The Scripture she had quoted to Twila came to mind. This time she pulled more of its words out of her memory. Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.
Out in a dark night. In the midst of a storm or a raging fire. In a wagon with a thief and a runaway slave.
Whithersoever. That was a good word. One of those exactly right words Ruth liked to come up with for her poems.
Thirty-two
Will raised his face to the rain. The beautiful, glorious rain. It wasn’t going to save his house, where flames continued to flicker up from the roof, even with the deluge of water the Lord was sending down. Showers of blessings. A Bible passage came to mind that he’d preached on more than once. Often enough that he had no trouble remembering the words Ezekiel had written so long ago.
He spoke them aloud into the wind. “There shall be showers of blessing. And the tree of the field shall yield her fruit, and the earth shall yield her increase, and they shall be safe in their land, and shall know that I am the LORD.” It was a blessing to know the Lord was in control even at a time like this.
Lightning streaked across the western sky, followed by a clap of thunder that made Ruth start a bit. He tightened his arm around her. He never wanted to let go of either her or Willie. When he had caught sight of them crawling out the door of the burning house, his heart almost stopped. He should have known that was where Willie would go. After her doll. Even now she clutched the rag doll tight to her chest.
He supposed he should fuss at Willie for not staying put where he’d left her by the shed. But that could wait for another day. Now he was just thankful to hold her close under the quilt Ruth draped over the child to protect her from the rain.
When Ruth touched his cheek, he looked down at her. Over the noise of the rain, he could barely hear her. “We need to find shelter from the storm.”
Shelter from the storm. Somehow even there in the midst of the pouring rain and rumbling thunder with the smoke of his burning house settling around him, he had already found shelter from the storm. From his inner storm. The Lord was with him. He had been all along. Will had simply been blinded by his own storm of grief.
Any paths he had to walk through whatever storms, the Lord had already walked through worse. And yet the Lord had conquered them all. Even death.
He bent down and spoke close to Ruth’s ear. “The Lord has already given us shelter.”
In another flash of lightning, he could see her frown. “Yes, and we’re not in it.”
Will couldn’t keep from smiling then. “For a poet, you are very practical, Mrs. Harmon.” The rain slacked off a little, so they no longer had to shout to be heard.
“Lightning doesn’t care if I’m practical or foolish. It just does what lightning does. With that in mind, the Lord gave us the sense to get out of a storm if we can.”
Willie peeked out from under the quilt. “I like rain.” She stuck out her tongue and tried to catch a raindrop.
That made Ruth laugh. “So do I. Tonight everybody in Springfield likes rain, but I would rather not dodge lightning bolts.”
“I seriously doubt if you can,” Will said. “Dodge lightning, I mean.”
That made Ruth laugh even more. He liked hearing her laugh, but she was right. They should seek shelter. He held Willie closer as he got to his feet. Then he reached down to help up Ruth. Her hand in his was so small, and yet strength was in her grip.
“We can go to the church,” he said.
“Do you think we can find a preacher there?”
“I am the preacher there.”
“So you are.”
The lightning flashing in the distance gave enough light for him to see her smile, but it still took a moment for him to realize what she was telling him.
“Are you saying yes?” He stared down at her face. Where was another flash of lightning when he needed it?
“Maybe we should review the question.”
When he started to say something, she put her fingers over his lips. “Not yet. First shelter from the storm. Then questions.”
“And answers?”
“And answers.”
His heart bounded up with joy. Rejoice always. Wasn’t that the Scripture he’d been reading earlier? Pray without ceasing and rejoice. The smoke from the fire burned his nose and throat, and he was soaked to the skin. He had lost all his possessions and was left with nothing but the clothes on his back and the Bible he’d left on the pulpit at the church. None of that mattered. He would find new clothes. A house could be rebuilt.
Even the church building, had it been taken by the fire, could be replaced. Buildings didn’t matter. People mattered, and his arms were tight around the two people who mattered most to him. His child and this woman who had somehow stolen his heart in mere weeks. That had to be of the Lord.
As she climbed up the rise to the church, Ruth wondered if she was doing the right thing. She had the same as told this man, this preacher, that she was ready to say yes to his proposal of marriage. Of course, she could still opt for the convenience marriage. She could, but if she did, oh, how she would miss the feel of his arm strong around her the way it was now.
It was true she barely knew him, but how well had the Ruth in the Bible known Boaz when she went and lay at his feet?
This was not Bible times. Things were done differently now. People took time to get to know one another before they stood in front of a preacher to say vows of faithfulness and obedience. She had known Peter for a year before she married him. She had been so young then. So full of hope. Not even as old as Adria was now.
A shiver of worry swept through Ruth, but she had no reason to think Adria wasn’t safe. The fires had been in the east end of town. A good distance from Elm Street. More likely, Adria was concerned about Ruth’s welfare. A smile slid out on Ruth’s face. And perhaps with reason, as she was ready to plunge into a completely different life after years of widowhood. As a preacher’s wife besides. Everybody knew a preacher’s wife had an ongoing challenge to please a church congregation.
