American Dream Page 15

  Rebekah liked the way her brother put her own thoughts into words. She looked into Will’s face. “Will, someday when you grow up, you might be a preacher, like Elder Brewster. You could, you know.”

  Will shook his head. “I can’t imagine being a preacher. A carpenter, maybe, or a fisherman, or explorer. Besides, you know you don’t have to be a preacher to tell people about Jesus.”

  “Perhaps not, but you’d make a good one.” Rebekah’s faith in her brother remained unshaken.

  “Well, you were the one who told Jake, not me.”

  Rebekah giggled. “Silly, girls can’t be preachers. And I just wish I had said more.”

  The next day she wished it even harder. Father brought terrible news. Jake was violently ill and lay burning with fever and freezing with chills aboard the Mayflower.

  “I feel it’s only fair to warn you he will probably die,” Father added sadly, “although our people are doing everything they can for him.”

  “No!” Rebekah cried. Tears burned behind her eyes, but she shut her lips tight to keep back her sobs. She ran away to the new hideaway she had found, between two stacks of firewood. Curled up tight, with her chin resting on her knees and her cloak snugged around her elbows, she began to pray harder than she had prayed in her whole life.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Promise

  For a full week, Jake hung onto life with every ounce of his strength. Those who cared for him shook their heads and said he should have died days before. They marveled that a man so sick still lived.

  For a full week, Rebekah, Will, and their parents prayed for the seaman. Rough and without polish though he was, Jake had proven himself to be their friend again and again. Rebekah couldn’t think of him without crying. When she remembered the food he had brought them so many times, she wept bitter tears. “If he had eaten it instead of giving it to us, he might not be sick.”

  “Hush, child.” Mother’s stern command shocked Rebekah. Their mother sometimes scolded Will, but she seldom raised her voice to her obedient, even-tempered daughter. “Jake chose to give you the food. Don’t spoil his gift by feeling guilty. You know he would not want it so.”

  Rebekah sniffled, and Will sent her a weak smile. She knew her brother wanted to think of something to cheer her up, but he couldn’t. How could anyone laugh or think of funny stories when Jake and so many others lay close to death? “Father, may I go see him?” Rebekah pleaded. “You mustn’t!” Will cried. “You could become sick and die!” For once, Will was the fearful one.

  Rebekah looked into Will’s face and read there the terrible fear that haunted her as well: Who else would they lose to death’s dark grip? She smiled at him, trying to chase away her own terror as much as his.

  “Jake didn’t let that stop him from coming when you were so sick,” she reminded her brother.

  Fresh horror sprang to Will’s eyes. “Did Jake catch his illness from me?” He ducked his head and tears ran down his cheeks. “It’s my fault. It’s all my fault!”

  “William Cunningham, stop that this minute!” Father thundered. “I will not have you carrying on in this manner. It is unbecoming to a child of God. We have put Jake in our heavenly Father’s hands. It is not for us to place blame on ourselves or on others.” His white, set face showed no trace of his usual kindly expression.

  The children gasped. Father had never spoken to them in that tone. Will raised his tear-streaked face and stared at their father.

  “It hurts me to have to speak to you this way, but I must.” Father looked weary. “God has blessed you both with loving, tender hearts. He sees and is pleased that you care when others are sick or in trouble. However, you need to remember something. God does not expect you to carry the burden of all the sins and hurts of the world on your small shoulders.” A gentler look crept into Father’s face, and he stroked Rebekah’s tousled braids. “That’s why Jesus came. To carry all the hurt for us.”

  “Father is right,” Mother said in a low tone. “Jesus took those burdens to the cross. Our part is simply to trust and serve Him. Don’t fret, Will. Nor you, Rebekah. It has taken your father and me many years to learn this.” Mother smiled at Father. “Many times, we still feel like we need to take a hand in whatever life brings—to control it—instead of waiting for God to do His perfect work, as He has commanded.”

