Southern Treasures

by Coleman, Lynn A.

  “Don’t recognize me, huh?”

  Dark chestnut hair turned up neatly in a bun framed her face. A thin nose, with a slight crook in the middle of it, set the woman apart from others.

  “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “Must be ’cause I was around seven the last time you saw me.”

  Peg knitted her eyebrows. Who was this strange woman staring her down? “I’m sorry, but I don’t recognize you.”

  “Not a problem. Jasmine Seymore.”

  Jasmine Seymore. Peg rolled the name around. It seemed somewhat familiar.

  “I used to play with Elsie Beasley.”

  “Ah, I remember now.” Elsie was the little girl she cared for when she first arrived on the island.

  “How have you been?” Jasmine asked.

  “Just fine. Yourself?”

  “Good. The folks moved to Mobile when I was seven. This is my first trip back to the island.”

  “What brought you back?”

  “Memories, mostly. My husband decided the best way to have me stop talking about this place was to bring me here for a visit. So here I am. Do you know what happened with Elsie?”

  “She and her family moved to St. Augustine years ago.”

  “Oh.” Jasmine was noticeably disappointed.

  “Where are you staying?”

  “A hotel down Front Street.”

  “Wonderful.” Peg didn’t want to seem rude, but the sun was setting. “I have a store, Southern Treasures, on the harbor. Come on over and visit sometime. I’m afraid I need to get going.”

  “Great, I’ll try to come by your place.” Jasmine waved good-bye and headed toward her hotel.

  Twenty years and I see someone from way back then. Amazing! Lord, what are You trying to get me to realize here?” Peg hurried home, making a mental note of every possible store front. She couldn’t believe how many places were vacant. Maybe she could afford renting some place else after all.

  As she approached her house she heard her niece yell, “Who are you?” Peg picked up her pace. Mariella’s tone conveyed caution. The island was basically a safe place, but she didn’t want her niece in any danger.

  She rounded the corner to see Matthew Bower holding his hands out to his sides, showing he wasn’t a threat. Mariella, on the other hand, held a pole in her hands and was ready to swing. “Mariella, it’s all right. He’s a friend.”

  Mariella relaxed her aggressive stance. “He says he was looking for you.”

  “Yes, I imagine he is. You go on home now. I’m sure your mother must have dinner ready.”

  “All right. Sorry, Mister.” Mariella tossed her weapon into the hedges that lined the front of the house.

  “Sorry about that. I’ve never seen her so aggressive.”

  Matt chuckled. “No harm done. I’m glad you came home, though. I had some interesting news I wanted to share with you.”

  Hadn’t he shared enough news today? “Come on in. I’ll fetch you a glass of iced tea.”

  “Thanks. I could use something. I’ve been out in this heat most of the afternoon.” Matt fanned himself with his hat.

  Peg led him into her apartment. Having decided earlier why this man seemed such a threat to her, she felt she could guard against it. “Make yourself comfortable while I get us something to drink.”

  Matt nodded and chose the overstuffed chair. Which, she decided, was a noble thing, leaving the sofa and the rocker for herself to choose from. Billy would have chosen the sofa and encouraged her to sit beside him. She made quick work of their drinks and carried them out to the sitting room. “So, what brought you here this evening?”

  He took the glass she offered him and gulped a healthy portion before answering. “I think I found a storefront for you.”

  “What?” She raised her voice in disbelief. What is this man trying to prove?

  “I was placing an order with William Horton and we got to talking about Southern Treasures and how you’d have to relocate, and he mentioned John Dixon might have a room suitable for you.”

  “John? He doesn’t have a storefront.”

  “Yes and no. He has a grand room on the side of his house that faces Duval Street. It has its own entrance and two bay windows on either side of the door. Actually, I think it’s quite nice. It has more room than your present storefront, and it’s not too far from your home.”

