Chapter 13

13

JULY 9, 1727 NASSAU, BAHAMAS

Nothing else mattered the next day as I walked along Bay Street in Nassau with Marcus and Hawk. Captain Zale had stayed on the Ocean Curse , since his face would be unwelcome in the old pirate capital. Marcus and Hawk were taking a risk to be seen, but they weren't as notorious as their captain.

Thatch-roofed homes and businesses were interspersed among the palm trees and sand. On the top of the hill, Fort Nassau dominated the town with views of the surrounding harbors. The smells of roasting meat, smoldering fires, and animal pens assailed my nose. The only reprieve came from the breeze, which rustled the palm leaves above my head and carried the scents away for a moment or two.

I searched the faces of everyone we passed, looking for a sign of familiarity. Would I even recognize my mother if I saw her? No one had ever told me what she looked like. I'd assumed I resembled her in some way, but I couldn't be sure.

"Remind me of her name," Marcus said, for my ears alone.

"Anne Reed."

Tension still reverberated between us, though he had made no attempt to speak of the captured frigate after the night of the storm. We'd returned to our normal routines, but things were strained between us. I wanted him to tell me that what he did was wrong and he wouldn't do it again, but just like I had to deal with the reality of my brother's choices—I had to deal with the reality of Marcus's. He was a pirate. He belonged in this place of coarse men and women, drinking, carousing, and conducting business that made my cheeks fill with heat. Was this the kind of life Marcus wanted? He said he regretted leaving his mother fifteen years ago, so why didn't he change his life now?

"Keep to yourself," Marcus said to me as he nodded at Hawk to start inquiring about selling the plunder. "I'll see if I can find someone who knows your mother."

Hawk walked in one direction and Marcus in the other, though I kept my eye on Marcus. I didn't want to lose him in the crowd. I stayed on the sandy street, trying not to fidget as I waited. People approached, trying to sell their wares to me. I inspected some of the fine jewelry and cloth, but kept shaking my head no. The money I had been earning on the Ocean Curse was tucked safely under my mattress, but even if I had brought it with me, I wouldn't be tempted to purchase anything. I had nowhere to wear fine jewelry or pretty clothing.

Besides, all I could think about was finding my mother.

The morning wore on, and my stomach began to growl as I followed Marcus and Hawk's progress along Bay Street. Each time Marcus left a business, I looked to him with anticipation, but a quick shake of his head would fill me with disappointment.

Perhaps my mother wasn't here after all.

At midday, Marcus met me on the street, his countenance heavy. "I'm sorry, lass. No one has heard of Anne Reed."

"How is that possible?" I asked. "She said she lived here."

"Mayhap she used a different name."

I hadn't thought of that possibility.

"Let's get something to eat, and we'll keep trying." Marcus put his hand at the small of my back.

I inhaled at his gentle touch. It was filled with both understanding and protectiveness, communicating his concern for me.

He led me to an open-air restaurant under a thatch roof. It sat on a point facing the harbor and Hog Island. Dozens of ships had been abandoned on the beach, left to rot in the sun. Others were at anchor in the harbor, waiting for their crews to set sail again.

"Where is Hawk?" I asked.

"He is visiting an old ... friend." Marcus said the word friend in such a way that I suspected Hawk was at a brothel. Thoughts of Thomas at Nina Clifford's brothel made a shiver run up my spine, but I pushed the memory away. Today I would think about my mother.

We sat across from each other at the end of a long, rough-hewn table. There were others dining at the establishment, but they were far enough away, I felt some semblance of privacy.

The wind blew off the harbor, offering a cool breeze to temper the heat. It ruffled Marcus's dark hair, while the sun brightened his deep brown eyes. His commanding presence had brought attention throughout the day, and even now as we sat in the restaurant, several of the young women were watching him, trying to draw his attention. I didn't want to contemplate whether or not he would have joined Hawk at the brothel if I wasn't with him, but the thought wouldn't leave.

