The pilgrim song, p.1
The Pilgrim Song, page 1
© 2003 by Gilbert Morris
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a Division of
Baker Book House Company, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2011
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owners.
ISBN 978-1-4412-7054-2
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
Cover illustration by Bill Graf
Cover production by Becky Noyes
TO GINGER CONLON
You will alway be a miracle to me, my dear Ginger. Words could never express how proud I am to have such a woman in my family.
CONTENTS
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
PART ONE
New York City
September—November 1929
1. A Birthday to Remember
2. Jailbird Gardener
3. A Matter of Pride
4. New Face in Church
5. October 24, 1929—Black Thursday
6. God Provides an Angel
PART TWO
Georgia
November—December 1929
7. A Long, Tiring Journey
8. Fair Oaks
9. Survival
10. A Family Problem
11. Sunday Service
12. Josh’s Troubles
13. A Different Kind of Christmas
PART THREE
January—September 1930
14. Trouble at School
15. Josh and Dora
16. A Community Celebration
17. A Taste of Honey
18. The Longest Night
19. Revival in the Barn
PART FOUR
October 1930—January 1931
20. Peace by the River
21. Not a Deer in the Woods
22. Out of the Past
23. The Right Man Takes the Blame
24. To Be a Wife
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
A Birthday to Remember
Kat Winslow sailed through the back door so fast it slammed with a bang, but she did not pause for an instant. She threaded her way through the servants who crowded the kitchen, and Susan Mason—never called anything but Cook—turned from the stove, a harried look on her face. “Why aren’t you dressed, Katherine? You look awful!”
The twelve-year-old simply grabbed a cookie from the counter, laughed, and sped out of the kitchen. The sound of the musicians warming up for the dance caught her attention for a moment, but then she ignored it. Turning up an ornate curving staircase, she raced to the top and then to the door at the far end of the long hallway. She opened the door and stepped inside but was halted when a cry met her.
“Kat, shut that door! I’m not dressed!”
“What kind of underwear is that?” Kat asked, ignoring her sister’s protests. She advanced and walked around her sister, her head cocked to one side.
Jenny Winslow was wearing a peach-colored satin bra, embroidered at the edges with white flowers, and a girdle attached to fine silk stockings. Jenny was a striking young woman of seventeen with red hair and unusually dark green eyes. Her face was heart shaped, and her lips were broad and expressive. Right now they were expressing distaste. “Don’t you ever bother to knock?”
“Not for family I don’t.”
“What are you wearing those overalls for? It’s almost time for my party to begin. And you’re filthy! What have you been doing?”
“I’ve been in the garden digging up worms. I’m going fishing in the morning.” Kat went over and plumped herself down in a chair and examined her older sister curiously.
Kat had gray-green eyes and tawny hair, and she cared nothing for what she called “girlie” stuff, including clothes and makeup and parties. A summer’s tan coated her skin, and a few light freckles were scattered across her nose.
Marie DuPree, the dark-haired French ladies’ maid at the Winslow house, made a face. “I never see a girl like you,” she snorted. “You care nothing for clothes, and you go around looking like a hobo. Hurry now—you need to take a bath and get into your party dress.”
Ignoring Marie, Kat stared at her sister and demanded, “Jenny, when will I have bosoms?”
Jenny blinked with shock and gasped slightly. “Kat, do you have to say everything that comes into your mind?”
“How am I going to say it if it doesn’t come into my mind? When will I?”
Jenny laughed shortly and shook her head in disbelief. “You ought to be more careful what you say. It’s not polite to talk about such things.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not genteel.”
“But when will I?”
“Very soon, I suppose. Maybe next year. Now go get dressed, and Marie will come and help you do your hair.”
“I can fix it myself.”
“I know how you’ll fix it! You mind what I say.” She smiled and ran her hand over Kat’s hair. “It’s my birthday, remember. I get to have my own way.”
Kat grinned broadly. “You always get your own way.”
“Out of here—go!”
As the door closed behind Kat, Marie said, “Do you theenk she will ever outgrow—whatever eet eez she has become?”
“She’s just a tomboy, Marie. She’ll grow out of it.”
“Were you zat way when you were her age?”
“No, I was certainly never that way, but I’m not worried about her. She’ll change.”
Marie crossed the room to pick up Jenny’s dress, holding it for a moment and running her hand over it fondly. A thought struck her, and she motioned with her head. “And Miss Hannah, will she be at zee party?”
“You know she won’t, Marie.”
“I thought, maybe, since eet was your birthday—”
“She used to come to parties when it was just the family, but you know how she hates to be around parties and things like that with outsiders.”
Marie cocked her head to one side. She was an attractive young woman of twenty with intense black eyes. “Was she always so . . . so strange?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Why she eez so afraid of people?”
“I can’t say.”
“And she eez thirty now—never married? That eez not normal.”
A troubled light touched Jenny’s eyes. She took the dress from Marie and held it up in front of her. Her eyes were on the large full-length mirror, but her mind was on her sister. “I don’t understand Hannah,” she sighed. “All she wants to do is read sermons and go to church. Here, help me put the dress on.”
