Lilac Spring. Ruth Axtell Morren

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СКАЧАТЬ I was heartened to hear such a good, strong male voice. Just what we need in our choir.” He leaned over to whisper conspiratorially, “We have a surplus of little old ladies, dear souls, whose voices are becoming a mite quavery. We need some new blood.” He gave them both a last firm handshake. “It’s settled, then, come out Tuesday evenings at seven. Good to have you back, Cherish.”

      Silas walked home from church with the Winslows as usual for Sunday dinner. Though he had deliberately slowed his steps to avoid walking with Cherish, he found her at his side.

      She was a vision of loveliness. In fact, she had been every day he’d seen her since her return. He was beginning to realize he was looking forward to her appearance each day. Today she wore a yellow dress, with flounces and ruches up and down its skirts. A wide yellow sash, tied low on her hips, swayed in the breeze. The tight sleeves of the gown came down to her elbows and her hands were covered with dainty white gloves.

      Silas wondered whether it was perhaps because he’d been around men too long, down on the shipyard, that one prettily dressed girl could stir his senses so.

      Cherish was chatting away merrily with old Jacob, the Winslows’ handyman and gardener. “I look forward to hearing you fiddling away at the party.”

      Silas realized none of the girls of Haven’s End could hold a candle to Cherish. Was it the city polish? Was it that every detail in her appearance was pleasing to the eye? Did women achieve that deliberately, or did it come about naturally?

      Cherish’s deep brown hair cascaded down her shoulders in ringlets beneath a little straw bonnet trimmed in yellow ribbons and bows. He remembered her hair caught up in a simple wide ribbon the day they had danced in the meadow, how it had swung around as they’d played at waltzing in a ballroom. She’d been just as beautiful then in her simple frock and hairstyle.

      He smiled inwardly at the image. Cherish pretending he and she had been in some elegant Viennese ballroom. Nothing could be sillier. He glanced down at his hands. They were marred by scars of cuts old and new from carpenter’s tools and burns from hot tar, and they felt as rough as the sandpaper he used to make the boats he worked on as smooth as silk.

      How did they compare to Prince Leopold’s? Like sandpaper to silk beat a refrain in his mind.

      They reached the Winslow house and turned up the drive. Aside from the hotel down by the harbor and the few summer residences, this was the grandest house in Haven’s End.

      “I hope you’re hungry,” Cherish told him, her blue eyes laughing up at him. “I was in the kitchen since dawn with Aunt Phoebe until it was time to get ready for church.”

      “That right, Miss Cherish?” Jacob piped up. “What goodies you ladies been preparing for us starvin’ menfolk?”

      She turned to him. “Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, pickled beets and biscuits.”

      “Well, bring it on and we’ll do it proud,” he exclaimed.

      After a delicious dinner, in which they all complimented Cherish on her cooking skills, Cherish made Silas promise that he would meet her out on the veranda later.

      He usually walked back down to the shipyard after Sunday dinner, but he sat a while making desultory conversation with Mr. Winslow. When the older man took up the paper to read, Silas made his way out to the front porch.

      He glanced around and decided to lounge on the two-person swing set at one end of the porch. He swung lazily on the seat, pushing back and forth with the heel of his boot, unaccustomed to idleness. In his free time he was usually whittling away on a ship model or cleaning out his boat.

      Just as he felt himself dozing, he heard the front door swing open and footsteps walking toward him. He shook aside the drowsiness and stood to help Cherish with the tray she carried.

      “I brought us some lemonade, in case we get thirsty.” She indicated where he should set the small tray down.

      “Everything done?”

      “All shipshape to Aunt Phoebe’s satisfaction,” she answered, settling herself beside him on the swing with a small leather-bound book beside her. A barn cat, which had come onto the veranda from around the house, jumped onto her lap.

      “Hello, puss, where’ve you been all morning? Out hunting mice?” The cat purred smoothly as Cherish stroked its gray fur.

      To hide the feelings Cherish’s proximity was creating in him, Silas pushed his feet against the wooden floor, bringing the swing back into motion. They rocked in silence for a few moments, listening to the creak of the swing.

      He was just managing to ignore her nearness, his eyes closed, his back resting against the seat, when Cherish asked him, “Do you have a sweetheart these days?”

      His eyes snapped open. Cherish sat observing him as her hand caressed the cat’s fur.

      “What?” Why was she asking such a question? Simple curiosity—or something more?

      “You heard me. Is there anyone occupying a special place in your heart?”

      He took his time in answering, unused to such personal inquiries. The men on the yard talked about the ships they were working on, the latest cargo in port, the price of lumber. Mrs. Sullivan made sure he was well fed and clothed and noted if he was looking “peaked.” Mr. Winslow cared only that he reported to work every day and carried out his duties. And all he, Silas, ever thought about was the feel of wood under his hands and the goal he was working toward.

      No one had ever asked about his heart. Finally he shook his head. “No.” Why had the answer been so difficult?

      “No one since Emma?” she asked softly, referring to his childhood sweetheart from back home.

      “I guess I’m married to my boats now.”

      “That’s silly. You can’t be married to boats.”

      He continued rocking the swing gently, looking down at the toes of his boots. “I haven’t thought about things like getting married, starting a family, or getting a place of my own since Emma passed away.” He spoke the next words slowly, articulating them for the first time. “I guess I decided then that marriage was not for me.”

      “That’s nonsense, Silas.” The chiding words were spoken gently.

      He shrugged. “I’m content with things as they are. I have my dream, and that’s enough for now.”

      “You have a wonderful dream, and I know it will be fulfilled, but that doesn’t mean you can’t want more.”

      He glanced at her again, surprised for the second time in the space of a few moments. She did remember his dream.

      But she continued speaking, not noticing his reaction. “Love is the highest thing you can experience.”

      He said nothing, the word making him uncomfortable.

      “You loved Emma.”

      “I was just a boy.” His fingers tugged at his collar, trying to think of another topic to distract Cherish.

      “Age has nothing to do with it. Just think, you were a boy of twelve and you promised СКАЧАТЬ