A flicker of amusement warmed his gaze. "The answer is nay."

My cheeks burned at his perception. "How do you know what I was thinking?"

"Your eyes give away everything." He clasped his hands on the table. "I know the moment I look at you whether you are suspicious of me, angry with me—" He paused, and I knew he was thinking about the night he'd plundered the frigate. "Or pleased with me, though you haven't looked happy with me in a long time."

I thought about the many times he had pleased me, and I couldn't help but smile.

He returned the smile and shook his head. "'Tis that look that goes right to my heart. I would do anything to make you happy."

A middle-aged woman approached with two tankards of ale and two plates of stew, interrupting our conversation. Wrinkles threaded across her face, and streaks of gray lined her dark hair. Her skin was tanned from the sun, and her clothes were threadbare. The only thing truly remarkable about her were her light blue eyes that almost looked translucent.

She set the food down and said, "'Aven't seen the likes of you before. Where do you hail from?"

Marcus glanced at her, but didn't seem eager for her to stay. "Scotland."

"And what 'bout you?" she asked me.

I wasn't sure what Marcus would want me to say, so I simply said, "South Carolina."

She lowered her hands to her hips. "You look familiar."

My instinct was to cower, to hide my identity—but what if I looked familiar because I looked like my mother?

"Mayhap you knew my mother," I said tentatively, aware of the young women who were paying attention to our end of the table.

"Aye? And who might that be?"

"Anne Reed."

The woman slowly dropped her hands to her side. Her surprise turned to concern, and then she bent forward and said quietly, "Did you say Anne Reed?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"She was your mother?"

My pulse escalated, and I sat up straighter. "Did you know her?"

"Aye." She stared at me hard. "But most who knew her are long gone—most but me."

This woman knew my mother! I leaned forward. "Is she here?"

She set her hand on my shoulder. "Anne Reed died fourteen years ago, come October."

I shook my head, not willing to accept what she was saying. "She can't be dead."

"I'm afraid she is."

Marcus was silent as he sat across from me, disappointment in the slope of his shoulders.

My chest became heavy with despair. I'd come so far, risking my life, only to discover that my mother was dead. How was I going to find the answers I needed? How would I know why we carried this burden? Or how I could get rid of it?

"What is your name?" Marcus asked the woman.

"Mary Jones," she said. "I—I knew Anne well."

"Mayhap you'd like to speak to Mary alone," Marcus said to me. "I'm sure you have questions for her."

"Come with me, love," Mary said.

Without another word, I stood from the table and followed Mary out of the building, toward the beach. The sun was blinding as it reflected off the white sand.

"I 'ave questions of me own," she said as soon as we stopped near the bones of a forgotten ship. Her gaze penetrated mine. "Anne had a daughter—not a son."

Nodding, I said, "My name is Caroline Reed. I dressed as a boy to find passage to Nassau."

"You've done a convincing job, but I can see you beneath the costume. You look like your mum."

"Do I?" I searched her face, seeking answers. Something to hold, to take with me. "I'm desperate to know all I can about her. My grandfather told me very little."

Mary sighed. "I'm not proud of me past, but my friendship with Anne was something I can hold me head up about. Never did I 'ave a more loyal friend than her."

"How did you meet? How long did you know her? Did she tell you anything about me or my father? Was she—"

"Hold on, love," she said as she held up a hand and then motioned to a large piece of driftwood that looked like it had once belonged to a ship. "Let's 'ave a seat. I think your man will wait."

"He's not my man."

"No?" She smiled. "Now that I know you're a woman, it makes sense why he looks at you the way he does. He cares for you, love."

My heart sped at her words, and I glanced back at the restaurant where I'd left him. He had stood and was now leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching from a distance. His attentive care for me had brought me to this woman who had known my mother, and he was still vigilant to ensure my safety.

Perhaps he did care for me, more than I realized. It was a revelation I had to push to the back of my mind as I sat on the driftwood and faced Mary. I couldn't contemplate Marcus's feelings for me when I needed to focus on learning about my mother. "What can you tell me about Anne Reed?"

