by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis
“Thank you, Sir. I’m certain I’ll be about tomorrow.”
“Take the time to recover, Miss Smith. We don’t want a repeat of yesterday.” His words were almost kind, but there was a slight edge of anger in them too, she suspected.
“I’m drinking regularly and getting my rest, thank you.” Regular enough that she thought she could float away if she didn’t stop soon.
“Fine,” he coughed. “Good day, Miss Smith.”
“Good day, Sir.”
She wondered again if Ellis Southard truly was as cold as he appeared. What had Cook said earlier? That he would have kept her up all night with his pacing? Was he truly concerned about her? If so, he was a kind man with a cold exterior, Bea noted to herself. That was it. A man with a tender heart, who hid it well, she reasoned.
“Miss Bea,” Cook called as she entered the house. “I’ve got some tea and some white rice for you.”
“Rice?”
“Best thing to keep you from dehydrating. Problem some folks have with a new area is the water isn’t the same as back home. They, hmm, well, they …”
“I understand.” And Bea had. The Key West water was already having that “cleansing” effect on her body.
“Black tea, white rice, best medicine there is for diarrhea.”
“Thanks, I think.” Was there anything her body would get used to about this area? Maybe it didn’t matter. Fact was, she wouldn’t be staying all that long. But she wanted to be her best for the last days she spent with Richard. “Father, God, please help me get well and stay well,” she moaned.
Chapter 7
The next morning Bea woke to the gentle lull of exotic birdsong outside her window. She quietly watched them flit from branch to branch, their vivid colors as beautiful and enchanting as they were different from their cousins in the North. This truly felt as if she were in a whole new world.
Today, perhaps, she could explore this tropical wonder. But would Cook allow her the pleasure? On the other hand, would her body survive it? “What could it hurt, Lord, to walk a few blocks to the center of town?” Without waiting for an answer, her thoughts skipped ahead to the quaint stores filled with merchandise to explore.
Even Ellis Southard’s sponge business was so uniquely Caribbean, she reflected, as she climbed out of bed to get ready for the day. She picked up the personal sponge Cook had given her for bathing. After the very first use her skin had felt smoother, cleaner, and softer than she remembered it feeling in years.
Working into the most lightweight outfit she could find, she thought about purchasing some of the Spanish-style skirts and blouses like the ones Cook wore. They looked so comfortable.
Although she wouldn’t purchase many. The island clothing would be totally unacceptable back home. There a woman was to always be properly dressed. And while Cook quite naturally wore this new casual apparel, Bea was certain the women of her social class never would, even in these tropical temperatures.
Fortunately, no one here knew of Bea’s northern social status, so no heads would turn when and if she wore those outfits. What mattered was to stay covered and cool and to avoid another touch of heatstroke. In her few remaining days with Richard, she wanted to be fit and able to enjoy the merriment and wonder of seeing this place for the first time.
Perhaps she was a bit jealous of the time Ellis played with Richard each evening before he went to bed. She’d heard them laughing and longed to be in the middle of such joyous activity. Each night she had lit the candle in her window for Richard, although Cook had been the keeper of the flame in her weakened state.
She watched from behind her closed screen door as Ellis Southard marched proudly off to work. His broad shoulders straight and firm, he walked with confidence but didn’t strut with arrogance. His beard seemed shorter, more groomed this morning; its red highlights seemed to beam his contentment with life and his job.
“Snap out of it, Woman,” Bea chastised herself. “Why am I longing so much for this man, a stranger?” She prayed with her head bent low. “We’ve spoken maybe ten minutes in the three days I’ve been here. Well, perhaps a few more than ten. But it’s been nothing, Lord. I barely know him and yet I’m attracted to him. Why? It must be the heat. Help me keep my mind together, Lord. Don’t allow me to turn into some silly, swooning female.”
Now what was it she had been thinking before she saw Ellis … Mr. Southard … she amended. “Ah yes, shopping.” Bea opened the screen door and headed toward the main house. It was her first time in the house since falling ill. Cook had brought all her meals to the cottage, with Richard’s help, of course. She smiled at the thought. He was so proud, being able to help care for her. Bea’s eyes started to water. “How am I going to leave this child, Lord?” she whispered.
