Prairie Storm (31 page)

Lily began to rock a little, swaying the baby back and forth. She wished she could get past feeling uneasy around the man, but she'd spent too many years in fear. “Yes, it's quite warm today,” she said. “I've been ironing sheets with Eva on the back porch.”

Her father took the chair beside her, removed his hat, and mopped his brow with a monogrammed white handkerchief. “It must be difficult for you,” he said. “You once led such a pampered life. Now you're reduced to pressing sheets as though you were a slave woman yourself.”

Lily swallowed. “Eva's not a slave, Father. She's my good friend. I'm happy to work at her side.”

“Of course, of course. I meant no ill will in my comment.” He leaned back in the chair. “Lily, I've been trying to decide how to speak with you. Nothing is simple anymore. I don't know what to tell you of my deepest thoughts. I'm not sure which tone to take with you. But I do know that matters must be addressed. We must talk about the past and the future.”

“I prefer the present, Father. I'm happy here.”

“Are you?” His face showed the hint of a scowl. “You were brought up with art and music, with gardens and servants, with beautiful gowns and parties every weekend. Now you wash and iron, you cook three meals a day, and you tend that … that baby.”

“I told you why I care for Samuel, Father.”

“Yes, yes.” He shook his head. “I'm sorry to be brusque. This is difficult. All of it. I find it so … impossible … to imagine my daughter, my own flesh and blood, wandering about with that woman, that Beatrice Waldowski. To think that you actually married a stranger in order to escape your home.… Well, I find myself both humiliated and enraged by the entire episode. That you bore a child, my grandchild—”

“Abigail.”

“Please don't speak the name. I blame myself.”

“No, Father—”

“Yes, I do. I am responsible. And yet I am also determined to make amends. To God, to your mother. To you, Lily. I must try to repair my errors in your upbringing. I must atone for my wrongs.”

“Wrongs can be forgiven, Father. I've chosen to put my own past behind me and look ahead to a new day. I'm certain that the Lord has a good plan for my life—and for yours. He is a God of great mercy. When I look at all he's done for me in these past months, I am almost dumbfounded. All this time he's been leading me toward him, waiting for me to open the door and let him into my heart. In spite of everything I did, all the wrong choices, all the willful and irresponsible actions I took, God brought Samuel into my life, and he gave me this home, this town, and Elijah.”

“The preacher is a good man, Lily.” Her father paused for a moment, as if turning over in his mind the novelty of the man who had led him to the brink of repentance. “I'm thankful that Reverend Book wants to further his education,” Richardson went on. “Though he is a bit rough around the edges now, I can envision him in a large church one day. He's good with people. He has intelligence. And he has a way with words.”

“Yes,” she said softly. The fact that her father admired Elijah pleased Lily. For three days she had pondered her last conversation with the preacher under the cottonwood tree.
I love you
, he had said. But what did those words mean to him? Was his affection that of a pastor for one of his flock, or had Lily come to mean something more to Elijah?

“He cares for the townspeople here,” her father was saying. “And perhaps he should stay on in Hope for a time. Practical experience is never a bad thing.”

“Hope would be poorer for losing him.”

“Indeed.” He rocked for a moment. “As for you, Lily, I know your mother will be heartbroken should I return to Philadelphia without you. I cannot describe the depths of her agony at your disappearance.”“

I'm sorry. Truly I am.”

“Then you'll come with me? I've kept the coachman waiting as long as I can. I'm afraid I must leave tomorrow.”

Lily lifted her focus to the church. She could see Elijah hammering board-and-batten siding with some of the other men. The deputy, who had stayed on to help with the rebuilding, was handing him nails.

“I can't leave Samuel,” Lily said. “Elijah and I … we almost lost him once before, Father. He was bitten by a spider. And you know he was terribly weak when Elijah brought him to—”

“The baby will be going to an orphanage tomorrow, Lily.” Her father laid his hand on hers. “The deputy has confided in me that he intends to take the child. Without legal grounds for adoption, with no information on the baby's parentage, with no wife or home, the preacher cannot hope to obtain permission to keep an orphan. Everyone knows that you and Reverend Book have become attached to the child, but, Lily, you must think in a reasonable manner. This baby needs a stable situation.”

“But I—”

“The longer you remain in the picture, Lily, the easier you make it for the preacher to keep the boy around. But for how long? And to what end? This child in your lap is a human being, Lily. Samuel shouldn't be shuffled from one adult to another—neither of whom is truly his guardian. And look at these living conditions! You live with the Hanks family, while Reverend Book resides on a cot in the back of the church. Neither place is suitable for the rearing of a child.”

“Father, I'm sure Elijah plans to—”

“Even should there be a proper home one day, Lily, you know that this town has no school, no physician, none of the amenities of polite society.… My dear, please set your emotions aside and allow the child to have a chance at security. Come with me to Philadelphia, to your mother. Allow the deputy to take the baby to Topeka. And permit God to have full use of his instrument in this town. Elijah Book must be set free to grow into the man God intends. Only you can see that such a thing happens.”

Lily ran her fingertip over the baby's tiny knuckles. Soft, velvety bumps. But this baby didn't belong to her. Sam was not Abby's replacement. He was a child of God, rescued by Elijah, and deserving of a good future. Maybe her father was right. But, oh, how could she part with this child she loved so much?

And how could she leave Hope?

No, it wasn't the town so much as it was the preacher. Elijah Book. She loved him. She couldn't walk away from him. Her heart would break in two.

But what if she and Samuel truly were hindrances to God's plan for Elijah? What if they kept him from doing the work he was intended to do? What if Elijah would be better off without them?

