Just like Walks Between Worlds, Mary thought.
“Don’t feel sorry for me, mistress,” Travesty said, her voice clear and sharp. “We’ve all had our share of troubles. But I mean to make something of myself in this new land. I won’t be a slave forever.”
“You’re not a slave,” Mary countered.
“As good as.” Travesty gave Mary a look of pity. “But at least my enslavement will end.”
The rain had tapered off while they talked, and a hazy sun now shone through the thin leather covering the window. Travesty opened the windows and allowed the fresh air to blow away the stale closeness of the cabin.
“After a storm, the sun always comes out again,” she said, as if speaking to herself. “The sun will come out again.”
Chapter 25
January 2015
Lingfield, Surrey
The sun had finally come out after several days of impenetrable gloom. The snow had melted, but the countryside was a study in brown and gray, the bare trees spreading their skeletal limbs toward the sky as if imploring spring to come.
Quinn turned into the narrow lane that led toward her house. A part of her was reluctant to arrive at her destination, her heart refusing to accept that this might be the last time she ever laid eyes on her sanctuary. She knew it was time. They’d be moving into their new house at the end of next month, or the beginning of March at the latest, but she still felt a bit sad at the thought of giving up her little chapel. She’d fallen in love with it the first time she laid eyes on it, and she loved it still, but keeping several residences wasn’t practical, and the chapel wasn’t large or modern enough to house a family.
It was a spiritual retreat, a bolt hole, but not really a home anymore. The chapel held many memories, but the happiest one was of the night Gabe had proposed to her, slipping an engagement ring onto her finger as they lay together in the large claw-footed tub, their bodies flushed not only from the heat of the water, but from the love they’d made just before getting into the bath. It was amazing to think how their lives had changed since that night—for the better mainly, but in some ways for the worse. People had been found, and people had been lost.
Quinn glanced at the beautiful antique ring on her finger. Her relationship with Gabe was no longer in the honeymoon phase. It had been tested, threatened, strengthened, and blessed in so many ways. They were no longer two individuals optimistically forging a path forward. They were a couple, a unit, and parents to two children. They were on the verge of a new chapter in their lives, and she was ready. Well, almost.
Quinn parked the car, extracted the key from her handbag, and walked toward the arched doorway. The interior of the chapel had been modernized and converted into a private home, but the building still looked like the medieval lady chapel it had originally been, built by a loving husband for his devoted wife. It had been ransacked during the Dissolution of the Monasteries, but it had survived, like so many other beautiful religious buildings. It had stood the test of time and was a silent reminder that some things weren’t easily destroyed.
Quinn approached the iron-studded door, a replica of the original, and was about to insert the key in the lock when something made her pause. There was no other car parked in the drive, nor did she see anything odd, but she had the distinct feeling that the chapel hadn’t been empty since she was last there. Uninhabited homes had an air of neglect, a forlorn look she always managed to spot.
Quinn stood still, listening for anything that might put her on full alert. Maybe she was just imagining things. The lock appeared intact, and there were no marks on the door that would suggest that it had been forced open.
She was just about to unlock the door when a loud crash came from inside, followed by a muffled oath. She couldn’t quite make out the words, but she recognized the cadence and timbre of that voice. She’d heard it often enough during the past decade. Quinn slipped the key back into her pocket and raised her hand to knock on the door. Walking in would startle her unwelcome guest, and that was the last thing she wanted, given his unpredictable behavior of late.
She knocked three times and waited. No one came to the door. Well, he’d left her no choice. Quinn pulled out the key again and unlocked the door, opening it a crack. “I know you’re there,” she called. “I’m coming in.”
When there was no answer, she pushed the door fully open and walked in. Luke stood leaning against the worktop, a tea towel in his hand. Shards of glass littered the floor at his feet and a brown stain was spreading slowly on the gray tiles. He must have dropped his cup of coffee when he heard the crunch of tires and Quinn’s footsteps on the gravel path.
