five

Abe stood in front of the sitting room fireplace of the Marine Barracks and held out his hands to warm them. From the hours spent combing Victoria’s streets and taverns last night and all morning, not only was he weary to the bone, but the damp cold had seeped into his limbs as well.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t any closer to finding Herman Cox today than he’d been yesterday after the man had disappeared from the hospital, leaving Violet in his care. Even so, he softly whistled the hymn he oft did when he felt discouraged, knowing that praising the Lord was one of the quickest ways to take his mind off his troubles. “Rejoice, the Lord is King! Your Lord and King adore! Rejoice, give thanks, and sing, and triumph evermore—”

“Pastor Abe?” Someone spoke behind him.

He spun to find Miss Hart standing in the doorway, holding Violet, who appeared to be sleeping contentedly, thank the Lord. After the bouts of crying yesterday, he’d been uncertain whether Violet would ever stop, even after Miss Hart assured him the baby would be fine once she had enough nourishment.

The young woman didn’t step into the room but regarded him warily. Except for the slight pinch of a frown between her brows, her face was flawless, even more beautiful than he remembered. Not that he’d been thinking of her. At least not oft, and only because she’d insisted on bringing Violet back to the Marine Barracks with her and taking care of the baby while he looked for Herman.

“How is Violet today?” he asked.

“She was fussy off and on throughout the night, but she’s sleeping now.” The dark circles under Miss Hart’s eyes told him she’d gotten very little sleep herself.

“Is she still hungry? Do you need more milk?”

“We’ve plenty left from what you had sent over last eve.” Miss Hart tucked in a corner of the infant’s swaddled blanket. “She’s sated now.”

“Is she ill, then? Shall I call for a doctor?”

“She’s got her nights and days mixed around is all.” His expression must have shown his ignorance, because she offered an explanation. “Herman probably stayed up drinking at night and slept during the day, so Violet naturally thinks nights are the time to be awake and days are for sleeping.”

“I see. That poses a problem.”

“My niece was mixed around for a while too. But I eventually got her straightened out.”

He was tempted to ask how one went about changing a baby’s sleeping habits but decided he’d already shown enough of his lack of knowledge for one day. Instead, he leapt upon the chance to talk about something else. “Your niece? How old is she?”

“She was six weeks old when she died.”

Miss Hart wavered slightly, a sign of her exhaustion. Perhaps her grief over her friend had also interrupted her sleep.

Whatever the case, Miss Hart needed to sit down before she collapsed. Though the room was sparsely furnished, Abe strode to Miss Hart, took her arm, and guided her to the closest sofa.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with sudden tears. “I’m just tired. Mum always said everything’s worse when you’re tired.”

He crouched before her, wishing he could do something to ease her grief and heartache. He started to reach for her hand, but then drew back. He needed to be careful. As a pastor and a single man, he couldn’t place himself in any compromising situations.

Yesterday’s time alone with Miss Hart at the hospital had bordered on inappropriate, even with the examining room door open and an attendant nearby. He’d lost track of time while Miss Hart had shared about Jane, about their escapades at the mill together, their months of unemployment, and finally their voyage across the Atlantic to Victoria.

In the moment, he’d told himself he was simply fulfilling his pastoral duty of comforting the bereaved. He oft sat with grieving families as they poured out memories of their loved ones. The sharing was the beginning of the healing process.

Even so, she was a single woman. And he needed to exercise more caution so he could remain above reproach. He’d learned that lesson all too well when he’d been offering comfort to Wanda.

If only Miss Hart didn’t look so forlorn. . . .

He hesitated in front of her. Her dark hair was pulled back today into a simple knot, but already a strand had come loose, as if it couldn’t stand to be contained. Her lashes were wet, making them appear longer and darker as they framed her shimmering eyes.

“Did you find Herman?” she asked.

“Not yet—”

“Good.” Her shoulders visibly relaxed, and she hugged Violet a little closer.

Unease nudged Abe, prodding him to stand and put some distance between himself and so beautiful a woman. He crossed to the fireplace and stretched his hands toward it, though he was no longer cold.

He cleared his throat and stared at the flames rather than at Miss Hart. “I’ll continue to look for Herman. And I will find him eventually.” He had enough connections throughout Vancouver Island and on the mainland that Herman Cox wouldn’t be able to avoid him for long.

“He doesn’t want the babe back,” Miss Hart said with too much confidence.

“Herman Cox is a good man. It would appear he’s simply lost himself to grief since his wife passed away.”

“That’s no excuse for neglecting this babe.”

Abe turned to face Miss Hart. Though tears still glittered in her eyes, now fire sparked there too. “You’re right—”

“He doesn’t deserve the child.” She jutted her chin, daring him to contradict her. Her expression reflected all the hurt and injustice and pain she’d experienced so far in her life.

Although she’d shared some of her hardships, he suspected he didn’t even know the half of what she’d suffered. Her hurts likely went deeper than he could begin to understand.

Even so, Herman Cox was the baby’s father. Abe planned to find the man and point him to the only One who could truly carry his burdens. Once he was sober and right with God, Herman would be as good a father as he’d been a husband.

“Miss Hart,” Abe started, uncertain how to communicate his thoughts.

“I’ve had the night to think about it. And I’m keeping the babe.”

How had this situation become so complicated so quickly? “I understand your concerns.” He was grateful for his practice using patience with the miners so that his tone didn’t betray his mounting worry. “But even if I’m unable to find Herman, you cannot keep the baby, not as a single woman without any means of support.”

“I’ll get a job and place of my own.”

“That’s not so easy to do. And even if you can support yourself, who would take care of the baby while you worked?”

