To Have and To Hold (27 page)

“No, but I'll let Irene know you've misplaced it.” She pushed up from the chair and strode toward the door.

As she reached for the handle, Mr. Morley said, “Marshall's a good man, Audrey. You can trust him—even if he does steal an occasional kiss.”

Audrey glanced over her shoulder and grinned. “I'll remember that. Good night, Mr. Morley.”

She hurried to the kitchen, surprised when she didn't see Irene at the sink. Some of the dishes had been washed, but others remained stacked on the table. She heard conversation drifting from Thora's bedroom and she tiptoed to the doorway. The old woman lay in her bed smiling at Irene. “You be sure and remember everything I'm tellin' you. There's men that make good husbands, and there's those you'd never want putting their shoes alongside your bed. Make sure you find you a man who fears the Lord and loves the South—you can't go wrong if you do those two things.”

Irene chuckled and agreed. “I'm sure you're right. I thought you asked me to come in and read the Bible to you. Instead, you've spent the last half hour telling me how to find a proper husband.”

Thora pointed a wobbly finger in Irene's direction. “Finding a husband is important. I know it and so does the good Lord. He sent Audrey a good man in Mr. Graham—even if he does have some Northern blood—and He'll send you one, too. Now, get my Bible and commence to reading. Start with Proverbs. Lots of good lessons in there.”

Audrey was surprised but pleased with Aunt Thora's comment. She smiled at the two women. They'd developed a love and understanding for each other that warmed her heart. Irene had certainly managed to soften Aunt Thora, or maybe it was just her illness that had softened her. Either way, they'd become friends. Audrey backed away from the door. She'd finish up the dishes and let the two of them enjoy some time together.

Chapter 25

The next morning the sun was slow to rise from the bank of heavy clouds hanging low on the horizon. During the early morning, the cold and warm fronts had joined together out in the Atlantic, and the mixture of the two had proved a strong deterrent to sunlight. Audrey hung a dish towel on a row of pegs her father had pounded into the wall near the sink. She traced her fingers across one of the wooden pegs, remembering how he'd hit his thumb while finishing the job. Forcing back the lump that started to rise in her throat, she lifted the worn cotton apron from around her neck and slung it over a peg before she walked into Thora's bedroom.

“You awake, Aunt Thora?”

“You ever gonna learn to knock on a door?” The old woman's raspy retort was half welcome, half reproach. Aunt Thora had always been a stickler about the knocking-on-doors rule, but Audrey had been more of a poke-your-head-in-and-announce-yourself kind of child, and she hadn't changed when she became an adult. With a gnarly finger, Thora gestured toward the window. “Open those drapes while you're in here.” She gasped for another breath before she continued. “I need some sunlight in this room.”

There wasn't any sun outside to brighten the room, but Audrey tied back the drapes as well as the sheer curtains that hung beneath the heavy damask. “That any better?” She arched over the bed and brushed a kiss on Thora's sunken cheek.

The old woman turned toward the window. “Not much, but anything's better than nothing.” Her pale lips quivered in the attempt at a smile.

“I suppose that's true about most everything,” Audrey said as she folded into the overstuffed chair that had been pulled along one side of the bed.

Wispy strands of Thora's white hair danced about as she shook her head. “It's not true about men. A woman shouldn't settle for just any pair of britches that comes strolling down the road.” She tapped her knobby finger on the side of her head. “You need to use your noggin, and a lot of prayer helps, too. A smart woman will seek God in all things, but especially when she's getting ready to marry.”

If Audrey didn't know better, she'd think Marshall had been talking to Aunt Thora, but that wasn't possible. Except for the doctor, Thora wouldn't let any unaccompanied man visit her bedroom—not even Reverend Nichols, the preacher from Biscayne. “Is that what you did, Aunt Thora? Wait for the man God sent you?”

“No. I forced the man God sent me to wait a long time before I'd marry him. Regretted it, too.” Her eyelids drooped shut, and Audrey thought she'd likely fallen asleep. There was little doubt Aunt Thora was slipping. Dr. Wahler had warned she didn't have much longer for this world, and Thora's frail appearance was testament to the doctor's prediction. Audrey shifted in the chair, and Thora's eyes popped back open. “You leaving already? You just sat down.”

