Whirlwind (28 page)

“Oh, bother.” Millicent stood by the stove, fishing a lump of something from a smoking pan. Waving a potholder back and forth to disperse the acrid fumes, she had no idea he’d seen what she was doing. When she didn’t remove the pan from the fire, it became apparent she didn’t know what she was doing, either.

“Good morning, dear.” He took the pan and scooted it off the fire. What appeared to be a tangle of fried worms hung from the fork she held aloft. An underlying scent rescued him. “Bacon!”

“It was going to be bacon.” She sounded woeful.

“I like my bacon crisp. You remembered my telling that to Mr. Tibbs aboard the ship, didn’t you?”

The church bell began to peal. Millicent stared at the stove. “That’s probably the fire alarm.”

“Millie!” Isabelle dashed out of the nursery. Daniel noticed she skidded to a halt at the same place he had. She caught sight of him and fell silent.

He winked at her. “We’ve started breakfast. Millie’s got the bacon nice and crisp.”

“Burned to a crisp.” The rashers broke into dozens of little shards as she dropped the glob onto a nearby plate.

Isabelle gathered her robe about herself and approached. “We ought to scramble eggs and sprinkle the bacon and some cheese on top. How does that sound to you, Daniel?”

“Delicious.”

Arthur started singing his wake-up song. Isabelle quickly urged, “Millie, you go see to the little one. Daniel, would you be so kind as to hand me a mixing bowl?” As soon as her sister was out of earshot, Isabelle whispered, “Daniel, you ought to know my sister can’t cook.”

He looked her straight in the eyes. “I’d never have guessed.”

Something between a gasp and a strangled giggle came from her.

Daniel gave her a big grin, and Isabelle’s eyes widened. “Let’s salvage her pride, shall we?”

Isabelle nodded in agreement, a small smile lighting her features.

True to their word, the Van der Vort brothers attended church. While Piet stood thin-lipped as the congregation sang, Karl hummed along. Jakob Stauffer did the Bible reading from Psalm 119. “ ‘Trouble and anguish have taken hold on me: yet thy commandments are my delights. The righteousness of thy testimonies is everlasting: give me understanding, and I shall live.’ ”

Arthur let out a loud yawn, then curled up on the pew and rested his head in Millicent’s lap. She tucked Buddy into his arms and turned her attention to the minister.

Pastor Bradle spoke about walking with God and trusting Him even during the storms of life. Daniel sensed Millicent’s sadness, felt how she tried to be strong. He slid one hand over hers and the other over Isabelle’s.
Jesus, you said those who mourn are blessed because they shall be comforted. Grant comfort here now, I pray.

Isabelle soaked her handkerchief. Daniel silently passed her his, and soon it became a sodden mess. Piet sat on her other side. He slipped his handkerchief to her, and his socalled whisper probably carried to most of the congregation. “I would take you out of here if you want. You do not have to stay if it brings you so much grief.”

The pastor stopped.

Piet stood. “I mean no disrespect. The widow—her heart is broken.” His own voice thickened. “God . . . He takes someone, and even the kindest words cannot fill the emptiness.”

He extended his hand to Isabelle.

Millicent gasped as her sister accepted his help and rose.

Isabelle didn’t turn loose of Piet’s hand. “You’ve lost someone, too.”

He nodded. “Ja.”

Karl didn’t budge from the pew. “Our baby brother, Lars, drowned.”

No one in the congregation said a word. They all sat in absolute silence. Here and there, people bowed their heads and their lips moved in silent prayer.

Piet turned to the pastor. “He was two. He did nothing wrong, but God took him.”

The pastor’s words came out slowly, thoughtfully. “If anyone knows what it is like to lose a child, it is God.”

“Jesus lived. He grew to His manhood.” Piet shook his head. “He chose to die. It is not the same. I don’t understand.”

“Neither did the psalmist.” The pastor reread, “ ‘The righteousness of thy testimonies is everlasting: give me understanding, and I shall live.’ David knew God would redeem us in the end, but he didn’t know how or why. He confessed his confusion. Even in his confusion, David didn’t turn away from God; he turned toward Him. Christianity doesn’t mean we understand everything; we don’t. When we don’t understand, we have faith that God is all-wise and all-knowing.”

Piet shook his head. “In my heart, I cannot find peace with this. God did not need to take my brother to heaven.”

