To Have and To Hold (18 page)

She forced a feeble smile. Maybe one day she would feel the same way. Right now, she wasn't so sure.

When they returned to Bridal Fair a short time later, Mr. Morley drew Audrey aside. His eyes mirrored Audrey's pain. “I wish there was something I could do to ease your grief, but I find words inadequate at this time.” He pressed an envelope into her hand. “This is the deed to Bridal Fair. I've paid the back taxes, and . . . ”

Audrey gasped. “Oh no, I couldn't. My father was opposed to taking charity, and I plan to continue working so that I can pay off the debt.”

Mr. Morley gently patted her hand. “Please, Audrey. Let me do this.” His lips curved in a slight grin. “Heaven knows I need you to continue your boardinghouse duties here at Bridal Fair until we've completed the construction. The supervisors would never forgive me if you quit. But I want to release you from the tax burden.” When she didn't reply, he tipped his head and met her gaze. “Please. I truly want you to accept.”

His generosity and kindness caused a lump to rise in her throat. She knew if she tried to answer, she'd begin to cry and might never be able to stop. She nodded her head as tears ran down her cheeks, unchecked. God was providing for her security. Now, if He could only mend her heart, as well.

Two days later, the twins accompanied Sadie to Bridal Fair, each of the girls bearing a handful of flowers while Sadie carried two large baskets of food.

“She thinks I'm too old to keep up with the cooking around here.” Thora hissed the remark in Audrey's ear while Sadie coaxed one of the twins from beneath the settee in the parlor.

“Of course not, Aunt Thora. She's extending a kindness, and you need to quit thinking that the goodness of other people is intended as an insult to you.”

“I do not. This is the first time—”

Audrey held up her hand. “No, ma'am. This isn't the first time. The day Father died, you thought the boarders' offer to take their meals in the dining hall down near the slave quarters was an insult. And yesterday, when Old Sam tried to give us all those shrimp, you accused him of trying to sell off his extra catch on our doorstep. Today, you think Sadie has prepared this food because she thinks you're incapable of keeping up with your duties.” Audrey sighed and lifted the cloth from one of the baskets. “People want to extend help and sympathy. Let them do it without your thinking it has something to do with your ability or that someone is trying to take advantage of us. After all, this is the way of the South—just as you've always told me.”

Thora's expression softened. It was her only sign of agreement. She pulled back the cloth on the other basket and removed warm loaves of nut bread, a pan of pecan squares, and three jars of preserves. “She must think we all have a sweet tooth.”

Irene peered over the old woman's shoulder. “Well, I know I do. I'll be more than happy to eat your share.”

When Irene inched forward and reached for one of the pecan squares, Thora slapped her hand. “Don't think you can just help yourself whenever you please. If I recollect, I told you to pare those sweet potatoes.”

Irene pointed to the pan sitting near the kitchen window. “I finished five minutes ago.” Turning her attention to Audrey, the younger woman motioned toward the doorway. “Why don't you go and rest. We can manage just fine. You have other things to attend to.”

While grasping a hand of each of the twins, Sadie returned to the kitchen. “If there's any way I can help, you jest let me know, Miss Audrey.” She glanced at the young girls. “'Course, I got the young'uns to look after, but I'll do my best to lend a hand wherever you need me.”

Josie wrapped her free arm around Audrey's skirt and gave a tug. “Wanna come outside and play with us so Sadie can help Miss Thora with her cooking?”

Audrey stooped down and looked into the child's eyes. “Not today, Josie, but if Sadie brings you over next week, we can spend some time together. How would that be?”

Julie nodded at her sister. “We'd like that. Papa says you're sad because your papa died. I was sad when our mama died, too.”

“I'm sure you were, Julie.”

Josie shook her head. “She doesn't really remember. We were only three when Mama died.”

Julie stomped her leather-clad foot. “I do too remember!”

“Time for us to go home, girls.” Sadie offered a sympathetic smile. “I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Audrey. I'm sorry the girls aren't better behaved. Our little talk before we came over didn't help much.” She directed a stern look at each of them. “Come along. We're going home.”

Though the girls protested, Sadie marched them toward home. Audrey watched as the three of them headed down the path. “I believe I'll go for a walk if you're certain you don't need my help.”

“You go on, Miss Audrey. We're just fine,” Irene said.

“Since when did
you
take charge of this kitchen? Never had a Yankee in charge of anything at Bridal Fair that I recollect.” Thora stomped to the kitchen doorway. “You put the Yankee girl in charge, Audrey?”

