Steadfast Heart (10 page)

“So you would break our hearts by leaving Seattle should this relationship grow serious and lead to marriage?”

Lenore had never really considered that before now. “I can't say. Perhaps Mr. Booth would enjoy living in Seattle. I believe anything is possible, and I am continuing to pray that God will give me wisdom in all things.”

Mother swept into the room, all but floating across the floor as she always did. Lenore had worked to mimic her grace since she was just a little girl. “You two look rather glum and serious.” She smiled. “I thought we were to go to the theatre tonight, and here neither of you are dressed for the occasion. Lenore, hurry and change. Get the maid to help you with your hair.”

Without arguing, Lenore made her way to her bedroom suite. Her mother had insisted that they attend one affair or another night after night, and Lenore was exhausted and bored. It wasn't that a play or concert, or even the occasional party, wasn't to her liking, but her heart was elsewhere.

How did I fall in love with this man? I
hardly know him and
he hardly knows me. What will
I do if he doesn't return my affections?
Lenore frowned and began to unbutton her skirt. What if she returned home to find Kolbein gone? The thought troubled her greatly.

Abrianna opened the envelope from Lenore. How she missed her friend!

Dearest Abrianna,

How I long for home. I pray you are well and that this letter will explain our delay in returning. Father has been quite busy with various business negotiations but assures me we won't remain here much longer.

I pray you have kept your promise to speak of me to Mr. Booth. I am counting on you to offer your very best efforts.

“Goodness,” Abrianna said, setting the letter aside. “I have no idea if my efforts are my best or not. I haven't been overly thoughtful of the matter lately.” She was speaking to no one but the empty room. She cringed a little at the thought. Had she been selfish and remiss in helping her friend?

I find myself thinking of Mr. Booth—dare I say Kolbein?—so often. I suppose that might sound strange to some, given we've only met and have had little time to know each other. However, I believe my heart has assigned itself to this man. I have heard of such things—people falling in love upon the first glance. I don't want to say for certain that this is the case, but I do feel a strange longing to know him better.

I miss you dearly. Please pray that we will soon be on our way home.

With great affection,
Lenore

“Oh, I have been far too focused on the dead rather than the living.” She put the letter aside. “But there must be time for both. Charlie was a good man and he deserves my help in finding his killer.”

Grief over Charlie had taken a good deal of her attention. There had been a small service, and some of his former mates arranged a burial at sea. Of course Abrianna couldn't attend either one, what with the funeral having been held in the worst section of the town—Skid Road. Efforts had been made on many occasions to clean up the Lava Bed, as some called it, but even Abrianna knew better than to venture there—even to honor Charlie. For the burial at sea she had climbed to the rooftop and looked out toward the harbor. She imagined the boat carrying Charlie maneuvering through the sound and making its way out and around the various islands to reach the open ocean. Charlie would be happy they were doing this for him, but Abrianna couldn't help but feel a deep sadness. Charlie was only one of the many old and forgotten souls, yet his absence left Abrianna confused and angry.

“Who would kill an innocent old man?” she murmured.

Realizing she was focusing on the death of her friend and not the promotion of Lenore to Kolbein, Abrianna forced the thoughts from her mind. She must do better on Lenore's behalf. She hurried to finish buttoning her boots and was nearly done when she heard a commotion outside her door.

Without thought of her boots, Abrianna hurried to see what had caused the disturbance. Outside the door Aunt Poisie was racing down the hall with Aunt Selma close behind, carrying armfuls of towels toward the back staircase. What in the world was going on?

Abrianna hurried after them. “Aunt Poisie, what has happened?”

“Oh, it's terrible,” Poisie replied. “Just terrible. A pipe in the kitchen has sprung a leak, and the spring rains and thaws of the mountain snows are sure to cause the sewers to back up. We need to work fast or the leaky pipe might overflow the kitchen with sewage.”

“How could the sewage back up all the way to the kitchen? We're on the second floor.” She knew there had been trouble with the sewers for as long as they'd been in the place, and while some of the backups had been quite extensive and smelly, they had faired the problem well enough until now.

“I believe,” she said, continuing to follow her aunts, “that the pipe in the kitchen is part of the water system and not the sewer system. Although I can't say for certain. Wade would know best.”

“Sister has sent for Wade. He should be here shortly to lend us aid.”

Aunt Selma nodded. “It is a severe testing to be certain.”

