Authors: Sandra Chastain
My Carolina
. He liked the sound of that, then cursed himself for admitting it. She was ingraining herself more deeply with every hour that passed. She was involvement and responsibility—neither of which he needed. There were too many coincidences, too many unanswered questions, and Rogan dealt in absolutes. Maybe it would help, he thought to himself, if he knew about Jacob and his ship.
We made a stop in Charleston to deliver goods and take on more. But word came that a fast new clipper ship out of Boston had docked, and we were forced to leave before Jacob could secure the cargo he sought. All because of me. All because they’ll be looking for
me, and they’ll soon find out that only one ship left Boston Harbor that night
.
The reading was slow, the writing fading sometimes to such wavy lines that he couldn’t make it out at all. By midnight he’d been able to determine that Carolina had run away from somebody, with Jacob. Poor Jacob. He’d also been a reluctant knight in shining armor. But in the beginning his demeanor had remained cold and distant, leaving Carrie alone and in fear of the man from whom she’d fled.
And they were being followed. Jacob apparently knew so, though he tried, unsuccessfully, to keep it from Carolina.
There were references to the blustery, stern actions of the captain, but no mention was made of the reason for her flight, nor the destination of the
Butterfly
.
Sean leaned back and stretched his neck. He had the uncomfortable impression that he was being watched. Certainly there was nobody around to watch him. He was simply reacting to his conscience over reading someone else’s private thoughts. With the prickling sensation still running along his spine, he began to read the diary once more, eager to learn more about the man who’d brought the
Butterfly
there to die.
He doesn’t want to leave me, but he must. For days he’s paced and stared at the river. I don’t think he sleeps, and I try to keep him from knowing that I don’t sleep either. The child’s coming is still months away, and I feel as if I will break into a thousand pieces if we go on like this
.
Yesterday he went into the forest and came back with a tiny wild peach tree that he planted behind the
house. He tries to do things to make me more comfortable, but I know he hears the call of the sea. He is at war with his soul. He will go, for he must
.
It is late and I write by candlelight. But soon he will come inside. He will make his bed on the floor in the room beyond and we’ll each pretend to rest
.
No. Not tonight. Tonight I will go to him
.
Rogan sat staring at the page, feeling the churning emotions of the writer, the longing of the captain, and the smoldering of the situation they’d been cast into.
He knew, for he was feeling the same things. Night after night he lay in his hammock when all he wanted was to be with her. But she wasn’t well, and he didn’t think she was emotionally strong enough to handle a turbulent situation that offered no future. The only difference between the past and the present was that his Carolina was not with child. Like Jacob, Rogan had demonstrated willpower he hadn’t known he possessed, but so far he’d stayed away.
“What did you do, Jacob? Did you go to her?”
“No. She came to me.”
The words were as clear as if someone had spoken them. Rogan looked around, but he was alone in the galley. A fat harvest moon had climbed to a spot above the trees in the west. Long shadows created irregular, pie-shaped wedges of light on the deck, and the rays of the moonlight piped silver along the river’s crown of ripples.
Rogan closed the diary and rewrapped it. “Damn! I’m getting squirrelly! I would have sworn that somebody spoke.” He returned the journal to the trunk and moved out on deck. He needed some rest before
he, too, started seeing butterflies and peach trees and the ghost of Jacob Rogan.
Rogan was worried not only about the changes in his life, but also about Carolina’s physical problems. That afternoon’s spell wasn’t the first time she’d had an attack of weakness. There was a new flush on her face. He’d thought it was a sign of her recovery, but now he wasn’t certain. He was worried.
In the cabin below, Carolina was half-awake, half-asleep. After a time she realized that while she was ready for sleep, she was waiting, as she did every night—waiting for Rogan to come to her. There was no doubt that she belonged in his arms, but he couldn’t seem to accept that. The schooner, the house, her strange sightings of butterflies and peach trees weren’t visions, they were real.
The journal she’d read hadn’t mentioned a house. It had only told of a grown woman who’d sailed on her father’s schooner, the
Scarlet Butterfly
.
