What could either man say? Nothing, though Josh added Adie’s complaint to his list of questions for the Alimighty when he got to heaven. Why couldn’t babies just pop out? He knew the theology of the fall from grace, he just didn’t like it. From his point of view, Adam had gotten off easy with the curse of toiling in the fields. The price for Eve—the pain of childbirth—seemed a hundred times worse.
Tobias grunted. “Doc Nichols says the baby might turn on its own. We have to pray.”
He bowed his head. So did Josh and Adie.
“I beg you, Lord, spare my daughter’s life. Save her baby.” He spoke in the solemn tone of a man who’d witnessed death but believed in heaven. Just before saying amen, he paused.
Adie’s voice came out in a rasp. “Do it, Lord. Please.”
“Amen,” they said together.
As the night crawled by, Mary made occasional visits to give them news. Adie made tea and toast for the men, but Josh barely tasted it. Every few minutes, moans drifted through the open windows, coming closer together with every hour. Amazingly, Stephen slept through the cries.
As dawn lightened the sky, Pearl’s moaning changed to a staccato of shrieks that turned into one long scream. Josh bowed his head. Adie wept into a hankie. A second scream followed the first, then died to silence. Long seconds passed. They heard a slap, then the cry of a very angry baby.
“My grandchild,” Tobias whispered.
The screams had meant Pearl was alive. The silence meant she’d escaped the pain but how? As Adie clutched his hand, thoughts of Emily pounded at him. So did the knowledge that Adie had watched his sister die. He squeezed her hand and prayed hard. Long minutes passed before the front door opened.
As the three of them shot to their feet, Josh saw Mary holding the tiniest human being he’d ever seen.
“Pearl’s fine,” she said.
Tobias collapsed on the chair and bowed his head. “Thank you, Lord.”
Josh swallowed a lump, then looked again at the baby. The fruit of Pearl’s labor had a smattering of dark hair and a mouth that moved like a baby bird’s. “Boy or girl?”
“A boy.” Mary stepped to Reverend Oliver and crouched to put the baby at eye level. “Sir, meet your grandson. This is Tobias Joshua Oliver.”
Josh had never felt so honored.
Adie squeezed his hand. Side by side, they watched as Tobias touched the baby’s chin, then broke into a smile. “He’s going to be a fine man someday.”
“Yes, sir,” Josh said.
Tobias looked to Mary. “May I see my daughter?”
“Yes, but just for a minute.”
As he went into the house, Mary looked at Adie. “Pearl wants to see you, too.”
Josh watched her expression. Either she’d see the birth as a gift of life, or she’d be bitter about the struggle. The first reaction would signal healing. The second would leave them a world apart.
Adie wanted to visit Pearl, too. For the past several hours, she’d felt as if her own body were being ripped in two. She needed to see for herself that Pearl was alive and happy.
Only a few minutes passed before Reverend Oliver came back through the door. “She’s tired but smiling,” he said to them.
Mary motioned for Adie to come inside. They went upstairs, then through the door to Pearl’s room. Pale and weak, Pearl reached for the baby in Mary’s arms and held him close. On the far side of the room, Bessie and Caroline were chatting with Dr. Nichols. Small talk had replaced Pearl’s moans, but Adie saw a wad of soiled sheets and pinkish water in the basin where Bessie had washed the baby.
She turned back to Pearl. Tobias Joshua lay sleeping against his mother’s chest, listening to the beat of her heart. Adie couldn’t help but smile. “He’s beautiful.”
Pearl’s cheeks flushed with pride. “If it had been a girl, I was going to name her Adelaide Virginia, after you and my mother.”
Adie’s eyes misted. “That was sweet of you.”
“You’re my best friend, Adie. I love you.”
She clasped Pearl’s hand. “I love you, too.”
“I’ll miss you when we leave. I’ll miss everyone, but I have to do what’s best for Toby, don’t I?”
“Always.”
Pearl stroked the baby’s cheek. “He was worth it, don’t you think?”
“I do.”