Mary gazed at the ocean, squinting, as if trying to see into the past. "She was young, much younger than me, but she had an old soul. She came to Nassau with her husband in '06, I believe. He was a quiet seaman of no consequence—and no match for Anne's fiery ways. I don't like to speak ill o' the dead, but I think he was your mum's passage out of South Carolina. As soon as she arrived, mayhap the first day, she met and fell in love with a young, reckless pirate of the worst sort named Sam Delaney. He was her match in every way. They were both passionate and stubborn. But he did right by her and purchased a divorce from her husband, then he married her at sea.

"That's when I met her. I was living much like you, dressed as a man, working as a pirate. There were several women out there living like us, but they hid it well. Still do. Your mum saw through my disguise, though, and we became friends, fighting alongside the men. Plundering ships was our business." Her pride was evident as she spoke those words. "Back in the day, there was respect for pirates. The colonists saw us attacking their oppressors and taking back what was ours. Being a privateer was legal—if you had permission from the king. You could plunder an enemy's ship and take what you wanted. But if you didn't have permission, you were an outlaw. I ask you, what is the difference? Approval from the king? That makes it right or wrong?"

I listened quietly, soaking up all the information. The lives of the pirates weren't too unlike those of the gangsters in 1927. When alcohol was legal, there had been problems with the law, but nothing like the trouble that had started once the government decided alcohol was illegal. Organized crime had skyrocketed and then become so overwhelming, it was paralyzing America. Just as pirating had begun to paralyze Great Britain when the king deemed privateering—the capture of enemy ships—illegal.

I had expected this kind of story about my mother, but it still hurt to know she had left her first husband to take up with a pirate. Yet...

"Which man was my father?" I asked, almost breathless.

"Anne was pregnant when I met her," she explained. "Thirteen was young, but I knew other girls her age facing the same circumstances. She was desperate to keep it a secret. She told me she had to get away, to take you far from Sam. I never knew if that was because you were conceived from her first marriage, and she didn't want Sam to know—or if you were Sam's child, and she didn't want Sam to know."

"You never learned?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, love. I don't even know if your mum knew who your father was."

"What about when she came back?" I asked. "Was Sam angry she left?"

"Angry doesn't begin to describe his mood. He recklessly stormed the Caribbean for months while she was gone, but when she returned, it was as if she'd never left. And they picked up where they'd left off. For five years, they moved about the Caribbean, the American colonies, and even crossed the Atlantic to Africa now and again. I never saw two people so much in love, but they seemed to fuel each other's wildness. Eventually, Sam met his fate at the end of a noose, and your mum was heartbroken. We returned to Nassau, but she was never the same."

"How did she die?"

Mary's blue eyes were sad as she said, "She went to sleep one night and never woke up."

I frowned. "What do you mean? What killed her?"

"I don't know, love. Some think she died of a broken heart." Mary toyed with a loose thread on her skirt. "It was her twenty-first birthday. She died young, but she lived more life than some who die at a hundred."

"She died on her twenty-first birthday? How awful." My twenty-first birthday was quickly approaching on September 2. It was far too young to die.

Neither one of us spoke for a few moments, but there was still one pressing question. A question I wasn't sure Mary could answer, but I had to ask.

"Did she—" I paused. How would I ask this question without sounding insane? "Did she ever talk about her strange life?"

Mary frowned, but she searched my face. "What strange life?"

I briefly closed my eyes, not knowing how to even voice this question without stating it outright. But this was my last chance—the last link I had to possibly find the answers. Who cared what Mary thought of me?

"Did she ever mention anything about a second life?" I whispered, though no one was close enough to hear. "Not here, but in a different time and place?"

The silence grew between us, until Mary said, "You mean, when she went to sleep here and woke up somewhere else?"

I grabbed Mary's hand and nodded. "Yes. Did she ever speak of it to you?"

