Heaven in a Wildflower (39 page)

Brett caught her hand, pressing it against his lips once more. Damn it, don’t do it, his brain pounded, don’t grab her and kiss her till she’s breathless. It didn’t work before. It won’t work now. “You’ve nothing to fear from me,” he assured her. “I’m your friend.”

“You are, indeed. But I must tell you something.” She pulled her hand from his, not liking the way her stomach was starting to feel as if she’d swallowed butterflies. “I have considered the possibility that you may have been sent to try to get information from me.”

Brett was jolted, caught off guard. It was only with great effort he was able to coolly, calmly respond, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Surely you’ve heard what a desperate criminal I am, haven’t you? Why, if I weren’t blind, I imagine I’d be locked in a cell with bars, wouldn’t I? I mean, after all, I did give food to a starving soldier, and frankly, I probably wouldn’t have cared at the time if he
had
been a Yankee.

“And no doubt,” she rushed on, “you know about the Yankees accusing my father of breaking into the Mint in New Orleans last winter and stealing engraving plates. That’s probably why he was murdered. And now they think I know where they’re hidden, so it stands to reason they’d think a pitiful, helpless damsel like me would warm to a charming soldier who’d shown a little kindness.”

Brett was only mildly uncomfortable. After all, Anjele Sinclair was an intelligent woman. It was only natural she’d have suspicions, and he was ready for them. “I knew your father was murdered. I knew you were also injured that night, and that’s what blinded you. I also knew why you were sent here, but I didn’t know about any engraving plates, and my only motive was, whether you believe me or not, to try and bring a little sunshine into your life. You’re a beautiful woman, Anjele.” He gazed down at her adoringly. “A man would be a fool not to want to make you happy.”

“You’re kind,” she murmured, wondering whether it was her imagination or if she could actually feel the warmth of his eyes upon her. “And I appreciate all you do for me. I dread to think of the time when you’re gone. It gets terribly lonely.”

“Maybe the guard who takes my place will be the one sent to find out about the plates.” He wanted to talk, not only in hopes of learning something but also to steer away from the intimacy that was making him extremely uncomfortable.

“What would you do if I told you where they are?” she taunted. “Would you run to your commander and tell him?”

“Of course I would.” He played along with her. “I’d get a nice promotion, for sure.”

Her laugh reminded him of little silver bells, caught by a sudden breeze. Delightful. Light. Musical.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you get that promotion, Private, because the truth is, I don’t know where they are. My father said something to me in his dying breath, but my memory is blocked. When I remember, maybe then I can figure it all out. Till then, it’s a waste of time for your government to try and get me to tell them anything.”

Brett dared wonder if the time were right to confide his mission. Others might come who would stop at nothing to make her talk. It was imperative to get her off the island. “Anjele,” he began, “there’s something I have to tell you. About me, about you, and—”

“No!”

The word sliced into the tranquillity of the moment.

“I don’t want to speak of serious things. Not ever.” She swung her head slowly from side to side, hugging her knees and drawing them up beneath her chin. “I’m safe here, in my dark world, and I feel as though nobody can see me, because I can’t see them. Maybe it’s best I can’t see into your eyes, to your very soul, because I might not like what’s there.

“So don’t talk of you and me, Brett Cody,” she finished, almost angrily, “because there is no
us
.
There’s just here and now, a soldier being kind to a blind lady. It’s today. With no yesterday. No tomorrow.”

The sound of a bell clanging was heard in the distance. The day was ending, and it was time to get back, time to get her supper to her and say good-night. “There
is
a tomorrow, and we
will
talk, or maybe I should say,
I’ll
talk, and
you,
my dear, will listen.”

Anjele wished she’d not been so abrupt. Perhaps he’d been about to confide he cared about her, for she sensed that he did. And maybe if he had, she would have admitted feeling a fondness for him, as well. She could see no harm.

She would have to wait for the tomorrow he believed in.

They did not speak on the way back. He left her at her door, and a short while later, Ramey brought her tray. She dared ask where Private Cody was. He told her Cody had been assigned to duty in the barn for the night.

