Mystic Memories (32 page)

After finding an inn for their brief stay, Blake and Cara rented a carriage, leaving Keoni in charge of Andrew and Bud. They went to four different shipbuilding sites without any luck. But as they approached the fifth one, Cara felt the familiar butterflies in her stomach.

“This is it, Blake. I can feel it.”

He helped her down to the wet ground. A midday shower had passed through the valley during their last stop, drenching the ground before they had emerged from the building. At first Cara fretted about soiling the new skirt and shoes Blake had purchased for her shortly before leaving Boston. But there was nothing she could do about it, and she was impatient to get inside to ask questions.

As she entered the office on Blake’s arm, she recognized the solemn woman who greeted them as the person from her vision. Cara tightened her fingers around his sleeve. He glanced sideways at her, silently bidding her to loosen her grip.

“We are seeking information,” Blake stated after introducing himself and Cara. “Might the owner be available to talk with us?”

“My husband died three weeks ago,” said the woman, her weary face pinched.

He offered their condolences, which she did not acknowledge. “Perhaps you might be able to answer our quest—”

“I don’t know a thing about this business. Fact is, I’m only here to see a gentleman about an offer to buy the company, land and all. Thought maybe you were him.”

“No, ma’am, I am not. If you will excuse us, we will be on our way.”

Cara abruptly spoke up. “I was on a ship called the
Mystic
that wrecked on the coast of California. Would you happen to recognize the name? Could it have been one of your husband’s ships?”

The old woman’s face lost all color. “Wrecked, you say? How many died this— Uh . . . that is, did anyone die?”

“All but two of the crew.” Cara released Blake’s arm and stepped forward, placing her hand on the woman’s bony shoulder. “Please tell us what you know.”

Even though Cara could see images and read thoughts from the frightened woman, she wanted to hear the whole story in her words. Suddenly the widow broke down, revealing her husband’s deathbed confession about a cursed ship that had been salvaged to repair war-ravaged vessels.

“It was more than eighteen years ago. In the spring,” she clarified. “He had secretly arranged to have that old shipwreck dismantled and brought here. Later, stories came back about sailors vanishing from those ships that my husband had fixed with boards and such from the wreck. He had only himself to blame, he’d said. Started drinking heavy then, too.”

She excused herself to get something she thought they might want to see. Returning to the room a few minutes later, she handed over a document listing the names of all the ships that had some piece of the wrecked vessel on board.

Deciphering the elaborate cursive handwriting, Cara realized that any of these ships on the list could be floating time-passages by way of a small scrap of lumber or hardware.

Blake pointed to one name. “That was the one I was—” He stopped, then chose his words more carefully. “I went back on the
Emery
. That’s Captain Myers’s ship.”

Cara stared at the name on the page, stunned. Regaining her composure, she thanked the widow and hurried Blake out of the building. When he helped her up into the carriage, he gazed at her with a puzzled expression, but said nothing until he was seated next to her and they were on their way.

“Would you care to explain?”

“Early in my investigation on Andrew’s disappearance, I researched the ship and learned that it’d had a number of names. The
Emery
showed up in the record around 1810, then a second time in the 1970s.”

Blake interjected, “It was the summer of 1979 when I went to Mystic Seaport with my parents for the last time.”

“Ten years later that same ship was sold to a new owner, who renamed it the
Mystic
again and took it to California, where it’s used as a floating classroom of maritime history for kids like Andrew. He came back to this time period last December when the ship was in western waters. And I followed in March. This means . . .”

“I was on that very same brig when I stepped through the bulkhead into the captain’s quarters. We all went through the same time portal.”

She reached over and gave him a quick hug around the neck. “It all fits exactly with Andrew’s and my experiences. We’re going back, Blake. All three of us are going back
together
!”

Chapter 20

A
month later, on September 19, Cara woke up early from a dream, instinctively knowing the message it had conveyed—the
Mystic
would be docking in two days. Saturday, September 21, would also mark the first day of autumn, she realized, wondering whether the equinox was a significant factor or a mere coincidence.

With a sense of excitement and anticipation, she couldn’t wait for Blake to open his eyes so she could tell him the news. She gazed down on his sleeping face, feeling more love for him with every passing moment. Smoothing his black hair off his tan forehead, she pressed her lips to his temple. He slowly blinked, then gave her a lazy smile.

“Good morning,
lauaʻe
.”

The love in his deep-blue eyes stirred the familiar yearning deep inside her body. “Hi, sleepyhead. It’s half past the crack of dawn and you still haven’t made love to me yet today.”