  “But it’s so far out of town. One of the things that has helped my business prosper has been the sales from travelers who depart from the various ships. They spend some time in port and end up buying some trinkets for loved ones. No one would make their way up Duval Street just to buy something.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. I’m sorry. John said he’d rent the place at the same price you were paying Jefferson, if Jefferson would verify that’s what you have been paying him.”

  Peg chuckled. “Sounds like John. He’s a cautious old man. Wise though.”

  “I know I’ve sprung this on you, and I’m not trying to control your life or your decisions, but you might want to look at the place. It really has some potential. You may miss out on the tourist traffic, but from what I hear, the ladies of the island will be disappointed to see your store go. I feel badly for purchasing the building your store is located in, and I wanted to help.”

  “Would you consider selling your property?” Peg teased.

  Matt’s eyebrows rose and he clamped his mouth shut. Peg snickered at his expression. “Dan and I had considered buying the property years ago, but Jefferson was asking too much for it.”

  “Oh.”

  “I didn’t know he was seriously considering selling the place until you mentioned it on our way back from the Southards’ that evening. By then it was too late to put in a bid. Not to mention, it seemed somewhat unethical bidding on a piece of property you were going to bid on.”

  “That’s just business. You should have.” He reclined back in the chair.

  “But if I had, you would have paid more.”

  “True.” Matt sipped his tea. “Thanks for not bidding. It took some work to get the man down to a fair price.”

  “I imagine it did.” Jefferson Scott could be one of the most stubborn individuals she’d ever known. But he’d been a good landlord and hadn’t raised the rent on her over the entire seven years she had been there. Of course, he knew she wouldn’t have been able to afford more rent and would have moved out. Which, in the end, would have caused him to lose even that small bit of income.

  “There are a lot of vacant storefronts. I was out looking.”

  “Perhaps John Dixon’s place isn’t the answer for you then.” Matt swirled the ice in his glass. “I haven’t eaten this evening. Would you care to join the enemy for dinner tonight?”

  “You’re not my enemy, Matt.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, but the offer for dinner still stands. I’d love to have some company tonight.”

  He seemed almost melancholy, as if he were terribly lonely. Indeed, he appeared as she felt on this the eve of her son’s birth and death. “You know, I think it would be nice to have dinner with you. I’m facing a mountain of book work and would love to put that off.”

  “Book work? I’m rather handy with figures. Could I help?”

  “No, it isn’t necessary. I’m just trying to decide what I can and cannot afford with regard to other rental options.”

  “I see. Well, if after dinner you’d like a hand, I’m more than happy to lend it.”

  “Thanks. Let me change, and I’ll be right with you.”

  “Peg, you look fine. You don’t need to go fancy yourself up. Our options for dinner establishments are limited.”

  “True. I suppose I could go in this.” Peg stood and examined her skirt for wrinkles.

  “We’re simply going out as friends.”

  “Have you heard the recent gossip?” Peg teased.

  “No, I don’t believe I have. What’s on the grapevine now?”

  “Oh, something about us getting engag
ed. Of course, they have me engaged to Nate as well.” Peg gathered their empty glasses and brought them into the kitchen.

  “Hmm, definitely don’t dress up then. We wouldn’t want them having us married and on our honeymoon.” Matt chuckled.

  “You do understand small town gossip.”

  “Definitely. It was disturbing at first, but I think I’m reasonably comfortable with it now.”

  Peg chuckled.

  ❧

  She found she rather enjoyed Matt’s presence. Whatever problems or tension that existed between them seemed to have diminished. Could the solution to her worries have been as easy as finally recognizing his likeness to Billy? She didn’t want to give it any further thought right now. Instead, she found herself relaxing and enjoying Matt’s stories about his son and wife.

  “So, tell me what brought you to Key West?” Matt asked.

  “Ah, well, a fresh start mostly. My father was a fisherman. A proud fisherman. Daniel enjoys the ocean, but he’s never gotten used to the churning of the sea. He didn’t want to follow in our father’s footsteps, so we came here for a new start.”

