Rebecca's Heart

by Lisa Harris

  Mrs. Hutton stared out the window. “I lost my husband over twenty years ago. I’ve always feared I’d lose my son, as well.”

  “Then you’re fortunate God chose to save your son this time.”

  Two hours later Rebecca stared at the bowl of vegetable soup the cook had set before her at the dining room table. Mrs. Hutton had insisted Rebecca eat something, but so far she’d been able to take only one bite. On any other occasion she would have enjoyed the simmering bouquet of nourishment, but not today. Instead it was tasteless as her stomach churned from the morning’s events. The doctor’s report had been far from encouraging. At some point during the storm, Luke’s left leg had been crushed. It was a miracle he’d survived the open sea for any length of time. She’d overheard whispers of amputation and shivered at what that would do to Luke. He was a man who thrived on physical work. What would the loss of an extremity do to him?

  Rebecca looked up as Mrs. Hutton entered the room, her face thin and pale. Fear tightened the muscles of Rebecca’s stomach as she dreaded news of Luke’s worsening condition.

  “How is he?”

  “He’s still asleep.” Mrs. Hutton said. “I’m worried, Rebecca.”

  Rebecca worked to hold back the tears, wanting to stay strong for Mrs. Hutton’s sake. Inside, though, she felt anything but strong. The doctor had left an hour ago with assurances that he’d return before nightfall. For now, they could do nothing else but wait. And the waiting was excruciating.

  “Why don’t you have the cook get you something to eat?” Rebecca pushed back her bowl of soup. “You need to eat to keep up your strength.”

  “So do you.” The older woman grasped the back of the mahogany armchair at the end of the oval table. “I don’t think I can stomach anything to eat, but a cup of hot tea might help calm me.”

  “I can’t eat either.” Rebecca stood from the table. “Why don’t you let me sit with Luke while you rest for a while? You’re exhausted and won’t be of any help to him if you become ill.”

  She expected an argument, but instead Mrs. Hutton nodded. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Of course not. I promise to call you if he wakes up.”

  Rebecca headed for the doorway but stopped when Mrs. Hutton continued. “Have you ever lost anyone close to you?”

  “My mother died giving birth to my sister.” Rebecca leaned against the door frame, feeling the stinging pain from dredging up the old memories. “I was thirteen years old.”

  Mrs. Hutton pulled out a red and gold porcelain cup and saucer from inside the reed-inlaid sideboard. “Then you know how it feels to lose someone you love. Someone you can’t imagine living without.”

  “Like your husband?”

  “I still miss him.” Mrs. Hutton laid the delicate pieces on the table and sat in one of the chairs. “Our marriage wasn’t perfect, of course, but we did love each other deeply.”

  “I’m sure he was a wonderful man.”

  “He was, but marrying a sailor brings its own difficulties. I would never have admitted it to Isaac, but there were moments when I wanted him to leave on the next voyage and never come back. Our time apart was so difficult.”

  “All marriages have their own set of adjustments, but what you went through had to be extremely hard.”

  Mrs. Hutton nodded slowly, not bothering to sweep back the strand of silver hair that had once again fallen out of place. “The last time I saw him before he left on the Annabella was early on a misty autumn morning. I was mad at him over some silly misunderstanding we’d had the night before, but at the time I was stubborn and didn’t want to believe our argument was partly my fault. When he kissed me that last morning, I let him walk away without saying good-bye to him. How could I have been such a fool? I never saw him again.”

  The room was silent for a moment. Rebecca bowed her head and studied the intricate pattern in the Oriental rug. She’d seen the pain of past mistakes etched into the creases around the older woman’s eyes, but what could she say that would make a difference?

  “I’ve never forgiven myself for wishing he wouldn’t return,” Mrs. Hutton continued. “For months after his death, I blamed myself, somehow thinking God heard my grumbling and decided to teach me a lesson.”

  “God doesn’t work that way.”

