The Lightkeeper's Bride

by Colleen Coble

  ELEVEN

  WILL OPENED ONE scratchy eye at about eleven o’clock in the morning. Jennie slept in the crook of his arm. She’d howled the whole night long, and he’d hauled her up and down the lighthouse steps as he tended to the light. They’d fallen into bed at dawn, but even then she’d been restless next to him and hot enough to make his forehead break out in a sweat.

  Hot. Wait a moment. Was she ill? He touched her skin and found it dry and very warm. Holding her against him was like nestling up to the hot coals in a fireplace. She coughed and the harsh bark made him sit up and stare at her. Spots of red dotted her pudgy cheeks. He scooped her up and leaped from the bed. While he had no notion of where to find the doctor, someone in town could direct him. He rushed down the steps to the front door and yanked it open to come face-to-face with Miss Russell’s fist poised to land on the door.

  Her eyes matched the color of the sea foaming at the foot of the cliffs. What would you call the shape of her face—heart-shaped? The high cheekbones were pink. So were the full lips above her narrow chin. The lilac dress and wide-brimmed hat she wore were in the latest fashion, and she clutched her bag in her gloved hands as she stared up at him. She looked every bit as beautiful as she had at church yesterday.

  She dropped her hand. “Mr. Jesperson. You were going out?”

  Before he could answer, the baby let out a wail loud enough to call Poseidon from the depths of the ocean. He shifted Jennie to his other arm. “Could you direct me to the doctor?”

  Miss Russell peered into the baby’s face. “She’s flushed.”

  “I think she has a fever.” He handed the baby to the woman with a sense of relief, then stretched out the cramp in his arm muscle.

  Miss Russell put her hand on Jennie’s forehead. “A high fever. We must get it down right away. Run some tepid water in the sink.”

  He sprang to do her bidding. Had he done something wrong? Perhaps this was all his fault. Another person might have recognized the child’s condition last night by her inability to settle. After pumping water from the hand pump into the dry sink, he poured in enough hot water from the kettle on the stove to bring the temperature to lukewarm.

  Miss Russell crooned to the wailing baby then tested the water. “Perfect.” She laid Jennie on top of the cabinet and quickly stripped her clothing off. The tiny girl screeched when Miss Russell eased her into the sink. “I know, sweetheart,” she said.

  She splashed water along the baby’s skin for what seemed an eternity. Will wanted to clap his palms over his ears so he didn’t have to listen to the child’s cries. “I’ll get a towel,” he said. He rushed up the steps to the bathroom and found a stack of towels in the corner cupboard by the claw-foot tub. By the time he got back downstairs, the baby’s wails had tapered off to an occasional hiccup.

  He opened the towel between his hands, and Miss Russell lifted the dripping wet baby from the water and deposited her into the folds of the terry cloth. He wrapped the edges around Jennie, and Miss Russell cuddled her against her chest. The baby’s eyes closed.

  “She seems better,” he said.

  “For now. We should let the doctor examine her to ensure she doesn’t have something like diphtheria.” She quickly dressed the sleeping child and lifted her to her shoulder.

  “I’ll get the buggy ready. You’ll have to direct me. I don’t know where to find the doctor.”

  She followed him into the entry. He paused and glanced down at her. “How did you happen to come by this morning?”

  “It can wait,” she said.

  He studied her face and noticed the dark circles under her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

  She sighed. “My mother wants to see Jennie again. She’s always one to do her duty.”

  “I’m certain she’s my niece. When you meet my brother, you’ll be convinced as well.” He stepped onto the porch. A buggy was parked outside. “Could we take your buggy?”

  “Certainly.”

  He took Jennie and noticed she wasn’t as hot. Once he helped Miss Russell into the buggy, he handed the baby up to her then climbed in himself. “Why is your mother so willing to believe Jennie is your father’s child?”

  She glanced at the baby sleeping on her shoulder. “I think she knows I believe it.”

  “And why are you so sure?”

