Dinner that evening was a lively affair. Lily took an instant liking to Eli’s wife, Renée, a perky beauty with dark hair and hazel eyes. With all three of Eli and Renée’s boys joining them, there was scarcely a lull in the conversation. They peppered their guests with questions about current events in New Orleans and the rest of the Thornton clan.
As soon as the meal was over, Lily pled exhaustion and escorted her yawning sister to their bedroom. So tired were they that she didn’t even notice the locations of the other bedrooms. She almost fell asleep while Tamar brushed and plaited her hair, her head nodding like a snag in the river. Even Jasmine’s animation was muted as they said their prayers and climbed into their shared bed.
Her youngest sister was asleep as soon as her head settled on the pillow, but Lily was so exhausted she was unable to rest. Scattered images spun in her head. Had Blake been about to kiss her? A shiver passed through her. He was not the right man for her, even if he was devastatingly handsome. Good looks had nothing to do with what was in a man’s heart. No, she would be better off with someone like Jean Luc, someone she could count on to support her.
She wondered why no shiver erupted as she considered being kissed by him. Probably because he was such a fine gentleman. He would never take advantage of her. Not that Blake had taken advantage. But he had wanted to. She’d seen it in his expression. Or was that her imagination?
Lily sighed and redirected her thoughts to Camellia, wondering if she missed them. Probably not. Jasmine twisted in the bed and punched her with a bony knee. Lily smiled. Camellia certainly would not have enjoyed sharing the bed. If Jasmine kept moving, she was not likely to enjoy a restful slumber herself. …
“Wake up.” A small hand shook Lily’s shoulder. “Wake up, Sissy. Something’s wrong.”
Lily rolled over and blinked at the unfamiliar room. “Wha—” A hand covered her mouth, pulling her into wakefulness with a start. Her heartbeat slowed as she realized it belonged to Jasmine.
“I think someone is breaking into the house,” Jasmine whispered close to her ear. “What should we do?”
Holding her breath, Lily stretched her hearing to its limit. At first she heard nothing but silence. Then a thump, bump, bump. She could feel her eyes widening.
“Did you hear that?” Jasmine’s whisper was fearful.
In the dim light, she could barely make out her sister’s face. She nodded and pushed back the sheet. “Stay here.”
Lily tiptoed to the door and opened it an inch. Crash! Her heartbeat ratcheted up another few notches. She glanced around the room for a weapon and picked up her parasol. It was not much better than her bare hands, but the sharp point at the end of the spine might make an effective threat. Looking over her shoulder, she summoned a smile for Jasmine, who was sitting up, her knees drawn to her chin.
Should she knock on Eli and Renée Thornton’s bedroom door? Lily took a moment to look at the other three doors that faced the second-floor landing. Which one belonged to the parents? She didn’t want to wake the children, so Lily crept to the top of the stairs, her parasol held high.
Yellow light made a pool in the hallway leading toward the back of the house. A dark figure must be the burglar. He stumbled into a wall. Then another figure appeared. How many burglars were in the house? Praying for courage and protection, she crept down the stairs.
“Halt!” Her voice came out in a squeak. Both figures stopped. She couldn’t see their features because of the light behind them, but she brandished her parasol, holding it like a sword in front of her.
“Miss Anderson? What are you doing down here?”
Lily lowered her parasol as she recognized Eli Thornton’s voice. “What’s going on?”
She could barely make out his features. And who was standing next to him? A servant? Was he being forced to help a burglar?
“Everything is fine, Miss Anderson. You need to go back to bed.” Eli spoke as both he and the other man stepped into the light. The staid butler? Why were the two of them creeping about the house in the middle of the night?
“Not until you tell me what you’re doing up at this hour.”
Eli’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and he held a bowl in his hands. His expression was tense, much more drawn than earlier in the evening. Before he could answer her, a door opened farther down the corridor. “Where’s that warm water?”
