by Judith Pella
“No, but I can find one.”
“I would go myself, but I am afraid I am not tolerating the tossing of the ship very well.”
“You really shouldn’t have come if you are ill.”
Rebekah smiled. “This will take my mind off my own woes. Now please fetch a kettle of water, and we will heat it on your stove here. I can hold Hannah if she doesn’t protest too strenuously.”
Within a fifteen minutes the kettle was boiling nicely. Rebekah added some eucalyptus leaves, then instructed Liz to place the baby’s bed near the stove.
“Normally I would take a blanket and fix a tent over Hannah, but this cabin is so small the steam should build nicely without the tent. You’ll be able to hold her. If only there was a rocker for you.”
Liz set a chair by the stove and settled there with Hannah in her arms. “This will be fine. How long will it take for the medicine to take effect?”
“A few hours, I should think.” Rebekah began packing up her satchel.
“The captain said you have children of your own. Is that how you know what to do?”
“I’ve just had my third child. I’ve learned through their illnesses and also from my mother.”
Liz shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I have neither of those benefits. I know next to nothing about children.”
“You’ll learn.”
“You said you just had a baby?”
“She is nearly a month old.” Rebekah smiled tenderly. She thought how she had resented Leah for so long while she carried the babe in her womb, but now that she was here, she thanked God for the joy the child brought. “My husband had hoped she would wait to be born in Texas, but I’m rather glad she came when she did. I’m afraid in Texas we will be even more in the wilds than we were on our journey from Boston.”
“What brings you all this way from Boston?”
Rebekah restrained a bitter sigh. “My husband is a minister, and he has been called to Texas to spread the Gospel. What brings you to Texas, Liz?”
Liz’s eyes flickered away from Rebekah, and she was silent for so long that Rebekah began to think she had unwittingly tread upon forbidden ground.
Finally Liz replied, “My master decided to settle there.”
“Your master . . . ?”
“I thought the captain had told you . . .”
“No, he didn’t.”
“I should have said something, then. But I was so afraid you might not help if you knew.”
Rebekah now understood about the women in the room. They were slaves. But this young woman before her looked nothing like a normal slave. Her skin was completely white, just like Rebekah’s. Oh, perhaps it had a bit of a tan, but hardly enough for her to be a Negro. It completely baffled Rebekah. But what baffled her more, and even distressed her, was that Liz would think that might have influenced Rebekah’s decision to help.
“It wouldn’t have mattered, Liz.” Rebekah’s tone was filled with quiet intensity.
“There’s more—”
“It would make no difference.” She was firm in her conviction. In her inner, often unspoken, opposition to her husband, Rebekah sometimes doubted her faith, or at least doubted that she was a very good Christian. But even if she wasn’t worthy of Christ, she did love Him and desire to serve Him. The fact that she didn’t desire to share her husband’s choice of service proved most confusing to her. “I know Jesus himself would not have refused you, no matter your race. How could I then do so? I would be no Christian if I saw need, especially the need of a little child, and turned away from it.”
Liz’s sad lips twitched into an uncertain smile. “Maybe I wouldn’t have turned away from God if I had known more people like you, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“Oh, but Liz, surely it is a mistake to base your personal faith on others. People can be so fallible.”
“What other way is there?”
“The Bible shows God’s true nature. You could not read the New Testament without meeting a God of love. May I tell you a little secret?” Rebekah actually glanced about as if she expected Benjamin to be standin gover her with disapproval. She didn’t know why she was speaking so candidly to this woman. Perhaps it was just because it had been such a long time since she had spoken with a woman near her own age and one, despite her situation, of obvious intelligence. “My husband preaches much about sin and retribution. His God is so wrathful at times it truly frightens me. I suppose he’s right because he is a man of God, but . . . sometimes I think he has forgotten about God loving us so much He allowed His Son to die in our place. I suppose I am just being a sentimental female, but that is the God I cling to.” She stopped suddenly and gave an awkward titter. “But I do go on! And I thought my husband was the preacher!”
“Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. Sinclair.” Liz reached up a hand, which Rebekah took and gently squeezed. “I’ll think about what you’ve said. I don’t know how I will ever repay you for your help.”
“I have been paid already.” Rebekah flashed a conspiratorial smile. “I haven’t felt this good in weeks. Now, I will hear no more of payment. But I do insist that you inform me if Hannah isn’t better by morning. And if she worsens at all during the night, send for me immediately. I’m also going to have the steward keep you supplied with water through the night, so you won’t have to fetch it. And I have left you some spare eucalyptus leaves.”
CHAPTER
14
THE NEXT MORNING REBEKAH WAS to see her patient again. After breakfast, which she and her family took in their cabin, she asked Benjamin if they could take some air on the deck.
“Of course, my dear!” He laid aside his napkin and studied her closely. “I’m so pleased to see you in better spirits. Even your color has returned.”
“Yes, I do feel better. It truly lifted me to help that woman I told you about.” She drank the last of her tea.
“I’m glad of that, but I still think you should have awaited my return before going. I should have accompanied you. I would have offered a prayer.”