“Hello, Quinn,” Luke said. He looked around furtively, no doubt wishing he were anywhere else. Signs of habitation were everywhere. A half-eaten sandwich lay on a plate on the worktop, his coat hung on the coatrack, and there was an open book lying on the sofa. A heap of ashes in the fireplace attested to a recent fire, and several empty beer bottles were heaped in the bin beneath the sink.
Quinn stood close to the door, unsure how to proceed. Then she returned the key to her pocket and took her mobile out of her bag.
“Quinn, don’t,” Luke begged, realizing what she was about to do.
“You’re trespassing. You have no right to be here.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, but please, don’t call the police.”
Quinn didn’t make the call, but kept the phone in her hand, should she need it. “What are you doing here, Luke? This is no longer your home.”
“I still had the key,” he replied.
“That doesn’t make it all right for you to use it.”
“I had nowhere else to go.” He bent down, quickly wiped up the coffee, then threw the wet towel onto the worktop. “Can I make you a cup of coffee?” he asked. “I desperately need one. I can’t function without caffeine in the mornings.”
Quinn was about to refuse, but a cup of coffee sounded great just then. And Luke made good coffee. “All right,” she said. She removed her coat, tossed it over a chair, and walked to the sofa, still clutching her mobile.
Luke made two cups of coffee and brought hers over to her. He’d made it just the way she liked it, with one sugar and a splash of milk. Quinn took a sip and set the mug down on the low table in front of the sofa. She didn’t say anything. Luke hated long silences, and usually began to speak before the silence grew heavy and uncomfortable. He sat down at the other end of the sofa and positioned himself against the armrest, like a cornered animal.
He looked awful, she realized. Luke had always been proud of his looks and took time with his appearance, cutting his hair every six weeks and maintaining a sexy stubble that gave him that devil-may-care flair of academic nonchalance. Most of his shirts and jumpers were in various shades of blue, intentionally purchased to bring out the color of his eyes. At the moment, Luke’s hair was unkempt, and his stubble more of a shaggy beard. He wore a pair of jeans, beat-up trainers, and an old gray hoodie that looked like it could do with a wash.
“Quinn, I’m sorry. I really am,” Luke began, not sounding sorry at all. His eyes flashed with anger, but he quickly adjusted his expression to one of self-pity. “Gabe sacked me from my job at the institute,” he added, his voice flat.
“I know,” Quinn replied. Gabe hadn’t had much choice, and the decision to terminate Luke’s employment hadn’t been personal. In fact, it had been made by the board of trustees, not Gabe alone. Luke’s behavior the previous term had been erratic, inappropriate, and downright aggressive.
“I don’t blame him,” Luke continued. “I did have it coming. I was angry and I was acting out. I never meant to upset anyone.”
“Didn’t you? You called Monty a poof and made offensive sexual comments to half the female staff, as well as several students.”
Luke nodded. At least he had the decency not to try to defend his behavior. He reached for his mug and took several slow sips of coffee, as if he needed time to formulate his next response. “I appli
ed for several positions, but alas, no takers. What with Christmas around the corner, no one was hiring. My application for grants has also been denied.”
“So, you could no longer afford your posh flat and decided that squatting at my house would keep you financially afloat that much longer,” Quinn finished for him.
“You make it sound so underhanded.”
“It is underhanded.”
“If I’d asked your permission to stay here, you would have refused,” Luke said, pouting theatrically.
“Damn right I would have refused,” Quinn snapped.
“This was my home too.”
“Last time I checked, my name is on the title to this property. And it’s about to be sold. I’m meeting an estate agent here in half an hour. I only came early to tidy up a bit. You need to leave, Luke, right now. I won’t charge you any back rent, but I will not allow you to remain here a moment longer.” Quinn held out her hand. “Key, please.”
