Sanctuary

by Alene Adele Roy

  The next afternoon, Rachael hurried to the oak tree niche to place more floral pages with their pressed flowers and ferns on the corners into that perfect crevice she’d found for their protection. She had just a minute or two today while John fed Lily, for they were headed to The Ten Day Lake of Black Woods and The Secret Tunnel. Momentarily, movement caught her eye, startling the young nanny. When she turned, there stood an American Indian man, tall, thin, muscular, and handsome, she thought. The nanny was unsure whether to run or stay.

  “I won’t hurt you, young lady,” the chief said, as if trying to reassure her. “I come with a gift.”

  She swallowed hard. “A gift?” she asked, perplexed. “I don’t understand, sir. I don’t know you.”

  “I learned my son was saved by a doctor from your house.”

  “I don’t believe so.” While continuing to place her work for sale into the niche, she pondered his words.

  “What are you doing? Do you gather acorns there?”

  “No,” she chuckled, while noticing that he held a plant in his arms. “I am putting some of my work, decorated papers, into this tree for safekeeping. Some of my friends and neighbors wish to buy them. I have pressed flowers, leaves, and ferns on them for decoration.” She tried to explain, but wasn’t sure he would be interested or if she should trust him. She’d chance it.

  “May I see some of your work?” he asked politely.

  “Yes.” Happy about his interest, she handed him a few pages from those in her hand, placing the remainder into the hiding spot. It was time to go, though. She didn’t want to keep John waiting.

  “Perhaps, I should give you this first, with my thank you.”

  “What is it?” she questioned. Then, scampering animals in the nearby underbrush made a rustling noise, startling her. She jumped, nervous from the noise and possibly because of the stranger’s presence.

  “Rabbits,” he explained with a smile, pointing to the small, soft, scampering creatures.

  “Oh.” She sighed in relief, feeling foolish, yet, held her head high, as the man moved closer with his gift.

  “I wish to thank a doctor for saving my son’s life. His arm was torn when he returned home. Now, it is healing, thanks to medicine and care he received from someone. He said the doctor lived there, in the pale house. I come with a gift. It will make a drink you call tea. It is good medicine, our people think.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful! Are you a medicine man? Was your son with two others?” Happily, she accepted the plant intended for Dr. Graham. “Is it a mint plant? I love mint tea. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Yes, it is a mint. It is very soothing, or you may rub its leaves on the skin for pain in the joints.”

  “You know about pain in the joints? You sound like a healer. You should speak with John.” She took the plant and sniffed of it. “Mmmmmm.”

  He chuckled and carefully went to reach into the crevice to inspect, if not judge, her work. “How is this done and how much for it?” he asked, with a smile of reassurance. “Yes, my injured son was with two others, and yes, I am Medicine Man.”

  “How much for it?” she repeated, concentrating on what he’d said prior. Her thoughts were also on the three hungry campers she’d met, one wounded. “I’ve often wondered how the injured one was faring, and if they were home. Oh, and I use glue to attach the plants and flowers to the paper.”

  “How much in exchange do you wish?” He tried to explain.

  “Oh. I take whatever a friend wishes to give. I have no set price. Do you know about price?”

  “I know exchange. I will want this one with red flowers for my wife. May I exchange it?”

  “Well, you just did, sir,” she said, referring to the mint plant. “I shall take this plant in exchange. Thank you very much. I shall get it to the doctor. However, he does not live here. He was only visiting that day. We were out for a ride when your son found us. In the road, the doctor treated him.”

  “Yes, he said so. I will bring you something to exchange for this paper.” Then, abruptly, he was off, sprinting down the dusty road toward town and soon out of sight. It wasn’t until the next day when Rachael came to the oak again that she would discover that the man had indeed left something ~ a beautiful, bead necklace. She was thrilled. In the days to come, she would find more beaded necklaces in the oak crevice, along with money left by her friends. It seemed that she would have trade with local Indians, as well as the choir members. She hoped her work with florals would bring joy to them all.

