Prairie Storm (22 page)

“We can make a place for you here, Lily,” Beatrice was saying. “There's lots of room.”

“Oh, I wouldn't want to—”

“Not with the other gals, silly!” Beatrice laughed and took a small flask from the pocket of her red dress. “You could sing in the theater. We've got a troupe of actors coming from Topeka early next month. They have a bear—can you believe that? A live bear! I know they'd be happy to make room for you in their plays. You could sing, too, Lily. I've told George how wonderful you are. He'd love to hear what you can do. We could make you some costumes. Remember the old days when you and I would sit together in the show wagon and sew ostrich plumes onto our skirts?”

Chuckling, she took a swig from her little bottle and then held it out to Lily. For a moment, Lily hesitated. She had walked this path with Beatrice. They had reveled and laughed and behaved in reckless ways—the best of friends, enjoying the good things in life. Or that's what they had told themselves.

“Don't you want a drink?” Bea asked.

Lily shook her head. “No thanks, Bea. I've got to get back to the baby. He's taking his nap right now, and I—”

“The baby?”

“Samuel.”

“Don't tell me you're still tight with that preacher and his brat. I thought you'd come over here to join me, Lily. I thought you wanted to work for me.”

Lily swallowed. “I promised to keep feeding Sam for a few more weeks. He's grown a lot, Bea. He's starting to smile at us, and he sleeps all through the night now. Elijah says—”

“Elijah?” Beatrice frowned. “Lily, there's fifteen men right here who can beat the charms of that sour-faced preacher. Why don't you stay with us this evening? Every night we have a party like you wouldn't believe. It's been so much fun, I can hardly believe this is happening to me. It's like a dream. A flat-out dream. George is going to put me in charge here at the opera house; did I tell you? I'll manage the women and schedule the shows and keep the bar stocked in whisky. I'm going to run the whole operation.”

“Mr. Gibbons is going back to Topeka?”

“Well, sure. He's got a wife and five kids to feed.”

“But, Beatrice, I thought—”

“You thought wrong. Much as I care for the man, he's not free for the taking. We'll see each other now and again, and I don't really mind. I never wanted to marry anyhow. This way I'm still available in case a more interesting offer comes along.” She gave Lily a squeeze. “Come on and stay with me tonight, Lil. We'll talk till all hours like we used to. I'll paint your toenails red, and we can have our pick of dancing partners. What do you say?”

Through the window, Lily studied the little town that stretched down the narrow main street of Hope. The celebrants were filtering out of the mercantile now, their laughter carrying to her. She thought of Elijah Book and his warm blue eyes. He had kissed her, but he didn't want her. Eva had been wrong. Elijah didn't love Lily. He couldn't. No matter how her heart ached for the man, no matter how she tempted him, he would keep himself from her. She wasn't good enough. She wasn't pure enough. And he had his reputation to protect.

Just like her father.

“We've got a big pot of stew on the fire,” Bea said, turning Lily toward the wagons. “And you should taste the bread that cook of ours can bake. I'll tell you what—if the show, the liquor, and the girls won't draw customers, the food will! Come on, I'll introduce you to Milton. He's the sweetest little fellow you ever met.”

Lily walked beside Beatrice toward the show wagon. A place to live, friends to call her own, good wages, the chance to sing— what more could she ask for? In a few weeks, Samuel could start to eat solid food. He could survive without her. Ben and Eva were already making plans to go to Topeka to visit Mother Margaret, Moses, and the rest of their newfound family. Rose Hunter would give birth to her baby. Caitrin Murphy would be busy in her home. After the harvest, everyone in Hope would prepare to settle in for the winter.

Why shouldn't Lily have a place of her own too? Why not here at the opera house?

Beatrice would probably fail her in the long run. Lily knew that. Elijah had warned her not to place her trust in the woman. That was wise advice. But he'd also cautioned Lily not to put her life into his hands … or even to rely on herself.

God was the only one to count on. God.

