In his physical and emotional condition at the time, the test had weighed heavily, and he’d been brief in the message to Eden that her father had written out for him. Rafe had thought she would answer by a return message before he left for the mainland. When she sent no reply, Rafe thought she’d made her decision. She had stepped back from his crisis and run off to Molokai.
Evidently, her decision had pleased Dr. Jerome. This had always been his goal. But perhaps that was somewhat unfair since seeing her mother and helping with the leper settlement had been Eden’s goal from the time she was sixteen.
More than six weeks ago now, Rafe had written her a second message, with Ling’s help. He’d told her that after two months in San Francisco under the care of the vision specialist, Dr. William Kelly, the problems with his eyesight continued, and that Rafe saw little hope of recovery.
As a gentleman, he’d offered to call off the marriage since he would be unable to fulfill his plans for an independent future. She knew better than anyone how blindness would restrict his activities. And so, if nothing else, he’d expected Ambrose to include her response, or at least some of his impressions about her feelings on the matter.
Rafe admitted to himself that he’d overestimated the gracious Eden Derrington. He thought she would have declined his offer and reaffirmed her love at whatever cost.
How wrong he had been.
And how bitter the rude awakening.
Well, now she had what she wanted, he thought angrily. He’d always been a spoiler for her dreams involving her esteemed father.
And now—now that Rafe Easton was mostly blind, he was no longer important to her … no longer the man to make her dreams viable.
As he mulled this over in the gray fog smothering him, he considered how some love, unlike God’s love in 1 Corinthians 13, was not faithful and dependable, least of all forever. There was a kind of love which, when tested by circumstances, easily shattered. Those once “in love,” now had hearts disillusioned.
The prince on the white horse, they finally discovered was a cripple, and the fairy tale ended with a sigh of disappointment, and a wince for the little princess.
The trial had proven that her commitment to him was shallow. As long as he could finance her father’s clinic, could pay for the bungalows, and even bail her Great-aunt Nora’s cherished newspaper out of debt, then Rafe Easton was worth her commitment. Now that he’d become blind—well, that was a different story.
He reached for his coffee cup, but in his frustration knocked it onto the rug with a thump. He stooped to pick it up. When he couldn’t find either cup or saucer, but bumped into the table and heard something ceramic crash down, his temper broke. His disappointment in Eden and in life in general was becoming so bitter that he almost picked up the table and hurled it across the room into the gray mist.
But he caught himself abruptly, gripping the edge of the table, his dark head lowered. Forgive me Father. I am thinking as a fool. My anger is like a lion’s ravenous appetite! Help me to know both how to be abased, and how to abound … to do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I surrender my difficulties and my life to You, to do as You will.
The door opened and Rafe heard Ling groaning.
“You sit down, Mr. Rafe. I get mess I clean. You rest.”
“That’s the trouble, old friend. I don’t want to sit and look at gray fog all day. What am I going to do, Ling? What if I never see another Hawaiian sunrise, or look at the pages of Scripture, or see a true friend’s smile?”
He took the chair Ling pulled forward and sank into it. He leaned his dark head back against the headrest.
“Grace, grace, Mr. Rafe. You tell me so, right? I read in Bible your uncle Ambrose give me. Christ has much grace for you, for me. His strength work strong when man weak!”
Rafe was silent. He rubbed his forehead. Hearing Ling speak as he did brought satisfaction to his soul. Ling had once fled to him for refuge from Townsend, and now, after Rafe had invested time and Scripture in the old Chinese gentleman, Ling was giving back to him a bounty of blessing and true friendship.
“You are a true friend, Ling. I won’t forget your loyalty.”
“You true friend for me. How else can humble self like me tell to such fine fellow?”
Rafe couldn’t help it, he laughed. A fine fellow, was he? Someone should tell that to Eden.
“I get you more coffee,” Ling said softly. “Maybe something to eat.”
“Neither. Are you certain you took care of that letter I entrusted to you?”
“One to Miss Eden?”
“Yes, Ling, to Miss Eden.”
