He knew then that Adie, like himself, had been wondering about a future together. The thought made him feel alive, a reaction he had to control. Until he did business with God, he had no right to encourage Adie’s feelings. Never mind that he wanted to kiss her and not on the cheek. In spite of his worries, his lips curled with the pleasure of the compliment. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“It’s true.”
She sounded defiant, as if she’d fight for him. Josh intended to do whatever fighting was necessary, especially where it concerned Adie and Franklin Dean, but he treasured having her for an ally. She’d make a fine preacher’s wife…except she’d stopped talking to God.
Please, Lord. I need Your help.
Josh didn’t expect an answer and he didn’t get one. Instead he felt a quiet prompting to read the journal. The book held the key. If Emily had forgiven him, he’d be free to stay in Denver. He couldn’t court Adie, but he could be her friend. He wanted to kiss her good-night but settled for holding her hand, raising it slightly to take the weight of it. “It’s been a rough night but a good one.”
Her eyes shone. “Thank you, Josh, for everything.”
Before he could change his mind about that kiss on the lips, he left for his room. Everything—his future, his calling—depended on what Emily had written in her journal.
Adie watched Josh leave with the notebook in hand. She hoped Emily had forgiven him in those final words. It was possible. Adie recalled her mother’s last hours. For years Thelma Clarke had resented her husband for leaving for the gold fields. In her dying moments, she’d spoken to her daughter of love.
“He hurt me, child. But I love him. I forgive him for leaving us. I hope you can forgive me for dying.”
Adie had forgiven her mother easily. She’d saved her anger for God.
As Josh turned the corner, she hoped Emily had let go of her resentment. The thought rocked her to the core. What would she do if Timothy Long tracked her to Denver to apologize? Even if he begged her to forgive him, she’d want to see him pay for what he’d done to her. She felt the same way about Reverend Honeycutt. He didn’t deserve to run a church.
Annoyed, she blew out the lamp and walked up the stairs. Voices came from Pearl’s room, so she went to join her friends. As she stepped through the door, she saw Mary sitting on the foot of the bed, Pearl propped up on pillows and Bessie at her side. Caroline sat in a stuffed chair with Stephen in her arms. All the windows were open, but the room still reeked of smoke. Tomorrow Adie would wash curtains and use vinegar on the glass. No way would Franklin Dean scare her away from Swan’s Nest. She pulled up a chair from the secretary. “How’s everyone?”
“It could have been worse,” Mary replied.
Adie felt the same way. “Even so, we have to protect ourselves. Any ideas?”
Pearl spoke in a near whisper. “I could leave.”
“No!” said all four women.
Bessie looked at Pearl. “It’s not just you Dean’s after. He wants Adie’s house.”
Pearl looked pinched. “I think his driver set the fire.”
Bessie stood up from the bed. She was the oldest and tonight she looked wise. “We have to fight, ladies.”
Mary broke in. “I’ve got the pistol—”
Caroline grimaced. “Guns don’t solve problems. They make them worse. We need to be smart.”
Not everyone agreed with Caroline, but no one spoke. This wasn’t the time to argue, only to decide.
Bessie started to pace. “I say we keep watch. We’ll take turns at night, except for Pearl.”
“But I want to help,” the girl insisted. “I can’t sleep anyway.”
Adie held the deed to Swan’s Nest, but the house belonged to each of them. She looked at her friends one at time. “I love you all.”
“We love you, too,” Caroline said. “You’ve given us a home. We’re not going to let a bully take it.”
“That’s right.” Bessie sounded like a Confederate general. “I wish we’d fought for our home in Virginia. Instead we let the Yankees take it over and we paid. I won’t play dead now.”
Mary’s expression hardened. “We’ll have to watch both doors.”
Even with everyone on guard, Adie knew they all felt vulnerable. It showed in their eyes.
Pearl spoke next. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Maybe I should speak to Frank.”
“Don’t,” Adie said. “He’s dangerous.”
