Finding Boaz

  "Duncan, I don't know what to say...um...good job, and I'll follow wherever you lead us...you know, loyalty and all that stuff." Duncan stood to meet him and shake his hand as well.

  "Thank you, Geordie."

  Duncan felt sheepish as he accepted their praise, but his heart swelled with thankfulness. He hadn't felt this good when he finished the Special Forces Qualification Course and was permitted to don his green beret.

  When his brothers were finished, Erin stood and brought to him a large old book.

  "These are the Chronicles of MacLeod. In them you will find the rules we live by and the deeds we have done. They are for you to continue. May the Lord of our fathers always bless you and keep you."

  "The Lord bless you and keep you!" the brothers chimed in, and they drank again.

  Duncan accepted the book from her hand. It was bound in leather, heavy and tough, not crumbly as he had anticipated. He need not fear opening and reading the old stories.

  As Erin returned to her place, Duncan had a mystical feeling that nothing would now ever be the same.

  "Mother." He looked at her and stood. Raising his glass, he said, "Erin Maureen Dalrymple MacLeod." She smiled at him. "You have done your duty with honor and courage. May you live your life long and full with a house filled with grandchildren and great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren at your knees."

  "To Erin MacLeod!"

  They all drank. The formalities over, Duncan slouched into his chair and talk took over as dinner was served.

  "So, Duncan, when are you gonna start giving Mom all those grandchildren at her knees?" asked Geordie.

  "He can't until he's married," said Andrew.

  "And he can't get married until some girl asks him," said Douglas.

  "I don't think I'd want a girl brazen enough to ask me to marry," Angus said.

  "Very funny." Duncan had forgotten about the marriage rule. Somewhere in the back of his mind was the story of how his father wooed his mother, but he had forgotten the details. Oh well, there would be time to catch up on that stuff later. It was probably written in the Chronicles. He was looking forward to the book, and his brothers probably got it wrong anyway. And now they had other business to discuss.

  He had decided to tell them of their father's plans tonight. He and Lachlan had been working on this one longer than any of them knew. Lachlan had hoped to tell them himself, but his death had put a stop to many plans.

  It was risky; it would take most of their capital, but it was worth a try. As the fishing dried up, something had to replace it, and Lachlan had looked hard for something to guard the family fortunes. Lachlan's answer was charter boats—rentable recreational boats on the Bay—that would travel the Delmarva Loop. True, it wasn't rocket science, but it wasn't being done yet either.

  He wasn't keen to tell them of their new venture. Dougie, the lawyer, liked to argue, and play devil’s advocate. He was ready for that. The real key was Angus. He had worked side by side with their father while Duncan was gone on active duty in the Army. If Angus was against him, the others would follow. He was prepared to pull rank, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that yet. Angus didn't like change.

  "Listen, guys, I have something to tell you. I have a new idea to expand our present operations." His brothers gave him their attention as he described the broadening of their operations to include two new vessels that would provide trips to Tangier Island out in the middle of the Chesapeake Bay. These were to be overnight trips that included passenger participation. Eventually they would expand even farther out into the Atlantic.

  His brothers were silent. Angus looked at his hands before him on the table. Dougie's eyes were bulging and his face was flush. Andrew sat back with arms across his chest glaring at no one in particular. Geordie looked excited.

  "The liability is tremendous! Did you think of that?" Douglas exploded.

  "Yes, Douglas, Dad and I both thought of that. We will get the appropriate coverage, and the boats we picked are very stable. We want adventure, not lawsuits."

  "I don't know, Duncan. It sounds risky."

  "What kind of life would we live without risks, Doug?"

  Angus was silent; he needed the time to put it together. Duncan could wait.

  "Andrew?"

  "I don't know why you have to change things. Why can't it stay the same? We are doin' all right as it is."

  "Because the world is changing, Andy. The fish aren't what they once were, so we need to expand. There's a market, and we should seize it." His father's words came out of him as if he had rehearsed them. He had the same fears when Lachlan had first proposed the plan to him.

