Read The Maverick Preacher Online
Authors: Victoria Bylin
The Maverick Preacher (15 page)
Sure that God wouldn’t answer Pearl’s prayer for comfort for Josh, Adie decided to comfort him herself.
J
osh had considered a myriad of possibilities in his search for Emily, but not once had he imagined her speaking to him from the grave. That would happen when he opened the journal.
Earlier he’d gone to his room. He’d lit the lamp, seen a haze of smoke and coughed. The room had felt cramped, even coffinlike. He’d taken a candle from the kitchen and returned to the front porch, where he’d set it on a low table, hunched forward in a chair and angled the journal to catch the light.
Looking at the black leather, he pictured Emily sitting beside him and imagined the slide of knitting needles. How many times had she listened to him banter about his day when she’d had secrets of her own? Fool that he’d been, he’d prided himself on being a good listener. In truth, he’d been so wrapped up in himself that he hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
“Forgive me, Emily.”
With that prayer on his lips, he started to read.
November 1874
My dear child,
You won’t be born for six months, but the day will come when you’ll want to know who you are. You’ll want to
know your father’s name and why it’s not yours. You’ll want to know if you have cousins and grandparents. If you have your father’s red hair, you’ll ask about that, too.
This diary will answer those questions. One thing I’ve learned, child, is that life is unpredictable. That’s why I’m writing to you. If something happens to me—a possibility as I learned from your father’s passing—I want you to have your history.
That history will start with your name. If you’re a girl, I’m going to call you Julia Louise after my mother. If you’re a boy, your name will be Stephen Paul after my grandfather. Together we’re taking Grandfather’s last name of Butler. I was born Emily Constance Blue, but I no longer want that name.
In the next several paragraphs, Emily detailed her personal history. She told her child that she’d loved to read and liked to play with dolls. She described growing up in a big house with servants, going to church on Sundays to hear Grandfather Stephen and how their mother grew flowers and gave fancy parties for their father’s business associates.
Josh read every word, but he could have skipped the first pages of the journal. He’d lived the same life. He’d especially shared the same love for their grandfather. Stephen Blue had given him his first Bible and mentored him through his early years as a minister. He’d died three years ago.
Josh cringed at what the old man would have thought of his last sermons, then wished fervently that he’d been alive to hear them. Grandfather would have invited him to his study for a little chat. He would have noticed Josh’s glazed eyes and confronted him about the laudanum. The opiate had numbed his conscience. He wanted to be numb now, but Emily deserved his full attention.
I had a good life, my child. I never went hungry, never lacked for warmth or clean clothes. My needs were met, yet I felt a constant emptiness on behalf of others.
Memories marched through Josh’s mind. Emily had fed the birds in their backyard, even starlings and crows. In some ways, he’d been one of her flock. When he needed a hostess, she stepped in. She’d accompanied him on calls and had calmed mothers with sick children.
Had she longed for babies of her own? After a month at Swan’s Nest, Josh knew he’d been blind to his sister’s feelings. Every time Adie picked up Stephen, she smiled. Pearl, in spite of the violence of a rape, looked radiant when she mentioned her baby. He knew now that Emily had wanted a husband and family of her own.
Josh wanted to close the journal but couldn’t. Squinting in the dim light, he read the next entry.
December 1874
My dearest little one,
I’ll never forget the moment I first saw your father. He was an Irishman, newly arrived from Dublin, a man with a passion for life but not much money. I saw him in front of a café near the orphanage where I volunteered. How I loved to hold the babies! I thought I’d never have one of my own. I was twenty-three years old and didn’t expect to marry.
It wasn’t for lack of opportunity. Men had courted me. Or, more correctly, they courted my family’s money. My child, if you choose to return to Boston, you’ll have a right to a fortune and the Blue family name. That choice will be yours. As for my choice—to leave with nothing but my jewelry—I have no regrets. But I digress….
The day I met your father, I’d just come from the nursery where I’d spent three blissful hours rocking babies to sleep. Someday, child, I’ll hold you in my arms. When I do, I’ll see Dennis’s eyes, maybe his red hair.
A memory flashed like a dream. Josh had been passing by the orphanage at midday and had stopped to say hello to Emily. He’d invited her to lunch but she’d declined. As he left, he’d seen a man with red hair lingering on the corner. Always friendly, Josh had nodded a greeting. The stranger had nodded back.
Josh recalled the moment because he’d been impressed with the man’s bearing. His clothes had been threadbare, but he’d worn them with dignity. The Blue family often hired hands for the stables, so Josh had stopped to talk. He hadn’t asked the man’s name, but he’d learned he’d worked with horses in Ireland and had offered him a job. Something—or someone—had caught the man’s eye. He’d politely turned down the job and walked away. A moment later, Emily had arrived. She’d looked down the street at the stranger’s back.
“I’m free for lunch after all.”
As they’d headed in the opposite direction of the man, she’d looked over her shoulder.
“Who were you talking to?”
“An Irishman in need of a job.”
“What did you think?”
He relived that minute as if it were now.
“He seems decent enough.”
“You liked him?”
He’d answered with a shrug and changed the subject to church business. How could he have been so blind? He wished now that he’d put together the clues. Emily wouldn’t have asked about a stranger. She’d known the man and fairly well. Josh wasn’t a snob. He’d have sanctioned a marriage between
Emily and any man worthy of her love. Josh didn’t judge worth by class. He judged it by a man’s heart.
The thought made him frown. Dennis Hagan had walked away. If he’d loved Emily, why hadn’t he spoken up? Where was the man’s courage? The thought gave Josh some redemption but not enough to free him. He refocused on the journal and Emily’s first glimpse of Dennis.