Marie took the dress and helped Jenny slip it on, then fastened it. “It eez a beautiful dress!” She sighed. The sleeveless dress was made out of cream silk chiffon and had a low cowl neckline. The bodice fit snugly to the waist, and the smooth silk skirt flowed gently out until it touched the ground in soft drapes around her legs.
Jenny turned around, looking at the back, then said, “Go up and see if you can talk Hannah into coming. I know she probably won’t come, but I bought her a new dress, so ask her.”
“I will go, but you are right, Miss Jennifer. She probably will not come.” Marie shook her head and looked back over her shoulder before leaving the room. “She eez not natural, that one!”
****
Kat rushed into her own bedroom, slammed the door behind her, then gave the room a quick glance. How different it was from Jenny’s ornate room. Instead of feminine accouterments, hers was filled with specimens she had caught—butterflies pinned to the wall, insects in jars, and a dried snakeskin hanging from a peg. Books were scattered everywhere, all of them having to do with bugs or snakes or animals. A clipper ship model, half finished, filled a table, and clothes littered the room. Pictures cut from magazines and newspapers were pinned carelessly to the walls. The room was a despair to the maid, but nothing anyone said changed Kat’s habits. Remembering her sister’s admonition, she peeled off her overalls, snatched up a blue robe, then dashed down the hallway to the bathroom, where she took a quick bath, splashing water all over the floor. She left a dirty bathtub ring, for she had indeed gotten grubby digging for worms, but she knew the maids would take care of that.
When she returned to her room, she slipped into the pretty new dress Jenny had bought for her. It was a shiny green cotton with shoes to match. She put on the shoes, then gave her hair a few swipes with a brush. She liked keeping it short and would have cut it even shorter—like a boy’s—but both her sisters and their father drew the line at that.
Leaving her room, Kat heard the orchestra again, and when she reached the foot of the stairs, she saw people coming in the front door being greeted by her father. Standing beside him was Lucy Daimen, and Kat involuntarily made a face. I don’t see why he has to marry that old Lucy! she thought. She wove her way back to the kitchen and picked up some diamond-cut canapés, one in each hand, and went outside through a side door. She stopped abruptly when she saw a man and a woman standing in the shadows of the side garden. The chauffeur h
Kat said very loudly, “What are you doing, Earl?”
Earl Crane, a burly man with tow-colored hair and hazel eyes, whirled quickly, anger twisting his face. “Nothing!” he said. “Go on back to the party!”
“I’ll bet Daddy wouldn’t like it if he knew you were kissing Mabel.”
Mabel took this opportunity to pull away and dash past Kat into the house.
“You’re a pretty nosy kid,” Earl complained.
“I won’t tell Dad if you’ll do me a favor.”
“What kind of a favor?”
“Teach me how to drive the car.”
“I can’t do that! Your dad would fire me!”
“He won’t have to know. You teach me to drive when nobody’s around, and I won’t tell Dad you’re kissing the maids.”
Crane laughed conspiratorially. “Okay, kid, we’ll do it.”
Kat was pleased with this arrangement. She had often asked her father to let her drive, but he had always refused. Now she thought about what fun it would be to drive, and she skipped back into the house. For the next ten minutes she wandered around tasting the canapés and petit fours. She was finally interrupted by her father, who appeared with Lucy Daimen at his side.
“Are you ready for the party, Kat?” he asked.
Lewis Winslow carried his fifty-five years well. He had always been slim and had gained little weight over the years. His light brown hair had minute flecks of gray, and his dark brown eyes peered at her from his squarish face. For some reason, he did not seem particularly happy at this moment, though he smiled warmly at his youngest daughter.
Lewis’s fiancée clung to his arm. Kat did not like Lucy, who at thirty-four was in her opinion much too young for her father. Lucy was sharp-featured but not unattractive, with auburn hair and brown eyes. Now Lucy murmured sweetly, “Your hair’s not combed, dear. Do you want me to help you with it? Why didn’t you get Marie to help you with it?”
“ ’Cause I did it myself,” Kat said, turning quickly and darting away.
Lucy shook her head. “We’ve got to do something with that child.”
Lewis watched Kat disappear, a fond look in his eyes. “She’ll be all right.” He looked at the gathered crowd and shook his head. “This is some party, Lucy. You’ve worked so hard on it, you must be exhausted.”
“No, I love it! You know how I love to do things like this.” Her mind was still on Kat, and she squeezed Lewis’s arm possessively. “After we’re married, I’ll teach Katherine how to be a lady. I’ll bring her out of her tomboy ways.”
Lewis smiled and shook his head. “I hope so.”
He had known Lucy for five years. She was the only child of Leo Daimen, a wealthy railroad man. She had a quickness about her that pleased him, and she had brought Lewis out of his solitary ways. He had surprised himself by proposing marriage and was even more surprised by her acceptance. Deep down, Lewis knew he was doing it for his children more than for himself.
