The heaviness in Blanche’s heart lifted. “Oh Papa.” A smile, bright enough to light the dark cabin, burst on her face. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.” She realized she had betrayed herself, in the best possible way, of course. “Yes, Papa. I’ve always known God is my heavenly Father, but now He has given me back my earthly father. If nothing else told me God loves both of us—that does.” Even if she could stem the tears flooding her eyes, she wouldn’t. They were happy tears, tears of rejoicing and love.
“Ah, darlin’.” Tears glistened in his eyes. “Of course God loves you. It’s me I’m wondering about.”
“But our meeting again was God’s gift to you, as well as me. But your question. All kinds of people came to our church and gave testimonies of the lives they lived before the Lord saved them. They did some awful things. But they claimed the promise that God will save everyone who calls upon His name.”
Papa shook his head. “I don’t want to disillusion you, but I’ve heard some of those stories, too. The same men went straight from church to the nearest saloon and bellied up to the bar and ordered a round of whiskey.”
Lord, give me the right words. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Not entirely surprised. Some of the men said they slid back into their old ways, two, three, even half a dozen times, before they stayed on the straight and narrow.”
A glance at her father’s face told her that he didn’t entirely believe it, but she went on. “Then there’s the stories in the Bible. The man who was crucified next to Jesus was a thief and a murderer, sentenced to death—and Jesus promised, ‘Today shalt thou be with me in paradise.’ He’s the only one I know of who became a Christian right at the end, but there are others who did all kinds of bad things. Both Moses and King David killed a man, Paul hunted down Christians, Peter denied the Lord.” She paused long enough to draw a deep breath.
“Add another talent to the list of things I’m discovering about you. You’re a preacher.”
A woman preacher? She laughed at the thought. “I guess Jesus said it best. ‘They that be whole need not a physician, but they that are sick.’”
“That makes sense. I haven’t gone near a doctor in years. Why pay out good money when you’re feeling okay and listen to him tell you how you ought to change your ways if you want to stay well?” He coughed again. “I guess that’s how I’ve treated God.”
“Think about how quick the doctor came when Ike called him yesterday. God doesn’t even have to run. He’s standing at the door to your heart, knocking. Waiting for you to let Him in.”
“Is it really as simple as that?”
“It is.” Blanche suspected her eyes were shining, between excitement and tears. “‘For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.’”
Blanche’s heart leapt, certain her mother rejoiced with her as Jedidiah Obadiah Lamar at last returned to the God he had spurned for so long.
Ike paced up and down the hallway. What was taking the doctor so long? Every turn or two he paused by the door, listening to the soft murmurs of conversation. However short their time together was, Ike was glad to the soles of his feet that Old Obie and Blanche had found each other.
As still as Ike was nervous, Effie sat in the chair Ike had slept in, plying her knitting needles. Only an occasional tremor in her shoulders hinted at her distress. Her needles stopped clicking, and Ike stopped his pacing. “He’s here.”
Running to the bottom of the steps, Ike saw the doctor taking the stairs at a good clip. “You made it.”
“I was setting a broken leg when the messenger came in. What has happened?”
Effie turned those uncomfortable, sightless eyes in his direction. “It’s his breathing. He’s coughing. It sounds like his lungs.”
A frown creased the doctor’s face. “I’m sorry to hear that.” Pausing at the door, he inclined his ear to listen. “Who’s in there with him?”
“Blanche. His daughter.”
“Why don’t you wait with her while I examine the captain.” After knocking, he opened the door, Ike following behind.
Blanche held Old Obie’s hand, softly singing “Amazing Grace.” The old man’s eyes were closed, a smile on his face, a harsh rattling sound emanating from his chest chasing it away every now and then.
She stopped abruptly in midverse. “Dr. Foster, I’m so glad you’re here.”
Old Obie’s eyes flew open. “Back here to disturb a sick man, doctor?”
