Lilac Spring (6 page)

“Chilly?” Silas asked softly.

She shook her head.

“I’ll be settin’ out my onions and taters tomorrow,” Billy said to them. “Too early for the squash and corn. We could still get a frost.”

“We have peas, radishes and lettuce coming up nicely,” Cherish told him. “Aunt Phoebe and I will probably be planting more seeds tomorrow.”

“’Spect we’ll have some rain in another day or two, so it’s the time to get some seed in the ground.”

They waved goodbye to the other couples when they reached Cherish’s gate. Silas followed her up the walk to the veranda. When they approached it, Cherish climbed up the first step before turning to bid him good-night.

He stood on the ground at eye level with her. “For the past few days you’ve been looking as if you’ve lost your best friend,” he said jokingly. “Don’t be sad. You’ve still got me.” His lips crooked upward in the dim light.

Her throat tightened at his words. He didn’t realize what he was saying. She
had
lost her best friend, who wasn’t even aware of it. She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

Not able to speak, she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, wanting somehow to express what she felt for him.

At the same instant Silas turned his head to hers and began saying “Good night.”

He never finished the words, as her pursed lips touched his half-open mouth. She could see his eyes widen with the shock of the contact.

She didn’t dare move, didn’t dare breathe. All that she could think was she never wanted the moment to end.

A second later he jerked back.

“Well,” she said, too awed by the contact to say anything more.

His eyes stared into hers, and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I—I’m sorry about that,” he stuttered, taking a step away from her. “I’ll say good-night. I’ll—I’ll see you tomorrow.” Already he was hurrying down the path.

“Good night,” she called after him, laughter in her voice, her high spirits returning. He had kissed her and it had not left him
unaffected! If it hadn’t actually been a kiss, it had been close enough! If he was going to act shy about that, well, she’d make him see it was all right. More than all right!

Thank You, Lord, oh, thank You, Lord!

She stayed on the veranda until Silas was out of sight over the rise in the road. She brought the shawl up over her mouth, hugging herself with it, reliving the feel of his lips against her mouth, their softness and warmth.

It was a sign, a definite sign, that she and Silas were meant for each other.

Silas strode away from the Winslow house as if his rapid pace could outstrip his thoughts. He didn’t slow down until he arrived at the boat shop.

How could it have happened! He’d been going to say good-night and the next thing he knew his mouth was touching hers!

Cherish was his employer’s daughter. He’d never…it had never occurred to him—Horror filled him at the reality of the brief touching of her lips.

How could this—this intimate act have happened? The more he tried to puzzle out the madness of that moment, the more he remembered the feel of her soft lips against his, her warm breath brushing his.

He recoiled at having violated some unwritten code that put Cherish beyond his reach. But even as he tried to erase the memory of her mouth, he felt a yearning for more.

When he entered the silent boat shop, the smell of wood permeating the cavernous room, he could feel the fingers of loneliness creeping out from every corner of the room, seeking him out, and laying hold of him.

This room contained all he had lived for for as long as he could remember. There was no room for loneliness in his life; he’d come to terms with his solitary existence long ago.

He climbed the stairs to his room under the eaves of the workshop. Everything was as he’d left it, bare and neat. He fell on the narrow cot, thinking even as he did so that he should hang up his good trousers and take off his starched shirt be
fore it became wrinkled, but he didn’t move. The walls pressed in around him, the sensation magnified by the lapping of the waves at high tide down below against the concrete foundation of the boathouse, pushing against the defenses he’d erected over the years.

They had crumbled like a sand castle before the tide in the space of a few seconds in an accidental encounter of one girl’s lips with his. He wiped the back of his hand against his mouth as if with the action he could wipe away the memory of her lips. But the gesture was futile—he could still taste the sweetness of those lips.

C
herish rose early. Ever since she was fifteen and had first given her heart to the Lord, she’d made a practice of having a quiet time with Him before beginning her day. She’d slacked off in recent days, but now felt she needed to get back to that firm foundation of God’s Word and prayer. She opened a book of devotions and turned to the day’s scripture reading.

