From This Day Forward

chapter Eight



"What's wrong with it?" Jason called over the unusually loud clamor of the boat's engine. He caught the end of a rope and secured it to the short post set in the pier.

"Don't know yet!" the short, burly man in the boat shouted back.

Jason turned as if he sensed her presence behind him, frowning at what she was certain must be a bewildered expression. His gaze dropped to her bandaged feet, and Caroline tugged at her skirt in an attempt to cover them.

"What's the matter with your feet?" Jason shouted to be heard over the racket made by the boat's motor. The captain cut the engine off in the middle of Jason's question, and the word feet reverberated up and down the jungle like an explosion.

Caroline blushed as the man in the boat gazed curiously at her half-hidden feet. Opening her parasol with as much dignity as she could summon, she tilted her chin defiantly. "You needn't concern yourself. They are sore. Ines bandaged them."

Jason scowled. "That's what you get for running around barefoot like a damned aborigine."

Ignoring his caustic comment, Caroline said, "My bags are packed and ready in my room."

"Well, you might as well go back inside," Jason told her bitterly. "There's a problem with the motor."

"How long will it take to repair?" she asked, silently cursing the hopefulness in her breast. She was a fool. How could she want to stay when he didn't want her here?

The man in the boat leaped onto the pier with more agility than she thought him capable of. It was he who answered her question, doffing his tattered brown hat in a gesture of respect. "Don't know yet, ma'am."

"I'll let you know," Jason assured her. "Go back to the house and get out of this sun."

Caroline bristled at his high-handed manner. But the relief that flowed through her outweighed her indignation. Turning back toward the house, all she could think of was that she had been given another reprieve. It might be a short one, she warned her soaring heart, and it would come to an end when the captain repaired the boat, but at least she wasn't leaving just yet.

Caroline slipped through the door into the small shack, careful not to wake the sick boy should he be sleeping. She'd been coming here for three nights now, and each time his condition had improved. He should be dead; he should have died before she even saw him the first time. The fact that he was not only clinging to life but actually improving could only be attributed to a very strong will to survive.

Caroline waited for Ines to follow her in, then closed the door behind them. Turning to face the interior of the room, she gasped aloud at what met her gaze. The boy sat up in bed, staring at her with a broad smile. His mother sat on the bed beside him, her eyes brimming with tears.

Immediately, the mother began babbling happily in Portuguese. She stood to make room for Caroline, who sat on the bed and took the boy's face in both of her hands.

"She say thank you, Senhora. You save her son's life and she say you have great magic."

"No," Caroline said sharply. "No magic. Tell her I accept her thanks, but I did no magic. His body healed itself, with God's help."

His skin felt cool to the touch, and his breathing sounded almost completely normal. "Amazing!" she murmured, unable to believe her own eyes and hands.

Examining him, Caroline found that his lungs had cleared almost entirely and his fever was gone, as were the red pustules. She then turned to examining the mother, who had developed a full-blown case of measles.

Caroline reached into her medical bag and withdrew a bottle of quinine. She found a chipped china cup stacked in a corner of the room and poured about an ounce into it.

"Tell her to do exactly as I say," she said to Ines. "She and her son can go home, but she must rest until the rash goes away. This is quinine." She spoke to Ines as she handed the cup to the woman, and Ines translated.

"Mix a pinch," she demonstrated, taking a small amount of the powder between her thumb and index finger, "with this much water. Take it twice a day until the rash clears. Ines, the rest of her people have got to get help."

Ines stopped translating and gazed guiltily at Caroline.

"Why won't you let me help them?" Caroline asked.

"Senhora, what can you do? You will leave in the morning."

Pain clutched at Caroline's chest. She'd almost forgotten. The problem with the mail boat had been repaired and the captain planned to leave at first light. "You're right," she said, her shoulders slumping in abject defeat. "Let's go back to the house. You can bring them some food to take back with them."

