An Unlikely Love

“I want to welcome you to Fair Point, and thank you for coming. You teachers, speakers and entertainers are the heart of this Chautauqua Assembly. It could not take place without you. And now for an explanation of our purpose and some rules about your classes or lectures.” Dr. Austin clasped his hands behind his back and leaned forward, his bearded face sober. “It is our belief that every facet of a person—spirit, soul and body—should be ministered to in order to promote an abundant life. Therefore, this assembly will devote itself to Bible study, teacher training classes, musical entertainment, lectures on important issues of the day and how they relate to the church, recreational activity, praise meetings and devotional exercises.”

Important issues of the day. That would include her subject of temperance.

Dr. Austin cleared his throat, stepped to the edge of the platform. “It is also our belief that education should be available to every man, woman and child for the enrichment of their lives and the betterment of mankind. Therefore, reading and the discussion of books shall be an ongoing class. Also, the advances in the sciences will be demonstrated and taught.”

She took a breath and glanced around.All of the people looked so competent and accomplished. And she felt so inept and uncertain. As if she were still walking on the Colonel Phillips’s quivering deck.

Grant Winston. A vision of him walking toward her out of the darkness slipped into her mind. It was strange how safe she had felt with him beside her. And how reluctant she was to see him go when they’d been separated onto their different paths after disembarking. Would she ever see him again? She frowned and fingered the cord on her purse. That was highly unlikely. There were so many people attending the assembly it would be impossible to— The assembly. She jerked her thoughts back to the speaker.

“—in addition to the Bible readings.” Dr. Austin glanced down at the paper he held. “Today’s topic for the late afternoon featured lecture will be moral ideas. Tomorrow, it will be on drawing caricatures. And the day following will feature the first of the lectures on temperance.”

There was an audible intake of breath among those listening, a general stirring as people glanced at one another. She caught her breath at the reaction, looked down at her lap. Two more days to prepare.

“And, of course, every day there will be nature walks in the woods and promenades along the shore, boats for rowing and all manner of entertainments—music, steamer rides, fireworks...”

Steamer rides? Not for her. Unless... She closed her eyes, pictured Grant Winston standing beside her at the rail of a steamer with sunshine warm on their faces and a soft breeze riffling their hair. A smile touched her lips. He had sun streaks in his hair, the way her father did before he moved them into town. Was Grant a farmer? Or perhaps a logger? Or—

She started at movement beside her and opened her eyes. People were standing. She hastened to her feet, stepped out into the aisle and joined the flow of people exiting the tent. She had missed the rules for speakers Dr. Austin had spoken of! How could she—

“Marissa!”

She stopped and turned at the soft call. Her tent mate was hurrying up the aisle toward her. She released a soft sigh and waited for Clarice to catch up to her. Clarice would have notes.

“Well, that was interesting! What a crowd!” Clarice paused, motioned her into the line of people in the aisle and headed for the tent opening. “Are you ready to eat something, Marissa? I wasn’t able to get a seat at a table earlier and I’m starving!”

Marissa smiled and dipped her head to a man who stepped aside to let them precede him through the tent’s entrance. “I am a bit hungry.” No doubt because she had two more days before she spoke. She paused, looked around. People were entering the woods in all different directions. “Which way do we go for the ‘hotel’?”

“Up.” Clarice laughed and stepped into the trees.

* * *

Grant strode along the dock, showed his admittance pass to the gatekeeper and hurried across the flat shore area, his empty stomach rumbling. Discussing the grape samples with his father had taken longer than he expected. Not that it surprised him. His father was set against his coming to this assembly. How could the man still be so against science when he had proven to him with the concords that experimentation worked?

He frowned down at the line map on the back of his pass, tucked it in his pocket and started up a wooded path at a fast pace taking his frustration out on the hillside. He was a grown man with his own ideas, but the doctor had warned against any heated confrontations because of his father’s ill health. One fit of anger could overstress his weak heart. It made his obstinance doubly hard to deal with. If it hadn’t been for his father’s crippling accident, he would be a scientist by now, not a vineyard manager trying to cope with old-fashioned ideas.

He halted. People were clustered at a crossing of paths ahead. He glanced at the sign nailed to a long building made of rough boards. The Hotel. This was the dining hall? Hopefully, the food was better than the building.

He glanced inside and looked for a young woman with blond curls dangling at her forehead and temples. It wasn’t much to go on, but he’d find Miss Bradley. He had time. The science class wasn’t scheduled until later. And she had to eat. He stepped back outside, took up a place by the door and scanned the people entering the clearing. His pulse jumped at the sight of blond curls and a pair of lovely but sad blue eyes. She was with another lady. Well, he’d met the challenge of finding her. That was enough...for now. He smiled and stepped forward, dipped his head. “I see you survived the steamer ride, Miss Bradley.”

