Daughter of Destiny

Daughter of Destiny

A Novella

Louise M. Gouge

DAUGHTER OF DESTINY

Copyright © 2013 by LOUISE M.
GOUGE

All rights reserved. No part of
this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief
quotations in books and critical review.

All scriptures are taken from
the
King James Version
of the Bible.

Gouge, Louise M. (Louise Myra),
1944-

Daughter of Destiny / Louise M. Gouge

http://blog.Louisemgouge.com

Acknowledgments

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

This novella is a
work of fiction conceived entirely in my imagination. I would be remiss,
however, if I did not mention the inspiration I found in James Michener’s great
novel,
Hawaii
. However, unlike Mr. Michener’s miserable, misguided
missionaries, who were driven by guilt and fear of an angry God, my characters are
courageous, true-hearted, and joyful in their devotion to the Almighty. I
dedicate this small work to the countless brave souls who have served Him
throughout the ages and around the world, often sacrificing their health and
lives that others might know the saving grace of the Lord Jesus Christ. “Neither
is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven
given among men, whereby we must be saved.” (Acts 4:12,
KJV
)

“I will never leave
thee nor forsake thee.” (Hebrews 13:5 KJV)

1822, Massachusetts

“I-I am honored by your proposal, Reverend Adams. Truly, I
am. And I do not mean to be…
discourteous
.” Leah Smith twisted her
threadbare linen handkerchief and attempted to swallow the lump in her throat.
Still, she forced herself to say the necessary words. “But during these past years
as your mother’s companion, I have observed that you hold Miss Hattie Wallace
in highest esteem. Did you not journey to her parents’ home just two weeks ago
to propose marriage to her?”

In his mother’s parlor, Leah watched Jonah Adams shift in
his chair opposite her position on the divan. Leah had never seen him so dispossessed of himself,
but she could not claim to be the cause of his charming discomfort. Forbidding
herself to react to the riot in her heart, she offered him a smile of
encouragement. It seemed to help, for after a moment of apparent emotional
struggle, he relaxed a little, smiled back, and gazed at her with his customary
kindness radiating from dark gray eyes.

“Indeed, Miss Smith, I did propose to Miss Wallace. I would
not pretend otherwise, for you always see right to the truth of any matter. Nor
would I wish to deceive you.” He paused and glanced toward the window, and then
turned back to her with resignation written across his handsome face. “She
would accept me only if I abandoned my plan to become a missionary.”

“But this was always your plan. Surely she knew that.”
Foolish anger tore through Leah. How could Miss Wallace be so cruel as to lead
dear Reverend Adams on all this time?

Jonah gave a rueful shrug. “She told me she hoped all along
that her father’s offer of a position in his bank would change my mind after I
graduated from seminary.” He shook his head and frowned. “Neither of them
understands what it means to be called by God. Unlike you, Miss Smith. And
Mother, of course.” He stood and wandered toward the tall front window, then stared
out toward the wide front lawn.

Bright sunlight poured into the room and cast a long, wide
shadow of Jonah’s tall, broad-shouldered form across the gold and red Persian
carpet and mahogany coffee table. His light brown hair was short, curly, and
kissed by that same sunlight.

“Perhaps I played the same game as Miss Wallace.” He spoke
as if Leah were not in the room. “I believed beyond doubt that she would grow to
accept the idea. She’s so generous, so kind. Everyone knows how often she
visits the poor, how gentle she is with the elderly. I thought . . .”

“Perhaps she will change her mind.” Leah almost choked on
her own self-betraying words. Jonah had proposed to
her
. She had but to
say yes, and she could marry the man she had loved for eight long years.

Jonah straightened and lifted his chin. “No, she will not.
But it makes no difference.” He stepped back over to his chair and sat down to
face her, his expression filled with determination. “You will make a proper,
dedicated missionary wife. Indeed, I know you would have long ago returned to
the island of your birth, had you been able. Come, Miss Smith, be my wife.
Together we will lead the heathen into the Kingdom of God.”

She stared down at her trembling hands—wide, callused,
accustomed to work.
Lord, is this Your will for Reverend Adams? For me? Give
me wisdom, Father, for I fear my heart would answer too quickly in the
affirmative.
She looked up to see Jonah’s steady gaze still on her.

“I understand your reticence, Miss Smith, and I do not mean
to rush you. But I must have a wife . . . an answer . . . soon. The mission
board will not send out single men into the mission field, and my ship,
Destiny’s
Hope
, sets sail in six days. I must leave then. Captain Swain is the only
merchant captain I have found willing to divert his course and take me to the Fénuan Islands. My only other option would be to seek passage on a foul-smelling whaler,
and that is abhorrent to me.”

Leah winced. She had grown up on her father’s whaling ship
and knew very well that most people despised the stench of the industry that in
recent years had begun to bring great wealth to New Bedford ship owners.

Why was God so silent? Why would He whisper no verse of Scripture
into her mind?

“What of Mrs. Adams?” Leah was somewhat surprised that her
employer, Jonah’s mother, has not told her about this situation.

“Why, when Miss Wallace declined my offer, I of course
asked Mother what she thought I should do. She suggested that you would be the
perfect choice. She will miss you as her companion, but since her age and
health exclude her from this sort of service to God, she is willing to bless
our union and our calling.”

Leah gulped back her wicked pride. Although Reverend Adams
had not thought of her on his own, if saintly Mrs. Adams had given her
approval, surely God had willed it.

“Then I will be your wife.” Her words came in a quiet, breathless
rush, as if from some other source than her own voice.

