Lilac Spring

by Ruth Axtell Morren

  He shoved the hat onto his head as he walked down the flagstone path. He was doing the right thing, he told himself, feeling at the moment as if he didn’t have a clue what that was.

  Cherish had walked down to the village on the morning of the Fourth to watch the parade. She’d anticipated the day, hoping things would appear a bit like old times—she and Silas and their childhood friends having a good time together.

  She had looked for him, but in vain. She stood now with some girlhood friends, waiting for the parade to begin.

  “Oh, look at Captain Phelps and his wife.” Julie nudged her with an elbow.

  Cherish turned curious eyes across the street. The crowd parted for a tall, elegant couple walking arm in arm. She knew who Captain Caleb Phelps was from his business at the shipyard, but she had never addressed him personally. She’d been a mere girl, and he an important client who came up from Boston occasionally to oversee his father’s shipping concerns on the down east coast.

  Captain Phelps’s bride was another story. Cherish drew in her breath, seeing her. Although the woman, known locally as Geneva, was a few years older than Cherish, Cherish had known her all her life. Now she scarcely recognized her.

  “Can you believe that’s ‘Salt Fish Ginny’?” Julie asked with a giggle. Cherish shook her head, her eyes fixed on the dark-haired woman who had lived until recently on her own, dressing like a man and fishing cod.

  Now she appeared more elegant than Cherish herself. She walked tall and straight, carrying a frilly parasol. Her dress, a cool-looking cream-and-blue-striped silk, contrasted well with her deep ebony hair. Cherish knew Geneva had been considered an oddity and about as devoid of natural feeling as the rocky coast. Now Cherish looked in amazement as she greeted everyone warmly and was well received in turn.

  “Don’t they make a handsome couple?” Lucy on her other side asked.

  “Yes,” breathed Cherish, watching how Captain Phelps turned to his bride, patting the hand that was tucked into the crook of his elbow and saying something to her. She responded with a smiling answer. Cherish remembered how she’d scared little Cherish with her dark, scowling looks. “However did they meet?” she asked curiously, finding it hard to imagine such a couple from the Geneva she’d known.

  “Oh, it’s the most romantic story,” Julie told her eagerly. “Captain Phelps spent the summer before last out in that beautiful house on the Point that he had built for his bride. She’d jilted him because of some scandal. Well, lo and behold, he and Geneva ended up falling in love. Can you imagine anything so improbable?”

  “She looks nothing like she used to.”

  “Because she’s had all kinds of lessons in deportment. Mama told me that old Mrs. Bradford took a liking to her. At the end of the summer, after Captain Phelps left Haven’s End for Boston, Mrs. Bradford invited Geneva to go to Boston with her as her companion. By then Captain Phelps had sailed out to New Orleans. By the time he returned, Geneva had undergone the transformation you see now.”

  “They married last year in Boston, I heard,” Lucy added. “They’ve just come up to spend the summer out on Ferguson Point.”

  “It sounds very romantic,” Cherish said, still viewing the couple.

  “You needn’t feel any envy,” Julie said with a laugh. “Your Mr. Townsend is certainly a handsome fellow, and his father, if not as wealthy as Captain Phelps, is the richest one around here.”

  Cherish looked at her friend. Were they already pairing her off with Warren? And was that how they viewed him—as a good match because of his looks and family wealth? Wasn’t that how her father viewed him? Was that how she viewed him?

  What would she think of him if he were not so handsome and didn’t have a penny to his name? Would she have looked twice at him?

  Her gaze scanned the crowd once more, but the golden hair she sought was nowhere to be seen.

  As if reading her mind, Lucy said, “I wouldn’t mind a dance or two with your father’s apprentice. I think he’s even more handsome than your Mr. Townsend.”

  Cherish glanced at her sharply. “Who, Silas? He’s no longer an apprentice. He’s a shipwright.”

