Did Ike buy you roses?” Effie asked when Blanche entered the cabin. She had stayed up to chat with Blanche after her dinner with Ike. What fun these days had been, sharing her cabin as if Blanche were her sister.
“You’re still awake!” A sigh accompanied the whoosh of the chair cushion. “Is he in the habit of giving girls flowers?”
“Only a special few.” A smile played around Effie’s lips. “He did give you flowers, I can tell.”
“No flowers, just a lovely dinner and conversation.”
Effie sniffed the air, detecting a light floral scent. “I thought I smelled them.”
“If you’re smelling roses, it’s from a box of stationery that I bought.”
“Oh, I almost wish I could write a letter, if it meant I could enjoy that scent every time I opened the box.”
Blanche handed Effie a sheet of the paper. “Here. Keep this. Perhaps you would like to place it in your bureau drawer, like a sachet.”
Effie brought the sheet to her nose and sighed as she breathed it in. “I’ll put it under my pillow, so that I can enjoy it as I fall asleep.” She tucked the stationery into her bed and pulled out her knitting. “Will you be coming to bed soon?”
“Not for a few minutes. I have some notes I want to write.” The tip of a pen scratched against paper while Effie worked on an intricate shawl. An hour passed before they called it quits for the night. Blanche continued her project for all the following day. After breakfast the second morning, she set down her pen at last. “Done.”
“I won’t ask what has kept you so busy these last two days.” Effie changed yarn colors for her shawl. “You have given me pleasure, filling our room with the scent of your stationery while you’ve been writing so busily.”
“You make the perfect roommate. I could wrap all your Christmas presents right in front of you, and you wouldn’t know what they were.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. I’ve fooled a lot of people that way.” Effie laughed. “I can tell a lot by the sounds something makes, or the scent. And the feel, of course. I used to drive Ike crazy, when I could guess and he couldn’t.”
“So what do you think I’ve been doing?”
“Writing something, of course. But what you’ve been writing, or to whom, I don’t know. I would guess you have written letters, and to more than one person. You’ve opened several envelopes.”
“You are good at this guessing game.” Blanche didn’t explain any more, and Effie didn’t press.
“Are you looking forward to arriving in Brownsville? We should be there tomorrow or the day after at the latest.”
A small silence formed around the word Brownsville. “I am hoping to have my questions answered.”
Effie switched back to the original yarn color. “What if you don’t like the answers?”
“God promises a good future, plans to prosper me and not to harm me. Not necessarily wealth, but whatever answers I find are ones that will help me.”
“I wish I had your faith.”
“My pastor used to say it wasn’t the amount of faith that a person has—the Bible talks about faith as small as a mustard seed—but the object of our faith. God is big, even if my faith is small.”
Effie shook her head. Such thinking went against everything she understood about religion. “God seemed big to me when I was a little girl. Then my parents died, and I realized even He couldn’t make everything right.”
“But He brought Old Obie into your lives about that time, didn’t He? I know losing your parents when you were so little must have been terrible. But God still took care of you.” The pleading tone in Blanche’s voice got Effie’s attention.
Effie stuck her tongue between her lips, a habit she had when she was concentrating on something, and counted the number of stitches in the row. “Didn’t drop a one. I always check after I have to change yarn.” She turned her sightless eyes in Blanche’s direction. “I only know that sometimes the answers God gives aren’t the ones I want. And I hope you’re not disappointed with what you learn.”
Blanche caught her breath. “I can’t say I won’t be disappointed. But if I am, know this. The problem is with me. God is good, all the time.”
Effie’s half smile returned. “I know that’s what you believe.” She tucked the yarn away. “Are you ready to leave?”
Blanche dropped several envelopes into a bag. “Now I am.”
Rising early the next morning, Blanche donned her black suit to better blend into the lingering nighttime shadows, and made her way around the ship she had come to know as well as the hallways and rooms of her childhood home. First she headed for the salon, where she went to each table and left envelopes addressed to their guests.
Finding the right words to thank each passenger for their business had come fairly easily. She tucked a couple of envelopes into the waiting muffin baskets, trusting that the kitchen staff would discover them in the process of serving breakfast. Elaine was already at work, but aside from nodding good morning, she stayed at the back of the kitchen, preparing bread and other baked goods for the day.
