The muffin lodged in her mouth. Had she become one of those women who thought about nothing more than what she should wear, in one short week?
He straightened his lips, holding his humor in check. “You would look stunning in any of the dresses. I can’t advise what is better for church, but I can tell you the difference between day wear and evening wear. I’m fairly sure that day wear would be acceptable for church.”
“That sounds reasonable.” She swallowed the last crumbs of her muffin with coffee. “So, which is which?” Heat wormed its way onto her cheeks. “They all seem pretty fancy to me.”
“Maybe after breakfast? We can ask Effie’s opinion as well, about the style if not the color. Unless you want to put the choice up to a vote by the breakfast crowd?”
A hint of a smile blooming, Blanche shook her head. A couple of forkfuls of egg remained on her plate, but she felt full. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
The brief explanation of current styles left Blanche befuddled; the differences between the day and evening seemed blurred, but Ike could tell at a glance. Under his guidance, she decided on the beige dress that she had worn on her first day on board. With her hair, she reverted to her old style, pulling it into a tight knot on the top of her head. She didn’t want any strands falling into her eyes at an inopportune moment. Effie changed into a dress much like the one Blanche had donned. “Are you ready?”
Effie patted her hair. “Yes.” They made their way to the theater, where they had held the musicale earlier in the week.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your playing for us this morning. I can’t imagine worshipping God without music—or singing without a piano. We tried it a few times when our church pianist was ill, but we always sounded like a single bird trying to fill a canyon with sound. Not good at all.”
“It’s my pleasure.” Effie waved aside her thanks. “Besides, I figure it doesn’t hurt to add a few good deeds to my account with God.”
Effie smiled when she made that statement, but Blanche’s heart faltered. Did her friend think a right relationship with God could be earned? She prayed that truth, and so much more, would become clear throughout the course of the morning.
Blanche paused at the entrance to the room and lit the first lantern. Early morning sunlight streamed through windows, throwing the room into dazzle and shadow. Squinting, she decided the sunshine was too bright.
“How does it look?” Tapping with her cane, Effie made her way around the chairs to the piano.
“Too bright.” Blanche adjusted blinds over the windows. “That’s better. We need to be able to read.” Even as she said the words, she realized the cruelty of the comment to someone like Effie. “Do you read Braille?”
Effie nodded. “I learned how, but I haven’t had much opportunity to practice. We don’t keep many books aboard.”
An obvious question shocked Blanche in its simplicity. “Do you have a copy of the Bible in Braille?”
“No, although I read one once, at a school for the blind.”
Blanche glanced at the well-worn volume she held in the palm of her hands, with favorite verses marked and notes from Reverend Davenport’s sermons written down, smudges on the pages where she had memorized verses and passages. She had prized the Bible ever since she received it at the end of second grade. Once again she felt the rightness of her presence aboard the Cordelia. How they hear without a preacher, indeed. As soon as the Cordelia arrived at their destination, she would seek a way to obtain a copy of the Bible in Braille for Effie.
“I really liked the verses you read at the musicale. About heaven, and about the wonderful things that happen after death. I like to think of my parents being in a place like that.”
Blanche glanced around the room—some setup was still needed—but decided the opportunity to speak to Effie mattered more. “If you died today, do you think you’d go to heaven?”
Effie’s shoulders lifted almost imperceptibly. “I hope so. I’m a pretty good person. I figure the good outweighs the bad in the balance scales.”
Blanche closed the distance between them and put a single light hand on Effie’s shoulder. “The Bible says that not one of us is good enough. God demands perfection, and no one is perfect.”
Effie frowned, and her foot tapped the floor. “Then why does the Bible talk about heaven, if none of us is good enough to go there?”
“Because God made another way. Jesus, God’s Son, lived the perfect life none of us can. Then He offered Himself to God as a sacrifice for our sins. Remember those scales you talked about? All our sins—yours, mine, everybody else’s—all sit on one side. Jesus’ death on the other. They balance perfectly. All we have to do is believe it.”
