CHAPTER 11

Three days had passed before Old Sam appeared at the hunting lodge. “Thought I better get across the river and see how you fared through the storm. I woulda come sooner, but things is a mess, and I’ve been waitin’ to make sure the tides had settled for good.” He scratched his head and glanced about. “I took a look in the boathouse ’fore I came inland. Some of the boats took quite a beatin’, but I was glad to see the dock wasn’t damaged too bad. At least boats can tie up and folks can get on and off board.”

Harland nodded. “We’ve been down there to look things over, Sam. We’ll get to the repairs as soon as we can, but right now, those boats aren’t on the top of the list.”

In spite of Alfred’s and Evan’s best efforts, some of the launches belonging to the investors had been severely battered, and all had taken on water when several beams and three-quarters of one wall of the boathouse had given way.

“Come on in and sit down. We got a pot of coffee, and I’d like to hear what you can tell us about Biscayne.”

The fisherman followed Harland inside and settled in the sitting room. “The storm hit pretty bad, but it was worse further south. Least that’s the news I’m hearin’ from off the fishing boats coming in the past two days. There’s no electricity and lots of damage along the wharves. The winds shifted away from Bridal Veil and slammed into us with more force.” He shook his head. “Lots of folks suffered big losses, but only two dead at last report.”

According to Sam, there were supplies available that hadn’t been ruined in the storm, but after hearing the older man describe the loss and damage, Evan had his doubts. “We’re going to need to hire workers. You think there will be any men wanting to work here on the island?” Evan arched his brows and waited. He worried most of the men would be hiring out in Biscayne.

“Don’t think you’ll have much problem. Be jest like all the other storms. Word spreads north, and men make their way down here ’cause they need money.” He took a drink of his coffee. “I’m jest glad to see things is all right here—or as good as they can be after a hurricane. If you fellas is wantin’ to come over to Biscayne, I can come back and get ya in a day or two. Bring a list of the supplies you need. Should be plenty of workers coming in by then.”

Their list of needs would be long, and it certainly couldn’t be filled in one order, but the man spoke with enough authority that Evan said he’d be thankful to have Sam return for them.

While they continued to visit, neither Evan nor Harland mentioned Alfred’s death. The two of them had agreed they would deliver the news to his family themselves. But if Old Sam carried word there’d been no injuries or deaths on the island, Alfred’s parents might receive that false report. If so, it would be a double cruelty for Evan and Harland to show up and deliver news of their son’s death.

Evan finally decided he must say something before Sam departed. Relating the story took more out of him than he’d imagined. When he finished, his body ached as though he’d been beaten. “Please say nothing until we have a chance to speak with Alfred’s parents ourselves.”

“You got my word. I won’t say a thing. It’s best they hear it from you, but I’m guessing his father will miss the boy’s pay more than he’ll miss the boy.” Sam had ferried Alfred back and forth from time to time. He knew Alfred had no desire to live at home—and he knew why, as well.

Before Sam departed, Evan handed him a letter to Melinda. If she knew of the storm, he didn’t want her to worry. “Don’t expect her to get it for a while,” Sam cautioned. “The rails are out from below Savannah to Jacksonville, so there’s no trains running and no mail coming in or going out.” There was no way of knowing when the rails would be repaired or how soon the trains would be back on schedule, but Evan hoped word of the hurricane wouldn’t cause Melinda to worry unnecessarily or to do anything rash.

The following day, Harland dropped to the couch and rested his head on the cushioned frame. “I’ve decided it’s time for me to give up my job here at Bridal Veil. I’m just too old to carry this heavy load, Evan. There comes a time when a man knows it’s time to look for work that suits his age, and my time has come. This place needs someone younger, not an old man like me.”

“That’s just weariness talking. All this damage from the hurricane has you worn down. I wish we could see more progress, too, but it’s been only a few days. We’ll get the job done. Besides, you’re not old, Harland.” Evan hoped to see some sign of agreement from his friend and mentor, but the older man’s weary expression didn’t change.