  “I know He doesn’t, but sometimes my heart has a hard time accepting what I know is true.”

  “How well I understand that.” Rebecca let out a deep sigh. She had no doubt that God had never left her; yet how easy it was to feel the void of His presence when things became difficult and the answers seemed so far away.

  Mrs. Hutton traced her index finger around the rim of the empty cup. “I told you earlier that life isn’t always easy, but it’s the painful experiences that have taught me the most. Realizing Isaac wasn’t coming back after the horrid things I said to him was one of those instances that took me years to work through. I think that’s why I’ve always encouraged Luke to follow in his father’s footsteps—maybe too much—but I haven’t wanted the guilt from my own past to stop him from doing what he wants to do.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

  “Luke’s accident brings it all back to me. I’m so afraid of losing my son. You understand, don’t you, because you love him?”

  “Yes,” Rebecca said, squeezing her eyes shut at the admission. “I love him.”

  Fifteen minutes later Rebecca sat in a chair at Luke’s side, a weathered Bible open in front of her. But with her eyes filled with tears, she couldn’t focus on the words. If she hadn’t heard the doctor’s diagnosis, she could almost believe Luke was simply sleeping peacefully. Instead she feared that each breath he took might be his last. And she couldn’t lose him now.

  Shutting the Bible, she looked around the room at signs of the boy who had turned into a man. A pupil’s copy of McGuffey’s Eclectic Reader lay beside Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Nature and James Fenimore Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans. A pair of hardened steel skates sat precariously on the floor. On his desk perched a brightly painted cast-iron bank, cleverly engineered so that the little mechanical dog would leap through a clown’s hoop and drop a penny in the barrel for safekeeping.

  Realizing Luke was alive had made her feel as if God was giving them a second chance to find love with one another. A second chance to let go of their fears and trust in Him completely to show them what direction He would have them take. But was this truly a second chance? She tried to pray, but her words seemed empty. Mere words seemed insignificant when searching for God’s will in her life—and when begging for God to save the life of the one she loved.

  Luke felt a piercing pain rip through his leg and struggled to open his eyes. Why did it hurt so much? A shiver swept over him, reminding him of the dark, cold waters. The ship had hit something; then he’d felt the sea pull him under. But he wouldn’t let it win. He wasn’t ready to die, so he’d clung to something until—

  “Luke?” He could hear Rebecca’s voice, but he couldn’t find her. “Are you awake?”

  He groaned and forced his eyes open. The room swirled around him like a dark fog. It was his room. He recognized the mechanical bank his grandfather had given him. In the distance … a shelf of books … When had he returned home?

  “Luke, it’s Rebecca.”

  He turned his head toward her voice, gritting his teeth at the intense pain that refused to leave him.

  “You’re home now. It’s going to be all right.”

  Too exhausted to talk, he closed his eyes again. Despite the searing pain, only two things seemed to matter. Rebecca was with him, and he knew he loved her.

  twelve

  Rebecca set the worn copy of The Golden Trail in her lap and smiled across the small stretch of green lawn toward Luke’s sleeping form. Six days after his rescue, he was still confined to a wheelchair; but the color in his face was back, and on most days his spirits had been high. Leaning against the rough bark of the oak tree that majestically towered above her in
the Hutton garden, she let out a contented sigh of relief. Only God knew what the days ahead of them would hold, but for the first time a life spent with Luke seemed possible.

  Only one dark shadow hovered in the recesses of her mind. While the doctor had decided against the necessity of amputating the injured extremity, full use of the limb was still questionable. Because of the uncertainties that lay ahead, Luke spoke little about the future, except for telling her that his days spent on a whaling voyage were over. He seemed to accept this without remorse, and she hoped his acceptance of the matter was because of her. With him now free from the obligations of the sea, they had been offered the chance to pursue a future together. Whether he still wanted to take that chance, she wasn’t sure.

  Luke’s eyes opened halfway. “Why did you stop reading?”

  “You were asleep.”

