Sanctuary

by Alene Adele Roy

  “They’re so delicate. I just love them, and it is so nice not to have to cook today,” Miss Callie remarked, as Cousin Emery helped Amber open the baskets to serve food and lemonade.

  “You’ve done your share for all of us so many times, Miss Callie,” Amber told her. The others agreed.

  “For Crane and Miss Mariah’s wedding supper, we all intend to help you, Miss Callie,” Emery Davis announced. “I can hardly wait for those vows.”

  “Where and when is the wedding to be?” Phoebe asked, as Monty sat down next to her on a blanket beside the red and white tablecloth spread before them. Rachael and John exchanged glances.

  “Could Monty and Phoebe be romance number two or three taking shape in our midst?” John whispered to the nanny, while he helped baby Lily sip milk from her cup they’d brought with them.

  “Or four,” Rachael added. But after thinking about it for a moment, she shook her head in a negative manner. “I don’t believe so.”

  John disagreed. “Why can’t this be a romance for them, Rachael?”

  “She’s going home soon and may be interested in my friend, Harry.” She was blunt.

  “Rachael, Rachael, where is your romantic spirit?” He sported his teasing grin for her.

  “It’s too soon for them to become serious about each another, John,” she whispered, in a matter-of-fact tone, while tossing her long, brunette hair she’d worn down to her shoulders today. The cream colored dress she chose was one of her favorites, selected for the precise reason of making her feel more confident in the presence of Miss Worthington, and for John.

  “It is not. Men have feelings, you know. Monty is an eligible bachelor, Rachael,” John argued, quietly, as he handed her some carrot curls. “Don’t come between them.”

  “Thank you.” She intended to ignore his comment and attend to the task at hand, feeding her charge, his young Lily. “Here, baby, have some cooked carrots.” She pretended to feed the baby doll she’d created, making Lily clap with joy, and of course, this made the child cooperate and eat not only her carrots, but the rest of her meal, too, which delighted both John and Rachael.

  “Rachael, I’ve found a five leaf clover!” Phoebe called from her blanket. “It was right here in front of me. With it comes a wish, doesn’t it?”

  Her sister rose and went to see, since Lily was now being tended by her father. “Help me find one, please, for I need a bit of good luck,” Rachael implored her.

  Crane now commented, “We have to ask the pastor about a date so he can check his calendar.”

  “I’d dearly love for my wedding to be at Magnolia Gardens,” Miss Mariah then confided for the first time. “However, I’m afraid the weather might not cooperate with our wedding plans.”

  “You may surely have it at Magnolia Gardens,” Captain John Davis assured her and Crane, then he added, “but it does not have to be outside in the gardens, you know.” Smiling at Rachael, he went on to mention, “You may do that, as well, someday, Miss Hathaway, have your wedding at Magnolia Gardens.”

  “Thank you, sir. We’ll talk it over in a little while,” Crane replied, taking his bride-to-be’s hand.

  Ignoring John’s comment and changing the subject, Rachael asked, “How did you and the Hidden Nook At Owls Tor get your names, Miss Worthington? Both names are beautiful and quite intriguing.”

  “Please call me Amber,” she began, and her wish instantly warmed Rachael’s heart. “I was named for the distant hills at sunset. The color amber shows up there quite often.”

  “Yes, I noticed it earlier,” remarked Phoebe.

  Their hostess continued. “The owl’s cavern was named by American Indians, I’m told. That’s what I was brought up to believe by Mother and Daddy. I do think both names are appropriate, however. I like my name and the sunset hour for its restfulness, and those owls are quite safe up there in that cliff nook. It’s high enough to keep predators out, and the cave is deep enough, I understand, to shelter them from the worst winter storms. The owls seem to thrive there. I love to watch the little ones and those that soar above the valley floor.”

  “That’s fascinating,” Rachael responded, while feeding Lily applesauce and a few cookie bits, which the toddler loved. “It would make one wonder if ancient people lived in that hillside cavern, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes, it would.” John watched his girls with a warm smile. “You know, we have some barn owls at my place. Yet, perhaps they really live here and just soar over to our fields to hunt and then return home to Owls Tor of an evening.”

