Chapter 9 #2
Not wanting to dwell on an upcoming night of storms and rough water, I glance instead at the looming wall of trees ahead and along the sides of us. Breathing in the scent of the rain and the lush leaves, I try to imagine myself here for different reasons.
I fail.
My attempt to find normalcy is broken up by visions from the past. Scenes from dreams clash with my own true memories. Feelings of all those that have dwelled here show me their love for the earth, overpowering my own exploitation.
The last time I sailed through this way I had viewed it as an opportunity to better my standing in the world.
I thought my knowledge of the forest would propel me ahead.
My love for nature came second to that, no matter how many times I lied to myself that I was here for the love of history and the land.
It must be different this time. Every step I take now must be for bettering the world.
The beauty of this continent must be protected without letting the ambitions of those seeking to destroy it get in the way of things.
It should be protected from my own ambitions.
I wish I had viewed it as such when I was younger.
I pull my knees to my chest as if making myself smaller could possibly reduce the size of the burden bearing down on me at this moment.
Ben will side with me if the time comes to break rank and go against the government’s vision for this mission.
Diederick, I had believed, wanted the dagger as dead and gone as I did, but after the meeting just now, I cannot be sure.
Ademir… Ademir, I pray, will be nowhere near the Lost Colony when the dagger is found.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
I’d know that voice anywhere; it drowns out the ocean of phantom whispers, and suddenly my head clears.
Enjoying the quiet, I shrug and move my legs for Ben to have space to sit beside me.
Only the scent of fresh mango he’s peeling manages to pull my attention.
He offers me a slice before I can even ask.
Plucking it from the tip of his knife, I bring it to my lips and savor the first bite.
Fruit never tastes as fresh as it does here.
“Should I be worried?” Ben asks, hiding his nerves behind his concentration on the mango. There’s no one within earshot, but there’s no point in divulging any secrets when the privacy of Manaus is only a day away.
“About the clouds?” I say, steering the conversation away from anything damning. He pauses his carving only for a moment. Daring a glance at me, his throat bobs with a swallow and his hand tenses around his knife. “No, you shouldn’t worry.” It’s enough to allow him to banish the tension.
As if on cue, thunder snaps somewhere beyond us. A sheet of rain is visible on the horizon.
Ben starts muttering as the thunder rumbles again. “Shouldn’t worry, huh?”
“Scared to get wet?” I challenge.
He motions for me to take the last piece of the mango, and I oblige him. The joy of it falls flat when the persisting problem doesn’t leave me alone. “What do you make of stopping in Manaus?” I ask as the mango goes forgotten in my hand.
Ben pauses, wiping his sticky hands on his pants and looks up at me. “Did the others give you trouble?” His face turns to where James and Mr. Bennett look over the railing. “Surely they have to understand the position we are in.”
“They came to understand,” I answer, cutting myself off with a bite of the mango.
Ben nods before slowly looking back at me.
Reaching forward slowly, he wraps a finger into one of my many escaped curls and gently tugs it back behind my ear.
There’s no point in telling him that it won’t change anything, because it immediately falls back into my face.
He does it again, more forcefully this time.
When it falls forward, he takes both of his hands and frees my face of them.
“I just want to look at you,” he says in his defense. I had not even thought of accusing him. “Your hair is finally back to normal.” I suppose it has been a long time since he’s seen me like this.
I stop my squirming and suppress the questions. The touch of his palms against my cheeks grounds me. All thoughts of destiny and burdens fall to the wayside when his eyes lock onto mine. For one insane moment, I think he might kiss me.
What was broken between us could so easily be fixed, and I want nothing more than to tell him that.
All it would take for me is one signal, one kiss, to show me that his romantic feelings are still in there somewhere.
We sit facing each other, eyes searching, grips tightening, all for him to be the first to pull back.
His trance breaks far too quickly, and with it, his hands drop to his lap.
I feel cold without his touch; the shields around my mind are suddenly equally as icy.
“I actually came back here to ask you a question.” His eyes remain locked on mine despite the lack of touch.
I sit up straighter, eager to give him whatever clarity he desires.
“It’s been bothering me today, and even though I know we’re not exactly alone here, I need to know—”
I reach out a hand and rest it on his bare arm to urge him forward. With the connection of touch restored, things suddenly become easier. “It’s okay, you can ask me.”
He licks his lips and finally looks away from me.
Whether he’s scared to look me in the eye when he asks his question or is just making sure the others are away, I can’t tell.
“Did Mr. Morgan ever speak to you further about your connection to the colony?” Chills run up my spine despite the warm sweat I’m drenched in from the heat.
“Did anyone tell you what you might be expected to do there?”
Mr. Morgan had tried, once, years ago. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“There are no answers,” I confess simply.
“Only what my mother wrote for me. Just that the two of us have some kind of ancestral connection. She didn’t know the extent of it, and I still don’t.
All I do know is that she wanted the dagger used for good, but I still have a feeling it’s best if it’s destroyed. ”
“And how do we go about doing that?” he asks.
Another shiver runs through me as a chorus of whispers drown out my thoughts. There’s no use lying to Ben. Running my hands over my arms to combat the chill, I fight the urge to lie, to tell him that everything will be fine, but I know deep down it won’t be.
“The whispers speak of a mountain and a light. I think the light is the necklace, or amazonite. They also speak of a sacrifice before things can be made clean. Or at least that’s my interpretation of it.
” Ben listens intensely as I recite the three lines that have played over and over in my mind since I first heard them.
“The words you heard through the wind last time we were here—”
“The river will rise. A mountain will fall. The necklace and dagger must never be known to all.” I remember them like they were spoken to me yesterday.
Ben runs a hand down his face. “That felt like a warning to me. A warning we did not heed.”
Yes. Yes, say the whispers through the mist of the river. A warning.
“You’re right,” I say, as I try to see through to the root conflict in him. He wants to scold me for not telling him this sooner but also wants to take the whole bloody burden away from me. “We didn’t listen the first time.”
“So we damn well better this time around.”
I give him a small smile.
Sacrifice, a voice hisses. The soft-heart must sacrifice something.
I shake away the unwanted opinion in my head quickly, but Ben still notices. Margaret laughs somewhere behind us, reminding us where we are. He swallows again and leans closer toward me, our knees now touching. “There’s something else. Something you haven’t told me yet.”
The voice laughs. Sacrifice, it says again.
“Nothing more,” I say with a fabricated smile. “I promise.”
A heartbeat passes between us, and then he’s gently reaching for my curls again. “Lillian, I—”
Whatever he’s about to profess is interrupted by Margaret’s laughter making its way toward us.
“Look at the two of you!” she snorts. “We’re about to be run over by a thunderstorm and you’re in your own little world.” She laughs again and reaches an arm between us to scoot me away. “Ademir has asked for you, Ben.”
It’s rare, but sometimes I see through Margaret’s fake niceties. There are moments when her facade slips, and I don’t see a kind, sister-like woman but a viper who has been trained in multiple forms of intelligence.
She pats Ben on the shoulder. “Lillian, let’s go below and make sure the bunks are secure.”
Ben and I share a look before Margaret throws an arm around my shoulders and prattles on about maps and the cave system around the mountain.
I sneak one look back at Ben before we reach the small staircase that leads below. He’s watching both of us like a hawk; his nails are dug into the wooden bench beneath him.
Perhaps he’s seen through her nonsensical cheeriness as well, or maybe, just maybe, he’s thinking about the opportunity he just wasted to make things right with me.