When he lifted his focus to yet another disturbance at the back of the room, he recognized Lily Nolan silhouetted in the open doorway. Hands on her hips, she scanned the crowd in search of Samuel. Eli’s spirits soared.
She didn’t leave! She’s here!
He swallowed a victory whoop. Preach, Eli, he heard the voice inside his heart. Preach the Word of the Lord.
But what had he been saying?
“You cannot escape,” he repeated his last words. “You cannot escape God’s wrath—”
He met Lily’s bright blue eyes.
“And you cannot escape his love,” he went on. “God hates sin—that much is true. But he loves you. He loves you more than you can ever imagine. All through the Bible, time after time, God showed his love for his people. But the greatest gift of love God gave us is his Son.”
The dog dropped his bone, let out a loud groan of canine satisfaction, and stretched himself across the floor, tail thudding contentedly. Mrs. O’Toole stood up and carried her crying daughter out of the building. A rooster flapped up onto a windowsill and surveyed the crowd, his red feathers glossy in the sunshine. Lily’s lips twitched in amusement.
“Most of you folks have heard about the baby God gave me,” Eli continued, determined to ignore the interruptions. He didn’t often mention his own life in sermons, but somehow he didn’t feel much like he was preaching right now. He felt as though he were talking to Lily Nolan.
“Now little Samuel is my son,” he said, “and I’m about as partial to him as any papa could be. Sure, he kept me up all last night with his hootin’ and hollerin’. And I have no doubt he’s messed more diapers than any baby on God’s green earth.”
At this, the crowd chuckled. Lily crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, watching. Her dress was the color of new lilacs in the springtime, and she looked as wholesome as fresh milk. Eli’s heart ached at the memory of the bitterness that rose so quickly to her tongue.
“The fact is,” he said, “I’m not much fit to be a papa. I didn’t ask for the job, and I don’t have a wife to help me out. But God gave Samuel to me, and I love the boy. I love him more than I’ve ever loved anybody. Do you think I’d ever give him up? Do you think I’d turn him loose in a crowd that hated him? Do you think I’d ever let anybody hurt my son?”
He stepped away from the rough-hewn pulpit and faced his congregation. “Never,” he said. “But I’m not God. ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.’ God sent Jesus Christ among us—and we ridiculed him, tormented him, beat him, and finally killed him. God loves us so much he didn’t want us to have to endure the punishment we deserve.”
When he lifted his focus to the back of the room again, Eli realized that Lily had slipped away. His heart burning, he continued to speak as though she were still there. The rooster fluttered down from the windowsill and hopped over to inspect the dog bone. An elderly woman had a fit of coughing. Two children went to sleep. Eli didn’t care. Maybe someone in this room needed to know about the amazing gift of God’s love, and that was all that mattered.
The Word of the Lord was a flaming sword inside him—a sharp-edged, soul-cleansing, heart-piercing, all-protecting blade—and he had been commanded to wield it. Elijah Book was God’s soldier, and for his Lord he would battle to the death all sin and wickedness.
“What a fine sermon, Reverend,” Lily said when she spotted the long-legged preacher making his way down to the creek bank, where she sat nursing his baby. “And how many souls did you save from the fires of everlasting damnation?”
She saw him pause a moment, and she knew her words had wounded. Why did she feel such a need to strike out at the man? What brought on this compelling urge to hurt him? He’d done nothing against her. In fact, he had offered her good pay, searched out a place for her to stay, given her this chance to hold a baby once again. Though her heart ached with grief for her precious Abigail, she could not deny the pleasure she felt when little Samuel snuggled close against her, his eyes shut in peaceful slumber.
“I’ve never saved anybody, Mrs. Nolan,” Elijah said, covering the last few feet toward her. “I just tell folks what God says in the Bible. He’s the one who does the saving.”
“Ah,” she said, “how humble of you.”