The butler took the bowl from Eli and moved toward the voice.
When Lily tried to follow him, Eli stepped into her path. She brandished her parasol even though the action felt a bit silly. “Whatever is going on must be serious. Perhaps I can help.”
“It would be much easier if you returned to your bedroom, but if you’ll promise not to tell anyone about what you see …”
Lily nodded, and they entered the Thorntons’ library.
Several of the Thorntons’ slaves were in the room, most of them focused on a figure propped against the edge of Eli’s desk. The poor fellow looked a mess, his clothing in tatters, his feet bare. The coppery scent of blood filled the air. She glanced at Eli. “Is he a fugitive?”
Eli nodded. “He escaped from a plantation a few miles south of here because his master whipped him nearly to death for answering too loudly.”
Lily’s mouth dropped open. She’d heard whispers of mistreatment by slave owners, but at Les Fleurs, no slave ever suffered. “That’s inexcusable.”
Everyone had been watching her with fear, but apparently reassured by her reaction, they went back to their tasks, some offering food and water while others cleaned the poor man’s back.
Eli removed a vial from his shirt pocket and shook it vigorously. “Would you pour some water into one of those glasses?”
Looking about, Lily spied a serving tray on Eli’s desk. It held two glasses and a pitcher of water. “How much?”
“Half full.”
Lily complied and held the glass while Eli poured his concoction into it. “What’s that?”
“Laudanum. It will help him sleep.” Eli grabbed a spoon from the tray and stirred. “Then perhaps he can continue on his way tomorrow night.”
“The Underground Railroad?” Lily whispered the words. She’d heard of the escape route but never dreamed she would be privy to one of the way stations.
Eli nodded. “Now you know what a dangerous secret we’re keeping.”
“I’s sorry.” The fugitive groaned out the words. “I didn’t mean to …”
A rounded woman who might be the housekeeper patted his hand. “Don’t worry. We’re doing nothing more than our Christian duty.”
The man subsided and let Lily hold the glass of water to his lips.
“Lily?” Jasmine’s whisper drifted down the hall. “Where are you?”
“You need to go back upstairs.” Eli’s gaze met hers. “We can’t have the whole household waking up and catching us.”
Conflicting desires warred within her, but Lily could not ignore the needs of the frightened, desperate man. “I’ll reassure Jasmine, but then I’ll be back to help.”
Before anyone could argue, she retraced her steps. Jasmine was leaning over the balustrade. “It’s okay, Jasmine. It’s only a late-night guest.” She helped Jasmine return to bed. “Go to sleep.”
“Where are you going?”
“Back to help.”
“Can’t I help?” Jasmine’s voice was plaintive.
Lily kissed her cheek. “You need your sleep.”
Jasmine’s lower lip protruded as Lily left her, but she must have fallen back asleep quickly, as the only sounds emanating from her were the deep breaths of restful slumber. Lily was relieved. Although Jasmine’s tender heart would have been touched, she was still a child. Helping an escaped slave was a hanging offense. She might risk her own neck, but she would not risk Jasmine’s.
The next hour passed quickly as Lily helped bandage the man’s wounds. While she worked alongside the others, the fugitive described his ordeal. He spoke of the girl he’d married by jumping
the broom, as slaves couldn’t legally marry, and how he’d probably never see her again because she’d been sold to another plantation. He talked about the daily quota of cotton expected of every able-bodied slave. He even spoke about other punishments he’d endured. His back, crisscrossed by a web of gashes, bore mute testimony to the truth of his story.
Thinking of his pain made Lily sick. No human should be so cruel to another. The events of this night had been seared into her memory with the force of a brand. She would never forget.
The sun was turning the sky a pale pink as she trudged upstairs and fell into bed. Sleep overtook her as soon as her head hit the pillow, but Lily’s dreams were filled with fractured images of being chased through swamps, her parasol in one hand as the muddy water dragged at her skirts.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Walking past the storeroom filled with crates and barrels, Lily realized the nightmares had begun to fade. Over the past weeks, they had repeated the run between Natchez and Memphis, making regular stops in Port Gibson, Vicksburg, and Greenville. Business was thriving.
