by Mariah Stone
“Come!” I yell and we rush up the hill of the crater.
A scent resembling gunpowder fills my nostrils. Sulfur. Hurrying up the steep hill, with the ground convulsing under our feet, we fall several times. When we reach the top of the crater, an explosion shudders the air, and a hot cloud of ashes and steam hits us in the back. Losing my balance, I pitch back down the hill. The world flashes with flickers of black ground, blue sky, and gray cloud as I roll down. When I stop, my head spinning, my body hurting from the scratches and hits, I lever myself up on my arms to look for Samantha. She is on all fours some distance from me, eyes worried as she looks at me.
“James, are you okay?” she shouts over the rumble of the earth.
I try to stand up, but pain pierces my ankle. I get on my feet, and she hurries to let me lean on her shoulder. The necklace is still in her hand. I can see she intends to guard it with her life.
“Where is the chest?” she says.
I look around and it is down the slope next to a boulder and a stream of water. It is the waterfall we passed by on the way up. Except, the chalice-like rock basin of the pool is not up the slope anymore, but broken on the ground.
“Quickly, come on,” she says, and we walk down the slope.
“You must go now, Samantha. Put on the necklace,” I say as we reach the chest and I take it under my arm again.
“Out of the question. I need to see that you are safe on your ship first.”
“I will be all right. You need to go, right now.”
“Forget it, James.”
Her worry about me warms me and gives me strength. We step over the stream, which is no longer pure but full of rocks and black sand. As we hurry down the slope, the cloud of ash, smoke, and fumes reaches us and rushes down in front of us.
An explosion hits the air as though it intends to crack the sky open, then another and another. The ground shakes. Rocks, big and small crumble down the slope, and one almost hits us, but Samantha moves us out of its way. I turn back and look up at the milky-gray cloud of smoke and ash, and within the murkiness glowing red fountains shoot into the sky. A low gurgling adds to it, and with my feet freeze as if they’ve turned to ice. I watch as lava flows through the crack of the waterfall and pours down the slope, mixing with water, hissing, turning partly into black crust.
“Run!” Samantha tugs my hand and I follow her, but I cannot run. My ankle must be broken or hurt badly because the pain is excruciating, and I would surely fall if it was not for her.
The mountain shudders and the crack from which the waterfall originated widens. And inside it is not black; it is glowing red.
More lava is flowing—no longer a brook, it is a stream, and it is quickly turning into a red, glowing river that moves much faster than us. When it reaches the trees, it sets them on fire.
“Come on, James!” she yells into my ear and tugs me after her.
“I will only slow you down,” I say. “You must put on the necklace and travel back home. Now.”
Her eyes widen in panic.
As the volcano turns the world around us into a red, gray, smoking hell, I calm down. I can’t go fast enough to escape this. If this is the end, it must be the end only for me.
Not her.
Because I am in the eye of this storm. And in the calm clearness of that space, I know that I have nothing but love. I love this raven-hared, stubborn, brave beauty who is only a visitor from the future.
Her hair is waving in the ashy wind, her eyes burn darker than the depths of the underworld.
If this is hell, she is an angel, and she will be the last image I see before I die.
I put the chest down, and in one swift motion take the necklace from her hand.
“What are you doing?” Her eyes are alert.
I make a move to put the necklace over her head, but she dodges back. “No, James! I will help you down. I am not leaving you here!”
But as another explosion shudders the ground and above us a new crack is born, there is no time to quarrel.
As she is looking up with horror, I trap her arms and around her waist and pull her against me. Her face is panicked; tears glisten in her eyes. I put the necklace over her head and kiss her.
For the last time, the heaven of her mouth welcomes me, and if I die in the next minute, it will be with the taste of the love of my life on my lips. She answers, desperately, hungrily, and I taste salt on my tongue.
The sensation of her lips weakens, I press tighter to hold on to her, but in a moment, I do not feel her anymore.
Still with my eyes closed, I whisper, “I love you.”
Chapter 17
Samantha
* * *
The ground doesn’t shake. A warm, gentle breeze envelops me in the scents of mango, tangerines, and the sea. A dull murmur of voices reaches me.
I’m not on the horseshoe-shaped island anymore. There’s no volcano erupting.
And there’s no James.
The thought stabs me, and I almost double up. I open my eyes.
I’m sitting in a chair in the City of Pirates Museum. Across the empty hall, the portraits of James and Cole stare at me. Between them, one jade necklace hangs.
I look down at myself and see that I’m still wearing the rags that used to be the jade dress, but no necklace. My arms and legs are scratched and bruised, and my head and face hurt in several places. My throat burns, and I cough.
James tricked me. He saved me at the expense—
My hands grip the carved arms of the antique French chair. My fingernails hurt. Slowly, I find the strength to stand up, and on unbendable legs I move across the hall towards the portrait.
One question pounds painfully against my temples.
Did he survive?
I need to hold on to something because my head spins and my vision blurs as I squint to see what year is marked under James’s portrait: “1690—”
Nothing.