  She bit her lip and looked away. “I overheard Eliza demand money from him. For what other reason could she have been blackmailing him?”

  His pulse quickened. He could think of something else. Maybe Miss Bulmer wanted money to stay quiet about the taking of the ship.

  But perhaps he was wrong about Philip being the father. His gaze fell on Jennie’s swirl of a cowlick. Just like his brother’s. His doubt ebbed.

  “My brother is investigating the taking of the Paradox.”

  “Yes, you called me about it,” she said.

  He raised a brow. “You were the operator I spoke to?”

  She nodded. “I don’t understand why you bring that up now. We are discussing Jennie’s parentage.”

  He slapped the reins against the horse’s back, and the buggy began to move. “You asked why else Miss Bulmer might be blackmailing your father.”

  Horror filled her eyes, and she whipped her head from side to side. “My father had nothing to do with the ship. Besides, Eliza disappeared only a short time later.”

  “Another ship was taken a month ago. My brother said Miss Bulmer had suggested a man in town was involved. Albert Russell. There is no other Albert Russell in town, is there?”

  “No. But what you’re suggesting is impossible. I know my father. He would never do such a thing.”

  He heard the quaver in her voice. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to upset you.”

  She arranged her skirt on the seat. “If your aspersions on my father’s name are meant to deter me from my duty to Jennie, you have failed. You can’t possibly want to care for a baby!”

  He turned the horse’s head from the county road to the main street to town. “It has most certainly complicated my life. But sometimes duty demands we do the inconvenient.”

  The woman gave him a severe glance. “A baby is more than a duty.”

  He urged the horse forward. “Indeed she has already crept into my heart. But isn’t duty part of why you’re here?”

  Her bonnet hid her face. “I love children. I already care about her. She would not be hard for me to love.”

  “Nor for me. She’s an engaging little mite.” The sea air blew his hair over his eyes, and he realized he’d forgotten to grab his hat. “Can we agree we both want what is best for Jennie?”

  “Of course.”

  He glanced at the wind blowing wisps of shiny hair across her cheeks. He didn’t want to be enemies with this woman.

  TWELVE

  KATIE DIDN’T LIKE the child’s lethargy. Her initial goal to let her mother get another peek at the baby had evaporated the moment she saw the child. “Can you go a little faster? We need to get her to the doctor,” she said again.

  The towering redwoods cast a shadow over the macadam road, and the damp odor of the ferns growing along the banks added to the sense of isolation. What did she know of this man? She still suspected he had something to do with Eliza’s disappearance. The buckboard reached the edge of town. Church bells rang twelve times. The scent of fudge from the candy shop lingered on the breeze.

  She glanced at the telephone office. Under normal circumstances she would be at work, but she’d taken a few days off since her father’s . . . accident. She directed Will to the doctor’s office, the downstairs rooms of a brownstone on the corner of Mercy and Main.

  He parked the buggy then jumped down and took the baby from her before assisting her from the conveyance. She glanced toward the doctor’s office. People jammed the waiting room and spilled out the front door. Katie stopped and put her hand on Mr. Jesperson’s muscled arm.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. The voices fr
om the waiting patients held panic and fear. “I don’t know if we should take the baby into that crowd.”

  “Let me see what’s going on.” He thrust the baby into her arms.

  She rested her head on Jennie’s soft hair. The child did seem to be better. Her little body didn’t radiate heat, and her brown eyes were more alert. Her nose was running now. Perhaps Katie had overreacted. It might only be a cold.

  The little one grasped a lock of her hair in her fingers. “Um?” the baby said, pointing to an oak on the tree lawn.

  “Tree,” Katie said. She patted down Jennie’s cowlick. A woman whose back had been to the street turned, and when Katie caught a glimpse of her face, something kicked in her chest. It couldn’t be Florence. Too many years had passed, and the woman’s memory was too dim. Still, there was something about how she stood with one hand on her hip that sent a shock of recognition vibrating along Katie’s spine.

