What happened?” Ike asked sharply.
“Has someone been injured?” Blanche asked at the same time.
Ventura nodded to young Jim-boy. “We was loading the cotton back on board, sir. Mr. Draper sent it back. I wondered about that, but he had all the proper paperwork so I thought it was all right.”
“He didn’t waste any time.” Ike grimaced. “But yes, that’s fine. What happened?”
“Since you wasn’t there, I went to ask the cap’n, sir. He came down on deck, and the crane slipped and knocked into him. Knocked him clean out.”
“The captain?” A glance at Blanche reminded Ike of another reality. Her skin paled beneath the light sunburn, and her breath came out in short gasps.
Ike couldn’t afford that distraction now. He had to find out the extent of the injuries. “Have you sent for a doctor?”
“He’s on board already. And I came to find you, straightaway.”
“The captain?” Blanche’s eyes went wide. “Captain Lamar—
my father—has been on the ship the whole time?” She turned agonizing eyes in his direction.
Worry warred with guilt. “I’ll explain it to you later. Right now, we have to get back to the boat.”
Blanche whirled, turning her anger on Effie. “You must have known.”
Effie’s mouth worked, but she couldn’t seem to find words to respond either. “Let’s get back to the ship. I’ll explain while Ike sees to things.”
“Don’t bother.” Blanche’s voice was cold. “I want to meet my father.” She headed toward the exit, Ike hurrying after her. When he caught up with her, she stopped, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I don’t know the quickest way back.”
“We’ll walk. The crowd would only delay a carriage, even if we could find one. Come with us. We all want to get back as quickly as possible.”
After Effie offered a few more details that Jim-boy had supplied, they walked in silence. Ike was torn between worry about the captain, injured and unconscious, and what it could mean to Blanche.
The plan for father and daughter to get to know each other before making Blanche aware of their connection didn’t allow for illness. What if something interfered, denying them the opportunity? All the preaching against gambling didn’t stir Ike’s soul, but that single deceit weighed on his conscience.
Ike weaved his way through the streets without thought, trusting his instincts to lead his feet aright. When the Cordelia came into view, Blanche sped up. He matched her step for step, wanting to get there first, to ease the discovery for her.
She pressed forward, leaving him a little breathless when he swept past her on the gangway. “Where is the captain? How is he?”
“Mr. Gallagher, I presume?” A small man, with a bushy salt-and-pepper mustache and no-nonsense cut of a suit coat, greeted him. “John Foster. I’m the doctor they called in.”
Blanche placed herself between Ike and the doctor. With a glare at Ike, she said, “How is Captain Lamar?” Only a slight waver in her voice betrayed her overwhelming emotions.
Dr. Foster glanced at Ike, which only fueled Blanche’s anger.
“Doctor, this is the captain’s daughter, Blanche Lamar.”
“I see.” The man turned to Blanche apologetically. “I was given to understand there was no family to notify.”
Notify. The word hung between them with horrifying import.
“Is he—” Ike left the question unfinished.
Dr. Foster flinched, as if he realized what his words had implied. “Oh no. Nothing like that. He’s had a nasty bump to his head, but he regained consciousness while I was with him, and was alert to his surroundings. That’s a good sign.” He smiled reassuringly at Blanche while explaining the signs they should watch for: disorientation, problems with eyesight, fever—the usual. “The most important thing is to keep him quiet for a few days, give his body a chance to heal. I hear he can be stubborn. Can you keep him to his bed?”
“I’ll make sure he doesn’t move,” Ike said.
“Will you be back, to check on him?” Blanche asked.
“Of course. I’ll come by morning and evening. If problems arise, feel free to call for me in between times.” Shifting his black bag to his other hand and nodding at Blanche, Dr. Foster walked down the wharf.
Tapping her right foot, Blanche turned the full force of her glare on Ike and Effie. “Are you ready to introduce me to my father?”
So close. Blanche had been on the boat with her father for more than a week, and no one told her. Every time the facts repeated themselves in her mind, her anger increased. They had no right, no right at all, to keep the truth from her.
She wanted to scream in frustration, but their discussion with the doctor had already brought curious glances from the crew. Lowering her voice, she said, “Where is he? Who is he?”
Effie looked resigned, but Ike looked almost—sheepish. An air of uncertainty clung to the usually cocky purser.
“Come this way.” Effie walked toward the bow of the ship, past the pilothouse. Blanche glanced up. Old Obie’s replacement was there. The pilot must have known about the deception as well. No wonder her mother had warned her against steamboats. People she had trusted had turned out to be nothing more than thieves and liars.
“This way.” Effie headed toward the cramped stairs at the end of the boat. “His quarters are nothing special. He said Ike needed the captain’s cabin more; all he wanted was a place to lay his head. That’s just the kind of person he is.”
Effie’s voice trailed away as they circled down the stairs, ending up in the bowels of the ship, hot and steamy and dark except for a few lamps down the hall. She stopped in front of a dingy black door, no different in appearance from the three before, and hesitated. “This isn’t how he wanted you to find out. Please… think kindly on him. Listen to what he has to say.”
The door swung open, and Elaine the cook came out, carrying an empty tray. “Mr. Gallagher. I’m so glad you’re back. I was just bringing some of tonight’s supper, like always.”
“Thank you, Elaine.” Ike placed a hand on the doorknob. “Let me go in first, explain what happened.”
“That I found out my father has been hiding from me? Go ahead, warn him. That’s more than anyone did for me.” Reeling from the shock, Blanche knew she sounded bitter.
Ike offered an apologetic smile before slipping around the door. The wait felt like an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than five minutes before he reappeared. “He’s expecting you.”
“Do you want me—”
Blanche forestalled Effie’s question. “No, I want to be alone with him.” When neither one moved, she added, “I can find my way back.” Turning her back on them, she opened the door and paused. What would she discover inside? Her heart welled up in a single-word prayer. Help.
For a room awash in lantern light, Blanche had a hard time making out the figure on the bed. Ginger-and-gray hair she had only ever seen in tufts beneath a hat…
“Cordelia. You’ve come back.”
Old Obie’s voice welcomed her into his cabin.