by Jody Hedlund
The boy was indeed little, his footsteps unsteady, his hands outstretched for balance. From his chubby cheeks to his lurching walk, Zoe guessed he was over a year old, but not by much. Even so, he moved quickly and was headed straight for the door that led to the outer deck.
Zoe reacted without thinking. She leapt into his path so that he had no choice but to smack into her. He released a startled oomph before falling backward and landing on his backside.
For a moment he stared up at Zoe. Snotty goo ran in rivulets from his nose and over his top lip. His flushed cheeks were crusted with the discharge, and the scant fine hair on his head was matted. Even so, Zoe would have scooped him up if she hadn’t been holding Violet.
“Hi there, Lil’ Man.” She smiled down at the child, hoping to put him at ease. “Where are you headed in such a hurry?”
As he peered at her, his bottom lip began to quiver. Meanwhile, Zoe had slowed him down enough that the woman in the scarlet dress caught up. She grasped the boy’s arm and then dipped low so she was at his eye level, giving every man in the vicinity a peep show of her ample bosom and leaving little to the imagination. “Lil’ Man, you have to stay inside where it’s safe and warm.” Even as she finished speaking, she remained bent over, glancing around as if making sure she’d gained an audience.
At so wanton a display, mortification spread up Zoe’s neck into her cheeks, and she hoped Abe wasn’t joining the other fellas in ogling.
He’d stepped with her to the door and had, thankfully, trained his attention on the child. “Looks like Lyle’s trying to make an escape. Aren’t you, little fellow?”
“Hey there, Pastor Abe.” The woman remained in her brazen position, smiling up at Abe and batting her lashes. “Ever since he learned to walk, he’s been keeping me real busy.”
“I can imagine.”
“I see you’ve got yourself a handsome shiner. Makes you look like a real hero.”
“I don’t know about that,” Abe replied, his focus still on the child.
Zoe wanted to yank the young woman up and in the process pull her bodice up several inches. How dare she flirt with Abe? Didn’t she realize Abe was no longer available? That he was married? To her?
“I’m Abe’s wife,” Zoe said.
“Yes.” Abe cleared his throat almost nervously. “Wanda, this is Zoe. Zoe, this is Wanda Washington.”
The woman finally straightened, narrowing her eyes at Zoe. Her fair hair was coiled in perfect ringlets that hung down to her shoulders. Her cheeks and lips were red with rouge. Her long dangling earrings glittered with rubies. She was beautiful in a voluptuous way, and from the sensual smile curving her lips, she knew she had power over men.
“Wanda lives in Yale,” Abe hurried to explain. “She was widowed last autumn for a second time.”
“Why, Pastor Abe,” Wanda practically purred as she walked her fingers up his chest. “I didn’t take you for the marrying type or I would have snatched you up for myself.” She spoke the words and took in Abe’s chiseled chest and thick arms as if she wanted to eat him up right there for her dinner.
Zoe had the urge to shove Wanda away and tell her to keep her hands to herself. Who was she, and why did she think she could touch Abe with such familiarity?
Thankfully, Abe broke the connection by stepping away. “Zoe came on the bride ship.”
Wanda wrestled with her little boy, who was squirming and trying to break away. At Abe’s news, she stilled and her attention flew to Zoe as though assessing her competition.
Zoe sidled closer to Abe. Surely the woman didn’t really think she was competing with Zoe for Abe’s affection. Abe had told her he’d honor their wedding vows. There was nothing Wanda could do to change that . . . was there?
“Well, Pastor Abe, you’ve broken my heart.” Wanda lifted a fluttering hand to her chest and sighed deeply so that the mounds of her flesh rose and fell in an exaggerated motion, clearly another attempt to draw Abe’s attention. Apparently Wanda wasn’t the type of woman to let marriage stop her from getting what she wanted.
But Zoe wasn’t the type of woman who would sit back and ignore such blatant overtures. Abe was hers now. And she wouldn’t let anyone take him away.
