“How’s my little Nubbin?” he asked, touching one of the baby’s bare pink toes.
Lily managed a smile. “He’s asleep.”
“And how’s my Lily?”
“Oh, Elijah!” She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he drew her into his embrace. “I can’t believe my father came all this way.”
“I can. He’s determined.”
“Determined to take me back to Philadelphia.” She shook her head. “There was a time when I believed I should go home. I knew my life with the traveling show was taking me nowhere. At least in Philadelphia I would have food to eat and a roof over my head. I’d lived so many years under my father’s thumb, and I figured I could do it again.”
“He wants to take you back today.”
“I know.”
“He’s going to recommend me to a seminary so I can learn how to be a pastor.”
“I see.”
“He says Sam would be better off in an orphanage.”
“Since you’ll be in school, and I’ll be in Philadelphia.”
“That’s right.” Eli cupped the baby’s tiny foot in his palm and stroked his thumb across the puff of soft skin. “He says it’s all God’s will.”
“I’m sure he backed up his position with Scripture.”
“Yep.” He met Lily’s blue eyes. “Your father sure does know the Bible.”
“So did I,” she said. “Before.”
“I remember.”
“But I didn’t know him. I didn’t know Christ.”
Eli thought for a moment. “You reckon somebody could twist Scripture around? I mean, could a man take verses right out of the Bible and use God’s Holy Word for wrong reasons?”
“I was very good at it.”
“But a fellow who claims to be a Christian … claims to believe in Jesus … claims to serve him. Could he be lying?”
Lily lifted the baby away and tucked the shawl around him like a blanket. Elijah leaned over her and kissed Sam’s pink cheek. Without speaking, Lily laid the baby in his arms. As Eli gazed down at the pair of long-lashed eyelids, the soft nub of a nose, the tiny rosebud lips, a certainty filled his soul.
“‘Ye shall know them by their fruits,’” he said in a low voice. He had read the verses that morning, and he’d been working all day to memorize them. “‘Every good tree bringeth forth good fruit; but a corrupt tree bringeth forth evil fruit.’ Evil fruit. A corrupt tree. ‘Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.’”
The verses had slipped unbidden into his mind, but Eli knew who had put them there. Though the Pharisees had appeared holy, Jesus had called them serpents, a generation of vipers.
Yes, it was possible for a man to clothe himself in the sheep’s wool of Christ’s flock. But in reality, he could be a wolf, a serpent, a predator, distorting truth and preying on the tender lambs. Possible. But was Dr. Richardson a sheep or a wolf? A lamb or a viper?
By their fruits, a small voice whispered to Eli. By their fruits …
“You’ve got to go face your father,” he told Lily. “You have to talk to him.”
She nodded. “I know, but … Elijah, would you pray with me first? I need you as my pastor. I need your help.”
“I’m right here beside you.” He took her hand and bowed his head. “Father, we’ve got trouble. Lily and I … we love Sam, and we believe you gave him to us. We ask you to watch over the little fellow and put him where he needs to be so he can grow up right. As for Lily, Lord, she’s your daughter. She belongs to you more than she ever belonged to Dr. Richardson. Please protect her.”
“Amen,” Lily whispered.
“Listen to me, darlin’,” Eli said as they stood. “I won’t make your choices for you, and I won’t go against God’s plan for your life. But I’ll stand beside you. I love you, Lily, and that’s the truth.”
As he spoke the words, her eyes filled with light and a smile lifted her lips. “I love you, too, Elijah Book,” she said softly.
Eli nodded as he tucked Sam’s small round head into the curve of his neck and gave his little bottom a pat. Yep. That was the truth.
Chapter 16
AS LILY walked through the trees to the road, she felt herself shrinking inside. She knew Elijah, cradling Samuel in his arms, walked beside her. But each step forward took her back, further and further into her childhood. She was a little girl again, a willful child who had disobeyed her father. What would he do to her? Where could she run to hide? Who could protect her from the coming storm?
“Lily.” His voice assumed that tone of disappointment with which he always began. “Lily, Lily, Lily.”
