Beyond the Pink Clouds

By Beverly Marsaw

In a time of determined pirates, senseless war and brutal insanity and love finds a way to break the seeingly tireless angst. Adventures abound in ever twisting plots of love, hate, and unending passion. Galen and Blythe could not be more unalike, experiencing each, their own lives of hell. Against all odds, they fight for the right to love in a broken world. And fight they must as the past is unforgettable and the future is unforgivable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477126332

Beverly Marsaw

She likes to throw herself into her stories and lives the life of each one in the book. Beverly Marsaw lives in a La, La land of her own and in that land she only sees the glass as half full. Her imagination is never ending and her fans hope it will always stay that way.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

In the Beginning

1903 AND IN a land so far away from civilization even God forgot it existed. The canons exploded loudly and bullets bounced off everything in sight.

Blyth huddled in a small corner of an old shattered shack. The bitter cold nipping at her frail form caused a rash of shivers and shakes. Her jaw ached from clenching her teeth tightly to stop the chattering.

A few yards beyond, a young girl’s screams died in her throat when she ran from a tree into the path of the sailing bullets. Holocaust rampaged in every corner of this polluted and infested part of the world. Men, women and children ran screaming out of the woods into the burning hills of the countryside. Some made it… some didn’t. Dogs turned wild and ran frantically, barking at everything in sight, biting those that came too close.

The river filled with blood and bodies overflowed its boundary, flooding the area with muck. Sour slime twisted and turned across the land bringing an unbearable stench with it.

Blyth found a dry spot where she sat with her arms tightly wrapped around her thin, cold, bare legs watching and listening in apprehension the proceeding around her. Her head pounded from dizziness as her eyes darted first in one direction and then in another.

A small boy with one arm half-torn from his ricocheted and bloated body fell at her feet with panic engraved on his dirty face. She broke one fright frozen arm loose from her legs and reached out protectively for the child to rescue him from drowning in the filthy rushing waters. He screamed as she caught him by his ragged pants and snatched him into the small patch of dry security among her yet untouched shack.

Blood gushed from his arm in spurts and ran down the mangled limb, dripping profusely onto her leg. Blyth watched it in horror as it dropped and formed into a puddle, then dripped from her knee to the absorbent sand below. A shallow moan escaped his purple, shivering lips as his eyes rolled up in his head. He collapsed over her legs, covering the blood. The trance now broken, Blyth hurriedly pulled him into her arms and out of the line of stampeding feet.

His one frail arm found her neck and seized it tightly, while the other hung loosely at her side. He cried weakly for his mama over and over for hours, while the fighting continued outside their lone world. His cries suddenly ceased along with the firing. His small frame grained in weight. She knew without looking that the delicate and tender child had given up the fight for life. His nimble fingers loosened the grip they held on her hair. She buried her face against his lifeless head and succumbed to tears.

How could this be happening? Blyth whispered against his small head. Recollections of the past weeks swiftly flashed through her mind, bringing back memories, which now seemed years ago.

She had traveled overseas with her parents against their better judgment. Blyth had begged to go. She begged until her father could not tell her no again. Please father… please let me go. I am grown now… I am eighteen and can take care of myself… please father, take me with you.

James Andrews was a man of small stature, standing barely taller than his daughter. His balding head caused his nose to look too large for his nearly feminine face. James was an extremely strict man who demanded obedience and organization. Blyth, who never received affection from her father, had also never seen it given to her mother. He never said anymore than he thought necessary. To him no meant NO! Blyth knew this and yet pressed on and on with her begging.

Please, father. Please. I know this is going to be your last trip and if I don’t go now… I may never get another chance…

Blyth! He interrupted sternly. You’re too young and it’s far too dangerous. There is much unrest between the natives and the towns people.

No daddy… no… I’m not too young, and if it’s so dangerous… why are you taking your wife? Why is it just dangerous for me and not mother?

James stared at Blyth a moment longer, his eyes softening along with a defeated expression covering his face. His hands fell open on his lap, You may go. He whispered quietly, then turned and left the room. Tears welled in her eyes as she watched James enter the other room and sit in ‘his’ chair. Slowly the baldhead bent forward and rested in his hands. First Cora and now Blyth to worry about. He whispered to the empty room.

James was a diplomat for the American Government and had to travel quite often, receiving information that no one else could obtain, sending it back to Washington by one way or another. He never divulged his source. He said it was much too dangerous for his family to know all that he did, although they knew more about it than was ever mentioned.

Cora, a petite woman of ninety-five pounds fully dressed carried a worried look in her soft yellow-green eyes that never smiled even when she appeared happy. It wasn’t hard to tell she loved her husband more than her own life as she catered to his every whim. Yet her eyes never smiled. He’s never hit her intentionally, although many times stepped in and took a few that were meant for Blyth.

