Abandoned Memories

by Marylu Tyndall

  ESCAPE TO PARADISE BOOK 1

  FORSAKEN DREAMS

  ESCAPE TO PARADISE BOOK 2

  ELUSIVE HOPE

  © 2014 by MaryLu Tyndall

  Print ISBN 978-1-61626-598-4

  eBook Editions:

  Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-63058-528-0

  Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-63058-529-7

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted for commercial purposes, except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without written permission of the publisher.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: Faceout Studio, www.faceoutstudio.com

  Published by Shiloh Run Press, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683, www.shilohrunpress.com

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  T

  ABLE OF C

  ONTENTS

  Cast of Characters

  Map

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Author’s Historical Note

  About the Author

  Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you.

  LUKE 10:19

  Dedicated to everyone who feels weak, for when you are weak, He is strong.

  C

  AST OF C

  HARACTERS

  James Callaway—Confederate Army surgeon turned Baptist preacher, James signed on as the colony’s only doctor but suffers from a fear of blood. Feeling as much a failure at preaching as he does at doctoring, James endeavors to rid the colony of all immorality, but instead ends up in a fierce battle between good and evil.

  Angeline Moore—Signed on as the colony’s seamstress, Angeline is a broken woman with a sordid past, which she prefers to remain hidden. Tough and courageous on the outside, inside she longs to be loved. She mistrusts all men and claims she can take care of herself, but the colony’s doctor keeps hindering her plans. To make matters worse, she is constantly haunted by visions from her past.

  Magnolia Scott—A spoiled plantation owner’s daughter, who at first hated Brazil and hoped to return to Georgia, Magnolia, instead, fell in love with Hayden Gale. Now she is learning to value character over beauty as she receives God’s love and distances herself from the constant belittling she received as a child. If only the reflection of her soul would become more radiant.

  Hayden Gale—Con man who joined the colony in search of his father, whom he believed was responsible for the death of his mother. At first bent on revenge, Hayden, by the grace of God, has now forgiven the man and wants to make a good life for himself and his new wife. Instead, he finds himself thrust into the middle of a spiritual battle.

  Colonel Blake Wallace—Leader and organizer of the expedition to Brazil, Blake is a decorated war hero who suffers from posttraumatic stress disorder. By God’s power, he has learned to forgive his enemies and now hopes to start anew with his wife, Eliza. But when strange disasters strike the fledgling colony, Blake feels the weight of responsibility grow even heavier.

  Eliza Crawford Wallace—Blake’s wife and Confederate Army nurse who runs the colony’s clinic. Once married to a Yankee general, she was disowned by her Southern family and nearly ostracized by the colonists when the truth came out. Eliza is impulsive, stubborn, courageous, and kind—qualities she will need in the upcoming battle.

  Patrick Gale—Swindler, con man, and all-around crook, Patrick came to Brazil in search of gold. He is Hayden’s father and ex-fiancé to Magnolia—and the man who swindled her family out of everything they had.

  Mr. and Mrs. Scott—Once wealthy plantation owners who claim to have lost everything in the war, they had hoped to regain their position and wealth in Brazil by marrying off their comely daughter to a Brazilian with money and title. Unfortunately, their plans came to naught.

  Wiley Dodd—Ex-lawman from Richmond, Dodd is fond of the ladies and in possession of a treasure map that points to Brazil as the location of a vast amount of gold.

  Sarah Jorden—War widow who gave birth to her daughter, Lydia, on the ship that took them to Brazil, Sarah signed on to teach the colony’s children.

  Thiago—Personal interpreter and Brazilian liaison assigned to New Hope to assist the colonists settle in their new land.

  Moses and Delia—A freed slave and his sister, along with her two children, who want to start over in a new land away from the memory of slavery.

  Mable—Slave to the Scotts.

  C

  HAPTER 1

  October 18, 1866

  The jungles of Brazil

  The ground shook like a ship in a sea squall. Dirt and rocks pelted Angeline…striking…stinging. Her heart seized. Covering her head, she spun and staggered back the way she’d come—up toward the tunnel entrance and into the temple, where at least she wouldn’t be buried alive. Unless the roof of the ancient shrine caved in. A violent jolt struck, launching her against the rock wall as if she were made of paper. Pain radiated up her arm. Her legs quivered like the ground beneath them, and she fell onto the shifting dirt.

  The hand that engulfed hers was rough like old rope, powerful, yet warm. An equally powerful arm swung around her waist as tremors wracked the tunnels. “Hang on. You’re safe,” James spoke in her ear, covering her head with his own. Pebbles rained down on them. Coughing, Angeline flung a hand to her mouth when the quaking finally stopped.

  She drew a deep breath, her lungs filling with dust scented with spice and man and James. And standing there, ensconced in his embrace, fears that had risen so quickly when the ground had begun to shake suddenly vanished. She hated herself for it. She pushed from him. The stench of sulfur and mold instantly swept away his masculine aroma and resurrected her terror.