Effie tilted her head to one side as if considering what Blanche had said. The Potters came in, and the mood was broken. Blanche prayed that the seed planted in Effie’s soul would find fertile soil.
“I’ll set the chairs up in rows, shall I?” Mr. Potter suited his action to his words, setting up five rows of chairs. Blanche hoped they would need that many. As he worked, he whistled a few bars of “Blessed Assurance.” That reminded Blanche…
“Have you ever heard of Fanny Crosby?”
“No. Should I have?” Effie ran her hands lightly over the keyboard, seeking out chords.
“Maybe not. But she writes hymns. And she’s blind. She composed the melody Mr. Potter is whistling.”
Effie cocked her head and her hands began strumming the keys. “What a lovely melody. What are the words?”
God put that hymn into Mr. Potter’s mind. Smiling, Blanche said, “‘Blessed assurance—Jesus is mine.’ Just like we were talking about.”
“You’ll have to teach me the rest of the song.”
As Blanche agreed that she would, a figure appeared at the door. Timid Mary, who worked in the kitchen with Elaine and rarely said two words. “Is this where you’re holding the church service, Miss Lamar?”
“Why, yes it is.” Blanche crossed the room and shook her hand. “Where would you like to sit?”
Mary took a seat in the back row. Blanche suspected she would feel uncomfortable any place close to the front, although in this venue, it didn’t matter, at least not to her. As soon as Mary settled in, three stevedores came in. Blanche hoped her face didn’t betray her surprise. Somehow she hadn’t expected the grizzled, rough-spoken men who made the docks of the Rio Grande their home to attend church. Thank You, Lord.
So many people entered over the next five minutes that Blanche couldn’t greet each one individually. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Mrs. Potter helping people find seats. If they had pews, they’d be applying the “SOS” rule—“slide over some.”
Ike stood a few paces down the hall, watching people enter the theater. Almost as many people had shown up for the service as had for the musicale. He peeked through the door to see the crowded room while Blanche greeted Mrs. Ralston. Blanche played the part of affable hostess perfectly.
He entered. “You need more chairs.”
“You came.” Blanche turned a smile on him that he would swear had little to do with church and everything to do with his being a man.
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” He winked at her. “I’ll be right back.” In the dining room, he grabbed a couple of chairs. Soon they had a sixth row set up against the back wall.
“Thank you.” Blanche glanced at the clock. “It’s time to start.”
“You’ll do fine.” He repeated his reassurance. He settled back in his chair to watch her go to work. She made her way to the front of the room, stopping to say a few words here and there. At the end of the front row, she paused long enough to square her shoulders then made her way to the podium placed on the stage area.
She moved with a natural grace, one that even her ugly black suits couldn’t hide, and which the day dress she had chosen made evident. As soon as her foot reached the top step, silence fell across the room. The tap of her heels on the wooden floor re
verberated in the stillness. At first she directed her gaze to the floor—probably praying, Ike realized—then raised her face with a radiant smile.
“Thank you all for joining us here today. We have come together to worship the Lord of lords, the Lord of all. He is the Lord of everything, even the Rio Grande.” She took a minute or two describing some things she had observed during her time on board that taught her more about God.
“Miss Effie Gallagher has kindly agreed to accompany us as we sing. I have written down the words to the songs.” So saying, she turned around an easel that had a sheet of paper with the words of a poem of some kind written on it. “Please join me in singing a song that praises the God of all creation, ‘All Creatures of Our God and King.’”
The song marched along, carrying Ike and the others with it. When the last word finished echoing through the room, Blanche looked straight at Ike and smiled. “I’m not going to be doing all the talking this morning. We don’t have a preacher; we’re just believers in the Lord Jesus who want to worship. So I’m going to ask for your participation. First of all, I’d like to hear about any of God’s ‘creatures’ you have known and loved. Maybe you had a special pet, or maybe there was a stubborn mule, or maybe a fish you caught in the river. We want to hear about them.”