Rebekah felt a twinge of guilt that she had forgotten completely to pray for Liz and Hannah.
“I’m sure we can still pray for them. We can right now,” she suggested.
“Yes, a very good idea.”
It wasn’t often—and it happened far less lately—that Rebekah felt such approval from Benjamin.
They bowed their heads as they sat at the small table. Benjamin prayed for ten minutes, touching upon several other topics besides Liz and the baby. When they finished, he helped Rebekah into her cloak, and they went up to the deck, leaving Micah to mind the girls.
The sky was clear, but a steady wind out of the southeast greeted them. Though chilly, the fresh air felt good after the closeness of the cabin. Rebekah leaned against the ship’s rail, closed her eyes, and let the wind waft over her face. Benjamin stood beside her, and when she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see him smiling at her. He looked almost as he had when they first met, before he had been called to the pulpit, before the heavy mantle of God had been laid upon his shoulders.
“Have I done something to amuse you, Benjamin?”
He shook his head. “I was only thinking of the saying about seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. We have been in a long tunnel these last months, Rebekah, but I believe I finally see a light—the light of God himself. It makes me quite joyful.”
“I am glad to see you joyful. There are times . . .” She paused, looking out at the expanse of sea, blue capped with frothy white. “I feared the joy had gone completely from our lives.”
“Not as long as we keep focused upon our Lord.” Benjamin patted his wife’s hand, then was distracted as his eyes wandered from hers. When she turned, she saw the captain down at the other end of the deck conversing with a group of men. “Rebekah, I must speak with the captain. Do you mind if I leave you momentarily?”
“Not at all.”
“I have been wanting to volunteer to hold Sunday services the day after tomorrow.”
“Go on ahead. I’ll wait here and enjoy the view.”
She watched him depart, and when she began to turn back to the rail, she saw Liz approach from the opposite direction. She smiled a welcome, noting that though the young woman was not holding Hannah, she did not seem in any distress.
“I was going to come see you after I took some air,” Rebekah said.
“There is no need, Mrs. Sinclair. Hannah is much better today. I left her sleeping better than she has in days.”
“I’m so glad!”
Liz glanced toward the group of men. “Was that your husband?”
“Yes. I shall introduce you when he returns.”
“I . . . I really can’t stay.” She suddenly looked like a scared rabbit.
“I should go check on Hannah.”
“Wait, Liz!” Rebekah laid a hand on Liz’s arm just as she was about to retreat. “I have something for you.”
“I don’t think I will need more medicine—”
“It’s not that.” Rebekah opened her reticule and withdrew a book.
“It’s my New Testament. I would like you to have it.”
“Thank you, but I couldn’t take it.”
“Please. It would make me so happy if you would. Let’s just call it a loan. We will both be in Texas, so it is likely we will see each other again. You can return it after you have read it.”
“It is I who should be giving you a gift for what you did for Hannah. But I have nothing to give.”
“Someday you may be able to give me something. We won’t worry about it until then. Now take this”—she pressed it into Liz’s hand— “as a loan.”
Liz looked at the book, sudden tears welling into her umber eyes.
Her lips trembled with emotion as she tried to speak. “You are so kind—”
“Rebekah!”
Both women jerked their heads in the direction of the sharp tone. Benjamin was approaching, his eyes filled with stern displeasure.
“Benjamin, I would like you to meet Liz, the mother whose child I helped yesterday.” Rebekah simply could not fathom the look in her husband’s eyes.
“This is the woman you helped?”
“Y-yes, of course. . . .”
Rebekah’s husband and Liz locked eyes as Rebekah looked on, astonished. Did Benjamin know the woman was a slave? Though he was a hard man at times, Rebekah knew he intensely opposed slavery and would never despise a person simply on the ground of their ancestry or station in life.
“Come with me, Rebekah,” Benjamin said tightly.
“That won’t be necessary.” Liz fairly spun around on the heel of her shoe and swept away.
Rebekah secretly applauded the woman for her hauteur. “Benjamin, that was terribly rude of you,” Rebekah said boldly.
“I will give you the benefit of ignorance. You simply cannot understand about that woman.”
“I understand that she is a decent woman in need.”
“Decent!” He clamped his hand around her elbow and began to propel her away. “This is not the place to discuss such a matter.”
Rebekah noted that several more passengers had ventured onto the deck and were in close proximity. She let Benjamin lead her to a private alcove near the dining hall where there was a small table and two upholstered chairs.
“Sit down,” he ordered, scolding her as if she were one of the children.
She hesitated stubbornly but could tell by the glint in his eyes, like ice shaved from a pond, and by the adamant way in which his arms were crossed that she could not win a battle of wills with him. She seldom could. She sat on the very edge of the chair. If he was going to treat her like an errant child, she would behave as one. She faced him silently while he took the adjacent chair.
“Rebekah, it is my duty as your husband to protect you from the evils of this world.” His tone remained stern, but the rebuke was gone. “You are of a genteel, well-meaning nature, but your weakness is to place these above good sense. However, even that cannot be placed to your account in this particular matter.”
“I don’t understand what you are getting at.” She was more confused than ever.