“Come on, men, let’s get out there before the day is half over,” Ellis hollered at his crew lounging on wood blocks and crates scattered around the dock. A few groaned, but all got up and shuffled over to the small boats that would sail out to fetch the sponges. The nets empty, a couple men per boat, he had a good business.
“ ’Morning, Ellis, I see your crew has expanded.” Ellis turned to see Marc Dabny approach, wearing his usual Union blue army slacks, though he had retired from the military right after the war to live on the island. His premature balding head glistened in the morning sunlight.
“ ’Morning, Marc. What can I do for you?”
“Heard your nephew’s come to live with you.” Marc stopped his approach a couple feet away from Ellis.
“That’s right, he’s a great kid.”
Marc looked down at his feet and cleared his throat. “Heard his nanny came with him, too.”
Ellis examined the man more closely. What was he after?
“Yes,” he admitted.
“I was wondering if I could … well, if I could come and call upon the lady.”
What? How dare the man!
On the other hand, Marc had been raised to seek out the gal’s father to request permission to court. But he wasn’t Beatrice’s father, wasn’t even close. Still, Beatrice was a guest in his home, and he supposed folks naturally assumed she was now working for him as the child’s nanny. But he certainly didn’t want to declare open hunting season for Beatrice Smith.
“Marc, the lady’s been ill. Stricken with a bad case of heatstroke. By the time she’s strong again, I imagine she’ll be on a ship heading north.”
“She won’t be staying?”
“No, Sir.” He handled that well, he thought. Didn’t lie, but didn’t make her available either. “And given the severity of her heatstroke, I imagine she’s anxious to leave this place.”
“Heard she was a looker. And I’ve been wanting to settle down now since the war is over. You know, get married and have a handful of kids. Besides, havin’ a woman who’s pleasant to look at wouldn’t be a bad way to spend the rest of your life.” Marc winked.
Ellis’s stomach flip-flopped. The man wasn’t looking for a companion. He was looking for a nursemaid plus a few wifely benefits. That certainly didn’t describe Beatrice Smith, who was excellent with children and had a sharp mind. She needed a man with whom she could have a relationship, not be some prize—used whenever the prizewinner suited.
“Afraid that wouldn’t be Miss Smith. I believe she has family waiting on her back home.” That was also not untrue, but he really hadn’t talked with her about it, just assumed. In fact, he knew next to nothing about Beatrice Smith and her family. Everything he knew was through the eyes of his nephew—his love for her, and the things she’d taught him. No, he really didn’t know the woman at all.
“Well, I figured I should ask you first. Didn’t know if you had other plans for the lady. Didn’t want to ask the lady and upset you.”
“I appreciate it, Marc, but like I say, she’s not staying.”
“Mind if I try and persuade her anyway?”
The man deserved some credit for his persistence.
Besides, do I really have the right
to say who could or could not court Miss Smith? Ellis felt like he ought to, but knew he didn’t. “I don’t suppose I could stop you from approaching her, but please give her another day to recover. I was quite concerned at first that she wouldn’t even make it.”
“Thank you. I come from a long line of Dabnys who’ve been known to have a way with women. So don’t be too surprised if the lady decides to stay right here in Key West.”
No matter what Marc Dabny thought about his family heritage, Ellis couldn’t see Beatrice Smith on this man’s arm. On the other hand, not being a woman himself, he didn’t have a clue as to what a lady would find appealing.
“I won’t be keeping you from your work, just felt I ought to speak with you first. I know we don’t run on pomp and circumstance down here, but since you and I both hail from the North, I thought I’d better ask.”
“I appreciate it. Have a good day, Marc.”
“Adios,” Marc answered in Spanish. The blend of Spanish and English added to the island’s uniqueness.
Ellis worked his shoulders in circles trying to ease the tension that had stiffened his back.
