“But some of the ones we pulled yesterday had pretty flowers on them. I think we should keep those,” Josie argued.
“But those weeds choke out the really pretty flowers.” Aunt Thora held her open hands a few inches apart and squeezed them in and out. “You don’t want those weeds to strangle our pretty flowers, do you?”
Josie opened her eyes as wide as two china saucers. “Nooo.”
“Then we better make sure we don’t plant any weeds at your house.” Thora extended her arm. “Come now. We’ve got lots of work to get done today. First we’ll work in our garden. We’ll dig up some special herbs that we can plant by your cabin. In the spot your papa dug for us.”
Audrey listened as Aunt Thora told the girls about everything from lavender to dill weed. As she described each herb and its many uses, the girls became more and more excited. “And if you do good work, we’ll come back and bake some cookies later on.”
The girls clapped their hands, delighted by the possibility. Audrey wasn’t certain Thora would have the energy for both garden work and baking cookies, but she didn’t correct her. If she wasn’t up to the task, they would reschedule the cookie baking for another time.
“Are you coming with us, Miss Audrey?” Julie offered her chubby hand.
Audrey patted the girl’s curly locks. “Not today, but maybe I can help you another time.” The answer seemed to suffice, for Julie skipped alongside Aunt Thora and offered to carry the gardening basket.
The three of them made a lovely picture as they walked down the path holding hands. Audrey smiled at the sight. She could tell from the set of her aunt’s shoulders that the woman was in her glory. Of course, Aunt Thora was in her glory anytime she was in charge of a project.
Forcing her attention away from the threesome, Audrey turned toward the path leading to the washhouse. Unlike Thora, she was certain Irene would do a fine job, but she could likely use some help with the mounds of laundry. Besides, it would give her an opportunity to learn more about the girl. Except for the brief information Audrey had received from Mr. Morley, Audrey knew little about Irene. She had been employed by Mrs. Morley after Audrey’s departure for Bridal Veil, and Mattie’s letters seldom mentioned anyone other than the employees Audrey had worked with at Temberly.
How delightful it would have been if Mr. Morley had brought Mattie to help at Bridal Fair. Audrey smiled at the silly thought. Mrs. Morley would never turn loose of Mattie. She’d been with them far too long. Besides, Audrey was certain Mattie wouldn’t want to leave Temberly and the Morley children any more than Mrs. Morley would want to lose her.
Audrey continued along the path but slowed her step and glanced toward an overgrowth of bushes to her right, certain she’d heard someone choking. Pushing aside the branches, she stepped through the underbrush and stopped in her tracks. Her father was leaning against the tree, gasping for air. As she approached, he leaned forward and retched. Her stomach knotted at the sight. For years, she’d come upon this exact scene after her father’s nights of carousing and drinking with his friends. Lately, she had been so sure that he’d given up his old habits. What had changed? After all of his promises and his claims of turning to God, how could he pick up the bottle again?
She hurried to his side and reached into her skirt pocket. “Here—use this to wipe your mouth.”
When he looked up she gasped at the sight of his pasty complexion. His hands trembled as he reached for the handkerchief she offered. He attempted a feeble smile. “Not feeling very well this morning. Don’t know what’s come over me.”
She wanted to ask him how much he’d had to drink but quickly decided this wasn’t the time for questions. After all, there was no alcohol in the house. She’d made it a rule when they moved to Bridal Fair. “Come on. I’ll help you back to the house. I think you need to rest.” Thankfully, he permitted her to guide him back to the house without argument. In the old days, he would have fought her attempts to help him into bed to sleep off the effects of his drinking.
As she pulled the sheet across his chest, her father motioned to her. “Tell Marshall I won’t be able to go into Biscayne with him this afternoon.”