Delilah brushed past Evan, jumped onto the couch, and settled in Harland’s lap. The older man combed his fingers through the cat’s thick fur. “It’s more than the storm. My bones ache most every day, and I feel a strain I never experienced in the past. The investors keep expanding this place, and my responsibilities grow right along with all those extras they keep adding. I don’t feel up to the job anymore. Once Mr. Nordegren gets back, I’m going to tell him he should put you in charge. You’re the one who should take over this job.”

“Me?” Fear and panic knotted together and settled on Evan’s chest like a rock. With the recent storm, the pressure to get everything back to normal had magnified beyond imagination. “Are you joking? With all this damage and work that needs to be completed before the season, this place can’t get along without you. I could never oversee all this work, Harland. You’re the one with the experience to get us through this mess.”

“Additional people will be hired to help with the damage and preparations. Besides, there’s no better way to learn than to jump in and do things, and this is the perfect time. I won’t leave you until you feel equipped, but if I didn’t think you were capable, I’d never suggest the idea to Mr. Nordegren or to Mr. Zimmerman.” He lifted his head a few inches and looked Evan in the eye. “You’re the right man for the job, Evan, so no use arguing with me.” That said, he returned to his previous position and closed his eyes.

Evan waited, hoping Harland would sit up so they could discuss the matter a little more. When Harland didn’t move, Evan yanked off his work boots and took them out to the porch. After they’d sat in the sun for a while, he would beat them against the railing to knock off the dried mud. Since the hurricane, it was the most cleaning his boots had received, and if it hadn’t been for Garrison’s wife, he’d be wearing filthy clothes. The routine had changed for all of them. Life had turned upside down, and now Harland was planning to further toss things about. His stomach churned as though he’d swallowed a glass of sour milk. Harland believed in him, but could he really step in and prove himself adequate to the job? Memories of his father’s condemning insults plagued him.

“You’ll never amount to anything, Evan. You’re worthless.”

Evan grimaced. It was as if his father were standing in the same room with him now. “Your brother James has always been the only one I could rely on.”

“Leave the boy be,” Evan’s mother often declared in his defense. Unfortunately it usually resulted in horrible arguments between husband and wife. James thought it almost entertaining. There was something sadistic in the pleasure he took from watching their father bully their mother.

Evan pressed his hands to his head as if to force the images from his mind. His parents had been dreadfully unhappy together. His mother had died a broken and lonely woman. No doubt death had been a sweet release. But it hadn’t been so for Evan. He’d been rejected and criticized throughout his childhood and cast off as a young adult.

But Harland believed in him in a way that his own father never had.

Squaring his shoulders, Evan vowed to be worthy of that trust. One way or another, he would prove to Harland and everyone else that he was of value. But the thought of Harland leaving was troubling. Evan went back into the lodge prepared to discuss the matter, but Harland appeared to be asleep.

Evan looked at the old man and shook his head. They’d made little progress on the cleanup, and now Harland was talking of pulling out before the real work had even begun. Only the necessities had received immediate attention. All of the men had helped round up the animals, check owners’ cottages, and inspect the many outbuildings for damage. They’d been grateful when they discovered they’d lost only one cow and an old workhorse. Garrison held out hope that when they completed the survey of the island, they’d locate both. Harland wasn’t so sure. And now he planned to leave them. Evan could scarcely imagine the island without the old man.

His footsteps muffled by thick work socks, Evan took the steps two at a time and grabbed his other pair of boots. Carrying the shoes in one hand, he plopped down in a straight-backed chair near Harland and tugged the back of a boot until his foot slid into position. The noise caused Harland to stir.

“You feeling up to going over to the cottages, or you need to rest?”

Harland yawned. “Give me an hour or so, and then I’ll join you over there. Which cottage you going to first?” Harland had assigned the men living in the workers’ quarters to begin repairs to the clubhouse. The cottages of the investors were important, but many more had permanent rooms in the clubhouse. At the moment, they needed to please the majority—and that meant seeing to the clubhouse.

