To Love and Cherish (14 page)

“I'm very familiar with Savannah, and I'd be pleased to direct you to your destination, Miss . . . ?” There it was—another attempt to gain her identity. He grinned. “Mrs. Frederick will vouch for the fact that even though we haven't been properly introduced, it is safe to speak to me.”

Eager to please, the woman bobbed her head. “Mr. Powers is quite reputable—a true gentleman. He is the nephew of Levi and Margaret Powers, who are very well known here in Savannah. The family goes back many, many years.”

Melinda understood what the shop owner was telling her: The Powers name could be associated with influence and old money—at least in Savannah. She nodded at Mr. Powers. “Miss Melinda Colson of Cleveland, Ohio.”

“I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Colson. I am Preston Powers, recently returned to Savannah from Baltimore.” Once Mrs. Frederick excused herself to fetch the hat for his aunt, Mr. Powers positioned himself between Melinda and the door. “As I said, I would be pleased to assist you with your directions.”

“That's most kind of you, Mr. Powers, but I must be on my way. I'm sure my brother will worry if I don't soon return to the hotel.” That was a bit of an exaggeration, for she doubted Lawrence would return to the hotel until time for a late supper, but she didn't want this man to think she'd come to the city unaccompanied.

Mrs. Frederick bustled forward carrying a large hatbox and balanced it atop the counter. “Let's go over your list, Mr. Powers.”

Before she could remove the lid, he grasped the cord and lifted the box from the counter. “I don't truly believe there's any need for such an examination, Mrs. Frederick. We both know the hat is perfection. Besides, I'm sure I can rely upon you to keep our little secret.”

She preened, obviously pleased with his decision. “Your aunt will never know that we didn't go over the list.” She clasped her fingers together in a knot, lifted them to her lips, and turned her hand. “My lips are sealed.”

He leaned forward and gave a slight bow. “As are mine, dear lady.” He turned to Melinda. “And now, Miss Colson, my time and directions are at your disposal. Where are we off to?” He opened the front door. “Perhaps one of our lovely parks?”

“Actually, I'm interested in going to the docks.”

“The docks? Whatever for?” He stopped short. “The docks aren't safe for a woman alone. Were you truly planning to go there unaccompanied?”

“I'm braver than most women, Mr. Powers, and I'm in need of information. I need to arrange passage to Bridal Veil Island. I'm told the trains won't be running to Biscayne for at least another week, and I'm simply unwilling to remain in Savannah any longer.”

“You understand there's been severe damage in Biscayne and Bridal Veil, as well.” He took her arm and guided her across the street.

“I know about the hurricane, though I haven't been able to gain an accurate report of the damage on Bridal Veil. The telegraph wires are restored to Biscayne, but not on any of the islands.” She glanced about. “Are we headed toward the docks?”

“Yes, though I'm not certain you'll meet with success finding passage. It's mostly freighters carrying supplies going south—no passenger vessels. I can tell you that Bridal Veil wasn't hit as hard as Jekyl Island to the south. That resort suffered a good bit of damage.” He grew thoughtful. “But there was one report that a fellow died on Bridal Veil. A name wasn't given, only that he was a permanent worker there—one of the younger men.”

Her stomach knotted and bile rose in the back of her throat. “How do you know this, Mr. Powers?” She clenched her hands into fists to stop the shaking.

“There was a report from a freighter, and then I saw it in the newspaper. Of course, you can't trust what they say in the newspapers. Those fellows are always eager for a big headline. However, I think this report was true. We have relatives in Chicago who own a cottage on Bridal Veil, and they wrote to my aunt and uncle here in Savannah. Seems they heard about this fellow's death from Victor Morley. Not sure who he is, but my aunt and uncle said the information would be accurate if it came from him.”

