Through the Deep Waters

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  Dinah considered Ruthie’s statement. Was her guilt the result of her choice or the choice Mr. Sanger made? The feelings were all tangled together, making it difficult to sort them out. “I think I understand. And I’ll pray about it. God has already taken away my nightmares. He’s forgiven me for going to the hotel room. He can remove the shame from me, too, can’t He?”

  Ruthie beamed. “He can do anything, Dinah. Remember what we read in Ephesians last night? He is able to do ‘exceeding abundantly above all’ we ask or think.”

  Desire writhed through Dinah’s middle. “Can we ask Him now?”

  Without a word Ruthie moved to her knees. Dinah knelt beside her and they held hands. Ruthie prayed aloud. “Dear God, Dinah was hurt by someone, the same way Dinah in the Bible was hurt by Shechem. Shechem’s mistreatment of Dinah left a mark on her soul, and the man in Chicago did the same thing to my friend Dinah. But You don’t want us to cower beneath burdens of shame. So, God, erase the mark. It isn’t hers to carry. Give her complete freedom so she can be whole in body, spirit, and soul. Thank You for bringing us healing when we ask. In Your Son’s name, amen.”

  They rose, and Ruthie gave her face one more swipe with the handkerchief. “We’d better go to work before Mr. Irwin bellows at us.”

  As they left the parlor and went their separate ways, something whispered a reminder to Dinah. There was someone else who deserved to know the truth of her past. It would be harder to tell him than it had been to tell Mr. Irwin because she wanted his approval so badly. But she sensed once she’d told him, not one wisp of black cloud would haunt her.

  Somehow, before she left town, she had to talk to Amos.

  Amos

  Amos reached the edge of town as the morning train was pulling in. He brought Ike to a stop a few feet from the tracks and watched the locomotive roll past. The engine whistle blasted, and Ike laid his ears flat to his skull and snorted, dancing in place. Amos gave the mule’s solid neck a pat. “There now, boy, I know it’s noisy but don’t bolt on me.” His cart still held ten dozen eggs—if Ike took a notion to escape the noise, the cart would likely tip.

  Ike snorted again, but to Amos’s relief he only pawed the ground. He continued to give the animal comforting pats and talked softly into his flattened ears until the caboose had passed. Then he gave Ike’s sides a little nudge with his heels, and they headed up Main Street. He couldn’t resist sending a glance toward the Clifton Hotel as they crossed the tracks. His heart lurched when he spotted two women on the station’s boarding platform, one with a red-gold bun and the other with upswept waves the color of honey. Miss Mead and Dinah. A brocade bag rested on the platform next to their feet.

  Instinctively he tugged the reins and intoned, “Whoa.” Ike stopped, and Amos watched the two women embrace, then catch hands. He frowned, wishing he could hear what they were saying. He fidgeted on Ike’s back, battling the urge to go to the station, to give Dinah a farewell the way Miss Mead was now doing. Seeing her again, even from a distance, raised the familiar mingle of love, anger, regret, and disillusionment.

  She was leaving now. He would be able to bury the dream of building a life with her. He should be happy. But the heaviness in his chest wasn’t from joy. He sighed and tapped Ike’s sides again. “Come on, boy. Let’s get these eggs delivered.”

  Over the next three hours, he went door to door and sold all but one dozen of the eggs to people in town. With noon approaching he decided he’d been in town long enough. “Let’s go to the grocer, Ike—buy a few provisions.” Ike snorted a reply. As Amos looped Ike’s reins on the hitching post, the storekeeper stepped out on the porch and flicked a glance across the sky.

  “Look at that. Clear as clear can be.” Mr. Root sounded disgusted.

  Amos chuckled. “I’m enjoying the clear sky. Even though it’s still cold, that bright sun makes it seem warmer. And there’s no wind today for a change. I’d say it’s a good day.”

  Mr. Root shook his head. “Sure it’s a good day. But I don’t understand it.” He pointed at his right knee. “This thing’s telling me a storm is brewing. For seven years now, I’ve been able to predict every storm whether summer, spring, winter, or fall by the ache in my knee. But I don’t see one single sign of a storm. So that means my knee’s now giving me aches over my age.” He flung one more venomous look toward the sky, then marched back into the store, mumbling under his breath.

