Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy (77 page)

The local newspaper’s front page included the
tragic story of Warren’s death—a first-hand account, the full
details of what happened. The only witness, the driver, stated
Warren died instantly, which put my mind at ease, for there was a
part of my heart that had once truly loved him. The article
mentioned a young girl, with Mr. Stone at the time of the incident,
who was being sought after for questioning. The driver did not have
a good description of me; his eyes had been captured by the
gruesome scene.

So I was confident as I strolled about the
train station with only the newspaper I’d purchased in my hand,
waiting for Richard and his wife Judith to arrive. I was only
slightly skeptical, suspicious, and concerned that Richard had lied
to me. I honestly believed he was going to show up and buy me my
train ticket that would take me all the way up to Maine.

The station quickly began to fill with
morning travelers, and I was shoved and bumped enough times to put
myself in a corner, where I kept a keen eye out for them. And when
there were barely fifteen minutes to spare before the train
departed, I saw him trailing behind Judith to the ticket counter. I
let out a long sigh of relief and proceeded over.

“Lillian, you’re here,” he exclaimed when I
tapped him on the shoulder. “One extra ticket,” he said to the
ticket taker.

Judith turned her head slightly and gave me a
forced smile. After she had the tickets in hand, we gathered on the
platform. I waited for her to hand me my ticket, but she
immediately gave it to the conductor, then Richard ushered me onto
the train and my mind was transported back years before, when Daddy
put us on the train and my life took a dramatic turn for the
worse.

It was still almost impossible to believe
that the man who raised me and loved me so unconditionally was an
imposter. Daddy wasn’t my daddy after all, and it hurt beyond
words. The feeling of loss would be forced to the deepest depths of
my soul—covered and buried, just so I could go on.

When we were settled in our seats, in the
private car meant for rich travelers exclusively, I looked at
Richard and Judith and smiled in appreciation. The train began
rolling, and I felt fortunate to have met a man who valued me, even
if it was only because of my attractiveness.

Judith was much older than Richard, by at
least ten years, I suspected. I could tell she must have been
beautiful in her day, though she now covered her filled-out face
with layers of makeup. I had never seen a woman with so much makeup
on, and it was revolting. Her expensive French perfume, was heavy,
lingered, and crept into my nose. Judith wore expensive clothes.
Her dress was pastel, a lovely cuirasse, v-shaped collar bodice
with pleated cuffs and lace trim, and the bustle skirt was so
pronounced I wondered how she sat comfortably. I felt plain in the
simple dress Warren had bought me.

Judith had noticed me scanning her attire and
drank in my envy. She stuck her pudgy nose in the air and gave me a
sly smirk. Her protruding round eyes were dark brown, and her hair
was coarse, like horse hair, and fiery red.

I paid close attention to their relationship,
and right from the beginning, I could see Richard was more like her
servant than her husband. When she spoke, he sat at full attention,
however I could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. Judith didn’t
seem to notice.

“When we arrive in New York, I wish to travel
out to the estate immediately,” she said, bringing out a powder
compact to dab the shine from her nose.

“Yes, dear,” Richard said, winking at me.

“I’m hungry, Richard. Take me to the dining
car,” she whined. Richard lifted her from her seat and led her out
of the private car.

When they were gone, I pulled the newspaper
from under my seat, glanced at it one last time, then pulled up the
seat cushion and slid it underneath. Richard quickly returned and
sat back down. “I brought you back a piece of cornpone. If you want
a full breakfast, you can go in and place your order.”

Richard was different from the man I met when
he was alone. His wife brought out a more subdued and passive side.
There wasn’t the sparkle in his eye that he had when he
sketched.

“I want to thank you again, Richard,” I
said.

He had been looking over his shoulder, almost
afraid she would reject her morning feast. “What? Oh, sure,
Lillian. I’m happy to help.”

Richard put a warm smile on his face when he
realized Judith wasn’t coming back anytime soon, then sat back,
stretched his long legs and said, “Don’t forget, you have the power
to make all things possible.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m just glad I met
you and you convinced me to be a model for a day. That was my
ticket home, then and there.”

“So,” he began, crossing his arms over his
chest. “Where exactly do you live?”

“On a lighthouse station. My daddy is waiting
there for me. There is also a second keeper and his family.”

Richard gazed at me, skeptical. But it was
the truth—well, except for Daddy waiting for me.

“I see. It is unfortunate.”

“What is?”

“You keeping your beauty hidden away on a
desolate lighthouse station off the chilly coast of Maine.”

“Well, that’s where my family is,” I
replied.

“And what became of that friend of yours you
were staying with?” Richard asked as his copper eyes went dark and
narrow. I refused to let him see the pain and anguish that haunted
me, so I smiled and said, “He has his life, I have mine. He said he
would come and visit next summer.”

“And your daddy—things are now better?”

Richard had obviously remembered everything I
told him with great accuracy.

“Yes, thank you for asking.” I confidently
smiled, then realized I was nervously twisting my hair around my
fingers. Richard turned to stare out the window, then said without
turning back, “The man who was killed yesterday, was that your
friend?”