The more Mr. Powers talked, the more Melinda's fears escalated. What if Evan had been the one who died? Her collar suddenly felt far too tight. She tucked her fingers inside the neckline and gave a tug. The unyielding collar and pungent odors of fish and dirty bodies emanating from the wharf assailed her. She opened her fan and hoped the movement of air would do some good. Her knees wobbled as she considered the possibility of a future without Evan. If her future didn't include a home with Evan on Bridal Veil, where would she go? There would be no work for her in Cleveland—Mrs. Mifflin would see to that. Without any letter of reference, it would be impossible to secure a position as a lady's maid. And she certainly couldn't depend upon Lawrence. She loved her brother, but he was as unpredictable as the weather.

Mr. Powers stopped and looked at her. “You're quite pale, Miss Colson. Is it something I've said? Why don't you sit down?” He withdrew his handkerchief and brushed off a rickety bench.

“Thank you for your concern, but I'll be fine.” As if to prove her point, she inhaled a deep breath and squared her shoulders. There wasn't time to sit. She needed to secure passage to Bridal Veil as soon as possible.

“If you're sure.” He gestured to a storefront along the wharf. “This is a freighting business office. We may have some luck here.” He hesitated outside the door. “Tell me, Miss Colson, why are you so intent upon going to an island that has so recently been devastated by a hurricane?”

“I have a dear friend who remains on the island year-round. I've heard nothing and am very concerned.”

She didn't explain that she hoped to make her home on Bridal Veil or that his news of a death on Bridal Veil could alter her life. Mr. Powers had been kind to escort her, but she wouldn't share her personal business with him.

She'd done her best to send Mr. Powers on his way once they were away from the dock. She'd even told him his aunt was likely waiting to examine her new hat, but nothing she tried met with success. Instead of making small talk with a stranger, she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She wanted to believe Evan was alive, but she now realized her impulsive behavior might prove disastrous.

“Here we are,” she said when they arrived at the entrance to the hotel. “Thank you again for your assistance.”

“Oh, I should escort you inside. Otherwise, you'll be expected to use the other entrance, Miss Colson.” He didn't wait for a reply before tipping his hat to the bellboy and leading her forward.

They'd barely cleared the door when she spotted Lawrence descending the staircase. He rushed toward her, but his gaze was fastened upon the man at her side. “I have been worried, sister. I inquired at the front desk. One of the bellboys said you'd gone shopping for a hat, but I doubted his report.”

He stopped only long enough to inhale a quick breath. His attention settled on the hatbox in Mr. Powers' hand. “Where have you been, and who is this?” His brows arched as he turned toward Melinda.

“This is Mr. Preston Powers. He was kind enough to escort me to the docks so that I could inquire about arrangements for our passage to Bridal Veil.” She narrowed her eyes. “At the docks I learned that passage has been available for five days. Five days, Lawrence.”

“Truly? Well, I haven't gotten back down there. I've been keeping myself otherwise occupied.” He extended his hand to Mr. Powers. “It's a pleasure to meet you, sir, and I thank you for looking after my sister.” His lips curved in a roguish grin. “I'm sure you understand that I've discovered a great many ways to occupy my time in your fair city.”

Mr. Powers gripped Lawrence's hand. “I'm pleased to hear you are fond of our city. Perhaps you'll permit me to show you and your sister some of the places I most enjoy.”

“My sister and I don't enjoy many of the same pastimes, Mr. Powers. While I enjoy a good game of cards, the horse races, and a glass of bourbon, she prefers more genteel outings.” Lawrence chuckled. “What about you, Mr. Powers? Do you enjoy a good game of cards?”

He nodded. “On occasion, Mr. Colson.”

Melinda glared at her brother. “It matters little what either of you enjoy, Lawrence. We are departing in the morning at eight o'clock. I've booked passage on a freighter to Biscayne. The accommodations aren't the best, but the distance isn't great, so we shouldn't be on board for long. And if you want to bring that horse along, you'll need to pay for his passage.”

She turned to Mr. Powers. “Thank you again for your kindness. I do hope that your aunt will be pleased with her hat.” That said, she turned and hurried toward the carpeted staircase.

When she reached the upper floor, she stopped and looked over the rail and into the lobby. Her brother and Mr. Powers were departing the hotel together—likely in search of a card game.

