One
August 1874 Chautauqua Lake, New York
The steamer lurched, vibrated. The whistle blew. They were under way. It wouldn’t be long now. Marissa caught her balance and pressed her hand hard over her stomach. Laughter and excited chatter rose around her. It seemed as if everyone on the boat was talking about the Chautauqua Assembly program. Snippets of conversations about the Bible studies, teacher training classes, musical entertainments, recreational activities and lectures the assembly offered swelled to an uncomfortable din.
The lectures. She squeezed the small velvet purse dangling from her wrist, felt the stiffness of the two letters inside and took another breath against the roiling in her stomach. The hum of voices drowned out the patter of the rain against the window at her back. She swept her gaze over the people crowded onto benches or standing shoulder to shoulder in the large cabin and gauged her chances of making it to the door.
“Excuse me.” She turned sideways, edged through the crowd and slipped outside. The hubbub of the other passengers aboard the Colonel Phillips faded to a low murmur. A cool mist from the falling rain swept under the floor of the upper deck and peppered her face. She took a deep breath of the fresh air and looked around. Lantern light from the windows spread a golden gleam across the wet deck, glistened on the railing. She pulled the hood of her waterproof coat forward, took a cautious step toward the front of the ship, another, then stopped.
“Are you all right, miss?”
A man strode toward her out of the darkness. Obviously, he had no problem walking aboard a moving vessel. She nodded, wiped the moisture from her face. “I’m fine. It’s only that I’m unaccustomed to walking on a floor that quivers beneath my feet. It’s a little unnerving.”
The light from behind her washed over the man’s strong, well-defined features, flashed on his white teeth when he smiled. My, but he’s handsome. Warmth climbed into her cheeks. She turned her face away from a lantern hanging from the upper deck that would, no doubt, reveal her blush.
“It’s the thrust of the steamer’s engine you feel. The occasional lurch is caused by the paddle wheels when there is a steering correction.” The man stopped a few steps away from her. “The deck is a bit slick. May I assist you to your destination?”
He was younger than she’d thought. Perhaps in his midtwenties. A few years older than herself. She glanced across the distance to the railing and weighed her unease against propriety.
“Allow me to introduce myself.” The man removed his hat and dipped his head in a small polite bow that revealed a mass of short brown hair with deep waves crested by sun streaks. “Grant Winston, at your service.” He replaced his hat and flashed his smile again. “At least I am if you will permit me to be, Miss...”
“Bradley.” She drew her gaze from his disarming grin, nibbled at the corner of her lip. “I am going to the railing at the front of the ship. If you wouldn’t mind walking beside me...”
“It would be my pleasure.”
“Then, thank you, Mr. Winston. I accept your kindness.” She offered a silent prayer that she wouldn’t slip on the wet deck and stepped forward. Grant Winston moved beside her, matching his steps to her uncertain ones. She let out a sigh and took a tight hold when they reached the railing.
“Feel safer now?”
“I will as long as I don’t look down.”
He chuckled. A deep, pleasant sort of rolling sound that had a smile tugging at her lips.
“I take it you’re not a veteran steamer passenger?”
“I’m strictly a landlubber.” She laughed to cover the nervous tremor in her voice and peeked over the railing. Dark water flowed beneath the ship, brushed along the side in a sinister-sounding whisper. Her stomach flopped. “I didn’t know how intimidating water could be. I should have made Lincoln teach me to swim.” The name slipped from her lips without thought. Pain rose, squeezed the air from her lungs. She blinked, thankful for the rain that would hide any betraying shimmer of tears.
“Lincoln?”
The band of pain squeezed tighter. “My brother.” Bitterness tainted her voice. She drew a shallow, ragged breath, lifted her gaze and watched the lights on the shore morph to yellow blurs as the ship steamed toward the middle of the long lake. Don’t let him ask about Lincoln, Lord. Please, don’t let him ask. The ship lurched. Her kid gloves slipped against the wet rail. She gasped and tightened her grip.
“It might help if you look at the land ahead, instead of behind. See how it curves around? That’s why the captain changed course. The ship will steady now.”
His deep voice was calm, reassuring. The tension left her shoulders. Thank You, Lord. She gingerly shifted her position and searched for the spot he described.
He gestured ahead toward the right. “When we pass that outcropping, you’ll see lights among the trees on the hills at the Chautauqua campgrounds at Fair Point, though it’s still quite some distance away.”
The wind gusted. He swiped the water from the collar of his mackintosh and tugged it up around his neck. “I understand there are already a great number of people in attendance, though the assembly does not officially begin until tomorrow. And, of course, there are still people coming by steamers both from here in Mayville and from Jamestown at the other end of the lake. Two or three hundred on every ship. A friend here in Mayville told me the captains are leaving port at full capacity.”
If he was trying to distract her, it worked admirably. “So many?”
“Yes. It’s quite amazing really.” He turned toward her, leaned his hip against the railing. “The Chautauqua Assembly program seems to have caught the interest of people from all over. I’ve spoken with a family from Canada. And people from Ohio and Virginia. And, of course, New York and Pennsylvania.”
Oh, my! What had she gotten herself into? She swallowed hard and stared toward the outcropping he’d pointed out. The more people who attended her lectures, the better, of course. But she was no orator, only—
“Am I right?”
She started out of her thoughts, glanced up at him. “I beg your pardon?”
“I asked if you are attending the assembly.”
Her stomach clenched. “Yes, I am.” Because of you, Lincoln. And Father.
“I thought as much.”
She took a steadying breath, thrust her dark thoughts away. “And why is that?”
“Because I believe everyone aboard this ship, save the captain and crew, is headed for the Chautauqua campgrounds. And—” his gaze dropped to her hands gripping the railing “—I figure it had to be something like this advertised assembly to entice you to step foot on the Colonel Phillips.”
“You are correct, Mr. Winston.” Though not because I’m afraid of the water. The conversation had gone far enough. She wanted no questions about her reason for attendance—not with tears threatening. Nor did she want him to find her lacking in proper manners and judge her to be a woman of low behavior. She gave him a polite smile. “Thank you for your kind
