Lonely In Longtree (5 page)

A loon warbled out on the lake. Shading her eyes, Marva sought a glimpse of the bird—it sounded nearby.

Two men in a fishing boat rowed toward the shore. Her father's white beard was unmistakable. The man with him was most likely Rev. Schoengard, another devoted fisherman. She wondered if they had caught anything, but she didn't dare leave the children long enough to find out. They tied the boat to the wooden dock and hoisted their poles and tackle ashore.

Mother was probably napping in the shade with her friends. Unlike Marva, she had time to socialize with other women her age.

Self-pity crept into Marva's thoughts. After all, she had been brought along on this trip for purely practical purposes, namely as a child minder to keep the little ones from disturbing anyone else's peace. Her parents were caught up in their own activities. Marva had known this would happen when she agreed to come, but she had expected to chat with Beulah while they watched the children together.

Monte Van Huysen's presence had thrown a wrench into the clockwork, in more ways than one. Beulah told her that Monte had never married, which Marva found difficult to believe. He was far from shy, successful in his field, and appealing to the female eye. Why was he single at age forty? Probably because, Christian man though he claimed to be, he had no desire to settle down with only one woman.

She wrinkled her nose, determined to remain focused on her goal of locating and identifying Lucky in Lakeland. If only she knew a few more details about Lucky's life and his person aside from his age and his business. He seemed a serious-minded individual, articulate and responsible. Most of their conversations had centered on topics such as religion, hobbies, future plans, and dreams—topics that could freely be discussed in the open forum of a newspaper.

Lucky had claimed to enjoy fishing. She would have to ask Mr. Stowell if he pursued that hobby. Lucky had also expressed a desire to mentor young Christian men and encourage them in the faith. The memory of that particular letter started a warm glow around her heart. She could easily imagine an earnest, devout expression on Mr. Stowell's face as he expressed such a desire.

But what if she learned that Harding Stowell never read the
Longtree Enquirer
?

Five

Let your conversation be without covetousness;

and be content with such things as ye have:

for he hath said, I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee.

Hebrews 13:5

Trixie suddenly thrashed her legs in an effort to hop out of the swing. “Dog!” she cried in excitement.

A large brindle-and-white hound sniffed at a nearby tree. Marva recognized it as Monte's pet. “I'm not sure if it's friendly, Trixie. Better just talk to it from here.”

But the little girl touched her feet to the ground and started running. “Trixie!” Marva trotted after her with Ginny bouncing on her shoulder.

A throng of children, including Joey, had already gathered around the dog. Its tail whipped their legs as it tried to lick every face. When Trixie approached, the dog gave her a slurp from chin to forehead, and she sat down abruptly, knocked off balance. Marva expected her to cry, but instead she laughed in delight.

Although the dog seemed friendly enough, its increasing excitement worried Marva. It could unintentionally knock a small child flat. She bent over to catch Trixie's arm and pull her to a safe distance. The dog gave a little hop, and its warm tongue slopped over Marva's lips and cheek.

“Eeww! Eeww! Oh bleah!” She staggered back, wiping her sleeve across her face. The children laughed, entirely unsympathetic, and continued to pat the dog.

A shrill whistle split the air. The dog's ears pricked; its head cocked. An instant later it vaulted Trixie in one bound and swished past Marva's skirts.

She spun around to see Monte, Myles, and Beulah approaching, all three wearing wide smiles. The dog capered around Monte's feet, tongue lolling.

“Mama!” Trixie scrambled up and ran to greet Beulah, who scooped up her disheveled child.

“Are you hungry, sweetie pie? It's nearly time for supper.”

“I hungry.” Trixie pointed at the dog. “Dog.”

“Yes, dear, it certainly is a dog. A rambunctious dog.”

“Ralph loves children,” Monte said quickly. “And pretty women.” He met Marva's gaze, and she saw a twinkle in his eyes. He had definitely witnessed Ralph's display of affection.

“We'll have to clean up all these children before supper, but we'll meet you in the dining room,” Myles told his brother. The two men thumped each other on the shoulders and parted ways. Monte and his dog headed toward the shore.

“I can't thank you enough for this, Marva,” Beulah said as Myles took the fussing Ginny from Marva's arms. Joey clung to his father's leg and jabbered about dogs. Myles smoothed his son's sand-crusted forehead and smiled absently at his talk.

“Did you have a good talk with. . .with your brother?” She wasn't sure what to call him, though in her thoughts he was Monte.

“Very good,” Myles said. “He's an amazing man. What a blessing to see the changes God has made in his life! And he's just as startled by the changes God has worked in me. The last he knew me, I was a bitter young man.”

