Lily (Song of the River) (30 page)

Lily halted, her face showing her surprise at Tamar’s harsh tone.

Tamar plunked the bucket of milk down and put her hands on her hips. “I’m sorry, Miss Lily.”

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” Lily no longer looked like the self-confident owner of a successful business; instead she looked like the little girl she’d once been—a little girl who needed someone to hold her. “It’s none of my business.”

Tamar sighed. “I didn’t mean to be so abrupt. There’s just some things you can’t understand.” Some things that were better left alone.

The vulnerability in Lily’s expression changed to confusion. “Why not?”

How could she explain? The answer was simple. She couldn’t. “You may be a woman, but that doesn’t mean you’re mature enough to understand everything about how the world works.”

Lily turned toward the bank.

Tamar started to put a comforting hand around her shoulders but decided they would both be better off if she ended this conversation now. So she picked up her bucket and continued toward the galley, her head shaking as she considered the difference in Lily’s and her own life.

How could a girl born to luxury and freedom ever understand the problems of a slave? As much as she loved Lily and knew she was loved by her, Tamar could see the unbridgeable gulf between them. Almost as wide a gulf as the one between her and Jensen.

Lily held her breath as Camellia served the tea for the guests who’d gathered in the ladies’ parlor. It wasn’t that her sister was unpracticed at pouring tea, but doing so on board a boat that was likely to rock to one side or the other without notice could challenge the most experienced lady.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

Turning to the tall, spare woman next to her, Lily summoned a smile. “What is that, Mrs. Carlyle?”

“How a young thing like you can manage a large boat like this.”

She glanced around the cozy room, furnished with three sofas and a scattering of Queen Anne chairs Sarah had donated, insisting they were gathering dust in her attic. Then she turned to the lady who reminded her rather forcefully of Aunt Dahlia. She’d spent most of the evening before arguing with the crew and other passengers and complaining about the rustic accommodations. Lily wondered if she would ever make the woman happy.
God loves her, too.

The words in Lily’s heart shamed her. She breathed slowly and widened her smile with an effort. “It’s quite similar to running a household. Most everyone knows what must be done, and they don’t need much more than my encouragement and an occasional pat on the back to keep things on an even keel. And you must remember that Mr. Matthews is my partner. I rely on him greatly, of course.”

The words hardly stuck in her throat. She did owe Blake a lot. He had been essential in repairing the boat and finding passengers such as Mrs. Carlyle while she and her sisters shopped and socialized with the Thornton family. If only he had not hired her father.

The conversation turned general, and Lily’s gaze wandered toward the other occupants of the room. Mrs. Abernathy, a kindly woman with iron-gray hair and deep-set brown eyes, traveled with her daughter, Karen. Karen was a dark-haired, younger version of her mother.

Lily sipped her tea and nibbled at one of the royal crumpets Jensen, David, and Jasmine had baked earlier this morning. They were an elegant addition to their tea service. She needed to remember to tell all three of them what a success their creation was. It looked a little like a pancake topped with a sprinkling of blackberry preserves and sifted sugar. Even Mrs. Carlyle seemed to be enjoying them.

Camellia engaged Miss Abernathy in a discussion of the latest fashions while Mrs. Carlyle and Mrs. Abernathy talked about the exorbitant price of fabric and the rising cost of most goods.

Given a moment to herself, Lily’s thoughts returned to her business partner. She had not sought Blake out after their argument, preferring to concentrate on the welfare of the passengers while he oversaw the crew. It was a workable solution that seemed beneficial for all. Except that every time their paths crossed, she prayed for him to acknowledge her, smile at her, even argue with her. But he didn’t. He simply nodded and moved away, apparently unwilling to heal the breach between them. Perhaps if she sought him out and apologized … But she couldn’t. Not while her father was on board the
Hattie Belle.

“Please excuse me, ladies.” Lily could no longer sit in the parlor. She had to be up and doing something. “I need to check on my youngest sister, but I’ll leave you in Camellia’s capable hands.”

Mrs. Carlyle frowned even as Mrs. Abernathy gave her an encouraging wink. “It must be quite a job keeping up with that young lady.”

Nodding her head, Lily made her escape. She walked out onto the second-floor deck and stood at the rail, her gaze taking in the dense forest lining the banks of the muddy river. She ought to be checking the galley to make sure Jensen and Tamar didn’t need any help, but after the disturbing conversation with Tamar this morning, she hesitated to interrupt them.

What had Tamar meant? She was no longer a child. Tamar had to have been talking about her status as a slave. But didn’t she know Lily considered her an equal? Didn’t she have the same freedoms as everyone else aboard the
Hattie Belle
? She worked hard, it was true, but so did the rest of them. Even Jasmine and David had chores.

Lily felt battered by the emotional upheavals of the past few days. She wished she had someone she could talk to, someone who would be on her side no matter what. But that was impossible. Seeing her father again after all these years had reminded her of one thing: no one was dependable. No one could be relied on. She had only herself.

It was all too much. More than she could bear. Then something touched her, light as the breeze, quiet as a whisper. Almost a voice, a reassurance. And she knew there was another she could count on: God. He was her eternal Father. Even if everyone else walked out of her life or this great wide river dried up to a bare trickle—no matter what happened, God would never desert her.

Tears burned her eyes. How could she have forgotten Him even for an instant? God was the only constant. He was the beginning of everything. Yet He was concerned about her. The words of the New Orleans pastor came back to her. She should rejoice in the Lord. He was her Father, her Lord. He had made her, and He was always ready to embrace her.

