Gray clouds scudded across the sky, whipped into a frenzy by lightning striking the earth to the east. “It looks bad.” Blanche heard the thread of fear in her voice. “What are storms like on the river?”
“The boat will rock a little bit. If it gets bad, we can stop forward progress and drop an anchor.”
“Is that what my father would have done?”
She felt the shrug through his suit jacket. “Probably not. But he had a lifetime of experience on the river. And he did shut down the engines once or twice.”
An overnight stop now would mean a day’s delay in their arrival in Brownsville. Three more meals. Another day’s expenses. The time she had spent pouring over the account books had revealed how close to the bone the boat ran. “Captain Pettigrew is a good pilot. We’ll continue running unless he decides it is dangerous. I’ll ask him to take over at the helm after dinner. Before, if the weather deteriorates.”
“Wise course.” The corner of Ike’s lips lifted in a smirk. “Why not go full steam ahead and trust God to keep us all safe?”
His eyes expressionless, she couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking. “Trusting God doesn’t mean being foolish.”
“I don’t know. From what Sanders said today, it sounds like it was pretty foolish for Noah to build that boat.”
A definite challenge. “That was different. God spoke to Noah directly.”
“So God doesn’t speak to you today?”
Blanche bit her lip. Give me wisdom. And patience. “Not in the same way. We have the Bible.” A bit of humor wouldn’t hurt. “And I have never read in the Bible about steamboats or the Rio Grande River or even the great state of Texas.”
“Touché.” He smiled that strange half grin again. “Would you like for me to quiz you on the pilot’s test after we eat?” Captain Pettigrew had agreed to work a maximum of three months; she dedicated time each day to earning her license before he left.
Blanche gave thought to the safety of her cabin, but life as the owner didn’t allow for self-indulgence, at least not on a day with a looming thunderstorm. “Yes.” A single drop of rain fell on her face. “Perhaps I can take the wheel for a few minutes before the weather gets too bad.” She laughed nervously. “I have to learn how to manage the boat in all kinds of circumstances.”
Three hours later, she debated the wisdom of that decision. Pete was more than happy to let her take his shift at the helm. Since Ike was a licensed pilot, although he seldom worked in that role, he could supervise Blanche. She stood on a crate, an adaptation her father had recommended to make up for her short stature. The additional height didn’t make up for the cascading rain. She found herself trying to look between raindrops—an impossible task. “I’m afraid I’m going to miss changes in the river.”
“Want to quit?” Ike lifted an eyebrow.
“Captain Pettigrew said he would come up if he felt it got too bad.” She took a shaky breath. “But if this isn’t bad, I don’t know what is.”
“Your faith in God isn’t up to the task?”
Leave God out of it. Squinting, she didn’t respond.
Ike put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed her sore muscles. “Relax. Look at the whole tree, not the leaves.”
“I’ll try.”
After that, Ike remained quiet. Blanche’s shoulders kept rising, tensing her entire body until a soft touch of his hand reminded her to relax. Even so, her muscles would feel sore in the morning. She’d resort to willow bark tea and soak in hot water. Rain lashed against the front window, giving both sky and river a rippled effect. The sun disappeared from view, melding white sky to gray horizon that gradually darkened to the same shade.
After half an hour by the hourglass, the pattern of the rain changed, and she called for an increase of power. The Cordelia plowed her way through the spot, and Blanche called for a return to normal speed.
“Well done.” Ike clapped twice. “Old Obie was right, you know. You have a real feel for the river.”
She rolled her shoulders. “Thank you.”
After that, she felt more comfortable as she made small adjustments in direction or power. The dinner bell sounded.
“Do you want me to call Captain Pettigrew when I go to dinner?”
Blanche stared out the window, debating how much time remained before the sky turned a blinding black. “I can wait until after he eats.”
When the captain arrived after dinner, Blanche accepted his hand in getting down from the crate. Her legs trembled more than she liked, but she felt exhilarated.
“You go get a bite to eat, warm up some.” Captain Pettigrew stood behind the wheel as if the rain didn’t bother him in the least. “Do you want to keep watch with me tonight?”
Blanche blinked. “That sounds good. I’ve only been here one other night.”
“I’ll see you later then.” He crammed his captain’s hat on his head and nodded, turning his full attention out the front window.
“How do you feel?” Ike welcomed her to the dining salon.
“Tired enough to sleep for a week.” She thought about it a bit more. “And excited enough to stay awake until Christmas morning.”
