by Cathy Marie Hake, Lynn A. Coleman, Mary Davis, Susan Page Davis
Richard instantly released his clasp of Ellis’s leg.
Ellis struggled to quell his uncharacteristic temper. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bellow. But I want to know what happened.”
“Nanna doesn’t yell,” Richard whined.
“Son …” How could he explain this? It wasn’t normal for him to yell either. He loved Richard and he was happy—no, honored to raise his brother’s son. However, something—or rather someone—was getting the better of him. The constant fighting with himself not to think of a certain hazel-eyed nanny was wearing him down.
Ellis took a deep breath and went down to one knee, capturing the small boy’s upper arms in his hands. “Normally, I don’t yell either. I didn’t mean to be so loud. Maybe I’m not used to having a lot of folks around me when I’m at home. Be patient with me, Son. I promise to try and not yell so often.”
Richard scrunched his eyebrows together. “All right, Uncle Ellis. Nanna said some folks yell.”
“Well, normally I don’t. But I will try to be more careful. Deal?”
“Deal.” Ellis held his hand out and Richard slipped his tiny hand into his. Such a good boy. A bright boy. And that was due to his nanny. His brother, if truth be told, had little to do with the raising of his own son.
“So tell me, why was Nanna racing you?”
“I asked her to.”
“I see,” he responded, carefully modulating his tone of voice. He could see the boy felt terribly guilty. “Then what happened, Richard?”
“I won. But Nanna didn’t feel so good. We stopped at Mrs. Vivian’s house. She gave me cookies. Nanna sat and had some lemonade.”
So, Miss Smith overexerted herself. Hadn’t the doctor given her firm orders to stay down, relax? Not only did she not stay down, she actually raced the child. And what’s a woman doing racing a small boy down the street anyway? Ellis fought to keep his resurgent anger from surfacing again. “Richard, I think your Nanna needs to rest some more.”
“I know. Nanna said we can’t go shopping or exploring.”
“Right, not for awhile.”
“Nanna said she may never be able to.”
What nonsense is this woman feeding the child? “I’m sure you’ll be able to, real soon.”
“Nanna said when she gets better, she’d be going home to New York.”
So the woman doesn’t want to stay in the area. Well, no sense asking her to stay on. He’d just have to find a nanny somewhere on the island. Until then, he would have to alter his work schedule, take the lad to work with him whenever possible. Take him fishing on the dock even. Yup, he’d better start doing what he needed to do to take care of his nephew. It was apparent Miss Smith was breaking her ties with Richard and would be traveling home on the next ship.
The back of Ellis’s neck tightened from the tension. He would do what was necessary for Richard. He didn’t regret that. But the boy loved and depended on Miss Smith in more ways than she obviously knew. Here she was ready to release Richard into his care with barely a moment’s thought. Maybe Beatrice Smith wasn’t the kind of person he had been building her to be in his mind. Maybe raising Richard had just been a matter of duty, of patronage to an old friend.
Ellis massaged the back of his neck with his right hand and sighed. Guess it was good I hadn’t offered her a permanent position as Richard’s nanny.
If looks could kill …
Beatrice swallowed hard and broke her gaze from Ellis’s, who stood just outside the shelter glaring at her. What was he thinking? Those bluish-gray eyes of his, so dark beneath a deeply furrowed brow, bore into her. She had heard his outburst. Richard must have told him about their excursion.
“Excuse me, Cook. I believe I need to lie down. I don’t think I’m up for dinner tonight.”
“Nonsense, Child. You need to eat.” Cook crossed her hefty arms across her rounded stomach.
Beatrice lifted herself up off the chair. “Perhaps Richard could bring a little something later.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples for emphasis. “I feel a headache coming on.”
“Uh-huh.” Cook eyed her cautiously.
“I just need to lie down. I’ll be fine.” She didn’t want to overemphasize her physical weakness. Truth was, a tension-filled headache was coming on, but more out of fear of dealing with Ellis Southard, who already thought her a coddling nanny. Now he was certain to think her a fool as well. Why on earth had she agreed to race Richard today anyway?