Evan didn’t hesitate. “I think I’ll go to Bridal Fair first. After the clubhouse, it probably deserves our attention next, don’t you think?”

Harland grinned and nodded. “I knew you were the right choice for this job, my boy. You’re using your head to make good decisions.” He tapped his index finger to the side of his forehead and then resumed stroking Delilah. “I’ll meet you over there in an hour or so. You best stop and see if Emma will feed you before you set out.”

“I’ll see if she can pack me a sandwich to take along. It will save me some time.” After a final glance over his shoulder, Evan leaned down and wrapped his hand around the wooden handle of the toolbox. He’d need more than a handheld toolbox to complete all the needed repairs, but with these he could at least begin.

His boots squished in the muddy path, yet birds chirped overhead as though all was right with the world. They remained undisturbed by the storm that had wreaked havoc along the Eastern Coast only days before. A yellow warbler sat high on an exposed branch and sang a bright clear song as Evan passed by. That bird might be calm, but he wasn’t. He didn’t know whether he should be honored by Harland’s decision to recommend him as a replacement or run for the hills. Being a gamekeeper was one thing, but managing and supervising grounds and improvements, overseeing the landscape work, and managing the wildlife was an immense responsibility—not to mention supervising all the men. Much more responsibility than he’d ever imagined. For a fleeting moment, his chest swelled with pride, but soon that feeling was replaced with fear and echoed insults from his father. Forcing them aside, Evan did his best to maintain a positive attitude, but the questions poured in faster than he could answer.

How could they accomplish all the necessary work before the first guests returned for the season in less than three months? Harland had spoken of new employees, and no doubt it would be the only way to accomplish the cleanup, but where would they come from? As grounds and game manager, he would be held accountable. And if he didn’t succeed, he might be out of a job in short order.

What would Melinda think? He wondered if she’d be pleased and believe him equal to the job. What would she think if he was without work and forced to leave Bridal Veil because the investors chose someone else? He pictured her smiling and full of assurance—cheering him on with words of encouragement—telling him he could accomplish anything he set his mind to. If the investors selected him for the position, he hoped that would prove true. He shifted the toolbox to his other hand and grinned at the idea. Only a short time ago, he didn’t think it possible to accept the position, but now he was envisioning himself in charge.

“Where is it yar headin’, Evan?” Emma O’Sullivan’s question yanked him back to the present. She was standing in mud to her ankles, pinning wet trousers onto a sagging clothesline.

“I’m going over to Bridal Fair to begin some repairs on Mr. Morley’s place. Thought I’d stop by here first and see if I could ride one of the horses over.” He pushed his hat back on his head and grinned. “I was hoping maybe I could talk you out of a sandwich to take with me, too.”

She’d wedged a clothes basket between branches of a fallen tree to keep it off the muddy ground. “I’ll need me a few more minutes to finish hanging these clothes, and then I’ll fetch you somethin’ to take with ya. Go on over to the barn and get ya one of the horses saddled up. Garrison’s out mending fences.”

The far end of the barn roof had collapsed, but the rest of the structure remained sound. And the O’Sullivan cottage hadn’t suffered a great deal of damage. Garrison had set to work and immediately repaired some roof shingles, and Emma had mopped and swept out the murky water that had remained after the rains subsided. Fortunately, their cottage, like many of the others, sat high enough that it hadn’t flooded, but rain had come through broken windows and a damaged roof. The remaining outbuildings had suffered their share of damage, but once the men set to work, it wouldn’t take long to have them repaired. The problem would be how soon they could complete all the other repairs before getting to the barn and outbuildings.

By the time Evan finished saddling the horse and led her out of the barn, Emma had returned indoors. He walked the horse to the house, tied her to a thick branch of the uprooted tree, and proceeded up the front steps.