“And I can help Hannah too. She’d be quite pretty if she’d dress more suitably.”
“I hope you can help her. I worry about Hannah a lot. She’s become nothing but a recluse.”
“We can fix that. Trust me.” Lucy smiled brightly.
For a moment Lewis stood silently, thinking about his wedding. He had lost his first wife, Deborah, two years earlier, to the flu. During the last decade, he had made a bundle of money in the stock market, which had come as a great surprise to him. It had been fun while Deborah was alive, but after her death he had sunk into a deep depression, throwing himself into his business and making even more money to fill the emptiness. In a way, he could understand Hannah’s reluctance to be here, for he himself did not usually care for large parties.
“I’m too old for you,” he said abruptly.
“Nonsense!” Lucy retorted. “It’s going to be a wonderful marriage. We’re going to do tremendous things. You’ll see.”
“I hope so.” He shook his head sadly. “I’m worried about Hannah—and about Joshua.”
“He can change too. I’ll take him in hand. Come along, now. We’ve got to be better hosts than this!”
****
Joshua Winslow handled the big Packard with reckless ease, his wrist drooped over the wheel. It was obvious he’d had a few drinks. He turned and grinned at his friend Arlen Banks, who sat beside him. “Nervous, Arlen? Afraid I’ll pile us up?”
“You drive like a maniac, Josh! You’d scare anyone.” Arlen Banks was a tall, lanky man with dark hair, deep blue eyes, and aristocratic features. The two men were the same age and best friends. “It’s going to be a huge party, I understand. Jenny said Lucy invited half the people in New York.”
“Yes, she did. Even the Roosevelts are going to be here and maybe some of the Astors. You know Lucy.”
Arlen turned quickly. “You don’t sound too enthusiastic about your future stepmother.”
“She’s all right.” Josh shrugged. “She’ll shake Dad up a bit. I’ve been worried about him ever since Mom died. He hasn’t been himself.” He took a curve too fast and laughed as Arlen grabbed the seat to steady himself. “What about your brother Preston? What’s he doing now?”
“He’s in Europe on an extended honeymoon. Been there nearly a year,” Arlen said.
Josh swerved to avoid a chuckhole and did not answer at once. At the age of twenty-seven, he still possessed a boyish look. He was lean, and his alert gray eyes and tawny hair made him the cynosure of women’s attention. “You know, we all thought he’d marry Hannah. Does he ever talk about her?”
“Never mentions her.” Arlen hesitated before saying, “Is she any better?”
“No, she’s not. Can’t get her out of her room except to go to church. I think she’s getting worse.”
“Did she ever tell you why she broke off her engagement with Pres?”
“No, she never would discuss it, but it broke Mom’s heart. You know, up until that happened, Hannah was a lot like Jenny is now—lively and lots of fun, always doing things.”
“Yes, I remember. Has she ever been to see a doctor?”
“Dad made her go about a year after it happened, but it didn’t do any good. Of course people think she’s crazy.”
“Oh, I never hear that.”
“Well, they do, believe me. They think she’s a mental case, but she’s not. She’s as smart a woman as I ever saw.”
Josh pulled the car up in front of the Winslow house, an enormous brownstone mansion set far back off Fifth Avenue, bordering other properties of the rich and famous, right across from Central Park. Numerous cars lined the circular driveway, with chauffeurs waiting in each one while their employers enjoyed the party. Arlen studied the house as he got out. Lewis Winslow had bought it only a year earlier. The Romanesque house with a corner tower and a rounded-arch entrance was surrounded by short, thick colonnades. Arlen did not particularly like it, thinking it looked like a prison. “Do you like this house, Josh?”
“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t. It’s like living in a museum. Lucy talked Dad into buying it.”
“It’ll be a little strange having a stepmother only a few years older than you are, won’t it?”
Josh did not answer, and Arlen knew he’d touched a nerve. His friend had enough intelligence to do anything in life he wanted. Josh had studied archeology in college but had dropped out before his senior year. Arlen had always vaguely connected his change of attitude with the enormous amounts of money Lewis Winslow had made. Sudden wealth had somehow taken the drive out of Joshua, and he had become the proverbial playboy, enjoying fast cars, too much drink, and parties almost every night. Since he had quit school he had done nothing but waste his time. Arlen had once asked him if he would ever go back to college, but the answer had been curt. “Nope. What’s the use?”
Earl Crane approached Joshua at the front entrance, saying, “I’ll park it, Mr. Winslow.”
“Thanks, Earl. Come on, Arlen.”
The two entered the massive front foyer under a glittering chandelier and were greeted at once by Lewis Winslow and Lucy. Lewis caught the scent of liquor on Joshua, and his lips tightened, but he merely said, “Hello, son. Hello, Arlen. It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you too, Mr. Winslow, and you, Miss Daimen. You’re lovely—as always.” He brought her extended gloved hand to his lips and gave an elegant bow, then turned and spotted Jenny dancing in the expansive drawing room turned ballroom for the occasion. He grinned saucily. “I’m going to cut in on Fred. He can’t dance anyway.”
