Chapter 26

The ocean lapped against the shore in a melodic rhythm that lulled Marshall in and out of consciousness, but as his senses alerted, he forced himself to take stock, to open his eyes, to summon his waning strength. How long had he been there? Hours? Days? He tried to push the haziness from his mind and recollect what had happened. Why he was lying near the beach. Why his body ached. Why his head throbbed.

A full array of stars shone from the heavens, and shafts of moonlight glistened on the sandy beach. His body was arced across a fallen tree limb, where he’d apparently fallen. While he’d remained in a lifeless sleep, the awkward curve of his body and the unforgiving timber had combined to punish his body. He groaned in a feeble attempt to move his limbs or persuade his muscles to flex.

“Please, Lord.” The plea he whispered toward the starry heavens was slurred and muted, but God knew he needed help and knew he trusted help would come. The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped. Marshall silently repeated the words until he finally mustered the strength to push himself off the merciless piece of timber that had served as his resting place. Forcing all thought of pain from his mind, he pushed into a sitting position and leaned against the offending timber. Circling his arm to the back of his head, he touched the base of his skull. His fingers rested in a tacky glob of blood.

Beginning to recall what had happened, he reached into his pocket for his handkerchief. He’d been hiding on the beach, watching two strangers. He tried to calculate how much time had passed, but he had no idea of the time. It could be nine o’clock, or it could be midnight. Either way, he needed to get back to Bridal Fair and tend to the gash on his head. He patted the ground around him until his hand landed on a thick branch, and he pulled it close. Using the branch as a support, he forced himself up. He had to get back. One step at a time, he told himself as he forced one unsteady foot in front of the other. His head pounded in unrelenting objection to his movement.

He stopped several times and rested against live oaks as he slowly made his way back to Bridal Fair. Finally seeing light inside the windows of the mansion, he cast aside the branch he’d used as a crutch. Never before had he been so thankful to arrive anywhere. “Thank you, Lord,” he said, nearing the front porch.

As he climbed the steps, he knew he shouldn’t have cast aside the makeshift crutch. Grasping a pillar at the landing, he steadied himself before opening the front door. The toe of his shoe caught as he crossed the threshold, and he grabbed the doorjamb to steady himself. On wobbly legs, he moved toward the chattering voices in the kitchen.

“Why weren’t you at supper?”

He’d been concentrating on forcing his feet to do as he bid and hadn’t heard Audrey come into the dining room. His gait shifted in a reckless pattern as he continued unsteadily toward her. Not wanting to alarm her, he forced a grim smile. “Don’t worry, I’m going to be all right.”

She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and shook her head. “Worry?” Her eyebrows dipped low on her forehead, and her lips pressed into a scowl. “If I remember correctly, it will take about ten hours of sleep for the effects of the alcohol to wear off. Where did you drink your supper?”

A combination of nausea and dizziness assailed Marshall. He didn’t have the strength to argue with her. Once again, Audrey was jumping to conclusions. He jerked one of the dining room chairs away from the table and collapsed onto the tapestry-covered seat. “I need a doctor.” His shoulders dropped forward, and he rested his head on the cool wood of the dining table.

“Oh, Marshall! You’re injured.” Audrey touched the back of his head, and he flinched. “Irene, go for Dr. Wahler—and hurry. Tell him Marshall’s been injured, and he’s bleeding. Run!”

He heard the panic in Audrey’s voice and wondered if the gash was worse than he’d imagined.

“I’m going to get some wet towels and see what I can do before the doctor gets here. Don’t move.” Her tone was soothing and kind—now that she realized he wasn’t drunk.

She didn’t need to worry about his moving. Right now, he just wanted to rest his head and have the pain subside. He could hear Thora speaking to Audrey and heard the dripping of water as she wrung excess water from a towel.

Her footsteps were light as she approached him. “I’m going to dab lightly to clean off the wound, and then I’ll put a clean wet towel in place. I’m not certain what else to do, but I’m sure Dr. Wahler will be here soon.”