That earned a laugh. “I know the feeling.”
The smell of chicken soup drew Blanche like a magnet. Ike brought out two steaming bowls with a plate of crusty rolls. Elaine came to the window. “What can I get you to drink?”
Blanche was about to ask for a glass of cold milk, but then thought about the long night ahead of her. “Better make that black coffee. I want to stay awake and alert tonight.”
She breathed in the steam from the soup. “It smells wonderful.” She spooned it quickly and cleaned the bottom of the bowl with a roll.
When she finished her first bowl, he exchanged it for a fresh serving. Ashamed by the speed with which she ate a single bowl of soup, ordinarily enough for an entire meal, heat slammed into her cheeks. She ate the second with more ladylike decorum.
Ike studied her with undisguised humor. “Do you want to rest before you go back to the pilothouse?”
Blanche considered. “I’m afraid that if I lie down, I won’t get up again before morning.” She poured another cup of coffee, her third, and drained it before wrapping a couple of rolls in a napkin. “I’ll chew on these if I get sleepy.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Hands square on the table, eyes level with hers, Ike gave no hint of his preference.
She should leave him alone and let the Holy Spirit do His work. “That’s not necessary. I’m just there to watch, and Captain Pettigrew will answer any questions that I have.”
Ike started to object, but Blanche raised a hand. “If it’s a question about the Cordelia that only you can answer, we’ll get you right away. Or if possible, I’ll ask you tomorrow. Take the rest of the day off. And thank you for all the ways you’ve helped me today.”
Smiling, he held on to her hands. Then he leaned forward and kissed her briefly on the cheek. He withdrew, sketched a wave, and walked toward the staircase leading to the cabin level.
Blanche stared after him, her hand cupping her cheek where he had kissed it. Oh Ike. Her prayers for him doubled, but it seemed as if the overcast sky held her thoughts earthbound.
Once she joined Captain Pettigrew in the pilothouse, she focused on the worsening weather. Thunderstorms had never bothered Blanche. Before now. Before she was on the water. Before each strike of lightning felt like it would break the glass and knock them down. Before the wind rocked the room at the top of the boat in a constant seesaw.
“Should we stop the engines?” She had to shout to make herself heard.
He shook his head. “That would create more problems than it would solve. It’s better if we run with the wind and steer clear of any problems with the river.” He flashed white teeth at her in a blast of lightning. “And pray with your eyes open.”
“I’m already doing that.” She hadn’t stopped praying since she arrived on deck. Crossing the few feet from the indoor stairway to the door to the pilothouse had left her soaked to her unmentionables. If she hadn’t memorized the route from previous trips, she doubted she could have found the door. Rain pounded her skin, causing her to close her eyes against the onslaught.
Wind whistled overhead, rattling the ceiling and windows. “Will the glass break?”
“It might.” Pettigrew pulled the bell, alerting the engine room to a slight change in speed. “Can’t worry about that now.”
Blanche spared a thought for the danger broken glass would pose. But she was here to learn, not to tremble in fear. “Why did you tell them to decrease speed?”
“Wind is pushing us along. We need less steam to keep the boat moving at the same speed.” He tugged the wheel one spoke to the right. “If we were going in the other direction, we’d increase power instead.”
Lightning crashed and thunder sounded immediately. A lack of power wasn’t the problem on this evening.
In the wake of that spontaneous, spectacular kiss, Ike stumbled on the first step. He straightened himself, but he couldn’t do anything about the silly grin on his face. He had kissed women before, several of them, but none of them made him feel like that innocent caress of Blanche’s cheek. He lifted his foot to take the second step when the boat rolled underneath him. The storm had risen another notch. He skipped down the steps two at a time to reach the bottom as quickly as possible.
At the bottom step, the boat lurched again, throwing him to the floor. Down the corridor, Effie opened the door to the girls’ cabin. “Is everyone okay?”
Ike stood and dusted himself off. “It’s just me.”
A frown creased Effie’s face. “I thought I heard something fall down. The rocking motion is tossing things around my cabin. I’ve put a few things in my dresser drawers.”
“It’s pitching badly.” This time when the boat swung, he braced himself against the wall. “Anything broken?”
“Not yet. Isn’t Blanche with you?”
“Captain Pettigrew asked her to stay with him during the storm. She wants to learn how to pilot the boat in all kinds of weather.”
“Oh.” Effie’s shoulders slumped. “I might as well go to bed. If the wind doesn’t toss me out of my berth.” For a moment, she reminded him of the little girl who was scared of staying alone for the first six months they lived aboard the boat.
