O’Dell placed his hand over his eyes, listening, grieving. “Why didn’t someone tell me?”
Grant shrugged. “What could you have done, Mr. O’Dell? You have already done more for us than anyone could have—standing with Joy and Rose against Morgan, reuniting me with Joy, bringing home Mei-Xing. You have been a faithful friend to all of us these past few years.”
“But what does the doctor say? How long . . .”
Grant shook his head. “He doesn’t know, but I can feel that the oxygen is not helping as much as it did a few months ago when we first got it.”
“Can’t they do anything to fix this? Slow it down?”
Grant shook his head again. “No.”
“Grant . . . what can I do?” O’Dell felt helpless, and he struggled against the hopelessness of the situation. He thought of the child, just born, who would be losing his father before he really knew him.
Joy will be losing Grant all over again . . . O’Dell mourned. No wonder she could not speak of it when I was here last. O Father!
Grant leaned toward O’Dell. “Do you wish to help? You are my closest friend, Edmund O’Dell. Will you help me?”
O’Dell looked up, dreading what was coming. “Of course, Grant. Whatever it is.”
O’Dell did not stay longer that day. He returned to his hotel to think on what Grant had requested and to pray.
What Grant asks of me . . . is too much, Lord, and yet he is already counting on me.
He opened his Bible and spent the evening doing nothing but seeking God, seeking answers to questions that seemed to have no answers.
O God, please help Grant and Joy. Please help me, he prayed again.
~~**~~
Chapter 17
(Journal Entry, January 19, 1911)
I am a grandmother! Grant and Joy’s son was born yesterday at midday—a healthy, plump baby, as beautiful as can be. O Lord, thank you for this great blessing!
O’Dell checked in at the Denver Pinkerton office the following day and returned to Palmer House that afternoon, a few hours before dinner. Palmer House was returning to its normal routine after the excitement over the birth of Joy and Grant’s baby: Mr. Wheatley saw him in, Rose and Grant greeted him from where they were working together at Rose’s desk, and Breona fetched him tea and a plate of Marit’s gingersnaps. O’Dell sat down, looked about himself at the familiar sights, and sighed in satisfaction.
He was delighted when Rose mentioned that she had also invited Liáng, Bao, and Carmichael to dine with them that evening. Liáng and Bao arrived early, and O’Dell was amazed at how healthy Bao was looking.
An animated hour of fellowship passed far too quickly—Liáng and Bao filled O’Dell with details of their ministry to the Chinese community of Denver. Before O’Dell realized how much time had flown by, the young ladies of the house began coming home from their labors.
O’Dell enjoyed watching Rose welcome each girl as she came through the door. He greeted the girls he already knew as they passed into the great room; Rose introduced him to several young women he had not met.
“I am sorry to have missed Tabitha’s departure,” he admitted to Rose. “Nursing school!”
“We are so proud of her, Mr. O’Dell,” Rose smiled. “She will return for a month in June, but I know she will be so changed by then.”
Mei-Xing stepped into the great room accompanied by two of Gresham’s men; she was carrying the baby O’Dell had not yet seen. O’Dell eagerly stood up to welcome her, but Liáng—in a move quite uncharacteristic of himself—pushed ahead of O’Dell to help Mei-Xing with her coat and ask how her day had gone. Mei-Xing, occupied by Liáng’s helpful ministrations, had not yet noticed O’Dell.
O’Dell turned to Rose, cocking a disgruntled eyebrow—and was astounded as she, her grey eyes brimming with merriment, slowly and deliberately winked at him! O’Dell shot a glance at Bao who covered a smirking mouth with his hand and shrugged.
What?
O’Dell folded his arms and stepped back to eye Liáng with Mei-Xing.
Well!
That was when Mei-Xing noticed him. She placed the baby in Liáng’s arms and flew to O’Dell. With no self-consciousness, she grasped his outstretched hands.
“Mr. O’Dell! I was so hoping you would be here this evening!” Her eyes sparkled; like Bao, her health was markedly improved but, even more, she was lit with a glow from within.
“I can see that motherhood agrees with you, Mei-Xing,” he grinned in return.