“Ah, praise be.” Jonah slapped his knees and stood. “We
shall have a grand time, Miss Smith.” He strode toward the parlor door. “I must
go tell Mother. She will want to make preparations for our wedding.”

Leah waited until the sound of his footsteps faded up the
front staircase before surrendering to her tears. She would be marrying Jonah!
She would be returning to Fénua! Then why did her heart feel as if it would
break?

She knew he did not love her beyond pastoral affection, but
upon her acceptance of his proposal, could he not have kissed her cheek? Patted
her hand? Called her by her Christian name? Said “thank you”?

“Dear Lord,” she whispered, “what on earth have I done?”

***

Jonah wanted to kick himself. Miss Smith’s response had
been soft, spoken almost with resignation, as if she were obeying an order. He
knew her well enough to see he had wounded her. What a beast he was to propose
in such a callous manner. He should have taken her flowers, as he had Miss
Wallace.

Hattie—faithless, wretched beauty. How would he ever forget
her? But he must. From this moment forward, to think of her or even to permit
her face to cloud his dreams would be nothing short of adultery. Now he would .
. . he
must
turn his thoughts to the young woman who had served his
mother so faithfully all these years and who would now serve God beside him.

He remembered the day she came to their home, desolate and
grieving her parents’ deaths of smallpox, but willing to perform any service
for her benefactress, her mother’s best friend from boarding school days. A
sturdy, fair-faced child of twelve, she had a curly mass of brilliant red hair—covered
these last years by a prim mobcap denoting her position in the house—and bright
blue eyes that seemed filled with understanding far beyond her youthful age. So
often through the years, he had seen her reading her father’s worn Bible and
murmuring silent prayers. Her dedication to God was deep and true. How could he
not feel a fond, brotherly connection to her?

To this day, he could see in her eyes the great depth of
her soul and clear understanding of the task before them. Yes, this sweet,
humble creature surely must be God’s choice for his mission to the cannibals of
Fénua. How could he ever have thought that delicate, beautiful,
wealthy
Miss Wallace could withstand all that lay before him?

With great effort, he subdued the pang that shot through
his heart. He must forget Hattie. He must will himself to think only of sweet, compliant
Miss Smith. He must think of her needs, for she would never ask anything for
herself. What could he give her? What should he do? A half-thought prayer
flowed from his lips in an exhaled breath.

“Father, show me how to care for Miss Smith as a godly
husband should.”

The answer came immediately. She would need durable clothing
and shoes fit for walking on rocks or in the rough island forests, but Mother
would provide guidance in that. She would need her own trunk. Perhaps a new
Bible, for her father’s old one showed its more than forty years of use and
would surely fall apart in the moist ocean air during their voyage.

One other need came to mind. Although they would marry in a
few days, he must protect her by refraining from marital intimacy. A child
conceived might prove more than even the sturdy Miss Smith could endure on a
lengthy ocean voyage. Yes, that was a very sensible plan.

Now, what else? He must take inventory to be certain he
left nothing behind of all their earthly needs, for they would be far from civilization
in the distant land. Medical supplies, books, writing implements and paper. On
and on the list grew, but in the back of his mind he also considered his dear
mother.

As much as he regretted leaving her alone in this large,
empty house, he trusted his older brother and sisters, now married with nearby homes
of their own, to provide companionship for her. The generous bequest Father had
left would provide everything else. Of course, she would stay busy with her
charity work. Most important, she would undergird his missionary work with
prayers and provisions—and encourage others to do so as well.

The future lay bright before him: good health, a mission
where he would serve God, a wife to serve with him, and loving support here at
home. What more could he ask?

***

“My dear, you are a lovely bride.” Mrs. Adams brushed a
stray curl away from Leah’s face and placed a kiss on her cheek. “All these
years you’ve been wearing that silly mobcap and hiding this lovely red hair.
Well, now you can throw it away.” She turned to one of the large sea chests
that held Leah’s new belongings. “Now, let me check to be sure we’re not
forgetting anything.”

While her new mother-in-law dug through the bolts of
material, bedding, shoes, books, and sewing supplies, Leah touched her cheek
where Mrs. Adams had kissed her—the very same spot where Jonah had kissed her
after their brief wedding ceremony only an hour before. A warm, happy feeling
swept through her as she recalled the tender expression on his face. Although
he did not love her, at least not as she wished, he would be a good, gentle
husband. Perhaps if she obeyed him in accordance with the Scriptures, his kind
affection would grow into love. With that hope, she permitted happiness to fill
her from head to heart and even down to her toes.

“Hm. Leah, dear,” said Mrs. Adams, “run down to the kitchen
and ask Cook for that large blue tin that keeps our tea so fresh. You must have
it, of course, for I know how you love your tea. And be certain that she fills
it with new leaves. And if there is anything you see there that we have missed,
you have but to ask, and it is yours.”

“Oh, Mrs. Adams—“

“Dear child, you must now call me Mother, at least for
these few minutes before you. . .” She sniffed back a sob. “Oh, bother, I must
not cry.” She pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. “Now
run along.”

Leah blinked back her own tears and curtsied. “Yes, ma’am .
. . Mother.” With a giddy laugh, she slipped down the hallway, her soft shoes
silent on the polished floors. At the top of the staircase, she stopped. Below,
Jonah stood with another man, but not the minister who had just performed their
wedding ceremony. She drew in an involuntary gasp and tried to still her racing
heart.
Mr. Wallace!
What was Hattie’s father doing here?