Oh, God!
Lily's soul cried out.
Oh, God! God!

“I can smell that stew from here,” Beatrice said. “Bill, where's George? Round up that man of mine, would you? And call Milton over here. I want those fellows to see who's come to join us.”

Lily clenched her jaw and pulled away from Beatrice. “I can't stay, Bea,” she said quickly. “I won't. I won't do this.”

Before Beatrice could stop her, Lily dashed across the cleared ground toward the main street of Hope. The moment she passed the old cottonwood tree, someone moved out of the shadows into the road.

“Lily?”

She swung around. “Mercy, you scared the living daylights out of me, Elijah.”

“I'm sorry.” He took off his hat as he walked toward her. “I didn't aim to scare you.”

“What are you doing out here? I thought you were at the mercantile with the wedding party.”

“I told you I'd stand by you.” He held his hat in both hands. “I wanted to be nearby in case you needed me.”

“You followed me out here?” She didn't know whether to feel flattered or angry.

“I spotted you down on the street right after the wedding. I remembered how things went between you and your friend back in Topeka, and I thought I'd better stay close.”

“I'm all right.”

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

She glanced across at the opera house and the workers gathering in front of it. A tinny song filtered up, a guitar and a hollow-sounding piano. And then over it all she heard the round, rich notes of Mozart. The song was poorly executed, but she recognized the tune.

“Beatrice is playing my melodeon,” she said in a low voice. “She's beckoning me.”

“Will you join her?”

“It's going to be a brothel, Elijah.”

His nostrils flared as he drank down a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

“I won't be a part of any of it. I've taken enough wrong roads, and I don't want to make more mistakes.”

“Lily, I've been needing to—” He reached out to her and then caught himself. Pulling back, he tucked away whatever it was he had almost confessed. Instead, he pulled a small book from the pocket of his black coat.

“I've been needing to ask if you'd sing a special song for us at the fish fry.” He handed her the hymnal that had belonged to his mother. “Eva told me you hadn't been looking at this book much, but I thought you might be able to find something in here you'd enjoy singing. Casimir Laski has offered to perform a solo, but I hear he only knows Polish songs. Since this is an Independence Day celebration, I was hoping maybe you could sing something in English.”

Lily took the hymnal and held it against her chest. “I have to get back to the house. Samuel will be waking from his nap.”

“Lily, about the other day—”

“It doesn't matter.”

“It does matter. I was forward with you again, and I shouldn't have been. I'm doing my best to keep back and let you make your own choices. You've had a rough time. I don't have any right to elbow in and try to influence you. No one can decide about your life but you.”

He was standing so close now, she could smell the scent of starch in the freshly pressed shirt he'd worn for the wedding. It was all she could do to keep from rushing into his strong arms and burying her head against his shoulder. He would hold her close and shelter her. He would protect her from brothels and saloons and all her poor choices.

He would save her from Beatrice.

But Elijah, too, would fail. He had warned her of that already. He was human, and he would make mistakes. He would let her down. She couldn't trust him. She couldn't trust anyone.

Only God. God!

“Are you all right, Lily?” Elijah was asking. “You look … a little off-kilter.”

“I'm so confused. I'm being pulled one way and then another. I can't decide on my own. I can't do this by myself.”

“Lily.” Again he reached out to her—and again he drew back. “Lily, I can't do it for you. Make the choice. Decide now.”

She clapped her hands on her head, feeling as though she might explode in the raging storm of torment. Winds of indecision buffeted her from every side.
Go back to Beatrice
, the thunder growled.
Cling to Elijah
, a chill breeze whistled.
Stand on your own
, the lightning flashed.

God! Turn to God!
It was a small whisper in the tumult. Small but beautiful. As beautiful and golden as music.

“Lily,” Elijah said, touching her arm, “will you let me lead you to him?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Stay away from me, Elijah. You tear me apart inside. When I'm near you I can't think.”

