Camellia (20 page)

Pastor Matthews looked up once more, his face serious. “I have spoken to many of you about the future. I’ve listened to your fears and prayed with you for loved ones who are fighting to keep our country whole. I’ve shed tears with you when you found some of those same names on the lists of missing, wounded, or dead. But today, I’m here to remind you that God knew about all of this before you were even born.”

He paused, his gaze moving slowly around the room. “I can see the doubt on your faces. How could God allow such pain? How could He let such terrible things happen to us if He truly loves us?”

John was riveted by the questions. He wanted to stand up and shout his agreement. What kind of God allowed such terrible things to happen to His people? He touched the skin on his right cheek. His punishment was different. He had earned it with his past deeds. But what of those who led upright, principled, honorable lives? Why were their lives full of pain?

The pastor opened his Bible and began reading from Psalm 139: “ ‘Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or whither shall I flee from thy presence? If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there. If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy right hand shall hold me. If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me; even the night shall be light about me. Yea, the darkness hideth not from thee; but the night shineth as the day: the darkness and the light are both alike to thee. For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.’

“Do you understand what this means?” the pastor asked. “The Lord God, the greatest being in existence, knew each of you before your own mothers did. And He loves you. He loves you so very much. More even than the love you feel for your children.” He glanced toward the first pew, his gaze gliding past John and landing on Anna’s face. “And I know how deep that love is. I know also that God’s love puts my puny feelings to shame.

“This whole psalm is one I turn to often. I would read the whole chapter to you this morning, but I want to challenge each of you to go home today and read it for yourselves. Read each word. Ponder the power of our God who knows every breath each of us takes. Not just my breath … or Anna’s. No, he also knows the breath of this stranger who has joined us this morning. He knows why this man is here and each step that led him to this place.”

John’s mouth dropped open. He wished more than ever that he had stayed on the
Catfish
. He wished he had found a seat in the back of the sanctuary, a place of anonymity. But somehow he knew God wanted him at this place, at this moment. The words might be issuing from the pastor’s mouth, but they were coming directly from God.

Heat enveloped him. His collar was strangling him. John pulled at it with a desperate finger and wondered if he could escape. Anna must have sensed his anguish, because she touched his hand with hers. The touch did not immediately eliminate his vulnerability, but the desperation eased a bit—enough for him to remain seated on the pew.

“After you finish studying this psalm, I want you to turn to the words of the prophet Jeremiah. I want you to read my favorite verse, chapter 29, verse 11. ‘For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.’ God wants you to come to Him. He made you. He is your father. Gladden His heart by turning to Him this morning. Repent and join the ranks of His fruitful children. Jesus is standing at the door and knocking. Won’t you invite Him in?”

John could feel the words seeping into his soul. He was a beloved child of the Father. Even with his dark and painful past, he could still turn to God. He dropped his head and prayed to the Father to forgive his sins. He told God he wanted to be a different man. He wanted to start over and live the rest of his life according to His direction. He wanted Christ in his heart.

Tears threatened to overwhelm John, but he fought them back. Someone brushed past his left arm. John looked up and saw that two other men had come to the front of the church and were on their knees in front of the podium. Pastor Matthews was standing in front of them, his hands spread in front of him, palms up. They were praying together, a wonderful prayer of new beginnings. More than he had wanted anything in his life, John wanted to join them.

He put his hands against the pew and pushed himself up. At first he couldn’t believe it was actually him moving. It seemed Something … Someone stronger than he was helping to lift him from the mire of his past. John stepped forward and fell to his knees, his heart full of hope—a clean, refreshing, full hope—for the first time in his life.

“Lord God,” the pastor’s voice washed over him, “these men come to You with repentance and hope in their hearts. They want to turn their lives over to You. They are seeking You and calling on Your promise to dwell within them forevermore. They were sinners, but now they want to be washed clean in Your holy, cleansing blood. Thank You, Lord, for speaking to their hearts and bringing them to You. We are grateful for these new brothers of the faith. Be with them as they begin these new paths to Your glory. Amen.”