  “I have some owls at Fernhaven, too, John. I just love to watch them hunt. They do have keen eyesight, it seems, and they keep the mouse population down,” Monty informed him. “Well, my barn kitties also do that, as well.”

  “Oh, I would love to see your barn kitties!” Phoebe told Monty, with excitement in her voice. “We have owls at Bower Farm, too. I love their ‘Hoo, hoo, hoo’ each evening. We listen to them with windows open at night, don’t we, Rachael?”

  “Well, we used to do that. It’s a great nighttime memory, better than coyote’s howl,” she laughed.

  “Tell me more about your stationery, will you please, Rachael? Are you planning to sell some at other markets, too?” Amber asked, as if Rachael’s work had aroused a deep curiosity within her.

  The nanny was surprised and pleased with her hostess’ apparent interest. “Well, I hadn’t given it much thought. I really haven’t had time to talk to other merchants about them, yet. But I probably will, someday, when I am able to stockpile a supply of them. A few ladies at the church and some friends and family at home are interested in them so far,” she explained. Extra income could help John, she reasoned.

  “Oh, I think your floral pages are a wonderful idea, Rachael,” Amber told her with a smile. “We all need some for our correspondence. Yet, why don’t I ask a friend about their placement in some other stores?”

  “Thank you. Some customers want them for birthday or anniversary greetings, while others say they just use them for letter writing. The mail system is beginning to thrive now, you know.”

  “Yes, it is,” Amber agreed. “Will you be creating some as invitations for the wedding?”

  All eyes now gazed upon Crane and Miss Mariah, who had been whispering quietly.

  “Oh, that’s entirely up to the bride and groom.”

  “What was that, Miss Rachael?” Crane asked. “We were discussing flowers.”

  “We were wondering if perhaps you would use Rachael’s stationery papers to write your wedding invitations upon?” Amber answered. “I’d be happy to pay her for them for you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that. We haven’t discussed invitations yet,” Crane informed her.

  “I would be more than happy to buy the paper and pay Miss Hathaway wages for her creative talents, Crane and Miss Mariah,” their hostess suggested.

  Miss Mariah gasped. “That is so very generous of you, Mrs. Worthington.”

  “Well, I am like an aunty to you. I have known you for several years, you know. But, of course, we have to okay it will Miss Hathaway, since she will be doing all of the work of cutting and pressing the flowers and gluing them. Or perhaps you will have a group doing that. Emery and I could take the baby for a ride while you work on them some afternoons, Rachael, if that’s not intruding.”

  Cousin Emery gave her an approving, happy glance.

  “Oh, Emery, dear, I am so sorry. I do apologize. I should have consulted you about it first, before I spoke. I’m overstepping my bounds, aren’t I?”

  “No, not at all, dear.” Her friend was secretly thrilled at the prospect of spending more time with Amber. “I shall be happy to escort you and darling Lily,” he assured her, which eased her mind immensely.

  “Well, then, it’s all set, if Crane and Miss Mariah agree, that is. Let’s go select those flowers. Just show us which
ones you want and your wish is granted,” Amber told Miss Mariah and Rachael.

  The future groom and bride-to-be were filled with excitement. Emery and Monty agreed to go for shovels in the Worthington barn, while John rested his healing leg. Rachael was impressed at how Amber had worked out the wedding invitation details and a future job for her, since she certainly could use the income to help her employer with his mortgage problem.

  As her mother joined them, Amber introduced Crystal Moore, her housemate, while the two walked arm in arm. “You know, we probably should ask what colors the bride and groom want on their invitations before flowers are chosen, or if a variety will do,” hostess Worthington announced, while they walked along Alpine Agenda Avenue on the ridge.

  “Why was this path named such?” a curious Rachael asked, while admiring some rose-colored columbine which was inviting to a hummingbird.

