From This Day Forward

chapter Six



Jason entered the courtyard with a sigh of disgust. In two short weeks his home had been transformed into something that resembled a combination zoo and produce market. A jackass stood sedately drinking from his fountain as if it were a trough. Against the kitchen wall stood baskets of yellow corn, green beans, and fresh melons, gifts for the great healer, no doubt.

It had started the day after the accident. His workers and their families had begun coming to Caroline every time one of them stumped a toe or caught a chill. They paid her with produce and livestock, both of which he had in abundance. He had no idea what he was going to do with the surplus. Give it back to them when they ran out, he supposed.

Their wide-eyed adoration was almost more than he could bear. Even Ignacio, his most trusted employee and the closest thing he had to a friend, had been bewitched by her. Every morning it was, "Bom dia, patrao! How is a Senhora?"

Not only that, but his own feelings were becoming more and more confused. He admired her too damned much. He was getting used to having her here, to watching her graceful movements and smelling the intoxicating fragrance that always clung to her, to imagining what it would be like to have her in his bed.

Every time he remembered that Derek's betrayal had caused this situation, a fierce rage devoured him. Derek should have known better, damn his devious soul. Jason had come here to escape the ugliness of his past. He'd wanted more than anything to start fresh, to rebuild his life and his identity. He wanted nothing that had been tainted by the outside world in any way, nothing that wasn't fresh and pure as the jungle around him.

He'd thought he could survive without female companionship. Women were so emotional, so weak. They seemed to require constant care and attention, something he couldn't provide. But they were also beautiful to look at and wonderful to touch. He'd convinced himself that if he got one young enough and innocent enough, he could cultivate her to his liking as he had the jungle. He could bring her under his control and make her what he wanted her to be, make her fit into the world he'd created for himself.

Caroline would not be molded or controlled. She had opinions and ideas and experiences. She was determined to make her own place, not to fit into the one he'd devised for her.

Experience had made her independent and given her insights that a more innocent woman would not have possessed, insights that made him wonder if she didn't see straight through his every defense, an idea he found immensely disturbing.

He had half a mind to jump on a boat himself and go all the way to New Orleans, just to wring Derek's neck personally.

Still, she was a lovely woman, a woman who stirred his deepest longings. He couldn't have her, couldn't touch her. The cost would be too dear. She would demand his heart, body and soul in return, and he couldn't give them. He couldn't be the man she wanted—a companion. Companionship meant sharing on a level that scared the hell out of him.

The donkey brayed as if mocking him. Waving his arms, Jason charged the fountain. "Go away, you bastard!" he shouted.

The beast glanced up at him with round, serene eyes. Obviously deciding he posed no real threat, it continued to drink unperturbed until Jason swatted its rump with his open hand. "Get out of here!"

"What the hell am I going to do with a donkey?" he muttered as he stepped through the open French doors into the parlor.

Sucking in his breath, he gazed around in amazement. Flowers covered every surface in the room—lavender orchids, pink bromeliads, and white lilies.

Ines stood across the room, her back to him as she arranged a vase of orchids. "What the hell's going on?" he asked.

Ines turned to face him, but it wasn't Ines at all. His eyes widened as they traveled from the bright bandanna on Caroline's head to the cotton sarong wrapped around her shapely body to her bare toes peeking out from beneath the hem of the sarong.

"Do you like it?" she asked, pirouetting.

Jason scowled, using anger as a shield against the raw desire that had been his constant companion since he'd seen her standing on the pier that first day. "You look like a serving woman," he growled, but the truth was she looked like anything but.

The cotton fabric molded to her body in a way that made his heart leap into his throat. How did she manage to appear innocent and daring at the same time? Her eyes shone with mischief, a girlish smile curving her soft, full lips. He wanted to kiss her, more than anything else in the world at that moment. He wanted to take her in his arms and taste the sweetness of her lips.

But right now, he knew that kissing her would not be enough. He closed his eyes, shaken to his core.

"You're the one who said my clothes aren't suitable for the jungle," she reminded him.

Good girl, he thought as the tension in his body eased slightly. Always ready with a good argument. He imagined he would miss the arguments. It was hard to remember what his life had been like before she'd come, and he found he didn't want to dwell on it.

"It's certainly more comfortable than anything I brought with me," she went on, oblivious to the turmoil inside him. "Women in New Orleans should dress like this."

She stepped toward him, her bare feet patting the floor.

"If women in New Orleans dressed like that, they wouldn't be safe to walk the streets. Where are your shoes?"

She blushed and he wished with all his being she had not. The knot returned to his gut, sharper than before. She was all vulnerability, all sweet femininity, though he knew well enough that she could turn into a screaming virago without warning.