“We got us a real big game goin’ tonight,” he confided. “And you probably know, Cody, he ain’t no gambler, so he said he’d take the duty. I’ll probably be the one to bring your breakfast. He’ll be up all night and have to sleep. He said to tell you he’d see you tomorrow afternoon, for sure.”

“For sure,” she said breathlessly, pleased to anticipate the moment.

“He sure got sweet on you.” Ramey chuckled. “Who knows? Maybe when the war is over, the two of you will—”

“Thank you, Private Ramey.” Anjele dismissed him, easing the door closed to end the uncomfortable conversation.

She ate her supper, drank the accompanying cup of milk, then lay down to lose herself in her musings. Every nuance, every word spoken between them that afternoon, danced through her mind. If he did, indeed, plan to declare his affections, how was she going to react? Did she dare let him know she was also starting to care for him in a way other than friendship?

There was so much to think about, yet Anjele cynically told herself none of it probably mattered, anyhow, for there were differences between them that might not be overcome.

Long ago, when she’d fancied herself in love with Gator, the contrast in their worlds had been cultural, social, and, suddenly, she could not help comparing the two men. Unlike Brett, with his husky, clipped way of talking, Gator had delighted with his easy drawl. Also, he’d been leaner from hard work in the cane fields. And never would she forget the way he wore his hair, pulled back and tied to hang like a horse’s tail. Further, he’d seemed more at ease than Brett, who was always serious, as though worried about something, and…

She gave her head a brisk shake to cast out the creeping shadows of the past. As far as she was concerned, Gator did not exist, and she was now undeniably drawn to Brett and forced to acknowledge the barrier between them was one of loyalty. She was allegiant to the South. He was a soldier for the North.

Whether opposing viewpoints would eventually cast a shadow on their growing feelings for each other remained to be seen, and perhaps they could even find a middle ground for understanding.

Still, there was one stark actuality that remained, one that might never change.

She was blind.

Ben Seward told Leo he had no idea who’d paid him to take Leo to Ship Island. “All I know,” he had said, “was somebody jerked one of my crew into an alley at gunpoint one night when he was leavin’ a saloon. Gave him a hundred in gold to give to me, along with the message you’d be coming looking for me soon, wanting passage out to the island. If I take you, I get another hundred. If I don’t, I get my throat cut. The crewman didn’t get a look at his face. He stayed in the shadows. Hell, I decided if you showed up, I’d take you. Why gamble on getting killed?”

Leo instructed Seward he wanted to sail around the island first, so he could look it over.

“You
gonna break somebody out of prison?” Seward asked, bug-eyed. “Oh, Lord, I hope you don’t get me in trouble.”

“All you got to do is wait for me when you put me off. I got a job to do. It won’t take long. That’s all you need to know.”

“That’s all I want to know. Don’t get me involved, please.”

Drifting slowly, as though merely fishing the waters, Seward guided the boat around the island. Leo had stood at the bow, pulse starting to race as he saw a man in a blue uniform sitting beside a woman. He saw her hair, blazing like liquid gold in the bright sunshine and knew, beyond a doubt, it was Anjele.

Squinting against the glare of the dazzling water, Leo strained to see everything. They rounded a little bend, and he spotted what looked like a swampy area. “Right there,” he advised Seward. “Right there is where I’ll jump in tonight, around midnight. Give me an hour. You drift around. Then come close as you dare and drop the anchor. I’ll spot you and swim out. All you gotta do is wait.

“If you leave me there,” he warned, whipping a knife from his boot in a flash, “then you don’t have to worry about that man in the alley killin’ you. I’ll do it for him when I find you. You understand?”

Seward said he did, wanting only to do what he’d been ordered and get it over with. It was times like this when he hated getting involved outside the law. Obviously, word was out he dealt in contraband—goods that made it through the blockade to be sold at the highest price possible. In the future, he vowed, he’d make sure he was less notorious.

