“George was bad,” Drew growled. He slammed a fist down on the tabletop.
“George did a bad thing,” she said to Drew, “but then you and Captain Talvis arrived as an answer to prayer. And now George is gone from our lives.”
Lorena sighed. She fidgeted with her fork, twirling it between her fingers. “You were right all along, Brogan. George was not to be trusted. I didn’t want to believe evil of a childhood friend. I failed to accept the man he had become.” Her voice grew thick. “Bless you and Mr. Smith and dearest Drew for coming to my rescue. I should not be having such an enjoyable evening otherwise.”
Jabez slipped her a look of awe. “Well spoken, miss.”
Brogan raised his teacup. “To your voyage aboard the Yankee Heart. May it reside in your memory as fondly as corn chowder, fish cakes, and bread pudding.”
Her laughter pleased him, and dinner proceeded with everyone’s energies directed toward Fred Mott’s good Yankee fare. It was a satisfying meal in all respects, so much so that after dessert was consumed, they lingered over another cup of tea.
As he sipped, Brogan noticed Lorena’s eyes wander the length of the cabin to his bookshelves.
“Earlier I noticed what I suspect is the Holy Book on one of your shelves there,” she said. “Is it your personal Bible, Brogan?”
He answered cautiously. “Aye.”
She offered him a sweet smile. “It looks to be well read.”
“It is old.”
“I’ve had a look through my trunk and it seems my family neglected to pack my own Bible. Would you mind—”
“You are welcome to it,” Brogan heard himself reply a little too quickly. “I have little use for it myself, other than to keep it on hand for the ship.”
The soft expression in her velvety brown eyes grew saddened at his words. “Oh? I had thought otherwise. You seem to know Scripture. And in getting to know you, one would think the Good Word had left its impression and that you carried it in your heart. Your Bible sits by your desk in a place of honor. Do you not turn to it for prayer and guidance?”
Jabez cleared his throat and grinned into his cup of tea.
Brogan grew uncomfortable with this conversation. “I’ve trained myself to rely on hard work and bravery, on study and careful thought to carry me through life and battle.” He’d learned not to trust his hopes to a God who would close His ears to the prayers of the baseborn.
He rose from his seat and strode to the far end of the cabin, where he retrieved the Bible off the bookcase. As he held the worn leather-bound pages in his hands, Brogan felt his unworthiness like a darkness surrounding his heart. “Yet there was a time I read it faithfully,” he said in reflection.
A time of shining youth when Brogan was grateful to be at sea. No matter how hard he must work, he was learning a trade. He was free of the orphan asylum. He was traveling far from those whose cruel misjudgment viewed the circumstances of his ill birth as a crime instead of a misfortune. It was a time when some measure of virtue and innocence still lived in him and Jabez’s teachings could stir his faith. Enough to inspire Brogan to believe that God would show mercy to an honest, upright heart, even if that heart belonged to the lowly and baseborn. Enough to make Brogan believe there was more to life than survival.
Then along came Jefferson with his embargo against all shipping to and from foreign ports, leaving hundreds of seamen unemployed, their families left to starve. Soon just trying to survive became all there was.
But life changed after Benjamin’s birth. Brogan had a son. Someone in the world he was connected to by blood. Someone he was responsible for. Suddenly he understood what it felt like to truly love. He grew fiercely ambitious, determined to make a future for his family.
He found not only employment but purpose, for himself and Jabez among the American private sector, businessmen both eager and equipped to participate in the naval war with England. They would be doing more than earning a living. They would fight for the rights and freedoms of their country.
As Brogan sailed the open seas, his wife grew distant. Soon Benjamin became the only link to the love they once shared. He worried about his son during those absences, knowing Abigail resented his time away and grew impatient with the confinement and caretaking of an infant. There were times he even suspected her of being with other men.
Brogan’s last wavering flame of hope for his family had been snuffed out the day Abigail told him Benjamin was gone. It was as though the Almighty had noted his unworthiness and turned His face.
Or perhaps His face had been turned all along.
Sometimes Brogan thought the only thing keeping him alive during the war was his desire to find the boy.