To Love and Cherish (7 page)

“And you will. I have a number of souvenirs for you.” He combed his fingers through his thick blond hair. “I know I should have written, but I've never been good at that sort of thing.”

She smiled and patted his arm. “You're forgiven. I'm just pleased that we've reunited. Tell me, after all those years at sea, how did you ever happen to be hired to work as a jockey and groomsman for Mr. Dangerfield?”

“I'm a man of many talents, dear sister. I never lost my love for horses and continued to ride whenever we were on land. When I got back here, a fellow asked me to ride his horse in a local race. Of course, I won.” He puffed out his chest and laughed. “Mr. Dangerfield happened to be there and approached me afterward. I've been with him the past few weeks.”

She hoped his mention of racing didn't mean he was still gambling. “I have a wonderful idea, Lawrence. Why don't you come to Bridal Veil when I go down with the Mifflins? There are stables on the island, and the wealthy guests all bring their horses. I'm sure Evan would put in a good word so that you could get work. I'll write a letter and ask him. There are lots of servants and employees who come for the season, so we have our own social gatherings. It's really quite nice.”

“Any young ladies who might interest me?”

“There are a great many there. Servants as well as the daughters of the wealthy investors, but I don't think you'd better attempt to woo any of the debutantes. Their fathers want suitors from their own social class.” She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Please consider it, Lawrence. It would be so grand to have you there.” Before Lawrence could weigh her request, Mrs. Mifflin stepped on the veranda and glanced about. Melinda jumped to her feet. “I have to go, but come see me and consider what I've said.”

Lawrence retrieved her stitching bag and studied the title of her book as he handed it to her. “
Emma.
Still the romantic, I see.” He leaned forward and brushed a kiss on her cheek. “I'll think about Bridal Veil.”

“I have to hurry,” she said. With the bag in one hand and book in the other, she scurried toward the front porch. Mrs. Mifflin wouldn't be happy. She didn't like to be kept waiting.

The older woman sighed as Melinda neared her side. “I thought you maids were told to wait in the hallway or on the veranda.” She squinted out at the lawn. “And who is that man you were with? Did I see him kiss your cheek?”

Melinda tucked her book back into her bag. “My brother, Lawrence. You remember him, don't you?” Mrs. Mifflin said nothing but hurried to the carriage as if the presence of Lawrence were something she must escape.

Matthew assisted them into the carriage, and once they were on their way, Mrs. Mifflin took up the conversation. “I thought Lawrence had gone to sea. Cyrus said he was always a disappointment to your father.” With a flick of her wrist, she opened her fan.

“That's not true. My father loved Lawrence.” Her father might not have approved of some of Lawrence's choices, but he had never spoken of disappointment in his son. “Lawrence was at sea. He's traveled to many countries, but now he's come back to Cleveland and is working for a Mr. Dangerfield.”

“Doing what? I don't think Harris Dangerfield owns a ship.”

“Lawrence tells me he's been hired as a groomsman and jockey for the Dangerfield family.”

“My, my. Whatever would your poor mother and father think of that? While Lawrence was off at sea, there weren't any questions about him. For all anyone knew he could have been captain to his own ship. But now that he's back in Cleveland and working as a groomsman . . . dear me.” She clasped a hand to her bodice and shook her head. “He's truly going to be an embarrassment to your family name, isn't he?”

Even Mrs. Mifflin's unkind comments couldn't crush Melinda's pleasure at having her brother return to the city. Besides, when the wealthy residents of Cleveland realized her parents had died penniless, they'd crossed the Colson name off their social lists faster than it took to ring their servants for a pen. There was no longer a family name for Lawrence, or her, to embarrass.

October 1898

Sharing supper with the O'Sullivans had become a time Evan cherished. Being with the older couple always made Evan feel cared for. It calmed his spirit in a way he couldn't explain. Tonight, however, there was a storm brewing, and no one felt even the slightest sense of calm. Only moments before, Garrison O'Sullivan had made his way outside to check the skies.

He returned with a look of worry and addressed Harland, who was eating with them, as well. “Wind's picking up a little more, Harland. I'm thinkin' ya may be right about gettin' the animals to safety. I'll get on down to the barn and saddle a couple of horses. If y'er a mind to, you can come and help me move the rest of the horses and the cattle to the pasture. We can only hope they won't go wanderin' too far when the storm moves in.” He grabbed his cap from a peg near the door. “If we lose the livestock, there's gonna be more than a wee bit of complainin' from the owners.”

Emma waved a dish towel in the air. “Be sure and take care of the milk cows, Garrison. There's plenty of folks dependin' on milk from the dairy during the winter months.” Her lips tipped up in a grin. “And I depend on 'em all year round.”

“I do na need ya telling me how to do me job, Emma, darlin'. I'll be taking care of all the animals. I know full well they're important to everyone—you and me included.” Garrison slapped his hat on his head. There was an edge to his voice that Evan knew had nothing to do with his irritation at Emma and everything to do with the storm.