Next Blanche headed to the crew’s quarters. A special envelope went to Dame Agatha, who would shake her double chins in severe disappointment if she spotted her prize customer in her “dowdy country clothes,” as she had described Blanche’s suit. The transformation the lady’s needle had wrought in Blanche still confounded her, changing her in ways she still didn’t understand. About half the crew remained abed, and Blanche slipped notes for everyone under their cabin doors. She added Effie’s letter to Ike’s, trusting he would read it to her. She brought that envelope to her nose, hoping the stationery would hold the scent a long time.
Last of all, Blanche headed for the pilothouse, where Old Obie stood on watch. She couldn’t leave it at his cabin, since she didn’t know which cabin was his. As for letting Ike deliver the note, she decided to keep it between the two of them.
The bow of the boat parted liquid gold as they slid into sunrise. If she could capture it, she would make a fortune that no amount of money could buy. She waited on deck, watching the water turn from black to gold to bloodred. Red, the color of blood. The color of joy. She’d felt such joy on the excursion to La Joya with Ike. Then she reminded herself that he was an unbeliever. Someone she could never marry. She placed her hand over her heart as if she could protect herself from the unwanted emotions flooding through her. She feared it was already too late.
She touched the remaining letter in her pocket. Effie had laughed when she asked for Old Obie’s full name. “That’s a closely guarded secret. You’ll have to ask him yourself.” Humming a few bars of “When Morning Gilds the Skies,” Blanche mounted the stairs.
Sunshine outlined Old Obie’s form in fiery reds. “My songbird is up early this morning.” He turned, and Blanche saw he was holding a cup in his hand.
“Coffee.”
He laughed. “Do you want some?” He dug out a coffee mug and poured from a pot that would look right at a campfire.
She sipped it and sighed. “Perfect.” She enjoyed coffee first thing in the morning, before the day became too warm. Drinking deeply, she studied the river. To the left she spotted a submerged log. Maps indicated a sandbar on the right, but the water level would carry them over it without a problem. “How do you adjust for the sun on the water?”
“I slow down and look out the side windows instead. Fog is worse. More than one morning, I’ve had to stop the engines until visibility improved.” He tapped the wheel. “A good pilot is never afraid to stop if necessary. Don’t let an anxious owner push you to do something that is unsafe.”
“You sound like I will actually get to pilot the boat one day.”
“Of course you will. I have no doubt.”
She finished her coffee and set the mug down. Taking care that her fingers were clean, she pulled out the envelope. “This is for you. I would have addressed it, but I don’t know your full name.”
“A letter.” He didn’t offer his name. “I haven’t had one of these in a long time. Should I open it now?”
Suddenly shy, she shook her head. “It’s not much. Just something to remember me by.”
He turned his complete attention on her, piercing her with his gaze. “I won’t ever forget you. It’s not possible. And I still hope you will choose to make your home on the river, so I won’t need something to remind me. But, I will treasure this.” He gestured with the letter. “As I would treasure anything that you give to me.”
Ike dressed slowly, as if delay on his part could prevent the coming revelations from the captain’s lawyer. He read the few lines of Blanche’s letter to him again. The balanced message, poised between a polite letter of appreciation and a personal note to a friend, betrayed more than she intended to, he suspected. He lifted the paper to his nose and breathed in. Every time he passed a rosebush, he would remember this letter.
Oh Blanche. Would she feel the same way after she talked to the lawyer, only a few hours from now?
Bringing the letter to his lips and placing Effie’s letter in his suit pocket, he headed for breakfast. He treasured these hours of uncluttered friendship, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t reject him once she knew the truth. When he glanced up at the pilothouse, Old Obie waved for him to come.
The click of heels behind him announced Blanche’s arrival. “Do we have a scheduled time with the lawyer?”
Ike noted, with amusement, that Blanche had returned to the security of her black traveling suit for this business appointment. “Not exactly. We didn’t know when we would arrive. But they are expecting us sometime this week.”