“Heaven wouldn’t be heaven without babies.” Isabelle’s head tilted up toward Piet’s. “My biggest regret is that I didn’t give Frank a child. He loved children so very much. I know Frank’s with Jesus. Your brother is with Jesus, too. Now—” her voice quavered—“I can picture my Frank holding your baby Lars. Church is the place I want to be most.” She sank back down onto the pew. “I look at the cross, and it reminds me that the pain I feel isn’t forever.”

Daniel rose. “Piet, you told Isabelle she didn’t have to stay here if it caused her pain. You offered to accompany her out. She’d like to stay, but I’m making the same offer to you. If being here is too hard for you, I’ll walk out alongside you.”

Piet shook his head. “You stay. There are times a man must walk alone.” He looked at the pastor. “I am sorry for the interruption.”

“I’m sorry for your pain, but I’m not sorry for anything you’ve said or done.” Pastor Bradle waited in silence as Piet left the sanctuary. “Let’s close in a time of prayer, seeking to deepen our own faith and asking the Lord how He would use us to make a difference.”

Karl lifted Arthur and carried him back to the mercantile after the service. “It feels good, holding a little boy. Mrs. Quinsby, if this is how your husband feels in heaven, holding my little Lars, then they both must be very happy.”

Isabelle nodded.

It seemed wrong to take Arthur away at the moment, so they had Karl carry him upstairs to his crib. Afterward, Daniel took the blacksmith aside. “Karl, it wasn’t right for us to include attending church in that bargain. Please let Piet know that neither he nor you ever needs to go to the house of the Lord unless you want to.”

“I’ll tell him.” Karl paused a moment. “For me, I’m glad I went. It’s been a long time, but it felt good in my heart to be there.”

“I’d be honored to have you join my family there any time you’d like.”

“A picnic?” Millicent turned from the cupboard. “Today?”

“Sure.” Daniel sat on a dining chair and tied his shoes. He’d changed from his Sunday best into a pair of Levis.
They look good on him. Rugged.

“It’s a nice day. From what Tim said, it’ll start getting cooler soon, so we may as well enjoy the weather while we can. We’ll raid the store for some crackers and cheese. Sunday’s a day of rest. Why bother cooking when we can have a nice meal without the fuss?”

After this morning’s debacle, I’m sure he’d like to excuse me from kitchen duty.

“I’d like to go visit Mercy.” Isabelle resituated her mourning veil. “You go on and have a good time.”

“Isabelle, if you want to spend the afternoon with a friend, that’s fine.” Daniel gave her hand a light squeeze. “But you’re always welcome to be with us.”

Wistfully tracing Arthur’s curls, Isabelle asked, “Would you mind . . . well, Heidi Orion adores Arthur. I’d like to take him with me.”

Millicent held her breath until Daniel said, “Arthur, Aunt Isabelle is going to take you bye-bye.”

“Bye-bye!”

Isabelle grabbed Buddy. “Daniel, if you’d carry Arthur down the stairs, I could hurry on over to the boardinghouse and help Mercy serve dinner.”

A few minutes later, Daniel looked up at Millicent as she descended the stairs. He watched every step she took, so Millicent made a point of holding the banister to allay some of his worry. As she reached the bottom step, he cleared his throat. “That dress—isn’t it fancy for a picnic?”

Millicent looked down at the dress. Isabelle had spent countless hours applying brown twill and gold soutache braid in an intricate pattern around the gored skirt and the hems of the sleeves. The brown and gold mingled in a simpler complementary design along the neck and bodice front. Spreading the skirts, she said, “It’s two, almost three years old, so it’s seen a lot of wear and washing. Besides,” she said, flashing him a self-conscious smile, “since it used to be my sister’s, the skirts are gored and don’t require a . . . cage.”

“So I see.” He slid his finger beneath his collar and eased it. “I’ve a basket by the door with a blanket, some oranges, and crackers in it. Go get some cheese while I take care of dessert.”

“Dessert?” Millicent smiled at him. “Isn’t having a picnic enough of a treat?”

“It’s not a picnic without salt water taffy.” They gathered those last few items, then Daniel pulled something from behind the nearest shelf. “Voilà! A Chinese kite. I loved these when I was a kid.”

She looked at his shining brown eyes and lopsided smile. “At the moment, you could easily pass for a little boy.”

“Each day, looking over at the schoolhouse and watching all the children scramble and play, I think it won’t be long before Arthur gets to dip little girls’ plaits in the inkwell.”