Luke fumbled in his pocket and produced the key to the chapel. He slammed it into Quinn’s palm, his face now marred by resentment. “You always were a heartless bitch,” he hissed.
“Good thing you ditched me when you did, then. Now, get your stuff and get out.”
“Quinn,” Luke began, quickly realizing belligerence would get him nowhere. “Please, I need a bit of time to get something sorted.”
“Call Monica Fielding. Maybe she’ll put you up,” Quinn suggested. She rarely saw Monica now, but the two women had never got on and never would. Some resentments went deep, and Monica had taken every opportunity to needle Quinn and try to undermine her professional standing as well as her relationship with Gabe.
“She’s not speaking to me,” Luke replied, his shoulders slumping in apparent misery. “I tried to apologize, but she never forgave me for the comments I made about Mark leaving her because she bored him in bed.”
“You know, for once, I’m on Monica’s side. The things you said were unforgivable.”
“I was hurting, Quinn,” Luke exclaimed.
“That’s no excuse. You’re not a child. You don’t get to throw a temper tantrum and hurt everyone you know because taking them down makes you feel better about your failures. You have ten minutes to get out, Luke. If you’re not gone by then, I’m calling the police.”
Quinn stood and headed for the door. “I’ll be in the car.” She gripped her mobile, frightened Luke might try to take it away from her to prevent her calling for help.
Luke stood as well. “Do you honestly think you’re not safe here with me?”
“I don’t know.”
“I would never hurt you. I loved you once, and I love you still. Leaving you for Ashley was the biggest mistake of my life. I know that. I also know that Gabe is the better man, and that he makes you happy. You look different since you’ve been with him.” Luke’s eyes grew misty as he looked at her, as if he might break down and cry.
“In what way?” Quinn couldn’t help asking.
“Like there’s a tiny flame burning inside you. The glow of that light is there for everyone to see. I suppose that’s what real love looks like. I hope to find it someday,” Luke said, his voice wistful.
Quinn nodded, unsure what to say. She was pleasantly surprised by Luke’s observation, but not at all sure he wasn’t trying to play on her emotions to manipulate her into allowing him to stay. “I’m sure you will,” she said at last and headed out into the chilly morning, closing the door behind her.
Less than ten minutes later, the door opened, and Luke emerged, an old rucksack slung over his shoulder. He gave her a halfhearted wave and started down the lane toward the village. Quinn watched him for a few moments in the rearview mirror. She didn’t know why, but she was suddenly sure they’d never meet again, and she was glad of it. Luke was a part of her past, but there was no place for him in her future. He’d been her first love, her first romantic disappointment, and a valuable lesson she’d needed to learn. Luke’s betrayal had led her to Gabe, and on some level, she was grateful to him. Despite her earlier anger, she wished him well.
By the time the estate agent pulled up to the chapel, Quinn had tidied up and stowed some of her personal possessions in the boot of her car. This chapter of her life was over; it was time to leave. She signed several documents, giving the agent permission to list the house, and handed over her key. She would not be returning, but her earlier sadness had evaporated. She smiled as she sped down the lane, eager to get home.
Chapter 26
August 1620
Virginia Colony
The church was stifling, the stagnant air reeking of sweltering bodies. Mary fidgeted on the hard bench, wishing the sermon would end. Reverend Edison was in the throes of preaching on the virtues of loving thy neighbor, a subject no doubt inspired by a brawl that had taken place in the tavern a few days ago, resulting in the death of a settler. Although the reason for the disagreement was still unclear, the two men responsible for the murder would be tried immediately after the service.
Mary fixed her eyes on the reverend, but her mind drifted out of the church and into the cool forest. She’d gone back to the creek numerous times after Walker, as she’d come to think of him, had stormed off. She bathed more than she ever had, washed everyone’s undergarments, and having successfully made herself a straw hat, offered to make one for Travesty. Walker had not returned, and as time passed, Mary had begun to feel gnawing guilt in her gut. He’d seemed genuinely shocked when she accused him of lying. He hadn’t looked like a man who’d been caught out, but rather a man whose pride had been wounded. Perhaps he’d never known his mother and had been told she was an Englishwoman. He was wrong, of course, but if he truly believed he was telling the truth, was it still a lie?
