Lord, guide my words. Give me courage to face this and courage for Daddy to change.
Now, where should she start? Trip wanted her to invite her father to the revival. Maybe that was as good a place as any.
When she and Mark reached the camp, she sought out her father. She found him sitting on the wicker settee while her mother prepared for dinner. She slid in place beside him. To her surprise, he didn’t seem shocked by her request to join her at the revival, but he politely declined, saying that her mother had arranged a dinner engagement with the Prestons.
She studied him for a moment. He’d lost weight in the last month, but he didn’t seem to be harboring some dark secret. Perhaps Trip was wrong. Maybe her father’s involvement in gambling was merely sport. But either way, it was still wrong.
A familiar knot wedged in her throat. In her heart, she knew the truth.
“Daddy, about yesterday – ”
His voice deepened. “If you’ll forget you saw me, I’ll forget I saw you.”
“I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve been out in the sun, Maggie dear. Your cheeks are pink. What will your mother say?”
“That I’ll freckle.” The familiar nickname warmed her. Only he called her Maggie, and it seemed like weeks since he’d done so. “I played tennis and went swimming.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “With Trip Andrews?”
“And Mark,” she hurried to add.
He tapped her nose, and his lips bowed. “The color suits you.” With that, he stood. “I’d best go get ready before your mother comes calling. Enjoy your evening, sweetheart.”
She considered telling him to do likewise but figured he’d had enough enjoyable evenings lately.
“Why the frown, Maggie?”
“I’m afraid.”
“Sweetheart, I would never let anything hurt you. You know that. Don’t you trust me?”
The sadness that shadowed his eyes tore at her heart. “I do, Daddy, but …”
“No buts.” He pulled her into his arms. “I love you. Just remember that.” He released her at the shrill sound of her mother’s voice calling him to leave. “We’ll talk later tonight. Now, you go and have a good time with Mr. Andrews.”
Back in her tent, Marguerite and Lilly prepared for the revival. Marguerite’s thoughts kept turning to her father. Of course she trusted him not to hurt her. She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t afraid for herself but for him. And how did he know Trip had asked her to the revival? He seemed to be giving her permission to see him. But surely he knew of Roger’s intentions. She shook her head. Nothing her father did right now made sense.
She sighed and drew the brush through her wavy tresses. Roger would be back soon. What would she tell him? How would she explain Trip? What’s more, how would she explain what her father had been involved in? If Roger didn’t already know about it, he would never understand. He couldn’t tolerate weakness in others.
And she couldn’t tolerate him. She wrinkled her nose in the mirror. The scrunched face brought a slant to her lips. She set the brush aside and wound her hair on top of her head.
Lilly moved behind her, pinned it in place, and patted her shoulder. “Mr. Andrews won’t be able to focus on the sermon tonight if you get any prettier.”
“I think he’ll manage.” Marguerite held out her wrist and waited while Lilly secured the stiff cuffs. With its tailored fit and large leg-of-mutton sleeves, the purple walking suit she’d chosen for the evening was one of her favorites. She picked up the matching summer hat, hoping Trip wouldn’t think the abundance of lavender, pink, and white silk flowers, the trailing silk ribbon, and the small ostrich plume was too much for the casual evening.
“You’re quiet tonight. Have a lot on your mind?” Lilly secured her own much more modest bonnet.
“Just thinking about some different things.” Marguerite pinned the hat in place and tucked her watch beneath her belt. “I’ve decided to tell Roger the truth – I don’t have feelings for him, I never will, and I can’t accept his proposal.”
Lilly picked up her Bible and a smile lit her face. “About time.”
The tent revival left them all stirred. The preacher delivered a powerful sermon on the dangers of gambling. Marguerite wished her father were in attendance, and when she saw Trip speaking to the minister, she wondered if he’d already contacted Brother Davis concerning her father.
Before she could ask, he whisked her and Lilly away, explaining they’d better hurry if they wanted a good view of the attraction at the beach. With the setting sun, Marguerite expected the patrons to begin boarding the steamboats to take them back to the streetcar terminal. Instead, a crush of people gathered in front of the pavilion, pressed against the rail.
Harry waved them over as they approached. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”
“Were you at the tent meeting?” Trip asked.
“Of course. I just snuck out early.” He patted the railing and winked at Marguerite. “Wanted to save our girl a good spot.”
Trip shot his friend a glare, and Marguerite giggled. He pressed his hand to her back, urging her to the rail. When Lilly didn’t follow, he motioned her forward as well.
“There she is!” Harry pointed to a tower set beyond the docks in the lake.
Marguerite couldn’t believe her eyes. “Is that a woman climbing that ladder?”
“Not just any woman,” Trip said. “That’s Miss Fishbaugh.”
He said the name with a sense of awe in his voice, and Marguerite leaned over the railing. “But that tower’s at least two stories high.”
“It’s thirty feet, but who’s counting?” Harry chuckled.
Miss Fishbaugh reached the diving platform, and Trip leaned close to Marguerite’s ear. “Now watch.”
The female diver lifted a metal can and doused her bathing suit with liquid. She then attached a large, cone-shaped collar around her neck. Marguerite tipped her head toward Trip. “What did she pour on herself?”