“Oh! But you haven’t seen Shan-Rose yet!” Liáng had followed Mei-Xing, and he offered the bundle back to her. Mei-Xing took the baby and O’Dell stared down into a tiny, chubby, perfect replica of Mei-Xing. The infant’s skin was as smooth as porcelain; her eyes were closed in sleep. As he studied the baby, her tiny mouth moved as though suckling.
O’Dell shook his head in admiration. “She looks so much like you, Mei-Xing.”
Mei-Xing gazed on the baby with love and O’Dell, a mite overcome, had to glance away. He noticed that Liáng, too, was watching Mei-Xing with her baby. O’Dell did not mistake the desire written on Liáng’s face.
O’Dell glanced again at Mei-Xing and then back to Liáng. Mei-Xing received Liáng’s attentions with the gratitude of friendship, but she seemed oblivious to the deeper feelings that others could easily see.
Even though you still must win her, I envy you, my friend, O’Dell thought while studying Liáng.
Minutes later, Isaac Carmichael arrived and O’Dell was soon engaged in a lively conversation with him.
“How long will you be here?” Carmichael asked. “We have not seen you since you brought Mei-Xing home. You have been sorely missed.”
“I will stay at least a week—that is, I told Parsons a week, but I may find some odd jobs at the Denver office that will allow me to stretch the time a bit longer. Now that Cal Judd is no longer a threat, I hope to visit Denver more often.”
“Wonderful! Say, would you care to join Bao, Liáng, and myself for Bible study tomorrow morning? We spend at least an hour studying God’s word together and then praying before starting on our rounds. We would feel honored to have you join us.”
O’Dell was the one who felt honored. He sorely missed the hours Liáng had spent sharing from the Scriptures with O’Dell, Bao, and Miss Greenbow back in the little house in Seattle—nearly a year ago now.
“I confess, I have been floundering some in my study of the Bible. When you see me tomorrow, you will see a man very hungry and thirsty for spiritual nourishment.”
“Then it is settled. We will see you tomorrow at eight o’clock. We look forward to our fellowship with you!”
The evening O’Dell spent at Palmer House was everything he could have wanted. The food and conversation around the table refreshed his heart. Of course, Flinty was gone, Tabitha was away, Joy could not join them so soon after childbirth, and Grant took his dinner with Joy, but the rest of the “family” at Palmer House was present.
Carmichael led them in the blessing. Then the girls talked of the ordinary events of their day, and O’Dell soaked up their cheerful laughter and easy banter. Carmichael and Liáng mentioned a few needs in the church and shared a recent salvation experience.
How do I live without this vitality, this joyful interchange? O’Dell wondered. How bland and empty my life is away from here!
After dinner, the girls began cleaning up from the meal and changing to less formal dress to enjoy an evening of relaxation and company in the great room. O’Dell set aside his coat and helped Mr. Wheatley lay in firewood for the great room fireplaces.
“We keep the place a mite chilly in the winter time,” the old man confessed. His hair stood on end as he ran a gnarled hand through it. “Mr. Grant has t’ keep us on short shrift t’ pay the bills, so we turn the furnace down and heat the great room with its fireplaces.”
O’Dell hadn’t realized it until then, but the house was cold, with the exception of the great room and nearby dining room. His min
d, ever analytical, began to wonder how Rose and Grant managed the many expenses of the house.
I will certainly pray over this, he determined. What else do I have need of to spend my money on? This is my family, after all.
As he and Mr. Wheatley built up the fires in the great room’s two fireplaces, those in the house began to gather and find their usual places. Some of the young ladies had books; others had mending or other handwork. With the doors to the room closed, the room soon took on a cheery glow.
Mei-Xing appeared with Shan-Rose. Once she was settled in the much warmer room, she uncovered the wriggling child. Now five months old, Shan-Rose sat upon Mei-Xing’s lap and gazed around the room with bright eyes.
O’Dell noticed that wherever Mei-Xing was, Liáng hovered close by, watching for a need he could fill. Shan-Rose caught sight of Liáng and laughed, reaching out her hands to him. Receiving permission from Mei-Xing, Liáng picked the tiny girl up and carried her around the room, bouncing her enough to make her gurgle and squeal.