  “I was not.”

  “You were snoring.” Rebecca laughed. “You know, between the cook’s succulent dishes and your orneriness, you might actually recover.”

  Luke folded his arms across his chest and frowned. “So what did I miss?”

  “In the book?”

  He nodded, appearing disinterested in the story, but she knew that was far from the truth. He’d had to spend most of his time lying in bed for nearly a week, and she knew he enjoyed the hours she spent reading to him from either the Bible or the dozen dime novels she kept tucked away in her mother’s wooden trunk.

  She hugged the yellow-spined book to her chest. “Cassidy Walker, the wicked villain of the story, was sent to jail for robbing one of the transcontinental railroads. Max Crane, on the other hand, was heralded a hero for his daring role in saving the town’s fortune of gold. And in the end, of course, the beautiful Bessie was so awed by his bravery that when he asked to take her hand in marriage, she swooned, but not before saying yes to his proposal.”

  Luke’s gaze shot to the sky, and he shook his head at her dramatic rendition of the story’s ending. “Perhaps it’s time you tried a new profession. You could let your imagination run wild while teaching lessons in morality, like how being honest has its rewards.”

  Her eyes widened at his teasing. “You can’t be serious. My dull imagination would have people closing the covers before they reached page two.”

  Luke laughed. “Maybe, but I still can’t believe you got me to listen to one of those dime novels.”

  “You’re bored silly, and you know it. Besides, what’s so horrible about them?” She held up the book and pretended to be miffed. “Evil is punished, and virtue is well rewarded. Besides, you enjoyed every minute of this tale, didn’t you?”

  “Something I certainly would never admit.” He winked at her. “One thing I have noticed, though, is in the end the hero always gets the fair maiden.”

  Rebecca sucked in her breath and held it as he looked at her. His eyes glistened like tiny fireworks as they caught the last rays of the setting sun. The dark outline of a beard covered his strong jaw. All she wanted to do was sit and watch him, hardly able to believe he was alive and with her again. But he was here, and each day she spent with him, she found herself falling deeper and deeper into his charms.

  “It seems a lifetime ago that you let me kiss you on the widow’s walk.” His words came out huskily as he spoke of the very moment she’d dreamed about for days.

  “For me, as well.”

  Fiddling with a blade of grass between her fingers, she stared at it and longed for him to tell her of his intentions toward her. Longed for him to take her in his arms as he had that moment when they’d overlooked the sea, knowing he was leaving. He’d captured a part of her heart the way no man ever had. And a part of her never wanted to take it back.

  But one question haunted her. She’d seen the way he stared across a room or the garden when he didn’t know she was watching him, his eyes full of pain and grief. It was obvious the accident had changed him. Had it also changed things between them? Was it possible, despite his teasing, that now that he was here to stay, he regretted his impulsive actions toward her?

  She twisted the thick blade until it split under the strain. She’d come to the Hutton home every day since the accident, telling herself it was simply to help Luke’s mother deal with the difficult recovery. But she knew that wasn’t true. She’d come because of Luke. Because she longed to see him and be near him. It was as if letting him out of her sight might mean she’d lose him again forever.

  “Everything seems different now, Rebecca.”

  Her chin darted upward, and she cringed at his words as she waited for him to continue.

  “I don’t know why God let me live while most of the other men on that ship lost their lives.”

  “You know the accident wasn’t your fault.”

  “I know.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But I also know things will never be the same again.”

  “You’re right.” She leaned forward and rested her palms against the cool grass. “Those men’s families will never see them again—children who lost their fathers, women who lost their husbands. There’s an emptiness that will never be replaced. And as for your own injuries …”

  She watched as his fingers gripped the bulky blanket on his lap. He was right. Things would never be the same again. Life might go on, but it was clear that a part of him had died when the Liberty went down.

  “Is it crazy to want to know why God saved me and not the others? Captain Taft was a good man with a wife and three children. Williams, our cook, had a son born three months ago who will never know him.” His jaw tensed, bringing out the veins in his neck. “How could God let something like this happen?”

