To Have and To Hold Read online

  “I see. Well, I suppose that will work.” She wasn’t convinced Thora would agree with the decision, and once the men arrived, Audrey wasn’t certain the old woman could be trusted out of her sight. She might decide to improve her shooting skills by using the men for target practice.

  “There’s more.”

  Audrey arched her brows.

  “With your consent, I’ve agreed that some of the supervisors could board with us here in the house. With four empty bedrooms upstairs, I thought it would provide a perfect home away from home for a few of the men.” He looked at her with anticipation shining in his eyes. “What do you think?”

  “I think it would be a perfect opportunity to make some additional money, and it would permit me to remain here at Bridal Fair with you. Also, I believe we could make this solarium into two rooms that would be adequate for Aunt Thora and me, which would permit us to rent out two more rooms upstairs. Besides, I’ll need to be in the kitchen early each morning so that I can see to breakfast preparations. And we have the additional bathroom down here that we can use.” She leaned toward her father. “Do you think you feel well enough to make those changes?”

  Her father hesitated and Mr. Morley immediately answered. “I can have a couple of workmen in here within the week. They can make any changes you’d like so that you’ll be prepared when the men arrive.”

  “And you can supervise the work, Father.”

  At the sound of a gasp in the hallway, Audrey glanced over her shoulder and saw Aunt Thora leaning against the doorjamb, her fingers trembling, her eyes wild and glassy. “I heard every word of what you’re planning.” She pointed over her shoulder. “I’ve been listening from out there. I can’t believe you would bring Yankees into Bridal Fair. It’s one thing for them to be living over on the land that was sold, but you’re gonna feed and sleep ’em right under this roof? Why, your granddaddy Cunningham must be spinning in his grave.”

  “Now, Aunt Thora, you don’t want us to lose the house, do you?” Audrey strode toward the old woman.

  She shook her head as if to ward off the very idea of agreeing. “You might as well take me over to the ocean side of the island, put me on a raft, and set me adrift. I’ve lived too long and seen too much. My heart can’t take no more of these changes going on in the world. I’d be better off in a watery grave.”

  “Come with me and let’s sit a spell in the other room.” Placing a supporting arm around her aunt’s waist, Audrey escorted her into the parlor and sat down beside her on the divan.

  “I don’t know how you can agree to this horrible arrangement. Don’t you understand that the Yankees are taking everything from us?”

  Audrey patted her hand. “No, Aunt Thora. I believe this is God’s answer to prayer. A way to meet our needs—and it is Yankee money that will be used to save us. Don’t you see the justice in such a provision?”

  Thora initially appeared baffled by the explanation, but soon a light glimmered in her eyes. “You’re right. Let’s take those Yankees for every penny we can get from ’em.”

  Chapter 5

  As the weeks passed, life changed on Bridal Veil. Slowly at first, and then the changes came more often and with greater speed. Audrey continued to embrace their new way of life, though the same couldn’t be said for Aunt Thora. She considered visits from the new owners and the arrival of their architect, laborers, and supervisors no less than an invasion of Yankees come to take siege and destroy yet another beloved Southern jewel. As Audrey greeted Aunt Thora each morning, Audrey hoped she would see a flicker of tolerance or a smidgen of submission to this new way of life, but so far she’d seen neither.

  Audrey looked up as the old woman trundled into the kitchen in early October, her Bible in hand. From the glint in her eyes, this would not be the day Aunt Thora would change her ways. “I saw two of the Yankees sneaking out last night. No telling what they’re up to with their conniving ways.” She plopped into a chair and placed her Bible on the table with a thump. “I think we need to do like Joshua and send out some spies to see exactly what those scallywags are up to. We need to know the enemy.” When Audrey didn’t immediately respond, Thora tapped the Bible. “Did you hear me?”

  After a slight nod, Audrey turned back to the worktable. “Yes, ma’am, I did, but right now I think I need to concentrate on breakfast rather than recruiting spies to report on the construction workers. Besides, I have you to do that for me, Aunt Thora.” She grinned as she started to cut the butter into the biscuit mixture.

