Devil's Island Read online

  They dribbled water over his parched lips and the sick man managed to swallow a few sips. Then he fell back, exhausted.

  “He came from Caesarea,” Quintus offered. “In Palestine.”

  Elizabeth’s head jerked up. “He told you that?”

  “No, but the only ship to dock this morning had sailed from Caesarea. You know, there’s a war going on there.”

  “The war is over,” she told him. Quintus looked surprised, so she added, “My father just got a letter from . . . from someone who was there.”

  Elizabeth was not happy that the war in Palestine was finally over. In fact, she was desperate at the news. That’s why she had come to see John today. To tell him about the letter, and to ask for his advice.

  But when John returned, there was no opportunity to speak to him about her problem. Two of the church elders were with the Apostle, and one of them, a retired legionnaire named Acacius, had some medical training.

  “Looks like a sword cut,” the former legionnaire said. “Saw plenty of them in my day.” He lanced the man’s wound, draining it and cleaning it, then poured wine on it.

  “Let this air out a while,” he told Elizabeth. “Then apply olive oil to keep it soft.”

  She nodded. “I can also come back tomorrow to check on him.”

  John and the elders anointed the injured traveler with oil and laid hands on him, praying that the Lord would restore him— whoever he was.

  When Elizabeth returned the next day, the stranger had improved a bit. His fever had gone down and he was even a little hungry, he said in answer to her queries. So she made some soup and then sat by the bed, slowly feeding him a spoonful at a time.

  “You were here yesterday, weren’t you?” he asked when he had finished the bowl of soup.

  “Yes. You were incoherent from the fever.” She smiled at the memory. “You thought I was an angel.”

  His eyes caught hers and held them for a moment. “I still hold that opinion.”

  She blushed and looked away. “I brought bread and more vegetables with me today, but is there anything special you’d like? I can get it at the market for you.”

  His eyes misted over, and he shook his head weakly. “Nothing special,” he said after a moment. “I’m grateful for food of any kind. Just having enough to eat would be a blessing.” He cleared his throat. “But I should give you some money, so you can buy additional supplies for me and John. He said I could stay as long as I needed. I told him I would pay my own way . . .”

  Panic twisted his face as he began to pat his waist frantically. “Oh, no! It’s gone! Something happened to my—”

  “No, it’s not gone, it’s all right,” Elizabeth said quickly, once she realized what he was looking for. “Quintus found the gold you were carrying. It was quite a sum. We were afraid to leave it lying around the house—John is often gone, sometimes for days at a time. So we took it to my father.”

  “You took it? Your father . . .” He tried to rise but was too unsteady on his feet.

  Elizabeth helped him back in bed. “My father is a banker,” she explained. “Your money will be safe.”

  The look on his face was skeptical, so she said, “Wait here a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  Elizabeth retrieved her basket from the kitchen and returned with a piece of paper. “Here. It’s a receipt. I made sure all the gold was counted carefully and recorded accurately.”

  He examined the paper and frowned. “It says the money belongs to someone named Elizabeth.”

  “That’s me. I’m Elizabeth. I didn’t know your name, you see, and we couldn’t leave it blank. So I opened the account in my name. But you don’t have to worry. You can trust me.” She knew she was starting to ramble, but she wanted to make sure he understood that he hadn’t been robbed. “When you’re well enough, I’ll take you to the bank and we’ll transfer the account to your name. I didn’t know what else to do—”

  “Thank you,” he said, placing a hand over hers. “Thank you very much, Elizabeth.”

  The way he said her name made her cheeks flush. “You’re welcome . . .”

  “Abraham. That’s my name.”

  “Abraham.” It was strange; she felt as if she had known him for a long time, yet she had just now learned his name. And he didn’t know her, either, but he seemed not to be angry that she had taken it upon herself to handle his considerable fortune. “Then you trust me, Abraham?”

