Thomas’s eyebrows knit into a tempestuous frown. “I’m sorry, but I think that you’re all making light of a situation that has the potential for being quite perilous. Mr. Harris is gone much of the time, leaving only the women here in Sea Breeze. Four women—”
“Five,” Francie interrupted. “You forgot Middle Meg.”
“Five then. What could five women—”
He stopped as Middle Meg appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, a wooden rolling pin in one hand and a vicious-looking cleaver in the other. “We’d be fine,” she said, with a meaningful glance at Thomas, who fairly quivered under her pointed glare.
Reverend Carlton coughed explosively into his napkin, and as Francie cast a curious glance at him, she realized he was trying to disguise his laughter. At last, he got control of himself. “I’m sorry, son, but Middle Meg has a point. Mackinac Island is very safe. The men at the fort are respectable gentlemen, and the workers—well, I don’t know much about them, but I’m sure they’re fine fellows. Plus, the construction is almost finished, and they’ll be gone.”
Marie reached for her teacup, and her hand shook. Her mother, who sat to her right, patted her arm. “Dear, don’t worry. You are perfectly safe here; you know that, don’t you?”
At that moment, Grandmama Christiana thumped her cane on the floor beside her. “Listen to that, will you? Of course we are safe. I didn’t tell you about the ghosts I saw so that you would panic. A ghost can’t hurt anyone.”
Uncle Leonard and Aunt Dorothea exchanged glances, and he said soothingly, “Whatever is in the garden, I’m sure we are fine. But to make sure that it’s nothing troublesome, I’ll check the back of the house myself.” Then he added, raising his voice, “Or I’ll send Middle Meg, armed to the teeth, out there. Pity the poor specter that confronts her!”
Middle Meg called from the kitchen, “It’d be my pleasure, sir. I’ll send that ghost right back to—”
Reverend Carlton broke in with a loud, “Let’s have some of that apple pie! Why, it looks splendid!”
“Thank you for coming with me,” Thomas said as he and Francie left Sea Breeze.
“I appreciate your offer. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much food.” A strand of her hair fluttered across her cheek, and she tucked it behind her ear. “When you suggested a walk, at first I thought I couldn’t put one foot in front of the other, but now I’m glad I did. The air smells so fresh and clean.”
“I wanted to talk to you about tonight—about much more,” he said. He was glad the twilight shadows masked his face, which he was sure was splotched with embarrassment.
“Grandmama Christiana and her ghosts!” She laughed. “Can you imagine such a thing?”
“She is certainly an interesting woman. She’s quite the mixture of old-school properness and modern freedom!”
“If you were to ask Marie, she’d insist that the old school is much stronger than the modern,” Francie said. “She’s almost as fussy as—”
She broke off in midsentence, but he knew what she was about to say, and he finished the phrase for her.
“As I am? Is that what you were going to say?”
Francie stopped and put her hand on his sleeve. “Thomas, please don’t. That wasn’t what I—what I meant.”
In the distance, a seagull squawked raucously, and another answered. Again, Thomas was thankful for the faint light. “I know that I am a bit rigid, and I am trying to work on that.”
“I see,” she said, nodding.
“I’m not sure you do.” His stomach twisted—and not from the massive dinner he’d just consumed. “I’d like to talk to you about it if I could.”
“Let’s go into the garden. There’s a seat there, and we can sit while we visit.”
“What? The garden at night? And risk being attacked by the ghosts?”
She laughed softly. “Now, there you are. You’re not so serious all the time!”
They didn’t talk as they walked along the graveled path to the garden gate. Then, just inside the white-painted entrance, she paused. “Look, one’s opening!”
She pointed toward a green stalk with a spiraled bud, which had partially unfurled to reveal white petals inside. He squinted in the darkening light to make out what it was.
“It’s a moonflower,” she explained, touching the plant that climbed the trellis. “It’s like a morning glory but in reverse. A morning glory blooms as the sun comes up, and a moonflower blossoms at sunset. See how it captures the moonlight?”