“I'll be with you as soon as I give Evan some instructions.” Harland turned toward Evan. “I want you to go over to the workers' quarters and roust the fellows over there. Between all of them, maybe they can get around and make sure everything is secure. Have several of them check the clubhouse to see that shutters are closed good and tight and the doors secured. Send the others to check as many of the cottages as you can. Close and tighten shutters on any that need it.”

Most of the cottages had been shuttered when the owners went north for the summer. Still, there were a few, like the Mifflins, who had departed in a rush and might not have checked to see that their cottages had been properly secured by their servants.

“You go to the boathouse. Take Alfred with you. He'll listen to you, and you'll need help in there.”

Evan nodded. Only a dozen men lived on the island this time of year. The seasonal workers returned home when the guests departed at the end of winter, and the rest of the workers who helped with painting and maintenance during the off-season months lived in Biscayne and arrived by boat each morning. Those men had already departed for the night.

Alfred had the same opportunity to go home to Biscayne each night. But with a drinking, mean-spirited father, he preferred living in the workers' quarters year-round. Each payday Alfred would take the launch across the river and give his wages to his father, and then he'd return to the island. He was far from their best employee, but Evan had a soft spot for him. Probably because the young man wanted to please his father but never could. Evan had felt the same way until he'd come to Bridal Veil and met Harland. Not that coming here had changed the relationship with his father, but Harland had shown him that a relationship with God could ease that pain and provide him the loving father he'd always desired. Evan had tried to show that to Alfred, as well, but he didn't know if Alfred had fully accepted the idea of a loving heavenly Father.

Harland sopped the last of his stew with a crust of bread and shoved it into his mouth before pushing up from the table. “Hurry and finish, Evan. We've got little light left to help guide us.”

Evan swallowed his final bite and nodded. “I'm right behind you. Thank you again for the food, Mrs. O'Sullivan. It was the best I've had in many a day.”

She turned from the dishes she'd set to soak in the sink. “I'm thinkin' it's the best you've had since the last time you set your feet under my table.” She chuckled and lifted a soapy hand from the water. “Best be gettin' down the road, or I'll be accused of holdin' ya back with me chatter.”

Evan waved and opened the front door. A gust of wind yanked it from his hand and slammed it against the house. “I'm sorry!” he shouted while gaining a good hold on the door and pushing it closed.

There was no denying the wind had picked up in the short time since they'd entered the O'Sullivan cottage. If it kept up at this rate, he might be forced to agree with Harland that there was a good chance of a hurricane headed in their direction. The thought, more than the biting wind, caused a shiver to course through his body.

Leaning forward, he angled his head down and pushed against the blustery weather. With each step forward, he felt the escalating winds attempt to push him back. Swirling coils of air filled with dirt, sand, and debris pummeled his face and hands like flying shards of glass.

Thankful when he finally arrived at the workers' quarters, Evan beat on the door several times before he opened it. Had the weather been otherwise, he would have waited for one of the men to invite him inside; these quarters, were, after all, their home. But today he pushed aside any thought of good manners. A huge gust of wind and debris followed him inside.

Other than Alfred, who was sitting on his bed looking at a magazine, the men were huddled together in a far corner of the room playing cards. The group turned in unison, startled to see their cards, papers, and other belongings swirl about the room. Johnny Boyd jumped to his feet. “Close that door!”

“It's closed,” Evan called out. “I need all of you men to come with me. Put on your slickers, and if there's an extra, I'd like to borrow it. There's work that needs to be done with this storm moving in.”

“I'm not going out in this,” one of the men responded. “There's lightning off in the distance, and it's been thundering for the last few minutes. The lights have been flickering here all evening.”

“These are Harland's instructions, not mine. You'll be answering to him if you go against his orders.”

Another fellow remained in his chair. “I didn't sign up to go out in a hurricane. I'd rather look for another job than take my chances being killed in that storm.” He waved to a row of pegs along the wall. “You're welcome to use my raincoat, though.”

Alfred got up from his bed. “I'll go with you, Evan.” He crossed the room and grabbed his raincoat.

Of the twelve men in the room, only five donned their slickers. Except for Alfred, worry lines etched the men's faces. Evan understood. Their worried looks were a near match for his own mounting concern. With the storm growing, there was no way they'd be able to reach even a third of the cottages. He sent Johnny to the clubhouse and the other three men in opposite directions with orders to check as many cottages as possible and then return to their quarters. “You come with me to the boathouse, Alfred. And you'd best fasten your slicker.”

One of the men shouted a profanity as they opened the door and another huge gust blasted into the room, but Evan paid the fellow no heed. He was disappointed by their attitude but not totally surprised. Nobody wanted to go out in this weather. Well, almost nobody—Alfred was delighted.

The men divided to head out in different directions. As they separated, Evan shouted, “Keep yourselves safe!”

The wind moaned through tree limbs bowed low against the strain of the onslaught. A bolt of lightning crisscrossed the sky, quickly followed by a deafening clap of thunder that shook Evan to his core. Alfred cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “It's beautiful, ain't it?”

