To Honor and Trust (18 page)

Wes was waiting between the two live oaks that bordered a path leading into the woods. From past experience, Callie knew the path ended soon after passing beneath the moss-covered branches of the trees.

They headed off, with Wes cautioning them to be as quiet as possible as he took the lead and Callie followed behind the three children. Along the way, he pointed out brown thrashers whirring through the trees, several buntings calling to one another, and a large red-headed woodpecker hammering its beak into a tall oak.

Wes waved the children forward. “Let's see if we can find some interesting plants while we're out here.”

Lottie immediately pointed to a small white flower. “That's a pretty flower.”

Wes drew near and stooped down. “Ah, you've found an early bloomer. That's called bloodroot, and the flowers don't usually begin to bloom until March. See how the thick veiny leaves protect it? And look here on the ground. Just below the surface you can see the roots where it stores a red sap.”

“I see them,” Daisy shouted. “Can we dig 'em up and squeeze out the red stuff?”

Wes chuckled. “No. Let's leave them in the ground and see if we can find some other plants.” He pointed to an area not far off. “Soon those green plants will have pretty purple blooms on them. They're called purple coneflowers, and sometimes doctors use a medicine made from them to help tummy aches.”

Daisy giggled and patted her stomach. “What are these?” She pointed to a spot beneath a tree.

Wes grinned and ruffled her hair. “I think those are called weeds.”

Callie settled on a low-hanging limb of a huge live oak tree and watched the children as they continued looking for plants and birds in the nearby clearing. The dank, musty smell of the woods surrounded them, and she inhaled a deep breath.

Wes stepped toward her and motioned toward the thick branch. “Mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all.” She patted the solid branch. “You certainly know your birds and plants. I'm impressed.”

“Thank you, but when something is fascinating, I want to learn all I can.” He sat down on the limb while keeping his gaze trained on the children. “There's something I've been wondering about ever since we talked earlier today.”

“What's that?”

She attempted to recall what all they'd talked about, but the only thing she could remember with clarity was the rush of excitement she'd felt when he put his arms around her during the putting lesson.

“You said that if a man had already pledged his love to a woman, and then became enamored with another woman, he should reveal that information.” He frowned. “Or something along that line, right?” He arched his brows, obviously seeking confirmation.

“Yes, something like that.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “Are you preparing to tell me that you are pledged to marry someone, Wes?” Her breathing turned shallow as she waited for his reply.

“No. There's no woman in my life. But I wondered if
you'd experienced what you spoke of earlier today? Did a man betray you?”

She bit back the tears that threatened. To cry would have him think she remained in love with Matthew—and that wasn't the truth. Her love for him had vanished, and in its place mistrust had taken root.

There was no reason to hide the truth from Wesley. She didn't dwell on the intricacies of her heartbreak. Instead, she gave him the simple statement she'd learned to repeat. “I was engaged once, but my fiancé ran off with another woman. Unfortunately, all of the wedding plans had been completed before he decided he no longer loved me.” She forced a smile. “I'm not the first woman to endure such pain, and I won't be the last.”

Wes shook his head. “The man was a fool.”

She toyed with the lace corner of her handkerchief. “I appreciate your kind words, but I've learned that men cannot be trusted. They declare their love and propose marriage, and still they prowl about looking for someone better. If nothing else, I have learned that men are liars.”

“I hope that you haven't included me in that sweeping statement.”

She hadn't given proper thought to her words before she blurted out her thoughts. Just when she thought she was beginning to get over Matthew, her anger took hold again. “Do forgive me. I wasn't including you. You're not a man. . . . Well . . . you are a man, but . . . you're different.”

“It's true I am a man, but in what way am I different?”

“You aren't overbearing, trying to steal kisses, and so forth.” She shivered as she recalled Archie's unseemly behavior.

He chuckled. “That doesn't mean the thought hasn't crossed
my mind from time to time.” After pushing up from the tree limb, he turned and stood in front of her. “You are a beautiful woman, Callie. I don't know any man who wouldn't enjoy stealing a kiss from you.” He extended his hand. “Come along. We should see if the children would like to try to locate a few deer before we return.” When she didn't reach for his hand, he smiled at her. “I promise I won't try to steal a kiss.”

She grasped his hand, and as the warmth of his fingers clasped hers, she wondered what it would be like to kiss him. The truth was, Wes wouldn't need to steal a kiss. She'd give him one if he only asked.

There hadn't been time to linger over thoughts of kissing Wes, for as soon as he'd taken hold of her hand, thunder rumbled overhead and the skies darkened. “I need to get the children back home before it begins to rain.” She attempted to pull away from Wes, but he held tight to her hand.

“They're children. A little rain won't hurt them. I agree we need to return, but they won't melt.”

She shook her head and pulled him forward. “You don't understand. Lottie has been suffering with a perpetual cough ever since we arrived, and being in the rain will only make it worse.”

“Has a doctor ever suggested she might have asthma?”

Callie stopped and stared at him. “I don't believe so—at least not that I've been told. Mrs. Bridgeport has always referred to it as a chronic cough. Why do you suggest asthma?”

“I've known people who suffer from asthma. Has she been worse since arriving at Bridal Veil?”