  James stared at her oddly while he said to the men, “I told you we should not have brought the women.”

  Brushing dirt from her skirts, Eliza, who stood in front of them with her husband, Blake, turned to face him. “You had no say in it, Doctor. We insisted. Did we not?” She smiled at Angeline. “There’s nothing to fear from a little shaking.”

  Angeline wasn’t so sure. But then again, she didn’t possess Eliza’s courage and strength. Few women did. Those qualities, along with a multitude of oth
ers, were the reason Angeline admired her friend so much—the reason she’d cast aside her fears and agreed to venture into the eerie temple they’d found in the middle of the Brazilian jungle.

  And then down into the tunnels beneath.

  Yet at the moment, Eliza looked as if someone had dumped a bucket of chalk powder on her head. If Angeline weren’t so frightened, she’d giggle at the sight. But her alarm at being so far below ground during an earthquake stifled any laughter. She never should have come along. The men had insisted on investigating a loud explosion they’d heard last night that had shaken the ground all the way to their settlement of New Hope. When they feared it came from the temple, Eliza’s concern for Mr. Graves mounted, but now that Angeline had seen the ancient ruin and experienced the stink and heat of the narrow tunnels that spanned beneath it, she wondered why anyone would want to return. Or live here, as Mr. Graves had done since they’d arrived in Brazil.

  Mr. Graves was one of the reasons Angeline had joined them today—to witness for herself the madman “digging his way to hell,” according to some of the colonists’ reports. Exaggerated reports, she was sure, but after Eliza had regaled her with further tales of gruesome obelisks, prison alcoves hewn in rock, strange Latin and Hebrew inscriptions, and Graves’s obsession with releasing powerful, invisible creatures, Angeline’s curiosity had gotten the best of her—regardless of James’s insistence that she remain in town. Or maybe because of it. Angeline grew tired of men dictating to her. Telling her how to live and what to do and how to behave.

  And using her like a dried-up commodity.

  So, she’d come. And now, despite the heat and the terror and the pain, the look of approval in Eliza’s eyes made it all worth it. Almost.

  “We ladies don’t fear a little earthquake, gentlemen. Do carry on.” Eliza’s courage caused Angeline’s shoulders to lift just a little. The woman was nearly two months along with child, yet here she was burrowing into the depths of the earth right beside her husband. Oh, how Angeline longed to be brave and independent like Eliza. Not weak and submissive as she’d been her entire life. Angeline had not only come to Brazil to start a new life but to become a new person. To put both her past life and her past self behind her. If only she could…

  The ground trembled again and she pressed a hand against the wall. Sharp crags pricked her fingers as they slid over rock that seemed to sweat in the infernal heat. “If there was an explosion here last night, I’m surprised these tunnels didn’t collapse.”

  “Indeed,” James said, shifting his torch to his other hand, “though these walls appear to be solid enough.” He ran a sleeve over his forehead, leaving a streak of mud. “Still, being below ground makes me nervous.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Blake, an ex-colonel in the Confederate Army and the leader of their colony, raised his torch and wiped dust from his wife’s nose. He planted a kiss on it and shook his head. “I told you it wasn’t safe.”

  “Which is precisely why I didn’t want you coming here alone.” Eliza brushed dirt from his shirt. “Besides, we have to discover if Mr. Graves is injured.”

  The colonel huffed his frustration and glanced at James with a shrug. But James was still examining the tunnel walls. “Odd. I wonder how primitive cannibals managed to score these tunnels out of rock.”

  “This place is filled with nothing but questions.” Hayden’s voice preceded his appearance from the shadows behind them. “The main one gnawing at me now is why we are bothering to check on Graves when he’s made it plain he wants nothing to do with us.” He ran a hand through dark hair moist with sweat.

  “Where are Patrick and Dodd?” the colonel asked.

  “They spotted the gold moon and stars above the altar.” Hayden’s lips slanted. “Need I say more?”

  James snorted and leaned toward Angeline to whisper, “Are you sure you want to continue?”

  “Yes, I’ve come this far. I might as well go on.” Though her bodice was glued to her skin and sweat trickled down her neck and the fetor that rose from deep within the tunnels was enough to wilt a sturdy oak tree, she would prove herself brave. At least this once. Anything to keep James gazing at her with such admiration.

  “Let’s get on with it, then,” Hayden said, urging them forward. “I’ve got a new wife to return to.”

  Eliza smiled and looped her arm through her husband’s. “She was so sweet to take over the clinic in my absence.”

  “I’m glad she did,” Hayden replied. “I wouldn’t want her coming to this vile place.”

