To Honor and Trust Page 4

  “Don’t be silly, Daisy.” Lottie shot a disapproving look at her sister. “Why wouldn’t Mother like the bathroom?”

  Callie wagged her index finger back and forth. “Now, girls, there’s no need to argue over something so trivial.”

  Daisy scooted around to look at Callie. “What’s a ‘trivial’?”

  “Trivial isn’t a thing, Daisy. It means unimportant. Sisters shouldn’t argue at all, but certainly they shouldn’t be upset with each other over something that doesn’t matter.”

  “But bafrooms matter, don’t they?”

  Callie chuckled. At this rate, the topic of bathrooms would continue until Mr. and Mrs. Bridgeport returned home for the night. “They are important, but we’re going to end this discussion, and the two of you are going to say your prayers. Then Mrs. Murphy and I will tuck you into bed for the night.”

  The older woman nudged Callie’s arm. “Call me Maude. It makes me feel old when you say Mrs. Murphy. Besides, I think using first names is friendlier, don’t you?”

  Callie nodded. “Then I shall call you Maude from now on.”

  The two women listened as the girls said their prayers. They ended with the usual recitation of people for God to bless. “Oh, and God bless Mrs. Murphy, too,” Daisy added as the two women were departing the room.

  “Thank you, Daisy. That was sweet of you to include me in your prayer.”

  Daisy inched up on her elbow. “Mama says we can all use as many blessings as we can get.”

  Mrs. Murphy grinned. “And that’s very true. Now off to sleep with ya, and I look forward to seeing your cheery little faces in the morning.”

  “Would you like to join me downstairs for a cup of tea, Maude?”

  “Don’t mind if I do. And there might be a few of those shortbread cookies that Lula shared with me earlier today. She brought them from home, and I have to say that Mrs. Bridgeport would be wise to use Lula’s abilities in the kitchen as well as cleaning the house.”

  Callie was surprised that Lula had taken such a quick liking to Mrs. Murphy. She usually kept her distance whenever new help came into the house or when guests arrived for a visit. And Lula was always neat as a pin—a fact that made the friendship seem even more unlikely.

  “Lula said she’s worked at Fair Haven ever since the Bridgeports had the place constructed, but she says she’d never want to work at the clubhouse. Says there’s too many snooty guests who expect ya to bow and scrape to ’em.”

  “Did she? I didn’t know that she’d ever associated with any of the guests in the clubhouse.” Callie placed the teakettle on to boil and opened the door of a glass-fronted overhead cabinet. She removed two cups and saucers and placed them on the counter.

  “She has four or five friends from Biscayne who ride over on the boat with her every day. They all work in the clubhouse—two as housekeepers and two in the kitchen. Lula said they’ve told her stories that make her happy she’s working at Fair Haven instead of the clubhouse. Seems it’s mighty hard to make all those rich folks happy.”

  “I find most of the guests quite lovely, but since I’ve never worked there, I couldn’t say how difficult it might be.” Callie didn’t want to be drawn into gossiping about the guests who visited Bridal Veil—not with Maude or anyone else, for that matter.

  Maude rustled through several items in the pantry and finally located the remains of Lula’s shortbread cookies. “I found ’em.” She held a small bag aloft and crossed the room to the fold-down kitchen table. After opening the cloth napkin, she pointed to the cookies. “You wait till you taste one of these. Don’t believe I’ve ever had better cookies in all my years.”

  Once the tea had brewed, Callie poured the steaming amber liquid into their cups and carried them to the table. Maude stirred both cream and sugar into her tea and immediately bit into one of the cookies before pushing the napkin toward Callie.

  “Go on and try one. You’ll not be disappointed.”

  Callie picked up a cookie, took a bite, and nodded her agreement. “You’re right. It is an excellent cookie.”

  Maude took a sip of her tea and leaned back in her chair. “Tell me what it’s like over there in the clubhouse. I doubt I’ll ever get invited to go inside.”