Biting her lip in dismay at the ease with which bitter words slipped from her tongue, Lily watched Elijah step onto the jumble of stones where she sat. Without meeting her eyes, he hunkered down and selected a flat rock. He picked it up and tossed it into the creek.
“You bring out the worst in me, Mrs. Nolan,” he said finally. “Every time you talk, I get so angry I could just spit.”
“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Book.”
“Why is that?” He turned his blue eyes on her. “Are you upset because I found a baby and you lost yours?”
Lily swallowed. She hadn’t expected him to be so direct. The men she had known in Philadelphia treated her with amused detachment. She had been a pretty prize to display at the symphony, a refined accessory at society’s elite balls, an object for potential matrimony. But not a real woman. Not a package of emotions, dreams, hopes, sorrows, and joys worth opening and exploring. Yet this irritating preacher waded straight into her pain and demanded to understand it.
“It’s none of your business how I feel or what I think,” she said. She peered under the white shawl that covered the nursing baby and realized that Samuel had grown drowsy and was drifting to sleep. “I’m nothing to you. And you’re nothing to me.”
He flipped another stone into the creek. “Wrong. You mean a lot to me, Mrs. Nolan. Whether you like it or not.”
Lily stared at the gurgling water to keep her eyes from Elijah Book. He was lying. She had never been important to anyone. Only Beatrice Waldowski had found value in Lily. And then it was for the services the younger woman could perform. Lily’s singing, her acting, her participation in the shows gave Lily worth. Of course, with the preacher it was no different. She was keeping his baby alive. That was all.
“You matter most because you’re a special lady,” Elijah said. His deep voice took on the same intensity she had heard during the most heartfelt words of his sermons. “God made you different from everybody else. You’re pretty—prettier than most, though I’m not much of a judge of that kind of thing. You can sing. I’m not too good in that area, either, but Mother Margaret said you have a voice that can join with the angels. She’s right, too. And you have a tender spirit inside. I see it when you look at Samuel. It’s your heart that matters most to me.”
“And to God. Isn’t that what you’re leading up to, Mr. Book?” She cast him a sidelong glance. “You’re after my soul. If you can feed your baby and rope my soul into heaven, you can add a few more stars to your saintly crown. Well, I have news for you. I won’t be one of your missionary projects. I’ve sat in church a hundred thousand times, read every Bible verse and memorized half of them, and there’s nothing you can say or do to convince me that your precious religion has anything to offer. I like my life just the way it is.”
“Then why didn’t you head out with your friend?”
Lily stiffened. “Why should I? Beatrice is coming back here. I’m sure of it. The only reason I stayed is for the money. Last night Bea read a wonderful future for us, and she’s on her way to Topeka to follow the plan in the cards.”
“A stack of paper cards told her what your future would hold?”
“What’s wrong with seeking truth in the tarot cards? You look for answers in the stack of papers between those leather Bible covers. There’s not much difference between my cards and your book, except that the cards are a lot more accurate than a God nobody can see or hear.”
“Maybe you never looked or listened.”
Lily scowled. She didn’t want to discuss religion with Elijah Book. As a matter of fact, she didn’t want to discuss anything with the man. He made her uncomfortable. Look at h
im sitting there in his indigo trousers and homespun white shirt, his thick black Bible propped on his thigh, and his chin lifted as though he had the world by the tail.
How did he make his words sound so sincere? Why was he so confident in his faith? What made the man glow with assurance every time his resonant voice spoke?
“Anyhow,” Elijah went on as though the conflict between them meant nothing, “I was telling you why you’re important to me, Mrs. Nolan. It’s not only because I could see right off what a special kind of woman you are, but it’s also because of Samuel. I realize you’re looking after my son because I’m paying you, but the fact is, you’re keeping him alive. I meant what I said this morning. I do love him.”
“Oh, please, Mr. Book. You picked him up off the trail, and you’ve hired me to feed him. Where’s the love in that? He might as well be a puppy.”