“Rebekah . . .” he sighed her name in a more benevolent way. “You simply must be more careful in your associations. That is why you have a husband to determine these things for you.”
Ignoring the last part of his statement, which grated on her in its own right, she said, “Benjamin, you have never been a snob, nor have you looked down on others for their stations. You have your faults, Benjamin, but that is not one of them. You are a fair man.”
“You should know I would never tolerate sin!”
“What has sin to do with this? Slavery is a sin. And I feel it is my God-given duty to reach out a hand of kindness to those who have been so abused.” He could not possibly fault her argument.
“Slavery? That has nothing to do with this.” He shifted in his chair, suddenly looking very uncomfortable himself. “I shudder at having to discuss such a delicate matter with you, and that alone makes me furious at the woman for forcing me to do it. You should not have to be confronted with such things.” He paused, glancing around as if seeking rescue. Finding none, he continued. “The woman you helped, Rebekah, is a . . . a . . . a woman of . . . well . . . ill repute.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Surely even you are not so naïve. That woman . . . entertains men!”
Rebekah’s brow knit, revealing her perplexion. Then suddenly understanding dawned upon her. With a gasp, her hand shot to her mouth in shock.
“No!”
Letting out a relieved sigh that he would not have to give a more detailed explanation, Benjamin nodded. “Now you can understand why I was so upset that you socialized with her in any manner.”
“But, Benjamin, if she is a slave, does she have any choice in the matter?”
“There are women in Boston, free women, of whom the same could be said. Whether willful or not, what they are doing is sin. If they had a true heart for God, if they cared for their immortal souls, they would do anything to avoid committing this terrible sin.”
“But—“ Rebekah stopped. She wanted to argue that there were ways in which women could be forced into such behavior, which she thought even God might forgive. She wanted to say that men held such a dominance over women she could fully understand how one could fall into, or be forced into, such behavior. But she held her tongue, for the words smacked too much of rebellion, which she knew would enrage her husband. Best not to antagonize him.
She decided upon a different tack. “Benjamin, if they are sinners, isn’t it our duty as Christians to minister to them?” She spoke sweetly, smiling innocently.
“There are those who are called to minister to such people. You are not one of them.”
“What if I felt God were calling me—”
“I’ll tell you what God is calling you to!”
“But—”
“Don’t argue with me, Rebekah. Your only duty is to do as I say. And I am telling you I do not want you to associate with that woman or any like her.”
“Her child was sick. I could not refuse.”
Relenting slightly, he said, “Then I will act as a go-between. If I am not present, you must refuse.”
Sighing helplessly, Rebekah nodded. Just as there were ways a man could dominate a woman, there were ways a woman could find around them. Subtlety was one of them. It might not always work for women like Liz, but Rebekah found it served her in some instances. She would agree with her husband, then do what she wished, accepting the inevitability of a tongue-lashing later.
“I best see to the children,” she said, rising.
He stood also. “I am glad we have come to an understanding, Rebekah. I will remember to pray that God gives you strength in these things.”
“Thank you, Benjamin.” As they reached the companionway to the lower deck, she paused. “Benjamin, are you certain she is really that kind of woman?”
“Yes, of course I am.”
“Oh my!” She continued down the stairway. She could not help being in just a little awe. She had been raised to think of such women as next to Satan himself. To have actually spoken to one, to have touched one—she didn’t know what to think. Liz seemed like such a sweet, gentle girl. She was no monster bent on driving decent men into perdition. Maybe she was a sinner, but the Bible said that all have sinned.
Even I am a sinner, she thought. She wondered if the sin Liz committed was worse than the sin of bitterness and anger Rebekah held in her heart. She dare not ask her husband. She also dare not tell him she had given that woman the New Testament he gave her for their engagement.
Elise rose in response to the knock on her cabin door. She supposed it must be the steward with water, though she thought she had told him his services would no longer be necessary. She could barely hide her shock when she opened the door and saw Rev. Sinclair. On their three previous encounters, she had been too flustered to really take note of this man who was becoming rather a nuisance, if not a thorn in her flesh.
She had to admit he had a handsome appearance that could have been rather disarming if he would allow his taut lips and disapproving scowl to relax. Since seeing him on the deck with his wife, she had wondered how such a sweet, gentle-natured woman like Rebekah could have fallen in love with such a man. She decided the marriage must have been arranged and poor Rebekah had had no say in it.
However, a closer look made Elise think there might have been a time when Rev. Sinclair was a young man of humor, perhaps even a romantic. If he chose to smile, even laugh, he could well have won the heart of a young lady. Too bad that whatever inclination he might have had toward humor was gone now. Too bad, especially because Elise felt certain that dour bearing was about to be leveled upon her.
“Reverend Sinclair, may I help you?”
“I feel led to speak with you.” His gaze flicked briefly over her shoulder then back to her face. He was obviously nervous, his hands twisting the book he held. But his voice was full of hauteur.
“Would you care to come in?” Though she knew it was cruel of her, his tone made her relish the slight lilt in her voice and the very subtle innuendo to the invitation.