He finally confided his doubts to Mrs. McDuffie.
She smiled at him as she wiped the dishes dry. “Have you told her what you’re telling me?”
“How can I? She doesn’t seem to want to be around me.”
“This doesn’t sound like the Cherish I know.” She laid the plate on a stack and took up another. “Sometimes a woman needs to be courted. You have her father’s approval. Why don’t you take advantage of that?”
He thought over her advice, wondering how to go about courting a young woman who, by her own admission, had been courted by the best in Europe. She’d certainly had her choice of the best in Hatsfield, and they had not impressed her.
What could one semiemployed boatbuilder, whom she’d known practically all her life, do to impress her?
He remembered when she’d first come home—her enthusiasm, her joyfulness whenever they were together. He remembered her pride in her cooking ability. He thought about the day she’d insisted he accompany her on a picnic.
A picnic. The image of that day alone with her in the meadow took hold.
He asked Mrs. McDuffie’s advice.
“That’s a wonderful idea. The days have been so warm—you must enjoy the good summer weather while it lasts. I can prepare a picnic basket for you.”
“I appreciate that, but…I’d like to do this myself.”
She nodded in understanding. “I’ll show you where everything is.”
Convincing Cherish to accompany him was another story.
“A picnic?” She looked as if he’d suggested taking cod-liver oil. “Oh, that’s sweet of you, but I really must go home. Papa and Aunt Phoebe are expecting me for dinner.”
“It’s all right. I told them.”
“You told them?” Her eyes widened. Then she glanced out the window. “But the weather. Aren’t we supposed to get fog?”
“It’s a perfectly fine day.”
“I don’t know. I’m not prepared—”
“What’s to prepare for?” He was beginning to wish he’d never proposed the idea. “It’s just a picnic. Who knows when we’ll have another opportunity? You used to like picnics.”
She met his gaze a second, and he wondered if she was remembering their picnic at the beginning of the summer.
Then she looked away. The next second she’d stood and was brushing off her apron. “Oh, all right, if you insist.” Her tone was ungracious—something he’d never heard from Cherish Winslow.
They were silent on the sail over. When she noticed he was heading out to sea instead of to the next bay, she turned to him. “Where are we going?”
“I thought we’d try McKinnon Island. We can get a view of the puffins.”
She nodded and turned away again. He was content to watch her profile, the way the tendrils of hair flew away from her face.
When they landed at the island, which housed only a lighthouse, he rowed them to the small dock in the skiff. Before he had a chance to help her out, she jumped out herself.
She ran ahead of him up the pebbly path as he followed more slowly with the picnic hamper.
They climbed up a slope through tall grass to the top of the island. The lighthouse keeper walked toward them and they waved. When he neared, they chatted a few moments, then headed beyond the lighthouse to find a spot for their picnic.
They chose a sheltered spot where they could look at the sea all around them and keep an eye on the grassy slope and rocky shore before them to watch out for the puffins. Silas laid the simple food out diffidently, noticing the unevenly cut bread.
“I hope I remembered everything. Here are some pickles,” he said, removing a jar. “And lemonade. Mrs. McDuffie gave me some slices of cake for afterward.”
“Everything looks delicious,” she said, taking a sandwich from him, her fingers not touching his.
They bowed their heads and said a blessing. Afterward they ate in silence, the sound of the waves sufficient. When they’d finished eating, they watched the puffins, which had reemerged after a while, since Cherish and Silas had sat so still. He handed her a pair of binoculars and she took them wordlessly.
The puffins were like miniature penguins, with the exception of their thicker, more colorful beaks. Cherish pointed to one and they watched as he dived off a rock and emerged from the water with a fish in his beak.
Cherish handed the binoculars back to him. “Thank you.” Her eyes, for the first time since her return, glowed with something of their old enthusiasm. “Thank you for bringing me here today.”
He knew it was now or never that he had to talk to her. But it was harder than he’d expected. He looked down at the emerald grass between his knees and began to pluck it absently.
“You know, when I first arrived in Haven’s End, to be apprenticed to your father, it was the first time in my life I’d been away from home, away from everything I knew…those I loved and who loved me. I didn’t understand why I had to be sent so far away. All I knew was that Papa had died and life would never be the same again.”
He drew a deep breath, not liking to recall those days. “The nights were the worst. Your father would close up the shop. I’d hear that last turn of the key, and I’d know I was alone for the night. Then the sounds would come, the creak here, the sudden gust of wind, the ceaseless drone of the waves, closing in on me.
“I knew I had to behave like a man. I was twelve. I was no longer a baby, I knew that full well. Yet I can’t count the number of nights I cried myself to sleep.”
He glanced across at her, his arm propped against his knees. She hadn’t made a sound, but sat watching him, listening. He gave a lopsided grin. “You were the only friendly face in those first days, the only one who seemed to sense how homesick I was. You remember what you gave me that first day?”