“Gasoline.”
“Why on earth did she do a fool thing like that?” Lilly asked.
Before anyone could answer, Miss Fishbaugh struck a match and her suit burst into flames. Marguerite gasped along with the hundreds gathered to watch the spectacle. A few women in the crowd screeched. Then, like a bird, Miss Fishbaugh dove into Lake Manawa. She surfaced a moment later and pulled herself onto the dock. She waved at the crowds and the people cheered.
“That’s amazing!” Marguerite pressed her hand to her chest, attempting to quell her racing heart.
“I knew you’d like it.” Trip offered Marguerite his arm. “What did you think, Miss Lilly?”
“I think you’d better be careful giving Miss Marguerite any ideas.”
Trip laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
The foursome headed down the boardwalk. Harry paired up with Lilly in polite conversation, allowing Trip and Marguerite to dally behind alone.
“How does she keep from catching afire?” Marguerite touched the back of her upswept hair.
“Her suit is made of asbestos. It’s a fabric that doesn’t burn. I think that collar protects her hair. But I can’t imagine what possesses her to do something so dangerous.”
“I can.”
He shook his head. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
The teasing lilt in his voice made her smile. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to do that, but I understand wanting to try the impossible.”
Trip glanced at the night sky. “To reach for the stars?”
“Yes. Or at least enjoy trying.”
“Marguerite, I need to ask you something.” Levity now gone, his voice dropped lower.
“All right.”
“That man who came for you the night you fell in the lake and took you to the dance …”
“Roger Gordon.”
“I haven’t seen him around.”
“He’s been out of town recently.”
>
He stopped on the path and waited until she turned toward him. “What does he mean to you?”
Trip’s face, awash in dusk’s pale light, showed tiny worry lines around his eyes and, if she had to guess, a spark of jealousy. She smiled. “He means less to me than he thinks he does.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Roger is my mother’s answer to my lack of marital bliss.”
His scowl deepened. “You’re going to marry him?”
“Heavens no! But if my mother had her way, I would.” She squeezed his arm with her gloved hand. “Trip, you have nothing to worry about. Let me put it this way. You’re like the dive tower, and Roger is like a beach chair. Who do you think I’d choose?”
He raised an eyebrow and his dimples cratered his cheeks. “So you’re willing to take a chance on me?”
“Maybe.” She eyed him with a smirk. “Since you have a sailboat and all.”
If it were possible to float to her tent, Marguerite was certain she could. The taste of Trip’s lips still lingered on her own. He’d asked for one kiss for luck tomorrow, and she’d willingly provided it despite Lilly’s attempt to shoo him away.
Now, when Lilly suggested they get to bed early before the big day, she deferred, saying she just wanted to sit under the stars for a few minutes.
“More like get the stars out of your eyes,” her friend teased. “Just don’t expect me to stay up and wait for you.”
After assuring Lilly that she wouldn’t wake her, Marguerite walked to the sitting area in the center of the camp.
A lamp on the table illuminated her father. He held his head in his hands.
Heart thundering, she stopped short. “Daddy? What’s wrong? Has something happened to Mother or Mark?”
He glanced up, his eyes glistening with tears, his face pale and drawn. “Maggie dear, come sit down.”
20
Fearing her knees would give way, Marguerite grabbed for the back of the wicker chair before lowering herself onto its cushion.
Her father reached across the table and captured her hands. “Your mother is fine – for now.”
“Daddy, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”
He released his hold and drew his hand through his hair. “I’ve made a horrible mistake, sweetheart.”
“I know about the gambling, Daddy, but I forgive you. God will forgive you too. Just ask Him.”
He held out his hands, palms up, and spread them wide. “It’s all gone. The money. The business. I’ve lost it all. We’re penniless. Not even enough to pay Trip Andrews back for bailing me out.”
Her mouth went dry and the words came out in a hoarse whisper. “Because I wouldn’t let Mark race?”
“No, that was merely to buy me more time.” He leaned back in the chair.
“There’s nothing left?” she squeaked. “You gambled it all away?”
“I had one more business deal, but …”
“But what?”
“It’s with Roger Gordon.”
“Oh.”
“He’ll be home soon.”
“I guess that’s good.” She unpinned her hat with trembling hands and set it on the table. “You can focus on your business with him. I’m certain he’ll give you a loan until the situation improves.”
Her father leaned forward, steepled his hands in front of him on the tabletop, and released a long sigh. “Marguerite, don’t be naive. He arranged this business deal in hopes that it would soften me toward giving him your hand in marriage.”
“You’d do that? Agree to me marrying him?” Her hand shot to her mouth and her stomach clenched.
His silence answered her.
She blinked. “And if I don’t accept his proposal?”
Still no answer.
“Daddy?”
“He will most likely withdraw his offer of partnership in the new business venture.”
“And we’ll have nothing,” she croaked. “Is there any other way?”
He laid a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Marguerite. I can’t think of anything else.”
Mind spinning, Marguerite looked into his eyes. What did she see in their tear-filled depths? Fear? Desperation?