“If he ever tries such a vile stunt, I’ll . . .” Millicent caught herself and shrugged. “Actually, I have no idea what I’d do. After four years with Audrey and Fiona, I’m well versed in little girls, but I’m woefully ignorant on boys.”

“Is that so?” He let out a playful laugh.

“Until now, I planned to rely upon you. After that laugh, I’m not so sure!”

They wandered down the boardwalk and through a field at the edge of town. Daniel checked the direction of the wind. “There’s a nice patch of shady grass. I’ll spread the blanket there.”

Millicent helped him with the blanket. “Would you like to eat first or set the kite to flight?”

“I’m hungry, but if I get orange all over my fingers, the kite string will be a mess.”

She sat down and carefully spread her skirts in such a way to allow him plenty of space. “We could have the crackers and cheese first.”

Daniel dropped down on the blanket, careful not to crowd her. They had a wonderful lunch, talking about Arthur as well as their favorite childhood toys and books. Daniel popped the last cracker into his mouth. “Let’s see about the kite.”

Watching Daniel get the kite aloft was engrossing. For the width of his shoulders and the length of his jean-clad legs, he moved with lithe grace. She’d never studied a man’s motions before. His shoulders rippled as he paid out the string and the wind took hold of the kite. The vermilion and black kite suddenly wheeled about and crashed. He coiled up the string and carried it back to the blanket.

“It didn’t break, did it?”

“No, but it needs a little more weight—the tail’s too light. Would you mind if I took the ribbon from your hat?”

“Not at all.” As she removed her hat, hairpins shifted. Millicent made a few quick moves with questionable results.

He started pulling the ribbon from her hat. When she didn’t move, Daniel gave her an excessively patient look. “Millie, you and I are the only ones out here. I daresay no one will see you with your hair down, so go ahead and fix it.”

No sooner had she removed the remaining pins and let her hair uncoil than Daniel looked up at her. “Your hair—it’s beautiful. I didn’t realize it was that long.”

Embarrassed, she blurted out, “You had to know. I made an utter cake of myself that night I thought the ship was sinking.”

He handed her his pocket comb. “I thought you quite brave. You put Arthur in the only life preserver on hand.” Cocking his head around so she could see his smile, he added, “The only reason I even noticed your hair that night was because you told me you learned to tie knots when you tried to braid your hair. I marveled no one shaved you bald if you knotted your hair as thoroughly as you strapped my son into the vest.”

She started coiling her hair and let out a nervous laugh. “The first time we met, I wouldn’t have imagined you’d have such a sense of humor.”

“The first time I saw you, I couldn’t imagine you were nanny material. Miss Jenkin was twice your age and stout as a barrel. She also smelled of camphor. When Mr. Tibbs went to fetch a replacement, I expected a pudgy, older woman.”

“Am I to deduce you thought I smelled of camphor?”

Daniel set aside the hat and held the ribbon with as much pride as a fisherman who’d caught an enormous trout. “Alas, no. Why else do you think I instructed Mr. Tibbs to find other candidates?”

“It boggles the mind to consider that on a vessel the size of the
Opportunity
, you didn’t locate a woman who met your criteria.”

Tying the ribbon to the kite tail, he mused, “Camphor seemed quite sensible. It had to overlay the smell of Arthur’s nappies, yet none of the candidates I interviewed exuded that particular aroma.” He tugged on a knot. “There. Now let’s see how it does.”

When he stood, she blurted out, “You look like a knight with his shield.”

Fingering the ribbon, he grinned. “Knights wore a favor from their fair lady when they entered tournaments. I’ll be jousting with the wind, but I suppose that’s better than Don Quixote tilting at windmills.”

Again, he strode off and worked to get the kite aloft. Millicent studied his every move as she tried to figure out how she’d come to regard Daniel as a friend. She’d never had a male friend. Nonetheless, she felt quite certain other men wouldn’t be as interesting to converse with. Daniel’s strength was undeniable, yet he tempered it with a gentleness that surprised her over and over again.

What do I have to give in return? He’s gone far beyond what any other man would do—Isabelle and I would have been stranded without him. Yet all I offer in return is to mind Arthur, clean his home, and do his laundry. I can’t even cook his meals.
The memory of burning the bacon made her wince.
I’ll have Isabelle teach me. I’ve never had much exposure to a kitchen. Surely it’s a matter of applying myself.

“What do you think?”

She spotted the kite and clapped. “You’ve won the joust, Sir Daniel!”