A Whisper of Danger

by Catherine Palmer

  God, oh God, help me!

  “Come on, Jessie! I love you.” He compressed her chest. “I love you, Jessie.”

  She coughed. Water burbled out of her mouth. “Rick,” she croaked, and curled into a fetal position. Coughing, groaning, she rolled against him.

  “Breathe, honey,” he whispered. “Breathe the air.”

  “I’m sick,” she murmured. “I’m going to be sick.”

  He held her head as she retched into a bailing scoop he managed to grab in the nick of time. Smoothing back her hair, he could only thank God she had survived. Her skin felt cold, and her arms were covered in goose bumps. Cradling her, he wiped her face with a towel. Then he wrapped another towel around her and lifted her into his lap.

  “You okay, Jessie?” he murmured, studying her ashen face. “Can you breathe?”

  She let out a moan. “Rick . . .”

  “I’m right here, Jessie. I’ve got you.”

  Her violet eyes flickered open. For more than a minute she stared at him, sucking in air, her gaze searching and memorizing his features. Then she let out a deep breath. “I was dead,” she whispered.

  “No.”

  “Almost.”

  “I should have stayed with you, Jessie. I promised I’d protect you, but I—”

  “Shhhh.” She shut her eyes. “I wandered away. Wanted to see the wreck. My fault.”

  He stroked his fingers over her wet hair, relieved at the gradual return of the pink blush in her cheeks. Lord, I almost lost her again—this time forever. Fear still ricocheted through his chest, making his heart hammer and his pulse throb in his ears. In his arms she felt light, fragile, a delicate treasure that had nearly slipped through his fingers.

  “I love you, Jessie.”

  Her eyes slid open again. Wide, seeking. Damp black lashes nearly touching the arch of her eyebrows. Mouth parted. Lips flushed and full.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  That was enough. He didn’t expect a response. He just needed her to know. Maybe after she felt better, she would push him away again. Even so, he wanted her to understand how he felt. He loved her. He always had. Always would. Nothing could change that.

  Head resting on his shoulder, she shut her eyes and seemed to sleep. He lost track of the time, content to let her trust in his strength, watching the sun sink into the pink-and-orange sea. And then heads began bobbing up around the boat. Hunky. Andrew. Splinter.

  “Rick!” The boy waved a long skinny arm. “Wow, you should see what we’ve got in the hoisting basket. It’s mondo awesome!”

  “McTaggart, where’ve you been?” Hunky hollered. “We needed your help, man. We’ve found a chest!”

  “It’s embedded in coral.” Splint heaved himself onto the diving platform. “We can’t get it out, but—hey, what’s going on with Mom? Are you okay, Mom?”

  “She had a close encounter with an eel.”

  “An eel!”

  “I hate eels,” Jessie said, lifting her head and giving her son a warm smile. “Did you have fun, big guy?”

  “Mom, it’s totally unbelievable down there. You should’ve seen Hunky and Andrew and me working on that pit. We found dishes and teacups and a clay pipe and a little statue. We even found a gold chain! Did you know gunk doesn’t grow on gold? Remember how silver clumps all together in those biscuits? But not gold. Gold stays shiny. We think there might be gold in the chest, but we can’t get it out of the coral. It’s metal. Hunky blasted it with the airlift, but it wouldn’t budge. Are you sure you’re all right? You look kind of green.”

  “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

  “Whoa, what’s in this bailing scoop? Mom, did you barf on Rick again? Yuck-a-roli, how could you do that?”

  “She missed me this time, scamp.” Rick ruffled Splint’s rapidly drying hair. “Hey, you’d better help Andrew haul that basket up. Looks like it weighs a ton.”

  “McTaggart, you’re needed as well,” Hunky hollered over his shoulder. “Enough lollygaggin’ with your fair lady. Come and give us a hand.”

  Rick slid Jessie from his lap to the padded bench. “Are you going to be okay?” he murmured.

  “I’m fine. I think I’ll leave the Poseidon adventure to you professionals, though. I’ve had enough eels to last a lifetime.”

  “You found the entire front half of the ship, Jessie,” he said. “You’re as professional as any of us.”

  “I bet I’m the first diver who ever ran completely out of air.”