  Surprisingly, though, that afternoon, as Rachael returned from her oak tree niche and John finished feeding Lily, their plans would change suddenly when her customers, the choir, came to call. Rachael was summoned from packing a picnic, and a lively discussion ensued, which would change everything.

  “We want to help with the next charity event,” Emma quickly announced to John and Rachael.

  The two were pleased to hear that, since the pastor had asked people who were able to do so to host some kind of fundraiser to help in this national transition time of need, and helping was also a Davis creed.

  “We will help in any way we can,” Aggie offered. “We heard you might host one again.”

  But Rachael was about to embark on a woodland trek with Phoebe, her employer, and Lily. Luckily for everyone, John intervened. “We were just going to learn what condition Black Woods Castle is in, since the Hathaway sisters have not yet visited it. Won’t you join us? We can get some exercise on the walk over and back, as well as some ideas for raising funds.” John suggested, inviting his new guests, too.

  At once, the happy vocal group agreed to join the fun that afternoon. “Black Woods Castle is not far, just over Angel Bridge and through the woods from Magnolia Gardens,” John explained to Rachael and Phoebe. In about one minute they stood outside the spiraled wonder, which had lost none of its original charm or appeal. It was a cream colored castle, a building with steeples, a sturdy work which had withstood many storms in the past. Most of the ladies had previously visited here, and all of them marveled at the charming home and blooming spring gardens. A great number of them knew John’s grandparents.

  “My grandfather built this house for my grandmother many years ago,” John Davis explained to the sisters, who were spellbound by its quaint appeal and the flowers surrounding it. “But they don’t reside here now. I hope it hasn’t gone to ruin inside, since their absence last year. Grandmother suffered a stroke, you know, or perhaps I haven’t told you yet. They moved to Mother and Dad’s, temporarily. It worked well for both couples.”

  The choir members did know and had them on the prayer list. They nodded. Yet, Rachael and Phoebe had not heard this bit of news. “I’m so sorry,” Rachael sympathized, as they entered the building.

  “Oh, it’s just as I remember it,” Emma Hoover explained. “I was last here for a garden tea.”

  “It’s so lovely here,” Aggie complimented. “I’ve truly enjoyed every visit and I always take household and gardening hints with me when I go.”

  “Yes, it’s too bad your grandparents can’t return soon to enjoy their home here,” Rachael announced with a sigh. “They shall miss all of the springtime and high summer blossoms in their lovely gardens.”

  “I know,” John agreed, a little sadly.

  “And why can’t they?” Rachael beamed, as an idea suddenly came to mind.

  “Well, Grandmother is well now. But it’s dusty here. I would not want her to relapse.”

  Rachael and Phoebe just looked at each other and smiled. “What if we got rid of the dust?” Rachael asked.

  “What if we cleaned so well that they wanted to come back to live here?” Phoebe questioned.

  “It would certainly be closer to me, and I could keep an eye on them,” John replied.

  “What if we all kept an eye on them for awhile? We could take turns spending a night o
r two and help cook meals,” Rachael offered. “It would be fun to visit and garden, too. It would be like a small vacation for us.”

  “What if we helped, too, with meals, gardening, and even over night stays, if needed?” asked Emma Hoover, as an eager group of helpers gathered around her, nodding their approval of her suggestion.

  “What if we had a charity ball here at Black Woods Castle, invited your grandparents, and surprised them with a home and garden renewal and party?” Rachael then suggested.

  John stood aghast, struck with amazement at the exciting plan Rachael and the others had proposed. “Thank you, everyone,” he said with sincere sentiment. “I think it’s the most marvelous idea.”

  “What are we waiting for? With the size of this choir we can have this place cleaned in no time, today! It can be ready in time, John,” the pastor’s wife excitedly told her friend. “We are committed to it.”

  Aggie agreed, as well as did the other members. “I’ll take some girls and start in the kitchen.”

  “Well, the gardens are unsightly, as well, Emma,” was John’s only protest. “They will take time.”

  “Well, we’ll just bring our men over to do them up right.” She solved his only protest.

