Chapter 19 Birds of a Feather
Caleb brushed aside the thick foliage and entered that fateful clearing.
’Twas unclear why he ventured to this evil place again and alone at midnight.
But after the strange shattering of every lantern in town, he needed to get away.
Away from the thievery and suspicion aboard his ship, away from the opinions and persuasions of his crew, even of his good friend.
He needed to pray, to reconnect with a God who had more than proven His love and faithfulness to Caleb. At least in the past.
But the Ring. After the lanterns burst, he’d slipped it back into his pocket, shouted orders to the crew for the night, and left the ship.
He’d spent hours walking through town, suffering the angry looks and fearful hysteria of its citizens.
He’d traipsed through fields of sugarcane, marched along the shore…
and somehow found himself once again at the one spot on Earth he loathed the most. The one spot he wished could be erased from time itself.
Shadows, slithering and undulating, rose from the devastation around him.
Whispers, dark, malevolent, and accusing, drowned him in a flood of guilt and shame.
He could use the Ring to silence them. Did it not have power over demons?
Yet, he deserved their scorn, their hatred and condemnation.
Passing through a mist of charred black fingers pointed in his direction, he made his way to the beach.
The moon poured silver over a restless sea, each wave folding against the sand with a hiss.
So beautiful and yet so deadly. Much like this place.
And the woman who had betrayed him.
He glanced at the spot where he’d kissed Desi, and the heaviness weighing on his soul instantly lifted. The lady was light and love and goodness. She enchanted him like no other. And that kiss!
But could he trust her? Could he trust himself?
Planting his boots firmly in the sand, he drew in a deep breath of salty air, longing to set sail again, out upon God’s majestic sea where things were clearer, simpler. He’d come here to wrestle with his thoughts in silence, to plead for strength from a God who seemed far away.
He bowed his head. “Father God. Help me find my way back to You.”
’Twas a simple prayer. One he should have said long ago, and one that now brought a sudden peace and perhaps…dare he hope…an answer that sang in the sweep of each gentle wave.
“Caleb.” The familiar voice spun him around.
And all peace and hope splintered in the vision before him.
Geneviève.
Moonlight shimmered in the pearls woven through her brown hair.
Her gown was blue velvet, the lace of her neckline rising and falling beneath each nervous breath.
Silver earrings dangled from her ears, their gems matching those that fell upon the crests of her bosoms. Her smile was faint, hopeful. Her eyes, dark and tentative.
“I thought I might find you here.” Her voice, breathy, French, and achingly familiar slid through the night.
He pivoted to face the sea again. “What do you want, Geneviève?”
She released a sorrowful sigh, the swish of her skirts sounding as she moved to stand beside him. “When my father told me you were back, I had to see you.”
The sweet tone of her accent dove into his heart, rousing feelings he’d long since locked away. “We have naught to discuss.”
She faced the sea. “But we do, Caleb. I know you blame me for what happened here.”
She said the words so casually, as if she spoke of an afternoon tea.
“Thunder and Flame!” He balled his hands into fists. “What happened here was the painful deaths of many innocent people, my friends, those put under my protection.”
“Caleb.” She laid a gentle hand on his sleeve.
He jerked from her touch, nausea rising in his belly.
“I was horrified at what happened. You must believe me.” A breeze danced through the loose curls at her neck, showering him with her perfume—jasmine and orange, laced with ambergris—invoking memories, ghosts of days past.
Happy memories of morning strolls along the beach, the laughter they shared beneath the palms, her hand stealing into his, the warmth of her lips upon his cheek, and the hours they worked side by side to feed, clothe, and teach the escaped slaves.
Memories that clawed his soul even now. Why had he not seen the snake that lurked behind the seductress?
He should have, for he had God’s Spirit within him. But had he been listening to that still small voice? Or was he overwhelmed with her beauty, attention, and flattery, all things which fed his ego? Either way, he only had himself to blame.
And the lady standing beside him.
“It is good to see you, Caleb. I’ve missed you.” Her tone was a soft purr, almost believable.
And it was all Caleb could do to not slap the smile from her face. But he’d never struck a lady, and he wouldn’t start now.
He took a step away from her, blood surging to his fists. “Missed me? You almost got me killed!”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“You knew.” His tone cracked like a whip. “You knew the militia was coming that night.”