Adie felt the same way every time she held Stephen, but the realization left her thoughts in a tangle. Adie’s greatest joy—her son—had come from Maggie’s death. Her greatest hope—a future with Josh—had resulted from a long list of mistakes. If Emily hadn’t fallen to temptation, she’d never have become Maggie Butler. Without the loss of his sister, Josh would still be in Boston, struggling with the ulcer and all it meant. They would never have met. Her insides shook with a truth she didn’t want to acknowledge. If she was going to blame God for the ugliness in her life, didn’t He deserve credit for the beauty? It seemed logical, but logic didn’t erase her scars. She’d been hurt and wanted justice.
Suddenly agitated, she stood up from the bed. “I better go. You need your rest.”
“I am tired,” Pearl admitted.
Adie paced to her room, where she heard Stephen cooing in his cradle. When he saw her, he raised his little arms. She picked him up and held him tight. Blinking, she recalled Reverend Oliver’s first arrival at Swan’s Nest and how he’d clung to his daughter. He’d hurt Pearl terribly, yet she’d forgiven him even before he’d asked. Why couldn’t Adie forgive the people who’d hurt her?
With Stephen in her arms, she looked in the mirror. She saw a child with Josh’s dark hair. Her own reddish curls had pulled loose and were wisping around her face. The colors reminded her of night and the glow of a fire. What had the psalmist written?
Darkness and light are alike to Thee.
Maybe she was closer to God than she thought. With a lump in her throat, Adie spoke to God in her mind. She told Him about the anger and the bitter memories, how she’d cried for days after leaving Liddy’s Grove, and how helpless she’d felt. The words came in a torrent that picked up debris until she opened her eyes.
Her prayer didn’t lessen her bitterness, but she knew what she had to do. This Sunday, she’d be attending Colfax Avenue Church.
Chapter Seventeen
Adie had come to church. The woman Josh loved had stepped into her own version of a lion’s den and she’d done it for him.
Seated on the dais next to Tobias, he took in her appearance as the organist played the opening hymn. Her green dress, a gown he’d never seen, complemented her ivory complexion. A straw hat hid most of her hair but not the hardness of her chin. When she raised her hand to check her hat, he saw lace gloves covering her work-worn hands.
She’d come in her Sunday best and looked ready for a fight. Josh, too, had come to church dressed for battle. This morning he’d put on a heavily starched collar and brushed his coat until it looked new. The attention to his appearance had nothing to do with pride. He’d been putting on a uniform like a soldier going to war. For three days he’d avoided Adie by working on his sermon. As Tobias suggested, he’d chosen the text about moneychangers in the temple and he’d had Franklin Dean in mind.
The banker was seated in the third row on the aisle. A strategic spot, Josh thought. If he decided to walk out on the sermon, he’d command everyone’s attention. Adie, too, had picked a strategic seat. She was in the back row, a step from the door. Instead of walking to church with Caroline and Mary, she’d come by herself and had arrived with a minute to spare. As the organist played the closing notes of a hymn, Josh scanned the crowd for people from Brick’s but saw no one. He’d expected the disappointment, but it still hurt. He’d hoped at least Brick would make an appearance.
When the hymn ended, Tobias handled the church business of announcements, a scripture reading and the offering. As the ushers left with the silver plates, he stepped back to the podium. “Ladies and gentleman, we have a special guest today. I’m pleased to introduce Reverend Joshua Blue
, my renowned colleague from the fine city of Boston.”
Tobias droned on, telling the congregation of Josh’s education and the crowds he’d gathered. At one time, Josh would have soaked in the praise like a pickle in brine. Today it soured his stomach. He didn’t want Tobias blowing his horn. Hearing about the person he’d been gave him a headache. If he and Tobias had been alone, he’d have corrected him. He couldn’t now, not in public.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tobias said with a flourish. “I present the honorable and esteemed Reverend Joshua Blue.”
Josh felt neither honorable nor esteemed. He was a man who’d murdered his sister, a human being in need of grace. His insides curdled. How could he preach down to Franklin Dean when he was no better than anyone in this building? No better than the thieves and prostitutes he’d met in his travels? Sure, Dean was a hard case, but Christ had died for him, too. Josh’s gaze narrowed to Adie. She’d raised her chin even higher. As much as he wanted to throw verbal punches at Dean—and as much as Dean had it coming—Josh didn’t have the right to preach anything but love, grace and the mercy of the cross.
