To Love and Cherish (2 page)

The wind tugged at Melinda's hair as their horses galloped down the beach toward the south end of the island. Bridal Veil Island was similar to other resorts designed to entice wealthy investors. Life on the island was intended to be relaxing yet luxurious, and the scenery played an important role. Melinda had always loved their time here—more because of Evan than the beauty of the island, but she found that quite appealing, as well. On any other day, she would have been eager to see the loggerhead nests, but today the sea turtles were of little importance to her. Evan pointed toward a spot not far away, and they slowed the horses to a trot.

“Let's ride over to where there's plenty of wild grass, and the horses can graze.”

Melinda followed his lead but remained astride Anna Belle until Evan dismounted his own horse and circled around to help her down. She loved the safety and warmth of his broad hands as they held her waist and lowered her to the ground. She tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “Thank you, Evan.”

“My pleasure. Our time together is the best part of my day.” A golden glint twinkled in his brown eyes, and she wished the moment would go on forever. He grasped her hand. “Over here. So far there are only two nests, but in a few weeks there will be many more.” His voice brimmed with undeniable excitement.

Melinda's desire to remain with him on Bridal Veil washed over her like a tidal wave, and she forced back the threat of tears. How she longed to share in his pleasure today, as she so often had, but unless they developed a plan for their future together, she would experience little joy this day.

He gestured toward the nests and turned to look at her. “What's wrong? Sea turtle nests are nothing to cry about.” His words mingled with the high-pitched cawing of the seagulls along the shore, and he stepped closer. He pulled her to his side. “Tell me why you're so sad.”

The pain in her heart had become so heavy that it seemed to sink to the depths of her stomach. Didn't he understand that unless something was done, she would leave tomorrow morning? Perhaps she needed to clarify, but she had expected so much more from him. That he would sweep her off her feet in a magnificent embrace and tell her he'd never let her out of his sight again; that he would hold her close and speak of his undying love; that he would propose marriage and her long days as Mrs. Mifflin's companion would be over.

“I'm sad because I don't want to leave Bridal Veil. I don't want to leave you.” She waited for his response and silently prayed,
Please, Lord, let him hear my despair and say the words I long to hear.

“I know. Every year you say you don't want to leave, and every year I wipe away your tears and tell you I will write and that it will be time for you to return before we know it.” He smiled and looked at her as though his words should resolve her sadness. “Everything will be fine.”

“No it won't!” Several startled terns took wing as she shouted her reply.

He watched the birds take flight. “No need to shout. I can hear you.”

“I'm sorry.” Her stomach churned as she turned her back toward him. She immediately felt guilty for her harsh response. “This early departure took me by surprise, and I feel as if my world is falling apart. I don't want to leave you, Evan. I lost my parents, and now I feel as though I'm losing you, as well.”

He cupped her cheek and wiped away a tear. “My sweet Melinda, I know how hard the loss of your parents has been on you, but the miles separating us aren't permanent. The time will pass quickly, and soon you'll be back on the island, and we can be together again.”

“But for how long?”

Melinda noticed the perplexed look in his eyes. It was clear he didn't understand that she loved him and wanted to make her home on Bridal Veil Island, that she longed to work alongside him and be a true helpmeet. Had he not learned that much about her during the four winters she'd lived on the island?

Perhaps the clubhouse maids were correct. They'd often spoken about a man's inability to understand a woman and her feelings. But Melinda had always thought Evan was different. The two of them could talk about everything. At least that's what she had thought.

Each winter they spent all of their free time together, either walking or riding the fifteen-mile length of the island, always eager for new adventure. She'd learned the history of the island, the animals and plants, the birds and sea creatures—and she'd loved each moment.

During her first winter on the island, Evan had described the ebbs and tides of the ocean, never making her feel foolish for her many questions. On other visits, he'd told her stories of the pirates and Civil War soldiers who had rowed into the narrow inlets under cover of night, using the island to hide their booty or deliver supplies to Confederate soldiers. He was a wondrous storyteller, and she'd listened to him for hours, enjoying each exciting tale. Other days, the two of them had walked barefoot in the sand and laughed when the lapping ocean licked at their feet.

“Wait here.” Evan ran toward the water's edge, leaned down, and picked up a shell. He returned and reached for her hand. He placed the shell in her palm. “Your favorite, an angel-wing shell.” He grinned at her. “I think it's one of the biggest we've found.”

Melinda nodded, unable to push out a thank-you, the shell a reminder of their many explorations. She rubbed her finger across one of the sharply beaded ribs. The simple act flooded her mind with unbidden memories that had provided endless fun and, for her, so many new experiences.

Evan had shown Melinda the beauty of the marshlands as the sun shimmered across the wet grasses, and when he learned she'd never caught a fish, he taught her—and how to bait a hook, as well. With dogged determination, he'd taught her to paddle a canoe. A smile tugged at her lips as she recalled nearly tipping the canoe on more than one occasion. There were times when she believed he knew her thoughts before she spoke them and that she knew his.

But that wasn't true today. Today she didn't think he knew her at all.

Evan grasped her shoulders and turned her until they were face-to-face. His dark eyebrows were almost meeting over his eyes as he stared at her. “I understand you don't want to leave—especially since you were to remain another two weeks. But arguing during the little time we have left makes no sense, does it?”

“I don't want to argue, either, but this isn't just about staying another two weeks.”

Evan stared at her as though she'd spoken to him in a foreign language. “If it isn't about leaving early, then what is it about?”