  “I can’t see the half of what’s going on by myself. Besides, I’m too old to be creeping around after dark. If it weren’t for my rheumatiz, I’d get out there in the middle of the night and find out exactly what those Yankees are planning.” She tsked and shook her head. “For the life of me, I can’t believe how you’re willing to open your arms to those traitorous vermin.”

  Audrey wheeled around and faced the old woman. “They are not traitorous vermin. They are citizens of these United States, just like we are. Not so long ago, you agreed that it would be a blessing if Yankee dollars would help save Bridal Fair. Do you recall that?” Audrey narrowed her eyes and rested one hand on her hip. “Well?”

  “I vaguely remember something like that, but my mind isn’t what it used to be.” She pointed to her head and assumed what she obviously hoped would prove a pitiful expression. “Sometimes I think I have cobwebs for brains.”

  Audrey tightened her lips to a thin line. Aunt Thora was up to her old tricks. “You’re not pulling that foolishness on me. When there’s something you want to remember, your mind is sharp as a razor. You forget only when it’s convenient. I notice you didn’t mind talking to the Northerners when they were making changes to the solarium. You were ordering them around like a teacher on the first day of school.”

  “That’s because those Northern boys don’t know how to fix things right and proper. They needed someone to oversee their every move.” Thora shot a look of defiance at Audrey. “Do you know what those bedrooms would look like if it weren’t for me telling those boys how to wield a hammer and build a wall?”

  Audrey couldn’t restrain the giggle that started at the back of her throat. Aunt Thora wasn’t about to give credit for a good job, no matter what. “I don’t want to disappoint you, but I believe those rooms would look exactly the same. The men followed the architect’s plans down to the last detail.”

  “Don’t you believe it for a minute! I was here when Lavinia, God rest her soul, had the bathing rooms added. We had proper Southerners do the job.”

  “Yes, and had that money gone to pay taxes instead of to build indoor bathrooms, we might not be in this fix now.”

  “Don’t you question your grandmother’s decision. She was confident that the bathing rooms would bring you home, and they did.”

  Audrey stopped rolling out the dough. “Granny didn’t build those rooms for us.”

  “She most certainly did. She and I was perfectly able to use a chamber pot and bathe in a copper tub as we always did, but she wanted your father to move back to the island. She figured if you had the same niceties that you two was spoiled with up north—then you’d return home where you belonged.”

  Audrey wondered if her father knew this. It would no doubt grieve him if he did. The money her grandmother gained by selling off pieces of the island should have gone to build her savings account—not bath chambers.

  Thora seemed not to notice Audrey’s thoughtful silence. She was already back to chattering about the changes to the solarium. “It was me what noticed those Northerners were trying to skimp on the nails in that wall that divides our bedrooms. I think they were hoping it would fall down and crush me in the middle of the night.” She rubbed her arm as if she’d already suffered the blow.

  “That is nonsense, and we’re not going to take this kind of talk any further.” Audrey waved toward the dining room. “Are you going to set the table or wait until the men come downstairs and see you sitting there in your nightcloth
es?”

  Thora jumped up from the table, grabbed the Bible, and clutched her robe to her bosom. “I suppose if you’re not willing to take God’s advice, I’ll take the Bible back to my bedroom.”

  “I thought you said God hadn’t spoken to you yet—that you didn’t find a proper verse,” Audrey said with a raised brow. The woman immediately opened her mouth and then closed it again at the sound of footsteps on the upstairs floor.

  There was no doubt that Aunt Thora wanted to continue arguing about the “invasion of Yankees,” which had become her favorite expression for the Northern workers who’d arrived at Bridal Veil, but no God-fearing Southern woman would be caught dead allowing gentlemen or Yankees to observe her in her nightclothes.

  “I need to finish rolling out this dough. Those men are starting to stir, and they’ll be half starved by the time they get down here.”

  “Wouldn’t have to spend hours in the kitchen if it weren’t for the Yankees,” Aunt Thora called from her bedroom door.

