“No one lives forever, Ike.” Pushing her hands against his chest, Effie put distance between them. “I will go to my cabin, although I doubt if I’ll sleep. You will let me know if anything changes?”
“Of course. Let me walk you back.” After Effie turned in, Ike continued to the dining salon and grabbed a chair. Furniture was preferable to sitting on the floor. He unbuttoned the top few buttons on his shirt, removed his jacket, tossed it on his bed on the way past, and headed back to Old Obie’s cabin.
When he arrived back at the door to Old Obie’s cabin, he heard soft murmurs from inside. Part of him wanted to open the door, to sit with the man who had been like a father to him for most of his life, to offer and receive strength. But that would be selfish. Father and daughter needed time alone together, time that might be limited.
Leaning his head against the hallway wall, Ike could hear the tone of the conversation, every now and then a word discernible. Several times he thought he heard “Cordelia,” although he didn’t know if they were discussing the boat or Blanche’s mother. Laughter followed tears.
Their conversation was none of his business, but he couldn’t shut his ears so he wouldn’t hear. When the chair proved no more comfortable than the floor would have been, Ike gave up his vigil and went up to the deck. He rolled up the arms of his shirt and let the evening breeze cool his arms and neck.
With Old Obie ill, responsibility for the Cordelia fell on Ike. They couldn’t afford to stay in Brownsville for too long. Every day the boat remained in port, they lost money. Old Obie would tell him to go, to take care of business, not to let sentimentality overrule business sense. But even if he was willing to leave Old Obie in Brownsville, the loss of their primary pilot would hamper their progress. Once they left Brownsville, they might not return for three weeks.
A lot could happen in three weeks. Staring at the waterline reminded him that life streamed by like the boat rippling down the river. The moon’s reflection drew Ike’s gaze to the sky. He opened his mouth to howl, but instead he said, “Oh, God. Help us.”
God. If God controlled man’s life from birth to death, then Ike was talking to the right person. He had never doubted God’s existence; God just never seemed relevant to his everyday life.
“From what Blanche says, You’re not too pleased with the way I’ve lived my life. But I’m not asking for me. I’m asking for Old Obie. He gave us a home when we needed one. And I’m asking for Blanche. And I know You must care about her. She certainly brags on You all the time. So please make our stubborn old captain better.”
He remained on deck awhile longer, staring up at the sky, unsure what he was expecting. For God to thunder back an answer? For Old Obie to jump out of bed and run upstairs?
Nothing happened. Wind ruffled through his shirt, bringing some comfort. After an hour, he returned to his station by the door. The pillow he used as a headrest muffled the murmurings still emanating from the cabin. With a calmer spirit than an hour earlier, he fell into a light sleep.
“It was love at first sight.” Obie drew out precious memories that he should have shared with Blanche as soon as they met. “On both sides.” He dipped his spoon into the soup they had found when they awakened.
“What made you fall in love with Mother?” It was obvious that Blanche hungered for every detail he could provide.
“She was so beautiful, with that halo of dark hair and long, slender fingers that I wanted to kiss one at a time. Her brown eyes revealed the warmth she hid behind her severe exterior.” He sighed. “She was as beautiful on the inside as on the outside. I learned that as we spent our days together. One long, amazing week in Roma.”
Blanche chewed her sandwich, eyes wide.
“You are probably wondering why she fell in love with me.” Obie shrugged, and the blanket slid down his chest. “I don’t know. I had never met anyone like her before, but I like to think it was more than that.”
Blanche’s eyes misted over. “I can think of some qualities she might have loved.”
“And what might those be?” With each spoonful of soup, he felt stronger. “She didn’t tell you much about me, did she?”
Blanche shook her head. “But I know what I’ve seen for myself. You are kind and generous, and you know how to bring out the best in people.” She took a deep breath. “I never thought I could pilot a boat, but you made it easy for me to learn.” She averted her gaze, picking at her food.
“You have a knack for it.”
