“What does this have to do with the mercantile?”
“My sister Jasmine is a curious little girl. She heard a noise coming from one of the alleys and went to investigate. She found a group of bullies beating a young boy. That’s when she came to get me. The older boys ran away, and we managed to get their victim to the carriage. I recognized him and thought we would take him to the doctor’s office, but Camellia insisted she wanted to nurse him.” She glanced up and waited for Jean Luc to get the point of her story.
He frowned for a moment before understanding dawned. “The pickpocket.”
Lily nodded, and Jean Luc laughed out loud. It was a nice moment, but her heart plodded steadily on as if she were making biscuits or dusting furniture. Why didn’t this debonair man make her heart trip? She took another sip of water.
“Where is he now?” Jean Luc chuckled again.
“Still aboard the Hattie Belle.”
His face grew serious. “You have taken him in? He may take advantage of your kindness while making plans to murder you in your sleep.”
Irritation filled her. “Why does every man in my life think he has the right to dictate my actions?”
Jean Luc leaned toward her. “Surely you can understand how dangerous it is to open your home to a criminal?”
Lily studied his face. He was debonair. Earnest, kind, and thoughtful. And he seemed truly interested in her welfare. So why did her heart remain so stubbornly calm? Why didn’t her cheeks flush with awareness and excitement? “I understand your concern, Jean Luc, but you must allow me to decide how to conduct my life.”
He reached for her hand. “Please forgive me if I’ve offended. I can’t help worrying about you.”
Her heart fluttered as he squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Jean Luc. It makes me happy to count you as a friend. If I’m going to support myself and my sisters, I will need all the friends I can muster.”
He raised her hand to his lips and pressed a warm kiss on it.
Lily should have enjoyed the sensation and the admiring glance in his eyes, but she felt uncomfortable. She pulled her hand away. “Please, Jean Luc. That may be acceptable behavior in Paris, but here in Mississippi, too much familiarity is frowned upon.”
His cheeks turned red, and a look of exasperation crossed his face.
Before he could respond, a familiar lady’s voice interrupted their conversation. “Hello, Miss Anderson.”
Lily turned. An older, attractively dressed couple stood beside her. It took her a moment to recognize the owners of LeGrand Shipping, whom she had met that afternoon. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes.”
“I am so excited to find you here this evening.” Susannah Hughes turned to the man at her elbow. “I believe God’s hand is in this, Judah.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “You make an excellent point, my dear.” He turned to Lily. “After you left this afternoon, we received an unexpected shipment that must be in New Orleans before week’s end. Our normal ships have already departed Natchez or have no room for additional cargo.”
Mrs. Hughes took up the conversation. “I know you said you are doing some work on your boat, so you may not be able to do this, but we wanted to give you the opportunity if you think you can be ready to sail tomorrow.”
Lily looked from one to the other, her excitement building with each word. She wanted to dance a jig or turn a somersault. Since those reactions were forbidden, she smiled widely. “Oh yes, we can be ready as soon as we get your cargo loaded.” She paused as her earlier conversation with Blake came to mind. “What type of goods would we be transporting?”
“A hundred hogshead of milled corn,” Mr. Hughes answered. “Our daughter and her husband run our New Orleans office. They moved there to take over after Monsieur LeGrand, the original owner, fell ill. I don’t have fond memories of that area—it’s where I lost my leg—but they love it. We’ll give you directions to their office when you’re getting your load stored away.”
“You will love our daughter, Charlotte. She is a bit older than you, but I have a feeling you will become close friends.” Mrs. Hughes had a twinkle in her eye.
Unable to remain in her chair a moment longer, Lily jumped up and hugged the older lady. “If she is half as charming as her mother, I’m sure we will. Thank you both so very much. I can hardly wait until tomorrow.”
“Is this your co-owner?” Mr. Hughes gestured to Jean Luc, whom Lily had almost forgotten in her excitement.