  “It was named because of our agenda not only to grow flowers, but also to have tea parties and picnics in the gardens, and perhaps meetings to discuss gardening and flowers. At the same time we could also swap flowers, or plan beautification in different areas, which we hope to begin this summer.”

  Miss Mariah, walking just ahead of them with Crane, turned to announce her fondest wish. “Pink, please!”

  “Pink, it is!” repeated Amber. Accordingly, the group shared much happiness while choosing those appropriate pink flowers which would press well for the invitations and some extra ones for Rachael’s work, in every color of the rainbow. “You may also have some later for the ceremony, closer to your wedding day.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mrs. Worthington,” Miss Mariah gushed. Crane showed his appreciation with a wide grin.

  “John, I wonder where your horses are,” his cousin remarked, while they gazed over the seemingly endless valley below the ridge garden Amber had tamed for her flowers. It was set in from the edge a little.

  “I don’t know,” John replied, sadly.

  “Take heart, for I believe we’ll have them back some day soon, John,” Monty suggested, trying to sound optimistic.

  “Well, my friends, my stolen horses are not the only worry your old friend has on his mind today. So, keep me in your thoughts, please.” They both thought he was referring to his leg, but he wasn’t. “It’s my property payments I’m worried about. None have been paid for over a year, since Rose’s death.” Monty and John’s cousin exchanged looks of dread with each other and each placed a hand upon their friend’s shoulder for moral support, as John stared into the canyon. Suddenly, though, his eyes grew wide, his morale more hopeful at the sight below. “There are some beautiful wild horses down there, boys. See? To me that’s a good sign.”

  Bright and early Monday morning, John chose to take the letter and his ledger to the bank board. Rachael Hathaway insisted upon accompanying him. On the trip to town, he argued that he would prefer to drop her off for shopping at the markets until the payment matter was settled. He assured her that he would find her afterward. Reluctantly, she agreed. After she stepped from his coach, she asked a silent prayer, as he drove away to do business at the bank.

  Less than an hour later, he found her at the delicious apple display at The Market On The Main. “I have news!” he told her, waving a paper.

  Rachael could tell that he was very excited. “I have fruit for the household!” she claimed in reply, just as jovially, while struggling to hold up a bag.

  “You just won’t believe this, Rachael.” He took the bag from her.

  “Try me.” They walked together to the cheerful checkout counter clerk. Once there, he paid for the fruit, carried it, and carefully hurried her outside. Placing the bag into his carriage, he then motioned for them to sit upon the nearby bench as he whispered his good news to her.

  “The board set the John Davis III Property Auction, mine, for the day we are to visit Monty’s place.

  “Oh, no,” Rachael responded, putting a gloved hand to her mouth. “I thought you had good news.”

  He continued to explain. “Indeed, there are arrears, but there’s more. Overdue debts have been accumulating at the bank for over a year now, more than just a drop in the debt bucket.”

  “What can we do?” she asked, becoming nervous at the very thought of John losing his home.

  “It seems as if something has already been done in our favor, because just as I was about to sign the paper relinquishing my rights and for the upcoming auction to proceed …”

  “You didn’t!”

  “No, I didn’t, because in came the banker to that closed board meeting to gather some signatures for paperwork in his hand, and he was not aware of the proceedings. He had not even been informed about them, and he immediately reprimanded the board members. Afterward, he proceeded to inform all of us that he himself had been making the monthly payments on my place in my absence. Can you believe that?”

  “You’re kidding!”

  “No, and guess what else, Rachael?” John’s smile grew even larger.

  “What?” Her eyes were wide with excitement.

  “Ironically, the banker at Velvet Villa Village Bank is none other than Mr. John Cunningham, the hungry man who joined us as a guest for dinner the other night.”

  “I don’t believe it,” she whispered, her joy apparent in her words and as she grabbed his hands in delight.

  “It’s true, but he did this kind deed even before he dined at Magnolia Gardens with us that evening, Rachael. I’m so glad I invited him in. He explained to me, after his coworkers left the room, that his horse came up lame. He was virtually on foot and hungry ~ our banker.”

