Undaunted Hope (4 page)

To say he'd had an interesting morning was an understatement. Like the other men, he hadn't been able to stop staring at Tessa Taylor the moment she stepped off the steamer's gangplank onto the dock. In her lovely green skirt, she looked like the first buds of spring arriving after a long winter. Her dark hair and creamy skin had contrasted with the green, and there was no hiding her womanly figure beneath the frills and lace of her garments.

Even if she hadn't been a beautiful sight to behold, he likely still would have stared. Single women were rare in these parts, rarer than a warm day in winter.

He breathed in a deep lung-cleansing breath of air, a damp mixture of sea and pine. It was a scent he'd fallen in love with when he moved to Eagle Harbor five years ago with Michael.

It was one of the many things he loved about northern Michigan and Lake Superior. He loved the ruggedness of the coastline here. He loved the boundless supply of whitefish, trout, and herring. He even loved the snow that winter brought, because it meant he could hitch his elkhounds to the sleigh. He wasn't sure who enjoyed the sleigh rides more, the dogs or the children.

From the way it looked, not only would the dogsledding keep
him entertained all winter, but the pretty new schoolteacher would liven up their community too.

He smiled just thinking about her sassiness. Even drenched, she'd shown a vivacity that enthralled him. He'd reacted strongly to her, so strongly that he was still surprised by it. He couldn't remember a woman affecting him so deeply—not since Jenny.

Alex's steps slowed. His wet trouser legs chafed his skin, and he stifled a shiver that rose in his chest, which was covered only by his damp undershirt. Over the past five years, he'd tried not to think about Jenny and all he'd lost. It was too painful. He hadn't much considered the possibility of finding another woman. Until today . . .

When he'd scooped her up into his arms and carried her to shore, something fierce had loosened inside him. He wasn't sure what it was, but he'd wanted to protect her, make sure she was taken care of and respected.

Wolfie trotted next to him and nudged his hand with her wet nose. He scratched behind one of her ears. “What do you think, lass?”

She licked his hand as if to encourage him.

“Oh, so you want me to win the new teacher's affection, is that it?” He rubbed at Wolfie's neck, digging his fingers into her thick fur and giving her the scratching she liked. “Don't you think it's a little soon to think about wooing the lady? We just met.”

Wolfie licked his hand again.

Alex chuckled at his conversation with the dog. Sometimes he was glad for the isolation of his work and life. He didn't have to worry about others seeing him talking with his dogs like they were people and thinking he was addled in the brain.

He strode forward again and whistled a made-up tune. He'd sacrificed so much for so long. Was it time to start thinking of his future again? Could he ever entertain the thought of loving someone else, someone like Tessa Taylor?

His feet picked up speed around the last bend, and then he was in the clearing.

He stopped to take in the sight. There across the rocky tip of the peninsula, with remnants of wild rye and switch grass growing among the gravel, stood the gem of the whole bay—the Eagle Harbor Lighthouse.

Along the rocky shoreline was the red-brick keeper's house and the connected tower, which was red brick on the side adjacent to the house but painted white on the side facing the lake. Waves crashed against the stones, their foamy fingers rising up, slickening the ledges and turning them cobalt.

The lighthouse against the backdrop of the lake was breathtaking. He never tired of seeing it. The view out over the lake was even more spectacular from the tower, especially at sunset on a clear night when every hue of red, orange, and blue mingled together in the sky and upon the lake.

He was glad Michael had given him the first shift in the tower every night. Of course, as assistant keeper he didn't have quite as many duties or responsibilities as Michael, yet he worked just as hard.

When they'd first arrived, he wasn't sure he'd like living at a lighthouse and being an assistant keeper. But after five years, the job had grown on him. The truth was, even if he wanted to move, he wouldn't. He'd never desert Michael or leave him to fend for himself. He hadn't five years ago and he wouldn't now, especially when Ingrid needed surgery.

But was there the possibility he could find a woman who
would join him in the life he'd made for himself at the lighthouse?

The image of Tessa's face filled his mind again.

