“Now don’t go keeling over dead just because I’m here next to you. I know I come off gruff. But—” her voice lowered and the softness there surprisedhim. “The Spirit of the Lord has been pestering me to come down here and say my piece. God wants you to live, and the way to do it is a blessing.”
From the recesses of his mind, he remembered the sermon. The healing of the sick, just like in Christ’s time. And he remembered his prayer. He wanted to live, and if Mrs. Brower, who was one of the last people on this ship he’d expected to visit him, came to save him with a message from God, it might just be true. Perhaps God did listen to him. He recalled Ann’s words that God wasn’t vengeful. Maybe God didn’t actually want to punish him.
“Consider my idea at least.” She said, patting his cheek again. “I can come back and ask you in an hour or so what you think.”
His mind reeled, trying to review all she said. The way she’d laid it all out, her frank humor, the new softness, all of it was almost more than he could process. He wished his mouth and throat didn’t feel like a cobweb that’d been seared with a firebrand.Wait,he thought. He wanted to ask her more.Wait!
He needed to see her eyes again so he could know she was real. But he was too weak. The sound of a door closing met his ears, and he knew she was gone.
By the time Ann got to the sick bay, there was no sign of Sister Brower anywhere, and Will lay completely still on his cot.
“Will, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, leaning close. “I tried to get here before Mrs. Brower did so I could ask you instead, but Mrs. Davies stopped me in the hall, concerned because now little Levi is sick too—” She stopped herself and placed her hand on his cheek. He twitched at her touch. Maybe he wasn’t even lucid, and here she was rambling on.
Her hand moved up to stroke his hair. It needed a washing, but it was devoid of the scabs, and she found she loved the color, the thickness. She inched her mouth closer to his ear, hoping he was listening. “Mrs. Brower can be very opinionated, and I know how she upsets you. I hope she hasn’t disturbed your rest.”
He twitched again, and his lips separated. She stood and poured a bit of water into a small cup on the table near them. When she brought it back, his brow was drawn tight in pain. The sores, some of them hardening now, showed through the scruff on his neck and made their way into his cheeks. Bracing his head, she tilted the water into his mouth.
He swallowed greedily and then coughed.
“Take your time,” she said. His eyes were still closed in pain.
“I—” His voice was hoarse and pinched.
Ann stared at his parted lips. She hadn’t expected him to say anything, and the strain was evident across his drawn features.
“No need to get worked up,” she said gently.
“I—” he struggled again, “I ... I want ... the blessing.”
Ann’s hand tightened around the cup. “You ... do?”
He gave one definitive nod.
Hehadheard Mrs. Brower then, and most surprisingly, he’d agreed with her. Ann wished so desperately that she could ask him all his thoughts, but at present he could barely put a sentence together.
“Would you like me to go get my brother-in-law?”
He nodded once more.
She stood, still shocked, but with hope surging through her. “I’ll be right back.”
As she left the sick ward, her mind reeled. She imagined Will completely well again, and her heart thrilled, but then she stopped herself. Where would the faith to be healed come from? Did Will believe he could be healed? Or was he just accepting any last-ditch effort on account of his pain?
She hadn’t had faith enough to propose such an idea.
Did she even have faith enough now to believe it was possible? She’d seen firsthand the gravity of his symptoms. In truth, his case of the smallpox was quite severe, and his future seemed worse than grim.
Above her, the light of the hatchway slightly ajar sent a ray of light in front of her path. She grasped the ladder and started to ascend. With each upward movement, each pull up the rungs, she tried to bolster her faith. Throughout history and even recently, people had been healed when sick. That meant Will could as well. She’d had faith to be baptized, to change her entire life, to cling to the cause of Zion even when she didn’t understand why God was asking her to come on this journey. And Zion needed her, and this people needed Will, in the very least, to be well. At most, she hoped this could be a catalyst to him gaining his own faith in God.
At the top of the open hatchway, the sun shined fully on her, and she closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth wash over her and glow against the back of her eyelids.
Dear God, give me the strength and the faith to see him healed.
Will had no idea how much time had passed, but he recognized the sound of several people walking through the door of the sick bay.
“I knew he’d agree with me,” he heard Mrs. Brower say as multiple people crowded into the already cramped quarters.
It surprised him how much her idea had meant to him. Somewhere, deep inside, her suggestionhadfelt right. Which made no logical sense at all. He’d not agreed with much else the woman had said for the duration of the voyage. But then again, it seemed like now was a time to question one’s logic. Today he relied on feeling. Being close to death did that to a person, he supposed.
