Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (65 page)

With a warm smile, he turned my face and
asked me to give him a smile. I did as he said, and it actually
felt good.

“That’s better. Now I have some chores to do.
Why don’t you come sit outside and rest on the porch while I do
that? I don’t want you to lift a finger, do you hear?”

“But your house needs some tidying up. Can’t
I do that for you, Mr. Stone? It would be my way of thanking you
for helping me in my greatest time of need.”

“I won’t hear of it. You are tired and weak,
and you have a hurt ankle. Come now; I will carry you to the
rocking chair outside. Okay?” I reluctantly agreed and allowed him
to lift me up into his arms.

I watched, feeling peaceful, a feeling I
hadn’t experienced in a while, as he split wood for several hours.
My ankle was feeling better, as were my spirits. I was certain that
Daddy and I would be reunited before long. I would get to Jasper
Island, and Edward would know where Daddy was. I would see Ayden
and Heath again. Then my time in Georgia would be behind me, and I
would never think of it again, I told myself. I would never think
of any of it, with the exception of Warren Stone. I would always be
grateful to him. He had quickly wandered into my heart and taken
hold of it, just as Heath had. I enjoyed watching him, as I used to
watch Heath row Ayden and I to school.

The day’s heat left his body glistening with
sweat. He occasionally went to the well for a cold drink, then took
the bucket and dumped it over himself when the heat became
unbearable. I was under the shade of the porch, and although the
day was scorching with heat and humidity, I managed to stay
comfortable. After the wood was split, he smiled and waved at me,
then called out, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” I called back.

“I’ll be done in an hour or so.” I nodded,
and Warren went on to neatly stack the wood as I patiently
waited.

“Are you still hungry, Lillian? I know I am
famished,” he asked when he was done.

“I little, I guess.”

“You’re too skinny. Let’s have some apple
butter. Let me take you inside,” he said, and went to lift me up,
but I said, “No, let me walk. You shouldn’t be carrying me around
like a child.”

He was surprised for a moment, then in a more
serious tone, asked, “How old are you, Lillian?”

I hesitated before answering. I feared he
would call me a kid, the way Heath did, that he would believe I was
a little girl and not a young woman. There was no way I wanted him
to know my real age, so I lied about it.

Warren eyes scanned me, quickly; his eyes
lingered on my bosom for a fleeting moment, then he looked away and
I watched his face turn bright red. If he didn’t believe me, there
was no indication. He changed the subject by leading me inside and
offering me supper.

Warren was gracious and attentive. I told him
many stories of my days on Jasper Island. I was happy to have
someone hear about my world and the place that made me complete. I
mentioned my days at the beach collecting sea shells with Ayden and
Heath; I described the summer nights studying the constellations
through Heath’s telescope. I told him about some of Daddy’s
rescues, how he pulled sailors out of the stormy sea before they
drowned, and what a great lighthouse keeper he was. I explained how
a lighthouse worked, as Warren didn’t know anything about them. He
was amazed at my knowledge and the adventures that Heath, Ayden,
and I had shared, and I described everything about Elizabeth—from
her curly blond hair and bright blue eyes, to the way Heath and I
taught her how to sign.

Warren was most interested in Momma and Daddy
and leaned forward with his full attention when I described how in
love they were.

“Momma’s eyes lit up every time she saw
Daddy. She was so beautiful, and every man who ever saw her thought
so. Daddy didn’t like other men gazing at her. But she only had
eyes for him, and they were deeply in love; even when she went mad,
she was still in love with him,” I said, and took a long
breath.

Warren was on the edge of his chair,
engrossed in the story then asked in a somber tone, “Your momma—how
did she die?”

“Daddy never told me,” I replied, wiping away
a small tear that escaped the corner of my eye.

“She is buried here, in Savannah?”

“Yes.”

He went quiet, deep in thought. His eyes
glazed over with a sorrow that I had only seen in Daddy. I
suspected maybe he had lost a love once, maybe even a wife, but I
was unsure I could ask him something so personal. Then he revealed,
of his own accord, what I wanted to know. Warren stared at me
intently, earnest in his own memories of a woman who’d claimed his
heart, just as Momma had done to Daddy.