“No, please excuse my lack of manners. This is Jean Luc Champney, a dear friend who has gone out of his way to help me.” She could feel her cheeks burning. Grandmother and Aunt Dahlia would be horrified. “I thought you were acquainted since Mr. Champney’s family is also involved in the shipping business.”
Jean Luc stood and greeted the Hugheses with more reserve than she expected. Was he upset because their dinner had been interrupted? His behavior seemed out of character.
“We’ll leave you to your dinner, then.” Mr. Hughes bowed and took his wife’s arm.
Lily smiled at them. “You have made me so happy. Thank you.”
The handsome couple smiled before making their way to a table on the other side of the room.
After Jean Luc and Lily returned to their seats, he said, “I can hardly believe it’s true.”
Was there an edge to his voice? Lily could read nothing other than support in his dark gaze. She must be imaging things. “I can hardly believe it, either. Mrs. Hughes was right about God’s involvement. When I spoke to them this afternoon, they had nothing, and now they have a shipment and no ship to deliver it. What else could explain such a happy string of coincidences?”
“What indeed?”
Perhaps Jean Luc was put out because he felt ignored. Lily reached across the table for his hand. “And you must be His instrument, too, in bringing me to this place where we would run into each other.”
She thought his smile faltered, but before she could ask him what was wrong, he squeezed her fingers. “I am very excited for you.”
His smile was back in place. Perhaps she had imagined his irritation. He pulled his hand away and began eating again.
Lily picked up her fork but put it down without eating another bite. She was too excited to concentrate on anything as dull as food. She sipped at her lime soda and began to dream of the coming day. Her life on the river was about to begin.
Chapter Twenty-two
Lily was partly terrified, partly elated as she watched the bank sliding past. The trip from their quiet cove to the bustling port of Natchez had gone without a hitch so far.
Jasmine darted from side to side of the pilothouse, looking like a ruffled dragonfly. “When will we see Natchez Under-the-Hill?”
Captain Lars rolled his eyes. “The pilothouse is no place for young girls.”
Lily frowned at him. “Just because Monsieur Champney recommended you does not give you the right to dictate how my boat will be run.”
Jasmine turned away from the scenery, her violet eyes wide as she looked from Lily to the captain. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, dearest. We are all excited about our first voyage.” Lily pulled Jasmine close for a reassuring hug. Jasmine’s arms went around her waist. Lily basked in the moment. Was there anything sweeter than the love expressed by a child?
Captain Lars grunted and reached for a leather cord to his right. A low moan filled the air.
Tears stung Lily’s eyes as she listened to the first long blast, followed by two short toots and another long whistle. “Mother would be so happy if she could see us.”
Jasmine pulled away from her embrace and clapped her hands in excitement. “I want to learn how to do that.”
Blake appeared at the doorway, his blue eyes reflecting the bright sunlit morning. “Don’t you think we should head down to the main level? We’ll want to make sure we get the right cargo.”
Lily and Jasmine followed him, passing through the spotless parlor and on to the
first floor where Tamar and Camellia were already positioned at the rail. They waved at the people watching their arrival. Their very first landing. Lily wanted to hug the whole world.
The boat churned the brown water slowly as they approached the wharf. Blake uncoiled a rope nearly as thick as her arm and fashioned a loop at its end that reminded her of a hangman’s noose. As the Hattie Belle nudged against the wet, gray wood of the dock, he tossed the rope over one of the posts and pulled it tight, his muscles rippling with the effort. As soon as it caught, he strode past them to the back of the boat, grabbed a second rope, and repeated the process.
Lily could not help but be impressed. She had so much to learn. As soon as they were under way again, she would ask him to show her how to make that loop so she could help the next time they landed.
Jensen appeared from the engine room, wiping his hands on a handkerchief. “The engine seems in good shape.” He took a position next to Tamar, his elbow almost touching her arm.
