Love for All Seasons

by Stacy Henrie

  Dinner at the hotel? The only dinner she planned to eat was in her bungalow, not in the hotel’s dining room, trying to pretend she was a guest and not a servant.

  “Not an adequate repayment?” he voiced into the silence.

  She glanced down the hall, grateful no one else had happened by and seen them deep in conversation. “It’s not that.”

  She ought to refuse, even if spending time with hotel guests outside of work might be permissible. They were from two completely different social backgrounds. And yet, the idea of doing something so out of the ordinary from what she’d known the last sixteen years of her life was more than a little appealing. This was the first time she’d ever been asked to accompany a young man anywhere.

  “Tell you what.” She shifted the pile in her arms. “I have yet to swim at the natatorium . . . and, well, I’d really like to.”

  His disarming grin lit up his face again. “Say no more. I’ll meet you there at six. My treat.”

  Loralee offered him a genuine smile. “Do I get to know the name of my benefactor?”

  “Wyatt Noble, at your service.”

  Noble indeed, she thought. “I’m Loralee Brown.”

  “Loralee.” The way he said it reminded her of a beautiful poem or a stirring song. “I’ll bid you adieu then, Loralee.” He gave her a smart bow as if he were the servant and she a high-society woman. “Until this evening.”

  • • •

  Loralee pulled at the ill-fitting bathing suit and sighed. It might as well be a gunnysack with how loose it lay around her middle, but it was the only one available that covered her long legs to her knees. Would Wyatt think her even more of a country bumpkin in such a suit?

  “It can’t be helped,” she muttered to herself. “Not if you want to swim.” And she did. She’d heard nothing but praise for the newly opened natatorium and she’d been eager to try it out. Even if it meant paying forty cents for a suit and towel and a day of swimming. But as he’d promised, Wyatt had covered the cost. Now there was nothing more to do but enjoy her time here.

  The minute she exited the dressing room, she forgot all about her baggy suit. Instead she gazed in wonder at the giant indoor swimming pool. Two stories of grandstands rose into the air on either side, and even at this hour they were half filled with people.

  “It’s huge,” she said as Wyatt approached her.

  He grinned as if he’d constructed it himself. “Pretty incredible, huh? The salt water is heated and the band”—he motioned to one side of the grandstands—“plays while you swim.”

  “Are those waves?”

  “Sure are,” Wyatt said with a laugh. “They manufacture them, so you can get the ocean experience without actually dipping a toe in the frigid water outside.”

  Loralee shook her head in amazement. “Incredible indeed.”

  “You ready to go in?” He took a step backward toward the pool’s edge, his smile teasing. “The grandstands are the place to watch, you know. Not the pool.”

  “Of course I’m coming in.” She joined him in the water, the warm waves rolling over her feet. When she was in up to her knees, she stopped and watched Wyatt disappear beneath the surface several yards ahead of her.

  He popped up a few seconds later. “Don’t you want to swim?” he asked, shaking water from his hair.

  Loralee ventured a few more steps forward. “I would, but I don’t know how.”

  “What?” Wyatt’s eyebrows shot up as if she’d proclaimed she didn’t know how to walk. Slicing through the water, he swam back toward her. “Where did you grow up?”

  “Central Oregon.”

  “And you don’t know how to swim?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I never had to learn.”

  When he reached her, he stood, water dripping off his suit. “If you want to learn, I can teach you.” His encouraging smile made her insides feel as pleasant and balmy as the water.

  “You’d teach me?”

  “Of course. If you trust me as a teacher.”

  Loralee gazed up at him. While she hadn’t interacted with him for more than a few minutes today, she’d taken an instant liking to him the moment she realized he didn’t see her as a servant and nothing else. “Yes, I trust you.”

  “All right then. I’ll teach you how to float first.” With that, he scooped her off her feet and carried her toward the deeper water. Loralee clung to his neck, fear pushing at her desire to learn. Now that she was out of the water, the cool air made her skin goose-pimple and the shadows in the deep end caused her to shiver. “I promise I won’t drop you,” he murmured near her ear. “At least not on purpose.”

  Chuckling, she relaxed her grip. “What do I do first?”

  He eased her into the water, so it lapped around her hips. “Just stretch out on your back in the water. I’ll still hold you, so all you have to do is get a feel for floating.”

  Loralee nodded and he gently placed her in the water. Gazing upward and holding herself stiff, she fought through pricks of panic as the waves pushed at her ears and arms and legs. True to his word, though, Wyatt kept a strong hand beneath her back and knees.

  After a few moments, she calmed her tense muscles. She’d never floated on her back before, but the sensation was nice and peaceful. And the chance to look at Wyatt made the experience all the more pleasant.

  “When you’re ready, I’m going to move my hand away from your knees.”

  She exhaled through another spike of fear. “Okay.”

  “You’re doing well. Just keep relaxing.”

  Closing her eyes, she listened to the water lapping around her face and the muffled sound of the band’s music.

  “Now I’m going to let you float by yourself,” he said. Loralee opened her eyes, no longer relaxed. “It’s okay. You can do it, and I’ll be right here. Let’s just see if you can float a second or two on your own.”