“Yes. She always seems to suffer more when we're here during the winter.”

Wes matched her stride as they walked toward the children.
“The dampness along the coast, coupled with the heat and humidity in this part of the country, can prove difficult for those with asthma. Their breathing can become even more impaired when the humidity levels increase for long stretches of time.”

He knelt down beside Lottie and placed his palm on her back. Callie stood nearby as he leaned close to the child. Twisting around, he looked up at Callie. “I can hear her wheezing, which makes me think this is more than a chronic cough. Is she ever like this when you're at home?”

“Yes, but she's usually somewhat better during cold weather. From what Mrs. Bridgeport has told me, Lottie has had various lung problems since she was a very young child. Asthma does make sense.” Callie frowned. “I wonder why the doctors have never considered that possibility.”

“Who can say? Maybe Lottie's doctors have never treated anyone with asthma, so the possibility didn't occur to them, or maybe they think she's too young to have it. Perhaps Mrs. Bridgeport should mention it to Lottie's doctor when you return to Indiana.” Another round of thunder clapped overhead. “I suppose we'd better hurry.” He pointed to his shoulders. “Lottie, we're going to be walking fast, and since you're having trouble breathing, why don't you wrap your arms around my neck and I'll give you a piggyback ride.”

Daisy curled her lip in a pout. “What about me? Do I have to walk?”

Wes grinned at Daisy. “I'll carry you next time. How's that?”

“You promise you won't forget?”

“I promise. And since I won't be able to walk quite as fast while I'm carrying your sister, let's have Miss Callie tie my handkerchief to a long stick, and you can wave it overhead like a flag. That way, we won't get separated or lost.”

Daisy immediately agreed and could barely contain her excitement as she marched ahead of them waving her small flag.

Callie walked alongside Wes as they headed out of the woods. “Have you always been good with children?”

“I don't know if I'm good with them, but I very much enjoy their innocence and natural curiosity. Of course, there are some who would tell you that I haven't yet accepted being an adult—perhaps that's why I enjoy being with children so much.”

There was an ache in his laughter that caused Callie to look at him. His eyes appeared clouded with pain.

“And who would tell you such a thing?” Callie wasn't certain she should ask, but she'd told him a little of her past. Maybe he hoped she would question him.

“My family—mostly my father and brothers, who want me to quit doing things like playing golf. My mother and sister are intent on seeing me married. I don't think they care if I love the woman, just so long as I have a wife.” He bounced Lottie a little higher onto his back. “I don't think they care if I'm happy. They just want me to conform to what they think is best.”

“I understand.” Callie lowered her voice so Lottie couldn't hear. “Mrs. Bridgeport is determined to find me a suitable husband, even though I don't want one.”

“Ever?” He arched his eyebrows.

“That's how I feel at the moment.” She gave him a sideways glance. “Of course, one can never say what will happen in the future, but I don't ever again want to experience the pain I went through after Matthew.”

“But not everyone is like Matthew. It doesn't seem fair to tar all of us with the same brush.”

“Perhaps not, but it will take something akin to a miracle to change my mind.”

He grinned. “Well, it's good to know there's at least some possibility.”

His words caused an unexpected thrill. He was truly a kind man, good with children, slow to anger, and extremely patient. In some ways she thought he might be too perfect. How could a man who possessed such rakish good looks and so many fine qualities still be single? Yet, here he was in the midst of her life. If she was going to protect her heart, she'd need to remain vigilant.

They continued on, but when they neared the house, Wes stopped and lowered Lottie to the ground. “I'm going to head over to the golf course.” He stooped down in front of Lottie. “You feeling some better?” She nodded her head. Once again, he held his head close as the child breathed. “Don't forget to mention the asthma to her mother. She's still wheezing.”

“Don't you want to come inside and meet Mrs. Bridgeport? I'm sure she'd be interested in hearing this medical information from you.”

Wes waved toward the road. “You can tell her. I need to take care of some things at the links.”

Callie watched him head off. How odd. What did he hope to accomplish with a storm moving in? As lightning cracked overhead, she hurried the children along the path and up the front porch steps. They'd barely entered the front door when fat raindrops began to splat on the walkway. Booms of thunder pounded overhead, and soon rain poured from the sky in thick sheets. She walked the children upstairs and wondered if Wes had found refuge before the storm hit.

Mrs. Bridgeport stepped to the doorway of her bedroom as they reached the top of the stairs. “I'm glad to see you and the children have returned, Callie. I was beginning to worry
you'd be caught in the storm.” She sighed. “Unfortunately, it seems to be raining everywhere.” She motioned for Callie to follow her and spoke to the children. “Why don't the three of you go to your playroom, and Miss Callie will join you soon. I need to talk to her for a moment.”

The children continued down the hallway, and Callie followed the older woman into the sitting room that adjoined the bedroom. Mrs. Bridgeport sat down in one of the brocade-covered chairs.

Mrs. Bridgeport's features were pinched with worry when she looked at Callie. “A letter arrived from Gertrude today.”