She flinched but did not shrink away.
He faced her. “Tell me the truth. For once.”
Her eyes searched his, sorrow and yet something untrustworthy traveled across them. “Oui…I knew,” she confessed, voice trembling. “But not until it was too late, mon coeur. I tried, I swear, I tried to find you.”
Anger surged through his veins, hot and unrelenting. He tore his gaze away. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe what you wish, but why would I put you in harm’s way? Je t’aimais, mon amour. I loved you with all that I am. I still do. Do not doubt it.”
There it was. The words he’d once longed to hear from her lips. Now, they fell like ashes to the sand.
“Tell me,” Caleb demanded, “How much did your father know? Did he orchestrate it? Or was he merely a participant?”
Her lashes fluttered as she shook her head, tears spilling, hesitating.
Finally, she said, “Je ne sais pas. I do not know. Perhaps he did. He spoke in whispers with the men but told me nothing. And I—” Her breath hitched.
“J’étais lache. I was a coward.” She stepped closer, eyes luminous, desperate.
“Forgive me, cher Caleb.” Her voice trembled like the surf. “I long to return to that night, save them…and you.” She leaned toward him, her perfume curling about him.
He should leave, walk away, abandon her as she had him. Instead, her lips found his, warm, trembling, a kiss borne of regret and longing.
And yet, he felt nothing. Nothing but pity and anger. Her touch was empty, lifeless, like the doldrums at sea. But Desi’s kiss…her kiss had been powerful, wild, transcendent, filled with light and love. And flame.
Geneviève drew back, searching his eyes, perhaps seeking a spark of passion, of love.
Instead, he faced the sea, watching each wave lay arcs of foam upon the sand. And he realized, Geneviève was that foam, her shimmering beauty, devoid of depth and substance, dissipated as quickly as it had come.
But Desi… Desi was the ocean—deep, mysterious, wild, and full of treasures he’d yet to discover.
?
Ayida crouched among barrels and crates below decks, listening for intruders.
All she heard was the gentle lap of water against the hull, the yammer of the crew above her, and the pitter-pat of vermin.
She drew a deep breath and regretted it.
The air, thick with moisture and reeking of tar and bilge water, shoved into her lungs and pressed heavy upon her.
Setting down the single candle, she drew a pouch from within her skirts and laid out the contents in the light—bones, feathers and dried herbs. Then in low guttering tones, she chanted words from the old tongue as she smeared a circle of ash on the planks and set a seabird’s skull in the center.
The flame flickered. The sound of wings fluttering echoed in the darkness.
Ayida grinned. “A gift from Papa Legba,” she hissed, extinguishing the candle with a pinch of her fingers.
Then stuffing her trinkets back into her pocket, she hastened away.
But the faint rustle of wings lingered, as though the curse had already taken flight.
?
Halting outside the captain’s door, Desi blew out a sigh. She’d not seen Caleb in over a day, and she wanted to thank him for his gifts. She also wanted to see how his wound was healing. But she longed to know if their kiss had affected him as much as it had her.
Probably not. A man like him, strong, brave, handsome, and chivalrous, no doubt had a woman in every port, or so the saying went. Problem was, he knew he was all those things, probably expected she’d allow his kiss, and then relished her reaction.
Best to find out now, rather than later, when her heart would no longer be her own. She needed no distractions, no complications. And if Caleb was just one of the many shallow ladies’ men she’d met, then knowing that would simplify things.
She had to find out why she was here and how to get back home.
Back to Daria, Ocean’s Echo, and her friends.
Daria. She could not shake her dream of her sister, cured, healthy and strong.
If there was a God, was He trying to tell her something?
That she had to return to her time in order for that to happen?
She stiffened her spine, along with her resolve. Hero of her dreams or not, her sole focus must be on getting home.
She rapped on the door.
“Enter!” Caleb’s shout echoed through the oak.
The minute she saw his face, she knew…she knew…
and her hope that he was a mere vain player crumbled at her feet.
He sat at his desk, Bible open before him, morning sun circling him in a halo of light, and Patches lying across one shoulder.
But it was his smile that captured her heart, not lustful or demanding, but genuine, admiring.
And that look shining from his blue eyes—a look that said the mere sight of her was enough to brighten his day.