  She pressed her lips together and dipped her chin in agreement. If he thought she could do it, she would. She squeezed her eyes shut once more then breathed in and out slowly. She could do this. It would be wonderful to know how to swim, to be able to do so whenever she liked. Perhaps she’d try the ocean itself, once she mastered the natatorium . . .

  “Loralee.” His whisper prompted her to lift her eyelids. “You’re floating by yourself and have been for at least twenty seconds.”

  “I am?” She hadn’t realized he hadn’t put his hand back beneath her.

  He grinned. “You’re a natural.”

  A genuine smile tugged at her mouth. “That or I have an excellent teacher.”

  “My guess is both,” he said, his brown eyes lit up with amusement. “Want to try something else?”

  “Yes.”

  Before she could ask what to do, he lifted her up and out of the water again. He carried her back to where the water’s depth reached below his waist then set her down. “I know you can touch here, but it’ll make it easier to practice moving your arms and kicking your legs. Then if you need to rest, just put your feet down.”

  “I like the sound of that.” Though she had very much enjoyed being in his arms.

  After watching Wyatt’s demonstration, Loralee mimicked his movements by scooping her arms and paddling her feet. Her first trip across the pool took some time and she stopped twice to catch her breath. But each time she moved from one side to the other, her movements became more confident.

  She wasn’t sure how long they’d been in the pool when she noticed the band had stopped playing. Lifting her head, she saw the musicians putting away their instruments. “It’s already time to go,” she said, standing. She shivered and folded her arms against her sopping bathing suit, but she felt happy with her progress and with the company. She’d enjoyed every minute with Wyatt.

  He came to stand beside her, his gaze on the band members too. “You’ve done really well. I hate to stop now.”

  “Thank you, but there will be time another day to keep learning.” She started for the pool’s e
dge.

  “Loralee, wait.” She turned to find him running his hand through his wet hair, his expression hopeful. “We could stay.”

  She eyed him in confusion. “But the natatorium is closing.”

  “But it doesn’t have to for us.” He walked toward her through the water. “My father is . . . well, you see . . . he’s a powerful man. If I say I’m his son, they’ll let us stay. Probably as long as we like.”

  Disappointment cut through her at his words and she glanced away. It was nice to know he wanted to spend more time with her, but his statement about his father had only served to remind her that they still came from two vastly different worlds. He lived a life where the rich could command anything, and she lived where the poor dealt with the consequences of those demands.

  “No, thank you, Wyatt.” She started forward again. “I’m done for today.”

  He caught up with her, a frown pulling at his mouth. “You don’t want to stay? I thought we were having fun.”

  “We were; we did.” She stopped to face him, though she kept her gaze lowered. “Thank you for the lesson and for inviting me to come with you.”

  “But?” he pressed.

  Loralee lifted her chin to study his handsome face before looking away. “Just because you are in a position of power to make something happen doesn’t always mean you should.” She gestured toward the band members, some of whom were watching them. “Many of these people have been here, working, all day. They’re ready to go back to their homes and bungalows to eat and sleep, so they can get up tomorrow and do it all over again. So as much as I would enjoy more time to swim with you, I don’t want to be a part of something that forces them to stay here longer than they wish.”

  The distant mutter of conversation and the splash of the waves were the only sounds to meet her ears. Had she offended Wyatt with the truth? She hoped not, but if she had, then it would be easier for her to make the choice not to see him again.

  After the pause between them lengthened even more, Wyatt wiped at his face with his wet hands and chuckled. “That was well said, exactly right, and I do apologize.” He offered her a contrite smile. “What do you say we change and then I’ll walk you home?”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to.” He shifted his weight. “Actually, if we’re being honest, what I really want is to see you tomorrow and maybe the day after that and the day after that . . .”

  Loralee stared at the water around her knees, hardly daring to hope. He, the son of a powerful and obviously wealthy man, had not only listened to and accepted her honesty, he also wanted to see her again. Her own wish to spend more time with him, however foolish, beat as strongly as her heart.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely,” he said with a confident tone. “But I have a question first.”

  What did he wish to know? she wondered. “Yes?”

  He stepped closer to her and tipped her chin upward with his finger until their eyes met. Loralee’s pulse stuttered and sped up. “Why won’t you look me in the eye?”

  “I do.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “A few times, yes, but then you look away. Like you’re doing right now.”

  She dragged her gaze back to meet his. “I’m a servant, Wyatt. We’re not supposed to look the guests in the eye.”

  “Am I just a guest?”

  “No.”

  “And you’re not just a servant.” His voice sounded husky and she noticed he kept glancing at her mouth. “Can I say something else?”

  “Yes,” she repeated in a half whisper.

  Wyatt lowered his finger, to her regret, but he took hold of her hand. “You have the most extraordinary blue eyes, Loralee. And everyone should get the chance to see them.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he kept going. “Besides that, you are a confident, well-spoken young lady. It doesn’t matter what your job is, look everyone in the eye. It shows your confidence, and it’s an acknowledgment of others’ humanity.”

