A Corner in Glory Land

by Janie DeVos

  “That bad, eh?” someone said just beyond the veranda railing, startling me.

  A tall young man, perhaps in his late twenties, smiled mischievously at me from the sidewalk. Caught off guard, I said nothing but smiled in return as the man walked past me at a good clip. Not two minutes later, the same fellow was shown to my table.

  “Ah, Miss Stewart! I thought that might be you—at least I hoped it was,” he boldly declared in a northeastern accent. “I must admit you looked uncomfortable—and impatient.”

  “Oh…well…uh, I’m not used to these little hats, I’m afraid.” I smiled, lifting my discarded hat from the table.

  “Please accept my apologies for my tardiness. I was finishing up a meeting with a realtor, and, well, to be honest, I’m afraid I lost track of time.”

  His brown eyes twinkled, and the dimple in the middle of his chin deepened as he smiled. I also noticed that he had chipped one of his front teeth. It didn’t take away from his good looks; rather, it just added a boyish charm. I found that little defect endearing and, for some odd reason, I suddenly felt at ease. I’d tossed and turned throughout the night, wondering if I’d forgotten anything of great importance on my list of questions to ask Mr. Perlow, and I worried that he’d see my lack of experience and not take our interview seriously. Even though not five minutes had passed since meeting him, I felt he would answer my questions kindly, without condescension or judgment. And I also felt that I could be honest with him.

  “If the truth be known, Mr. Perlow, I was nearly late myself. And that’s not the first or the last time, I’m sure.” I smiled.

  “So, we’re going to have a bare-all/tell-all interview here. I like it!”

  His statement made me blush, as if I’d been too forthcoming about my personal shortcomings. And he noticed.

  “Why, Miss Stewart, I do believe I’ve brought a nice glow to your cheeks!”

  He was obviously amused. Saving me from having to respond with some clever quip, which I didn’t have at the moment anyway, the waiter arrived and took Mr. Perlow’s drink order, explained the day’s specials, asked if we had any questions about the menu, and then hurried away.

  Mr. Perlow casually rested his arms on the table and leaned in toward me. “So, before you begin with your questions, I have one of my own. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” Though this was the biggest interview I’d done with someone of his importance and influence, it was not my first, and in the past, I’d found that interviewees often asked about as many questions as the interviewer.

  “In no way do I mean this disrespectfully, but I was quite surprised to get a request for an interview from a female journalist rather than the usual boring, dry male reporter. How is it that you ended up here and writing about business rather than how to bake bread?”

  I couldn’t help but smile at his candid question. And the fact that he asked it, rather than just thought it, made me feel that much more comfortable with him. “I’m a feature writer, Mr. Perlow, but I also have a…well, vested interest, you might say, in what you and Mr. Flagler are planning to do here in Florida. On one hand, I can’t say that I blame y’all for wanting to bring the railroad throughout the state to service more territory than the St. Johns railroad does, or even the JP and M lines do. Mule-pulled trains do not a railroad make.” I smiled.

  “So, I can certainly see the appeal and the opportunities that present themselves to y’all. On the other hand,” I said, taking in a deep breath, “my family has been involved in the steamboat business for a long time now, and for those of us who’ve relied on that line of work to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads, the thought of Henry Flagler coming in here is…well, pretty daunting, to tell you the truth.”

  “I can certainly understand why you’d feel that way.” David’s response seemed genuine. “But the railroad will bring in a lot of jobs for a lot of people. Granted, some of the old ways of the old days will be rendered obsolete, but there’ll be a lot of different opportunities and doors opening. And it’s not just the railroad that will provide jobs, Miss Stewart. There’ll be hotels built—and lavish ones at that. And as trains access more and more of the state, there’ll be the need for more hotels, housing, restaurants, hospitals, et cetera, et cetera. The list is endless. To be sure, some of the doors will certainly close on antiquated services, but many new doors will open, as well. No one will go hungry if they’re willing to work.”

  I was busy scribbling notes as he was talking and when he finished, I looked up at him thoughtfully and asked, “Have you ever been on a steamboat, Mr. Perlow?” When he started to answer, I held up my index finger, and he waited. “I don’t mean a steamship, but a steamboat?”

  “I didn’t realize there was a difference,” he answered.

  “There’s a world of difference.” I smiled. “A steamboat can show you a whole different world than a steamship can. Have you ever seen any of the blue-green springs in central Florida? They’re mystical. They’re magical. At least the Indians have always thought so, and I have to say, I agree with them. Most people would, once they’ve seen them.

  “Or have you ever steamed down a narrow river in the dark?” I continued. “Navigated by pine knot torches that illuminate flowers that only bloom after the sun goes down? And in that same ghostly light, seen critters whose eyes glow red like the devil’s own as they peek out from cypress trees or out of palmetto bushes silently watching you pass? It’s a world unto itself, Mr. Perlow, and once the trains come plowin’ through, all of that beauty, all of those seemingly unimportant things will be lost or, at the very least, go unnoticed. Oh, don’t get me wrong; I can appreciate the opportunities that will come to the state, but I’ll also mourn those things that my family and I will have loved and lost, and all in the name of progress. They may not mean much to a lot of other folks, but they sure mean somethin’ to us.”