  There it was again—that slight sound of resentment Callie had detected earlier. “If you’d like to see some of the rooms, I’m sure Mrs. Bridgeport wouldn’t mind arranging for you to take a tour someday in the future.”

  “I think I’d get more than a few stares if I went inside that fancy clubhouse.” She brushed her palm down the front of her faded skirt but brightened after a moment. “I’d be pleased if you’d just tell me about some of the ladies and how they look in their fancy dresses and jewels—and what the inside of the clubhouse looks like when it’s all lit up for a grand party.”

  Mrs. Murphy certainly was a woman with a myriad of questions, but everything on the island was new to her. On Callie’s first visit, she’d been intrigued by the homes and the people who flocked to Bridal Veil during the winter. She’d soon learned that Bridal Veil could present a few unique challenges for the visitors.

  When one of the ladies took a dislike to another or felt slighted by another guest, it was difficult to avoid each other on the island. Guests ate their meals in the huge dining room, and although there was an early and a late seating, trying to change the time when one took one’s meals could prove difficult—and usually impossible. A fact Callie wouldn’t have realized had one of Mrs. Bridgeport’s dear friends not experienced the situation.

  “The interior is lovely, although some of the rooms are more rustic than one might expect—largely due to the number of guests who enjoy hunting the wild animals on the island.”

  “The women hunt, too?”

  Callie nodded. “There are a few who enjoy hunting with their husbands. A number of the women are riding enthusiasts, but more of them prefer playing croquet or a game of whist or attending the usual teas. Those events are held inside the clubhouse. Occasionally one of the ladies will host an event at her cottage.”

  Maude chuckled. “Cottage! The very idea of calling a place like this a cottage. If these folks want to see what a real cottage is, they need to visit the outskirts of Biscayne when they cross the river to do their shopping.”

  Callie didn’t mention the fact that few of the women shopped in Biscayne. Most sent their servants to purchase any necessary items. If the women wanted to purchase items for themselves or their families, they took several days and went to Savannah for a shopping excursion.

  “From the looks of the outside of the clubhouse, I thought it would be mighty fancy inside, too.”

  “Some sections are quite elegant. The dining rooms and entertainment areas where they host balls and such have beautiful chandeliers and furnishings. And though I’ve never visited any of the suites on the upper floors where many guests have their quarters, I’m told they are lovely—especially the ones that have sun porches with a view of the grounds and the river in the distance.”

  “I’m guessing they pay a pretty penny to stay in that place. Amazing when you think about the difference in those people and folks like me. Seems it would be fairer if all that wealth was spread out more equal-like, don’t you think?”

  “I haven’t spent a great deal of time thinking about such things, Maude. Whether I think it is fair or not won’t change anything.”

  “I know, I know, but when you see those ladies with all them jewels around their necks and dangling from their wrists, don’t it make you think that’s just not the way it should be?” She took a gulp of her tea. “They do have lots of pretty jewels, don’t they?”

  “They do, indeed. Would you like more tea?”

  Maude held her cup in the air. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  “You mentioned you’ve been twice married, Maude?”

  “That’s right. Neither one of ’em was faithful. After that, I decided I was too old to put up with another man that didn’t want to keep his word
.” She sighed with pleasure as she bit into another cookie. “How is it a pretty gal like you is still single? You never been in love?”

  Callie’s stomach clenched at the mention of love. “Yes, once. In fact, I was engaged to marry.”

  The older woman wrapped her hands around the teacup. “What happened? I hope he didn’t die.”

  “No, but it felt almost like a death.” Callie paused and inhaled. “We had courted for two years, and I thought he was the man the Lord intended for me. He seemed so perfect—the kind of man every girl wants to marry.”

  Mrs. Murphy clucked her tongue. “Those are the ones you gotta watch out for. Those smooth-tongued fellows can lead a woman astray. I know. Both the men I married could sweet-talk just about anyone. Land alive! Homer, that’s my second husband, could have convinced a man to give up his coat in the middle of winter. So this fellow of yours decided he wasn’t the marrying kind?”

  “No. He married another woman.” Even after two years, Callie’s stomach lurched at the memory.

