Lily

By B. J. Bassett

California, 1900Nestled in the foothills of the northern California coast, the town of Laurel Springs is home to high-spirited Lily Blair, the daughter of Rev. William Blair. Lily delights in being spoiled by her grandmother and father, and even though she lost her mother to childbirth, she glories in life itself and continuously pushes the bounds of propriety.

Having her every whim indulged as a child leads to a tough road as an adult. Lily falls in love with James Conti and wants to marry him, but James heads off to fight in the Great War, leaving Lily alone and heartbroken. When her father wants to send her off to boarding school, Lily makes yet another rash decision and marries a man she does not love.

In the ensuing years, Lily endures hardship and loss, a sharp detour from the pampered existence she once enjoyed. Yet as Lily struggles to cope with these unexpected changes, she discovers just how powerful Gods love and forgiveness can be. But will it be enough to get her through the darkest days yet to come?

Full of vivid historical detail, Lily is an emotional coming-of-age story that celebrates the strength of the human spirit.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Mar 4, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462000081

B. J. Bassett

B. J. Bassett is the co-author of My Time with God. She lives with her husband in Roseburg, Oregon, where she teaches writing workshops at Umpqua Community College and at writers conferences.

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Lily

B. J. Bassett

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

Lily

Copyright © 2011 by B. J. Bassett

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4620-0006-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-0007-4 (dj)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-0008-1 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011903050

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 2/28/2011

To my Creator and in memory of my parents.

Acknowledgments

First and foremost I thank my husband, Ed, who has always supported me in all my endeavors.

A huge thank you goes to my daughter, Melanie. You loved my character, Lily, from the beginning. You were my cheerleader and what fun I had with you as we brainstormed. You are my kindred spirit.

To all those who lived with Lily from conception to completion—Jean Murray, Deanna Enos, Elna Demant, Sharon Brown, Judy Pella, Debbie Upshaw, Christine Sackey, and Nick Harrison.

Although she didn’t live to see the publication of Lily, I owe a debt of gratitude to my mentor, Jane Peart. She encouraged me to believe in myself—and so I did.

Contents

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Part I

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Part II

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Part III

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

To love anyone is to hope in him always. From the moment at which we begin to judge anyone, to limit our confidence in him, from the moment at which we identify (pigeonhole) him, and so reduce him to that, we cease to love him, and he ceases to be able to become better. We must dare to love in a world that does not know how to love.

—A French priest

Prologue

Nestled against the foothills, seven miles inland from the Northern California coast, lay the town of Laurel Springs. The townspeople bustled about on this summer day of 1889. The Reverend William Blair, the young minister of the Christian church, dodged wagons and horses as he raced across Main Street; and with one large stride, he leaped onto the boardwalk in front of Ora’s Hotel and headed toward the mercantile. In his haste he bumped into Charles Anderson, who was coming out of the mercantile.

Good afternoon, Reverend, Charles said.

A fine day, Charles. William flashed a broad grin. A young woman stood beside Charles, her strawberry-blonde curls peeking from underneath her bonnet.

Reverend Blair, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Rebecca. Charles rushed on, You remember me telling that she’s been away at Miss Parson’s School for Young Ladies? It’s near San Francisco, you know.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Anderson. William accepted her hand.

She smiled. Father has spoken of your inspiring sermons.

William held her hand for a long moment. Thank you.

She slowly withdrew her hand from his firm grasp.

Rebecca knows how to play the organ real good, she does. Sure would be nice if she could play it in church sometime, Charles said.

Rebecca looked down shyly.

William continued to stare and then said, Yes … Yes, of course. Could you play something for us Sunday, Miss Anderson?

What’s your favorite? Rebecca said, looking up at the young minister.

What?

Your favorite hymn, Reverend Blair. What is it?

William continued to gaze at her. I’ll be in my office tomorrow, preparing my sermon. Drop by about three o’clock, and I’ll let you know what I’d like you to play.

Rebecca turned toward her father. Will that be all right, Father?

Yes, of course. I can bring you into town tomorrow.

Until tomorrow, Reverend Blair. Rebecca offered her hand.

A grin spread across William’s face as he took her hand. I look forward to it.

