Undaunted Hope (15 page)

“And he's forcing Benney to send his son to the mine. Said he's too old to be in school.”

“No.” Alex could do nothing more than breathe a horrified whisper. Henry Benney was Tessa's pride and joy. And it was no wonder. The boy was a genius as far as Alex was concerned. He had no doubt Tessa was brokenhearted to lose him as her student.

Without waiting for further explanation, Alex bounded toward his coat hanging near the back door. He had to get to her before she did something rash, like stomp off to Percival's and give him a tongue-lashing.

“I walked her home already,” Michael said.

Alex stuffed his arms into his coat and wrapped his scarf around his neck.

“You don't need to go,” Michael insisted.

“I want to make sure she isn't planning to do anything stupid.”

“I don't think she will.”

Alex wasn't so sure. Tessa had too much spunk to sit back for long and do nothing. He had to go to her for himself and make sure she was acting level-headed.

“Do you think you're going to comfort her more than I was able to?” Behind him, Michael's voice was suddenly taut.

All fall and winter, Alex had tried to pretend he had nothing to worry about with Michael growing attached to Tessa. He'd rationalized that Michael couldn't possibly care for Tessa as deeply as he could. Michael was simply coming out of the fog he'd been in for so long, but he'd soon lose interest in Tessa and move on to someone else.

Apparently he'd been fooling himself.

Michael shoved away from the doorframe, and the sharpness in his gaze pricked Alex. “Or maybe you don't think she could find comfort in my arms?”

Alex spun toward Michael so fast that he almost tripped. “She was in your arms?”

“What if she was?” Michael asked. “I have every right to hold her that you do.”

Alex wanted to protest but knew Michael was right. Tessa hadn't ever let him hold her, at least not willingly. If he'd slipped his arm around her once or twice, or if he'd touched her face or hands, it wasn't because she'd encouraged him.

She very well might like Michael more than him. What if Michael was having more success than he was in making Tessa fall in love with him? “I hope you haven't kissed her.”

“It's none of your business whether I have or not.”

Hot jealousy shot through Alex. Had Michael kissed Tessa? He studied Michael's face, searching for the truth, but his expression was smooth and suave. And dark with irritation. “I don't think you should even be attempting to kiss her,” Alex said.

“I don't think you should be either.”

Alex thought back on all the times he'd wanted to kiss her. Since the mine incident, he'd vowed he wouldn't put Tessa into a compromising situation again. And as difficult as it had been, he hadn't sought her out alone.

But maybe Michael was closing in. In fact, what if he was taking the lead in winning Tessa's heart?

Alex had a strange urge to punch his brother in the gut. It was the first time in years, maybe even since they'd been boys, that he'd wanted to launch himself against his brother and have a fistfight. Of course, the last time they'd fought, Michael had been bigger and stronger and had easily subdued him.

Alex's biceps twitched. But now, though Michael was older, Alex was decidedly bigger. One punch to the stomach and another to the ribs and he'd knock Michael out in no time.

As if sensing the challenge, Michael straightened and puffed out his chest.

Alex tensed, and for a long moment neither of them said anything.

Guilt crept in and began to prod Alex. “Listen,” he finally said. “All I'm going to do is make sure Tessa doesn't go over to Percival's house. Then I'll be back.”

Michael pursed his lips but remained quiet.

Alex knew he should promise Michael that he wouldn't try anything with Tessa and that everything would be okay. But he couldn't, not when he had the overwhelming desire to stake his claim on Tessa before Michael could. He wanted to be the first to kiss her and ask her to marry him, and he couldn't stand the thought that Michael might already have done it.

With Michael's piercing gaze following him, Alex walked out of the house. He slid into his cross-country skis, and by the time he arrived at Tessa's home, he'd cooled considerably. His irrational anger toward his brother had been replaced with humor that he'd almost gotten into a fight with Michael over a woman.

In the darkness of the starless night, the light shining from
the front window shimmered across the powdery snow that drifted high against the house, rising to the windows in some places. Through the thin walls he could hear the boys roaring or wrestling or something.

