Lilac Spring (9 page)

“There’s nothing wrong with how I spoke to you. You’re my best friend.”

“But that doesn’t mean we can—can—Maybe where you’ve been young ladies are permitted to flirt—”

“You think I was flirting with you just now?”

He picked up a screwdriver from the workbench and turned it around and around in his hands. “Well, I don’t know. I don’t know what girls do when they flirt.”

She began to laugh, relieved that he had misunderstood her.

He frowned at her. “What is so funny?”

“You! You thought I was flirting.”

“Well, weren’t you?”

She just laughed some more. “Poor Silas. What would you do outside Haven’s End, where young ladies
do
practice the art of flirting?”

“The ‘art’ of flirting?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she answered airily, feeling on surer ground. “It’s quite an art form.”

“Tell me,” he answered, his frown deepening.

“Well, I heard a lot of talk from other young ladies. Some of them have even stolen kisses from young gentlemen—at dances, behind the potted plants, or on a darkened balcony.”

“And you’ve followed suit?”

“Certainly not! I never flirt!”

“What would you call what went on just now?”

“I just told you. There’s nothing wrong with our kissing.”

He let out a frustrated breath. “You can’t just go around talking like that to a man. He’ll take it the wrong way, think you’re a flirt or a—a loose woman or something.”

“Silas van der Zee, I don’t understand you!” She put her hands on her hips. “Ever since that night, I’ve sensed something between the two of us. I thought you felt it, too. But instead you’ve been acting so—so strange. What is wrong with you?”

He stood still, his face set, giving away nothing.

“Ohh! I give up! You’re insufferable. I have never seen such an unfeeling, conceited, pompous…” Before he could hear the rest, she marched to the door and slammed it behind her.

“B
e not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.

For he that soweth to his flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption; but he that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.”

Cherish read the verses prescribed by her daily devotional and frowned. They made her uneasy as she thought of the previous day’s scene in the boathouse with Silas.

“Flesh” came too uncomfortably close to describing what she’d been feeling standing so near Silas, feeling his heartbeat under the palm of her hand.

The verses sounded rather harsh and uncompromising.
God is not mocked.
The words had a finality to them, and she felt as if God had been looking at her antics around Silas for the past few weeks, every time she’d deliberately come close to him, let her hand or arm or body brush his “accidentally.”

Cherish knelt beside her bed and asked the Lord to help her receive His Word.
Am I wrong to love Silas the way I do? It seems I’m so in love with him one moment and about as angry as one person can be toward another the next.

She flipped her Bible back to First Corinthians and read the chapter on charity. “Charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked…beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.”

Her behavior seemed all the more shameful in light of God’s love.

As she knelt quietly, waiting for direction, she thought of how far her life had come from those early days of fervor when she’d first asked the Lord into her heart.

Somewhere, somehow she’d become dry and hadn’t really known it until now. Was it because she’d been too busy living life to notice?

She searched through her Bible some more. “And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” Those words made her feel better. They encouraged her to believe in her love for Silas.

“As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men….”

She pondered the exhortation. Maybe in the past few years she’d forgotten about the Lord’s work. Well, perhaps she could begin again.

A timid face came to her mind. Maybe she should make a real effort this time to befriend the girl.

She reclasped her hands and bowed her head.
Dear Lord, help me to be a friend to Annalise. Help me to show her Your love….

Making good on her promise, she asked her father if she could invite Annalise for a few days, this time by herself without Warren.

“Are you sure you don’t want her brother along?” he asked. “He’s a very nice young man.”

“I’m sure, Papa. Don’t fret. There’ll be other opportunities to socialize with Mr. Townsend. I’d like to get to know Annalise better.”

“Very well. I’m going into Hatsfield later, so I’ll be sure to extend your invitation.”

Now Cherish stood in the boat shop, waiting for Silas, not
sure how to behave around him when she saw him. She’d decided she’d better rein in her feelings. Clearly he wasn’t ready to think of her as anything but little Cherry.

She sighed and took up the sandpaper again, focusing on the boat frame.

The door banged open. Silas walked in carrying a load of lumber planks.

At the sight of them she momentarily forgot everything but the boat.

“We’re going to begin the planking!” she said, dropping the sandpaper and approaching him.

He glanced at her sharply before laying the lumber down on the floor. “Yes. This is some well-seasoned wood that’s been drying all winter. We’ll start with the battens first, then lay the garboard strake.”