  “Where did you learn that?” she asked, touched more than she would likely ever be able to say by his compliment and admonition.

  Giving her hand a squeeze, he led her out of the pool. “Looking others in the eye is one thing my father has modeled that I do admire.”

  “Do you not get along with him?”

  He laughed, but the sound held none of his earlier merriment. “You could say that. He’s the owner of one of the largest logging companies in the Northwest and doesn’t want anyone, including his only son, to forget it. Someday I’ll take over for him, but I pray every night that I won’t lose my faith and integrity in doing so.”

  She squeezed his hand in return. “I don’t think you will.” And she meant it. What she’d seen in Wyatt today was starkly different from what she’d observed in most of the other rich people at the resort. Or really in any person she’d met thus far in her life. He was kind and funny and optimistic. Best of all, he’d seen her, the real her.

  Singing to herself as she changed back into her clothes, she realized for the first time since coming to Bayocean that she couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow would bring. Because Wyatt Noble would be a part of it.

  Chapter 3

  August 1922

  The scent of freshly milled lumber permeated every inch of Wyatt Noble’s office. It clung to his clothes when he went home each day and filled his dreams each night. But the smell was both familiar and welcome, a tangible connection to his past and to those he’d lost—his mother, father, sister, and brother-in-law.

  He drew in a full breath of the calming aroma and returned his gaze from the large picture window to the contract on his desk. Even though the demand for lumber to build airplanes and ships had eased with the end of the Great War, the Noble Logging Company still continued to be successful and profitable. His father would likely be proud of that fact, though Wyatt had discarded the man’s underhanded, ruthless tactics when he’d taken over. He regretted never having had much of a relationship with his father until the very end, but Wyatt would never be sorry for choosing to run the company from a position of faith and honesty. And apparently his customers felt the same, judging by the new contract before him—the second this week.

  The memory of a conversation he’d had years ago, one he hadn’t thought of in a very long time, replayed inside his mind. A conversation with a beautiful, compassionate young lady, regarding his fear of losing his faith and integrity once he became president of the logging company.

  “I don’t think you will,” Loralee had said in that singsong, confident voice he’d loved from the moment he first heard it.

  While this particular recollection hadn’t entered his thoughts in years, the woman herself had more times than he could count. Loralee Brown, he thought, tapping his desk with his pen. Or rather, Loralee Love.

  She was a famous singer now—and a very talented one at that. Wyatt hadn’t heard her sing since the summer they’d shared in Bayocean when he was twenty, but he’d been given a glimpse back then of her amazing gift. And he’d followed her career through the newspapers.

  Not for the first time, Wyatt wondered if she had a beau. He figured he would have read about her wedding if she’d married, but she might wish to keep the relationship of a sweetheart as private knowledge. Something akin to regret pierced him at the thought, bringing a frown to his mouth. No other girl had captured his heart the way Loralee had eight years ago, though he’d made a concerted effort to get to know other young women since then. At least until taking over the company. His work, and becoming guardian to his niece at the death of his sister and brother-in-law, had taken over his life, leaving him little time and energy to pursue romantic attachments.

  Wyatt tried to focus on the contract before him once more, but his mind refused to let go of the memories of his first love. The summer they’d spent together had been the happiest time of his life. But she’d been so young, four years his junior, and his father had refused to condone the match. So Wyatt and Loralee d
id the only thing they felt they could—they’d promised to meet in Bayocean in eight years if neither of them were married or attached by then.

  “What day was that?” he murmured to himself, spinning in his chair to view the calendar pinned to the wall. He recalled they’d chosen August 1922, but what day . . . Climbing to his feet, unsure why he felt driven to remember such a detail in this moment, he peered hard at the calendar.

  “Daddy Wyatt!”

  He turned, a ready smile erasing his frown as his niece burst into the room. She was followed at a more sedate pace by his housekeeper and Nellie’s nanny, Mrs. Harper. “Nellie girl. How are you today?”

  The four-year-old bounded up to him and he caught her up in a hug. “I learned more letters and a new scripture today. So Mrs. Harper said we could come see you at your office.”

  The older woman smiled at him over the dark curly head of her charge. “I hope that’s all right, sir.”

  “Of course.” He returned to his seat and settled Nellie on his knee. The shock of losing his sister so soon after the death of his brother-in-law had been compounded by his sudden role as a father to his young niece. But he’d found great joy in caring for someone else. He may have come to fatherhood in an unexpected way, but he relished their little family. “Let’s hear your scripture.”

  Nellie’s face scrunched in concentration. “To every thing there is a season and a time to . . . to . . .” She shot a look at her nanny.

  “To every purpose,” Mrs. Harper prompted with a smile as she took the seat opposite the desk.

  “Yes.” The girl clapped her hands. “A time to every purpose under the heaven.”

  Wyatt embraced her. “Well done, Nellie girl. You’ll have the whole Bible memorized by the time you’re ten.”

  She giggled and rested her head against his chest.

  “Have you decided yet where you will vacation this year?” Mrs. Harper asked him.

  Wyatt shook his head. “No.” With the steady flow of new contracts, his mind had been more on work than on his and Nellie’s annual vacation.