“I told you I'm not a Yankee or a Confederate; I'm an American, and so are you.” Irene rested a fist on each hip and gave the older woman a look that dared defiance.

Audrey stepped toward the kitchen. “Neither of you is in charge—I am. And I'm ordering you to get along while I'm gone.” That said, she hastened out the front door before another argument ensued.

Learning to deal with Aunt Thora was a survival tool Irene had begun to hone the day she arrived. She had quickly discovered that the best way to deal with Thora was to meet her head on. Audrey hadn't stopped the girl when she'd voiced her objections to being called a Yankee, and after a few weeks, Thora had ceased such activity. With the recent stressful events, Thora had reverted to her old ways, but Irene held her ground.

“Smart girl. She's not going to let Thora get the best of her,” Audrey whispered as she descended the front steps.

At the end of the path, she turned left, away from the narrow path leading to the small family cemetery. She passed the washhouse and continued on toward the beach. Birds fluttered overhead, disturbed by the invasion of any species other than their own. A branch cracked in the underbrush, and she turned, expecting to spot a rabbit or perhaps a deer—praying it wouldn't be Frank Baker.

Instead, Marshall stepped into sight. He seemed to drink her in—his dark eyes sweeping her from head to toe. “I was hoping to find you. Irene said you'd gone for a walk.” He came alongside and slowed his step to match hers. “How are you feeling?”

“I do not plan to faint again, if you were concerned.” She tried to sound lighthearted, but it fell flat. “I'm fine.”

He nodded toward a piece of driftwood. “Why don't we sit down.” He held her hand as she lowered herself and then sat beside her. “I know this is difficult for you, and I'm worried about how you're doing.”

Her lips curved in a faint smile. “I'm not sure. Mostly, I feel as though I'm in a dream—that none of this is real. Yet I know it is, and I know that life must go on. There are people depending upon me, and I can't let them down.”

“You need to take care of yourself, Audrey. There's nothing that can't wait until later. Besides, you have Irene and Thora. Between their arguments, they're going to manage just fine.”

“I know you're right, and I'm trying to get my proper rest, but there are decisions I need to make about my future and the future of Bridal Fair.”

A curl fluttered across her face, and he reached forward, tucking it behind her ear. Her skin tingled at the sensation. He leaned toward her until their lips were no more than a hairsbreadth apart. She held her breath and wondered if he would kiss her. Her heart pounded beneath the bodice of her black mourning dress. Did she want him to kiss her, or were these emotions surfacing because she'd lost her father? Perhaps she simply wanted to fill the hole that had taken up residence in her heart since his death.

“Audrey, I—”

“Miss Audrey, Miss Audrey, we've come looking for shells!” Josie Wahler shouted with delight as she and her sister came running toward them, their father close behind.

Audrey couldn't be certain who scooted backward first, Marshall or herself. Either way, it didn't matter. Marshall managed to maintain his balance, but she slipped off the piece of driftwood and, dress askew, landed on her backside.

The doctor stared down at the two of them. “I do hope we didn't interrupt anything.”

Audrey attempted to maintain a modicum of dignity, which proved difficult. “No, of course not. I'm afraid I lost my balance.” With arms and legs akimbo, she likely resembled a turtle that had fallen off a log and landed upside down on its shell. Marshall leaned down and extended his hand while the twins giggled in the background. Their gazes locked as Marshall pulled her to her feet and into his arms. For the briefest of moments she held his embrace before he stepped aside. She had the strangest urge to reach up and touch his lips with her fingertips.

What
would
it be like to kiss him? She didn't want to admit it—not even to herself—but she wished Dr. Wahler and the twins hadn't appeared.

Chapter 17

Christmas arrived without much fanfare. Old Blue Lightning hadn't been located, and Mr. Morley had declared there wasn't much reason for the men to remain on the island during the holidays. Although the women served an exceptional dinner of baked ham, candied yams, and Aunt Thora's traditional pecan pie, the day passed quietly. Most of the workers had traveled home for the holidays, and even Marshall had been absent. The only visitor on Christmas Day was Old Sam, who stopped by to leave a basket of fresh shrimp. He mentioned that one of his felines had given birth recently and if they wanted a kitten or two, they were surely welcome to them.

“They won't be as fine a cat as old Samson,” he said with a wink. “Seems to me ain't hardly any cat as fine as that ol' gentleman. But they's sure to be a passable one or two in the litter.”

