Changes of the Heart

by Judith Mccoy Miller

  “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. Is there any reason for concern?” she queried.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary. The closer we get to the Cape, the worse the weather is this time of year. We’ll be in for quite a ride over the next week or so,” he explained.

  “But you’ve never had a problem with this ship while rounding the Cape, have you?”

  “There’s not a ship that doesn’t have problems rounding Cape Horn in the middle of winter. But if you’re asking if you think we’re going to go down at sea, the answer would be no,” he said with a benevolent smile.

  Returning to Georgette’s quarters, Maura thought perhaps the ship seemed to be rocking more arduously. Now stop that, she chastised herself. You’re allowing your thoughts to be controlled by a simple cautionary comment.

  By the time dinner arrived, there was no doubt that they had entered rougher waters. When Maura opened the door, the cabin boy tumbled into the room, somehow managing to keep their food within the confines of the covered trays while overcoming the obstacles of a lurching ship and Georgette’s open trunk sitting just inside the doorway. He wasted no time depositing the items, bidding them good night, and scurrying back to the passageway.

  “Let’s see what’s on the trays,” Georgette said, plumping several pillows behind her and wiggling into a sitting position.

  “Are you sure you want to eat? This turbulence has caused me to lose my appetite completely,” Maura said, eyeing the girl in disbelief.

  “Not me. I could eat a cow,” Georgette replied and then giggled at her own remark.

  Maura smiled weakly, feeling as though she would retch when the smell of the food reached her nostrils.

  “Oh, how wonderful,” Georgette said, sounding like a small child at Christmas. “Roast pork and potatoes. Oh, look, Maura, there’s even apple pie with cheese for dessert. I can’t remember the last time I had roast pork.”

  Moving across the room to avoid smelling the food, Maura positioned herself in a high-backed chair with cushioned arms and leaned her head back.

  “This is delicious, Maura. Can I have your pie if you’re not going to eat it?”

  Closing her eyes, Maura nodded her head and leaned back. Several minutes passed, and it seemed that the bow of the ship was going to touch the very depths of the ocean before it rose back up and violently descended in the opposite direction.

  “Are you going to bring me the other tray, or should I get up?” Georgette ventured when Maura remained in the chair.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “You’re not to get up, and I’m not bringing you anything else to eat right now, Georgette,” Maura responded just as the prow of the ship took yet another dive into the swirling waters.

  “It’s getting rather exciting, isn’t it?” came Georgette’s enthusiastic retort as the tray she had balanced on her bed went crashing to the floor, scraps of food and dishes tumbling helter-skelter.

  Maura attempted to rise, but the swooping motion of the ship immediately threw her back into the chair.

  “You’re positively green, Maura. It seems strange, doesn’t it? Just a short time ago I was the one in need of medical attention; but now, I believe, you are in worse condition than I was.”

  “Our ailments are completely dissimilar, Georgette. I am suffering from seasickness due to this horrendous weather. As soon as the weather clears, I’ll be fine. Your ailment, however, won’t disappear with the passing of a storm,” Maura stated, irritated by the girl’s comparison of seasickness with the possibility of a premature birth.

  Seeing Georgette’s pained look, Maura immediately regretted the outburst. “I’m sorry, Georgette. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but why don’t you rest while you can and I’ll do the same,” she apologized, mustering a small smile.

  “Papa always did tell me God must have given me a double helping of good looks to make up for my lack of common sense. I’ll be quiet as a church mouse, and I’m sure that we’ll both be feeling wonderful by morning,” Georgette replied, making certain the railing on the bed was secure before turning to a more comfortable position.

  During the next four days the weather roared with a violence that neither of them could have imagined. One of the crew members had come to Georgette’s cabin the second day and told them to remain there and one of the crew would deliver what food he could as the weather permitted. Maura was unable to eat anything during the four days but did force herself to drink liquids to keep from dehydrating. Georgette, however, remained the epitome of good health and devoured every morsel of food each crew member delivered to the room.

