To Love and Cherish

by Tracie Peterson

  “Truly? Well, I haven’t gotten back down there. I’ve been keeping myself otherwise occupied.” He extended his hand to Mr. Powers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir, and I thank you for looking after my sister.” His lips curved in a roguish grin. “I’m sure you understand that I’ve discovered a great many ways to occupy my time in your fair city.”

  Mr. Powers gripped Lawrence’s hand. “I’m pleased to hear you are fond of our city. Perhaps you’ll permit me to show you and your sister some of the places I most enjoy.”

  “My sister and I don’t enjoy many of the same pastimes, Mr. Powers. While I enjoy a good game of cards, the horse races, and a glass of bourbon, she prefers more genteel outings.” Lawrence chuckled. “What about you, Mr. Powers? Do you enjoy a good game of cards?”

  He nodded. “On occasion, Mr. Colson.”

  Melinda glared at her brother. “It matters little what either of you enjoy, Lawrence. We are departing in the morning at eight o’clock. I’ve booked passage on a freighter to Biscayne. The accommodations aren’t the best, but the distance isn’t great, so we shouldn’t be on board for long. And if you want to bring that horse along, you’ll need to pay for his passage.”

  She turned to Mr. Powers. “Thank you again for your kindness. I do hope that your aunt will be pleased with her hat.” That said, she turned and hurried toward the carpeted staircase.

  When she reached the upper floor, she stopped and looked over the rail and into the lobby. Her brother and Mr. Powers were departing the hotel together—likely in search of a card game.

  CHAPTER 13

  Melinda stepped off the freighter in Biscayne. A foul odor assaulted her senses, and for a moment she remained speechless, unable to grasp the extent of the damage that surrounded them. Debris lined the coastal shores and the town resembled the aftermath of a great battle. She marveled that there weren’t more deaths from the storm, given the extensive damage.

  “How could anyone survive such destruction?” she asked to no one in particular.

  “If you look close, you can see the waterline on the buildings.” Her brother pointed to the faint mark that stood nearly as high as Melinda’s height. “I hope I’ll be able to find a suitable place for my horse.”

  Melinda looked at him in disgust. “Your horse is the least of things to worry about, Lawrence.”

  “Careful as ya go there, miss,” one of the sailors called. “Some of them planks is loose. Don’t want ya fallin’ in the water.” The sailor was leading the horse off the freighter and handed the reins to Lawrence once they were on the pier. “Ya might want to walk on up ahead of the horse.”

  Instead of worrying over Melinda’s safety, Lawrence glanced at the tilted boards, then back toward the sailor. “Are you telling me this dock could give way under the weight of my horse?”

  The sailor lifted a corner of the dirty kerchief tied around his neck and wiped his upper lip. “Can’t say for sure. Ain’t much of nothin’ safe after a hurricane, ’specially the pilings that hold up these docks.” He grinned, his stubby yellow teeth protruding like ripe kernels on an ear of corn.

  Melinda didn’t wait for further explanation before making her way to the end of the pier. She wasn’t certain the area along the wharf was much better. The captain of the freighter had told them a great deal of progress had been made toward cleanup in Biscayne, but she now questioned his appraisal. A confusion of boxes, barrels, cotton bales, mattresses, broken furniture, doors, timbers, dry goods, and every other conceivable item lay strewn about in utter chaos. The rising temperature and humidity served to create a gut-wrenching stench that caused her to reach for her handkerchief and press it to her nose. What must it have looked like before their arrival? How had anyone survived this?

  She glanced about, hoping she might see Old Sam’s trawler. If anyone could tell her about Evan, it would be Old Sam. But neither Old Sam nor his boat was anywhere in sight. Still, she was one step nearer to Evan. At least she prayed she was closer to him. She had prayed she would find Evan vibrant and fit and that he would be pleased to see her. Since leaving Cleveland, she’d been plagued by Mrs. Mifflin’s warnings. And when she’d heard one of the Bridal Veil workers had died, her worries had compounded. Her emotions wavered back and forth—from deep foreboding and sadness to crushing panic and fear.

