Undaunted Hope (22 page)

“I'm sorry Percival said those things,” he said softly, his tone still carrying a hint of aggravation.

She stared at his shirt collar. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

“He's lucky I didn't kill him then and there.”

“I have the feeling you're going to get in trouble now because of me.”

“He can't do anything to me and he knows it. It drives him crazy.”

“But he'll figure out some way to punish you for coming to my rescue and for hitting him.”

Alex shrugged. “I've been waiting a long time to give him what he has coming. I only wish I'd punished him earlier. Maybe then things wouldn't have gotten so out of control in this town.”

“Just be careful.” She started to slide her hand away from his arm, but he grabbed onto it and held it firmly in place. “Those things Percival said about me . . .” she started.

“It doesn't matter, Tessa.”

“It
does
matter,” she said, unable to contain the anguish in her heart. “I made a horrible mistake in the past—”

He put a finger to her lips to silence her.

Suddenly all she could think about was being in his arms, holding him, and letting him embrace her and comfort her. It was the one place in all the world that she wanted to be more than anywhere else. She swayed toward him. She'd missed him over the past couple of weeks with the distance he'd put between them.

He leaned closer to her and dropped his finger from her lips. “Tessa,” he whispered.

Was that longing in his voice? Did he miss her as much as she missed him? But how could he? Not after what he'd learned about her today. Maybe he'd only heard part of the revelation. Or maybe he assumed Percival was lying.

She had to clarify. “I'm not lily white.”

“I don't care.” His response was quick, almost as if he'd anticipated her words. “Whatever your past mistakes, I've seen the godly woman you've become. That's all that matters.”

Her heart warmed at his praise. “But I have a tarnished reputation.”

“You're making for yourself a new reputation, one that everyone here admires and respects.”

“Not if Percival tells what he knows.”

“If people are stupid enough to listen to his opinion, then they're not worth having as friends.”

She wanted to believe him, wanted to find hope in his words, but she'd already faced too many rejections from well-meaning people.

His blue eyes regarded her with a compassion that brought a lump to her throat. She wanted to tell him what a fine man he was, how considerate and wise.

He brought both of his hands up to her cheeks and tenderly held her face. The kind look in his eyes filled her with a reassurance that no matter what, she'd always have a friend in him.

“Thank you for believing in me,” she whispered.

He smiled, and the warmth in her chest expanded. Her whole body seemed to melt as sweet longing coursed through her veins. She'd never felt this way about a man before. She'd never been so entirely attracted or so utterly enraptured. The past days without his presence had awakened her to a need for him. It was almost as if she'd been parched and thirsty but hadn't known how much until she was with him again, talking to him, and drinking him in.

Did she love him?

She searched his face, the strong angular jaw, his chiseled chin. He'd become dear to her. But love?

Could she allow herself to love him even though he was a lightkeeper?

She raised her eyes to his again and stared deeply into his soul just as he stared into hers. There was no point in pretending anymore, no point denying the truth, no point fighting against it. Yes, in spite of her efforts not to care about him, she had fallen in love with him.

She'd vowed never to have anything to do with a lightkeeper,
but here she was in love with one. Heaven help her. What should she do?

As if seeing that love reflected in her soul, his smile faded and was replaced by an intensity that made her stomach quiver in anticipation. Then his gaze dropped to her lips, and he cocked his head as if angling himself to kiss her.

She didn't pull away. Instead she lifted her face, all too eager for his kisses.

He bent forward until his mouth almost brushed hers. “Tessa,” he whispered. The yearning in his voice mingled with something else. What was it? Regret? His lips hovered near hers, and his breath was damp against her skin.

“Alex?” she asked, almost grazing him.

With a strangled groan he wrenched back and dropped his hands from her face.

“What's wrong?” She tried to catch his attention again, but he averted his eyes and stepped away from her. He tugged his hat from his head and raked his fingers through his hair.

“Michael believes in you too,” he said.

“That's good.” She hugged her arms across her chest, a chilly breeze enfolding her and replacing the warmth of his presence.

“He respects and admires you.”

