To Love and Cherish

by Tracie Peterson

  She placed her hands against his chest and looked into his eyes. “All I want is you, Evan. I’m not afraid of building a life together. You don’t have to prove anything to me. Working together will create unity and let us grow as a couple.”

  He shook his head. “You know I can’t marry you yet.”

  She withdrew her hands from his chest and turned away in frustration. “I know you won’t. You’re the one who has no trust. You don’t trust me. I’m strong and capable, but you won’t let me prove it.”

  “That’s not true, and your words aren’t fair.” Evan’s tone was edged with anger. “I’ve tried to explain my position. I’ve assured you of my love. However, if we’re going to have these kinds of conversations each time we’re together . . . well . . . I think we’d be better apart.”

  Melinda knew deep inside that he made a good point, but still she couldn’t force her heart to cooperate. Why wouldn’t he even consider changing his plans? She’d given up so much to come here and be with him. She’d been willing to forgo her future security with the Mifflins without any assurance Evan would marry her, yet she wondered if he would have considered doing the same. He spoke of his love for her, but his actions didn’t seem to match the words. If she was willing to take a chance on their future, why wasn’t he?

  She glanced toward the sky as the wind picked up. “There’s a storm moving in. You probably need to return the horse before it starts to rain.”

  The darkening shadows didn’t hide his look of surprise. “If you want me to leave, I will.”

  “No, Evan, I don’t want you to leave. I want you always to be by my side, but it seems that isn’t the way things are working out.” She paused and gave him a smile. “I’m sorry I’m so impatient. I’ve never been good at waiting.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Melinda glanced up from sweeping the front porch and was surprised to see Pastor Webley crossing the expansive clubhouse lawn.

  His bald pate shone in the morning sun, and he waved in greeting. “Good morning to you, Melinda!”

  Holding the broom with one hand, she waved in return. “Good morning, Pastor Webley.” She stepped toward the edge of the porch. “I’m surprised to see you’ve arrived so soon. Few of the guests will arrive until after the New Year, and with the hurricane damage this year, some are postponing their arrival until even later.”

  That was the latest word the workers had received from Mr. Morley. Of course, that was subject to change, for the guests who owned their own cottages weren’t required to reserve their rooms in advance like those who rented apartments in the clubhouse.

  The preacher stopped at the foot of the steps and glanced back over his shoulder. “I’m amazed at how good everything looks. I didn’t expect so much progress.”

  “Lots of workers and long hours can accomplish a great deal, Preacher. Just ask Evan.”

  The pastor arched his brows at her remark, but he didn’t ask her to elaborate. He mounted the steps and met her gaze. “You say you’re surprised to see me here, but I may add that I’m every bit as surprised to see you, Melinda. Have the Mifflins already arrived?”

  Melinda was sure the preacher hadn’t been on the island long, or he would have already heard she no longer worked for the Mifflins. While he sat on one of the wicker chairs, Melinda continued to sweep and tell him about the recent happenings. His facial expressions altered several times during her story, changing from bewilderment to amazement and then to concern.

  When she finished, he tugged at his white collar. “Well, now. That’s quite an exciting couple of months you’ve had, isn’t it?”

  She gave him a halfhearted smile. “I suppose you could call it that, but for me it hasn’t seemed near as exciting as disappointing.”

  “Disappointing because the plans you made didn’t happen as you expected?”

  She nodded. “I thought Evan would be happy to see me, and I was sure he’d want to marry right away, but he’s determined to secure Harland’s position before we get married. He has his ideas of how things must be before we can wed.”

  “Ahh.” The preacher bobbed his head. “So Evan had plans and you had plans, but you hadn’t shared your plans with each other. In turn, that caused this big tangled mess. Is that the way of it?”

  Melinda frowned. “Well, not exactly. Had it not been for the hurricane, I wouldn’t have come down here. But because I was worried about Evan, I gave up my position and came.”

