Surrender the Dawn (25 page)

“How kind of you, Reverend,” Marianne’s mother said.

Marianne smiled and sat back down. Jacob waved his hands in the air and grabbed his mother’s handkerchief.

“What has Luke to do with this?” Cassandra stood and began to pace.

Marianne collected her son’s flailing arms in her hand. “He came by as soon as he heard the news and offered to help.”

“Do sit down, Reverend.” Marianne’s mother gestured toward a chair then asked Mr. Sorens, who had remained at the parlor entrance, to instruct Mrs. Rebbs to serve tea.

Marianne pressed a hand over her belly. “I don’t believe I can drink anything right now, Mother.”

“You must try, dearest. It will settle your stomach.” Her mother folded shriveled hands in her lap and leaned back in her chair, a picture of tranquility, though the nervous blinking of her eyes betrayed her.

“What if it’s Noah?” Marianne’s voice broke into a sob. “What if he’s been captured?”

As Cassandra passed by the sofa, Jacob reached for her. Gathering him in her arms, she extracted the handkerchief from his hands and handed it to Marianne.

“Noah is a competent sailor,” Mr. Drummond offered, lowering himself into a chair.

Marianne dabbed at her eyes as another knock rapped through the foyer. The door squeaked open and the thud of heavy boots echoed over the wooden floor. Cassandra’s heart froze. She knew the sound of those boots anywhere.

Mr. Heaton’s masculine frame filled the doorway. His eyes widened at the sight of her before he greeted Mr. Drummond, Marianne, and her mother.

“Miss Channing,” he said, tossing his cocked hat onto a table. “A pleasure as always.” Then marching across the room, he planted a kiss on Marianne’s cheek.

A kiss. Just like the one he’d given Cassandra. A casual kiss of friendship. That was all it had been. Which would explain the trollop and the fact that Mr. Heaton had not come to call on her in five days. Cassandra felt a hot flush rise up her neck at how silly she had been.

“What news?” Marianne wrung her hands together.

Mr. Heaton gave her a reassuring look. “Nothing yet. But I have an acquaintance looking into it. He’ll question them immediately and come here as soon as he discovers anything of note.”

Marianne nodded and squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Luke.”

“It’s the least I can do. Noah has been a good friend. More like a brother to me.” Mr. Heaton’s jaw tightened, and for a moment Cassandra detected a slight sheen covering his eyes. He cleared his throat. “I see you have family and friends around you.”

His gaze brushed over Cassandra as he sat in a chair near the doorway and leaned his elbows on his knees.

Jacob grabbed a lock of Cassandra’s hair and pulled it from its pin. The late afternoon sun cut a sharp angle of glittering dust across the room. It spun in a frenzied dance, mimicking Cassandra’s insides. Why, when she should be focusing on comforting her friend, did the man’s presence affect her so?

After several moments of silence in which everyone fidgeted uncomfortably, Reverend Drummond turned to Marianne. “Would you like me to pray, Mrs. Brenin?”

“Yes, very much.” Marianne smiled and she, along with her mother, folded her hands in her lap. The reverend bowed his head. Cassandra did the same, clinging to Jacob, who with thumb in his mouth, now leaned peacefully against her chest.

“Father, we beseech You to protect Noah Brenin. Be with him wherever he is and put a shield of Your warring angels around him. Bring him home safely to his family. And, Father, protect the men who did get captured. We pray it isn’t Noah and his crew. But if so, Father, help us to …,” he continued, but Cassandra opened her eyes. She wanted to see Mr. Heaton’s reaction to the prayer, but his gaze locked onto hers—a gaze burning with such strong yearning and admiration that she dropped her chin again.

“Amens” sounded around the room.

“Thank you, Reverend,” Marianne’s mother said as Mrs. Rebbs brought in a tray of tea and biscuits and set it on the table.

Reverend Drummond reached over and touched Marianne’s arm. “You must trust God.”

“I do trust. But I also know that tragedies come our way.”

Cassandra nodded. She could well attest to that. What she couldn’t fathom was why God allowed such horrible things to happen to His children.

Jacob began to fuss and she wandered to the window, rocking him in her arms. Outside the shadows cast their nets over the street and houses, capturing the last rays of light and dragging them away. She tickled Jacob beneath the chin. He giggled. Kissing him on the forehead, she inhaled his sweet scent as he tried to put his fingers in her mouth. She clutched his tiny hand. No, she would never understand how a Father could hurt His own child.

The clank of spoons on china filled the room, even as the scent of mint tickled her nose.

“Yes, horrible things do happen,” Reverend Drummond said. “We live in a fallen world. But if you’re God’s child, everything serves a purpose—a good purpose. You remember that.”

Marianne sighed. “Yes. I learned that lesson well when Noah and I were impressed aboard that British frigate.” She gave an embarrassed huff. “You’d think I would never forget.”

Cassandra turned around to see Mr. Heaton stretching his booted feet out before him and crossing his arms over his chest. “I beg your pardon, Reverend, but no good came out of my being impressed in the Royal Navy save a sore back and a starving belly.”

As if just now noticing Mr. Heaton’s presence, Jacob stretched out his arms toward him, nearly leaping from Cassandra’s arms.

Rising, Mr. Heaton made his way to her, but his eyes were on the boy.

“Much good came out of that, Luke.” Marianne handed a cup of tea to Reverend Drummond. “You were there. We saved the USS
Constitution
.”

Luke’s blue eyes met Cassandra’s—a trace of sorrow in them—before he took Jacob from her arms, flung the boy into the air, and returned to his seat. “Happenstance. The right place at the right time. That’s all it was.”