  “Hmm. My father was the same way concerning the family business. I did go into it, but not until after I went away for my university training. Being forty-five, I now understand my father’s desires. When I was eighteen, and full of myself and my own dreams, I didn’t understand the man.”

  “I suppose some of that was true for Danny as well. He had a good mind for business, but Daddy didn’t see that. He only saw honest pay for honest work. He wasn’t too sure about investments and such. Thankfully, my father allowed us to leave.”

  Matt pushed back his chair from the table and folded his hands across his stomach. “So, you left your home for your brother?”

  “Somewhat. I had my reasons for wanting to live someplace else as well. But at least here Daniel could develop in business. And he has. He helped the wreckers market their sales, and we invested in some real estate. Nothing much, but it’s been profitable.”

  “So, why did you open Southern Treasures?”

  Peg eased back in her chair, rather pleased with how easily the words had fallen from her lips about their reasons for coming to Key West. Of course, she and Daniel had rehearsed them so many times. It wasn’t like they were lying, since there was truth to the matter. It just wasn’t the whole truth. “Probably because, as I’ve gotten older, simply making money wasn’t as satisfying. With the embroidery I see a finished product. I see the joy it brings on people’s faces. It’s a more personal business. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes, I understand that completely. My business is export. No faces, no personal connection. My personal connection comes with my employees. The work I do provides jobs for them and a real income for their families. If I’m lax, then I have to lay folks off. If I work hard, then they have a decent income throughout the entire year.”

  “Does it bother you that so many people are depending upon you?”

  “Actually, no. At first, when I was a young man, it did. So many days I wanted to simply kick off my shoes and stay home with my family. But duty would nip at my conscience, and I’d kiss my wife good-bye and head for work, all the time wanting to be at home, relaxing and enjoying life.”

  “Didn’t you take off a day or two a week?”

  “Oh, sure. Sundays, of course. And an occasional Saturday. But, more often than not, I ended up working some portion of that day. The hardest time was when my wife was dying. I hated to go to work, and yet I needed to for my own sanity, to think about something other than the pain Esther was enduring.” Matt clamped his jaw tight and closed his eyes.

  Without thinking, Peg reached over and placed her hand upon his forearm. “I’m sorry.”

  Matt’s eyes shot open. The sudden movement made Peg jump and remove her hand. How could she have been so forward—so foolish?

  ❧

  Matt couldn’t believe she had reached over and touched him. She knew the rumors that would buzz, but for a moment, he had allowed her tender touch to do exactly as she intended, sooth his weary soul. For two years, he had chastised himself for seeking relief from feeling his wife’s pain.

  Esther had understood his need to go to work, but she also wanted him next to her. She cherished his touch. It calmed her. He knew it. She knew it. But still he went to work faithfully every day. He was such a cad.

  “I’m sorry,” Peg whispered.

  “No, it’s all right. I was thinking of the gossips.” Good cover, he mumbled to himself.

  “I doubt it, but I’ll let you have that to save face.”

  She has you pegged, old boy. He grinned. “Perhaps we best not talk about it.”

  “Perhaps.” Peg dabbed her lips with the white linen napkin. “I think it is about time for me to be getting home, or I’ll never get that paperwork done.”

  “I’d be more than willing to give you a hand.”

  “What, and incite the gossips all the more by coming late in the evening into my home?” She fanned herself like a proper Southern lady. “My dear Mr. Bower, what would people say?”

  He held his hands up. “I surrender.”

  Peg grinned and acknowledged his assent with a single nod of her head. He escorted her home and left her.

  What was he thinking, trying to take on this woman? A woman so capable of deceit. He thought back over the story she had told him. He could see the logic in Daniel Martin needing to find his own way in the world. But he knew the truth, the full truth. She hid it, and hid it well, he mused.

  When he reached the small cottage he had recently secured for his dwelling, he was greeted with a letter tacked to the door. A letter from Micah. Matt ripped the sealing wax and rushed inside to light an oil lamp. Tomorrow was Micah’s birthday, and he so much wanted to be with his son.