His gloved hand stalled above the door handle. Maybe he shouldn't have come after all. Maybe he was paranoid and needed to trust Tessa better. At his heels Wolfie growled low at the back of her throat. Alex put a steadying hand on her head, but she ducked and started to slink away from him toward the side of the house.

“Wolfie,” he whispered. “Stay, lass.”

But Wolfie acted as if she hadn't heard him, bounding around the corner.

Alex gave a low whistle to call her back. When she didn't respond, he set his poles next to his skis and tromped through the deep snow toward where the dog had disappeared. He rounded the house to find Wolfie sitting in front of an apparition of coat and scarf illuminated only faintly by the glow of an upstairs window. The dog's head was raised eagerly against a gloved hand that was rubbing her snout and the spot between her eyes.

Tessa.

He didn't say anything. He was too overcome with relief that he'd arrived in time to stop her from running over to Percival's. He had no doubt Percival was waiting for Tessa to come to him, like a spider sitting in its web anticipating its next meal.

Her hand drifted to Wolfie's neck behind her ears.

“Michael told you about my night class?” she said, her breath a cloud of gray that settled in the air like a shroud.

He nodded, not trusting himself yet to speak.

“Did he tell you about Henry Benney?” Her voice caught on the edge of a sob.

He nodded again.

She patted Wolfie's side and then lifted one of her shoulders to brush at her cheek.

Was she crying?

He stepped closer. “I'm sorry, Tessa.”

She sniffled. “It's not fair.”

“I know it's not.” He reached a hand toward her, but then stopped. He didn't want to cross the boundary he'd set, though he felt the need to comfort her.

When she finally lifted her face, her eyes glistened with unshed tears and her cheeks were streaked with the ones that had already run over.

An ache rose in his chest. He cast caution aside and reached for her.

She didn't resist. She fell into him and wrapped her arms around his waist. With a shudder she buried her face into his chest and shook with silent sobs.

He rested his cheek against the scratchy wool of her knitted cap.

She cried for a few minutes. Each of her shudders rippled through him and made him all the angrier at Percival Updegraff.

“Aw, beautiful,” Alex murmured against her head. “I wish I could make everything all better for you and for them.”

She gave a long sigh. “Can't we do anything, Alex?”

“I've already written to the owners of Cole Mine a couple of times to complain about Percival, but he runs this place well and turns them a hefty profit. I'm sure they'd be hard-pressed to find another supervisor as responsible and trustworthy.”

“But don't the Coles care about how he treats their workers?” she asked into his coat. “How can they overlook such blatant abuse?”

“They're too far away and too busy to care what goes on with the workers here.” Even with the layers of coats and scarves separating them, he relished the firmness of her body against his. He had the urge to press a kiss into her hair which fell out of her hat near her forehead, but he fought for the inner strength to hold her and nothing more. She certainly didn't need him taking advantage in her moment of weakness.

“Promise me you won't ever go to Percival's house alone,” he said.

She rested silently against him for a long moment, then finally pulled away and replied, “I'd like to think I was braver, that I could stand up to Percival and fight for the rights of my students, and even though I wanted to go, I don't think I could have.”

He drew her closer again, gratefulness welling within him that God had spared her this time. But what about the next incident? As sure as another storm would strike again that winter, Percival would strike again as well.

A shudder tore at her thin body, one that came from her core and signaled the cold had grown unbearable.

“You need to go back inside,” he said, reluctantly pulling away. She didn't protest when he took her by the arm and led her around the house, following her footprints through the snow to the back door where she'd made her escape.

When her hand was on the knob, he released her and took a large step away so that he wouldn't draw her back into his arms like he wanted to.

She opened the door a crack and then paused. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded. “I'm always here for you.”

“You're a good friend, Alex,” she said, then slipped inside
and closed the door behind her, leaving him standing in the darkness and staring at the place she'd just been.

There was something in her tone that issued a warning, almost as if she was trying to convince both of them that friendship was all that could ever link them together.