  "What if we fail? What if we lose everything?"

  "We aren't risking everything, so we can't lose everything," Duncan replied.

  Andrew remained sitting with his arms crossed, glaring at Duncan. It will just take some time. Lachlan's words reassured him from the past.

  "When do we start?" Geordie could barely contain his excitement.

  "The first boat has already been ordered. It will be here later in the month. We'll hire someone to do the grand opening and invite all the travel agents from D.C. to Richmond, even down to Norfolk." Angus looked up from his hands to engage Duncan.

  "Angus?"

  "I'll work for you as I worked for our father. I don't see that he was wrong, and I'm willing to bet on you." Duncan was relieved. The conversation turned to boats and routes and liability forms. The business of eating took over, and by the time dinner was over Duncan was satisfied that he and his brothers were once again a team.

  After dinner, Duncan left the table but stopped to kiss his mother on the cheek and pick up the book of Chronicles as he went to his office. He needed to brush up on these rules. He'd forgotten that one about marriage and he wondered how many others there were. He'd been away in the Army a good while. Some of those stories he hadn't heard since he was a kid.

  The wood paneled office that used to be his father's was now his. It contained a solemnity and peace that scared him as a child. Now its ambience comforted him. His father's things were still there: books and charts, his sextant, his desk. He could feel the strength of his dad in this room. The rest of the house had the softer feel of his mother.

  He placed the book down on the desk. It had lived in this room longer than he had been alive. He sat down behind the sturdy wooden desk, pulled the big book to him and began to thumb through the pages. His eye fell on a list of rules set up by the Laird of MacLeod in 1735.

  "These rules are to be a covenant between our people and us, the Lairds of MacLeod. Follow them and prosper; ignore them and be cursed. Lose thy land and thy fortune, thy bride and all that thou hast claim to except thy mortal soul which thou may give to God if ye so choose."

  "Measure justice with an even hand. Ye may not give preference to the poor man because he is poor, nor to the mighty man because of his might, nor to the rich man because of his wealth. Ye must judge righteously between neighbors."

  Duncan scanned down the page further, through various punishments for stealing and other offenses.

  "Each chief, if not already wed, must choose a wife and not six months out, to bear thee children and so gain thee wisdom to lead. Thou mayest not ask a woman to wed with thee. She must ask thee. This will ensure thy happiness. Thou mayest not divorce."

  Duncan slapped the book closed. What were they thinking? Is this supposed to be funny? He could almost hear the laughter of Duncan, the first Laird of MacLeod, down through the ages. He looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway.

  "You were meant to be in this room at this time, Duncan."

  "Mom, they had to be kidding about this marriage stuff. This was hundreds of years ago. We don't do things like this anymore. I can't imagine where I will find someone to ask me to marry in six months. These days people just move in together and try it out for a few years first."

  "Do you remember the story of Diggory MacLeod?"

  "No–and that's the other t
hing, I haven't heard some of these stories since I was a kid."

  As Duncan's frustration mounted, he began to pace the floor. Erin strode into the room and leaned on the corner of the old desk.

  "Diggory MacLeod was a new laird of MacLeod at the turn of the last century. He thought he would change things. After all, it was a new century and things were changing. So he waited seven months and asked the girl himself. He lost it all. His wife was barren, and he died a young man and a very poor one as well. His brother, your grandfather, was next in line and became chief. He went back to the old ways. He built a fortune and passed it to your father who built this business and the wealth that we have. Your father stuck to the old ways because they work."

  "So why didn't they kick him out?"

  "Because he was the chief. If he prospers, the family prospers. If he doesn't, it doesn't. He wasn't a criminal, Duncan."

  Duncan continued pacing. It was impossible.

  "So basically I have to meet a girl, or maybe I already know one, and get her to ask me to marry her. In six months." He stopped to face Erin.