Four days. The woman had been here for only four days and the vultures were already swarming. Ellis shook his head as he walked to his office. Of course, given Miss Beatrice Smith’s beauty, it was a wonder no one had approached him days ago. Maybe the fact that she was so ill had made it through the island gossip chain and had kept the pursuers at bay. In any case, she was fair game for the men of Key West, and he had no right to do anything about it.
Frustrated, he absentmindedly worried his lower lip. Why did the thought bother him? Wasn’t it possible that some man on Key West might be Beatrice Smith’s future husband? She certainly would make a man a good wife and mother, or at least it appeared that way. But the very idea of Marc Dabny pursuing her made him tense. Marc seemed like a decent enough sort on the surface. He was respectable and followed his orders. He wouldn’t make a bad husband, Ellis supposed. But then again, Marc wasn’t looking for a woman who would challenge him as a man; he was looking for someone to clean his house, cook his food, and bear his children.
Ellis rubbed his temples. This was going nowhere. He wasn’t Beatrice Smith’s keeper. The woman could court anyone she had a mind to. It wasn’t his concern. His concern was providing for his nephew and bringing him up in a manner that would have made the boy’s father proud. And to do that he needed to get to work and stop this lollygagging.
“Nanna, are you all right?” Richard questioned.
Bea’s legs shook. Her arms felt prickly, as if being stabbed with lots of tiny needles all at once. “I feel a bit weak.”
Richard ran to the house they were in front of and banged on the door. An older woman with graying hair came to the door. “May I help you?”
“Nanna doesn’t feel well. Can she sit down?”
“Oh, gracious, bring her here, Child.”
Bea didn’t know whether to be proud or embarrassed by Richard’s actions. They hadn’t gone a quarter of a mile, but she had apparently gone too far. Richard helped her up the stairs onto the woman’s porch.
“Sit in the rocker, dear, I’ll fetch you some water.”
“Thank you.” Beatrice sat down on the wooden rocker facing the street. A small front porch with a wooden floor and white painted handrail stretched across the front of the house. A couple steps and you were to the door.
“Nanna, I’ll get Uncle Ellis.”
The last thing she needed was to have Ellis Southard come to her rescue. “I’ll be fine. No sense worrying your uncle.”
“What about Cook? She’s closer.” Richard’s worried eyes pleaded with her to let him help.
“Come here, Richie.” She scooped him up and placed him on her lap. She worked his wonderful blond curls from his face with her right hand. “I’m fine, really. I just wasn’t up for this yet.”
“Nanna, I don’t want you to be sick.”
“I’m getting better. I just have to be patient and wait for my body to recover a bit more.”
“All right.” Richard snuggled his head into her chest.
Bea looked up at the sound of the screen door swinging on old hinges to see the elderly woman coming out with a tall glass of lemonade. “Here you go, Miss,” she said, steadying herself with her free hand on the back of Bea’s chair.
Bea clasped her fingers around the glass. “Thank you.” Carefully she brought it to her lips and sipped. How perfectly embarrassing to weaken in such a short amount of time. At midmorning, the full intensity of the heat wouldn’t peak for two to three hours yet.
Bea’s hostess sat down in the wicker chair to her left. “My name is Vivian. You’re new here, aren’t you, dear?”
Bea nodded her head.
“Nanna and I came from New York on a big ship. We’re living with my uncle Ellis.”
“With those steel-blue eyes, I should have noticed you were Mr. Southard’s nephew.”
Richard looked at Bea in bewilderment.
“Miss … I’m afraid I don’t know your last name.” Bea flushed.
“Sorry, its Matlin. Mrs. Joseph Matlin.”
Bea nodded. “Richard, Mrs. Matlin noticed your eyes have the same coloring as your uncle Ellis’s.”
“Oh. That’s because my daddy and uncle Ellis are brothers.”
Vivian chuckled. “That’s generally how it works, Son. Can I give you something to drink, and a sweet biscuit perhaps?”
“Can I, Nanna?”
