Bartered Bride, page 16
He sat silent for a moment. “So God knows our end.”
She nodded. “He not only knows it, but He’s planned it out ahead of time and knows it is good and not evil.”
Abraham took her hand in his. “Thank you for comforting an old man in his distress. I can see what drew Jonathan to you. You are a treasure. When he gets back here, I’ll do everything I can to see that you two are reconciled.”
She withdrew her hand with a sad smile. “No, Mr. Kennebrae. I’ll apologize to him, but that’s all. If we are reconciled, it has to come from him. No more interference from well-meaning grandfathers.” She sent him a pointed look. “God has things under control, right?”
Abraham chuckled. “All right, my dear.”
A knock at the door and McKay entered. “I’m afraid there’s bad news, sir. The lifesavers are unable to reach the ship under current conditions. They must wait until the storm dies down.”
Abraham sat up in his chair. “That could take all night. And with no steam aboard ship, how will they keep warm?”
Melissa sagged against the windowsill. All night? Oh, Lord, help me to hang on to the truth of Your Word. I know You are in control. Please, help them to survive. Please bring Jonathan and Noah back to us.
She stood and gathered up her coat.
“Where are you going, young lady?”
“I’m going to the shore. I can’t stay here in warmth and luxury when they are suffering so. I’m going to stand vigil and pray.”
“I’ll go with you. McKay, get my coat.”
Melissa put her hand on his shoulder. “No, Abraham.” He started—whether at her tone or at her use of his first name, she didn’t know. “You’re staying here. The weather’s too raw. And there’s your bronchitis to consider.”
He sagged back. “Very well but, McKay, get her some proper outerwear and light a bonfire on the beach. If she starts to flag, haul her back here. I’ll be in this room watching until my grandsons are rescued.”
She bent and kissed him on the cheek. “Pray, Abraham.”
❧
Aboard the Bethany, fifteen men huddled in the wheelhouse. Only three lamps had survived the wreck intact. They hung from hooks on the ceiling, rocking and swinging with the movement of the boat.
Jonathan anchored a piece of canvas to the window frame, trying to cover the gaping hole. The ship rolled and shuddered, slammed against the shoal by another frigid blast.
“Finish nailing that oilskin, and find something to brace that starboard door.” Noah’s voice sounded weaker by the minute. How bad were his injuries?
Jonathan spoke through lips stiffened by the cold. “Sit down, Noah, before you fall down.”
“No, nobody sits. And nobody sleeps.”
The men grumbled, scowling.
“That’s an order. If you sit down, you’ll fall asleep. If you fall asleep in this cold, you’ll freeze to death. Understand?” For a moment light gleamed in Noah’s eyes, the light of challenge and authority. The crew must’ve recognized that look, for they all nodded assent.
“Aye, Captain, no sleeping.”
Paddy kept close to Jonathan’s side. With no food and no water, some of the men resorted to breaking off icicles and sucking on them. Jonathan, already so cold, couldn’t bring himself to do this. At least not yet.
“Is there any word from the men in the bow?” Noah wedged himself next to Jonathan in the corner of the tiny room.
Jonathan kept his voice low. “None since dark.”
Concern laced Noah’s voice. “Are there any lamps lit up there?”
“No, I didn’t see any.”
“Where there’s light, there’s hope, you know?”
They both looked at the three lamps throwing yellow light on the crowded room. How long would their only heat source, these three tiny flames, last?
❧
“Miss, stand back. They’re going to light it.” McKay tugged on Melissa’s arm.
She stepped back on the street.
A burly stevedore stuck his torch into the kerosene-soaked pile of crating and firewood. Flames shot out, licking upward, throwing light and heat toward the ring of onlookers. Dockworkers, shopkeepers, housewives, and sailors crowded the pier and the streets of Minnesota Point. Several more bonfires burst up along the expanse of shoreline.
“There must be thousands of people out here keeping vigil.” McKay led her to the pier wall. “And look, there’s some light coming from the wheelhouse. Why, I bet those boys are in there watching us, taking heart knowing they aren’t alone and haven’t been forgotten.”
Melissa wiped her cheeks, grateful for the heavy gloves McKay had found for her. And in the whipping snow and wind, grateful to have her hair confined under the hood of the heavy cloak he’d procured. The man was a marvel of efficiency. She almost smiled when he handed her a cup of steaming coffee. Was there anything he couldn’t do?
Ladies from the church milled through the crowd, pouring coffee and offering food.
Pastor Gardner, muffled to the eyes in a buffalo coat and muskrat hat, clutched his Bible to his chest and prayed.
Melissa kept her vigil, adding her prayers to the hundreds being said on behalf of the men stranded on the ship. She spoke only to McKay and then only when he asked her a direct question. All her thoughts centered on Jonathan. She loved him. Even if he couldn’t forgive her for what she’d done to him, she wanted him to know how sorry she was and how much he meant to her. She kept her eyes on the lights in the wheelhouse.
Sometime near 3:00 a.m., someone began to sing.
“Brightly beams our Father’s mercy
From His lighthouse evermore,
But to us He gives the keeping
Of the lights along the shore.