  “You’re not. And I bet you’ll be back in that water by tomorrow.” He gave her a wink. “You’ve been bitten by the treasure bug.”

  “I’ve been bitten by an eel. I wouldn’t be surprised if there are fang marks on my flippers.”

  He laughed. She was smiling as he turned to join the efforts of the crew in hauling up the hoisting basket.

  “Hey, Rick,” she called.

  He swung around.

  “Thanks. For everything.”

  “Anytime.”

  Standing at the rail of the hydrofoil, her hair blowing away from her face, Jess recognized the tall figure waiting at the edge of the Dar es Salaam wharf. In his Sunday suit and tie, Rick cut a handsome silhouette. He lifted a hand, and Jessie’s heart turned over.

  I love you, he had told her. I love you, Jessie. Did you hear me?

  Yes, she had heard his deep voice reverberating all night long. He loved her. How long had it been since anyone had spoken those words to her? Other than Splint, with his boyish hugs and chocolate-cookie smooches, it had been ten years. I love you, Jessie.

  The words felt so good, so warm, so right—and yet they frightened her beyond belief. A thousand questions had swarmed through her mind all night. Did he really mean it when he said he loved her? Or had it just come out of the impulse of the moment after he had rescued her? If he meant it, what would he do about it? What should she do about it? Did she love him?

  “I believe a storm will come,” Hannah said beside her. “Look there, in the east.”

  Jess looked back over her shoulder toward the island of Zanzibar. As Hannah had noted, a huge bank of gray clouds was building on the horizon. They would probably bring rain. A good thing, if Solomon’s observations could be trusted. He had told Jess the plants were suffering. “They wish to drink water,” he had said. “They are thirsty.”

  Strange man. Again she wondered if Solomon could have murdered Dr. bin Yusuf. Possibly. In the days since Splint’s discovery of the bloody urn, Jess had watched Solomon carefully as he went about his business. He was clearly enamored of Miriamu. Jess didn’t know how she had missed it.

  “I believe the rain is going to bring big waves,” Hannah said. “This I do not wish to see.”

  “Mama Hannah? I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything. If it’s a little choppy this afternoon, are you going to worry about riding back on the hydrofoil?”

  “I think of that disobedient man Jonah.”

  “Jonah? Who spent three days in the whale?”

  “Three days and three nights. ‘I sank beneath the waves, and death was very near. The waters closed in around me, and seaweed wrapped itself around my head. I sank down to the very roots of the mountains. I was locked out of life and imprisoned in the land of the dead. But you, O Lord my God, have snatched me from the yawning jaws of death!’”

  “Mama Hannah!” Jess couldn’t hold back a laugh. “That’s so morbid.”

  “I remembered it when you told me yesterday about what happened to you at the bottom of the sea.”

  Jess took the older woman’s hand and held it tightly. The dark coffee-colored skin felt loose and soft, like an old well-worn handkerchief. How many times had Hannah’s hands soothed the fears of her four totos? It had never occurred to Jess that one day her own hands could reach out, comfort, and reassure the one she loved so deeply.

  “If it’s too rough, we’ll wait here in Dar es Salaam,” she told Hannah. “We won’t cross on a stormy sea, okay?�
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  The dark brown eyes glowed as they studied the approaching wharf. “I wait with great happiness for the day I will greet my Lord in heaven,” Hannah said softly. “I am not afraid of death. But if I can choose at all, I will not wish to face it at the bottom of the ocean. Water is good for drinking. Good for bathing. Maybe good for swimming. But ehh . . . these old Kikuyu bones of mine wish to be laid to rest on the land.”

  Jess slipped her arm around the frail shoulders. It sobered her to think of ever losing Hannah. What would she do without the security of knowing this woman loved her and was always available to her? The thought dampened her spirits as she stepped off the hydrofoil onto the wharf.

  “Rick, guess what!” Splint danced toward the tall man. “You know that chunk of conglomerate Hunky let me keep last night? I found something in it! Take a look at this!”

  “Hey, it’s a buckle.” Rick clapped the boy on the shoulder. “It’s in good shape, too.”

  “I was super careful chipping it out. You should have seen me. I did it with a little pick and a toothbrush, just like you showed me. And I found something else. How about this?”