“Be not wise in your own conceits,” she read in the portion of Romans. She went over the explanatory passage, then got down by her bed to pray.

She asked for the Lord’s guidance that day. She prayed for her family members and those she knew who had need of a special touch from God. She prayed for the missionaries taking God’s Word to far-off lands.

Lastly, she brought up the need that was most pressing on her heart. “Father, You know my feelings for Silas. You know all things. Oh, God, I want to do Your will. But…but—” her heart swelled again with hope “—with what happened last night, I feel as if I’ve received your blessing. I don’t want to be wise in my own conceits, but I know he feels something for me, too! Oh, God, grant me to follow the right course. Let me
see a sign in his eyes that he cares for me—oh, even an inkling of what I feel for him! I pray in Your dear Son Jesus’ name.”

She ended her prayer, then stood to wash and dress, ready to face the day, hope restored.

Her hope was strengthened when she saw that Silas was still at the breakfast table with her father. Had he waited for her?

“Good morning,” she said brightly.

Silas was standing at the table, removing a spoon from the sugar bowl. His hand jerked, spilling sugar onto the white tablecloth. His glance dropped from Cherish to the spoon.

“Good morning,” her father replied. She kissed the top of his head before approaching Silas at the other end of the table.

She smiled at his clumsy attempts to sweep up the spilled sugar. “Here, let me help you,” she said, coming to stand close to him. He immediately moved away about a foot. She took up a knife and used its edge to collect the sugar and bring it to the edge of the table, where she scraped it into her other palm.

“See? No harm done.”

He pushed his coffee cup forward. “Uh, you can put it in here,” he said, his voice sounding strange.

She let the sugar crystals fall from her hand into the awaiting cup. Then she brushed her hands off over the table. “So what is planned down at the yard for today?”

Her father answered, “We’re continuing to build the frame for the schooner. We’ll probably start some of the crossbeams in preparation for laying the decks.” He folded his newspaper as Cherish sat down. “Silas tells me he’ll be readying the lumber for the Whitehall mold in the shop this afternoon.”

“He?” She turned to Silas as Aunt Phoebe came in with a stack of pancakes. “You mean ‘we,’ don’t you, Silas?”

He didn’t meet her gaze. “If it’s all right with your father.”

She looked at him openmouthed.
All right with her father?

“Flapjacks hot off the griddle,” Aunt Phoebe said, setting down the steaming platter. “Help yourselves.” She stuck the serving fork into Silas’s hand.

“Papa, I shall be working with Silas on the Whitehall. I told you about that last week.”

“On lofting it, not building it,” he reminded her as he helped himself to pancakes from the platter Silas held for him. He then passed them to Cherish. She served herself absently.

“Well, Silas and I agreed we’d spend afternoons in the shop after he’s had his morning down on the yard and I’ve had mine helping Aunt Phoebe.” She gave her aunt a smile. “Speaking of which, can I prepare a special dessert for dinner today?” She tried to think what Silas would like.

“Certainly. We’ll be baking this morning. You can help me fry up some doughnuts after we’ve set the bread to rise.”

“Mmm!” her father said. “Nothing like some hot doughnuts and coffee. Bring some down to the shop when you come, Cherish. Speaking of which, I’d prefer to have Silas work down in the yard today and the next few days to finish the framing. We need to get started with the planking.”

Cherish frowned. “You mean he can’t work on the lofting for the next few days?” she began, dismay in her voice.

“Before you start in, I’d better tell you the rest.”

“The rest?” she asked, her mind gearing up to argue against whatever new obstacle her father threw into her plans.

“Don’t give me that look, dear. It’s good news.”

“What is it, Papa?” Cherish laid down the maple syrup.

“You two must have made such a good impression on the Townsends that they’ve invited both of you for the weekend.”

Cherish’s eyes lit up and she turned to Silas, who was looking at her father as if his mouthful of pancakes had just turned to pig slop.

“Oh, what fun! Silas and I, both, to go over to Hatsfield and spend the weekend with them?”