Carolina didn’t know what happened to the first Carolina, but she felt a chill of foreboding. Now she was on the same ship, with Rogan, the man she loved, and something was very wrong. For the first time in her life Carolina knew what she wanted, and she was going to lose it.
“Life is precious, Carrie; make the most of what you have. Sometimes we can’t fulfill our promises, but we mustn’t squander the time we have. You can’t wait, lass. You must go to Sean—now. Quickly, before it’s too late. Tell him the truth. Tell him that you are in danger.”
It was Jacob’s voice that came to her; Jacob, who was in tune with her thoughts and needs. Quietly, Carolina climbed the steps to the deck and walked
across its polished flooring to the tent of netting. She lifted the fabric and stepped inside.
“Rogan?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Jacob says that I’m in danger. You must take me to a doctor.” She paused, then implored, “Please hurry!”
Rogan carne to his feet, catching his head on the netting and lifting it as he clasped Carolina’s arms. Her skin didn’t feel right. Neither did her pulse. Something was very wrong.
“You’re sick?”
“Not sick exactly. I think that it’s just that I haven’t been taking my medication.”
“Your medication? Hell! I never even thought. Was it in your suitcase?”
“My handbag. I thought I would be all right for a few days. But I guess I need it. Oh, Rogan.” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to be sick. I thought that if I found the
Butterfly
, I’d be strong like
her
.”
Rogan gathered Carolina in his arms and strode across the deck.
“The first Carolina was strong, Rogan. She ran away with the captain and left her family and her past behind.”
Rogan dressed himself quickly, formulating a plan as he grabbed the sheet from the bed and wrapped Carolina in it.
“Carolina, your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother ran away with Jacob because she was going to have a child. She didn’t want to marry the man her family had chosen, and she coerced Jacob, who was her father’s partner, into taking her with him.”
“Of course she did,” Carolina said happily, allowing Rogan to carry her across to the dock and place her in his truck. “She was in love with the captain too.”
Without any idea of how he got off the ship, Rogan suddenly found himself driving like a madman. He’d take her to his brother’s clinic, and then he’d call Angus, even if Carolina wouldn’t like it.
Rogan groaned. He’d told her father that he’d take care of her. But he hadn’t. He’d been so busy trying to keep her from intruding on his life that he hadn’t stopped to think what he was doing to hers. Was she in trouble now because of his stubborn refusal to see someone else’s needs?
Was his solitude worth it?
Rogan applied more pressure to the gas pedal. Ryan would know what to do. He might not have been able to save Beth, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a damned good doctor.
Rogan made a sharp turn and roared down the narrow street that came to a dead end near the ocean. Ryan’s house, which contained his small office and free clinic, was one of the original sea captains’ houses still standing. There were no lights on. It was after midnight. Saying a brief prayer that his brother was at home and wouldn’t refuse him, Rogan lifted Carolina, hurried up the walk, and rang the doorbell urgently.
No answer.
Again he rang, then began to kick the door. “Dammit, Ryan. I know you’re in there. Open this door or I’ll kick it down!”
The porch light came on and the door opened.
“What’s wrong? Sean? Is that you?”
“Of course it’s me. Open this door. I have an emergency here, and I need some help.”
“You need help? Sean Rogan is asking his brother for help? I don’t believe it.”
“Believe it, Ryan. There’s something wrong with Carolina. Her medicine was lost in the flood, and I didn’t know. She’s having some kind of reaction.”
“Carolina? Bring her in.” The man in the hallway swallowed his shock and turned his attention to the problem.
In minutes he had a handle on the situation and was examining the patient, leaving Sean to reach Angus Evans and get the necessary medical information.
Carolina wavered between full awareness and a dreamlike state that greatly concerned Ryan. “It’s all right, Doctor,” she insisted. “Rogan will take care of me.”
“Tell me about the medication, Carolina. What was it?”
“Thyroid and hormones—”
“Why? Why are you taking them?”
Carolina frowned. She couldn’t worry about medication. She couldn’t seem to remember. All she wanted was to tell the handsome man about the peaches and the scarlet butterfly. But he kept jabbing her with needles, just like they’d done in the hospital.
