Prairie Storm (21 page)

“Kiss her?” Elijah said. “Sure, go ahead.”

No one had told him about
kissing
being part of a wedding ceremony. He'd memorized his part from start to finish, but there wasn't a word in the instruction manual about smooching. As the bridegroom drew his wife into his arms, a collective sigh of delight rose throughout the church.

Eli glanced to the back pews near the door. Lily hadn't come. Everyone in town had been invited to the wedding, but she had chosen not to make an appearance. Disappointment darkened his spirits. The reception would be starting in a few minutes, and he had looked forward to sitting near Lily. Maybe he would ask her to dance. Seth Hunter had evidently kept quiet about seeing their stolen kiss. Speaking of kisses …

“Whoa, you two,” Eli said, tapping Jack Cornwall on the shoulder. “The guests are all eager to have a slice of wedding cake. Or are we supposed to stand here all day?”

As the crowd chuckled, Jack and Caitrin parted. Her cheeks rosy, the bride gave a musical laugh. Linking her arm through her husband's, she set off beside him down the aisle. The other celebrants clapped as the pair led the way out of the church.

When the building was finally empty, Eli let out a deep breath and slumped onto the chair near the pulpit. He bent over, covering his face with his hands, and prayed for the storm inside his heart to calm.

That opera house was going up faster than a dandelion after a spring rain. In just twenty-four hours, the framework for a large, two-story building had already been erected. Had Lily visited the site or spoken with Beatrice? Was she planning to take a job there? He gritted his teeth.

Why had he kissed her yesterday afternoon? He'd tried so hard to keep himself away from the woman. And now that he had finally run her off, he could hardly bear the distance that stretched between them.

Every morning, Lily sent Eva to fetch Samuel, and Ben returned the baby each night. During the day, Lily stayed busy helping Eva weed the garden, wash and iron laundry, bake bread, and mend shirts and socks. The two women worked side by side, as though they were sisters. And never once did Lily glance in the direction of the church.

Eli was sure he looked her way at least five hundred times a day. Not only was he curious about her relationship with Beatrice and concerned about the welfare of little Sam, but he couldn't make himself stop thinking about Lily herself. Why had she come into his life? Would it really be so wrong for him to court a nonbeliever? M Maybe they could just see each other on Sunday afternoons. Eli could borrow a wagon and take Lily for a drive down the main road. Would there be any harm in that?

Eli rubbed his eyes. He hadn't slept much lately. Confusion and turmoil rolled around inside him like thunder.

Of course he couldn't court Lily. If he took her for a drive, he'd want to kiss her again. And if he kissed her, he'd want to tell her how he really felt about her. And if he told her how he felt, he'd want …

Well, he'd want to spend the rest of his life with her. That's what he'd want.

He slammed his palms against his thighs and stood.
God, I need your help!
He picked up his Bible.
I need it right now. I don't know what I'm going to do about Lily. I can't change her. I can't unlock her heart. But I care about her. I care about her too much. Lord, you allowed her to come into my life. Please help me now
.

As he cried out his earnest prayer, Eli strode down the aisle to the double-hung front doors. The turmoil inside him felt as though it were raging—a huge twister building up speed, gathering power, and threatening to destroy everything in its path. If he hadn't given his life to Christ, there was no telling what he would do with all this pent-up frustration inside his heart.

Elijah, do you love me?
a familiar voice inside him whispered. The preacher stopped, listening.

Feed my lambs
.

Eli took a deep breath. The sheep. That was it. He would head over to the reception taking place inside the mercantile, and he'd visit with every member of the church. He'd ask about the health of the Rippetos' youngest, Mrs. Hudson's grandchildren, Mr. LeBlanc's new millstone, and Mrs. Laski's ill sister in Poland. He would inquire after Mrs. Hunter and Mrs. O'Toole and their expected babies, Mr. Rustemeyer's ailing cow, and Miss Lucy Cornwall's latest batch of cinnamon buns.

Elijah, do you love me?

Tend my sheep
.

He wouldn't look at the Hanks house. He wouldn't think about Lily. He wouldn't even—

At the sight of a slender figure just down the street, Eli stopped walking. There she was. Her blue skirt fluttered as she hurried along, clutching her white shawl close around her shoulders. Though she wore a cotton bonnet with wide ruching that hid her face, he knew it was Lily. And she was headed for the opera house.

Elijah, do you love me?

Eli clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes shut. “Lord,” he murmured, “you know I love you. I've given my heart to you. I've turned over my whole life. Of course I love you.”

Then feed my sheep
.

“What do you mean by that, Lord?” he breathed, bowing his head. “Your sheep are over in the mercantile.”

The words of Luke's Gospel came over him like a drenching rain:
“What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it?”

Eli shook his head. He couldn't go after Lily. He couldn't be her shepherd. He could probably preach to the lost in China. He might even be able to pastor the Lord's flock in Hope. But not Lily. He didn't know how to reach her. Worse than that, he didn't know how to hold back his feelings for her. He didn't know how to be her pastor when he really wanted to be her—

He wanted to be her husband. That was it. That was all there was to it.

Lord, I love Lily Nolan
, he prayed.
I love her like a woman, not just another one of the flock. I can't think of her any other way. I know you don't want that. I know you would never want me yoked with an unbeliever
,
and I'd do anything to keep from disobeying you, Father
.

Eli swallowed hard.

Tend my lamb, Elijah
.

The voice was unmistakable. When God spoke to him, the words reflected those of Holy Scripture. Elijah started walking. He trudged past the mercantile, deaf to the laughter and the sounds of fiddles and dancing feet inside. He forced his boots down the rutted main street of Hope, Kansas. And he looked across the prairie toward the frame of a new two-story building.