“I thought you were sleeping, and I didn't want to disturb you.”

“I was resting my eyes, not sleeping. Where was I?”

“You were telling me about forcing your husband to wait before you'd marry him.”

“Oh yes. Well, Nathaniel—that's my husband's name, Nathaniel Homer Lund—he'd been after me to marry him from the time I was eighteen years old. We met at a coming-out party for one of the Savannah debutantes. He was smitten with me. Even got my daddy's permission to call on me and started talkin' marriage after about six months. Land alive, when he proposed, I was beside myself. I didn't want nothing to do with marriage. Thought it would be too confining and keep me from the exciting things in life.” She pointed to the water glass. “I told him so, too.”

Audrey held the glass to Thora's lips and waited until she'd sipped the water. “And what did he say to that?” She put the glass back on the table and sat back down in the chair.

“He said he was gonna keep courting me till I gave in and married him.” A raspy chuckle rumbled deep in her throat. “My Nathaniel sure was a determined fellow, and I'm mighty thankful for that.” Once again she closed her eyes.

“You want to rest, Aunt Thora?”

“No, I don't want to rest. I'm telling you something important, girl. You need to listen to what I'm saying.”

“I'm listening,” Audrey said.

“My biggest regret in life is that I wasted all those years I coulda been Nathaniel's wife. Being single didn't show me no adventure at all—not one thing that compared to my years of marriage. Turned out that marriage to Nathaniel fulfilled everything I ever hoped for. Well, most everything. We wanted children of our own, but we never could have any. Both of us was sad about that, but the good Lord put other children in our lives to love.” She opened her eyes a little wider and reached for Audrey's hand. “You were always one of my favorites.”

Audrey traced her finger across the tissue-thin skin of Thora's hand. “And I have always loved you, too.” A knot of pain settled in Audrey's chest. She'd barely had time to absorb the death of her father. She wasn't prepared to lose Thora, too.

Thora lifted her hand from Audrey's and pointed to the window. “Them live oaks out there are anchored by roots that run deep into the ground so they can weather the storms that sometimes batter these islands—the roots hold them fast in the ground. Unlike those trees, God didn't give us roots to hold us in place. You know why that is, Audrey?”

“He wanted us to have our freedom?”

“That's true enough. He lets us make our own choices. And if we choose to place our trust and faith in Him, He'll be our anchor when we're flooded by the storms of life.” She inhaled a raspy breath. “You need to remember that, Audrey. No matter what happens, your faith in God will carry you through. My life is proof of that. He's given me the strength to live without Nathaniel and taught me to accept the aggression of those Northerners. And thanks to you, the Lord even showed me I could live under the same roof with Yankees.”

Audrey chuckled. The Lord had certainly had His hands full dealing with Thora, her shotgun, and the Yankees. “And you've done a fine job of it—at least once you accepted the fact that they were here to stay.”

Moments later, a ray of sunlight broke through the clouds and stretched across the room, with the brightness coming to rest on Thora's pillow. Audrey jumped to her feet to pull the curtain, but Thora waved her back to her chair. “You jest remember to trust the Lord with your life and look to Him when you're makin' decisions. He'll guide you, if you let Him. That was my biggest downfall. I was always wantin' to tug against the pull of His hand when He wanted to lead me down the right path. Don't you do that, Audrey. You listen to your old aunt Thora. Maybe I wasn't right about the Yankees, but I'm right about this.”

“Marshall asked me to marry him. I want to say yes, but I'm so afraid.” She hadn't planned to tell Thora, but her tongue got ahead of her, and the words slipped out.

Thora chuckled. “Life wouldn't be no fun if there wasn't moments of frantic anticipation. You jest remember that the Lord will take your hand and lead you in the right direction—if you let Him. Marshall's a good man. You should go right ahead and say yes.”