A tree limb cracked then crashed to the ground not more than five feet away. The heavens opened and pummeled the earth with torrents of rain. Alfred tripped on a fallen branch and sprawled across the muddy path in front of him. Once again a flash of lightning bolted through the sky. Evan's feet slipped in the mud as he grabbed hold of Alfred's arm and fought to pull him up. The young man's slicker flapped around him. Why hadn't he fastened the coat?

Alfred grinned at him. “Thanks, Evan.”

Evan looped arms with Alfred and the two of them slogged forward. Only a short distance to go and they'd be at the boathouse. How he wished Captain Holloway was still in charge. When he'd been the overseer of the boathouse and captain of the
Bessie II
, he had lived in quarters above the boathouse. When a storm threatened, Captain Holloway always took charge of the boats. But after he'd suffered heart problems two years ago, the good captain had been forced to quit his job.

The new captain, Richard Fleming, had accepted the position under a different set of circumstances. Married with two children, Captain Fleming had notified the investors that a cottage better suited a man with a wife and family. Although the living quarters above the boathouse were large enough for his family, Captain Fleming's wife had objected to living in the structure. She cited worries over their children—a fact that was easily enough understood, since a large portion of the boathouse floated in the river to provide easy access for the vessels when they entered the building for storage and repair. Captain Fleming and his family departed Bridal Veil as soon as the season ended. Just like the investors, the captain and his family enjoyed a cooler climate during the summer months. When November returned, so would Captain Fleming and his family.

During the captain's absence, security of the boathouse was another of the many tasks assigned to Harland. And with Mr. Nordegren gone on his week of vacation, Harland was in charge. In truth, the workmen all depended upon Harland for guidance, whether Mr. Nordegren was present or not. The assistant manager cared a great deal about the clubhouse maintenance and repairs, but his scope of concern didn't move far beyond the exterior of the large hotel complex.

Evan held tight to Alfred as a crashing swell buffeted the boathouse and drenched the two of them. If this continued through the night, the damage would be even greater than Harland had estimated. Black water continued to rise and fall against the building in giant punishing waves. Once inside, he and Alfred managed to light several of the lanterns that hung low from the rafters. Though many of the buildings and cottages on Bridal Veil now had electricity, wiring the boathouse still remained on the investors' list of pending improvements. Besides, if the electricity was still working anywhere on the island, Evan doubted it would remain operable much longer.

He directed Alfred to the far side of the boathouse. “The ropes will stretch with the tidal surges, which will toss the boats about, so do your best to tie them down good and tight.”

There weren't as many boats on the far side, and Evan knew the young man moved at a slow pace. He didn't doubt that Alfred would do his best, but no matter the circumstance, Alfred only moved at one speed—slow. There was nothing they could do to make the boathouse any more secure. If the force of the storm caused the boathouse to capsize, all of the boats would be damaged, but he continued to pray the storm would soon subside.

Alfred held a lantern in one hand and did his best to remain upright as he closed the distance between them. “I'm going to go out and see the sky, Evan.”

“No, Alfred! Stay in here!”

If Alfred heard Evan, he didn't heed him. He opened the rear door and disappeared into the darkness. The boathouse rocked with a vengeance, and water surged from beneath the boats. A clap of thunder followed a wild streak of lightning and an onslaught of riotous winds. Evan lost his footing and clung to one of the thick beams that supported the roof.

When the waters briefly calmed enough that he could gain his balance, Evan picked his way to the doorway, clutching at ropes and beams to steady himself until he pulled open the door. “Alfred! Alfred!” He lifted his lantern high in the air and swung it in every direction, continuing to shout the boy's name. But Alfred was nowhere to be seen.

The despair that ripped at Evan's heart was soon joined by threatening fear and uncertainty. He didn't know what to do. To remain at the boathouse would likely be a death sentence for any man, yet he didn't want to chance deserting Alfred. Evan's head told him that the giant surge that had knocked him to the boathouse deck a short time ago had surely washed Alfred away, but his heart told him there could be a chance the young man had survived.

Over and over he shouted Alfred's name into the howling wind that continued to batter everything in its path. His thoughts raced in an attempt to reach some acceptable decision. “If Harland were here, what would he tell me to do?” He shouted the question into the high-pitched storm. When no answer came, he looked toward heaven and cried out to God, “What am I to do? Do I leave him and try to save myself? I don't know if he's alive. Show me what to do, God!”

A bolt of lightning flashed overhead and lit up the sky. Beneath the shining light, the decking that surrounded the exterior of the boathouse appeared as black and shiny as patent leather. Debris deposited by the ebb and flow of the waves lay scattered atop the deck awaiting the next surge that would wash it out to sea. Evan turned toward the far end of the deck, and his eyes fell upon what looked like Alfred's slicker. He edged his way down the short distance and retrieved the raincoat. His throat caught and his tears mingled with the rain that pelted him as he clutched the coat to his chest.