Lily didn’t know how long she stood watching the bank slip by, but when she turned to go, she felt much better. She would be able to handle whatever lay ahead as long as she depended on God to lead her.

She still wished her earthly father wasn’t so close to hand, but she didn’t see any way around that until they made landfall in Natchez. Wondering how soon that might be, she headed up to the hurricane deck to ask Captain Henrick. At least she could make use of the man’s experience.

“That snag up yonder is what we call a sawyer.” The voice she remembered so clearly from childhood wafted across the upper deck as she made her way to the pilothouse.

“I see.” Was that Jasmine’s excited voice? “Because it looks like a saw going back and forth.”

“That’s right. You sure are a bright young lady. You remind me of my own little girls—”

“That’s enough.” Lily raised her voice enough to cut off his words. “Jasmine, you have some reading to do in your room.”

The child groaned. “Please don’t make me go inside, Lily. I’m learning all about the river from Captain Henrick.”

“It’s an awful pretty day for a young’un to be cooped up inside.”

Lily frowned. “I suppose you’re an expert on parenting.”

A look of pain deepened the lines on her father’s weathered face. Her anger dissipated, but Lily reminded herself that she had good reason to keep this man separated from her sisters. She didn’t want them to be hurt as she’d been all those years ago. They didn’t deserve that kind of pain. No one did.

Jasmine slid past her without another word.

Lily waited until her sister’s dark head had disappeared before turning her gaze back to the captain. “I don’t know what you think gives you the right to embroil my innocent little sister in your schemes.”

“I am not scheming or embroiling anyone, Lily.” He turned back to the wheel. “I just answered a few of her questions.”

All Lily could see of him was the drooping line of his shoulders under the ridiculous red shirt he wore. Choosing to concentrate on the shirt instead of his posture, she wondered if her father thought they were still living in the days of the keelboats. She wanted to lash out at him. She wanted to tell him how ridiculous he looked. She wanted to remind him he was only needed to steer the boat, not to teach her sister anything. But she couldn’t quite force the words past her lips. So she watched him while he watched the river.

Why did you stay on this boat?
Lily wanted to ask, but she didn’t dare open up that topic. It was too dangerous.

Shoring up her defenses, she lifted her chin. Perhaps if she kept him isolated from her sisters, up here in the pilothouse where the pilot belonged …

“I don’t want you talking to Jasmine anymore.” She turned on her heel and practically ran toward the staircase as though some monster was chasing her.

W
hy can’t David go with us?” Jasmine’s plaintive voice interrupted the instructions Lily was giving Jensen.

“Because he’s going to stay here with the other men.”

Jasmine’s lower lip protruded. “He stayed with us in New Orleans.”

“And you spent most of your time bickering,” Camellia reminded her. She looked toward Lily. “When can we leave?”

“In just a moment.” Lily focused on Jensen. “If you need anything, we’ll be at my grandmother’s home. Blake knows where it is.”

“We’ll be fine, ma’am.” Jensen rested a hand on David’s shoulder.

David looked longingly toward the carriage where Lily’s sisters and Tamar waited. Should she let him come home with them? But no, Lily reminded herself, there would be enough controversy at Les Fleurs without bringing a foundling. “Trust me, David, you’re better off here. Just stay close to Jensen or Blake, and you shouldn’t have any trouble with those bullies in town.”

He gave a slow nod. “Yes’m.”

Lily gave him an encouraging smile before climbing into the carriage. She hadn’t seen Blake since the cargo was off-loaded. Their passengers had disembarked as soon as they made landfall. Blake and Jensen had taken charge of the cargo while the women cleaned the staterooms and made a list of supplies they would need for their next trip. Some of the crew had dismantled the pen on the main deck and scrubbed it with lye soap. She and Tamar had decided to ask Jensen to sell the cow, who had turned out to be a bit too pungent for their passengers. Blake hadn’t needed to point out the advantages of keeping the captain. His experience and concern were proof enough that he should remain … as long as he didn’t reveal his identity.

Camellia adjusted her hat to better protect her complexion from the sunlight. “Are they expecting us at home?”

Lily nodded. “I sent a messenger to Grandmother asking if we could visit. He returned with a sweet note saying that she couldn’t wait to see us.”

“Everything looks different.” Jasmine’s head swiveled as they ascended the hill leading away from the docks.

“Don’t be silly.” Camellia maintained her pose while managing to frown at her sister. “We haven’t been gone that long.”

Lily agreed with Jasmine. The city did look different. Under-the-Hill had been the same with its ramshackle buildings and throngs of steamboats, but new buildings seemed to have sprung up overnight On-the-Hill. Business was booming, a sure sign they would succeed in their shipping business.

“I want the two of you to be on your best behavior while we’re at Les Fleurs.” Lily broke into the discussion before it could escalate into an all-out fight. “I don’t want Aunt Dahlia or Uncle Phillip saying I have turned you into hoydens.”

Camellia elevated her nose and looked away.

Jasmine reached out for Lily’s hand. “Of course we will, Sissy.”

Lily sent a quick prayer heavenward. Her gaze met Tamar’s sympathetic one. Lily couldn’t wait to get back on the river. Even dealing with Captain Henrick and the likes of Mrs. Carlyle would be pleasant in comparison to her relatives’ homilies.