“I believe I can remedy that mistake.” He took her hand beneath the covers to show her that his own desires had already been awakened. Pressing her onto her back, he moved over her, into her, and throughout her entire being.

After he had given himself to her, he remained in her arms, his hips still nestled against the inside of her thighs. “Yes, we will.”

Her hand stroked his bare back. “Will what?”

“You are thinking we will need to get ready for the arrival of the
Mystic
.” He lifted his head and gazed down at her with a little grin. “Am I right?”

She fingered the black curls at the nape of his neck. “It is a good thing you’re the only one who can read my mind.”

“Only when I am with you like this.” As he withdrew from her, she felt his reluctance to separate from her body for even a moment, let alone an entire day.

“Tonight,” she promised, “neither one of us will go to sleep until we have had our fill of each other.”

During the rest of the day, Cara brought out her costume from the reenactment ship and mended several rips and tears. She’d already acquired a new watch cap and replaced the jacket that she’d lost her first night. Andrew’s clothing was in fairly good shape, despite the rough treatment he’d been given. At least he hadn’t been caught in a shipwreck and washed ashore as she had.

Recalling the photos and visions of Andrew prior to her travels, she instructed Keoni in cutting the boy’s hair to the shorter length. Overriding Andrew’s protests, she sensed an importance in returning him “shipshape and Bristol fashion.” She also sat for a trim.

By that evening, news of the
Mystic
’s appearance in the outer bay had reached them.

The following afternoon, the four of them stood on the wharf, silently watching the last of the people leave the brig. Bud had positioned himself at Blake’s feet, looking dejected, as though he knew his ownership had been passed to the
Kanaka
.

Blake dropped his gaze to the big black dog who had been his loyal companion. He had once teased Cara for talking to the horse at the cliffs in San Juan, yet now he found his own feelings toward an animal had transcended mere affection for a pet. Leaving Bud was as difficult as leaving Keoni, perhaps more so. At least his Island brother understood the circumstances and wished him well.

“I think everyone is gone now,” said Cara, drawing Blake away from his thoughts of leaving Bud behind.

He looked at Keoni. “Don’t let Bud wander off looking for us.”

“I won’t.” According to their plan, the cook intended to distract the shipkeeper by feigning interest in serving on the next voyage. After Keoni persuaded the man to show him the galley, Blake would sneak Cara and Andrew into the main cabin. “I only hope dis
Kanaka
don’t fall through another time-hole while I’m on her.”

The Islander’s joking dialect received a slight smile from Cara. “Me, too.”

“Very well, then,” sighed Blake. “This is aloha,
kaikuaʽana
.”

“
Aloha, kaikaina. E mālama pono
. ”
Take care
. Wrapping his arms around Blake, Keoni held him in a long and heartfelt embrace, conveying the sorrow of departure and the joy of their brotherhood that could not be spoken aloud between them.

After a few moments, Keoni hugged Cara, then Andrew, wishing them much luck and happiness. Cara thanked the
Kanaka
with tears streaming down her cheeks. As he turned to leave, he called Bud, but the dog refused to budge.

Blake’s heart lodged in his throat as the three of them stroked and petted Bud for the last time. When Blake could stand it no longer, he straightened, gesturing with his hand. “Go now, Bud. Go with Keoni.”

The dog’s eyes held a doleful expression as he slunk away, glanced back once, then turned and followed the
Kanaka
onto the ship. Sniffling, Andrew spun into Cara’s arms, hiding his eyes from the wrenching sight of his departing friends. Blake, too, had to look away as hot tears stung the back of his eyes.

Several minutes later, he found the strength to push his sadness to the back of his mind. “I will go aboard first,” he said in a strained voice. He cleared his throat. “When I know it is safe, I will wave for you to come ahead. Walk softly on the deck.”

Cara nodded. “Be careful.”

Soon, he gave the signal and led them silently down into the captain’s quarters. As Blake quietly closed the door, Cara walked to the forward bulkhead and studied the dark varnished panels. Finally she nodded.

Looking over her shoulder at Andrew and him, she whispered, “I think this is it.”

He read the slight apprehension on her face. They had often talked about this moment. So much was at stake. He knew how much she wanted to be right about the existence of a time portal, yet even if she were, it could be a doorway leading to an entirely different place than they wanted to go.

With the boy standing in front of him, he mouthed the silent words, “I love you,” which seemed to give her the reassurance she needed from him.