What would that be like? O’Dell wondered. What would having a child recognize me and reach for me be like?
“We have decided on a name for our son,” Grant announced. Days had passed; Joy was joining them at the dinner table for the first time since giving birth.
It was the first time O’Dell had seen Joy since the previous April when he had found and brought Mei-Xing home. O’Dell saw that motherhood had rounded Joy where she had once been as slim as a sapling. Joy glanced often into the bassinet that was near her chair, every part of her seeming to glow with contentment.
This night would also be O’Dell’s last in Denver; Parsons had sent him a terse summons: Party’s over. New case.
“All of you know that I have no family remaining on my side,” Grant continued. “During the two dark years after my ship went down, while I was searching for home and my memories, I counted only one man my friend.”
He nodded at O’Dell. “If not for you, Mr. O’Dell, Joy and I might never have been reunited—and this child of ours would not have been born.”
Grant breathed from the machine and everyone waited until he was ready to continue, but O’Dell was already feeling his shirt collar tightening, choking him. He did not enjoy being the object of attention.
“Our dear friend, Edmund O’Dell, is here with us as we make this important announcement. In honor of this friendship, our son will be called Edmund. His middle name will be Joy’s maiden name, Thoresen. Our son is Edmund Thoresen Michaels.”
The table burst into happy applause and voices tried out the child’s name, calling him “Baby Edmund” and “Little Ed.” Mr. Wheatley and Liáng, on either side of O’Dell, pounded him on the back.
O’Dell couldn’t breathe.
Joy seemed as uncomfortable as he felt. She smiled at him, but it was a weak smile.
You, like I, cannot but view this as an unwelcome harbinger, O’Dell thought, and you resist it, as do I.
As soon as he could excuse himself, O’Dell bolted out the front door. Gresham’s guard examined him with wary eyes. O’Dell ran his hand through his hair and went down the porch steps two at a time, testing the limits of his touchy hip. He walked around the side of the house where he hoped to find a bit of privacy.
He patted his breast pocket absently, but stopped when he realized what he’d been reaching for. “Lord,” he whispered. “I am overwhelmed.”
“Who goes there?” It was the second guard.
“O’Dell,” he croaked. “Just getting some air.”
The man didn’t answer but continued on his rounds. Then O’Dell noticed another figure in the dark coming toward him.
“Ed?” It was Carmichael.
“Yeah; I’m here.”
Carmichael sidled up to him and they stood together in the shadows, both of them silent for a long while. “It is quite an honor to have a child named after you,” Carmichael finally murmured.
When O’Dell didn’t respond, Carmichael added, “It must also be something of a burden to the man who loves the child’s mother.”
O’Dell stirred uneasily. How does he know this? Is it visible, even after all my efforts to surrender it, to give it to God? Can others see it?
“I have never been anything but a friend to Joy.” O’Dell’s voice was rough. “She is a married woman, the wife of my good friend, and I do not entertain thoughts otherwise.”
“No, your comportment is and has been exemplary.” Carmichael sighed. “I just wanted you to know that I understand . . . and I will be here as a friend for you . . . and for Grant and Joy . . . when things . . . change.”
In the dark, O’Dell bowed and shook his head. No, Lord! Please help Grant! Please sustain and keep him!
When Carmichael and O’Dell reentered the house, Bao and Mr. Wheatley were engaged in a rather intense game of checkers and Rose was reading aloud to a small knot of the girls.
Grant and Joy were seated together on a comfortable sofa, staring at the baby in Joy’s arms. Breona leaned over the back of the sofa laughing and cooing at the baby.
“Mr. O’Dell!” Grant motioned him over. “Would you like to hold Edmund?”
A panic rose up in O’Dell—the idea completely unnerved him. No! What if I drop this precious newborn? “Uh, perhaps when he is a bit older?”
Joy glanced up, and O’Dell saw that she understood his sudden anxiety. “Don’t worry. If you sit in that chair, I will place him in your lap. You can hardly drop him if he is in your lap—he is too young to wriggle out of your grasp.”
