Journey of Hope

Curiosity sparked her gaze as she inclined herself in his direction. “And what concern would that be?”

His thoughts scattered in response to her intense focus. He snapped them back to attention, but his plan for a casual conversation opener, making light of the differences in their beliefs, suddenly seemed inappropriate.

He tried a different tack. “Back at Momma Elliott’s you mentioned to the bishop your concern that my presence as both an unbeliever and someone with business interests might compromise your objectives with the Gospel. I want to reassure you that I have no intention of compromising your work there. I was raised by a churchgoing mother and fully understand what most religious folks consider acceptable behavior. I will be a model of missionary decorum, just without the preaching.”

She put one hand to her heart. “Thank you, Mr. Hastings. Just knowing that you understand the importance puts my concern to rest. I’ve worked hard to gain the trust of the chief and the parents who have entrusted their children to my teaching. If anything were to jeopardize that...”

“You teach?”

A soft smile played on her lips. “Yes. There are sixteen children in my school, and they are all such darlings. I miss them terribly.”

His expression must have given away his surprise.

She looked at him, merriment lighting up her face. “What did you think? Let me guess. You thought I walked around with my Bible open all day long praying and preaching.”

“Ah, you got me. I did think something like that. Bet you get that a lot.”

She reached over and her delicate hand patted his arm. “Don’t worry. Most people have no notion what a missionary’s life is actually like.”

The easy familiarity threw him, but he wished she hadn’t tucked her hands back under her blanket so quickly. “I would be one of them. But I did wonder about the danger for a lone woman, though. How does your family feel about your teaching in the wilds of the jungle?”

She stiffened. “My family has no idea what I do here. We don’t communicate.”

She’d chosen to bring her beliefs halfway around the world, but not to communicate with her own family? Proof, besides learning she was a teacher, he really didn’t know who he’d hired.

She studied his face. “I see by the shock and disapproval on your face that my answer is not what you expected. Tell me, Mr. Hastings, do you come from a close family?”

He cleared his throat to buy time as he contemplated how to answer. “I meant no disrespect. Your answer surprised me. I maintain a close relationship with my mother. My father is a different story. He died in an accident on the wharf where he worked when I was seventeen.”

“I’m so sorry. Must have been hard losing him at such an age.”

A hollow pit opened up in his stomach at her gentle condolence, and the truth poured out with no further provocation. “The difficult part was before his death. My father’s life revolved around the bottle. When he was drunk, he was violent. He had been drinking the day of the accident.” He listened to himself with amazement. He never talked about his past. It was those eyes and their long, sooty lashes drawing him in with every glance.

She adjusted her blanket and folded her hands together on top. “I am sorry for your loss. But perhaps you understand, then, that there are reasons family members might not remain close.”

“Yes, I can. I can also appreciate that you must be quite a force in the classroom, Miss Baldwin. You schooled me right out of disapproval and led me to a better conclusion effortlessly.” He omitted the part of how she’d also managed to avoid talking about herself.

The color in her cheeks heightened at the compliment. “Seeing the truth for ourselves is always more effective, don’t you think? We all need a reminder at times that there is usually more to the story than first meets the eye.”

He leaned forward in the deck chair, resolved to return to his original business. “Indeed. I’ve found that to be true with this job. A former commander taught me never to go into a situation without a good reconnaissance, and yet I now see I’ve walked into this one blindfolded by a very incomplete story. Since my stateside sources were so poorly informed, I not only wish to discuss our travel plans, but the people and their customs. Consider me your willing pupil.”

She tucked in windblown tresses and smiled broadly. “I would be happy to discuss my plans and local customs, but I doubt I’ll be much help with your mining concerns. I know nothing about prospecting for gold or other minerals. Perhaps I can question the villagers to help you locate what you seek.”

“That would be useful. But before we go much further, I must clarify whose plans we’re following. You said your plans.”

Her eyes widened. “I trust I didn’t misspeak?”

“No, but I while I appreciate the experience you bring to this job, I want to clarify that all final decisions about this journey must run through me.”