Marshall! Her father had gone into Biscayne with him yesterday. So her father hadn’t been drinking while at Bridal Fair. Instead, the two men had gone into Biscayne, and after they’d ordered supplies, they’d likely stopped at a local tavern—or two or three. How could Marshall entice her father to do such a thing? Her thoughts ran wild as she contemplated exactly what she’d like to say to Marshall Graham. The man was fortunate he wasn’t within her reach at the moment, or he’d likely receive an earful that would be less than ladylike.
Late in the afternoon, Marshall stepped off Old Bessie and headed toward Bridal Fair. He’d been sorely disappointed when Irene had arrived at the dock earlier in the day and told him Boyd wouldn’t be able to accompany him across the river to Biscayne. Though the girl told him Boyd had taken ill, she refused to give any additional details, saying she’d been advised by Miss Audrey to deliver the message and nothing more. Withholding information regarding Boyd’s medical condition left Marshall perplexed, but Miss Audrey’s behavior generally puzzled him. Today had been no different. He hoped the older man would be feeling better by now.
Glancing over his shoulder, he gave Old Bessie a final glance and wondered if Victor Morley and his associates would soon send money for a new launch. There was little doubt that Old Bessie couldn’t make many more trips across the waters. He didn’t know what a new boat would cost, but these were men who surely realized they’d need to replace the boat sooner rather than later. In fact, he’d been surprised the launch had managed to pull the barge carrying the two cows Mr. Morley sent a couple of weeks earlier. That event had likely done little to help the condition of the old boat.
Birds twittered and chirped overhead, and the scent of the river hung in the air as he sauntered along the path to Bridal Fair. No wonder Boyd loved this place. It had a peacefulness and beauty all its own—so different from the bustle of Biscayne. His excursion into the waterfront town, known for the fishermen who delivered abundant catches of shrimp and oysters, had buzzed with noise and activity, but Marshall had missed Boyd’s company. Although today’s trip had proved beneficial, it hadn’t been nearly as pleasant as yesterday’s joint venture with the older man.
Boyd had offered good advice regarding the construction, and they had collaborated about the many challenges of such a large project. They’d shared ideas they thought might prove helpful to complete the clubhouse early.
At first Marshall had been hesitant to leave Frank in charge, but Mr. Morley thought it might lessen some of the tension between them if Marshall occasionally granted his assistant oversight. And though Marshall had expected Frank to object to the idea, he had appeared pleased to take on the responsibility.
There was little doubt Frank still harbored resentment toward Marshall, but he had worked with men like Frank in the past, and eventually, he’d won most of them to his side. Now he hoped he could do the same with Frank. Truth be told, Marshall could understand the man’s resentment. He’d arrived at the jobsite and been demoted from a promised position before he’d even begun work. Had the circumstances been reversed, Marshall knew he’d likely harbor some bitterness too. He probably would have turned down the job and found other work.
Though he’d attempted to sort out possibilities of why Frank had chosen to remain, he hadn’t come to any reasonable conclusion. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d known and developed a kinship with the other supervisors, or because he feared he couldn’t find immediate work elsewhere, though that idea didn’t hold water. Frank could have secured a job at Jekyl Island or at the hotel construction site in Biscayne if he’d truly wanted other work. Then again, maybe he simply decided to remain in order to annoy Mr. Morley. Whatever the reason, Marshall hoped he and Frank could eventually forge a working relationship that would be beneficial to both of them.
After returning to his
room and washing up for supper, he descended the stairs and glanced around the table. “Glad to see I’m not the last one to arrive.”
Thora grunted. “You are the last one. Boyd isn’t coming down for supper. He’s still sick.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?”
Audrey flashed an angry look in his direction. “I believe you’ve done enough already.” Before he could question her, she turned her attention to Frank Baker. “Would you care to lead the evening prayer for our meal?”
Frank traced his finger beneath his collar. “I’m not much of one for public praying. I’m sure one of the other men would be pleased to take over.”