  The seas finally calmed, although the weather remained frigid for another week, but at least Maura was able to return to her cabin and assume a somewhat normal routine. One of her first priorities had been to find Rachel and see how she had fared throughout the storm. Discovering her cabin unoccupied, Maura had gone to the dining room and then the library in search of the older woman. Failing to locate her, Maura had finally inquired of the ship’s captain, who revealed Rachel had come out on the deck during the storm, appearing to be delirious. Before any of the crew members could reach Rachel, she had been swept overboard.

  “Our attempts to save her or recover her body went unrewarded.”

  Seeing Maura’s hand rise to her mouth in shock as he related the horrible tale, he offered his regrets. “Were you related to her?” he inquired.

  “No, no, but she was a lovely lady. We had just met on the ship, but I felt as though I’d known her for some time.”

  He nodded his understanding. “Do you know if there is someone I should notify—a family member in California, perhaps? We found nothing in her belongings to indicate why she was aboard the ship or if she had family elsewhere,” he informed her.

  “She told me that her family was all deceased and she wanted a bit of adventure in her life before she died. Having heard stories of the excitement in California, she decided to sell her home and move west. Apparently she was known for her excellent cooking and was planning to open a restaurant when she reached her new home,” Maura told him, with Rachel’s words still ringing in her memory.

  “I’m sorry she didn’t live to see her dream through. Since you’re probably the closest thing she had to a relative, why don’t you take her belongings when we get to California? She’d probably prefer that over my men scavenging through them.”

  Maura nodded. She wasn’t sure she wanted to claim the belongings of a deceased woman she barely knew, but any further discussion of the subject seemed abhorrent.

  Slowly making her way back to Georgette’s cabin, Maura wrestled with thoughts of how to break the news to her young friend. The three of them had grown close during the voyage, and although Georgette was somewhat intimidated by Rachel’s maturity and sophistication, her respect for the older woman’s Christian standards and beliefs was obvious. While Maura and Rachel studied and discussed passages of scripture, Georgette would often sit nearby listening intently. In turn, Rachel always attempted to draw Georgette into their Bible studies.

  “Her questions make it apparent she’s trying to find what’s missing in her life. I hope somehow I can play a small part in helping her find it,” Rachel had once confided to Maura.

  Maura was pleased that Rachel had found that opportunity and led Georgette to the Lord. Rachel could have taught Georgette so much more about God’s love, Maura sadly thought as she entered the doorway.

  “Did you visit with Rachel while you were gone? How did she make it through the storm?” Georgette asked the minute Maura entered the cabin.

  “Not very well, I’m afraid. You see. . .”

  “Did you tell her about the baby? What did she say? Do you think she’ll ever speak to me again? Oh, I hope so; I hope she’ll find it in her heart to forgive me. What’s wrong, Maura? You look positively ill. I’m sorry. Here I am just rambling on with my questions and you’re sick. Why don’t you sit down and rest? Can I get you something?”

  “Georgette,
I don’t know how to say this, so I’ll just come straight out with it. Rachel died during the storm. The captain told me she had come up on deck during the squall. Apparently she was ill and had become delirious. She was hit with a giant wave and washed overboard. They weren’t able to save her.”

  “No! That can’t be true. Surely they’ve made some mistake, Maura. Tell me this isn’t so,” the girl pleaded in a trembling voice.

  “I wish I could, but there’s no way to change the truth,” Maura replied.

  “She told me once that she didn’t fear death because time on earth was only a short delay on the path to eternity and that she was looking forward to heaven. I wish I could feel that way; but whenever I think about death, I still become frightened,” Georgette mused.

  “As you grow in your faith you’ll find that same assurance,” Maura encouraged.