In the kitchen, Liang was already mopping up water as fast as she could, and Aunt Miriam was down on her hands and knees trying to figure out something under the sink. Several of the students were hurriedly moving objects from one side of the kitchen to the other. It seemed there was no end to the activity.

“Can I be of assistance?” a male voice sounded.

Abrianna turned to find Kolbein Booth rather than Wade.
“Apparently the pipe is leaking and we are in danger of another situation to match Noah and his ark.” Her voice was only loud enough for him to hear.

He grinned. “Well, we cannot have that.” He strode across the kitchen and, in a matter of minutes, had the water turned off and the leak temporarily stopped.

“All might have been lost had you not appeared,” Poisie declared.

Abrianna suppressed a smile. She wasn't sure how all could be lost because of one leaky pipe, but she wasn't about to question her aunt.

Wade walked in, toolbox in hand, as the last of the food items were moved from one countertop to another. “I see you managed to get here before I did,” Wade said to Kolbein.

“We are most grateful that anyone would come in our hour of need,” Selma told the men. “It was a frightful thing to watch everything become soaked in water.”

“I'll do what I can to get it fixed up for you,” Wade said, going closer to see the problem. He tinkered with things for a few minutes, then opened his toolbox and went to work.

Kolbein remained at his side, offering whatever help he could while Abrianna's aunts guided the young ladies to another task. Within a matter of minutes, Wade had the job in hand. Apparently the leak was coming from a loose joint or some such thing. Abrianna wasn't all that concerned. Already she was trying to formulate what she would say regarding her dear friend.

When Kolbein stepped back to give Wade room to put away his tools, Abrianna decided to use the time to speak to Kolbein about Lenore.

“I had a small note from Lenore. She wants very much to come home. She misses us.”

Kolbein smiled. “And she is missed, as well. I can tell you are half beside yourself awaiting her return, and I shall be glad to hear her tales of San Francisco.”

“I do miss her,” Abrianna admitted. “She's a dear friend. I think you would be wise to note her grand qualities. She is quite an amazing find.”

He laughed at this. “You sound as though she were a rare diamond found in the heart of darkest Africa.”

“She's more valuable than that,” Abrianna replied. “I'm sure even the angels are blessed by her example. She is a great beauty, and I know of none her equal.”

Kolbein shrugged. “Well, it seems that I know of one. One particular red-headed creature whose loyalty to her friend knows no bounds. However, I must admit that you've caused me to be intrigued, and I find myself pondering the idea of knowing her better.”

Abrianna put her hand to her breast. “I am so relieved to hear you say so. I know that would please Lenore.”

“Oh? And why would that be?” he asked, his right brow arched.

“Ah, well . . .” She couldn't very well tell him the truth. “Lenore enjoys making friends. I'm certain she would cherish knowing you better, as well.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment and smiled. “Then we must hope for Miss Fulcher's swift return.”

Feeling satisfied with his comment, Abrianna decided to let the matter rest for the time being. She had done her duty to Lenore, and now she could eat her breakfast with a clear conscience.

D
ays later as Kolbein walked along the wharfs, he spied Wade Ackerman's wagon shop across the street. For reasons he didn't completely understand, Kolbein decided to pay the man a visit. Maybe in talking to another man, Kolbein could sort through some of the thoughts that were going through his mind. Up until now, the influence had mostly been female, and God himself knew that men and women did
not
think alike.

Arriving inside the small building, Kolbein let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The shop was full of woody scents and the sound of hammering. Kolbein followed the sounds and found Wade working to build what looked like a wooden box.

“I hope I'm not intruding,” he said, announcing his presence.

Wade looked up, surprised. “Not at all. But I will say that I never expected to see you here.”

Kolbein nodded. He'd been thinking over some things Abrianna had said about God, and suddenly his visit seemed preordained. “You're a man of God, aren't you?”

Wade put down the hammer and wiped his hands on the leather apron that protected his clothes. “I am. Why do you ask?”

“I realize we don't know each other very well, but I guess . . . I have some questions—man to man.”

Wade appeared to consider this for a moment. Then without ceremony he pulled off his leather apron. “Why don't we have a cup of coffee together? I'm ready for a break.”

Kolbein agreed and followed Wade into yet another portion of the shop. It wasn't much—a ten-by-ten-foot room at the most, and in it was what appeared to be Wade's entire home. A table for two and a small woodstove occupied one end of the room. Lifting the coffeepot from the stove, Wade motioned for Kolbein to take a seat.

