Lily stood and moved toward Blake. “Are you okay, dear?”
“I suppose so.” His tone was bleak. “So much has changed since I left.”
Camellia stood and cleared her throat. “I think I’ll go see if I can help someone do something.”
Neither of them said anything, so she exited and looked around the foyer. What was she supposed to do with herself now?
Blake felt his shoulders tense as he passed through the doorway into his father’s bedroom. The curtains were drawn, seeming to shut out light, hope … and life. In the dimly lit interior, he could make out the posters at each corner of his father’s bed, but he could not make out the man’s form behind the thick bed curtains hanging between them. “Pa?”
“Who’s there?” The voice was querulous and shaky.
Blake’s memory of his father’s voice was much stronger, deeper, frightening. He glanced at Aunt Tessie, who was sitting a few feet away from the bed, a book in her lap. “It’s your son come to visit you.”
“Ezekiel?”
Blake grimaced at the name. He’d hated it as a child. Even after his parents had told him about the prophet he’d been named for. Ma had taken pity on him and began calling him by his middle name—her maiden name—Blake. But Pa had never called him anything else. “Yes, it’s me, sir.”
Silence filled the room. Blake wondered if the man had fainted from shock. Or was he struck dumb with horror?
Long, pale fingers pulled back one of the bed curtains a few inches. Blake could feel the chill of his father’s gaze. It reminded him of the past—of being pierced by his parent’s wrathful looks and fiery accusations. The hand fell back. “Why did you come?”
“Enoch,” Aunt Tessie said as she rose from her chair and placed her book on it, “that’s no way to treat your only son.”
“ ‘The son shall not bear the iniquity of the father, neither shall the father bear the iniquity of the son: the righteousness of the righteous shall be upon him, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon him.’ ”
Blake’s ears burned as he realized his father was quoting from the book of Ezekiel. He knew because he’d turned to that same verse many times as a young man. It had been comforting to him then to believe that his father’s sins wouldn’t be passed on to him. He had enough sins of his own to be concerned about. “If you’re trying to say that I should not blame my mistakes on you, then you don’t need to worry. I’m man enough to take responsibility for my mistakes. But I am not sure God will judge either of us righteous.”
A whispery sound came from behind the curtains as his father apparently shifted his position in the bed. This time when the fingers appeared, they jerked back the cloth between Blake and his father.
Schooling his features to show none of his surprise, Blake looked at the man who had always stirred such fear in him. Propped into a sitting position with pillows behind him, his pa seemed much less frightening now. Wispy tendrils of graying hair fell over his forehead. His cheeks were gaunt from privation, and his faded blue eyes seemed filled with sorrow and regret. His mouth worked, but no words issued from it.
The years of bitterness seemed to melt away as Blake looked at his father’s bent shoulders and lined face. Should he bow? Offer his hand? Try to hug the feeble man? Uncertainty kept him rooted to the floor a few feet away from the edge of his father’s bed.
“I’ve prayed for this day.” His father reached out his arms. “Please say you’ll forgive me.”
In all the times Blake had imagined facing his father, he’d never once thought the man would ask him for forgiveness. He’d expected a thundering scold, a litany of his shortcomings, or perhaps a demand that he leave immediately. He shook his head. “It wasn’t all your fault, Pa. I shouldn’t have run away.”
“I’ve missed you, Son.”
Blake moved toward the bed and hugged his father, his own eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry it took me so long to come home.”
“The important thing is that you’re here now.” Aunt Tessie’s practical voice reminded Blake she was still in the room. “God has a way of working things out once we give Him our obedience.” Her words resounded with faith and truth.
Blake closed his eyes and thanked God for giving him and his father this moment, this chance to heal the wounds of the past. “I know you’ve had a hard time over the past few months, Pa.”
“They took my leg, Ezekiel. I’ll never walk again.” His father’s voice was choked with unshed tears. “I’ll never stand at the podium and look out over my church.”
