Saving Marina. Lauri Robinson

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СКАЧАТЬ wasn’t cold or raining. However, the panic clawing at her insides remained, and she rushed forward, barely slowing her speed to maneuver the steep steps.

      Uncle William stood near the bottom step. “Are you all right, child?” he asked softly.

      “He must leave until Gracie is well enough to travel,” she whispered while hurrying off the steps.

      Marina didn’t stop until she was in the kitchen. Standing there, trembling and clutching the edge of the table with both hands, she silently recited the Lord’s Prayer.

      Asking for salvation from the very God who’d forsaken her had become the only thing that took away the pain.

      In case God’s grace didn’t come soon enough, Marina silently told herself, Richard Tarr is not an Indian. He is Gracie’s father, and she needs him. Needs him as strongly as I needed Papa when small and scared.

      The solid wood, the sunshine filling the room, the smell of the chicken soup she’d set to simmer and repeating the statement several times gradually eased her torment. As things settled deep within her, for her fears never truly completely disappeared, she drew in a breath and then another.

      When her body stopped trembling, she released her hold on the table. Although she’d never forget the savages who’d attacked her home, the scriptures told her to forgive. Forgiving something so heinous was rather impossible, but she’d discovered the Indians weren’t to blame as much as the evilness that had possessed them. The same evilness that now had the inhabitants of Salem Village massacring one another as unjustly as the Indians had her family. Which was why she was here, witnessing people betraying one another, sentencing neighbors to death, just as it was written in the Bible.

      If she’d been given mystical powers when the hand of God had touched her, she’d have already stopped it. But no one had that kind of power. Not even witches. Yet no one but her seemed to understand that. Nor did they understand that the evil upon them wasn’t witches. It was a false prophet. A wolf in sheep’s clothing.

      Being a chosen one was far from a blessing, but she’d never shied away from work and wouldn’t this time, either. Her father had told her she must save others, and she would. After finding Gracie, she no longer questioned why she’d been sent back to earth, why she’d been turned into a witch, and understood there was far more to do than just save the child. Despite what the reverend thought, the bargain she’d made with him included her. Only her. Not Gracie. He’d granted her the time she needed to make Gracie well, but she knew he’d done that instead of imprisoning her because he was afraid. Afraid of her and the powers he believed she possessed. She wished she did have mystical powers, but even without them, she would make sure Gracie was far from Salem when she turned herself over to the council as she’d promised.

      With her spirit once again intact, Marina lifted a wooden spoon off the table and carried it to the large hearth, where she stirred the soup. Every two hours since bringing the child home, she’d fed Gracie tiny spoonfuls of broth. She’d feared the girl’s little stomach had been empty for so long it had forgotten its purpose, but each day Gracie ate a bit more than the previous and that gave Marina hope.

      She turned away from the hearth. She should have suspected Richard Tarr would have black hair. Gracie must have inherited it from somewhere. It hadn’t been her mother. Sarah’s hair, from what Marina could remember, had been red. She’d seen the woman only a couple of times in the market square and truly only noticed her because of the child at her side. Gracie had been healthy then, with plump cheeks and chubby fingers, and, despite all her painful memories, Marina had somewhat fallen in love with the adorable little girl. Gracie’s big brown eyes, wide with wonder, reminded her so much of Gunther.

      To recall that it had been only seven months ago when Gracie had been healthy, a happy child toddling behind her mother at the market square, seemed a bit unreal. So much had happened since then.

      Uncle William apologized regularly for how unfriendly the village had become, but Marina had seen that before. How quickly people changed. How hatred arose. Yet it hadn’t been until she came face-to-face with the reverend that she saw the root of the calamities overtaking the community.

      “Marina?”

      She set the spoon back on the table and slowly made her way down the hall to the front room. With each step, she reminded herself there was no need to fear Richard Tarr. His long black hair, skin browned from the sun and chiseled features just made him look like an Indian. And his lack of facial hair. All men other than Indians had beards and mustaches.

      Uncle William didn’t approve of what she’d done in order to save Gracie, but he did agree with saving the child. He claimed Captain Tarr was a fair man and would take responsibility for his child. Marina sincerely hoped so, for she questioned why Captain Tarr hadn’t taken responsibility of his daughter before now. Uncle William suggested he had, from the sea. That it was no different for a sea captain to go to sea than for a farmer to go to his field. Father or not. Husband or not.

      “There you are, child,” Uncle William said from where he and Richard sat beside the window. “Captain Tarr...” With a nod her uncle corrected himself. “Richard, as he’s asked to be addressed, has several questions. Could you join us? I’m not able to answer those about Gracie’s health.”

      She’d gladly voice her opinion that the captain could return in a few days. Grace would be able to travel then, could get away without the reverend or anyone else knowing. Uncle William, too.

      Appreciative that her uncle’s home was not like most others, where women were expected to remain silent, never subjecting others to their opinions, Marina crossed the room. Her own home, that of her parents, had been full of bountiful conversations that included everyone. And laughter. Oh, how her brothers had laughed. Of all the things she missed, that might be the one she missed the most. Laughter. It was good for a person’s soul. Made life easier, lighter, even in the darkest of times.

      Just as she was about to sit upon the squat stool Uncle William put his good leg upon while resting, the captain stood.

      “Allow me,” he said.

      Hesitant, Marina remained standing, eyeing him cautiously. He was very tall and muscular, and his stride was distinct, purposeful and sent a shiver up her spine. Confused as to what his purpose was at this moment, she watched him walk to the desk. There, he picked up the chair and turned, carrying it back to where she stood.

      “Thank you, Captain,” Uncle William said.

      Marina chose to remain quiet and sat down as Captain Tarr returned to his chair. She had to wonder, given the act he’d just performed, if he was like her uncle or more like the other men in the community. Very few in the village would permit Uncle William to request that she or any other woman participate in a conversation. That had been hard for her to accept when she’d first arrived, and questioning it had been enough to make her an outsider long before her true identity had been revealed.

      “You’ll find our home a bit unorthodox compared to others in the area,” Uncle William stated as the other man sat back down. “Marina and I converse regularly. I like it that way and value what she has to say. Perhaps because I was always surrounded by mates. After the Golden Eagle ran ashore on a reef near the Bahamas, I found myself too old to repair her and traded her for this place. Of course, I kept my cargo,” he added with his gravelly laugh. “Wiggins Adams is who I got this place from.” He lifted a gray brow. “You heard of him?”

      “Yes, I have,” Captain Tarr answered. “Captain Adams and I have crossed paths several times.”

      “He СКАЧАТЬ