The Lightkeeper's Bride

by Colleen Coble

  She stopped when she saw him. “How long have you been there?” The skin around her eyes was reddened.

  “Long enough,” he said gently. “That woman was your mother?”

  “She’s not my mother!” Katie clasped her gloved hands together.

  “But I overheard her say—”

  She walked toward him. “Whatever you heard, it’s no business of yours.”

  “Fair enough, but if you’re in some kind of trouble, I’d like to help you.”

  She reached him and paused. “Why would you think I’m in trouble?”

  “I overheard her try to blackmail you.”

  Color stained her cheeks. “You listened?”

  “I came looking for you and was in the vestibule. I didn’t intend to eavesdrop.”

  Her shoulders slumped and she grabbed the back of a pew. “Oh what am I going to do?” she whispered.

  “Let me help you, Katie. Who is that woman?”

  She bit her lip and raised moist eyes to his. “The woman who bore me. Not my mother.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “She abandoned me when I was five. She’s Mama’s sister. A–and it appears Papa is my real father. I’d always thought it was one of Florence’s men friends.” She bit her lip. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you all of that.”

  “I know how to keep a secret. But why is it a secret? If you were five, surely people know you are not Mrs. Russell’s daughter.”

  She shook her head. “We couldn’t bear for people to know I was born to a woman who danced and entertained men. No suitable man would want anything to do with me. My reputation would be gone. I’d have to leave Mercy Falls in disgrace.”

  He wanted to object to her conclusion but she was right. “You moved here after the Russells took you in?”

  She nodded. “Papa had just moved to Mercy Falls. I assumed it was coincidence that Florence brought me here. Now I know it was because she wanted money from him. Mama wasn’t here yet, and we went to visit my father. I liked him right away. Perhaps I always knew . . .” She paused, lost in reveries, then shook her head and continued, “A few nights later Florence left me alone, something frightened me, and I found my way back to the Russell house. My father took me in, and when Mama showed up the next morning, everyone in town assumed I was their child. I never knew what happened to Florence.”

  “Perhaps your father paid her off.”

  She nodded. “I think that must be what happened.”

  “And now she’s back, wanting more money.”

  She tucked her hanky back into her sleeve. “She didn’t believe me when I told her Papa’s business was in trouble.”

  “So she is threatening to ask Mr. Foster for money.”

  She paled. “Yes, and she mustn’t. Mama . . . I would be ruined.”

  He studied her panicked expression. “The truth usually comes out sooner or later. If Mr. Foster loves you, it won’t matter.” The thought of her marrying that fellow made him thrust his hands in his pockets.

  “It matters to me.”

  He offered his arm and she took it. He guided her toward the door. “So now I understand a little more about you.”

  Her fingers tightened on his arm. “Whatever do you mean?”

  A wave of tenderness surprised him. “Your intense desire never to be faced with a surprise. I understand now.”

  Her smile was weak. “Would you care to translate?”

  “You feel the need to control things so you’re never faced with a situation like that again. But you should remember that your real friends will stick by you. If others don’t, they never really cared about you.”

  She thrust out her chin. “It must not come out.”

  “Truth always comes out, Katie. Who you are has nothing to do with who bore you. God rejoices over you and who you are as a person.

  That’s where your worth comes from. Not from fickle men. Or women.”

  “I know that.”

  They reached the door and he opened it for her. “Then put it into practice.”

  She glanced up at him. “You don’t understand how important this is to me.”

  He didn’t answer as she preceded him out the door. With her real mother in town, she hadn’t a hope of keeping this quiet. He’d seen the resemblance. It wouldn’t be long before someone else did too.

  The rain pattered on the carriage top and the scent of wet ground filled the air. Katie pointed out the road to Will, who nodded and turned the horses. He sat hunched on the driver’s seat in a rain slicker. Rain sluiced off the brim of his hat. She thought she could trust him with her secret. What did it say about their relationship that she was so comfortable with his knowledge of her background? And moreover, that she so feared Bart and his mother finding out?