Tamar moved away and frowned before turning her attention to Lily’s sisters. “Jasmine, you and Camellia come with me. It’s time to check on your patient. We’ll leave the cargo to your sister and the men.”
A chorus of moans answered, but the girls obediently followed her to the aft cabin.
Lily spotted Mr. Hughes waiting beside a mountain of barrels. He doffed his hat in greeting.
Their crewman, Jack Brown, swung the landing platform over the dark water, and it contacted the wharf with a loud clap. As soon as it was down, Mr. Hughes crossed over and handed her two pieces of paper, one signed, one not. “This is the bill of lading. It specifies exactly how many barrels are being loaded on your boat and the value of each.”
Lily glanced at the paper, frowned, and looked toward Mr. Hughes. This could not be right. “I don’t understand. I cannot afford to pay you this amount of money.”
He shook his head. “That amount will be paid to our New Orleans office once the goods are delivered. In turn they will pay you a percentage of their profit for bringing the shipment to them safely.”
A burden seemed to slide off her shoulders. “I see.”
“You should carefully count the items delivered, however.” He patted her arm and chuckled. “Not all businessmen can be relied upon to be honest.”
Another question occurred to Lily. “What happens if I don’t deliver all the barrels listed here?”
“Unless you can afford to purchase insurance, you would have to pay the difference.”
A lump formed in her throat. Lily swallowed hard. “Then I’ll have to make certain every barrel arrives safely.”
“I’ll be praying for you the whole time.”
A snort behind her made Lily turn. Blake leaned against one of the posts, a sour look on his face.
“You don’t believe in the power of prayer?” Mr. Hughes voiced the question in her mind.
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, sir.” Blake sauntered toward them. He held out a hand toward Mr. Hughes and introduced himself before continuing. “Asking God for favor cannot harm us, but I’m not certain it will do us good, either. I’d rather purchase insurance and remove all worry.”
Lily drew herself up. “I will not throw away money on insurance for such a short trip in good weather. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be in New Orleans safe and sound.”
“Insurance is quite expensive,” Mr. Hughes added. “It would eat up a large portion of your profit.”
Blake’s half smile curled up one side of his mouth. “I’ll bow to your superior knowledge.”
His reply was obviously directed toward Mr. Hughes. She had less actual experience than anyone else on the boat except for Tamar and her sisters.
Lily folded her lips into a tight smile as Mr. Hughes glanced at both of them. He probably wondered what position Blake held on her boat, but she had no desire to explain.
Mr. Hughes cleared his throat. “I have signed this copy of the bill for you to keep. It also has directions on how to reach our New Orleans office. You need to sign the second copy and return it to me.”
While Mr. Hughes directed loading operations, Lily retreated to the small office just ahead of the engine room. It took her a little while to locate pen and ink before she signed her name with a flourish.
By the time she returned to the loading area, Blake had disappeared, and all the barrels were stowed in neat rows. Oilcloth lashed across them would protect them from rain and spray. She smiled at the sight before turning to the wharf, where Mr. Hughes waited. She leaned against the rail to hand him his copy, noticing that the loading dock seemed higher.
A memory returned from the worst day of her life. She and her father were standing on Grandmother’s front porch, watching an overladen steamboat struggle to make its way against the river currents.
“Filling your boat so full that the river washes across the deck is a sign of a foolish captain.” Her father’s gravelly voice spoke to her. “Always remember to balance your profit against your risks, Water Lily. All the money in the world cannot return loved ones to us once they’re gone.”
That was the last advice her father had given her before he’d walked out of her life. Before he’d abandoned them without a backward glance.
Mr. Hughes’s kind voice brought her back to the present. “I wish you a safe journey.” He tucked his copy of their agreement into a coat pocket and bowed.
Lily waved good-bye as the dockworkers released their ropes and tossed them onto the deck. The giant paddle wheel began moving, and a single, long, steady blast from the captain indicated they were on the move.