Confusion settled over her features. “Mr. Hastings, are you saying you hired me to be your guide, but you don’t trust my judgment?”

Sounded harsh when he heard it out loud. Maybe he should have soft-pedaled this a little more. “I’m sure you understand the jungle from a missionary point of view, Miss Baldwin. But I have been tasked with prospecting a large territory in a short amount of time. If I meet my assigned deadline, the bonus is significant. I have important plans for that money, plans I cannot risk. So I hope you can understand why I prefer not to leave a business success or failure in the hands of a...uh...a female missionary.”

Rather than taking offense, she laughed aloud, a melodious sound whose absence once she stopped made the ship seem empty.

“I take it I’ve said something quite humorous, Miss Baldwin. Enlighten me so I can do it again. Laughter agrees with you.”

Her smile lingered when she said, “You may need less instruction in local customs than I thought. You will fit in easily with the social structure here in Liberia. Only a Liberian man would not have tried to be so polite about not having a woman in charge.”

She waved off his protest. “For your first lesson, you should understand that there are rarely women in leadership. The Pahn, like most of the peoples here, are a male-dominated society with strict expectations of the roles each gender can play.”

“Sounds like they’ll respond better to a man leading then.”

She nodded and smiled.

Was she really this agreeable? Was she humoring him? “How do the local people handle you as a single woman, then?”

“Most are initially curious, but later decide that the white bush is different from their world.”

“The white bush?”

“Their term for our world. Their world is the bush. Of course, the reality of both worlds is that women rarely own much power in either.”

He snorted. She hadn’t seen how quickly his future father-in-law had responded to Julianne’s demands to sever business ties with him. “Maybe not in the eyes of the law, but you have to admit women still wield a lot of power in men’s lives.”

“Not here. In Liberia, a woman can be purchased with a bridal price, pawned later if her husband is in financial difficulties and even loaned to visiting male guests as a substitute wife.”

Chastened, he said, “I had no idea. Sounds barbaric, almost slavelike.”

“Exactly. But this is their culture, not ours.”

“I suppose, as a missionary, you hope to change those practices?”

Surprisingly, she shook her head. Both hands now animated her conversation. “While many missionaries in this modern age still seek to change a people’s customs, things like how they dress, their social structures, I prefer to focus on bringing God’s Word and allow Him to make the changes He sees fit. Immodest dress may make me uncomfortable, but God did not call me to convert someone’s wardrobe, only their hearts.”

It was his turn to laugh aloud. “You, Miss Baldwin, are an enlightened woman. If not for this God business, I think I would find you quite the enjoyable dinner companion.”

The corners of her lips twitched upward. “Let me have a turn at being direct, Mr. Hastings. I will serve many roles on the trail, some of which may not endear me to you as a dinner companion or otherwise. While I have no problem with your general authority and running most decisions through you, I must point out my experience here is not to be taken lightly and there will be times I have to act without your input. I apologize beforehand if that upsets you.” She smiled fully, as if to soften the blow.

A sour note gripped his stomach at the memory of a similar attitude, one he’d seen throughout his engagement. If Anna was anything like Julianne, this missionary woman would start small and before he knew it, take over. Precisely one of the reasons he hadn’t wanted a woman in this role. They knew all the polite maneuverings to get their way. She thought she’d make critical decisions on this trip?

Not on his nickel, she wouldn’t.

But there’d be time enough on the trail to clear up who was in charge. With no other guide and his budgeted funds already contracted through the bishop, Stewart had no choice but to make this relationship work. His mother’s future depended on it.

* * *

Stewart’s face clouded over with myriad emotions, none of them terribly happy and all of them giving Anna concern. He was her only hope for the additional time she needed to try to obtain tuition money for Taba. She had to make this work. If Stewart couldn’t handle the idea that her in-country experience might occasionally trump his plan to be in charge, there would be a lot of uncomfortable days on the trail. The jungle’s dangers wouldn’t wait on constant consultation. He needed to understand the impracticality of running every decision through him. A few days on the trail might accomplish what this conversation couldn’t.