“And I respect and admire him.” Michael had stood by her side during Henry Benney's funeral, had even slipped his arm around her when she'd trembled with weakness. He was one of the kindest men she knew—next to Alex. Michael had wanted to walk her home after the funeral, but from the strain on his face she'd seen that all of the standing had taxed him. Even with a cane, he was still weak and cumbersome on his feet, still having to adjust to walking with missing toes. He hadn't protested when she sent him ahead with the children.

“Tessa . . .” Alex's tone was laced with exasperation. He jabbed his fingers into his hair again and stared down the road toward the slanted roofs of identical miner cabins that showed in the clearing.

Something urged her to lighten the moment, to tease him, to direct the conversation toward something else. But her throat constricted around her words.

“Listen,” he started again, “Michael loves you.”

But I don't love him
, she wanted to shout back.
I love you
. But she had the feeling she'd only humiliate herself if she said anything.

“He loves you,” Alex said again. The drizzle had begun to increase and was dampening his hair. “And Ingrid and Gunnar love you.”

Understanding dawned then, and Alex's recent aloofness began to make sense. He'd been deferring to Michael, allowing his brother to be with her at every opportunity. It was almost as if he'd given up the competition that had been ongoing all winter, and for some reason he'd decided to let Michael win.

Not only was he stepping aside, he was actually pushing her to be with Michael. In hindsight she could even see that he'd made a point of getting the two of them together, like that morning. He'd positioned Michael by her side and then disappeared.

“So you don't want me anymore,” she stated as evenly as she could.

Alex refused to meet her gaze. “It doesn't matter what I want. What matters is Michael and the kids. They need you more than I do.”

He didn't need her? The thought stung. Although he'd accused
her
of loving
him
many times, he'd never spoken the words to her. What if she'd been mistaken in thinking that he did? If he could
relinquish her to his brother, then perhaps she'd been wrong to assume his feelings ran as deep as hers. She'd seen the way some of the husbands in the community had handed their wives over to Percival. They'd given in to the pressure all too easily.

Alex wasn't giving her up to Percival, and she doubted he ever would. Still, she'd determined that she wanted the kind of man who wouldn't ever be willing to let go of her, not for anyone or anything. If Alex could give her up for his brother, if he didn't treasure her enough to fight for her, then he wasn't the kind of man she wanted.

“I know you don't want to marry a lightkeeper,” he continued. “So I'm trying to convince Michael to move back to Detroit so that we can be near the doctors who can help Ingrid.”

“I'd never ask a man to give up his job for me.” Anger began to churn within her. “Besides, do you really think you can plan my life? Maybe I don't want to move away from Eagle Harbor. Did you ever think that I want to continue to teach school? Did you think that maybe I want to wait to get married?” Her voice had risen, and each word came out sharp.

“They need you.” Alex's words were just as clipped. “Since Michael met you, he's been happy again. I haven't seen him like that since Rachel died.”

“I'm glad he's happy again. I really am. But that's a heavy load for any one person to bear, taking responsibility for someone else's happiness. And I won't do it.”

Alex scowled. “You know what I mean, Tessa. It's a mutual happiness. You make him happy, and he'll do the same for you.”

But would he? “I'm sorry, Alex.” She started to leave. “Maybe you've decided to spend the rest of your life doing whatever it takes to make your brother happy, but I'm not going to do the same.”

He didn't respond. She could sense his frustration burning into her back as she strode away.

She didn't want things to end between them like this. She wanted him to tell her he'd been wrong, that he wouldn't let her go, that he wouldn't hand her over to his brother like she was some prize in a wrestling match to give away to whomever he pleased. She wanted him to love her enough to chase after her and do whatever it took to make things work between them.

The mud sticking to her boots weighed down her stride—at least that was what she told herself as her footsteps slowed.

Would he really let her walk away? Her chest ached, as if someone had plunged a knife into it.

“Wait, Tessa,” he called. Finally.

She spun to face him, too quickly. He hadn't moved from where he stood. His wet hair stuck to his forehead and his shoulders sagged. In his dark suit, against the grayness of the leafless shrubs and trees, he was a striking figure—as handsome and strong as the day she'd met him.