From his seat at the back, Ike saw bent heads and heard whispers circulating among the audience. They needed someone to break the ice. Would she welcome his support? Deciding she would, he raised his hand.
CHAPTER 14
Yes, Mr. Gallagher?”
A frisson of satisfaction skipped down Ike’s spine at the relief in Blanche’s voice. Standing, he turned around to face the audience. “We used to have a cat. I wanted a dog, but Mama would only let us have a cat. After our parents died, Effie carried that cat with her everywhere.”
At the piano, Effie nodded her head, a smile playing about her lips. “His name was Blackie.”
“When Captain Lamar took us in, he said they’d never had a cat on the ship. Blackie sniffed his ankles and rubbed around his legs, the way cats do, and the captain grew stiffer than a piece of cloth soaked in salt water. I knew how sad Effie would be if she didn’t get to keep Blackie, but I didn’t know what we were going to do.”
Blanche leaned forward to listen, as if eager to hear what her father had done.
“When the captain showed up again the next day, he said they had discovered mice aboard the Cordelia and a good mouser would be a welcome addition. If Blackie’s owners would join him on board, of course. And so the captain took in two orphans and a cat.”
Blanche’s smile widened, and Ike thought back to her comments that God was watching over them even back then.
Ike shook his head. “There weren’t any mice, of course. Or if there were, Blackie got rid of the evidence.”
Blanche cleared her throat. “That’s a beautiful story. It sounds like God was taking care of you and your cat. So tell me. What happened to Blackie?”
“He lived to a ripe old age.” Effie’s fingers tapped out the tune to “Three Blind Mice.” She smiled. “He slept on my bed every night.”
“Let’s keep the Cordelia mouse-free.” Blanche smiled. “Perhaps we’ll get another cat, as a mascot. Thank you for telling us about Blackie, Mr. Gallagher. Does anyone else have a story to share?”
Ahead of Ike, a small hand shot into the air. Before Blanche could call on him, the young child said, “I have a dog. He’s almost as big as me.”
“Why, then, he must be a big fellow.”
The boy straightened in his seat, lifting himself to his full height. “Yes, ma’am, he is. My papa says he eats as much as a horse.”
The audience laughed while the child’s mother shushed him.
“What is his name?”
Other stories followed. Even Ventura added a humorous anecdote about a stubborn mule he had encountered.
“The Bible says that God gave Adam dominion over animals. I have read about men who go into cages with lions.” Blanche shivered. “I wouldn’t dare do that, but I think about that verse when I read the stories. Let’s take a moment to thank God for His creatures.” She closed her eyes and brought her hands together. “Thank You, heavenly Father, for the gift You have given to us in the animals that share this earth with us. Amen.”
The service continued in the same vein. They sang a hymn and Blanche asked an everyday question that she managed to tie back to God or the Bible. After people shared anecdotes, they prayed. Everyone present had told at least one story by the time the hour ended.
Ike never expected the meeting to pass so quickly or so pleasantly. If anyone had come expecting a lecture on the Ten Commandments, he left disappointed. As promised, Blanche steered the conversation in praise of the God she worshipped, one she portrayed as involved in everyday life. The possibility comforted Ike and scared him at the same time.
After the final prayer, he slipped up to the front to wait with Effie at the piano. Blanche joined Mr. and Mrs. Potter at the door in greeting their guests as they left. Over the babble of conversation, Ike heard good comments. He lounged against the wall, a smile playing around his lips. “Who would have thought it.”
He had spoken mostly to himself, but Effie responded. “She truly believes in all this, you know. And she reads that Bible of hers every day.”
“Whatever else, she’s a natural showman. She’ll do well at the helm of Lamar Industries, if she’s willing to bend some of her principles.”