  His son—how could he live with himself knowing Micah wasn’t really his son? He had to get up the nerve to… No, it was best this way. To tell Micah would be to shatter his world. To tell Peg Martin would be to shatter her world. The best alternative was to keep the secret hidden. Why had Dr. Baker found it necessary to tell the truth on his deathbed? Matt raked his hands through his hair.

  He needed to tell Peg. It simply wasn’t fair to her. But how does a man go about saying, “You know that illegitimate child you had twenty years ago? Well, he’s alive and well. Apparently, he didn’t die at birth as the doctor had told you. Apparently, he switched the baby with another patient’s dead infant. My wife’s own dead child.”

  Who in the world would believe him? Doctors didn’t do that. It was unethical.

  But old Dr. Baker seemed to think it was ethical. Perhaps not, though, since he had needed to confess the truth before he met his maker.

  “Lord, why did he have to tell me? Micah and I would have gone along just fine not knowing the truth. We would have continued our comfortable life. Now I’m faced with hiding the truth or exposing it. How do You think the people on this island would react knowing Peg Martin had an illegitimate son? That he’d been taken away from her at birth and given to another couple. It just doesn’t seem fair.”

  Matt closed down his emotions and focused on the now crumpled letter in front of him.

  Dear Dad,

  I’m fine and looking forward to our time together in Key West. I still can’t imagine why you are locating the business down there, but your reasoning always seems to make good business sense. The office here is holding up without you. I’m working when I’m not in classes. My final exams will put a strain on my ability to do well for the business.

  I’ve met a charming young lady here in Savannah. She’s a delightful creature, has the same blue eyes and wavy blond hair as myself. Her real father has a past the family would not be proud of. But, Father, her heart is as pure as any I’ve ever seen.

  I suppose I sound like a love-sick puppy, but truthfully I’m not. I’m still praying about whether this is the woman the Lord has put in my path for love or for a mutual friendship. We me
t at a corner restaurant where I’ve been taking my meals. We have so many similar interests, and yet we have our differences. I don’t know, Father. I am looking forward to discussing this matter with you when I reach Key West. Oh, before I forget, her name is Anna Ingles.

  Thank you for the wonderful gift for my birthday, early of course. It’s hard to believe we are apart on this day. Mother always made it such a special day for us. I still miss her terribly, but it’s getting easier.

  All my love, your son Micah

  Matt’s hands trembled. His heart pounded in his chest. His son was considering marriage. Is he old enough for that? Am I old enough for that?

  Ten

  “November twenty-eighth.” Peg groaned and pulled the pillow over her head. Sleeping the day away sounded good. She flipped her body around to the other side of her bed, closed her eyes, and prayed the day would just pass. All night she had dreamed about giving birth and hearing her son’s first cry. His only cry. The doctor had pulled him out of the room before she had a chance to look at him.

  Someone was pounding on her front door. Peg pulled the pillow off her head to be certain. Yup, someone was knocking. Peg plopped the pillow back over her head. Nope, she wasn’t fit to deal with people today. The house could be burning down and she wouldn’t move.

  Peg paused, lifted the pillow just in case, and made certain there was no smell of smoke in the air. Sensing none, she groaned and pulled the pillow over her head once again.

  Muffled sounds of someone calling her name between the heavy banging fluttered to her brain. Someone wanted her attention and wanted it badly.

  “Nope. It’s my day. I don’t care who it is or why they’ve come, I’m not answering the door, Lord. Not today.”

  “Peg,” a female voice called to her.

  Peg lifted the pillow. The voice was far too clear. Had the person walked around her house to her bedroom window?

  “Peg,” the voice called again, but from the wrong direction.

  She turned and faced her bedroom door.

  “Bea?”

  “It’s about time you surfaced,” Bea chided.

  “What are you doing here?”