Elijah watched the gurgling water for a long moment. “Maybe I need someone to teach me how to love my son better. Will you do it?”
She looked up in surprise. “I can’t teach you how to love. It’s a natural thing.”
“Not for me. I’ve never been real good with people.”
“Then how can you think you’re going to succeed as a pastor here in Hope? Oh, preaching is one thing. It’s easy enough to wander around the countryside spouting Bible verses and warning people to repent of their sins. It’s quite another thing to really know those same people—and to love them still. If you take on the responsibility of a church, Mr. Book, you can’t just preach your clever sermons. And it’ll be a lot more than deacons’ meetings and committees and Sunday school picnics. You’ll be called on to tend the sick and dying, and to comfort their despairing families. You’ll be asked to heal troubled marriages and tame rebellious children and charm doddering old ladies who can’t remember their own names. You’ll be wakened in the middle of the night, called away from your dinner, interrupted in your bathtub—”
“Mrs. Nolan, is your father a preacher?”
Lily gave a harsh laugh. “My father is the devil.”
“Whoa,” Elijah murmured. “What makes you say that?”
“My life is my own business, Mr. Book,” she said. “You stay out of it, or I’ll set this baby at your feet and walk away.”
Unwilling to let him read the emotion welling up inside her, Lily turned her back on the man. Elijah Book knew nothing about the path she had walked. And he never would.
“I can’t seem to put two words together without making you angry,” he said. “But you’re right about one thing. I don’t know beans about being a pastor. I was brought up on the cattle trail, and I never had much of a home. The only folks I spent time with were the trail hands—hardworking, hard-drinking, hard-talking fellows. In those days, my job was to keep an eye on the livestock. Flip over a cow and brand it, bob its ears, keep the wolves and coyotes from eating it, and drive it to market. There’s not much room for love in that line of work.”
“I guess not,” Lily said, wishing the man would go away and leave her in peace. For some reason, ever since she’d had her baby, she couldn’t control her tears. Abby’s death had only made the situation worse. She didn’t want this preacher to see her crying. Especially since nothing she said to wound him seemed to drive him away.
“When I saw you with Sam last night,” he was saying, “I figured out right away that you knew some things I didn’t. And I’m talking about more than how to put on a diaper. Mrs. Nolan, do you think you could teach me how to take care of Sam the way I ought? Not just when he’s a baby, but as he grows. I want to raise him right. I want to love him.”
“Then talk to him,” she murmured. “And listen. Hold him close. Touch him. Comfort him when he cries. Kiss him. Take care of his needs. And bring a little fun to his life. That’s all.”
She brushed away a stray tear and blotted her finger on her skirt. What was it with men? Her father, a man she had struggled so hard to please, had been unable to love his only child. But Lily had loved Abigail so easily. So very easily.
“I’d offer you my handkerchief, but I had to use it for a diaper on Sam last night.” Somehow Elijah had moved to within a foot of Lily and the baby. “Talk, listen, comfort, and have fun. Clean diapers and good food. That’s all there is to it?”
“And touch,” she said softly. “Don’t forget to touch him.”
He reached out to one of the baby’s bare feet. Lily observed him as he set the little foot in his palm and ran his fingertip across the tiny toes. “They look like kernels of new corn,” he said in a low voice. “You know how you shuck a cob sometimes, and you see those little white nubbins? That’s what his toes look like. Nubbins.”
He bent over, his head nearly touching hers, and examined the baby’s foot. The preacher had good hands, Lily noticed. They had seen hard work and plenty of sun. But the nails were strong and clean, and the fingers conveyed a sense of power even as they gently explored the baby’s tiny toes.
The man smelled nice, too. The fragrance of fresh soap mingled with the scent of his sunbaked leather hat and worn boots. He had rolled the cuffs of his sleeves halfway to his elbows, and she could see the mat of dark gold hair that covered his arms. If she dared to trust his words—and she didn’t—she might believe that he was the simple man he claimed to be. She might accept that he truly cared about the baby, truly believed in God, and truly wanted to learn to love people. But it would take more than his pretty words to convince her. It was how a man lived that made the difference.
