To Honor and Trust

by Tracie Peterson

  Chapter 7

  Bound for the Bridal Veil golf links, Callie said her good-byes to the two girls on the front porch while Thomas brought their bicycles around the corner of the house. Neither of the girls had been pleased to hear of Callie’s plans for the afternoon. They didn’t mind in the least if their brother departed, but to have Callie leave them for a few hours was entirely another matter. Had it not been for Maude clutching Daisy’s hand, the little girl would still be clinging to Callie’s skirts.

  Maude inched a step closer to Callie. “So you’re off to learn how to play golf, are ya?”

  Callie nodded. “I believe we’ll begin the tennis lessons later this week. I’ll check that schedule before I return home this afternoon.” She reached down and stroked Daisy’s cheek. “No tears. I left you something special in the playroom, but if you cry, Miss Maude won’t be able to give it to you.”

  Daisy’s lip quivered. “I p-p-romise not to cry.”

  Walking between the two bicycles, Thomas advanced at a slow pace as he tried to keep them upright. Callie hurried toward him. “Let me help you.”

  He released his hold on her bicycle and immediately straddled his own. “We need to stop by the caddie shack before we go for the lesson. Father said he had my golf clubs taken over there when we arrived.”

  They waved to the girls and Maude, and once they were at a wide spot in the path leading toward the links, Callie pedaled alongside Thomas. “I do hope they have some clubs that I can use. Otherwise, we may have to trade off.”

  Thomas smiled. “Maybe the instructor will have some that you can use.”

  “Maybe. We’ll check first thing, but it’s your lessons that are most important.” There must occasionally be other guests who have decided to take golf lessons but don’t own any clubs. Surely a resort such as Bridal Veil would have made arrangements for such an event. Her lack of athletic prowess remained at the forefront of her mind as she swerved around a rut in the trail.

  In all likelihood, her inept attempts would provide Thomas with several chuckles. If for no other reason than hearing his laughter, she would enjoy trying the game. At least Mrs. Bridgeport hadn’t suggested sailing lessons. With Callie’s lack of agility, she might have landed in the middle of the ocean. Still, if Mrs. Bridgeport had declared Callie would take sailing lessons with Thomas this season, she would have done her best. The boy loved sports—and time away from his sisters—and Callie wanted him to enjoy his time at Bridal Veil to the fullest.

  Thomas glanced at her, anticipation shining in his eyes as he pumped his legs and raced ahead. He arrived at the caddie shack before she did and was already off his bike and inside before Callie dismounted. Though she normally insisted the children let her take the lead, she couldn’t fault Thomas. His excitement had been palpable all during their classes this morning, and she wouldn’t restrain him now.

  Glancing around as she placed her bicycle next to the wooden structure, she wondered if all of the caddies had already gone out with other golfers. The place looked deserted, yet the door remained open, and Thomas hadn’t come back outside. The moment she stepped across the threshold, Thomas turned toward her. The boy looked as though he’d lost his best friend. An older man sat not far away wiping a golf club with a dirty towel.

  Callie stepped to Thomas’s side. “Whatever is wrong?” She looked from the boy and settled her gaze upon the man. “Are you the golf instructor, sir?”

  The man clenched a pipe between his teeth as he pushed up from the chair. “Nope. I was telling the boy that our golf instructor was due to arrive two weeks ago, but I haven’t seen hide or hair of him. Every time someone walks through that door, we all hope it will be Bobby McLaren.” He shoved the golf club into a canvas and leather bag. “That’s the name of the golf instructor—Bobby McLaren.”

  “If Mr. McLaren isn’t available, who is giving lessons? Both Thomas and I were enrolled by Mr. Bridgeport long before we arrived on the island.”

  “Yup. I see your names down here in the schedule book. Thomas Bridgeport and Miss Callie Deboyer.” He withdrew the pipe from his mouth. “’Course that don’t change a thing. If there’s no instructor, then there’s no lessons.”

  “What about you?” Callie gestured to the golf clubs he’d been cleaning.

