Laurence had arrived at the church breathless, and Jasmine’s singing did not diminish his condition. He took deep, measured breaths to gain control of his emotions and waited a few minutes after she was done before joining her family. Jasmine remained seated behind her father’s pulpit.
He needed no self-control when it came to Rev. Bertram’s preaching. As Jasmine’s singing captivated his heart, her father’s sermon captured his thoughts. Here was no recital on the virtues of mankind in stentorian tones he could block. The Reverend spoke of a man named Jesus: a man whom men could follow even to their deaths. Laurence understood this relationship for he had it with his fellow shipmates. He had never heard a sermon so powerful, simple and full of life. He felt transported to Biblical times, like a disciple following Christ. Rev. Bertram made Jesus come alive to his hearers and spoke of Him as a real man. Laurence had witnessed Rev. Bertram’s wit, compassion, and understanding but now saw him in a different light. Here was the center of his passion, the core of his being--his love for Christ.
Laurence had never been in services so free from the formality and litany of the great cathedrals. In his youth, he would dutifully attend
Rev. Bertram preached elevated on his fine Jacobean pulpit and yet connected to the heart of his people. He was not a religious person in the way Laurence had seen other clergymen; he was simply a disciple of Christ leading people by his example. Rev. Bertram’s love for God was like a fragrance lingering with everyone who came near him. For the first time in his life, Laurence saw Christianity as a simple thing: a life possible to live.
Rev. Bertram not only preached a transforming message, he was also a man in transition. The Evangelical movement within the Church, especially John Newton’s life, had deeply influenced him. The embers of revival still burned in his spirit. His bishop had been under the same influence and had been converted to Christianity through John Wesley himself. They were loyal to the Church of England, but had the breath of God in them. They had not chosen the cloth as a profession but a calling. As a result, there was a freedom felt in their profession of faith and its practices.
When the service had ended, Laurence wanted to tell Rev. Bertram how much his sermon meant to him but many from the congregation had the same desire. As people began to crowd around the vicar, Laurence smiled to himself; he would find a more convenient time.
Jasmine had joined them, by this time, as they turned down the aisle toward the door. Laurence followed the ladies and noticed many young men turning to look at them. He could tell by the expressions on their faces that they were not pleased he was there. His innate protectiveness took over as he closed the distance.
Laurence noticed the
A young man approached making a slight bow to the sisters. He did not acknowledge Laurence at all. “Miss Bertram, I cannot express how your song moved me!” he said with quickening breath.
Jasmine felt the rudeness of his complete disregard of Captain Laurence. A blush spread over her face, but it was not because of his compliment. She was angry on behalf of her friend. “Mr. Johnson, allow me to introduce you to Captain Laurence. He is a close friend of our family,” she said proudly.
The sisters could feel tension in the air and looked at each other with concern. The men nodded but remained silent for an uncomfortable moment before Laurence spoke. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance.”
“I return your sentiment,” Mr. Johnson replied, inferring a double meaning not lost on anyone. “Miss Bertram, I have not received a reply to my invitation for tea this afternoon,” he said turning to her.
“Sir, I never schedule engagements on the Sabbath day,” she said pointedly. After a pause, she turned to Captain Laurence. “May I have your arm?” she asked sweetly.
The change in her voice between the two gentlemen would have given even the dullest person a clear message. Mr. Johnson seemed capable of interpreting the signal. He bowed to the sisters curtly and said, “Excuse me.”
Laurence steered Jasmine away as her sisters followed in their wake. He could feel her arm trembling and noticed her wet lashes. They walked in silence. When they arrived at the vicarage, her sisters went inside leaving them alone in a garden walk. The pathway led to a little pond with a small arched bridge. There were several benches around and all the azaleas were in bloom. Laurence took a seat and waited patiently. Jasmine did not sit down, but paced back and forth a few feet from him.
“We can talk if you’d like, or just walk around,” he said gently.
She turned to him struggling with tears.
