Moving slowly, he stepped to her and bent as low as his crutches would allow. “You will forgive me if I don’t bow,” he said, his eyes peering deeply into hers. “But my infirmity prevents it.”
Camellia’s heart thudded. This made no sense! What was he doing?
“I have a question for you,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually asked you this question before.”
Camellia wanted to run. He couldn’t do this now, not while so much remained unsettled, confused. Yet how could she run? She’d dreamed of this almost every day since she could remember.
Trenton reached for her hand and she, unable to run, extended it. He took it and kissed it gently on the palm, then the top. Then he said the four words she’d always wanted to hear him say: “Will you marry me?”
Camellia’s heart seemed to stop. The breeze dropped to nothing. It felt like the whole world held its breath. She wanted to smile but couldn’t. She wanted to shout yes but couldn’t. She wanted to stand up and take Trenton in her arms and hold him close and protect him like a mother protected a child. But she couldn’t do that either. She felt nailed to her seat, her mouth glued shut. A sudden realization hit her, something she now saw she’d known all along but couldn’t admit. But now it all made sense for the first time, more sense than anything had ever made sense. No wonder she couldn’t say yes to Trenton Tessier!
“I’m a little unsteady on my feet here,” Trenton whispered. “An answer would be greatly appreciated.”
She blinked and focused on him again. “I’m sorry. But I can’t marry you.”
He staggered back onto the bed. She knelt by his knees, looked up into his face. He seemed stunned, as if somebody had hit him with a boat oar. “It’s not right,” she soothed, confident in her feelings for the first time in a long time. “It wouldn’t work.”
“Why?” he asked, his eyes focusing again.
“It’s more than one thing.”
“But you love me,” he said. “Always have.”
“Not anymore. If I ever did.”
“Sure you did.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe I did. But that’s past now.”
“No one else can give you what I can,” he said with a tint of anger sliding into his voice.
“I don’t care about that,” she replied. “Never did.”
“Sure you did,” he insisted. “Everyone does. Marrying me would be the best thing that ever happened to you. You know it, your father knew it, everyone knew it.”
“Not everyone,” she said, remembering. “Some warned me not to marry you, said you weren’t good enough for me.”
“Who said that?”
She blinked, realizing with a start what she’d just said. “It doesn’t matter.”
He grunted bitterly. “Maybe not, but me not good enough for you? Seems it’s the other way around.”
She stared at Trenton, pity now in her eyes. “That’s one reason it never could’ve worked. You saw yourself as better than me. Yes, you tried to think differently, but deep down, you were just like your mother, your father. I was hired help to them, to you. You’re like them, like your father.” Her eyes blinked. She knew now she might as well get it all said. After all this time she had to tell Trenton what had happened to his father.
“The day your father died,” she began, “he came to the cookhouse.”
Trenton opened his mouth to interrupt, but she continued anyway. “You need to know he tried to …” And then she told him the story—all of it. How Mr. Tessier had pressed her for her favors, how she’d rejected him, how the two of them had fought, how he had slipped and killed himself.
Trenton listened quietly, his face not changing. When she’d finished, he simply said, “You should have told the sheriff. But I can forgive you for what happened. No reason it should keep us from marrying.”
“I don’t need your forgiveness,” she said, bothered he’d seen it that way. “Except for keeping it hidden so long.”
“The law could still come after you for this. If I pushed them to do it.”
She heard the threat in his voice.
“Of course I wouldn’t set the law after my wife no matter how evil her crimes.”
“I already said I couldn’t marry you,” she said flatly.
“You said for more than one reason. Is it because I’m a cripple?”
“No, that has nothing to do with it.”
“Then what is it?”
Camellia hesitated, knowing if she admitted what she felt, it would change her life more than anything ever had. Yet how could she deny the secret in her heart? It was as certain as the ocean tide pulling in and out, as powerful as a storm that blew in from the south.
“I love somebody else.”