Melinda stepped off the freighter in Biscayne. A foul odor assaulted her senses, and for a moment she remained speechless, unable to grasp the extent of the damage that surrounded them. Debris lined the coastal shores and the town resembled the aftermath of a great battle. She marveled that there weren't more deaths from the storm, given the extensive damage.

“How could anyone survive such destruction?” she asked to no one in particular.

“If you look close, you can see the waterline on the buildings.” Her brother pointed to the faint mark that stood nearly as high as Melinda's height. “I hope I'll be able to find a suitable place for my horse.”

Melinda looked at him in disgust. “Your horse is the least of things to worry about, Lawrence.”

“Careful as ya go there, miss,” one of the sailors called. “Some of them planks is loose. Don't want ya fallin' in the water.” The sailor was leading the horse off the freighter and handed the reins to Lawrence once they were on the pier. “Ya might want to walk on up ahead of the horse.”

Instead of worrying over Melinda's safety, Lawrence glanced at the tilted boards, then back toward the sailor. “Are you telling me this dock could give way under the weight of my horse?”

The sailor lifted a corner of the dirty kerchief tied around his neck and wiped his upper lip. “Can't say for sure. Ain't much of nothin' safe after a hurricane, 'specially the pilings that hold up these docks.” He grinned, his stubby yellow teeth protruding like ripe kernels on an ear of corn.

Melinda didn't wait for further explanation before making her way to the end of the pier. She wasn't certain the area along the wharf was much better. The captain of the freighter had told them a great deal of progress had been made toward cleanup in Biscayne, but she now questioned his appraisal. A confusion of boxes, barrels, cotton bales, mattresses, broken furniture, doors, timbers, dry goods, and every other conceivable item lay strewn about in utter chaos. The rising temperature and humidity served to create a gut-wrenching stench that caused her to reach for her handkerchief and press it to her nose. What must it have looked like before their arrival? How had anyone survived this?

She glanced about, hoping she might see Old Sam's trawler. If anyone could tell her about Evan, it would be Old Sam. But neither Old Sam nor his boat was anywhere in sight. Still, she was one step nearer to Evan. At least she prayed she was closer to him. She had prayed she would find Evan vibrant and fit and that he would be pleased to see her. Since leaving Cleveland, she'd been plagued by Mrs. Mifflin's warnings. And when she'd heard one of the Bridal Veil workers had died, her worries had compounded. Her emotions wavered back and forth—from deep foreboding and sadness to crushing panic and fear.

Over the past weeks, Melinda had lain awake at night thinking of all the possibilities—most causing her fear to deepen. She'd finally succumbed to the knowledge that she needed to place her trust in God. But knowing what she should do and actually doing it proved difficult. Over and over, she'd asked God to erase her fears, give her peace, and replace her worries with trust in Him. For short periods of time, she would meet with success, but soon she'd snatch back her fears and hold them close, as if they were dear friends rather than her enemies.

The captain had their luggage taken to the large wharf, where several of the steamship and freighting companies had their warehouses and storefronts. She stopped in front of the Shining Star Steamship Company office and turned toward her brother, who was following at a short distance. She pointed at the doorway. “I'm going inside to see if there are any boats going to the islands.”

Lawrence frowned. “I think we'd do better talking to some of the fishermen. A steamship isn't going to be crossing the river to the islands.”

“I'm quite aware of that, Lawrence, but I didn't think you'd want to lead your horse out on those rickety planks where the launches and fishing boats are tied.”

He tipped his head and smirked. “Guess you could hold onto the reins and I could go down there and ask around.”

She shook her head. “Better for me to go.” It wasn't that she minded the horse. In fact, she thought the animal was beautiful. And though she didn't consider herself well trained, she was certain her riding ability would surprise Lawrence. Evan had taught her to ride the first winter she'd been on Bridal Veil. Since then, the two of them had taken many rides along the hard-packed beaches on the eastern side of the island.

He patted the horse's sleek coat. “And why is it better for you to go?”