  “I’ve learned to trust angels,” he said softly, a distant look on his face, as if he were remembering something. Then he fell quiet.

  “Shall I bring you more soup?”

  “Since you own me now, I guess I’d better do whatever you say.” Abraham smiled broadly and then flinched when the movement stretched the long cut on his jaw.

  Elizabeth’s heart was beating rapidly as she went to the kitchen, and she hummed a happy tune. For the moment, she had forgotten all about the dreadful letter from Jerusalem.

  Over the next few weeks, Elizabeth came to see Abraham every day. Gradually, he began to regain his strength and to lose his hollow look.

  They sat and talked for hours each time, and she eagerly looked forward to their visits. He told her about his unforgettable sojourn in Jerusalem, about Tobias being forced to fight in the army, and about Rivka and Joel dying from starvation. Sometimes he would pause when recounting an incident, and she got the impression he was editing out certain details. But from what he did tell her, she knew it had been a horrific experience.

  He also told her about the voyage to Ephesus. “I was so exhausted that I slept a lot. I had brought provisions with me, so I stayed below-decks most of the time and kept to myself. Eventually the food I’d bought ran out, but by that time I had gotten so sick I couldn’t eat anyway. I could have asked one of the crew members to tell the captain I was sick, or asked one of the other passengers for help. But I was afraid someone would discover I was carrying a lot of money and rob me.” He paused and looked sternly at her. “And someone did—you!”

  “I did not—” she said, then relaxed as his dour face dissolved; he had been trying to suppress a smile. “You’re teasing me, Abraham.”

  “Yes. I’m teasing.” He laughed merrily then, and she loved the sound of it.

  A moment later he grew sober again. “It’s a good thing Quintus was there on the dock when I arrived. No telling what might have happened if he hadn’t found me and decided to help.”

  “He’s a good sort. Very conscientious and responsible.” Now she filled him in on Quintus’s background. “A year ago, when he became a Christian, his father disowned him. One of the families in our congregation took him in. And I persuaded my father—who is not a believer, but he’s a good man—to help Quintus get a job. One of my father’s financial clients owns a small shipping business, and he hired Quintus as a stevedore. It’s hard work, but he never complains.”

  “Hard? It’s backbreaking work. He doesn’t seem to be built for it.”

  “The poor thing eats like a horse, but he just keeps growing taller, not wider. Everyone wonders if he’ll ever fill out.”

  Elizabeth also told Abraham about the other church members and how some of her family’s household servants had become believers. “That’s how I learned about Jesus,” she said. “Through them. My father hasn’t accepted Christ. Not yet. I’m still trusting God to open his heart to the truth.”

  When John was home, he discipled Abraham, not just teaching him the doctrines of the faith but sharing stories about Jesus and His ministry—the very thing Abraham had come to Ephesus to learn. John regaled them with anecdotes, and Elizabeth enjoyed hearing the stories even though she had heard many of them before. Somehow they seemed fresh each time John told them, as if they had happened yesterday and not four decades earlier.

  One day, about a month after Abraham had arrived in Ephesus, Elizabeth took him to the bank to straighten out his account.

  “There,” she said when the paperwork was complete and she had signed her
name with a flourish, “I don’t own you anymore.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Abraham replied as he put a hand on her elbow and steered her outside.

  It was a warm sunny day in late September. Summer had lingered like a favorite friend reluctant to leave after an extended visit. As they stepped out of the bank into the bright sunlight and she saw the expression on Abraham’s face, the light of understanding finally penetrated Elizabeth’s mind. He was looking at her with such open affection and longing that it startled her.

  She was dismayed.When did the teasing turn into something more? she wondered, scolding herself silently. This is impossible. I should never have let myself get so close to him. Never.

  Abraham was in no hurry to return to John’s—“I feel fine,” he informed her, “and it’s a great day to be outdoors, especially with you”—so they strolled leisurely through Ephesus while she pointed out the places of interest. They stopped in the agora for a snack— “All this walking has whetted my appetite,” Abraham said—and he insisted on buying all sorts of delicacies for Elizabeth to enjoy.