  David Perlow’s brows were slightly pinched together as he listened intently, but when I was finished, he smiled his dimpled smile at me. “Miss Stewart, you ought to be a politician, instead of a journalist—or at least a speech writer for one.”

  “Well, Mr. Perlow, one never knows where that beloved train of Mr. Flagler’s might lead, does one?”

  He softly laughed, and I could see a hint of admiration in his eyes. “No, Miss Stewart, one certainly does not. But I do know one thing with certainty.”

  “Oh, and what’s that?”

  “I’d like to take you to dinner tonight.”

  “We’re having dinner right now,” I teased.

  “Okay, then the meal eaten after dark,” he countered.

  “Well…” I hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment. “All right. Pick me up at the paper when the sun goes down. And Mr. Perlow,” I added as an afterthought, “don’t be late.”

  Chapter 14

  Signed, Sealed, and Delivered

  David and I began seeing each other on a regular basis. He courted me with an energetic perseverance that was typical of his self-confidence and sure-footedness. He seemed to know exactly what he wanted from life, which was power and the wealth that comes along with it, and exactly how to go about reaching the lofty goals he set for himself. David’s enthusiasm for his work wasn’t solely based on his strong work ethic and deep abiding loyalty toward Flagler, but also on the fact that if the oil tycoon did well with his Florida real estate holdings, then so would David. Part of their agreement was that David got a small interest in each property Flagler developed, which would bring some handsome dividends to Flagler’s handsome right-hand man.

  David came and went frequently, returning to his home in Philadelphia when needed and coming to Florida as necessary to oversee Flagler’s burgeoning developments. On a couple of different occasions, I was allowed to accompany him when he was on one of his scouting trips. At those times, I wrote pieces for the paper about awakening parts of Florida that had seen l
ittle, if any, development and probably looked much as they had when the Timucua, Ais, or Jeaga Indian tribes occupied those areas.

  The near-virginal land of Florida’s coastline was primitive and wild, and its beauty awed anyone who saw it, including the well-traveled David Perlow. And while his excitement about the future was somewhat infectious, I still felt a deep sadness that so much progress was going to change the feel of the Florida I knew and loved. Without a doubt, its quiet natural beauty was being changed, and Florida would never be the same again.

  My feelings toward David were also changing. I found that he was not only charming and very attractive but also a kind and thoughtful man, who made me feel cared for and appreciated, even though his business required an enormous amount of his time. Sometimes, we went to the St. James Hotel for an evening of music, dancing, and dining. Other times, we did something more casual, like go on a picnic or simply stroll along the banks of the St. Johns River discussing our dreams of the future. As we walked hand in hand along the river one evening, our light banter took a more serious turn.

  “Eve, we’ve been seeing each other for—what, about three months now?”

  “Nearly,” I confirmed. “We started courting in spring, and next weekend is the Fourth of July.”

  “I want you to come home with me next time I go.” He stopped and gently tugged on my hand so that I turned to face him. “I want my parents to meet you.”

  “I’d like that,” I said softly, and David leaned in to kiss me. It was deep and long, and though it wasn’t the first time, our relationship had just shifted to a new level. We both felt it, and we showed each other in the depth and passion of our kiss.

  Finally, we pulled apart, and I laid my head against David’s chest as he continued to hold me.

  “They’ll love you,” he whispered.

  “I hope so.”

  “They will, because I do.”

  An awkward silence followed, and though I knew he was waiting for a response from me, hoping I’d say I felt the same way, I’d been caught off guard. As the months had passed, I realized we were growing closer, but I hadn’t realized he’d fallen in love with me, and I didn’t know what to say. I knew I cared deeply for him, but I wasn’t sure my heart was quite ready to be given away. True to his character, however, David was able to voice what I couldn’t at the moment.

  “Am I hurrying you along too quickly, Eve?”

  I could hear the smile in his voice as I remained wrapped in his arms. “Well, maybe a tad.” I smiled as I gently pulled away from his embrace so that I could look at him. “I know I think about you all of the time and want to be with you all of the time, too. But so much has happened in the last year of my life that I sometimes feel as if I can’t catch my breath.”

  David smiled at me with understanding in his eyes. I had no doubt that this man standing before me was the perfect one to give my heart to once I was ready to commit myself.