Rebecca sat beside Charles in the old wagon as they bounced over the dirt road. She thought about the handsome minister. Everything about him appealed to her—his broad shoulders, his smile, his manners, his thick, dark hair cut short, and his strong jaw smoothly shaved; but his eyes impressed her the most. They were kind eyes.

What do you think of our Reverend Blair? Charles asked. He lightly touched the mare’s rump with the reins. The wagon lurched in one of the ruts made by incessant rainstorms.

I like him just fine, Father. She slid her hand through the crook of her father’s arm. Just fine indeed!

The next morning Rebecca awakened to sparrows chirping in the gnarled apple tree outside her bedroom window. She hummed while preparing breakfast. Father, tell me more about Reverend Blair, she asked while mixing biscuit dough.

Charles sat at the table in the middle of the kitchen with a cup of coffee, watching his daughter as she worked. Reverend Blair started his church just after you went away to school. With your ma gone and you away … I was lonely.

Rebecca glanced at her father.

He went on, Reverend Blair knew I was a widower, and he came to visit me. He invited me to his church, so I went. When your ma was alive, she took care of the religious stuff, you know. After she died, I needed something. The reverend doesn’t yell about hell and damnation like them other preachers do.

Rebecca bent down to put the biscuits in the oven.

He lives with his mother and his sister. His mother is a fine lady … and a good cook too. I’ve had many Sunday dinners with them. She runs the best boarding house in town. He slurped his coffee. His sister, Agatha, is a spinster. Nice enough but a little too self-righteous. He looked out the window at his land. It’s obvious that they hold a high opinion of Reverend Blair. Heck, everyone does. His face reddened. Forgive my language. Some things take time to change.

With breakfast over and the chores done, Rebecca sat down to play the organ her father had traveled to San Francisco to buy for her. Soon after that trip, Rebecca’s mother had died. Charles had wanted to keep Rebecca with him on the farm but decided the best thing for her was to go away to school.

Rebecca began her scales; her fingers traveled over the keys. She worked on embellishing a new piece. Pieces her music teacher had uttered. They are not songs. They are pieces. She remembered the incident with a smile as she played. She left the organ exhausted yet exhilarated by the music and what she had accomplished. After lunch, she pressed her calico dress, put a matching ribbon in her straw bonnet, and wiped the dust off her black pointed boots. She wanted to look her best for Reverend Blair.

Are you ready? Charles called.

He would not be going into town again so soon if it were not for her, and she did not want to keep him waiting. She pinched her cheeks, gathered up her skirt, and hurried to the wagon.

William sat in his office, his head down, intent on his open Bible. Hearing a tap at the door, he called, Come in.

Rebecca entered and waited.

He looked up and saw a lovely vision standing before him. He recalled his thoughts from the day before. This is the woman who will be my wife.

Part I

1900–1917

Chapter 1

Late at night, the small town of Laurel Springs was dark except for dim light coming from behind the shades of the Blair Boarding House.

Inside the house, Rebecca Blair moaned from labor pains as she lay in the high four-poster bed. In the almost ten years she and Reverend William Blair had been married, they had longed for a child, and their prayers were about to be answered.

The bedroom, with its small print, dusty rose wallpaper, and rich dark wood, was lit by the kerosene lamp, which sat on the bedside table. Anna Blair, who had delivered many babies, worked tirelessly nursing her daughter-in-law. She wiped Rebecca’s forehead with a damp cloth, which she had dipped in cool water from a large bowl.

William had been in and out of the bedroom most of the day and all of the night to comfort and encourage Rebecca during her long labor.

As each hour dragged by, Rebecca became weaker and weaker. She moaned softly as another pain racked her body.

Try, dear, Anna pleaded, please try. She squeezed Rebecca’s hand.

Rebecca sighed with relief as she laid her weary head back down on to the pillow.

You’re doing fine, dear. Anna patted Rebecca’s hand. Anna had done all she could do. Rebecca didn’t have the strength to give birth.

The pains are closer now, aren’t they? Rebecca said.

Yes, they are. Anna brushed back Rebecca’s damp curls from her face.

Rebecca whispered, And they’re harder. Rebecca’s body stiffened with another severe pain.

Anna maneuvered the baby into position.