  She clapped in delight when she saw the candied orange slices. “These are my favorite treat,” she said. He popped one in her mouth and then laughed when she sighed rapturously and said, “They’re so sweet and tart and utterly delicious.”

  Elizabeth tried to keep the conversation light and, for the most part, avoided looking directly at him. If things were different . . . she thought, then quickly stopped herself. Things weren’t different, and it was no use pretending otherwise.

  It was late afternoon when they returned to John’s house and she gathered her belongings.

  “I should go now,” she said, “so I can get home before dark.” She didn’t want to leave, didn’t want their carefree time together to end.

  It had been one of the most wonderful days of her life, one she knew would not be repeated.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, opening the door for her.

  She hesitated, then stepped outside, knowing she needed to put some distance between them—permanently. “I’m not sure I can come back tomorrow.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  Something was dreadfully wrong, but she couldn’t tell him. “No,” she said. “It’s just that you’re so much stronger now, and you don’t really need me anymore.” She could read the protest in his eyes, so she continued hurriedly, before he could object. “You’ve accomplished what you came to Ephesus to do—find the last apostle and hear what he had to say about Jesus. And now that I’ve returned all the money I stole from you”—she risked a tentative smile at him—“you have no reason to stay here. I imagine you’ll be leaving soon . . .”

  Elizabeth stopped. Her eyes filled with tears and gave away her distress.

  “I have every reason to stay here,” he said softly. “At least I hope I do.” He crossed the threshold to stand beside her, then reached for her hand and held it tenderly.

  “Abraham—”

  “No. Let me say what I’ve wanted to say all day long.”

  With her tiny fingers engulfed in his massive but gentle hand, she felt powerless to object.

  “When I escaped from the nightmare that was Jerusalem,” Abraham said, “I knew God had spared me for a purpose. Not knowing what to do, I came to Ephesus looking for John. I not only found John, I found you. And when I found you, Elizabeth, I found my purpose.”

  With his free hand he tilted her chin so she could see his face. “I love you, Elizabeth. I want to marry you.”

  Her chin quivered in his hand and a large tear spilled over her lashes and splashed onto his thumb. “I can’t marry you,” she said morosely. “I’m engaged to someone else.”

  Abraham took a quick step backward, as if she had slapped him. Then Elizabeth turned and fled down the hill into the fading light of an enchanting day that had suddenly lost its golden glow.

  11

  ELIZABETH DID NOT RETURN TO JOHN’S HOUSE. Two days later she sent Servius with a basket of food and her apologies.

  “What shall I tell John?” the faithful household retainer asked.

  “Just say that I’m indisposed.” Elizabeth ran her fingers wearily through her tangled mop of curls. Exhausted from not sleeping, she felt certain she looked indisposed, and Servius seemed satisfied with that excuse.

  She had lain awake the past two nights, lamenting the fact that she’d allowed Abraham to fall in love with her and berating herself for having such deep feelings for him when she was promised to another man. Now she was miserable, Abraham was miserable, and she had no one to blame but herself.

  Elizabeth knew she should have talked to John, as she had intended, about the letter from her fiancé. It had arrived the same day as Abraham—probably on the same boat. As soon as her father had read the letter to her, she had rushed to John’s house, panic-stricken. While she waited for the Apostle to return, Quintus had arrived with Abraham, and nothing had been quite the same since.

  She could have talked to John at any time during the last month, but she had enjoyed her daily visits with Abraham so much, she kept putting off the conversation. She’d become an expert at putting things off, especially this detestable thing. She had gotten used to not thinking about her engagement—had almost convinced herself, in fact, that it was not a reality.

  In Abraham’s presence, it had been easy to forget her dilemma. But it hadn’t gone away, and now she had caused a disaster by her procrastination.