“I had a love once, a love that took hold of
my heart and never let go. She was a strikingly beautiful young
woman, and I fell madly in love with her from the first moment I
set eyes on her.”

“And what happened to her?” I asked in a soft
whisper, both jealous and captivated by his passionate memories of
a woman that he obviously never stopped loving.

“To my dismay, to my sheer wretchedness, she
was in love with another man. He took her far away; they married,
but not one day has gone by that I haven’t thought about her. Not
one day, Lillian,” he said, with such angst, it made my heart pound
heavy in my chest. I couldn’t imagine any woman not falling madly
in love with Warren. He was handsome and sincere. Warren brought a
sense of Heath to me, so much so it made me frightened of my own
feelings. It was everything Momma had described to me. I felt for
Warren the way she had for Daddy. Almost as much, if not more, than
I had for my childhood crush Heath Dalton. Momma had told me about
love at first sight; she said it happened with Daddy. “The moment
he stepped into the room, I knew I would love him forever,” she
once told me.

That kind of love was genuine and
everlasting, and as much as I thought I could share that emotion
with Heath, I knew he didn’t feel the same way for me, though he
did kiss me once. But it was a mistake; he told me so. I knew he
was thinking of Clara when he placed his soft lips on mine; I
remembered. Heath would never love me the way I loved him. He loved
me like a sister, nothing more, and nothing less.

The night was sweltering; there was no relief
from the imposing heat. Warren gave me one of his long dress shirts
to wear and his bed to sleep in. He was a gentleman, in every
way.

“I will sleep outside on the porch,” he said
after I was situated in the bed. “Is there anything I can get you
before you go to sleep?”

He was standing at the foot of the bed when
he asked me. I sat up and smiled, then said with much sincerity,
“You have given me hope, Mr. Stone. Thank you for everything.”

He had saved me from being returned to
imprisonment; he was going to take me to Savannah, the first step
in my return to Jasper Island, and for that, I was eternally
grateful.

“Goodnight then,” he said, and I didn’t close
my eyes until he was out the door and settled on the porch for the
night.

My eyes were closed, but in my mind, all I
could see was Daddy’s face, and I imagined how happy he would be to
see me again. At first, he would be taken back by my appearance,
but hopefully he would understand and see that he was wrong, that
he shouldn’t have sent me away and left me with my evil
grandmother. I would tell him how she locked me away and starved
me, and that she struck me. Daddy would know that Warren Stone had
saved me from the poisonous snake and was the sole reason I was
alive and returned to him. I imagined Daddy opening his loving arms
and me running into his embrace. He would smother me with kisses
and tell me he was sorry, that he’d made a terrible mistake by
leaving me in Savannah, and that he would never do such a thing
again. We would go on to work the lighthouse together and happiness
would find us, even if we were many miles out into the Atlantic,
far away from the people of the world.

The only thing I wanted to do was keep in
touch with Warren, exchange occasional letters. Perhaps he could
even come and visit us. Daddy would thank him for rescuing me, for
saving his daughter, his only child. I could see them becoming
friends, and I also saw a chance, an ever-so-slight chance, that
maybe in time, Warren could fall in love with me, and love me just
as much as he did the woman who gave her heart to another man.

I spent the entire night thinking about our
trip into Savannah, the train ride home, and the long journey to
Jasper Island. I hoped Warren would spare me some money, for I had
none. He wasn’t as desperate and destitute as Grandmother, though I
didn’t know what he did for a living.

I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and
finally, when the sun rose bright and early, I got into my dress
and went out to wake Warren. He slouched in the rocker, in a deep
sleep, almost the way Daddy used to be when he drank from his
bottles of rum. I placed my hand on his arm and lightly shook him
until he slowly came awake. His heavy lids gradually opened, and
when his eyes fell onto me, he lifted his hand and tenderly
caressed my face, then said, “Are you real, or is it just another
dream?”