  “If it weren’t for the Yankees, we’d be looking for a new home.” Audrey silently chided herself for playing into her aunt’s hands. Exchanging barbs had become Thora’s favorite pastime, and it consumed far too much attention and energy. Audrey preferred to devote strength to her new duties as boardinghouse keeper rather than to defending the Yankees.

  Thus far, only three men had moved into Bridal Fair, all of them hired by the investors and charged with the task of locating and hiring skilled workers. After one of her spying adventures, Aunt Thora had reported there must be hundreds of laborers who had moved into the old slave quarters, and they were a rowdy bunch with uncouth manners and foul mouths. But when one of the boarders commented they’d hired only twenty men and most of them were from Georgia, she quickly retracted her statement.

  The current boarders occupied the three bedrooms located above the kitchen and dining room. Since they were the smallest of the bedrooms, Audrey had been surprised by the men’s choice, but it hadn’t taken long to discover that cost dictated their decisions. The smaller rooms were less expensive. Any money saved on room and board would mean extra coins in their pockets.

  The overhead noises were increasing, and Audrey knew all the men were now up and would arrive downstairs before long. She cut the last biscuits and then slid the pan into the oven. While the biscuits baked, she turned the bacon and filled two jelly dishes, one with grapefruit marmalade, the other with scuppernong jelly. There would be grits, though the men would quickly pass them down the table to her father. None of them would touch the Southern staple, a behavior that served to reinforce Aunt Thora’s dislike of them.

  Wearing a worn cotton dress, Thora meandered back into the kitchen and tied an apron around her slim waist. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big pan of grits. You know those men aren’t gonna eat them.” Her aunt was still prepared to banter. “Never trust a man who doesn’t love his grits. It’s a sure sign.”

  “I’ll remember that.” Audrey knew her response wasn’t what was wanted or expected. “Why don’t you set the table while I finish scrambling the eggs? The men will be downstairs in a few minutes.”

  “If breakfast isn’t on the table the minute their behinds hit the chairs, it won’t hurt ’em to wait. You won’t find Southerners rushin’ a meal.”

  Mouth agape, Audrey swirled around. “Aunt Thora! What has gotten into you? And what has happened to your Southern hospitality? These men are paying for room and board, and they are required to arrive at work on time. Now, if you don’t want to help me, that’s your decision, but I have a schedule, and I plan to maintain it to the best of my ability.”

  “No need to get yourself in a pucker. I’ll set the table, but just ’cause I’m helping doesn’t mean I agree with harboring the enemy.”

  Had the men come downstairs early any other morning, Audrey would have been distracted, but today she was pleased to see them. Aunt Thora might not treat them with warmth, but she’d cease her insults once they entered the dining room. Audrey walked to the doorway between the kitchen and dining room.

  “There’s coffee on the sideboard,” she told the men, “and breakfast will be ready in a few more minutes.”

  Audrey motioned to the old woman as she returned to the stove. “Would you fill these bowls? One with the grits and the other with the scrambled eggs. I’ll get the biscuits and bacon.”

  “Sure are feeding them Yanks some fine food every day,” Thora mumbled as she scooped the grits into the blue pottery bowl. Audrey wanted to counter that the men were paying for their meals, but she refrained.

  Aunt Thora’s grumbling finally ended when they were seated at the table. Audrey’s father offered a prayer of thanks for the meal and asked God’s blessing on the men as they continued to seek capable workers to oversee clearing of the land where the elaborate clubhouse would be erected. That prayerful request was followed by a grunt from Aunt Thora. Audrey’s father didn’t comment on her behavior, but he leveled a stern look in her direction once he’d completed his prayer.

  Jim Parks, a burly man and the most experienced of the supervisors, took a drink of his coffee and gave a firm nod. “Good coffee as usual, Miss Audrey. And thank you for your prayer for our work, Boyd. This is going to be a full day, for sure. The three of us are going to Biscayne, where we’ll be interviewing a group of men who’ve arrived in answer to ads the investors placed in several newspapers.”

  Aunt Thora shifted in her chair. “Northern or Southern newspapers?”