The sermon he’d planned went out of his head. In came the conviction he needed to speak to himself as well as Dean, Adie and everyone else in the sanctuary. When Reverend Oliver motioned him forward, Josh stepped to the podium and opened his Bible to the story of the adulterous woman. Emily would be proud. He doubted Adie would be pleased, but he had to be true to his beliefs.
The man in the pulpit had the dark hair and piercing eyes of the stranger who’d collapsed on Adie’s porch, but otherwise she barely recognized Josh. He stood as straight as a steeple, scanning the crowd as he called for prayer.
“Father God,” he began, “be with us today….”
She only half listened. This was the minister who’d drawn crowds in Boston and chased Maggie out of her home. It was also Josh, the man who’d kissed her and held her and given her Stephen. Listening to his prayer, she admired his sincerity. She was also aware of the sun pressing through the massive stained glass windows. When she looked at the window depicting a stream and a willow, she felt lost. When she focused on the shepherd with his sheep, she wanted to weep. Worst of all, she could see the back of Franklin Dean’s head. She wanted to stand up and tell the congregation that they had vermin in their midst.
Maybe Josh would do the job for her. As he ended the prayer, Adie looked directly at him. He acknowledged her with a nod, then faced the congregation.
“I’m honored by Reverend Oliver’s introduction, but I’m compelled to set the record straight. I’m neither honorable nor worthy of esteem. I’m a sinner saved by grace, a man as flawed as anyone…everyone…in this room.”
Adie bristled. She hadn’t come to church to hear about her flaws. She’d come for justice. She’d been harmed by Dean and men like him. If she and Josh had been alone, she’d have taken him to task.
Josh started to pace. “There’s a story in the Bible that reminds me of who I am.”
A natural storyteller, he took the congregation, even Adie, back in time to Jerusalem where a group of men had dragged a woman into the temple. Caught in the act of adultery, she had nowhere to go, no way to hide what she’d done. She didn’t deny the accusations. She couldn’t. Her disheveled appearance was plain for all to see.
Adie knew the story. She’d always wondered why the men brought the woman and not the man who’d been with her. Josh didn’t mention the man, either. Instead he described how Jesus had dropped to a crouch and written something in the sand.
Pausing, he looked from person to person, then asked a question. “What do you think Christ wrote?”
Adie had never thought about it.
“We don’t know,” Josh continued. “It could have been anything—the woman’s name, a list of her accusers. Maybe he drew a cross as a sign of things to come. What we do know is what happened next. Jesus stood and said, ‘Let him whose slate is clean cast the first stone.’”
He paused again, giving the congregation time to think. “Can anyone here say they have a clean slate? I can’t.”
Adie didn’t give a hoot about having a clean slate. She saw nothing but Franklin Dean’s blond head. She hated him. If she’d had a rock in her hand, she’d have thrown it as hard as she could.
Josh went back to pacing. “We’ve all fallen short. Christ out of love died for each of us. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done. Jesus—through his death on the cross—gives both justice to victims and mercy to those who ask.”
Adie fought to keep still. How could Josh preach mercy with Franklin Dean sitting like a toad in the third row? At the end of the dais closest to her, he stopped pacing and sought her gaze. Adie knew the next words would be for her.
“It’s hard to imagine such charity. It’s even harder to believe that among Christ’s final words were these. ‘Father, forgive them. They know not what they do.’”
He turned next to Dean. “Every day we have a choice—repent and accept that gift or continue in our old ways.”
Josh went back to the podium. “Most of us know what happened to the woman in the temple. One by one, her accusers dropped the stones and left, leaving her alone with the Lord, who gave a simple command. ‘Go and sin no more.’ I hear that as ‘Go and start fresh.’”
Josh closed the Bible. “Imagine…whatever you’ve done, whatever mistakes you’ve made, they’ve been forgiven. That’s true for everyone in this building.”
