Daughter of Destiny (2 page)

“You must know how you’ve broken my beloved daughter’s
heart, young man. Do you think God will bless your ministry when you have
played false with such a delicate soul?”

Jonah coughed softly, and when he spoke, his voice sounded
thick with emotion. “Sir, I’ve made a terrible mistake, but nothing can change
it now. I am married, and my wife and I will begin our voyage to the South
Pacific this afternoon. I beg you to pray for our mission and for the lost
souls whom we will encounter.”

“Pray, indeed.” Mr. Wallace gave an indignant, undignified
snort. He slapped his tall beaver hat on his head and stomped out, slamming the
door behind him.

Jonah pressed his hand against the solid door and bowed his
head. His shoulders shook as if wracked by sobs. But Leah could feel only icy
stone where her heart should be.

A mistake, he had said. Their marriage a mistake. Nothing
could change it. Jonah—Reverend Adams, she corrected herself—a man of honor. He
had spoken his vows before God. She knew he would not go back on his word.

She swallowed hard, forbidding her wedding breakfast to
reemerge, forbidding tears to fall.

Neither will I break my word, Lord. I will serve You with
all my heart, no matter how much my husband despises me.

She turned away from the railing and tiptoed toward the
back staircase to complete her errand.

***

Jonah stood for several moments, his hand pressed against
the front door. “Dear Lord,” he whispered, “thank you for revealing to me
Hattie’s true nature. . .and Mr. Wallace’s, as well. Thank You for rescuing me
from my mistake.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out Hattie’s letter,
which begged him not to marry Leah or to waste his life on the mission field. He
would not read the cruel missive again, for it sickened him to think of his horrible
mistake. How could he have fallen in love with such a selfish girl as Hattie? How
could he have thought her family to be so pious? “Lord, forgive me, but the
only word that comes to mind right now is ’Pharisees.’”

Yet he must not judge them and acquit himself. He had
wasted precious time wooing the wrong woman when the Lord had placed the right
one in his very own home. “Father, forgive me for being so blind. Help me to
care for dear Leah according to her needs.”

Glancing one last time at the letter, he strode into the
front parlor and thrust it into the flaming hearth, using the poker to be
certain it burned. The paper flashed as brightly as the joy now rising in his
heart, then dissolved into ashes like the last of his doubts. He turned and
gazed about the room, this happy place of childhood memories, and said his last,
fond good-bye. Squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, Jonah marched into
his new life.

Destiny’s Hope
lay
anchored in New Bedford Harbor. The former whaling ship, now a merchant vessel,
reminded Leah of her father’s ship, even though all traces of its previous
industry had been removed. Perhaps the three giant masts, with their canvas
sails tied securely to the spars, inspired her comparison. Perhaps the broad
quarterdeck brought back memories of her father at the helm. Perhaps the mother
and small child sitting there on a sea chest harkened back to her own days at
Mother’s knee learning to read and write despite rolling ocean waves beneath
them.

The clear blue sky above, the brawny seamen calling to one
another as they prepared the ship—every sight, every sound contributed to the
rush of happy memories. Even the strong smell of nearby whaling ships aroused
nostalgia. Leah saw Jonah’s nose twitch and his chin lift, but she could not
despise the smell that had permeated her childhood.

“We can be thankful to put that horrid stench behind us
once we sail.” He glanced her way but did not seem to see her. His main focus
appeared to be the handling of their numerous trunks and barrels by the dock
workers. “Have a care,” he cried to one man. “Can’t you see that crate is
marked ’breakable’?” He looked Leah’s way again. “Wouldn’t do to have all our
dishes broken, would it?” Not waiting for an answer, he took her arm and guided
her toward the gangplank. “Well, we’re off.”

As they climbed, Leah felt a thrill at the firmness of
Jonah’s grip on her arm and his easy balance on the slanted, swaying board. Perhaps
her concerns for him were unfounded. He had sailed only a few times in his life
and never farther than New York. His father’s death five years ago had
prevented Jonah from going on a Grand Tour of Europe as his elder brother had. When
he refused to complain but instead calmly called it God’s will, Leah realized
that her affection for Jonah had grown beyond childhood fancies. Learning of
his decision to become a missionary, she began to pray that his physical
strength—honed by years of horseback riding, fencing, and other manly
arts—would equal his spiritual strength.
Thank You, Lord, that You have seen
fit to equip him for Your purposes in every way.