“Mr. Ellis, he cooks a great steak. Can’t say I enjoy anything else the man puts his hand to, food-wise that is. But outside on the grill—umm-hmm, the man can cook.”
“I’m quite certain he can, but I really must go lie down now.”
“Sure, you go run along now. Just remember to stop running sometime.”
Bea squinted hard at Cook. Was she implying something here? Sure, she was old enough not to be running down a street after a child like that, but … did she mean something else? Beatrice turned and headed toward her cottage. Whatever the old woman meant, she wasn’t going to wait around to find out. She’d seen enough of Cook to know she was able to read her thoughts. A wise woman, her father would have said. A nosy one, her aunt Tilly would have said. In either case, Bea wasn’t about to stick around to confirm Cook’s suspicions that she might be running from Ellis Southard.
She opened the screen door and entered her cottage, letting the door slam behind her. It wasn’t quite as cool as being outdoors under the banyan tree, but it was far cooler than earlier this afternoon. Thank You, Lord, for this cool breeze tonight, Bea silently prayed as she headed to the quiet sanctuary of her room.
Her bed, still rumpled from an earlier nap after her failed excursion with Richard, lay convictingly before her. Never would she have left a bed in that state back home.
Bea sighed and worked the wrinkles out of the bedding before collapsing on the rocker beside the bed. “O Lord, how long before I return home? I thought I would be happy with a few extra days with Richard. Instead I’ve gotten sick and I am miserable, Lord. I tried, Father, today I really tried to explain to him why I had to go home. I believe he understood. But I saw the pain in his eyes. Or was it fear, Father God? Please be with Richard; give him strength and bless his relationship with his uncle. Make it strong; give him the father he’s never had. Amen.”
Bea wiped tears off her cheeks with a delicate hand-laced handkerchief Elizabeth had made for her years ago. Embroidered on one corner were small purple violets, Bea’s favorite flower. Bea sighed. “I’ve been a good mother to the child, just like you asked, Lizzy. But it hurts so much to let him go. I understand now why you held on so long, just one more day, one more hour to touch, to love that precious little boy. I grieve to be parting with him, but I know it is right, and I can’t possibly live in this area with his uncle. I don’t know if you ever met the man, Lizzy, but he is quite different from your Richard. Sometimes he terrifies me.”
Bea stopped, realizing she’d been rambling aloud. It gave her some relief to think her dear friend was looking down from heaven, yet she knew that only God could answer her pain, that only He could give peace to the heart-wrenching grief she was going through. She needed to return home. She needed to return soon. Why wait until she was recovered? The ship would be sailing into a colder climate. Wouldn’t that be better for her?
She lifted herself from the rocker, went to her garment bag, and pulled out a sheet of stationery. At the small desk in the farthest corner of the room she penned a letter to Mr. Ellis Southard.
“Are they done yet?” Richard asked for the third time.
“Just about, Son. Why don’t you go tell Nanna her steak is ready?”
“All right.” Richard ran off toward the cottage. Ellis had seen her leave, wondered if she was all right, but figured Cook would have alerted him to any problem.
It was odd how old Cook sat relaxed in the chair with her feet up. Eyeing her from a distance, he realized she was slowing down. Not that he’d ever say anythin
g to her about it. But he would like to see her do less walking and live with him. Her family could manage just fine without her. Probably should too. The woman gave far too much to folks. She needed to slow down. Relax. Enjoy …
“Uncle Ellis!” Richard yelled.
Ellis smiled. At least outside it wasn’t quite as piercing as in the house. He looked in the boy’s direction but didn’t answer.
“Nanna says she’s not feeling up to dinner.”
“Not up to dinner?” he mumbled.
“Cook?” he called as he brought the plates piled with mouth-watering steaks to the small table at her side.
“She said she needed to rest.”
“Do you think she’s all right?”
“I believe so. Think it’s more her pride than heat.”