“What?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“I love somebody else,” she repeated, as much for her benefit as his.
“That’s foolishness. You’re throwing away everything.”
“Maybe so, but I have to listen to my heart.”
“You’re not thinking straight.”
“You’re wrong. I’m thinking straight for the first time in forever.”
“You mean this?”
“Yes.”
His face grew hateful all at once. “Get out then!” he shouted. “I never want to see you again!”
“I don’t want to be your enemy,” she offered, hoping to ease the conflict. “We were friends once.”
“I said leave me!”
Although grieved by his hurt, Camellia left the room. At the stairs, her feet began to move faster as she thought of where she was going. By the time she reached the porch she was running, rushing toward the one man she now knew she loved, the one man who made her feel like a man ought to make a woman feel, the one man with a gentle heart and kindly eyes and the spirit of the Lord coursing through his soul. She burst into laughter as she ran from the manse, her heart lighter than she’d felt in years.
Yes, she had a lot of questions she still had to answer, a lot of clouds still hanging over her head. What would the war do to The Oak? What would happen to the people there when the war came? What about Wallace Swanson and her mama in Richmond? Should she write them, go to meet them? What kind of marriage would her pa make with Mrs. Tessier? Would that succeed or fail?
So many questions, so much left to happen. But none of that mattered right now. What mattered was the one question that squeezed her heart more than any other, the one that would shape her life more than all the rest put together: Would Josh Cain live?
“Let him live, Lord,” she prayed as she reached his house. “Let him live because I love him and want him to know that more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my whole life.”
She ran in without knocking and hurried to his room. Beth sat by his bed. Camellia hugged the girl and told her she could take a break for a few minutes. When Beth had left, Camellia sat down by Josh and touched his cheek. “I love you. I want you to know that.”
He didn’t move. The breeze from the window played in her hair. She stood and moved to the window and looked out. Less than three miles away, the ocean rolled in and out. She took a deep breath and smelled the spring air, the hint of warmth already in it. She moved back to Josh’s bed, sat beside him again. He’d said he loved her. Did he mean it, or was he out of his head from the bullet?
She saw a painting on the table by the bed and picked it up. The picture showed a man and a woman walking on the beach, their backs to the viewer, the sun going down behind them. The images were soft, the work of a gentle hand, the forms indistinct yet somehow still real. She remembered the painting she’d seen on the mantel the day she first went to Josh to talk about what had happened with Marshall Tessier. This wasn’t it. When had he drawn this? Was it he and Anna, sketched years ago? Or was it Josh and her, something he’d done after Anna’s death? She wondered who had found it and laid it out. Maybe Beth pulled it from some things he’d packed to take when they left The Oak.
She studied the pict
ure and her heart warmed. Instead of feeling jealous that it might be Anna, she wanted to smile, to smile and cry at the same time because a man of such a sensitive heart had said he loved her. She turned back to Josh and held up the painting as if he could see it.
“I hope this is us,” she whispered. “Me and you.”
The breeze blew through again as Camellia studied Josh’s face. “Me and you,” she repeated, pointing to the picture. “On the beach on a Sunday as the sun goes down.”
She took Josh’s hands, squeezed lightly, and gazed at his face. Then, although she couldn’t be certain, she thought she saw the touch of a smile.
About the Author
As a boy growing up in the red clay country of northwest South Carolina, Gary E. Parker quickly came to enjoy the folklore and history of his native state. One of his earliest memories is going to Charleston with his dad on a business trip and standing by the ocean, watching the ships come into the harbor. From that day Gary loved the smell of the salt air, the sound of the ocean’s waves, and the stories of the men and women who lived and died in the coastal area.
Carrying that interest in Southern history with him to college, Gary majored in history at Furman University. Feeling called to ministry, he prepared at Southeastern Seminary, earning a masters degree, and at Baylor University, where he completed a doctorate of Philosophy of Religion, with an emphasis in historical theology.