She looked up into his face, into ice blue eyes above the stern mouth. “I’m sorry to have troubled you, Father.”
“Indeed.” Hands behind his back, thank heaven. “Lily, your mother is awaiting your return. I have engaged the services of a coach and driver, and we shall depart for Topeka at once. I assume there is nothing of value here that you wish to retrieve before you go.”
Lily studied the tips of her toes. From the corner of her eye, she could see Elijah’s scuffed leather boots. Nothing of value? Only the man she loved. Only the child she had come to treasure as her own.
Oh, Father God, is it wrong to disobey my parents? I love Elijah, but I’m so … so afraid of this man. Please be with me, Lord.
She lifted her head and spoke. “I’ll not be returning to Philadelphia with you, Father. I’m going to stay right here in Hope.”
There. She had done it. She steeled herself, drew in her breath, and forced her eyes to meet his. The man’s chest swelled. A sneer twisted his mouth.
“I beg your pardon?” he said.
Lily tried to make herself breathe. “I’m staying here,” she managed. “I won’t go with you.”
“You won’t go with me?”
“No, sir.”
“You’d better do as he says, Lil,” Beatrice interjected. “He’s your father, remember?”
Lily cast a glance at the woman she had once called a friend. “I trusted you, Bea.”
“I warned you not to cross me.”
“You betrayed me.”
She shrugged. “You let me down. I figured if you wouldn’t work for me, you might as well go on home to daddy. ‘Honour thy father and thy mother,’ you know.” Smiling smugly, Beatrice swung around. “Come on, boys, let’s head back to the opera house. She’s going to get exactly what she deserves.”
As they walked off down the road, Lily shook her head and turned to the man who had caused her terror, humiliation, torment. Honour thy father? she thought. No, not him. He surrendered his right to wear the name father.
“I won’t go with you,” she said. “I’ll write a letter to Mother and explain myself. You’ll have to go back without me.”
“You impudent little fool!” Richardson swung around and addressed the deputy and the preacher. “She presumes to tell me what she’ll do. My own daughter refuses to obey me.”
It would come now, the black storm. She could feel the pressure building inside her father. First a few raindrops. A slight wind. Then the sky would transform to a sickening green. Hail would begin to fall. And then trees would be ripped from their roots. Barns would topple. Homes would be torn up and dashed to the ground.
“Lily, you will do as I say or suffer the consequences,” the thunder rolled. “Are you mad, child? Or are you simply stupid? Can you not see that your life is already settled? I’ve given you everything. Everything. And you treat me like this? Like I’m nothing? Like I’m dirt under your fingernails?”
“No, sir,” she whispered.
“Indeed, you do!” The lightning flashed. “You have the impudence, the absolute gall, to dishonor your own father! Ingrate!”
“Now, hold on a minute,” Elijah cut in, shifting the baby in his arms.
“You stay out of this, bumpkin.” The wind turned, its gale blowing now in a huge circle that encompassed everyone and ev
erything in sight. “You’ve defiled and dishonored my daughter. You’re a disgrace to the calling of the church. What are you? A rube. A rustic. A cowboy.”
“No, sir, not any longer. I’m a shepherd, and your daughter is one of my flock.”
“Your flock,” he snarled, grabbing Lily’s arm and jerking her toward him. “This pathetic creature is mine, not yours. She belongs to me, and I’m here to take her back where she belongs. Now, move your feet, Lily. I’ve had enough of your nonsense.”
He pushed her in the direction of the opera house, but she struggled loose. “No,” she cried. “I won’t do it!”
“You’ll obey me, or you’ll wish you had.”
“I can’t obey you.”
“Can’t?” He drew back his hand, and she ducked, crouching into the fabric of her skirts. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Stop!” Elijah shouted.
“Can’t or won’t?” her father bellowed.
Lily covered her head with her arms, and at that very moment, the eye of the storm passed over her. Calm filled her. Security wrapped her in holy arms. She looked up into the red, swollen face hovering over her.