Audrey thought it might be a nice surprise for the twins but then remembered Dr. Wahler's comment about animals. He'd likely be opposed to such a surprise. “I can ask Dr. Wahler if he'll permit his daughters to have one of them, but I doubt he'll agree.”

“Too bad. I'm guessing those little gals would be mighty happy to have a pet. Let me know if the doctor gives in to the idea.” He waved and strode off, whistling as though he hadn't a care in the world.

Other than this, the holidays were rather somber and lonely. Dr. Wahler, Sadie, and the twins returned to Atlanta for a two-week visit, and the investors, including Mr. Morley, enjoyed the holiday with their families at their respective homes in various cities. Irene returned to Pittsburgh with Mr. Morley, and Marshall departed for a short visit to Savannah. Audrey tried to put the quiet time to good use. She caught up on some much-needed mending and sewing and took more time for Bible reading, but she found herself quite happy to see the workers return after New Year's Day—especially Marshall and Irene. Thora seemed happy to have the younger woman back, as well. She didn't even seem to mind that Irene had been visiting folks up north and listened intently to Irene's stories.

“I have a surprise for you,” Irene told Aunt Thora.

The old woman seemed indignant. “I don't much like surprises.”

But Audrey knew better. Aunt Thora was just embarrassed. Irene withdrew a small handkerchief-wrapped object from her pocket.

“I know it's a little late for Christmas gifts, so we'll just call this a New Year's novelty.”

Aunt Thora unwrapped the present and stared at it for a moment. Enclosed was a small carved-shell cameo brooch. Audrey was first to comment. “That is lovely.”

“Thora was telling me how she'd lost hers during the War of Northern Aggression,” Irene supplied. “When I mentioned it to my mother, she suggested such an item would make a perfect gift.”

“Isn't it beautiful, Aunt Thora?” Audrey asked.

Her aunt fingered the piece with great gentleness. She clearly didn't know what to say. It was the first time anyone had been able to render the old woman speechless. Seeming to sense she was in danger of appearing too pleased, Aunt Thora gave a curt nod.

“Can't wear it until my mourning for Boyd is past.”

Audrey would have argued that the woman was not under any kind of obligation to wear black on behalf of Boyd Cunningham but knew it would only serve to hurt her feelings. Instead, Audrey decided to agree.

“Your mourning ends in March. Three months is long enough. I promised Father I wouldn't sit around wearing black and being sad.”

To her surprise, Aunt Thora only nodded, while Irene beamed a smile.

Marshall was glad to be back on the island and ready for the start of a new year. After a short trip of exploration in Savannah, he found that the formalities of Southern customs didn't appeal to him. Traditions on Bridal Veil Island were enough to keep him constantly fretting over his manners, but in Savannah it was an entirely different matter. Perhaps, however, the best thing about being in Savannah was that it constantly reminded him of how much he missed Audrey's company.

Seeing her again was confirmation that something had happened in his heart. Even though Boyd had tried to persuade him to see it months ago, he'd resisted. After all, he'd come south in search of a job—not a wife. With Audrey in the picture, that possibility no longer seemed so strange.

“But she may not feel the same way,” he reminded himself.

With Boyd gone, who could say what Audrey might do. He might just have to wiggle himself right into whatever plans she made for herself. The thought made him grin.

“You look mighty pleased with yourself,” Thora declared, making her way to where Marshall sat on the porch polishing his good boots.

Marshall popped to his feet. “No, ma'am. I'm pleased with this day God has given us. Pleased, as well, to be back here at Bridal Fair.”

She looked at him for a moment and nodded. “I can tell just what pleases you to be back.”

Marshall gave her a quizzical look. The old woman seemed to pin him in place with her stare. Waggling her crooked finger, she narrowed her eyes. “You'd just best mind your ways, Marshall Graham. You've got just enough Southern blood in you to be dangerous.”

He couldn't help but grin, which was entirely the wrong thing to do. Aunt Thora straightened as if he'd slapped her. Marshall was completely perplexed.

“Don't you think to try any of that charm on me,” she declared. “I'm immune to it. My mama, God rest her soul, taught me early on to spot a lovesick suitor. You've gone and gotten yourself in a pretty pickle, haven't you?”

He quickly decided perhaps it would be best to make her his confidante and coconspirator. Perhaps with the old woman on his side, he would be able to woo Audrey.

“You're a wise one, Mrs. Lund. I'm not at all surprised that you were able to deduce my predicament.”

