To Love and Cherish

by Tracie Peterson

  Another fellow remained in his chair. “I didn’t sign up to go out in a hurricane. I’d rather look for another job than take my chances being killed in that storm.” He waved to a row of pegs along the wall. “You’re welcome to use my raincoat, though.”

  Alfred got up from his bed. “I’ll go with you, Evan.” He crossed the room and grabbed his raincoat.

  Of the twelve men in the room, only five donned their slickers. Except for Alfred, worry lines etched the men’s faces. Evan understood. Their worried looks were a near match for his own mounting concern. With the storm growing, there was no way they’d be able to reach even a third of the cottages. He sent Johnny to the clubhouse and the other three men in opposite directions with orders to check as many cottages as possible and then return to their quarters. “You come with me to the boathouse, Alfred. And you’d best fasten your slicker.”

  One of the men shouted a profanity as they opened the door and another huge gust blasted into the room, but Evan paid the fellow no heed. He was disappointed by their attitude but not totally surprised. Nobody wanted to go out in this weather. Well, almost nobody—Alfred was delighted.

  The men divided to head out in different directions. As they separated, Evan shouted, “Keep yourselves safe!”

  The wind moaned through tree limbs bowed low against the strain of the onslaught. A bolt of lightning crisscrossed the sky, quickly followed by a deafening clap of thunder that shook Evan to his core. Alfred cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “It’s beautiful, ain’t it?”

  A tree limb cracked then crashed to the ground not more than five feet away. The heavens opened and pummeled the earth with torrents of rain. Alfred tripped on a fallen branch and sprawled across the muddy path in front of him. Once again a flash of lightning bolted through the sky. Evan’s feet slipped in the mud as he grabbed hold of Alfred’s arm and fought to pull him up. The young man’s slicker flapped around him. Why hadn’t he fastened the coat?

  Alfred grinned at him. “Thanks, Evan.”

  Evan looped arms with Alfred and the two of them slogged forward. Only a short distance to go and they’d be at the boathouse. How he wished Captain Holloway was still in charge. When he’d been the overseer of the boathouse and captain of the Bessie II, he had lived in quarters above the boathouse. When a storm threatened, Captain Holloway always took charge of the boats. But after he’d suffered heart problems two years ago, the good captain had been forced to quit his job.

  The new captain, Richard Fleming, had accepted the position under a different set of circumstances. Married with two children, Captain Fleming had notified the investors that a cottage better suited a man with a wife and family. Although the living quarters above the boathouse were large enough for his family, Captain Fleming’s wife had objected to living in the structure. She cited worries over their children—a fact that was easily enough understood, since a large portion of the boathouse floated in the river to provide easy access for the vessels when they entered the building for storage and repair. Captain Fleming and his family departed Bridal Veil as soon as the season ended. Just like the investors, the captain and his family enjoyed a cooler climate during the summer months. When November returned, so would Captain Fleming and his family.

  During the captain’s absence, security of the boathouse was another of the many tasks assigned to Harland. And with Mr. Nordegren gone on his week of vacation, Harland was in charge. In truth, the workmen all depended upon Harland for guidance, whether Mr. Nordegren was present or not. The assistant manager cared a great deal about the clubhouse maintenance and repairs, but his scope of concern didn’t move far beyond the exterior of the large hotel complex.

  Evan held tight to Alfred as a crashing swell buffeted the boathouse and drenched the two of them. If this continued through the night, the damage would be even greater than Harland had estimated. Black water continued to rise and fall against the building in giant punishing waves. Once inside, he and Alfred managed to light several of the lanterns that hung low from the rafters. Though many of the buildings and cottages on Bridal Veil now had electricity, wiring the boathouse still remained on the investors’ list of pending improvements. Besides, if the electricity was still working anywhere on the island, Evan doubted it would remain operable much longer.

  He directed Alfred to the far side of the boathouse. “The ropes will stretch with the tidal surges, which will toss the boats about, so do your best to tie them down good and tight.”