The conversation continued between them, flowing gently. Obie told her about his family, all of them dead. “I’m sorry. I know you were hoping to find family.”
She told him about some of her best childhood memories. So far they had avoided the topic that had driven a loving couple apart. He knew she would bring it up eventually.
After she chased the last crumb of the piecrust from her plate, Blanche cleared her throat, and he knew what was coming.
“You say your parents were church people. They gave you two biblical names.”
“They made sure I knew about it. Jedidiah was another name for King Solomon. And Obadiah was a book in the Bible. It was so short they made me memorize it once upon a time.”
“Can you still remember it?”
“Bits and pieces. I remember something about fire…” Obie closed his eyes, searching old memories. Then he looked at her. “‘And the house of Jacob shall be a fire, and the house of Joseph a flame, and the house of Esau for stubble, and they shall kindle in them, and devour them.’ I dreamed about all that fire.” He chuckled.
“Do you believe in God? In the Bible?”
Obie didn’t have a problem answering that question. “Of course. Only a fool doesn’t believe in God.”
“But have you asked Jesus to be your Savior?”
There. She’d asked the question. It hung between them.
Now Obie hesitated. “I always intended to. But I figured I had plenty of time. I wanted to enjoy my life first. Then I drove your mother away, the best woman to walk God’s green earth.” He closed his eyes to block the pain. “It’s too late for an old sinner like me.”
CHAPTER 22
Blanche couldn’t speak for a moment. Tears clogged her throat. She sipped her tea to moisten her mouth, all the while shaking her head. “It’s never too late. Not as long as you are alive and breathing.”
“Figured you’d say that.” He set aside his pie, only half-eaten. “But I know what I know. I’ve spent a lifetime saying no to God, I’m not going to be a hypocrite and ask Him to save me now.”
A tear rolled down Blanche’s cheek, and she turned her head so he wouldn’t see.
“Ah, sweetheart, don’t feel bad for me. Having you in my life is more of a blessing than I had any right to expect. I’ve had a good life, and meeting you, why, that’s the frosting on the cake.”
Blanche couldn’t stop her tears. “I’ll pray that you see the truth.”
He patted her hand. “And now, if you don’t mind, it’s late at night for this old man. I want to rest.” He closed his eyes. Blanche waited, praying, while her father slipped into sleep. When he began gently snoring, she planted a kiss on his forehead. At peace, she decided to set the half-eaten tray of food outside the cabin and try to sleep. When she opened the door, she found Ike in a chair, his head slammed back against a pillow, arms crossed. Whiskers darkened his cheeks. With his shirt unbuttoned at the neck, no suit jacket, and sleeves rolled up, he looked almost… heroic.
She wanted to hold on to her anger for not telling her the truth about her father, but how could she when he guarded the door like a knight of old? Laying the tray on the floor, she found an extra blanket and tucked it around Ike’s shoulders. Back inside her father’s room, she fell asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.
When Ike woke up in the morning, someone had covered him with a blanket. Blanche? What a homey, motherly touch. He shrugged off the good feeling that gave him. He didn’t need a mother.
The breakfast bell so
unded as he pulled out his pocket watch. Everyone would want an update on Old Obie’s condition. He knocked on the door, and when no one answered, he turned the doorknob and entered. Blanche’s hair was splayed across the white coverlet. He forced his gaze away from the display and watched Old Obie’s chest rise and fall. His mouth hung open, and his breath rasped a little. His color concerned Ike; he’d check on him again after breakfast and see if anything had changed.
He allowed himself to look at Blanche again. With the blanket she had given to him, he returned the favor, easing it across her back. His fingers tingled where they skimmed her neck.
The bell sounded again, and he jerked his hand away. He had dallied long enough. Smithers arched an eyebrow when Ike strolled into the dining room, but no one else commented on his late arrival. The headwaiter brought him a plate piled high with all kinds of good food; Elaine must have poured her worries into her cooking.
“How is he?” Effie’s drawn face showed the aftereffects of a sleepless night.