“You reckon I could hold him?” the preacher asked. “Of course, if he’s still feeding—”
“He’s not nursing.” She slipped the baby from beneath the shawl. “Circle your arms, Mr. Book. Nestle his head in the crook of your elbow. Tuck your hand under him. There.”
Elijah sat unmoving, as stiff as a statue, staring at the dozing child. “I’m scared I’m going to drop him or crush him or something.”
“He’s all right. You’re doing fine.”
“Hey, Nubbin,” he cooed. “How ya doin’ there, buddy? Look at his eyelashes. They’re so long.”
“He’s pretty.”
“Nah, he looks like one of those old potatoes you find at the bottom of the bin in the chuck wagon. Wrinkled and splotchy and all shriveled up.”
“He’s not well.”
“I’m afraid that’s my fault.”
“You didn’t kill his mother,” she said. Then she looked up at him. “Did you?”
He looked up, his blue eyes flashing. “No,” he whispered. “Why would you ask something like that?”
Lily met his gaze. “Why not? All I know about you is what you’ve chosen to tell. You say you’re a preacher who found a baby in a wagon. Maybe that’s true. Maybe not.”
“Why would I lie?”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have anything to hide. I told you who I am, where I’ve been, what I’ve done. You’ve hardly told me anything.”
“And I don’t intend to,” she said, starting to rise.
“Look here, Lily Nolan.” He caught her arm and pulled her back down beside him. “God put the two of us together, whether you want to believe that or not. I need you. Samuel needs you. And even though you’ll argue yourself blue in the face about this—you need me.”
“No, I—”
“I’ll treat you right. I’ll never lie to you. I won’t hurt you or cheat you or play games with you. I’m just Elijah Book, that’s all, and what you see is what I am. Now, you can fight me and try to drive me away. Or you can work alongside me. I’m asking you for peace. I’m asking you to be my partner. Will you do that?”
Lily drew back from Elijah, her heart hammering. “If I become your partner,” she said, “I’ll have to let you in. And I’ll never let anyone in.”
As she walked up the creek bank toward town, she could feel his eyes following her. A sparrow swooped down and perched on the end of a bowed blade of bluestem grass. Lily tugged her white shawl tightly around her shoulders a
nd began to rebuild the sagging walls that fortified her heart. She could not afford to let Elijah Book come too close. Though he claimed to know nothing of love, he somehow reached out to her, touched her, held her, and caressed the wounded edges of her soul. She could not let him in. She would not.
Chapter 5
AS ELIJAH carried his son back up the creek bank toward the church, he recognized Seth Hunter standing outside the building. The man held a large woven basket topped by a bright, red-checkered cloth. “How about some lunch?” Seth called.
Eli grinned. “You read my mind, Brother.”
“Rosie had a roast in the oven all morning, and we intended to invite you to eat at our house. But you got away.”
“I went looking for Sam.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Half his breakfast is on my shoulder,” Eli said. “I guess it’s not a good idea to jiggle a baby right after he eats.”
Seth laughed. “I’m fixing to learn all about that. My wife is due come autumn, and this will be the first baby I’ve helped with.”
“I thought you had a son. The little fellow with the big dog?”
“Chipper was born to my first wife while I was away at war. Mary died before I could get back to her.”
Eli tried to think what to say. He wasn’t accustomed to hearing another man’s personal matters. But he supposed that for a minister, it came with the territory.
“I’ve never been married,” he mumbled. “Uh … and I’m sure sorry about your first wife.”
“Well, God sent Rosie to me last spring. That was a miracle, if there ever was one.”
“He does look after us.” Feeling awkward, Eli patted Samuel. For once, the child was quiet.
“I sure would hate it if anything happened to Rosie,” Seth said. “You know … while she’s laboring over the baby.”
Prairie Storm Page 6