Texas Angel, 2-in-1 (11 page)
“Who is it? I’ll speak to her.”
But the captain hesitated, seemingly flustered. “Well . . . I . . . uh . . . that might not be . . . you see, she is a minister’s wife.”
Ah yes. Again, Elise had forgotten who she was and the great impropriety it would be for a genteel woman to associate with her. But she wasn’t about to back down, not when Hannah’s life was at risk. She had already sacrificed much for the sake of this child.
“Captain Wakefield, could you speak to this woman? Perhaps she will relay any information she might have through you.”
“That’s an excellent idea! I’ll do that very thing. You go wait in your cabin, and I will be there directly.”
Rebekah opened her cabin door to find Captain Wakefield standing before her.
“Good evening, ma’am.” He was a soft-spoken man with a gentleness about him one did not expect from a sea captain.
“Good evening, Captain. I’m afraid my husband is not here.” She could think of no other reason for this man’s visit. Benjamin was off somewhere at his evening prayers.
“Actually, ma’am, it is you I wish to see.” He quickly and somewhat awkwardly explained his mission. “The young woman feels she is too far beneath your station to expect you to come to her, but I will gladly impart to her any wisdom you might have.”
“Well, that’s nonsense, Captain. I see no reason why I shouldn’t go to her.”
“Ah . . . it’s just that . . . well . . . your husband might not approve.”
Rebekah knew her husband had many quirks, but snobbery wasn’t one of them. He had often visited the poor in their Boston neighborhood and ministered to them.
“I’m sure you are wrong. My husband has encouraged me to serve the poor.”
“It’s more than that, ma’am. I mean, there’s more to it, but it just isn’t proper for me to say more.”
“Captain, you are not making sense. And as we stand here mincing words, a child lies ill. My husband isn’t here, so I must make the judgment. And I say I need to see this child for myself before I can help it. Now please wait a moment while I gather up a few things.”
Before the captain had arrived, Rebekah had been feeling sick herself with a queasy stomach from the rock of the boat, but suddenly she forgot about that. She had always been a person eager to serve others, but more than that, it was exhilarating to make her own judgment in this particular matter without having to seek her husband’s wisdom.
“Micah,” she said as she gathered a few items into a satchel, “please mind your sisters while I go on an errand.”
Feeling a lightness in her step she had not felt in weeks, Rebekah followed the captain down the corridor.
R
EBEKAH WAS SHOCKED TO FIND
four women sharing a tiny cabin half again as small as the one she shared with her family. It was stuffy inside and reeking with the stench of seasickness. Had Rebekah not been so intent upon her mission, she might have wondered at the peculiarity of four women, two obviously women of color, traveling together.
But upon entering the cabin, the crying baby immediately absorbed her attention. It was all the more pathetic in that the poor child was having quite a difficult time breathing. The young woman holding the baby was in nearly as much distress.
“Thank you so much for coming,” she said. “But you didn’t have to come here. . . .”
“Nonsense.” Rebekah laid her hand on the infant’s forehead. “How could I know what to do for the baby without seeing it? Is your baby a girl or a boy? I hate to keep referring to it as
it
.”
“A girl. Her name is Hannah. I’m Liz.”
“I’m happy to make your acquaintance, though I wish it were under better circumstances. I’m Rebekah Sinclair. Now, let’s see what we can do for little Hannah. She seems to have a bit of a fever, but her breathing concerns me most.” She set her satchel on a table, then looked about the cabin. “Do you have a kettle?”
“No, but I can find one.”
“I would go myself, but I am afraid I am not tolerating the tossing of the ship very well.”
“You really shouldn’t have come if you are ill.”
Rebekah smiled. “This will take my mind off my own woes. Now please fetch a kettle of water, and we will heat it on your stove here. I can hold Hannah if she doesn’t protest too strenuously.”
Within a fifteen minutes the kettle was boiling nicely. Rebekah added some eucalyptus leaves, then instructed Liz to place the baby’s bed near the stove.
“Normally I would take a blanket and fix a tent over Hannah, but this cabin is so small the steam should build nicely without the tent. You’ll be able to hold her. If only there was a rocker for you.”