  Hiding his smile, Amos followed the owner inside and collected the items he wanted to purchase. As he laid them on the counter, he started to ask if he could get credit for the last dozen eggs in his cart. But another idea struck. Why not take them to the Clifton? He wanted to remind the manager how he was building his flock. Now that Dinah had left—his heart panged, but he gritted his teeth and pushed the ache aside—he could go there without worry. After talking to the manager, he could give the eggs to the chef as a promise of more to come. So even though the credit would be a boon, he paid for his purchases out of his pocket and then aimed Ike for the Clifton.

  Not until he slid down from Ike’s back and limped to the cart did he remember he hadn’t brought a basket to carry the eggs into the hotel. Grimacing, he scratched his head and finally decided to fill his jacket pockets. The large squares of cloth stitched on three sides to the flaps of his coat were big enough to each hold a half-dozen eggs. He carefully placed the eggs in his pockets, then made his way into the foyer.

  Up the hall the luncheon counter was crowded with diners. Good smells wafted from the area, and happy chatter filled the air. But the pleasant scents and cheerful noises reminded Amos of the many lunches he’d shared with Dinah. He hadn’t realized how hard it would be to enter this place of memories. He came to a halt midway between the door and the check-in counter.

  The clerk looked up and sent Amos a puzzled look. “Good day, Mr. Ackerman. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

  Amos forced his feet into motion. “I’ve stayed busy. Is Mr. Irwin available? I’d like to talk to him.”

  “I believe he’s in his office. Let me fetch him for you.” He bustled off.

  Amos turned and leaned against the counter while he waited. The first time he’d brought eggs to the hotel, he arrived at breakfast time when everyone was busy. Maybe he should have considered the poor timing of this stop, too. But if Mr. Irwin was busy, as he’d been that first time, Amos could wait, just as he had then.

  Without warning, a memory surfaced—Dinah, peering over the back of the chair with wide, compassionate eyes. Her voice whispered from the past: “What … broke you?” He hung his head and closed his eyes, willing away the remembered images. If he’d known how broken he’d become by allowing her into his heart, he would have made a different choice. But how to change it now? She was gone from town, but she was still with him.

  Lost in thought, he muttered, “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

  “Amos?”

  He jerked upright, his eyes seeking. There, not six feet away, stood Dinah. Was he imagining things? He blinked twice and looked again. No, she was there, her crisp maid’s uniform and upswept hair with its few escaping tendrils both familiar and somehow new at the same time. He shook his head, confused by his thoughts. “What are you doing here?”

  A slight smile curved her lips. “I work here.”

  “But you left.” He bounced his palm toward the railroad station across the street. “I saw you on the boarding platform with a bag. You left.”

  Her smile remained, but it seemed sad. “I wasn’t leaving. I was seeing Ruthie off. She’s going to train and then come back and work as a server here at the Clifton.”

  “Then you aren’t leaving …”

  She lowered her head. He stared at the neat part in her thick, wavy hair. She said softly, “No. I’m not leaving.” She lifted her face and met his gaze, her expression bold. “And I’m glad to see you. There’s something I’ve needed to tell you. Since it’s my dinner break, can we … talk?”

  Before he could form an answer�
�before he could determine whether he wanted to agree or refuse—intrusions came from two directions. Mr. Irwin approached from the right, and the guest whose proclamation had destroyed Amos’s world on New Year’s Eve wheeled around the corner from the left.

  Mr. Irwin said, “Mr. Ackerman, what can I do for you?”

  At the same time, the guest spoke to Dinah in the same deprecating tone that had set Amos’s teeth on edge. “Well, hello there, honey.”

  Dinah shrank away from the man, bringing her closer to Amos.

  Mr. Irwin turned from Amos and toward the guest, his brows set in a sharp V. “Sir, in this hotel, as in all Harvey-owned establishments, we address ladies with courtesy.”

  The man shrugged. “I always address ladies courteously. But this little gal is not a lady.”