“I remember,” she answered softly. “Annie. She was my favorite doll. I must have really felt sorry for you that day to give up Annie.”
He eyed her. “I still have her.”
She looked at him in amazement.
“Do you know how many nights I fell asleep crying over that rag doll? Quite a few, as your childish mind supposed.”
“I’m glad you had Annie.”
“She got pretty sodden that first month, though I wouldn’t have admitted that to anyone, least of all to such a self-assured five-year-old.”
She smiled. “I was pretty cocky back then, wasn’t I? I’m sorry you were so lonely.”
He looked seaward. “I learned to concentrate on the reason I’d come here—to learn to build boats, and maybe some day even to design them. I knew I was being given a rare opportunity for a boy whose life would probably have followed his father’s as a fisherman if he had lived.” He sighed. “So I learned to put aside self-pity and loneliness and concentrate on what I loved best.
“Somewhere along the way I forgot how to love anyone or anything else.”
Cherish’s heart sank. It was as she had feared. She scarcely heard his next words as the numbness threatened to envelop her.
“It took a beautiful young woman of the same fearlessness and single-mindedness of that five-year-old to show me what I had missed.”
Her eyes turned to him in wonder. Could it be?
“Cherish…” His voice faltered. “I wish you could understand how deeply I care about you.”
She finished for him, her tone flat, “It’s just not love.”
“It is love. It’s the kind of love that rips a man apart with longing. You don’t know how hard this summer has been for me ever since you came home, so much a lady. I never dreamed you cared the least bit for me, much less aspired to win you—my feelings were buried too deep. I would never have discovered them on my own. But as you came to make me see how much I did care, I realized I hadn’t even known they were there.”
He gave a dry laugh. “I guess maybe that’s why I never looked at another woman after losing Emma. I think I’ve always been in love with you.”
His hands tore at the grass. “I never wan
ted to hurt you. I never wanted to separate you from your father—I never wanted you to go through what I’d been through.
“It’s why I didn’t let myself even dream of having you.”
“Oh, Silas, why didn’t you tell me? You made me think you didn’t care.”
“I didn’t want you to have to go against your father’s wishes if all you felt was a girlish fancy.”
“Silas! Do you think that’s all I felt?”
He answered slowly, as if groping for the explanation. “I didn’t want you to defy your father just to get something you couldn’t have, and once you got it, decide it wasn’t worth having. You know, I haven’t the education you’ve had, been to the places you’ve been to…”
Tears smarted her eyes. There was nothing to say against that. If he thought so little of her.
“Don’t cry, Cherish. I don’t ever want to hurt you. I’m sorry if it causes you pain to hear this, but I wanted to explain what I’ve been going through.
“It wasn’t until you went away this past month that I realized—” he swallowed, looking straight ahead at the ocean, his hair falling over his forehead “—I realized how bleak life would be without you…how much I’d been fooling myself to think I could give you up.”
“Oh, Silas,” she whispered.
“And when you did come back—after I pleaded with God to at least let me have your friendship—you’ve been so distant. I didn’t think life could get any worse.” He sighed deeply. “I guess what I brought you out here today to say is that I love you with all my heart, and I’ll take any little part of yours that you’re able to spare me—”
She laid a hand gently on his forearm. He looked down at her hand, but otherwise remained motionless.
“Silas, do you think you’ll ever come to believe that my heart is yours—that it’s been yours for the last fourteen years? The only reason I didn’t show you this before was because I was being the dutiful daughter. I was learning patience. I was waiting, dreaming, for the day I could come to you as a woman and offer it to you.”
He turned to her as she spoke, his eyes taking on hope as she revealed her heart to him. He reached his hand upward to cup her cheek. “Forgive me, Cherish, for doubting that love. I never will again.”
She smiled.
Slowly he leaned closer, his fingers touching her temple lightly, his eyes gazing at her in wonder. “You are so beautiful,” he breathed. His fingers stroked her cheek.
“Am I finally going to get kissed properly?” she asked with a giggle.
He smiled at her. “I don’t know about properly…but I shall do my best.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of your efforts?”
“Yes, Miss Winslow.”
“Much obliged, Mr. van der Zee,” she answered demurely.
No more words were necessary as his face neared hers and he grazed her lips with his.
She drew in her breath at the first contact. Her hands curved around his neck to bring his head closer to hers. This time his kiss was sweet and gentle.
When he finished kissing her, they looked into each other’s eyes. “How did I do?” he asked, a smile lighting the depths of his greenish-gray eyes.
“I think I shall need a lifetime of repeat performances before I can give you a proper evaluation.”
She touched the lock of hair falling over his forehead. “Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to do that?” she murmured.
“You may do it whenever you wish.”
“May I?” She touched her finger to his face and ran it along his jawline. “How very gracious of you.”
“Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to kiss you?” he asked in turn.
“No, how many?”
“Innumerable.”