  There weren’t as many boats on the far side, and Evan knew the young man moved at a slow pace. He didn’t doubt that Alfred would do his best, but no matter the circumstance, Alfred only moved at one speed—slow. There was nothing they could do to make the boathouse any more secure. If the force of the storm caused the boathouse to capsize, all of the boats would be damaged, but he continued to pray the storm would soon subside.

  Alfred held a lantern in one hand and did his best to remain upright as he closed the distance between them. “I’m going to go out and see the sky, Evan.”

  “No, Alfred! Stay in here!”

  If Alfred heard Evan, he didn’t heed him. He opened the rear door and disappeared into the darkness. The boathouse rocked with a vengeance, and water surged from beneath the boats. A clap of thunder followed a wild streak of lightning and an onslaught of riotous winds. Evan lost his footing and clung to one of the thick beams that supported the roof.

  When the waters briefly calmed enough that he could gain his balance, Evan picked his way to the doorway, clutching at ropes and beams to steady himself until he pulled open the door. “Alfred! Alfred!” He lifted his lantern high in the air and swung it in every direction, continuing to shout the boy’s name. But Alfred was nowhere to be seen.

  The despair that ripped at Evan’s heart was soon joined by threatening fear and uncertainty. He didn’t know what to do. To remain at the boathouse would likely be a death sentence for any man, yet he didn’t want to chance deserting Alfred. Evan’s head told him that the giant surge that had knocked him to the boathouse deck a short time ago had surely washed Alfred away, but his heart told him there could be a chance the young man had survived.

  Over and over he shouted Alfred’s name into the howling wind that continued to batter everything in its path. His thoughts raced in an attempt to reach some acceptable decision. “If Harland were here, what would he tell me to do?” He shouted the question into the high-pitched storm. When no answer came, he looked toward heaven and cried out to God, “What am I to do? Do I leave him and try to save myself? I don’t know if he’s alive. Show me what to do, God!”

  A bolt of lightning flashed overhead and lit up the sky. Beneath the shining light, the decking that surrounded the exterior of the boathouse appeared as black and shiny as patent leather. Debris deposited by the ebb and flow of the waves lay scattered atop the deck awaiting the next surge that would wash it out to sea. Evan turned toward the far end of the deck, and his eyes fell upon what looked like Alfred’s slicker. He edged his way down the short distance and retrieved the raincoat. His throat caught and his tears mingled with the rain that pelted him as he clutched the coat to his chest.

  CHAPTER 8

  Still clutching Alfred’s raincoat, Evan slowly fought his way back to the hunting lodge. The rain had subsided, but rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning warned there was more to come. Battered and worn, he had no idea how long his struggle against the elements had taken before he finally dragged himself up the steps to the hunting lodge. With his remaining strength, he pushed open the door and fell inside the room.

  “Evan!” Harland crossed the distance between them in several long strides. “I’ve been praying for your safety, boy.” Using his shoulder, Harland pushed the door closed and then fell against it as the wind once again raised a screeching howl. “You didn’t get back here any too soon. I think we’re in for another round.”

  Evan dropped Alfred’s slicker onto the floor. His stomach lurched at the sight of the rumpl
ed raincoat. Surges of pounding guilt and sorrow now replaced the battering he’d withstood from the storm. He couldn’t tell Harland what had happened—not yet. The words wouldn’t come, even if he tried. “What time is it?”

  “Near three o’clock. We’ve got at least four more hours until we see any sign of daylight. And if this doesn’t let up, it will be even longer.” He grabbed a towel and blanket and handed them to Evan. “Best get out of those wet clothes.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You were gone so long I was beginning to think the Lord hadn’t heard my prayers.”

  Delilah padded to Evan’s side and wound between his legs before quickly moving away. Evan gestured to the cat. “Best stay clear of me if you don’t want to get wet, Delilah.” He glanced at Harland. “Delilah got anything to say about this weather?”

  Harland shook his head. “Nothing good.”

  Evan looked around the room. Harland had done his best to fortify the downstairs against the wind and rain. A heavy gun cabinet had been moved in front of one window while other large pieces of furniture blocked the other windows and rear door.