He smiled. Friendship was a good place to start. But if she thought that was all there would ever be, then he'd enjoy proving her wrong.

Y
ou sure have quite the collection of gifts,” Josie said, studying the attic ledge where Tessa had started to keep the gifts Alex and Michael had bestowed upon her lately.

At her makeshift desk, Tessa was glad for the dimness of the attic that hid her embarrassment. Even though she'd told each of the men that she could offer them friendship only, that hadn't stopped them from seeking her out, giving her trinkets like beads or a leather bookmark or ribbons for her hair. The shelf was growing cluttered.

All throughout February and into March, the men had tried to outdo each other. They'd introduced her to cross-country skiing and fought over who got to teach her. Michael made her a pair of warm leather moccasin-like boots. Alex took her sledding with the children. Michael fixed the latch on the schoolhouse door when it was frozen. Alex brought her new books to read.

Another snowstorm had closed school again for a week and had given Tessa a reprieve from their interest, which she wasn't
sure how to handle anymore. She'd wanted to deny that their attention was anything more than friendship, but she supposed she finally had to admit their pursuit of her had gone too far.

“Which one are you planning to marry?” Josie asked, fingering the copper-colored stone Alex had given her. It contained white crystal flecks dotted throughout, a beautiful and unique specimen like so many of the rocks she'd seen along the shore. “Alex or Michael?”

“I'm not intending to get married,” Tessa protested. “At least not for a few more years, not until I've had the opportunity to teach a while longer.”

She blew into her frozen fingers. Even clad in gloves and wearing her coat, the attic was cold. In fact, there were times during the winter when it had been unbearably cold, and she and Josie had to make their beds on the floor in the kitchen next to the stove.

Thankfully, for the past week the temperature had begun to creep above freezing, the sun had shone brightly, and the snow melted into enormous puddles. She wanted to disregard the naysayers who told her that spring was still a month away, that they could still have snowstorms for several more weeks until the end of April.

On days when the cold in the attic was bearable, Tessa liked to retreat there for a rare moment of privacy—usually interrupted by Josie.

Josie picked up a simple carved cross Michael had given her. Tessa had placed it next to the driftwood cross, the one her brother-in-law, Ryan, had given her. The brittle letter that had come with the driftwood cross was stored safely in her Bible. The letter was written by a lightkeeper's daughter, Isabelle Thornton, well over fifteen years ago during a time of desperation and
heartache. Tessa loved reading Isabelle's story and the hope found by turning to the Giver of Hope.

Tessa had hung on to the cross for the past five years, since the time when she'd devised a foolish ploy to trap Ryan, the man her sister had loved, into marrying her instead. She'd been rash and selfish and desperate to get away from the lighthouse. When Ryan said he was leaving, she'd decided to force him to marry her and take her with him.

One night shortly after that, she'd tricked Ryan into taking his pain medicine. While he'd been under the influence of the opium pills, they'd gotten drunk together. After he passed out in bed, she'd crawled in next to him. That's where everyone found them the next morning. The lighthouse inspector, her sister, and even Ryan had insisted they get married, just as she'd hoped.

In the end, she confessed what she'd done and repented. But it hadn't changed the fact that everyone in Grosse Pointe and the Detroit area thought she was a loose woman. Even when she later explained that nothing had happened, her story sounded like the desperate attempt of a young woman to regain what was lost. Her reputation.

It had been lost ever since, until she'd arrived in Eagle Harbor in a place where no one knew anything about her past mistakes.

Tessa lovingly traced the dark grain of the shipwreck pieces that had been fashioned into a cross. Had she finally found hope here? Was it time to pass the cross along to someone else who needed it?

Isabelle Thornton's beautiful letter ended with an encouragement for the bearer of the cross to give it along with the letter to someone who needed hope. Tessa glanced sideways at Josie whose cropped bangs hung over her eyes in a crooked line. Should she give the cross to Josie?

“It must be wonderful to have two men who love you at the same time,” Josie said, flopping back onto the unmade bed. “I can't even keep one interested.”