The opera house.

Lily paused in the shade of a large cottonwood tree near the Hope bridge. She had waited for this moment when the whole town was busy celebrating Caitrin Murphy's wedding to Jack Cornwall. No one would notice a lone woman headed down to the construction site of the new opera house. Lily could slip over to the building, perhaps speak with Beatrice for a few minutes, and then return to the Hankses' home before Sam awoke from his afternoon nap.

There wasn't a thing wrong with her plan. So why did she feel sick inside? Why was her heart as heavy as a piece of Ben Hanks's unforged iron?

Lily laid her hand on the gnarled trunk of the old tree and studied the framework of the large building. How had it gone up so fast? Determination, that's how. Men swarmed over the frame of the opera house, raising walls and laying floorboards. Within a week or two, the structure would be finished and painted, the roof shingled, and the furniture moved in.

Beatrice's dream would come true. And Lily could join her. All it would take was a step out of the sleepy security of Hope and into the raucous, lively, on-the-edge life of an entertainer. Lily would have the chance to get rich. She would meet travelers with interesting tales to tell. Maybe she would find a husband. And, of course, she could sing.

Lowering her head, Lily considered the lure of the opera house. She had been rich once in her life, but her fine dresses and expensive education had brought her no happiness. She had adventured with the exciting characters the road brought her way, but she had found no joy. She had been married, but it had given her no lasting pleasure.

Singing. How she loved to sing. With Beatrice at her side, Lily could again sing the great arias. She could stir people's hearts and bring a thrill to their weary lives. If she returned to Philadelphia, she would never sing again.

Stepping out, Lily walked across the cleared ground and up to the site of the opera house. This could be her new home. This could be her realm.

“Out of my way, lady,” a man called as he shouldered a load of planks past her. “I've got to get this wall up before the sun goes down. Don't want to miss the party, you know. The whisky flows!”

Lily pursed her lips and scanned the construction site. Not far away, George Gibbons from the Crescent Moon Hotel stood deep in conversation with a group of workers. His thin black mustache took on a life of its own as he spoke. At the sight, a light bubble of laughter rose up inside Lily. This could be fun. Parties in the evenings. Lots of men to dance with. She didn't have to feel lonely. She wouldn't even think about Elijah Book across the way in his white clapboard church. She would be the belle of the ball.

“Excuse me,” she said as another man hurried by with a load of bricks. “Do you know where I could find Beatrice Waldowski?”

“Who?”

“Madame Zahara?”

“The only madam around here is Mrs. B. You one of her girls?” He gave Lily the once-over and grinned. “I might have to be first in line.”

A chill ran down Lily's spine. “Excuse me, please,” she said, brushing past him.

It couldn't be true. Surely this building was not going to become a brothel. Beatrice had said it was to be an opera house. There would be plays and ventriloquists, juggling and dog acts, raucous music and lighthearted operas.

Breathless, she strode around the building site until she found Beatrice. The older woman was looking up at the half-constructed second floor, her bright red dress sparkling in the late-afternoon sunlight. She had piled her long black hair high on her head and topped her bun with a crimson silk rose.

“Beatrice,” Lily called across the empty space. “I heard you had returned to Hope.”

The woman turned, her painted eyebrows arching in momentary surprise. “Lily?” Then she held out her arms in welcome. “You've finally come.”

Stepping into the embrace of her friend, Lily was enveloped in the scent of Bea's exotic, spicy perfume. Lily had expected to feel as though she were coming home to the comfortable and familiar, but something about the moment of intimacy repulsed her. Moving back, she slipped her hands into her pockets.

“Your dress is luxurious,” Lily said.

“George bought it for me.” Bea gave her hips a toss and then laughed. “He's the most wonderful man. Oh, Lily, I've never been so happy in all my life.”

“Are you in love with him?”

“Of course I am! He's the best thing that ever happened to me. So much for Jakov and his traveling show.” Her hand made an arc to take in the building. “I'm on my way now!”

“Bea, I'm so happy for you. Has Mr. Gibbons asked for your hand?”

“Why should he want my hand when he's got the rest of me?” With a giggle, Bea slipped her arm around Lily's shoulders. “Oh, Lil, I'm sorry you and I parted with angry words back in Topeka. I was just sick about it for days. All those harsh things we said to one another. It was horrible.”

“Let's move forward now, Bea. This is a nice place. You and George must have big plans for it.”

“It's going to be a gold mine, honey. We'll have the theater down below, the saloon to one side, and all those rooms upstairs.”

“So, it's going to be a hotel?”

Beatrice laughed again, and this time Lily realized her friend's breath smelled strongly of liquor. “In a manner of speaking,” she said. “George is going to bring in some girls. Soiled doves, they call them. I hear they're everywhere out West, California especially, and most of them are eager to move to someplace nice.”

Lily stiffened at the confirmation of her fears. “A brothel, Bea?”

“Why not? The money is good. Every lonely farmer, merchant, and traveler from the Mississippi to the Rockies can belly up to our bar, have himself a few good laughs at our show, and then buy an evening's pleasure with one of our gals. With that bridge nearby, we'll get them coming and going. Why, we might even lure that pious preacher friend of yours over here for a night of fun. What do you think?”

Hardly able to breathe, Lily reflected on the simple, good-hearted townsfolk celebrating a marriage within sight of this place. Jack Cornwall and his bride. Ben and Eva Hanks. Seth and Rosie Hunter and their growing family. The O'Tooles and their gaggle of red-haired children.

A brothel? A saloon? She felt like she was going to be sick.