He must have heard a small cry escape my
lips, for he sharply swung his head and locked his eyes to mine. I
bit my lower lip and didn’t say anything. My heart raced, and I
feared he would make me get off at the next stop, abandoning me for
being involved in such a terrible incident. But his eyes softened
and he reached out to touch my trembling hand.

“Remember, I’m here to help. I’m your
friend.”

I eased my hand out from under his, fighting
back the tears that were building up under my lids.

Richard cleared his throat, and in a hushed
voice said, “I don’t think it would be wise for you to return home
just yet.”

I wiped away the tear that escaped the corner
of my eye then asked, “Why not?”

“They will be looking for you. No crime,
Lillian, goes unpunished.”

“There was no crime,” I cried. My voice had
tightened, and I was unable to keep from sobbing.

“I believe, without a doubt, that you have
done no wrong. I saw the way he was—” He leaned over so no one
would hear him. “I’m certain he did some terrible things to you. He
no doubt deserved to be trampled.”

I closed my eyes and took a long breath. Once
again, the dark, stormy clouds that always lingered nearby were
closing in, leaving my journey to the light on the edge and out of
reach.

“What do you suggest I do?” I asked, my eyes
closed.

Richard paused, and I listened as he took
long, effortless breaths. I waited, wondering what he was thinking
then opened my eyes and looked at him. He sat confident and
assured, the man with the sketchbook who believed all things were
possible.

“Come with us to New York. Let me introduce
you around. I have connections. I can make you famous.”

Richard sounded confident, but it didn’t
sound good to me at all.

“I think I will take my chances and return to
Jasper Island. I have no intentions of being famous. That’s not a
life that appeals to me.”

Richard wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Then
perhaps it would be wise if you spent a few days with us, just to
let things simmer down. You need to lay low until the storm passes.
Then you can make your way up to Maine. What do you say?”

I thought about it for a moment. Richard made
sense. Maybe he was right; let the storm pass, wait it out. I had
learned from my years on lighthouse stations to be wary of storms
and to avoid them at all costs; otherwise, you were likely to be
torn up, broken, and pulled to the far depths of the unforgiving
sea.

“I suppose a few days couldn’t hurt,” I said,
resigned.

“Good, very good. Judith wants to return to
the estate and you and I will remain in the city. After a few days,
I will put you on the train, and off to Maine you shall go.”
Richard was satisfied, but he hadn’t broken the news to Judith.

“You won’t tell your wife about—”

He stopped me by leaning in and putting his
long finger over my lips. “This is between you and me. This is our
secret. Let me do all the talking.”

Another secret. That part I worried about.
Secrets were no good; they only led to more problems, sometimes
even horrible tragedies.

Judith returned to the car. Richard stood at
attention and waited to assist her to her seat. When she turned to
sit, Richard smiled and winked, then sat back down next to her.
Judith gave me a quick scowl then closed her eyes and said, “I’m
ready for a nap.”

Within only a few minutes, she was resting
her head on Richard’s shoulder and snoring loudly. I giggled, and
Richard rolled his eyes in displeasure then whispered, “She snores
like a pig.”

I nodded, and I sat back, relaxed, and found
my hand pressing against the small book hidden in my skirt pocket.
Then I remembered Hattie and what she told me. This was Momma’s
book, her thoughts and words from when she was a girl. There were
stories and secrets and forbidden love captured on every page of
paper, and I had it in my possession. I carefully pulled out the
journal and held it in my hands for a while. Richard had closed his
eyes and leaned his head against Judith’s, dozing lightly.

I looked down into my lap and slowly opened
the frail book. My eyes fell onto the first discolored page, and I
hesitated, my fingers trembling as they held the tattered book
open, and I apprehensively began to read Momma’s wistful words that
were filled with all things disgraceful and wholeheartedly
beautiful.

# # #

*The Arrington saga continues with
All That is Beautiful
(book II)*
It is the year 1878, and at last, Lillian, now a young woman, is
free from the prison called Sutton Hall and the evil grandmother
who ruled. After years locked away far from her beloved lighthouse
on Jasper Island, she finds her only escape through sheer luck and
the generosity of one man, Richard Parker, an aspiring commercial
illustrator. Though Lillian is shamed by the sins of her parents
and the unspeakable act committed by Warren Stone, she entrusts her
life to the charismatic, though married, Richard, until it is safe
to return home. However life, as unpredictable as the sea, has
other plans for Lillian. Not long after leaving, she is caught up
in an adult world of money, greed, drugs, and sinful pleasures,
turning her life upside down once again. It is only when Lillian
discovers the shocking truth to Richard's cruel years of deception
that she finally returns to her lighthouse, desperate to recapture
her lost years, and most of all, lost love. But fate has one more
devastating surprise in store, leaving Lillian with
incomprehensible choices, and ultimately, tearing her beautiful new
world apart.

Roxane Tepfer Sanford

Copyright © 2010 Roxane Tepfer Sanford

All rights reserved. No part of this
publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or
any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in
writing from both the copyright owner and the publisher.

All That is Beautiful
is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the
product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead
is entirely coincidental.

Printed in The United States

Library of Congress Control Number:
2010906355

ISBN:
978-1468128376

Books by Roxane Tepfer Sanford

The Arrington series

The Girl in the Lighthouse

All That is Beautiful

Sacred Intentions

* * *