Twelve

“Judith.” Her name came from three sides. None of the men agreed with her decision.

“Where is Piers? He can help me with the lamps.” Father wouldn’t budge.

“He was the first to offer to take people to the mainland,” the pastor explained. “The Vanderkamps have long since left.”

“Then I will stay. Eli and Judith can go in Lauder’s boat.” The words sounded as though they came from the depths of Sam’s soul. “I don’t know much about lighthouses, but I do know how to light a lamp.”

“Stop it. All of you. You are wasting precious time.” Judith prayed they would listen to reason. “Father, you must get to the mainland. Sam, you must go with him and see that his arm is set correctly.” She refused to give in to fear. “Besides, Sam, you don’t know enough about the lighthouse. I do. The best thing you can do to help me is to make Father get to the boat. Carry him, if you must. That is your job.” She lifted her chin. “Mine is here.”

Sam looked at her a long moment, his uncertainty clear.

“The Lord will be with us both. We don’t need to be afraid.” Judith prayed he would understand.

“Amen.” Reverend Snodgrass chimed in. “Let us say a brief prayer to the Almighty and move quickly.” As good as his word, he prayed for Judith’s safety and for that of any men left at sea.

Sam lingered for a second. “I will go, since you insist.” He stared at Judith, as if seeking the words to unburden his heart. “I love you, Judith.” He said it as if he couldn’t help himself, heedless of her father’s presence.

Judith’s heart leapt with joy, instead of the fear that had governed the day.

“I have told you—” Father’s voice gathered some of its usual strength.

Sam faced him, determination etched in his features. “I will not leave without speaking my mind.” He turned back to Judith. “And once we have settled your father where he is safe, I will return. You should not face this alone.”

“I—” Judith didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to encourage him to cross the treacherous waters twice. This was not the time to exchange words of love. Or maybe it was. “Sam, you know I care for you. Do what you must. I will be praying for you.”

Between them, Sam and the pastor lifted Father against his protests and carried him down the stairs. A few minutes later, she heard the wind slam the door shut.

All alone, she was left to face the worst storm in the history of Capernaum Island.

❧

Sam paused at the entrance, debating the best route to the boats. Progress across the field carrying a man would not come easily.

“The most direct route to the boat will be that way.” Reverend Snodgrass pointed along the leeward shoreline extending from the point. “And perhaps we will find better footing among the rocks.”

Sam stared at the forbidding rocks and straightened his shoulders. Funny how he would rather go at the head of the army into battle than walk near wind and wave.

“Don’t be daft, Reverend. Sam won’t let himself that near the water.” Even in these circumstances, Eli taunted him. “He’ll faint before he gets into a boat.”

Perhaps Eli’s jibe was God’s gift to make Sam move. A desire to prove himself moved his limbs where sheer willpower faltered. “God will lift you up on eagle’s wings, Eli, or we’ll carry you with an eagle’s talons if we must. Now I know this will hurt”—it had to, the way Eli’s arm dangled at such an odd angle—“but we will get you there as quickly as possible.” Without allowing himself to think about the rocks or the waves that crept ever closer, Sam matched his stride to that of Snodgrass and headed as the crow flies for the Lauders’ boat.

The wind threatened to pick them up and toss them wherever it willed. Yet Sam could tell it had lessened ever so slightly. Otherwise, he suspected they would not keep their footing. Tree limbs obstructed the path he had walked with Judith only that morning in the joy of a new birth. They walked around obstacles and passed the Vanderkamp cottage. The Lauders’ home lay straight ahead.

A brief respite allowed for speech. “Put me down!” Eli demanded. He glowered, a grimace contorted by pain. “We will move faster, and there’s nothing wrong with my feet.”

“If you try to return—”

“I won’t.” Eli took a step forward to prove it.

The wind tore any further words from them and hurried them across the small patch of sand to the waiting boat.

“Where’s Judith?” Lauder shouted over the noise.

Sam pointed to the lighthouse, where four lamps continued to burn, now blinking in turn. “Eli is injured, and she chose to stay.”