"I have a pair of sandals, but they rubbed blisters on my feet, so—"

"Sandals?" He didn't give a damn about sandals. He'd been wondering what, if anything, she wore beneath that flimsy, clinging garment, and he needed a distraction, time to gather his thoughts and quell the desire that threatened to take control of his body.

"Yes, one of the women made them for me," she explained. "Oh, I can't believe her name has slipped my mind. I'll think of it."

"More gifts for the healer?" he asked, gazing around the flower-filled room.

In truth, he was proud and a little in awe of her ability to heal sickness and mend broken bodies. She'd acquired that skill in another life, in a dark, distant past that she could remember but he could not share. It added to her mystery and his torment.

He wanted to explore her uncharted wilderness. His body and soul cried out for it. But someone had been there before him. Someone had laid claim to her heart and her body, someone whose shadow still moved behind her eyes. She had a whole history he could not control because it had happened without his knowledge or consent.

Secrets. He wanted to delve into her mystery and learn all there was to learn about her—her past, her likes, her dislikes. Had she been happy as a child? What were her parents like? Her father had been a doctor, and she had respected him enough to want to follow in his footsteps. Why? Where had they lived, her family?

But he knew that he could not plumb her depths without opening himself up to her scrutiny of his past, and he would not allow it, not even if it meant losing her forever.

"What did you say?" he asked, aware that she had spoken.

"I asked how the work was coming on the dam."

She was deliberately turning the subject away from the copious bounty her medical skills had earned, but he decided to allow it—for now.

"Slowly," he said.

"I treated two more injuries today," she told him.

"I'm aware of that." Did she think he didn't even know what happened with his own men?

"They were both careless accidents." She moved to sit on the settee, taking great care in arranging herself before pulling a fan of colorful toucan feathers out of nowhere and proceeding to fan herself.

Another gift, no doubt, he thought with a scowl. The generosity and gratitude of his people were fast approaching the ridiculous. It was almost embarrassing, the bounty they had bestowed upon her. As if reading his thoughts, she drew the feathers of the fan together, running them through her hand, her mouth set in a stubborn line, though she did have the grace to appear at least a little chagrined.

"The men are tired," she said, her eyes sincere as she leaned toward him like an advocate pleading her cause. "And so are you. When's the last time you got a good night's sleep?"

"As I recall, it must have been the spring of 1870," he said caustically. What did she know about him or his men? The running of the fazenda was none of her business.

"I'm serious, Jason. You're pushing them and yourself too hard."

"I can't imagine that either of my men would have complained to you." He struggled to keep his temper in check. She was intruding into matters that didn't concern her; he didn't appreciate her interference in the least.

"Of course not," she said defensively, as if he'd accused her of something.

"So, in addition to being a healer of the sick, you are also gifted with second sight?"

Her chin went up and her jaw tightened and he knew he'd managed to sting her.

"Or are you speaking from your vast storehouse of knowledge about running a coffee fazenda?" he went on, intentionally spurring her to anger. An angry Caroline was much easier to manage than a beguiling Caroline. "Yes, let's see, you've been here, what, nineteen days? That should be quite long enough for someone with your natural talents to develop into quite an expert."

Her face reddened, and she swept the fan open again. "No, I haven't been here long, and I don't know all there is to know about growing coffee, but I have eyes. I can see what you're doing."

"I am trying to reinforce a levee so that no more lives will be lost needlessly." It was on the tip of his tongue to explain that the mud slide was just a harbinger of things to come. The rainy season would begin in a few months and there would be more slides if he didn't shore up the dam. But he didn't owe her an explanation. He didn't owe her anything.

"You blame yourself for Ernesto's death. You disappeared for two days after the funeral, and since you've been back, you've been like a demon. You're not God, Jason. You can't control the river or command the elements or—"

"Thank you for your insights," he said harshly, cutting across her words. "This plantation did quite well before you got here and it will continue to thrive after you're gone. Have you started packing yet?"

Her poise crumbled and her face became a blank mask of hurt. Pain twisted like a knife in Jason's chest, but he would not relent. He could not.

"No," she said tautly, unable to meet his gaze. "I... I don't have that much. It's another two weeks before the mail boat is scheduled to return. I'll be ready."

It was a moment before Jason could find his voice. She should be glad to leave him; he wanted her to be glad. At least, that was what he told himself. He didn't want to hurt her, just to keep her at arm's length. In fact, that was the reason he was sending her back. He didn't want to hurt her.

"You shouldn't encourage them." He spoke softly, as if by doing so he could ease the hurt he had caused without losing the advantage he had gained. "They will get used to running to you and you're not going to be here much longer."

"You're right of course," she said, regaining some of her equilibrium. He found himself admiring her strength. "Excuse me. I seem to have a headache. I think I'll lie down for a while."

"But lunch..." Ines said from the door, her eyes narrowing at Jason.