Wolfie nudged his hand with another wet lick.

“All right, young lass.” Alex rubbed the dog's nose. “You've convinced me. I'll win her over.”

T
essa peered into the cracked mirror she'd hung on the attic wall next to the only window in the low-beamed room. The early morning light illuminated her wide eyes, revealing the nervousness that was tying her stomach into knots for her first day of school.

She smoothed her hair back, making sure each strand was in place. At a pinch on the back of her neck, she swatted the spot. She wasn't sure if it was really a bedbug or if her skin was crawling at the mere thought of encountering another one.

In the two nights she'd spent in the attic, she'd killed nearly a pint of the little biters. She'd slept fitfully, wondering how she'd ever get a good night's sleep when she was waging war every time she climbed into bed.

“You sure do look pretty,” Josie said from where she lay tangled among the sheets.

“Thank you.” Tessa glanced at the girl through the reflection of the mirror. Josie had been talking endlessly since the second
she'd awoken. She'd gossiped about everyone in town while Tessa had dressed and readied herself for school.

At fifteen, Josie clearly thought she was an adult, but her body was still flat like that of a young girl. Her long hair was straight and a plain shade of brown. Her bluntly cut bangs hung across her forehead and made her look even more like a child.

“Remember,” Tessa said, “you promised you'd come to school today. So I'll hold you to that promise.”

Josie yawned. “I don't need any more learning. Not when me and Robbie are planning to get married just as soon as he saves up enough money to pay the rent on a cabin.”

Tessa swallowed a sarcastic remark, knowing it wouldn't help Josie. The girl needed her gentle encouragement, not the hard fist of discipline. She already got enough of that from her mother.

Even two stories below, Nadine's voice was loud and shrill. From what Tessa had gleaned during her short stay so far, Nadine's primary method of discipline was yelling. And since her children were always getting into trouble, Nadine was always yelling.

The waft of burnt toast did nothing to comfort Tessa's rolling stomach. Nadine had proved as poor a housekeeper as she did disciplinarian. The food she served for meals consisted of stale molasses, dry bread, and butter that was so dirty it looked like it had veins of copper running through it. They'd also had trout for one meal, along with a few potatoes and carrots.

Tessa couldn't understand why Nadine didn't have her own vegetable garden so that she could have a bounty of produce to store up for winter. Then she wouldn't have to rely upon the overpriced mine store.

Tessa had determined that in the spring she'd help Nadine
and the other women in town plant gardens. It was one of many ways she could help them better themselves.

She let her fingers stray to the driftwood cross she'd set out on the attic ledge that served as a narrow shelf for her few belongings. She traced the two pieces of wood that had come from a shipwreck years ago. The lone survivor of the wreck had fashioned the cross from a piece of the ship as a reminder not to give up hope. For the past few years she'd cherished the cross, praying and hoping for a fresh start in life. Now she was finally getting that chance.

With a final check of her hair, Tessa reached for the straw hat that sat on top of her trunk and positioned it on her head. The blue-and-white-striped ribbon on it matched the pattern of her bodice and the blue of her bustled skirt. She was probably overdressed for her first day of school, but she wanted to make sure she was the epitome of a good example for her students.

Tessa descended through the busy household, thanked Nadine for the toast, though she was too nervous to eat it. A brisk half-mile walk through town brought her to the schoolhouse. Thankfully, the structure was built of clapboards rather than logs and had several large windows of glass.

She pushed open the door, which squeaked on its hinges, to reveal a classroom filled with rudimentary rows of benches. There were no desks for the students, but a narrow teacher's desk sat in one corner, covered with the books, tablets, maps, and other supplies she'd unpacked yesterday.

A blackboard covered the front wall. A wood-burning stove sat at the back of the room with an empty woodbox next to it. A board of rough pegs had been nailed to the wall to serve as coat hooks for the students.

After hanging her coat, she made her way to the front, her
footsteps clicking hollowly against the floorboards. The excitement that had been building inside over the past week swelled with each step.