  He chuckled. “I don’t golf. These clubs belong to one of the members. I told him I’d clean ’em. The golf links are open. There’s men out there golfing right now. There’s just no lessons.”

  Callie sighed—not for herself, but for Thomas and the disappointment she knew he was trying to hide. “Can I assume that someone has attempted to contact this Mr. McLaren you mentioned—or that the officers of the Bridal Veil Island Club are seeking someone to fill the position?”

  The man shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you what the officers are doing. They’ve never invited me to attend any of their meetings.” His lips curved in a wry grin. “I can tell you that Mr. Nusbaum is the one in charge of the sports and recreation, and he hires the instructors for golf, tennis, riding, and other sporting activities here on the island. The officers of the club don’t bother themselves with that—they hire the supervisors and let them take care of hiring the likes of Bobby McLaren.”

  “Then can you tell me what action Mr. Nusbaum has taken?” Callie’s patience had begun to wear thin. This man talked as slowly as he moved.

  “We-l-l-l.” He drew the word out as though it had five syllables rather than one. “He’s looking for a replacement, but it’s hard to find someone once the season has already begun at these resorts. Mr. Nusbaum will be here tomorrow right after lunch if you want to come and talk to him in person.” He picked up a pencil. “I’ll mark it right here by your name if you want to see him.”

  “Please do. I’ll speak to Mr. Bridgeport. Perhaps he’ll come and talk to Mr. Nusbaum. If not, I will be here.” She rested her hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Come along, Thomas.”

  They were mounting their bikes when the man appeared in the doorway. “I forgot to tell you that the tennis instructor, Archie Penniman, can take the boy for lessons today instead of next week, if you like. His schedule ain’t full, and he’s trying to help out until Bobby gets here.”

  Thomas scooted around on the seat of his bicycle. “I can go back to the house and get my tennis racket and meet you at the court.” A glimmer of excitement sparkled in his eyes, and though Callie wasn’t excited at the thought of a tennis lesson, she readily agreed.

  Thomas took off as though he’d had a fire lit beneath him, but there would be no need for Callie to hurry. Both the golf course and the tennis courts were located north of the Bridgeport home. Depending on how fast he pedaled, it would take Thomas a while to make his way home and back again to the tennis courts.

  As she came to a fork in the road, she decided to take a side path that would lead her directly to the tennis courts. Coming around the bend at a good speed, she slammed on her brakes and careened off the path to the right while a figure jumped back to the left. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The man she’d nearly struck down was Wes, the same fellow the four of them had nearly hit yesterday.

  He appeared as surprised as she felt. “It seems I’ve become a favorite target for cyclists.”

  “I do apologize. My thoughts were elsewhere, and I should have braked before rounding the corner.” She gestured toward the side of the pathway. “Of course, it would help if they’d trim down some of these high grasses so it would be easier to see around the corners.”

  He swiped dust from his pants and chuckled. “I don’t believe there are enough gardeners on staff to keep the weeds and marsh grasses trimmed all over the island.” He tipped his cap. “Good afternoon, Miss Callie. Where are your young charges on this fine afternoon?”

  Callie explained the girls were at home and Thomas had gone to retrieve his tennis racket. “We were prepared for golf lessons, but I’m told the instructor has gone missing. There seems to be some doubt they’ll find another one.” She pointed to th
e golf bag on his shoulder. “So, if you’re taking those clubs to the caddie shack for a guest scheduled for lessons, there’s no need to rush.”

  Wes patted the bag. “These belong to someone who already knows how to play the game, but I’m sorry to hear about the pro. I’m sure Thomas is disappointed.”

  “He is, but it may be best for anyone else on the links.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I was scheduled to take lessons with Thomas, but I may have saved some poor soul from being clunked on the head with a golf ball when I made an erratic swing.”

  Wes chuckled. “If you’ve never before golfed, it’s more likely you’d miss the ball entirely or take out a chunk of the green. I think those other golfers would have been safe having you around.”

  “Perhaps, but I did offer up a few prayers for them before we arrived at the caddie shack.”

  He tipped his head to the side and grinned. “You consider golfing so worrisome that you would ask God to intervene?”