  “We must learn to be patient,” Father added. “The Bible tells us this over and over. The prophet Isaiah said, ‘But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.’ “

  “It’s hard,” Will muttered.

  Father lowered his voice and whispered, “That’s where the promise comes in.”

  “The promise?” The children’s ears perked up. For a moment, the excitement of a possible mystery took their thoughts away from death and dying.

  “The Bible is filled with promises, such as in Psalm 23,” Father told them.

  “I know that one,” Rebekah cried. “David said the Lord was his Shepherd and would take care of him—”

  “Even in the valley of the shadow of death,” Will quickly finished. “Is that the promise you meant?” He looked at Father.

  “It’s a good one but not the one I was thinking about.” A faraway look came into Father’s eyes. “When your mother and I fled from England to Holland, we didn’t know what would happen. What if we were stopped by the authorities, beaten, or put in jail? I could bear it for myself, but I felt I could not stand it if your mother suffered at the hands of King James’s men.”

  A look of gratitude came to his dark eyes when he looked at Mother. “I finally shared my struggles with your mother. She reminded me of the promise, a single verse. We claimed it as our own. It has kept us going all through the years. Each time life becomes unbearable, we repeat the scripture.”

  “What is it?” Rebekah and Will asked at the same time.

  “In Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians,” Father said quietly, “the great apostle promises we shall never be given more than we can bear, and that God will make a way for us to escape.”

  “Always?” Rebekah left her mother and crept into her father’s welcoming arms.

  “Always, Rebekah.” His face shadowed. “This doesn’t mean God answers every prayer the way we think He should or that He gives us all the things we ask for. It does mean He answers in the best way.”

  Rebekah felt her heart pound with fear. Her throat felt dry. Surely the best way wasn’t for Jake to die without knowing Jesus! Her nails dug into his hands. “Father, I just have to see Jake,” she choked out.

  Father looked down into Rebekah’s face. She felt as though she were being carefully weighed. “Are you strong enough to see your friend close to death, perhaps dying? To smell the poison that is taking lives? The stink of sickness that clings in spite of what all those who are able to help can do?”

  “I am.” Rebekah raised her head and looked her father straight in the eye. “Haven’t I already carried slops for those in the common house and helped clean up when they have been sick?”

  She saw Father look at Mother, and Rebekah’s heart leapt when she saw her mother’s nod.

  “Aye, lass,” Father said with a sigh. “So be it.”

  “May I come, too?” Will asked. His face was pale but determined. “Jake is my friend, too.”

  “Very well,” Father said. He gently put Rebekah aside. “Come with me, but mind what you say.” He paused. “Let the Spirit of God guard and guide your tongues.”

  Rebekah didn’t fully understand what Father said, but she nodded, anyway. They boarded the Mayflower and walked toward where Jake lay. She tried not to gag. The stench of sickness and death on the ship made her want to head for the rail.

  Oh, God, she prayed, help me. Taking small breaths in the hopes of keeping from heaving, she followed her father’s sure steps down the deck she and Will had so often walked with Jake. Would they ever stride
that deck together again?

  “Jake, it’s William Cunningham,” Father said in a loud, clear voice when they reached the tossing, turning man. “I have young Will and his sister Rebekah with me.”

  The seaman’s restless fingers picked at the blanket on which they lay. He opened his eyes, but Rebekah knew he didn’t recognize them.

  Could this gray-faced man really be Jake? It seemed to be impossible. Where had all his magnificent strength gone, his way of showing without a word he could control any situation?

  But it was Jake, for the sick man turned eagerly toward the sound of Father’s voice. A broken whisper came from between his parched lips. “Tell th’ lass …”

  “The lass? Do you mean Rebekah? Tell her what, Jake?” Father asked.

  Jake stared straight ahead, and Rebekah knew the sailor could not see Father, though Father was leaning close to him. Jake lifted a trembling hand to his mouth. “Tell th’ lass …” He made a mighty effort to raise himself but fell back to his pallet, breathing heavily, moving his body as if seeking a comfortable spot to rest. Sweat clouded his face.