  "Be careful, Duncan. You want someone to love you and marry you. Not just marry all this." Erin waved her hand around the room.

  Chapter 3

  Just before she woke, the fog of sleep cleared and Abby saw herself standing in a boat with large white sails. The boat was afloat on a clear green sea. The wind surrounded her body as she followed a large white storm. She woke up after that and lay wondering what it could mean. After an hour, she gave up on sleep and went to the kitchen.

  The warm smell of coffee comforted her as she sat down with her Bible at the kitchen table. She had an hour before Chloe would be awake and take over her day. She rested her head on her hands.

  Brad.

  She felt an adrenaline surge and shifted back and forth in her seat. The thought of confrontation sent spirals of tension through her stomach.

  Someone knocked at the door. Abby nearly came out of her skin.

  She stood up and tiptoed over to the door hoping that it wasn't Brad stopping by unannounced. Instead, her mother was standing there juggling a brown bag and a casserole dish. She slipped the door open quietly.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked in an urgent whisper hoping not to wake Chloe.

  "Good morning to you, too." Her mom barged past her and practically dropped the casserole dish onto the counter.

  "This is the taco salad you asked me to make for that church thing you have today. And these are bagels for breakfast. I smell the coffee." She helped herself to a cup and sat down at the table.

  Abby grinned with relief.

  "Gosh, I forgot all about that. Thank God."

  "You forgot about the social that you asked me to cook for? And bring over here before my shift?"

  "Sorry." Abby set out knives, cream cheese, and plates and took a seat across from her mother.

  "You won't believe who showed up here last night."

  "Who?" Her mother's eyes filled with alarm.

  "Brad." Abby watched the fear in her mom's eyes turn back to the usual cynicism.

  "What'd he want?" She brought the coffee to her mouth.

  "He says he wants me and Chloe back."

  Her mom stilled. Then she asked, "What are you going to do?"

  Abby was surprised at her mother's reserved tone. As a rule, she was quick with an opinion.

  "I don't want him. But he can have visitation with Chloe if he wants," Abby said.

  "I would trust him as far as I could throw him." She shook her bagel at Abby. "Don't let Chloe go out with him alone."

  "Why?"

  It was odd to have her mother confirm what she had already felt.

  "I don't know. I just don't like it."

  "Yeah, me either, but at least I have the church social, so I have a way out of dinner with him tonight. I wish you would come to the social with me."

  "You already know I have to work, and besides, that's not my thing." She sipped her coffee. "You know you should get out and get a life."

  "I have a life, Mama. Her name is Chloe." It was the same conversation they had shared many times before. The only change was who started it.

  "Yes, I know, but it's not good for you to be alone all the time with no one but your old mother for company. You need a man."

  "You don't have a man, Mom, and you're not old."

  "Yes, that's true..." She paused for another bite. "And I do like men... I just don't want to live with any more of 'em. But you're different. Chloe could use a daddy, and then you would be safe here, and I wouldn't be afraid for you all the time."

  "I'll get a dog." They laughed together.

  "Seriously, Mama, I don't pick men well. But dogs—now that's different. I might have a fighting chance with a dog, and even a return policy." She grinned and they laughed again. This time they woke Chloe, and she came out of her room and planted herself in her grandma's lap. Abby fixed her a bagel.

  "You should do like what Aunt Mae said," Helen went on. "She figured that if she only went out with rich men, then she would only fall in love with a rich man."

  Abby's face must have looked as if she didn't get it because her mom continued to explain.

  "Don't use your heart; use your head. Keep your eyes and ears open. Research, you know, like those arranged marriages in the olden days. Pick a good man, and you can learn to love him. You could make a list." She smiled.

  "Make a list? I'll have to think about that one."

  "Well, baby," Helen said to Chloe still curled up in her lap, "I gotta go to work."