  “I don’t know, Luke.”

  She swallowed hard, praying that God would help her to know what to say. The pain in his eyes flashed before her, his grief obvious from the tone of his voice. She couldn’t even imagine the things he’d seen and heard during those fateful moments when the sea swallowed his friends and crewmates into its depths. It was a tragedy whose consequences would be felt for decades by those left behind.

  “I’ve been struggling lately with the feeling that God is so far away and not knowing what He wants me to do with my life.” Trying to formulate her words, she stared at the last streaks of color from the sunset as they faded into the darkening skyline. “I haven’t been able to feel His presence, and when tragedies like this occur, it leaves me questioning His role in my life.

  “I found a verse in Hebrews that I’ve clung to these past few days. It tells us to hold fast the profession of our faith without wavering, because He’s faithful. Life is full of difficulties, but in the end, if we persevere, we have victory through Christ and will be with Him forever in the place He’s preparing for us.”

  “‘In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; for I have overcome the world.’” He shot her a half smile. “My mother used to quote that verse to me frequently.”

  Rebecca smiled back, despite the deep conviction the verse brought her. “It’s still hard putting the words into practice, though, isn’t it?”

  “I definitely feel caught between what I believe to be true and knowing how to put it into practice.”

  “Trust me—you’re not the only one.”

  He leaned back in the chair and looked at her. “I’m sorry to have switched to such a serious subject.”

  “I’m not. I, too, have so many questions regarding the matter. I guess I just have to cling to the truth that He is faithful.”

  “And the other subject we started talking about? The one about you and me—”

  She glanced away from Luke, momentarily distracted as Philip, Caroline’s husband, stepped down from the terrace and onto the lawn. “If the two of you are ready to come in, the rest of us can start eating dinner.”

  With her heart still pounding at Luke’s last comment, she stood and managed a polite nod. What had Luke wanted to say? Had he finally planned to ask if he could court her, or had he changed his mind and wanted only to tell her the truth abo
ut his new feelings?

  “You’re fortunate Mrs. Hutton invited you for dinner tonight, Philip,” Rebecca said with a forced laugh as she maneuvered Luke’s chair toward the house. “I do believe that all you men think about is food.”

  Luke cleared his throat and looked back at her. “I have to confess, now that my appetite is finally back, I always seem ready to eat.”

  Rebecca pushed Luke to the bottom of the stairs, where Philip waited to help maneuver the chair into the dining room, wondering all the while what tomorrow might hold.

  Luke felt the light breeze filter in from his open bedroom window and wheeled his chair closer so he could look out over the silhouette of a city preparing to sleep for the night. Familiar sounds of dogs barking and the occasional raised voice played against the softer sounds of the incoming waves of the nearby sea, that vast churning beast that seemed to take life as easily as it provided for it. How strange that the very sea that had taken him away from Rebecca had been the same sea that now sent him home.

  He let out a deep sigh, both out of frustration and out of longing. Life seemed so full of uncertainties. Not that he doubted God’s presence in his life, but that didn’t change the fact that He often seemed farther away than the distant shores Luke visited on his last voyage. Still, Rebecca’s words had reminded him of his Creator’s constant care despite the dreadful events he’d somehow survived. But even that knowledge didn’t erase the pain burning within his soul.

  He didn’t understand why he lived when the majority of the crew, including his captain, had perished in the accident. How could he not question the purpose of his survival? God might have a plan for his life, but at the moment, with a useless leg, he had no idea what it might be.

  Like Rebecca, their minister had come by and assured him any guilt he felt over his crewmates’ deaths was normal, but instead of feeling absolved, he fought against feelings of remorse. He longed to find the reason why God pulled him out of the depths of the sea. Being thankful for his survival wasn’t always easy, in spite of the fact that he knew he had a lot to be grateful for. Friends, family … Rebecca.