Should I try to talk her out of this church service she’s planning?” Ike lounged against the railing in the pilothouse.
Old Obie didn’t object, one of the few people he allowed the liberty of touching anything in his domain. “No need to make an enemy of the girl. She’ll be your boss someday, after all.” He knew the twinkle in his eyes would take the sting out of his words.
“So you think she’ll stay on the river?” More than simple curiosity lay behind Ike’s question.
“How do I know? She might be pulling the wool over my eyes the way her mother did to the captain.” Old Obie shrugged his shoulders, pretending an indifference he didn’t feel. “But I do know this. In less than one week, she’s learned more about steamboats than Cordelia did in two years of marriage. Maybe we should test it, let the boat get grounded and see what she thinks about being stuck in one place for a day or two.”
Ike groaned. “Don’t forget the passengers. We’re trying to convince Bart Ventura that we can meet our schedule and that it’s safe to bring his team aboard. That’s Bart Ventura’s biggest concern about bringing his team aboard. Floating them down the river for exhibition games will only work if they can advertise ahead of time. The only reason he’s considering the steamboat is that the railroad hasn’t made it to Roma yet.”
Old Obie looked down the river. Ever changing, yet constant, none of the shifting attitudes of society. “Everybody’s in such a rush to get places these days. There was a time when we could relax and take life easy.”
Ike pointed to the steam pouring from the smokestacks. “This from the man who adapted the design of the engine to get the boat to go a few knots faster to win a race?”
“A race is different.” Old Obie waved away Ike’s reaction, a smile lighting his face. “I won a pretty packet on that race.” He sobered. “Of course, that was also the time when Cordelia decided she didn’t like noisy engines, running fast, or gambling, and left the river for good.” He stuck the unlit pipe in his mouth and chewed on the stem without lighting it.
“If I was making a bet, I’d give at least even odds that Blanche will stick.” Ike placed a hand on Obie’s shoulder. “She didn’t have to come, but she did.”
“So did Cordelia. Until she couldn’t take it anymore. That just about broke the captain’s heart.” Old Obie turned his eyes inward to unpleasant memories of dark days.
“We’ll know a lot more if… when… no one shows up at this Sunday service she’s planning.” Ike straightened away from the railing. “I bet she’d enjoy a time trial. Too bad the river is too low for that.”
Old Obie laughed. “She probably would. Maybe we can arrange it.”
Ike tossed a coin into the air and caught it with one hand. “At least Effie is having fun. She loves learning new music. She keeps humming this one hymn, ‘It Is Well with My Soul.’ It was written by someone who lost his family at sea, or so she says.”
The sound of a hammer raining blows against wood floated up the stairs. “What’s that noise? Did something on deck need repair?”
“No.” Ike stared down the stairway. He rounded the corner at the bottom of the staircase in time to find Blanche tacking a sign by the doorway leading below deck. WORSHIP SERVICE headlined the sign in bold letters. The penmanship deserved an award.
Passengers and crew alike drifted by the sign, paused, and read it.
“A church service? Here?” one of Ventura’s men questioned.
Ike waited for Blanche’s reaction.
“A time for believers in the Lord to gather together to worship. We won’t have a sermon, just friends sharing about a Friend.”
“I’ll probably be sleeping before my shift in the pilothouse.” Pete had arrived. “But I wish you well.”
He entered the stairwell, pausing when he saw Ike. “That Miss Lamar, she’s something else. A church service on any boat. Let alone this boat. Doesn’t she know—”
“No.” Ike’s voice came out more clipped than he meant it to. “And you’d better keep it that way.”
“I didn’t mean any harm, Mr. Gallagher.” The young man’s eyes widened. “I won’t say a word.”
“Good.” Ike joined Blanche on deck. A crowd had gathered around her. Their expressions ranged from skeptical to outright humor. Should he rescue her? No. The more he learned about her, the more he discovered surprising strength. Only today he had read in the logbook that she spent an hour observing the river in the fading twilight last night.
Today Blanche wore a brown skirt and beige blouse. The brown colors suited her coloring better than black and white, but he looked forward to seeing her in bright colors. Dame Agatha was finishing the gowns as quickly as she could, hopefully before the Sunday service. He grinned at the thought.
“I never thought I’d see the day they would hold a church service on the Cordelia. Doesn’t the Bible have something to say about God and mammon?” Ralston’s comment echoed the sentiments of others reading the sign.
Ike didn’t have a clue what “mammon” meant, but he didn’t like the frown it brought to Blanche’s face. The lunch bell rang. “All right, let’s break it up. Miss Lamar will welcome anyone who wishes to attend, and I might add that my sister will be playing the piano. And that we are in for some special music. You might find it more enjoyable than you expect.”
The crowd broke up, puzzled glances alternating with outright chuckles at Ike’s expense.
Ike smiled himself until he saw the hurt in Blanche’s eyes. She really cared about the church service. “Don’t fret yourself. They mean no harm.”
“What do they find so funny? Navy ships have chaplains aboard. Why not a commercial ship?”
Since Ike didn’t know how to answer her question without crushing any illusions she might still hold about him, he shrugged. “It’s just not the usual thing. May I escort you to dinner, Miss Lamar?”
She nodded and accepted his arm with perfect trust. His heart twisted. How long could he continue hiding the truth from her? Could he? Should he?
The answer was no longer clear.
Blanche slipped into her cabin. Dame Agatha had delivered an emerald green dress with gold piping to her cabin, and she found herself eager to wear it. The new outfits had drawn admiring glances from passengers and crew alike—and from Ike.