“If you have no objection, I will do it,” Marshall offered. After her curt response earlier, he thought she might not accept his offer. Her only response was an abrupt nod. The men bowed their heads as Marshall thanked God for their food and asked that Boyd be granted a speedy return to health. He thought he heard Audrey murmur something when he prayed for her father, but he couldn’t be certain, and she made herself scarce during the rest of the meal. Irene and Thora had taken over serving duties while Audrey remained in the kitchen.
It wasn’t until an hour after supper that Marshall returned downstairs and found Audrey alone on the front porch.
A deep frown creased her face when she saw him approach. “Have I done something to offend you, or are you simply worried about your father?”
After a quick glance toward the house, she motioned to him. “Why don’t we take a walk? I’d like to speak to you in private.”
They hadn’t gone far when she stopped and folded her arms across her waist. “I want you to know that I’m more than a little angry with you, Mr. Graham.”
“Me? What have I done?” Marshall stared down at her as the setting sun highlighted her unruly brown curls. There was no denying her beauty.
“I’d like to know what you were thinking when you took my father into town with you yesterday.” Her dark eyes flashed with irritation.
The question caught him by surprise. He’d thought it was something serious that had caused her anger. Then again, perhaps there was some reason why she hadn’t wanted her father to go into town. “I asked him because I enjoy his company. Besides, I knew he could tell me where to locate the best prices on supplies. I thought getting off the island for the day would provide a helpful diversion.”
She took a backward step. “Ha! You expect me to believe that!” The look in her eyes changed from one of anger to disbelief.
“I don’t know why you wouldn’t—it’s the truth.”
“Is it? I’m not so sure.” The words clipped off her tongue like deadly bullets.
What was wrong with this woman? She’d been contentious since the day he’d stepped foot on this island. It hadn’t been his idea to come here, and he thought he’d made that fact quite clear. “Exactly what is it you’ve got against me, Miss Audrey?”
“What do I have against you? Well, let’s start with the fact that you take my father into town and apparently convince him to return to his old drinking habits. Then you bring him back home and pretend that you have no idea why he’s now ill. To make matters worse, I discover that you had plans to take him with you again today, and I’m sure you also planned to make stops at those same taverns.” She paused only long enough to inhale a shallow breath. “I would think that you would understand the difficulties of living with a father who places liquor before his family. I’m shocked that you encouraged my father to take up the habit again. Is this some sort of retribution for your own father’s death in that barroom brawl? Did you think it unfair that my father was finally able to give up his drinking? Did you want to prove he hadn’t really succeeded?”
Marshall opened his mouth to answer, but she waved him into silence.
“Don’t bother to answer. I know it will be more lies. That seems to be what drinking men do the best—tell lies.” She turned to walk away, but Marshall grasped her by the arm.
“And it appears that you have a real gift for jumping to conclusions. I don’t know why you believe I took your father into a tavern, but that has got to be the wildest idea I’ve heard in a long time.” She tugged at her arm, and Marshall released his hold. “Is that why you’ve been shooting daggers at me ever since I got home this afternoon?”
“I have not been shooting daggers at you. It’s your own guilt that’s causing your discomfort.” She pointed at him like a mother correcting a naughty child. “My father can’t be permitted to slip back into his old ways—his drinking nearly killed him, and I’ll not permit you or anyone else to lead him back into a life of alcohol.”
“Obviously you’re not listening to me, Miss Cunningham. I would never encourage your father or anyone else—”
Audrey stomped her foot. “I don’t expect you to own up to your reprehensible behavior, Mr. Graham.” She arched her neck and glared at him. “But you had best remember that Mr. Morley is an old friend of our family. He cares about me, and he cares about my father. If you don’t stay away from my father, I’ll see that you’re fired.”
Marshall couldn’t believe his ears. This woman had no business making such threats, yet he admired her tenacity and desire to protect her father. He wanted to tell her it was her father’s urging that had brought him to this island and her father was the one who had encouraged him to remain. Marshall’s first choice had been Jekyl Island, not Bridal Veil. At the moment, it took everything he had to not pack his belongings and head over to Jekyl, where he wouldn’t have to deal with Audrey Cunningham.