“Ahh.” Ellis would let that issue alone. He wasn’t going to be baited by Cook into doing something he shouldn’t. Like offering her the opportunity to stay on as Richard’s nanny.
A quiet meal was eaten. Ellis grinned, reflecting. His father often said a quiet table meant the meal was exquisite. A small dinner plate was prepared for Miss Smith. Cook cleaned up, Richard delivered the meal, and Ellis retreated to his study.
The old wood floorboards shined from Cook’s excellent housekeeping. She once told him it didn’t need much fussin’ ’cause he mostly sat in his chair at the desk. That had been true enough, but he’d begun pacing in recent days. Pacing and bellowing. “What a combination,” he groaned.
“Uncle Ellis?”
A somber child stood in front of him.
“Yes, Richard.”
“Nanna said to give you this.”
Ellis reached for the thin piece of paper crumpled between the boy’s chubby fingers. “Thank you, Son.”
Not wanting to open the letter and be distracted from his nephew, he placed it in his trousers pocket. Whatever Miss Smith had to say could wait. The time before Richard went to bed was their private time, and Ellis cherished it.
“Would you like me to read a story for you tonight?” Ellis asked, combing the blond curls from Richard’s face.
Richard beamed. “Can we play checkers?”
“Checkers it is. You get the pieces, I’ll clear the table.”
Richard scurried off.
Ellis lifted some papers he had brought home from his office and placed them on his desk.
“Good night, Mr. Ellis. Remember, I’ll be comin’ after breakfast tomorrow.”
How could he forget? But he had. “Thanks for the reminder.”
“You might ask Miss Smith to fix the morning meal,” Cook suggested.
“I’ll manage.” After all, he would have to once Beatrice Smith moved back home. Until he found a suitable nanny or nurse, he would need to fend for himself and Richard.
“Oh, and one more thing, Mr. Ellis. I think the nanny is feeling somewhat useless,” she added, tilting her head toward the cottage.
“Useless? What are you talking about, Cook?”
“I don’t rightly know, but something is wrong with the dear gal. And I’m certain it isn’t the heat.”
Ellis snorted. “You call running wise?”
“That’s nothing. I mean, yes, she shouldn’t have pushed herself that way. But, well … I can’t put my finger on it. But I knows something else is wandering around in that pretty little head.”
Ellis shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. “She told Richard she was going home today.”
“Mercy, no.” Cook placed a hand over her heart.
“Afraid so. I’ll talk with you tomorrow about this. Right now I don’t want Richard hearing us.”
“I can’t figure what’s going on. I knows she wants to be here with the child,” Cook mumbled as she left the room.
Had Ellis heard her right? Beatrice Smith wants to be here? But why would she tell Richard …? Ellis dropped his hand into his pocket that held her letter.
“ ’Bye, Cook,” Richard called out. Ellis heard the pattering of his shoes on the hardwood floors and released the letter back into his pocket.
“I got it, Uncle Ellis.”
“Excellent.” Ellis rubbed his hands together. “Tonight I’m certain I’m going to win.”
“I don’t think so.” Richard giggled. “You’re worse than Nanna.”
Ellis chuckled. Guess he needs to work on his losing skills some. “I wouldn’t be too confident there. I was practicing today.”
“You were?”
“Yup, an old sea captain showed me some pointers.”
Richard’s eyes widened. When was the time to start winning, Ellis wondered, in order to challenge the child more? There was so much he still needed to learn about raising a boy.
O Lord, he said inwardly, help me to know what’s best.
Ellis placed a white ivory checker in one hand and a black ivory checker in the other. He’d received the game as a gift from an old sailor who had carved it from whales’ teeth. The board was of finely polished wood, with the black squares painted on. He put his hands behind his back, placing both checkers in his right hand. “Pick one.”
Richard tapped his left arm. Ellis swung it around revealing his empty hand. Richard tapped the other and Ellis swung it around, after dropping the checkers in a back pocket, and revealed it was empty also.
