Lily (Song of the River) (44 page)

The curtain came down, and he joined the general applause even though he had no clue what had happened during the final act of
Richard Coeur-de-lion.
But when Lily turned to him, her brown eyes gleaming in the light of the sconces, he took pleasure from the knowledge that she had enjoyed the performance.

Her hand gripped his arm. “That was splendid. Thank you so much for taking us.”

Blake covered her hand with his own. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Jonah stood and stretched his arms over his head. “Their performance was a little unpolished. You should have seen the performance of
Don Giovanni
last month. The music was much better.”

“I thought it was wonderful.” Jasmine’s eyes were even brighter than Lily’s. She clasped the playbill. “I would like more than anything to become an actress like Miss Tabitha Barlow.”

Camellia sniffed her disdain for the idea.

Blake felt the shudder that passed through Lily right before she pulled away from him. “That’s ridiculous. I can’t think of a more scandalous occupation for a young lady.”

“It looks glamorous to me.” Jasmine’s chin lifted in the same manner Lily employed when she was determined to get her way.

“You’ll feel differently when you grow up.” Camellia tossed a smile toward Jonah, which the young man ignored.

Blake decided to step in before the discussion disintegrated into a quarrel. “I don’t think we need to worry about such things tonight.” He bent a cautionary gaze on Lily. “Let me help you with your cloak.”

Jonah waved at someone on the opposite side of the theater. “Excuse me.” He vaulted over the low wall that separated them from the pit before Blake could stop him.

With a sigh, Blake settled Lily’s cloak around her shoulders. “I suppose he’ll join us before too long.” He helped the girls gather their wraps and gloves.

They exited the box, and he spotted Jonah with a group of youths about his age. Warning the others to wait for the carriage, he went to fetch the young man.

As he approached the group, they stopped talking, looking at him with suspicion. Did they think he was too old to join them? They couldn’t be more than five years younger than he. Had the weight of experience aged him so much? For the second time that evening, he felt old. “Jonah, I need your help with the ladies.”

Jonah rolled his eyes, garnering sympathetic looks from his friends, but he followed Blake back to the
porte cochére.
“I thought I would walk home to leave more room in the carriage.”

“I appreciate your concern.” Blake didn’t try to hide his sarcasm. “But we have sufficient room.”

They found the others without incident, and Blake guided them to the carriage, feeling like a sheepherder. On the way to the theater, the girls had sat on one bench while he and Jonah shared the opposite one. But somehow this time the girls managed to split up as they entered the carriage. Camellia sat on the forward-facing bench, Jasmine between her and Jonah. Lily sat by herself, leaving only one place for Blake, a development that made his heart beat a couple of extra times before returning to its normal rhythm. He settled in, his knee brushing hers through the material of her skirt.

Each time the carriage turned a corner, Lily’s shoulder leaned against him. She smelled of almonds and honey, a light scent that teased his nostrils. He wouldn’t care if the ride home lasted half the night.

Of course it didn’t. But when Blake helped Lily alight from the carriage, their gazes met. She offered a secret smile that promised she had enjoyed the ride home as much as he.

He was an idiot, an idiot in love with Lily Anderson. It was time for him to make his intentions known.

“It was so exciting, Papa.” Jasmine’s violet gaze was fastened on him, seated across from her at the Thorntons’ dinner table later that evening. “Blondel gets free, and Lady Marguerite has a party, and then her soldiers rescue poor King Richard.”

Lily exchanged a glance with Blake. They communicated without words—sharing their amusement at Jasmine’s enthusiasm. Jonah Thornton may have found the evening beneath his standards, but the rest of them rated the music and acting delightful. It had also changed something between her and Blake. He had become a member of their family.

“Only because they tricked Florestan. He loved Laurette, and they used that against him.” Camellia did not hesitate to set her younger sister straight.

Jasmine considered Camellia’s words. “He got what he deserved for putting a king in jail.”

Everyone laughed at her logic.

Jasmine looked a little put out, but she managed to smile. “It was magical. I’m going to sing in the opera when I grow up.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it.” Mrs. Thornton smiled at her youngest guest. “It is good to be so passionate. Perhaps one day you will become a great patron of the arts.”

Lily appreciated the woman’s kind words. They soothed Jasmine’s sensibilities as well as her own concern that her youngest sister was too fervent in her response to the opera. All evening Jasmine had been humming the melody. Imagining her sister performing on stage was enough to cause nightmares. Although Lily’s choice of occupation was not traditional, other ladies traveled on the river. If Jasmine decided to pursue a career on stage, she would be disappointed at how tawdry it was.

Mrs. Thornton placed her napkin beside her plate and rose, signaling that the ladies should retire. The gentlemen rose, too.

Lily glanced at Blake once more. How had she ever thought Jean Luc Champney interesting? He might have lived in Europe, but he seemed shallow compared with the man standing across from her.

Blake was a man of honor, and she prayed he would let go of his prejudice against God. Her father had told her about the conversations he’d had with Blake, conversations that let her know God was trying to reach him. It was enough for now. But would it be enough for a more permanent relationship?