“I’m not sure.” Ike grimaced. He brought a cup of coffee to his lips, swallowing the scalding liquid down without a qualm. “Give me a few minutes to eat, and I’ll tell the crew. Then I want you to come with me, to check on him.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
People turned in their direction at the sound of her raised voice, and she lowered her head. “What happened?”
“I didn’t like the way he looked.” Ike forced himself to take a few bites and then stood.
The room fell silent.
“Captain Lamar survived the night. As far as I can tell, he spent the night comfortably. He was still asleep when I came downstairs,” Ike announced.
Question marks formed on the faces circled around him. He held up a hand. “That’s all I know. At this point, I am uncertain when we will leave Brownsville. Until then, continue your regular work schedule.”
As the workers filed out, Ike sought out Smithers. “Go ahead about your duties. I’ll take care of my dishes.”
Smithers nodded and withdrew.
Ike stopped by the serving window. “If you prepare a tray for the captain and Miss Lamar, I’ll take the food to them.”
“The poor dears.” Elaine whisked around, creating a masterpiece of appearance and taste.
Effie waited with Ike while Elaine put the platter together. As she finished, the door burst open.
Blanche stopped as soon as she spotted them. “Come quick. He’s taken a turn for the worse.”
CHAPTER 23
Ike leapt to his feet, Effie at his elbow. “Is he—” He stopped shy of the dreaded word.
“No.” The word exploded from Blanche’s mouth. “But he sounds like he’s having trouble breathing.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “He sounds like Mother did before she died.”
Effie let out a strangled cry.
“I’ll send for the doctor.” With the call to action, Ike felt an icy calm descend on him. “You stay here and grab a bite to eat while Effie goes with the captain.”
“But—”
“Five minutes one way or the other isn’t going to matter. And if anything at all happens, I’ll send someone right away.”
When Blanche repeated her protest, Effie stood her ground. “This would be a good time for that prayer you’re so fond of.”
“Prayer isn’t a genie’s bottle that you can use to demand whatever you want.” Blanche looked sick to her stomach as she stared at the pile of fluffy eggs in front of her. She dug her fork in and brought it to her mouth. “Go on,” Ike urged.
Effie headed in the direction of Old Obie’s cabin, her white cane tapping the way down the familiar route of the corridor. Ike ran down the gangway to find a porter on the wharves.
“I need to get a message to Dr. Foster. Do you know where his office is?”
The man nodded, and Ike gave him enough money to take a cab. “Ask him to come as quickly as possible. Captain Lamar has taken a turn for the worse.”
With that business taken care of, he raced back to the Cordelia. He headed for the stairs. He met with Blanche as she was leaving the dining room. “I’ve sent someone to fetch the doctor and bring him right back.”
“Good.” She had bitten her lips until red beaded on her flesh. She moved so quickly that he had to hustle to catch up. If she had the freedom of movement of men’s trousers, she would have traipsed down the stairs two at a time. As it was, her feet sped down the stairs with the lightness of ballet slippers. His feet hammered the steps loud enough to wake anyone still attempting to sleep.
A handful of the crew had gathered outside the door, keeping a silent vigil. “Mr. Gallagher. Miss Lamar,” the head engineer addressed them. “I thought we would stay here, in case you needed help.”
Blanche cleared her throat. “That’s a kindly thought, Mr. MacDonald. One of you should remain on deck and bring the doctor down when he arrives.”
“I’ll go up.” One of the waiters disappeared in the direction of the stairwell.
Ike opened the door and motioned for Blanche to enter first.
“I bet that’s them now.” Effie looked up as she heard them enter the room.
Old Obie lay on a pile of pillows that failed in its purpose of easing his breathing. He burst into a fit of coughing.
“Papa.” Blanche dashed forward. “You should be sleeping.”
“Don’t have time to sleep. There are things that need saying.” Old Obie speared Ike with his gaze. “I’ll have a minute with you then I want to be alone with my daughter.” Renewed coughing made Ike wonder how he could speak. “Sorry, Blanche, but I need you to go out for just a few minutes.”