  “Oh, what a kind man he is, and you are, too. Yet, why didn’t he tell us all about this sooner, or tell you, I mean?” She wanted all of the answers.

  That’s when John produced the letter he’d been waving in his hand. “Rachael, it’s all explained here. He was about to have it signed by the board and mailed to me today. He waited awhile after he saw that I was wounded and limping with a cane, Rachael, out of consideration for my health problem.”

  “Oh, my,” was her reply.

  “There’s more.”

  “What else happened? I can hardly believe this.” She was enthused, intent upon hearing his every word of explanation and news.

  “After the board members departed the meeting, on the spot he asked me to become a new board member. Can you believe that?”

  “No, and yes, I can! Congratulations, John!”

  “Rachael, it’s a paid position, which won’t even take me away from home very often, either.”

  “Oh, joy.”

  Thus, at Fernhaven, they had much to celebrate, for there was no auction today at the John Davis place. Those delinquent payments were not delinquent after all. Instead, they were in a separate account paid by Mr. Cunningham, and John was being allowed to repay banker Cunningham as funds were available. But for now, he and those he had told about his financial worry could relax with the knowledge that a kind soul had surprisingly spared him the agony of a property auction and the loss of his home place. Monty and Cousin Emery cheered when they heard the news.

  Thankfully, Lieutenant Monty Graham’s fundraiser was a more private affair than expected. It had been simplified to include only his closest circle of friends, exclusively, for a more quiet time, and in order that he could show the Hathaway sisters and Amber Worthington his grounds, gardens, and home. John and Rachael were grateful, since they had had enough excitement for awhile, with the flood and the foreclosure previously hanging over them.

  At Monty’s place, the conversation again turned to John’s horses, as the group traversed Monty’s English Garden Walk. Asters, feverfew, phlox, roses, carnations, and sedum were stars in his garden parade. Their host also promised plants to Rachael, or anyone, and for John’s Eden at Magnolia Gardens.

  “Remember the wild horses in the canyon at Apple Valley Ridge?” Cous
in Emery questioned John, as they walked beside baby Lily, holding her tiny hands in theirs, just a few steps behind the others. The day was perfect, sunny and warm, as Monty pointed out his colorful clusters of flowering favorites, and the women each decided upon some specimens they would prefer to take home with them.

  “Yes, I remember. It brought back memories of my horses, and hope. I miss them, Emery. I want them back,” he told his cousin. They had been close all of their lives, born the same year and close in miles, as well. Emery’s family held one of the area’s potato farms, just down Town Road from John’s family home. Together, the extended Davis clan shared Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays, other holidays, reunions, and gatherings, discussing farming, agriculture, community activities, and the future of Velvet Villa Village and Twelve Ponds Territory.

  “I believe your horses may be running with the wild ones, John,” his cousin surmised.

  “I hope not, and how would they have gotten there, Emery? Who would have let them out?”

  “Malicious mischief, maybe,” was his cousin’s reply. “Yet, you don’t have an enemy in these parts. You know that. I just don’t know, John. It is baffling.” Then, seeing his cousin’s agony, he lightened the moment. “I sincerely do believe, though, that this mystery will be solved someday soon.”

  “I hope so.”

  The women pivoted in the path to see what the men were doing. Amber came to playfully tip Emery’s felt fedora in a gesture of horseplay and endearment. “I love that hat. It makes you look so much like an investigator, and you may take that as a compliment, my dear.”

  “I am,” was his quick reply, as he offered her his arm. “I am at your service, that is, my special one.”

  “It’s time for lunch!” Monty then called. “It’s served under Mellow Maples. I’m mimicking Amber’s shade picnicking idea, which is a good one, I believe, although we’ve done it at Fernhaven for decades.” He pointed to tables adorned with white linen cloths trimmed in wide, white Swiss cotton voile lace, and several open baskets brimming with food, while Charles Earl cut the loaves of fresh baked bread.