To Have and To Hold

by Tracie Peterson

  Marshall’s frustration reached new heights, and though he didn’t want to lose more ground in this battle, he was finding it difficult to hold his temper in check. It was obvious Frank didn’t plan to lend him any help with the men. “You’re right, Frank. I am the project manager. And you’re my assistant. I placed you in charge of the laborers on this job, so here’s the situation: Either you get those men moving on this project, or I’ll have to consider someone else for the position.”

  Frank stopped and folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe you better check with Victor before you make too many threats about what you will or won’t do about replacing me.”

  His comment carried a challenge that irritated Marshall, but he did his best to remain calm. It would only make matters worse if Frank realized he’d managed to get under his skin. As they entered the work area, Marshall caught sight of several of the men sitting idle.

  He waved toward the construction site as he approached them. “I’m only going to tell you men one more time: Either you work during working hours or you catch the next boat to the mainland and look for work somewhere else. No need for us to pay you if you’re not going to work.”

  A couple of the men nudged each other and snickered. “You ain’t gonna find replacements for us over in Biscayne. We’re the best you’re gonna get.”

  Marshall shook his head. “If you’re the best I can get, then I can do without you. Either get to work or pack your bags. Those are the only two options I’m giving you.”

  The men turned their attention to Frank, who stood only a short distance away. They obviously were waiting for him to give them a sign as to what they should do. When he didn’t reply, one of the men stood. “What you got to say ’bout that, Frank? You think we should be packing our bags, or you think we should get back to work?”

  Frank removed a pouch of tobacco from his pocket and started to roll a cigarette. “Guess it depends on how bad you need to earn some money. I’m not the one in charge of this construction, and I’m not the one who hands out your pay. You’re gonna have to decide for yourself.”

  The men appeared baffled by Frank’s response and mumbled among themselves before picking up their tools and returning to their duties. Marshall didn’t know how long his threat would keep them productive, but at least his warning had gotten them moving. If he had to fire two or three to keep the rest working, so be it. One way or another, he was going to get this project back on schedule.

  For the rest of the morning, Frank and all of the laborers remained hard at work. When Marshall headed toward the house several hours later, he held out hope he’d gained the respect of the men and they would continue to perform their assigned duties. Victor had mentioned the possibility of a future putting green, and Marshall wanted to gauge the distance from the construction site to the area the investors had discussed. Though it would be some time before the putting green would come to fruition, it gave Marshall an excuse for a walk before the noonday meal. He needed to assess what the future would hold if he couldn’t keep the men motivated and whether he wanted to visit with Mr. Morley or wait to see what would occur over the next few weeks.

  He strode down one of the paths leading to the ocean side of the island. During his first week on Bridal Veil, he’d begun taking walks to the coastline and watching the ocean lap onto the shore. The peacefulness had calmed his spirit like nothing else. Perhaps he’d find that same tranquillity today.

  He hadn’t gone far when he spotted a lone figure walking toward the shoreline. A single gull swooped overhead, landed, and strutted in the sand. Marshall cupped his hand over his eyes and squinted against the bright sun. Once certain the solitary man in the distance was Boyd, he broke into a run.

  “Boyd! Hold up.” With nothing but the lapping water to break the stillness, his voice echoed like a ringing church bell.

  The older man stopped and turned. He stared for a moment before removing his floppy-brimmed hat and waving it overhead. Panting by the time he reached Boyd’s side, Marshall bent forward, rested his palms on his knees, and inhaled several deep breaths.

  “What are you doing down here? Something wrong?”

  Marshall tipped his head back and detected a hint of panic in Boyd’s eyes. He shook his head. “No.” He gulped another breath of air and pushed himself to his full height. “Maybe I should qualify that answer. There’s no immediate emergency, but things at the construction site sure aren’t what I’d like.”

  “More trouble with those footings?” Boyd motioned toward a piece of driftwood not far off. “Think I better sit down for a few minutes. I’m feeling a little weak.”

