proved most confusing to her. “I know Jesus himself would not have refused you, no matter your race. How could I then do so? I would be no Christian if I saw need, especially the need of a little child, and turned away from it.”
Liz’s sad lips twitched into an uncertain smile. “Maybe I wouldn’t have turned away from God if I had known more people like you, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“Oh, but Liz, surely it is a mistake to base your personal faith on others. People can be so fallible.”
“What other way is there?”
“The Bible shows God’s true nature. You could not read the New Testament without meeting a God of love. May I tell you a little secret?” Rebekah actually glanced about as if she expected Benjamin to be standin gover her with disapproval. She didn’t know why she was speaking so candidly to this woman. Perhaps it was just because it had been such a long time since she had spoken with a woman near her own age and one, despite her situation, of obvious intelligence. “My husband preaches much about sin and retribution. His God is so wrathful at times it truly frightens me. I suppose he’s right because he is a man of God, but . . . sometimes I think he has forgotten about God loving us so much He allowed His Son to die in our place. I suppose I am just being a sentimental female, but that is the God I cling to.” She stopped suddenly and gave an awkward titter. “But I do go on! And I thought my husband was the preacher!”
“Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. Sinclair.” Liz reached up a hand, which Rebekah took and gently squeezed. “I’ll think about what you’ve said. I don’t know how I will ever repay you for your help.”
“I have been paid already.” Rebekah flashed a conspiratorial smile. “I haven’t felt this good in weeks. Now, I will hear no more of payment. But I do insist that you inform me if Hannah isn’t better by morning. And if she worsens at all during the night, send for me immediately. I’m also going to have the steward keep you supplied with water through the night, so you won’t have to fetch it. And I have left you some spare eucalyptus leaves.”
CHAPTER
14
T HE NEXT MORNING REBEKAH WAS to see her patient again. After breakfast, which she and her family took in their cabin, she asked Benjamin if they could take some air on the deck.
“Of course, my dear!” He laid aside his napkin and studied her closely. “I’m so pleased to see you in better spirits. Even your color has returned.”
“Yes, I do feel better. It truly lifted me to help that woman I told you about.” She drank the last of her tea.
“I’m glad of that, but I still think you should have awaited my return before going. I should have accompanied you. I would have offered a prayer.”
Rebekah felt a twinge of guilt that she had forgotten completely to pray for Liz and Hannah.
“I’m sure we can still pray for them. We can right now,” she suggested.
“Yes, a very good idea.”
It wasn’t often—and it happened far less lately—that Rebekah felt such approval from Benjamin.
They bowed their heads as they sat at the small table. Benjamin prayed for ten minutes, touching upon several other topics besides Liz and the baby. When they finished, he helped Rebekah into her cloak, and they went up to the deck, leaving Micah to mind the girls.
The sky was clear, but a steady wind out of the southeast greeted them. Though chilly, the fresh air felt good after the closeness of the cabin. Rebekah leaned against the ship’s rail, closed her eyes, and let the wind waft over her face. Benjamin stood beside her, and when she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see him smiling at her. He looked almost as he had when they first met, before he had been called to the pulpit, before the heavy mantle of God had been laid upon his shoulders.
“Have I done something to amuse you, Benjamin?”
He shook his head. “I was only thinking of the saying about seeing a light at the end of the
Liz’s sad lips twitched into an uncertain smile. “Maybe I wouldn’t have turned away from God if I had known more people like you, Mrs. Sinclair.”
“Oh, but Liz, surely it is a mistake to base your personal faith on others. People can be so fallible.”
“What other way is there?”
“The Bible shows God’s true nature. You could not read the New Testament without meeting a God of love. May I tell you a little secret?” Rebekah actually glanced about as if she expected Benjamin to be standin gover her with disapproval. She didn’t know why she was speaking so candidly to this woman. Perhaps it was just because it had been such a long time since she had spoken with a woman near her own age and one, despite her situation, of obvious intelligence. “My husband preaches much about sin and retribution. His God is so wrathful at times it truly frightens me. I suppose he’s right because he is a man of God, but . . . sometimes I think he has forgotten about God loving us so much He allowed His Son to die in our place. I suppose I am just being a sentimental female, but that is the God I cling to.” She stopped suddenly and gave an awkward titter. “But I do go on! And I thought my husband was the preacher!”
“Thank you so much for coming, Mrs. Sinclair.” Liz reached up a hand, which Rebekah took and gently squeezed. “I’ll think about what you’ve said. I don’t know how I will ever repay you for your help.”
“I have been paid already.” Rebekah flashed a conspiratorial smile. “I haven’t felt this good in weeks. Now, I will hear no more of payment. But I do insist that you inform me if Hannah isn’t better by morning. And if she worsens at all during the night, send for me immediately. I’m also going to have the steward keep you supplied with water through the night, so you won’t have to fetch it. And I have left you some spare eucalyptus leaves.”
CHAPTER
14
T HE NEXT MORNING REBEKAH WAS to see her patient again. After breakfast, which she and her family took in their cabin, she asked Benjamin if they could take some air on the deck.
“Of course, my dear!” He laid aside his napkin and studied her closely. “I’m so pleased to see you in better spirits. Even your color has returned.”
“Yes, I do feel better. It truly lifted me to help that woman I told you about.” She drank the last of her tea.
“I’m glad of that, but I still think you should have awaited my return before going. I should have accompanied you. I would have offered a prayer.”
Rebekah felt a twinge of guilt that she had forgotten completely to pray for Liz and Hannah.
“I’m sure we can still pray for them. We can right now,” she suggested.
“Yes, a very good idea.”
It wasn’t often—and it happened far less lately—that Rebekah felt such approval from Benjamin.
They bowed their heads as they sat at the small table. Benjamin prayed for ten minutes, touching upon several other topics besides Liz and the baby. When they finished, he helped Rebekah into her cloak, and they went up to the deck, leaving Micah to mind the girls.
The sky was clear, but a steady wind out of the southeast greeted them. Though chilly, the fresh air felt good after the closeness of the cabin. Rebekah leaned against the ship’s rail, closed her eyes, and let the wind waft over her face. Benjamin stood beside her, and when she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see him smiling at her. He looked almost as he had when they first met, before he had been called to the pulpit, before the heavy mantle of God had been laid upon his shoulders.
“Have I done something to amuse you, Benjamin?”
He shook his head. “I was only thinking of the saying about seeing a light at the end of the
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