So lost was she in her contemplation, Lily almost missed the slight motion Blake made with his head. She frowned at him. Again Blake tilted his head, his gaze intense. He must have some information to impart, probably about the
Hattie Belle.
Had they been robbed again? She nodded to him, praying his news was nothing serious.

Mrs. Thornton, Camellia, and Jasmine went to the front parlor.

Lily hung back until Blake joined her. “What’s wrong?”

He shook his head and steered her toward the back of the house.

The air had cooled as night settled around them. Although the full moon had risen, its silver light did not impart warmth. Lily’s arms were covered by long sleeves, but she wished she had a shawl. Maybe the problem wouldn’t take long to solve.

They strolled along a dim path, saying nothing until they reached a stone bench. “Would you like to sit?” His voice sounded odd. Strained.

She sat and watched as he paced back and forth. “Whatever the problem is, Blake, you had best just tell me.”

He stopped and looked at her, opened his mouth, shut it, and took another turn around their quiet corner of the garden.

“If you continue walking around in circles, one of us is going to become dizzy.”

Moonlight touched his black hair as he sat beside her, taking her hands in his grasp. “I want to talk to you about the future.”

Lily’s heart missed a beat. “What?”

“We’ve made a lot of money on the
Hattie Belle.
I never thought shipping would be so lucrative, but you have pulled it off, Lily.”

Did he want to end their partnership? She tugged on her hands, but he wouldn’t release his hold. “I couldn’t have done it alone.”

He smiled. “I appreciate your kindness, but both of us know I had a completely different view of how to use the
Hattie Belle.
”

Lily hoped she had mistaken Blake’s intention. She hated the idea of living on the
Hattie Belle
without his reassuring presence. Who could she trust as much as she did this man? “It took both of us using the talents God gave us.”

He leaned toward her, and Lily thought he was going to give her a brotherly hug. Anticipation warmed her. His hands released their grip, and his arms came around her shoulders. “Lily, you’re a special woman.” His head dropped lower. His eyelids drifted downward. And his lips covered hers.

She melted for a fraction of a second. But then reason returned. What was she doing? She pushed at his chest with enough force to stop his kiss. “S–stop, Blake.” Was that breathy sound her voice? Lily cleared her throat. “I value your friendship deeply, but I cannot allow this.”

Shock was evident in every line of his body. “I thought we understood each other.”

Lily’s mouth still tingled from his touch. She had never dreamed a kiss could feel so right—and so devastating. But she would have to consider the implications of her very confused emotions when she was alone. For now she needed to explain to this man why they were not right for each other. “Blake, you gave me the most excellent advice anyone could have offered at a time when I desperately needed it. You’re the reason I’ve grown closer to God. You’re the person who helped me see how far I’d strayed from Him. I’ll always be grateful to you.”

“I don’t want your gratitude.” He stood and faced the house. All she could see were his clenched hands behind his back, the same hands that had held her so gently moments ago.

“You’re my best friend, Blake. You’re the one who counseled me to tell my family the truth. I wish I had listened, as things would have been much easier.”

He kicked at a stone, making her think of an angry child.

She hated being the cause of his anger. Hated hurting him. Praying for the right words, she drew another breath. “Letting this thing between us continue would be a lie.”

He swung around. “A lie? What I feel for you is as real as that house. How can that be a lie?”

“I’m a Christian.” She let her words sink in before continuing. “That means I can’t link myself to someone who does not love God with his whole heart. I cannot put my eternal soul at risk for a transitory feeling. I beg you to understand.”

“Understand?” He swallowed hard. Then his face smoothed out, becoming an emotionless mask. But the moonlight was bright enough to reveal the pain in his eyes.

Tears threatened to overwhelm Lily. With a wordless cry, she stood up and rushed past him to the house. Running up the stairs to her bedroom, she slammed the door and threw herself across the bed.

Hot tears streaked her cheeks and soaked the pillow. She didn’t cry for herself but for the man she had deserted. The man who might never understand why she had rejected his love.

W
ondering why her father had summoned her, Lily pulled her cloak tighter as she plodded up to the pilothouse. The wind scraped at her cheeks and tugged at her skirt. The weather was a perfect reflection of her emotions.

She had seen Blake only once in the past week, the day of their departure. He’d moved out of the Thorntons’ garçonièrre the day after he kissed her. She’d wanted to talk to him, explain why she had spurned his advances, but when she got to the boat, a single glance at his cold features destroyed that impulse.

Papa pulled a cord, and the long, low note of the steam whistle filled the cold air.

Lily stepped into the pilothouse and looked out over the water. Another stern-wheeler was churning south, riding low in the water. Bales of cotton were piled high on every available surface of the other boat. “How do passengers move about on that deck?”

He waved her forward, giving her a hug before answering. “I doubt they’re carrying passengers. Their cargo alone will make the trip profitable.”

The cotton must be getting wet from the water washing onto the deck.
“If the boat doesn’t sink before it makes port.”

Her father withdrew his prized telescope from the inside pocket of his coat and held it up to his right eye. “She is riding low, but the pilot is taking his time. I doubt he’ll sink her.”

A feeling of peace stole over Lily as she and her father watched the boat until it passed them. She couldn’t thank God enough for reuniting her with her father. “Did you need something from me, Papa?”

He studied her, his brown eyes filled with compassion. “I’m worried about you.”