Rebecca's Heart (12 page)

The captain was worried. Luke had noticed the tension in his jaw when he’d left the bridge to supervise the rest of the crew in their endeavors to keep the ship afloat. Pounding waves continued to lash against the sides of the ship, flooding the deck with several inches of water. Luke had read plenty of accounts of shipwreck disasters and had imagined the horror of taking one’s last breath of air before being swallowed into the depths of the sea. He had no desire to die that way. It had always been a reality he chose not to consider. But today things were different. It was a possibility he couldn’t ignore.

Water dripped down his forehead and onto his clothes, which were already soaked from the constant barrage of waves hitting the ship. Shivering, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. The cup of lukewarm coffee he’d inhaled earlier had been his only source of nourishment all morning, if it could even be considered that. His stomach grumbled in complaint, but he couldn’t give in to the strong desire to escape to the galley for a meal. That would come later. If it came at all.

A sharp crack ripped through the morning air as if the helm of the ship were being split in two. The vessel shuddered beneath him as it struck something. Men shouted above the commotion as they fought to save the ship. Moments later Luke saw the bright lights of a red flare being shot into the murky sky … then nothing.

ten

“She’s so beautiful.” Rebecca sat down on the featherbed beside Caroline and ran the back of her thumb across the soft cheek of the newborn who lay nestled peacefully in her mother’s arms. “I’d forgotten how small babies are.”

“She is tiny, but thank the Lord she’s healthy despite her early arrival.” Caroline’s face beamed with happiness, all the complaints of her condition forgotten with the arrival of the baby. “What smells so wonderful?”

“Hungry?”

“Famished, actually.”

“Good, because I made you a thick beef stew.”

Caroline’s brow narrowed. “And wherever did you find the time to cook something for me?”

“Somewhere between Mrs. Kendall’s slipcovers and Myra Potter’s lined draperies.”

“And don’t forget the quilts for the orphans. I know you’ve spent hours of your own time on that project.” Caroline reached down and kissed the baby gently on the forehead. “You know I’m going to be spoiled before long. Susan Parker came by last night and told me several women at church would be bringing meals for the next few days. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so well.”

“Then I won’t even mention the mince pie Aunt Clara made for dessert.”

Caroline groaned, but the delight was obvious in her eyes. “I just can’t get over the miracle of this little one’s entrance into the world.”

“So,” Rebecca probed, “you’ve decided not to stop at only one?”

“Despite a long and strenuous labor, I can’t believe how in love I am with her. I don’t know if three or four will be enough to satisfy my longings of motherhood.”

“So Susan’s twelve doesn’t sound so bad after all?”

“I wouldn’t go quite that far.”

Rebecca laughed but couldn’t ignore the stirrings she felt inside.

“Do you want to hold her?” Caroline asked.

Nodding, Rebecca gently took the baby then went to sit on the cushioned rocker that had been moved into the bedroom from the living area. The small bundle of pink whimpered softly in her arms and opened her eyes briefly. After a moment she was sleeping peacefully again.

“Have you and Philip decided on a name?” Rebecca looked up at Caroline, who still had her gaze fixed on her daughter. “It’s been two days, you know.”

Caroline shook her head. “The problem is that Philip has the most atrocious tastes when it comes to names. The only thing we’ve agreed on so far have been boy names. Of course, that was after I convinced him we couldn’t name a child Milborough or Perine—family name or not.”

Rebecca chuckled over Philip’s awful tastes. “I would have to feel sorry for your child if given one of those names.”

Caroline nodded in agreement. “The problem is, now that the Lord has blessed us with a daughter, we can’t seem to come up with anything that suits us both. His first choice is Bertha after his mother. I told him that while I’m sure his mother was a wonderful woman, I have no intentions of giving my darling baby a name that sounds more like the name of a whaling vessel than a little girl.”

Rebecca’s smile vanished at the reminder of Luke, and she lowered her head so Caroline couldn’t see her fallen expression. Reminders of him were everywhere. From the sea itself to the bouquets of flowers the street vendors sold. She’d spent half the night praying God would help her forget him, but if anything her feelings toward him had strengthened.

Rebecca took her gaze off the baby and glanced at Caroline. She was thankful her friend seemed so wrapped up in her new daughter that she didn’t appear to notice Rebecca’s sullen mood. She pasted on a grin. “What name had you chosen if it was a boy?”

“John. Plain yet strong. For some reason that wasn’t nearly as difficult, but names for a girl …”

“What about Johnna for a girl?”

“Johnna.” Caroline reached over and grasped the baby’s hand between her fingers and smiled. “I like that name. I’ll have to see what Philip thinks once he comes up from the shop for lunch. Have you thought any more about your plans for leaving?”

Rebecca glanced down at the infant, who had inherited her mother’s fair skin and plump cheeks. “I think it’s best for me to go home, but not until right before Christmas. That will give me a chance to help you with the baby and make sure there are competent staff to continue making the slipcovers until you’re ready to take over things again.”

“I’m certainly going to miss you. Michaela did well in marrying your father and bringing you into her family.”

“Don’t think you’ve gotten rid of me forever,” Rebecca said, trying to lighten the somber mood that had fallen over her. “I’ll have to come back and visit the baby, as well as see my grandmother someday.”

“When is she due back?”

“Unfortunately, Mrs. Hutton informed me last week that she’s postponed her return until late spring at the earliest.”

“Well, I for one don’t know what I’m going to do without you. I’ve enjoyed having you here.”

Rebecca felt a stream of guilt course through her. “You understand why I’m leaving, don’t you?”

“Of course I understand. I just hope you’re not leaving Boston to escape memories of Luke.”

Rebecca cringed at the statement but knew Caroline’s words held a hint of truth. If only forgetting Luke was as easy to do as loving him had been.