Her first day of school of her first head teacher's job. She was almost giddy enough to twirl a full circle. She picked up the piece of chalk she'd placed in readiness on the ledge of the blackboard and wrote the words
Welcome
and
Miss Taylor
.

When the students began to arrive, she greeted each one with a smile and tried to learn their names along with a little bit about their families. But as an endless stream of students continued to enter the one-room schoolhouse and cram together on the benches, she lost track of which name belonged with which face.

She was squatting and in the middle of speaking with several siblings when the outline of a man entering the schoolroom caught her attention. The striking man with the sandy hair belonged to Alex, the one who'd rescued her the day she'd arrived in Eagle Harbor. She couldn't keep from pausing and staring, causing several of the students to turn and stare too.

During her exploring around town yesterday, she hadn't seen Alex, although she hadn't searched particularly hard for him. Nevertheless, she wondered where he'd disappeared to and why she hadn't seen him. She'd told herself that she wanted to see him again because she needed to return his coat, and that was all.

But now, seeing him again in all his magnificence, her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

He scanned the classroom until he spotted her, and then with a wide grin he started toward her.

She rose to meet him, smoothing her skirt and trying to slow her heartbeat.

“Miss Taylor, it's nice to see you again. You look so . . .” His
eyes swept over her, and she was glad she'd taken extra care with her appearance that morning.

His eyes matched the cobalt blue stripes of his hand-knit sweater. They were swoon-worthy, and she had to fight hard not to actually swoon. Instead she waited for him to finish his sentence with a word like
beautiful
or
stunning
or something else flattering.

“You look so dry,” he finished. “And warm.”

“I've been called many things in my life, Mr. Bjorklund,” she said wryly, “but no one has ever paid me the high compliment of calling me dry and warm.”

“I don't go around paying such lavish compliments very often, so count yourself privileged.”

She couldn't contain her smile of appreciation at his easy comeback. “Very well. Since you're flattering me so wildly, I suppose you deserve a compliment in return.”

His eyes widened in expectation.

She could feel the attention of her students, each of them watching her interaction with Alex. She lowered her voice in mock conspiracy and said, “You have nice shoes.”

He glanced at the scuffed, worn leather of his brogans and broke into a hearty laugh.

“Hey” came a small voice behind him. “You're shaking me.”

Alex glanced over his shoulder.

Tessa followed his gaze and was surprised to see a little girl clinging to Alex's back. His body had blocked her, but now Tessa could see that he was holding the girl up with both of his arms crooked behind him like a saddle.

The girl was petite, her arms and legs as thin as those of a newborn colt. Her face was sweet and pretty. Her long blond hair looked like it needed a trim, or at the very least a brushing
and then plaiting. But it was the girl's blue eyes that startled Tessa. The blue was the same shade as Alex's.

“I'll take care of Ingrid now,” said a boy who'd been standing behind Alex.

“Are you sure?” Alex said.

The boy nodded.

Tessa was speechless as she took in the boy's appearance. His blond hair and blue eyes resembled Alex's. Even more astonishing was the stocky shape of the boy's body. He was a miniature Alex. It was almost as if Tessa was getting a glimpse of what Alex had once looked like as a child.

Were these Alex's children? Mortification spilled through her, and she spun toward her desk. She felt her cheeks flush. Had she been flirting with a married man? In front of her entire class? On her first day of school?

She fumbled blindly for the paper that contained the list of students who'd come so far that morning. Part of her wanted to sink down into a crack in the floorboards and disappear into the crawl space under the building. Who cared if there were rats and spiders down there? She'd rather face them than have to face Alex again.

But another part of her twisted with frustration. If he was married, he should have known better than to flirt back. Even as she tried to direct her anger at him, the accusing finger only swung around and pointed right back at her.