What?
My body chills as though millions of icicles prick my skin.
“What does it mean?” I whisper.
I look at Cole’s portrait, and see the same years as before. Should I be happy that at least James’s year of death is not 1718? Is he somewhere here, in the future? Had he died in the eruption and everyone thought he just disappeared?
I need to find Adonis.
I walk until my legs gain a little strength, then run. I turn the corner of the corridor and fly by the museum visitors, looking for a red headscarf and a snake. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to see that snake now!
Outside, the air hits me with the warmth of the heated asphalt and stones. The sea is down the hill. To the left and right a tropical garden flourishes.
And there, in the shadow of a palm tree, stands a small group of tourists surrounding Adonis. The snake slithers around his neck. Looks like he’s guiding a tour.
I don’t care.
I run towards him and push people away. “Did he make it?” I yell.
Adonis stops talking and raises his eyebrows at me. “Miss, forgive me. As you can see, I am busy.”
“No. No, this can’t wait. I just came back. I need to know if James Barrow made it away from the eruption. There’s no date of death. What happened to him? How did he die?”
Adonis narrows his eyes at me, and the snake moves towards me and flickers its tongue. Its black eyes are impassive.
“Are you sure you would like to know?” he asks.
“Yes!”
I know people are staring. I must look like a beggar from the eighteenth century. I don’t care.
Because as my heart thumps against my chest the iron bars that I had put there years before begin to melt. James sacrificed his own well-being, his best chance of escaping death, to send me back to safety. He cares about me. My hands are shaking as I wait for Adonis’s answer. Because if his answer is that James died, I don’t think I can survive that. I don’t think I want to live in a world where James Barrow does not exist.
As the protect
ion I had put around me melts away, love floods my system in a warm, sweet stream of joy.
What an idiot. I fell in love with him. I’d rather chop off an arm than let him die.
Which is silly because he must be dead for sure. More than three hundred years separate us. He died at some point.
I just hope that he died in the villa that he had wanted to buy with the treasure, surrounded by children and grandchildren that the woman he married gave him.
The woman I hate.
The woman I want to be.
“Well?” I say. “What happened to him?”
He glances around the group of tourists who are all staring at us pretty much with their mouths open.
“Some think,” Adonis says, “he found a mysterious woman who helped him get to the ball but that he died during the hunt for Cole the Black’s treasure.”
I clutch the fabric over my stomach. The snake coils a little on Adonis’s shoulders and flicks its tongue.
“Others say,” he continues, “he got the treasure, but the hunt left him so disfigured he was unrecognizable.”
My mouth goes dry, a painful knot forming in my throat.
“Finally, there is another rumor that says that he fell in love with a woman who traveled through time, but she abandoned him, and he never found happiness again.”
My eyes blur and burn.
“He realized that marrying a woman he didn’t love would never make him happy, no matter how safe she was or how many children she gave him. And if he couldn’t settle without the love of his life, he wouldn’t settle at all. He gave up the treasure to his crew and went on traveling the world. Some say, he crossed the whole world trying to find a way to her but never succeeded. We do not know when he died, but we know he didn’t die a happy man.”
While I listen to him, hot tears crawl down my cheeks, leaving burning trails on my skin. My hands tremble again, and I hug myself to stop them.
“A woman who traveled through time?” says a woman in her forties with a southern accent. She looks me up and down, then takes a picture of me with her smartphone. “I’ll be damned. This is a cool interactive theater setup from the museum.”
Hope, terrible hope is tearing my chest apart. I don’t dare believe what Adonis is saying. I think I know where he is going with this, but I can’t allow myself to really believe that James fell in love with me as I did with him.
And yet, he endangered his life to save me.
Leonard would have never done that.
I crossed three hundred years and let a man like James slip away into nothingness? The bad boy who looks like an angel and has the heart of a hero?
“Which of these three legends is true?” I ask.
“Which do you think?”
I keep silent. I’m afraid to really believe, to let the last of the iron protection around my heart fall off and crumble into dust.
To open up to love.
“Doesn’t matter what I think,” I say. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I just wanted to know if he was okay, but none of the answers tell me that he was. In all three scenarios James didn’t end well.
Now I know. There’s no happy ending for him there. Not without me.
But is there one for me, here, without him?
I look around the group of tourists. When I was in the eighteenth century, less than a day had passed, but it felt so much longer. It’s strange to see modern clothes, buildings, cameras, and mobile phones. But that’s what awaits me—my job, my apartment, my money.
Continuing my lifestyle where I run away from real human connection because I’m scared to death of allowing myself to be vulnerable.
And I don’t see a future here where I’d be looking for a man, planning a wedding, and buying a house in the Hamptons.
My stomach twists, my heart aches so hard it must be turning itself inside out.
Thinking of a world where James doesn’t exist turns every cell of my body into dead matter. Does he feel like that, too, back in the eighteenth century?
Would I feel like that every day of my life in New York, alone in my beautiful apartment, working my dream job?