“Come with me.” Ike put an arm around Blanche’s shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world and led her out of the cabin. She collapsed against his chest, so that he supported her weight. Every instinct in him wanted to shield her from this pain. She felt as fragile as a butterfly’s wing in his arms.
Effie stood outside the door, her knitting returned to its bag. “I could use a cup of tea about now.”
“Coffee for me.” Blanche took the seat that Effie had abandoned. “I need all my wits about me.”
“Come with us.”
People usually obeyed when Effie used that no-nonsense voice, but Blanche remained seated. “I want to be here when the doctor comes out.”
“You heard what the lady said. Do you mind asking Elaine to send down coffee and muffins?” He wasn’t hungry, but he hoped he could get Blanche to eat something.
Effie gathered her skirts and straightened her back. “We’ll fix up a tray. I’ll be back in a few minutes. I hope to see Old Obie after the doctor leaves.” Her voice came close to breaking. Neither Blanche nor Ike spoke as her soft footfalls headed up the steps.
“I’ve been selfish, keeping him all to myself.” Blanche spoke in a low voice. “He’s like a father to both of you.”
“No, I understand. And so does Effie. We’re already provided for. I’m sure he wants to do the same for you.”
“Yes.” She took a shaky breath. “God will provide for me, but I’ve stopped guessing what form that will take.”
CHAPTER 24
Ike leaned against the wall opposite Blanche, his eyes trained on the floor, his ears straining for every sound coming through the door. Within a few minutes, Effie returned. She set a food-laden tray on the floor and joined Ike at the wall. The next time the door cracked, Blanche jumped to her feet and Ike and Effie took a step forward.
The somber expression on the doctor’s face told Ike everything he needed to know even before he shook his head. “There is nothing I can do. Keep him comfortable. I’ve left some laudanum, but I doubt he’ll take it. Says he can’t afford to waste whatever time he has left.”
Effie shuffled forward. “Can I go in to see him?”
“Of course.”
Blanche trailed behind the doctor while Effie went into the cabin. Ike looked at Effie, then at Blanche. Which one?
“Stay with Effie. I’ll be all right,” Blanche called over her shoulder. “She needs you now more than ever.” Accepting the doctor’s arm, she disappeared from view.
When Ike opened the door, Effie sat next to Old Obie on the bed, holding him in a sitting position, her head leaning on his shoulder… made her happy.” A small laugh escaped through her tears.
“Mind if I join you?”
Effie’s head tilted in the direction of his voice. “Come in.”
He took the seat beside the bed, the same one Blanche had occupied through the night.
“You know where the papers are?” Old Obie’s voice held a small bit of his old strength.
Ike knew what papers he meant. “Yes.”
Old Obie nodded. “I’ve made some changes, though. You’ll have to see Carver to learn what’s up.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Effie raised her head from his shoulder. “You and Blanche have years ahead of you.”
“We don’t know, do we?”
Something had changed. Old Obie’s voice didn’t sound so much stronger as more resolved. “Now that I’ve made things right with God, I’m ready to go, if it’s my time. I don’t want
you feeling bad on my account.”
Made things right with God? The words tripped in Ike’s mind.
“Don’t look so shocked, son.” A ghost of Old Obie’s smile returned. “I never doubted the truth of the Gospel. And this little accident has shown me that I need God after all. If you’re as smart as I think you are, you won’t wait as long as I did to recognize the fact.” A fit of coughing interrupted any further talk.
“Take the laudanum. It will ease your cough.” Ike picked up the bottle from the nightstand.
Old Obie shook his head. “It’ll put me to sleep.” He winked. “I want to enjoy every minute I have left.”
Refusing Elaine’s insistence that she take a short rest in her cabin, Blanche balanced a tray with a bowl of chicken and dumplings on her arms. “It’s his favorite comfort food. Maybe I can convince him to take a few bites.”
The savory smell teased Blanche’s nostrils, and her stomach grumbled. Maybe if she ate a bite, she would encourage her father to eat as well. When she entered the cabin, he was chatting with Ike and Effie as if it was an ordinary day.