Rafe, rather than asking his mother Celestine, or even Zach to write out his private letter to Eden, had gone so far as to send Ling to Chinatown for someone who knew English well, and who had written it at Rafe’s dictation. Afterward Rafe signed the letter, had the envelope addressed, and then paid Ling’s friend with a generous tip.
“For sure. Was put to mail many long weeks ago. No mail today either. Maybe tomorrow.”
Speak, Lord, in the stillness …
Rafe Easton was angry with himself. He recalled yet again how he’d broken the vow to God that he’d made a few years earlier when he was so outraged with the way Townsend treated his mother Celestine that he’d gone to Ambrose to talk it over.
Ambrose had talked Scripture to him, showing him that though it was admirable to protect the weak from danger, another responsibility of being a Christian was in yielding to the Lordship of Christ and leaving vengeance to our just and righteous God.
By the end of that meeting, Rafe had prayed with Ambrose and turned his anger over to the One who judged righteously, and vowed he would not lay a hand on his stepfather, Townsend Derrington.
Now, some years later he’d not only broken the vow, he’d put his life at risk and damaged his reputation. He had come close to killing Townsend with his fists. He’d also left Keno in Honolulu blaming himself for Rafe’s loss of sight, though actually, as Rafe had told Parker Judson, “If Keno hadn’t drawn my attention from Townsend, I’d likely be in jail with manslaughter on my hands.”
The dangerous snare he had wrestled with through the years was the congealed hatred he’d locked away in his heart, knowing, as did Ambrose, even back then, that should he let himself loose he was likely to go too far. He now seriously considered the advice Ambrose had written in the letter from Kalawao:
The vow you made to God that night in the bungalow was a good one. Even so, without dealing with the root cause of hatred, you were always walking near the cliff’s edge, inches from going off.
That’s where we both went wrong. With God’s strength and grace, we needed to dig out the root of hatred. As long as the root remained, it could grow. No matter how deeply it was buried in the mind, there could come a time, under the right circumstances, when it could yield poisonous fruit. I’m convinced that’s what happened.
I rebuke myself for not having recognized this earlier. I’ve told the Lord so. Let us both be humble before Him, being thankful He intervened when He did. One more thing, my son. We often depend on our own abilities when life seems easy, but when we feel powerless to help ourselves we turn to God. We must recognize that even when life seems easy we depend on God, for He upholds the universe.
Dependence is not defeat, but the realization that God is the source of all life, truth, and value. With this awareness, problems drive us closer to God. Learn how to depend on God daily. And after that, you must forgive yourself, get out of the mire of self-condemnation, and keep trusting in Him.
“Faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful” (Proverbs 27:6).
Rafe lifted his hands and could just make out their shape. They had healed as strong as ever. Had he kept hitting Townsend, however, he could imagine his conscience creating permanent bloodstains on them.
Thank You, Lord, for stopping me when You did.
Even so, Rafe remained depressed. The harvest of
his wrath was indeed bitter.
Making a vow to God, then breaking it, was not to be taken lightly. If God was going to restore his sight, He did not seem to be in a hurry. And though Rafe was impatient, he didn’t think God would alter His program to appease Rafe’s frustration. Circumstances would come together according to God’s good purposes.
Now, he thought, hands on hips, if I could just rest in that! Rafe heard Ling enter the room. “Mr. Zach come back from town minutes ago. Changing in his room. Very agitated. Anxious to talk to you.”
Now what? The three of them were sharing a suite in the Palace Hotel—not that good carpet and matching brocade meant anything to Rafe at the moment.
When Zach came into the room his new leather shoes squeaked as he paced back and forth across the carpet.
“Zach, you’re like an erupting volcano.”
“That’s from being around you.”
Rafe smiled. “What’s up? You’re heating the room.”
“It’s that Honolulu marshal, whatever-his-name-is.”
“Harper,” Rafe said. “Percy Harper. He’s all right.”
“Well nice chap or not, Percy Harper’s flubbed everything. He’s been all over Honolulu with a magnifying glass and hasn’t found Townsend. Now, new information came to Grandfather Ainsworth by telegraph just this afternoon. Townsend apparently escaped the Islands. He could be anywhere by now.”