He couldn’t resist teasing her. “You’re envisioning it as a hat for a mouse or something, aren’t you?”
“No, of course not, you silly man.” Amusement bubbled through her voice. “It’s a skirt for a moth!”
“Ah. Of course.”
She motioned with her hand across the garden. “Look at this extraordinary place—Grandmama Christiana’s ghosts aside. Isn’t it lovely in the early starlight?”
“It is quite beautiful. Your aunt has done a remarkable job with it. I’m surprised she’s coaxed as much to grow here as she has. The morning glories, for example. Aren’t they found more in the south?”
Francie shrugged and smiled. “I have no idea. Aunt Dorothea is the plant expert. I’m just the audience.”
Her face was radiant in the glow of the moon. A light from the next cottage cast a yellow beam across her hair, making it gleam golden.
Maybe he had been tucked away in the male confines of the university for too long. There were women who attended the school, too, but he rarely mingled with them. For the most part, his life was studying and reading and attending lectures. He hadn’t had time for romance, not with his schooling taking up so much of his time.
Until now. Now he was out of school, and now, now—now there was Francie. Something odd was happening to his heart. He felt oddly poetic standing next to her, as if someone were painting abstract pictures of water and light and trees.
“Did you want to talk about something?” she asked gently.
Thomas looked down as he dug the toe of his shoe into a tuft of grass along the garden path. “The more I learn at the university, the more I wonder.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have the ability to see what is not. I have only the ability to see what is. God is a challenge for me, and you can imagine what a trial it is for me as I work this out, having a minister for a father.”
To his amazement, she chuckled.
“You find that funny?”
“I find it funny that you say God is a challenge for you. He is most definitely a challenge, but I suspect you mean it differently than I do.”
“I do.” He hesitated, searching for the words that would convey what he needed. “I want to believe, and I do, to an extent. But it’s very difficult for me. I like proof. No, it’s beyond that,” he corrected himself. “I demand proof. I don’t want to, but I do. Does this make any sense to you?”
“It does.” She took his hand and led him to the marble bench. “I think I understand what you’re saying. Your faith isn’t as deep as you’d like?”
“Exactly. The older I get, it seems the more skeptical I get.”
“Skepticism isn’t all bad. It seems to me the danger is believing everything you hear.”
“But there’s a gulf between faith and skepticism, and I’m having some trouble bridging the two.”
“Have you talked to your father about this?” Her voice was soft and kind.
How could he answer that? He had, and yet he hadn’t. His father had a buoyant faith, as did his mother, and yet here was their son, unable to let his heart be free to believe.
“I want to believe, and I do,” he said at last, “but I want more. I don’t want to be ‘Doubting Thomas’ any longer.”
“Let’s talk to Him,” she suggested.
“To my father?” He couldn’t cover the astonishment in his voice. Francie barely knew his father.
“To our Father. Let’s pray. Do you mind if I lead the prayer?
”
He nodded his head, grateful that she hadn’t expected him to do it. His prayers were short, staccato, uneasy things, not the graceful petitions of his father.
“Dearest God, we are Your own children. Our prayer is a simple one. Please help Thomas open his heart to You, to hear Your voice, to know Your face. Amen.”
“That’s it?” he asked. “I barely had time to close my eyes.”
He knew she was smiling. He could hear it in her words as she answered, “My prayers are always brief. It helps me focus on the prayer need.”
“So now, I do—what? Wait?”
“You wait and listen. Your heart will tell you what to do next.”
Together they sat in the garden, listening to the night sounds, and bit by bit, he felt his frozen heart begin to thaw.
“Thomas! Are you back there? Time to go!” His mother’s voice called from the front of the house.
He stood and held Francie’s hands as she rose, too. “Thank you so much,” he said.
Then he did something that surprised himself even more.
He dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head.
Out of his mind. That was it. He was out of his mind.