  “Katie, dear, are you sure this is wise?” Lady Carrington asked. The baby slept in the crook of her arm.

  Katie craned her neck to see through the downpour. The house would be visible any moment. “I must see how Mama is doing.”

  “But the quarantine,” the older woman protested. “Your mother is still contagious.”

  “I’ll stay well away from the window.” Ever since Mrs. Foster had mentioned it, she couldn’t get it out of her mind. The carriage had barely come to a halt when the rain slowed then stopped. Katie flung open the door and stepped down before Will could assist her. “I won’t be long,” she said.

  His dark eyes held sympathy and concern. “Would you like me to come with you?”

  “That’s not necessary,” she said before he could jump down from the seat. “I need to do this alone.” Though he knew much of the story, there was more he didn’t know. She told herself it was best to keep it that way.

  The wet grass soaked her feet before she reached the house. She stopped about five feet from the window, which was open a crack. “Mama,” she called. “Are you awake?”

  “Katie? Is that you?” her mother’s voice was weak but clear.

  Katie whispered thanks to God at the sound of her voice. She didn’t dare move closer. “It’s me, Mama. Can you come to the window?” Though they’d spoken by phone, she needed to see her mother. And she needed to tell her of Florence in person, not over a buzzing line.

  A few moments later the window rose higher and her mother’s face appeared. “Katie, darling, I’ve missed you.” Red pox marred the creamy complexion of the older woman. She appeared thinner and her hair lay in disarray on her shoulders, but she was smiling.

  Katie didn’t know where to even begin. Her mother’s frail appearance gave her pause. Perhaps it should wait. Nubbins came running from the backyard. The kitten was drenched and mewing. Katie scooped him up and held her against her chest. “Poor kitty, I think I’ll take you home with me. I’ve missed you.” There was that word home again. How peculiar when she was standing in front of her home and felt no real inclination to move back into her room.

  She studied her mother’s face. “You’re healing, Mama.”

  Her mother smiled. “I’m getting stronger by the day. How are you, Katie? You look pale. Are you well?”

  “I’m fine.” She wetted her lips. There was no way to navigate this story in a delicate manner. “We have a–a problem though.” She hated to burden her mother when she was so sick but what else could she do? “I need some guidance, Mama.”

  Her mother’s smile faded. “What is it? Your father has died, hasn’t he? You must tell me. Oh dear, I spoke to him on the telephone today and he seemed to be getting stronger.”

  “Wh–what? No, of course not, Mama. He’s fine. I saw him.” Her mother’s question drove thoughts of Florence from Katie’s head.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Your father would never try to kill himself.” Her mother leaned her head out the window. “I’ve thought this over. Someone had to have tried to hurt him. You know he’s a good man, Katie. It was only when he’s drinking that things are . . . difficult.”

  “I know, Mama. He’s doing fi
ne though.” She couldn’t tell her mother what Papa had revealed.

  “He would never deliberately leave me to face the problems ahead without him. Your father isn’t a coward. He’s a fighter.”

  “Mama, please listen,” Katie said, trying to keep a desperate edge from her voice and failing. “Florence is in town. Demanding money.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened. She grew even paler and her mouth hung open. She disappeared from the window. Katie heard something scrape on the floor, and then her mother’s face appeared again, a bit lower. “I had to sit down,” she said, her voice quivering. “My sister came to see you?”

  “Yes. She’s after more money, Mama.”

  “She deserves nothing from us,” her mother said in a trembling voice. “In twenty years she has not even so much as sent any of us a Christmas greeting. We didn’t know if she was dead or alive. She simply vanished.”

  “I know.”

  “What makes her think we would give her money?”

  “To keep her quiet. Otherwise, she will go to Bart and ask for money. She’ll tell him she’s my mother.” Katie could barely even say the words my mother. Florence had no concept of what being a real mother entailed.

