Sweet Forever (19 page)
Breathing hard, Jacob stopped at the junction of Mulberry and Ohio Streets. He darted desperate glances up and down the docks. He’d run the full distance from his sister’s home on Main-Cross then down Broadway past the church. But here at the riverfront, he paused, unsure which way to go.
It was Monday afternoon, so the steam packet
Wm. R. McKee
had left for Cincinnati hours ago, and the
Swiftsure
wouldn’t be docking again until tomorrow morning. Several flatboats were loading barrels of pork from the numerous pork-packing plants, but he saw no signs of a ferry.
Suddenly, the blast of a steamboat whistle drew his attention several blocks east where East and Ohio Streets intersected. He raced to where the steamboat was docked. There, ladies in full skirts of satins and lawns, shaded by parasols, made a moving ribbon of color on the arms of broadcloth-clad, beaver-hatted gentlemen.
Battling panic, Jacob scanned the passengers embarking and disembarking the sternwheeler
James Seymour.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of green and white on the top deck near the stern. Fear quickly swamped his initial feeling of relief.
“Rosaleen! Rosaleen!” The bustle of the busy riverfront drowned his calls. She would never hear him from this distance amid the off-loading of freight and the happy, loud chatter of passengers.
His heart leaped at the sight of her. She stood bareheaded, grasping the rail. Her light-colored frock stood out in stark contrast against the green and gold wooded hills of Kentucky
behind her. Even at this distance, he could see the sun
revealing coppery lights in her hair as the river breezes played with curling wisps of her dark auburn tresses.
Watching her turn and gaze upriver toward the church, he could only wonder what might be going through her mind and heart. He blinked away tears, remembering that morning last April when his heart first stirred at her beauty. The memory solidified his determination.
I won’t let him have her. I won’t!
Ignoring the protests of embarking passengers, Jacob
elbowed his way up the boat ramp. She seemed to be alone. Perhaps if McGurty were otherwise occupied, Jacob just might be able to convince her to leave with him.
Oh God, just help me convince her to leave this boat!
❧
The white cross atop the belfry of Jacob’s church blurred. Rosaleen closed her damp eyes, and the image of her beloved’s face appeared behind her eyelids. It seemed so real she might reach out and touch the scar on Jacob’s cheek. She opened her eyes, unable to bear the agony of the vision any longer. She drew in a lungful of fresh air then exhaled a ragged breath, hoping Bill would not learn she’d disobeyed him.
Upon embarking, he’d shoved her into the tiny cabin with orders that she stay there until he finished a card game. Unwilling to leave Madison without another look, she’d dared to make her way to the outside deck. For a better look at the town, she’d climbed the stairs to the top deck. She’d deal with Bill and the consequences of her actions later. In truth, any punishment Bill might mete out paled in comparison to his having ripped her from the man she loved and the only place that had ever felt like home.
Gripping the railing, she fought the panic that urged her to flee this steamboat and run back to Opal’s boardinghouse and into Jacob’s sweet embrace. Yet to do so would be to seal her darling’s fate. She had no doubt that Bill meant every word of his threat.
Dear Lord, help me. Give me the courage to save Jacob and leave it all behind.
From the top deck of the
James Seymour
,
her gaze drifted along the shoreline of Madison, Indiana, and
she stifled a sob. The place had entangled itself in her heartstrings. Dear faces she might never again see in this life swam before her eyes through a mist of tears. Yet one visage overshadowed them all, saturating her whole heart.
“Jacob.” His name snagged on the ragged edges of her sobs.
“I’m here, my darling.”
Catching her breath, she swung around, sure she’d imagined his voice. Unbelievably, his blond head emerged from the stairwell connecting the upper and middle decks.
Her heart seized as joy, love, and fear collided. She stepped toward him then felt her body jerk back as fingers bit into her arm.
“I told you to stay below. Now see what you’ve done? You’ve complicated things and put this nice young man in jeopardy.” Bill McGurty’s warm, whiskey-laced breath sent shivers through her.
“Let her go, McGurty.” Jacob’s voice was calm as he took a step toward them.
“Ah, I see my reputation precedes me.” Bill slipped his left arm around her waist, holding her against him in a vice-tight grip. With his free hand, he pulled a walnut-handled derringer from his vest. Flicking his wrist, he motioned toward the stairwell with the little pistol. “Young reverend, I suggest you turn around and go back down those steps and off this boat if you want to preach another sermon.”
Fear twisted through Rosaleen when Jacob continued to
advance. “Go away, Jacob! Go back to the boardinghouse.
I don’t love you.”
God, please let him believe it.
A sweet smile lifted the corners of Jacob’s mouth, and her hopes plummeted. “You’re a terrible liar, Rosaleen.”
“I suggest you listen to the little lady, Reverend.” A tiny
click
told Rosaleen Bill had pulled the hammer back on the derringer.
“Not without Rosaleen,” Jacob replied, his voice steady, his blue eyes as calm as the placid Ohio on a windless day.
To Rosaleen’s horror, she saw him take another step toward her. The awful scenes of Donovan’s death played before her eyes. She couldn’t let that happen to Jacob. She wouldn’t!
Please, God, give me the strength and courage to do this.
The words of one of the scriptures she’d committed to memory flashed to her mind: “
I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
”
The next few seconds passed as if in a nightmare. She leaned back and as far away from Bill as his grasp allowed. The low railing edging the steamboat’s top deck bit into her lower back. With all her strength, she brought her arm closest to Bill forward then reared back, sinking her elbow into his ribs.
“Uhh!” His exclamation seemed more of surprise than pain, yet it caused him to double over and lower his hand that held the derringer. The shot pinged harmlessly into the deck.