  “And you thought that since you were here, the two of you should just go ahead and get married now, rather than wait until he’s sure he can provide for a wife and family. Is that right?”

  Her frown deepened. “I suppose, if you put it that way, but we had pledged our love to each other before I left in May.”

  “Um-hum.” He bobbed his head and rubbed his chin. “Did you do some praying about this decision before you left Cleveland?”

  She didn’t like admitting to the preacher that the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Her worry about Evan had been her only concern. “No, I can’t say that I did.”

  “I’m not surprised to hear you say that. When trouble hits, most of us think we know exactly what we need to do.” He pointed toward the sky. “Instead of looking to God for help, we decide we know what’s best. That kind of thinking can cause us to rush ahead of His plans for us.”

  “So you think God is blocking the way for Evan and me to marry? Why would He do such a thing? The Bible encourages marriage—it says that it’s not good for man to be alone. It says that charity—love—is the most important thing of all.”

  “You’re right. And the Lord may want you and Evan to marry. I’m just wondering if maybe you’re trying to move forward while the wagon brake is still engaged.” He motioned for her to sit down. “You ever see a team of horses trying to move a wagon before the brake has been released?” He didn’t wait for her answer. “I can tell you it ends up with lots of pulling and very little progress. But once the driver releases the brake, the wagon takes off lickety-split.” He slapped his hands together with a loud crack. “Now they can get moving forward because they’re all thinking and working together, and the obstacles have been removed.”

  “So you think I was wrong to come down here?” Her palms turned damp against the broom handle. She didn’t want the pastor to say she’d been wrong. Those thoughts had already taken hold of her far too many times since she’d set foot on the island. Besides, what was she to do? She had no place to go. Her lips trembled as she awaited his response.

  He smiled and rested his arms across his legs. “I don’t know for certain what you should have done, Melinda. But I think maybe you’re trying to push your time schedule on everyone else, and it doesn’t appear to be working very well. It’s making you unhappy, and it’s making Evan unhappy. I’d say you need to spend some time in prayer and see what happens—without forcing your wishes on anyone else.” He leaned back in his chair. “Not an easy thing to do.”

  She agreed. Not only would it be hard to do, she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to try. “I’ll give your suggestion some thought.”

  “And some prayer, I hope.” He chuckled and slapped his hands atop his legs. “Since you’re here, I’m wondering if I could impose upon you a bit. As you can see, I arrived early this year. I wanted to be certain the church would be in good repair when the guests arrive.”

  “Emma told me the church roof was the first one to be repaired, although she said the inside didn’t suffer much damage. The floors have been scrubbed and waxed, so there isn’t much more that needs to be done before the guests return.” Melinda glanced in the direction of the church. “Of course, I assume you’ve already been inside.”

  “I have. And it looks perfect. I couldn’t be more pleased. I was thankful to see the damage hadn’t occurred near the front of the church. The piano wasn’t damaged at all—at least not that I could tell.”

  “No, it’s perfect. Emma had me try it, and it sounds just fine. And none of the stained-glass w
indows were broken, either.”

  “Almost as if God had wrapped it in His hands to shield it from the storm.” The preacher slid his palm over his bald head. “About the piano—I know that you play. Mrs. Mifflin mentioned your fine abilities to me only last season. I wondered if I could convince you to play the music for a Christmas program at the church.”

  Melinda stared at him. Except for private staff that came to the island with the investors and other guests, workers didn’t attend church services at the lovely stained-glass-windowed church where Pastor Webley preached his Sunday sermons. “You’re going to have the program at the church?” She leaned a little closer. “Who is going to attend?”

  “Why, the workers, of course. There’s no reason they can’t have a program in the church, is there?”

  Melinda shrugged. “I’m not the one to answer that question, but before you make any more plans, maybe you should check with Mr. Nordegren or Mr. Zimmerman. Gatherings for the workers aren’t usually held in the church.”