Lauder looked as though he would argue the point but decided against it. “Get in the boat. I dare not wait any longer.”

“I should go back.” Eli’s obstinacy returned.

Not now. Sam gritted his teeth. “If you don’t get in the boat, I’ll pick you up and put you in myself.”

“Come, Eli, be reasonable. We have already decided.” Snodgrass intervened before another argument erupted. He extended a hand and assisted Eli into the boat. Mama and the Lauder family dashed from the cottage and took their seats.

Only Sam was left. He took a deep breath that filled his mouth with rain water, spit it out, and forced himself to lift a leg over the bow. He found himself on the middle seat beside Snodgrass, facing young Johnny and Lauder. Mama sat in the stern, next to Eli, her head bowed. Of all people, she knew Sam’s heart best. She looked at him long enough to smile encouragement, then returned to her prayers.

Eli glowered at Sam before turning to face the lighthouse. They had both left their hearts in the lantern room. Twisting around, Sam could see Lauder’s wife and daughter. The boat was well balanced.

The lee side of the island protected them from the worst of the storm, but wind and wave still rocked the boat. The sandwich Sam had eaten threatened to reappear. If not for his promise to Judith, he would rather face down the jaws of the storm on the island than to venture out in this small vessel.

“Take an oar, Doctor. We want to make quick progress while the wind has died somewhat,” Lauder shouted into his ear.

I can do this. Sam sent the message to his quivering knees. What did they matter? He didn’t need steady legs to sit and row. He grabbed an oar. When the next wave lifted the boat, they pushed off into the sea.

The men didn’t speak, concentrating instead on developing a rhythm. No longer the puny teenager who could barely lift the paddle on his father’s boat, Sam kept pace with the two fishermen. Snodgrass struggled.

“I will take both oars,” Sam shouted into the reverend’s ears. He nodded.

“I believe my time is better spent in prayer.” Snodgrass clasped Sam’s shoulder and huddled in a puddle at the bottom of the boat.

Could Sam have saved his father if he had been a man, and not still a child? If he had rowed harder and faster, could they have avoided the accident that landed them on the rocks? He knew what his mother would say. Life and death were in God’s hands, and he shouldn’t blame himself. But the question lingered. Today not one, but seven other lives depended on his skill. He prayed he was up to the task.

On the open water, waves as large as horses galloped toward them. Sam closed his eyes and rowed. What he couldn’t see might not bother him. The boat fell lengthwise, as if tossed over a cliff. He opened his eyes in time to see them glide down from the crest of the wave. There was no way of escaping the motion of the boat. This gale surpassed the storm that had killed Sam’s father, in the same way a bull dwarfed an ant. No one alive had seen its equal.

In the bow of the boat, Eli clutched his arm and grimaced. Mama cupped her hands to his ear, speaking encouragement, Sam was sure. He wished he could have set Eli’s arm before they started, but they couldn’t waste even a second. Sam knew the arm must be tormenting Eli.

The lighthouse lanterns broke through the torrent, illuminating their progress. The rocky point that had claimed the life of Sam’s father lay behind them. But Judith remained on that spot of wind and destruction, with only the thinnest of protection. He longed to be with her.

Before that could be, he must complete the job Judith had given him to do: Take care of my father. Make sure the man who thinks you have less courage than a fly is safe before you come back to me.

Judith had offered Sam a test of both his courage and brotherly love. He looked once again at Eli. The man had closed his eyes and slumped on the seat. Unconscious?

He threw himself into the oars, willing them to move faster, farther. He could return to Judith only after he had done everything possible to save her father. Only then would he have proven himself worthy of her love.

❧

Judith strained to hear the footfalls of the departing men on the stairs, but wind made her deaf to any sound except its constant blow. She hoped Sam hadn’t sensed her fear at remaining behind alone. Had she done the right thing in insisting he accompany Father to the mainland? Yes, she decided. Father never would have left unless forced.