  While Boyd settled himself on the decaying piece of wood, Marshall dropped to the sand. “No more than what I’ve already told you, but the setback has caused me to fall off schedule.”

  Boyd nodded. “I don’t doubt that one bit. Any time you have to tear up part of the foundation and start over, you’re looking at delays. You’re just going to have to keep those men working extra hours if you need too.”

  “The workers are the other part of my problem. I can’t figure out exactly what’s happened with them. They’d been doing good work, but lately I can’t depend on them to keep working unless there’s a supervisor watching them. And even then, I’m not sure they’re working as hard as they should be.” Marshall raked his fingers through his wind-blown hair. “I don’t want to sound like I’m pointing a finger, but it seems like ever since Frank took over as assistant, they’ve been slacking.”

  “Have you tried talking to Frank?”

  “I’ve tried, but he’s no help. Says I’m the project manager and I need to figure it out on my own.”

  Boyd listened while Marshall continued to recount his earlier conversation with Frank. “Sounds like Frank has hard feelings and he’s going to undermine you if he gets the chance.” The older man stretched his legs in front of him. “He’s probably already swayed the opinion of the men, and that doesn’t surprise me. He knows a lot of them, and they’ll side with him over a stranger. He figures that if you get too far behind, Victor will fire you and take him on to manage the project. Maybe you ought to have a talk with Victor. Let him know what’s going on and see if he’s willing to set Frank straight. Might help keep Frank in line if Victor knows he’s stirring things up with the men.”

  “The thing is, I can’t prove he’s said anything to the men, and you know both Frank and the men will deny any wrongdoing. For now, I think it might be best to keep Victor out of it. But I plan to keep a sharp eye on how things are going.”

  “Better keep a sharp ear on it, too. Those workmen are likely talking among themselves, and you might overhear something that will help you find out if Frank’s set his sights on becoming the manager.” Boyd rested his palms on his thighs and pushed to a stand. “You should pray on the matter, as well. The best way to get your answer is through prayer.”

  Marshall wasn’t certain prayer was needed as much as a new assistant manager, but he didn’t express that thought to Boyd. He’d take the older man’s suggestion and give prayer a try. He’d be pleased to receive an answer to his dilemma. In the meantime, he’d keep his mouth shut and his ears open.

  “Something else on your mind besides the construction?” Boyd took a few steps and motioned him to come along.

  Marshall nodded, surprised by Boyd’s awareness. “As a matter of fact, there is. Audrey lit into me after we’d been to Biscayne a couple weeks ago. She thinks I’m leading you down the path to destruction.”

  Boyd arched his brows. “What? I think I’m going to need a clearer picture of this path you’re supposedly leading me down. Exactly what did Audrey say?”

  Marshall quickly repeated what he remembered of Audrey’s tongue-lashing—which was just about every word she’d said. He’d been mulling her angry statements over and over in his head each night when he tried to go to sleep. “She was like a dog fighting over a bone. Every time I tried to say something, she growled at me. I finally backed off
, but it sure bothers me that she thinks I’m resorting to some sort of revenge against you because of my father’s death.”

  “To tell you the truth, I’m more than a little surprised she’d have that kind of an idea, but she’s mighty protective. And frightened. Even though it’s been a long time since I’ve tasted liquor, she still lives in fear that I’ll start up again.”

  Marshall sighed. “I understand her desire to shield you, but I’m not the enemy.”

  “You’re right. And it’s not fair to you,” Boyd said, massaging his forehead. “She’s trying to save me from the bottle, and I’m trying to shelter her from the truth about my physical condition. I think I need to have a long talk with my daughter.”

  Marshall hadn’t intended to burden the older man by divulging his conversation with Audrey. Revealing the truth to his daughter would surely cause Boyd distress. And it wouldn’t help Audrey’s attitude, either.