  “We can all dig up a flower or two from our gardens to bring in some added color, can’t we, girls?” Aggie offered. Her friends cheered in agreement. So, it was all set. A Magnolia Gardens Charity Fundraiser was to be held at the Black Woods Castle this summer. “There will be no taking ‘no’ for an answer,” Aggie told John, laughing. “We shall all help you do it up right! You’ll see. Let’s surprise them!”

  “What’s this?” Monty Graham asked, as he joined the group. “I hope I’m not intruding, but Miss Callie said you were here. In fact, she came over with me.”

  At that, the beautiful young cook arrived with Charles Earl beside her. “What have you decided? Is it worthy of your grandparents’ return for a dinner?” Miss Callie asked.

  “It will be, and much more!” Rachael exclaimed. “Oh, Monty, a Chief Morning Star sent you a gift plant.”

  “Hello, Charles Earl,” Phoebe enthusiastically greeted Monty’s friend with a bright smile. She appreciated this gardener and cook, and had worked diligently with him to help the lieutenant get well. “Hello, Monty.”

  “Hello, both Miss Hathaways. How can I help?” Charles wanted to know.

  “I understand the gardens need work. We can work on that, can’t we, Charles?” Monty asked.

  “Surely,” was his gardener’s reply. “I have a few tried methods to make short work of it.”

  Immediately, the group set to work, some inside, others outside. John asked Miss Callie to sit down at a table to make a list of needed supplies and a menu for the party, which they would discuss. Later, when she was almost finished with it, Rachael and John saw Charles enter from the garden to ask Miss Callie if she needed help with the menu or the cooking of it. He then kindly offered his services.

  “Oh, no, I won’t need you. Some cooking will be done by me, and the ladies offered food,” she explained, pointing to the busy workers scattered throughout the living room and dining room. She waved at Emma, Aggie, and others who were putting the finishing touches on the large living room and dusting the smooth stone fireplace hearth and mantle. “I will need some strong men to carry dishes, glasses, and food over that afternoon, though,” she did admit. Yet, when she looked at the face of that guest chef, she could tell that he was disappointed, and fate would change things anyway. “Well, you might bring a dish.”

  Luckily, Phoebe overheard their conversation and came to his rescue, eagerly explaining of his culinary expertise. She spoke almost indignantly to the Magnolia Gardens cook. “You don’t know of his superb cooking skills like Monty and I do, Miss Callie. He’s an absolute wonder in the kitchen. He has all kinds of amazing recipes and interesting utensils. In fact, he saved Monty’s life with his delicious nourishment and care.”

  “Oh, no, Miss Hathaway, I wouldn’t say that,” Charles responded, shaking his head, holding up his hands. “I only did what any other friend would do. You saved him by staying up nights to tend him.”

  “Well, anyway, Charles makes the best chicken fettuccini and peach crisp I’ve ever tasted in my entire life,” Phoebe dramatically informed Miss Callie. “He taught me his very own goulash recipe, also.”

  “Is that true?” she asked, with a twinkle in her eye. “I’d like to sample some of those dishes.”

  “Yes, ma’am, if Miss Phoebe says so, and you may sample to your heart’s content, any time.”

  “You’re on. My specialty is apple crisp. You make yours. I’ll make mine. The guests can vote and we’ll see who wins,” she replied, offering a challenge to the handsome contest cook contender.

  “What’s the prize?” he asked, with a twinkle in his eye, before he thought about what he was asking. “Oh, I’m sorry. I did not mean to infer that we need to have a prize, Miss Callie,” he apologized.

  The cook smiled sweetly. “I’m not afraid of a little friendly rivalry, are you, Mr. Earl?”

  Phoebe smiled and intervened. “I’ll bring a prize for the best fruit crisp! Now, I’ll leave you two to discuss this matter,” she informed them, and she was off to tell Monty Graham of this new development, and the upcoming contest between the two cooks. Perhaps he could help her think of an appropriate prize.

  In Indigo Gardens, good progress was being made, as well. “We need to brighten this garden for sure. I’ve always thought there was too much purple and blue here,” John announced to Monty, as they strolled the paths throughout it. “By the way, how are things going with you and Phoebe?”