  Her mother put her hand to her throat. “She can’t do that! Bart’s parents would put a stop to his courtship if they knew.”

  “I know.” She blinked back the moisture in her eyes.

  “How much money does she want?”

  “Five thousand dollars.”

  Her mother gasped. “Katie, whatever shall we do? There isn’t that kind of money.”

  “I could offer her what we have, but if I give it to Florence, there won’t be anything left to live on.”

  “She doesn’t deserve one penny!” her mother cried. “Oh if only Albert were here. He would soon put a stop to her shenanigans.”

  The rain picked up and Katie felt the dampness to her bones. It added to her weariness and despair. “But he’s not. And you need to guard your health. It’s up to me, and I don’t know what to do.”

  Her mother leaned farther out the window. “You simply must get Bart to propose. Soon.”

  A lump formed in Katie’s throat. “Is it fair to him, Mama? I mean, what happens if he finds out the truth after we’re married?” She couldn’t believe she was arguing for telling him the truth. But Will was right. The truth always came out. And when it did, she didn’t want her husband to think she betrayed him.

  “Don’t you dare whisper a word of it!”

  “All right, Mama,” she said, trying to soothe her mother’s agitation.

  “Get rid of that woman, Katie. Somehow!” Her mother’s voice rose nearly to a shriek. She broke off and began to cough.

  Katie checked her impulse to spring forward. “Mama, are you all right?”

  The fit of coughing stopped. Her mother wiped her mouth with a hanky and seemed to gather herself again. “I don’t know what we shall do if it becomes known in town. It’s not only Bart and your chance to become a Foster, you know. All of society will shun us.

  Because we passed you off as my own child. No one likes to be hoodwinked. I couldn’t bear the pity either. We would have to leave Mercy Falls.”

  Katie nodded, though the thought made her cringe. “We have a total of three thousand dollars, Mama. We can’t give her all our money.”

  “Perhaps we could get a loan from the bank.”

  “We have no assets to put up.”

  “The haberdashery,” her mother suggested. “I don’t think there is a mortgage on it.”

  “Papa told me it was all mortgaged,” Katie said. She glanced back at the carriage. “I must go, Mama.”

  Her mother reached out a hand through the open window, as if she longed to touch her. “Are you getting along all right? How curious that you’re staying at the lighthouse.”

  “I’m enjoying caring for the baby.”

  “Oh yes, the child. Might I see her again? From a distance?”

  It was one thing to risk her own health, but Katie wasn’t willing to risk Jennie’s. “I think that we should wait until you are well. Will has taken responsibility for now and we really have no money to raise her.”

  Her mother’s brows rose. “Will? You are on a first name basis with the man?”

  “It seemed sensible.”

  Her mother shook her head. “Oh Katie, my dear. Watch yourself.

  Your future is planned out already. There is no room in it for a poor lightkeeper.”

  “I know, Mama. I know my duty.”

  Her mother frowned. “Duty? But surely you want to marry Bart, do you not?”

  The dark clouds seemed lower than they’d ever been. The rain drenched her, and the wet grass chilled her toes. “Of course I do,” Katie said before the fear grew in her mother’s eyes. “I am praying for your rapid recovery, Mama. I’ll talk to you soon.” She turned and fled back to the carriage with the kitten in her arms for comfort.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  KATIE HADN’T BEEN able to stop shivering since they’d arrived back from town. Will had built a roaring fire and she sat as close as she dared in dry clothing. A now-dry Nubbins lay sleeping on her lap. She’d towel-dried her hair and it lay still damp on her shoulders. The rain continued to come down outside, sometimes in a drenching downpour and sometimes in a gentle patter. The scent of oatmeal cookies drifted from the kitchen and she heard Lady Carrington banging pots.

  Will kept staring at Katie from the sofa then looking away when she glanced in his direction, and Katie wished she was the one who had insisted on making dinner.

  Jennie had fallen asleep on the rug. “I’ll go put her in her crib,” Katie said.