  “All the better,” her friend answered calmly, ignoring her tone. “Maybe I can convince Papa to have a boat built. Then I could hang around the boat shop like you!”

  “Silas is no longer working with us,” she said quietly.

  “Why not?”

  “He’s going to work at a larger shipyard.”

  “Oh, what a shame.”

  “I thought I saw him leave the cannery the other day!” Julie exclaimed. “I could scarcely credit it.”

  “Oh, he’s just working there temporarily,” Cherish hastened to explain. “He’s helping Papa out in the evenings until Papa is able to take over things in the shipyard once again. That—that time is fast approaching.”

  The conversation turned to her father, then the parade started and they were distracted by the sound of trumpets, horns and drums. Cherish watched, remembering her excitement as a girl whenever the parade marched by on the Fourth.

  The two young men who were walking out with Julie and Lucy came by to stand with them during the parade. Watching them, Cherish wondered what her future would be like in Haven’s End. She knew despite the sudden appearance of the fifteen hundred dollars, it was only a temporary reprieve. The bank had granted a two-week extension for them to come up with the final five hundred dollars. And what then? She and her father would still have to repay their benefactor, which in turn would reduce the profits from the schooner. Would they even be able to keep the boat shop open during the winter months?

  Would Cherish have to seek employment? She had heard that one of the village schools was in need of a teacher. She could offer her services. Would she and her father be forced to live in reduced circumstances and would she become an old-maid schoolteacher? From her pinnacle atop Haven’s End society, would she now be relegated to the fringes at its base?

  After the parade, Cherish walked with the two couples to watch them join in the games—the three-legged race, the egg-and-spoon race, the burlap sack race. She joined them in horseshoes. All the while her eyes roamed the area looking for the only person who would make her feel at home again in her native village.

  She might as well be back in Europe for all she saw of him.

  She went home to have dinner with her father, and in the afternoon they hitched up the buggy to go back to the harbor to watch the annual boat race. Any kind of craft was eligible to race—both working boat and pleasure craft.

  She was certain she would see Silas at the races. He had always represented Winslow’s Shipyard, and for the past five years had taken first prize. This year she knew he would be racing his own yawl.

  But there was no sign of Silas. She couldn’t understand where he could be. To her knowledge he had never missed a Fourth.

  She watched the beautiful yacht owned by Captain Phelps. She knew Silas had been the principal builder and designer on it last summer. It beat all the other boats by a healthy length.

  She clapped vigorously when it sailed past the finish line, feeling joy that in a sense the victory was one for Silas. It was his craft that had won, even if it hadn’t been the one registered in his name.

  By the time Silas sailed back to Haven’s End the sky had darkened and the fireworks were in full swing over the harbor. Silas secured his line to its mooring and rowed to the wharf. It was crowded with people “oohing and aahing” over the bright display in the black sky overhead.

  He answered a few greetings as he passed them by, his eyes scanning the faces for Cherish. With a scant glance at the brilliant red, white and blue lights above, Silas turned his back on the crowd and walked up the road leading out of town.

  He could have crossed the harbor to the parsonage in the skiff, but he walked the longer way, past Cherish’s house. He’d fought so hard to stay away from her, but that night his legs drew him in her direction.

  When he reached her house,
it was dark except for a dim light visible through the front door. He stood for a moment at her gate. What had she done to him since she’d come back?

  She’d twisted him around so much he no longer knew what was up or down, right or wrong.

  He entered the gate and began walking up the path to the veranda, not knowing what he was about. Clearly everyone was abed. It was late and he should be headed to his own bed. Tomorrow was another workday.

  He stood at the foot of the steps leading up the porch, staring upward. Before he could will himself to turn back, he heard her voice.

  “Silas?” It was soft, questioning. It was too late for him to back out now.

  “I didn’t see you at the fireworks,” he answered. He could barely make her out at the far end of the veranda, on the swing. He could hear its creak as she set it in motion.

  “I didn’t go. I watched them from here.” Her tone was matter-of-fact.

