Trail of Hope (Tales of the Scrimshaw Doll) by Vanlandingham Heidi

Author:Vanlandingham, Heidi [Vanlandingham, Heidi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Multicultural
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2012-12-27T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Clay’s arms wrapped around her sodden form, holding onto her as firmly as he could without hurting her. As soon as she was pulled back into the safety of the boat, several women wrapped her in blankets. He pulled her into his embrace, and the child crawled into her lap and promptly fell asleep. They’d wrapped blankets around him, as well. Too bad his wet clothes kept a layer of cold next to his skin. The blankets wouldn’t do much if they kept wet clothes on.

A hard shudder tore through him when he realized how close she’d come to dying. Somehow, during the last month, she’d wormed her way into his heart. He sat in stunned silence, staring down at her beautiful face. Silky black hair framed her skin—a rich, dark cream, and perfect. His chest felt hot and swollen as a powerful emotion extinguished the doubts and disbeliefs. He loved her. Yet his vow to avenge his family came first.

As the hours passed, Martin’s and Clay’s anxiety increased. “Sophia? Aiukli? You need to wake up now.” Clay’s voice broke. He’d talked to her constantly since she’d gone limp in his arms, hoping she would hear him calling to her. She’d been unconscious for almost eight hours, and pushing back the growing panic gripping his chest was getting harder to do. Taking turns with Martin, holding her and trying to warm her icy skin, helped. Somewhat. The child slept as well, tightly wrapped in her arms.

Clay caught Martin’s steady gaze and for the hundredth time asked, “She will be fine, right?”

Martin nodded once. His eyes narrowed but never left her pale face. Clay waited while the older man worked out whatever was bothering him.

Martin cleared his throat a couple of times. “I heard you talking…just before she rescued the little one.” Clay kept his mouth shut and waited for Martin to continue. “Did I ever tell you about my daughter?” he asked in a tired voice. Clay shook his head. He vaguely remembered hearing his father speak about her, but she’d died when Clay was young, so he hadn’t paid much attention.

“My Water Lily was beautiful, like her mother. The earth was happy when she smiled. We still lived together as a tribe while she grew up. By the time Water Lily was a beautiful woman, most tribe members had moved off to their own farms.” He paused. Clay noted the faraway glint in the old man’s eyes. He could almost see the lifetime of memories as they tumbled over one another. He glanced down when Sophia twitched.

“When my daughter, Water Lily, found an injured white man, she brought him to our home. The man healed and they fell in love. Almost one year later, they had a child of their own. A beautiful daughter. My Klara and I never knew such peace. Just after Rain Blossom turned one, Water Lily took her to Savannah and gave our granddaughter to a white family for them to raise. Our daughter died very soon after, without telling us who they were.

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