“What is wrong, Jasmine? May I help?” He used her Christian name unconsciously. Jasmine was too upset to notice the taboo. If she had perceived it, she would not have cared. She was never one to stick too close to proper etiquette.
“I’m so angry! I cannot believe I feel this way after the beautiful sermon my father just gave.” She did not volunteer anything further so Laurence prompted her.
“What has made you so angry?”
“I am furious with Mr. Johnson for his total want of civility toward you! How dare he treat you like that! Does he think rudeness toward you would recommend him to me?” she said with warmth.
Warmth from a different source was filling his heart. She cared enough to defend him and had called him friend. She felt protective over him. He understood and appreciated her nature. A woman had never defended him before; the whole experience tasted sweet, like honey to his soul. He let out a deep sigh. Jasmine heard it and glanced at him curiously.
“I have never had my honor defended by a sweeter instrument of God, than you,” he said as he looked at her intently.
Jasmine’s blush grew deeper but it was no longer because she was angry. Her heart raced and she felt uncomfortable with how quickly she was attracted to him. She had to change his course. “I only wish I had my bow and arrows with me,” she said grinning.
Laurence chuckled at the picture. Even in his mirth, he was perceptive enough to know what she was doing, and appreciated her wisdom in turning the conversation. She was like her father and understood human nature. She was a deep study and full of surprises. She challenged and enchanted him at the same time.
At that very same moment, Rev. Bertram and his wife were walking down the church path toward their home when they heard the laughter.
“I pray if it is God’s will, their lives may one day mingle as their laughter is doing now,” he said wistfully.
He heard his wife’s soft “amen” and felt her hand grip tighter on his arm. Laurence, in the same manner, was holding his daughter’s arm as they approached them.
“We were laughing over Jasmine’s need of bow and arrow to dispatch another suitor,” he said with a grin. Now that he used her Christian name, he found it impossible to call her, Miss Bertram, especially with her own family.
Her parents did not bring up the obvious faux pas. They felt it was natural for Captain Laurence to use their daughter’s proper name. In their hearts, they already included him as part of the family.
“Father, I really do think we need to send out invitations to every man who has vexed me, they are many, and give them a demonstration of my ability,” Jasmine said saucily.
“Must I recite my poem on ‘The Pitiful State of Raising Daughters’ to you again?” he said with mock weariness.
“Captain Laurence, please join us for dinner--this sparring could last all afternoon,” said Mrs. Bertram dryly. She raised an eyebrow in the direction of her husband and daughter. That one gesture reaped the reaction she wanted: laughter and the concession that she had won her point.
Rev. Bertram humbly walked into the house behind his wife, with his head bowed. He only lifted it for a second to wink at Laurence.
Rose was in the foyer and exclaimed, “Touché!” to her mother. Obviously, this was not a rare occurrence. Here was a husband and wife who thrived on sparring with each other. Laurence was learning from the best example. He wondered if Mrs. Bertram ever walked behind her husband and then realized the scapegoat would always be the man. He could sense the Reverend’s pleasure in deferring to his wife. A woman’s ego deserved the sop. If this was how one played the game--he could lose to Jasmine every time.
Dinner was lively, for Jasmine had not lost her playful mood. Her father was equally ready for anything she aimed his way. Laurence noticed that none of the other sisters participated—only Jasmine and her mother dared cross lances with Rev. Bertram.
“Captain Laurence, you do not know what a relief it is to have another man by my side! I have lived twenty years with the feminine wit closing in on me and at times, I must confess, it is overwhelming. I suspect any day that Daisy will join the fray. You may join in with your sword at any time,” he said with mock seriousness.
“Sir, I am but a humble beginner and have never sparred with a woman before. I am silent because I am learning from a master,” said Laurence with equal sobriety.
All five women chuckled. Jasmine reveled in his wit. He gave as well as he received.
Toward the end of the meal the atmosphere changed--Laurence sensed it like a shift in the wind.
“Now children, have you finished your projects for the Pipes family?” asked Rev. Bertram.