Blake watched as she tentatively reached toward the bulkhead. When her hand slipped through the solid panel, he blinked twice, staring at the incredible illusion.

Terrified, Andrew backed up into him, whimpering quietly. “I don’t want to go anymore. I wanna stay here with Keoni and Bud.”

Pulling her hand back, Cara turned around, guilt written on her face as if she were to blame for scaring the child. She came back to Andrew. “I understand you’re afraid,” she said, keeping her voice as low as possible. “But you won’t be hurt, I promise. Remember when you came through before?” He nodded. “It just feels a little funny, like a tickle. That’s all. Remember?”

Again he nodded, but again he refused to step through the portal.

Blake hunkered down in front of Andrew. “This is the only way for you to return to your mother and father.”

“I . . . know,” answered the frightened boy, his lower lip trembling.

“Will it make you feel better if you see me go first?” he asked. The ten-year-old looked at him for a long moment, and finally glanced at Cara and slowly nodded.

“Very well, then.” Blake straightened and caught Cara gazing at him. How he wanted to draw her into his arms and kiss her deeply one more time. Yet he did not dare.

This was only supposed to be a brief separation until the three of them were united again on the other side. Reluctantly, he settled with the lightest touch of their lips. “See you soon.”

He walked boldly toward the bulkhead, paused long enough to verify the illusion for himself by placing his palm against the paneling. When it sank into nothingness, he looked back with a foolish grin, then stepped into the unknown.

Cara exhaled a pent-up breath, praying that Blake was now safely transported to the future. With a deep breath, she turned to Andrew. “Let’s go home.”

When he hesitated again, she felt a small amount of panic. Blake had already gone. She couldn’t stay without him. But she couldn’t leave without Andrew.

“I promise I’ll be right behind you. Besides, Blake is over there waiting for us.”
I hope
.

She took his hand and led him all the way up to the paneled wall. After demonstrating the ease in which her own hand went through the seemingly solid wood, she coaxed him to try. Aware of the minutes ticking by, she became nervous, fearing someone might walk in. What if Keoni had assumed it was safe to let the shipkeeper go back to his duties?

Trying not to force Andrew, she gently guided his hand into the wood until he felt the mild tingle. “It does tickle,” he marveled.

“See? I told you. Ready to go now?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Andrew slowly walked forward and vanished into the woodwork.

Sending up a fervent prayer, she took a deep breath and stepped through the portal.

Darkness surrounded her.

Refusing to panic, Cara waited for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Just because she could not see Blake or Andrew didn’t mean they weren’t there with her in the dark.

“Blake?” she whispered.

Silence.

“Andrew?” Her voice grew louder.

When the floor beneath her feet gently tilted, she knew she was on a ship.
But what ship?

Should she go back? But what if they weren’t there?

Blindly reaching out, she swept her arms in a slow arc until her left hand touched a wall. A strong, solid wall. In her mind’s eye, she saw herself in the small mate’s quarters. To her right would be the berth. She checked. She was right.

“Blake!” she called out as a slender thread of terror wound around her throat.

Still no answer.

“Andrew!”

The door flew open and a shaft of light illuminated the tiny cubicle. A flashlight, Cara realized, then looked around her.

She was alone.

Several voices came through the darkness at her. “What’s going on here?”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Did she see a ghost?”

“Are you all right?” asked the last one.

NO!
She wanted to scream.
Where are they? What happened to them?

Another voice came through the open doorway. “Move aside. Let me through. Everyone go back to bed. I’m handling this.”

When she saw the short blue jacket and white trousers, she cried out, “Blake! Oh, thank God—”

But it wasn’t him.

She recognized the man who had been portraying the captain of the
Mystic
on the night she’d gone back in time. He held up a small battery-operated lantern that cast a glow throughout the little room. He had brown hair, not black. He had green eyes, not deep ocean blue.

“What happened?” he asked in a gentle voice, not quite loud enough for those outside the door to hear.

“I-I’m not sure . . . exactly.” Disoriented, she dropped down onto the berth, a strange numbness coming over her. “Are you ill, Ms. Edwards? Should I take you ashore?”

“You remember my name?”

“Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I’ve been gone six months.

But had she? This man, whose name she couldn’t recall, acted as though she’d never been gone. If she had disappeared like Andrew, someone on board would have discovered it the next day. They would have had another news story on their hands. With her reappearance, the captain would have at least been surprised. But he wasn’t. “What . . . is the date?”