couldn’t see their faces clearly. Finley followed me up.

“Did you find it?” I asked. I was breathless, but that could easily have been from the climb onto the ship.

“
Oui
,” he told me, and I could hear the excitement in his voice. The sophisticated duke was actually giddy. “It was all there, just as you said,
chérie.
The statues, the solid gold mask inlayed with colored glass and stone. The gold shrines, the sculptures. The containers that held the king’s embalmed internal organs, and the box with the king’s jewelry. Even the golden casket and the sarcophagus. Everything was there. Chests and thrones. More than I ever imagined. Come and see!”

I reluctantly followed him below deck, John still at the top helping load the rowboat back onto the ship. It was very dark, and we were very close to the holding cells. He opened the door and showed the treasure to me with a flourish. I couldn’t help draw a breath at the sight. The gold and jewels shimmering in the candlelight.

“It’s beautiful.” Some of my anxiety was forgotten as I fingered a goblet adorned in vibrant golds, blues and reds. Isis was carved into the side, wings opened in a flourish, her hair straight and black as ebony. It was really true, wasn’t it? After all I suffered, all I sacrificed, all I doubted, I had really done it. Whatever happened now, this could not be taken from me. The goblet felt heavy in my hand, felt good in my hand. It hadn’t been held for thousands of years, and now was back where it belonged all because of me.

And the world will probably never know it happened, I realized with regret, if things ended up going the way I was afraid they would. It might be that all I’d done, all I discovered, would be lost to history, covered and forgotten. Time travel! What a human was capable of accomplishing in this world of earth and space. What wrongs could be righted? What discoveries could be made, what advancements could be accomplished with this new technology? What a shame. The world deserved to know the truth, the astounding truth. I had permanently altered the course of events leading up to my very own birth!

Seeing the treasure renewed some of the feelings of purpose I had at the beginning of this voyage. I
had
to get the knowledge out. Whatever the cost. The world
had
to know the truth.

“How could you know all this, Rachel? How is it possible?” the duke’s melodic voice broke in. “Even your notes are written in the strange language found in the key. How?”

I saw an expression in his thin face that is difficult to describe. And though it wasn’t dark or suspicious, I knew it was somehow dangerous all the same. His mind was working as he watched me. I backed away and asked to go to the deck.

“I can’t help but be nervous down here. Considering the last time,” I told him, looking at him meaningfully.

It worked. I didn’t know how much longer it would work, but it worked one more time. He looked abashed and said of course we could return to the top, but that he wished I would believe I had no reason to fear.

I gratefully breathed in the fresh air at the top and went to the railings of the ship, as far away from the hatch as possible. John was there, tying down the boat. I went to him instinctively.

“John, it’s beautiful,” I gushed, not completely un-genuine, “The jewels sparkle and shine. The gold is abundant. The death mask stunning. The world will never be the same. The Maharahi treasure is a part of history now.”

I could feel the duke watching me, his gaze speculative. “Rachel, how do you know all this?” he asked again, almost pleadingly, as he drew me away from John. “How is it possible,
petite
? You know things one cannot know.”

“I told you, I’ve had an ….”

“An exceptional education,” he said with me angrily. “I know.”

There was silence, and I looked out over the water and tried to seem unconcerned. I swallowed. “You will take us back to Tucker now?” I managed to ask, still without looking at him.

He didn’t respond. And my heart began to pound.

Stupid girl! What a question to ask! To force the subject like that — bring it to a head.

“I can’t wait to show it to the world,” I continued, trying all the while to save myself, but only digging deeper and deeper into the hole.

“Rachel,” he said slowly.

I looked at him.

“Rachel. You told me once … you told me when you were born. Do you remember,
petite
?”

I laughed lightly. “Yes. I remember. It was a silly feminine game, as you said.”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. Just looked at me levelly. “How do you know all this?” he asked again, this time with some firmness. “Tell me the truth.”

“I come from the far west,” I explained, “From the Americas.”

“Stop lying!” The words were spoken with harshness, but I could tell he wasn’t allowing himself to get angry. When he touched my arm, it was gently. “Please, Rachel.
Chérie
. Give me the courtesy to tell me the truth.”