Lily (Song of the River)

by Aaron McCarver

  Lily threw a kiss toward Jasmine as she mounted her dapple-gray mare and headed to town. The effort would be wasted. No boat her father had found so far was the right one. Too big, too small, or too decrepit, none fit the vision she had.

  Now that she no longer had a partner, she didn’t want a riverboat as large as the Hattie Belle. If she and her father could find something on a smaller scale, they could keep the crew to a minimum.

  They would hire Tamar and Jensen, of course. They had gotten married right after Blake left. It was the one bright spot in Lily’s life. She loved seeing Tamar blossom into a different person, walking taller with her shoulders back and head high. It was amazing what a combination of freedom and the love of a good man could do.

  She wished Camellia would stay with them but had finally realized her sister would only be happy if she could attend the finishing school they had chosen in New Orleans. Perhaps they would at least curb some of her flirtatiousness. Lily was also concerned about losing her youngest sister. Jasmine seemed to be growing faster than the weeds in Grandmother’s garden.

  Lily reined in her thoughts as she descended the steep hill to the dock. Natchez Under-the-Hill was as busy as always, boats of all sizes vying for passengers and cargo before they once again braved the river currents. Why was it she always felt more alive when she was close to the river? Papa had nicknamed her well. She had to be on the water to thrive. Living with her relatives was not as difficult as it had once been, but this was where she belonged.

  Papa’s bright-red shirt and felt hat with its single feather made him easy to spot in the bustling area. He stood to one side of a new warehouse that partially blocked her view of the boats in the harbor. Lily walked her horse to where he stood and dismounted. “Where is this boat you’ve found?”

  “It’s not far.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, his eyes twinkling. “I think this one is going to be perfect.”

  Lily smiled at him. He was trying so hard. Even though she had climbed out of the despondency Blake’s desertion had caused, it was difficult to regain her enthusiasm. “I hope you’re right.”

  He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, and they ambled toward the river. A bevy of steamboats bumped shoulders, their tall stacks puffing as muscular, sweating men filled them with cargo. Next to them were the smaller craft—the few flatboats, barges, and keelboats that struggled to survive alongside the larger boats. But where was the boat her father had brought her to see?

  Then a boat caught her eye, a shiny white vessel with red lettering on the side. A pinprick of interest touched her. The boat was about half the size of the Hattie Belle, just what Lily had thought she might want to purchase. It only had three decks: the main deck, the boiler deck, and the hurricane deck. She would need to get closer, but from where she stood, the stern wheel looked as though it was in good condition. Maybe Papa had found the perfect boat this time.

  Her eyes widened as she read the words stenciled on the side of the boat. She read the words out loud before looking at her father. “Water Lily. What have you done?”

  A wide grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I’m not the one.” He spread his free arm out in an arc.

  Lily’s confused gaze followed the gesture. Her heart stopped as a familiar figure stepped out of the shadows and bowed in their direction. Blake. The man she thought she’d never see again.

  She wanted to run across the gangplank, but her feet seemed to have forgotten how to move. She watched as he sauntered toward them, his stride as long and self-assured as ever. Her heart ached with love for him. The time they’d spent apart seemed to disappear as he reached her side.

  “Hello, Lily.” His voice sent a shiver through her.

  Lily looked up at his face, her gaze tracing the lines of his cheeks, her fingers itching to feel the silkiness of his dark hair. With great difficulty she swallowed her emotions. “I love your new boat.”

  His eyebrows rose. “I was hoping it might be our boat.”

  She noted the emphasis on the pronoun, but a thousand questions arose. “I suppose I could buy into it, but who would own controlling interest? I’m not about to let you turn any investment of mine into a gambling casino.”

  He tilted his head, and his eyebrows climbed higher. He was not going to agree with her.

  Lily braced herself for an argument.

  Blake’s eyes darkened in a way that made her heart leap. “Did you know that wives in Mississippi can own property?”

  “What difference does that make?” Irritation colored her voice. “I’m not mar—” Her throat closed up as the implication of his question struck her.

  Blake nodded. “It wouldn’t have worked in New Orleans, Lily. I know that now. You were right to push me away. But I’ve found God. It’s changed me so much. I’m not saying I’m perfect—”

  “I’m sure of that.” Lily recovered her equilibrium as joy exploded within her, a feeling so strong and so pure she knew it came from God. “But I’ve never wanted to love a perfect man.”

  “All I’ve been able to think about is sharing my life with you, living in His will.” Blake moved closer and brushed a tendril of hair out of her face.

  Lily turned to her father. “Papa?”

  He shrugged. “Blake came to me yesterday and asked for permission to court you, but if you don’t love him …”

  “But I do. I do love him.” She blushed as she spoke the words and looked up at Blake.

  Slowly and with great care he took her hand from her father’s arm and wrapped her in a hug. “I love you, too, my Water Lily.”

  Diane T. Ashley, a “town girl” born and raised in Mississippi, has worked more than twenty years for the House of Representatives. She rediscovered a thirst for writing, was led to a class taught by Aaron McCarver, and became a founding member of the Bards of Faith.

  Aaron McCarver is a transplanted Mississippian who was raised in the mountains near Dunlap, Tennessee. He loves his jobs of teaching at Belhaven University and editing for Barbour Publishing and Summerside Press. A member of ACFW, he is coauthor with Gilbert Morris of the bestselling series, The Spirit of Appalachia. He now coauthors with Diane T. Ashley on several historical series.