  Over the past weeks, Melinda had lain awake at night thinking of all the possibilities—most causing her fear to deepen. She’d finally succumbed to the knowledge that she needed to place her trust in God. But knowing what she should do and actually doing it proved difficult. Over and over, she’d asked God to erase her fears, give her peace, and replace her worries with trust in Him. For short periods of time, she would meet with success, but soon she’d snatch back her fears and hold them close, as if they were dear friends rather than her enemies.

  The captain had their luggage taken to the large wharf, where several of the steamship and freighting companies had their warehouses and storefronts. She stopped in front of the Shining Star Steamship Company office and turned toward her brother, who was following at a short distance. She pointed at the doorway. “I’m going inside to see if there are any boats going to the islands.”

  Lawrence frowned. “I think we’d do better talking to some of the fishermen. A steamship isn’t going to be crossing the river to the islands.”

  “I’m quite aware of that, Lawrence, but I didn’t think you’d want to lead your horse out on those rickety planks where the launches and fishing boats are tied.”

  He tipped his head and smirked. “Guess you could hold onto the reins and I could go down there and ask around.”

  She shook her head. “Better for me to go.” It wasn’t that she minded the horse. In fact, she thought the animal was beautiful. And though she didn’t consider herself well trained, she was certain her riding ability would surprise Lawrence. Evan had taught her to ride the first winter she’d been on Bridal Veil. Since then, the two of them had taken many rides along the hard-packed beaches on the eastern side of the island.

  He patted the horse’s sleek coat. “And why is it better for you to go?”

  She pointed to the horse. “If you want passage for your animal, I think we’ll need a barge, not a fishing boat. Why don’t you tie him over there and come in with me.”

  She was willing to pay for her own passage to Bridal Veil, but she wasn’t paying for the horse. She’d overheard some of the sailors talking and knew her brother had used his time on the freighter to advantage. A number of them had commented on the fact that he’d emptied their pockets with his card games. When they’d been alone, she had criticized his behavior, but she now realized it was going to take more than a few words to change her brother’s gaming habits. In truth, it seemed his penchant for gaming had grown stronger since their parents’ deaths.

  He hesitated and glanced about, his gaze settling on some of the ne’er-do-wells lingering on the docks. He turned and gestured to a boy of about ten. “I’ve a shiny coin for you if you’ll look after my horse.” He pulled the boy close and gave him instructions to shout at the top of his lungs should anyone come near the horse.

  “Don’t you worry, sir. Folks as far as St. Simons will hear me shout if anyone tries to touch this beautiful horse.” The boy grasped the reins and wrapped them around his hand before making a fist. “No one will get him away from me. You can be sure of it.”

  Once inside the shipping office, Lawrence took charge and within a short time had completed arrangements. While Melinda would go to Bridal Veil, he would wait and accompany his horse on a barge. The local manager of the shipping line didn’t encourage them to remain in the area. “Lots of damage here in Biscayne, and Bridal Veil got its share, too. You might want to wait and come back during the regular season. Even without the hurricane, this isn’t the best time to vacation in these parts.”

  Melinda stepped close to the counter. “We’re not here on vacation. I have friends who work on Bridal Veil Island. I’ve come to make certai
n they’re not injured. And we’re hoping to help with the repairs to the island.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Lawrence muttered.

  When the agent looked away to give a sailor instructions, Melinda nudged her brother. “We do plan to help, Lawrence. Otherwise, why are you here?”

  Once the sailor departed, the manager turned back to them and pointed out the launch for Melinda. Since entering the office, she’d been fearful of asking, but finally she inhaled a deep breath. “Do you know anything about a death on Bridal Veil?”

  The agent’s smile vanished and he glanced out the door. “Sad thing to lose anyone in a hurricane, but when it’s a young man, full of life . . .” He fisted his hand and touched his chest. “It hurts your heart.”

  “Did you know him?” Melinda’s voice cracked.

  “That I did. Not well, since he lived over on the island, but his family lives here in Biscayne, so the boy was back and forth each week to bring his pay to his pa.”