  I wondered if I was holding myself back from loving him. I’d suffered such heartache in the last year, watching my parents’ marriage implode, while witnessing Ivy and Moses’s relationship, which could be nothing short of disastrous. David knew nothing about Ivy’s relationship and little about my parents’, other than the fact that my father had been badly injured and hadn’t been the same since. I just wasn’t quite ready to put all the skeletons in my family’s closet on display yet, not even for David. At the moment, it just felt good to be free from all family ties and from those I loved but who had broken my heart. As I thought about it, I realized the barrier I’d erected to protect myself from any more pain was only going to prevent me from knowing happiness or the joy of a healthy love with a kind and wonderful man.

  “Will you give me some time, David? I know I feel more for you than I’ve ever felt for any man before, but…I—”

  “You take all the time you need, Eve,” he said as he searched my eyes and brushed some wayward strands of my hair back from my face. “You catch your breath and when you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

  He gently pulled me to him again and we quietly stayed that way for a moment. I heard the wake from a passing boat lap against the seawall, and off in the distance, perhaps along one of the moonlit savannahs, a coyote raised its head, calling out to its mate. It was a lonesome, forlorn sound, making me hold on to David more tightly, grateful for his love.

  As we walked back toward my boardinghouse, I suddenly had a thought, and I turned to David. “Before we go north to see your folks, could I convince you to come home with me? It’s my father’s birthday in two weeks, and I haven’t been home since I moved here. I thought it’d be a good chance to see everyone. Besides, I promised Mr. Jones that I’d write a story at some point about the turpentine camps around my area that are destroying the pine forests by harvesting the trees’ gum.”

  “I’ll have to check my calendar, Eve, but I believe I can squeeze it in before I have to be back in St. Augustine. I won’t be able to stay but a day or two, though.” But that was fine with me. I needed a couple of days to really gauge the temperature at home, and I wouldn’t be able to do that while David was there and my family was—hopefully—on their best behavior.

  When I got back to the boardinghouse, I planned to write a letter right away to let Mama know we were coming home. However, as I checked the table in the foyer for any mail that might have come for me, I found that a letter had just arrived from her. She wrote on a regular basis, and I was always happy to hear from her, though nothing much had changed since I’d left. And the fact that there was a lack of information about Ivy’s doings made me believe that Mama didn’t see a whole lot of her, and that, in and of itself, worried me deeply. I’d only heard from Ivy once, soon after I’d left home. It was an apology letter of sorts, telling me how sorry she was that I’d found out about her and Moses that way and that she hoped even something so serious wouldn’t get in the way of our feelings for each other. What exactly had she meant by saying “something so serious”? Did she mean it was a serious matter that I’d caught her in such a compromising position, or did she mean that her relationship with Moses had grown into a serious one? But considering that the two had been having relations, I figured she meant it both ways.

  Sighing, I lit a lamp on the desk in the corner of the bedroom and began to read Mama’s neat writing.

  Dear Eve,

  I hope you’re doing alright and still enjoying your life and job in Jacksonville. Everything at home is real good. I’m happy to let you know that your daddy is the new steward on the May Breeze. He was nervous at first, but he settled into it in no time and everything is going fine. He’s been back to work for three weeks now, and he’s pretty much like his old self. Still gets crabbier than he used to, but is a bunch better than he was the last time you seen him, and far more than when he first got hurt. It’s good seeing him smile a lot again. I sure missed that during all that time he wasn’t working. I think I missed that more than anything else, paychecks included!

  Ivy’s doing ok, too, I guess. We don’t hardly see her cause she works such long days, but she seems fine enough.

  Well, I guess that’ll do for now. I need to write Joseph and James to let them know about your daddy’s job. I know they’ll be tickled.

  By the way, I don’t suppose you could come home for Hap’s birthday on the 15th, could you? I know that’d be his favorite birthday present.

  Your loving mother.

  Putting pen to paper and laughing as I did so, I wrote:

  Dear Mama,

  You must have read my mind!! I’ll be home for Papa’s birthday, and, if it suits you both alright, I’ll be bringing a gentleman friend home with me. His name is David Perlow, and I’m anxious for you all to meet him.

  Your loving daughter,

  Eve

  The next morning, I put the letter in the outgoing mail at work. Somehow, I felt that once the letter was actually
signed, sealed, and delivered, my future was well on its way to being so, too.

  Chapter 15

  Going Home

  David and I traveled down the Ocklawaha on the May Breeze. Though I was excited to show him where I’d come from, I was pleased to see that it was Papa who constantly pointed out various things on the river or talked about the river itself, almost as if it had a soul. I knew exactly how my father felt, but I wondered if David would see it as we did or think we made far too much of a river that was, at times, not much wider than a large creek. But I underestimated how deeply David felt about land—all land—as well as the rivers that ran through them. He seemed to be as spellbound with the interior of Florida as he was with the coastal areas. And just as much as David seemed to love our part of Florida, my father seemed to love him.

  David was truly interested in what Papa showed him and didn’t treat my father as some silly Florida cracker who hadn’t ventured much beyond the state lines of Florida or Georgia. One of the things that made David Perlow an excellent business man was the fact that he was an inquisitive listener and an attentive audience.