Adie couldn’t stand another word. When Josh bowed his head to pray, she slipped out the door and ran down the steps. She didn’t want to hear about forgiveness and second chances, not with Dean under the same roof. She hated him. She hated Timothy Long, Reverend Honeycutt and everyone else who’d hurt her over the years. If she couldn’t sit through a single sermon, how could she even think about loving Josh?
She needed time to compose herself. Instead of going home, she headed to the heart of Denver. The shops would be closed and she expected be alone, but as she turned a corner, she saw two young women in front of a hat shop. They were well dressed and she wondered if they’d been to church. Then she noticed the frippery on their dresses and the cut of their gowns. Miss Elsa’s Social Club was a block away. Adie wondered if the girls were prostitutes out for a morning walk.
She couldn’t look at a soiled dove without thinking of how low she’d sunk before she’d met Maggie. She hadn’t turned to such a life, but she’d lived with the threat of it. As she neared the hat shop, she heard a bit of conversation.
“I hate him!” said a girl with a German accent.
Adie slowed her pace. The other girl offered her a handkerchief. “If he’s cruel, tell Miss Elsa.”
“I tried, but—” She bit her lip. “She said Mr. Dean is a good customer.”
Adie stifled a gasp.
The German girl wiped her eyes. “She promised me extra money. The more I save, the sooner I can go home.”
Adie knew the risks of speaking with this girl. Even if she held the deed to Swan’s Nest, Dean could make her life miserable. She didn’t care. She stopped and pretended to admire a hat.
“Be strong, Gretchen,” said the girl’s companion. “Someday you can leave, but for now—”
“Excuse me.” Adie touched Gretchen’s elbow. “I’m Adie Clarke. I run a boardinghouse. If you’re in trouble—”
Gretchen’s eyes widened. “You’d help me?”
“Yes.”
“But I don’t have money.”
“You don’t need it,” Adie said gently.
The girl’s companion hooked her arm around her waist. “Come on, Gretchen.”
The girl pulled back. “No!”
“You owe Miss Elsa,” her friend hissed.
Gretchen’s eyes turned into clouds ready to burst. Knowing the girl couldn’t simply come with her—she had clothes and possessions, things that mattered to her—Adie stepped back. “I live at Swan’s Nest on Seventeenth Street. Look for the window above the door. It’s round
and shows a swan.”
Her eyes shimmered. “My church back home had pretty windows.”
“Gretchen! Let’s go.” Her friend tugged her down the street, but Gretchen looked over her shoulder.
Tonight Adie would be listening for footsteps on the porch. If the girl knocked, she’d open the door wide. As she headed for home, Adie thought about Gretchen’s predicament and her own. In a way, they were both trapped in lives they didn’t want. What would happen if Adie ran to God in the middle of the night? Would he open the door the way she’d open it for Gretchen?
She knew the answer. The Lord had died for her. He’d welcome her with open arms. The problem, she had to admit, was the hardness of her own heart. She didn’t want to forgive the people who’d harmed her. Until she could cross that bridge, she had no future with Josh, who, in her opinion, was worthy of more than respect and esteem. He was worthy of love.
Josh didn’t see Adie leave the church. He’d been matching stares with members of the congregation, including Dean who’d crossed his arms over his puffed-up chest. When he turned back to Adie, he’d seen the door swing shut behind the hem of her green dress.
She’d been either deeply touched or offended. Josh suspected the latter. This morning, watching her expression, he’d been struck by an odd coincidence. Both Adie and Dean had scowled at him through the entire sermon. Until that moment, Josh had thought of her as the woman being condemned. During the sermon, he realized he’d been mistaken. Adie had a handful of rocks and wanted to throw them at Dean, Honeycutt, every other person who’d hurt her. She had cause, but she wouldn’t find peace until she set them down.
Josh had planned to tell the congregation his own story, but he’d preached long enough. He gave the closing prayer, then walked down the aisle with Tobias. As the organist played a rousing hymn, he took in the vaulted ceiling and mahogany trim. Sunshine lit up the windows and made a rainbow of light. To Josh’s utter joy, he felt nothing more or less than the satisfaction he’d felt while preaching at Brick’s Saloon.
The Maverick Preacher Page 19