  “Is he dying?” Will whispered.

  Rebekah’s heart gave a mighty lurch.

  “He’s very close to it.” Father put a hand on Jake’s shoulder, then turned to the children. “Stay with him, and I’ll fetch water.”

  One of the hardest things Rebekah ever had to do was sit with their friend while the seconds limped into minutes. She tried twice to speak, but she could not find her voice. At last, she managed to say, “Jake, we’re here. It’s Rebekah. And Will is here, too.” She hesitated, and then she added, “So is Jesus. He’s here with you, as well.”

  A slight change came over Jake’s still figure. His breathing slowed, and his thrashing body grew quiet. Rebekah pressed her lips tight together. Was this the end?

  “Keep talking to him, Rebekah,” Father instructed as he placed a bucket on the floor and dipped a cloth into the cool water to bathe the seaman’s face. “One of the workers just told me that ever since Jake fell ill, he has been repeating, ‘Tell th’ lass’ over and over. Let him know you hear him.”

  Rebekah leaned closer, being careful not to get in Father’s way. “I’m here, Jake. It’s Rebekah. Remember all the things we did together? Remember the long voyage we had together and all the stories you told Will and me?”

  Rebekah searched her mind for things that might help her reach their friend. Or had Jake already gone so far down into the deep, dark valley of death that only God could help him?

  “That’s it!” Rebekah whispered. “Listen to me, Jake.” She placed her hands on the big man’s shoulders and gently shook him. “‘Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.’ David said that. He knew God was with him and he didn’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to be scared, either.”

  Jake didn’t open his eyes, but something in the way he turned his head toward Rebekah’s direction gave her hope. Again and again she repeated Psalm 23. Each time she came to the part about the valley of the shadow of death, Jake quieted, until he lay like one dead.

  At last, Rebekah grew so hoarse, she could barely whisper. Father laid a hand on her shoulder. “Come, lass. We have done all we can. Now he is in the Father’s hands.”

  Despair filled Rebekah. Why hadn’t God heard her prayer? If only they had come sooner! Perhaps Jake would have asked Jesus to forgive and save him. She slowly stood, feeling like someone had kicked her in the stomach. “He’s dead.”

  “No, Rebekah. Just sleeping.”

  A stubborn hope sprang up inside her heart. “Will he live?”

  Father shook his head. “I cannot say. I do know your words reached him and stilled his tossing and turning. Now all we can do is wait.”

  “Let me stay with him,” Rebekah begged. “Mother needs you, but Will and I could stay here. It may be the last thing we can do for him.”

  “You know the risks.” Father’s keen gaze studied Rebekah’s face. “You, too, may fall ill.”

  Rebekah thought of those who had died, many who had fallen ill after caring for others. “Father, Jake would do it for us. You know he would.”

  Tears sprang to Father’s eyes. “Aye. Stay then,” he said in a low voice. “And don’t forget that when we serve others, we serve our Master.” He touched Rebekah’s cheek and then Will’s uncombed hair. Rebekah felt they had been given a blessing.

  One of the strangest nights Rebekah would ever know began when Father left. Neither she nor Will spoke, and Jake was silent except for his heavy breathing. For the first time in many days, Rebekah had time to think. Midnight came, followed by the early morning hours.

  “Our bodies are at our lowest point after the midnight hour, before the dawn,” Father had warned before he wearily trudged away. “Then also comes the greatest danger of loved ones slipping from this world into the next.”

  Would that happen to Jake? What had the sailor wanted to tell Rebekah so badly that even in his fever he continued to call out for her? Perhaps he had only wanted to say good-bye.

  But maybe … Another possibility occurred to her, and it was so wonderful that she felt fresh strength flow through her as she silently kept watch. What if during the time of sickness Jake had remembered what she had told him about Jesus? What if he had cried out to the Lord in his heart, asking to be forgiven and saved? Wouldn’t he want the one who had told him about Jesus to know?