Mary shifted her bottom again, growing increasingly uncomfortable. She’d asked herself again and again why she longed for the Indian to come back. He was nothing to her, a mere curiosity, but given John’s increasing aloofness, Simon’s baffling over-familiarity, and Travesty’s nearly impenetrable sullenness, Walker seemed like a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. There was something in his gray gaze that lifted the spirit and offered a glimpse into another world, a world that was so unimaginably different from her own. There were so many questions she wanted to ask him, especially about native women. What were their lives like? Did they have choices that her countrywomen didn’t?
At times it seemed that a woman’s only mark on this world was the headstone she left behind. If she had no children, it was almost as if her life had never happened. She simply vanished from the world, quickly forgotten, like Mary’s own mother. No one except Mary kept the memory alive, but after all these years, the image of her mother was fading from her mind, the sound of her voice receding into the mist of time that separated them. Mary wondered morosely if that would be her fate as well, as Reverend Edison droned on.
Who would care if she died? John certainly wouldn’t, since he didn’t seem to have developed any feelings for her. They had been married for only two months, a very short time, but Nell had been right when she’d said you just knew about a man. John was courteous and not unkind, that was the best she could say of him. She saw some of the other women she’d arrived with aboard the Lady Grace. They sat close to their husbands, looks of contentment on their faces. They weren’t permitted to display any affection in church, but there were the warm looks, the casual touches of the hand, and the solicitous way the husbands escorted their wives from the church and to their wagons. John usually just walked out, assuming Mary would follow. If anyone tried to touch her, it was Simon, who never missed an opportunity to get too close, making her feel threatened rather than admired.
Mary’s hand instinctively went to her belly. She’d had her courses only last week. When she’d seen the blood, she hadn’t been sure if she was relieved or disappointed. A baby would give her life greater meaning, but did she want to be one of the first women to bring a child into this primitive place? There wasn’t even a midwife to help the w
omen of Jamestown when their time came. Of course, the Virginia Company, in their wisdom, hadn’t thought to send out a midwife along with the dozens of women they were shipping to the colony.
Another shipload had arrived only a fortnight ago, the women comely and young, and frightened. Another spate of weddings had taken place, to the great delight of the governor, who was said to have made a pretty speech of welcome. Perhaps, in time, they would send out enough women for all the men, but according to Secretary Hunt, who also enjoyed making speeches on behalf of the Virginia Company—mainly after service on Sunday—the male population of the colony neared one thousand souls. Hundreds of men longed for wives and hoped that this was the beginning of a new policy of the Virginia Company. They prayed more ships would come.
John’s face was tense with concentration as he listened to the reverend’s words. He was one of the few people paying attention. Mary wondered why John had got a wife while hundreds of others hadn’t. She could hardly ask him. Perhaps it was because his plantation was doing well, or maybe because he happened to have a good relationship with Secretary Hunt, who probably made the selection. Whatever the reason, there were men who truly longed for companionship and love, but John Forrester wasn’t one of them.
The service over at last, Mary followed Simon and Travesty outside, while John remained inside for the trial. Mary took her place in line at the well, desperate for a cup of water. The sun beat down on her shoulders and she was glad of the hat shielding her face. She’d just taken a drink when she saw several Indians walking through the gate. Her belly fluttered with sudden nervousness, since one of them was Walks Between Worlds. His gait was relaxed, but she noted the rigid set of his shoulders and the thin line of his lips. He wasn’t at ease. The other two men didn’t seem similarly affected, but they walked in silence, their heads held high. They knew they were being watched by every colonist in Jamestown.
The Condemned (Echoes from the Past Book 6) Page 17