“Come in. We were just talking about the day Ike jumped into the river from the deck. Scared us all half to death, he did.”
“I got wet, that was all.” Ike shrugged. “At least I knew how to swim.”
“It was the middle of the winter. And you caught a cold.” Her father’s voice held a teasing note.
“And here I thought you were proud of my little escapade.”
Ike’s laughter sounded more forced than her father’s.
“Elaine sent food for all of us.” Propping the door open, Blanche set down a tray filled with chicken and dumplings, chicken salad sandwiches, tea, and cookies, and then took the seat Ike offered. “Now, eat up. Your cook scares me. I don’t want to report that you refused her food.” She lifted half the sandwich to her mouth and took a bite. While she chewed, she dipped the soup spoon into the bowl and extracted a single dumpling. Eyes twinkling, Old Obie opened his mouth. He seemed to have trouble chewing, so for the next spoonful, she offered broth only. That went down more easily. By the time they finished, she had eaten half a sandwich and most of the broth in the bowl was gone.
“That’s enough.” Old Obie settled back against the pillow. A little bit of color had returned to his face, and Blanche allowed a small beacon of hope to arise in her heart. Then she reminded herself what the doctor had said: a day, two at the most, more likely less.
Ike disappeared through the door and returned with an extra chair. Effie shifted from the bed to the chair, smoothing the spot where she had sat. Blanche’s fingers itched to smooth the hair back from her father’s brow, to offer the comfort Effie did, but Old Obie was as much Effie’s father as he was hers. Ike took a seat on a weathered sea chest, his long legs folded in front of him.
Effie and Ike kept up the reminiscences… escapades that Effie shared in equal measure with her brother… while her father added an occasional grunt or comment. The longer they talked, the less he contributed, his eyes closing for brief spells in between coughs. A westerly sun burned through the porthole when his eyes sought out Blanche. She knelt on the floor beside his bed. “What do you want, Papa?”
Across the bed from her, Ike’s eyebrows lifted and he smiled at the word.
“I want to hear you sing. Some of those hymns you’re so fond of.” The words that only a day ago might have sounded like a reproach now rang with bell-like clarity in her ears. “Sing Christmas carols. Those are my favorites.”
“Mine, too.” Blanche cleared her throat then in a low voice began “Silent Night.” Effie’s hands moved across her lap as if she was playing along on the piano. Blanche jumbled some of the verses together, but no one seemed to care. Her father’s breathing eased.
As the last note faded, he opened his eyes. Struggling to a seated position so that he could see all three of them, he speared each of them with his gaze in turn. “I don’t want you to feel bad for me. I am ready to go. God, in His mercy, reunited me with my daughter and restored me to Himself. You are my family. Take care of each other.”
The speech sapped his energy, and he collapsed back on the pillow. “Stay with me. Please.” The words came out as a whisper.
“You don’t have to ask.” Blanche pressed his hand. “Do you want me to sing some more?”
At her father’s nod, she held his hand and sang as the songs occurred to her, from Christmas carols to Stephen Foster ballads to gospel songs. His breathing rasped, and slowed down. While she sang “Lead, Kindly Light,” his fingers relaxed in her grip.
Silence descended, no one moving. Blanche locked eyes with Ike, and he pushed himself up from his sitting position. He leaned over the bed, placed his hand over her father’s nose and mouth, and then felt at the side of his neck for a pulse. Shaking his head, he said, “He’s gone.”
Effie sobbed, tears falling from eyes that peered not into their faces but into their souls. Tears clustered in Blanche’s eyes, but she didn’t cry. Her mouth dried. She couldn’t speak or cry. How could God take both of her parents from her in such a short time? Wordlessly, she stood to her feet.
Ike pulled her close to his side, his chest heaving with grief. “It’s time you rested.”
Blanche found her voice. “Join me, Effie.”
“But someone needs to… I need to—”
“I’ll take care of it.” Ike helped his sister to her feet. With his arms supporting both women, they left the cabin.