Ruth certainly wasn’t going to worry about that. Not yet. One step at a time. First the question. Then the answer. After that, the hows. Or the whens. Ruth’s heart began to hammer a little faster in her chest. Not tonight. She had been silly to ask about a different preacher at the church.
A week. That was what she would tell him. But then the man had no place to stay. He might manage at the church, but Willeena would need more than a church pew for a bed.
Willeena’s head drooped down on Will’s shoulder as they walked through the rain. The child had to be exhausted.
At the church, raindrops plopped on the water in Mr. Manderly’s bucket at the bottom of the steps, but he was no longer standing guard with it. He must have decided the church building and his organ were no longer in danger and hurried home to see about his own house.
Ruth was glad he was gone and they were alone. But who knew how long that privacy might last? Others might climb to the sanctuary of the church to pray for those who had suffered losses. It was a time for prayer.
Willeena barely murmured when Will gently laid her on one of the pews. After Will stepped back, Ruth tucked the quilt around the little girl even though it was damp. Perhaps it would provide some warmth. With her face streaked with grime and smoke, Willeena was so precious lying there, holding her doll. Ruth smoothed a stray strand of hair away from the girl’s face, and then brushed her lips across her forehead.
Will had already returned to the open church door. Ruth stepped up beside him to stare down toward the street, where flames were still evident here and there amidst the smoke hanging over the buildings. The rain was defeating the fire, but darkness hid how much of the town had burned. Morning would bring that tragic truth.
When Will spoke, his words surprised Ruth. “Did you hear the Lord’s voice in the fire? Or in the storm?”
“Or in a still small voice like Elij
ah?” Ruth said.
“Yes.”
“No.” Ruth couldn’t imagine the Lord speaking audibly to her, but she didn’t doubt he might to others. “Is the Lord speaking to you, Will?”
“I think he speaks to me, to all of us, in every way, but sometimes we close our ears.” He glanced over at her and then turned back toward the night.
Light flickered out to them from the lamps left burning in the church when everyone rushed out to the fire. Ruth wished one of the lamps nearer so she could see his face, but perhaps it was better for them to talk in the shadows. To let their words be what mattered more than smiles or frowns.
“Have you closed your ears?” she asked softly.
“Ever since Mary died, I’ve only gone through the motions of listening. I kept searching through the Scriptures, kept saying the right preacher words, but I was empty inside. I knew nothing could bring Mary back. Not after she died, but before she died, I fervently believed God would heal her. Then he didn’t.”
“I prayed for Peter with like fervor. I thought my faith wasn’t strong enough.”
“I didn’t think it of my prayers. I was sure of it.” Will let out a long sigh. “What kind of preacher couldn’t even pray down healing on his own wife?”
Ruth put her hand on his arm, but he continued to stare out at the smoky night as he went on. “On a good woman who had forever loved the Lord with a purer heart than my own.”
“I felt the same about Peter. He was such a good man. I’ve taken much comfort over the years reading his Bible and trying to walk a path as faithful as his.” That made her remember the Bible still stuffed in her waistband. She pulled it out and handed it to him. “I found this on your desk when I was searching for Willeena’s doll. I picked it up because I thought it might be your wife’s. I don’t know why. Perhaps because I’ve always kept Peter’s Bible on my desk.”
He turned from staring out into the darkness to rub his hands over the cover of the Bible. Even though she couldn’t see his face clearly in the flickering lamplight, she had no doubt tears were in his eyes when he spoke. “It is Mary’s Bible. The one possession I hated to lose in the fire and now you have brought it out for me. Someday it will be Willeena’s. A gift from her mother.”
“Something she will surely treasure.”
“Mary would have loved her so.”
“As you love her.” Ruth hesitated, but the words rose up from her heart. So she let them come out into the air between them. “As I will love her.”
He took both her hands then and stared down at her. “I can profess to be nothing more than a flawed man, struggling to follow the Lord’s calling in my life. Now my few earthly possessions have gone up in smoke, leaving me little to offer you but my devotion and my name, but will you do me the honor of accepting that name?”
“Let me ask you a question before I answer.”
“Ask anything you want.”
“We’ve known each other for such a short time.” Ruth kept her eyes on his. “I fear not long enough, but do you think there is room in your heart for me? I don’t want to push Mary out. Or Willeena. They belong there forever just as Peter and Adria do in my heart, but I have space that needs to be filled.”
“Then let me have the blessing of filling that space, because I don’t merely think I have room for you in my heart, I know it. The Lord led me to Springfield. To you. I love you already, but I will love you more with each passing day. Will you be my wife, Ruth Harmon, and let love for me grow in your heart?”
Ruth didn’t hesitate. “Yes, Will Robertson, I will.”
He turned loose of her hand and ran his fingers over her cheeks, as though memorizing her face with his touch. “May I kiss you?”
In answer she lifted her face toward him.
His lips touched hers gingerly. She felt just as unsure, but the warmth of his lips spread through her and she slid her hand around behind his neck. His arms tightened around her for a moment before he raised his lips away from hers.
“I’m a bit out of practice,” he said.