Though Tessa was tempted to tell Josie
I
told you so
, she refrained. “First of all, the men don't love me,” she said while flipping the page of the arithmetic book in front of her. Maybe they were attracted to her, but that didn't equate to love. “Secondly, you don't need to have a boy who likes you in order to be happy.”

“First of all, they both adore you,” Josie said in a mocking tone. “And secondly, you're right. I don't need a boy. I need a man.”

Tessa almost sighed in exasperation. Having meaningful conversations with Josie could be exhausting.

“I'm tired of boys. They're immature and don't know what they want,” Josie babbled on. She wrapped herself in the thick comforter for warmth. “I think I'm going to start looking for a man. A
real
man.”

“Miss Taylor?” A call came from the stairwell, one of the younger Rawlings boys. “Gunnar Bjorklund is at the door asking for you.”

Tessa slowly closed her books and tidied her desk of the papers she was assembling for Henry Benney's secret school lesson. She'd learned from Gunnar's previous visits that there was no need to worry or rush. Ingrid liked to make up excuses to get her attention, and poor Gunnar was simply the messenger.

When Tessa arrived to the front room where he was waiting, she put on her sternest teacher expression. “I suppose Ingrid is making up another excuse to have me visit?”

His face flushed as it usually did. “I'm sorry, Miss Taylor. I told Ingrid we shouldn't come for you.” He stared at the wet
snow dribbling down his boots and forming a dirty puddle. Even though it was nigh into the evening, the temperatures were still above freezing, warm enough to melt more snow.

“Perhaps this time you should go back home and tell Ingrid I can't come.”

His chin dropped and he hung his head. “Yes, ma'am.” He hesitated for a moment before turning to the door.

Tessa wished she didn't have to be so firm with him, but what kind of message would she send if she came running every time the girl called? She'd already encouraged Ingrid too much as it was.

Gunnar opened the door and, his lantern in hand, started to shuffle through the thick fog that had been covering the bay and town all day and now made the evening even darker.

From the kitchen doorway Nadine called out over the noise of her children playing on the floor. “If your daddy and uncle don't come home tonight, you best let us know in the morning.” There was something in Nadine's tone that made Tessa's pulse stutter to a halt.

“They're not home?” She tossed the question after Gunnar. “Where did they go?”

The boy stopped, and when he turned to face her again, this time she saw the worry tightening his features. “They went out ice fishing this afternoon. Said they'd be back by midafternoon, but they're still not home.”

“I'm sure they're just running late,” she said. “Don't you think, Nadine?”

Nadine brushed at the wispy graying hair that floated around her face. “Maybe. But those two aren't taken to leaving the kiddies by themselves for too long.”

“I bet they're back right now, even as we speak,” Tessa said evenly, trying to remain calm. Nadine was right. Alex and Michael
were too responsible to stay out past dark knowing that Gunnar and Ingrid would be waiting and worrying.

She met Nadine's gaze, and the deathly seriousness there sent chills up Tessa's back.

Something must have happened.

The baby on Nadine's hip stopped sucking her thumb and let out a wail. She'd grown bigger over the winter, but she clung to Nadine wherever she went. Hoisting the baby to her opposite hip, Nadine said, “With the warmer weather, maybe the ice on the lake is breaking up. I heard some cracking earlier.”

The look on Gunnar's young face told her he'd already come to the same conclusion. Did they think Alex and Michael had fallen through the ice and drowned?

“Or maybe they got lost in the thick fog,” Nadine added.

Tessa's heart resumed its beating but at double the speed. “I'll go back with Gunnar and make sure the men are home.”

“You'll stay with the children through the night, won't you?” Nadine asked, crossing the room.

Tessa prayed that she wouldn't need to, that when she arrived at the lighthouse, Alex and Michael would be there waiting. But what if they weren't? What if even now they were out on the lake, fallen through the ice and drowning? “Yes, I'll stay. But what about going out to look for them?”

“There's no use tonight,” Nadine said. “Not unless we want to send more men to a watery—” At the sight of Gunnar's widening eyes, Nadine stopped. “It's too foggy,” she hurried to finish. “We'll have to wait till morning.”