  “I hope so, but it’s difficult for me to remember that God has forgiven all the terrible things I’ve done in my life. Somehow it just seems too simple to ask for forgiveness and receive it. Look at what my family did to me when I asked for their forgiveness! They sent me off to California so that they wouldn’t be humiliated. It’s truly amazing that God will forgive me when my own flesh and blood has disowned me!”

  “But don’t you see, Georgette—your parents are human—just like you and me. You can’t compare them to God and His perfect love. I know it seems too simple that this gift is ours, free for the taking. Perhaps that’s why so many reject it—because it is a sovereign gift, straight from God through His Son,” Maura replied.

  “I’m just thankful that God sent you and Rachel into my life to explain all of this. Had I remained at home with my family, I may have never accepted the Lord. Perhaps one day I’ll have the opportunity to lead someone else—maybe even someone in my family,” Georgette quietly reflected.

  THREE

  “So you’re finally off to San Francisco to get your woman. I was beginning to think it was. . .”

  “Was what? A lie?” Luther retorted, a sharp edge to his voice.

  The two old men had been sitting in the corner of the store playing cards all afternoon, just as they did most afternoons. The only difference between today and the countless other afternoons was the fact that they were taking great pleasure in baiting the proprietor about his approaching marriage.

  “Don’t get yourself all riled up, Luther. You know Aaron’s only funnin’ with ya.”

  “I’m tired of listening to both of you. If you want to sit and play cards, that’s fine. But don’t sit in my store and call me a liar.”

  “I’m sorry, Luther. Hank’s right, ya know. I’d never call you a liar. You’re a good man, and I wish you only the best,” Aaron apologized, running his fingers through the gray, scruffy beard that surrounded his haggard face.

  “We’d best be getting out of your way,” Hank commented, nudging the other man to get up.

  “Oh, yeah, we got things to do. We’ll see ya when you get back from San Francisco,” Aaron called over his shoulder as the two men made their way toward the doorway of the Buchanan Mercantile.

  “Sorry, Aaron. I’m just a little nervous—don’t hold it against me,” Luther replied, giving a half-hearted wave at the men. “Great! At this rate, I won’t need to come back to Placerville. I’ll have run off all my customers,” he muttered aloud, checking the shelves one last time.

  He disliked leaving the store, but going to San Francisco to pick up supplies was a necessity, and he didn’t trust anyone else with that chore. He’d learned that it took a careful eye to avoid having one’s cargo shorted. There were always beggars and thieves on the wharf, men down on their luck as well as those who were too lazy to work for a living. They prowled among the cargo as it was unloaded, helping themselves to anything they could carry off. Shortly after his arrival, he’d traveled to the docks to collect his first shipment of goods. To his amazement, several thieves had been successful in joining forces and hauling off large crates while the unwitting crew was aboard ship fetching the remaining cargo. From that day forward, Luther made every effort to be present on the wharf when his cargo was being unloaded, and he didn’t leave until it was completely accounted for and secured.

  He had carefully devised a plan to successfully protect his cargo and haul it to Placerville. After inquiring about various ships’ captains, he engaged Captain Nedrick Wharton, a man of good reputation, to transport his supplies. Captain Wharton had delivered all of the cargo for the Buchanan Mercantile for the past five years. The two men had a gentlemen’s agreement that Luther’s cargo was never to be unloaded until his arrival at the dock, and, in exchange, Captain Wharton would receive several gold coins for the added service. The process had worked admirably, and Luther could boast that no thief had ever pilfered any of his stock.

  Likewise, Luther had made painstaking arrangements with a local livery where he boarded his horses and wagon while in the city. He would rent two additional wagons and drivers to assist in hauling the supplies back to Placerville. The drivers varied from trip to trip, but the owner of the livery vouched for any man he hired out, and Luther had never met with any complications.

  His attention to detail and unfaltering determination to disprove his father’s prediction of failure had caused a transformation. From an insecure, yet trusting human being, Luther had slowly evolved into a man with a penchant for success and a lack of tolerance for obstacles that might delay his achievements.