“Sure.” Vivian took Richard by the hand and led him into her home. A cool breeze blew across the porch, and Bea laid her head back on the chair and closed her eyes to let the refreshing air sweep across her face. Cook had warned her to be careful, and a race to the corner of the street had clearly exceeded her limits.
She could still feel the pulse in her legs, beat after beat, protesting her stupidity. She hadn’t exerted herself that much, having let Richard win. Yet she had done far more than her body could apparently handle. How long does it take to recover from heatstroke?
Vivian came back out with a small china plate, with Richard in tow. “Would you like one, dear?”
Bea wasn’t really hungry, but the biscuits did smell good. “Thank you. I’m sorry to impose upon you in such a way.”
“It’s no trouble at all, dear.” Vivian sat back down on the chair opposite Beatrice and straightened her apron. “All I know is that you serve as Richard Southard’s nanny. I don’t know your name, dear.”
“Forgive me … Beatrice Smith … heatstroke seems to be affecting me in more ways than one.”
“I know what you mean, Beatrice. May I call you Beatrice?”
“Bea is fine. Have you ever suffered with this ailment?” Bea wiped the crumbs from her lap.
“Years ago, when I first came here. Came about the same time of year as you. The first week was very difficult.”
“A whole week? I’ll be on a ship back to New York by the end of a week. I do want to take in some of the sights prior to my departure.” Maybe the good Lord just doesn’t want me in this climate and I shouldn’t get comfortable here. Another lesson in learning to refrain from embracing, embracing a new way of life, a new culture, a new environment. It wasn’t her time, and she just needed to accept the fact that she was to return home to New York.
At the end of the workday Ellis returned home for his evening meal and found the house quiet.
“Hello? Anyone home?” Not a sound. That’s odd, he thought and proceeded to clean up and change from his work clothes into something casual. From his bedroom window he could see Cook, Richard, and Miss Smith sitting under the shade of the large banyan tree. Even from this distance Beatrice seemed pale, weak, and sorrowful. The woman was so vulnerable, so frail, and yet showed a remarkable ability to hold her own in adversity. Could this change in her demeanor be from the heatstroke?
Ellis slipped his arms into the sleeves of a cool cotton shirt, buttoning it as he made his way down the hall to the stairs an
d out through the kitchen to the back door. “I wondered where all of you were.”
“Uncle Ellis!” Richard declared, jumping up from his spot and scampering over to him. Ellis smiled. Well, the boy runs outside as well as inside, he mused.
“Just takin’ in the cool night air,” Cook said. “The butcher got some fresh beef from Cuba, so we’re having steak tonight. You’re cooking on the outside grill,” Cook teased, and sat farther back in her chair, putting her feet up on the one abandoned by Richard.
Fresh beef was a rarity on the island, and he’d given Cook a standing order that anytime there was a shipment she should purchase some.
“I see.” Ellis hoisted Richard up on his shoulders. “Come on, Son. It’s our night to cook for the ladies.”
At the back of the yard he lifted Richard off his shoulders and placed him on the ground beside him. In the sheltered work area, he loaded the brick grill with small chunks of wood for the fire.
Young Richard grabbed a bucket filled with blocks of hickory wood soaking in water. “Cook said you use these.”
“Thanks. Do you know why?”
His blond curls swung with the swift movement of his head going up and down. “It’s smelly wood.”
Ellis chuckled. “Yes, you could say that. This hickory gives the food a great outdoors cooking taste.” Ellis continued to pile the wood into the grill then lit the kindling. Flames climbed the small pile.
Richard clapped his hands.
Ellis bowed. “Thank you.” Richard stood proud, encircling his right arm around Ellis’s left leg. A storm of emotions caught in Ellis’s throat. How could a child love so easily, so unconditionally?
“Uncle Ellis?”
Ellis poked the burning embers with an iron rod and placed a couple of water-soaked hickory chunks on the pile.
“Yes, Richard?”
“How come Nanna couldn’t race me to the corner?”
Chapter 8
What?” Ellis’s own voice echoed back at him of the shelter’s tin roof. Is that why she appeared so pale, so lethargic?