When John opened his eyes, the pastor was looking over their heads at the others in the church. “What a glorious morning this is. We get to welcome three more sheep into the fold.”

John pushed himself up, dusted off the knees of his slacks, and turned to see Anna at his elbow.

Her face glowed with joy. “I’m so happy for you, John.”

Pastor Matthews joined them. “Is this the young man you’ve told me about?”

“Yes, Father. This is John Champion.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, John Champion.” The pastor shook his hand.

John wanted to tell them the truth right then. The compulsion was very strong to come clean on this day of new beginnings. But fear grabbed him again. If he told them his real name, he would be stepping back into his past. He would be mired in his previous life. He might even once again become the monster he had been. So he nodded. “It’s my pleasure, sir.”

Reverend Matthews then left them to speak to others of his congregation.

Anna took one of his hands and squeezed it, her face full of joy. “Isn’t it wonderful to be a Christian?”

Touched by the sincerity of her voice, John smiled. “Yes, it is. I can hardly believe how … how content I feel.”

“I know. Walking with the Lord is a privilege.” She waved one hand in an arc. “You’re reborn, and from here on you can live a life of praise and thanksgiving, sure of your eternal home.”

Before he could answer her, the Pecantys joined them. Mrs. Naomi hugged him, and the captain shook his hand. For a little while, John forgot the scars on his face. He forgot about his past and focused on his future. A future that was looking brighter than ever.

E
ven though almost two weeks had passed since the formal ball, Camellia’s lips still tingled if she allowed herself to remember Jonah’s kiss. His touch had been tender, the complete opposite of his cold voice.

“I’m sorry.”
The icy tone and the remorse in his eyes had thumped her back to reality.

She was sorry, too. Sorry she hadn’t slapped him for taking advantage of their relationship in such a way.

Camellia had wanted to confide in her best friend, but how could she when he was supposed to have been Jane’s escort? How could she admit she had been swept away by his touch? That kissing was much more delightful than they’d ever imagined?

The answer was simple. She couldn’t. No one could know what had happened in this very room.

This afternoon was the first time she’d returned to the library. Mrs. Dabbs was working with some of the others on their penmanship but had sent Camellia to finish her sampler. Jane had received permission to join her.

Camellia’s gaze strayed to the corner where she and Jonah had stood. With a bit of imagination, she could once again feel his warm hand on her shoulder. What had come over her? She’d been angry with Jonah Thornton right until the point at which he wrapped her in his arms. Until her mind stopped thinking and her feelings took over. Why? What magic did Jonah have to so easily make her forget everything? Why had she felt so safe in his embrace?

“Do you think Thad will come to call this afternoon?” Jane’s voice brought her out of her spinning thoughts.

Camellia shoved her needle through the square of fabric she held, careful not to stitch it to her gown as she had earlier this year. At least the time at La Belle Demoiselle had improved her sewing skills, even if she still didn’t care for samplers. “I don’t know.”

“What about Mr. Thornton?”

A hot flush burst upward and burned her cheeks. Did Jane suspect something? “What about him?” Camellia winced at the defensive note in her voice. “I mean … I’m sure he has many more important things to do than frequent the school.”

Jane glanced her way. “Are you feeling feverish? When Pauline’s parents came to collect her last week, I overheard them tell Mrs. Dabbs that yellow jack is expected to be worse than ever this year.”

Camellia rolled her eyes. “We’ll be gone to Vicksburg before there’s any danger.”

“I suppose you’re right.” The two of them worked in silence for a little while, the mantel clock ticking away the minutes as the afternoon passed. “Thad has been busy lately with some secret plan, but he said he hopes to have some free time before the end of the month.”

A knock at the front door made them look up.

“Who do you think that is?” Jane’s brown eyes twinkled with excitement.

“Probably one of those soldiers who seemed so smitten with you at the ball.”