  ———

  Throughout the day, Boyd contemplated how he could ease into a conversation with Audrey. It would be no simple task to tell her the truth about his condition. She still believed that with rest, a good climate, and a proper diet, his health would improve. He didn’t know how much of his daughter’s conviction had developed because he’d hidden his weakening condition from her by remaining somewhat involved in the island development or how much had been pure conjecture on her part. Either way, he’d never said or done anything to sway her from the belief that he would regain his health. Thinking to protect her, he’d intentionally withheld the truth. Now he wondered if he’d been trying to shield himself rather than his daughter. In his mind, putting voice to the doctor’s diagnosis of cirrhosis made it official—as if there was no turning back.

  His increasing weakness had already proved there was no turning back, but repeating the doctor’s death sentence to his daughter would be more difficult than accepting the frailty of his body. Knowing he’d soon be with the Lord was assurance enough for Boyd. He’d accepted the doctor’s assessment without fear. But leaving his daughter to fend for herself—now that was another matter, one he wanted to resolve before he drew his final breath. Besides, telling Audrey would mean she’d hover over him like a mother caring for a newborn babe. Between Audrey and Thora, he’d be relegated to bed while the two of them decided upon a treatment they thought would save him.

  Still, for Marshall’s sake, he needed to tell her. “And for her own sake,” he muttered, knowing it would be better if his daughter had time to accept his impending death. He pushed up from his chair and walked into the kitchen, where Audrey and Irene were cleaning up. “I know it’s getting late, but when you’ve finished your supper chores, I’d like to visit with you for a few minutes.”

  Irene dipped her hands into the dishwater. “You go on with your father. I can finish up these dishes.”

  Audrey hesitated, but when Irene gave her a slight nudge, she untied her apron and hung it on the hook beside the kitchen door. “If you’re certain you don’t mind. There are pots and pans that still need scrubbing.”

  Wisps of dark hair had escaped from Irene’s thick braid, and she lifted a damp hand to push them behind one ear. “I can manage just fine. Go have your visit.” Her plump cheeks dimpled as she shot Audrey a bright smile. “I’m happy to be of help.”

  Boyd didn’t miss the warmth of their exchange. He was pleased Mr. Morley had chosen a helper who was close in age to his daughter. The two were obviously becoming fast friends—and Audrey had missed having a companion near her own age since leaving Pittsburgh. Spending all of her time around Thora and their boarders wasn’t good for her. Of course, she’d taken an immediate liking to Dr. Wahler’s daughters, but they were too young to be the friends that she needed. She needed someone with whom she could share her concerns, and from all appearances, Irene was a perfect fit.

  While still considering how he would broach the topic of his illness, Boyd motioned Audrey toward the front porch. “I don’t think it’s too cool for us to sit outside, but you might want to bring along your shawl just in case.”

  Audrey shook her head and stopped in the parlor. “Why not sit in here? I’m not concerned about myself, but you might catch cold in the damp evening air.”

  “I’d prefer a little more privacy,” he said as he picked up his lightweight jacket. “I promise to keep this buttoned clear to my throat if it will make you feel better.” When she arched her brows, he started buttoning his jacket and then handed her the shawl.

  “I’ll wait until you have it buttoned—all the way.” She pointed to his neck before tossing her shawl around her shoulders.

  They walked outside and Boyd waited while she settled in the chair beside him. “There are a few things I want to discuss with you.”

  She leaned toward him. “Has something gone amiss with Mr. Morley or with the construction?”

  “No. This is about us. Well, mostly about me.”

  She folded her hands in her lap. “You have some deep dark secret that you’ve never before told me. Is that it?”

  Boyd caught the sparkle in her eyes. Unfortunately, she didn’t know how close she’d come to the truth. “I’m sorry to say that I have withheld something from you.”

  Concern replaced the sparkle that had shone in her eyes only a moment ago. “After learning about the taxes, I thought you vowed you wouldn’t keep any more secrets from me. Do we owe more money?”

  He shook his head. “I wish money were the issue, but it’s something more serious. It’s my medical condition we need to talk about.”