Liz set a chair by the stove and settled there with Hannah in her arms. “This will be fine. How long will it take for the medicine to take effect?”
“A few hours, I should think.” Rebekah began packing up her satchel.
“The captain said you have children of your own. Is that how you know what to do?”
“I’ve just had my third child. I’ve learned through their illnesses and also from my mother.”
Liz shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I have neither of those benefits. I know next to nothing about children.”
“You’ll learn.”
“You said you just had a baby?”
“She is nearly a month old.” Rebekah smiled tenderly. She thought how she had resented Leah for so long while she carried the babe in her womb, but now that she was here, she thanked God for the joy the child brought. “My husband had hoped she would wait to be born in Texas, but I’m rather glad she came when she did. I’m afraid in Texas we will be even more in the wilds than we were on our journey from Boston.”
“What brings you all this way from Boston?”
Rebekah restrained a bitter sigh. “My husband is a minister, and he has been called to Texas to spread the Gospel. What brings you to Texas, Liz?”
Liz’s eyes flickered away from Rebekah, and she was silent for so long that Rebekah began to think she had unwittingly tread upon forbidden ground.
Finally Liz replied, “My master decided to settle there.”
“Your master . . . ?”
“I thought the captain had told you . . .”
“No, he didn’t.”
“I should have said something, then. But I was so afraid you might not help if you knew.”
Rebekah now understood about the women in the room. They were slaves. But this young woman before her looked nothing like a normal slave. Her skin was completely white, just like Rebekah’s. Oh, perhaps it had a bit of a tan, but hardly enough for her to be a Negro. It completely baffled Rebekah. But what baffled her more, and even distressed her, was that Liz would think that might have influenced Rebekah’s decision to help.
“It wouldn’t have mattered, Liz.” Rebekah’s tone was filled with quiet intensity.
“There’s more—”
“It would make no difference.” She was firm in her conviction. In her inner, often unspoken, opposition to her husband, Rebekah sometimes doubted her faith, or at least doubted that she was a very good Christian. But even if she wasn’t worthy of Christ, she did love Him and desire to serve Him. The fact that she didn’t desire to share her husband’s choice of service proved most confusing to her. “I know Jesus himself would not have refused you, no matter your race. How could I then do so? I would be no Christian if I saw need, especially the need of a little child, and turned away from it.”
Liz’s sad lips twitched into an uncertain smile. “Maybe I wouldn’t have turned away from God if I had known more people like you, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“Oh, but Liz, surely it is a mistake to base your personal faith on others. People can be so fallible.”
“What other way is there?”
“The Bible shows God’s true nature. You could not read the New Testament without meeting a God of love. May I tell you a little secret?” Rebekah actually glanced about as if she expected Benjamin to be standin gover her with disapproval. She didn’t know why she was speaking so candidly to this woman. Perhaps it was just because it had been such a long time since she had spoken with a woman near her own age and one, despite her situation, of obvious intelligence. “My husband preaches much about sin and retribution. His God is so wrathful at times it truly frightens me. I suppose he’s right because he is a man of God, but . . . sometimes I think he has forgotten about God loving us so much He allowed His Son to die in our place. I suppose I am just being a sentimental female, but that is the God I cling to.” She stopped suddenly and gave an awkward titter. “But I do go on! And I thought my husband was the preacher!”
“Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. Sinclair.” Liz reached up a hand, which Rebekah took and gently squeezed. “I’ll think about what you’ve said. I don’t know how I will ever repay you for your help.”
“I have been paid already.” Rebekah flashed a conspiratorial smile. “I haven’t felt this good in weeks. Now, I will hear no more of payment. But I do insist that you inform me if Hannah isn’t better by morning. And if she worsens at all during the night, send for me immediately. I’m also going to have the steward keep you supplied with water through the night, so you won’t have to fetch it. And I have left you some spare eucalyptus leaves.”
T
HE NEXT MORNING REBEKAH WAS
to see her patient again. After breakfast, which she and her family took in their cabin, she asked Benjamin if they could take some air on the deck.