My heart raced, and I instinctively stepped
back from him. His hand dropped, startling him. Warren abruptly sat
up in the chair and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then when he
realized it was me, got up, and apologized for his confused state
of mind.

“I fell into a weighty sleep. I’m sorry for
not waking right away. I will hurry and hitch the buggy so we can
leave.”

I waited for him in the same rocker where he
slept while he went around back for the horse. Suddenly, he ran
back, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out of the chair and into the
house, locking the door behind him. I was startled, but he quickly
explained.

“They are out on horseback looking for
you!”

“Who?”

“Eugenia and Hamilton.”

I gasped and ran to him. He held me for a
moment; I felt his heart beating hard and fast against my bosom. I
didn’t want to let go of him, I was so afraid they would find me
and take me back. Warren knew I was petrified and saw my terror as
I gazed up at him. There was great fortitude in his eyes; he
wouldn’t let them take me.

“Stay here; let me handle this.”

“Please, Mr. Stone; please don’t let them
take me,” I pleaded.

“I promise I won’t.” He reached for his
musket, which was leaning up against the wall, and headed out to
confront them. I stayed hidden beside the window and peeked out as
Grandmother and Hamilton arrived.

“What are you doing here, Eugenia?”

She sat like a stone statue on the horse and
demanded to know where I was. “She is my granddaughter. Where is
she, Mr. Stone?”

“I don’t know anything about your
granddaughter,” he said, holding the musket at his side.

“We saw her with you. Now where is she?”
Grandmother screeched.

Warren raised the musket and pointed it at
her. “You be on your way, Eugenia. You’re trespassing on my
property.”

“Do you want me to bring the constable out
here, Warren? I know she is with you!”

Warren aimed the musket right at her. “Get
off my property before I shoot you, Mrs. Arrington. I mean it.”

She hastily looked to Hamilton, then back at
Warren. “We’ll be back—with the constable next time,” she said, and
the two of them rode off.

My heart was in my throat. I could barely
catch my breath. Warren came in and put the musket down. “They’re
gone.”

“What are we going to do?” I cried, unable to
fight back my tears.

Warren came to me and placed his hands on my
arms. “Don’t worry about any of this. I will take care of it.” He
was confident; his eyes told me he would fight to the death for me.
I didn’t understand why he would risk so much for me. After all, he
was a complete stranger.

So we sat and waited for Grandmother to
return. The morning went by painstakingly slow. It was a typical,
early summer Georgia day—hot and humid. Warren was subdued, and I
sat on the bed as he watched out the window, musket in hand,
waiting for them. I felt guilty for his involvement, and went to
him, to apologize.

“I’m so very sorry, Mr. Stone. I didn’t mean
for any of this to happen. All I wanted was to get to Savannah, to
the train, and make my way home to the lighthouse station.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder. He closed
his eyes and took a long breath, then another.

I wasn’t sure if he was angry or sad, or
both. I didn’t want him to point a finger at me, to hold me
accountable for all of the unexpected problems he had to deal with,
but I wouldn’t blame him for one second if he did. He had every
right to send me back to Sutton Hall.

“You don’t need to be sorry, Lillian. None of
this is your fault.” He opened his eyes and continued to stare out
the window.

“But it is,” I cried.

“Please go back and sit.”

I lowered my hand and did as he said. I sat
against the wall and closed my eyes, tired, emotionally drained,
and overcome with the day’s oppressive heat. It wasn’t long before
I crept down, placed my head on the pillow, and drifted off into a
nap.

Warren shook me awake. The sounds of crickets
were all around. It was night; the only light came from the one oil
lamp on the table by the window. I had slept the day away. I flew
up, prepared for battle.

“Relax. They didn’t return.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just as I said. It is late, almost ten
o’clock. There was no sign of them all day.”

“That’s wonderful,” I said, and impulsively
hugged him. “Isn’t it?”

Warren gave me a forced smile then said, “Of
course.”

He believed they would come. If not that day,
then maybe the next. Grandmother wasn’t going to give up. Warren
knew better. My smile faded, along with his. He sat on the edge of
the bed, exhausted. I was so grateful to him, and I hoped he
understood. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him.