They rode in the carriage to the offices of Cox, Carver, and Chavez in relative silence. Ike knew the answers to most of the questions Blanche had held at bay since they left Roma. Neither one of them indulged in idle speculation as the carriage drove them to the office on East Washington Street, adjacent to Washington Park.
“That must be their office.” Blanche pointed to the modest storefront office. “Mr. Carver was my father’s lawyer?”
Ike nodded. He circled the carriage and helped her down. Her smattering of freckles stood out darker than usual on her skin, color having fled her face. He didn’t have any words to reassure her. He offered her his arm and led her inside.
A young man Ike had never met before sat at the front desk. He half-rose from his chair. “May I help you?”
Something resembling panic filled Blanche’s eyes. Ike took a step forward. “Blanche Lamar and Ike Gallagher, here to see Mr. Carver.”
The man’s nose quivered. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No.” Blanche backed up a step.
“He is expecting us this week.” Ike moved forward. “Why don’t you let him know we’re here? We can wait.” He escorted Blanche to a chair.
The young clerk frowned. “That’s not possible.”
Before Ike could retort, Blanche spoke. “Pardon me, what is your name?”
Her request erased the unpleasant young man’s frown. “I am Walter Brown, ma’am.”
Blanche glanced at Ike. “Mr. Brown, we’d like to make an appointment. Is there an opening with Mr. Carver this afternoon?”
“That is what I was attempting to explain.” Brown glared at Ike. “Mr. Carver has business out of town today. He will return next week. May I schedule an appointment for you?” Leaning forward, he unbent a little. “Can Mr. Cox assist you? He is available today.”
Blanche looked at Ike, her eyes sending a silent plea, but Ike didn’t care to discuss the situation with someone reading the file for the first time. Struggling to make his voice pleasant, he said, “We don’t expect to be in Brownsville that long. Is there any possibility that Mr. Carver will return earlier than next week?”
Brown scanned the calendar in front of him. “His court case is scheduled to last through this week. There is always the possibility it will end early, but we do not expect it.” He offered an apologetic smile. “And it could also, unfortunately, last longer.”
Ike nodded. “Then let us make an appointment for Friday afternoon, and hope he returns earlier than expected.”
Brown held the pen in his hand for a moment before making a note on the appointment book. “Two o’clock on Friday afternoon, Mr. Gallagher and Miss Lamar to meet with Mr. Carver.” He copied the information onto a calling card and handed it to Blanche. “I cannot guarantee that Mr. Carver will have returned.”
“We understand.” Blanche glanced at the card before tucking it into her reticule. “Thank you, Mr. Brown. You have been most kind.”
“It’s my pleasure, Miss Lamar.”
The sun beat down on their heads as they exited the building. As instructed, the carriage had left to return in an hour. Blanche clasped her reticule. The courage she had demonstrated only minutes earlier had disappeared, and she looked anxious for their ride.
“Mr. Brown would not object if we want to wait inside until the carriage returns. Or we could walk a couple of blocks in that direction.” Ike pointed to the right, toward the center of town they had passed a short time earlier. “We could find a bakery or a mercantile.”
“A walk sounds pleasant.” Blanche accepted his arm at her elbow and shifted her reticule to her other hand. “I would love to go shopping again, but I shouldn’t spend any more money. God promised to provide for my needs, but knickknacks don’t fall into that category.”
The look of longing that filled her face told him all he needed to know about the absence of nonessential items from her childhood. He wished he could buy her an entire cabinet full of curios from every town in the river and more beside.
“The letters were a wonderful idea.” The words she had written to him had seared themselves in his brain. Dear Ike… friendship… support… you have made me feel special. She had even copied a Bible verse, something about God loving him. “Creative. Personal. Everyone is talking about them.” He smiled.
“You didn’t mention the low cost.” Blanche’s smile let him know she meant no offense. “Thank you. I learned a lot about giving from my mother. We never had much money, but we always had enough to give away.”
“I felt the same way, growing up on the Cordelia. We always had what we needed, and we knew the captain loved us. Those are things money can’t buy.”
“Just like God’s love.” She nodded. “He was there for you, even back then.”