He bit his lower lip while she cleaned the area. When she finally announced she’d done all she could, he let his muscles relax. She placed a clean cloth on the injured area and gave him another damp towel to place on his forehead. The coolness of the towel spread across his brow and strengthened him. “Thank you. Perhaps you should have considered nursing as a profession.” He held the cloth in place and slowly lifted his head. “Seems you’ve had more than your share to deal with.”

She knelt down beside his chair. “Are you feeling some better? You gave me a terrible fright when you came in.”

He forced a smile. “You thought I was drunk. After all we’ve talked about, I don’t know how you could even imagine such a thing, Audrey.” He didn’t want to hurt her, yet she needed to realize that her behavior pained him. After all their talk of childhoods darkened by alcoholic fathers, how could she think he would imbibe?

“I jumped to conclusions again, and I owe you an apology. I don’t know what I can say that will justify my outrageous behavior, but when I saw you staggering through the dining room, horrible memories of my father’s drinking days returned in a flash. I spoke before thinking.” She tipped her head closer. “I’m trying so hard to overcome my suspicious nature, Marshall, but I can’t tell you that I’ll ever change. Trust is difficult for me. Every time I think I can trust someone, the person does something that destroys the little bit of hope that I’ve had. I’m sure you can’t understand. I’m not asking you to, but I do want you to know that I’m sorry for wrongfully accusing you.”

Marshall looked deep into her eyes and saw pain and fear. “I do understand, Audrey. I’ve told you how it grieved me to watch my mother suffer over the same issues you’re still suffering with—the broken promises, the fear of trust. I’ve felt them all myself, too. All I’m asking is a chance to prove myself. Don’t judge me by other people or by your past. Instead, let me prove that you can trust me.”

A tear rolled down her cheek. “No, Marshall. You’ve already proven yourself over and over. I’m the one who is at fault in this, and I’m begging for your forgiveness.” She clutched his hand. “If you’ll still have me, I’d be honored to marry you.”

Mouth agape, he stared at her, unable to push words from his lips. His tongue simply wouldn’t move. Had he heard her correctly, or had the blow to his head affected his hearing? By the time he regained his ability to speak, Irene came rushing into the room with her skirts flying.

She pointed her thumb over her shoulder and then bent forward to catch her breath. “The doctor’s right behind me. And Mr. Morley, too.”

She’d barely uttered the breathless report when Dr. Wahler and Victor Morley hurried into the house. Dr. Wahler immediately took charge. His leather medical bag landed on the table with a thump. “I’ll check you as soon as I wash my hands. Irene, boil some water, please.”

While the doctor washed his hands in the other room, Mr. Morley pulled another chair close. “Do you feel well enough to explain what happened?”

“My memory is pretty clear about what happened, but I sure don’t know who’s to blame for this gash on my head or the bruises on my side.”

Dr. Wahler returned and ordered Marshall to place his head on the table. “Use your arm to cushion your head and hold still while I work. I’m not sure if you’re going to need some stitches in the wound or if it only needs to be cleaned and bandaged.”

With his forehead cupped in the crook of his arm, Marshall described the incident he’d observed on the beach. Mr. Morley interrupted with several questions, and Marshall was glad for the diversion. It made him think about something other than the doctor probing the wound on his head.

Unfortunately, the doctor declared the gash would require several sutures in order to properly heal. Irene gasped and immediately departed while Audrey and Mr. Morley remained for the procedure. When he finished, the doctor placed a clean bandage over the sutures and instructed Audrey to watch for any seepage and replace the dressing as needed.

The doctor returned his instruments to the black leather bag. “I’ll remove the stitches when you’ve properly healed, Marshall.”

“Would you care for a cup of coffee, Dr. Wahler?”

Audrey glanced at the clock as she spoke, and the doctor followed her gaze. “The hour is getting late, but thank you for the offer. I think I’d better get home.” He snapped the metal clasp on his bag and lifted it from the table. “Remember, if he has any problems with his vision or if he can’t be roused in the morning, you must send someone to fetch me.” The doctor spoke to Audrey as if Marshall weren’t in the room.