Let the lower lights be burning!
Send a gleam across the wave!
Some poor fainting, struggling seaman
You may rescue, you may save.”
Melissa’s eyes filled with tears. A few voices joined the lone singer. She added her own, singing the familiar hymn with new understanding of the beautiful picture.
“Eager eyes are watching, longing,
For the lights along the shore.”
More in the crowd began to sing, sending their message of hope across the waves to the sailors of the Bethany.
“Trim your feeble lamp, my brother,
Some poor sailor tempest tossed,
Trying now to make the harbor,
In the darkness may be lost.”
❧
Jonathan shook his head to clear his fuzzy brain. The unending buffeting made thinking difficult. He couldn’t feel his hands or feet anymore, not even when he stomped or beat his arms across his chest. The sleeves of his coat crackled with ice.
The elation he’d felt at seeing the bonfires springing up along the shore had worn off. What he wouldn’t give to be standing next to one of them now. He let his mind drift to the one topic he’d been avoiding for hours.
Melissa.
Lord, I’ve been a knot-headed fool about her from the moment I first heard her name. Why is it that love makes a man act so stupidly? I’ve ignored Your Spirit’s promptings, and I’ve tried to handle everything my own way. I’ve lost my temper, and I’ve lost my head.
“What are you mumbling about?” Noah stifled a yawn and recrossed his arms, tucking his fingers under his armpits.
“I’m telling God what a fool I’ve been over Melissa.”
Noah grunted. “Is He agreeing with you?”
Jonathan ignored that dig. “Truth is, I prayed for weeks this Bible verse, but I think I was praying it all wrong.”
“What verse?”
“Proverbs 21:1. ‘The king’s heart is in the hand of the Lord, as the rivers of water: he turneth it whithersoever he will.’ I prayed that over Grandfather a hundred times, wanting God to change his heart about this marriage. And I prayed it over Melissa, wanting God to change her heart toward me these last few days. The only one I didn’t pray it over was me.”
“And God took your heart and changed it a bunch, didn’t He?” Noah’s words came out clipped, his jaw clamped.
“He sure did. He let me fall in love with Melissa. He opened my eyes to the plight of the immigrants we hire, particularly their wives. And the plight of women in this country who don’t get a voice in its leadership.” Jonathan broke off, shifting his weight, rubbing his hands on his upper arms.
“But most of all, He changed how I felt about myself and my possessions. I was and still am willing to give up Kennebrae Shipping if it means I could have Melissa forgive me. Kennebrae Shipping isn’t my life. Serving God is my life. And my life would be so much better with Melissa at my side.” Jonathan’s teeth chattered, and he bit down hard to still them.
“That’s a heap of change.”
“Facing death by shipwreck will cause you to evaluate a few things.”
“So God shipwrecked us so He could drill some sense into that anvil-hard head of yours? You’re like Jonah.” Noah’s mouth barely moved. “Remind me when we get off of here to slug you a good one.”
“The first thing I’m going to do when I get onshore is go to Castlebrooke and make Melissa listen to me, even if I have to break down her door.”
What was that? He cocked an ear. The wind, gusting for hours, seemed to die down a bit. Was that singing?
“I must be more tired than I thought.” Jonathan put his arm around little Paddy, rocking with tiredness, and briskly rubbed the lad’s arms to warm him. “I could’ve sworn I heard Grandmother’s favorite hymn. Remember how she used to sing ‘Let the Lower Lights Be Burning’ every night it stormed on Lake Superior?”
Twenty-five
Dawn broke, if so gray and overcast an event could be called dawn. The storm relented at last, snarling and spitting in retreat up the north shore. The waves lost their fury, subsiding slowly but steadily.
Melissa’s pulse beat in her throat as the lifesavers put their boat into the water once more. With coordinated strokes, they bent the oars, taking the waves and rising over them, heading out to the Bethany. Melissa couldn’t tell if the lights still burned in the wheelhouse.
A cheer went up when the door on the port side of the pilothouse opened and a dark-clad figure stepped out. Someone was alive!
“Please, God, let it be Jonathan.” Contrition struck her. She wasn’t the only woman on the beach who had a loved one on that ship. Other prayers for husbands and sons mustbe winging heavenward at that moment.
She tugged at her glove to bare her fingers so she could chew her thumbnail. Bad habits be hanged. She leaned against the concrete pier, straining to see.
“I have faith, my dear, that you’ll see him soon.”
She looked down to see Abraham Kennebrae at her elbow. Dawkins, the security guard from the Kennebrae Building, and McKay stood behind.
The butler winked at her then blew on his hands, shifting his weight. He’d not left her side all night, fetching her hot drinks, bringing a lap robe from the Kennebrae carriage to drape around her shoulders.
Abraham reached up and took her hand. “I made Dawkins bring me down. I couldn’t stay up there anymore.”
The white boat reached the Bethany, and several of the lifesavers clambered aboard. It wouldn’t be long now.
She bit her nail harder. Would he be alive? Would he forgive her?
❧
“I’m going forward with the lifesavers. Come if you want to, but as captain it’s my duty.” Noah shrugged off Jonathan’s hand and stepped out onto the rocking deck.