  Rebekah scrunched up her knees, rested her elbows on them, and laid her head on her folded arms. Please, God, I have to know. It took all her courage to add, If it be Your will. She prayed the words again. And again.

  Only this time she couldn’t finish the prayer. Her eyes closed. Her breathing slowed. Her head still resting on her arms, Rebekah slept.

  A slight sound roused her. She opened her still-tired eyes and saw that Will was sleeping, too. And it was daylight.

  Oh, no! Some guards they were, sleeping the hours away instead of keeping watch. If they were sentries posted outside the stockade, they would be severely punished.

  Rebekah was afraid to look at the pallet on the floor beside her. With a deep breath, she gritted her teeth and looked down at Jake.

  CHAPTER 8

  You Can’t Stop Me!

  When Rebekah looked down at Jake, she expected to see a corpse. Instead, the sailor’s small eyes twinkled. The shadow of a grin touched his lips. He licked them and croaked in a hoarse, unnatural voice, “Ye stayed with me?”

  “Yes.”

  Their voices made Will raise a sleepy face, and his face exploded into a grin when he saw that Jake was still alive.

  “I be thinkin’ yer a brave lass.” Jake laid one big paw on Rebekah’s hand, then turned to Will. “And you, too, lad.” His grin grew a bit wider before his mouth settled into its familiar stern expression. “Now git, afore ye catches the fever.”

  Rebekah knew better than to argue. “I’ll come back later. You’ll be better then.” She and Will stood and turned to go.

  Jake’s low voice stopped her where she stood. “Mayhap I will be better by and by. But no need to fret if I ain’t. That Friend of yers, Jesus … He fergive me.” A look of wonder came into the sailor’s face. “Me, who’s sailed the seven seas and done black things! And all I had to do was ask.”

  Rebekah ran back to Jake’s pallet and knelt next to him. She grabbed Jake’s hand and squeezed it tight. “This is the best present anyone ever gave me!” she cried.

  “Aye, mate.” Jake smiled again. It softened his face until he looked like a different man. “I be chartin’ a new course now.” Some of his old fierceness came back. “But didn’t I tell ye to run along? Now git, the two of ye!”

  Rebekah and Will laughed at the scowl that no longer hid Jake’s tender heart. Jake’s eyes shone steady and true, showing how much he had already changed in the short time since he signed on with a new Master.

  Proud to be the bearers of such good news, Rebekah and Will raced back to their paren
ts.

  “Now all he needs is rest and good food,” Rebekah announced. A frown chased away her joy. “Where are we going to get food for him?”

  Father smiled. “Captain Standish is sending a few men for game.” He laughed at Will’s obvious excitement. “A good meat broth will help Jake and the others.”

  “May I go?”

  Rebekah knew Will was holding his breath. Ever since the time Will had tried to catch up with the men by himself, Captain Standish had ordered the boy to stay behind.

  To Will’s disgust, Captain Standish did not relent. Rebekah watched while Will bit his tongue to hold back hasty words that might mean he’d be left out of future hunting parties. She knew disappointment burned inside him when Father and two other men left with Captain Standish.

  “I’m needed at the common house,” Mother told Will and

  Rebekah. She put on her warm cloak and bonnet and told Will, “Cheer up. I know it’s hard being left behind, but next time you will probably get to go. Besides, after staying with Jake last night, you two need some rest.” A moment later she was on her way, leaving the two children alone. Father had forbidden them to go back to the Mayflower.

  “Jake sent word that you were to stay away,” Father said. “When I get back, I’ll go see that all is well. I want to tell him how glad we all are over his decision to accept Jesus.”

  Will sat and glared at Rebekah, who had done nothing to deserve his ill will. “It’s our duty to help Jake,” he said. “Besides, I’m tired of people thinking I’m only a child.”

  His expression changed. Rebekah watched his face uneasily, wondering what thoughts were taking shape in his mind. “Rebekah,” he burst out, “I’m going to show them I’m not a child. All of them!” He hastily collected the warmest clothing he owned.