"How did you know?" she asked me in a stunned hush.

I swallowed my trepidation and said, "Because I live two lives, and I found a letter she wrote saying that she did, as well."

Mary shook her head, pulling her hand back. "I hardly believe it. Sometimes I thought Anne was addlebrained, or she'd had too much to drink when she spoke of it. I was the only person she confided in, and I humored her, but she was so convincing."

"It was true," I assured her. "Can you tell me where else my mother lived? What year did she say?"

Mary frowned and took her time, as if she was thinking hard to remember. "She said she lived in Texas."

"Texas? Do you know when?"

Again, Mary frowned.

"Please tell me," I begged.

"Before she died, she said she was living in 1913, I think it was."

My eyes widened. "She lived in Texas in 1913? That's only fourteen years before my time now." I thought through the possibilities. "My mother might be alive in my other life in 1927."

Mary didn't speak, but she looked troubled, as if she couldn't quite believe what I was saying.

"Do you know her name there?"

"She said her first name was Anne there, too, but they called her Annie. Her last name was—" She paused in thought. "Barker, I think. Annie Barker."

My breath stilled as the familiar name pierced my heart. I knew the name Annie Barker. Everyone in America knew the name.

"It can't be true," I told her, shaking my head. "She must have had a different name."

"That was the name she told me," Mary said with more confidence. "She was called Annie Barker in Texas in 1913. I haven't thought about it in years, but it's not something a person forgets."

I stood, dread filling me with the knowledge of who my mother might be in 1927.

Annie Barker was a wanted bank robber, bootlegger, and kidnapper.

She couldn't be my mother.

Marcus didn't press me for answers when I returned to him, but thanked Mary for the meal, paid for our food, and then gently placed his hand on the small of my back again to lead me out of the stifling restaurant.

I leaned into his strength, thankful for this one person who stood by my side. Mary's words about Marcus returned, and I studied his face to search for the answer.

As he looked back at me, unguarded, I saw the truth. Marcus Zale cared deeply for me.

My heart pounded with awareness as his hand slipped around my waist and tightened.

"I'm sorry about your mother, lass. I wish things were different for you."

I nodded, wishing they were, too.

He sighed. "We need to find Hawk and return to the Ocean Curse . We've done all we can here."

I didn't want to return to the pirate ship or face life in 1927 tomorrow. I wanted to stay with Marcus, to feel his arms around me, to forget about everything that was hindering me from what I wanted.

But I had no choice. Instead, I blindly followed him through the market until we saw Hawk. Marcus removed his hand from my waist before Hawk could see, and I missed his touch instantly.

The large man told us he had located a buyer for the goods on the Ocean Curse , so after Marcus led us back to the ship, he ordered some of his men to take the goods to the buyer and make the transaction.

I went to Marcus's cabin, feeling truly sick to my stomach about my mother. I sat on my cot for what felt like hours, hugging my knees to my chest and trying to make sense of what Mary had told me. The hidden harbor we occupied was calm and tranquil, contrary to my tumultuous mind and heart.

As the sun fell behind the horizon and the stars appeared in the sky, my thoughts began to darken, as well.

My mother had been a pirate in this life and possibly a gangster in her other life. In all my imaginings, I hadn't thought we occupied both lives together—or that my mother could be a villain in both times. Surely, she'd be just as surprised as me to learn the truth. I prayed, even though God felt so far away. I hoped there was more than one Annie Barker in Texas, and that my mother wasn't the notorious criminal reigning terror across the Midwest.

If she was the Annie Barker I feared, then both her lives would be filled with crime—which led me to wonder if she had a choice. Was she predestined for evil? Was that part of the curse that my grandmother had placed on her in 1692?

The door to Marcus's cabin opened, and he appeared. His countenance was heavy as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

Relief filled my heart, knowing I wasn't alone anymore.

Despite my anger at him earlier in the week, I rose from my cot as he opened his arms to me, and I entered his embrace.

