Lilac Spring. Ruth Morren Axtell
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the notion as soon as it was formed. Cherish was the most poised girl he knew. He glanced at her again across the dancers, remembering her as a little lady even at the age of five when she’d come to make his acquaintance on his first day at the boat shop.
“—so many years.”
He glanced back at Miss Townsend. “Excuse me?”
“I said you’ve been in Haven’s End so many years.”
“That’s right. I always knew I wanted to build boats, so I was glad to find a place to apprentice.”
His gaze roved over Cherish and Townsend once again.
She certainly seemed to be at ease, speaking with Warren as they glided across the dance floor, and it seemed to Silas that she was as graceful in a meadow as in a ballroom.
He, himself, was finding it hard to keep up a flow of conversation and at the same time mind the placement of his feet. Deciding to concentrate on his steps, he stopped talking.
When the song ended and another started up, he wished for a moment that it was Cherish in his arms on the dance floor. But after that brief tuneless waltz in the meadow, he had resolved to avoid dancing with her. Holding her in his arms, however innocently, put too many crazy thoughts into his head.
Cherish awoke the next morning late. Turning from the window, its shade unsuccessfully hiding the beautiful spring day and sound of birdsong, she burrowed farther into her pillow.
How she wished she could stay out of sight all day.
She groaned, remembering her unwanted guests. Like her Worth creation, which now lay in a crumpled heap on the floor in her line of vision, they intruded where they were not wanted. Warren and Annalise Townsend were still under her roof, and she was their hostess.
She stared at the wallpaper before her, reliving the fiasco of last night. Oh, Lord, why do I have to go down and pretend everything is all right? They ruined everything last night. It was my party and I had everything planned. I’ve waited so long for Silas. All I wanted was to dance with him!
Her lips trembled and her eyes welled up with tears, the way they had all night as she’d tossed and turned.
It was almost as if Silas had deliberately avoided her. She’d never seen him so elusive. If he wasn’t talking in such a chummy manner to little miss whey-faced Townsend, he was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t understand it.
She’d had to swallow her anger and disappointment and pretend everything was just fine. When they’d finished eating and gone back inside as another waltz started up, she’d turned to him and there he was, taking Annalise out onto the dance floor again, as if they were the best of friends.
After that she’d seen Annalise dancing with another man—a friend of Silas’s—and Silas vanished. She’d had to exercise every ounce of self-control to keep smiling and chatting with Warren and later with Annalise when she’d wanted nothing better than to tell her to stay away from Silas.
She swiped at her eyes now. It would do no good to go getting them all swollen. Then everyone would know she’d been crying. She wouldn’t give Silas the satisfaction!
She had guests to see to. Thankfully, they were leaving this morning. Cherish threw off the bedclothes, resolved to brave the day. First a repair job on her face, she decided, peering at the red-rimmed eyes in the mirror. Then to play the charming hostess to the Townsends as she’d promised her father. Then, finally, down to the boat shop to comfort Silas and discover why he couldn’t have spared one dance for her!
In the afternoon Silas headed up to the shop after spending the morning working in the stocks scarfing together lengths of wood. They had been cut and shaped to fit together like puzzle pieces, forming the vertical ribs of the schooner’s hull.
He hadn’t been up to the house for dinner, but had brought a lunch pail down with him.
Now he welcomed a break from the tiring work in the sun. Try as he would to deny it, he also looked forward to seeing Cherish again. Why, when he’d managed to live without her for months, even years on end, did his eyes now long for a glimpse of her daily, his soul for some moments of communion? These were questions he chose to ignore for the moment as he pushed open the back door to the boat shop.
He spied Cherish down on her knees before a large board.
“Hi, there. At work already?” he asked in a friendly voice. In her simple cotton dress and pinafore apron she appeared so different from last night, yet just as captivating.
She did not look up at him, but continued drawing a straight line down from top to bottom of the board. “Yes.”
Feeling slightly put out that she’d started without him, he squatted down beside her. “Sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. I had to finish framing a section of the hull.”
She finished the line. “That’s quite all right. Excuse me.” She indicated she wanted him to move and he complied, wondering why she was behaving as if he’d done something wrong.
“Sure. Need some help?”
She finally sat back on her heels and addressed him directly. “I’m marking out a grid on this board. I’ve figured out the scale of the half-hull model measurements, which I’ve plotted on this chart. See, ‘two inches equals one foot, zero inches.’ So we’ll divide the board into a grid of one-foot spaces. Here, you can do the next one.”
He took the yardstick and pencil from her and followed her directions. In the meantime, she began measuring out the horizontal lines on the board, explaining how she’d calculated those spaces. The two of them worked silently, crisscrossing paths every once in a while.
The flowery scent of her hair came under his nostrils when this happened. She seemed completely unaware of him, her focus intent on the pencil and yardstick in her hand. He noticed how slim and attractive her hand looked, splayed against the white board. Its only adornment was a thin silver ring with a small amethyst stone set in a filigreed mount.
“Tired after last night?” he asked.
“A little,” she replied, her back to him.
“It was a nice party,” he offered, hoping to make her feel better if she were upset about something.
“Thank you.”
“Miss Townsend seemed to flounder a bit there, not knowing anyone but you.”
“Thank goodness you were there to rescue her.”
He eyed her back. Did he detect a trace of sarcasm? What had he done? “She’s all right, once you get to know her. We spoke about you,” he said humorously.
That caused her to crane around to look at him. “What about me?” she asked with a frown.
He grinned, hoping to get a rise from her. “Oh, I just told her she’d better follow you around if she wanted to learn how to socialize.”
“What does that mean?” She didn’t sound pleased.
“Just that. You know how to talk to people, dance, put on the charm—”
“Is that what you think I do?”
He cleared his throat, wondering why she was so touchy. “Anyway, she was a bit shy, and I thought you could help her.”
“Is that so?” She drew another line across the wood. “What else did you talk about?”
“She admires you. Maybe you could befriend her, you know, take her under your wing. She seems to be in mortal fear of strangers. I felt kind of sorry for her last night. I told Charlie he’d better dance with her and treat her nicely if he wanted me to help him with his next boat.”
Cherish turned his way and began to measure the next line. “I thought I treated her rather graciously last night. What more do you want me to do—bring her along to the boat shop?”
Now he