Cora knew James never wanted children and when he found out about the coming baby he was furious and flew into a rage.

Cora, how could this have happened? I’ve told you repeatedly… no children. Why did you do this?

She cried and pleaded with him. Oh my dear James, it truly was an accident, but now that it has happened… now that God has blessed us… please don’t be angry. I get so lonely when you’re away on your trips.

I wanted no kids, James sputtered, his hot temper rising his anger beyond control and causing the veins at his temples to swell. I wanted none before and I want none now and will undoubtedly want none later… the kid will go as soon as it’s born.

The nine months of pregnancy had been a hell for Cora. She was never a strong woman to begin with and this pregnancy seemed to weaken her all the more. She tried not to spend as much time in bed as she needed. James would catch her resting and use that time to yell at her about what ‘the kid’ was doing to her. How could he be so cruel, she thought, this is OUR child.

Cora spent the first few months arguing with him about not adopting the child out. In the later months, she was far too weak and conceded to his wishes. The child would be adopted out as soon as it was born.

James left on another trip the day before the baby girl was born, then returned shortly before her first birthday to discover that Cora had gone against his ‘demands’ for the first time in their married life.

After hours of arguing about the child, James gave in, but would find fault with Blyth constantly and spanked her often. Many times she wore unexplained large welts or bruises across her legs to school. Questions were never asked, as it was know that James Andrews did not want his own daughter. Pity emerged from smiling faces that Blyth looked into on her long walks to and from school. No one ever uttered a word or interfered in any way.

After Blyth turned sixteen and started to date, James began to worry. Worry for what? For his reputation? His daughters? Or an unwanted bastard grandchild? In his own way he did love his daughter and wanted the best for her. He thought it time for the father-daughter talks, never giving Cora credit for knowing how to raise a daughter properly or talk to her about the personal things.

During these talks with her father, he would explain his harshness towards her had only been for her own good. He would speak of his affection for her, and that her welfare was his main concern.

Cora tried to make up for her husband’s lack of affection and showered Blyth with so much love she thought she would drown. Blyth loved her mother very much and would never say a word to hurt her feelings, so endured the pampering Cora bestowed upon her.

The day finally came and Blyth got her wish to go with her parents. They landed in a town she couldn’t pronounce and spent two days in the hotel before that horrible night. That night that even now gave her chills to think about.

It was in the dead of night when Blyth woke suddenly to authoritative sounding voices coming from under the door. They were strange voices… men. Not recognizing them unnerved her for a moment, then realizing that her father did business at odd hours with many men she had never seen or met, she began to fall asleep again. The bright moon casting its brand across her resting face.

Suddenly the door slammed open with a crash against the wall, accompanied by her mother screaming, NO… NO! A loud slapping sound came through the open door followed by deep sobs. Cora was a quiet woman who barely spoke above a whisper, so when Blyth heard her screams this night, she was fully awake and wide eyed with terror.

A big man stood at her door, orders lashing from his fat, protruding lips. He wheezed then gurgled as he spoke, GET DRESSED AND HURRY UP ABOUT IT GIRL.

His face couldn’t be seen with the lighted room behind him showing only a bulking silhouette in a suit three sizes too small, baring his socks below the cuff of his pants. With a fat hairy hand he lit the lamp in Blyth’s room. Slobbers dribbled down his chins and dripped onto an already stained shirt.

Blyth pulled the covers to her chin and stared at the obese stranger in her room. She remembered something magic about covers when she was a child and quickly pulled them over her head. The badness of the night always went away when her head was covered with soft fluffy blankets.

UP! He bellowed a second time. The blankets were not soft and fluffy this time and the magic didn’t work. Blyth sprang to the floor in one leap. Hurriedly she threw on some clothes and ran to the doorway. The obese man grabbed Blyth by the arm and held her in place. In the other room she saw another man holding Cora by one arm and yanking her towards the stairs. Cora’s eyes found her husband huddled like a coward against the far wall of the room. His babbling was incoherent and went unnoticed by the men.

Blyth followed Cora’s eyes to her father until one slap after another met Cora in the face, swinging Blyth’s eyes back to her mother. Cora struggled with the man until his beating got the best of her.

Blyth broke loose from her captor and rushed to her mothers crumpled body on the floor. Rough bony hands snatched her from behind and ushered her unceremoniously down the hotel stairs.

Blyth rode in the back of an old wagon for better than four hours, along with her parents. Her mothers head bounced precariously upon Blyth’s lap, eyes filled with tears staring blankly into the night. For the first two hours she had remained unconscious from the savage beating she’d received back at the hotel. Each time that tall, thin, evil looking man hit Cora, a smile showing his yellow rotting teeth would appear.

