The Lightkeeper's Bride (6 page)

Something about his voice . . . She stopped and replayed in her head the conversation she’d heard. That’s why the man sounded familiar. He sounded like her father. But it couldn’t have been. Her father would never betray Mama.

“Katie, you’re beginning to alarm me.”

She lifted her eyes to his. “It sounded like you, Papa,” she said.

“Eliza told the man she needed money from him to raise the baby or she would go to his wife and daughter.” She licked dry lips. “Is little Jennie your child?”

Tea sloshed over the edge of the cup and into the saucer as he put the cup on the counter. “This is not an appropriate subject to discuss with you, Katherine.”

His use of her full name betrayed his agitation even more than his shaking hands. “I have to know, Papa,” she whispered. “Another man took Jennie with him because he wondered if the child might be his brother’s.”

“What man?”

“The new lightkeeper. Will Jesperson.”

“I don’t know him.”

“He arrived in town today.”

He stroked his mustache. “He took the child?”

She nodded. “But if this baby belongs to you, we must tell Mama.

She will want to do the right thing and bring her here.”

He sighed. “Eliza Bulmer is a–a woman of loose morals.”

It was true. All of it. She couldn’t bear to think of it, but she had to know. “She told you Jennie was your child?”

“I’m not going to discuss it with you, Katie. It’s most inappropriate.”

She steeled her emotions against his stubborn gaze. “Because you don’t want to admit what you’ve done to Mama? Or because you doubt Eliza’s veracity?”

His brows drew together. “This doesn’t involve you.”

“I’ve been dragged into it, whether you like it or not. And what about Jennie?”

“If an upstanding man is willing to take responsibility for her parentage, I fail to see why you persist in sticking your nose into this affair. Leave it be.” He set down his cup with a rattle and turned to walk out.

“Did you kill Eliza?” she blurted out then put her hand to her mouth.

He stopped and turned to face her. “Is that what you think?” His eyes were hurt. “You know me much too well to jump to such a conclusion. At least I hope you do.”

Looking into his familiar face, she couldn’t believe she’d actually harbored the notion her father could be a killer. She closed her eyes, thinking back. “I heard you leave. But then the door opened again. There was a frightful thump—what I assume was Eliza, hitting the floor.”

Katie opened her eyes again. His face was white, and she knew that he had been there. “Did you tell this to the constable?” he asked.

She nodded. “But not about your voice. I didn’t place it until a few moments ago.”

“I did not go back,” he said, his voice firm. “You must believe me, Katie. I couldn’t bear it if you thought I might do something like that. There is no reason to implicate me in this. Please, Katie.”

She gave a reluctant nod. “All right, Papa.”

S
IX

T
HE CHILD’S SOLEMN
gaze never left Will’s face. He’d already unloaded the buckboard, and he studied the baby sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace. The clock on the mantle chimed eight times, and twilight was giving into night. He’d need to wind the light soon. Philip had better arrive by then to take charge of this little girl.

“A-a, eh-ooh?” she asked. Her index finger pointed for emphasis.

Her expression indicated she was quite sure he knew exactly what she was saying. “Er, I see,” he said, feeling like a fool. Was he supposed to understand the string of vowels? “Are you hungry?”

Her small fingers seized the edge of the chair beside her, and she pulled herself up until she stood beside the chair. She sidled around the cushion toward the end table that would support her weight. She glanced at him as if to ask if she was permitted to touch it.

“I think we’d better move you.” He lifted her away from the chair and she squawked until he deposited her next to the davenport. Her eyes brightened, and she began to walk the length of it. What did he give a child to play with? And what had he been thinking to take responsibility for her? He’d thought he would insist Philip take charge and grow up, but he had no guarantees his brother would own up to his part in this child’s life.

Carriage wheels crunched on gravel outside. Will scooped up Jennie and carried her to the front door in time to see his brother step onto the porch. He carried a glossy black bird on his arm.

“What the devil do you have?” Will demanded, eyeing the bird’s yellow wattles.

“A present for you. His name is Paco. He’s a mynah.”

“I don’t need a bird.”

“Well, I have no place to put it.” Philip eased the bird from his arm onto a nearby table. “And I understand he’s quite valuable.”