  “A spike. That’s great.”

  “It was in the conglomerate, too.”

  “Morning, Jessie,” Rick said, his blue eyes brilliant in his deeply tanned face. He held open the car door for her. “How are you feeling today?”

  “I’m fine.” She was so used to seeing him in his bathing trunks, she felt tongue-tied at this suave gentleman. “Mama Hannah thinks a storm is blowing up.”

  “She’s right. Don’t worry, Hannah; they won’t operate the hydrofoil unless it’s safe.”

  “Ehh.”

  On the ride to Daniel McTaggart’s church, Splint chattered nonstop about the shipwreck. Rick listened and responded, but his focus was clearly on Jess. He complimented her dress. He asked if the breeze blowing through the open car window was bothering her. He commented on the high quality of the artifact sketches she had been giving him and how pleased he was with her work.

  Jess let herself enjoy the masculine attention. In fact, she felt almost giddy, like a schoolgirl whose pigtail has just been dunked in ink by the cutest boy in class. She not only enjoyed Rick, but more and more she was growing to trust him. She trusted his words to be true. She trusted his promises to be fulfilled. She trusted his actions to be honest and fair. Was she a fool?

  “Here’s the church,” he announced with obvious pride. “You can’t imagine how hard it is to speak out for Christ in a Muslim environment like Dar es Salaam. But God has really blessed Daniel’s efforts. And you should hear my little brother preach. Sometimes he out-hollers the muezzins on the minarets of the local mosque.”

  Jess chuckled as she led Splint and Hannah into the small, whitewashed building. Dan—a younger, shorter, and much more ebullient version of Rick—greeted her with warm enthusiasm. His wife and children scattered on the benches, mingling easily with the mixture of Africans, Indians, and Europeans who made up the congregation. Gradually the church filled to capacity, and the service began.

  Jess had not been in a church for years, and she had almost forgotten the warmth and acceptance such a gathering could bring. Her bitterness had kept her away. Now, in the presence of other believers, her heart swelled with hope, peace, even joy. The hymns lifted her spirit and beckoned her into worship; the prayers brought her into close communion with Christ; the message stirred her.

  Rick had been right. Daniel McTaggart could really preach. Unfortunately for Splint, the sermon was in Swahili. The ten-year-old concentrated for a while, and then he began to fidget. Jess did her best to translate the sermon— a retelling of Christ’s parable of the prodigal son and its message of the heavenly Father’s love for those who return to his arms.

  Jess herself had been a wayward child, she realized as she pulled a piece of paper from her purse and began to sketch. Her drawings had always entertained Splint, and now with her renderings of the wheel spokes and the iron bar she had found at the new wreck site, she hoped the wiggly boy would settle down. Splinter had been in church only a handful of times in his life. The rituals so familiar to her were novel to him, and they would take some getting used to.

  It bothered Jess to recognize in her son the consequences of her own self-centeredness. Whereas Hannah had molded and taught the four Thornton totos in the path of the Lord, Splint knew next to nothing about the Bible and the Good News it contained. As much as Jess loved her son, she had failed him in this most important facet of his upbringing. And all because of her own hardened heart.

  As the service was ending, the first cracks of thunder echoed outside the little church. Rain began to pelt the corrugated tin roof and splatter on the sandy dirt of the courtyard. A bolt of lightning lit up the gray sky with a brilliant golden flash. Splint grabbed his mother’s hand.

  “Mom!”

  “It’s okay, honey,” she whispered as they walked down the central aisle. “It’s just a tropical thunderstorm.”

  “What if there’s a hurricane? What if a tidal wave washes over us? Did you ever think about that? A tidal wave could travel all the way from India and sweep us all right out to sea.”

  “Splint, you’re letting your imagination run away with you. To my knowledge, there has never been a tidal wave in the recorded history of East Africa.”

  “There’s always a first time.”

  Jess was grateful when Rick slung an arm around the boy’s shoulder. “Hey, buddy, after lunch how would you like to see my laboratory?”

  “Really?” Eyes shining, Splint turned to Jess. “Did you hear that, Mom? Rick said he’d take me to his lab!”

  “Jessie?” Rick asked. “Would that be all right with you?”