Cassandra watched as he set Jacob’s feet on the floor and then held
onto his hands to help him stand. His faith was even more depleted than hers. But what did she expect from a man who possessed no morals?

“Exactly.” The reverend slapped his knee. “The right place at the right time. Hardly feasible unless there’s a God controlling things, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Heaton?”

Mr. Heaton’s face hardened like granite. He placed Jacob’s hands on his knees for support then released him. “No, I would not, sir. I cannot believe that. Otherwise it would force me to accept that God is a monster.”

“Oh my. How can you say such a thing, Luke?” Marianne’s mother gasped.

Marianne stared at him while Reverend Drummond flattened his lips. But the reverend’s eyes filled with love, not the anger Cassandra had expected. “You have suffered much, Mr. Heaton. But those who have suffered much are destined for much.” He smiled and sipped his tea.

Jacob wobbled and plopped to the ground on his bottom. Before he could whine, Luke swung him into his lap. “Destined for what, Reverend, more suffering?” No bitterness spiked his tone, just a defeat that made Cassandra sad.

“We have all suffered,” Marianne’s mother said quietly.

Mr. Heaton’s gaze shot her way and his expression softened. “Indeed.”

Up until now, Cassandra had not considered that Mr. Heaton had suffered overmuch. Yet, she seemed to recall that his parents had been murdered by Indians some years ago.

Marianne passed Cassandra a cup of tea. Her friend’s hand trembled. Taking it from her, Cassandra sat beside her, pondering the suffering they all had endured.

Reverend Drummond scratched his beard. “God’s destiny is never bad. But it is good and acceptable and perfect just as Paul says in Romans 12:2.”

Marianne slid her hand inside Cassandra’s as she said, “You speak the truth, Reverend. I have seen God’s destiny in action. His plans
are
good.” Her glance took in everyone in the room. “They don’t always make sense at the time, but in the end they are always good. A very astute young boy said to me once that since I didn’t know the end of the story, how could I know if the things that were happening to me were good or bad?”

Reverend Drummond smiled.

Confusion rampaged through Cassandra’s mind. How could her father’s death and her brothers’ disappearance bring anything good to her and her family? When she looked up, she saw that Mr. Heaton seemed to
be having an equally difficult time accepting Marianne’s statement.

Jacob flung his arms about Luke’s neck. The bewilderment slipped from his face. He smiled at the lad and allowed him to pull strands of black hair from his tie.

“It’s a lovely thought, Marianne,” Cassandra said. “But I have yet to see it played out in my life.”

The reverend set down his cup. “You must believe God is good and that He rewards those who diligently seek Him. And you must seek Him, Miss Channing, with your whole heart.”

Mr. Heaton snorted and stood.

Cassandra sipped the bitter tea, glancing at the tray for sugar but finding none. She hadn’t sought God, yet she’d been rewarded nonetheless with more than enough money to pay off her debts and care for her family. Was life merely just happenstance? Just a thread of chaotic events? Or were there reasons for everything that happened? A plan? A purpose?

Yet another knock on the door brought Marianne once again to her feet. Mr. Sorens ushered in a young man dressed in a checkered shirt, pea jacket, and oiled blue trousers. The scent of fish filled the room. His eyes locked with Mr. Heaton’s then glanced over the others. He smoothed down his unruly hair as if suddenly conscious of his appearance.

“William.” Reverend Drummond greeted the man as if they were old friends.

Mr. Heaton shifted Jacob to his other arm. “By all means, Mr. Yates, do you have news of Noah Brenin?”

  CHAPTER 18  

L
uke eyed the sailor, who seemed as out of place in the Brenin parlor as a pirate at a cotillion. Yet his fear for Noah’s fate overcame his patience. “Spill it, man, what news?”

“Ah, yes.” The sailor grinned. “I have good news. The ship that was caught by the Brits was the
Rover,
not the
Defender
.”

“Praise God!” Reverend Drummond shouted, leaping to his feet.

Marianne swayed as if she might faint, and Miss Channing helped her to sit back down on the sofa. Clutching her throat, Marianne released a breath. “God is good.”

“Amen,” her mother added.

As relief poured through him, Luke thanked the sailor, who dipped his head and spun on his heels as if anxious to leave the cultured surroundings.

“I best be going as well.” Reverend Drummond searched for his hat. “I’ve got business to attend to.” Anticipating the request, Mr. Sorens appeared around the corner, Reverend Drummond’s hat in hand. Grabbing it with his thanks, the reverend called out after the sailor. “I’ll walk with you, lad.” Turning, he bid them all adieu, received Marianne’s heartfelt thanks, and then left the sitting room. Luke could hear Mr. Drummond slapping the sailor on the back with a chuckle as they closed the front door behind them. Did the reverend hold such close
acquaintance with everyone in town?

Marianne’s mother rose and crossed the room to sit beside her daughter. She drew her into an embrace and together they half sobbed, half laughed, while Miss Cassandra gazed on with moist eyes. The tension that had kept the air in the room as stagnant as the doldrums released in a flurry of joy.

“Well, that saves me the trouble of having to go rescue him.” Luke winked at Cassandra then knelt and set Jacob on the floor, holding him up by his hands. The boy attempted a step on his own. His wide grin, sporting three teeth and a stream of drool, melted Luke’s heart. John was about the same age when Luke had taken over his care. Oh, how he wished he could go back in time and be a better father to the boy.

But God did not give second chances.

Marianne sat up and dabbed her handkerchief beneath her eyes. “He’ll be walking before you know it.”

“Indeed. They grow up fast.” Luke’s eyes landed on Miss Channing, who stared at him with an odd mixture of surprise and admiration. He warmed beneath her gaze, which she quickly swept to the window, where encroaching shadows had absconded with the light.