“That’s right, dear,” he answered, wiping his mouth and throwing down the napkin. “They have all kinds of activities planned with some other young people, a boat outing on Whittier’s Lake, games and dancing, church on Sunday and then you can sail back that afternoon.” He rose.

“So I need Silas down on the yard working on the stocks if he hopes for time off this weekend.”

“I don’t need to go over to Hatsfield, Mr. Winslow…” Silas began as soon as he’d swallowed his food.

Mr. Winslow contemplated him silently a few seconds. “I appreciate your attitude, Silas. However, in this case, you would also be serving the shipyard with your weekend at the Townsends’. Don’t forget, we need their business.”

The two men looked at each other an instant longer. Finally Silas’s gaze fell to his plate. “Very well, sir.”

“I appreciate your loyalty.” Winslow took a final sip of coffee. “Ready to go? Otherwise, I’ll see you down on the yard.” He took up his folded newspaper and headed for the door. “Don’t forget to bring us some doughnuts, Cherish.”

“I won’t, Papa. I’ll be down later,” she answered as she took up a forkful of pancake, wondering why Silas had appeared reluctant to go to Hatsfield this weekend. Perhaps he didn’t care so much about Annalise Townsend after all?

She glanced at Silas, who seemed intent on finishing his breakfast in record time. Before she could engage him in conversation, he stood.

Aunt Phoebe said to him, “Don’t forget to collect your clean laundry on the way out.”

“Yes, thank you,” he answered, already heading for the kitchen.

“I’ve put everything in a satchel by the door,” she said to his departing back. “Mercy, he seemed in an awful hurry all of a sudden. Wonder if it was that invitation your father just mentioned. Though I’d think he’d like an outing. He doesn’t get together with enough young folks his age. Hangs about all day with those rough men down on the yard.

“Now, we are going to try your hand at dinner rolls today,” she said, turning her attention to the morning’s baking.

“That sounds interesting,” Cherish answered, her mind on the coming weekend. Two whole days in Silas’s company. Her thoughts flitted briefly to Annalise, but she decided she would do as Silas had asked her and befriend the girl. She would show Silas what a good friend she could be.

She wondered vaguely if the invitation had been Warren
Townsend’s idea. He was a very good-looking and personable young man. She ought to be swept off her feet. Instead, she wondered how she would endure two days in his company. And how was she going to prevent being paired off with him again?

She pondered the situation as she ate her breakfast. She’d need to come up with a strategy before the weekend.

Cherish came down the wooden stairs that led from the boat shop to the beach. She picked her way through the rubble, stepping over piles of lumber stacked above the high-water line.

“Hey there, Cherish, need somethin’?” one of the shipwrights called down to her. He was standing above her on the scaffolding against the schooner hull, a mallet in his hand.

“Good morning, William. I thought you men might like some freshly made doughnuts.” She removed the gingham cloth from the basket she carried and showed him. “See?”

“Oh, they look mighty good,” he replied. “Why don’t you come on up here so we can sample ’em?”

He met her on the ramp that led up to the scaffolding platform and escorted her the rest of the way. Wiping his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief, he took a sugary doughnut from the basket. “Thank you kindly.” After the first bite, he wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm and said, “Mmm. That is some good. You make them all by yourself?”

“Well, Aunt Phoebe helped.”

“That woman can bake a stone and make it come out tasting good.”

“Let me offer Ezra some.” She moved toward the other man farther down the platform. “Where’s Silas?” she asked him after he’d taken a doughnut.

Ezra pointed with his doughnut down into the skeletal hull. “Down fitting the ‘knees’ between the crossbeams.”

Cherish chatted a few moments with the two men. They were both middle-aged with grizzled hair and skin as brown and cracked as baked mud, from years working in the sun.
They’d known her since she was a babe and she treated them as uncles.

She wrapped a few of the doughnuts in a separate napkin and left the basket with the men with a parting encouragement to eat them while they were still warm.

She climbed back down the wooden ramp laid diagonally alongside the hull. Once back on the beach, she hiked up her skirt and climbed into the cavernous hull. It was still only a structure of vertical ribs, the sunlight coming through in bands. Spying Silas down near the stern, she made her way there, carefully stepping along the keelson.