“‘The Lord is my light and my salvation,’” she murmured into the storm, “‘whom shall I fear? the Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?’”
“What?” her father roared.
Now the final winds would come, Lily knew. She closed her eyes in readiness. “‘Behold, I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God.’”
“Blasphemer!”
“‘Lord, lay not this sin to his charge.’”
“Demon! Witch!”
Lily drank down a breath in preparation for the coming blow, but a loud cry startled her. As her eyes flew open, she saw Elijah Book, baby in one arm and the wrath of God on his face, slam a balled fist into her father’s face. The huge man toppled backward onto the road and lay in stunned silence. For the space of a breath, Lily thought it was over. The storm was finished. But then the man scrambled to his feet with a bellow of rage.
“I’ll kill you!”
“Stay clear of Lily!” Elijah shouted.
“That’s enough, men!” The deputy drew his pistol and stepped between the two. As Lily’s father came at Elijah, the lawman pivoted and aimed the six-shooter at his heart. “Stop right there, mister, or I’m gonna make wolf meat outta you.”
Crouched on the road, Lily could see her father hesitate. “ Father, please stop this,” she called to him. “It won’t work anymore. All these years it’s been wrong. You can’t win this time. Please, Father. Set me free.”
The towering man stood heaving for breath, his shirt stained with sweat and his collar sprung from its buttons. His sledgehammer hands clenched and released, clenched and released. A trickle of blood worked its way down the corner of his mouth.
“By your fruit,” Elijah said in a low voice, “by your fruit, Dr. Richardson. The fruit of God’s Spirit is love. Look at your fruit huddled there on the road. What you see is fear. Anger. Sorrow. Confusion. Torment. The Good Book says that folks who sow fruit like that can’t inherit the kingdom of God.”
Lily watched her father’s face as the storm began to die. The red in his cheeks faded. His lips drooped. His blue eyes lost all expression.
“I can’t quote the Bible back to front like you do,” Elijah went on, giving the baby on his shoulder a pat, “but I’ve read all about the fruit of the Spirit. That’s love. Joy. Peace. Gentleness. Are you gentle, Dr. Richardson?”
When the man didn’t speak, Elijah continued. “Longsuffering. Near as I can figure, that means patient. Are you a patient man, Dr. Richardson?”
Lily watched her father begin to sag as Elijah went on. “Meekness. Christ asks us to be servants, not slave masters. Temperance. That means we’re supposed to control ourselves.”
The preacher paused, and his voice was low when he continued. “Maybe some grown-up whipped you when you were a boy. Or maybe somebody told you it was a father’s business to beat on his little daughter. It’s not. I’ll admit, my daddy popped my tail feathers a few times, but he never really hurt me. He never ground me into the dirt or backed me so far into a corner that I didn’t have any choice but to run away, fearing for my life.”
Lily’s father had covered his face with his hands, and she tried to imagine what he was thinking. Was the storm building inside him again? Would he emerge with his fists raised against Elijah? Would he turn on her? In his uncontrollable wrath, would he force the deputy to shoot him?
“I reckon you owe your daughter an apology, Dr. Richardson,” Elijah said. “You think you could settle up your unfinished business before you go on your way?”
Lily held her breath as her father took a step toward her. But when he lowered his hands, she realized that his eyes were rimmed with tears. His lip quivered as he dropped to his knees in the dirt in front of her.
“Lily,” he said. “My daughter.”
Folding in upon himself, he pressed his face into the road as sobs tore from his chest. With a trembling hand, Lily reached out and laid her hand on the man’s head. This was her father. Not the great conductor, the imperious musician, the overlord of the Richardson household. His hair damp beneath her fingertips, she traced the curve of his head with her palm.
“Father,” she whispered.
“Lily, I hurt you. I know what I did.”
“Father.” She lifted his shoulders and drew him into her arms. “Papa, my papa.”
“Oh, Lily,” he wept, “I’m so sorry.”
As she clung to him, she looked up into Elijah’s face. The pastor held his own child close, his large hands stroking the baby’s soft curly hair. “I love you, Father,” she said. “I forgive you.”