“Promise me you won't push Michael away because you're mad at me.”

Her heart sank at his words. She'd hoped for his declaration of love, but from across the distance his eyes regarded her with a sadness that snuffed out any remnants of hope.

She was tempted to yell at him and tell him she never wanted to see him or Michael ever again. But she swallowed the bitterness, spun around, and walked away.

Her body tensed with the need for him to rush after her, to stop her, to tell her he'd been a fool to let her go. But when she turned onto Center Street and glanced over her shoulder, he was gone.

T
essa lay on her back in the dark and rolled the cross in her hands. The grainy texture of the wood wasn't reminding her to hope in the Lord this time. Instead, all she could think about was the steamer the piece of wood had once belonged to and how her life in Eagle Harbor was starting to resemble a shipwreck.

Henry Benney's death. Percival's threats. Alex's rejection. How could she bear it all?

She rolled to her side, careful not to let the covers slide away. Even though the temperatures had continued to rise all week and melt more snow, the nights remained cold in her attic room. She grazed the empty spot where Josie should have been sleeping. The girl was gone, just as she'd been most nights of late, meeting with a young man.

Tessa had talked to Josie about sneaking out of the house after dark, but Josie only giggled and brushed off her concerns. Just that night, when Josie was tiptoeing out of the room, she told
Josie she would have to inform her parents about the clandestine meetings if she didn't bring them to an end.

Josie had glared at her and threatened her in return. “Remember that time I caught you kissing Alex Bjorklund at the mine? Well, I can tell my parents I've only been following the example of my teacher.”

Josie's accusation barreled into her like a ton of falling rocks. Tessa sank back into the sagging mattress and said nothing more. What could she say?

Tessa sighed and ran her fingers over the cross once more. “God,” she whispered into the silence, “I thought you wanted to use me here in Eagle Harbor. I thought I could make a difference. But it seems like I've only caused more problems.”

A flurry of shouts from outside stopped her prayer. She sat up and listened. In the room below, voices and the clomping of footsteps told her the commotion had awakened Nadine and William.

What if something had happened to Josie? What if she'd been accosted, hurt . . . or worse?

“Heaven help me,” she whispered, whipping back the covers and jumping out of bed. If anything had happened, it would be her fault. She could have done more to help Josie. She should have been a better role model. She should have gone to Nadine and William about what she knew, no matter Josie's threats.

Her heart pounding in her ears, she slid a gown over her nightdress and raced down the stairs. William was already striding out the door, his two oldest sons behind him. Nadine was standing at the front window, peering in the direction of the shore.

“What is it?” Tessa asked as she went to stand next to her.

Nadine clutched her shawl. “There's some sort of fire down by the lake.”

Tessa stared at the night sky. It was glowing bright near the harbor. “Is anyone hurt?” Her thoughts charged ahead to Josie trapped somewhere in the flames with no one knowing she was there.

She didn't wait for Nadine's response and instead ran outside. She ignored Nadine's calls to stay home and away from the danger. Desperation clawed at Tessa, forcing her toward the harbor. All she could think was that Josie was in danger and she was the only one who knew about it.

At the edge of town alongside the rocky beach she stopped behind the others who'd gathered, the dismay on their faces evident by the light of the fire that was consuming the warehouse. Some of the men, including Mr. Rawlings, were organizing a bucket brigade from the lake to the burning building. But the flames were already leaping high in the air out of the roof, and Tessa had a feeling any effort to douse the fire would be wasted.

“I don't think they'll be able to put it out!” she called, striding toward Mr. Rawlings. “We should work instead on salvaging whatever we can.”

He stopped and sized up the fire. He took only a moment before coming to the same conclusion. Their meager buckets of water wouldn't begin to touch the roof. It was only a matter of time before the building was completely engulfed in flames, and the least they could do was try to rescue as many of the remaining food stores and supplies as they could.

While the ice on the lake was melting, they were still locked in with no telling when the waters would be thawed and safe enough for fresh supplies to reach them. If they didn't save the food, there was the very real possibility they could starve.

