To Love and Cherish (18 page)

Melinda scurried off toward the clubhouse kitchen to do Emma's bidding. The other women were finishing their breakfast when she reached the doorway, and she waved toward the cook. “Miss Emma wants to see you in the front parlor.” She turned to the others. “And we're supposed to begin taking out the rugs on the fourth floor.”

Groans circulated around the table, but it was the cook who directed a look of contempt at Melinda. “Been in there reporting on us, I see,” she hissed and gave Melinda a push with her hip as she passed by.

“No.” She looked at the other women. “Th-that's not what happened. Miss Emma—”

They pushed away from the table and headed off toward the rear stairs. She hurried after the women, and though she attempted to explain, they ignored her. Frustration replaced her earlier delight over Evan's note. She'd be given no opportunity to explain. Instead, the women would believe the cook and think she'd been reporting on them.

Melinda sighed. There was no changing what had already happened. It seemed she had little control over anything in her life. She'd thought coming to Bridal Veil would enable her to begin a new life with Evan, and together they would share opportunities as husband and wife. Instead, Mr. Morley and his investors controlled their future.

Kneeling down, Melinda began to roll up one of the many carpets. Her thoughts turned to the last time she'd spoken with Evan. It had been shortly after her move to the maids' quarters, when Mr. Morley had come to survey the damage. At that same time, Mr. Morley had also presented plans for expansion of activities on the island. The investors had decided that due to the other renovations taking place on the island, this would be a perfect time to construct both a racetrack and a golf course for the pleasure of the guests. They'd decided the new activities would attract additional visitors and investors who would, in turn, help pay for the renovations. Melinda had hoped these new projects might mean an immediate advancement for Evan.

Unfortunately, Mr. Morley had been unyielding in his position with Harland. The investors wanted him to remain as supervisor until the projects were completed. If Harland agreed, they would appoint Evan to work hand-in-hand with him, and when the two projects were completed, Evan would be selected to replace Harland. The older man hadn't been fond of the investors' high-handed strategy, but he'd agreed—for Evan's sake.

She had tried to match Evan's excitement over the news, but hearing about his added duties had hit like a punch to the midsection. She had no one to blame but herself—she'd made the decision to come to the island without first talking to him, and she needed to accept his decision. Each night she repeated these things, but during the long days when the other girls wouldn't visit with her or the many evenings when Evan didn't come by, loneliness wrapped itself around her and created doubt.

As another hard day of work progressed, the women's complaints increased. Dragging the carpets down several flights of stairs and beating them was arduous enough, but the thought of hoisting them back up the stairs was more than the women cared to imagine. In addition, Emma had ordered that the floors be scrubbed and a fresh coat of wax applied before the rugs could be returned upstairs. When one of the girls tripped while attempting to carry a rug upstairs, Melinda intervened and spoke to Emma.

“Unless you want the women to suffer injury, you'll need some men to carry the rugs back upstairs.”

“I'm thinkin' you're probably right. Should've thought of that myself. Tell 'em to leave the rugs once they're clean.”

Pleased by the older woman's response, Melinda hurried to tell the others, but they curled their lips and muttered unkind remarks about her friendship with Emma. In spite of her attempts to help, there was no pleasing the women—at least not where she was concerned.

By late afternoon, attitudes hadn't changed much. Throughout supper, the other maids murmured about Emma's playing favorites and the fact that Melinda had more privileges than the rest of them. Melinda didn't argue with them or tell them she followed the same rules as they did. But they resented the fact that Evan could call on her during weekday evenings, while most of the other men were restricted to weekend visits. She had considered pointing out that the privilege was Evan's and not hers, but it wouldn't have changed their thinking. Besides, Evan had never visited during the week.

Their comments stung, but Melinda refused to let them ruin her evening. Any minute now, Evan would arrive and their time together was already far too short to be destroyed by gossipy girls.

Hoping to avoid further remarks, Melinda gathered a quilt from her room and walked outside to wait for Evan. A few moments later, two of the women followed her out the door, but they soon headed off in another direction. When more than twenty minutes had passed, she withdrew the note from her pocket. Perhaps she'd misread the time. “It says five-thirty.” She glanced toward the setting sun. What was keeping him? If he didn't hurry, they'd have little time to themselves.

The two maids rounded the path from the opposite direction. “Get stood up, did you?”

Before Melinda could respond, the other girl chimed in. “Serves you right. The rest of us have to wait until the weekend to see our fellows.”