They nodded to him in the affirmative and Rev. Bertram turned to Laurence as he explained a family tradition.
“Ever since Daisy was three years old, we have gone as a family on the Sabbath day to meet someone’s need. We are visiting a family who live in a tenement house close to the Cobb. Do not feel pressured to join us if you do not wish to come, I understand if you choose not to. But please accept my heartfelt invitation if it is your desire.”
“Sir, I would be honored to attend your family in any need. You may count on me. I have never abandoned ship no matter how desperate the situation. I am not afraid of life in the raw,” he said sincerely.
Rev. Bertram looked at Laurence with new respect and squeezed his arm affectionately. “I could not be prouder of you than if you were my own son,” he said with tears in his voice.
Laurence felt a swift stab of joy. A man he highly regarded approved of him. He struggled with tears and noticed Rev. Bertram’s misty eyes. They had an understanding without anything further said. Rev. Bertram had always wanted a son and could not have fashioned one more to his heart’s desire than Captain Laurence.
Soon everyone was busy loading a cart with goods for the Pipes family. Laurence marveled at the abundance. This had not been an overnight project, but something well thought out and planned.
“Captain Laurence, if you could drive the cart it would be of great assistance,” Mrs. Bertram requested with her arms full of blankets.
“It would be my honor,” he replied as he helped with her load.
Jasmine joined him and the rest of her sisters accompanied their parents in the coach. She directed him through the narrow streets to the residence they sought and filled Laurence in concerning the family they were to help.
“The husband was injured while fishing off the bay a month ago and hasn’t found any work since. They have only been in town a few months and have a large family in dire need.”
Laurence was pulling up to the house as she finished speaking. The narrow two storied house was a corner unit of a block of six tenement dwellings. The weather beaten door seemed as if another blow would knock it off its hinges. It was partially opened and he could hear the exasperated voice of a woman calling out a child’s name.
Mrs. Pipes, a stout, dark haired woman of thirty-two had more than a few children around her. She brightened when she saw the pastor enter with his family. Laurence bent his head down in order to enter the house. He felt too large for the main room that was living quarters, kitchen and dinning all rolled into one.
Upon introduction, Mrs. Pipes curtsied to Captain Laurence. “Sir, I’ve a fine lad, my eldest. He’s just turned thirteen. Can he find some work on a ship?” she entreated.
“Will!” She yelled for her son before Laurence could reply. The boy came down the stairs looking bright and respectable.
“Can you work hard?” asked Laurence.
“Yes sir! I’ll work day and night if I have to,” the boy responded.
He had a clear, honest face. Laurence was a good judge of character and often had to size a boy up to see if he was able to work aboard ship. Will was strong and tall for his age. Laurence liked what he saw. “Can you read and write?” he asked.
He nodded. “A village parson taught me for chores I rendered him. I’ve taught my brothers and sisters how to read,” he said proudly.
This was getting better and better. One test Laurence used was responsibility; William already qualified.
“I cannot promise anything but I will do my best to see you are placed,” said Laurence as he reached to shake Will’s hand.
It was his proudest moment and his mother’s eyes were gleaming.
“Children, would you help us unload the cart?” asked Mrs. Bertram kindly.
The children ran outside, eager to help, as Rev. Bertram whispered in Laurence’s direction.
“We have found the best way for a family to hold on to their dignity is through participation. They are only momentarily in straits. When they recover, they will help others in need.”
The balance of their compassion and practicality struck Laurence. He was watching true Christianity in action and both sides appealed to his nature. The men joined in and soon produce and materials filled the house.
“I’m sorry my husband canna be here as he’s lookin’ for work. His heart has been heavy over the wee bairns. You’ve lifted a load from his back,” Mrs. Pipes said with tears in her eyes.
Rev. Bertram whispered something to his wife and she nodded her head.
“Ma’am, do you think your husband can do light gardening work?” he asked.
“Aye sir, surely he can!” she said enthusiastically.
