Fields of Grace (8 page)

He reached the deck, surprised by the bold yellow sun glowing overhead. Shouldn’t it be shadowy and dark when he carried such a horrible burden? People stood in small, animated groups with smiling faces, happy to have left the storm behind. But inside Eli, a new storm brewed. The sun, no matter how warm and bright, could not light his soul.

7

L
illian raised the mug to her lips and took a sip of coffee. The brew was strong and black, the way Reinhardt liked it. She drank it because it was all that was available, but she would have preferred to sweeten it with two heaping spoonfuls of sugar and a dose of thick cream.

Eli planned to use some of the money from the sale of his horses to purchase milk cows when they reached their destination. How she wished they’d already arrived in Kansas. How pleasant it would be to live in a house rather than sharing a narrow space with so many others; to stand on solid ground rather than finding one’s balance on a constantly rocking deck; to prepare hearty meals that not only filled the stomach but pleased the tongue.

In one more week they would reach the harbor at New York, the cook had said at breakfast. The good news had sent everyone from the dining room with smiles on their faces, including her boys. It had given her heart a lift to see a smile on Henrik’s too-often-sullen face.

Now she sat alone at the table, listening to the excited chatter of passengers outside on the deck and the clatter of dishes in a washtub from the cooking area. Closing her eyes briefly, she offered a silent prayer of gratitude for protection during the storm, for the promise of reaching land soon, and for the opportunity to live freely. Like the comfort of her woven shawl, contentedness enveloped her. One more week and their new life could begin.

“Ma?”

At the single-word query, a hush seemed to fall across the deck. Lillian experienced an odd tingle of awareness. Peering over her shoulder, she spotted Henrik and Joseph in the wide doorway. The sun behind them cast their faces in shadow, but she sensed a reluctance to draw near. The boys’ reticence coupled with the silence of the watching passengers told her something was amiss. No doubt her boys had been up to mischief.

She laughed softly. “You two look as if you have been caught stealing cookies from the crock.” She extended her hand to them. “Come here and tell me what misdeed you have performed.”

Instead of approaching, they separated, and a third person in sailor garb stepped between them. He carried a small bundle, and Lillian rose when she recognized Jakob’s form draped in the man’s arms. Fondness warmed her when she saw her son’s closed eyes and relaxed posture.

Sighing, she shook her head. “Less than an hour of play, and already he naps?” She shifted her attention to Henrik. “Why did you not carry him down and put him on his bunk?”

Henrik took two forward steps, moving out of the shadows. “Ma . . .”

Lillian’s heart caught at the broken tone and the bright tears swimming in his eyes. Behind him, the doorway suddenly filled with other passengers straining to peek in at her. Trepidation made her pulse race. “Henrik?”

But Henrik remained silent, his chin trembling. Joseph hovered in the doorway, as if holding back the crowd. Lillian faced the sailor. His sorrowful expression flipped her stomach upside down.

“What is it?” Rushing forward, she touched Jakob’s hair.

The little boy didn’t stir. His arms hung limply. Lillian caught his hand and raised it to her lips. “He is sleeping,
jo
?” Even as she asked the question, her heart knew the answer. “Jakob,
mein kjestlijch
en Sän
, wake up now for Mama.”

A single tear slipped from the sailor’s eye to his chin. It quivered there for a moment before plopping onto Jakob’s chest. “After the rain, with everything wet and slick . . .”

Lillian fought the urge to cover her ears with her hands. She did not want to hear this man’s words.

“He loved to climb on the ratlines with me. But . . . this time . . . he slipped, and his foot caught. When he fell, his head . . . he . . .”

“No!” Lillian scooped Jakob from the sailor’s arms. She hugged him to her aching chest. He lay motionless in her grasp. Only then did she notice the rivulet of blood running from his left ear.

The sailor reached out one hand but stopped inches short of touching Jakob. “The captain said he broke his neck. He . . . he did not suffer.”

Lillian stared at the young man. Did he believe his words would bring her comfort? Suddenly realization dawned. “You are Franz.”

He nodded.

Jakob’s sweet voice echoed in her mind:
“Franz is the best sailor!”
Fury consumed her like a fire devouring dry leaves. Her body trembled with the effort of containing a hatred she hadn’t known she was capable of harboring. “Jakob called you his friend. But you betrayed him. You let him climb where it was not safe. You let him fall. You let him
die
!” She flayed the young man with her words, even as tears poured down his face. “You killed my son!”

Had she ever spoken such hateful words to anyone? No, never. But a pain this intense had to be excised, and she knew no other way than to fling it at someone. Franz—this stranger with tears staining his tanned, square face—provided a willing target. He stood silent and defenseless against her anguished rage.

She opened her mouth to release another torrent of words, but Henrik leaped forward. “Ma!
Nä!
Franz did nothing wrong. He tried to stop Jakob. He told him no, not to climb on the ropes today. But Jakob laughed and said he was
ne Op
—a monkey.” Henrik’s voice broke on a sob. “He . . . he would not listen, Ma.”

Lillian slowly shifted her gaze to peer into Jakob’s still face. Yes, her
kjestlijch en Sän
—her precious son—would want to be a monkey and climb after the long, stormy days of sitting. She could envision him laughing, scampering away from Franz’s reaching grasp, his bright eyes teasing as he called, “Try and catch me, Franz!”

Tears flooded her eyes, distorting her vision. She crushed Jakob close to her heart, burying her face against his neck. “Oh, Jakob . . . Jakob . . .” She sank to her knees, still cradling her son. Henrik knelt beside her with his hands on his thighs, his throat convulsing.

Franz crouched in front of her. “
Frau
Vogt, I am sorry. So very, very sorry.” His pain-filled eyes beseeched her to forgive him for not saving her little boy.