Rafe wasn’t surprised. He thought all along that Townsend had escaped. He had his own theory of what may have happened once Keno and Townsend entered the water. Rafe hadn’t yet discussed the matter with Keno, but he did know Townsend was a strong swimmer. Townsend could have swum underneath the Lilly of the Stars to the other side of the hull, and waited while Keno swam farther away, thinking Townsend was making for the wharf. Once things calmed down and Rafe was brought to Honolulu, Townsend could have found a place to recover with one of the immoral women he knew on the Big Island. After recovering from injuries, he would make other plans.
Zach had apparently assumed his father’s arrest was imminent.
“It’s Harper,” he grumbled. “He should have checked every steamer leaving for the mainland—and especially the interisland boats. I doubt if he did.”
“If I’d been awake,” Rafe said wryly, “I would have suggested the search include the casino. My guess is that he got a boat out of Honolulu through the smuggling cartel. He knew them well enough. He took out a loan to pay them off from his gambling debts using Hanalei as credit when he had control. Where he got money to pay someone to get a boat I don’t know, but there were a number of ways he could have done it.”
Zachary’s leather shoes stopped squeaking. Rafe felt his gaze. “We all should have thought of that. By George, I think you’re onto it, Rafe.”
The trail was cold by now. The time to have nabbed Townsend was past.
Zach’s shoes started again. “You know who’s involved, as thick as roaches, with the cartel don’t you?”
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess …”
“Don’t be funny. Who else but Silas? Why, he would have helped Townsend escape. I think he’s proud of our father’s brass neck. Look at all Father did for Silas, since he showed up, uninvited, by the way. If either of us inherits anything from being a Derrington it won’t be me. Silas’s already raked in plenty, so he owes Townsend. I think Townsend’s right here in the Bay City,” Zachary said in a despondent voice.
“And I wouldn’t be able to recognize him from a desert bobcat, even if he stood in this room,” Rafe commented.
Zachary’s voice came closer to where Rafe was stretched out in a chair, hands interlocked behind his head.
“What if he is planning such a move? Especially if he knows you’re temporarily blind!”
Rafe wasn’t worried. “I don’t believe he will. I think Townsend has one ambition at present: to board a ship for South America.”
“You’re taking this too lightly.”
“Hardly. But consider the facts. For one thing, he didn’t plan to confront me, either on Hanalei or your houseboat. If he wanted a face-to-face meeting, he could have had it easily enough. Instead he ran away. The confrontation we had on your boat—by the way, I’ll pay for anything broken—”
“Everything in the captain’s room is in rubble,” Zachary said woefully.
“That confrontation wasn’t what Townsend expected, or wanted. If he is here in San Francisco, I don’t believe he’ll make a midnight call on me.”
Zachary did not sound convinced. “What about your mother? She’s here with you. Will he want to see his wife for a change? I tell you, Rafe, I don’t like any of this. Something is all wrong when he’s able to get away so easily.”
“I agree that someone helped him escape the Islands. Otherwise Harper should have spotted him. Harper isn’t the greatest detective, but he did have the steamship lines watched.”
Rafe held his own suspicion, though he couldn’t prove it now, in his condition. Nor did he intend to discuss it with Zachary. Rafe was worried about Zachary. Zach’s emotions continued to hover at an unhealthy level since the fight aboard his houseboat. Anything might tip the scales—including a discussion of who may have helped Townsend escape.
“I keep telling Great-aunt Nora what the Gazette needs, but she won’t listen to me,” Zach said his shoes squeaking again. “Well, I’m here in the Bay City at last. Zachary A. Derrington! And I have a lot of pokers blazing in the fire.”
Rafe groaned inwardly.
“But if I telegraph Nora about the leads I’m working on, will she let me report these facts in the Gazette? Not on your life. The Gazette could be a great newspaper but she stands in its way without realizing it.”
“The Gazette is her trumpet, to sound a rallying cry for Queen Liliuokalani,” Rafe admitted.