Silas didn’t indicate by either a look or a word that he even remembered their conversation of the day before. This both annoyed and embarrassed Cherish. Was he truly so unmoved by her, when his very proximity made every nerve ending on her body tingle?

They worked quietly for some time, test fitting temporary planks called battens along the ribbed hull to measure for the permanent planks that would be placed eventually.

As they clamped on a batten up against the keel of the hull, Silas suddenly said, “Cherish, what I was trying to warn you about yesterday, about how you behave around men…”

She bristled at the patronizing, older-brother tone. If he thought she went around asking young men to kiss her, he needed to learn a thing or two about Cherish Winslow. Cherish’s own state of mind was not nearly as calm as she pretended as she worked by his side. Frustration and humiliation threatened to get the upper hand, and it was with an effort that she tried to recall the Scriptures she had read that morning. “He that soweth to the Spirit shall of the Spirit reap life everlasting.”

Small comfort when Silas’s arm reached past hers or her glance crossed his, and they both quickly looked away.

She looked at him steadily now until his gaze shifted away from her. “I’ll tell you one thing I
don’t
need, Silas,” she said sweetly.

“What’s that?”

“A lesson on flirting with young gentlemen.”

They fell silent after that, and Silas addressed her only about the task at hand.

The time with Annalise Townsend was not nearly as tedious as Cherish had anticipated. She realized much of it had to do with her own attitude. She’d taken Annalise to visit some of her girlhood friends in the village the first day, and this morning they had spent snipping dandelion greens and fiddlehead ferns in the forest.

That evening, Cherish’s father spoke across the supper table. “Silas, can you drive the girls over to the grange tonight for the dance? I don’t like their going over alone, and I’m feeling a little tired.”

“Are you all right, Papa? We can stay home.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Nothing that putting my feet up and reading the newspaper won’t cure.”

Now as her father awaited Silas’s reply, Cherish intervened. “It’s quite all right. We can go on our own. It’s only a mile down the road to the village. It’s a beautiful evening.”

“I can drive them, Mr. Townsend. It won’t be any trouble at all.”

Cherish stared at him. He wasn’t looking at her, but back down at his plate. She glanced over at Annalise, who looked happy enough. In fact, there was a radiant glow to her cheeks.

She remembered the verse about charity seeking “not her own” and sighed, taking up her fork once again.

She tried a last tack. “We can walk over to Julie’s and ride over with her family.”

“No, I can take you,” Silas repeated, still not looking at her.

She couldn’t understand Silas. Unless… She gazed at the girl beside her. Was it because of Annalise? Cherish speared the last
chunk of codfish cake onto her fork and rubbed it around her plate. She would certainly not expect him to dance with her this time. She swallowed the piece of codfish and felt it stick in her throat.

Lord, help me to put myself out of the way.

She gulped down the lump of fish, and although her eyes swam with a sudden wash of tears, she felt the comfort of God’s spirit. It brought a sudden spurt of joy in the midst of her heartache.

When they arrived at the grange building, Cherish was ready to descend the wagon by herself, thinking she’d let Silas assist Annalise, but he stood there in front of her before she could do more than rise from her seat. He placed his hands around her waist and swung her down. She looked at him briefly, but he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes gazing somewhere above her head.

Her skirts swished out of his way and she began walking toward the grange, not bothering to wait for him and Annalise.

From the entrance she watched him and Annalise. The two made a nice-looking couple. The admission cut her deeply, and she turned away. She had to control her feelings and not ruin the evening for Annalise.
Grant me Your grace, Lord, to do Your will.

She purposely stayed away from Silas and greeted all her old friends, reintroducing them to Annalise. When they had a circle around them, she looked around to find Silas gone. Searching the dance hall, she spied him across the room, standing chatting with some young men.

The music started up, and she had no more chance to think about Silas. She grabbed Annalise by the hand and led her to the set forming for square dancing.

Later in the evening, when the caller had taken a break and the musicians began playing a waltz, Cherish and Annalise suddenly found themselves partnerless. Now she looked around and realized no young man was going to ask either of them. She laughed. Such a situation hadn’t happened to her in years.
She’d always had a superfluity of partners, young gentlemen begging to put their names on her dance card.

There were no dance cards here. Just a bunch of people who had grown up together, whose families knew each other and who had a good time together. She smiled at the dancing couples, as if to say, “Well, it’s good to sit one out. I don’t know about you, but my feet are sore!” She glanced down at the toes of her slippers.