  “Is your father all right?”

  “Yes.”

  Silas hesitated, torn between going and staying. He finally compromised by sitting on the steps, not trusting himself to take a seat beside her on the swing. He truly didn’t know what her proximity would do to him this evening.

  “You missed the boat race.”

  “I had to go to Hatsfield and couldn’t get back in time” was all he could think to say.

  “I thought you wanted to try your boat out this year.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I had to see someone in Hatsfield.”

  “Oh.”

  Before she could ask him whom he said, “I ran into Warren Townsend. He sends you his best regards.”

  “You did?” Her voice brightened. “That was nice of him. What else did he say?”

  The question cut through him. He leaned against the balustrade and tried to remember. “He asked me to apologize to you for not being able to attend the festivities here in Haven’s End. It sounds as if he had a lot of official duties in town with his father.”

  “Yes, I imagine he had.”

  Silas said nothing about Annalise. Even the thought of her made him feel disloyal toward Cherish.

  “Do you have any idea when you might be leaving Haven’s End?”

  Cherish’s question caught him by surprise. Was he already relegated to her past? A brief flirtation like the ones she’d described by her friends, but now it was time to settle down to a serious prospect like Warren Townsend?

  “No, I haven’t thought about it yet.”

  “There’s nothing keeping you here.”

  Was she telling him not to think about her anymore?

  “No, I suppose there isn’t. I was waiting for the schooner to be launched.”

  The two fell silent. The only sound breaking the stillness was the lapping of the high tide in the inlet across the street. The sound of the fireworks was dying down as the last rocket was shot off.

  Finally Silas rose, feeling old in every limb. “I’d better get to the McDuffies. They’re probably in bed by now.”

  “Captain Phelps won the race.”

  He turned toward her, joy mingled with regret. “Did he? In the sandbagger?”

  “Yes. Isn’t that the one you worked on?”

  “Yes, the one I wrote you about.”

  “It’s a beautiful boat. You should have seen her skim the water.”

  “Maybe I’ll still be able to. He’s up for the summer?”

  “Yes, with Geneva.”

  Cherish didn’t move from her seat. Silas hesitated, but finally turned away from her. “Good night, Cherish.”

  “Good night,” her voice called softly after him.

  As she heard his soft footfalls die away on the gravel, Cherish sighed, feeling as if with them went the vital part of her.

  Silas hadn’t told her where he’d been all day. What had been so important to make him miss the boat race?

  It could only be about seeking work at another shipyard. She could think of nothing else that would be more important to Silas.

  Did it mean he had received an offer somewhere?

  He seemed so distant lately. She thought sadly of her great expectations on returning to Haven’s End. All her hopes and dreams of a lifetime so quickly brought to nothing. Had Silas adjusted to life without her in the two years she had been absent from home? It certainly appeared so. And what of their kiss? Had he kissed her only to demonstrate his warnings to her about the nature of a man toward a flirtatious woman? She touched her lips. Had there been no love for her in that kiss, merely masculine desire?

  Dear Lord, show me what is the right way. Would You have me marry Warren? It seems right. It would make Papa so happy. It would solve our financial problems. It would ensure Papa’s peace of mind. If I didn’t marry him, where would we be? Would I be precipitating Papa’s ill health if I turn Warren down?

  Silas doesn’t seem to care for me at all. Perhaps as a sister, but nothing more. She attempted to suppress the wave of despair that swept over her. Oh, Lord, I gave my love for him over to You. I know I have no rights to him. What is best for him? Should he go away from Haven’s End? Is his future somewhere else? Grant me grace to accept Your will for Silas.

  Silas arrived at the parsonage expecting to find all dark and quiet. As he walked up to the house, he heard the pastor’s and Mrs. McDuffie’s voices coming to him over the yard. They were seated on a bench overlooking the harbor.

  “Good evening, Silas. You saw the fireworks from the other side? Weren’t they grand?” McDuffie asked.