  She tried to sort through the vague memories in her head. This woman’s dull hair and lackluster complexion didn’t match the vibrant woman she still dreamed of. But it had been twenty years since she’d seen her. Was it possible? She rejected the thought, but her gaze still lingered on the woman who stood talking to a man in the doorway.

  Mr. Jesperson walked back to where she stood jostling the baby, who squirmed to be put down. He stopped four feet from them and blocked her path to the door. “We’re not going in there.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Smallpox.” He stared down at the baby. His eyes opened a bit wider. “She looks better.”

  “I think her fever has broken.” She noticed the panic spreading among the waiting crowd. “All those people fear they have smallpox?”

  He nodded. “I don’t want to run the risk of spreading it to you and Jennie. I’ll take the buckboard home so I can bathe, and then I’ll return for you. Is there somewhere you can take Jennie to avoid any contamination?”

  “My father’s haberdashery shop,” she said, pointing to a brownstone down the street. “I’ll wait for you there. His assistant would have closed it for lunch, but I have a key. I want to telephone home and check on my mother to see if she has any news of my father.” She glanced at the baby. “Her nose is running a little so I think it’s just a cold.”

  “Let’s hope it stays that way,” he said, his mouth grim. He stepped past her to the buckboard. “I’ll be back as quickly as I can.” He leaped into the buckboard, took the reins, and then urged the horse into a canter down the street the way they’d come.

  She glanced toward the doctor’s office again, but the woman who had caught her attention was gone. Maybe she’d made it inside. Quite silly to be so taken with a stranger. Katie shifted Jennie to the other arm then hurried down the brick sidewalk to Russell’s Haberdashery.

  After she dug her key from her bag, she stepped into the empty shop.

  The smell of the store was a familiar one: wool, pipe and cigar tobacco, and the spicy scent of cologne combined in a very masculine aroma— one she’d always associated with her father. Her throat closed, and she breathed the odor of her childhood.

  What would happen to the store? Her mother said it was nearly bankrupt, and the realization that her life might be changing forever swept over her. Though people were kind, she saw the questions in their eyes, the censure. They all wondered why her father would try to kill himself.

  The baby had fallen asleep, so Katie balanced her in the crook of her arm and went to the telephone hanging on the wall. She rang through to Central and asked for her home. When the maid answered the phone, Katie asked for her mother.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Katie, but your mama took sick right after you left,” Lois said. “High fever, hurtin’ all over, vomiting. Even breaking out in spots.” Her voice quivered. “The doctor been by. He said i–it was smallpox. We’re already quarantined.”

  Dear God, no! “Take every precaution. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “No, Miss Katie. Your mama would have my hide if I let you come into a sick house. You go stay with a friend. Maybe Mr. Foster would take you in. I’ll take care of your mama.”

  “I want to care for her,” Katie said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “If your mama was to lose you, she would go crazy. You listen to what I say now, miss.”

  Rather than arguing with Lois, Katie rang off. The baby’s nose was running freely now, and her skin was cool and dry. Katie prayed the baby hadn’t been exposed to the pox. They’d have to stay at the shop. Her father had collected some old suits to give to the poor, and she found the box of them in the back and made a bed on the floor for Jennie by the front counter, then covered the suits with a clean sheet she found in a cupboard. The child rolled to her side when Katie laid her down.

  Driven by a compulsion she couldn’t explain, Katie wandered the shop. She remembered the days before the drink had gotten control of her father. The joy on his face when she skated in to see him after school. The Saturdays when she helped by stocking shelves and hanging jackets and pants. Little by little, everything changed. She could always tell when he’d had a shot of whiskey. His reddened eyes would narrow when he saw her. Instead of smiling, he would bark orders at her. She still didn’t understand why she was made to pay for her mother’s sins. The months when he didn’t drink would gradually wipe away the pain, and she’d think it would never come again. It always did though. Always.