  “I believe you’ve made some progress. Granted, you’ve had your bad days, but—”

  “Please listen before I lose my courage, Audrey.” He leaned forward and grasped her hands between his own. “First of all, I want you to understand that my faith in God is strong. I know you’ve questioned whether I’m drinking again; you can set aside that concern. I no longer have any desire for liquor.” After inhaling a deep breath, he squeezed her hands. “The truth is, I’m dying. I have cirrhosis of the liver, and I don’t have much longer—the doctor told me before we left Pittsburgh.”

  She reeled back in her chair. “Dying? But that can’t be. You told me . . .”

  “I know. Back then I . . .” He looked down at his hands. “I hadn’t digested the news myself, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. But our lives have changed, and I don’t want you to accuse others of wrongdoing. You have every right to be angry with me, but I can’t change it now.” He lifted her chin with his index finger. “I’m telling you the truth, Audrey. The doctor told me my liver is failing.”

  “This can’t be true.”

  “I know this isn’t news you want to hear, but the doctor was certain—and so am I. The years of drinking have taken their toll. I wanted to protect you for as long as possible, but you have a right to know.” His heart ached as her face contorted into a mixture of fear, anger, and sorrow. “I’m sorry to cause you more pain.” His words sounded hollow to his ears. Only he and the Lord knew the true depth of his sorrow. The last thing Boyd wanted was to cause his daughter more pain.

  Audrey yanked away and jumped to her feet. “There has to be something or someone who can help. We’ll find a doctor who has more experience treating disorders caused by alcohol. Surely in a city the size of Atlanta we can locate someone. Perhaps Dr. Wahler can advise us. I’ll go and ask him first thing in the morning.” Her words tumbled forth in fitful bursts. “Better yet, I’ll go to his cabin right now.”

  With Audrey’s additional duties at Bridal Veil, it had been easy enough for Boyd to mask his weakening condition. During the past weeks, he had worried she might take notice of his yellowing complexion, the jaundice the doctors had warned him to anticipate. But if Audrey had observed any changes, she’d kept it to herself. Before she could step off the porch, Boyd stood and reached for her arm. “No, Audrey. Neither Dr. Wahler nor any other doctor is going to have any words of encouragement. I visited more than one doctor in Pittsburgh. They all
agreed that my time is short for this world.” He motioned to the wicker chair. “Please sit down.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes as Audrey dropped to the chair. Slipping her hand inside her skirt pocket, she withdrew a white handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. When her tears continued to flow, Boyd leaned forward and embraced her. How did a father soothe his child? What could he say that might lessen her pain? He thought his heart would break as he held her in his arms.

  “I want you always to remember that even when I’m gone from this earth, our separation isn’t permanent. We’ll have a reunion in heaven, but until that time, you must learn to lean on the Lord. I want you to call upon God when you’re lonely or sad. He will be your strength and comfort. You’re going to discover that the Lord will comfort you more than you can ever imagine.” Boyd wiped away one of his daughter’s tears. “Will you promise to do that for me?”

  “I’ll do my best, but it won’t be the same. I don’t know how I can bear being without both you and Mama. Somehow this doesn’t seem fair.”

  Boyd couldn’t agree more. His daughter had suffered a great deal of loss and pain during her short lifetime. “It’s a fact that God’s plans don’t always make sense to us, but that’s when we learn to trust.” Stroking her hand, he considered the depth of that simple word. Trust wasn’t an easy thing, especially during the hard times. Before he died, Boyd wanted Audrey to grasp the importance of trusting God during demanding circumstances, as well as during the easy, untroubled times. “I know it’s hard to set aside fear and place all your trust in God—even when you’re my age, it can be difficult. But believe me, the reward is worth pushing yourself to trust Him.” He pulled her close. “I have faith that you’re going to be just fine, Audrey. I’m trusting God to make certain of that—and I pray you’ll do the same.”