“I know, Pa.” Blake straightened and took his father’s hands in his own. “But we’ll make some crutches for you. With prayer and hard work, we’ll have you moving around this house like you always did. By spring you’ll be back in your church telling them about doing all things through Christ.”
Pa looked down at the sheet covering him and said nothing.
“That’s right. God’s got a lot of things for you to do. If He didn’t, you’d be gone from here.” Aunt Tessie pulled back a curtain to let the afternoon light into the room. “It’s about time you remembered you’re here for His purposes, and I’m pretty sure He didn’t intend for you to lie about in here any longer.”
Watching his father’s head and shoulders rise at his aunt’s words, Blake felt hope flooding him with the thought that it wasn’t too late. His father’s indomitable spirit might return. And he intended to stay here long enough to see that it did. No matter what difficulties they had ahead of them, they would face them together.
Facing difficulties together reminded him that his father had a few other surprises in store for him. “Pa, I’ve changed a lot since the last time we saw each other, and I owe a lot of that to a young lady I want you to meet. Her name is Lily … Lily Matthews.”
“You’re married.” It was more a statement than a question.
Blake nodded.
“Well, go get her.” His father leaned back against the pillows and closed his eyes.
Concerned that he had overtaxed his father’s strength, Blake patted his hand. “It can wait, Pa. You rest a bit. She’ll still be here when you wake up. We’re not going to leave anytime soon.”
“Good.”
Blake leaned closer to hear his father’s whisper.
“I want to thank her for bringing my son back to me.”
Chapter Thirty-two
Camellia looked up from the letter she’d been trying to compose as Lily and Aunt Tessie, as she’d insisted Camellia call her, entered the warm parlor. “How is Mr. Matthews feeling this morning?”
Lily looked more than a little unsettled, her face paler than normal.
“He’s feverish.” The older woman’s face wore a worried frown. “I’m going to the kitchen to prepare some tea that should reduce his fever and make him more comfortable.”
Camellia put down her letter, her mind going back to the voyage from Jacksonport to Vicksburg and her helplessness as the sick and wounded soldiers grew weaker. She wanted to learn how to treat illness, how to mend young men instead of grieving over their deaths.
The letter to Jane could wait another day. “May I come with you? I’d like to learn more about making medicinal concoctions.”
“Of course you can.” Aunt Tessie gave her an approving nod before glancing toward Lily. “Would you like to come with us?”
Lily shook her head. “I’m not very good in the kitchen. Unless you think you’ll need my help, I’d like to walk over to the boat and check on Papa, Jasmine, Jensen, and Tamar. I want to make sure they haven’t had any problems since Blake and I saw them last week.”
“Of course, dear.” She beckoned Camellia toward the hall, where they headed to the back entrance and outside.
The air was cold, quickening their footsteps as they crossed the distance between the house and the separate, one-room kitchen. Warmth replaced the chill as they entered the functional room, and Camellia breathed in the mixture of pleasant smells. Coals smoldered in the firep
lace that took up one wall, their heat warming her cold cheeks.
She glanced up at the copper pots and black, cast-iron cookware suspended from the ceiling beams overhead. A pair of shelves on the wall to her left was crowded with jugs, tall bottles, ladles, clay crocks, and tin plates. Sitting in a corner beneath the shelves, a wooden butter churn waited for fresh cream. To her right, she noted a tall safe holding bowls, baskets, and an impressive supply of canned vegetables. The fourth wall was used for drying. Herbs with their stems pointing toward the ceiling were fastened in neat bundles, hanging between and over two long tables next to the safe. The plank surface of one of the tables held labeled jars filled with leaves, seeds, creams, ointments, and wood shavings.
Aunt Tessie handed her an apron before she walked to the table with the labeled jars. She picked one up and shook it before removing the lid. “I’ll need you to draw some water and put it on the fire to boil.”
Camellia tied her apron strings and picked up a black kettle from the hearth. She worked the pump as Aunt Tessie got out some cheesecloth and filled it with curls of bark. “How did you learn about taking care of people?” Camellia asked.