She glanced up at him, surprise in her blue eyes. “I did. Thank you again for your assistance on that slippery deck, Mr. Winston.” She smiled, glanced at her companion. “May I present Miss Gordon?”

There was a shyness in Marissa’s smile that tugged at him. He bowed an acknowledgment and shifted his gaze to Miss Gordon. A pair of gray eyes with a speculative gleam in their depths studied him.

“It’s unpleasant dining alone. Perhaps your friend would like to take his meal with us, Marissa.” Miss Gordon ignored Miss Bradley’s soft gasp and continued to gaze at him. “Unless you were waiting for someone, Mr. Winston?” There was a challenge in her tone.

Marissa. He tucked the name into his memory and slid his gaze to its owner. Her cheeks were pink. She was obviously embarrassed by her friend’s boldness. He hurried to smooth over the social misstep. “I would be honored to escort you both to dinner, if you have no objection, Miss Bradley.”

She dropped her gaze and shook her head. “I should be pleased at the sight of another familiar face at the table, Mr. Winston. The crowds of strangers are a bit overwhelming.”

“Then I am happy to serve.” He stepped to the door, motioned them into line before him.

Sunshine streamed through the cracks between the boards of the walls to stripe the dried mud on the floor. The crude benches alongside long tables covered with oilcloth were filling with people. He ushered them to one with three empty places, helped them onto the bench, then took his place and looked around.

“I’m glad it’s not raining today.”

“Me, too.”

He glanced at the women across the table.

The younger of the group smiled and pointed toward the ceiling. “Last night we had to eat while holding umbrellas.”

“Which was no easy feat!”

He looked from the laughing women to the roof. There were streaks of blue sky showing between many of the boards. It didn’t take much imagination to picture rain pouring through those wide cracks to drown the plates of food on the tables below. “I see what you mean. Thank you for the warning, ladies.”

Marissa slanted a look up at the ceiling and laughed. “It looks as if they would be wise to plan soup for the daily meal when there is inclement weather.”

She had a quick wit. He chuckled, admiring the sparkle of bright flecks in her blue eyes.

A man walking in the aisle behind them stopped, cleared his throat. “What’s that you say, young lady?” The women across the table lifted their heads, and their eyes widened.

Marissa gasped. “Dr. Austin!” Pink flowed into her cheeks. “Please forgive me, sir. I meant no—”

“Do not apologize, young lady. I am in your debt.” The leader of the Chautauqua Assembly smiled. “Good strong soup that will not be harmed by the addition of a bit of rainwater is an excellent idea. I shall pass it on to the cooks.” He gave a polite bow and walked off.

The women stared after him.

Miss Gordon burst into laughter. “You should see your face, Marissa!”

In his opinion she looked beautiful—if a bit chagrined.

Marissa lifted her hands to cover her cheeks, glanced down at the table. “What are you doing, Clarice?”

He shifted his gaze to the box Miss Gordon had opened. It held all manner of writing supplies.

“I’m making a note to include this story in my article. It’s the sort of personal touch that will make my report on this assembly lively and entertaining as well as factual. I shall title it ‘The Chautauqua Experience.’” Miss Gordon pulled out pencil and paper, dashed down words. “This is exactly what I was looking for. Something that will make my article stand out from all the other dull, factual reports and gain the editor’s and publisher’s attention.”

His eyebrows rose. “Publisher?”

Marissa Bradley glanced at him, something akin to apprehension in her eyes. “Clarice is a reporter for the Sunday School Journal.” She turned back to Miss Gordon. “You’ll not mention me by name?”

“Not if you don’t wish me to. Let me think...” Miss Gordon stopped writing, looked up and grinned. “Ah! I’ve thought of the perfect name! I’ll call you ‘Miss Practical.’ Do you agree, Mr. Winston?”

“With your choice of the name ‘Miss Practical’ for the article? Yes, indeed. But as the perfect name for Miss Bradley...” He drew his gaze slowly over her face, his pulse leaping as pink again stole across her delicate cheekbones. “It is too early in my acquaintance with Miss Bradley for me to have an opinion as to that.”

A pudgy hand holding a plate of food inserted itself between them. He nodded his thanks as a woman placed tin plates holding boiled potatoes, green beans and two-tined steel forks in front of them, then looked back at Marissa Bradley trying to judge her reaction to his intimation that he would like their budding acquaintance to continue. She had her gaze fixed on her plate. No encouragement there.

He frowned down at his food, stabbed a bite of potato. There was something about Marissa Bradley that drew him in a way no other woman had done. Perhaps it was the mystery of the sadness in her eyes. Whatever it was, he intended to see her again—though instinct warned him she was a very proper young lady and would refuse a direct invitation. Propriety!