Ike leaned against the wall opposite Blanche, his eyes trained on the floor, his ears straining for every sound coming through the door. Within a few minutes, Effie returned. She set a food-laden tray on the floor and joined Ike at the wall. The next time the door cracked, Blanche jumped to her feet and Ike and Effie took a step forward.
The somber expression on the doctor’s face told Ike everything he needed to know even before he shook his head. “There is nothing I can do. Keep him comfortable. I’ve left some laudanum, but I doubt he’ll take it. Says he can’t afford to waste whatever time he has left.”
Effie shuffled forward. “Can I go in to see him?”
“Of course.”
Blanche trailed behind the doctor while Effie went into the cabin. Ike looked at Effie, then at Blanche. Which one?
“Stay with Effie. I’ll be all right,” Blanche called over her shoulder. “She needs you now more than ever.” Accepting the doctor’s arm, she disappeared from view.
When Ike opened the door, Effie sat next to Old Obie on the bed, holding him in a sitting position, her head leaning on his shoulder… made her happy.” A small laugh escaped through her tears.
“Mind if I join you?”
Effie’s head tilted in the direction of his voice. “Come in.”
He took the seat beside the bed, the same one Blanche had occupied through the night.
“You know where the papers are?” Old Obie’s voice held a small bit of his old strength.
Ike knew what papers he meant. “Yes.”
Old Obie nodded. “I’ve made some changes, though. You’ll have to see Carver to learn what’s up.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Effie raised her head from his shoulder. “You and Blanche have years ahead of you.”
“We don’t know, do we?”
Something had changed. Old Obie’s voice didn’t sound so much stronger as more resolved. “Now that I’ve made things right with God, I’m ready to go, if it’s my time. I don’t want you feeling bad on my account.”
Made things right with God? The words tripped in Ike’s mind.
“Don’t look so shocked, son.” A ghost of Old Obie’s smile returned. “I never doubted the truth of the Gospel. And this little accident has shown me that I need God after all. If you’re as smart as I think you are, you won’t wait as long as I did to recognize the fact.” A fit of coughing interrupted any further talk.
“Take the laudanum. It will ease your cough.” Ike picked up the bottle from the nightstand.
Old Obie shook his head. “It’ll put me to sleep.” He winked. “I want to enjoy every minute I have left.”
Refusing Elaine’s insistence that she take a short rest in her cabin, Blanche balanced a tray with a bowl of chicken and dumplings on her arms. “It’s his favorite comfort food. Maybe I can convince him to take a few bites.”
The savory smell teased Blanche’s nostrils, and her stomach grumbled. Maybe if she ate a bite, she would encourage her father to eat as well. When she entered the cabin, he was chatting with Ike and Effie as if it was an ordinary day.
“Come in. We were just talking about the day Ike jumped into the river from the deck. Scared us all half to death, he did.”
“I got wet, that was all.” Ike shrugged. “At least I knew how to swim.”
“It was the middle of the winter. And you caught a cold.” Her father’s voice held a teasing note.
“And here I thought you were proud of my little escapade.”
Ike’s laughter sounded more forced than her father’s.
“Elaine sent food for all of us.” Propping the door open, Blanche set down a tray filled with chicken and dumplings, chicken salad sandwiches, tea, and cookies, and then took the seat Ike offered. “Now, eat up. Your cook scares me. I don’t want to report that you refused her food.” She lifted half the sandwich to her mouth and took a bite. While she chewed, she dipped the soup spoon into the bowl and extracted a single dumpling. Eyes twinkling, Old Obie opened his mouth. He seemed to have trouble chewing, so for the next spoonful, she offered broth only. That went down more easily. By the time they finished, she had eaten half a sandwich and most of the broth in the bowl was gone.
“That’s enough.” Old Obie settled back against the pillow. A little bit of color had returned to his face, and Blanche allowed a small beacon of hope to arise in her heart. Then she reminded herself what the doctor had said: a day, two at the most, more likely less.
Ike disappeared through the door and returned with an extra chair. Effie shifted from the bed to the chair, smoothing the spot where she had sat. Blanche’s fingers itched to smooth the hair back from her father’s brow, to offer the comfort Effie did, but Old Obie was as much Effie’s father as he was hers. Ike took a seat on a weathered sea chest, his long legs folded in front of him.