Marshall cleared his throat. “If I’m not downstairs at my usual time in the morning, you should probably tell one of the other men to rouse me, Audrey.”

The doctor chuckled. “I suppose that would be more appropriate.” He picked up his hat and waved it in the air. “No need to come to the door. I can see myself out.”

Marshall straightened in the chair and exhaled a groan. “Leaning over that table didn’t help the pain in my side.”

Victor frowned. “He struck you in the side, as well? You should have had the doctor look. You might have some broken ribs.”

“I don’t think anything is broken.” He pushed to his feet and rubbed his side. “I think I would be more comfortable in the parlor.”

“Maybe you should go to bed and get some rest. I don’t want you involved in this any further. There’s no telling how far those men will go. They’ll be closely watching you now. I’ll look for someone else that I can trust to keep his eyes and ears open.” Mr. Morley’s brows furrowed. “It’s probably best if we keep this incident to ourselves, for now. Marshall, do you have someone in mind that I could count on at this point?”

In two steps, Audrey was at Mr. Morley’s side. “I can do it.”

Both men turned toward her. Both had the same response. “No!”

“But I want to help.”

“I am ordering you to stay out of this,” Mr. Morley said. “It is far too dangerous. You see what has happened to Marshall. I don’t even want to think about what those men would do to you.”

“Those men will suspect anyone who shows allegiance to you, Mr. Morley, but they would never suspect me. I’m sure I could be of much more use to you than any man at the construction site. Besides, you know you can trust me, while you can’t be absolutely certain about any of them.”

Mr. Morley shook his head. “There is absolutely no way you will convince me that you should become involved in this, Audrey. You have heard my last word on this matter. You are to tend to Bridal Fair and the boarders—nothing more.”

Marshall pressed his lips together and waited for her answer. It took far too long, but she finally agreed.

The following morning, Audrey’s heart fluttered with pleasure when she spotted Marshall coming down the stairs with the other boarders. Either he was putting on a good show for the men or he was feeling much better. She wasn’t certain which, but she hoped it was the latter.

“What happened to your head, Marshall?” Harry Fenton asked, peering down the length of the table.

Marshall pulled out a chair and sat down across from Ted Uptegrove. “I took an unexpected fall and needed a few stitches. Nothing serious.”

Ted glanced at Frank before he met Marshall’s gaze. “Maybe you need to be more careful.”

“Thanks for the advice. I plan to do exactly that.” Marshall waited until all the men were seated. “Let’s pray.” He bowed his head and offered a prayer of thanks for their breakfast. The custom of praying before meals had passed to him upon Boyd’s death. None of the others had shown interest in assuming a leadership role when it came to prayer.

Audrey lifted the platter of eggs from the sideboard and handed it to Marshall. The fact that she hadn’t seen him holding his side or taking extra care as he sat down gave her hope. She wanted to ask if he’d slept well, but such questioning would surely embarrass him—and her, if the men noted her display of concern and teased him.

Once the other men had filtered from the room and headed toward the front door, Audrey motioned Marshall into the kitchen. “How are you feeling this morning? I hope you slept well.”

He stepped to one side, permitting Irene a clear path from the dining room to the sink. “My side is still a little sore, but nothing I can’t manage. And my head didn’t give me any problem unless I rolled onto my back.”

“I better check the bandage to be certain it doesn’t need to be changed. I don’t want Dr. Wahler thinking I’ve been negligent in my duties. I don’t want him to replace me with Irene or Aunt Thora.” Audrey pulled a tall stool to the window, where she’d have better light.

“No need to worry. I won’t let that happen.” He settled on the stool.

Her stomach flipped when he looked up and gave her a wink. “It might be best if you remained at the house today and gave yourself additional time to heal.”

“Why?” He reached for the bandage, and she pushed his hand away. “Have the stitches come out?”

“No. It looks fine, but it might be best if you didn’t rush back to work right away.”