“Experience mostly.” The older woman waved a hand toward the safe. “My mother taught me which herbs, flowers, and roots to grow or gather. Sweet myrtle for congestion, aloe for burns, willow bark for fever, and many others. Most of the plants out there in the woods can be used as remedies, but you also need to know which ones to avoid.”
“Will you teach me?” Camellia suspended the kettle on the cooking arm and waited for Aunt Tessie to drop in her packet of willow bark before swinging it over the coals.
“I’d be delighted to. Anna has never had time or the inclination to learn.”
While they waited for the kettle to boil, Aunt Tessie began the lesson. It didn’t take long for Camellia to realize she would need to take notes, so she ran back to the parlor to retrieve her stationery and writing implements. By the time she recorded the information from Aunt Tessie, the tea was ready.
Aunt Tessie arranged the teapot, cup, and saucer on a serving tray. “If you will get some of the ginger cookies from that jar, we’ll be ready to take this to my brother.”
Camellia followed the older lady up the stairs, opening the bedroom door for her. “Do you want me to wait out here?”
“No. Come on in and help me check our patient’s dressing.” Aunt Tessie put down the tray and turned to Mr. Matthews’s bed.
Embarrassment attacked her as Miss Tessie examined Mr. Matthews’s leg, but that disappeared as she concentrated on the wound and learned how to check for infection. Black sutures held the skin together where the leg had been removed below the man’s knee. She could not imagine what pain he must have gone through.
Their patient was querulous and restive until they pulled the bedcovers back over him. “I don’t want any of that nasty swill of yours, Tessie.”
“Come now, Mr. Matthews.” Camellia smiled at him. “I am anxious to see how effective our remedy will be.”
He frowned but didn’t resist as she plumped up his pillows and helped him sit in a more upright position. “We’ve got some ginger cookies for you, too. What if we dip one of them in the tea to sweeten it some?”
“I suppose.”
She flattered his efforts and coaxed him to continue trying until he downed a full cup of the willow bark tea.
“You have a natural talent,” Aunt Tessie complimented her as they left the bedroom. “And you’re so pretty that men seem to naturally want to please you.”
Camellia almost stumbled on the next step. She grabbed hold of the balustrade to keep from tumbling to the floor. Was her physical beauty an attribute God had given her for some reason other than snagging a rich husband? Like a stone plopping into a quiet pond, the thought rippled through her past assumptions, changing them forever. Had Aunt Dahlia been wrong in advising her to pursue wealth and ease as her primary goal in life? Jonah’s face flashed in front of her, and she heard again his condemnation of her shallow dreams and plans. He’d been right all along.
Aunt Tessie stopped and looked over her shoulder. “Are you dizzy?”
“No. I j–just realized something.” How could she explain what had happened? Her life had changed. She felt like a veil had been ripped away and now she could see the banality of her existence. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Raising an eyebrow at the enigmatic answer, the older woman continued her descent.
After a moment, Camellia loosened her grip and followed her to the first floor. She didn’t have time right now to ponder her epiphany. She had a lot of things to learn if she was going to fulfill her purpose.
“His name is John … John Champion.” Anna’s pale green eyes seemed to have caught a spark from the nearby fireplace. Her smile was at once tentative and hopeful. “He is a very handsome man, even with his scar….” She blushed. “At least he is to me.”
Imagining someone who looked like Tamar’s husband, Jensen, Camellia tried not to cringe. She was determined to avoid making assumptions based on appearance as she once would have done. “What kind of work does he do?”
She followed Anna’s glance around the room, but everyone else was engrossed in their own conversations. Aunt Tessie and Blake were talking about his father, making plans for a special wheeled chair to help him move about. Blake’s father considered his next play on a chessboard while Lily and Jasmine sat opposite him, joining forces in an attempt to defeat him.
“He works on the Catfish.”
An image of a saddle being placed over the back fin of a splashing fish took form in her mind before Camellia realized Anna must be referring to a steamboat. “He works on the river.”