“How nice.” Marva's arm felt weak and light, empty of Ginny's weight. A damp spot where the baby drooled on her shoulder felt cold. “I believe I'll go freshen up, too. See you at dinner.”

What kind of friend was she to begrudge Myles and Beulah this special time with Monte? The children were not particularly difficult to watch.

To her surprise, Monte joined her on the path to the lodge. “I know Myles and Beulah have thanked you for watching their children these past few days, but I want to add my own thanks. You're a generous woman to give of your time for our benefit.”

More guilt heaped on her conscience. “I'm glad I could help.”

He held the door open for her. “Thank you,” Marva said. In Monte Van Huysen's dark eyes, she read admiration, gratitude, and. . .something more?

“I'll see you at supper, Miss Obermeier.”

An idea took shape in her mind. If she was ever to find Lucky, she needed to visit other lodges in the area. Members of the Lakeland Lodge staff must travel into town occasionally for supplies, mail, and news. Monte was a member of the staff. He probably ran errands for the lodge along with his guide duties. She could ask him for a ride and. . . Dreams of Monte's attentive company blotted thoughts of the elusive Lucky from her head.

In the hall outside her room, she stopped cold and clapped one hand over her face.
No!
I am here in search of Lucky in Lakeland, and I must not allow myself to be distracted. I am through forever with chasing after men or even thinking about chasing after men! If Monte Van Huysen wants to be with me, he will have to do the chasing.

❧

“Monte, have you got a minute?” Hardy Stowell burst into Monte's office, nearly colliding with him in the doorway. His wispy hair stood on end like a wavering halo of gold around his head.

“Sure. What's wrong? Sit down before you collapse.” Monte caught his friend by the shoulders and pushed him into a chair.

“Nothing is wrong! I wanted to tell you earlier, but your family was there. . . .” Hardy fanned his face with an envelope and rubbed his head. “She said she might walk with me after supper—Miss Obermeier did.” His electrified hair sprang back out as soon as his hand passed over it.

“Oh. Really.” Monte realized how flat his response sounded and tried again. “That's nice.”

Hardy gave a little laugh.

“Don't get your hopes up too high,” Monte warned in mild concern and a flash of jealousy.

Hardy shook his head and stood up. “I know. A woman like her wouldn't look twice at a fellow like me. I can't help wondering why she's never married. Bad disposition? Hard to believe with that angel face of hers. Domineering parents? Disappointment in her youth?”

“Hard to say,” Monte responded after an empty pause. “I suppose you could ask her.”

Hardy smiled, and his pale eyes shimmered. “If I have the courage.”

After his partner left the office, Monte flopped into his desk chair and glared at the opposite wall.

❧

Everyone gathered in the lodge dining room for supper that evening, a fish fry of walleye and bluegill. Marva sat at her parents' table, enjoying her first quiet meal. George and Dorothy Hilbert, the newlyweds, joined them, chatting happily about their hiking excursion into the local woods. Above the murmur of conversation, Marva heard Trixie Van Huysen scream in garbled protest about something. She ate slightly faster in case Beulah might need her help.

Sensing a presence at her elbow, she looked up to meet Mr. Stowell's hopeful gaze. “Miss Obermeier?”

While chewing and swallowing a mouthful of fish, she patted her lips with her napkin and laid it on her plate. “Yes, sir?”

“I see you're not yet finished. I trust you still have the time and inclination to honor me with your presence this evening? To take a walk?”

“Oh.” She glanced around at the Van Huysen table. Trixie perched on her uncle Monte's knee, playing with his string tie. The children appeared to be cheerful and cooperative. “Yes, I believe so. That would be nice, Mr. Stowell.” Sensing his impatience, she decided to forgo dessert.

“There is no hurry. You may enjoy your meal while I visit other guests. Simply let me know when you're ready.”

“Very well.”

Mr. Stowell shook her father's hand and greeted her mother, then nodded to the Hilberts. The man had good manners; that was certain.

When Marva rose and brushed off her skirt, Mr. Stowell hurried across the room to join her. Everyone at the lodge must know by now that she had agreed to walk with him. With one hand at the back of her waist, he escorted her from the dining room. As they passed the Van Huysens' table, Beulah looked up and gave her a knowing smile. Monte remained focused on his nieces and nephews.

Evening light lingered over the lake. “Shall we stroll down to the shore, or would you prefer an actual walk?” Mr. Stowell asked. “The dragonflies are out in vast numbers tonight to protect us from mosquitoes.”

“How thoughtful of them,” Marva said with a smile. “I think I should like to take some exercise after that meal.”

“As you wish.” He offered his arm, and Marva looped her hand through the crook of his elbow. They fell into step, following the wagon track away from the lake.

