Lily (Song of the River) (36 page)

Lily sighed as she turned toward the ladies’ parlor. At least the Lord had blessed her idea of using afternoon tea as an opportunity for Bible study. No matter how diverse the women passengers were, they seemed to enjoy discussing how to apply the Bible to their daily problems. Today she would suggest reading John 7 about the rivers of living water, the Holy Spirit, which flowed inside all believers.

The afternoon was far advanced when Blake called her out of the ladies’ parlor. “Captain Henrick says we’ll need to stop and purchase more firewood.”

Stopping at wood yards was a normal occurrence, so Lily wondered why Blake thought it necessary to let her know. Did he have another reason to seek her out? Her heart turned over, rushing blood to her cheeks. “That doesn’t sound like much of a problem.”

His brow furrowed. “It will stop us from reaching Natchez this evening unless you want to risk the boat by continuing after dark.”

Comprehension brought a sense of irritation. “Why didn’t we stop at an earlier yard? The captain must have known this would happen. We’ve been up and down this stretch of river several times.”

“Lily, can’t you let go of your distrust a little?”

His question speared her conscience. Was she being too hard on her father? No. He was supposed to be a seasoned captain. “I would expect the same thing from any captain. By making a mistake like this, he’s put the
Hattie Belle
at risk. Why can’t you see that?”

The furrow deepened. “What I see is that you are as quick to condemn Captain Henrick as you have been me. I don’t understand, Lily. No one on this boat wants to fail, least of all your father. Can’t you see how he’s trying to win your approval? Last month when we were in New Orleans, you were full of advice about how I should reestablish a link with my family. Maybe it’s time for you to listen to your own counsel.”

Not wanting Blake to see how his words had affected her, she turned away. A tear trickled down her cheek. Lily refused to be the type of woman who used tears to blackmail a man into doing what she wanted. She was stronger than that. Brushing the tear away with an impatient finger, she took a deep breath and tried to understand why Blake was championing Captain Henrick. What possible reason could the man have for failing to have enough wood on board? If he was as good a captain as he’d claimed, he would not put them in peril. She slammed the door on her emotions and took a deep, cleansing breath.

Blake’s hands came down on her shoulders and pressed gently to turn her around.

Lily didn’t want to look up. “He’s supposed to be captaining this ship. That’s the only thing I need from him.”

“Lily, both of us know what it’s like to make mistakes. You can be so warm and accepting toward others. You are a gracious hostess and a capable manager. Why can’t you yield just a little to the captain?”

She glanced up. His eyes drew her in. Their blue depths promised understanding and comfort. Then his lids drooped a bit, and the blue fire in his gaze singed her. Whatever she’d been about to say slipped from her mind. No wonder all their lady passengers—all ladies in general—found him so attractive.

“No matter how hard you try to ignore it, he is your father.” Blake’s voice was as tempting as a soft pillow.

Lily could feel herself yielding. She pulled away, and as soon as he let go, her mind began working again. She needed to focus on their current problem. “Can we spend the night at the wood yard?”

“I suppose so. According to Captain Henrick, Sanderson Wood Yard is only a few miles away. But stopping now means we’ll lose several hours of travel.”

She chewed at her lower lip. “Whether we stay here or stop somewhere else, we won’t make it home in time to attend church in Natchez.”

He shrugged. “Maybe you could have a service on the boat.”

Was Blake actually suggesting a church service? She considered the idea then shook her head. “We don’t have a preacher on board.”

“Captain Henrick could lead a service.”

Her jaw clenched to hold back the flood of emotions that once again threatened. “He’s not a preacher.”

His shoulders lowered a notch. Was he disappointed? “He may not be a preacher, but he has a great deal of insight on matters of faith. If you spent a little more time with him, you might change your mind.”

Lily wanted to shout a denial. She had to protect herself. Otherwise—She reined in her thoughts once more. For now she would concentrate on the original problem. She needed to answer the question of what to do after purchasing wood. “There aren’t any other ports between here and Vicksburg, so if we continue, we’d be alone when we docked.” Lily shuddered. “We’d be vulnerable to pirates.”

“That’s true, but there’ve been no reports of pirates operating on this part of the river for years.”

Lily spread her hands, palms upward. “We have several children on board—passengers as well as David and Jasmine. I can’t take a chance that someone might be hurt. At the most we’ll lose a day.”

“Do we have enough food?”

She gave an emphatic nod. “I think we have enough for an extra week.”

“That’s fine then. I’ll notify Captain Henrick and the crew.”

Lily reached for the doorknob to the ladies’ parlor. “I’ll tell our passengers.” But before entering the room, she watched Blake’s retreating back, her mind replaying his words. She didn’t like admitting it, but he had a point. She didn’t want to be the type of hypocrite who dispensed advice but refused to follow it. Yet she couldn’t reach out to her father—not unless she asked for God’s help.

Which led to a concern at the heart of the matter. How would she respond if God did smooth out a path toward reconciliation?

Blake slid into the empty seat next to Lily, nodding to David and Jasmine on her far side. The dining hall looked very different this morning. The tables had been pushed to one side, and all the chairs had been placed in rows for the Sunday service.

Tamar and Jensen stood with the passengers’ slaves at the back of the room. Jensen’s face was clean shaven, and he wore a recently pressed suit. Tamar was in a uniform but looked different—younger and more relaxed. Blake thought perhaps her hair had a new style, or maybe it was the half smile on her lips. Whatever the change, he approved.