“Yes, and he should be coming to town within the next week or so.” Anna gazed into the distance and sighed. “His captain generally comes through here before the Missouri River freezes and puts a stop to northbound travel.”
“Maybe you can invite him to dinner so all of us can meet him,” Aunt Tessie piped in.
The opportunity of getting to know this man intrigued Camellia, too. She would like to see if he cared for Anna or if the romance was one-sided. He didn’t sound like much of a Lothario, but Anna was such an innocent when it came to matters of the heart. How could she be otherwise, living on the edge of the frontier?
A vague sense of discontent had begun to awaken in Camellia as the end of the year approached. Neither Blake nor Lily seemed anxious to return south. Papa, along with Jasmine, had left Jensen and Tamar to guard the Water Lily and moved into the Matthewses’ home, which was beginning to feel quite crowded. He led the worship service at the church in town and spent the rest of his time helping out with the chores that had been left undone after Mr. Matthews’s accident.
Jasmine and Lily cleaned house, Anna worked at the store, and Aunt Tessie spent most of her time in the kitchen, preparing meals for the large household. She had told Camellia she felt free to do so as her pupil was taking such good care of her brother. Reverend Matthews’s recuperation had occupied Camellia’s time … until now. Since he was doing better, she found herself with too much time on her hands. She had written to Jane and to Thad, and she helped out with the chores, but she wanted to do more. She wanted to do something meaningful.
“He won’t come. “Anna’s sad voice dragged her back to their discussion. “But he does attend church if his boat is still here on a Sunday.”
Making a face, Camellia considered the young woman sitting next to her. “That’s good, but it would show more serious intentions if he were to come calling at your home.”
“I’ve invited him before, but he always refuses.”
Camellia put a finger on her chin as an idea popped into her head. “We’ll have to see what we can do to fix that problem.”
“What do you mean?” Anna’s concern was apparent in the frown on her face.
“I’m not very adept with hairstyles, but we can go to the Water Lily and ask Tamar to do one of her
special arrangements.” She looked at Anna’s shapeless gray wool dress, her excitement growing as she considered the possibilities. “We’ll need to see if any of my clothes will fit you.”
“I—I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Trust me.” Camellia imagined the finished product. She would take Anna’s pleasant looks and turn her into a real belle. If he was not toying with her affections, this man for whom Anna pined would have to declare his intentions or risk losing her to some other suitor. “It’s a wonderful idea.”
She stood and glanced toward Lily. “Anna and I will be upstairs.”
“That’s nice.” Lily waved at them before returning to her game.
Camellia grabbed Anna’s hand and dragged her up the staircase and into the bedroom she shared with Jasmine. “I think you should wear my blue-and-beige walking dress. The cut is very modern, and the colors will complement your skin.”
“I don’t think I would dare wear one of your dresses to Devore’s. What if I spilled something on it?” Anna’s eyes rounded as Camellia held up the silk gown. “I could never replace such a beautiful dress.”
“You don’t have to replace it, silly. All you have to do is wear it to work.” She held the dress up to Anna’s neck. “This will make your beau realize what a lucky man he is.”
Anna blushed. “I … I don’t—”
“Do you want him to notice you?”
Anna nodded.
“Do you want him to hold your hand and give you compliments?”
Another nod.
“Then you’re going to have to trust me. I have a great deal more experience in these things than you. If you’ll do what I suggest, you’ll soon have Mr. Champion bowing to your every whim.”
“But I’ll never be as pretty as you.”
“To a man who loves you, you will be prettier than any other woman born.” Camellia smiled in her direction. “We just have to make sure he realizes that he does love you. Then you’ll see. Your Mr. Champion won’t have eyes for anyone else.”
Over the next several days, Camellia coached Anna in the ways to walk, talk, and flirt with a fan. She called on all of the lessons she’d received at La Belle Demoiselle. She walked with Anna to the store each morning and watched her interact with the customers, dispensing advice and tips after each visitor departed. By the time Blake and Lily came to collect her around noon, the store would be filled with eager customers.
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