I’ll never forget that April day. I was walking to the café with Miss Walker, the woman who ran the orphanage, when she met a friend on the street. I went ahead to get our table. Outside the restaurant, your father stopped me and asked if I worked at the orphanage. When I said yes, he gave me a nickel for the children and left.
Nearly every day for a week, he waited outside the orphanage. Each time he gave me a few coins, and with each meeting our conversation stretched until we took to walking along the river. That’s where he told me his story.
He’d left Ireland to escape starvation and the shame of poverty. His parents had both perished and so had three of his eight siblings. The others had married or moved on. He’d found employment on a rich man’s estate but didn’t have the stomach for a lifetime of earning pennies with no hope of his own land, his own business. Ambitious and hungry, he’d come to America.
We fell in love, child.
Josh felt a small measure of peace. Emily hadn’t been attacked. She’d fallen in love and given in to the most common of temptations. After his bout with laudanum, he couldn’t claim to be above her in any way.
Nor was he immune to the thoughts of a lonely man. Tonight, before the fire started, he’d kissed Adie’s forehead
in a kind of blessing. His motives were pure, but he felt nature’s way between them. Later, when she’d touched his cheek and kissed it, he’d felt the seeds of tenderness sprouting into vines of love. A few months ago, the thought would have troubled him. He’d prided himself on being like Paul, a man who had walked through life alone. Josh’s path now felt wide enough for two. When he closed his eyes, he saw Adie’s face. He wanted to hear her sweet voice and feel her hand tucked in his.
“Josh?”
Had he imagined her voice? His thoughts had been vivid, but he wasn’t crazy. He looked to the door, where he saw Adie peering in his direction. “I’m over here.”
She moved from the darkest shadows to the fainter ones made by the lone candle. He wished he’d sat in the swing so that she’d be next to him. Instead she took the chair on the other side of the table. As she looked down at the open journal, her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked to adjust to the dim light.
“Are you still reading?” she asked.
“I’m about halfway.”
“How is it?”
“About what I expected.”
She waited.
“It’s painful,” he admitted.
He needed a respite, so he let his eyes linger on Adie. Her presence gave him comfort in a way he’d never experienced. She understood his thoughts. She felt his sorrow because she’d known Emily and had witnessed the reason for his regrets. He needed to finish the journal tonight, but his strength flagged.
Wordless, Adie reached across the table, turned the book in her direction and began to read out loud.
I didn’t intend to lose my heart to Dennis Hagan.
He didn’t intend to take it. We were as different as boiled potatoes and lemon pie, yet we connected the instant we met.
Oh, my child! To fall in love is a taste of heaven. Even when it’s fraught with sacrifice, there’s a joy to giving your heart to someone who treasures it. Make no mistake, your father treasured me. Perhaps
too
much, now that I look back. He treated me as if I were a porcelain doll.
Only at the end did I become fully human to him.
When you’re grown and fall in love for yourself, you’ll understand what I’m about to say. We didn’t mean to kiss. It happened on a rainy day in the middle of a busy street. A storm struck and he pulled me inside a doorway. I’d say the kiss just happened, but that wouldn’t be true. He asked with his eyes and I said yes with mine. He regretted it. I didn’t. He’d said he’d tasted the sweetest fruit and could never taste it again.
That’s when I told him I loved him. I was tired of being coy! Tired of hiding my feelings! In the middle of Beacon Hill, I asked your father to marry me.
He said no.
I called him a coward.
He dared me to go west with him.
I told him I’d pack my things and meet him at the train station. He must have believed me because he laughed. “All right, love. You win. We’ll marry, but not until I can support you. Will you wait for that?”
Another dare. I took it, but I dared him back.
Josh had wanted the truth about Emily. Now he had it. She’d been in love and she’d been bold. Dennis Hagan had succumbed to every man’s temptation. Josh wanted to punch
him, but he had no right to throw stones. In different ways, he’d fallen himself. Josh didn’t know if Dennis Hagan had regrets, but he knew his own.
He also knew how he felt about Adie. He loved her and wanted to marry her, but reading the journal hadn’t set him free. He still felt obligated to Emily. Did that mean preaching for strangers as he’d been doing? He couldn’t fulfill that duty with a wife and child. Nor did Adie share his commitment to his calling. Of all the problems, that one loomed the largest.
As Josh raked his fingers through his hair, Adie looked up from Emily’s delicate writing. “That’s the end of the passage, but there’s more.”
He needed an answer. He wanted it now. “Keep going.”
February 1875
My Child,
You’re kicking tonight! Such a sweet feeling…Your father would have been so proud. I’m at the point of the story that’s the hardest to tell, so I welcome the sense of Dennis alive in my womb. You, child, are my only comfort as I relive the darkest moment of my life.
Your father took my dare and I took his. I didn’t expect to conceive. Does any woman when she succumbs to sin? By the time I realized you were on the way, he’d left for St. Louis. I had the name of his cousin and his solemn vow to send for me as soon as they claimed land and he built a house.
I knew my brother wouldn’t approve, so I asked Dennis to write to me at the orphanage and he did. One precious letter and I had to burn it to keep our secret! I wrote back. I told him you were on the way. I waited for weeks to hear from him. I know he’d have sent for us immediately. We’d sinned, but your father was an
honorable man. He loved me. He would have given us his name and more.
Weeks passed. I didn’t hear from him and was close to panic. My middle was thickening. I had no choice but to face my brother.
Adie stopped speaking, but her eyes skimmed the page. She bit her lip, grimaced, then covered her mouth with her fingers. “I can’t read this. It’s vile.”
“Then it’s true.”
“Not anymore.” She closed the book.
Josh reached across the table and took it. He opened the book to the last few pages, then looked at Adie. “Aren’t you leaving?”
“No,” she said. “I’ll stay while you read it to yourself.”