  “That probably sounds silly to you, but for years I’ve asked God to take care of the big as well as the little problems in my life. And if I injured someone, it would be a very big problem.” Callie didn’t go on to tell him that she would have liked an answer to prayers regarding her future plans as well as her prayer for protection for the golfers.

  “I don’t think it’s silly to ask for God’s help. I just never thought of anyone needing to pray before heading onto the links.” He pushed his flat-billed cap to the back of his head.

  “If you knew my lack of athletic ability, you would think my prayers quite appropriate.”

  “Point well taken, Miss Callie, but I doubt you’re as inept as you say.” He pointed to her bike and smiled. “Then again, you are a bit dangerous on that bicycle.”

  Callie returned his smile and motioned toward the path. “Now that you mention bicycling, I best be on my way. Thomas will arrive at the tennis courts and wonder what has happened to me. Nice to see you again . . .” She hesitated. “I don’t believe I know your last name.”

  “Just call me Wes. I dislike formalities.” He settled the strap of the golf bag back on his shoulder and strode off with a wave.

  While he continued walking toward the golf course, Wes weighed an idea. No doubt his family would be furious with him, but if the club needed a golf pro, he might qualify. Especially if the club was in dire straits. And from what Callie said, that was exactly the situation. He’d won his share of college and amateur tournaments and had even been approached about becoming an instructor at his alma mater. A fact he certainly had never mentioned to his father.

  Wes didn’t intend to make a hasty move. First, he’d play the course and give the matter some more thought. He entered the caddie shack, surprised at the lack of activity. “All the caddies out on the course?” he asked the man sitting in a corner smoking his pipe.

  “Don’t have many working today.” He tapped the book on a table close to his chair. “Did you schedule a time to tee off?”

  The man looked at the book and then at Wes—they both knew he hadn’t. “I’ve never golfed on this course, but I can go out without a caddie, if need be. I have a stand for my bag and clubs.” It wouldn’t be his preference, but he could do it.

  “If you’re not in a rush, there should be a group coming in within the next half hour—unless they got themselves stuck in the sand and marsh grass.” He chuckled and shook his head.

  “So it’s a rough course?”

  “Not if you know how to golf, but most of these fellows are too proud to admit they need some lessons. They’ve played a round or two and think they know it all.”

  “You play?” Wes noticed the bag of clubs sitting nearby.

  “Nah. Golf’s not where I take my pleasure. Give me a good horse that can run like the wind, and I’m a happy man. In my younger days, I was mighty good at rowing, but now I leave that to the younger fellas.”

  “You don’t play golf, but you’re in charge of the caddie shack?”

  He frowned at Wes. “Did I say I was in charge of anything?”

  “I just guessed that since you had the registration book, you were in charge.”

  “I work for Mr. Nusbaum, so I go where I’m told, when I’m told, and I don’t ask a lot of questions. Today I was told to come over here and work in the shack; tomorrow I might be mowing the grass.”

  “If I wanted to find out information about that golf pro who went missing, I would talk to Mr. Nusbaum?”

  “How’d you know ’bout the golf pro?” His eyes suddenly shone with recognition. “You must have talked to that gal who left not long before you got here.”

  Wes nodded. “Does Mr. Nusbaum frequent the clubhouse?”

  “I’m sure he’s over there some, but I don’t know his schedule except that he’s supposed to be over here tomorrow after lunch.”

  The sound of good-natured voices drifted through the open window of the shack, and both men glanced outside. Wes didn’t recognize any of the men in the group, but he hadn’t expected to. Bridal Veil was new to him, and so were the people who frequented the resort. He couldn’t be sure if that would be an advantage or disadvantage in securing a position.

  The older man put two fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle. Two caddies broke from the crowd and ran toward the shack. “Take the one on the right. He knows the course better, but don’t tell either of ’em I told you who to choose. The one on the left would never speak to me again, and we don’t need no hard feelings.”

  Wes nodded. “Thanks for the advice.”

  When the two caddies rushed through the door, Wes signaled to the one on the right. “I could use you out on the course if you’re not too tired.”