Before she could stop herself, she reached for Abe and wrapped her arms around him as best she could, shifting Violet out of the way and pressing her body fully against his. “Sorry to disappoint you, but Abe doesn’t need what you’re offering. He’s got plenty to keep him happy right here.”
For a long instant, no one in the enclosed deck spoke or moved except for Wanda’s little boy, who had begun to whine as he struggled to free himself. Everyone stared at Zoe, mouths agape and eyes wide. Even Abe was frozen in place, the shock in his expression almost comical.
The silence was finally broken by the guffaw of a man sitting nearby. “Well, lookee there. She put you in your place, Wanda.”
“That’s right,” said another.
As the remarks rose up around them, Wanda closed her mouth, her pretty brows coming together in a scowl.
Zoe lifted her chin and glared back.
As the little boy threw himself onto the floor in a full-fledged temper tantrum, Wanda had no choice but to attend to him, dragging him away while he kicked and screamed his protest.
When she and the boy were at the opposite end of the deck, Zoe glanced down to find Violet’s eyes open wide and watching her innocently. And at the same time, she realized she was plastered to Abe tighter than thread to a loom.
Mortification rushed through her, and she released him.
Slowly he stepped away, letting his hands hang awkwardly for a moment before shoving them deep into his pockets.
She stood unmoving and focused all her attention on Violet, who was still peering up at her with such trusting eyes.
Abe shifted and cleared his throat.
Zoe held herself stiffly. What had she been thinking to do something so brash in public?
“I think Violet is hungry,” she said at last. “I’m gonna go sit down and feed her.”
“Good idea.” Abe’s voice squeaked, and he cleared it again. “I think I shall go resume my conversation with the captain.”
“Good idea.” She forced her legs to walk to the nearest empty bench. As she collapsed onto it, all she could think about was Lizzy, Abe’s lost love, and how much he must miss a gentlewoman like her.
fourteen
Abe trudged up the muddy path, each squelching step pulling at his legs and reminding him of how little sleep he’d gotten in recent nights. The two heavy packs of supplies upon his back as well as the two valises he carried, one over each arm, didn’t make the trip any easier.
“Almost there.” He held up the lantern, illuminating the sorry excuse for a street that led to his cabin. A glance over his shoulder told him Zoe was still on his heels, Violet bundled securely in her arms.
If the uphill hike through mud in the dark was taxing him, he could only imagine how difficult the trek was for Zoe. Nevertheless, she’d kept up without a single complaint.
When the steamer had docked in Yale, he’d hoped to find a horse he could borrow for the climb up to his cabin. But at the late hour, he hadn’t located any readily available. With the cold mountain air settling around them, he’d opted to walk rather than wait any longer.
The town wasn’t large anyway. His cabin was only a short distance from the river and was nestled with other homes on the hillside that rose above the bustling business district, which had been bright, lively, and noisy, even at the late hour.
At the height of the gold rush, the town had burgeoned with thousands of residents, mostly men camping in tents and panning gold on Hill’s Bar and other bars in the Fraser River. But now that most of the gold had been mined from the region, the prospectors had moved north and east into the Fraser Canyon and Cariboo region.
Even so, Yale was still a busy stopping place, since it was the last steamer way station for those heading up into the canyon. The current popul
ation was around five thousand in the winter, when the cold and snow in the mountains forced the miners to halt their quest for riches and find warm lodging.
When he’d first arrived in Yale, he’d learned the town had been nicknamed “the wickedest little settlement in British Columbia” because of all the violence there.
After the past few years of ministering in the area, Abe liked to think he and his fellow missionaries had been able to shine God’s light into the darkness. But the work wasn’t finished. God still had much for him to do among the mountain community before he returned to England.
Having finally gained permission and funds from Bishop Hills to begin construction on a church in the spring, at least he could bring a tangible sign of God’s presence to the town. He understood the bishop’s caution in building churches. Too many of the mining communities that had sprung up overnight had subsequently dwindled away to almost nothing as residents and businesses moved farther inland chasing new deposits of gold.