Melinda could hear the others join their laughter a short time after they walked inside the living quarters. A tear trickled down her cheek. Why did they find such pleasure in her unhappiness? She swiped away the tear, determined to remain until darkness fell.

A sigh escaped her lips when Evan appeared a short time later. The setting sun cast a shimmer of gold across his dark brown hair and accentuated his chiseled features as he approached.

He pulled back on the reins and dismounted a bay gelding, one of the horses that remained on the island year-round. Evan turned and grinned. “It's nice to see you out here waiting for me. I hope that means you're as eager to see me as I am to be here.”

“I'm always delighted to see you. I only wish you would visit more often and arrive on time.” She'd tried to appear cheery, but it proved impossible.

Evan tied the horse to a low-hanging branch of a live oak and strode toward her. “You sound unhappy.” He tipped his head to one side and met her gaze. “I'm sorry that I'm late, but we worked longer than expected, and I didn't want to come visit you without cleaning up.” He chuckled. “I doubt you'd be pleased to be around me if I smelled like the muck from a barn.”

He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I wish I could be here more often, but you know how busy I am. By the time I finally get home at night, I'm so tired I drop into bed and am usually asleep before I've finished praying.” He lifted his nose and sniffed. “You smell wonderful. Is that lilac?”

She nodded. “You could smell my perfume every night if we were married.”

His smile faded. “Once everything is in order, the horse track and golf course have been completed, and I've been appointed to take Harland's position, we'll be married.” He grasped her hand and brushed a kiss across her fingers. “You'll become so tired of seeing me, you'll long for the days when you lived in the clubhouse.”

She inhaled a breath and forced a smile. “I don't think that will ever happen, but I would like to hear what's been completed so far. Maybe that will make me feel a little better.” Though it would soon be dark, she spread the multicolored quilt beneath a large cypress tree, where they were out of sight of the door to the maids' quarters.

Evan dropped down beside her. “We're making great progress on the racetrack. It's going to be a mile and a quarter oval. Lawrence spoke with the architect, and the men agreed that would be best. Lawrence says the shorter tracks are more popular now.”

“Lawrence? Since when is Lawrence in charge?”

He shook his head. “Oh, Lawrence isn't in charge, but he does know a great deal about racetracks—much more than any of us could have imagined. And he's been willing to share all of his insights with the architect.”

Melinda didn't doubt that piece of news. Her brother would be more than pleased to give advice about a new racetrack, especially if it meant he didn't have to perform any manual labor. And it seemed Lawrence had figured out how to charm Evan, as well as the other men.

“The location is completely staked out, and the workers have cleared the land.” His eyes were alight with excitement. “By the middle of next week, we hope to have the ground leveled. Harland and I managed to hire additional workers from up north.” He leaned forward and rested his arm across one knee. “It's going to be magnificent, Melinda. The architect has drawn up the landscaping plans, and there will be grandstands that will compete with those at Churchill Downs. If Mr. Morley and the investors agree, we'll have
triple
spires on our grandstands.”

“I take it there is something particularly special about triple spires.”

Evan nodded. “Indeed. The grandstands at Churchill Downs have only double spires. Mr. Morley asked us to have the track ready by the time the first visitors arrive for the season. If possible, he wants the track here to outshine Churchill Downs.”

“With all that needs to be completed, it sounds as though I'll see little of you.” A slight breeze fluttered through the tree's branches, and Melinda brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “What about the golf course? Surely the investors don't expect both to be completed before the season.”

“As long as they'll let us hire enough men, I think we can accomplish a great deal. Of course, it keeps Harland and me busy just running back and forth to make sure everyone is doing what they're supposed to. Some of the men are fair workers, but others need constant watching. We need to get some good supervisors in place, and that's a fact. However, as long as we have decent putting greens prepared, I think they'll be satisfied for the short term.”

Melinda picked at a thread in the quilt. “Maybe once there are a few more supervisors, you'll find more time to come and visit. I've been so lonely since moving out of the O'Sullivans' cottage.”

He scooted back on the quilt as though he wanted to escape her discouraging words. “I know, but there's nothing I can do to lessen the time I'm at work. Harland depends on me.”

Tears pricked her eyes. “I depend on you, too. Doesn't that count?”

He cupped the side of her face in his palm. “Of course it counts—more than anything. You're the reason I'm determined to do the best job possible during these next few months. I'm going to make certain I'm offered Harland's job so that I can take care of my beautiful wife.” He leaned forward and kissed her lips. “You know I love you, Melinda, and you need to trust me. All this hard work is going to provide us with what we need to begin our family.” He murmured the words as he pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head.

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.”

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 windows 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.