She pointed to the horse. “If you want passage for your animal, I think we'll need a barge, not a fishing boat. Why don't you tie him over there and come in with me.”

She was willing to pay for her own passage to Bridal Veil, but she wasn't paying for the horse. She'd overheard some of the sailors talking and knew her brother had used his time on the freighter to advantage. A number of them had commented on the fact that he'd emptied their pockets with his card games. When they'd been alone, she had criticized his behavior, but she now realized it was going to take more than a few words to change her brother's gaming habits. In truth, it seemed his penchant for gaming had grown stronger since their parents' deaths.

He hesitated and glanced about, his gaze settling on some of the ne'er-do-wells lingering on the docks. He turned and gestured to a boy of about ten. “I've a shiny coin for you if you'll look after my horse.” He pulled the boy close and gave him instructions to shout at the top of his lungs should anyone come near the horse.

“Don't you worry, sir. Folks as far as St. Simons will hear me shout if anyone tries to touch this beautiful horse.” The boy grasped the reins and wrapped them around his hand before making a fist. “No one will get him away from me. You can be sure of it.”

Once inside the shipping office, Lawrence took charge and within a short time had completed arrangements. While Melinda would go to Bridal Veil, he would wait and accompany his horse on a barge. The local manager of the shipping line didn't encourage them to remain in the area. “Lots of damage here in Biscayne, and Bridal Veil got its share, too. You might want to wait and come back during the regular season. Even without the hurricane, this isn't the best time to vacation in these parts.”

Melinda stepped close to the counter. “We're not here on vacation. I have friends who work on Bridal Veil Island. I've come to make certain they're not injured. And we're hoping to help with the repairs to the island.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lawrence muttered.

When the agent looked away to give a sailor instructions, Melinda nudged her brother. “We do plan to help, Lawrence. Otherwise, why are you here?”

Once the sailor departed, the manager turned back to them and pointed out the launch for Melinda. Since entering the office, she'd been fearful of asking, but finally she inhaled a deep breath. “Do you know anything about a death on Bridal Veil?”

The agent's smile vanished and he glanced out the door. “Sad thing to lose anyone in a hurricane, but when it's a young man, full of life . . .” He fisted his hand and touched his chest. “It hurts your heart.”

“Did you know him?” Melinda's voice cracked.

“That I did. Not well, since he lived over on the island, but his family lives here in Biscayne, so the boy was back and forth each week to bring his pay to his pa.”

Melinda didn't realize she'd been holding her breath until the tightness in her chest made it feel as though it might explode. She exhaled a whoosh of air. “Then it wasn't Evan Tarlow?”

“No, not Evan, though I know him also. It was Alfred Toomie. Young fella that helped loading baggage and the like—least that's what his pa told me. His family lives up on the hill a ways.”

Melinda didn't want to rejoice at the news, but relief washed over her like a spring rain. “And Evan Tarlow wasn't injured?”

“Evan's fine. He's been over here to the mainland a few times for supplies and to hire men to help with the cleanup. From what I've heard, no one else was hurt over there. Just the Toomie boy.”

Melinda attempted to recollect if she'd ever seen Alfred, but she didn't recall the name. There had been any number of young boys who came and went, most of them nameless faces. She regretted the fact that she'd never bothered to ask any of them their names. She shuddered at the thought that she'd adopted more of Mrs. Mifflin's ways than she wanted to admit.

Momentarily engulfed by her own guilt, Melinda reached into her reticule. “I don't have a lot of money, but perhaps a dollar or two would help the family.”

The agent nodded. “I'm sure it would, but Frank Toomie would spend it on liquor instead of food for his family. It would be better to take your money to the grocer and ask him to place a credit on Mrs. Toomie's account.” He gestured toward the dock. “You won't have time, miss.” He turned his attention to Lawrence. “Perhaps your friend could see to it while he awaits the arrival of the barge.”

After requesting the location of the store, Melinda and Lawrence left the office. She handed him the money, and though he briefly objected to the task, he finally agreed. He stood on the dock and waved as the launch pulled away from the dilapidated dock.