  Amos balled his hands into fists. No matter what she’d done, this man shouldn’t publicly disgrace her. After all, he’d been in the wrong, too, to hire Dinah. He took one step toward the guest to warn him to silence, but Mr. Irwin darted in front of him, forcing him to move aside or be toppled.

  “From where do you know Miss Hubley?” Mr. Irwin bit out the question. His stance reminded Amos of the cocky rooster he’d once owned.

  The guest slipped his hands in his pockets and peered down his nose at the hotel manager. “She and I go way back.” He aimed his smirk at Dinah. “Don’t we, honey?”

  Mr. Irwin looked at Dinah, and Amos held his breath. The protectiveness welling within him took him by surprise. Without thought, he moved half in front of Dinah, blocking her from the other men’s view. But Dinah stepped out of his shadow as Mr. Irwin said, “Miss Hubley, is this the man from Chicago?”

  Dinah nodded, neither with hesitance nor in a frightened manner. She looked composed, strong, confident. Amos stared at her in wonder. What had brought this change?

  Quick as a lightning strike, Mr. Irwin’s hand shot out and grabbed the man by his jacket front. “Mr. Sanger, get your things and leave this hotel.”

  The man slapped the manager’s hand aside. “I’m paid up for two days. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You will or I’ll call the sheriff on you.”

  Sanger’s jaw dropped. “You’ll evict me for calling her ‘honey’?”

  Mr. Irwin rose up on his tiptoes and glared into the guest’s face. “I’ll evict you for being a lowdown, grimy, snake-in-the-grass who preys on young girls. I might not be able to do anything about what you did to Miss Hubley in Chicago, but I can make sure every female under the Clifton roof is safe from the likes of you now.” He jabbed both palms against Sanger’s chest. “Get out.”

  Sanger swung an incredulous look from Mr. Irwin to Dinah and back. “What about the money I paid for my room?”

  “If you want a refund, take it up with the sheriff,” Mr. Irwin replied in a glib tone. “I’ll be glad to explain to him why I sent you from my hotel. I think he’d find it very interesting how you forced yourself on a young girl who tried to refuse your advances.”

  Amos stared at Dinah, who stood gazing at the diminutive hotel manager with her spine straight and her head high. Mr. Irwin’s statement reverberated in his head like a clapper against a bell’s bowl. This guest, this man named Sanger, had … had … Amos couldn’t complete the thought.

  Fury roared through his chest. With a growl, he raised his fists and advanced on the man. Sanger darted up the hallway like the coward he was. The slam of his door carried clear to the lobby.

  Mr. Irwin touched Dinah’s elbow. “I don’t trust that man. He might cause trouble. I’m fetching Mr. Phillip’s pistol and then sending one of the busboys for the sheriff. He’ll make sure Sanger gets on the next train. It’s probably best if you go to your parlor and stay there until Sanger leaves.” His grim expression took on a hint of compassion. “Don’t worry. He won’t bother you again.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Irwin.”

  The manager snorted. “Such riffraff in the Clifton! Mr. Harvey would be appalled.” He strode off, arms swinging.

  Dinah started for the little parlor tucked behind the counter. Midway there, she stopped and looked back. “Are you coming?”

  Amos gave a start. “Do you want me to?”

  The same smile—half-sad, half-hopeful—appeared on her face. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you yet.”

  He saw no need for her to say anything else. So much had become clear in the past few minutes. On their first meeting, he’d wondered why she seemed so nervous and distrustful. He thought about the times he’d reached to touch her and she flinched away, how she stood so stiffly within his arms at the beginning of their one dance the night of the Calico Ball, the wary way she watched people, even her reasoning that she wasn’t welcome in church.

  She’d been broken by a man who disregarded her feelings. And he’d broken her again, by refusing to listen when she tried to explain. Recalling how he’d thrown that rock from his front door—thrown it in condemnation—Amos wanted to hide. He’d wronged her.

  What should he do? While he now realized she hadn’t callously sold herself to a man, he also knew something precious was gone that couldn’t be recovered. When he was a boy, he’d overheard his mother and one of her friends discussing the sad fate of a girl whose purity was stolen. Ma said, with such sorrow, “How will she ever be able to allow a man to touch her?” It had taken years for him to understand the meaning behind their conversation, but he understood it now.