If only Camellia had not been adamant about staying with Grandmother and Aunt Dahlia until they took the promised trip to New Orleans. But every load seemed slated for delivery to Memphis. Feeling torn between business and family obligations, Lily had reluctantly yielded to her younger sister’s wishes. She wanted to avoid the type of coercion that had sent her fleeing after Grandfather’s death. It wasn’t the easiest option, but she prayed it was the best one.
Lily sighed as she turned toward the ladies’ parlor. At least the Lord had blessed her idea of using afternoon tea as an opportunity for Bible study. No matter how diverse the women passengers were, they seemed to enjoy discussing how to apply the Bible to their daily problems. Today she would suggest reading John 7 about the rivers of living water, the Holy Spirit, which flowed inside all believers.
The afternoon was far advanced when Blake called her out of the ladies’ parlor. “Captain Henrick says we’ll need to stop and purchase more firewood.”
Stopping at wood yards was a normal occurrence, so Lily wondered why Blake thought it necessary to let her know. Did he have another reason to seek her out? Her heart turned over, rushing blood to her cheeks. “That doesn’t sound like much of a problem.”
His brow furrowed. “It will stop us from reaching Natchez this evening unless you want to risk the boat by continuing after dark.”
Comprehension brought a sense of irritation. “Why didn’t we stop at an earlier yard? The captain must have known this would happen. We’ve been up and down this stretch of river several times.”
“Lily, can’t you let go of your distrust a little?”
His question speared her conscience. Was she being too hard on her father? No. He was supposed to be a seasoned captain. “I would expect the same thing from any captain. By making a mistake like this, he’s put the Hattie Belle at risk. Why can’t you see that?”
The furrow deepened. “What I see is that you are as quick to condemn Captain Henrick as you have been me. I don’t understand, Lily. No one on this boat wants to fail, least of all your father. Can’t you see how he’s trying to win your approval? Last month when we were in New Orleans, you were full of advice about how I should reestablish a link with my family. Maybe it’s time for you to listen to your own counsel.”
Not wanting Blake to see how his words had affected her, she turned away. A tear trickled down her cheek. Lily refused to be the type of woman who used tears to blackmail a man into doing what she wanted. She was stronger than that. Brushing the tear away with an impatient finger, she took a deep breath and tried to understand why Blake was championing Captain Henrick. What possible reason could the man have for failing to have enough wood on board? If he was as good a captain as he’d claimed, he would not put them in peril. She slammed the door on her emotions and took a deep, cleansing breath.
Blake’s hands came down on her shoulders and pressed gently to turn her around.
Lily didn’t want to look up. “He’s supposed to be captaining this ship. That’s the only thing I need from him.”
“Lily, both of us know what it’s like to make mistakes. You can be so warm and accepting toward others. You are a gracious hostess and a capable manager. Why can’t you yield just a little to the captain?”
She glanced up. His eyes drew her in. Their blue depths promised understanding and comfort. Then his lids drooped a bit, and the blue fire in his gaze singed her. Whatever she’d been about to say slipped from her mind. No wonder all their lady passengers—all ladies in general—found him so attractive.
“No matter how hard you try to ignore it, he is your father.” Blake’s voice was as tempting as a soft pillow.
Lily could feel herself yielding. She pulled away, and as soon as he let go, her mind began working again. She needed to focus on their current problem. “Can we spend the night at the wood yard?”
“I suppose so. According to Captain Henrick, Sanderson Wood Yard is only a few miles away. But stopping now means we’ll lose several hours of travel.”
She chewed at her lower lip. “Whether we stay here or stop somewhere else, we won’t make it home in time to attend church in Natchez.”
He shrugged. “Maybe you could have a service on the boat.”