But Lillian’s throat closed in her own agony of grief. She could offer no absolution to this young man. Or to herself, for she had entrusted Jakob into his hands. She and Franz bore Jakob’s blood jointly; they must both suffer the pangs of guilt.

After a few moments, Franz pushed to his feet without a word and walked on stiff legs past Joseph, who hadn’t moved from the doorway. At Franz’s departure, the onlookers who had gathered outside the door also drifted away. The murmur of their voices floated to Lillian’s ears, but she kept her head down.

Sunlight spilled through the open doorway, bathing Jakob in its yellow beams. She examined her son’s face, memorizing every detail. How peaceful he looked—so innocent with his round cheeks and curling lashes. His full lips were parted slightly, as if a deep sleep claimed him, but no milk-scented breath escaped his lips.

A shadow fell across Jakob’s body, and she looked up, frowning, ready to tell the intruder not to shield her child from the warmth of the sun. Eli towered above her. Sadness darkened his eyes.

A sob rose from Lillian’s throat at his sympathetic expression. “How did you hear? Did Franz tell you?”

Slowly, Eli hunkered down on his haunches. His gaze bounced from Jakob to Lillian’s face. He shook his head slightly, as if confused.

Pressing Jakob’s cheek to her own, Lillian began to moan. “How will I tell Reinhardt our little boy is gone? Our precious boy . . . our sweet baby . . .” Tears flowed, but she took several calming breaths. She must be strong for Henrik and Joseph. Turning to Henrik, she said, “Go to your brother. Joseph needs you.”

With a sober nod, Henrik rose and crossed to Joseph. The two huddled together with Henrik’s arm around Joseph’s shoulders, their dark heads close. Both Joseph and Henrik were dark of hair and eyes, like their father. Only little Jakob had Lillian’s fair hair and blue eyes. Reinhardt had often whispered how glad he was that one of the boys carried their mother’s coloring. Jakob’s sunshine hair and sky-blue eyes matched his sunny disposition.

Oh, Reinhardt, losing our sweet boy will crush you.
How could she bear to look into her husband’s eyes when he learned of Jakob’s death? An idea struck—a selfish one, yet it would remove a great burden from her. Lillian bit down on her lower lip for a moment. Hesitantly, she lifted her face to meet Eli’s gaze.

“Eli, will you . . . will you take this news to Reinhardt for me? I . . . cannot leave Jakob’s body untended, and it will do Reinhardt no good to see his child in death while he lies ill.” She blinked rapidly, clearing her eyes of tears. “Will you tell him, please?”

Eli slumped forward, his head low. He covered his face with one hand, and his body shuddered. His obvious sorrow heightened her own sense of loss, and it took every bit of self-restraint she possessed not to dissolve into wild weeping. Her chest felt as though it might explode, but she held back her sobs and waited for Eli to gain control of his emotions.

At last he looked at her. The pain in his eyes pierced her. How deeply he loved Jakob, too. “Lillian . . .” She had to tip her head toward him to hear his raspy, whisper-soft voice. “I talked with the doctor this morning and . . .” He paused, a swallow making his Adam’s apple bob. Stretching out his hands, he grasped her upper arms. His fingers cut into her flesh. “Last night, Reinhardt slipped away. He, like Jakob, is with his Maker now.”

Nä!
Had Eli not held her, she would have toppled sideways.
Oh, Lord, it is too much! I cannot bear it! Please, my Father . . .
Did she utter the prayer or did it only groan from her heart? What a cruel blow, to hear of Reinhardt’s death while cradling the lifeless body of her youngest child. All her life, she had been told she could place her trust in a loving Father-God, but how could a loving God perpetrate such heartache on one of His own?

She pushed the rebellious thought aside and tried to rise, but hindered by Jakob’s weight and her trembling legs, she collapsed in a heap. Eli wrapped his arms around both her and Jakob and lifted them. His breath stirred her hair as he spoke. “I will take you to the sick bay where you can say good-bye to Reinhardt. The doctor says we must have a burial today.”

Lillian stared into his face. The others who had died had been wrapped in cloth and lowered into the sea. At home for a burial, shovels of dirt covered the casket bit by bit, giving one an opportunity to offer a slow good-bye. But at sea, there was a soft splash and the body was swallowed all at once. How could she say goodbye so abruptly to Reinhardt and Jakob?

The very thought of her beloved husband and son lying in the bottom of the ocean sent a spasm of revulsion through her frame. She shook her head wildly. “
Nä. Nä
. They must have a place of rest on land. Please, Eli, tell the captain—”

Eli gave her arm a squeeze. “Lillian, there is no other choice. Their bodies . . . by the time we reach land . . .” He glanced over his shoulder at Henrik and Joseph, who stood together, staring at them with wide, distressed eyes. Facing Lillian again, he ended on a whisper. “We must do what is best for everyone.”

“Oh, but, Eli . . . not in the sea . . .” A sob choked off her words.

Eli cupped Jakob’s head with his big hand. “We give only their shells to the ocean. Their souls are already with God, Lillian. Their souls are running free.”

His tender voice did little to soothe her. Hugging Jakob more firmly to her breast, Lillian pressed her cheek to his hair. “I cannot. I cannot, Eli. Please . . .”

He opened his mouth, no doubt to express another argument, but a sudden gasp and soft thud from behind him captured their attention. Eli spun, and Lillian looked past him. Joseph lay sprawled on the floor. Henrik knelt beside him.

“Joseph!” Lillian stumbled forward, her heart pounding. Had the boy fainted from grief?

Eli dashed to Joseph’s side. “Joseph?” Gently, he patted Joseph’s cheek. Eli’s head jerked upward, and he pinned Lillian with a worried scowl. “We must take him to the sick bay at once. He is burning up!”

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