Effie and Ike kept up the reminiscences… escapades that Effie shared in equal measure with her brother… while her father added an occasional grunt or comment. The longer they talked, the less he contributed, his eyes closing for brief spells in between coughs. A westerly sun burned through the porthole when his eyes sought out Blanche. She knelt on the floor beside his bed. “What do you want, Papa?”
Across the bed from her, Ike’s eyebrows lifted and he smiled at the word.
“I want to hear you sing. Some of those hymns you’re so fond of.” The words that only a day ago might have sounded like a reproach now rang with bell-like clarity in her ears. “Sing Christmas carols. Those are my favorites.”
“Mine, too.” Blanche cleared her throat then in a low voice began “Silent Night.” Effie’s hands moved across her lap as if she was playing along on the piano. Blanche jumbled some of the verses together, but no one seemed to care. Her father’s breathing eased.
As the last note faded, he opened his eyes. Struggling to a seated position so that he could see all three of them, he speared each of them with his gaze in turn. “I don’t want you to feel bad for me. I am ready to go. God, in His mercy, reunited me with my daughter and restored me to Himself. You are my family. Take care of each other.”
The speech sapped his energy, and he collapsed back on the pillow. “Stay with me. Please.” The words came out as a whisper.
“You don’t have to ask.” Blanche pressed his hand. “Do you want me to sing some more?”
At her father’s nod, she held his hand and sang as the songs occurred to her, from Christmas carols to Stephen Foster ballads to gospel songs. His breathing rasped, and slowed down. While she sang “Lead, Kindly Light,” his fingers relaxed in her grip.
Silence descended, no one moving. Blanche locked eyes with Ike, and he pushed himself up from his sitting position. He leaned over the bed, placed his hand over her father’s nose and mouth, and then felt at the side of his neck for a pulse. Shaking his head, he said, “He’s gone.”
Effie sobbed, tears falling from eyes that peered not into their faces but into their souls. Tears clustered in Blanche’s eyes, but she didn’t cry. Her mouth dried. She couldn’t speak or cry. How could God take both of her parents from her in such a short time? Wordlessly, she stood to her feet.
Ike pulled her close to his side, his chest heaving with grief. “It’s time you rested.”
Blanche found her voice. “Join me, Effie.”
“But someone needs to… I need to—”
“I’ll take care of it.” Ike helped his sister to her feet. With his arms supporting both women, they left the cabin.
Blanche had had to handle all the details of her mother’s death by herself. She tried to dredge up gratitude for Ike’s strong presence, but all she felt was grief.
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” The pastor of the local community church spoke the familiar words.
Ike knew the pastor from other funerals. Old Obie wasn’t the first person to die aboard the Cordelia, and his funeral wasn’t the first one he had arranged. Because of his parents’ deaths, Ike had experienced death from a young age. But aside from his mother and father, whom he had loved with a child’s simplicity and intensity, he had never lost someone he loved until now.
He opened his mind, etching every detail of the funeral on his memory. A good-sized congregation, including all the Cordelia‘s crew and many local businessmen, attended. Others might have come in after Ike took his seat at the front with Effie and Blanche. She had insisted that they join her as members of Old Obie’s immediate family.
The pastor adjusted his glasses on his nose and glanced at the notes he had made. Blanche stared straight ahead, while Effie held a handkerchief to her eyes. The preacher cleared his throat. “In addition to being a well-respected businessman of the river trade, Captain Lamar was blessed to find his long-lost daughter in the last few weeks of his life.”
At those words, Blanche’s reserve broke, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. Ike ached to place his arm around her shoulders, but this wasn’t the time or the place for such familiarity.
The pastor continued. “He is survived by his daughter, Blanche Lamar, and by his two adopted children, Isaac and Effie Gallagher.”
Blanche had also insisted on their inclusion in the obituary.
“In recent days, Captain Lamar made peace with God. Even as we gather here to mourn his passing, he is in the place where God has wiped all tears from his eyes. If he were here, he would urge you not to mourn as those without hope. He would challenge you to find that same hope, of eternal life, that he at last embraced.”