“I’m sorry. So sorry,” he mumbled. “Sorry. Sorry.”
He fled through the dark, leaving her alone in the garden.
Chapter 7
Francie dressed with greater care than usual. Her fingers trembled as she buttoned the ivory and peach washed-satin dress. Thanks to the generosity of her aunt and uncle, she not only had the new dress but a matching bag, shoes, and a parasol.
“Can you believe it?” Marie asked. “I’m so excited I can barely do up my own hair. Is the braid straight? It feels like it’s hanging lower on the left side.”
“Your hair is lovely,” Francie answered. “So are you.”
It was true. Marie’s pale blue dress with the soft lace bodice highlighted her bright dark eyes. She looked elegant and regal and incredibly beautiful.
“I can’t believe that the hotel is opening today.” Francie poked a stray strand of hair back into place and sighed as it promptly fell out again. “I know it was built in lightning time, but still, it just doesn’t seem possible that it’s finally done. And did you hear who is coming?”
Marie leaned over and studied her eyes. “Oh, please tell me my left eye isn’t bloodshot. I look like a madwoman.”
“Your eye is fine. But everyone is coming, everyone famous, that is.” Francie couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “Uncle Leonard told me that the Marshall Fields are coming, and the Armours, too!”
Her cousin stood up and nodded. “I don’t know anyone who’ll be there, except you, of course. Still, Papa will introduce us to some of the guests. He knows many of them through his work.” She grasped Francie’s hands. “Wouldn’t it have been fun, though, to stay there tonight and sleep in one of those fancy rooms?”
“Oh yes!” Francie answered. “It’d be terribly wasteful but a wonderful luxury!”
“Girls!” Aunt Dorothea called from the bottom of the stairs. “Let’s hurry!”
Within moments, they were all tucked inside a carriage on their way to the Grand Hotel. Even Middle Meg was along, dressed in her Sunday best.
The roads were crowded with visitors and the carriages of the summer residents, all moving in the same direction. Mackinac Island had never seen such a momentous occasion.
Soon the entire family stood on the long porch of the Grand Hotel. “Have you ever seen such a thing?” Aunt Dorothea breathed. “It’s stupendous.”
Around them, a crowd of elegant men and women moved in clusters of conversations. Francie had never seen such an assemblage of wealth. Women were clad in beribboned ivory and delicate lace dresses, and many of them wore plumed hats that waved above the crowd. The men, dapper in their best suits, bent their heads together in intense business discussions.
“I can’t believe it,” Marie whispered. “It’s like a dream.”
“Wait until you see them tonight,” Aunt Dorothea said. “They will be all decked out with their finery.”
Grandmama Christiana clutched at Francie’s arm. “Be a good girl and help me to a chair. Being jostled about isn’t good when one is using a cane.”
“Go ahead,” her aunt said. “I’ll stay with Marie.”
Francie led Grandmama Christiana through the assembled guests to one of the chairs on the porch. The elderly woman sank into the chair with a grateful sigh. “Bless you, Francie.”
A stately woman, her iron-gray hair wound into an ornate arrangement and held in place with pearl-and-ruby-encrusted combs, paused at the chairs and put her hand on Grandmama Christiana’s shoulder. “Christiana Harris!”
Grandmama Christiana smiled and held her hand out regally. “Margaret, it’s so good to see you. Francie, Margaret Toller and I met years ago in Lansing. Her husband was the kindest physician I’ve ever known.”
“He’s gone to be with the Lord,” Mrs. Toller said, and Grandmama Christiana nodded.
“My Barney passed on, too,” she said, a tinge of old sadness in her voice. “Tell me about your life now, Margaret. Where are you living?”
The two women chatted about people and places Francie had never heard of, and her attention wandered. God had done some astonishing things for her these last months. He’d brought her from a boarding school to this marvelous hotel on Mackinac Island, where she was mingling with people whose names she’d only heard of, whom she’d never dreamed of meeting.