"Sim, Senhora," Ines agreed, and they turned to go.

When they reached the house, they saw Jason at the edge of the courtyard, surrounded by a stand of fan palms, their fronds rustling in a gentle, cooling breeze. His bewildered, forlorn expression tugged at Caroline's heart. He reminded her of a lost little boy, standing there beneath a distant moon, gazing at the house he'd built with his own hands as if he'd never seen it before.

"What will we do?" Ines whispered.

"You go around the house to the kitchen," Caroline said, pressing her medical bag into Ines's hands. "I'll distract him."

Ines gazed at her dubiously, as if she didn't particularly like that plan, but she did as she was told, and Caroline studied Jason again.

He seemed so vulnerable, standing there in the moonlight, so fragile, despite his physical size and strength. She remembered his powerful grace, his masculine beauty as he'd showered at the beneficio. That powerful body housed a brittle soul. How she longed to reach that soul, to mend his bruised heart.

He wouldn't allow himself to suffer, to grieve the losses he'd experienced in his lifetime. Yet he suffered for his people. He'd suffered for Ernesto's parents and for Vincente who had been injured because of his own carelessness. What a terrible weight of responsibility he bore!

What was he thinking? If she could understand that one mystery, perhaps she could find a place in his heart and his life. But she couldn't read his eyes in the darkness, and she knew that if she approached him now, his melancholy would instantly give way to anger.

Ines had been right about one thing—Jason Sinclair was the most private, withdrawn man she had ever encountered. The more she tried to break through his reserve, the more he withdrew. She could hardly blame him, after the way he'd described his early life. A child needed emotional nourishment in order to grow, and Jason's emotional growth had been stifled, his spirit all but extinguished by a life of poverty and cruelty. The only way he'd been able to survive was by burying his feelings so deeply that no one, least of all his brutal father, could dig them out.

"Who's there?"

His voice startled her so that her heart leaped into her throat. She'd tried to be still and quiet, but something had alerted him to her presence. It was as if he possessed some special affinity for the jungle, a kinship that had allowed him to distinguish her minute noise from the usual nighttime sounds.

"Show yourself," he demanded, the threat in his voice undeniable.

Caroline stepped forward into the dim moonlight, and the tension in Jason's body evaporated before her eyes like steam from the jungle after a heavy rain.

"Damn it, woman," he growled, his voice thick with a violence that hadn't yet faded. "What do you mean sneaking up on a man like that?"

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"What are you doing out and about this time of night anyway?" he asked, his gaze sweeping her from head to foot. "Haven't you been to bed at all?"

"I couldn't sleep," she explained, gaining control of her voice and her emotions. "I saw you standing there . What were you looking at?"

Jason snorted, running a hand through his hair as he returned his attention to the house before them. "My home," he said bitterly, "at least what used to be my home."

Caroline followed his gaze to the stone-and-mortar structure before them. "It's the same as it always was."

"No, it's not the same at all."

Caroline turned to find him staring at her. The unmasked pain in his eyes tightened her throat. She clasped her hands in front of her before she gave in to the impulse to reach out to him. His soul ached as much as hers did. If only she could force him to admit that he was lonely here, that he needed her.

"Well," she said, trying to sound light when her heart was being torn apart, "I've always thought it seemed more like a house than a home, actually more a building than a house."

A calm tension pulsed through the encroaching jungle. Even the night sounds seemed subdued tonight, save the insects that chirped incessantly high in the giant trees. In the distance an owl hooted a solitary song.

"Where have you been?" Jason asked, genuine curiosity and concern reflected in his ice blue eyes.

"Walking," she said, turning back toward the house.

It was a long time before he spoke, and Caroline might have thought he'd walked away. But she felt his presence as surely as the soft night air on her cheek. His strong, rhythmic breathing reached out to her, as did his scent, a unique blend of the rich, fertile soil of Brazil and a musky maleness that clung to him like moss on the cypress trees back home.