This gave him the opportunity to study the entire room as Wade poured hot coffee into first one mug and then another. A small bed stood opposite the impromptu kitchen, and in between were a couple of bookcases, a reading chair, and a chest of drawers. The top of the chest was covered with a variety of objects, but otherwise the little room was fairly well maintained.

“So you actually live here?” Kolbein asked, uncertain what else to say.

“I do. I know it's not much, but I don't need much. I figure it's better to save money.” Wade took a seat. “I didn't think to ask—do you take sugar? I don't have any cream, but I do have sugar.”

“Black is fine.” Kolbein took a sip of the coffee. It was good and strong. “It's perfect.”

Wade smiled and took a slow sip. “Hotter than I expected. I figured it'd be pretty cooled down by now. Guess I stoked that fire up a bit more than I thought.”

Kolbein nodded. “What with the rain I can't say as I blame you. I've been walking amongst the street vendors and asking about my sister. It chilled me through.”

“I can build up the fire more if you'd like.”

“No. I didn't come here to impose.” Kolbein fidgeted with his coffee cup. “Fact is, I didn't figure to come here at all, but I found myself standing out front and thought you might be able to help me.”

“With what?” Wade looked confused.

“Well, this isn't exactly easy to say, but I know Abrianna puts a lot of trust in you, and she seems to have a deep regard for the Bible and spiritual matters.”

Wade gave a nod. “That she does. I've been attending church with her nearly since she was born.”

“She seems really knowledgeable about a lot of things, I must say.” Kolbein chuckled. “I've never met up with a more opinionated woman in my life.”

“Abrianna is that,” Wade admitted hesitantly. “But . . . well, you have to consider how she's been raised. Those aunts of hers aren't exactly the demure and silent type. They are more educated than most women. Mrs. Madison was a teacher before she married, and her sister graduated from a women's college. I believe her focus was music. Mrs. Gibson was a preacher's daughter. Her father insisted she study the Bible every day and learn about various views of theology. Then she married an educated man and grew quite opinionated about his love of”—he lowered his voice—“science.”

Chuckling, Kolbein rubbed the top of the wood table as if checking for snags. “The cad.”

Wade laughed. “She has a definite opinion of what is acceptable regarding issues of faith and what is not.”

Kolbein sobered and reconsidered his situation. Why had he come here? Ackerman hardly knew him. How could he ask the man about spiritual matters when they were barely friends?

“You seem really troubled. Is it your sister?” Wade asked. “Or something more?”

“I am continually worried about Greta, but I actually came here with another thought in mind. You see, I grew up respecting God and figured myself to be a good Christian, even though I don't attend church very often. However, I find myself feeling at a loss these days where God is concerned.”

He stopped and toyed with the rim of the mug. “I'm sorry. This is probably something you'd rather I take to a minister or priest.”

Wade's expression softened. “Not at all. If your spirit is troubled, I want to do what I can to help. God calls us to bear one another's burdens, and many a good man has done the same for me.”

Kolbein heard the sincerity in Wade's voice. There was no condemnation. No judgment. Just genuine respect and interest.

“Abrianna is always telling me to trust in the Lord. She tells me to pray about Greta and tells me that she's praying for me and for her. I'm sorry to say that the words just seem hollow to me. Not that I don't believe God exists or that He controls all things, but I don't feel connected to such spiritual matters. I suppose I'm not a good Christian because I have doubts and haven't been attending church.”

“Fellowship and learning are important in order to know God better,” Wade replied. “But being at the church doesn't make you a Christian any more than being in a wagon shop makes you a wainwright. Being a man of God has to do with knowing Him and seeking Him for direction and answers. However, it starts with accepting that Jesus died for your sins and repenting of them.”

“I did that as a child,” Kolbein told him. “I remember a time
in Sunday school when the teacher had all of us pray and ask Jesus into our hearts.” He smiled. “I was only nine, but the teacher was adamant that we all pray together.”

Wade shook his head. “Accepting Jesus is a personal experience. You can't force a group of folks into salvation. Did you understand what you were saying when you prayed that prayer?”

“No, I suppose I didn't understand the full implications,” Kolbein admitted. “Not like I do now.”