Silas was standing on a ladder set against the ribbing. He didn’t hear her approach over the banging of his mallet against the wood above his head. She watched him pounding trunnels into the holes that had been bored into the wood.

When he stopped a moment, Cherish welcomed the stillness.

“Ahoy, mate,” she said.

He swiveled around on the ladder. “What are you doing here?” Before she could answer, he added, “How did you get in?”

“I walked.”

“You could have tripped or fallen.”

“Well, I didn’t. Don’t scold so.”

He began descending the ladder. “You didn’t answer my question. What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t give me a chance to.” She swung the gingham napkin in front of him. “I brought you this, but if that’s the way you’re going to greet someone who’s brought you a tasty morsel, I may reconsider. I’ve already been told by both Ezra and Will that they are delicious,” she added as she watched him shove the mallet through the belt at his waist and eye the doughnuts she held out on the napkin.

“What’s the matter? Think I put sawdust in them?”

He shook his head as if waking up. “No, of course not.”

He wiped his hands down the sides of his pant legs and asked in a friendlier tone, “So, how is the baking coming?”

“You might say I’m excelling in the culinary arts,” she replied, handing him a doughnut. “But you be the judge.”

Their fingers touched as he took hold of the doughnut. As he took his first bite, she brought her fingertips up to her lips and licked off the sugar crystals that clung to them. He watched her as he chewed. Abruptly he looked away.

He finished the doughnut.

“Here,” she said, handing him her handkerchief from her pocket.

“Thanks.” He took it and wiped his mouth.

“You missed a spot.” She took the handkerchief from him and rubbed it against his chin. “There.” She stepped back and looked around for a place to sit between the ribs.

“Careful you don’t get your skirt soiled,” he warned her, his eyes watching her every move. She arranged her skirts, feeling a curious thrill inside her.

“Don’t worry. It’s an old skirt.”

“Saving all your finery for the big weekend?”

She cocked her head at him, considering his tone. Could he perhaps be jealous of Warren Townsend? She propped her chin in her hand. “I haven’t yet decided on my wardrobe for the weekend. You didn’t seem too anxious this morning to be pulled away from here to enjoy the Townsends’ hospitality.”

“I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“All work and no play makes Silas a dull boy,” she commented, picking up one of the doughnuts from the napkin in her lap and eyeing it. It had come out perfect, round and plump, its little hole almost closed up in the middle. She took a small bite. Delicious. Light and slightly sweet with a hint of nutmeg. Aunt Phoebe had been right in her exacting attitude toward cooking.

“Am I a dull boy?”

“Hmm?” She brought her mind back to the conversation. She tilted her head at Silas as she held the doughnut near her lips. He was examining the drill bit on the end of the drill with what appeared to be the utmost concentration.

“Let’s just say you’re in danger of becoming one.” She set the doughnut back down on the napkin and brushed off her fingertips. “But don’t worry. Cherish has arrived and will save you.”

Instead of replying, he climbed back up the ladder and positioned the drill against a timber.

“How is it coming?” she asked, standing up and approaching the base of the ladder.

“Fine.”

“So I see. Where were we? Oh yes, saving Silas van der Zee from becoming dull as dishwater—or should I say, in this case, bilgewater?”

He stopped drilling and eyed her from his perch. “What’s the remedy, Dr. Winslow?”

“For starters, you will enjoy fun and relaxation this weekend in Hatsfield.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes. Consider it so. Part of the regimen.”

“From you or from your father?”

She looked at him nonplussed. “Are you upset with Papa for wanting you to go to Hatsfield this weekend?”

“No.” His tone didn’t sound convincing.

“He only wants you to have some fun.”

“He only wants us to ingratiate ourselves with the Townsends.”

“What’s wrong with cultivating their friendship along with their business?”

“Nothing, as long as you enjoy their company in the process.”

She pondered his meaning. “Don’t you enjoy their company?” she asked with a sly smile. “I thought you liked Annalise.”