“We can form a line and pass the supplies to one another,” she said, starting toward the building.

Mr. Rawlings shouted to the others, an almost frantic ring to his voice. She was sure that he too was thinking about how difficult it would be for their community to survive if they lost the remaining food stores.

As they neared the open front door of the building, a large figure emerged from inside. He stumbled outside onto the rocky shore with his arms laden with supplies.

As the firelight shone upon the man, Tessa's breath caught. It was Alex.

“Get away!” Alex shouted as he rushed toward them. His face was streaked with soot and sweat. Smoke rose from patches of his coat. “The whole thing is going to blow.”

She glanced behind him. “We have to save the supplies!”

“There's no time!” He dropped what he'd been carrying and motioned at them with his arms. “Move back! Now!”

Like the others she stopped, but indecision wavered through her. What if they had time to make the trip in and rescue everything?

Alex moved nearer, his arms outstretched. He directed the townspeople to step farther back. “Help me clear the area!” he shouted to Mr. Rawlings.

The older man nodded and began to urge the people away from the burning building. At several loud pops the crowd turned on their own, and Tessa had no other choice but to do likewise.

“The fire reached the cellar,” Alex called in explanation to Mr. Rawlings. “And there are still several kegs of powder in storage.”

At the mention of the powder that was used in blowing up rock in the mines, many took off running. Just as Tessa picked up her pace, an explosion rocked the harbor. The blast was deafening, and the rush of heat and flash of flames reached out to grab hold of them.

The force pushed Tessa to her knees in the soggy grass and leaves.

“Tessa!” Alex called. He covered his head to shield himself from falling debris. In an instant he was beside her, grabbing her arms and forcing her to look up into his face. “Are you all right?”

“I think so—” she started to say but was cut off by another explosion, this one louder than the first.

Alex pushed her down and threw himself on top of her. Under the shelter of his body, with her cheek pressed into the damp earth, she squeezed her eyes closed and sucked in uneven breaths that smelled of soil and smoke.

Alex's chest rose and fell rapidly against her back. His bulky arms moved over her head to shield her. “You'll be okay,” his voice rumbled near her ear. “Just don't move.”

Strangely she felt completely safe. Within the strong confines of his chest and arms, she knew nothing could touch her. Even as a third blast rent the night air, she didn't flinch. The screams and cries around her seemed distant. When at last the night grew quieter, she made no effort to move. With Alex's weight on top of her, she couldn't even if she'd wanted to.

As if realizing the possibility that he could crush her, Alex slid halfway off to lie in the grass beside her, his arms still surrounding her and his face pressed into her hair.

They lay unmoving, listening to the popping and crackling of the fire. As dazed voices began to murmur around them, Alex pulled back a fraction. “You're not hurt, are you?”

She twisted to see his face. In the light of the flickering flames, his eyes were filled with concern, his forehead furrowed. “Really, I'm fine,” she insisted. “How are you?”

“None the worse for wear.”

Before she could stop herself, she smoothed a hand over his
cheek to assure herself that he was unharmed. When she reached the tip of his chin, his body stiffened and his breath quickened. His hand splayed across the small of her back, and his warm breath brushed her forehead. He wanted to kiss her. She could feel it in every tight muscle of his body.

No matter how much distance he tried to put between them, no matter how much he deferred to Michael, and no matter how much he tried to deny his feelings for her, apparently Alex still couldn't resist his attraction to her. One little touch was all it took to turn him into mush in her hands.

Although her heart had ached with the pain of his rejection over the past few days, she'd tried to tell herself that she ought to be grateful he didn't need her. It made her choice to avoid entanglement with a lightkeeper all that much easier. It made her choice to remain a teacher easier too. Even so, she couldn't deny that she relished being in his arms again.

He turned his mouth to her cheek and then her ear. Her blood stirred. For a long moment he didn't move and she waited for him to do something—anything—to reassure her that he still wanted her, that he'd been mistaken in letting her go.