  The shocked lieutenant now questioned John instead of answering him. “By the way, how are things going with you and Rachael?” he countered, because he could, since John hadn’t given her a ring yet.

  That stopped John in his tracks. He turned to his friend. “Why, are you interested, my friend?”

  “I may be,” was the rather curt reply, which further shocked John. He knew not how to answer.

  Instead, he swept a hand forward, indicating they should continue eyeing garden plants. Suddenly, John knew just what to say. “When I was at the mercantile I purchased a sewing machine for Rachael. They were first invented by Thomas Saint of England in 1790. Then, Elias Howe created one in 1845.”

  Monty knew just what to say, also. “That’s nice. Are you going to put Rachael to work now as a seamstress, John?” he teased, with a chuckle, knowing full well his question may not be well-received.

  It wasn’t. John stopped in front of some bright primroses. “I believe I’ll dig these for a pleasant entry greeting by the front door for the cotillion.” He had completely ignored Monty’s questioning.

  “That would be colorful. I also have some I could bring over from my place to put somewhere.”

  “Do, please. The more the merrier, I always say. We’ll fill Grandmother’s favorite urn by the door and discover where else we can use some,” John explained to his friend, happily accepting his offer.

  “Speaking of merrier, are you going to marry her?” Monty wanted to know, pressing the issue.

  “I plan to. The sewing machine will not only stitch together her cards, if she so wishes, it will also sew the lace on the wedding gown I bought for her. You’ll see it at the ball.”

  This stopped Monty cold. A chill rippled down his spine for some unknown reason. “Oh, are you going to be wed at the ball?”

  “No. The dress will have its original red lace on it for the ball, Monty. The lace is removable, however, in order that it may become a beautiful wedding gown with white lace, afterward.”

  “I see, and do you want me to buy her the ring?” He was serious, and he certainly would if John did not. “Well, I’d better be going if I am to get home before dark. I’ll return tomorrow with the flowers.”

 
John thought his friend’s departure premature, his comments absurd, yet spoke otherwise, hoping Monty was not leaving early to go to town for a ring for Rachael.“ That’s a splendid idea. Perhaps you will take Miss Phoebe Hathaway with you and buy her a ring.” He was serious, too.

  “I could. I’ll have to ponder rings awhile.”

  “Do invite her. You owe her that for saving your life. Enjoy a charming evening together, you two.”

  “I believe I’ll ask Miss Rachael Hathaway to accompany us, as well. She has indicated a desire to visit Fernhaven again.” This unusual sparing between them did not suit Monty Graham well.

  “I don’t believe she’ll go, Monty, my friend,” was John’s unexpectedly curt retort.

  He was correct about Rachael’s response, yet, not for the reason he imagined. As the two men reached Indigo Path where everyone was gathered, Miss Callie fell. Fortunately, Charles was there to catch her. But, she twisted her back and was in obvious pain. So, when Monty did ask Rachael and Phoebe to accompany him overnight for the flower retrieval, Rachael declined. “I must tend Lily and Miss Callie.”

  Phoebe, however, was delighted with Monty’s invitation and the unforeseen opportunity to return for a short visit to Monty’s home place. “I would definitely like to accompany you to bring the flowers over, Lieutenant Graham, if you deem it proper,” she told him in a whisper, away from the others, which only her sister heard. “I simply would love to see your barn kitties again.”

  “I shall see to it, then.” He tried to hide his disappointment at not having Rachael join them.

  “Yes, of course, it is proper, Phoebe. You and Lieutenant Graham shall make it proper, won’t you?” Rachael told her in a sweet, sisterly way. She pointed a finger at Monty as if to say as much to him, too. He smiled and nodded, acknowledging her silent advice. She now handed him the mint plant from the thankful chief. “Monty, this is from Chief Morning Star for helping his son with his injury.”

  Then, it was decided Charles would stay to help in the kitchen tonight, even if Miss Callie protested. It was his idea and offer of help and Monty highly approved it, perhaps for more than one reason. It would give Miss Phoebe Hathaway and him some privacy and a chance to get to know each other. “Phoebe, I promise, I won’t cook. Instead, I shall take you to Paradise Café for dining.”