Then, casually, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for Cherish Winslow to sit out a dance, she observed the dancers, all childhood friends. A curious nostalgia swept over her. All the time she had been away, being educated, seeing so many new sights, time had not stopped for them, either. They, too, had gotten on with the business of living, in a different rhythm from her own.

There was Julie with Matt, and Rachel with Jed, and Alice with Douglas. They’d known each other their whole lives, and without her noticing, they had begun pairing off. Cherish had no doubts, watching them now, and remembering other signs she’d seen in the few weeks she’d been home, that soon engagements would be announced.

For the first time, Cherish felt like an outsider in her own hometown. What had happened? Had she grown up too much for them? For her own good?

Silas stood across the dance floor with his friend Charlie. The two sipped at their cups of cider, eyeing the couples gracefully moving around the scuffed wooden floor.

“Do me a favor, will you?” he asked his friend.

Charlie took a sip and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s that?”

“Ask Miss Townsend to dance.”

“The one you asked me to dance with at Cherish’s homecoming?”

“Yes.”

Charlie gave him a questioning look. “You sure you don’t mind? You don’t want to ask her yourself?”

“No, of course not.”

“Well, I thought…the other night at Cherish’s party…then you went and spent the weekend at her parents’ house, didn’t you?”

“I was just being nice to her, as a favor to Cherish,” he said, annoyed at having to explain himself. “They invited me to Hatsfield just to round out the numbers.”

“Oh, well, if you don’t mind. She’s a pretty girl. She just don’t talk much.”

“Well, you do the talking,” Silas suggested calmly, hiding the growing impatience he felt. Was the piece going to end before he convinced his friend? “She’ll talk back if you talk to her.”

“Okay,” his friend replied with a grin. After a few more seconds’ rumination, he added, “You’re not sweet on Cherish, are you?”

“What makes you think that?” he asked more sharply than he had intended.

“Oh, I dunno. You two sure are together an awful lot.”

“Well, we practically grew up together. That doesn’t mean we’re sweet on each other.”

“No, course not,” Charlie replied with a sly grin. His smile widened. “And ol’ Winslow, if he ever sniffed such a thing, whoo-ee, he wouldn’t let you within ten feet of her. You sure you don’t want to go after Miss Townsend yourself? Old Mr. Townsend makes Winslow look like small fry. You could probably have your own shipyard or two!”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“You play your cards right, Townsend could set you up for life if he takes a fancy to you.”

Silas smiled slightly at the image. “I’m sure,” he repeated.

“Oh-kay,” Charlie drawled as he set down his cup and sauntered around the dance floor toward Annalise Townsend.

Silas knew even as he deposited his own cup and began skirting the edge of the dance floor in Charlie’s wake that this was the reason he’d come tonight. Even as he’d agreed with Tom Winslow’s request, even as he’d shaved and dressed and gone to hitch the wagon, this was why he’d come.

Ever since the last dance at Cherish’s house, when he’d deliberately kept himself away from her, the reason had been there, simmering down deep below his conscious thoughts, waiting to be put into action.

Charlie sidled up to Annalise before the waltz ended and asked her for the dance as Cherish looked on in amusement. “Go on, Annalise,” she urged. “I’ll be fine. My feet need the rest.”

She watched the dancers, her toes keeping time to the music. The waltz ended and another started up.

So she, Cherish Winslow, whom Annalise had said made every social gathering sparkle, was left sitting out not one, but two dances. If it weren’t so bittersweet, it would be amusing. Her lips already felt chapped with the strain of keeping them stretched in a smiling line.

She refused to look to see where Silas was. She followed Annalise and Charlie’s progress around the floor.

“Need a partner?”

Her composure almost broke at the sound of that low, familiar voice above her ear. Then she remembered his censorious attitude, and she was tempted to turn him down. Finally she looked at him, and her breath caught. He looked so handsome, his lean features softened, his gray eyes tender.

“I don’t
need
a partner,” she reminded him with quiet dignity. “But if you are proposing yourself, I would graciously accept your offer.”

He held out his hand, and she placed hers in it.

Determined to keep her emotions in check, she assumed the most proper stance for a waltz—arm’s length apart, her hand just resting lightly on his coat sleeve, the other lying in his hand. They came together on the dance floor amidst the other couples and began to move in time to the music.

“I’m still not the best waltzer,” he said above her head.

She bit back a rejoinder concerning his efforts with Annalise. “You dance fine,” she said instead.