Chapter 11
Over the next two weeks, as October gave way to November, Marshall maintained a safe distance from Audrey. It wasn’t difficult, for he and the others were working overtime in an attempt to repair the footings along the west side of the clubhouse. Marshall had double-checked measurements on all of the wooden forms that had been prepared and laid out for the foundation. It wasn’t until after the footings had been poured and the laborers had begun to set the beams that he’d discovered the measurements were off. He’d done his best to remain calm, but the loss of time weighed heavily on his shoulders. No one seemed to know what had occurred, but when he went back to closely examine the area, it appeared the forms had been moved at least two inches. In the end, he was the one responsible for mistakes and would need to answer for the delay.
Rather than taking time to make amends with Audrey regarding her father, he’d devoted most of his time to correcting the mishap at the clubhouse. He had tried to speak with her after dinner on a couple of occasions, but she’d been unreceptive. At one point he had considered telling her the truth about her father but had stopped himself. He’d promised Boyd to keep his secret, and he didn’t want to break his word—at least not as long as he could abide Audrey’s haughty attitude—though he wasn’t certain how much longer he’d last. Marshall soon decided that Boyd Cunningham’s daughter was as bullheaded as she was beautiful. For the time being he waited, hoping Audrey’s icy exterior would begin to melt.
With each passing day, he wondered if he’d made a mistake coming to the island. At first the laborers had been an industrious group, but they’d now become lazy. Without constant supervision, they would sit idle until ordered back to work, for they realized there was a lack of available workers in the area. Dealing with the men as well as being faced with Audrey’s cold stares and Thora’s barbs about Yankees made him long for life somewhere else. Even arguing with his brothers seemed more bearable than dealing with the issues he now faced each day. And the worrisome delays at the work site haunted him at night.
Except for brief visits with Boyd, it seemed he could find little respite on this island. And if Audrey had her way, he’d be banned from keeping company with her father. However, today he wanted to speak with Frank Baker and see if together they could encourage the men to move with greater speed.
As soon as they finished breakfast and departed for the site, he hurried to catch up with him. “I was hopin
g to talk with you about the foundation. We’ve got to keep the men moving or we’re going to get so far behind we’ll never get back on schedule.”
Frank clenched his jaw. “So I’m not supervising the men to your satisfaction, is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
Marshall arched his brows, surprised by Baker’s tone. “I didn’t say you were to blame or that you lacked the ability to oversee the men, but you’ll have to agree that things are falling behind and something needs to be done.”
“You’re the one in charge. Maybe you need to look at yourself for answers instead of everyone else.” His lips curled in an angry frown. “If the men aren’t working to your standards, maybe it’s because they don’t respect you. This is the first time I’ve ever had a problem like this.”
Marshall sighed. “But you do agree there’s a problem?”
“You’d have to be a fool not to see the men aren’t puttin’ in a full day’s work unless there’s someone watching over them.”
“Well, I’d like to know who was watching over them when they moved the forms and poured those footings on the west side of the building.”
“So now you’re accusing me of having the men move the forms, are ya?” Frank slapped a branch away from the path. “You best be careful who you’re pointing a finger at, Marshall. If I up and quit, you won’t be left with much of a crew. Most of these men would follow me.”
Marshall held his tongue. What he had hoped would be a productive discussion was creating a wedge that could spell even further disaster. Somehow, he needed to smooth the waters. “I trust you and I trust your judgment, Frank. It’s because you know these men that I’m asking for your advice. My intent isn’t to accuse you, but to ask for your guidance.”
Frank snorted. “Well, since I’m not the project manager, I don’t think I’ll be giving you any free advice. Mr. Morley decided you’re the one who’s qualified to hold the title, so you’re the one who’s going to have to figure things out. Without my help.”
To Have and To Hold Page 11