  That girl’s circumstance applied to Dinah. Since she had been robbed of her maidenhood, would her trust also be permanently scarred? Would he only be causing her more discomfort and fear by reestablishing a relationship with her? And—he had to acknowledge the question teasing the deepest part of his heart—could he touch her now without wondering if his hands reminded her of the man who’d desecrated her? Was it best for him to leave … or stay?

  “Amos?” She still waited.

  When he looked into her pale-blue eyes glimmering with hesitant hope, refusing her request became an insurmountable challenge. He started to slip his hands into his pockets, but his fingertips encountered the eggs. He needed to deliver them to the kitchen before he broke them. Regretfully, he said, “I can’t.” He wanted to ask if he could meet with her later, but before he could say the words, she gave a little nod and darted around the corner.

  Dinah

  Dinah closed the parlor door behind her, then immediately knelt before one of the wicker chairs. Her encounters with first Amos and then Mr. Sanger had left her reeling, and she needed to sort her thoughts. But mostly she needed to find relief from the sting of rejection Amos’s hasty departure had caused. Closing her eyes, she addressed her heavenly Father in prayer.

  “God, did You see? He walked away from me. I prayed for the chance to talk to him, and then there he was, as if waiting to see me. I wanted to tell him what I’d done so he’d know why I asked for his forgiveness. But then he walked away again.” Her chest tightened with a fresh ache, and she swallowed a lump of hurt before continuing. “Thank You for promising to never leave me or forsake me. As much as I want Amos to be my friend again, I know I will be all right if he chooses not to be because I have You. I will always have You.”

  Tears threatened—tears of both gratitude and disappointment. She went on in a raspy whisper. “When Mr. Irwin told me I wouldn’t be able to be a server after all, it was hard but I accepted it. When Ruthie was sent to train in my place, I found the means to be happy for her instead of jealous. So I know You are helping me. Thank You for being my Father, my Comforter, my Strength, my Protector, my Everything. Even if I’m a chambermaid for the rest of my life—even if I never find someone on this earth to love me—I will have You. Please help me remember, dear God, that with You I am whole. Help me remember You are my Enough.”

  A sweet trickle of peace flowed through her being. Her lips quivered into a grateful smile, recognizing God’s Spirit in the room. “Mr. Irwin told me to stay here until Mr. Sanger left, but I have a job to do and I will
go do it now. You are with me, God, and You will keep me safe as I go about my duties. Amen.”

  She rose, wiped the moisture from her cheeks, and then with a light step set to work.

  Amos

  By the time Amos finished speaking with Mr. Irwin and delivered the eggs to the chef, the clock in the foyer showed a quarter of two. He shook his head. How had he managed to spend so much time waiting? He started toward the chambermaids’ parlor, but halfway there changed his direction and aimed himself for the front doors instead. Dinah wouldn’t be there any longer. And he didn’t know what to say to her anyway. It was best to just go on home.

  When he stepped outside, a chill blast of wind took him by surprise. He fastened the top button of his coat and folded the collar around his ears before moving to the edge of the porch. The sky, which had been a clear blue at noon, now held the color of a galvanized washtub—an ominous gray. Far in the north, dark clouds rolled in a billowing mass. He whistled through his teeth. Apparently Mr. Root’s achy knee wasn’t related to age after all.

  Amos hop-skipped to Ike and swung himself onto the mule’s back. The way the wind blew, that storm would be upon them soon. He didn’t worry about a tornado—tornadoes were spring storms—but he didn’t want to be caught out in the open by a blizzard. He clicked his tongue on his teeth, prompting the animal to get moving.

  Twice on the ride toward home, the wind turned the wagon over. Amos’s hip ached with ferocity from having to climb down, right the wagon, and clamber onto Ike’s back again. When the little wagon tipped a third time less than a quarter mile from home, Amos released the rigging and left it in the road. Everyone in town knew it belonged to him so they wouldn’t bother it. He’d come back for it when the storm had passed.