Cora remained lying on Blyth’s lap until the wagon finally came to a sudden halt. By then her father had regained some of his composure and leaned over to Blyth, his voice whispering in a strict tone. We will try to conceal you when all are taken from the wagon. You hide… then if you a chance to get away, run as fast as you can and whatever you do… don’t look back.

James took her hand and gave it a tender pat and tears filled his eyes. I wish I had taken the time to tell you before… I love you daughter, I… I’m sorry.

Blyth started to object about staying behind when a harsh voice split through the darkness ordering all from the wagon.

Quickly she crawled under a large dirty clump of hay near the seat of the wagon, pushing herself as far under the seat as possible while the descending passengers hid her from view of the waiting men. Her parents left without a look back. Blyth lay quietly watching and waiting for a chance to escape… none came.

A relentless pounding came to her ears in the darkness. What is it? A hammer? No… her own thundering heart beating wildly against her breast. Louder it thumped until she was sure it could be heard by someone outside. Gradually she parted a section of the hay and peered out through the slats of the wagon. With the aid of the luminous moon she could see where they had taken her parents… along with all the others.

There was a huge wall of decayed adobe about twenty yards from where she lay, and seventy or more people were lined up by it. Men. Women. Children. Babies.

One woman tried to throw her child over the towering wall. One of the men maliciously laughed when he saw her. The baby made it over and soon after there was the most hideous sound ever to be heard. Fiendish snarling and growling sounds. The child let out one blood-curdling and hair-raising scream and then it was quiet. The awful quiet that she was growing to hate. A bark came soon after from the other side of the wall and it took a moment for it to sink in… Oh my God… they have mad dogs on the other side. Panic now gripped tightly at her throat.

The other mothers squeezed their children to their breasts so tightly that within a few minutes their bodies hung limp and lifeless.

She wanted to run to her parents, but a look came on Cora’s face that told her to remain there in her cramped position under what shield she had. Under the hot prickly hay.

Blyth wanted to escape the grossness of the night. Wanted to die and wanted not to die. She wanted to throw up, yet couldn’t. The captors walked and stood everywhere, escape now was impossible.

She laid as still as death… cramps claimed her legs, bruises tackled her body and some sort of sharp object was sticking in her side, digging it’s way into her. I have to move, she whispered under her breath. Don’t move, don’t breathe, and don’t think about the pain. Came a small voice in her head.

The pounding resumed its beat in her breast, this time louder than last. Tears welled in her pain-filled eyes, spilling over and running down her pale, drawn face. She knew they were going to murder the entire crowd of prisoners standing by the wall and didn’t want to watch… yet could not pull her eyes away. Will this nightmare never end? Will she never wake and find herself still warmly tucked in the hotel bed? In her heart she knew only too well how real this was, and that she would not awaken. Despair filled her soul.

A thundering shot whistled through the air, splitting the quietness of the night and silencing her own heart, her own mixed thoughts, bringing her back to the reality of the moment. From nowhere the shot came… and to nowhere it went, leaving her with a haunting feeling in the bowels of her gut. Then blasting and ripping through the air were hundreds of streaking bullets, reaching out and finding their target. She prayed silently… desperately for her parents.

She muffled screams into her hands and watched the dying people drop to the ground one by one. Anguished hands dug into the damp soil. Screams of agony cut through the night. Soon another bullet would find them and put their tortured souls to rest.

Blyth lay horrified as she watched on, wishing she could get away from there and the smell of death that the searing night breeze brought to her stinging nostrils.

Once again nausea built its way up to her throat and brought a vile taste to her mouth. She needed to vomit, but couldn’t, someone would hear. Tears warm and salty streamed down her catatonic face, but went unnoticed. She must not sniff… she must not cry… she must not scream. Even though the thought raced through her mind a thousand times in the past few minutes.

Blood dripped from her clenched fists where her fingernails dug into the palms of her hands. That too went unnoticed. Then the pounding started again… weakness enveloped her… weariness took possession of her head until finally unconsciousness took over.

Someone climbed aboard the wagon and it began to roll slowly down the secluded dirt road that bore too many chuckholes to count. The foreign voices sauntered from hearing range. She wondered if they slept at night… if so… how? How could they kill so easily, so uncaring? Did none of them have wives… children? Did none of them have a heart… compassion? Were they zombies? Brain washed? What made them do what they did and then walk away as if it were no more than taking the trash out?

The jostling of the hard wagon bounced Blyth little by little back to her senses.

I have to get off, she spoke softly as she slowly moved to the edge of the bed, cautiously waiting for the right moment.

I’ll have to jump before he gets to the main road… if there is a main road. I have to get off before he gets up to a gallop. She sat floundering and waiting for what seemed an eternity for the right moment.