"Walking?" he asked finally, his voice coarse as gravel. "In the jungle in the middle of the night? No wonder your feet are sore."

Caroline shrugged, trying to appear casual. "I didn't go far, just to the edge of the courtyard."

He shook his head in disbelief. "You are an enigma, Caroline."

"Me?" she asked, suddenly, inexplicably close to tears. If only he truly cared about her, at least then they would have a starting point. "No, I'm the most straightforward, uncomplicated person I know. You, on the other hand—"

"What about me?"

She felt him tense across the distance that separated them. "You're the enigma. I'd daresay you know volumes more about me than I do about you."

"What do you want to know?" he asked defensive as always.

Caroline took a deep breath. What did she have to lose, after all? Why not go out fighting? "Why is it so important to you that your wife be untouched? I've never been promiscuous."

"I never accused you of anything," he insisted, refusing to look at her.

"Except being married before, as if that were a crime or a sin." Caroline stared fixedly at him, willing him to turn and face her. Before she boarded the boat that would take her away from him forever, she was determined to confront him. Maybe forthright honesty would move him, and if not, she was leaving anyway.

"You don't understand," he said, looking into her eyes as if unable to resist the force of her gaze upon him.

"No, I don't," she agreed, a terrible sadness settling on her heart. She wanted to tell him that she knew it was only an excuse to send her away. But he might walk away, and she didn't think she could bear that. Maybe if she could make him admit something, anything!

"It has nothing to do with you."

Frustration mingled with sadness inside her. He would not give way, even to the end. "It has everything to do with me. It's the reason I'm leaving in the morning."

Jason released a heavy sigh. "Caroline, this is for the best. You'll see that in a few months. You're just upset now because you came all this way only to turn around and go back. It's not—it's not you. It's about expectations."

"Why don't you try unbending a little, Jason?" she suggested, growing angry despite her determination not to do so. She longed to touch him, to relieve the rigid tension in his body. "Haven't you ever been pleasantly surprised?"

"No, I haven't," he said seriously. "Now it's my turn to ask the questions. Why did you come here?"

"I knew you needed me," she replied simply. He still needed her. Why couldn't he admit it?

Jason stiffened. "I don't need anyone."

"Everyone needs someone. There's no shame in that."

Jason turned to go.

"No, please don't go. We can talk about whatever you want," she cried out, desperate for him to stay. If he walked away now, she knew she would never see him again, and she felt as if her heart would break at the thought. Tomorrow would come soon enough.

"What do you want from me?" he asked tiredly. "What did you hope to find here?"

"I don't know. Warmth, kindness, companionship." She paused, afraid of running him off again but equally afraid of not saying what was on her mind and regretting it for the rest of her life. "Whatever is eating you up inside—maybe it would help if you talked."

"There's nothing eating me up," he insisted tautly.

"Then talk to me, Jason. I'll be leaving in the morning. What can it matter? Tell me what you're running away from." She could feel him withdrawing, fortifying the defenses that kept them apart. "When will you learn that running away doesn't solve anything? You've isolated yourself in this jungle to escape your past, to forget who you are. It won't work, don't you see? The things that happened to you, they... they..

Her voice trailed off and she gazed away guiltily, horrified that she had almost said too much.

"What could you possibly know about anything?" he asked suspiciously. "You act as if you have some mysterious insight into my character. I've asked you before and I'll ask once again. Just what did Derek tell you about me?"

Caroline backed away from the furious accusation in his eyes. "Nothing, not really. But one tends to make certain assumptions about a man who hides away in the jungle."

"Well, perhaps you shouldn't assume," he informed her, the fury in his gaze lessening by degrees until it was gone altogether, replaced by a wary distrust. "Come, I'll walk you to your room."

Caroline approached him and he placed a hand on her elbow, steering her toward the spiral staircase she'd mounted so many times. This might be the last time she ever saw him, the last time he ever walked her to her room or touched her.