As the hour approached midnight, it began to rain. There was little wind, however, so the ocean was not unduly choppy, and Ben Seward was not concerned by the inclement weather. Nevertheless, he asked Leo if he’d rather wait till the next night, when conditions might be better. He pointed out, “You’re going to be heading in through that swampy area. I hear tell it’s dangerous. Lots of trees down, roots and branches a man could get hung up on.”

Leo laughed long and loud, proudly telling him, “I was born in a swamp. I was swimmin’ before you was walkin’, and to go in that way is safest for me. Don’t worry about it.”

Ben wasn’t worried. In fact, it would suit him fine if the bastard drowned.

Leo slid off the side of the boat, hardly making a sound. Ben and his six crewmen stood watching at the railing, but he quickly disappeared, swallowed by darkness and foaming swells.

Leo swam in a straight line, finding himself in knee-deep water in only a few moments. He then waded to the edge of the swamp, picking his way over rotting stumps and fallen limbs. He had no difficulty, even though he could scarcely see his hand in front of his face. It didn’t matter, for he knew what to feel for, grope for, knew not to step down on something merely because it seemed solid at first touch.

He held his knife between his teeth, ready for anything, but most of all, ready to take care of Anjele Sinclair.

At last he was able to see the outline of the shed. The back of it sank down into the thick, brackish water, the window maybe three feet above the surface. He could easily reach it from where he stood, feet mired in the muddy bottom. It was not surprising to find the shutters closed to keep out bugs, maybe even snakes. Moving very slowly so the splashing wouldn’t be heard, Leo stepped to the side onto dry ground, stealthily creeping to the door.

He paused to glance about. Lanterns glowed in the windows of a building not far away. He could hear the sound of men talking and muted laughter. Whatever they were doing, they weren’t paying any attention to anything going on outside.

Leo felt for the door, tried to turn the knob but couldn’t. It was locked, and he supposed that shouldn’t have surprised him. There was nothing to do but go back to the window and work on the shutters and hope the noise didn’t wake her up.

He had not taken two steps when he froze at the sound of a sleepy voice softly calling, “Ramey, is that you? Goodness, is it morning already?”

Anjele sat up, yawned, and stretched. She hadn’t even remembered falling asleep, provoked by thoughts of Brett Cody…very
pleasant
thoughts. But now it was morning, and she was glad, because soon he’d be there to tell her what was on his mind. “Let me find my robe. I’ll let you in.”

Finding it right where she’d left it at the foot of the cot, Anjele wrapped it around her and padded the few feet to the door. She didn’t have to feel her way, for well she knew it.

She slid back the bolt, was about to turn the knob and open the door, when suddenly she hesitated.

Since being blind, Anjele had endeavored to develop her other senses. Like her sense of smell. And taste.

And sound!

Something held her paralyzed to listen for—what? What was the sound causing such alarm?

And then it dawned.

What she realized she was hearing were the sounds of night. Tree frogs. Crickets. Even a hoot owl. It wasn’t morning, wasn’t time for breakfast, and dear God, she realized in panic, hand flying to her throat as fear began to choke her, it wasn’t Ramey outside her door.

She fumbled for the bolt but couldn’t make her shaking fingers move fast enough.

On the other side of the door, Leo heard her gasp, heard the scraping sounds as she tried to relock the bolt. Quickly he backed up, braced himself to throw all his weight.

The door burst open. Anjele was slung backwards, stumbling and falling. Leo cursed, flinging his arms about wildly, the knife slicing through the air as he said, “Where are you, bitch? I can make it quick, easy, or I can make you hope to die. You don’t give me no trouble, you hear?”

Anjele felt as if her lungs were on fire, as she fought to stay still and hold her breath. With a faint stab of hope, she realized her attacker was, for the moment, as blind as she was. But when his eyes grew used to the darkness, he’d find her. The only advantage she had was knowing the arrangement of the tiny room. Hearing him stumble against the cot, she knew he was mere inches away. She also knew the wooden crate was right at her fingertips. Mustering all her strength, she grabbed it and sent it slamming in the direction she estimated his legs to be. He gave a sharp yelp, and she knew she was right on target.