  “Well, I say a person needs to look at the bright side.”

  Callie swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. Recollections of Matthew still evoked a great deal of pain. She had hoped to recover from the anguish long ago, but the memories continued to haunt her. “Exactly what is the bright side to having your intended leave you for another woman?”

  “You could have married him and then have him find another woman that pleases him more than you. That’s what happened to me, and that’s a whole lot worse. Take my word for it, you’re better off to be rid of a cheating man afore you say ‘I do.’” Maude picked up her cup and carried it to the sink. “I best wash up these dishes and set to work on some of my mending. Why don’t you join me upstairs, and we’ll continue our chat.”

  Once finished in the kitchen, the two of them climbed the back stairs. Callie considered refusing Maude’s invitation, but decided her letter writing could wait. There was no denying Mrs. Murphy was an interesting woman, though Callie still thought it odd that such an earthy woman had come so highly recommended by one of Mrs. Bridgeport’s cultured friends.

  With her needle and thread in hand, Maude began mending a tear in one of her skirts. “You mark my words, one of these days you’ll find a good man. There are still some good ones out there. And once you quit your tutoring, you’ll need a man to provide you with a home.”

  Callie shook her head. “I have my grandmother’s house. She left it to me, so I don’t have that worry, Maude. Besides, I’ve made up my mind that I’ll remain single. I don’t want to go through this pain ever again.”

  Maude waved her threaded needle in the air. “Posh! Once your heart heals, you’ll find a man who will sweep you off your feet. When that happens, you’ll forget about the past and march right down that church aisle.”

  Callie didn’t argue, but Maude was wrong. There had been any number of eligible men who had attempted to court her since Matthew had broken her heart. None had been able to break down her defenses, and she planned for it to remain that way.

  “So you live in your granny’s house when the family’s in Indianapolis?” Maude knotted and cut her thread before examining the mend she’d completed in her skirt.

  “No, I rent out the house and live with the Bridgeports. Mrs. Bridgeport said it would be foolish of me to live there since I’d be traveling with them much of the time.”

  “Well, nice it is that you have some extra money to buy the niceties we’d all like to have.”

  Callie detected a hint of jealousy in the older woman’s comment. “Most of the money from rent is used to maintain the home and pay taxes and insurance, Maude. I don’t count on the rent money to support myself.”

  From the look on Maude’s face, Callie wasn’t certain the woman believed a word she’d said about the rent. In truth, Callie had considered selling the house shortly after her grandmother’s death, but Mr. Bridgeport had advised against the idea. He believed real estate to be a good investment, so she’d followed his recommendation. Besides, there was a sense of comfort knowing she would have a place to live should the need arise in the future.

  “Miss Callie, where are you?” Daisy’s tearful cry was followed by the padding of footsteps in the hallway.

  “I’m in Miss Maude’s room, Daisy.” Callie turned toward the doorway as Daisy rushed into her arms.

  “I had a bad dream.” Daisy burrowed her face in Callie’s shoulder and sobbed.

  “It was just a dream, child. Nothing to be afraid of,” Maude said. She stood and held out her hand. “Come along and I’ll tuck ya back into bed.”

  “Nooo. I want Miss Callie.”

  “You go ahead with your mending, Maude. I’ll take Daisy back to bed.” Callie stroked the child’s shoulder. “But you’ll have to walk. You’re getting too heavy for me to carry.”

  Daisy scooted from Callie’s lap, and together they returned to her bedroom. After tucking her into bed, Daisy reached for Callie’s hand. “I don’t think I can go to sleep. Will you tell me a story, Miss Callie?” The child’s small lips curved in a winsome smile. “Please.”

  How could she possibly refuse? “Only a short story. And you must promise to close your eyes while I tell it to you. That way, you’ll be more likely to fall asleep.”

  “I promise.” She nestled her head against the feather pillow and promptly closed her eyes. “Make it a story about a girl named Daisy.”