“Who will see to the babe when Herman works?”

She had a point. Without a woman to aid him, Herman would be in a difficult position. Even so, Miss Hart had to realize she would have an even harder time keeping an infant.

“If Herman will not have her, then she must be given up for adoption, hopefully to a real family.” He honestly didn’t know any English families who would be willing to adopt the child, especially since Violet was of mixed race. Perhaps that’s why Herman had been looking for Rose’s tribe—he’d been hoping to place her with a native family. But a tribe might not want Violet any more than the English. The sad truth was that the child likely wouldn’t belong in either place and would be an outcast.

The other sad truth was that the smallpox epidemic among the natives had already left too many orphans and not enough people willing to care for them.

Pete and Arabella would take the child in if he asked them to. They had large and willing hearts. Already they’d adopted two native girls who’d lost their family. But now with Pete’s parents having moved to Victoria, the small apartment above the bakeshop was overflowing. Of course, Pete was in the process of purchasing land and ordering supplies to build a house. However, the project was still months away from completion.

What about Sque-is? Would he and his wife be willing to give Violet a home? Abe hadn’t seen or heard from his native friend since late autumn. Although he prayed for Sque-is and his tribe, that they’d been spared from smallpox, the longer he went without word, the more he suspected something had happened.

“Ultimately,” Abe said, “the best place for Violet is with her family—her father.”

“Absolutely not.” Zoe stood, her body rigid. “It’s the worst place.”

“I’ll talk to Herman and help him—”

“No one can help a drunk unless he first wants to help himself. Believe me, I know.”

How did she know? Had she suffered at the hands of a drunk? Was that why she felt so strongly about protecting Violet?

“I don’t know what you’ve experienced,” he said gently, “but not everyone who drinks is hopelessly lost. I’ve seen many hardened men repent of their sins and turn to the Lord.”

“Herman’s not hardened. He’s dead inside.”

“Not dead. Not yet.” Abe refused to give up on people. Nothing was impossible for the Lord. In fact, the Lord was in the business of bringing the dead back to life.

“Herman was obviously trying to give his child a better life, especially for the sake of his late wife.” Zoe looked down at the sleeping infant and brushed a finger across her cheek. “Let him give his child this gift.”

“There’s no guarantee she’ll be better off with someone else—”

“I can guarantee it. With me. Violet will be better off with me.”

Abe swallowed a frustrated sigh.

“’Course, I’m planning to get married. If I can’t keep Violet without getting married, then I’ll hurry things along and find a husband right away.”

“It’s not wise to rush into marriage. Choosing a spouse is too important to be undertaken without a great deal of thought.”

“And I am planning to think on it long and hard.”

“You’ll need to take your time and get to know the young man. Surely you see the importance of having shared values as well as shared affection?”

“All I need to know is that he’ll take care of me and Violet. And I also need him to take me up to the mining camps so I can find my brother.”

“Your brother?”

“Aye. My twin.”

Miss Hart had a twin brother living in the mining camps? Abe was sure his surprise showed on his face. “My circuit takes me among many of the mining camps and puts me into contact with many men. Perhaps I know your brother.”

“Zeke Hart?” she asked hopefully. “Six feet tall, medium build, dark hair, and green eyes?”

Abe searched his mind for the fellows he’d come to know that resembled Miss Hart. But he’d never run across a Zeke Hart. And of course the description could fit any number of men.

With Miss Hart’s expectant gaze upon him, he continued to mentally comb through the many people he’d met. “When did he arrive? And do you know approximately where he’s located?”

“He left over a year ago, and all he said was that he was going to the Fraser River Valley.”

“The Fraser River Valley spans hundreds of miles. And many of the miners have pushed farther inland into the Cariboo area. Has he written with a more specific address?”

She dropped her gaze. If she was hoping to hide her guilt, it was written into her expression as clear as daylight. “I haven’t heard from him, but I was hoping once I got up into the Fraser River Valley and started asking around, people would be able to point me to him.”

“It’s possible.” Especially if he’d made a name for himself by striking a vein of gold. But it was also possible she’d never locate him, that he could have been one of the many thousands of miners who’d hoped to make a fortune last spring or summer, only to leave more destitute than when they arrived.

“I really need to find him,” she stated, the guilt still creasing her face. “And I need a man who can help me do that.”

Since Abe had been born late in his mother’s life and many years after his siblings, he’d never been close to his older brother and sister. He didn’t have a relationship with them—certainly not the kind of bond that twins had. Even so, whatever Miss Hart’s connection to her twin brother, her predicament didn’t sit well with him. “I would still urge you to use a great deal of caution in choosing a spouse.”

“Some nice fellas came calling last night. I’m sure it won’t take too much longer to pick one of them.” She met his gaze head on, as though daring him to stop her.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, he realized he couldn’t prevent her from a hasty marriage. But perhaps he could slow her down. “Violet is not yet yours, Miss Hart. Herman could very well show up later today and collect her. It would be best to refrain from any drastic measures until we know Herman’s intentions.”

She hesitated, the moment drawing out so that the sounds from within the house became more prominent—the footsteps overhead in the women’s bedrooms, the chatter and laughter in the sitting room across the hallway, and the clinking of utensils and pans from the kitchen at the back of the house.

Finally, Miss Hart nodded. “I’ll wait a few days until after Jane’s funeral. But then I’ll be ready to move on.” Without sparing him another look, she crossed to the door and left.

Abe could only stare after her, worry nagging him. Although he was tired from the long hours of searching for Herman, he realized he wouldn’t be able to rest anytime soon. Not until Violet was back where she belonged and Miss Hart was safe from the pressure of rushing into marriage.