It’s getting lighter and I’ll have to make my move soon or who’s ever on the seat will be able to see me. Is he alone? Are there other men up there with him? Will one of them notice me? Chances have to be taken… at least this one.

Just then they started to pass some thick trees and she knew this was it. She had to leap now or possibly never get free and back to the hotel. She didn’t know the name of it and was not even sure of the town it was in. Somehow she had to find it and get home… home to America.

As quietly as she could, Blyth rolled off the back of the wagon hoping it would not move the wagon so much the men would notice. Once she stopped rolling and bouncing she laid quiet until the wagon was swallowed up by its own dust. I’m sure I’ve just broken every bone in my body. She moaned on the last bounce.

Blyth dragged herself to the edge of the dirt road and lay there very still in the coolness of the grass. She waited until the two clippity clop, clippity clop of the horses hooves faded completely into the still mist of the early morning.

Slowly she trudged on her tender hands and knees still on the cool grass beside the road. The memories of the past few hours crept back to mind and the tears started to roll again. This time she let them flow freely. No worries of someone seeing or hearing her.

She could not get the sight of her parents out of her mind. Minutes before the guns found them, James grabbed Cora and held her securely in his arms and then lifted her face up to his. He saw the look of fear in her eyes. That look had been there so many times in the past, yet he had failed to see it for what it was. Now in this land so far away,

He sees it again and his heart broke inside and poured out through his own eyes. Why in the past had he not seen the fear she held for him. Why now did he see the truth in her eyes… on her face?

James kissed Cora tenderly good-bye. Tears streaming down his face, then he hit her as hard as he could to knock her into unconsciousness again. This way she wouldn’t know when death came… she would not feel the pain… not hear the bullet.

Even after her head hung limp, James held her up to him. They were to die in one another arms. All the love he had ever felt for her… all the memories, no matter how few, now fled through his body… across his face. He placed a soft kiss on his wife’s hair just before the first bullet penetrated his chest. James chanced a quick glance at the wagon… a slight smile crossed his lips… two would die, but one would live on. Another bullet hit and it was over. The smile said it was ok to live.

Blyth watched her parents crumble to the ground and disappear in the trench before them.

She started to scream… not caring if anyone heard her or not. She could see them there over and over in her mind… clinging desperately and hopelessly to precious seconds recalling years past and the unshared future. This sight of his emotion and affection brought a new light to her eyes. Perhaps, she thought, he had shown love to Cora secretly in the seclusion of the room where she had never been allowed entry. She cried until sleep overtook her tortured body.

CHAPTER TWO

Blyth Alone

BLYTH LAY IN the dew wet grass several feet from the dirt road… so small and so battered… so brave and so bruised. Her long auburn hair lay in a mass of tangles around her face and shoulders. Her bright green eyes, which had so long ago held light and laughter, were now closed, resting, no longer pleading. Once a child, she was forced to become a woman now with no one to depend upon except herself and God.

Sleep covered her body, but it was a restless sleep with nightmares, which twisted and festered, in her fatigued mind. Suddenly she shot up with a bolt… muffling a scream with her cut and dirty hands. The sun peeked between the trees to cover her quivering body with filtered warmth.

Ever so slowly her eyes turned from side to side viewing the towering trees. A breeze blew in softly through the leaves giving off an illusion of bantam elves singing a soft lullaby. The birds fluttered anxiously around, some singing, some squawking to claim ownership of their tree. Wild ferns grew close to the tree trunks and glistened with the early morning dew. Wild flowers of all colors and size grew in among the ferns. Their fragrance was sweet in the air and tickled Blyth’s nostrils. Beyond the trees she heard the delicate gurgling of a brook. It beckoned to her… come forth and taste of my freshness. Somewhere in the thicket a small wooded creature skittered off in another direction rustling leaves and twigs in his path.

Blyth’s body was filled with inner peace as she struggled to her feet. Quietly she crept on through the woods as not to disrupt anymore of the little creatures than she had to. Just ahead was the brook and it’s crystal clear water. She fell lightly to her knees and buried her face in it. It was colder than Blyth anticipated and took her breath back a moment. It was a good feeling though and for a moment made her forget the past few hours.

Blyth finished with her bath as best she could in the icy water. She scrubbed her skin until it gave off a bright pink shine. It was useless… she couldn’t wash off the feel of that filthy man. His rotting yellow teeth flashed through her mind once more sending a rash of shivers up her spine… she scrubbed again.

Her head still ached, but had let up to a dull throbbing. Now, she thought, I am ready to face this day. A long stretch in the fresh air filled her lungs with a new strength. A strength to battle the elements for her ultimate goal… home.

Blyth wandered the barren countryside for days, finding both food and lodgings very elusive commodities. Each time she started to fall asleep