If she stayed aboard the Cordelia much longer, she’d be as vain as Mrs. Ralston. Sunday, a day dedicated to meditating on the God worthy of all worship, couldn’t come soon enough.
The passengers’ reaction to the meeting struck her as peculiar. They acted like she was suggesting a preacher go to a house of ill repute. She reminded herself that Jesus said the sick needed a physician, not the healthy. Perhaps their very salvation depended on the service. With a renewed sense of purpose—and a glance in the mirror that confirmed the dress brought out highlights in her eyes and hair—she headed for the dining salon.
The Ralstons arrived a few minutes after she did. Mrs. Ralston greeted her with what appeared to be a genuine smile. Blanche kept reminding herself to judge not, that ye be not judged.
Over fresh endive salad, Mrs. Ralston said, “I am glad you are holding the worship service on Sunday. That is sadly lacking in many ships of this kind.”
Blanche offered a silent prayer of thanks for the affirmation, and from such an unexpected source. “So can I count on your attendance this Sunday?”
“Of course. And my husband will be happy to join us. Won’t you, Mr. Ralston?” She turned her glossed lips on her husband, whose mouth lifted in a half smile.
He leaned forward and refilled his water glass. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He winked at Blanche. “I understand that we even have some musical numbers to look forward to.”
Blanche opened her mouth to protest, but Effie spoke up first. “You won’t have to wait that long. Blanche will sing at tonight’s entertainment.”
Blanche’s head whipped around. Sure, they had practiced together a few times. But she still hadn’t decided to go ahead with the performance—singing God’s praises was one thing; entertaining the passengers was something else entirely. But she knew better than to voice that argument. “But I’m not ready.”
“You’ll do fine.” Effie patted her hand and wiped her mouth daintily with a napkin. “And I’m sure once people hear you sing, they will be happy to attend the service on Sunday.”
Backed into a corner like that, Blanche had to agree.
Ike’s face broke out in a wide smile. “What is that saying, that God works in mysterious ways? I look forward to this evening with renewed anticipation. Especially if you will be wearing that fetching dress.” He winked, but then his face sobered as his eyes bore into hers. Maybe he didn’t believe in her abilities as much he pretended.
Her fears returned, doubled in strength. Fear not. The familiar command came to mind, but did it apply to her current situation? God was encouraging Joshua before he crossed the Jordan River to enter the Promised Land.
Come to think of it, Blanche was also on a river, and her own promised land, a possible future with her father, beckoned.
Maybe it applied, after all.
The waves in her stomach refused to go away. She picked at her food, although Elaine had cooked the chicken as tender, as well-flavored, as she had ever tasted. A dish of biscuits and gravy sounded good, but the Cordelia stayed away from such simple fare. Eating the biscuit dry brought on a coughing fit. Ike refilled her water glass and handed it to her. In a low voice, he said, “You’ll do fine.” His tenderness reassured her, and her stomach calmed down enough to finish her meal.
The hour between the end of the meal and the start of the performance dragged like the night before Christmas. She paced the front of the theater, pausing in front of the chair where Effie sat with perfect composure. “I want to go through the song one more time.”
“If you sing it again, you’ll have the fish singing along.” Effie laughed. “You’re ready.” She wouldn’t budge.
Blanche resumed pacing, humming the tune to herself. When she said the words under her breath, she forgot a phrase and panicked. She hadn’t felt this nervous since the first time she had taken part in a scripture memory contest. This one performance made her as nervous as she had been when she was eight.
Mr. and Mrs. Potter arrived first, at ten minutes to the hour. The dear lady crossed the floor to Blanche’s side. “I am truly looking forward to this evening. I have been praying for you.”
Tears sprang to Blanche’s eyes. “Thank you. That means a lot.” She turned to the refreshment table. “May I get you some lemonade? Some ginger snaps?”
“Why, thank you, dear. Pour some for yourself first. You look thirsty.”
Blanche groped for a glass on the shelf behind her. “I have some water, but thank you.”
Bart Ventura came in, studying the newspaper he had purchased the evening before.
Blanche took her mind off her nerves. “What news of your team, Mr. Ventura?”
“The Bats? They’re coming along. Coming along. You will have to come to one of their games as my guest. But I ignored another little tidbit that I thought you might find interesting.” He handed her the paper, opened to the center page.
Blanche couldn’t imagine what news item the businessman thought would interest her, but she accepted the paper. “Female pilot licensed in Mississippi,” the headline read. She read on with interest.
A woman named Blanche M. Leathers had taken the test to become a steamboat pilot on the Mississippi River—and passed. The article mentioned her lifetime on the River, and her years of working by her husband’s side. “Mrs. Leathers is the first woman to receive a pilot’s license.” The paper questioned the wisdom of issuing a license to a woman because of the dangerous precedent it set.
Sympathy stirred in Blanche’s heart for the woman who showed so much gumption. The possibilities suggested by her accomplishment stirred something else, something more, something that took her mind off her fear of singing in public.
By the time she finished studying the article, the room had filled. Blanche told herself not to let Ike’s absence bother her. She took a seat next to Effie in the front row, folding her hands in her lap, and breathed in and out. The door opened again, and Blanche turned to spot the newcomers. Her heart sped at the sight of Ike, tall, handsome, in his suit.
At his side stood Ole Obie. Dressed in a suit that looked almost as old as Blanche, he joined the traveling company on the Cordelia for the first time since her arrival on board.