On the other side of the bedroom door, William sat on a straight-back cane chair while Agatha, his older sister, paced and rung her hands. She stopped just long enough to make coffee. The six boarders sat in the parlor most of the evening, but by midnight, the last of them had gone to bed. William and Agatha waited.

Rebecca screamed, and it was followed by a baby’s cry.

The ordeal was finally over.

A girl! Anna smiled. Rebecca, you have a daughter.

Is she all right?

She’s fine.

Thank you, Lord, Rebecca prayed and then dropped her head back on to the pillow.

Anna washed, oiled, and dressed the baby and attended to Rebecca. She put a fresh gown on Rebecca and combed her hair. After changing the bed clothes, she opened the door. It’s a girl! William, you have a beautiful daughter. Before William or Agatha could speak, Anna whispered, Rebecca is weak and needs rest.

William entered the bedroom, where Rebecca cradled her baby in her weakened arms. Her labor had lasted so long. Now on March 5, 1900, Rebecca had the child she had longed for all those years.

William helped support Rebecca’s limp hold on their child.

God has blessed us.

She’s beautiful, he said as he gazed at the child in awe.

I’m so tired, she said. There was a long silence. Then she added, Our Savior is calling me. She closed her eyes, and within minutes, she had left William.

Numbed by shock, William lifted the baby from Rebecca’s arms and carried her to his mother. He placed the baby in Anna’s arms. Rebecca’s gone.

He returned to the bedroom and found it different. Rebecca didn’t look tired anymore. There was a glow about her that filled the entire room. He felt a peace. He cradled Rebecca in his arms the same way she had cradled their child. He held her one last time. Warm tears trickled down his cheeks as he remembered the first time they had met, their courtship, their wedding day. He knew he had fulfilled Rebecca’s desires and dreams just as she had his. He had brought her to the height of pleasure; they had been one physically and spiritually. He brushed his lips across her damp curls and whispered, My beloved Rebecca.

Chapter 2

The sad news of Rebecca’s passing spread throughout the town of Laurel Springs. She had been loved by many, and now they gathered at the hillside cemetery overlooking the town. The somber mourners clustered behind William, Anna, and Agatha Blair. John Stevens, William’s close friend and minister of the Baptist Church in nearby Ashland, had agreed to conduct the service. William knew the words by heart; he had written them.

John stood before them now, waiting, his hands clasped around his Bible. Towering redwood trees formed a natural cathedral behind him. He opened his Bible and began to read from it. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. John looked up from his Bible and continued, We are not to question God’s plan … John’s voice became a distant mumble to William. He felt numb standing between his sister and stalwart mother.

He remembered another time when his mother had been the strength of their family. It was when William was a small boy, after his father had died. Anna had taken in boarders to provide for her two children. Agatha, eight years older than William, was like another mother to him; and later they shared a mutual respect for each other. Anna had been the solid foundation in their lives. She had encouraged him to follow God’s plan of serving others and provided his education at Bethany College in West Virginia. She continued to provide a home for him and Rebecca after their marriage since the church board only paid a small salary for their preacher. He led his congregation in their spiritual needs. And now, they stood with him in his darkest moment.

At the bottom of the hill, a waiting horse whinnied as John spoke. Rebecca was faithful to her Lord … William stared at the pine coffin before him and the Anderson family plot. It was a lovely place Charles Anderson had chosen for his family to rest. A large marble marker with the family name Anderson stood at the center of the plot. Four separate headstones represented the family: Baby, Frank, Mother, and Father.

All members of the Anderson family were gone now. First, Rebecca’s baby brother had died when she was ten years old. Two years later, her brother Frank had died from a fever. Then a few years later, her mother died—some said of a broken heart. Last year, William and Rebecca had buried her father, and now Rebecca would be laid to rest with her family.

Feeling numb, William looked beyond the graveyard down the grassy hill to the dirt road below them to the town stretched out before him. Through a blur of tears he could see the three church steeples—first the Catholic and then the Lutheran and then his church. He saw all the buildings along Main Street—the blacksmith and stable, Ora’s Hotel, the mercantile, and the homes surrounding town. He squinted in the sunlight to see the river bend as it embraced the town and beyond—the pasture land with scattered farms—and then finally he saw the sea. He remembered the picnics he and