Anna caught rapid movement in her side vision. Mrs. Dowdy was making a beeline toward Stewart. “Don’t look now, Mr. Hastings, but my companion must not have been able to come up with a foursome for bridge. I think she means to evict you from her chair.”

“We’re hardly finished conversing. I still have questions for you about what we’ll encounter along the way.”

Anna laughed. “You’re in luck for the moment—looks like she got waylaid by her husband. Perhaps we could talk later in the Grand Saloon after the rains start.”

“I don’t suppose there is something I could do to better her opinion of me aside from a sudden profession of faith? Mrs. Dowdy’s protection of you seems to have leaped beyond the normal bounds and straight into battle mode where I’m concerned.”

Anna shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’d hoped you hadn’t noticed. Once you told her you weren’t a churchgoing man, she decided you’d be a corrupting influence for a missionary.”

Piercing blue eyes plumbed her depths. “Do you think that, Miss Baldwin?”

“No, Mr. Hastings. My faith has not so poor a foundation that another’s unbelief might sway me to discard what I hold so dear and true. If Mrs. Dowdy knew what it took for me to come to Liberia in the first place, she might not be so concerned.” Anna reached out and patted his arm again. “I’ll have a talk with her. She means well.”

Anna broke off her gaze just as Mrs. Dowdy left her husband and covered the last of the distance between them. Her disapproval arrived before she did.

Stewart vacated the chair, tipped his hat and took his leave. Anna kept her laughter in check. Mrs. Dowdy was indeed in battle mode. But how funny to see a short, dumpling-shaped woman order a towering grown man around without a single word. Maybe Anna should take lessons from her to employ on the journey.

Mrs. Dowdy took the deck blanket the steward hurriedly provided and placed an order for hot tea for both of them. “I don’t know what the bishop was thinking. Sending off a young woman with some gold miner into the interior.”

“Mining engineer, not gold miner.”

“Humph. Whatever he is, nothing good will come of it. Mark my words.”

Anna’s reply, that the money for her service would save a child’s life and keep Anna spreading the Gospel, died on her lips as the woman launched into another tirade, this time about her husband’s shortcomings. Experience thus far told Anna she need only nod. She’d have to find a later moment to talk with Mrs. Dowdy about Stewart. Anna’s eyelids grew heavy when there was no sign of the wifely complaints winding down. She didn’t want to be rude, but the hot tea had made her sleepy. Maybe the chloroform had affected her more than she’d realized. Would Mrs. Dowdy notice if she dozed?

* * *

A raucous shout woke Anna and she looked around, alarm spreading through her. Mrs. Dowdy was nowhere in sight, but Anna located the source of the noise.

A crowd on the port side was cheering Stewart on. He was jumping rope.

An apple-cheeked matron Anna recognized from last night’s activities in the Grand Saloon and the woman’s twenty-year-old daughter were the turners. They stood red-faced and determined, a rope end in each gloved hand, swinging the double-Dutch pattern. The crowd chanted the count as the numbers climbed. Anna rose from her deck chair and walked over to get a closer look, her legs a little wobbly at first.

She edged to the side of a dozen or so watchers. A gentleman next to her, Wilson, an exporter who’d been seated across from her at dinner, leaned toward her and said, “Really something, isn’t it? He’s top-drawer to take the girl’s dare. He just beat her challenge.”

Stewart caught sight of her and grinned. He took the Ascot cap clenched in his hands and tossed it right at her to hold, all without missing the rhythm of the ropes. Blond waves of hair went up and down, landing just below his eyebrows before each jump. His white Arrow shirt whipped back in the sea breeze, revealing a muscular composition. The easy grin he now directed at the obviously besotted younger rope-turner marked him as a heartbreaker.

Dr. Mary was right. He cut quite the handsome figure. But she was wrong to think there was any potential in Anna’s rescuer being a future husband and help in the mission field. Not only wasn’t he a believer, but she’d escaped a controlling father already.

Despite an effortless appearance, Stewart’s face took on a sheen as he progressed. At a count of two hundred and fifty, he jumped out and bowed, to the obvious dismay of his audience.