Effie took Blanche by the elbow and led her out. As the door closed behind them, the color drained from Old Obie’s face, and he collapsed against the pillow in a coughing fit. Ike darted to his side.
Old Obie waved him back. “I’m not long for this world.”
“Don’t be foolish. Dr. Foster will be here in a few minutes. He’ll fix you up with a snap of his fingers.”
The captain frowned at him. “Don’t lie to me, young man. You can fool a lot of other people, but not me. Now, listen up.”
He coughed again, and helplessness burned through Ike. Wordlessly, he handed him a clean handkerchief. When the captain used it to swipe his mouth, it came away filled with phlegm.
“There are two things I’ve done right in my life. Maybe three. One was taking you and Effie in when you were children. You think it was an act of kindness, but I’m the one who was blessed with two children who brought me so much joy.”
Ike swallowed past the lump in his throat and coughed. “Let’s call us even then. You’ve given us far more than we could ever repay.”
Old Obie patted his hand, his fingers barely tapping his skin. “You’re a good man. The son I never had.” He dropped his hand. “Then there’s the Cordelia. She’s a good ship, and I’m proud of her time on the river.” A slight tinge of color came back into his cheeks. “And now there’s Blanche. I’m a proud old cuss, and I’m prouder of her than anything else.” A sigh brought on another fit of coughing. “But now that’s another burden on my conscience. I hoped for more time with her, but such is not to be. I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything. You just need to ask.” Ike dredged a smile from the depths of his grief. “And if it’s for Blanche, you don’t have to ask.”
This time, Old Obie’s cough came out as a watery laugh. “Like that, is it? I figured as much. And you have my blessing, you know that, don’t you?”
Relieved, Ike nodded.
“She won’t want your help, you know. She’ll fight you. But I figure that with her moral backbone and your business sense, you stand a good chance of keeping the Cordelia in business for a while longer. That’s the only legacy I have to leave her, and I want it to last as long as possible.”
“Your legacy is much more than that.”
“I’m counting on you to tell her my story.” Old Obie struggled back to a sit
ting position, cleared his mouth another time with the handkerchief, and smoothed the coverlet across his legs. “Now, go out there and send my girl in.”
“Yes, sir.” Ike laid a hand on Old Obie’s shoulder. “I’ll do everything in my power.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Blanche jumped to her feet as soon as Ike opened the door. She placed her hand on the doorknob, but Ike stood in her way.
“He loves you, you know. Don’t be too hard on him for not telling you the truth earlier.”
Blanche’s mind blanked, and she blinked her eyes. “I know that.” She paused at the entrance. “Send in the doctor as soon as he gets here.”
“Of course.”
She brushed past Ike in the tight confines of the entrance and closed the door.
“My girl.” Old Obie had combed his hair, and a smile wreathed his face. “You don’t know what joy you have brought to my life. I wish we could have had more time together.”
“And we will.” He looked so much better that she could almost believe it. Until he coughed again, a cough that drew from the soles of his feet.
“Maybe we will. But just in case…” Coughs racked his chest.
Blanche couldn’t hide her dismay. “The doctor should be here any time.”
“Then let me talk before he gets here. First thing is, I know you have your doubts about Ike. But you need to give him a chance. He’s a good man.” His failing strength punctuated his words. “I wouldn’t speak so plain, if I had more time. But I’d like to see you settled, and I don’t know a better man than Ike Gallagher.”
Ike. “He may be as good as you say, but he’s not a Christian.” The words brought tears to her eyes. And neither are you. “And I can’t be interested in anyone who isn’t a Christian.”
“And that’s the other thing.” He glanced away, revealing deep lines at the corners of his eyes. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. You told me it’s never too late. Do you have any reason for thinking that way, besides wishing it was so?”
The Brides of the Old West: Five Romantic Adventures from the American Frontier Page 30