“Tell me about yourself, Miss Obermeier. Why has such a lovely woman never married? Or am I too bold?” His voice sounded tight with nerves.

“The answer is simple enough. The right man has never asked me.” Marva felt calm and composed. “Why are you unmarried, Mr. Stowell?”

“I was married once.”

“Did your wife pass?”

A pause. “Yes, she is dead.” His tone discouraged further questions, which seemed unfair to Marva.

“I'm sorry. How long has it been?” Hearing a high-pitched whine, she waved at her ear.

“A few years. Do you wish to marry, Miss Obermeier, or do you intend to remain single?”

Irritation prickled. “I would marry if the right opportunity arose.” She gazed up at his taut profile. “Do you ever read the
Longtree Enquirer,
Mr. Stowell?”

He gave her a puzzled look. “The what?”

“It is our local newspaper. Your lodge advertises in it, which is how our group came to be here. I merely wondered if you ever read the paper.” Now a fly buzzed into her face; she swatted it away.

He looked thoughtful. “Now that you mention it, yes, I believe I have seen a copy lying around the lodge upon occasion.”

She decided to take the plunge. “Have you ever written a personal note to the
Longtree Enquirer,
sir? In answer to an advertisement or some such thing?”

“I have not.” He licked his lips and looked uncomfortable. “Might I inquire as to where these questions lead, Miss Obermeier?”

“I wish to locate a person who has been communicating with me through the newspaper; that is all. It is unimportant, Mr. Stowell.”

Now that she knew he bore no connection to “Lucky in Lakeland,” Marva was eager to return to the lodge and escape his company. “Ooh, the insects are dreadful this evening.” She slapped her arm, and her hand felt sticky with her own blood. “I do not think the dragonflies are doing their job properly after all.”

“Perhaps if we strolled down beside the water where there is a breeze—”

“I think we had better take cover, Mr. Stowell, but thank you anyway.” Her pace nearly doubled on the way back.

His face revealed disappointment when she bade him farewell at the lodge's front door. “Such a pleasant stroll. Thank you again.”

Once back in the small suite she shared with her parents, she picked up a certain book from her father's bedside table and found her place. The lurid cover art no longer amused her; she was entirely engrossed in the adventurous, slightly romantic tale of the Wild West. She read the book only when her parents were not around. There was no point in advertising her foolish interest in its author.

Sometime later, a loon's call startled her back to reality. The bird sounded close. Although she knew quite well that she would not see it from the window, she rose to pull aside the curtain.

A moonlit path shimmered on the lake, so lovely that tears pooled in Marva's eyes at the sight. Such a night was meant for lovers. But God had given it to her, as well, and she would not let His gift go to waste.

❧

Monte scribbled out a new scene while listening for his partner's return, but his gaze kept returning to the clock. Focusing with an effort, he shuffled through his pages. His fictional hero seemed to him hapless and idiotic: The Sioux braves who had trapped the “idiot” alone in a gully behaved more like children than like genuine warriors, the “idiot's” romance with the widow of a settler had fizzled with no conceivable hope of renewal, and even the “idiot's” mustang behaved like an oversized hound dog. Who would want to read such twaddle? Monte jabbed his pen into its holder and shoved back his chair.

Rising, he paced across his office and stared out the dark window. Moonlight glittered on the lake. Were Hardy and Marva enjoying the sight together? Could a beautiful woman like Miss Obermeier find a man like Hardy appealing? Stranger things had happened. After all, Hardy was a good fellow in his way. It may be that he and Marva had discovered soul mates in each other. They might talk for hours and never run out of topics. They might enjoy a comfortable silence and drink in the beauty of the night, arm in arm. Even hand in hand, if the romance progressed rapidly.

No, surely not. Marva seemed too reserved for that kind of familiarity. But maybe she was only reserved with Monte. Maybe with other men she could relax and laugh. Beulah had said something once about Marva's reputation for talking nonstop. Why did she seem constrained and uncomfortable in Monte's presence? Was it because he talked too much and overwhelmed her? Was it because she sensed his physical attraction to her?

He pulled out his watch and glared at its face. The burning heaviness in his chest revealed more about his feelings than he wanted to know.
Lord, when will I learn to be content with reality?

Just when he thought he had finally outgrown his weaknesses, just when he was ready to settle down in a prosaic marriage with a desperate-yet-steady spinster, just then, Miss Marva Obermeier stepped off the train and knocked him emotionally sprawling. Here he was, forty years of age yet still easy prey to temptations of the flesh and the heart. Who would have thought that his steady, godly, mature correspondent would turn out to be the kind of woman he had always dreamed about?