Abruptly he shifted and gave a soft groan. She wanted to cling to him and hold him in place, but he was already putting distance back between them, and his expression turned to one of frustration. “If you're all right,” he said in a tone that told her their intimate moment was over, “then I need to make sure everyone else is okay.”

She sat up and didn't say anything. He rose, brushed flecks of sooty debris off his shoulders and clothes, and looked around at the small fires that had started here and there where burning pieces of the building had landed. Thankfully, because of the dampness of the earth, the fires didn't have much strength.

He glanced back at her and held out a hand to help her up. Once she was standing, he let go of her, almost as if she were one of the flaming boards. “Go back home, Tessa,” he said roughly. “Stay where it's safe.”

He spun and strode away in the direction of the warehouse, which was now completely engulfed in flames.

“There's Alex Bjorklund!” someone shouted from the growing crowd at the edge of the bay. “Arrest him.”

Alex halted in his tracks. The glow of the flames highlighted the confusion that rippled across his face.

When Percival stepped to the front of the gathering and pointed at Alex, Tessa's heart started racing. She wasn't surprised by his accusation, but she
was
surprised that he was attired in his usual immaculate suit, suave and perfect except for the bruise on his cheekbone beneath his eye.

Compared to the rest of the crowd, most wearing boots with coats thrown over nightclothes, how had Percival found the time to dress so well—unless he'd never gone to bed in the first place?

“Arrest Alex Bjorklund,” Percival called again, this time motioning to William Rawlings and another supervisor of his mine to do his bidding.

The men looked at Percival but didn't move.

“What reason do you have to arrest me?” Alex crossed his arms over his chest as though daring them to come near him.

“You destroyed the warehouse,” Percival answered.

“What?” Alex roared, rising to his full height and puffing out his chest.

“I've got several witnesses who saw you enter the building before the fire started,” Percival continued, his face a mask of steely calm. “And everyone here saw you leaving right before it blew.”

“I went in because I saw a fire,” Alex said, his eyes widening. “I'm the one who sounded the alarm. I actually managed to make several trips out with supplies before the explosion.”

Tessa nodded. Alex's explanation made perfect sense.

“No one is out this time of night unless they're up to mischief.” Percival locked glares with Alex.

“I was up in the tower and noticed a strange light in the warehouse,” Alex said. “I came down to investigate.”

“In the tower? This time of year?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I was.”

“You're expecting us all to believe that you were sitting up in a completely dark tower tonight?”

Alex released an exasperated sigh as if realizing his explanation did sound rather suspicious. “Tell me, why would I blow up the warehouse, Percival? What motivation could I possibly have for doing that?”

Percival pointed at the swollen purple bruise beneath his eye. “Because you want to hurt me in whatever way you can. When you couldn't beat me the other day, you decided to make me suffer another way.”

Alex snorted. “You deserve to suffer long and hard for the hardships you've brought to this community. But how is blowing up a warehouse punishing
you
?”

“Because you want to undermine me in the eyes of the new owner, Mr. Cole. You've never liked me and have always tried to diminish my authority here. You even tried to write a letter to my boss to get me fired.”

“Tried?” Alex asked.

Percival's thin smile made Tessa's stomach lurch. Had Percival intercepted Alex's letter to Mr. Cole? Maybe Percival had done the same with her recent letter of complaint about the working
conditions that had a part in killing Henry Benney. She wanted to believe that if her letter had reached Mr. Cole, he would have done something to help their community, although she suspected the business magnate would have responded only with silence.

The flames consuming the warehouse cast a ghoulish light over the harbor, which was half covered with ice. If only the fire would melt the ice the rest of the way so that the ships could resume their transport and bring them food and supplies, something that was needed now more than ever before.

“I'm not the only one who doesn't like you,” Alex said. “No one else does either.”

“Then you're admitting your guilt. You started the fire to get back at me.”

“Absolutely not—”

“Maybe you started it because you didn't want to take turns.”

“Take turns?”

Percival's gaze flipped to Tessa. She fisted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. Now that he knew about her past, she'd been waiting for him to come to her again and threaten to tell the news to the town if she didn't do whatever he wanted.