  She stepped into the back room. Wooden counters and a sewing machine for alterations sat as though waiting for the tailor. If the store closed, what would happen to the people her father employed? It would be hard to find work with the depression. She touched the smooth, cool surface of the Singer sewing machine. Soon dust would gather on its surface. Wandering along the shelves and counters, she remembered the days when workers crammed the place. Those days would never come again. Now garment factories churned out ready-to-wear. Her gaze fell on the shelves that hid the safe. What if her father had more money than they knew of? It might help them weather the stormy days ahead. She knew the combination.

  She dug her glasses out of her bag and perched them on her nose before shoving away the stacks of wool and cotton to reveal the safe. Her hand touched the dial. It had been years since she had opened it. The safe refused to unlock on the first try. She ran through the sequence again and it popped open. She pushed the door as far as it would go and peered inside. Stacks of paper lay inside along with a money pouch. Hope surged until she picked up the pouch and found it too light. Sure enough, it was empty. She dropped it onto a shelf and lifted out the papers in the back of the safe. She glanced through them. Contracts, invoices, and receipts were all she found.

  She stopped at a note that read: Ship will dock an hour early. Have men waiting.

  The second directly under it read: Operation perfectly executed. Booty more than expected. Will transmit location tomorrow.

  Booty? Her throat closed. Mr. Jesperson thought her father was involved in the piracy of the ships. She couldn’t bear to admit to herself that he might be right.

  THIRTEEN

  WITH HIS SKIN raw from scrubbing as hard as he could in the hot, soapy water of the bath, Will dressed then washed down everything he’d touched. With a twinge of regret, he tossed a match to the clothing he’d thrown into the fire pit outside and dashed back to the horse and buckboard. An hour had passed since he left Miss Russell in town with the baby and he wanted to get them as far away from the pestilence as possible. He urged the horse to a trot.

  Bluebirds sang from the berry bushes along the side of the road, and he watched the clouds building in the west over the water as the buckboard bounced along the rough road. With Miss Bulmer missing, he wasn’t sure where to look for the next link. But it wasn’t his problem. His brother could handle his own case. He had enough to handle.

  He scanned the hillside, blanketed with some kind of blue wildflowers. Pretty place, this northern coast, but a little more tame than he was used to. He normally strode city streets and dodged
clanging streetcars and rearing horses. This was exactly what he had been longing for.

  As he looked around, he noticed two men atop a hill in a cypress grove. One man wore dungarees and a floppy hat. The other appeared to be a businessman dressed in a suit and bowler. They hadn’t seen him yet. He reined in the horse in the shadow of a large tree and watched them a moment. Taken at a casual glance, there was no real reason for his unease. A landowner might have been giving direction to one of his hands, but something about the way the men talked seemed furtive. That alone made Will’s senses go to alert. He wished he were close enough to overhear. He watched the man in the bowler point out to sea, toward where the point jutted into the bay.

  Where the pirates had overrun the ship.

  He told himself not to jump to conclusions. There could be any number of reasons to gesture to the point. He watched the suited man count out paper money and hand it to the worker. The man in dungarees tipped his straw hat then walked off. The businessman saw Will and scowled before he turned and strode away.

  When both men were out of sight, Will started back toward town. He took out a notepad and jotted down descriptions of the men and of the incident. It was probably nothing, but he wanted the criminals brought to justice after seeing what they had done to the sailors. If these men had anything to do with it, he didn’t want to miss any details to report to his brother.

  He reached Mercy Falls and saw that the streets were deserted. Blockades declaring quarantines closed several roads, and he saw more signs on doors. There was no problem finding a spot to park the buckboard outside Russell’s Haberdashery. Most businesses were open but had few clients.

  There was a CLOSED sign in the window of the haberdashery. He turned the knob and found the door unlocked. The bell jingled when he stepped into the shop. Jennie stirred from a makeshift bed on the floor then turned her head and went back to sleep. Rather than calling for Miss Russell, Will walked through the store to the back room where he found the woman peering into a safe.