  “I’ll speak to Mr. Zimmerman, and I’m certain he’ll agree I can hold a Christmas program there for everyone.”

  Melinda stood and picked up the broom. “You let me know what you decide, and if you want me to play the piano, I’ll do my best.”

  The day before Christmas, the weather turned colder than usual, and by evening everyone attending the Christmas program had donned warm shawls or jackets. Mr. Zimmerman had agreed the program could be presented in the church. Afterward, they would dismiss to the dining hall in the workers’ quarters, where a supper would be served and Mr. Zimmerman would offer Christmas greetings from the owners and investors.

  The decision had surprised everyone but Pastor Webley. He’d been confident from the outset. Even before he’d gained Mr. Zimmerman’s permission, he’d enlisted Emma and Melinda to decorate the church. They’d done their best, using a few of Emma’s decorations from home along with some candles and ribbons that had been packed away in the church. After ironing the ribbons, Melinda had fashioned them into crisp bows to surround the candles, which added a festive touch.

  Evan grasped Melinda’s elbow as they entered the small church. “You and Emma did a fine job decorating.”

  “Thank you, Evan.” His words warmed her heart as he escorted her to the front of the church, where she settled on the piano bench and began to play.

  The candlelight provided a warm glow throughout the small church. Christmas without snow would be strange for Melinda, but lacking freezing weather or a sleigh ride, she nevertheless planned to savor every moment of this first Christmas with Evan. While she played the piano, the workers joined together to sing “Glory Be to God on High” followed by “Joy to the World.” After they finished singing, a number of costumed employees participated in vignettes depicting the Christmas story. Pastor Webley then presented a short message on the joy of giving year-round—not only during the Christmas season.

  “I’d be glad to give all year long if I had as much money as the folks who own this island,” one of the workers mumbled as they departed the church. A couple of the other men agreed and laughed.

  Emma stopped and turned around to face the men. “Ya missed the point of what the preacher was tellin’ ya.”

  Garrison took hold of his wife’s arm. “Come along, Emma. They’re not wantin’ to hear another sermon from you.”

  Emma continued alongside her husband. “Maybe not, but it sounds as though they’re needin’ one.”

  Evan and Melinda followed the older couple, with Lawrence and Harland a short distance behind them. Once they arrived at the dining hall, the men visited together while the women completed arrangements and served the meal that had been prepared and kept warm on the banked fires of the cookstoves during the church service. The contents of roasting pans, pots, and kettles were emptied into serving bowls for all to enjoy a festive meal that began with oyster stew. Between mouthfuls, the men offered compliments for the roasted turkey, oyster stuffing, carrots in creamy white sauce, baked sweet potatoes, boiled onions, and fluffy rolls they slathered with peach marmalade. They groaned with delight when presented with a choice of pecan, pumpkin, or molasses pie.

  “I’ll take a slice of each!” one of the men hollered.

  “And you’ll explode if you try!” another called out.

  Laughter filled the room but quieted when Mr. Zimmerman stepped forward. “The owners and investors of Bridal Veil asked that I extend their best wishes for a merry Christmas to everyone, and they are hopeful the New Year will be a prosperous one for all. They are anticipating their return to Bridal Veil and realize that you workers have been required to perform yeomen’s service this winter in order to accomplish all that has been expected for the upcoming season.” He cleared his throat. “And they are exceedingly thankful.”

  Shoving one hand into his pocket, he glanced about the crowd. “Of course, you’ve been paid for those long hours you’ve worked, but as added thanks, I’ll be placing envelopes on the far table.” He tugged on his mustache and chuckled. “I’ll be watching to make certain you take only the one that bears your name.”

  An air of anticipation reached new heights as benches scraped on the wood floors and the workers lined up to pick up their envelopes. “I hope it’s enough to buy fabric for a new dress,” one of the maids whispered to her friend.

  “I hope it’s enough to pay for the gifts I put on my account at the general store over in Biscayne,” another replied.