  “Let her sleep,” Will said. “If you move her, she’ll awaken in a grumpy mood.”

  “I don’t want to move anyway,” she said. “This chair is just now warming up.”

  He rose and grabbed the knitted afghan that was draped over the back of the sofa. His eyes were soft as he laid it over her. “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded, her mouth drying at his nearness. Pulling her hands from under the wrap, she willed him to head to the lighthouse and not confuse her even more. “Nubbins will like it too.”

  He rolled his eyes. “A cat. We have quite the menagerie here.” As if in answer to his remark, the bird meowed in the kitchen. Nubbins sprang to full alert, his ears flicking. He jumped from the sofa and crept toward the kitchen. “Good thing the bird is in his cage,” Will said.

  Her gaze drifted to the window, where raindrops still sluiced down the glass. “You were right about the weather,” she said.

  He smiled. “I like being right.”

  To her relief, he moved over to the window, giving her room again to think straight. “Do you want to talk about what happened today?”

  Katie strained to hear what was going on in the kitchen. It sounded as though Lady Carrington was chopping vegetables. “There isn’t much to say about it. I can’t pay what she’s demanding.”

  “I wouldn’t pay her anyway.”

  She pressed her lips together. Did he want her to be humiliated? “I must help you and Philip find the ship and the missing gold.”

  “And then what? Pay her off and worry about the next time she wants money?”

  He was right. This situation could be never ending. “I’m not sure I have the courage to just let it be known.”

  “You’re the bravest woman I know. People who care about you will stand by you. I’ll be one of them.”

  She swallowed hard and didn’t look away from the intensity of emotion in his face.

  “The woman’s appearance changes nothing, Katie. You are still your own dear self. Courageous and beautiful. Fiercely loyal. Why is respectability so important to you?”

  He thought she was dear? Courageous? And . . . beautiful? No one but her mama had ever told her that. “My father, he–he often intimated I would turn out poorly. I want to make him proud of me.”

  He scowled. “Did he throw this Florence in
your face?”

  The penetrating knowledge in his eyes made her glance away. “You are most astute,” she said, her throat tight.

  “Your desire for respectability is really a desire for peace, I think.

  That comes from being comfortable in your skin—with who God made you to be. Not trying to be something you’re not. Being willing to be transparent, without airs.”

  Her pulse raced even thinking about such transparency. “What if people reject who I really am?”

  He leaned forward. “They won’t, Katie. You’re beautiful, inside and out. And if some do, so what? We answer to God. We belong to him. We are his children. His bride. His brothers and sisters. You can rest in that. Peace is a beautiful thing.”

  His eyes held a mysterious tenderness that drew her. She wanted to be able to rest in the peace he and Addie talked about. To turn over control. Would marrying Bart bring that or just make her more fearful of letting anyone see the real Katie Russell? “How do you learn to rest in that? To make that enough?”

  He glanced at the baby. “Do you think Jennie thinks she must hide who she is? She knows she has our total love and acceptance. We have God’s in that same way. That can give us confidence to put down the masks and be who we were created to be.”

  She shuddered and tried to tell herself it was from the cold and not from sheer terror. “Sometimes I dream that the whole town knows who I am. I see people point and turn their backs on me. Whisper about me when I’m not looking. I can’t bear pity.”

  He knelt in front of her then clasped her hands in his. “So don’t accept it. Hold your head high. You are not Florence. You are your own self.”

  His hands were warm. Steady and strong. Just like the man himself. “I’ll try to remember that.”

  He lifted her hand to his mouth and turned it over, then kissed her palm. His intense gaze stayed locked with hers. With his lips pressed against her skin, she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Bart never affected her this way. What did it all mean?

  All she would have to do was lean forward just a bit, show her attraction to him, and he would take the lead. He would draw her into his arms and kiss her again. She knew from the experience on the beach that all thought left her when he kissed her. Was that the place to find peace?