Effie chuckled. “Good luck with that.”
The room slowly emptied, and with a start, Ike realized it was almost lunchtime.
“Duty calls,” Effie said. “I’d better get down to the salon and begin playing.” She caught up with Blanche, murmured a few words, and then departed.
“Where do you want these chairs, Miss Lamar?” Mr. Potter held one in each hand.
“Those came from the dining room.” Ike took two more. “The rest of them stay here.”
“Mrs. Potter and I will put the other chairs in a circle around the walls, shall we?” Blanche looked at Ike as if seeking his approval.
He nodded. “That will be perfect.”
“Thank you for your help.”
The way she smiled, with that pretty color in her cheeks, was enough to turn a man’s head. “It’s my job.” Whistling the tune to “Three Blind Mice,” he held the door open for Mr. Potter and walked toward the salon.
The aromas of roast chicken and stuffing filled his nostrils before he reached his destination. Was this what people looked forward to on Sundays—church, a good meal, and maybe a nap?
If all church services were like the one this morning, the practice no longer seemed so odd.
“It went well, didn’t it?” Blanche looked around the restored theater, empty of their congregation.
“God was with you, dear.” Mrs. Potter sank into a chair with a grateful oomph. “People enjoyed themselves.”
Blanche frowned at that comment. “It wasn’t meant as entertainment.”
“Of course not.” Mrs. Potter patted the seat next to her, and Blanche accepted the implied invitation. “You worshipped the Lord with your whole heart. People were touched and maybe thought about God in a new way. I think it was just right.”
The luncheon bell rang. “I believe Elaine has roast chicken on the menu today.” Blanche’s mouth watered at the thought. “Let’s not keep the company waiting.”
Over the food-laden tables, Blanche glanced around the room, making a mental checklist of who had attended the service and who hadn’t. Several passengers had stayed away, perhaps taking advantage of the extra time to sleep. Mr. Ventura’s presence had provided the biggest surprise.
Ike had come.
Old Obie hadn’t.
The handful of crew members absent from the service were involved with keeping the ship running. Everyone should have an opportunity to attend. She would speak with Ike about rotating shifts to make that possible. She nodded, pleased with the decision. Woul
d Old Obie come in that case? She didn’t have a clue.
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Ike dabbed his mustache with his napkin.
He just called me pretty. “I was thinking about ways to make it possible for everyone to attend the worship service, at least on alternate weeks.”
“I should have known.” He shook his head. “I would venture a guess that not everyone will come, but after the turnout this morning, I’m not so sure.”
“Yes.” Unable to help herself, she asked, “What did you think of the service?”
His blue eyes darkened, as if calculating the answer to her question. “It wasn’t what I expected. I guess I was expecting more hellfire and brimstone.”
“While hell is as real as heaven, I prefer to remember that God loved us enough to send His Son to die for us.”
He nodded but didn’t comment. She was probably hoping for too much to expect him to do a complete about-face after one service that didn’t even include a clear presentation of the Gospel.
“What changes do you have in mind for the schedule?” His fingers drummed the table.
“Nothing major. I realize that some men must work on Sundays, to keep the boat running.” What would Ike say to docking on Sundays? She thought she knew and suppressed a smile. “But can they alternate weekends so that everyone has an opportunity to attend a Sunday service, if they want to?”
A smile curled Ike’s lips. “For someone who has only committed to one trip downriver, you want to make a lot of changes. Or have you decided to make the Cordelia your home?”
Blanche jerked back at that. “I—no, not yet.” She dredged out a smile. “How about a onetime change? For next Sunday?”
Ike’s smile grew wider. “We can do that, sure.” He winked. “And hope it becomes a permanent change.”
Does Ike want me to stay? Blanche wished she had a fan to cool her face. I shouldn’t care what he thinks of me. Mama had warned her often enough to beware of men with sweet words and wicked ways.
The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier Page 24