He walked toward Anna and held out a hand for his cap. Wilson grabbed his hand first and shook hard. “I say, you won’t mind if I try to best your score, will you?” Breathless, Stewart nodded his head and Wilson declared himself the next competitor. Other men abandoned their deck games and lined up to “beat the record.”

Stewart settled his cap on his head. “I guess I started something. They’re determined to best me. Say, would you like a turn? I can shoulder all those men aside if you so desire. Think of it as an apology for deserting you earlier in such a cowardly fashion when your companion arrived on the scene.”

“No apology needed, thank you. You know what they say about discretion and valor. And I’ll skip the rope-jumping for now.”

“Ah, come on. Or does the missionary code forbid fun?”

Should she confess her lack of exposure to children’s games? No, a smart man like Stewart Hastings would only ask more questions about her childhood than she cared to answer. “Of course not. Missionaries can jump rope and have fun. It’s just not an activity I feel up to today.”

A roar went up and they both turned to see. Wilson was out. Another quickly took his place.

“You really did start something there. You must have been a real ringleader as a boy,” Anna declared.

He shook his head. “Mostly, I never learned how to turn down a dare. Got me in lots of trouble in my youth. Wait...what was I thinking?” He slapped his head. “Of course you can’t jump. Mrs. Dowdy would have my hide for endangering your health at the mere suggestion.”

She laughed. “I’m hardly an invalid. I...” The wind shifted and a sudden swell rocked her balance. Her legs, shaky from the imposed rest, followed the list of the ship and dropped her right into Stewart’s muscular arms.

“Caught you.”

Anna’s cheeks grew hot. He appeared in no hurry to let her go. She caught the faint scent of bay rum. No man had ever held her so close.

Or made her feel so safe.

This man...

Stop that. What are you thinking? Lord, give me strength to deal with this unexpected temptation of the flesh.

Anna righted herself and pulled away. “So sorry.”

There was that easy grin again. “I’m not. Remind me to thank the captain later for dumping a pretty girl right into my arms.”

She had to shut down this obvious flirtation. And quickly, before she endangered her witness for God. She forced a polite distance into her words. “No need. It won’t happen again. I don’t wish to be rude, but I’m afraid I also have certain requirements for our trip together. I must insist we keep our relationship strictly as a business arrangement or this will never work. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few letters to finish so I can post them from our next port. I believe I’ll retire to the Ladies’ Saloon.”

His posture straightened and all his lighthearted bantered became a distant memory, lost in a most serious tone. “I apologize for any impropriety, Miss Baldwin. I was attempting to make light of an awkward situation.”

Anna nodded and walked down the passageway, relieved to escape. Had she done Mrs. Dowdy a disservice to have thought her too overprotective? Anna preferred not to use such rigid formality as a barrier, but they had a long journey ahead and if this flirtation was the result of only a small space of time spent together, what other choice did she have? Something about Stewart Hastings stirred errant and misplaced feelings in her. No doubt his romantic appeal sprang from his dramatic rescue and the trauma of the event. No man had ever put aside his own concerns to step in for her in any situation. Quite the opposite, in fact. Her needs had never mattered.

She reached her cabin and retrieved her writing supplies and her Bible before heading to the saloon. Studying God’s Word would surely conquer any stray thoughts of the handsome yet unsuitable Stewart Hastings.

* * *

Stewart would never understand women. And definitely not religious women. For a moment she seemed like any normal girl. A pretty one, too. The rigidness of her departing posture conveyed a valuable lesson. He’d lost himself in a moment of fun, forgotten his job, his worries for his mother and even the fact that the young woman he’d tossed his hat to wasn’t someone he could pass the time with, flirting harmlessly. No, Anna wasn’t the frivolous type. Her beliefs had carried her away from societal trappings that most women in their mid-twenties lived for and straight into the heart of the jungle to proselytize others. Religion would always rule the day with her, a belief system unsullied by the realities of war. He respected the strength of her convictions, even if they were misguided.