“As am I.” She smiled as she touched his face. “But we’ll figure it out.”
“Yes, I think we will.”
“Come. Get Willeena and go home with me so I can tell Adria. She will be worried.” Ruth shook her head a little. “She may be even more worried about me when we tell her I accepted your proposal.”
The smell of smoke trailed along with them as they walked through the rain to her house. With so much destruction behind her, Ruth felt a little guilty at how light her heart felt. But a woman didn’t decide to get married every day. She reached for Will’s hand even as he was reaching for hers. They would work things out one step at a time. With the Lord’s help.
Adria was going to be very surprised, but she would be overjoyed for Ruth too. Overjoyed. That was a word to consider. That morning she had been ready to write a poem about joy in the morning. But sometimes joy could flash into the midst of darkness the same as with the rising of the sun.
Thirty-three
Adria tried not to think about how dark the night was as rain kept peppering down. At least the thunder was only a faint rumble now as lightning flashed in the distance, but even if the storm blew back toward her, she would keep walking.
She had to get back to Springfield before she was missed. Enough people might know about her abolitionist leanings to suspect her once Twila was discovered gone. Pray God she was really gone. Safe and on her way to freedom.
How many miles away could Springfield be? She tried to figure out how long it had been since Twila crawled in the wagon and they set out, but this night, the minutes and hours hadn’t seemed to tick away in the customary manner. When she had watched Twila slip up to knock on the door of that house, those moments had stretched out to take forever. Then when Adria had returned to the place where she thought Logan would be waiting, time had the same as stood still while she stared at the empty road. Since then, time had rolled on too fast with her need to hurry each step.
The road was either rough with rocks or rife with mud puddles pulling at her shoes. One of her soles flopped loose at the toe, making walking fast even more difficult. As she moved doggedly on, she kept an ear cocked for the slightest noise that might warn her of danger approaching. Logan was right that it would be better if no one saw her here where she had no reason to be.
When her sodden skirts kept dragging at her legs and slowing her steps, she tucked her skirt hem into her waistband to show an indecent amount of her legs, but no one was there to see.
She counted her steps to calculate if she had walked a mile, but she lost count. The night was taking a toll on her. The fires. The danger. The fear. She gave up on numbering her steps and started reciting Bible verses.
“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil.”
She said the words, but she couldn’t push away the fear that stalked her. If Louis had been there walking with her, then she could. His faith would bolster hers. Tomorrow—no, more likely today, since midnight had surely already come and gone—Louis would be free. That thought lifted her spirits. The Sanderson family would take the money. They would have to. No matter what they thought about Twila running away. They would have no reason to suspect Louis. Or her if she could get back to Springfield before she was missed. She tried to walk faster, but the rain drained her energy.
A noise caught her ear. Behind her, the road curved, but the creak of a wagon and jangle of harness was unmistakable. Someone was coming. She ran toward the trees alongside the road but tripped over her loose shoe sole and slid down in a mud puddle as the wagon came around the curve. She stayed low and crept off the road in hopes the wagon driver would not see her in the dark. She breathed a little easier after sidling behind a tree.
The wagon kept coming, but then instead of rolling on past her hiding place, it stopped.
“Adria. Are you all right?”
“Logan.” She stepped out from the tree and stared
at the man climbing down from the wagon. While she couldn’t see his face, it had to be Logan. No one else knew she was out here on this road. She stayed where she was. “What do you want?”
“What do you think?” His voice sounded strained. “I came back for you.”
“To do what?” She couldn’t trust him. Not now.
“To help you. What else?” He motioned toward her. “Come on.”
When she stayed where she was, he made a sound of disgust and stalked off the road toward her. “For heaven’s sake, what do you think? I’m going to attack you or something? If I’d wanted to do that, I could have already. So hurry up. No time to waste.” He grabbed for her arm.
She jerked away, balled up her fist, and punched him in the face. Her hand hurt, but she felt better.
He rubbed his jaw and then surprised her by laughing. “Is that any way to treat somebody trying to help you? Somebody risking jail or worse. Somebody who could have been halfway to free and clear by now.”
“I’m sorry. You’re right.” She dropped her hands to her side. “You want to hit me back?”
“Hardly. My mother taught me better than that.” He stepped closer to her. “A kiss sounds better.”
In spite of everything, she almost hoped he would kiss her. She was glad for the dark to hide the warmth flooding her face. How could she still be attracted to him, knowing what he had done? But he wasn’t all bad. He helped Twila escape and he came back for her. She didn’t move away from him and his teeth flashed in a smile.
After a couple of seconds, he said, “But no time for fun. Come on.”
She let him take her hand then and help her across the mud to the wagon. “Smart to hike up your skirt like that.”
More heat flashed in her face. She’d forgotten about her skirt. “It made walking easier.” After she climbed up into the wagon, she jerked the skirt hem free to let the wet cloth properly cloak her legs.
“The white flash of your legs as you ran across the road is why I spotted you.” He laughed again as he got into the wagon. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to California? The two of us could have some fun.”
River to Redemption Page 27