“I have to do something.” Pearl knotted her fists. “If he believes I won’t marry him, maybe he’ll stop.”
“He’ll never stop,” Mary said bitterly. “I know his kind.”
Pearl sighed. “What else can I do?”
“I don’t know,” Bessie said. “But we should speak with Reverend Blue. He might have another idea.”
At the mention of Josh, Caroline turned to Adie. “He wanted to speak with you. Was it about the fire?”
“In a way.” Her lies had gone up in smoke. “You all know Stephen’s adopted. My friend, Maggie Butler, was really Emily Blue. Josh is Stephen’s uncle.”
The room went deathly still.
Pearl broke the silence. “Do you get to keep the baby?”
“Josh says he’s mine forever.” She told the story of the journal, the picture and the jewelry. “He’s going to make the adoption legal. I can’t imagine anything better.”
“I can.” Mary looked smug. “He should marry you.”
Adie’s jaw dropped.
“Why not?” Mary hugged her knees to her chest. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you, not to mention the way you look at him.”
“Me, too,” Pearl added.
Caroline managed a faint smile. “I’m pea green with envy, but Mary’s right. Josh cares for you.”
“You’re all being silly,” Adie replied. “He’s a minister. I don’t even go to church.”
“You could,” Pearl said.
“No.”
“Why not?” Bessie asked.
“Come with us on Sunday.” Mary added, “I’m going to sing.”
Adie crossed her arms. “I don’t like church.”
“I do,” Pearl murmured. “I miss it.”
Adie didn’t know what to think. Of all the women in the room, Pearl had the most cause to be bitter. Her own father had shunned her. No one from Colfax Avenue Church, people Pearl counted as friends, had even sent a note.
Adie wrinkled her brow. “Why do you like church?”
“I just do,” she said.
Mary made a humming sound. “I like to sing.”
Caroline chuckled. “It’s a good thing you do! Reverend Blue can’t sing a note!”
Bessie and Mary tried to stifle their laughter, but it leaked through their lips and came out in guffaws. Pearl caught the bug, but Adie didn’t. She’d never heard Josh sing, but she was sure he had a fine voice.
After a joke about a donkey, she’d heard enough. “You’re being mean!”
Caroline dabbed at her eyes. “I think Josh would laugh, too.”
“So do I,” Bessie added.
Adie had never seen Mary look more excited. “It sounds like I’ve got a job to do.”
“Goodness, yes!” Caroline said.
Pearl sighed. “I wish I could go to Brick’s, but I’m huge now.”
Why would Pearl want to sit in church for two hours, even one? Reverend Honeycutt’s sermons had been as flat as a washboard. The times she’d listened, she’d felt like a shirt being pounded to get out the dirt. Josh’s sermons had to be different because he was a different man, but church was church.
Mary eyed her thoughtfully. “Try it, Adie. Come just once.”
“No!”
“Whatever you want,” Bessie said. “Aside from all that, we need to be thinking of Josh right now.”
“Yes,” Mary said. “He just lost his sister.”
Pearl folded her hands. “We should pray.”
All the women—except Adie—bowed thei
r heads.
Pearl took the lead. “Lord Jesus, Reverend Blue—Josh—is our friend. Tonight he’s grieving his sister. Please, Lord. Give him peace. Show him Your love and renew his hope for the future. Amen.”
Adie hoped God heard Pearl’s prayer, but she doubted it. She pictured Josh alone in his room, reading Emily’s pain-filled words by candlelight.
When Pearl yawned, the women stood.
Adie lifted Stephen from Caroline’s arms. After a chorus of “good nights,” she went down the hall and put him in his cradle. A faint glow in the window caught her eye and she went to the glass. Looking down, she saw a circle of light and knew Josh was on the porch, reading the journal alone.
Sure that God wouldn’t answer Pearl’s prayer for comfort for Josh, Adie decided to comfort him herself.
Chapter Thirteen
Josh 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.
The Maverick Preacher Page 15