  Melinda didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until the tightness in her chest made it feel as though it might explode. She exhaled a whoosh of air. “Then it wasn’t Evan Tarlow?”

  “No, not Evan, though I know him also. It was Alfred Toomie. Young fella that helped loading baggage and the like—least that’s what his pa told me. His family lives up on the hill a ways.”

  Melinda didn’t want to rejoice at the news, but relief washed over her like a spring rain. “And Evan Tarlow wasn’t injured?”

  “Evan’s fine. He’s been over here to the mainland a few times for supplies and to hire men to help with the cleanup. From what I’ve heard, no one else was hurt over there. Just the Toomie boy.”

  Melinda attempted to recollect if she’d ever seen Alfred, but she didn’t recall the name. There had been any number of young boys who came and went, most of them nameless faces. She regretted the fact that she’d never bothered to ask any of them their names. She shuddered at the thought that she’d adopted more of Mrs. Mifflin’s ways than she wanted to admit.

  Momentarily engulfed by her own guilt, Melinda reached into her reticule. “I don’t have a lot of money, but perhaps a dollar or two would help the family.”

  The agent nodded. “I’m sure it would, but Frank Toomie would spend it on liquor instead of food for his family. It would be better to take your money to the grocer and ask him to place a credit on Mrs. Toomie’s account.” He gestured toward the dock. “You won’t have time, miss.” He turned his attention to Lawrence. “Perhaps your friend could see to it while he awaits the arrival of the barge.”

  After requesting the location of the store, Melinda and Lawrence left the office. She handed him the money, and though he briefly objected to the task, he finally agreed. He stood on the dock and waved as the launch pulled away from the dilapidated dock.

  “Soon all will be back to the way it was before the storm,” the owner of the launch told her. “Much progress has been made.”

  Melinda had heard that remark earlier in the day, but after viewing only a small portion of Biscayne, she remained unconvinced. “What of Bridal Veil? Have you been on the island?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head, “but Old Sam says the damage there isn’t as great.” He chuckled. “’Course there wasn’t as much for those winds to tear down on the island as there was on the mainland.”

  She supposed that was true, but after seeing homes and buildings completely leveled in Biscayne, Melinda wondered about the extravagant cottages that dotted Bridal Veil, especially Summerset Cottage. Surely the owners would be eager for a report. Perhaps Mr. Morley or one of the other investors had already been there and assessed the damage.

  As the launch churned the dark river waters, she imagined Evan waiting at the dock to meet her, his arms open wide and his welcome exuberant. But when the dock came into view, there was no one waiting to greet her. What remained of the dock appeared sound, yet much smaller than the original. The captain edged the boat alongside the pier and directed one of the men to offload her baggage.

  “Guess you know how to get to the lodge from here,” the captain said.

  Melinda thanked him. As the launch pulled away, she forced a deep breath. Was it the weight of her decisions or the damp air that made it difficult to breathe? A warbler chirped overhead, as if to urge her on. Grasping the handles of a smaller bag, she gathered her courage and then headed in the direction of the hunting lodge.

  The uprooted cypress trees, twisted palmettos, and debris-laden paths proved the island hadn’t escaped the storm. Although the roots of the huge live oaks had held the giant trees in the ground, most of the branches had been stripped. Gone were the frothy veils of moss. Gone, too, were the rich green, everlasting leaves that had caused the giant trees to bear the name live oak. They now stood like naked sentinels silently observing the ravages of the storm. She continued along the muddy path, trying to absorb the transformation of the landscape.

  The hem of her skirt caught on a protruding branch, and she leaned down to untangle the fabric. Her damp clothing clung to her body like a second skin, yet in spite of the heat, Melinda shivered. Finally comprehending the power of the hurricane gave rise to another fear. Would making her home on this island mean she might face such a storm in the future? And if it did, was this where she truly wanted to live the remainder of her life? As she rounded the final turn to the hunting lodge, the question assailed her like a battering wind.

  Brushing damp strands of hair from her forehead, she climbed the steps and knocked on the door. She dropped her bag on the porch and turned the doorknob. “Evan! Harland! Is anyone here?”