The wind blew across the lamps, and their lights flickered. I must not give in to fear. There is too much to do.

If the lamps went out while the men were in sight, they might dash back to the lighthouse, afraid for her safety. She could not allow that to happen. What could she do?

The tarp remained in place, although wind battered it with every blast. What else could protect the lamps? The windows. If she covered them completely, the light would not be seen. Perhaps she could cross beams in an X pattern? Now that Sam and Reverend Snodgrass had sorted the wood from the fallen roof, she could pull pieces across the floor.

Moving enough planks to cover the windows took more energy than Judith thought she had. She grabbed a mug of cold tea and downed the liquid. Renewed by the sweet drink, she bent into her task. The area under the windows where Father kept the hammer and nails was bare. Wind had blown the tools around the room. She wasted more minutes while she poked and prodded through the wreckage. Aha, there they are. She tucked as many nails as she could find into the pocket of her apron and took hold of the hammer.

She lifted the first board into place. In the quarter of an hour it had taken her to assemble supplies, the gale had done further damage. She could no longer see the Hathaway cottage. She prayed that it remained intact. The trees that surrounded the base of the lighthouse lay battered, either broken in half or torn up by the roots and thrown across the forest. While she watched, an unseen hand lifted a tree out of the ground and crashed it into the base of the lighthouse. She felt the wood shudder all the way to the top.

O God, how shall I survive? And what about Sam and Father and the others, who had delayed their departure to check on her safety? The windows of the lighthouse looked out to sea. Even if rains and clouds lessened, she could not see the boat on its way to the mainland. God of sea and sky, may they find calmer water on the lee side of the island. Bring them to land safely.

Another gust of wind blew at her, carrying ocean water with it. She choked on the salty mist. Enough thinking. She hammered the first board into place, then the second. The next gust hit her shoulders with water, but the boards did block some of it.

Turning around, she saw that one of the lamps had gone out. She prayed that Sam and the others didn’t notice. The flint remained dry and safe, thanks to Father’s careful provisions. She lit the wick and returned to her task of boarding over the second window.

The view out that window was even more frightening than the view from the first. The familiar rocky shore disappeared under waves carried far higher than the high-tide mark. It crept within yards of the base of the lighthouse. She shivered. I must trust God to protect me from the wind and waves. If God brought her—and the seamen she sought to protect—safely through this gale, she would serve Him with every ounce of her being for the rest of her life.

The wind fought her. The board bowed back as she tried to hammer it, knocking her shoulder. Frowning, she knelt to hammer the lower end first. That gave her enough of a foundation to hammer the top in place. The second board went up more easily.

Wind pounded the boards. The room swayed in its path. But less rain fell in the room, the lamps continued burning, and Judith allowed herself to slump to the floor. She forced herself to think of something else.

Her thoughts jumped to Sam. He had said he loved her. He had shown it every day since his return. The way he ate every meal she attempted with Mary’s help. His words of appreciation when she helped in the surgery. The confidence in her he showed by inviting her to assist with the birth of young Martin. Could that really have only been this morning, scant hours ago?

What had happened to Sara in this storm? A woman lying in from childbirth should not move. Well, she trusted Piers had taken care of her. Reverend Snodgrass had said the Vanderkamps were among the first to leave. Still, Judith prayed for the widow. If anything should happen to mother or child, multiplying the tragedy the family had already experienced this year. . .she prayed for their safety and for peace for the entire family.

Piers. As she held him up to God, she realized she prayed for him as she would for a brother. He was a good man, but he was not the man for her. Why couldn’t Father see that? After the Fourth of July picnic, she had hoped for reconciliation between him and Sam, but Father’s animosity continued. Why did the two men she cared for more than anyone else in the world have to dislike each other? She prayed again that they would work together against their common enemy, the storm. That Father would recognize Sam’s courage as he did what was right in spite of his fear.

Judith could never marry Piers. She knew that now. Not when she held such strong feelings for Sam. If God brought them all through this storm, she would tell them both.