“You’ve been playing cards again, haven’t you?” Will said.

Philip rolled his eyes and shrugged off his coat, hanging it on a peg by the door.

“I thought you intended to pursue this job like a man, Philip. You promised me.”

“I am pursuing my job,” Philip said, shooting him an aggravated look. “Sometimes that means I must pursue clues where my informants are most likely to be, regardless of whether or not you approve of it.”

The mynah screeched and Philip dumped a handful of seeds from his pocket onto the table. The creature picked up one and cracked it. “Step away from the cake!” it screeched.

Will was in no mood for another responsibility. He glared at the bird.

Philip glanced from Will to the baby in his arms, seeming to see her for the very first time. A frown gathered his brows. “Who is
that
?” he asked. The baby wrapped her arm around Will’s neck. “Your daughter,” Will said, staring hard at him.

Philip took a step back. “I have no inclination to decipher your ramblings, Will. What are you talking about?”

Perhaps he’d been too abrupt. “When did you last see Eliza Bulmer?”

His brother straightened then brushed past Will into the foyer. “Do you have any coffee?”

“In the kitchen.” Will followed him down the hall to the kitchen and watched as his brother poured a cup of coffee from the pot simmering on the wood range. “Are you going to answer my question?” The baby squirmed in his arms and he set her down on the rug by the back door. She began to clang together the pot lids he handed her.

“Why this sudden interest in Eliza?”

Will clenched his fists. “Examine this child’s eyes and nose and guess what I’m thinking.”

Philip set his cup on the table and stared down at the baby. “That child isn’t mine—if that’s the conclusion you’ve jumped to.”

“Oh no? When did you have this relationship with Eliza?”

James shifted uneasily. “A couple of years ago, I guess. Maybe a little less.” His gaze stayed on Jennie. “Lots of people have brown eyes.”

Will swept his hand toward the little girl. “Look at the way her hair grows at her hairline. And that cowlick. I believe she’s your daughter.

Did Eliza ever tell you she was pregnant?”

“I haven’t talked to her,” Philip said, his tone sullen.

“When did you last speak with her?”

“I received a letter a year ago asking me to call on her, that she had something of importance to tell me.”

“Jennie is about a year old.”

Philip held his hands out in front of him. “That is very flimsy evidence to try to prove this child is mine, Will. I don’t believe it.

Why wouldn’t she ask for money when she discovered she was pregnant?”

“Maybe she was waiting for you to show up so she could discuss it in person.”

“Why don’t you just ask Eliza? How did you get this child anyway?”

Will studied his brother’s expression. No trace of guilt darkened his eyes or tugged at his mouth. If something had befallen Eliza, Will didn’t think Philip was involved. “She’s missing. I found the baby alone in the parlor when I stopped by to speak to Miss Bulmer.”

“She left a child of this age alone?”

“A chair was overturned in the kitchen. I fear foul play.”

Philip picked up his cup and took a sip. “And you thought I had something to do with that? For what purpose?”

“I don’t suspect you of harming Miss Bulmer, but I do believe you need to be a man and take responsibility for your child.”

“You are not going to foist this baby on me without proof I’m her father!”

Jennie’s face crumpled. She dropped the pan lids and began to wail. Will lifted her from the rug and put her against his shoulder. “There, there.” He patted her back awkwardly.

The baby wailed louder, and he smelled a distinctly unpleasant aroma wafting from the direction of the diaper that hung heavily from her bottom. “I think you’d better change her, Philip.”

“Me? You brought her here. I have no idea how to change a baby and no desire to learn.”

Will shifted the squalling child to the other arm. “Do you seriously expect me to believe you don’t see the resemblance between this child and yourself?”

Philip thrust out his chin. “She’s not mine.”

“You don’t think she could possibly be yours? That you didn’t have relations with the woman?”

Philip’s gaze wandered off. “I fail to see how this is any of your business, Will.”

“Grow up, Philip. Be a man and take responsibility!” He tried to hand the baby to his brother, but Jennie clung to him and wailed all the more.

“You brought her here. She’s your responsibility. Maybe her mother will turn up tomorrow.” Philip wheeled and stalked out of the kitchen.