“I want to introduce you to someone.” He tugged her across
the ship’s main deck. “This is the other missionary family I told you about,
the ones going to the Sandwich Islands, which the natives call Hawaii.” Jonah guided Leah across the deck to the woman and boy seated on the sea chest.
“Mrs. Hillerman, may I present to you my. . .my wife?” A slight blush spotted his
tanned cheeks as he said the last word.

The short, slender woman smiled, stood, and reached out her
hand. “How do you do, my dear? You must call me Gladys, and I will call you
Hattie.”

Jonah’s face flushed scarlet, and he coughed. Leah forced a
smile and took the offered hand. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Gladys. Please call
me Leah. Everyone does.”

“Ah, then Leah it is.” Mrs. Hillerman pulled the small boy
close to her side. “This is our son Daniel. He’s five years old and very
excited to be sailing to the other side of the world.”

Leah bent forward and squeezed the boy’s hand. “How do you
do, Master Daniel? I’m so pleased to meet you. We shall have a grand time on
our voyage, won’t we?”

Daniel gave her a shy grin and ducked behind his mother.

“Where is Reverend Hillerman?” Jonah glanced around the
deck, seeming to have recovered from his chagrin.

Mrs. Hillerman pointed toward the steps under the
quarterdeck. “He’s below with Captain Swain.”

“Ah. I think I’ll join them. I need to discuss some things
with Swain.” Jonah bowed to Mrs. Hillerman, gave Leah a brief nod, tousled
Daniel’s already unruly hair, and walked away.

Mrs. Hillerman stared after him for a moment, then turned
back to Leah with a puzzled look in her gentle brown eyes. She seemed about to
speak, but instead smiled, took Leah’s hand, and drew her down on the sea
chest. “Come sit with me while the men make their plans. The good Lord knows that
soon enough you and I will have plenty to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Leah smiled back, her heart swelling with
affection for this woman. Gladys Hillerman appeared to be in her late twenties,
and although she was slender, her healthy complexion suggested she was fit
enough for the rugged life ahead. The harbor breeze had loosened some of her
long brown hair from her broad-brimmed straw bonnet. Dressed in a simple gray
muslin dress, she exuded peace, confidence, and kindness.

“You must not call me ’ma’am,’ dear. We are servants of
Christ, sisters, and equals in every way.”

Leah felt warmth rush to her cheeks. How hard it was to
grasp such an idea. She had no difficulty believing that God loved her, for why
else would He have sent His only Son to die on a cross for her salvation?
People were a different matter. She had grown up on her father’s ship, the
darling of her parents and the crew. But shyness from lack of other society in
her youth and servant status in the Adams house had educated her in regard to
the broader world’s opinions of someone in her position. Yet her Heavenly
Father had placed her here, and she would endeavor to live in a manner pleasing
to Him—and to her husband, of course.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hillerman. . .Sister Gladys.” Leah peeked
around her new friend at Daniel, whose eyes took on a wily glint, as if he
might have a strain of mischief in him. She winked, and he wiggled and giggled.

Gladys laughed. “I see you have a way with children. It is
my understanding the Pacific islanders are all very childlike, so you should
have no trouble getting along with them. I am a little concerned about my own
dealings with the natives. I would not wish to show anything less than Christ’s
love for them, but they go about. . .um,
unclothed
. How shall we manage
to cope with that until we can convince them to cover themselves?”

“They are not entirely unclothed, at least not all the
time.”

“Oh, no, dear. I’m certain my husband’s information is
correct. We must be prepared to be shocked in the extreme by those to whom we
will minister.”

Leah shifted uncomfortably and adjusted the skirt of her high-waisted
brown cotton dress, a cast-off from Mrs. Adams that still had some wear left in
it. Deciding to be forthright with Gladys, she said. “Forgive me. I do not mean
to contradict Reverend Hillerman. However, I was born on an island in the Fénuan
chain and have visited Sandwich Islands and Tahiti, and they are not—oh, my,
please forgive me if I sound prideful. . .”

Gladys stared at her, mouth agape. “Born on an island? But
are you not the former Miss Wallace, whose father owns a New Bedford bank?”