“What are my options?” I say. “What I can I do?”
“You could go back.”
“The jade necklace?”
He looks at the snake and smirks. “Yes. But this time, there’s a price.”
I swallow. “What price?”
“It might be forever. There is no guarantee you can find the way back here. Plus, the obvious. Your job, your apartment, your family and friends will worry.”
I grasp my skirts. “Oh my God. How could I have forgotten. My family, my friends... Wait. What about Lisa? Did she travel back to Cole?”
He doesn’t answer, just chuckles softly. “That is the price. Do you want to pay it?”
My heart, my body, my soul scream yes.
But my mind…
“That’s a big deal,” I say. “I have to know I can return if I need to.”
“You are a coward, after all,” he says. “You just pretend to be strong. You are still looking for a guarantee. There is no guarantee. There will never be a guarantee. You can either live a full life, or a half life. You cannot live both.”
My throat clenches hard, my eyes burn, pressure squeezes my scalp. He’s right. James showed me what it is to be brave. He’s living a half life because he let himself fall in love with someone who told him she wouldn’t stay with him. Someone who would rather live a half life than risk her heart.
Anger at myself rises in me. New York, my apartment, and meaningless one-night stands are all a half life.
No more.
What I had with James was a treasure. The full life with him is a treasure.
“I choose a full life,” I say, and even though my voice is low, my decision is as hard as iron. “I want to go back to him.”
He gives a nod and gestures for me to step away from the group and follow him.
While we walk, I ask again, “What about Lisa? Is she here?”
“She’s with Cole,” he confesses.
I shake my head. “You bastard. You sent her back, too? Then I guess it’s good I’m going back. I must find her.”
He chuckles.
When we’re out of earshot, he says, “You need to hurry. You must put on the necklace. James will make an important decision soon, and if you are not next to him, you will never see him again.”
Chapter 18
James
* * *
I watch Sea Prince float away into the horizon. The sun is up high. Behind me, Nassau smells like hot stones and mango and failure. My twisted ankle burns slightly under the heated trousers.
My hair is cropped, and I’m wearing a hat and a black patch on my left eye even though it is not hurt. I am a wanted man by the British Empire, and I must leave New Providence Island as soon as possible.
I wait for a man called Dirty Jim who will take me with him to the East Indies, as far away as possible from the island where I so stupidly fell in love.
With that thought, my whole body hurts more than it did when I fell down the volcano crater.
But I hold on to the thought because that memory of Samantha is better than no memory at all. I close my eyes and recall her scent, her silky skin under my palms, her voice as she teased me, defied me and as she moaned from pleasure.
After discovering what I felt with her, I cannot possibly consider marrying a woman I do not love. All I can do is run. Run to try to forget Samantha. Run to find a new goal in life. Run away from here, so that the pain of never being able to see her again does not flatten me like a fly.
“Are you Bennet?” says a screechy male voice behind me.
I turn around. An older sailor stands before me. I stand up and pick up my bag.
“I am,” I say.
“Come, then, and make haste. The captain did not want to take another passenger. You have something for him?
”
I nod and clap my bag. I kept a large jade stone and three gold coins to buy passage and some supplies. The rest of the treasure I gave to the crew and retired as captain. They were mainly good men who had been at sea too long. They proved their loyalty in the end when they did not abandon me upon seeing the erupting volcano but risked their lives to come and save me.
It gave me so much joy to see the eyes of my men as they received their shares of the treasure. Now those who wanted to retire could afford to do so, whereas others could continue their adventures or even buy their own ships. Or just live like kings until they spent it all on rum and women. Finally making my crew rich healed something in me and brought a feeling of satisfaction.
While we walk along the shore that borders the last buildings of Nassau, I think I see a raven-haired woman between the houses. Samantha! my heart shouts. But that is impossible.
I turn away and continue towards the harbor.
Men are throwing provisions into a rowboat, and my companion informs me this is our crew and I am to join them. I throw my bag in there and join the men who are hefting casks with water, biscuits, and dried fish. My leg hurts, but it will be healed soon enough.
I need to build a rapport with the men I am going to spend months in the same ship with.
When I hand a cask to a sailor, I hear quick steps of someone running. Instinctively, I shove the cask to him and spin around, my hand on my cutlass. A woman with raven hair flying in the wind runs towards me in a ruby red dress that looks so expensive it is fit for a queen. She is too far off, and I am blinded by the sun. The woman reminds me painfully of Samantha, but I do not dare believe it is her.
“Excuse me,” she says as she reaches the first sailor on the jetty. “Have you seen James Barrow?”
When he shakes his head, she goes to the next one. “James Barrow?”
Shock covers me, blinds me, makes my throat convulse. I want to believe what I think I am seeing, but that cannot be. I have sent her away. I have seen her disappear.
Then I finally understand what unravels before me. The voice is hers. The hair. The build and height. I put the cutlass back in its sheath and walk towards her, my gait stiff, limping when I use my injured leg.