Rebecca set the feather cushion onto the coverlet and sighed with relief. The satin, with its floral needlework pattern and lace trim, was the finishing touch in Mrs. Hutton’s bedroom. Rebecca had carried the dark-blue and cream theme throughout the room, including floor-to-ceiling draperies with tiebacks and accents in the padded ottoman and throw pillows on the sofa. The overall effect was simple but stylish.

While she had no doubt she would see more of Mrs. Hutton in the coming weeks before her departure, since they worked together on the orphans’ quilting project, today was the day she planned to say good-bye forever to Luke in her mind. No more would she be obliged to visit the Hutton home to measure the length of a divan or panels that would hang gracefully from cornices. No more would she have to be surrounded by the constant reminders of him that filled the house.

“Rebecca, I’m glad you’re still here.” Mrs. Hutton stood in the doorway, her hands clasped behind her back. “I wanted to catch you before you left.”

“Is everything satisfactory?”

“Of course,” she said, stepping into the room. “You’ve done a splendid job. I wanted to make sure I had the chance to thank you again. I’m so pleased with the way the room turned out.”

Rebecca smiled with relief. “I’m glad. I’ve enjoyed the time I’ve been able to work here.”

Mrs. Hutton smoothed back the same strand of silver hair that seemed to fall habitually from the neat pile atop her head. But even that didn’t take away from her beauty. It always amazed Rebecca to see how elegant the woman appeared no matter what the occasion.

“Mrs. Hutton, I was wondering …” Rebecca paused. She wanted to do one last thing before leaving the house.

“What is it, Rebecca?”

“Would you mind if I went up on the widow’s walk? The view is so beautiful. I’d like to see it one last time.”
And I need to say good-bye one last time
.

“Certainly, but are you all right? You seem a bit pale today.”

“I’m fine. I just—” What should she say? Would Mrs. Hutton understand the feelings Rebecca felt so strongly for her son? Would she understand why she couldn’t love him?

“You miss him, don’t you?” Mrs. Hutton drew Rebecca onto the narrow settee that lined a section of the bedroom wall.

Rebecca nodded, determined not to shed a single teardrop. “I wish the circumstances had been different. That we’d had more time together before he left.”

“And I wouldn’t have minded having you for a daughter-in-law.” Mrs. Hutton smiled. “I told Luke more than once that you were a good catch for a sailor like him, unlike those empty-headed girls always chasing after him.”

Rebecca felt the heat rise in her face at the admission. She looked up at the wall covered with framed daguerreotypes of Luke’s parents, grandparents, and other relatives. At one time she’d foolishly dared to imagine her and Luke’s wedding photo gracing this very wall.

Mrs. Hutton took Rebecca’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Letting go of love is never easy, even if it’s the best thing.”

“But was it the best thing?”

“I don’t know, but I can tell you this. Right now you need to lean on God’s strength. Allow His Spirit to work through you and use this situation to make you more like Him. In sixty years I’ve learned that life isn’t always easy, but it’s the experiences that have been the most painful that have taught me the most. They gave me perseverance and in the end have strengthened my faith.”

Rebecca laced her fingers together, pondering the advice. “That’s what I want, but instead of growing in my faith, I seem to be at a standstill. I can’t hear God’s voice anymore. I don’t feel His presence. I’m like a raft being swept along by the tide with no real direction.”

“Sometimes we can find God only in the quiet. Go on up to the widow’s walk where you can see the power of His creation and just listen for His voice.”

Rebecca took the narrow staircase slowly, running her hand across the cool stone walls. At the top of the house, the endless sea spread out before her. A crisp wind whipped around her face, bringing with it the signs of the coming winter. Leaning against the railing, she watched wave after wave make its way toward the shore. The ocean churned before her, and she couldn’t help but wonder how Luke was faring today. But she wasn’t here to daydream about him.

Instead she closed her eyes and, one by one, began erasing the memories of the two of them together. The first day they met at Macintosh Furniture and Upholstery. Their walk along the boardwalk. The bouquet of flowers he brought her. The night he told her he cared for her. The baseball game. And then the last time she saw him. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she attempted to wipe away the burning memory of his kiss.

She opened her eyes again and watched as a large schooner made its way into the port. Women would be standing on their own widows’ walks right now, waiting for the men they loved to return to them. Children waiting to see a father they barely remembered. Mothers ready to embrace the boy who had become a man.

But not her.

She wouldn’t be here waiting when Luke returned from the sea. She wouldn’t be here to welcome him home with her kisses and words of love. Instead she’d be in Cranton where she belonged, surrounded by her brothers and sisters and parents who loved her. And maybe someday she’d find a man who loved her unconditionally and whom she could love the same. Someone who shared her beliefs and passions. Someone she could grow old with.

Rebecca gripped the edge of the railing, knowing only One would never let her down.

Help me give my burdens totally to You, Lord. To let You be my strength in my weakness. Help me find You again
.

She’d spent her entire life trying to be strong and handle things herself. From the time she was thirteen years old, when her own mother had died, she’d been thrust into running much of her father’s household. Not that she’d ever complained. It came naturally for her to care for her younger siblings, and despite the ache she’d carried in her heart from her mother’s death, she’d blossomed with the responsibility.

But it had always been her own strength she’d relied on. Even with Jake she’d made the decision to call things off and move to Boston. Had she spent her life confusing her own will with God’s will?

Rebecca closed her eyes again, but this time she worked to quiet her mind and focus on God and His power. To understand God’s will for her life, she needed to know God. Of course she knew He cared for her, loved her, and wanted her to follow Him, but did she grasp the significance of who He was in her life? Not just her Savior, but her Lord and Master? She’d been so busy doing things that would please God, like the quilting project, but she’d devoted little time to getting to know her heavenly Father.