He chuckled. “I promise I’ll be careful, if that will make you feel better.” After a quick glance, he leaned forward and stole a kiss.

Heat rushed to her cheeks like a fire raging through underbrush. She tapped his chest with her finger. “That isn’t acceptable behavior.”

“No? Then I’d better see that I perform in a more acceptable manner.”

In one easy movement, he swept her into his arms and covered her lips with a tender kiss that deepened with warmth and intensity until her knees began to buckle. Had he not held her tight against his chest, she would have dropped to the floor.

“Marshall.” His name escaped her lips in low murmur.

“Audrey! Marshall!” Irene stood in the doorway, mouth agape. “You better not let Aunt Thora see you.” Irene jutted her chin toward the bedroom door, and the two of them jumped apart as if Aunt Thora’s shotgun had blasted through the room.

Weeks ago, they had moved Thora’s bed near the windows to permit a view of the outdoors. From her new vantage point in the bedroom, she could also see a portion of the kitchen. Audrey and Marshall stood directly in her line of view.

Marshall grinned. “She must be asleep.”

“I’m not asleep, and if I didn’t approve, you’d already have a round of buckshot warmin’ your backside, Marshall Graham.”

“Aunt Thora! That’s not very nice.” Audrey covered her mouth to contain a squelch of laughter.

“Nobody ever accused me of being nice, but I am truthful.”

Marshall peeked around the doorjamb. “Sounds like you’re feeling better today, Miss Thora.”

“Good enough to see you’re stealing Audrey’s heart. You best be careful with it or you’ll rue the day you ever set foot on Georgia soil.” She gave him a wink, but her voice lost some of its strength. “These girls have chores, and you’re holdin’ up their progress.”

“I’m leaving. You have my word.” Marshall motioned to Audrey to follow him. “She seems to be getting better, don’t you think?” he asked as they stood by the front door.

“Some days are better than others, but Dr. Wahler doesn’t hold out much hope for a recovery.” She grasped Marshall’s hand. “Please promise that if you begin to feel weak or have any other problems you’ll come back to the house and rest.”

He nodded his agreement and then left for the work site. Audrey gathered her cleaning supplies from the storage closet beneath the steps and hurried upstairs. She needed to pick up the soiled bedding and get it to Irene so she could begin the wash. Then she’d return to dust and sweep the rooms. They cleaned the rooms once a week. If the men wanted their rooms cleaned more often, they knew where to locate the supplies. So far, none of them had shown any interest in additional cleaning.

After Irene headed off to the washhouse, Audrey peeked in on Thora and was pleased to discover the old woman napping. Had she been awake, there would have been questions to answer, and she wanted to finish cleaning the rooms before undergoing Aunt Thora’s quiz about her recent acceptance of Marshall’s marriage proposal.

She completed the first two rooms before moving on to the third, all the while pondering last night’s conversations and what had happened to Marshall. She shivered as she recalled Marshall staggering into the house. Why would anyone do such a thing to him? Even Mr. Morley couldn’t discern a clear motive for what had happened.

Broom in hand, she stepped into Ted Uptegrove’s room and set to work. Each time she cleaned the rooms, Audrey was thankful they’d removed her grandmother’s velvety Wilton carpets. The dirt and grime of the construction workers would have ruined the beautiful carpets in short order. Now, with only a small braided rug beside each bed, sweeping the wooden floors didn’t take long. Bending sideways, she shoved the broom beneath the bed.

When the bristles hit against something hard, she tried again. Annoyed that Mr. Uptegrove had broken rule number twelve and stored some of his belongings under his bed, she dropped to her knees to investigate. With her head resting on the floor, she could see an object pushed against the baseboard near the center of the bed. It would be difficult to reach, but she flattened onto her stomach and stretched out until she could wrap two fingers around the object and pull it closer.

Drawing the object from beneath the bed, she gasped. A hammer—with a broken handle. She pressed her lips together and examined suspicious markings that dotted the head of the hammer. Markings that appeared to be flecks of blood.