He walked to the ship’s rail and looked out on the Atlantic. Driven by the wind, small whitecaps peeked out of the deep sapphire sea and hid themselves again. He took a moment to settle back into the reality of his situation. He’d come halfway around the world after losing his fiancée and the life their marriage promised, taken this job out of financial desperation and now managed to offend the one woman who could possibly help him salvage his circumstances.

He’d lost the love of the first woman and a partnership in a prestigious firm because he’d failed in the trenches, ending up scarred for life. Now his momentary lapse might cost him the help of Anna, and he’d fail again at the cost of his mother’s future.

In truth, if there was a missionary rule book, jumping rope might be allowed, but flirting would probably take on the nature of a commandment, as in Thou Shalt Not. And that was exactly what he’d done. Flirted with a missionary.

Get ahold of yourself, man. Nothing good can come of flirting with her anyway. She has to be a means to an end. Nothing more. Beauty can’t be such a distraction this time. Making the same mistake twice would be foolish.

He should apologize and get on with the business at hand. She’d taken true offense at his actions; otherwise why remove herself to a ladies-only area? Usually she took in the air on deck until lunch or the rains, whichever came first. Once the rains forced everyone off the uncovered decks, she and Mrs. Dowdy joined the gathering in the Grand Saloon for polite conversations, games and music.

He heaved a sigh and mentally constructed his apology. This job was too valuable to endanger over a small, unplanned attraction. Even if religion wasn’t a barrier, his hidden scars stood between him and any woman. After all, Julianne had been the epitome of devotion to religion in her own way. She ran every important women’s church committee possible. Julianne proved that not even a strong religious leaning could overcome the natural revulsion from such a hideous sight. No, he needed to remember that love and marriage weren’t ever going to be in his future anyway and stick to business only from now on.

Resolved, he headed back to join the deck activities. He’d noticed the setup for tossing the rope rings was currently in disuse. If he found a few competitors, perhaps playing a game of quoits would help pass the time. Anything was better than remembering he had no real future, especially not with someone like her.

* * *

The early-morning sun had cleared no more than half the horizon by the time Anna stole up on deck, Bible in hand. Mrs. Dowdy lay below, sound asleep. Anna had dressed by the small amount of morning light coming through the port window, fearing to turn on the electric lighting lest she wake her companion. She no longer needed care. Any more hovering and she’d go mad. And with Stewart in doubt about letting her do the job without his constant supervision, a reputation as an invalid would never do. It was enough of a handicap to have a face that made men forget she also had a brain.

A few crewmen nodded their good-mornings and went about their business, casting glances her way when they thought she wasn’t looking. She took a moment and buttoned the jacket of her traveling dress. The thin fabric of her shirtwaist offered little protection against the strong wind on deck. Black smoke from the ship’s stack trailed behind at a sharp angle. She made her way to the wooden deck chairs. If the headwind kept up, it would be an unpleasant transfer when they reached Garraway later today. Just the thought of the mammy chair rocking while it was winched down to the ocean’s level was unsettling. Getting onto the waiting surfboats transporting them to the beach would be a challenge. She wouldn’t rest easy until her shoes sank into the sand.

The jungle she could handle. She’d climb a million downed trees and wade through as many swamps as it took, but the memory of her first mammy-chair ride, missing her footing and her sodden skirts dragging her downward into the sea, left her with a healthy fear of the ocean. There were no words in all of the languages she spoke to express the horror of that experience.

She looked toward the port side. The not-too-distant shore still boasted an empty beach lined with dense foliage. Garraway hid from sight, but couldn’t be far. Patience to reach her destination eluded her as she settled herself into the deck chair and tucked in a blanket.

What if the rice harvest came earlier than she expected and the devilmen started the school before she arrived? The rains weren’t due to end for several weeks, but she wouldn’t rest until she returned and saw Taba with her own eyes. She fingered the pages of the Bible in her lap but worry for his safety left her too distracted to read. After a few moments she closed both the book and her eyes to pray for the grace to trust that this business arrangement she’d entered into would be only the first of God’s provisions for her and Taba’s lives.