  “Uh—yes. I didn’t see too much of them. I was just getting back from Hatsfield.”

  “Oh, they were beautiful,” Mrs. McDuffie told him. “We had a perfect night for them. No fog.”

  “A minor miracle, I would call that, for July,” McDuffie added with a chuckle. “We’ve just been sitting here, not wanting the evening to end.”

  “Don’t let me disturb you,” Silas said quickly. “I’m going to turn in.”

  Mrs. McDuffie rose from the bench. “Just my thoughts exactly. Why don’t you stay out and keep my husband company a little while?”

  “Yes, come have a seat, Silas.” Pastor McDuffie patted the bench beside him. “I’m reluctant to get up and call it a night.”

  “All right.” Suddenly Silas desired the company. He didn’t want to face his own thoughts. Most likely they would only point to what a stupid fool he had been to throw away every chance that had come his way. First his hard-earned savings and now the offer of his own shipyard.

  After Mrs. McDuffie wished them both good-night, the pastor and Silas sat quietly for a few minutes, listening to the rippling sound of the waves upon the pebbles of the beach.

  Slowly Silas began to tell McDuffie of his day.

  “What do you think?” he asked as he finished. “I turned down the offer to court a decent young lady whose father would open every door for me. Opportunity’s only supposed to knock once.” He contemplated the black expanse of sky and water in front of them, their presence evident only by the sound of the waves and twinkle of the stars. “I missed the boat race today. You know how much I wanted to race my own boat? I’ve raced boats I’ve built for Winslow for the last several years and won the last five. This time I wanted the chance to sail my own boat.”

  As he sat silent, he realized how good it felt to unburden himself and how much he desired to hear this man’s opinion.

  “Well, you’ve had yourself quite a day…quite a day, I would say.”

  “I feel like…like…” Silas groped for words. “Like God’s taken it all—my sense of worth, my dreams, plans, even any…any hopes I had about Cherish—and now I’m just adrift. I’m surrounded by sea with no thought which is north, south, east or west. What should I do now? I keep asking myself, but I get no sense of direction.”

  “Have you never heard of ‘waiting on the Lord’?”

  Silas rubbed the back of his neck. “I suppose so. It just never struck a chord with
me. I always had a goal, a purpose to my life. It’s what kept me going through the bad times.”

  “The Lord tells us to seek His kingdom and righteousness and all the rest will be added to us. You need to take Him at His Word.”

  “But what does that mean, ‘seek His kingdom’? They sound like words that have very little meaning for a boatbuilder.”

  “What about starting with getting to know your Savior? Have you been reading the Bible?”

  “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “Well, I’ve enjoyed it.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t know. I guess I still haven’t gotten to the point where I see the connection with my own life, here and now. How can I serve the Lord? What can I do?”

  “Well, as I see it, the Lord has already given you a perfect opportunity.”

  Silas glanced at him in surprise. “Yeah? How so?”

  “Well, old Tobias, for one. You can minister to him.”

  Silas let out a breath. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “You mean, tell him about Jesus?”

  “Do as you’ve been doing. Be his friend. Share the light of Jesus through that friendship. The Word says not to despise small beginnings. I would say this qualifies.” Silas could hear the humor in McDuffie’s voice.

  “You know, Silas, if you learn the secret to obedience, God will take you places you never dreamed. You say you want to build boats. God will open doors you never imagined possible, that His name might be glorified through you—that name that is above every name.” McDuffie’s voice rose in the sheer excitement of it. Then his voice sank. “But you’ve got to be a willing vessel. There’s only one way to be a vessel. Empty yourself out on the altar, that He may fill you.

  “Become the clay in the potter’s hands, and you’ll see, Silas, what the Lord will do.”

  Well, from high-flown dreams of designing fast ships to visiting the village drunk was quite a shift in purpose. Silas rose and stretched.

  He had nothing else to offer. All that was left was to be obedient.

  Chapter Twenty-One