  As his business flourished in the small gold mining town, Luther had realized that an extra pair of hands would allow him to move even more rapidly toward achieving his goals. And, in his methodical calculations, he came to the conclusion that the best way to gain another pair of hands was to marry. There were abundant benefits to the plan. Aside from the obvious advantage, he would have additional help without the added expense. Granted, he would have to feed and clothe a wife, but that would cost less than hiring a full-time employee. Besides, he would no longer be required to send out his laundry or cook his own meals; he could train her to balance the ledgers, a chore he despised; and, as she bore children, there would be even more hands to help! The only problem would be finding a woman. California was overpopulated with men, but women—at least good Christian women—were nowhere to be found. In order to resolve his problem, Luther had once again devised a plan.

  It had been a little over a year ago when he had traveled to San Francisco and requested Captain Wharton deliver his advertisement to the East Coast for publication in several newspapers. The responses had been less than he had hoped for—one from a woman almost twice his age, another from a married woman wanting to escape a cruel husband, and one from Maura Thorenson. Although Miss Thorenson came the closest to meeting his requirements, he wasn’t entirely satisfied. In her first letter, she avowed to be twenty-eight years old. He would have preferred a woman of eighteen or nineteen years of age, young and healthy, who could earn her keep and give him many children. But at least she appeared in good health and somewhat comely in the picture she had sent.

  Of course, the request by the woman’s parents that she correspond with him for an entire year before setting sail for California had been totally unacceptable. He had begrudgingly conceded to a six-month delay, arguing that his bride’s traveling time of at least six months would require him to wait over a year for her arrival in San Francisco. Throughout the six-month correspondence period, he had continued to hope that some younger, more suitable prospect would contact him and be willing to make immediate arrangements to marry him. Those hopes had heightened even further when Luther received a letter from Walter Thorenson practically demanding that his precious daughter travel aboard a luxury ship to California. Luther was aghast as he had calculated the additional cost, but he had bleakly agreed when he was unable to devise a logical plan to avoid the request. If Mr. Thorenson thought him a miser, he’d likely entice Maura to cancel their wedding. And Luther didn’t want that to occur!

  Now, after a year of anticipat
ing the arrival of his bride, Luther was leaving Placerville as a single man for the last time. When he returned, he would have a wife—a helpmeet.

  “I’ll expect an accounting of everything when I return,” Luther admonished the man he had hired to look after the store during his absence. “As usual, I’ve completed an inventory of all the merchandise, so I’ll know if you attempt anything underhanded.”

  “The preacher vouched for me, Mr. Buchanan. I’m an honest man, and I worked in the general store in my hometown for ten years before coming to California. We’ve been over this for the past two weeks. If you don’t trust me, find someone else to tend the place,” Clem Halbert rebutted.

  “I’m sorry, Clem. It’s just that I don’t like leaving my business in the hands of someone else. Every time I go to San Francisco, I’ve got this problem. Used to be Johnny Weber would take care of things, and I was finally getting used to him. Now that he’s up and left, it’s, well—”

  “I understand, Luther, but you got two choices. Either trust the store to me or stay home. Makes me no difference at this point. Course, if you decide to stay in Placerville, I may ride down to San Francisco and see if I can talk your intended into marrying me,” he joked.

  Luther laughed weakly in return. “Never know, she just might marry you if that happened. Women been known to reject a man for less!”

  “Aw, ain’t no woman gonna jilt you, Luther. She’s coming halfway around the world to marry you. Now, you better get going before the sun’s any farther up in the sky.”

  After checking the store one last time, he hoisted himself onto the seat of the wooden freight wagon and slapped the reins. “Giddyup,” he called out as the horses slowly moved away from the front of the store.

  ❧

  Georgette and Maura stood on the deck of the ship as it slowly maneuvered between the multitude of vessels in the San Francisco harbor, many of them in a terrible state of disrepair, obviously having been deserted for a long period of time.