  The young man tipped his hat and grinned. “Never too tired to be out on the golf course. My name’s Ted.” He reached toward Wes’s caddie bag.

  “And mine’s Wes Townsend. Pleased to meet you, Ted. I haven’t golfed this course before, so I’m looking for all the help you can give me.”

  The fellow grinned. “Always glad to give advice, Mr. Townsend.”

  Wes slapped him on the shoulder. “Then we should get on just fine.”

  Just as Callie feared, Thomas had already arrived at the tennis court. He had parked his bicycle, and she could see him lobbing the ball across the net—or at least making an attempt. Over the past year, Thomas had taken a few classes at the indoor court at his father’s club in Indianapolis, but this was an outdoor grass court and would likely require some adjustment.

  Callie strode toward the court and took a position a short distance from the sideline. When Thomas missed the ball and went running to fetch it, the instructor approached her. He was a small-framed man, with dark hair and eyes the color of strong coffee. “Good afternoon. I’m Archie Penniman, the tennis instructor here at Bridal Veil. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “Callie Deboyer. I am tutor to the Bridgeport children. This is the first year any members of the family have been enrolled for tennis lessons. Thomas has probably informed you that he has taken a few lessons in Indianapolis, but he’s never before played on a grass court.”

  “And what about you, Miss Deboyer? I noticed your name on my list of students. Have you had lessons back in Indianapolis?”

  He smiled and stepped closer—too close, as far as Callie was concerned. She took a backward step. “No, I must admit that I haven’t. The nearest I’ve come to playing tennis is badminton, and that with the children. I don’t have a racket.”

  “That’s not a problem. We keep a number of them available for guests who are taking lessons and might not own a racket.”

  “Why don’t you go on with the lesson for Thomas? It’s far more important that he have additional lessons before heading off for boarding school next year. Whether I learn is of little importance.”

  “But you’ve signed up for instructions.” He leaned in. “And I’d enjoy teaching you far more than a young boy preparing for boarding school.”


  His breath grazed her neck. She frowned and stepped back. “Please keep a proper distance, Mr. Penniman.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. It must be your beauty that keeps drawing me toward you.” He appeared contrite. “Please accept my apologies.”

  Mr. Penniman obviously considered himself quite the ladies’ man—the type of fellow Callie tried to avoid. She didn’t want to misjudge him, but he was much too forward for her liking.

  “Your apology is accepted.” She glanced toward Thomas, who had stooped down to retrieve the ball. “To be honest, I’m not particularly athletic, so you will find much greater reward teaching Thomas.”

  “Ah, but the note I received expressly stated that your skill level should reach or exceed young Thomas’s. That means I’ll need to spend more time with you, for his parents obviously want him to have a strong opponent in order to further build his skills when you return home in the spring.”

  Thomas ran toward them holding the ball aloft. “Are you ready, Mr. Penniman?”

  Callie gestured toward the court. “I shall begin my instruction on our next visit. Please don’t disappoint Thomas, Mr. Penniman.”

  “If that’s what you wish. It’s my desire to please you.”

  Callie wasn’t certain what to think of Mr. Penniman. Surely he was trustworthy and a gentleman, or the club wouldn’t retain him. She glanced up as Thomas laughed and sent the ball flying across the net. For Thomas’s sake, she’d find some way to handle Mr. Penniman and his unwanted advances—at least she hoped she could.

  Chapter 8

  After his return from the golf course yesterday, Wes made several inquiries regarding the whereabouts of Mr. Nusbaum. However, the man had proved to be as elusive as the club’s absent golf pro. After playing the course, Wes had hoped to speak to the supervisor and secure the position as golf pro. He’d even decided he would agree to take the job on an interim basis. Should Bobby McLaren appear, Wes would immediately step aside. He’d had the proposal ready to present, but Mr. Nusbaum was nowhere to be found. And there certainly was no reason Mr. Nusbaum shouldn’t agree to his offer. Wes couldn’t accept any pay for the position or he’d lose his current status and be unable to enter further tournaments as an amateur.