“Send him over at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. We could use another gardener around the place,” he said as he winked at his daughters.
Mrs. Pipes sat down, overwhelmed. Her husband and son had the possibility of work. Her head was spinning with the suddenness of it all.
Laurence stood in a dark corner next to the door and observed the sisters who were busy with separate tasks. Rose was setting the table with bread and fruit. Violet and Mrs. Bertram were hanging curtains they had made for the windows. Daisy was arranging seeds for the garden and Jasmine was washing the dishes. Something was stirring deep within him as he watched them. He kept in step with the world but knew little of the spiritual realm and he longed to live a life of true purpose.
“Why Misses, you are making this place shine, you are!” said Mrs. Pipes with gladness. “My husband won’t know where he is when he comes home.”
The sisters smiled their reply and Jasmine turned back to the dishes while humming the delicate melody of Greensleeves.
The vicar called the children to him and William came with his younger brothers and sisters. Rev. Bertram set the youngest one on his lap and said in a warm, loving voice, “Children, what do you think God is like?”
“Sometimes I think He’s far away and can’t be bothered with our troubles,” responded Will.
“I think He is like Saint Nicholas,” piped one little girl.
“He’s like an old man who sleeps a lot!” called another.
Rev. Bertram chuckled and looked at Will intensely. “William, did you ask God to help your family?” he inquired.
“Yes sir, I did.”
“Did you ask Him to help you find work?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well son, I want you to know we are here because God put your family on our hearts. We have been praying ever since we heard of your father’s injury. We’ve been preparing these things because we knew you would have need of them.”
Will’s eyes grew wider as the knowledge of God’s concern began to sink in.
Rev. Bertram held the littlest boy in his arms. “What’s your name, wee ‘un?” he asked gently in a Scottish brogue to put the boy at ease.
“Shammy,” he lisped.
He held him tighter and said, “Now try and get away from my arms, Sammy.”
Samuel struggled but soon grew exhausted and gave up.
“That’s how God holds each and every one of you. He will never let you go. Remember this picture and when you get older, you’ll understand His love better,” he said as he hugged the little boy and then released him.
Sammy did not let Rev. Bertram go, but clung to his leg even as he stood up.
Laurence noticed that as soon as Rev. Bertram had started speaking, his wife and daughters stopped what they were doing in order to listen to him. They did not do so because of duty or respect, but out of love. He saw Mrs. Pipes wipe tears away with her apron. Rev. Bertram slid his hand on the side of Sammy’s face and gently stroked the little boy’s cheek as he prayed a blessing on him. He laid his hand on each one of the children’s head and did the same.
Laurence stepped quietly out the door, ran to a vacant lot, fell on his knees, and began to weep. He was unnoticed by everyone except Jasmine. She knelt in front of him and held his head on her shoulder.
“You’ll think me unmanly but I cannot stop the tears.”
She took her handkerchief from her sleeve. It smelt of lavender. She soothed his brow, wiped his tears as if he were a little boy, and brushed his hair from his eyes. Her sweet administrations were sinking deep within his soul, satisfying his mother-hunger. The frozen regions of his heart were beginning to thaw.
“I think of you more a man now than if I saw you winning battles with a mighty ship,” she said truthfully.
“How can you?” he asked in disbelief.
“Remember…Jesus wept. I believe tears were in His eyes more than could be counted. He was a real man and He wept. You are no less a man, in my eyes, because you weep,” she said tenderly.
Laurence was comforted as he felt a deep peace settle upon him. He wanted to stay in her arms forever.
“Do you need my father?” she whispered softly.
“Yes,” was all he could say.
She left him but the warmth of her arms lingered. The absence of her presence made him feel abandoned only a moment, for her father soon appeared.
Rev. Bertram stayed out with Laurence over an hour. A great burden had lifted from him, but neither man would speak of what happened. When Rev. Bertram rejoined his family, he found them planting seeds in a tiny garden with the children. He smiled warmly for he had been planting seeds too.
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