  After a week of moping, Elizabeth told herself it was time to snap out of it. Her future was sealed, and that’s all there was to it. She might as well accept it with whatever dignity she could muster and get on with her life. She had to put Abraham out of her mind once and for all, and she had to reconcile herself to the prospect of marriage to a man she didn’t love, a man she almost feared.

  For the first time in days, she took pains with her grooming, dressed in her favorite tunic, and greeted her father pleasantly at breakfast. She consulted the cook about menus, directed a serving girl in the preparation of baskets of food for the needy, and sent her father’s cloak for mending, so it would be ready when the weather changed.

  By midmorning Elizabeth had convinced herself that life was almost back to normal, but that illusion was shattered when an unexpected visitor arrived. Servius was nowhere to be found, so she crossed the courtyard and answered the insistent knock at the door herself.

  “Abraham . . .”

  “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” Her hand was shaking so much, he had to help her latch the door behind them.

  “May I offer you some refreshment?” Her tone was cordial but formal.

  Abraham refused with a shake of his head. Ordinarily, she would have invited her visitor into the dining room, but she was so flustered by his sudden appearance that she simply motioned him to a seat in the open atrium. He probably wouldn’t be staying long anyway, she figured.

  Whatever the purpose for his visit, Abraham couldn’t seem to bring himself to speak. He just kept staring at her as if it had been seven years, not seven days, since he’d last seen her.

  “I heard you were leaving town,” she said, deciding at last that he must have come to say good-bye. She hadn’t expected a farewell visit, not after the way she’d treated him.

  “I was . . . I am,” he corrected himself. “But I wanted to see you first.” Abraham hesitated, then with an obvious effort at self-control, he said, “I think you owe me an explanation, Elizabeth. And I want to hear it.”

  She bowed her head in shame. “You’re right,” she said softly. “I owe you that.” She didn’t know where to start, however.

  He filled in the silence. “My better judgment tells me I should just cut my losses and leave, but for some reason I have to know why you let me fall in love with you when you’re going to marry someone else. I thought you had the same kind of feelings I did. You came to see me every single day, and you seemed so happy to be with me.”


  “I was,” she whispered so faintly that he missed it.

  “Day after day you sat in my room, with the sunlight streaming through the window, making your hair look like a flame-kissed halo. You hung on to every word I said, and your laughter . . .” He bit his lip and looked down for a moment. “Your laughter was like the music of heaven to my soul. My very own angel—”

  “Abraham, stop. Please.”

  “Why did you do it?” He was angry now. “Why did you keep coming back? Was it just to torment me? In all that time, didn’t you realize I was falling in love with you?”

  “I didn’t let myself think about the possibility,” she said unevenly. “And when I finally realized it, it was too late. I’m sorry, Abraham. You can’t imagine how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you, I didn’t.”

  “Well, you did hurt me. And I suppose there’s nothing to be done about it now.” He stood up and turned to face her. “You helped heal the wound on my face, but you’ve left one in my heart.”

  “Please forgive me, Abraham. Please.” Surely he could hear the anguish in her voice and know how truly remorseful she was.

  But he did not offer his forgiveness. “I just hope he makes you happy, Elizabeth. I would have spent every moment of my life making you happy, and I hope to God he does the same.”

  “He won’t make me happy,” she protested. “He’ll make me miserable, and I don’t want to marry him, but I have to.” She wished she could make Abraham understand.

  He sat back down on the bench. “Am I going to have to drag it out of you, or are you going to tell me the story?”

  “You’re still speaking to me?”

  “Well, I still love you, so I guess I can tolerate hearing your voice a little while longer. Besides, if you really don’t want to marry this man, maybe there’s something I can do to help.”

  “H-help?” She hicccuped when she tried to speak, tears beginning to flow in spite of her effort to stop them.

  “You have to stop crying first, though.”

  She nodded her head yes.

  “Promise?”