His gaze came back to Lily, so prim and proper. He wondered what she thought of his presence.

When Henrick told him Lily had invited him to preach, Blake had been shocked. The captain had seemed pleased about the opportunity although aware his daughter was not ready to seek reconciliation. Blake had reminded him that Lily’s actions were a good sign and might be the beginning of a real relationship between father and daughter.

Blake wondered if his conversation with Lily had gotten through her stubbornness. It was a sobering thought. For her to listen to his advice meant she valued his opinion. Was that why he found himself attending this morning? A response to her willingness to change? Or was he just curious?

He would rather believe he was here because of his admiration for Captain Henrick. At least the man was trying to make amends for his past misdeeds. The captain had told Blake how he’d plunged into despair after his wife died. But the man had managed to pull himself out of the hole he’d dug. He’d created a new life for himself. He was even trying to reconcile his past.

Captain Henrick gave all the credit for his transformation to God, but Blake thought he should accept a measure of recognition himself. It took a lot of determination to turn one’s life around. The river towns were full of men like the captain had once been—men who eked out a miserable existence, slogging through life with a minimum of effort, looking for handouts or opportunities to prey on others.

After the passengers stopped entering the dining hall, Captain Henrick stood to get their attention. Dressed in his trademark red shirt and dark pants, the man still managed to look very natural standing before a group of people. His smile was wide and infectious. “Good morning. What a beautiful Lord’s Day we are enjoying. This morning I thought I would talk to you about a passage from Isaiah.”

He stopped and looked at the floor. Blake wondered if he’d been stricken by fear. He could certainly understand an attack of nerves. He wished he could reassure the captain. Shuffling his feet, he wondered if he should do something to ease the building tension in the quiet room.

Captain Henrick looked up, a serious expression on his weathered face. “Before I get started, I think you should know how proud I am to stand up here. When my … employer asked me to talk to you this morning, I thought she was joking.” Several chuckles came from the audience. “I’m not a preacher, but the Good Book says you don’t have to be to talk to others about God. You only have to be willing. I thought about that and how I want to serve God. Then I thought you might like to hear about how an angry old sinner like me came to be a believer. So I went back to the passage that the Lord used to get my attention.”

He opened his Bible and began reading. “‘ To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.’”

He bowed his head. “Dearest Lord, we come to You today with hearts full of thankfulness, hearts full of love and devotion. And for those among us who are struggling or grieving or lost, I ask that You fulfill Your promise to give them ‘beauty for ashes.’ Thank You, Lord, for listening. Please pour out Your Spirit on us today. Amen.”

A rustling swept the room as the listeners settled in for the sermon, but to Blake’s ears it sounded different. The hair at the back of his neck stood up. He had heard of the Holy Spirit, of course, but he’d never put much stock in such things. He wanted to look around, see if some ghostly mist floated in the air behind him, but he resisted the impulse.

“I remember the first time I read this scripture.” Captain Henrick’s face was relaxed. “I was in a deep, dark hole. I had done a terrible thing, for which I could not seek forgiveness.” He looked over the crowd. “Some of you may be feeling the same way this morning. Some of you may think you can never seek the Lord.”

Captain Henrick’s gaze settled on Blake. What did the man think he’d done that was so awful? Blake thought back over the years since he’d left home. He hadn’t been so bad. He’d never killed anyone or stolen anything. He squared his shoulders and stared back at Lily’s father, his sympathy gone. What did Captain Henrick know about anything?

“I was lying in the ashes of despair. I mourned for things from my past. The heaviness described by the prophet Isaiah weighed heavily on my spirit. But God reached out to me. And I stand here today as a testament to His power. I am a different man. I have the peace promised by Jesus. My life is filled with beauty, with the oil of joy, and the garment of praise.” Captain Henrick stopped speaking. He closed his Bible.

“Now you may be tempted to seek His blessings just as I was. And I encourage you to do so. But be warned. It doesn’t stop there. Your life will become something beautiful and glorious, but that’s not the end of it.” He opened the Bible again and flipped a couple of pages before continuing. “Listen to the second part of this verse. ‘That they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.’”

The captain lifted his face up toward the ceiling. “We’re not on earth to make a decent living, or to marry and start a happy family. Those aren’t bad things, but they are things of this world. They are things we should never see as our goals. We’re here to glorify our Maker. He has planted us here for His purpose.”

Captain Henrick’s lips turned up in a smile of the purest joy Blake had ever witnessed. “Think of it. The Master of all, the glorious Creator, the mysterious I Am. He created you and me to glorify Him through our righteousness. What more wonderful task can we have?”

Blake felt himself caught up in the joy of the captain’s sermon. He almost felt the touch of God. He glanced at Lily. Her face was also lit as though from within. She had it, too. Intense yearning swept him. He wanted to feel what they felt. He wanted the joy of knowing God, of living for a higher purpose. The need was so deep and consuming that it nearly brought him to his knees.

But reality seeped in. He couldn’t do that. He didn’t deserve such a future. It was probably a sham anyway. His own father had been a preacher. Blake knew better than to fall for the empty promises of religion. He would be better off if he’d never given in to the impulse to listen to Lily’s father this morning. It would have been a better use of his time to have stayed in bed.