After finishing his formal education, Gary began pastoral ministry, serving as senior pastor at the Warrenton Baptist Church in Warrenton, North Carolina, Grace Baptist in Sumter, South Carolina, First Baptist of Jefferson City, Missouri, and the First Baptist Church of Decatur, Georgia (where he currently serves).
In addition to pasturing a church, Gary obviously loves writing. His previous titles include four nonfiction works and twelve works of fiction. The fiction titles include five novels from Bethany House: Highland Hopes, Highland Mercies, and Highland Grace (the critically acclaimed Blue Ridge Legacy series), The Ephesus Fragment, and Rumors of Peace; four from Thomas Nelson: A Capitol Offense, Dark Road to Daylight, Death Stalks a Holiday, and Beyond a Reasonable Doubt; one from Victor: Desert Water; and three novellas from Cook Communications: The Last Gift, A Shepherd’s Cross, and The Wedding Dress.
In addition to books, Gary has written extensively for Sunday school Bible study materials and national magazines.
Questions for Reflection
1. Camellia York is a young woman tempted to love a man who really isn’t good for her. What about Trenton Tessier attracted her? How would marrying Trenton have affected her life? Are there times when you’ve been attracted to something that wasn’t good for you? How did you respond?
2. Camellia finds comfort in her faith in spite of the fact that she can’t get to church that much. How would it affect your faith if you didn’t have the opportunity to share in a church family? How could having a church family have helped Camellia cope with the hardships she faced?
3. While defending herself, Camellia accidentally contributed to the death of another human being but didn’t tell the whole truth about what had happened. How do you think you would have reacted in her situation? What did she do right, and what did she do wrong? Do you believe she committed a sin in what happened to Marshall Tessier? In the lie that followed? Why or why not?
4. Camellia struggled with the issue of slavery yet didn’t know what, if anything, she could do about it. Are there cultural situations in your life that you know are wrong but don’t know how to change? How can we improve race relations in our world?
5. Trenton Tessier is a spoiled, rich young man. How do you think he would have been different if he’d been born in a situation similar to Camellia’s? How much do you believe our circumstances shape us and how much depends on our own personal choices?
6. Hampton York does a good thing in one minute and a bad thing in the next. Do you believe he’s redeemable? Why or why not? Do you know people like him? What about them makes them attractive? What about them makes them so prone to temptation?
7. York at one point indicates that people don’t become bad all at once. They slowly become that way as they make one small wrong choice after another. Do you agree with York or not? How do you believe people become “bad” people? How does a person change from making wrong choices to making right ones?
8. Several people have secrets in this story. How did those secrets affect their lives? What would have happened if they’d told their secrets earlier? What kind of secrets do you have? Do you need to tell someone about them? How will your life change if you reveal your secrets to someone else?
9. Josh Cain’s faith is strong, yet he doesn’t feel worthy to go to church. What made him feel unworthy? What trait of God did he seem to have forgotten? Have you ever felt unworthy of God? How can you get over this feeling? What does the Bible tell us about God’s forgiveness of our sin?
READ THE HEART-POUNDING FIRST PAGES OF THE SECOND BOOK OF THE
SOUTHERN TIDES TRILOGY
Fateful Journeys
BY
GARY E. PARKER
Chapter One
The Oak Plantation, May 1861
Dark still blanketed the South Carolina coastland on the morning that Trenton Tessier decided he had no choice but to take his revenge against the man who had stolen the woman he loved. His face soured by hours of drinking and a night without sleep, Tessier now slouched in a black leather chair by the stone fireplace in his second-floor bedroom.
“Josh Cain,” he muttered, his tongue thick with the whiskey. “He took Camellia from me. I gave her a proposal of marriage, but she refused. It’s Cain’s fault. I will have my vengeance.”
Trenton’s brother, Calvin, younger by five years, sat in a matching chair across from him. “You’re in no shape to avenge anything,” said Calvin, gesturing toward the wooden peg that started at Trenton’s right knee and ran to the floor. “You’re barely a month past the day you lost … since you were shot.”