“Bring yarself on in here,” Emma called. “I’m just about done.”

Evan stepped to the door and hesitated until he saw that Emma was still wearing her muddy boots. A tarp had been laid like a rug from the door to the kitchen. Obviously this made it easier for Emma to work and not have to discard her boots or worry about the floor. Evan crossed the threshold and watched as Emma placed two thick sandwiches in a pail.

“Haven’t had time to do me any baking since all this mess with the storm, but I put ya a couple of apples in there and a jug of milk.” She swiped her hands down her apron. “Garrison thought the milk cows would be slow giving milk, but they been doing jest fine. Those old cows are like me—takes more than a storm to get ’em out of sorts.” She tipped her head back and laughed.

Evan had to admire the woman. Most would be ready to pack their bags and leave, but not Emma O’Sullivan. There wasn’t much she didn’t seem to take in her stride—except maybe her husband’s occasional bad humor. “Thank you, Emma. Harland and I sure do appreciate the fact that you’ve taken to feeding us since all of this happened.”

“There’s enough men’s work that needs to be done without the two of you having to cook your own meals. I’m happy to do it.” She lifted the pail and handed it to him. “Speakin’ of Harland, where’s he at this fine day? Working so hard he can’t stop for a bite to eat?”

Evan didn’t want to say he was resting. Emma would tease and tell him he was getting old, and Harland didn’t need to hear that kind of talk right now. “He’s over at the hunting lodge, but he plans to join me later.”

“Well, I’ll be here, and that’s a fact.” She followed Evan outside and watched as he mounted his horse.

As if to prove mightier than the storm, the sun’s rays beat down with an unrelenting intensity. The sweltering heat mingled with the damp vegetation and produced a stench of musty decay that filled his nostrils and permeated his clothes.

When he got to Bridal Fair, Evan moved tree branches that had been ripped from the live oaks. They would provide good fuel once they’d dried. He chopped at the pieces only when necessary to cut them down to a size he could handle; otherwise it was the kind of work that could wait.

Debris had blown across the porch, gouging holes here and there, but nothing that couldn’t be repaired. Evan inspected the windows and found all but one had survived without damage. He measured the dimensions and wrote down what was needed to replace the glass. Next he would inspect the attic to see if the storm had put any holes in the roof.

Evan thought the odor would disappear once he began his work inside Bridal Fair, but it had remained. A nagging reminder of the storm and its devastation. Upstairs the roof appeared solid, much to his relief. There was already plenty of work to be done, and he was glad to see that little of it would be required for Bridal Fair.

For the rest of the day, Evan worked at Bridal Fair seeing to the minor issues. No doubt Mr. Morley would be pleased to see the old house had survived. Evan was confident that once transportation was available, Mr. Morley himself would come to check on the situation. He had always been a man of detail and would not leave the island’s condition to a mere letter. Most of the other investors’ cottages had suffered the loss of gutters, shingles, and windows, as well as some rain damage. In a few places the problems were much greater—especially at the clubhouse. Morley would see to it that order was restored at any cost.

Evan made a mental checklist of all that needed to be replaced or repaired on the island. In addition to the clubhouse and the cottages, the wharf would need a great deal of repair; the windmill would need to be resurrected; new bathhouses as well as fishermen’s houses would need to be constructed to replace the ones that had washed away. The orchards planted by the landscaping crew were now gone, and the exterior grounds at all of the cottages were in dire need of cleanup and replanting. All day he expected Harland to appear, but when the older man hadn’t shown up by late afternoon, Evan gave up on the idea of receiving any help and departed for the O’Sullivans’.

The oppressive humidity seeped through his clothing, and his shirt stuck to his body like a second skin. He’d be glad for a bath and a change of clothes. He spotted Harland and Garrison coming from the barn as he approached. His mount, sensing she’d arrived home and eager for something to eat, headed straight for the barn without prompting. As the horse drew closer to the men, Evan called out to Harland, “Thought you were going to come over to Bridal Fair and lend a hand.”