Caroline gazed from Ines to Jason and back to Ines, opening her mouth as if she would speak. Instead, she turned and fled, the sound of her bare feet hollow on the hard floor.

Jason turned toward the dining room and Ines's cold, accusing glare, and he wondered how much she had overheard. "Don't say it, Ines, I'm warning you. Just bring me my lunch."

He sat in his customary place at the table, and Ines quickly brought his plate, which she slammed down on the table with enough force to rattle his water glass.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" he asked.

"Foolish man," Ines muttered, "don't know what's good for him. Maybe you choke on your lunch!"

Jason ignored her, forcing the image of Caroline's wounded expression from his mind. He took a bite of white fish, and a searing heat filled his mouth. Swallowing quickly, he grabbed his water to wash it down.

"Damn it, Ines, are you trying to poison me?"

Ines snorted. "If I try to poison you, you be dead now. Sorry I don't think of it."

Ines left through the door into the parlor, and he knew she was going to talk to Caroline, though he had no idea what she would say to her. She would probably tell her she was lucky to be leaving, to run as fast and as far away from him as she could.

Good! he thought, stabbing at his food as if it were something hateful. All he needed was Ines encouraging her while he was trying to discourage her. Cursing under his breath, he decided that women would be the death of him yet.

#####

Caroline threw another gown into the trunk, sniffing loudly. "Isolation is what you wanted, Jason, and isolation is what you'll get. I hope you enjoy your solitude! If I could, I'd leave right now. I wonder how far I could get on foot!"

"He is sorry, Senhora."

Turning at the sound of Ines's voice behind her, Caroline used her fingertips to wipe away the tears that had begun trailing down her face. "Did he tell you that? No, of course he didn't. Stop apologizing for him. Stop making excuses for him. God knows, I've done enough of that myself. No more. He's won. I'm glad to be leaving."

Cautiously, Ines entered the room, her hands clenched before her. "Please, Senhora, do not talk that way. Master Jason is good inside."

"I don't care!" Caroline nearly shouted. "He wants me gone, and I plan to oblige him. I just wish I could do so today."

"You must—"

Caroline spun around to face Ines, cutting her off. "You were wrong, Ines. He isn't afraid of me; he dislikes me. If I haven't learned anything else in the nineteen days I've been here, I've learned that much."

"Nineteen days?" Ines asked. "You count the days?"

"No," Caroline said with a tired sigh, "it's something Jason said."

Nineteen days. Had she been here exactly nineteen days? Had Jason counted the days? A glimmer of hope lightened her heart, but she tamped it down immediately. "It doesn't mean anything just because he knows how many days I've been here. He's probably counting the days until I'll be gone now. I don't fit his perfect image of the perfect wife, so he doesn't want me in this perfect world he's trying to construct, and nothing I say or do will change that."

Turning dejectedly, Ines moved to leave. A sense of loss tugged at Caroline's heart. She wasn't only losing Jason, she was losing Ines as well and Brazil, which she was beginning to love. She nearly halted Ines, but she wasn't sure what she would say. There was nothing to say. Jason had had the last word.

Resuming her needless packing, Caroline didn't realize that Ines was still standing at the door until she spoke. "I bring you something, Senhora."

Caroline heaved a weary sigh, turning to face the other woman. "What is it?"

Ines dug in her pocket and pulled out a white cloth pouch about the size of a fist. Attached to it was a length of twine. "Love charm. It will make Master Jason fall in love with you."

Caroline laughed, shaking her head in wonder. "I thought you were a Christian, Ines."

"Sim, Senhora, Jesus, he is very good, and also is Maria a Virgem. I pray to her for you every night. But this," she said, patting the pouch, her eyes gleaming with mischief, "this is magic powerful."

Ines stepped toward her, and Caroline stood still, fighting the urge to back away and refuse to participate in this ridiculous farce.

"See, you tie the twine around the waist like so," Ines told her. She wrapped her arms around Caroline's waist and pulled the two ends of the rope together in front. "The charm hangs down the front like this. Well, you wear it under the skirt...."

Ines dropped one end of the twine and Caroline moved a safe distance away. "It's no use, Ines, I can't, I just can't keep trying. The harder I try, the more he lashes out. He has hardly said a civil word to me since I've been here."

"If you could see inside his heart, as I have...."

"Please," Caroline interrupted sharply, "don't tell me any more stories." The hurt expression on Ines's face sliced through Caroline's heart, and she was immediately sorry for her harsh words.

"Just one more story, Senhora, and I will say no more."

Caroline sat tiredly on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry, Ines, I—"

"I owe Master Jason my life," Ines began. "My mae, my mother, she is Indian. My father, he is Portuguese. I am caballo—half Indian, half Portuguese. My father does not marry mae. So she works in the city, in a place called Manaus. You have been there, yes?"