  When no answer came, she stepped into the sitting room and glanced toward the stairs. Surely they wouldn’t still be in bed—it was far too late in the day. She jumped and turned at the sound of metal crashing onto the wood floor. “Delilah! You scared me to death. And look what you’ve done.” Apparently the cat had jumped down from a higher perch and landed on the metal pan. “You tipped over your food.” Unruffled by Melinda’s scolding, the cat padded to her side, purred, and brushed against the fullness of Melinda’s skirt. As she strutted back toward her food, the cat’s white-tipped tail waved like a flag in the morning breeze.

  Other than Delilah’s scattered food, the lodge appeared in perfect order. After she had viewed so much chaos, the neat surroundings jarred her sensibilities. She stooped down and gathered the food back into the metal pan, but a part of her thought the small mess appropriate—as if it fit much better than the tidiness. Delilah remained close by her side and intently watched. “You need not worry. I won’t eat any of your food.” Melinda chuckled and scratched the cat’s ear.

  Once she’d finished, Melinda stood and looked down at Delilah. “So where are Evan and Harland, Delilah? Too bad you can’t talk.” She strode to the porch, picked up her bag, and placed it inside the door. The cat sat nearby staring at her. “I think I’ll go see if Emma is about. Maybe she can tell me where I’ll find Evan. You be sure and pass along my whereabouts to Evan if he returns, Delilah.”

  She laughed aloud at her silliness. Her brother would think she’d lost her mind if he heard her talking to a cat. Then again, he talked to horses, so maybe not. She grinned and turned toward Delilah. “You be good. I’ll be back in a little while.”

  The short hike to the O’Sullivan cabin further muddied the lower quarter of Melinda’s skirt. Her knuckles would turn raw trying to scrub the muck from this dress. As for her shoes, who could say how long it would take for them to dry. And once the leather dried, it would likely become brittle and pinch her feet. Her legs ached from the constant pull of the thick mud as it tried to take her shoes captive with each forward step. Not much farther. Not much farther. She chanted the words to herself until she finally spotted Emma scrubbing the front porch. A smile tugged at her lips.

  “Emma!” Had the mud permitted, she would have raced to the porch and embraced the woman in a tight hug. Instead, she continued to trudge on at a snail’s pac
e.

  Cupping one hand to shade her eyes, Emma stepped to the porch rail and bent forward. “Am I seeing things or is that you, Melinda?” Emma edged to one side and strained against the railing. “It is you! I can hardly believe my eyes. Where did you come from, lass?” She walked down the stairs and met Melinda at the bottom step.

  Melinda extended her arms and accepted the older woman’s embrace. “I’m alone. I came over on a launch from Savannah. My trunks and suitcases are on the dock.” She leaned back a few inches and met the woman’s clear, blue-eyed gaze. “I’m planning to stay.”

  “Stay? Here? Now?” She stepped back and nearly toppled on the stairs as her ankle struck against the wooden edge. Concern replaced the sparkle in her eyes. “Ya must be jokin’ with me. Have ya not looked around on yer way here?”

  “I did, but it’s concern over Evan that brought me back, Emma. When I heard about the damage, I couldn’t remain in Cleveland. Can you tell me how he is?”

  “We’re all fine—especially Evan. ’Course, he’s younger than us. We’ve been workin’ hard to get things back in shape. Harland finally was able to hire a few men that ’ave come over to help get things back in order before the season. ’Course we’ll be needin’ more.”

  Learning Evan wasn’t the man who had died had eased Melinda’s concerns while in Biscayne, but it hadn’t totally erased them. Hearing Emma’s assurance lifted a weight from her shoulders that she’d carried ever since hearing of the hurricane. She felt pounds lighter, if such a thing were possible. Unable to contain her joy, she pecked Emma on the cheek. “I would have been here sooner, but—”

  The older woman held up her hand. “Come in and sit down. I’ll make us some tea, and you can tell me your story while I put my feet up.” She pointed to her swollen ankles. “This weather does me no good at all. My ankles could pass for watermelons.”

  Melinda didn’t want Emma to think her rude, but it was Evan she wanted to see. “Do you know where I can find Evan?”