  The cold wind from the night before had brought in mild weather for the day. Not an unusual thing for spring along the Virginia coast. Abby spent the rest of the day with Chloe catching up on the laundry and taking a short trip to the park. When Brad called, she begged off, telling him that she had to be at the church for the social for which she had volunteered. She made arrangements to see him on Monday evening after dinner.

  Chapter 4

  Duncan felt the still peace of the old sanctuary. The church, built in the eighteenth century, was converted to a non-denominational Christian fellowship a few years ago after sitting vacant for several years. Hundreds of people had prayed and celebrated here and the beams, the windows, the very air retained the memories. He took a deep breath. It was good to be home, and he would make this place his new church home.

  The MacLeods had always attended a church across town, and he had gone with them until he left home. Somehow he had missed Jesus there. He found Jesus in a non-denominational church like this one when he was in the Army in Kentucky. His mother and brothers were content with their church, and so far, he was content to leave them there.

  The sign outside had advertised a community social today, and he thought that was a good way to meet some of the people who attended.

  Things had been moving quickly since he had become the MacLeod. Moving home again with its memories was not as tough as he thought it would be. No one had brought up that night ten years ago when he was forced to leave. Not even his brothers. Perhaps the trauma had healed in his absence.

  He sat still, breathing deeply to allow the peace of the room to calm and restore some equilibrium to his soul. He closed his eyes. The new boat wasn't going to arrive on time, but he figured he would still have time to be up and running by the opening of the season. Everything else was coming together nicely. Except for a bride. Where was he going to find one and still do all the work necessary to launch the new division?

  He opened his eyes and standing before him, at the front of the sanctuary, was a tiny woman, with her back to him, hands raised in quiet praise. He felt an electric current run through him. Her hair shown a deep chestnut and hung down to her waist in waves. She made no sound as she swayed. He began to feel like a peeping Tom, so he cleared his throat.

  She spun around abruptly, as if someone had slapped her. A blush rose to her cheeks. The electric current pulled him to her. He stood, stepped out of the pew, an
d made his way to stand in front of her.

  "I'm sorry, I—"

  "Oh, no," she interrupted him, "it's OK. I just didn't know you were there."

  Her voice was musical, gentle, and soft.

  She turned her face upward to smile at him and stuck out her hand. "I'm Abby."

  The sun caught her green eyes; Duncan caught his breath. He took her hand and was shaken.

  "Duncan. I've just come home from the Army."

  "Oh?" Abby gently pulled her hand away with a little pink color still in her cheeks. Just then a little girl came in squealing and careened directly into her backside. As she swung around again to catch the little girl, her hair brushed by him and he could smell roses.

  "Mama! Mama! Can I go with Rachel? Can I? Can I?"

  "Where is Miss Debbie?"

  A short blonde woman burst through the door just then with a little blonde-haired girl in tow.

  "Oh, Abby. I was scared to death. She just took off to find you and..." The woman stopped to breathe. "I'm going to take them outside to the swings."

  "OK." Debbie stuck out her hand for Chloe, and Chloe ran to her. They were gone, and the sanctuary was quiet again

  "That was my daughter, Chloe." Her face glowed with pride. "Have you met anyone yet? I'll be happy to introduce you to the pastor."

  "Sure."

  Was she married? He sneaked a look at her hand as he held the door open for her. She wore a gold ring on the middle finger of her left hand. What did that mean?

  They passed through the double doors into a main hallway lined with windows, which in turn led to the parish house and classrooms. Through the windows, he could see people milling about outside on the lawn in the mild February day.

  The sun was high in the sky at three in the afternoon, but by four thirty, he knew the sun would be setting. They found Pastor Bob without any difficulty because at six foot four inches tall, he was the tallest man in the room. He had bright white hair that glowed in the light coming from the windows behind him. He was standing alone sipping from a Styrofoam cup.

  "Pastor Bob, I would like to introduce..." She turned to Duncan.

  "Duncan." He shook hands with the pastor.

  "So are you a friend of Abby's?" he boomed and slipped an arm across her shoulders.