  Callie grinned. “Once upon a time, there was a pretty little girl with blond curls and a lovely smile. Her parents were delighted when she was born, but they hadn’t chosen a name for their beautiful baby. The baby’s father said to his wife, ‘I think we should name her Geraldine after my mother.’ But his wife shook her head. ‘Oh no, we cannot do that, for my mother would be unhappy.’ ”

  Daisy giggled. “That’s good. Geraldine is an awful name.”

  Callie brushed a strand of hair from the girl’s forehead. “The wife said, ‘Perhaps we should name her Matilda after my own dear mother.’ Well, the husband wasn’t happy with that idea, for he knew his mother would be disappointed. ‘Perhaps we shouldn’t name her after anyone. Instead, we should select our own special name for the child.’”

  Daisy’s eyes popped open. “And they named her Daisy!”

  “Shh, let me finish the story.” Callie pressed a finger to her lips. “The mother quickly agreed that this was an excellent idea. Even though each of them suggested a variety of names, they couldn’t reach an agreement. ‘Whatever are we to do?’ the father asked. ‘The child must have a name.’ Then the father said he would take a walk and give the child’s name further thought.”

  “Did he go for a walk?” Daisy’s eyes remained closed, but a smile tipped the corners of her mouth.

  “Yes, indeed. While the father was out strolling in the gardens, he stooped down, picked a beautiful bouquet of flowers for his wife, and returned upstairs. When he entered the bedroom, his wife opened her eyes and saw her husband holding a lovely bunch of daisies in his hand. He said, ‘I brought these for you to brighten your room.’ The wife was delighted with the flowers, and she said to her husband, ‘We should name our baby daughter Daisy. She will brighten our lives just as the bouquet of flowers has cheered my room.’ The father beamed his approval, and they agreed that the beautiful little blond-haired girl would be named Daisy.”

  “And then what happened?” Daisy peeked at Callie.

  “Close your eyes and try to go to sleep.” Callie lowered her voice to a mere whisper. “Each night the mother and father would sit together by the baby’s cradle, and they would tell her that she was a special flower in God’s garden of grace. That they had waited for her a very long time, and they prayed for her each day. You see, they wanted her to grow up to be a very good and special person, and . . .” Callie remained very still and listened to Daisy’s soft snores.

  Her heart ached as she looked down at the child, a reminder of all she had hoped for. How she longed for children o
f her own to love and nurture. But marriage and children would require her to risk her heart once again. The thought of such pain caused a lump to rise in her throat. It would be safer to join her parents, where she would be sheltered from further heartbreak. But was running off to serve God in order to avoid further emotional scars a true commitment to Him or simply an easy escape? Though she’d prayed for God’s guidance, His answer had not yet arrived.

  She bent forward and placed a kiss on Daisy’s forehead before departing the room. Her decision would require more prayer. Would she really be willing to give up moments like this with a child of her own if God called her to the mission field?

  Thankfully, she didn’t have to decide tonight.

  Chapter 5

  Before she’d gone downstairs for breakfast, Callie considered checking on Maude and the children but finally decided she shouldn’t interfere during their early period of adjustment. The children and Maude needed to become accustomed to one another, and if Callie intruded during these first few days, the children would likely continue to seek her out rather than Maude.

  After finishing a light breakfast, Callie returned upstairs to the spare room designated as their classroom and prepared worksheets for the girls and Thomas. She wasn’t certain if Thomas had gone hunting with his father again. If so, she’d need to speak to Mr. Bridgeport, as the young man was going to fall behind on his lessons if he was absent from the classroom each morning. She’d attempted to discuss the matter with Mr. Bridgeport during dinner last evening, but they’d been interrupted. And she couldn’t change his school lessons to the afternoon, since those hours were filled with a variety of riding, golf, and tennis lessons that could not be adjusted. Otherwise Callie would have insisted Thomas complete his lessons after lunch.

  A short time later, Maude and all three children entered the classroom. “I’m pleased to see you, Thomas.”

  “I’d rather be out hunting with Father, but he said I couldn’t miss my lessons again today.” Thomas settled at the large wooden desk and frowned.