“Of course, my dear!” He laid aside his napkin and studied her closely. “I’m so pleased to see you in better spirits. Even your color has returned.”
“Yes, I do feel better. It truly lifted me to help that woman I told you about.” She drank the last of her tea.
“I’m glad of that, but I still think you should have awaited my return before going. I should have accompanied you. I would have offered a prayer.”
Rebekah felt a twinge of guilt that she had forgotten completely to pray for Liz and Hannah.
“I’m sure we can still pray for them. We can right now,” she suggested.
“Yes, a very good idea.”
It wasn’t often—and it happened far less lately—that Rebekah felt such approval from Benjamin.
They bowed their heads as they sat at the small table. Benjamin prayed for ten minutes, touching upon several other topics besides Liz and the baby. When they finished, he helped Rebekah into her cloak, and they went up to the deck, leaving Micah to mind the girls.
The sky was clear, but a steady wind out of the southeast greeted them. Though chilly, the fresh air felt good after the closeness of the cabin. Rebekah leaned against the ship’s rail, closed her eyes, and let the wind waft over her face. Benjamin stood beside her, and when she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see him smiling at her. He looked almost as he had when they first met, before he had been called to the pulpit, before the heavy mantle of God had been laid upon his shoulders.
“Have I done something to amuse you, Benjamin?”
He shook his head. “I was only thinking of the saying about seeing a light at the end of the tunnel. We have been in a long tunnel these last months, Rebekah, but I believe I finally see a light—the light of God himself. It makes me quite joyful.”
“I am glad to see you joyful. There are times . . .” She paused, looking out at the expanse of sea, blue capped with frothy white. “I feared the joy had gone completely from our lives.”
“Not as long as we keep focused upon our Lord.” Benjamin patted his wife’s hand, then was distracted as his eyes wandered from hers. When she turned, she saw the captain down at the other end of the deck conversing with a group of men. “Rebekah, I must speak with the captain. Do you mind if I leave you momentarily?”
“Not at all.”
“I have been wanting to volunteer to hold Sunday services the day after tomorrow.”
“Go on ahead. I’ll wait here and enjoy the view.”
She watched him depart, and when she began to turn back to the rail, she saw Liz approach from the opposite direction. She smiled a welcome, noting that though the young woman was not holding Hannah, she did not seem in any distress.
“I was going to come see you after I took some air,” Rebekah said.
“There is no need, Mrs. Sinclair. Hannah is much better today. I left her sleeping better than she has in days.”
“I’m so glad!”
Liz glanced toward the group of men. “Was that your husband?”
“Yes. I shall introduce you when he returns.”
“I . . . I really can’t stay.” She suddenly looked like a scared rabbit.
“I should go check on Hannah.”
“Wait, Liz!” Rebekah laid a hand on Liz’s arm just as she was about to retreat. “I have something for you.”
“I don’t think I will need more medicine—”
“It’s not that.” Rebekah opened her reticule and withdrew a book.
“It’s my New Testament. I would like you to have it.”
“Thank you, but I couldn’t take it.”
“Please. It would make me so happy if you would. Let’s just call it a loan. We will both be in Texas, so it is likely we will see each other again. You can return it after you have read it.”
“It is I who should be giving you a gift for what you did for Hannah. But I have nothing to give.”
“Someday you may be able to give me something. We won’t worry about it until then. Now take this”—she pressed it into Liz’s hand— “as a loan.”
Liz looked at the book, sudden tears welling into her umber eyes.
Her lips trembled with emotion as she tried to speak. “You are so kind—”
“Rebekah!”
Both women jerked their heads in the direction of the sharp tone. Benjamin was approaching, his eyes filled with stern displeasure.
“Benjamin, I would like you to meet Liz, the mother whose child I helped yesterday.” Rebekah simply could not fathom the look in her husband’s eyes.
“
This
is the woman you helped?”
“Y-yes, of course. . . .”
Rebekah’s husband and Liz locked eyes as Rebekah looked on, astonished. Did Benjamin know the woman was a slave? Though he was a hard man at times, Rebekah knew he intensely opposed slavery and would never despise a person simply on the ground of their ancestry or station in life.