Tessa could read what the woman didn't say, that if Alex and Michael had fallen into the lake, the freezing water would have killed them within minutes. There would have been no way for them to survive.

“Let's go,” Tessa said to Gunnar as she slipped on her coat. “I'm sure everything's going to be just fine.” She lifted a desperate plea that she was right.

“You send us word if they get home,” Nadine called after them. “Otherwise we'll form a search party in the morning.”

The very words
search party
made Tessa want to cry out in protest, but she forced herself to breathe and act normal. Hurrying through the darkness with Gunnar by her side, she prayed as she'd never prayed before.

When they stepped into the keeper's cottage and silence met them, Tessa's body threatened to buckle beneath her. The men weren't back yet. One look at Ingrid's tear-streaked cheeks sent a pang through Tessa's heart.

Who would take care of these two children if they were left orphans? Michael and Alex had both spoken of family living on a farm in Iowa. How would she find the relatives? If she did, would they want to take in two young children?

“Will they come home, Miss Taylor?” Ingrid asked later as she tucked the girl into the twin-sized bed in the smaller of the two bedrooms on the second story of the house. The room was plain, having no pictures on the walls, no rugs or frills. The children needed a mother, Ingrid especially. She'd gone so long without one, it was no wonder she craved Tessa's attention.

Tessa knelt next to the bed. She held Ingrid's hand and smoothed the girl's fine blond hair away from her forehead. “Let's pray again and ask God to keep them safe through the night.”

Ingrid nodded and bowed her head, her fingers trembling in Tessa's. Standing in the doorway, Gunnar shut his eyes, but not before a tear escaped and trickled out.

For a long moment, Tessa's heart squeezed too painfully to
find the words to utter. But knowing that Ingrid and Gunnar were relying on her, that she was the only one there for them, she finally found her voice—even if it was just a whisper. “God,” she started, “we plead for your protection of Michael and Alex tonight. Wherever they are, bring them back to us.”

Back to us
. The words replayed over and over in her mind as she kissed both of the children good-night and then retreated to the kitchen.

Lying by the back door, Wolfie lifted her head while Tessa collapsed into a chair. Earlier in the week, the children had excitedly informed her that the dog was carrying pups. Tessa suspected this was the reason why Alex had left her home. The elkhound hadn't moved from the back door since Tessa had arrived. From the droop of her sad eyes, Tessa knew the dog sensed something was terribly wrong too. Bear must have drowned with the men. Otherwise why wouldn't he have come home by now?

Despair circled around Tessa, growing tighter and darker, threatening to cut off her breath. The hard spindles of the chair pressed into her spine. She couldn't give in to grief or worry. She needed to stay strong for the children's sake.

She stood and glanced around the kitchen, which was in need of a cleaning. She could see that the children had made more of an effort since she'd last been here, but nothing would help more than a woman's constant oversight of the home.

Reaching for a broom, she suddenly paused. Was that why Michael was intent upon wooing her? Was he in the business of finding a new mother and a woman who could manage his home?

She went from the kitchen into the parlor. Slowly her steps led her to the window where she peered out at the blackness of the lake, still frozen along the shore. The gaping mouth of the
lake was closed. The gnashing teeth of the waves were silent. The biting sting of water was placid. But somewhere farther out, the sleeping beast was awakening. Its deep carnivorous jaw was opening and slowly making its way back to the shore, devouring all those within its path.

“I hate you.” The loathing in her breath fanned against the window, steaming the cold pane. The monster. The murderer.

The sea had taken from her too many times already. Now it was taking from her again. Even though Alex and Michael weren't her flesh and blood, they'd become like family. The thought of losing them—or anyone else she cared about—to the lake was almost more than she could bear.

Anger rushed in hot and swift. “I hate you,” she said again louder.

She spun around and glanced down the front hallway to the door that led to the tower. “And I hate you even more,” she said to the lighthouse. “You're supposed to save lives, supposed to give hope. But all you've done is take from me everything I've loved.”