“God, have mercy on me,” he groaned. “Have mercy on my soul.”
“He does,” Elijah said.
“I don’t deserve—”
“No, but you’ll get it anyhow. That’s called grace. Amazing grace.” The preacher reached down and took the man’s arm. “Dr. Richardson, welcome to Hope.”
On the front porch of the Hankses’ house, Lily sat in a rocking chair and laid Samuel lengthwise on her lap. As his big brown eyes focused on her face, his mouth broke into a wide grin. With a laugh, she chucked him under the chin. Folds of soft skin testified to his bouncing good health and made Lily think of one of Lucy Cornwall’s fresh, doughy cinnamon buns.
“Hello, precious boy,” she whispered to him. “How’s my little Samuel this afternoon? Did you have a nice nap? You did! Guess what I’ve been doing? I’ve been ironing sheets with Auntie Eva, and I’m so hot.”
The baby gurgled in response and gave his tiny feet a kick. Lily clasped his pudgy legs and pumped them up and down as the baby cooed with pleasure. Three days had passed since her father’s repentance on the road between the opera house and Hope, and he had chosen to stay on for a few days to help rebuild the town. Though father and daughter didn’t speak often, he sometimes came to sit with her on the porch while she nursed the baby.
“Look, here comes that big ol’ fellow right now,” Lily murmured, spotting Clement Richardson making his way up the street. “Do you want him to hold you today? Shall I ask him if he’d like that?”
She pictured her father’s great hands cradling the child. Did she dare allow the man who had hurt her to touch the baby she loved so deeply? Could she trust that he’d changed? Really, truly changed?
“Good afternoon, Lily,” her father said, stepping up onto the porch. “Rather hot, don’t you think?”
Lily began to rock a little, swaying the baby back and forth. She wished she could get past feeling uneasy around the man, but she’d spent too many years in fear. “Yes, it’s quite warm today,” she said. “I’ve been ironing sheets with Eva on the back porch.”
Her father took the chair beside her, removed his hat, and mopped his brow with a monogrammed white handkerchief. “It must be difficult for you,” he said. “You once
led such a pampered life. Now you’re reduced to pressing sheets as though you were a slave woman yourself.”
Lily swallowed. “Eva’s not a slave, Father. She’s my good friend. I’m happy to work at her side.”
“Of course, of course. I meant no ill will in my comment.” He leaned back in the chair. “Lily, I’ve been trying to decide how to speak with you. Nothing is simple anymore. I don’t know what to tell you of my deepest thoughts. I’m not sure which tone to take with you. But I do know that matters must be addressed. We must talk about the past and the future.”
“I prefer the present, Father. I’m happy here.”
“Are you?” His face showed the hint of a scowl. “You were brought up with art and music, with gardens and servants, with beautiful gowns and parties every weekend. Now you wash and iron, you cook three meals a day, and you tend that … that baby.”
“I told you why I care for Samuel, Father.”
“Yes, yes.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry to be brusque. This is difficult. All of it. I find it so … impossible … to imagine my daughter, my own flesh and blood, wandering about with that woman, that Beatrice Waldowski. To think that you actually married a stranger in order to escape your home.… Well, I find myself both humiliated and enraged by the entire episode. That you bore a child, my grandchild—”
“Abigail.”
“Please don’t speak the name. I blame myself.”
“No, Father—”
“Yes, I do. I am responsible. And yet I am also determined to make amends. To God, to your mother. To you, Lily. I must try to repair my errors in your upbringing. I must atone for my wrongs.”
“Wrongs can be forgiven, Father. I’ve chosen to put my own past behind me and look ahead to a new day. I’m certain that the Lord has a good plan for my life—and for yours. He is a God of great mercy. When I look at all he’s done for me in these past months, I am almost dumbfounded. All this time he’s been leading me toward him, waiting for me to open the door and let him into my heart. In spite of everything I did, all the wrong choices, all the willful and irresponsible actions I took, God brought Samuel into my life, and he gave me this home, this town, and Elijah.”
Prairie Storm Page 22