Thank You. The two simple words were all her full heart could manage.
As Grandmama Christiana’s friend moved away to visit with other people, Marie and Aunt Dorothea joined them, their faces aglow with excitement. “Do you realize who’s here?” Aunt Dorothea said. “Marshall Field himself!”
“Yes, dear,” Grandmama Christiana said. “I saw him. It’s been so long since I’ve seen him, but he’s aged well, I think.” Her dark eyes glowed happily. “I used to know quite a few of these people. When my dear Barney was alive, we moved in the same social sphere as many of the guests. I’ve seen the Armours and the Swifts.”
“Grandmama Christiana, do you know that woman whom Papa is talking to?” Marie asked in a low voice. “I’ve seen her picture before, but I can’t think of her name.”
She gestured by moving her head in the general direction of the steps. Uncle Leonard stood beside an elegant woman.
Grandmama Christiana squinted. “I could be wrong, but I think that’s Bertha Palmer. She’s married to Potter Palmer, the hotel magnate.” She chuckled. “Do you suppose he’s keeping track of the competition?”
Potter Palmer! He was the founder of the Palmer House, the hotel that Thomas had mentioned, and here he was, at the Grand Hotel.
Francie could barely breathe. This was far beyond her expectations.
Grand didn’t begin to describe the hotel, Francie thought. It was magical. Absolutely magical.
Grandmama Christiana was like a fairy godmother to Francie’s Cinderella, as the two of them sat on the porch and Grandmama Christiana introduced the women of society to her. The parade of silk faille dresses with elaborate beading, waterfall overskirts, and bouffant draping, ranging from the palest tints to the most vivid depths, washed over Francie’s artistic vision until her senses were drenched with beauty.
Then the evening came, and the magic grew. After a dinner that far surpassed anything Francie had ever eaten, the guests shared demitasse under chandeliered lights in the lounge.
“Are you enjoying the evening?” asked a voice at her elbow.
“Thomas! I didn’t expect to see you here.”
He smiled with only a trace of the old stiffness. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. It’s getting a bit close in here. Would you like to join me outside?”
“I understand that the music is about to begin,” she answered. “I’m a bit warm, though, so I would like to step outside for a moment at least.”
His hand
on her elbow, he guided her outside, and she breathed the cool air with relief. “Much better.”
“So what do you think of the Grand Hotel?” he asked.
“It’s more than I ever expected. I feel as if I’m in a fairy tale. What about you? Have you changed your mind?”
He shrugged. “Time will tell. I’m trying to enjoy the evening for what it is, which is, as you say, a fairy tale. By the way, you look lovely tonight.”
“Thank you. You, sir, look very elegant yourself.”
Thomas touched her hand. “Francie, I’d like to—”
Music floated out of the hotel, and he let go of her hand. “Ah, the entertainment has begun. We should go back.”
Together they reentered the room, and although she wondered what he had been about to say when the violins began, the fairy tale continued.
“So what do you say now, son?” Reverend Carlton asked as they stood on the porch of their cottage. “That hotel is beyond imagination, isn’t it?”
“It is.” Thomas frowned in the gathering twilight. “But I don’t see how they expect to fill it.”
The minister put his hand on his son’s arm. “This was built by two railroads and a steamship company. They want to increase their passenger use by giving folks a destination. That’s why they’re here on the island. The hotel is a means to the end.”
“Ah! By building the hotel, they hope that more people will utilize the railroad to get here.” Thomas nodded. “I understand.”
“What you see, Thomas, is often only part of the story. Of course, the problem is knowing when you have the whole story and when you don’t, isn’t it?” He laughed. “The only simple truth is what we have from God.”
Thomas tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly sprung up in his throat. “Simple? Why do you call it simple? Isn’t it the most complex, involving the creation of the earth and the sea and the sky?”
“Ah, but simple it is. All God asks of us is to believe in Him and to follow Him.”
The Valiant Hearts Romance Collection Page 33