  Vile indeed. Angeline had forced her eyes shut at the sight of the images of torture carved into stone obelisks that littered the temple yard above. As well as the huge fire pit where no doubt the cannibals had roasted their victims so many years ago. Thankfully, James had ushered her past it all and into the temple before she’d had time to visualize the scenes in her mind. Something she was prone to do, especially with bad memories.

  Trying to not lean on James for support, she followed Eliza and Blake as they descended an uneven set of stairs into a dark hole that grew hotter and hotter with each step. The walls narrowed. Air abandoned the space as if too frightened to go farther. She couldn’t blame it. Coughing, she gasped for a breath, but only the foul odor of death and decay invaded her lungs. James patted her arm. Torchlight cast ghostly shadows over walls and ceiling. Angeline shivered and nearly tripped.

  “Almost there.” Blake’s voice reverberated through the narrow passage.

  They descended another set of stairs cluttered with dirt and rocks then crawled one by one through an opening that led into a large cave. Stalactites and stalagmites thrust from floor and ceiling like giant fangs of some otherworld creature—its mouth gaping wide to receive them. Blake lit torches hooked on walls about the chamber. Their flames cast talon-like shadows leaping over rock and dirt. Angeline’s gaze flew to two empty alcoves carved upright into one of the walls. Her breath caught in her throat. Eliza’s description did them no credit, for they were much larger, much taller, and so perfectly hewn from stone that Angeline could only stare in wonder.

  “Mr. Graves!” James shouted, his voice echoing like a gong. “Mr. Graves!”

  Nothing but the drip, drop of water and howl of wind replied. Angeline took a tentative step toward one of the alcoves, her eyes fixed upon the iron shackles lying loose at the bottom of a long vertical pole. Her mind tripped on the impossibility of such a place existing beneath an ancient temple, of smooth alcoves carved in a perfect semicircle out of solid rock, of a metal pole and chains that formed some ungodly prison.

  A blast of heat swamped her, coming from nowhere, yet all around. Air as hot as a furnace seared her lungs. Sweat moistened her face. The tunnel began to spin. James clutched her arm and handed her a canteen. She took several gulps, allowing the hot but refreshing water to slide down her throat.

  “How could Graves stand to be down here so long?” Hayden said from behind them.

  “Graves!” Blake shouted. Lifting his torch, he slid through another opening to their left, Eliza on his heels. With a heavy sigh, James followed, escorting Angeline through the narrow crevice into yet another cave. Most of this chamber was filled with large rocks stacked to the ceiling as if the roof had collapsed. The smell of sulfur and feces stung Angeline’s nose, and she covered her mouth as her gaze latched upon a single empty alcove carved out of the wall—the same as the two in the cave above.

  Leaping atop a boulder centering the room, James raised a torch and tried to peer above the mound of rocks. “There’s another alcove back here. I can see the top.” He jumped to the ground and approached the empty one then kneeled to examine the broken chains at the bottom. The clank and jangle of iron thundered an eerie cadence through the cavern. Angeline tensed. Dropping the chains, James stood and lifted the torch to reveal writing etched above the alcove. In a foreign language. No, two different languages from what Angeline could tell. James’s Adam’s apple plummeted, and he snapped his eyes to Blake’s.
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  “Same as the other?” Blake asked.

  James nodded.

  Hayden approached, glancing up at the writing. “Destruction?”

  But James didn’t answer. Instead, his wide eyes focused on something on the ground hidden from the rest of them by the boulder.

  “What is it?” Blake circled the large rock, glanced down, then turned to stop Eliza from following him.

  But it was too late. She shrieked and buried her face in her husband’s shirt.

  “What’s wrong?” Angeline started forward, but James darted to her and held her back.

  “It’s Graves.”

  Blake groaned. “Without his head.”

  C

  HAPTER 2

  Angeline hated funerals. They reeked of finality and no more second chances. They spoke of an eternity hounded by memories one could never escape, mistakes one could never rectify. The last funeral she’d attended had been her father’s. She could still see Reverend Grayson in his long black robes, Holy Book in hand, his words dribbling on the fresh mound of dirt, empty and meaningless as the drizzle of rain that had battered her face. She could still see the crush of people—black specters hovering beneath billowing umbrellas—come to pay their respects to a beloved member of their community, a pillar of Norfolk society, businessman, scholar, man of God. Pushed through a window to an early death by a misguided man inflamed in anger. She could still see Uncle John and Aunt Louise standing on either side of her. Her aunt wearing an impatient scowl, her uncle a look of interest. Though that interest was not on the funeral or the reverend or the crowd. But on her—a devastated seventeen-year-old girl. She hadn’t known at that time just how far his interest would take him.

  Or how far it would take her.

  “Mr. Graves made few friends among us.” James’s voice drew her gaze to where he stood before a fresh heap of dirt, much like Reverend Grayson had done that dreary day three years ago. Only this time, the sun was shining and they weren’t in a graveyard in Virginia but in the middle of a lush jungle in Brazil.