  “Now that you’re back here safe and sound, I’m gonna push this bookcase in front of the door.”

  “It’s too heavy. Let me help you.” Evan jumped to his feet, and between the two of them, they moved the heavy piece of furniture close enough to block the front door.

  Once they’d completed the task, Harland motioned toward the stairs. “Now you best go up and change out of those wet clothes.”

  Evan didn’t argue. His bones felt as though they’d been chilled to the marrow and would never again feel warmth. When he returned downstairs, Harland was sitting in one of the large leather chairs, his forehead wrinkled with concern. “The men get back to their quarters? I hope they had the sense to block the windows. You tell ’em to block the windows?”

  “I think they know to block the windows, Harland.” Most of those men knew more about storms and hurricanes than Evan did. They’d lived on the coast for all of their lives. “Only a few of them were willing to go out in the storm and help secure the cottages and clubhouse. I don’t know if they’re safe. I couldn’t make it over there once I left the boathouse.”

  “Don’t like hearing the men wouldn’t follow orders. Some of ’em may find themselves without a job if they try that again.”

  Harland’s words cut Evan like a sharp knife, and he dropped to one of the chairs. If Alfred had refused to go, he’d still be alive. His throat closed as he pointed to the rain slicker on the floor. How could he tell Harland about Alfred if he couldn’t even say the boy’s name? Harland cast a glance at the raincoat before his gaze settled on Evan.

  “That belong to one of our men? Is someone missing out in the storm?” The alarm in his voice matched the panic that flashed in his eyes. “Who is it? What happened, Evan? Tell me!” He jumped up from his chair and crossed the distance between them in three long strides. “Who did we lose out there?”

  “Alfred.” He covered his face with his palms as he choked out the boy’s name. “I didn’t keep him safe, Harland.”

  “Tell me what happened.” The older man sat down in the chair beside him.

  Once Evan was able to speak, he told how Alfred went out to watch the storm. “I shouted at him to stay inside.” Grief choked him as he told how he’d searched for the young man but found nothing except for the raincoat. “I told him to fasten it, but he didn’t listen.”

  Harland patted his shoulder. “Fastened or not, the raincoat wouldn’t have saved him if a surge hit the boathouse deck. You can’t blame yourself, Evan. He didn’t listen to your warning.” Harland leaned back and stroked his chin. “Doesn’t look like you believe me, but if there’s blame that needs placing for the boy’s death, you can put it square on my shoulders. I’m the one who told you to take him to the boathouse, so the fault is mine, not yours.”

  Evan shook his head. “This isn’t your fault, Harland.”

  “And it isn’t yours, either. It was an accident—a sad and tragic accident that will haunt both of us for a long time to come. I think it might help both of us if we did some Bible reading and praying.” He smiled, but the sadness in his eyes didn’t disappear. “You want to join me?”

  The lights flickered and Evan glanced at a lamp between the chairs. “We may need to read by lantern light if the electricity gives out, but I know it would help me to do some Bible reading. Maybe I’ll find something that will help take away some of this guilt.”

  “The boy had choices, Evan. He could listen to your counsel and remain safe, or go about his own way and deal with the consequences. I don’t mean to sound harsh, but we’ve each and every one of us got those same choices to make. Some of us make mistakes and live to try again. Sometimes those mistakes are deadly. Either way, it ain’t up to us to make another fella’s choices. If Alfred would have done as he was told, he’d be right here with us.”

  “It hurts just the same,” Evan admitted. “No matter who’s to blame.”

  “Indeed it does.” Harland handed him one of the Bibles from the bookcase. “But this is the best salve I know. You might want to start with Romans, chapter eight.”

  Evan hadn’t finished reading the chapter when Delilah arched her back and screeched an ear-splitting yowl. The electricity went off at the same moment, and Evan was thankful they’d taken care to light a lantern. With a ferocity that caused the hunting lodge to shudder around them, the storm returned with renewed force. From behind their furniture barricades, glass shattered, and the wind did battle with the heavy wooden objects. Rain seeped through the windows and beneath the doors.