Was Blake actually suggesting a church service? She considered the idea then shook her head. “We don’t have a preacher on board.”
“Captain Henrick could lead a service.”
Her jaw clenched to hold back the flood of emotions that once again threatened. “He’s not a preacher.”
His shoulders lowered a notch. Was he disappointed? “He may not be a preacher, but he has a great deal of insight on matters of faith. If you spent a little more time with him, you might change your mind.”
Lily wanted to shout a denial. She had to protect herself. Otherwise—She reined in her thoughts once more. For now she would concentrate on the original problem. She needed to answer the question of what to do after purchasing wood. “There aren’t any other ports between here and Vicksburg, so if we continue, we’d be alone when we docked.” Lily shuddered. “We’d be vulnerable to pirates.”
“That’s true, but there’ve been no reports of pirates operating on this part of the river for years.”
Lily spread her hands, palms upward. “We have several children on board—passengers as well as David and Jasmine. I can’t take a chance that someone might be hurt. At the most we’ll lose a day.”
“Do we have enough food?”
She gave an emphatic nod. “I think we have enough for an extra week.”
“That’s fine then. I’ll notify Captain Henrick and the crew.”
Lily reached for the doorknob to the ladies’ parlor. “I’ll tell our passengers.” But before entering the room, she watched Blake’s retreating back, her mind replaying his words. She didn’t like admitting it, but he had a point. She didn’t want to be the type of hypocrite who dispensed advice but refused to follow it. Yet she couldn’t reach out to her father—not unless she asked for God’s help.
Which led to a concern at the heart of the matter. How would she respond if God did smooth out a path toward reconciliation?
Blake slid into the empty seat next to Lily, nodding to David and Jasmine on her far side. The dining hall looked very different this morning. The tables had been pushed to one side, and all the chairs had been placed in rows for the Sunday service.
Tamar and Jensen stood with the passengers’ slaves at the back of the room. Jensen’s face was clean shaven, and he wore a recently pressed suit. Tamar was in a uniform but looked different—younger and more relaxed. Blake thought perhaps her hair had a new style, or maybe it was the half smile on her lips. Whatever the change, he approved.
His gaze came back to Lily, so prim and proper. He wondered what she thought of his presence.
When Henrick told him Lily had invited him to preach, Blake had been shocked. The captain had seemed pleased
about the opportunity although aware his daughter was not ready to seek reconciliation. Blake had reminded him that Lily’s actions were a good sign and might be the beginning of a real relationship between father and daughter.
Blake wondered if his conversation with Lily had gotten through her stubbornness. It was a sobering thought. For her to listen to his advice meant she valued his opinion. Was that why he found himself attending this morning? A response to her willingness to change? Or was he just curious?
He would rather believe he was here because of his admiration for Captain Henrick. At least the man was trying to make amends for his past misdeeds. The captain had told Blake how he’d plunged into despair after his wife died. But the man had managed to pull himself out of the hole he’d dug. He’d created a new life for himself. He was even trying to reconcile his past.
Captain Henrick gave all the credit for his transformation to God, but Blake thought he should accept a measure of recognition himself. It took a lot of determination to turn one’s life around. The river towns were full of men like the captain had once been—men who eked out a miserable existence, slogging through life with a minimum of effort, looking for handouts or opportunities to prey on others.
After the passengers stopped entering the dining hall, Captain Henrick stood to get their attention. Dressed in his trademark red shirt and dark pants, the man still managed to look very natural standing before a group of people. His smile was wide and infectious. “Good morning. What a beautiful Lord’s Day we are enjoying. This morning I thought I would talk to you about a passage from Isaiah.”
He stopped and looked at the floor. Blake wondered if he’d been stricken by fear. He could certainly understand an attack of nerves. He wished he could reassure the captain. Shuffling his feet, he wondered if he should do something to ease the building tension in the quiet room.
Lily (Song of the River) Page 25
