Love's First Bloom (38 page)

She held his advice close to her spirit and carried the paper over to a porthole to read it in the best light. Oddly enough, the newspaper was dated for tomorrow, the fourteenth of August, but the article, centered on the first page directly below the masthead, immediately captured her attention. She skimmed through some sections and read others aloud.

The reporter, identified as Asher Tripp, claimed he “interviewed Ruth Livingstone at great length” and argued with great force that “any and all skepticism about Reverend Livingstone’s innocence and rumors that his daughter had hidden some sort of evidence of his misdoings, even after Mrs. Browers’s deathbed confession, should be laid to rest.”

With her heart pounding, Ruth read that he suggested readers would be much more interested in reading about “Reverend Simon Hart, most recently of Boston, who has resumed the very important ministry begun by the late Reverend Livingstone and is already tending his new flock: the fallen angels of this city.”

Tears blurred her vision to the point Ruth was unable to read any further, and she stopped to wipe away her tears before she continued, anxious to read the final paragraph, which contained a personal message from the reporter:

While this report is my first article to appear in print for several years, it will also be my last. Following publication of this issue of the
Galaxy,
my brother, Clifford Tripp, will assume full ownership and editorial duties associated with this newspaper, while I leave to pursue other interests outside of the city. It is my fervent prayer that the
Galaxy
will uphold the finest principles of truth, honor, and justice in future publications, inspiring readers’ confidence in the news reported therein, as well as the blessings of Providence. In saying farewell, I would also ask all of you, faithful readers, to pray for me as I allow God’s plan for my life to unfold and for Rev. Livingstone’s daughter, who is living in a town that will remain unnamed and enjoying quiet anonymity with the man she recently wed.

Bowing her head, she wept as Jake Spencer and Asher Tripp became one and the same man in her heart and mind—the man she loved. Jake had done much more than keep his vow not to write anything that would hurt her or Lily.

The article he had written had given both of them the protection and the freedom to enjoy the days and months and years ahead without fear that their identities would ever be revealed, although she found it rather odd that he had written that she had gotten married.

Another rap at her door sent her scrambling to wipe her face free of tears after setting the paper aside. Although she would have given anything to be able to see Jake at this very moment, she knew Capt. Grant was simply returning with the Bible he had promised to bring to her.

When she opened the cabin door, however, she looked into the eyes of the man she loved. The emotion in his gaze was almost overpowering. “I waited as long as I could. Did you read what I wrote?”

Captivated by the love brimming in his hazel eyes, she was unable to speak but managed to nod and moistened her lips. For every lie he had told her, she had told him two, but in the end it was the truth of their feelings for each other that mattered most of all.

“Would you care to discuss it?”

She shook her head and embraced the events some would call coincidences that had brought her to this moment in time with this man, events she saw clearly now as providential. Her father’s dedication to a ministry for which he was often ridiculed yet which led him to the daughter he never knew had been born. His insistence that Ruth and Ruth alone protect an innocent child. The specific reporter who had found them, but had protected them instead of exploiting them. And a sea captain who seemed to be the only common link to them all.

“Ruth?”

The sound of her name startled her and ended her musing. “I asked if you’d care to discuss anything I wrote.”

When she shook her head again, he cocked a brow. “No? I’m surprised. I don’t seem to recall a single instance when you didn’t complain about something printed in the newspaper.”

She shrugged. “Now that you mention it, I do have one complaint.”

He started to smile. “I was hoping you might.”

“This recent marriage of Ruth Livingstone you mentioned in the article. For a reporter committed to reporting only the truth, I’m afraid you fell short. As far as I know, she isn’t married at all.”

The cleft in his chin deepened. “Very true, but since the paper is dated for tomorrow, there’s still time to rectify that mistake.”

“Really?” she said, feigning indifference, although her heart was racing so fast she felt faint.

“Marry me. Let me spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m the man who will love you the most, because I’m finally the man you encouraged me to be.” He cupped her cheek. “Join with me to continue your father’s work. Capt. Grant is waiting for us in his cabin. Say you’ll have him marry us. Right away.”

Her heart leaped with joy as she leaned her face against the palm of his hand. “I do believe I’ve heard that the captain of a ship can perform marriages at sea, but are you certain it would be legal?”

He tilted up her chin and kissed her. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Capt. Grant’s an ordained minister, too.” He then lifted a sleeping Lily from her bunk and turned to face Ruth again with the little girl in his arms. “Marry me. Make us a real family.”

Ruth blinked, fresh tears coursing down her cheeks. “Did you say the captain is an ordained minister?”

He smiled and held out his hand. “I’ll explain it all to you after the ceremony.”

When he kissed her again, she slipped her hand into his and held on tight to the loving man in front of her, and the ever-loving God who had brought him into her life.

The Seashell

Seashells are homes for some of God’s many treasured creatures. Although the shells are quite colorful, once the creatures within them die, strong currents carry away the shells. Many of them will be much paler by the time they crash upon distant shores, but even the most colorful shells will be bleached white by the sun before a sheller comes along to collect them.

As human beings, we are the most precious of God’s creatures, and we are very much like those seashells. Within our earthly bodies, we have a spiritual soul that is a home for our faith and our love for Him. Whenever we commit a sin, our souls become very colorful, perhaps turning green from being envious or red from being angry or purple from being jealous or gold from being consumed by a thirst for wealth or fame.

If we turn to Him and ask for His forgiveness, His grace can purify and whiten even the most sinful and colorful of souls. When death comes and our souls wash upon Heaven’s shores where He waits to collect us, I pray that He may find our souls have been purified by His forgiveness and grace, just as the seashells that land upon our shores have been bleached white by the sun.

Love Him. Serve Him. And trust in Him always as you await the glorious day when the greatest of all shellers, Our Lord and Saviour, welcomes you Home.

Rev. James Christian Grant,
written aboard the
Sheller
February 1808

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