Marley gave a watery laugh. He made it sound so easy, so simple. "I had actually decided to adopt a baby when I realized Lizzie was missing."
"See? That sounds like a perfect solution. Stop taking care of your sister, who obviously doesn't appreciate it, and start taking care of you."
The lure of that was fantastically attractive. Marley took a deep breath, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her shrug. "Why does it smell different out here at night? It smells damp or something." The sounds of the insects were alive and buzzing all around her in the moss and trees.
"That's the swamp, back on the other side of the sugar cane."
"Take me into the swamp, Damien. Show me your property." Marley suddenly felt reckless, desperate to do something, anything, unwilling to sit down and be alone with her ugly, unpleasant thoughts.
"Right now?"
It was stupid, insane, and he was going to say no, of course, but it felt good, wild, demanding, to ask for it. "Yes, right now."
"Okay. We can take the boat out."
Marley stared at him. "Are you serious? You'll actually take me out there in the dark?"
"Sure. I have headlights on my boat and I've been out there in the dark plenty of times. I know my swamp." He tilted his head. "You thought I'd say no."
She nodded. "I thought you'd politely tell the good girl who's fallen off her rocker to go in the house and take a Valium and go to bed. That everything would seem better in the morning."
"Don't you watch talk shows? That would be repressing your feelings. Sometimes you need to reach out, step outside of what makes sense, and let everything out. I understand that. God, do I understand that." Damien reached for her hand. "You're safe with me. Get as wild as you want, Marley."
Chapter Thirteen
For the first time in her life, Marley understood the allure of danger, of speed, of accepting a thrilling dare and rushing off into the dark with it. On acting with utter impulse and not questioning it, doubting it, worrying it, or picking it apart.
Lizzie had never been tormented by her choices. She dove headfirst into random waters that looked sparkling and warm, and occasionally actually were. More often than not Lizzie crashed on the rocks, a violent splat on hard, unforgiving boulders, but she always dove again.
Marley had always wanted to dive, just once, arc up into the air like a dolphin and hurl herself off into oblivion, but she never had. Riding in the swamp with Damien felt like she had leaped off that cliff.
It was reckless, heading out into total darkness with a man she really didn't know all that well. The motor drowned out the sound of the swamp, and it was too dark for her to see anything. Marley felt the humid spray of the water being tossed up by the boat cutting through the reeds and wondered how Damien could even see where they were going.
"If you look over the side you can see the reds of the gators' eyes," he said, leaning back toward her to talk, one hand still on the motor.
Marley gripped the bench she was sitting on. "Are you serious?" The concept of red-eyed alligators was fascinating and frightening all at once. She hooked her feet under the bench, gripped the seat, and leaned toward the side, peering into the darkness. The first thing she saw made her jump back into the middle of the boat. "Holy crap, there's one right next to the boat."
They were smaller than she expected, but the red eyes glowed, staring at her, mysterious and strange, watching her pull back, judging, like he knew she was afraid, knew she was a fraud, that she would always be a doormat, never wild, never fun. Marley scooted closer to the edge, defiant, locking her gaze onto his. She wouldn't be afraid, she was tired of being afraid, tired of being safe and boring and lonely.
"What are you looking at?" she asked the gator. "I can be here if I want to."
Damien laughed and killed the engine. The boat glided, cutting through the water smoothly. "I don't think he cares if you're here or not."
"Then he can quit looking at us." Marley swiveled around and stuck her tongue out at him in the dark as they moved past him.
"That's not all there is in the water… Legend has it this swamp is haunted."
Wonderful. Marley tried to sound skeptical, but her voice cracked. "Haunted by what?" Glancing around, she couldn't help but think that if anyplace was going to be haunted, this murky swamp would be it.
"By the spirit of a slave, passing through on his way north after escaping from a plantation down the road."
Damien paused and Marley was sure she didn't want to know the rest. Yet she found herself saying, "So he died here? How?"
"He was eaten by a gator, just torn to pieces and scattered around. Yet they say he didn't die right away, but suffered, laying there with no legs and a missing arm, just bleeding to death, slowly and painfully."
"That's horrible."
"Yes, it is. And they say while he was dying he called up the powers of voodoo and cursed the swamp, cursed the gator, cursed his master, and all white men. Now, in death, he appears to men, so hideous that the very sight of him causes instant death to those who look at him."
"Really."
Damien gave a half smile. "Really. At least four men have been found dead in this swamp over the past hundred and fifty years, with no explanation for what happened to them. Was it Old Jacques? Let's hope we never know."
Goose bumps ran up her arms. He had a creepy voice when he wanted to. There was an edge to it, a wildness, that almost thrilled her as they floated in the dark.
A soft thump distracted her. "What was that?" It sounded like something had hit the boat, and her heart was starting to race. Damien had told his story too well, and she was envisioning the dead slave dropping down onto the bench next to her in the dark.
"Just sit still for a minute, Marley," Damien said in a low voice, shifting closer to her with slow, calculated moves.
"Why?" She froze in place, sudden fear sending bile up into her throat and her heart doing a frenzied crescendo. "What's wrong?"
Damien shot forward, his hand reaching out and grabbing something off the bench next to her. Marley gave a startled yelp. "What the hell is that?"
"Cottonmouth." Damien extended his arm over the side of the boat and flung the snake back into the swamp. They heard it splash into the water. "They're poisonous."
Marley grabbed the top of her cotton shirt and pulled it off her neck, her throat tight. "Jesus Christ." She shivered, feeling like something was brushing across her chest, her arms. "How did you know it was there?"