He wrapped one arm around my waist as his other came up, and he cradled the back of my head in his hand.

I pressed my cheek to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. It beat fast and strong, matching the tempo of my own. This was the first time he'd embraced me, but it felt as if I belonged here, as if my heart and body had finally found a home.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he whispered.

I had no one to share this burden with, and it was too much for me to bear alone. He might never believe me, but I had to tell someone. I couldn't say anything to Ruth or my brothers, and my parents had already chastised me. I thought about Nanny and how I'd tried to tell her, but she had rejected the truth, as well.

Marcus understood what it was like to lose a mother and to be an outcast—which is how I felt. My entire existence was lived as an outsider, and the one person I thought might understand, my mother, was probably a dangerous criminal. And because he had trusted me with his past, I could trust him with mine. I felt it, deep within. Even if he was a pirate, even if he made choices I didn't understand, Marcus was honorable and trustworthy.

And more than that, he cared about me.

"Aye," I said as I moved out of his embrace. My legs felt unsteady, so I took a seat on the cot as he pulled a Windsor chair away from the table and brought it to my bedside. He sat facing me, his elbows on his knees, and waited for me to speak.

The cabin had never felt so intimate as it did in this moment. Light from the single lantern barely reached us, and the stars outside the ship sparkled with brilliance.

"I fear you won't believe what I have to say," I told him, searching his face.

"You've given me no reason to doubt you before, lass."

Perhaps it was the fear of never finding my mother, or the pain in knowing she was no longer here. Whatever it was, I was not worried about what Marcus would think. His concern for me prompted me to share the deepest pain with him. "My mother came to Nassau with her husband, but then she took up with another man before returning to South Carolina to leave me with Grandfather. She lived as a pirate for five years, before her second husband was hanged. Shortly after, she died in her sleep on her twenty-first birthday." It was still hard to believe, and my voice choked with emotion.

Marcus leaned forward and took my hand into his. "I'm sorry, Caroline."

His hand was so much bigger than mine, so coarse from pulling ropes, moving cargo, and brandishing his sword. Yet it was achingly tender and soothing. He'd not only become my protector, but also my confidant and my source of strength. Other men in his position might have taken advantage of me, but he had only shown me kindness. Had God provided a protector in my foolish, headstrong pursuit? I had not thought to thank God, but I did now.

Perhaps He did hear my prayers, even ones I had been afraid to whisper.

"What will you do?" he asked as he ran his thumb against my skin, turning it to fire, making it hard to concentrate.

I swallowed and said, "There is more to the story."

"There usually is," he said with an affectionate smile.

"This is the part I'm not sure you'll believe." I gently pulled my hand away, needing to focus as I told him the rest. I'd only ever tried to tell Nanny and Mother the truth. Would Marcus look at me the way they had? I wasn't sure I could bear it. But I needed to tell someone.

If Anne hadn't been brave—or foolish—enough to tell Mary, I would never know that she might be alive in 1927.

Marcus sat back and waited.

I had to stand to tell him this part, to give myself space. I paced to the other side of the cabin and decided to dive in without preamble. "I have two lives. This one and another in 1927. When I go to sleep here, my consciousness travels to my other body in 1927. There, my name is Caroline Baldwin. I'm the same age, I look the same, and I have all the same memories and thoughts. When I go to sleep there, I wake up back here, and no time has passed while I'm away."

A slight frown tilted his eyebrows, but he didn't speak.

"My mother, Anne Reed, had the same ability. She told me in her letter, and then Mary confirmed it for me today. Anne lived here until she was twenty-one, but she was also alive in Texas in 1913 at the time." I felt like I was rambling, but I needed to get it all out. "I believe that Anne's mother, my grandmother, was killed as a witch in Salem in 1692. And I'm afraid she placed a curse on us. It's the only thing that makes sense. I need to find Anne to know if it's true. And, if it is, how to be rid of the curse."