  “It would take his mind off the storm. Sure.” She gave a little shrug. “I’d like to see the lab myself.”

  Rick’s smile broadened. “It’s a deal.”

  “Mom made a couple of new sketches for you, Rick.” Splinter held out the page. “Look, it’s a wheel. And some kind of a bar-thingy with a block stuck on one end of it.”

  Rick took the sketch and studied it for almost a minute as the storm raged outside the little church. When he lifted his head, his eyes were narrowed in confusion. “Jess, I don’t remember anything like these in the stuff we’ve hoisted up. When did you see them?”

  “Yesterday. The new site.”

  “New site?” Splint cut in. “What new site? Mom, you didn’t tell me there was a new site.”

  “I picked them up out of the sand,” she told Rick. “But I left coral markers so you could plot them on your chart. I was very careful about that.”

  “Where are they now? These artifacts?”

  “I must have dropped them when the eel attacked me. Rick . . . why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Do you know what you’ve sketched here, Jessie?”

  She studied her own drawings for a moment. “Well, I thought that first picture was probably a wheel. I mean, it has spokes and an axle. If you welded a metal rim around the edge, you could use it on a cart or a wagon.”

  He ran one finger over the sketch. “You’ve placed small double-barbed hooks at the end of each spoke.”

  “Yes. They were pretty corroded, but that’s what I saw.”

  “This is no wheel, Jessie. This is what we call an iron necklace. Its purpose was control, confinement, and torture.” He touched the other picture. “And this is a branding iron. It was created for one purpose—to burn an owner’s mark into bare flesh.”

  Her heartbeat hammering in her ears, she looked into his eyes. “What are you telling me, Rick?”

  “I’m telling you our wrecked ship didn’t carry a cargo of gold. It didn’t have tea or spices or uncut gemstones, either. The ship that sank in your bay had a human cargo, Jessie.”

  A chill poured through her. “Slaves.”

  Splint decided tropical storms were for the birds. In fact, the whole day was turning into one gigantic drip. Sure, it had started
out great—a pocket full of artifacts he had extracted from the conglomerate, a ride on the hydrofoil, the promise of a look at Rick’s laboratory. Even the church service had been sort of interesting.

  Rick’s brother had preached the whole sermon in Swahili, but the singing had been fun. It was cool to see all the different kinds of people mixed together. And something had changed Splint’s mom—he didn’t know if it was Hannah or Rick or Zanzibar—but he knew she was calmer and happier. Maybe it was God. Anyway, Splint would go to church every day if he thought it would bring that pretty smile to his mom’s face.

  But then the storm struck. No matter how everyone tried to reassure Splint, he had no doubt a storm blowing in from the ocean could bring hurricanes and tidal waves and waterspouts and who knew what else? Hurricanes could smash buildings. Waterspouts could sink ships. Tidal waves could wipe out whole towns. He’d read about tidal waves plenty of times in his science-discovery books. As much as he liked diving, he didn’t want to get clobbered by a monster wave.

  And what about the lightning? There they all stood in a metal-roofed church building! Talk about asking for trouble! Rain was coming in through the open windows. Wind blew leaves off the trees and slapped them into the walls. Thunder made the whole floor shake.

  As if the storm wasn’t bad enough, Rick had just discovered that the wrecked ship probably had been carrying slaves. This had put Hannah into a funk, and she kept muttering things about human sin and the evils of Satan. Rick had decided he needed to inform Hunky of the development, a situation that meant the trip to the laboratory might have to be postponed. After all, Hunky Wallace would not be located easily on a Sunday morning.

  The whole group raced out to the parking lot, Splint eyeing the sky every step of the way, searching for the bolt of lightning with his name on it. They were soaked to the skin by the time they all piled into the car. For some dumb reason, Splint’s mom was laughing.

  Correction, she was giggling.

  In the front seat, Rick brushed her wet hair out of her eyes and wiped a raindrop from the end of her nose. Lo and behold, she leaned over and planted a kiss right smack-dab on his cheek! Then he chuckled and kissed her cheek. The next thing Splint knew, they were gazing into each other’s faces like a couple of goo-goo-eyed puppies. It was as bad as one of those mushy movies his mom sometimes watched.