Leah shook her head and with difficulty maintained a steady
gaze into Gladys’s eyes. “My maiden name is Smith. My father was a whaler.”

Gladys’s expression changed from shock to dismay to. .
.understanding? “Ah.” After a long pause, she drew in a breath and smiled.
“Then I shall depend on you to educate me about our upcoming ministry. . .
and
our adventures.”

Jonah emerged from below deck, followed by three other men.
The four approached the women, and the tallest man, dressed in a black suit and
wearing a dark beaver hat, set his hand on Gladys’s shoulder.

“My dear, this is Captain Swain and First Mate Turner. I understand
you have met Reverend Adams, and I assume this is Mrs. Adams.”

The graying minister bent over Leah’s hand in a gallant
manner, the two ship’s officers bowed, and all other introductions were made.

“Mrs. Hillerman, Mrs. Adams,” said Captain Swain, “your
quarters will be aft in what’s usually the officers’ cabins. They’re small but
comfortable, and the men are pleased to surrender them for your comfort.” He
gave them an apologetic smile. “My ship began was a whaler and therefore has no
staterooms.”

Gladys stared at her husband with a shocked expression. “But
where will you sleep?”

His uneasiness obvious, Reverend Hillerman cleared his
throat. “We will sleep in the forward cabin with the crew.”

“But. . .”

“Never mind, my dear.” He raised his eyebrows, his mouth
formed a line, and she stopped.

“If you will excuse us.” The captain, a pleasant looking
man perhaps thirty years old, bowed away from the group, followed by the first mate.

Leah turned to Jonah for an explanation, but he was
watching the crew prepare the ship. “See the way they scamper up and down that
rigging. I’d certainly like to give that a try. Wonder if Swain would permit me
once we’re out to sea.” His eyes sparkled with excitement, almost like a
child’s. “Look, we’re moving away from the wharf. Daniel, come with me to watch.”
He held out his hand to the boy, who gripped it and skipped along beside him.

“Come, dear,” said Reverend Hillerman. “Let’s watch too.”

Gladys took his offered hand but also reached out to pull
Leah along. The older woman’s expression was sympathetic, as if she knew what
Leah felt. But Leah forbade herself to despair. She had lived in the Adams household for eight years. If Jonah assumed she would follow along, it was because,
as his mother’s companion, she always had.

She drew close to the ship’s railing and followed Jonah’s
startled gaze at something on the dock. There stood Hattie, dressed in a fashionable
pink satin gown with puffy sleeves, a
V
-shaped waistline, and a full
skirt. Golden blond curls spilled from under her large pink hat, which boasted
a high crown, broad, flaring brim, and dyed pink feathers. Tears streamed down Hattie’s
cheeks, her fists were balled at her sides, and a raging pout marred her
delicate beauty. Leah looked back at Jonah. His face was also damp and contorted,
but she could not read his expression. Grief? Sorrow? Despair?

How wretched, how utterly trapped he must feel, imprisoned
in an impulsive marriage, dragged away from the woman he loved by God’s
stronger call on his heart.

The crewmen drew in the lines and loosened the sails to
catch the breeze. The ship slipped from its berth to glide down the Acushnet River toward the sea. Leah moved away from her husband to take in the beauties of
the early autumn colors on the hilly river banks. But she could not see
anything for the salty sea mist clouding her eyes. Yes, it surely must be sea
mist, for she had forbidden herself to weep.

***

Jonah ground his teeth and glared at Hattie. What had she
hoped to accomplish by coming to the dock? He knew that look, the one she used
when her will was crossed. What a fool he had been to give in to it all these
years. No wonder she thought it would bring him back to her now. Behind Hattie
stood Mr. Wallace, bending to speak in her ear. Then he straightened and stared
at Jonah, lifting his hand almost as if to beckon him back, as if Jonah could
or would return, as if he would annul his marriage, as Mr. Wallace had urged
earlier. They had never understood, and now they had come here like agents of
Satan calling him back from his holy mission. Little did they know how this
last gesture had sealed his heart against them, against her. Every fine feeling
he had ever held for Hattie Wallace dissolved into pity and brought forth a
silent prayer that she would one day truly know what it meant to love and serve
God.