The old woman's eyes closed, and soon soft snores confirmed she'd truly faded into a deep sleep. Audrey remained in the chair, her thoughts swirling with Thora's words. She did need to increase her trust in God—and she needed to figure out exactly how she'd do that.
Ask and I'll increase your faith.
The words echoed in her mind like a distant drumbeat—over and over—until she finally bowed her head and silently asked God to increase her faith and provide her with the ability to trust Him in all things.

The mild scent of the river carried on a breeze that helped cool and refresh the men who were working at a feverish pace on the resort buildings. Although Frank continued with his lackadaisical attitude, at least he'd remained at the work site since Mr. Morley's return. Today, Marshall had assigned Frank and his men to the far end of the site, a short distance from the cabin being used as an office. After making his rounds to inspect the work and to answer questions, Marshall moved near the perimeter of the construction area. He stopped beneath the shade of a live oak and let the late afternoon breeze wash over him like cooling rain. Pushing his cap back on his head, he let his thoughts wander to Audrey, how he hoped he could win her heart, how he hoped she'd soon believe he could be trusted, and how he hoped she'd say yes to his marriage proposal. He was dwelling on that final thought when a flash of movement near the cabin captured his attention.

He shaded his eyes and strained for a better look. Someone was outside the office. Careful to keep his movements slow and easy, he lowered his cap. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he sauntered in the direction of the office, being careful not to stare at the cabin. He tipped his head only far enough to gain another glimpse, but the man had disappeared.

From this distance, there was no way to be certain whether the man had entered the cabin or if he'd discovered the door locked and gone away. Marshall hadn't gone much further when one of the workers called his name. “Where you going, Mr. Graham? We supposed to go back to work or not?”

Marshall came to an immediate halt. “Of course you're supposed to go back to work. I need to check with someone about a shipment of supplies. I'll be back shortly.” He increased his casual saunter to a long stride. Hopefully the exchange hadn't alerted anyone else to watch his movements.

He made his way to a thicket near the cabin and stooped down behind the prickly growth. Keeping his breathing shallow, he trained his eyes on the shack. The door was ajar. He placed his palm on his chest and tried to calm himself. He didn't want to make a wrong move and alert a possible intruder, but he didn't want to make a fool of himself, either.
Best to wait,
he thought.
Just stay quiet and watch.
Sweat rolled down his forehead and along the sides of his face as he kept out of sight in a crouched position. His legs cramped and he longed for a breeze to dry the perspiration burning his eyes.

Just when he'd come to the conclusion that he could no longer remain in the uncomfortable angles he'd forced upon his body, the office door inched open. The muscles along his back rippled with tension, and he instinctively doubled his large hands into tight fists. “Come on,” he whispered. “Show yourself.”

Marshall's murmured request was soon answered. Casting a glance first in one direction and then the other, a figure sidled along the edge of the door. Keeping his focus upon the emerging figure, Marshall clamped his lips together until his jaw ached. The man waited to be certain there was no one in sight and then revealed himself. Marshall's breath caught in his throat. It was the same man who had been talking with Ted Uptegrove in Biscayne.

Obviously, word of the fake change in plans had leaked, and someone was taking the bait. Head bowed, the stranger didn't waste any time getting away from the cabin. Using a tree for balance, Marshall unfolded his legs and pushed to an upright position. He didn't want to lose sight of the man, but his leg had gone to sleep, and when he stood, it nearly gave out.

Still hobbling, he pushed through the underbrush, unwilling to wait until he regained feeling in his leg. No doubt the man would double back around until he could pick up one of two paths: either the short one that led to the river or the longer one to the ocean. If he was going to capture sight of the intruder, Marshall needed to pick up his pace before the man selected which path he would take.

He stopped short when he arrived at the spot where the stranger would need to make a choice. “Where is he?” The only answer to Marshall's muttered question was the melodic chirp of buntings as they called to one another. He stopped and listened, straining his eyes in every direction. There! He caught a glimpse of movement. The stranger was taking the path leading to the ocean. No doubt the intruder had discovered there was less likelihood of being observed on the ocean side. With the construction site much closer to the river, he'd obviously decided that by skirting along the ocean side of Bridal Veil, he could come around the tip and back to the river, where he'd be far enough away to go undetected.