“So maybe now is the time you should pray for real.” Wade took a drink of coffee and then set the mug down. “I could pray with you . . . if you'd like.”

“Here? Now?”

“Sure. God doesn't require us to be in a church to get our hearts right.”

“I guess I've always thought of God as the great judge in the sky—out there somewhere waiting to mete out His punishments.”

“That's the lawyer side of you,” Wade said, grinning. “I tend to think more of Jesus being from a carpenter family. That's because it's what's familiar to me. I think folks need to see something personal that connects them to God.”

Kolbein considered this. “I remember a sermon in which the pastor said none of us were good enough to get into heaven. That made me angry. If God made us, then He could have made us ‘good enough.'”

“My personal thought is that He did make us good enough, but then man took things into his own hands and made some really bad choices. Did God know that would happen? I think so.”

“Then why bother?”

Wade shrugged. “I can't say for sure I know the answer to that. Over the years, I've studied the Bible and prayed to have
understanding, only to realize that God's ways are not my ways and we won't always know why. And I suppose knowing why wouldn't change a thing.”

“Forgive me for asking all these questions, but why do you say that?” Kolbein found that he longed to know the answer more than anything.

“Well, it seems to me that a lot of folks worry about the
why
s of life when they ought to focus more on the
who
.”

This comment only served to further confuse Kolbein. “The who?”

“Exactly. Whose plan is it? Mine or God's? If it's mine then I probably already know some of the whys and realize that they aren't worth a hill of beans. Most of the time we do things out of selfish ambition or personal comfort. If you look at the sinful choices we make, I think you'll find they are all prideful choices. Look at Eve in the Garden of Eden. She listened to the snake and made a choice because the food looked good and was pleasing to her eye, and because her pride longed to know what God knew.”

“So the who was Eve?”

“Exactly. God had told Adam and Eve what they could and couldn't do, and they chose their own way. I don't think it took God by surprise, but I also don't know why He would tolerate such blatant disobedience. On the other hand, I'm glad He gives grace and mercy for such actions, because I've been disobedient enough myself. If I'd been in the garden, I've no doubt my choices would have been just as poor.”

“As a man of the law, the reason or motive for action is always examined,” Kolbein admitted, “but I think I'm getting the point of what you're saying. God gives instruction and our job is to obey.”

“In faith,” Wade added. “And that's what makes it difficult, maybe more so for men than for women. Trust comes hard for me. It's taken a lifetime of seeing God at work to know my faith is well placed.”

“I see where I've fallen short. My faith has been mostly in myself.” Kolbein shook his head. He felt sadder than he had in years. “That was certainly not a good place to put it.”

“You don't have to leave it there,” Wade said, smiling. “The nice thing is that God is always willing to hear us repent and put our trust in Him.”

“I can see what you're saying. I guess . . . if you don't mind, I'd like to do that.”

Wade nodded in a knowing manner. “I don't mind at all.”

“How can another man be dead just steps from our building?” Aunt Selma asked, wringing her hands together. “Oh, this is bad. Very bad, indeed.”

Abrianna could see the expression on Selma's face matched that of her other two aunts. They were horrified that their neighborhood had been compromised by such indecency and malice.

“The police said the poor soul probably has no family and will be buried in a county plot. God rest his soul.”

“Amen,” the women replied in unison.

“What is this world coming to?” Aunt Miriam's tone held a hint of fear. Not something Abrianna heard often from the stoic woman. Her aunt continued. “I would expect this from Skid Road, but not from our area. Another killing . . .”

Another killing—another man that few if any would miss. Abrianna didn't know this one. He was much younger than Charlie, but he'd been killed in the same manner. At least that's
what she'd heard the police officer share. Other than that, he'd conveyed very little. He believed the case would go unresolved for lack of evidence. In fact, he said there would be very little investigation into either murder.

The attitude of this man irritated Abrianna to no end, and she would have given him a piece of her mind had Aunt Miriam not rushed her back up the stairs to their home. Now they were gathered in the private sitting room, and Aunt Miriam was most grave.

“It would seem that the neighborhood is taking on a baser nature. Perhaps the people who frequent this area are less inclined to care about human life.” She shook her head. “I wonder if perhaps we need to do something more to ensure our safety.”

“We could purchase a gun,” Aunt Selma suggested. “Mr. Gibson always had firearms in the house.”

“Do you know how to handle one?” Aunt Miriam asked.