Both of them giggled and put away their needlework. It didn’t take long before footsteps echoed in the hallway. Whoever had answered the door was coming for them.

Camellia’s heartbeat increased. What if it was Jonah? What would she say to him? How could she face him?

The door burst open, and Brigitte rushed inside, her cap hanging on to her curls by a single pin and a wild look in her eyes. “
C’est une catastrophe.
Come quick.”

“A disaster?” Camellia translated the phrase as she and Jane rushed out of the library. Had someone been hurt? Had a doctor been called to attend one of the students? “Who’s hurt?”

“Non, non.”

Brigitte shook her head, and her cap flew free, landing on the floor. With a cluck of her tongue, the flustered woman scooped it up before beckoning them to follow. “Soldiers are here.
Vite.
Hurry.”

As they rushed behind her, their hands clasped, Camellia heard thumps and bumps coming from upstairs. It sounded as though the second floor had been invaded. What was going on?

Brigitte passed the door to the visitors’ parlor and the private parlor, heading toward the dining room behind the stairwell. As she opened the oak door, the sound of feminine sobbing was punctuated by the deeper sound of male voices. “I have brought the last two.”

Jane stopped in her tracks, her grasp holding Camellia back. “I’m scared.”

“Camellia? Jane?” Camellia recognized Mrs. Dabbs’s voice, although it sounded strained to her ears.

“Don’t be scared.” Wishing she could follow her own advice, Camellia swallowed against the lump in her throat and pulled on Jane’s hand. “It’s going to be all right.” She took the last steps to the open doorway and glanced inside, shock making her let go of Jane. What she saw did not calm her.

The remaining students were congregated in the far corner of the room. Three soldiers surrounded Mrs. Dabbs, their rifles pointed toward the ceiling. But the serious cast to their features was more than a little intimidating. Brigitte’s eyes were large in her face as she positioned herself between the soldiers and the students as though intent on protecting them.

But what protection did any of them need? These were not invading Yankees. These soldiers wore the gray uniforms of the Confederacy.

Mrs. Dabbs stood as Camellia and Jane entered the room.

One of the soldiers, his face hidden by a thick brown beard, swung the point of his rifle down. The bayonet flashed in the light coming from the windows.

Red splotches stained Mrs. Dabbs’s cheeks. “Put that weapon away before you hurt someone.”

He looked toward the taller one, who shrugged. After a moment, he shifted the weapon so it rested on his shoulder. “Is this all of them?”

Mrs. Dabbs sent him a disdainful glance. “I have seven students remaining. Count for yourself.”

“What’s going on?” Camellia took a step toward Mrs. Dabbs.

The tall soldier, who had blue eyes and a freckled face, frowned at her.

Camellia ignored him, moving forward and taking the older woman’s hands in her own. They were as cold as icicles. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, dear.” Mrs. Dabbs sighed. “But I’m afraid these gentlemen are going to insist on my accompanying them. As the oldest student, you’ll need to help Mademoiselle Laurent notify everyone that the school is closing immediately. Thank goodness many of them have already departed. You should have no trouble getting the rest of them to their relatives.”

“But why?”

A noise at the door took Mrs. Dabbs’s attention away from her face. An exclamation from behind her brought Camellia’s head around. Jane had run to the door and flung herself on the man standing there.

Relief spread through Camellia, and she squeezed Mrs. Dabbs’s hands. “Captain Watkins, thank goodness. Now everything will be fine.”

He hugged his sister briefly, keeping one arm around her as he entered the room. He ignored everyone else as he nodded to the soldiers in the room. “I’ll take over in here. Riley, Hamilton, stand guard at the front door. Don’t let anyone in or out until I’ve cleared them. Adkins, go help the search out back.”

The three men hurried to do his bidding.

Camellia let go of Mrs. Dabbs’s hands and summoned a bright smile for his benefit. He was forgiven for his boorish behavior the last time she’d seen him. “I’m so glad you’re here.”