With reluctance, O’Dell settled himself in the chair and Joy brought the baby to him. The infant was wide awake, blinking deep blue eyes like a wise old man. O’Dell gently touched the wisp of a curl on the babe’s head. “Just like Grant’s hair?”
“Yes,” Joy laughed with pleasure.
O’Dell stared into the child’s face. “Hello, little Edmund,” O’Dell heard himself say. “I’m your uncle Ed.”
~~**~~
Chapter 18
(Journal Entry, January 26, 1911)
Grant and Joy have named their son Edmund, after our dear Mr. O’Dell. This honor speaks of the great friendship between Grant and Mr. O’Dell—and, truthfully, of Mr. O’Dell’s friendship to us all.
I am happy for this precious man. I remember how hardened by the world he was when I first met him in Corinth—how skeptical, disillusioned, and cold the difficulties of his work had made him. Lord, you have done a great work in his heart!
And work you have given us in Denver is progressing, too. Each week Pastor Carmichael, Minister Liáng, and Bao minister to those they meet on the streets of Denver—some snared by alcohol, others simply homeless or impoverished. Some of our more spiritually mature girls now join them in the evenings, speaking words of hope to the women who walk the streets.
Breona and Sara are growing so much through this work! Watching their passion to bring Jesus to hopeless women gladdens my heart. I am confident that we shall see many of them come to Jesus and be restored.
The threat that Cal Judd posed is gone, and Mr. Gresham’s guards have observed no threat toward Mei-Xing’s child in these many months. Now I begin to hope that we will see happy days ahead for us here at Palmer House.
Lord, if only I were not so concerned for Grant’s health.
O’Dell felt the pull to return to Denver keenly and found the means to revisit the city again mid-March. Spending his time between Palmer House and the cramped quarters Carmichael, Liáng, and Bao shared, O’Dell felt that he had “come home.”
When O’Dell held baby Edmund again, he could not believe how much he had grown and filled out. Edmund was wide awake, looking around, attempting to track faces, and sometimes succeeding.
O’Dell was amazed. “He has your eyes, Joy,” he breathed.
“My father’s eyes,” Joy laughed. “I was certain his eyes would be hazel, like Grant’s, but see? They certainly have the look of a Thoresen.” She laughed again with pride and confidence
.
She is so happy, O’Dell realized. Happy and fulfilled.
He studied Edmund again. The dark blue of his eyes had brightened until they were nearly the same startling blue as Joy’s eyes.
“Hey, little Edmund,” O’Dell whispered, “It’s Uncle Ed.” The infant, hearing his voice, turned his head and fastened his blue eyes on him. O’Dell’s heart flipped over when the baby flashed him a toothless smile. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
“Did you see that?” O’Dell was stunned. He had no idea a baby could smile at two months.
“Did he smile at you?” Joy asked, delighted. “He began doing that a week or so ago. If you talk to him, he will coo.”
“I certainly will not be cooing to a baby,” O’Dell growled. At O’Dell’s gruff words, baby Edmund’s face scrunched up in concern.
“Hey! Hey, everything is all right,” O’Dell murmured. “I wasn’t talking to you.” Edmund seemed fascinated with O’Dell and appeared to be listening to him.
O’Dell leaned closer and Edmund smiled again. O’Dell realized he was grinning back like an idiot. “I have to leave tomorrow and go back to work, little Ed, but I’ll be back soon. You wait and see.”
Yer a complete and utter fool, O’Dell, a mocking voice whispered.
He sighed. Perhaps I am, he mused, but if I am a fool, at least I am a happy one. I will choose happy over shrewd and miserable any day.
It was Thursday, time for Morgan to call in his weekly report. He left the house and walked to his destination rather than start the motorcar. His legs cried with relief as he ate up the blocks between his room in Miss DeWitt’s house and the rundown bungalow where Fang-Hua’s thugs awaited him. The fact was, Morgan was in a rotten mood.
I have been confined to that blasted room for months, he raged, doing the work of a peon because I can trust no one else to do it.
When he arrived at the house on Acorn Street, it was clear that the men were in as surly a mood as he. Morgan glowered at each of them as he placed the requisite call to Clemmins and waited for the operator to call him back.
Stolen (A Prairie Heritage, Book 5) Page 17