“Lily,” her father said, patting her hand gently, “will you come home with me? Will you restore joy to your mother's face? Most important, will you allow me to become to you the father I never was? It would be a gift greater than anything I have ever received.”

Lily gathered Sam into her arms and held him close, fighting the cry that rose up inside her.
No, no!
she wanted to shout.
I want to stay here. I want Elijah. I want this baby. I want my way—my way!

“Oh, Lily,” her father murmured. “Say you'll come home.”

“Nevertheless not my will, but thine…
”

Blinking back the tears that misted her vision, Lily nodded. “Yes, Father. I will.”

“This area back here is the cemetery,” Elijah explained, nodding toward the expanse of untouched prairie he had just refenced. For three days, Dr. Richardson had been good enough to stay on in town, spending his nights at the Hunters' house and his days helping shingle the church's new roof. A few minutes ago, he had wandered across the street to visit with the preacher.

“I don't see no headstones,” the deputy observed. He, too, had elected to remain. He'd been meeting with town leaders to discuss legal problems the citizens of Hope were up against. He had promised to look into helping the town hire a lawman, but so far, he hadn't mentioned carting Sam off to the orphanage in Topeka. Elijah was praying the subject was closed. “How can you call this a cemetery if there's nobody buried in it?”

“I reckon we'll lose one of our people one of these days,” Eli said. “In the past couple of years we've had a plague of grasshoppers, a prairie fire, and now a cyclone. There's another winter coming up, and who can tell what that might bring?”

“You're right about that.”

“I'm learning that prairie life is hard, real hard. Without a doctor in town, folks don't have any place to turn for healing. I know from experience that sometimes homemade doctoring doesn't work too well. Fact is, I believe a pastor's job is to take care of his flock—and that includes providing a resting place when they go on to be with the Lord. A cemetery kind of helps comfort the family, too, you know, and that's what a church ought to do.”

“I'd say you're cut out for the job, Brother Elijah,” the deputy commented. “Nobody in town has a bad word to say about you.”

“Well, I don't have much training.”

“Reverend Book,” Richardson said, “would you like to study theology here in Hope?”

The man hadn't said too much to Elijah since that day on the road. In fact, he really didn't talk to anyone. In the evenings, Eli had observed Lily and her father sitting on the front porch of the Hankses' house, but they didn't seem to be speaking to each other. They just sat and rocked. Eli thought that was okay.

“Hope doesn't even have a grade school, Dr. Richardson,” he said. “And I don't know where I'd find the nearest seminary.”

“You have a post office, I assume. If you wish, I shall correspond with one of my acquaintances in the East. He's a professor of biblical studies. I believe he would be willing to post a series of his lessons to you.”

Eli's heart swelled. “I'd like that very much, sir. Thank you. Thanks a lot.”

“You'll be staying in town, then?” the deputy asked him.

“Yes, sir, I will. I promised the Lord I'd go wherever he sent me. And he sent me here.”

The deputy grinned. “You preachers are quite a bunch. I wish the Lord would talk to me the way he talks to you.”

“He might be. Are you listening?” Eli asked, giving the man a slap on the back. “Listen, has anyone invited you two gentlemen to the all-day singing and fellowship we're going to have? You're both welcome to join us while we dedicate the new church building. Let me tell you, the ladies in this town can bake pies like you wouldn't believe.”

The deputy took off his hat. “Thank you kindly, Brother Elijah, but I'd better head on back to Topeka. Which brings me to the matter I came here for in the first place. We need to talk about that baby you found.”

“That baby is my son,” Eli replied.

“No, he ain't. Not legal, anyhow.”

Eli could hear Lily singing to Samuel across the way, and his innards knotted up just thinking about losing either one. “What do I have to do, Deputy?” he asked. “I'll do anything you say. Just don't take my boy away.”

The lawman plucked a stem of grass and stuck it in his mouth. “What's a man like you aiming to do with a baby, Preacher? You don't have a wife or a house or even a good-paying job. I'm the father of six, and I've got news for you. Before long here, that little fellow is going to be up on his feet, running everywhere and climbing on everything. I've watched you work this town— visiting with folks day and night, sitting up with the sick, tending to quarrels, building fences and graveyards, reading that Bible of yours at dawn. You don't have time to chase around some snot-nosed kid. Why don't you let me take him to the orphanage in Topeka? I'll admit it's not the best life a child could ask for, but the war brought in a lot of homeless young'uns. He'd have company, food in his belly, maybe even a little schooling. You did your part, Preacher. Now let the state of Kansas do the rest.”

Elijah stuck his hands into his pockets and drifted for a minute with Lily's singing. He knew the tune well; it was one of her favorites. Maybe this evening he could carve out a few minutes alone with her.

“I'm going to tell you something else,” the deputy added. “That boy's going to have a tough row to hoe, being a half-breed and all. Don't take that on, Preacher. Let him go.”

“I know it's going to be rough,” Eli began, “but Lily and I—”

“My daughter is going home to Philadelphia with me,” Richardson said. “She won't be able to look after the child.”

Eli felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “Lily's leaving Hope?”

“Our reconciliation has opened new doors. My daughter would like to see her mother. We all hope to make a new beginning, thanks to your intervention, Reverend Book.”

“Well, I—”

“There's a fine young gentleman, a doctor, whom I have in mind as a husband for my daughter. He's a stable and very honorable man, and he lives and practices medicine not three houses from ours in the city. He comes from a prominent family, his reputation is excellent, and he earns a more than satisfactory income from his profession. Despite my daughter's brief period of indiscretion, I am certain this young man will welcome her into his heart.”