  The heavy chest they’d moved in front of a side window teetered. “Help me hold it in place!” Both men pushed to hold their weight against the chest while Harland prayed aloud for strength. “I think the worst of the storm is upon us, Evan. Pray the winds will shift and move away from the islands and mainland.”

  Evan prayed.

  The hours passed like days. The wind, thunder, lightning, and rain continued, but by midmorning the storm had lost much of its intensity. The two men sloshed through the water that had entered the lodge during the tidal surge that hit in the early morning hours. Delilah remained safe and dry on the stairway leading to the second floor, watching Evan and Harland as they pushed the bookcase away from the front door.

  Evan gestured toward the cat. “Looks like Delilah may have to live on the stairs and second floor until we get all this water out of here.”

  Harland chuckled. “You can be sure she won’t get her paws wet, and that’s a fact.” He grunted as he moved the bookcase far enough to open the door. “Might as well get out here and see what’s left of the place.”

  The skies remained dark and foreboding, but Harland appeared calm. Uprooted trees had been tossed about like sticks. A giant cypress blocked the main path from the lodge, the limbs stretched in awkward angles like broken appendages, but Harland motioned him forward. “Getting this tree out of the path will be one of our first tasks. Let’s make our way over to the O’Sullivans’ place, and then we’ll move on to the workers’ quarters, the boathouse, the clubhouse, and the cottages. Best to check out the damage and then decide what needs our attention right away. Don’t even need to go see the windmill—it was probably the first thing to fall.”

  Evan stared in disbelief as they picked their way through the piles of debris that blocked their path at every turn. A gnawing emptiness settled in the pit of his stomach, the void deepening with each remembrance of Alfred’s death. The thought of finding other dead or wounded workers pressed on him like a heavy weight. At least Melinda was safe.

  CHAPTER 9

  Melinda sat at a distance keeping a close watch for Mrs. Mifflin’s gesture. This afternoon’s gathering was the first tea the matron had hosted since her failed social for Mrs. McKinley. All of the servants had received explicit instructions that blunders would not be tolerated. And, as usual, they’d heard Mrs. Mifflin’s habitual warning that the
ir wages would be decreased if anyone made a mistake.

  Sally grinned and gently elbowed Melinda when Mrs. Mifflin had issued the customary edict. Yet they knew the words were more than an idle threat. She would execute her promise if she deemed it necessary. None of the servants could afford a decrease in their wages, but they worried more about the matron’s temperamental repercussions than any reduction in pay. So on this particular day all of the servants were striving to please.

  Once tea had been served and on Mrs. Mifflin’s signal, Melinda would make her way to the piano and entertain the guests while they enjoyed the afternoon repast. “Don’t play too loud,” Mrs. Mifflin had sternly instructed. “I want the music to fill any silences but be soft enough to permit unhindered conversation.”

  On other occasions Melinda had been granted permission to read while she waited to serve Mrs. Mifflin’s needs. Today, however, her gaze would remain fixed upon her mistress. The guests, smaller in number than those who had been invited to Mrs. McKinley’s tea, were seated in the parlor, while Melinda remained on the perimeter, close to the piano, within sight of Mrs. Mifflin and also within earshot of any conversations. The matrons’ perfumes soon overpowered the room. Scents of spring flowers mingled with heavier musky aromas in a blend that soon caused Melinda’s eyes to water. She touched the corner of her handkerchief to her eyes, thankful the ladies would be in the other room while she played the piano. Sneezing during her presentation would be unacceptable.

  Martha Genesee, one of Mrs. Mifflin’s close friends, snapped open her fan. “It’s warm for October, don’t you think, Dorothea?” She whisked the fan back and forth in front of her nose.

  “A little, but we often have these final spurts of summer during early fall.” Although Mrs. Mifflin appeared to have placed her full attention on her guest, Melinda could see her employer’s eyes darting about the dining room to ensure all was going smoothly. Soon Sally would have everything properly set in the dining room, and Mrs. Mifflin could relax.