After several unproductive attempts to find a telephone number for Carolina’s father, Rogan remembered the business card in his wallet. He found it and punched in the numbers.
In minutes the man on the other end of the line had arranged to fax Carolina’s medical records to
Ryan. Angus Evans held his tongue, neither accusing nor demanding. Rogan would have welcomed his anger. Instead, his silence made the weight of Rogan’s error even heavier.
Angus agreed not to fly to Georgia until he received a report from Ryan.
“I should put her in the hospital,” Ryan said later after assuring Sean that she was out of immediate danger. “She needs careful monitoring to make certain that her hormones are stabilized. With this kind of problem, endocrine function is crucial. Why on earth didn’t she take her medication?”
They were sitting at Ryan’s kitchen table, drinking their second pot of coffee. Carolina was sleeping. He would have more lab work done when the commercial facilities opened later in the morning, in order to confirm his findings.
“I didn’t know.”
“Sean, this woman had a brain tumor. Granted, it was not malignant, but the treatment is radiation. The treatment itself could have severely damaged her pituitary gland, which is responsible for all the body’s hormone production. When that happens, those hormones have to be artificially provided.”
“I knew about the tumor, I just didn’t know she was supposed to be taking medication. And she was afraid if she told me, I’d bring her back to town.”
“So?”
“I—I probably would have. No, I’m not sure. The truth is, I didn’t want her to go.”
“Are you in love with her? No, you don’t have to answer that. Nothing less than love would have forced you out of that hole you dug for yourself. I
guess I should thank her. I never thought that you would come to me for any reason.”
“ ‘Love’? Don’t be foolish, Ryan. I’m not in love with Carolina Evans. She’s a witch. Ghosts talk to her.”
“Well, one of the symptoms of her problem can be mental, but usually once the tumor is gone, the problems disappear. That could mean that the tumor has reappeared.”
“The tumor may have reappeared?”
“Only a possibility, brother. Don’t panic. More than likely it’s the lack of medication, some kind of aberration due to hormone imbalance, or even stress. You of all people ought to understand what stress can do to the mind.”
“What do you mean? Dammit it, Ryan, don’t you do this to me. I’m not seeing ghosts or long-dead sea captains.”
“No, you’re too busy isolating yourself from your family.”
“Hah! And I suppose the family misses me.”
“I doubt that you’ll believe me, Sean, but they do. They care about you. They always have.”
“And that’s why they made my life hell?”
“No, they made your life hell because you closed them out.”
“Ryan, you saw what happened once everybody tried to have a say in the operation of the company without considering the consequences. It was chaos.”
“They understand that now. They just resented your running roughshod over everybody without allowing for what they might have wanted. Sure, you knew what you doing, and what you were doing was best for them, but, Sean, you were a bastard. I tried to tell you, but as I recall your only comment was a
curse and a laugh. I know that I was the only one who understood why you acted that way. But you closed me out too.”
Because you were the final hurt, Rogan thought. But he wouldn’t talk about Beth, or Ryan’s part in her death. She was gone, because of his family. And he’d never forgive them.
“Hell, I thought that it was more than any of you deserved. I was just doing what I had to do to fulfill my obligation.”
“Like you did for Carolina?”
Carolina heard their low voices, although they sounded muffled, as if they were on the other side of a thick wall. By being absolutely still and holding her breath, she could make out most of what they were saying. Poor Rogan. He’d been handed the reins of the family business, and then the family had turned into dragons and tried to destroy him. Finally he’d turned his back on them.
Until she’d gotten sick and he’d been forced to ask for help.
She couldn’t imagine how she might have felt if Rogan had actually let her father take her away. He hadn’t. He’d claimed her, taking responsibility for her, just as he had for his family. He’d given her more than she’d ever expected, and she’d never intended to cause him pain.
What was she going to do?
Rogan watched as Ryan studied the early-morning lab results.
“How is she?” Rogan’s voice was tight, his hands deceptively casual as he waited for his brother’s answer.