She giggled. “Well, you may do so any time you wish.”
“May I? How very amiable of you.”
A few moments later she asked him. “Don’t you think we were meant for each other? Or do you think that’s an excessively romantic notion?”
“I do believe it’s a very sensible observation,” he replied.
Her finger traced the edge of his collar. “I’m glad to see you’re sporting the shirt I made you. I took great pleasure in sewing it.”
His eyes glanced downward to what they could see of it. “Did you indeed? No wonder it’s become my favorite shirt.”
When they rose to go, Silas gave Cherish his hand. “Come, there’s something still to be done.”
She followed him curiously as he led her to a large boulder, where he seated her.
“Let’s see…how would Count—or was it Prince?—Leopold do this?”
“I’m not interested in Count Leopold.”
They looked at each other in acknowledgment. “All right, how would Silas van der Zee go about proposing?” As he spoke, he got down on one knee and took her hand. “Cherish Elizabeth Winslow, will you be my wife?”
“With great pleasure, Silas Todd van der Zee.”
He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it.
“Do you think we could be married soon?” he asked as he helped her up.
“As soon as you’d like,” she replied.
“That would be this instant.”
“Although it would be nice to be courted by you, Silas…as I was today,” she demurred.
“I shall court you every day until our wedding day…and beyond.”
Abruptly her face clouded.
“What is it?” he asked immediately.
“Silas, are you still going to leave Haven’s End?”
“Your father has offered to sell me the shipyard.”
Her eyes widened. “He has?” She sobered. “Is he asking a lot…?”
“Not more than what he owes me,” he answered with a grin.
Her eyes grew even wider. “He owes you? What do you mean?”
He told her about the twelve hundred dollars.
“It was you!” she whispered in awe. “Of course! How could I not have known? I knew you were saving for your own boatyard. I guess that’s why it never occurred to me you’d be able to part with your savings—especially not to my father.”
“I wasn’t thinking of him. I would have done it for you in an instant, I realized.”
“Oh, Silas.” Her eyes filled with tears. “After how my father has treated you all these years…”
“I told you, I didn’t do it for him. Don’t cry,” he begged softly, wiping a tear that fell down her cheek. “I would do it again gladly. God used it to set me free.”
“Oh, Silas, Papa’s changed toward you. I don’t know what happened while we were away, but he’s been so nice to you since we returned. He’s treating you now the way he always should have.”
“He gave me his blessing to propose to you.”
She smiled. “Did he now? When was that?”
“The first chance he got.”
They laughed happily, linking arms and walking toward the boat. She thought of something else. “So what did you tell my father about buying the shipyard?”
“I haven’t given him my answer yet.”
“Why not?” she asked slowly.
“I haven’t decided yet whether to accept his generous offer or not.”
She waited.
“It depends on you.”
“I leave the decision to you,” she replied. “As Ruth said, ‘Whithersoever thou goest, I will go….’”
He smiled in reply. “Then we’ll stay in Haven’s End for the time being. I have a feeling the Lord will take us places we’ve never dreamed possible.”
Lilac Spring book club discussion questions:
1) Apart from the courtship of Silas and Cherish, what would you say is the main theme of Lilac Spring?
2) At the beginning of the story, Cherish returns home after a trip to Europe. Do you think her travels abroad help or hurt her ability to fit in with the small town of Haven’s End?
3) Silas lost his father at an early age and was sent to Hav
en’s End soon thereafter. How did this separation from his family affect his ability to love?
4) How does Cherish’s adoration of her father affect her relationship with Silas?
5) Neither a servant nor part of the Winslow family, Silas is somewhere in between. How does this affect him and his relationship with the Winslows?
6) Why must Silas give up his dream, and in doing so, give up his sense of self-worth?
7) After Mr. Winslow throws Silas out of the shipyard in anger, is it believable that he would ask for Silas’s forgiveness so soon afterward?
8) Despite his outward respect for Mr. Winslow, one might say Silas’s attitude isn’t one of true humility. Why is it important for him to give his life savings to Mr. Winslow?
9) Why is it important for Cherish to face losing everything before getting Silas?
10) Romans 12:1 is the verse that converts Silas. Can you explain the verse? And how is it a turning point in his life?
11) In relation to question number 10, what is “wrong” with Silas’s Christianity?
12) Both Cherish and Silas are forced to face a situation alone, and are subject to everyone’s scrutiny. Have you ever found yourself in the same situation? How did you find your way out of it?
13) Some might call Cherish a spoiled young woman. Is it important to you as a reader that the heroine be likable? Why or why not?
14) What was your favorite scene in the book? Why?
15) Lilac Spring is set in nineteenth-century Maine. Was the author’s description of the landscape and the community a good one? How was the setting important to the story? Could it have been set somewhere else?
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5428-6
LILAC SPRING
Copyright © 2005 by Ruth Axtell
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Steeple Hill Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
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