Their first voyage had begun.
Chapter Twenty-three
Tamar searched the dining parlor but found no sign of her youngest charges. It seemed she’d spent all her waking hours chasing after Jasmine and David since he’d been allowed to leave his sickbed the day before. She had a feeling the friendship between those two was going to give her a head of gray hair.
Where could they be? She hurried down to the first floor, but she saw no sign of Jasmine’s dark curls or David’s wheat-colored thatch of hair—just cargo and empty deck. A sense of foreboding filled her. She could almost see Jasmine leaning over the rail and falling into the brown water. Tamar put a hand over her chest and turned away from the rail.
“And the steam makes the pistons go back and forth—”
“What’s a piston?”
At the youthful voice, Tamar sighed with relief. She pushed open the door to the engine room to find both young people standing next to Jensen Moreau, the one man she’d rather avoid. Whenever they were in the same room, she could feel his dark gaze on her. And he liked to sidle up close to her, like he was interested in courting her. It made her uncomfortable.
She had no time for romance, and even if she did, she wouldn’t encourage someone like him. Jensen Moreau was younger than she and a man of the world. Beyond that, he was a freeman, and she was a slave. Any relationship between them was doomed to failure.
She tried to ignore him, concentrating on Jasmine and David instead. “I’ve been looking all over this boat for you, Miss Jasmine, and you, too, Master David. Not being able to find you has nearly scared me out of ten years of my life.”
Jasmine jumped and twisted around. “Tamar! What are you doing here?”
“I was halfway convinced you’d fallen overboard and drowned.”
Jasmine flipped her hair over one shoulder. “I wouldn’t drown. I know how to swim.”
“I wouldn’t let her come to any harm.” David’s soulful green gaze was centered on Jasmine.
“They wasn’t doing no harm, Miss Tamar.” Mr. Moreau wiped his hands on a rag. “Just wanting to see how this old engine works.”
Tamar put her hands on her hips. She should have known Jasmine would charm the gruff man like she did everyone else. The girl was going to be a handful when she became a woman, leading her older sister on a merry chase until some man took her off Lily’s hands. “She can learn about h
er home after she studies history and arithmetic.”
Mr. Moreau’s eyes widened. “You teach the children?”
A reluctant smile turned her lips upward. “I don’t hardly know how to spell out my name. I wouldn’t be any good trying to teach them.”
“Tamar is very good at other things.” Jasmine moved to her side and put an arm around her waist. “She’s an excellent seamstress, and she knows all the stories from the Bible.”
Warmth filled Tamar at the way Jasmine rushed to her defense. She had once dreamed of having little girls of her own, but as the years passed, she had come to realize she would never marry. Her heart had never been touched by any man, and now she was too old to be thinking about such things. But the good Lord knew best. And He’d seen fit to give her the joy of raising the motherless Anderson girls. It was enough to satisfy her most times.
Jensen’s unscarred eyebrow lifted. “I have the feeling Miss Tamar can do most anything she puts her mind to.”
The engine room suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. The boiler hissed and popped. No wonder Jensen … Mr. Moreau … only wore a white shirt and loose-fitting trousers. He looked like a bloodthirsty pirate with his swarthy skin and scarred face. All he needed was a neckerchief and a broadsword to complete the picture. “Th–thank you.” What was the matter with her? She was acting like a love-struck girl.
“We need to leave Mr. Moreau to his important work.” Tamar shooed the children out of the room. She ignored the urge to look back. She was a grown woman, an old woman. And she was a godly woman, not one given to carrying on with men—no matter whether one set her heart to fluttering. She would keep her mind where it belonged, regardless of how hard that might be.
Midafternoon heat made it impossible for Lily to nap with her sisters. She tossed for half an hour before getting up and returning to the kitchen to see if she could help Tamar. The older woman was sitting at the table, her hands folded together, her eyes closed.
Lily (Song of the River) Page 14