Harland chuckled and shook his head.

“Sure and he planned to, but I needed him more than you, boyo. I found that lost cow, but she was bogged in mud. Needed help gettin’ her out.” Garrison pointed his thumb toward the barn. “She’s safe and sound inside. Once ya take care of Molly, come on in and sit down for yer supper.”

Seeing to the needs of the horse came first, but Evan’s stomach protested while he cared for the animal. Once he’d finished, he gave the horse a pat on the rump and headed for the cottage. He tried his best to avoid stepping in deep mud as he picked his way toward the house, but it proved impossible. When he reached the porch, he noticed the tarp that had previously protected Emma’s floor was now hanging over the rail. Evan dropped to the front step, removed his boots, and placed them alongside the other pairs of shoes outside the door. He entered the house and, after one look at everyone’s sock-clad feet, laughed out loud. To his way of thinking, this was one sight to behold. He glanced heavenward. “Thank you, Lord. I needed a good laugh.”

Old Sam arrived on schedule a couple of days later. With a detailed list in his pocket, Evan boarded the fishing boat with Harland close on his heels. The previous night Harland had added several items to Evan’s list after they’d returned home from the O’Sullivans’, but he’d praised Evan’s efforts.

As they grew closer to Biscayne, Evan’s chest tightened. The strong winds had pushed several large vessels ashore in the Biscayne harbor as well as a pilot boat that had come to rest in a perpendicular fashion that defied gravity. Sam pointed to the docks, which had all suffered lifting to some degree. “The water pounded them from underneath while the wind beat them about from overhead. Only a few that won’t need repairs.”

A fog of pungent air hung over the harbor like an inhospitable guardian of the ruins. In spite of the heat, Evan shivered at the sight. So much, so much. The words repeated over and over in his head. He hadn’t expected to see such extensive destruction. Even if he had, there was no way his mind could have pictured the sight.

They pulled alongside one of the wharfs that had received minimal damage. Sam pointed toward the town. “Be careful as ya go—it’s treacherous walking through these streets with all the flooding. Never know what’s underneath that water. Especially down here near the docks, where there’s cargo that’s been tossed about.”

Evan stepped onto the dock and stood mesmerized for several moments. He needed to take stock of his surroundings before he could move any further. His mind couldn’t grasp the horrific spectacle. The shocking details overpowered his brain.

Harland grasped his arm. “Come on, Evan. I know it’s a terrible sight, but we won’t accomplish anything standing here.”

“When you want to return, Harland?” Old Sam was hunched over, tying off his fishing boat.

“We’ll be back by late afternoon—five o’clock. That suit you?”

The fisherman waved and nodded. “I’ll be here.”

With bandannas covering their noses and mouths to avoid the stench, men were working feverishly along the wharves. A short distance from where they stood were hundreds of thousands of feet of lumber that had been awaiting shipment. Now, it would likely be washed away. As Harland guided him down the street, Evan stared at the once-brick-fronted buildings that now gaped open like yawning caverns. The bricks that had once provided shelter, the furnishings and merchandise that had provided livelihood—all had been swept away. And along with it, the waters had washed away the work and dreams of so many men.

The two men sloshed through the water until they ascended a hill that led them into another part of the town. “I’m glad Sam loaned us these wading boots, or we’d be looking to purchase shoes before we left.” Harland glanced at Evan. “Down there on the right is where Alfred’s family lives. I thought we should stop there first.”

Evan tightened his hands into two fists and felt his stomach clench. How do you tell parents their son has died? Especially someone as young as Alfred. “This is going to be hard.” He wanted to turn and run. Instead, he stopped in the middle of the street. “I don’t know if I can do this, Harland.”