"Yes," Caroline replied, remembering the city at the mouth of the Rio Negro, its garish wealth and grinding poverty.

"She works on the street, brings home the men. But the men who drain the rubber trees, they aren't liking the Indian. They more like caballo, but my mother tells them, no, that I am too young. When I am thirteen years old, mae dies of the disease. A man, Olivais, he takes me to his mansion far up the black river. He rapes me and he lets his men rape me. I know you are thinking I am bad."

"Ines, no!" Caroline reached out toward the other woman, struggling for control of the revulsion and overwhelming horror rumbling up from her woman's heart.

Drawing Ines down to sit on the bed beside her, she asked, "Why would you think that? What could you have done?"

Ines sat beside Caroline, her gaze distant. "I could kill myself. I have a knife, and I think about it, but I am too weak."

"No one could blame you for being strong enough to live," Caroline told her sincerely. She could hardly imagine such a horror. It was every woman's nightmare, and Ines had lived it—and survived. How could she, or anyone else, ever judge Ines?

"One night, my door is unlock and I am running away. But they find me and I am brought back." Caroline felt the tremor that coursed through Ines's body. "They will do terrible punishment to runaways. You don't want to hear it. But Master Jason, he takes me away from there. He hits the big man with his fist like that." She swung out at the air for emphasis. "He takes the gun and tells them he will kill them. At the river, he put fires on their boats so they can't follow."

Jason did that? Jason had rescued her from that hellish situation. Her heart swelled with a new admiration and growing affection for her aloof husband. Ines hadn't said so, but Caroline guessed by her description that Jason must have risked his life for her. She could just imagine an enraged Jason wreaking vengeance on those despicable, brutal men. What a sight he must have been!

"Now I understand your loyalty," Caroline said, adding silently, and the shadows behind your eyes.

"And you understand Master Jason's heart?" Ines asked hopefully.

Caroline rose and went to the medical bag on the table across the room. "I never doubted Master Jason's heart." Reaching inside the bag, she found the bundle of letters, taking them out with loving care. "But he cares for you. Ines, you remind him of his sister."

Caroline held the letters out toward Ines.

"I am not knowing how to read," Ines told her.

"You don't have to. They're letters, letters from Jason. I brought them with me from New Orleans."

"He writes to you?" Ines asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. "But I think you aren't knowing Master Jason until you come here."

"He didn't write them to me," Caroline explained. "He wrote them to his cousin who let me read them. Listen. 'Every morning I walk out into the orchards and I am glad to be alive. I've never felt this way before. The jungle is so clean, so untouched. Its eternal newness and beauty heal me. Every day is fresh and full of promise. Peggy would have loved it here.' He wrote that. Peggy was his sister. Ines, I have seen into his heart."

Ines stared at Caroline so long and so hard that she began to feel uneasy. "What is it, Ines?"

"Master Jason, he doesn't know you have these words?"

"No." Caroline felt the same sickness in the pit of her stomach that she had felt the day she told Jason she was a widow.

"Senhora, Master Jason, he is very secret, privado. He must never know you have read these things. He will not like someone looking into his soul."

"Don't worry," Caroline said, turning away and dropping the letters back into the medical bag, "I'm not going to tell him. I'm taking that little secret back with me. I don't even know why I keep them."

"Please, Senhora," Ines urged, "he can never know you have seen this."

Irritation began to take hold of Caroline. "Don't worry, Ines."

The expression on Ines's face as she left told Caroline that her assurances hadn't quelled Ines's anxiety. Caroline had to admit that she wasn't completely convinced herself. What if Jason did somehow find out that she was the one who had been answering his letters for the past year?

A tremor of dread shivered through her body as she bent to retrieve the talisman Ines had dropped. Love charm, she thought with a smirk. There wasn't enough magic in the world to break through the barriers around Jason Sinclair's heart.

Caroline sat up with a gasp, disoriented for a fraction of a second. She raised her hand before her eyes. Though she couldn't see in the darkness, she knew that the object she clutched was the talisman Ines had given her. The twine had become tangled around her arm, cutting off the blood flow so that her hand had gone to sleep.

The sound came again, louder this time, a knocking that seemed to come from outside. Dropping the charm to the floor, she crawled out of bed and grabbed her dressing gown as she padded into the sitting room. It came again—bang, bang, bang.

Through the window beside the door, she saw Ines standing in the darkness, gazing furtively around as if afraid of discovery. Half-alarmed, half-irritated, Caroline opened the door.

"What is it Ines?"

"Oh, Senhora," Ines said breathlessly. The urgency in her manner and the gravity of her expression stilled Caroline's heart. "Come with me, please. Emergency."

"Jason? Is it Jason?"

"Hurry, Senhora," Ines urged. "It is life or death matter."