“Hey!” Richard placed his hands on his hips. “That’s not how you do it, Uncle Ellis.”
“It’s not?” he asked, feigning innocence. Ellis scratched his head. “I know I put them in my hand …”
Richard chuckled. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know.” Ellis winked.
“Yes, you do, you’re trying to trick me.”
“Am I? I know I put them in my hands; you saw me.” Ellis turned around for effect and pretended to look for the missing checkers. Soon Richard was beside him searching.
“Where are they?” Richard asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Uncle Ellis, you’re trying to trick me,” Richard accused, his laughter growing louder by the moment.
Ellis roared in full-belly laughter, lunging across the table to tickle the boy.
Laughter floated on the evening wind through Bea’s cottage window, as it had every previous night. How could such a joyous sound be so heart-wrenching? How come she wasn’t happy with the joy Richard had found with his uncle? How could she be so jealous? So self-centered? Bea wept into her pillow. “Father God, I’m so terribly selfish.”
Chapter 9
Ellis sat on the edge of his bed, the room dark, the house quiet. The gentle glow of candlelight beckoned his attention to the cottage below where Bea still placed the candle in her window for the boy. Ellis grinned briefly before pursing his lips in reflection. How could she truly love the child if she was so anxious to leave? Remembering the note, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what she had penned for him earlier.
Ellis lit the flame of his oil lamp beside the bed. The onion skin paper crinkled as he unfolded it. His eyes focused on the words flowing across the page in exquisite penmanship.
Dear Mr. Southard,
Would you be so kind as to procure my departure as soon as possible? I feel the trip home would do no further harm to my health in as much as Key West’s climate is not agreeable at all.
I love Richard dearly and ask only to be able to correspond with him. I hope you will find that acceptable. In time, I imagine Richard will have only vague memories of me. But I suppose that is how it should be.
Sincerely,
Beatrice Smith
Ellis’s hand trembled. She did love the child, there was no question. But why couldn’t she wait and give her body a chance to adjust to this area? Why is she in such a hurry to return home, Lord? I don’t understand.
A whispered thought flickered past his ears. “Perhaps you should ask.”
Should he? The hour was late. Was it proper to call on someone this late? To call on a single woman?
But she isn’t just a single woman
. She is the child’s nanny. And this is a matter that concerns the child, he argued with himself. Didn’t he, as Richard’s guardian, have the right to ask his nanny questions, no matter what the hour? Was there some law that forbade such things? He couldn’t think of one.
Ellis turned down the lamp and headed out of his room. He straightened his shirt, removed some of the creases from his trousers, and headed down the stairs toward the front door, stopping to listen for Richard. He was sound asleep. He could leave him for a moment, he decided. Besides, the boy’s bedroom window was open, and he was confident he could hear the child from the cottage.
A few long strides and he was at her door. He raised his hand to knock.
Then he lowered it.
He raised his hand again, but stopped short of tapping on the doorjamb.
He stepped back. Perhaps this should wait until morning.
He stood there undecided. Perhaps not. He stepped forward again.
Ellis muttered under his breath and rapped on the door. It protested in its frame, and instantly he regretted having knocked so hard.
“Hello?” a weak voice called from the bedroom.
“Miss Smith, I’m sorry to call on you so late. May I have a word with you?” A bit formal, perhaps, but it got the point across.
“Mr. Southard, did you receive my letter?” she asked, peering around her partially opened door.
She had taken her hair down for the evening, its silken strands cascading over her shoulders. Ellis swallowed and cleared his throat. “Yes. Can we talk?”
“All right.”
Her chocolate curls enhanced her delicate features. Ellis caught himself sniffing her hair as he followed her into the living room. Perhaps it was a mistake to have come in the evening. His palms beaded with sweat. He rubbed them dry with his fingers, only to find they immediately started to perspire again. He sat in the single chair in the living room, leaving her the sofa.
“Is there a reason you need to return home so quickly?” he asked. Remain on the subject … you can get yourself through this.
“No, nothing of a pressing nature.”