Jonathan blew out a sigh at the stubbornness of the Kennebraes and followed his brother toward the bow. His boots slipped and slid on the icy deck, but at least the waves weren’t crashing over him, threatening to sweep him over the rail.
The crack in the hull was narrowest on the starboard side and a matter of a quick jump to cross. Iron ore eddied red swirls just under the surface where the hold lay open to the lake.
The scene in the bow was grim indeed. Nine sailors had roped themselves together, lashing themselves to the deck so as not to be swept overboard. All nine lay frozen to the ship, dead.
Noah seemed to crumple from within. He staggered, his face going pale.
Jonathan grabbed him to keep him from sliding to the deck.
“That’s it. We’re going now. No arguing.” They maneuvered back to the stern of the ship and into the lifesavers’ boat.
❧
Melissa insisted McKay stay with Abraham. If it was bad news, she wanted to hear it first and perhaps be able to tell Abraham gently. She picked her way down through the boulders to the shore.
Bits of flotsam and wreckage bumped against the rocks in the icy breeze. The lifesavers’ boat scraped on the beach, loaded down with men. Bodies crowded around, blocking her view.
She pushed and wedged herself between the curious until she reached the front.
Strong hands lifted the survivors over the gunwale. They were so bound in blankets and coats and mufflers that she couldn’t recognize any of them.
A bearded face emerged from the boat. Noah! Alive!
Her heart thudded in her ears. She elbowed a man in the side and darted forward when he moved in surprise.
Dried blood decorated Noah’s pale face. What had happened to him?
Then she looked past Noah’s shoulder and into Jonathan’s eyes. Her heart quit beating altogether, her breath gone. He was alive! Her mouth dropped open to speak, but no sound came out. She tried again.
He leaped from the boat, staggering as his boots hit the icy water. In two strides he wrapped her in his arms, covering her face with kisses, tunneling his fingers into her hair, dislodging her hood.
She kissed him back, cupping his cold cheeks in her hands, relishing being in his embrace. All misunderstanding, all the hurt and foolishness drained away.
He pulled back to look at her face, searching for something there. “I’m reading a lot into your being here, you know?”
“I know. Jonathan, there’s something I need to say to you.”
“Unless it’s ‘I love you,’ it can wait.”
“Jonathan, I love you.”
“Melissa, I love you, too.” He crushed her to him again, kissing her, filling up her cup of happiness until it overflowed into tears of joy.
When he released her, it was only to dig in his breast pocket. He withdrew her engagement ring and slipped it on her finger. “Right where it belongs, my love.”
She wiped an icy tear from his cheek and nodded, too overcome for words.
Epilogue
“You look lovely, my dear.” Father leaned in and kissed Melissa’s cheek. “Absolutely radiant.”
Mother mopped her eyes. She’d cried all through the ceremony, though with happiness over Melissa’s wedding to Jonathan or mourning over the fact that it wasn’t the opulent festivities she’d originally planned, Melissa didn’t know.
Jonathan lifted her hand, the one with the sapphire and diamond engagement ring and now the gold circlet he’d placed there only an hour before, and tucked it into his elbow. “Well, Mrs. Kennebrae.”
She thrilled at both her new name and the depth of his voice brushing over her.
“Happy?”
“Deliriously.” She squeezed his upper arm, leaning against him.
The reception at Castlebrooke was in full sail, guests laughing, music wafting from the piano.
“Mother’s not sure how to react, but I’m glad we invited the suffragists and their families. And the Brittens. Peter and Wilson look like they’re having a wonderful time. Thank you for thinking of it.”
“It was the least I could do. Though Peter and Wilson won’t need to act as your bodyguards any longer. No more late-night rambles to the harbor. From now on you hold your meetings in the parlor at Kennebrae House in a civilized manner. How about another dance?”
He looked at her so intently that a shiver raced up her spine. She smiled up at him and went into his arms like coming home.
He nuzzled her neck and whispered into her ear. “You look beautiful in that dress. Almost as beautiful as you looked standing on the shore in the wind and snow after a night’s vigil in a storm.”
She trembled, thinking of how close they’d come to losing each other forever. His grip tightened, and she knew he was thinking the same thing. “You’re stuck with me now though. I heard you promise before God and all your friends.”
“My bartered bride, you’ll hear no complaints from me.”
Author Note:
For more information on the Mataafa, the historical ship upon which the fictional Kennebrae Bethany is based, please visit the Minnesota Historical Society Web site at www.mnhs.org. keyword: Mataafa.
About the Author
ERICA VETSCH is married to Peter and keeps the company books for the family lumber business. A homeschool mom to Heather and James, Erica loves history, romance, and storytelling. Her ideal vacation is taking her family to out-of-the-way history museums and chatting to curators about local history. She has a bachelor’s degree from Calvary Bible College in secondary education: social studies. You can find her on the Web at www.onthewritepath.blogspot.com.
Dedication
For Peter, Heather, and James Vetsch. All my love.
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Erica Vetsch
Author Relations
PO Box 721
Uhrichsville, OH 44683
Erica Vetsch, Bartered Bride