Silence filled the room until I felt like it would suffocate me. I slowly walked back to my cot and took a seat, facing Marcus.

"I told you it was unbelievable." My voice was quiet, but I had come this far. I would tell him the rest. "The worst part is that Mary told me my mother's name in 1913 was Annie Barker, and the only Annie Barker I've ever heard of is a notorious criminal, wanted in several states for theft, bootlegging, and kidnapping." Saying the words out loud made them feel real. Horrible.

His frown deepened, and my disappointment became so keen, it felt like a physical twist in my gut. I looked down at my hands, feeling the weight of Nanny's displeasure and Mother and Father's punishment all over again.

"Your claims seem impossible," he said as he took my hands into his again and I looked up at him. "But your eyes speak the truth. And if I've learned anything, 'tis that the eyes cannot lie."

The weight began to lift as breath escaped my mouth in a quiet exhale.

Marcus believed me. He looked into my soul, and he recognized the truth. No one, not even those I knew and loved the most in the world, had looked beyond the impossible. Something profound shifted within me, and I felt a connection to Marcus that I'd never felt with anyone.

He understood me.

"I don't know how or why, but 'tis true," I said, swallowing my emotions. "And I hate it. I want to be like everyone else and only live in one place."

"And which one would you choose?"

There was more to his simple question—it was in the way his voice dipped with the need to know my response.

I shook my head. "I don't know."

He studied me, not with disbelief but curiosity. "This is a fantastical story."

I nodded.

"What will you do?"

"I'm going to look for Annie Barker in 1927." And I knew someone who might have the connections to help me. Lewis.

But how would I tell him I needed to find Annie Barker without telling him why?

"I wish I could help you there," he said, pulling my thoughts back to the pirate ship, where Marcus was still holding my hands, his brogue deep. "What can I do for you here?"

His handsome face was so close to mine, and my traitorous heart beat a rhythm that was frightening. I wanted him, even if it wasn't wise or realistic. I wanted him to pull me into his arms again, to shelter me, love me, protect me. But to do that, he'd have to give up pirating. Because I couldn't love a man who took wealth and dignity from others.

When I didn't answer, he rubbed my hands with his thumbs and said, "Do you want to return to South Carolina? To your grandfather?"

"No." That much I knew. "If I return there, he'll force me to marry a man I do not love."

Something flickered through Marcus's eyes, and his grasp tightened.

Hope clawed to life in my heart. I wanted him to know how I felt, and wanted to believe he felt the same for me, but it scared me to be so vulnerable since there was no future with Marcus. I would be forced to watch him go the same way as Sam Delaney—on the end of a noose.

Marcus stood and walked to the other side of the room. "If you don't want to go to South Carolina, then where do you want to go? You don't belong here."

"I don't have anywhere else."

"You said your grandmother lived in Salem. Mayhap you have family there."

"I cannot go to Salem. If my grandmother was killed as a witch, I cannot imagine they'd look kindly upon my arrival."

"Witchcraft is no longer a hanging offense," he said.

"It doesn't matter. I don't know her name, only my grandfather's, and he had no family in Salem. He came from England, and then after my grandmother's death, he moved to South Carolina. I wouldn't even know how to look for her relatives, and I doubt they'd want me."

His gaze was so raw, so tender, my heart beat hard when he said, "I can't imagine anyone not wanting you."

I swallowed the rush of emotions and said, "I don't have anyone to turn to."

He continued to pace, setting his hand at the back of his neck. "I don't have anyone, either—anyone I know who might take you in." He paused near the bookcase and touched the family Bible. "Unless." He took a deep breath. "Mayhap I could find my mother if she's alive. She was the kindest soul on earth. She'd take you in."

My lips parted as he turned back to me.

"You'd look for your mother—for me?"

"I'd do anything for you, Caroline."

Tears filled my eyes, but I forced them away.

I was all alone in 1727—yet for the first time in this life, I didn't feel lonely.

Because I had Marcus.