“It's about remaining here on the island—forever. About never leaving.”

He tipped his head back and shrugged. “Well, no one stays on this island forever. You know that. This is a place where the wealthy come to hide away from the world. Problem is . . . you can't hide forever.”

Her frustration mounted to new heights. He was being so practical, and while that was a quality of his she loved, right now she wanted to scream. Maybe she needed to speak in short, concise sentences until it became crystal clear.

“Please listen to me, Evan.” She looked deep into his eyes. “I do not want to return to Cleveland—not now, not ever. I want to live the remainder of my life here on Bridal Veil Island.”

He tipped his head to the side. “Stay here? What would you do?”

I could be your wife!
Oh, how she wanted to say those words to him. Instead, she did her best to remain calm. “I could get a job. Maybe at the clubhouse. Don't they need someone to—”

He shook his head. “It's closed up once all the guests return home. Any jobs here on the island during the summer months are filled—by men.”

“But Emma is here year-round.” Emma and Garrison O'Sullivan had been living on the island year-round from the time Garrison had been hired to oversee care of the horses and livestock.

“You're right, but there are days when I know she'd rather be anywhere but on this island, especially during the heat of summer when the air is so heavy you can hardly take a breath and everything feels clammy, even the clothes you put on first thing in the morning. Besides, the only reason Emma is here is because she's Garrison's wife.”

Melinda let his final words hang between them like a swinging pendulum. Either he didn't understand that marriage was exactly what she wanted, or his declaration of love had meant nothing to him. She didn't want to believe Evan's profession of love had been lightly given, yet could he be so dense on only this one occasion?

Disappointment swept over her as they walked back to the horses. Evan had promised to return the animals by four o'clock so they could be groomed and fed.

She could think of nothing else to say, no other way to make clear what she had hoped would have been a spontaneous reaction from a man in love.

———

Evan leaned forward to help Melinda as she mounted her horse, his mind whirring with confusion. From the day he'd first met Melinda, he'd thought her near perfect. He'd laughed when the other fellows said they didn't understand women. “You should meet my Melinda,” he had replied. He and Melinda had always understood each other, their words as clear as the blue skies over Bridal Veil and their thoughts as interlaced as the strong cotton twine of a fisherman's net.

Until now.

Melinda was searching for a remedy he couldn't give her. Surely she realized he couldn't hire her to fill some nonexistent position. He didn't have the authority to hire anyone. And had there been a job available, where would she live? The only acceptable place would be with Garrison and Emma O'Sullivan, and they didn't have a lot of extra room for anyone else in their little cottage. Of course there was Emma's sewing room, but that wasn't the point. Having another person move into your home would change things. Emma might be agreeable to such an arrangement. She might even like having another woman around to keep her company during the summer months. But Garrison O'Sullivan was another story—he was a man who didn't like change. Moving into the O'Sullivans' home would be impossible, and it was the last place where he wanted to see Melinda.

By morning he was sure Melinda would accept the fact that there was no choice but to return. Still, his heart ached at the tears in her eyes. He loved her and didn't want to see her so unhappy. He'd have to write many letters so that their time apart would pass quickly.

The following morning Evan arrived at Summerset Cottage. Though not the largest cottage on Bridal Veil, no expense had been spared in furnishing the home or landscaping the grounds. Bridal Veil gardeners had been employed to plant and care for the azaleas, hyacinths, ferns, and palms that surrounded the wraparound porch and glassed sunroom, and Evan thought the men had done an excellent job.

The practice of naming homes had begun with Bridal Fair, the original mansion constructed on the island. That home had belonged to the Cunninghams, who had lived there long before the island had been purchased for a resort. As Evan had heard it said, Victor Morley, the developer, had been a good friend of the Cunningham family. When they fell upon hard times, he had proposed the island a perfect location for a resort. After the grand lodge had been built, others had purchased lots to build their own island getaways, and naming those houses had continued with each new cottage. Referring to the expansive structures that dotted Bridal Veil Island as cottages seemed a bit of a misnomer, especially to the workers who had constructed the lavish houses and the servants employed to work in them. They were certainly the grandest of any Evan had ever known, and he was happy that he could be a part of this stately island.

Wiping the tops of his boots on the back of his pants, Evan rechecked his appearance as best he could before bounding up the steps. His heart picked up a beat in his eagerness to see Melinda before she departed with the Mifflins. When she approached the door, she looked no happier than when they'd parted company yesterday. “Good morning,” he said in his cheeriest voice.

“Come in, Evan.” Melinda pushed open the door. “There's no denying it's morning, but I wouldn't say it's good.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

She opened her mouth but quickly mashed her lips together and poured him a cup of coffee. “Bottom of the pot,” she said.

He nodded. “Thanks. Sure I can't do anything?” He glanced around the room. The kitchen in Summerset wasn't large, but a large kitchen wasn't needed. Most of the guests joined together in the clubhouse to enjoy their meals, and little cooking was performed in the private residences.

“Indeed you can, Evan.” Mrs. Mifflin entered the kitchen, her jaw set at a determined angle. “The wagon was supposed to be here a half hour ago to take our belongings down to the boat. At this rate we're going to miss the train.”

Evan set his coffee cup on the table. “I'll see if I can locate the wagon.” He hiked one shoulder and gave Melinda an apologetic smile before rushing out the door. At the end of the walkway, he spotted the vehicle and waved to the driver—Alfred Toomie. No wonder it was late.