The older man pulled him to the side of a ramshackle building. “Let’s pray before we go meet with them.” Harland didn’t give him a chance to reply. He bowed his head and asked the Lord to give them the proper words of comfort for Alfred’s family and to ease the pain of their loss. He prayed for some other things, but Evan didn’t hear the words—he was worrying about the reaction they would receive. Harland raised his head and tugged on Evan’s arm. “Putting it off will only make it harder.”

Harland raised his hand to knock, but before he struck the wood with his knuckles, the door opened and a bulbous-nosed, broad-shouldered man filled the doorway. He leaned forward, his eyes menacing. “Who are ya, and whadd’ya want?” His foul breath hung in the air, and Evan took a backward step.

“I’m Evan Tarlow and this is Harland Fields.” He hesitated a moment. “From over at Bridal Veil. We’ve come about Alfred.”

“What’s he done now?” The man’s complexion flared to a reddish-purple hue. “He better not of gotten himself fired, or I’ll whip the tar outta him. We need that money to pay the rent.” His dark stringy hair fell across his forehead. “Where is he anyway?” He looked out at the street.

When it was evident the man wasn’t going to invite them inside or inquire about his son’s welfare, Harland took the lead. “Is your wife at home, Mr. Toomie?”

“She’s busy feedin’ the young’uns—what little we got to give ’em. You tell Alfred he better get over here with his pay and not to be holdin’ none of it back neither.”

Evan could stand no more of the man’s comments. “Mr. Toomie, Alfred won’t be bringing any more money to you. We’ve come to tell you that he died in the hurricane. We’re very sorry to bring you this news, but we wanted to personally deliver it to you in case you had any questions.”

At first the man stared at Evan as though he’d spoken in a foreign language, but as the realization sunk in, he raked his fingers through the strands of greasy hair. “What are we supposed to do for help with our rent? I need Alfred’s wages to pay the bills.”

Anger welled in Evan’s chest. He wasn’t a violent man, but he wanted to punch Mr. Toomie in the nose. How could he be so callous about his son’s death? He hadn’t even asked for any particulars—he didn’t care about anything except Alfred’s wages. No wonder the boy had chosen to live on Bridal Veil rather than return home at night.

Harland reached into his pocket. “I brought the wages still due Alfred.” Mr. Toomie ripped the money from Harland’s hand and shoved it into his pocket. “If you’re concerned about the rent and money for food, Mr. Toomie, we’re in need of workers to help with the cleanup over on Bridal Veil. I’d be willing to give you a try and see if you’re up to the work.”

The man sputtered and glared at Harland as though he’d spoken an obscenity. “You think I should come over there and clean up muck and mire from the storm?” He snorted. “That ain’t nothing a man like me is willing to do, but I got me another boy. He’s younger than Alfred, but I’d be willing to hire him out to ya.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Bobby!”

“No, Mr. Toomie, don’t bother to call the boy. We need men to help with this work. It would be far too dangerous for a young lad, but if you change your mind, we’ll be in town until five o’clock hiring workers.”

A scrawny young boy no more than eight years old poked his head around the doorframe. “Who’re they, Pa?”

“Get back inside, Bobby.” Mr. Toomie gestured toward the lad. “He’d be some help to ya—could wiggle into places where men won’t fit, if need be.”

Harland shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to take the risk. Please tell your wife that we’re sorry for her loss.” He hesitated. “And yours, as well.”

“Alfred was a kind young man.” Evan choked out the words.

“Bah! He was a worthless boy. Never could seem to figure out his head from his toes, and now he’s done. Well, I say it was bound to happen what with such a waste of a human bein’.”

Tears welled in Evan’s eyes at the insults. The man might as well have been his own father hurling abusive comments about Evan’s failings. He quickly turned away as Harland made some comment. It was only moments, however, before Harland joined him on the street.

Evan swiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “He’s a poor excuse of a man.”

“That he is. But we need to pray for Mr. Toomie. I told him we would, and I figure that’s the only hope that man has to straighten out his life. So we’ll pray for him. Right?”

“Yes, and for his boy, Bobby, as well.”