Free By the Light of the Silvery Moon by Tricia Goyer Page B

exactly like her, you know. But when I remembered how many years had passed since I’d seen my friend, I knew you could not be. In fact, I remember when she was with child—she tried to hide her age to keep her job, but she could only do it for so long.” A memory sparked in the woman’s eyes.
    Amelia touched a hand to her cheek. She had a hundred questions about her mother—what had she been like? Had she been happy on the ship? It would make Amelia feel better to know that if her mother chose her work over her daughter she would have been happy doing so, yet one question rose to the top.
    “Since you knew my mother before she had me, do you know who my father is? Did she ever mention him?”
    The older woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, child. If she told me, I do not know. It’s been many a year—too long. I’ve sailed many voyages. I’ve worked with so many friends. The stories run together, you see. And maybe …” She let her voice trail off. “Maybe it’s best to enjoy the present rather than worry about the past.”
    There was something in the woman’s gaze that told Amelia she knew more than she offered up, yet Amelia didn’t press. She remembered the prayer she’d just prayed—to let go of the past and let it sink to the bottom of the sea. It was enough to have met this woman, wasn’t it? To know she looked like her mother. To experience a taste of what her mother had experienced as she sailed away from the quay at Southampton.
    “This is a great privilege meeting you on this ship, of all the ones,” the stewardess continued. “Your ma would have thought something great of this. That’s why I remember her when so many other stewardesses are lost in my memory. Emma got excited over the smallest things. Old sugar lumps from the kitchen and tea in chipped china cups. She loved the sunsets over the ocean. She’d sit by me in the evenings as we put our tired feet up and say, ‘Geraldine, you’ll never imagine what I saw today.’ I feasted more on her stories than even the food put before me.”
    “Yes, I remember that about her.” Amelia twirled a blond curl around her finger and slowly released it. “As a child I never knew how much I lacked, because dinner was always a party.” She chuckled softly. “Partly from the stories … and partly because my mother’s obtaining enough food for the day was something to appreciate.” Amelia’s voice caught in her throat. Her mother had worked so hard for the simplest of things.
    Geraldine offered a sad smile and lowered her voice. “Since you’re asking, my child, I suspect you haven’t seen her recently?”
    Amelia’s eyes grew moist. “No. She left for work … years ago … saying she’d only be gone for one month. I haven’t heard a word since. At least I am grateful that she stayed around, caring for me until I was six.”
    Emma patted Amelia’s hand. “I am certain she’s out there somewhere, getting caught up in the thrill of the voyage. Never much of a land lover was she. I’m surprised she stuck around as long as she had—says something about her love for you, I suppose.”
    Emotion tightened Amelia’s throat. If her mother had really cared she would have stuck around longer. She wouldn’t have left at all. “Well, thank you.” Amelia took a step back, and another smile filled Geraldine’s face.
    “What is it?” Amelia asked. “Did you remember something more?”
    “No.” The woman clucked her tongue. “I was just thinking Emma wouldn’t know what to do with herself if she saw the glory hole of this place.”
    “Glory hole?”
    “Oh, just the name of the stewards’ quarters—the name given because there’s nothing glorious about them. A foul place, most are, but not here.” She offered a low whistle. “The most comfortable room I’ve ever slept in on the seas … and speaking of sleeping, there are a few more beds I need to make up. Ones I didn’t get done before the launch. You should have seen us