She nodded knowingly and arched a brow. “You may be more Southern than I give you credit for.”

“I don't suppose you would consider helping me, would you? I mean, you know Miss Audrey better than anyone here.”

The older woman considered his question for a moment. “Audrey's papa, God bless his newly departed soul, was fond of you. I can't deny that.” She drew a deep breath. “Let me ponder this for a while. I'll give you my answer after I spend some time in the Scriptures.”

Marshall nodded. “Of course. I would be honored to wait.”

“Pshaw.”
She gave him a wave of her hand and toddled off into the house.

After she'd departed, Marshall sat back down and picked up his supplies. Samson meandered over, as if to check on the outcome of Marshall's polishing, and stopped just short of sticking his nose into the polish when Marshall placed the can back on the porch floor.

“You'll help me, too, won't you?” Marshall asked the cat.

Samson looked up and gave a garbled kind of meow. Marshall laughed. “I was hoping you would say that. With you on my side, I'm sure to make progress.”

For the next several weeks work at the site continued at a snail's pace. Except for the men who'd come from up north and didn't believe in the curse, most of the men had returned to their homes on the mainland with a promise to return once Ole Blue could be located. The few who remained had continually refused to work until Marshall declared that the cook would stop feeding them if they weren't going to work. They finally conceded, though they begged for work beyond the perimeter of the clubhouse—preferably at least ten feet away. Marshall's patience had reached new heights, yet he tried to remain thankful for any progress at all.

That afternoon Frank had delivered news that some of the workers had gone to work on Jekyl Island. Marshall's spirits plummeted at the announcement. “And exactly how did you come by this information? Have you been over to Jekyl Island yourself?”

Frank shook his head. “No. I went into Biscayne to purchase a few personal items and thought I'd see if I could convince some of the men to return, since we've had no further signs of a curse. 'Course I didn't meet with any success. These folks don't budge from the old superstitions.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, one of the fellows told me that about forty of our workers had gone to Jekyl.”

“Any word about whether they'll leave Jekyl and come back here once I find Ole Blue?”

Frank chuckled. “You mean
if
you find Ole Blue, don't ya?” He didn't wait for an answer. “Living conditions are better over here, and the pay is five cents an hour more—they'll come back.” He began to walk off, then stopped and turned.

“Did you ask about the whereabouts of Ole Blue?” Marshall asked.

“You know, I didn't even think to ask.”

Marshall bristled at the smug response. Frank was enjoying the fact that the project was falling further and further behind. He strode back to Bridal Fair, his anger rising with each step he took. He entered the house and slammed the door behind him with a bang that brought Thora around the corner at a quick clip.

“Didn't your mother teach you better manners? We don't slam the doors in this house.”

Marshall dropped into one of the chairs. He didn't need Thora blathering at him. “I apologize.” Samson wound his way around the furniture and jumped onto Marshall's lap.

“What's got you so riled up?”

“Same thing that's had me riled up since before Boyd died. I can't find Old Blue, and until I do, we're at a near standstill. You don't have any ideas, do you?”

The old woman glanced over her shoulder before she leaned close and whispered, “I s'pose I could get on out and see if I can find him.”

Marshall jumped to his feet and sent Samson leaping to the floor. “You know where he is?”

She arched her brows. “I might know a few places to look for him. Can't promise anything, and you can't come with me. He'd never forgive me if I was to give up one of his hiding spots. He's got a small skiff—comes and goes among some of the islands, but mostly he stays here on Bridal Veil. He helped Boyd some during the War of Northern—” She stopped short. “During the war.”

Marshall couldn't believe his ears. Why hadn't Thora stepped in to help before now? He wanted to scream the question at her, but that would never do. She would stomp off and leave him without an answer and without Old Blue. “Any reason you didn't mention you might know his whereabouts before now?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “You didn't ask. I've never been one to interfere where I'm not wanted.”

He almost laughed aloud. Thora had her nose in everything that happened at Bridal Fair—on the entire island, for that matter. “Well, I'm asking you now, Thora. I would be most grateful for any help you could give. And when you find Old Blue, will you tell him I need a curse removed from the construction site and I'm willing to pay whatever he charges for his curse-removing services.”

She cackled. “He don't charge money. It's friendship and loyalty that's important to Ole Blue. Like I said, he was a big help to Boyd during the war—and to me, too. If Audrey comes looking for me, you tell her I went to meditate and don't want to be bothered.” She poked his chest with her index finger. “And don't follow me! Think you can remember all that?”