“Soon all will be back to the way it was before the storm,” the owner of the launch told her. “Much progress has been made.”

Melinda had heard that remark earlier in the day, but after viewing only a small portion of Biscayne, she remained unconvinced. “What of Bridal Veil? Have you been on the island?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, “but Old Sam says the damage there isn't as great.” He chuckled. “'Course there wasn't as much for those winds to tear down on the island as there was on the mainland.”

She supposed that was true, but after seeing homes and buildings completely leveled in Biscayne, Melinda wondered about the extravagant cottages that dotted Bridal Veil, especially Summerset Cottage. Surely the owners would be eager for a report. Perhaps Mr. Morley or one of the other investors had already been there and assessed the damage.

As the launch churned the dark river waters, she imagined Evan waiting at the dock to meet her, his arms open wide and his welcome exuberant. But when the dock came into view, there was no one waiting to greet her. What remained of the dock appeared sound, yet much smaller than the original. The captain edged the boat alongside the pier and directed one of the men to offload her baggage.

“Guess you know how to get to the lodge from here,” the captain said.

Melinda thanked him. As the launch pulled away, she forced a deep breath. Was it the weight of her decisions or the damp air that made it difficult to breathe? A warbler chirped overhead, as if to urge her on. Grasping the handles of a smaller bag, she gathered her courage and then headed in the direction of the hunting lodge.

The uprooted cypress trees, twisted palmettos, and debris-laden paths proved the island hadn't escaped the storm. Although the roots of the huge live oaks had held the giant trees in the ground, most of the branches had been stripped. Gone were the frothy veils of moss. Gone, too, were the rich green, everlasting leaves that had caused the giant trees to bear the name live oak. They now stood like naked sentinels silently observing the ravages of the storm. She continued along the muddy path, trying to absorb the transformation of the landscape.

The hem of her skirt caught on a protruding branch, and she leaned down to untangle the fabric. Her damp clothing clung to her body like a second skin, yet in spite of the heat, Melinda shivered. Finally comprehending the power of the hurricane gave rise to another fear. Would making her home on this island mean she might face such a storm in the future? And if it did, was this where she truly wanted to live the remainder of her life? As she rounded the final turn to the hunting lodge, the question assailed her like a battering wind.

Brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead, she climbed the steps and knocked on the door. She dropped her bag on the porch and turned the doorknob. “Evan! Harland! Is anyone here?”

When no answer came, she stepped into the sitting room and glanced toward the stairs. Surely they wouldn't still be in bed—it was far too late in the day. She jumped and turned at the sound of metal crashing onto the wood floor. “Delilah! You scared me to death. And look what you've done.” Apparently the cat had jumped down from a higher perch and landed on the metal pan. “You tipped over your food.” Unruffled by Melinda's scolding, the cat padded to her side, purred, and brushed against the fullness of Melinda's skirt. As she strutted back toward her food, the cat's white-tipped tail waved like a flag in the morning breeze.

Other than Delilah's scattered food, the lodge appeared in perfect order. After she had viewed so much chaos, the neat surroundings jarred her sensibilities. She stooped down and gathered the food back into the metal pan, but a part of her thought the small mess appropriate—as if it fit much better than the tidiness. Delilah remained close by her side and intently watched. “You need not worry. I won't eat any of your food.” Melinda chuckled and scratched the cat's ear.

Once she'd finished, Melinda stood and looked down at Delilah. “So where are Evan and Harland, Delilah? Too bad you can't talk.” She strode to the porch, picked up her bag, and placed it inside the door. The cat sat nearby staring at her. “I think I'll go see if Emma is about. Maybe she can tell me where I'll find Evan. You be sure and pass along my whereabouts to Evan if he returns, Delilah.”

She laughed aloud at her silliness. Her brother would think she'd lost her mind if he heard her talking to a cat. Then again, he talked to horses, so maybe not. She grinned and turned toward Delilah. “You be good. I'll be back in a little while.”