Trenton took a sip from the silver flask he held and raised up slightly. A man of thin shoulders and short-cropped brown hair, he wore pleated, tan riding pants and a white shirt with a ruffle at the neck. He lifted one of the crutches that lay in his lap and aimed it at a rolltop desk across the room. “Hand me my pistols,” he ordered. “Josh Cain stole what belongs to me. My honor is at stake.”
“Your honor almost got you killed,” Calvin replied.
“Better death than this!” Trenton pointed to his stump. “I’m a laughingstock! The fine Master Trenton Tessier, educated in the best schools the South can offer; heir to The Oak, finest plantation in the lowlands; a man of the highest social station—none of it matters now! Get me the pistols or get out!”
“You’re drunk and crazy from not sleeping,” argued the freckled Calvin, obviously trying to calm his brother’s rage. “Cain is unconscious … in no shape to face you.”
“I’m not worried about Cain’s condition.”
“You’d murder him?”
Trenton dropped his eyes, and his head cleared some. Could he go through with this? Had he sunk so low as to harm a man who couldn’t defend himself? Part of him knew this was wrong; maybe he should let it pass.
Trenton took another sip of the whiskey and glanced down at his peg leg again. His eyes blazed as his resolve returned. “Cain deserves it, for what he did to me.”
Calvin stood, moved over, and put a hand on Trenton’s shoulder. “If you want to shoot somebody, it ought to be Hampton York,” Calvin claimed. “He’s the one who shot you in the leg.”
Trenton glared at Calvin, who was the spitting image of their dead father. With his blocky legs and chest, wide hands and feet, thick jowls and thin hair, Calvin wasn’t especially handsome. But he was powerful. If it came to a physical battle right now, Calvin could probably best him—a fact Trenton disliked immensely.
Striking like a mad snake, Trenton jerked Calvin’s hand from his shoulder and bent his fingers backward. “You plan on challengi
ng me on this?” Trenton growled.
Calvin’s mouth twitched in pain. He eyed Trenton as if he wanted to kill him.
Trenton held his brother’s fingers for another minute, then let them go. “Just get me the pistols,” he said again.
Calvin stretched his fingers as Trenton took another drink from the flask. He wondered how much longer he could keep Calvin under his control. Every younger brother eventually tested the elder. Was this the time for him and Calvin?
Although his eyes stayed angry, Calvin finally eased across to the desk and pulled the pistols from the top drawer. Grunting with effort, Trenton stood, tucked the flask in his coat, arranged the crutches under his arms, and took the pistols. “Now hand me my coat,” he instructed, arranging the pistols in his waistband.
Calvin stepped to a closet, removed a thigh-length black coat, and handed it to Trenton.
Now fully dressed, Trenton stood before the full-length mirror by his bed and stared at his stump. A set of pins held his pants leg in place in a neat fold just above the wooden peg. Underneath the pants the wound oozed a light but steady flow of foul discharge that required constant cleaning. Trenton ground his teeth against the weakness his leg caused him. He was a cripple!
Every night since the duel he’d prayed, as best as he knew how, that when he woke in the morning he’d find losing his leg all a terrible nightmare of pain and humiliation, unlike anything a man of his station ought to have to bear. But every morning when he opened his eyes and reached down, he found nothing but air where bone, blood, and skin should have been.
“How do you plan to get to Mr. Cain’s house?” asked Calvin. “It’s half a mile from the Manse.”
“I’ll walk,” said Trenton.
“On crutches?”
“Josh Cain took Camellia from me. How far I have to walk to kill him is of little consequence,” Trenton fired back.
When Calvin wiped his palms on his pants, Trenton stared closely at his brother. He saw fear in Calvin’s eyes. “You have no part in this, so don’t let it rest on your conscience.”
Secret Tides Page 39