  Evan squeezed Melinda’s hand and leaned close to her ear. “I hope it’s enough to pay for a lovely wedding next year.”

  “A simple wedding would be fine with me.”

  He grinned down at her. “Once you begin to plan, I think you’ll change your mind.”

  “And when do you think I should begin to plan? We haven’t set a date.”

  He shifted to his other foot and allowed a bit of space between them. “It would probably be best to wait until after the season.”

  Her heart plummeted. She’d thought that as soon as he completed the racetrack and golf course, they would marry. Now it seemed he wanted to wait until after the season—that would mean next May or early June. Her lips trembled, but she tightened them into a thin seam. She wouldn’t cry, not in front of all these people.

  When she didn’t offer any response, Evan appeared not to notice. Instead, he greeted Mr. Zimmerman with a hearty handshake and asked him to join them at their table when he’d finished his duties. Once the envelopes had been picked up, most of the workers disappeared to their quarters. Many would rise early Christmas morning to ride the launch over to join their families in Biscayne. For the remainder, it would be a day of rest and relaxation.

  Mr. Zimmerman approached their table. “The owners specifically asked that I offer their gratitude to you men who have worked so hard on the racetrack and putting green. There’s a great deal of excitement, and with each passing day I receive letters requesting reservations in the clubhouse.”

  “For sure, it’s the attraction of the racetrack,” Garrison said. “Far more men are interested in the races than in hitting a ball in the grass.”

  Mr. Zimmerman chuckled and patted Garrison’s shoulder. “Golf is growing in popularity, too, especially among the wealthy, though I agree there is nothing as exciting as a good horse race.”

  Mr. Nordegren approached and joined them. “I wonder if it’s the racing or the wagering that entices men to the track.”

  “I’m guessin’ it would be the gamblin’, for ya don’t see many who go to gamin’ halls or racetracks and do na place a wager.” Garrison withdrew his pipe from an inside pocket and filled the bowl with tobacco. “Men lose all good sense when it comes to wagerin’.” He pointed his pipe at Lawrence. “That beauty of an animal that Lawrence now owns is a prime example.”

  Mr. Zimmerman arched a brow. “And what animal is that?”

  Before Lawrence could answer, Mr. O’Sullivan told how Lawrence had won the horse while playing cards with a gentle
man who had more money than good sense.

  The supervisor frowned. “You will need permission if you plan to race him. I don’t know if the investors will permit a worker to—”

  “No need for concern, Mr. Zimmerman,” Lawrence said. “I don’t plan to race the horse. In fact, if we can find another location on the island, I’d prefer to keep him stabled away from the other horses. I don’t want the guests asking to ride him.” He glanced at the supervisor. “If I keep him in another place, it should avoid any questions or problems.”

  Mr. Zimmerman tweaked the tip of his mustache. “I’m sure Garrison can offer you another place. There’s an old stone structure over near the chicken coops that might suffice.” He turned toward Garrison. “That would work, don’t you think?”

  Garrison nodded. “As long as he doesn’t mind hauling feed and hay over there, it will do.”

  Emma chuckled. “I think it is a good plan. He can feed the chickens and gather the eggs while he’s there.”

  Mr. Zimmerman smiled and stood. “I think Mr. Nordegren and I will head back to the clubhouse. I need to finish going over some of my paper work.”

  Once the dishes had been cleared and washed, the crowd had dwindled, and by the time the supervisors departed, there were only a few workers remaining.

  “I hope you don’t have to go just yet, Melinda. I thought we could spend a little more time together.” Evan tapped his pocket. “I have a gift for you.”

  “I thought we would exchange gifts after church tomorrow.” She’d sensed his excitement, but she wanted to wait and exchange their gifts on Christmas Day. Today had already been filled with activity. Tomorrow they’d be well rested and have time to enjoy their time together without interruption.

  He pulled her aside while the others circled around them and then left. “I’ll attend church with you, but after dinner I’ll need to work.”