  Mr. Parks hiked one shoulder as he slathered his biscuit with the scuppernong jelly. “Didn’t ask. As long as they’re qualified, I really don’t care.” He pointed to the bowl of jelly. “Sure do like this. Never heard of scuppernong jelly before. Tastes kind of like grape.”

  Aunt Thora curled her lip in disgust. “’Course it tastes like grape. Any fool knows scuppernongs are grapes.”

  “What Aunt Thora meant to say is that scuppernongs are a white grape that is grown in the South, Mr. Parks. It’s used much the same as darker grapes.”

  “Well, it sure is tasty.” If Aunt Thora’s remark offended him, he hid it well. “By the way, did you know the investors hired a doctor? Hear tell his two little girls will be coming, as well. We’ve made some adjustments to one of the overseer cottages where the family will be living.”

  Mr. Fenton nodded. “Yep, should be arriving today or tomorrow. Dr. Wahler from Atlanta.” He arched his long neck and puffed his chest, obviously pleased to add an additional piece of gossip.

  Audrey perked to attention at the news. A doctor’s wife would prove a wonderful addition to the island. The company of another woman was always a welcome thought. Audrey loved Aunt Thora, but there were times when she longed to have someone closer to her own age, someone in whom she could confide. Still, Audrey was surprised that a doctor and his wife would want to leave Atlanta and move to Bridal Veil. The change would surely be difficult, but she’d do her best to see that they didn’t find island life monotonous or dull.

  “That is exciting news. I look forward to meeting them, especially Mrs. Wahler and the children.” Had Audrey known they were arriving, she would have arranged to have basic supplies delivered to the cottage. Then again, perhaps Mrs. Wahler had the foresight to take care of that herself.

  “Oh, ain’t no Mrs. Wahler coming.” Once again, Mr. Fenton’s neck stretched until his beaklike nose overshot his plate, and Mr. Uptegrove, the third boarder, nodded his shiny bald head. “Word is, Mrs. Wahler’s dead. Just gonna be the doctor, the two youngsters, and their housekeeper. If I understood correct, she’s a colored woman.” He lowered his voice to a whisper when he uttered the final two words.

  Aunt Thora slid her napkin onto her lap. “There’s no need to speak in whispers, Mr. Fenton. We know all about colored folk.”

  “Maybe. But this woman ain’t a slave. He listed her as an employee.”

  A giant whoosh escaped Aunt Thora’s lips. She directed a look of disgust at the man. “Nobody o
wns slaves anymore, Mr. Fenton. You may recall there was a war over slavery not so long ago.” She’d sweetened her sarcastic words with enough honey to attract every bee in three counties. “That’s back when you Northerners came down here and burned our—”

  “That’s enough, Thora. The war is over, and we’ll have no more discussion of it at this table.” Audrey’s father slapped his knife onto the table with a decisive thud.

  “As you wish, Boyd, but I’m just saying . . .”

  Audrey’s father held up his hand to silence her. “Does your trip into Biscayne this morning mean that we should expect additional boarders in the near future, Mr. Parks?”

  “I think we’ll have a houseful by week’s end. I just hope they’ll prove to be a good lot.” Mr. Parks directed the final comment toward Audrey.

  She hoped they would be a good lot, as well, but Mr. Parks’s comment was enough to set her slightly on edge. There had been enough evidence in her past to prove construction workers could be a difficult group. Some were fine, upstanding men who offered a day’s work for a day’s wages, went home to their families, attended church on Sundays, and lived at peace with the world. Others, like her father in years past, enjoyed the taste of liquor, and though they performed their work, their families didn’t see them—or their wages—on a regular basis.

  Remembering the many days when her father stumbled into their house, his breath reeking of alcohol and his behavior as erratic and wild as a charging bull, Audrey decided she had best put some rules into effect prior to the arrival of the remaining boarders.

  “Be sure you tell any of the men who will be residing here at Bridal Fair that we have rules, and they will be strictly enforced. Those who don’t adhere to the rules will be required to move to the workingmen’s quarters.”