“Would you like me to stay with you for a while?”
“Would you mind?” Her words offered an out, but she was already opening the door to let him in.
Her bag of knitting sat tucked under her chair. “I tried working on the sweater, but after I jabbed myself once and lost stitches twice, I decided I better put it away.”
“And on the desk, is that the Bible Blanche got for you?”
“Yes. I was reading the story of Noah again. And it was a little frightening, with the storm tonight.”
Thunder rumbled through the deckboards overhead, and she shrank away.
“Stop reading before you give yourself nightmares.”
“If that happens, I’ll come running to my big brother.”
Thunder, or perhaps waves, shook the cabin, and Effie trembled. Ike planted himself behind Effie and placed his arms around her shoulders. “Shh, I’ve got you.”
Her shivering continued. After the next crash of thunder subsided, she asked, “Ike, would you pray? For our safety?”
Her simple request yanked him back by fifteen years. Their mother lay dying in another room, and she asked him to pray. When God didn’t answer that prayer, he had stopped praying.
“For you, Effie, anything.” At church, people bowed their heads and closed their eyes when they prayed, but Ike felt more natural speaking with his eyes open. He looked at the ceiling, where thunder crashed and the boat shook.
“God. According to the Bible, it’ll never rain for forty days and nights again. I guess I should thank You for that. But even shorter storms can turn deadly, and You didn’t say anything about them. So I ask You first of all for the lives of the people on this boat.”
“Amen,” Effie whispered.
“And I suppose I should ask You for anybody else crazy enough to be on this river tonight. Or on the riverbanks, if it floods.
“Then I guess my mind rushes to things. Does that make me selfish? I don’t care, not a lot. We need to deliver our cargo safely to make a profit. We need to make a profit for us not to run a gambling game. And You want us to work for our food, right? Well, if we lose the cargo, that’s going to be hard. So I ask that things won’t get broken or wash overboard.”
Effie reached up and patted his hand, as if reassuring him that his prayer was acceptable.
“And I pray for Captain Pettigrew and Blanche. Effie, too. I know she’s scared. So I ask that You will take away that fear.”
He paused. “I guess I can’t think of anything else. So, how do I say good-bye? I guess, amen.”
“Amen,” Effie echoed, a sob breaking the word.
Ike’s arms tightened around her. “What’s the matter?”
“You prayed.” Tears moistened his shirtsleeves. “Oh Ike, are you ready to trust God with your life?”
Ike didn’t move or speak. “I think I am. Who would have believed it?”
“Me. God. Blanche. Mr. Sanders. Lots of people.” She laughed through her tears. “No time like the present to ask Him to save you.”
He couldn’t fight it any longer. He and God had been waging war ever since he first saw Blanche at Christ the King Church, and God had won. He stifled the desire to fold his hands and bow his head. Now if ever he wanted to face God like a man. Raising his face to heaven and lifting empty hands to accept God’s gift, he reopened his dialogue with God.
“God, I know I’m a sinner. I never pretended to be anything else. Not the worst, but I’m not a good person either, and besides, I hear that doesn’t matter to You. You sent Your Son to die for me. Will You forgive me for all the things I’ve done wrong, please?”
He squeezed Effie’s shoulder. “Is there anything else I should say?”
“God sees your heart. There are no perfect words.”
“Well then, I guess that’s it. Again. So… amen.”
Thunder crashed again, and Effie laughed. Ike joined her.
“I guess that’s God’s answer.”
“What, a big no?”
“No, silly. Amen! Exclamation point!”
A big grin split Ike’s face to the breaking point. “Exclamation point! I like that.” He jumped to his feet.
“Careful, now.” Effie’s tears had stopped, her fears at bay. “I don’t know if that prayer will protect you from sheer foolishness.”
The ship pitched, slamming him against the wall. The loudest crack of the night sent shudders through the ship. The nightstand tilted, throwing the lantern off. Ike caught it with his hands, heart in his mouth. Fire. He blew it out, the sudden darkness disorienting him. A sharp crack ripped through the air.
“Effie.”
“I know. You have to go.”
“I have to find out what happened.”
He took a lantern in his hands and doused each lamp as he went down the hallway. He knocked on the doors. “Anyone hurt? Turn out the lights.” His heart urged him to get up to the pilothouse, to Blanche, but the danger of fire couldn’t be overlooked.
God, if ever we needed help, it’s now.