The fact that the housekeeper in Indianapolis had taken time to write a letter could only mean one thing—a problem. Gertrude made no secret of the fact that she didn't like to write letters. The last time she'd written had been two or three years ago when the gardener had injured himself while shoveling snow. Since Gertrude had been required to shovel the snow during the gardener's period of incapacitation, she had written to inquire if he was due any wages. And that couldn't have truly been considered a letter. The few lines had been scribbled on the back of a grocery list.

“She says the
Indianapolis News
has reported everything from tornados and floods to fires stretching from Nebraska to Illinois. They say storms and flooding are expected to move through Indiana.” Mrs. Bridgeport thrust the letter toward Callie. “I simply can't bear to think what will happen if the White River and Fall Creek overflow their banks.”

Callie quickly scanned the scrawled handwriting. “I don't think we should become overwrought. She doesn't say that it has even begun to rain in Indianapolis. The weather is fickle, and storms change course all the time.”

“Perhaps, but it doesn't sound good. Luther has gone to Biscayne to wire the servants and have them secure the house. He's also wiring one of his business partners so that he can get additional solid news.” She sniffled as she withdrew her handkerchief. “And to make certain he'll keep watch on the house. Dear me, I can't bear the thought of floodwaters ruining all our belongings.”

“Is Mr. Bridgeport troubled by the letter, as well?”

Mrs. Bridgeport touched the handkerchief to her eyes. “He didn't take it so seriously at first when the letter arrived this morning, but he mentioned it to Mr. Wainwright, who said he'd heard reports there was already some flooding in parts of Indiana.”

Callie didn't want to press the subject and further distress Mrs. Bridgeport, but the home she'd inherited from her grandmother was located further north and east of the Bridgeport home—an area that could be flooded should the storms hit.

“If Mr. Bridgeport is worried enough to take precautions, I wonder if I should try to have Grandmother's house secured.”

“I'm sorry, dear, I should have mentioned that Luther is going to have the servants go and see to your grandmother's home, as well. I was sure you'd want to do whatever you could to protect it. After all, it's all you have left.”

Callie withheld a smile. If she lost her grandmother's home, she wouldn't consider herself a pitiable vagabond. She hadn't lived in the house for years, and if she decided to go to Africa or Chicago, she planned to sell it. Good investment or not, she didn't want to deal with the problems of home ownership when she no longer lived in Indianapolis. Money from the sale would cover expenses required to establish her in whatever new life she decided upon. If the home flooded, any insurance
money she received would be far less than a sale would provide. But unlike Mrs. Bridgeport, Callie didn't consider her grandmother's home the only thing she had left. Should she lose the house, she still had her parents. They may be living in Africa, but she knew they loved her. In addition, her faith remained intact, though admittedly somewhat shaky since the breakup with Matthew.

But family and faith weren't what the Bridgeports counted when they listed their assets—or anyone else's, for that matter. They were both wonderful people, but Callie had watched possessions become far too important in their lives. The same thing had happened to her parents years ago—before they decided to give up everything and go to the mission field. She doubted that would ever happen to the Bridgeports, but who could say? No one had ever imagined that her parents would sell their belongings and go off to spread the gospel, either.

Two days later Callie was going over lessons with the children when Maude came upstairs. “The missus wants you downstairs. She says I can stay with the children. There's men down there that want to ask some questions.”

“Questions about what? Do you know who they are?” Callie pushed up from her chair and walked toward the doorway.

“Something to do with the stealing that's been going on. I think they might be some kind of special police that's been hired.” Maude wrinkled her nose. “They spoke to me for a minute, but the missus told 'em I'm always here at the house and my time can be accounted for.”

“Goodness! Do they think one of us had something to do with all of this?”

Maude shrugged. “Who can say? They probably figure they've got to do something to earn the money they're being paid, so they're going cottage to cottage asking their questions.”

“You're probably right.” She hurried down the hallway and descended the steps. Mrs. Bridgeport and two strangers sat in the front parlor.

“Do come in, Callie. These gentlemen want to speak with you. They are investigators who are attempting to apprehend whoever is responsible for the thefts taking place on the island.”

A rotund bald man and his lanky partner sat on the couch. Neither one of them stood or even smiled when Mrs. Bridgeport introduced Callie. They waved for her to sit down.

“I'm Fitch and this is Jensen.” The rotund man pointed to himself and then at Mr. Jensen.

“Pleased to meet you.” Callie sat down beside Mrs. Bridgeport. “How can I help?”

“We've been speaking to owners of the cottages and some of the folks who live in the clubhouse, as well. There's something strange that's come to our attention, and we thought we needed to visit with everyone who lives in this house.”

Mrs. Bridgeport straightened her shoulders and glared at Mr. Fitch. “What do you mean, something strange?”

Mr. Jensen leaned forward, his spindly torso extending toward them like a snake preparing to strike. “In talking with the owners of the other cottages, we've discovered that most of them have been entered and robbed, yet nothing has happened here at your house.” He craned his neck toward them. “Am I correct?”

“Yes, I mean, I really don't know. I do know we haven't been robbed, but I didn't realize thefts had occurred at most of
the other cottages.” Mrs. Bridgeport frowned. “Exactly what are you intimating, Mr. Fritz?”