But Yale had withstood the test of time and still had a stable population. Now with so many Royal Engineers constructing the Cariboo Wagon Road that started at Yale and would go up the Fraser Canyon to Lytton and beyond, the need for a church for his growing congregation had become inarguable.
While Abe had never complained about meeting in taverns and hotels, a special meetinghouse would certainly appeal to more people. The only problem was that Abe wanted to keep things simple, much simpler than the architectural plans Bishop Hills had sent along. The conflict over the church design was just one more among a growing list.
Hopefully, the bishop hadn’t learned about the altercation with Dexter Dawson, although Abe suspected it was only a matter of time before rumors reached his superior. At least Abe had managed to sneak out of town without the bishop seeing his black eye.
“The town’s a pretty place by daylight,” Abe said over his shoulder, again gauging Zoe’s progress.
“Is it always so muddy?” Her breath came in gasps, the only sign of her struggle to climb the hill.
“I’m sorry to say, the mud is quite a permanent fixture here, especially in the winter months.” They passed by one of his neighbors’ homes, the light from the window illuminating several nearby barren copper beech trees that had been left standing when the area had been cleared for the cabins. “The mud goes away when we get snow, but the melting makes the sludge worse than before.”
“Does it snow often?”
“Off and on all winter, just like the rain.” Several more steps up the path brought him to the front door of his cabin. In the lantern light, his home appeared to have been undisturbed during the time he’d been gone. His neighbors were kind enough to keep an eye on his place whenever he traveled, which during the summer months could be quite frequent as his circuit ride led from camp to camp.
While some of the original log cabins around had been torn down and replaced with sawn-lumber structures, Abe hadn’t considered making the change, not when he’d only be in the area for two more years and not when he was gone for weeks at a time.
But now, as he lifted the door latch on the log building that had served as his home since he’d arrived in Yale, doubts swarmed him. What would Zoe think? Would it be big enough for her and Violet?
It was a plain seven-by-ten-foot rectangle with hand-hewn floorboards, a wood stove on one end, and a window on the other. When he’d first purchased the place from a miner who was returning to America, a piece of old calico had served as a covering in the window. Since then he’d purchased a glass pane, had the chinking replaced, and fixed the leaky cedar shakes that made up the roof. The place was sturdy but wasn’t meant to be a permanent dwelling.
He supposed now that he had a wife and child, he’d do well to take up the bishop’s offer to have a rectory built next to the new church. Yes, that’s what he’d do. He’d inform the Royal Engineers not only of their new task in constructing the church but of a home to go with it.
Before entering, he kicked his boots against the sturdy doorframe and attempted to dislodge as much mud as possible. Then he stepped inside and hung the lantern from the nail in the wall above the table.
Unfortunately, the cabin was as disheveled as usual. The small table that served as his writing desk was piled with books and papers and inkpots. The bed, which filled up half the room, was unmade, the sheets and coverlet tangled and dirty. At least his clothing was heaped on the chest at the end of the bed instead of strewn about the floor.
Behind him, Zoe was still kicking her boots against the doorjamb just as he’d done. He didn’t have time to tidy up, although he made a valiant effort to kick several old newspapers under the table and out of the way.
As she stepped inside, he placed their two valises on the bed and then carefully lowered the supply packs to the floor, trying to avoid her gaze, something he’d been attempting to do since the incident on the steamer when she’d pressed up against him.
Even now the very thought of the incident made his insides flame. At first he’d been too shocked to move. Then after his body had registered her nearness, he hadn’t wanted to separate. But he shouldn’t have lingered. Should have backed away sooner. Any polite man would have done so.
“I know the place isn’t big or fancy,” he said, trying to divert his mind for at least the hundredth time.
He heard her shut the door. “I like it. It’s cozy.”
Cozy. He fumbled with the valises. He couldn’t share a bed with her. He just couldn’t. Not after feeling her on the steamer. Even if he had good intentions to take some time to get to know her better, he was afraid of what he might accidentally do, that he’d be tempted to reach for her in a moment of weakness.