“I don't mean to trouble you, Lily. I only want to—”

“I know what you want. You want to be my brother. You want to be my employer. You want to be my pastor.”

“I want to be your friend.”

“Well, you can't!” she said, grabbing his coat sleeves and gripping them in her fists. “Friends don't kiss each other the way you kissed me. Friends don't hold each other and pray together and look into each other's eyes like you look into mine. Don't try to tell me you just want to be my friend, Elijah. It's a lie.”

He studied the ground for a moment, obviously stung. She steeled herself for his wrath. But when he raised his head, she could see that his eyes were rimmed in red.

“You're right, Lily,” he said in a rough voice. “I can't just be your friend.”

“You can't be anything to me. No one can be anything to me. I don't trust you. I
won't
trust you.”

“I'm a man, and as hard as I try, I can't keep from seeing you as a woman. You're right not to trust me. I don't trust myself.” He stuffed his hat onto his head. “But confound it, Lily, you can trust God. You can put your life into his hands and count on him to stand by you every minute of every day.”

“Elijah—”

“What in tarnation do you think I am, anyhow? I'm not perfect. I nearly killed Sam feeding him mashed potatoes. And then I let a spider bite him. I got us all run out of the Crescent Moon. I've talked when I should have kept my mouth shut, and I've kept quiet when I should have spoken up. I've preached some of the measliest excuses for sermons you ever heard. And I'll tell you something else. When I was sitting up with the Rippetos and their sick young'un, I was wishing I was home in my own bed. You're right not to trust me. I'm just a man, that's all. I'm weak and foolish and so crazy about you I can't see straight. You'd better not count on me for anything. But you can count on God. That's the only thing I know for sure. You can count on him. There, I've said my piece.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked away down the road, leaving Lily alone in the darkening shadows of evening.

Chapter 12

B
ETWEEN the town and the opera house, the old cottonwood tree offered the only hiding place Lily could find. Sinking to her knees in a patch of tall bluestem grass, she pressed her face in her hands. Samuel would be awake and hungry by now. Eva and Ben would wonder where their houseguest had gotten to at this late hour. Even Beatrice might be standing on the porch expecting her to come back. Lily sensed their faint beckoning, but she could not move.

If she returned to the opera house, she would face Beatrice and the lure of her old life—a life she now knew for certain she did not want. If she walked into Hope, she would face Elijah and the call of a man she could never have. Though he cared for her, though his desire was obvious, he would not give in to his passion. His commitment to God controlled his entire life, and Lily knew that no matter what happened, he would never permit himself more than friendship with her.

If she turned inward, relying on herself, she would face the emptiness of her heart. Dependence on her own wits had led her to the traveling show. Led her to Ted Nolan. Led her to Beatrice. Mistakes and more mistakes. She had acted unwisely and made choices out of desperation. Eventually, she had lost her precious Abigail. As strong as she had become in the months since she had left Philadelphia, Lily knew she would never be able to rely on herself.

Fighting tears, she lay down in the grass and pulled her knees up to her chest. She felt so lonely. So hopeless. Everyone had betrayed or abandoned her. And why not? They were all humans, too, fallible and shortsighted.

Why did she feel such a need to turn to someone to fill the emptiness inside her? Why couldn't she do it herself? She was resourceful, intelligent, talented. Surely she didn't need anyone but herself.

Rolling over, Lily swallowed at the gritty lump in her throat. Of course she needed someone else. Like Samuel, she could not exist in this world alone. She would wither, grow frail, and die. No one—not even the most powerful human on earth—could live without sustenance and nourishment.

“Whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall never thirst.”

Lily clenched her teeth as the silent words filtered into her heart. She had memorized them long ago in Sunday school. Meaningless words. How could Christ quench this burning thirst inside her? How could he become the nourishment that would fill her?

“I am the living bread which came down from heaven: if any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever.”

But her emptiness went too far! It was all-consuming. Her very soul was devoid of hope and life and love.