“Likewise. Might I have a word with your two good men?”
“But of course. I must ask you to make haste, as we must take advantage of the favorable wind.”
Falconer moved to where Nebo and Wadi stood by the lee railing. At his earlier request, Soap had passed them both a handful of gold. But in the desert manner, such payment would not be mentioned now. He offered his hand. “I am in your debt.”
Nebo took hold with a fighter’s grip. “The debt be my own. We speak as friends. You share mystery of your life. Your God.”
Falconer took a firmer hold of his new friend’s hand. “Our God.”
Wadi said nothing as they shook hands, but he nodded his agreement.
Falconer stood a long time at the rail, watching the sails become smaller and finally disappear into the night.
Their own sails were set, and miles soon separated the merchant ship from the north African coastline. The rising moon joined together with a br illiant wash of stars. Though within sight of the night watch, Falconer and Amelia Henning found an intimate space upon the foredeck. She declined his offer of a seat upon a water barrel and instead joined him at the railing. “Your son has continued to amaze me with his wisdom. I found him such a healing balm, such a joy to be around.”
“He called you friend.”
“I count that friendship as a lifelong bond,” she replied. “And a reward beyond measure.”
He stared at her rather frankly now. “I have never been one to speak easily of my thoughts, because in truth inward scrutiny does not come naturally to me. Yet I feel inclined to confess my deepest reflections to you, Mrs. Henning.”
“Please, call me Amelia,” she invited softly. “And speak your heart.”
Falconer related to her the realizations of the desert night. Then he took a deeper breath and told of how her face had appeared in the moment of crisis and quickly approaching danger. He hurried on before she could say anything to that. “The answer to my quest was born in the furnace of danger and conflict. For this is the world I know best. I offered my strength to a friend in need, because it was all I had to offer. Peril is the language I was raised upon. I have discovered that knowing God does not make me either safe from this or free of the world’s woes. Yet I have found peace even here. And God’s great hand is there to guide me. Through storms and through pain, through loss and through sorrow. He has remained with me, and I am most undeserving but most blessed by it.”
Her gaze was soft in the moonlight. Her features shone with a quiet calm, one completed by the tone of her voice as she said, “You are a poet, John Falconer.”
“I am a fighter, one redeemed by a God whose compassion is so great I feel choked with the honor of being included in His fold.”
“A poet,” she repeated softly. “One who honors me with his confession.”
“I must return to Salem. Matt has inherited an inn. I need to provide the lad with a chance to see whether he wishes to remain with his Moravian clan. If so, I will reside there with him. If he wishes otherwise, Reginald Langston has beseeched me to come work with him.”
His next breath was the hardest by far. “I ask that you travel with us, Amelia. You and Kitty. I know that you are still in a time of grieving, of uncertainty. I ask for nothing save the chance for us to remain together until we know God’s will for us. If nothing else, I can promise you this. You have a friend for life.”
She studied his face for what seemed like hours. Then she placed her hand upon his and said, “I accept your kind offer, and sense the Spirit’s direction within your words.”
Falconer’s strong form was so overtaken by tremors he had difficulty shaping his response. “I did not count joy among my blessings until this very moment.”
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From Beloved Authors
T. Davis Bunn & Janette Oke
Falconer's Quest Page 25