The instant Bill’s grip loosened, Rosaleen pulled free of him. Clinging to the rail, she watched, terrified, as Jacob plowed into Bill. The impact brought both men down and sent the spent, one-shot derringer clanging to the deck.
Rosaleen was relieved when Jacob managed to extricate himself from Bill’s grasp and push up into a kneeling position. But when he glanced to his side as if looking for Rosaleen, Bill, who’d also righted himself, reached over and snatched his walking stick from the deck and swung it in an arc toward Jacob’s head. The stick made contact with an ugly
smack
. A scream caught in Rosaleen’s throat when another blow landed solidly against Jacob’s jaw, sending him sprawling.
Bill scrambled to his feet and lunged at Rosaleen. “Come here, you little—” He slipped on the derringer, cutting his sentence short.
In shock, Rosaleen watched his feet go out from under him, the momentum of his lunge propelling his body over the short railing. For a moment, she sat motionless, stunned by what had just transpired.
Then her gaze fell upon Jacob, who’d righted himself and was rubbing his jaw. “Jacob, are you all right?” Weeping, she rushed to throw her arms around him.
“I thought I’d come to save
you
,” he told her with a grin, holding her tight against him.
Two deafening blasts of the steamboat’s whistle and the
shug
,
shug
,
shug
of the paddlewheel announced the
James Seymour
’s
departure.
“Help me up, man! In the name of all that’s holy.”
In disbelief, Rosaleen’s face swung with Jacob’s toward the sound of Bill’s voice. Somehow, he’d miraculously caught hold of the railing with one hand, saving himself from the deadly drop.
Pressing a quick kiss on her cheek, Jacob extricated himself from her embrace and went to assist his nemesis.
He almost had Bill up, when in horror, Rosaleen saw the sun glint on the barrel of a second derringer in McGurty’s free hand. Jacob must have seen it at the last moment and jerked back, letting go of Bill’s arm.
The instant the bullet whizzed past Jacob’s ear, Bill fell backward to the churning water below. His head hit the iron rim of the giant paddlewheel with a sickening
crack
! An instant later, his body disappeared beneath the surface of the Ohio.
Trembling, Rosaleen stared down at the water.
“Don’t look, darling. Don’t look.” Jacob pulled her away from the railing, stifling her sobs against his chest. Rocking her in his arms, he murmured sweet hushes while he kissed her hair.
Dimly aware of excited voices and a flurry of activity around them, Rosaleen noticed that the
James Seymou
r had reversed, returning to the Madison shore. “Thank You, Jesus. Thank You, thank You.” A bevy of thankful prayers winged their way heavenward from her grateful heart as she clung to Jacob, burying her face in his chest. Then a flash of quick anger blazed inside her and she pulled away from him. “Jacob, I told you not to follow me. You could have been killed!”
“But I wasn’t.” He gave her that crooked grin of his that had won her heart her first day in Madison. “Hebrews 13:6 says, ‘The Lord is my helper, and I will not fear what man shall do unto me.’ Rosaleen, I was not going to let that man take you away from me.”
She felt sure he knew, yet she couldn’t let it go. She had to say it. “Jacob, when I told you I didn’t love you, I didn’t mean it. I do love you. I love you so much. I will love you every day for the rest of my life.”
“I know, my darling.” His beautiful blue gaze melted into hers. Smiling, he brushed the tears from her cheeks with his calloused thumb. “And I’ll love you as long as God gives me breath.” With his whispered confession, he pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips tenderly against hers.
Boang! Boang! Boang!
The sound of the new church bell rang out, announcing to the town of Madison that God had just joined together the hearts and lives of two of His own.
Rosaleen Hale clung tightly to her husband’s arm as they descended the stone steps of the church that had been his dream. Careful to hold the voluminous folds of her yellow silk skirt away from her feet, she scarcely noticed the congregation behind them calling out a potpourri of congratulations and good wishes.
Over her shoulder, she sent the crowd a smile and a wave before turning her gaze toward the Ohio River framed by the boughs of trees dressed in the deep reds, oranges, and golds of autumn. The undiluted joy in Rosaleen’s heart matched the pristine clarity of the cloudless October sky.
“Happy, darling?” Jacob asked as he settled her on the maroon velvet seat of the phaeton.
Her husband’s quiet question caressed her heart. “Superbly,” she managed before a knot of emotion gathering in her throat rendered her mute. How could she articulate to her dear husband her wonder over all God had wrought in her life these past six months? Changes she’d never have imagined the night she fled the burning deck of the
Cortland Belle
.
Jacob flicked the reins against the sorrel mare’s back, and they rolled down Broadway toward Ohio Street and the river.
Rosaleen gazed at the broad waterway that held so many memories, both sweet and awful. She marveled at how God had turned grief to joy, tragedy to triumph, and despair to hope. Since her father’s death, she had ached to belong to a real family. Breathing a soft sigh of contentment, she snuggled in the circle of Jacob’s arm. Now, thanks to her darling “angel,” she belonged to the family of God and could look forward to a sweet life, as well as a sweet forever.
Ramona K. Cecil is a wife, mother, grandmother, freelance poet, and award-winning inspirational romance writer. Now empty nesters, she and her husband make their home in Indiana. She’s a member of American Christian Fiction Writers and American Christian Fiction Writers Indiana Chapter, and her work has won awards in a number of inspirational writing contests. Over eighty of her inspirational verses have been published on a wide array of items for the Christian gift market. She enjoys a speaking ministry, sharing her journey to publication while encouraging aspiring writers. When not writing, her hobbies include reading, gardening, and visiting places of historical interest.