Blanche had had to handle all the details of her mother’s death by herself. She tried to dredge up gratitude for Ike’s strong presence, but all she felt was grief.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” The pastor of the local community church spoke the familiar words.
Ike knew the pastor from other funerals. Old Obie wasn’t the first person to die aboard the Cordelia, and his funeral wasn’t the first one he had arranged. Because of his parents’ deaths, Ike had experienced death from a young age. But aside from his mother and father, whom he had loved with a child’s simplicity and intensity, he had never lost someone he loved until now.
He opened his mind, etching every detail of the funeral on his memory. A good-sized congregation, including all the Cordelia‘s crew and many local businessmen, attended. Others might have come in after Ike took his seat at the front with Effie and Blanche. She had insisted that they join her as members of Old Obie’s immediate family.
The pastor adjusted his glasses on his nose and glanced at the notes he had made. Blanche stared straight ahead, while Effie held a handkerchief to her eyes. The preacher cleared his throat. “In addition to being a well-respected businessman of the river trade, Captain Lamar was blessed to find his long-lost daughter in the last few weeks of his life.”
At those words, Blanche’s reserve broke, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Ike ached to place his arm around her shoulders, but this wasn’t the time or the place for such familiarity.
The pastor continued. “He is survived by his daughter, Blanche Lamar, and by his two adopted children, Isaac and Effie Gallagher.”
Blanche had also insisted on their inclusion in the obituary.
“In recent days, Captain Lamar made peace with God. Even as we gather here to mourn his passing, he is in the place where God has wiped all tears from his eyes. If he were here, he would urge you not to mourn as those without hope. He would challenge you to find that same hope, of eternal life, that he at last embraced.”
The words fell like a snake’s venom and sank teeth into Ike’s soul. The preacher’s comments might bring comfort to others, but not to him. The Old Obie he had known and loved wasn’t a religious man. And Ike resented the implication that he must become a Christian himself to honor the man who had been like a father to him. He closed his mind to the remainder of the sermon, only cuing back in when music emanated from the piano. Standing, he helped both women to their feet and walked behind them to the front where the casket lay.
Blanche tremb
led, and he tightened his hold on her, to make sure she didn’t buckle at the knees. Effie’s hand formed a fist.
Blanche noticed the movement as well. “He looks good. He’s dressed in a navy blue suit, a handkerchief tucked in the pocket. They slicked his hair away from his face. I wish he had his cap on.” Her voice cracked.
Feet shuffled behind them. “I’m sure he looks fine.” Effie relaxed her hand. “Let’s go.”
In the basement, people streamed by. Everyone shared a memory of Old Obie’s laughter, his sense of humor, a trip down the river, his solid business sense. After the first few, Ike gritted his teeth, wishing the well-wishers would leave them alone. How Blanche kept her composure, he didn’t know. This scene must remind her of the loss of her mother, only a few weeks ago.
One man lingered at the end of the line, waiting to speak with them—Carver, the lawyer. At length he approached and acknowledged Ike with a nod. After expressing his condolences, he mentioned that he was handling the captain’s final affairs. “Shall I join you aboard the Cordelia to go over the terms of the will, or do you want to come to my office?”
“The Cordelia—” Blanche began.
“Let’s meet at your office,” Ike interposed. He didn’t want the crew speculating about the future until he heard from the lawyer. “The sooner, the better. We have already delayed our departure.”
The lawyer shot him a sharp glance, and Ike wondered again how the future would change. What would he do, and where would he go, if he could no longer call the Cordelia home? More importantly, what would Effie do?
The lawyer turned his attention to Blanche. “Would tomorrow afternoon suit you?”
Blanche blinked. “But tomorrow is Sunday.” She looked from Ike to the lawyer. “Do you normally do business on the Lord’s Day, Mr. Carver?”
His eyebrows rose. “I thought you would prefer to take care of things before Monday.”
The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier Page 31