The front door banged a few moments later, and Will stared into the red face of the little girl. His shirtsleeve was soaked in a most unpleasant manner, and the stench from the diaper filled the kitchen. He would have to do this by himself. Cursing himself for failing to consider his brother’s temperament, he rushed to the case of baby paraphernalia Miss Russell had packed and extracted a diaper. Holding the baby at arm’s length, he went back to the kitchen and found a cloth, which he dampened with warm water from the teakettle sitting on the stove. He laid her on the counter and undid the pins. Flinching at the odor of feces, he cautiously peered inside the soggy scrap of cloth.

And cringed at the mess inside.

How did one go about cleaning up a child when she kept trying to roll over? Keeping one hand on the baby, he rolled up his sleeves and set to work. Fifteen minutes later Jennie was gurgling her nonsense words happily while he was drenched in perspiration and covered with flecks of dark matter he didn’t want to think about further.

He had no idea how he was going to survive the contretemps he’d gotten himself into.

The light flashed on the switchboard. Katie’s eyes still felt gritty from lack of sleep. Nell would be here by six o’clock and she could go home. She’d hated to leave her mother this morning, but Papa had arranged for another clerk to come in to man the store. He would watch over Mama himself. Katie had called the constable the moment she got to her switchboard, but there had been no sign of Eliza and no clue to the identity of their attacker.

A light flashed on the board. She plugged in the toggle. “Operator.”

“Katie Russell?”

The voice echoed strangely in her ear, and Katie glanced at the switchboard to see the location. The skating rink. “This is Katie Russell.”

“What did you hear yesterday, Miss Russell?”

Her tongue dried. “Who is this?” She vaguely heard the door bang behind Nell as she came in and removed her hat in preparation for the evening shift.

“You’d better keep your mouth shut, miss. The boss don’t take kindly to interference.”

She wetted her lips. “What have you done with Eliza?”

Nell’s head turned sharply, and she stepped toward Katie. “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

Katie shushed her. “That baby needs her mother. Where is Eliza?”

“You don’t want to go where she is. If you tell anyone what you heard, you’ll join her.”

“Why did you try to take Jennie?”

“That doesn’t matter. Not now.”

The headset clicked in her ear after the ominous words. She tore it from her head and handed it to Nell. “I have to go,” she said. If she hurried, maybe whoever had called would still be at the rink.

“Katie, wait, who was that?” Nell called after her.

Katie jammed a pin through her hat and rushed out the door without answering. She didn’t take time to strap on her skates but just grabbed them up and ran across the street and down to Hibiscus Street. The gaslight hissed a greeting as she reached the door to the skating rink. From inside she could hear the thump and rumble of skates on hardwood. Pushing inside the door, she glanced around for the telephone. Cigar smoke hung thick in the air. She spotted the telephone on the wall behind the counter.

She stepped to the wooden bar. “Is that the only telephone here?”

The woman behind the counter, a blonde who obviously had rouge on her cheeks, nodded. “Sorry, we don’t allow anyone to use it.” She popped her chewing gum.

The scent of the Tutti-Frutti gum wafted Katie’s way. She’d never seen the woman before. “Did you just come on duty?”

“I’ve been here for two hours.”

It was a man’s voice she’d heard. Katie was sure of it. “Has anyone asked to make a call?”

“I told you. We don’t allow no one to use it. I’d get in trouble if I let you.”

Katie kept her voice low in spite of the noise from the skates. “I don’t wish to use it. I want to know who used it fifteen minutes ago.”

The young woman popped her gum again and her gaze shifted away. “Told you, no one.”

“I’m the operator. A call came from here fifteen minutes ago. It was a man.”

The woman picked up a pencil then put it down again. “No ma’am. No calls from here.”

“I won’t tell your boss, but I have to find out who it was. I know it was from this telephone unless there is another one in the building.

Some fellow sweet-talk you into letting him make a call?”

The girl flushed. “It was a short call. There was no harm.”

“Did you know him?”

The blonde shook her head. “He was quite the gent though. Dark brown hair and eyes. Tall with nice shoulders and a smile that, well, you understand.”