The words fell like a snake’s venom and sank teeth into Ike’s soul. The preacher’s comments might bring comfort to others, but not to him. The Old Obie he had known and loved wasn’t a religious man. And Ike resented the implication that he must become a Christian himself to honor the man who had been like a father to him. He closed his mind to the remainder of the sermon, only cuing back in when music emanated from the piano. Standing, he helped both women to their feet and walked behind them to the front where the casket lay.
Blanche trembled, and he tightened his hold on her, to make sure she didn’t buckle at the knees. Effie’s hand formed a fist.
Blanche noticed the movement as well. “He looks good. He’s dressed in a navy blue suit, a handkerchief tucked in the pocket. They slicked his hair away from his face. I wish he had his cap on.” Her voice cracked.
Feet shuffled behind them. “I’m sure he looks fine.” Effie relaxed her hand. “Let’s go.”
In the basement, people streamed by. Everyone shared a memory of Old Obie’s laughter, his sense of humor, a trip down the river, his solid business sense. After the first few, Ike gritted his teeth, wishing the well-wishers would leave them alone. How Blanche kept her composure, he didn’t know. This scene must remind her of the loss of her mother, only a few weeks ago.
One man lingered at the end of the line, waiting to speak with them—Carver, the lawyer. At length he approached and acknowledged Ike with a nod. After expressing his condolences, he mentioned that he was handling the captain’s final affairs. “Shall I join you aboard the Cordelia to go over the terms of the will, or do you want to come to my office?”
“The Cordelia—” Blanche began.
“Let’s meet at your office,” Ike interposed. He didn’t want the crew speculating about the future until he heard from the lawyer. “The sooner, the better. We have already delayed our departure.”
The lawyer shot him a sharp glance, and Ike wondered again how the future would change. What would he do, and where would he go, if he could no longer call the Cordelia home? More importantly, what would Effie do?
The lawyer turned his attention to Blanche. “Would tomorrow afternoon suit you?”
Blanche blinked. “But tomorrow is Sunday.” She looked from Ike to the lawyer. “Do you normally do business on the Lord’s Day, Mr. Carver?”
His eyebrows rose. “I thought you would prefer to take care of things before Monday.”
Blanche glanced at Ike, and he nodded. “That would be best. Perhaps we can meet later this afternoon?”
They arranged to meet at half past two.
Ike didn’t have much of an appetite, which was just as well as guests continued interrupting them to speak another kind word. Blanche ate even less than he did, mostly sipping sweet tea. Effie stared straight ahead without saying a word. Within half an hour, Blanche was yawning. Perhaps the last few days had caught up with her. Ike sought out the pastor. “This has been a difficult day for my sister and Miss Lamar. Is there a room where they can withdraw for a short time?”
The pastor led them next door to the parsonage. His wife invited the ladies to retire to one of the guest rooms before offering Ike a comfortable seat in the front parlor. The next thing he knew, the pastor was gently shaking his shoulder. “I hate to bother you, but you mentioned an appointment this afternoon?”
The grandfather clock rang two bells. Blanche came down the hall, looking somewhat refreshed from her brief rest. A smile had returned to Effie’s face. “Thank you for giving us refuge. It has been a difficult few days.”
“Churches have always offered sanctuary.” The pastor’s smile offered understanding. “We could do no less. I have hitched up my carriage, and I will take you to your appointment.”
A couple of minutes before the half hour, they pulled up in front of a single-story building that housed three of the city’s law offices. Ike assisted first Effie, then Blanche, out of the carriage.
“I’ll wait out here,” their host said. “It’s a long walk back to the wharves.”
“Thank you.” Blanche managed to get the word out. She took short breaths between biting on her lower lip to keep panic from setting in full force. She had lived a lifetime since Ike had walked into Christ the King Church at her mother’s funeral and turned her life upside down. In reality, only a month had passed.
God, give me strength and wisdom. She had already completed her first quest, finding her father. She had also found an unexpected family in Ike and Effie. However, her desire for a relationship with her father had been cut short. Soon she would know what provisions he had made for her in his will, if anything.
What if he’d left her penniless? Fighting the urge to pant, she accepted Ike’s arm and walked up the steps to the office to learn her future.