She must have misunderstood him. Her father wouldn’t allow this. No. Not him. Not her hero. He loved her. He saved her from life’s injustices. He didn’t feed her to the monsters. Not him.
“Daddy?”
He stood, kissed the top of her head, and departed, leaving her alone in the darkness.
Oh, Lord, this can’t be happening.
A shudder shook her frame, the pain splintering her heart. She felt so raw even tears didn’t come. How could she say yes to Roger? Not now. Especially not now.
My father can’t ask this of me. He’ll think of something. He can’t ask me to make a sacrifice like this.
But he had.
If she didn’t accept Roger’s proposal, what would happen to her family? To Mark? To Lilly? Could she watch them suffer because of her selfishness?
Lord, help. I can’t do this.
Try as she might, Marguerite couldn’t force her feet to go faster even though it was the morning of the regatta. Tugging on the puffy sleeve of her tailored jacket, Mark dragged Marguerite toward the Endeavor, still docked behind the boat shop.
Marguerite’s feet felt tangled in a net. A net of lies. At least this time they belonged to her father and not her.
Now I know where I learned to lie so well.
“Come on! We’re going to miss seeing him before they shove off!”
Plastering on her best smile, she let Mark haul her behind the building and onto the dock. Would Trip see through a fake veneer of excitement? She didn’t want to upset him before the big race. This day was too important to him.
Mark hailed the Endeavor’s skipper. Trip looked up from his preparations and beamed at Marguerite. He was dressed in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows and a pair of tan creased trousers, and his tousled sandy hair peeked out from beneath a flat straw hat. He hopped over the side of the boat and jogged to meet her.
“You look beautiful – and tired. I thought you’d have sweet dreams last night.” He flashed a smile with dimples so deep she ached to touch them.
“Ew.” Mark stuck out his tongue. “She ain’t beautiful. She’s just Marguerite.”
Marguerite frowned. “Isn’t beautiful.”
“See, she knows it too.”
Trip chuckled and laid a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Hey, sport, why don’t you go save your sister a spot to watch the race?”
After Mark trotted off, Trip turned back to Marguerite. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”
“I guess I was simply too excited about the regatta.” She glanced around. The bright sky and gentle breeze didn’t mirror the storm in her heart. “The weather seems perfect.”
“Perfect for leaving those pretty boys and their fancy boat in our wake.” He pointed to one of the other crews, all wearing matching jackets, and chuckled.
“You really don’t like them, do you?”
“Let’s just say we have a history, and Dane likes to throw his past victories in my face.” Trip glanced at his crew readying the boat. “Listen, I’ve got to go, but I want to ask you something first. The Yacht Club is sponsoring a ball tonight to celebrate the regatta, and I would be honored if you’d allow me to escort you to it.”
Her heart lurched. One more night with him. Dancing in his arms. Laughing with him. Sharing dreams. Pure heaven or pure torture?
She should say no and end this once and for all. She really should. It wasn’t right to pretend they could have more. Still, she couldn’t make her mouth form the word, especially not today with the impending regatta. This was the most important day of Trip’s life, and she wanted to be there for him.
She forced a smile. “I’d love to go with you.”
“I’ll call for you at 7:00.” He kissed her cheek. “For luck.”
“For God’s blessing.” She pressed her h
andkerchief in his hand, then watched him trot back to the sailboat and hop lithely aboard. With a commanding voice filled with respect for his crew, he barked orders and they jumped to fulfill them.
Everyone loved Trip.
Do I love him?
Taking a step back, she pressed a hand to her wildly beating heart pounding a rhythm of truth.
Trip gathered his crew. They removed their hats and bowed their heads in prayer.
Her heart shattered. It wasn’t fair. Trip was everything Roger was not. Didn’t God want her with a man who loved Him?
He stood in the bow and waved to her. “Marguerite, meet me in the winner’s circle!”
She blew a kiss back to him and whispered, “God bless you, Phillip Sutton Andrews the Third.”
Enthusiasm buzzing amid his crew, Trip surveyed their work one final time as they prepared to float away from the docks. With hearty approval, he declared everything in order.
Then Trip saw him – his father, standing on the dock, critically assessing every detail. Trip hopped off the Endeavor and hurried over to meet him. “Here to wish us luck?”
“No.”
Trip’s heart sank.
“You don’t need luck. You have skill.”
Mouth dry, Trip swallowed the lump in his throat. “Thanks, Dad. I … uh … better go. The race will be starting soon.”
“Just remember to take your lead early, so you can keep away from all those idiots who don’t have a clue what they’re doing.”
Trip nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The Endeavor glided to the starting line at the sound of the five-minute warning gun. Glancing back at the shore, Trip shook his head. He’d never expected to hear those words from his father. Almost a compliment.
Trip surveyed the triangle-shaped course marked by flagged cork buoys. The wind – he guessed at fourteen to fifteen knots – was true, and they should make top speed.
“What do you think of our competition?” Harry stepped beside him.
“The Antilles always does pretty well, and the Ranger looked sharp yesterday.”
“Ahoy there, Endeavor!”
Trip lifted his gaze to see the captain of the Viking, Dane Henderson from Spirit Lake, waving. Trip nodded in greeting.
Making Waves Page 20