“Sure. That’s it. And Nora’s bamboozled into believing that Silas has also sworn his loyalty to the monarchy. So she dismisses all the other big stories that might implicate him or the Derringtons. I can’t figure out why she defends Silas. He’s an annexationist. I’d have expected her to be on to him by now.”
“She doesn’t believe Silas is an annexationist,” Rafe said, calmly. “She believes what pleases her. As for digging up these ‘big stories,’ I agree they’d likely burn the pages of the Gazette, but don’t forget she stands with Ainsworth on protecting the Derrington name. That’s your answer, Zach. She’s not likely to put anything into print about Townsend, or Silas.”
“She’ll have to in the end. And a lot more than just Townsend and Silas. You just wait. The stories I dig up while here in the Bay City will sink a ship. Why, I’ll bring an upheaval in Honolulu.
“I’m going to Sacramento on Monday,” Zach announced. “Remember how Silas claimed he worked on a newspaper there? Well! We’ll see!”
“Let me guess,” Rafe said. “Silas is involved with the drug and gambling cartel.”
“Yes,” Zachary insisted, “I’m glad you’ve come round to the truth at last.”
Rafe already knew Silas was involved with the cartel. Silas had admitted that much to him. Rafe had encouraged him to go to Ambrose for help from the only One who could change his life.
Rafe had kept the disclosure between them, giving Silas time. Getting out of the trap wouldn’t be easy. One of Rafe’s former workers, Sen Fong, was dead because he’d wanted out of the cartel after coming to Christ through the Bible teaching that Dr. Jerome and Ambrose had conducted among the Chinese workers on various plantations. Silas might also risk their strong disfavor, depending on how much he knew, and whether they were convinced he would keep silent about what he knew.
The idea that Silas could be in danger—and for that matter, Zach too, since he was digging about where the body of truth about the cartel was buried—added to Rafe’s frustration of being shackled by his inability to boldly enter the fray.
You need to learn to pray more, trust Christ more, and lean less on your own abilities, he could imagine Ambrose saying. “
My grace is sufficient for you. For My strength is made perfect in weakness.”
When a man can’t solve the world’s problems, he thought, it’s best to turn it over to the wisdom and power of the Almighty.
Rafe decided to spend some time in intercession for Silas. He didn’t need his eyesight for that.
“Say what you will, but I’m staying on the lookout for Townsend just the same,” Zach was saying. “I’ve given orders to Ling to make sure each of our room windows are closed and bolted tonight. And today I stopped in a store and bought us each a .38 caliber pistol.”
Rafe put a hand on his head and moaned.
“What the Gazette needs to bail itself out of the red is some robust reporting that will set the society of Honolulu back on their polished heels. What about a Derrington journalist turning the light of justice on another Derrington by the name of Townsend? With his son doing the job, at that. Not that illegitimate Silas—but me.”
“Ling!” Rafe pushed himself up from the chair, reaching to the side of a table to gain his balance. “Ling!” he called.
“And, Mr. Zach, don’t forget Sen Fong,” Ling said, entering from the connecting room.
“Yes! The body was discovered right in Rafe’s own garden at Hawaiiana. What a story!”
“Ling,” Rafe snapped, with such emphasis as to make him scurry toward him.
“You call me, Mr. Rafe?” came Ling’s apologetic voice.
Rafe stared into the gray misty fog at the vague figures before him.
“What time is it, Ling?” he asked, changing the subject. “There’s a dinner tonight at Parker’s, isn’t there?”
“Yes, Mr. Rafe, at eight o’clock. Almost seven o’clock now. Some big sugar men be there. Mr. Spreckels too.”
“Spreckels? Then there should be quite a confab over mashed potatoes and gravy. We’d best get dressed, Zach.”
Once Parker Judson and Claus Spreckels got going on the sugar business in Hawaii and California, any other topic went out the window. Not that Rafe minded, especially when Bernice would be trying to overwhelm everyone at the table with her charm and beauty. He felt she was doing everything in her power to stir some old memories he did not want springing to life again.
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