I've failed you, Jason, she thought. You believe you failed Peggy, and I've failed you. If only I had more time.

He followed her up the stairs to the landing above. She walked slowly, prolonging the inevitable moment when he would leave her outside her room.

"I have to go," he said huskily.

"Why? Where?" she asked, almost desperately. "I don't even know where you sleep at night."

"I don't usually," he admitted, though she could tell by the regret in his eyes that he hadn't meant to.

"Why not?" she asked eagerly, hoping for some further revelation, hoping to keep him near for a few more minutes, long enough to think of something, anything that might make him open up to her. "Tell me. Tell me what keeps you awake at night."

"It won't work, Caroline," he whispered, remorse evident in his tone. "We won't work. You're going back to New Orleans in the morning."

"But I'm here now," she reasoned, pressing her body against his without volition, wrapping her arms around his muscled back. She offered her lips to him, her heart, her soul, her body.

"Don't," he ground out. His rasping breath undermined his struggle to appear unmoved.

And as he denied her with his words, his body responded to her with a will of its own. She recognized the turmoil in his eyes as his arms tightened around her and he drew her toward him, his lips covering hers gently at first, then harder, deepening the kiss with a fierceness that set her blood afire. A feral groan echoed inside his chest, vibrating through her body. Her lips parted beneath his, opening to his fervor. She felt the hard ridges of muscle as her hands played upon his broad back.

If I can make him desire me, maybe I can make him love me.

Then suddenly his hands grasped her arms and pulled them from around him, putting her away from him. His eyes burned with passion in the pale moonlight. Tearing his gaze from her with an effort, he moved away, stopping at the top of the stairs and looking back at her.

"Good-bye, Caroline," he said simply before continuing his descent.

#####

Caroline stood on the balcony, gasping for breath, gazing after Jason until he disappeared from view, feeling all the humiliation of opening herself to him and having him walk away from her without a backward glance. The taste of his lips still lingered on her mouth, the feel of his almost brutal kiss still raw on her lips.

Lifting her eyes heavenward, she whispered, "I don't want to leave. Please, make him love me by tomorrow morning."

Caroline smiled ironically. Nothing was too hard for God, she well knew, but it would take a true miracle to change Jason Sinclair's heart overnight, a miracle the likes of which mankind hadn't seen since the parting of the Red Sea.

Releasing a deep sigh, she was about to turn and go into her room when movement at the edge of the jungle caught her eye.

Ines—she was slipping away to the small shack to take the mother and her child home, wherever that was. Caroline's intention had been to follow them and find out where they'd come from so that she could try and stop this disease before it became an epidemic. The early arrival of the mail boat had changed all that.

I could still go, she thought. She could follow Ines and learn what she wanted to know. She turned, gazing toward the river and the unseen boat that waited to take her from all that she had grown to love.

Of course, if she followed Ines, she might not get back before the mail boat left in the morning. The thought stilled her, and she considered the possibility. Yes, that was one way to avoid going—be somewhere else when the boat left.

Jason would be furious.

Her thoughts reeled back to the time she told Melanie how sorry she was for involving her in the scheme that had resulted in her marriage to Jason, and she remembered being concerned that Derek would be angry. But Melanie had replied, "He'll get over it."

So strong was Melanie's faith in Derek's love that she was willing to risk his fury because she knew that he would forgive her.

How Caroline longed for that kind of love.

She glanced at the place where Ines had disappeared into the jungle. If she didn't hurry, her decision would be made for her. She wouldn't be able to follow Ines.

He'll never forgive you, a voice inside her warned. But what did she have to lose? He was already sending her back. And if he truly wouldn't forgive her, there would be other mail boats.

Caroline drew her shawl closer around her against the surprisingly chill night air. With one last glance at the heavens, she descended the stairs and hurried across the courtyard and into the jungle.