He’d sleep on the floor. He glanced at the narrow spot, relieved to find that it offered more room than the floor of the cabin in Victoria. Bedding down there would allow him to feed the stove during the night to keep Zoe and Violet warm. It would also give Violet room on the bed with Zoe, since he didn’t have anywhere else to put the infant for the time being.
As a puff of his breath showed white in the air, he chastised himself for his insensitivity and crossed to the stove. He opened the door, grabbed the small shovel in the nearby pail, and began to remove the ashes.
Yes, Zoe was his wife. But they were still practically strangers. He’d be wise to do as Pete had instructed, to put an effort into winning Zoe’s heart. Their marriage would fare much better if they built it upon a foundation of trust and friendship.
Surely he could do that, couldn’t he?
As he worked to light the fire, Zoe settled the sleeping Violet on the bed, then busied herself by unpacking their belongings. She wasn’t shy by any means and had no trouble making herself at home. By the time he’d stoked the stove to a blazing heat, she’d organized the cabin and had it more picked up than he ever had the entire time he’d lived there.
He swept up several pieces of bark in front of the stove and returned them to the kindling box, trying to do his part rather belatedly. He could admit housekeeping wasn’t his strong suit. In fact, it fell quite low on his daily list of priorities.
“I realize the place is sparsely furnished.” He swished the teakettle on the hob only to discover it was empty of water. “In the morning, we’ll go to Allard’s General Store, and you can pick out anything you want or need.”
She took in the few pots and pans hanging from nails in the wall above the stove, the shabby calico he still had hanging in the window for a curtain, and the shelving unit overflowing with more of his books and his odd assortment of plates, cups, and silverware.
“Do you like to read?”
“I do.” He crossed to the stack on the chair and began to shelve them since they’d have need of two chairs now. “Reading helps to pass the time on long winter nights when I’m home.”
She picked up several tomes from the floor next to the chair, studying their titles before handing them to him. “I suppose they’re also useful as a step stool for items th
at are too high to reach?”
He paused in his attempt to wedge a book into a tight spot. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve needed to use a book as a step stool.”
“That’s true. You’re more than tall enough. Then maybe they’re useful in helping you to fall asleep.”
“I don’t need any help in that area either—”
The humorous twinkling in her eyes and the smile playing upon her lips told him she was teasing.
He wasn’t accustomed to bantering but realized he liked the exchange and the way it seemed to ease the awkwardness between them. “Are you insinuating that my books are boring?”
She retrieved another thick volume and read the spine. “John Calvin’s Commentary on Isaiah. It sounds very exciting. Maybe you can read it aloud to me and Violet.”
At her growing smile, he couldn’t contain one of his own. He pulled a book from his shelf and held it up. “How about this one? Lectures on Systematic Theology. You might like it better.”
She laughed lightly. “With so many exciting books, how will I ever choose?”
“I guess I’ll have to pick one and surprise you.” He had a sudden picture of them sitting in chairs next to each other in front of the stove while he read aloud and she held Violet. The image filled him with warm pleasure and anticipation, something he’d never felt in regard to being in his cabin.
He supposed if he was honest with himself, he’d never truly liked being alone. In the past, he’d always tried to find ways to keep busy in the community, visiting neighbors and parishioners so he wouldn’t have to sit by himself with nothing but books to keep him company. Now with Zoe and Violet, maybe he’d want to be home more often.
For a time, they chatted easily about his work in the community and the people who lived in the area. He shared the history of the town, how it had been founded by the Hudson’s Bay Company as Fort Yale during the fur-trading years of the colony.
When Violet began to stir, he retrieved a pail of well water and started it boiling for tea. Zoe made quick work of changing the infant’s napkin and preparing a bottle. Then he placed a chair for her close to the stove and positioned his nearby, and while Violet ate, he and Zoe sipped tea and talked again.