If anyone was to blame for the impropriety, it was her. She knew she shouldn't flirt. She'd known it would only get her into trouble. Besides, flirting was entirely inappropriate if she wanted to remain single-minded in her devotion to her position as a teacher. After all, the teaching contract she'd signed just yesterday stipulated that
“Teachers will not
marry or keep
company with a man friend during the
week except as an escort to church services.”
In fact, the contract had gone so far as to say,
“Women teachers who marry or engage in other unseemly conduct
will be dismissed.”

The rules weren't new. They were standard, the same she'd had in Detroit as an assistant teacher. It's just that now she actually had a chance of being taken seriously, of proving herself without her past creeping in to undermine her efforts to better her life.

Behind her, Alex spoke gently with his children, getting them situated on one of the benches. Then there was a long pause, as though he were waiting for her to turn around and say something more.

She pretended to be writing something on the paper. “What are their names and ages, Mr. Bjorklund?”

“Gunnar is eighteen, aren't you, old fella?”

The boy laughed. “No, I'm eight.”

“Oh, that's right.” Alex's voice was filled with adoration. “And Ingrid is sixteen—”

“I'm six” came the more practical, no-nonsense voice of the girl.

Tessa knew that she couldn't keep scribbling on the paper forever, that she had to turn around and face them again sometime. So with a steadying breath, she forced herself to pivot. Gunnar and Ingrid were sitting on the front bench, with Alex standing next to them.

She decided the safest course of action was to focus on the children. “Well, Gunnar and Ingrid, I'm Miss Taylor. And I'm most definitely one hundred and ten years old.”

They awarded her with smiles. She didn't look at Alex to gauge his reaction, but his low chuckle told her he'd liked her banter.

This time, his pleasure only irked her. How dare he laugh and tease and act like everything was perfectly normal? Just then another family of children entered the classroom, and she used it as an excuse to make her escape from Alex.

As the morning progressed she was too busy to think of anything but the roomful of children before her. By the time the last of the students straggled in, her attendance sheet numbered fifty-two. With so many children needing her attention, she didn't know where to begin. She was more than grateful for the mother-helper, Hannah Nance, who took charge of the younger children.

Tessa spent the morning attempting to get an idea of each student's progress. She could tell that the previous year's teacher had set a solid foundation, for which she was grateful. Nevertheless, many of the children lagged far behind where they should be.

At lunchtime Tessa plopped down into her chair and released a weary breath.

“Are you tired, Miss Taylor?” the little girl in the front row asked.

Tessa glanced up, surprised to see that Ingrid Bjorklund hadn't budged from her spot. Gunnar was at the back of the room, retrieving a tin pail that probably contained their lunch.

Ingrid's thin face was pale with a smudge of dirt on her nose. She watched Tessa expectantly and much too seriously for a girl of six.

Tessa gave the girl a smile. It wasn't the child's fault that her father was a shameless flirt. And it wasn't the girl's fault that she was overwhelmed with the mammoth job of teaching so many children.

“I'm not sleepy tired,” Tessa said to the girl, “but after being on my feet for the past few hours, I'm ready to sit a spell.”

“You did a good job,” Ingrid offered.

“Thank you.”

“I was too young for school last year,” Ingrid continued. “But Gunnar didn't like the old teacher. He said that Mr. Chaws liked to box ears better than anything else.”

“Well, you needn't worry,” Tessa assured her. “I don't box ears.” In fact, Tessa wasn't a believer in corporal punishment in the classroom. She preferred a gentler approach.

Gunnar strode back to his sister, swinging the pail.

“I could tell right away that you're going to be much nicer than Mr. Chaws,” Ingrid said. “The very first second I saw you, I knew you were going to be the best teacher Eagle Harbor has ever had.”

“Well, I certainly hope I can live up to your expectation.”

“You will, Miss Taylor.”

Gunnar picked up a carved stick from underneath the bench and held it out to Ingrid. “Come on, Ingie. Stop pestering Miss Taylor.”

Ingrid took the stick with a frown. “I'm not pestering her. She likes children. I can tell.”

Gunnar shot Tessa a glance as if to apologize for his sister's brazenness. Then he took hold of Ingrid's arm. “C'mon. It's time to go and eat our lunch.”