ADVANCE PRAISE FOR
THE LIGHTKEEPER’S DAUGHTER
"Colleen Coble has long been a favorite storyteller of mine. I love the way she weaves intrigue and God’s love in to a story chock-full of carefully crafted characters. If you’re looking for an awesome writer—I highly recommend her!”
—Tracie Peterson, best-selling author of
Dawn’s Prelude, Song of Alaska series
"Colleen delivers a heart-warming romance—and plot twists that will keep you guessing until the final page! Perhaps best of all, her novels call us to a deeper, richer faith.”
—Tamera Alexander, best-selling author of
The Inheritance and Beyond this Moment
"The Lightkeeper’s Daughter is a maze of twists and turns with an opening that grabs the reader instantly. With so many red herrings, the villain caught me by surprise.”
—Lauraine Snelling, best-selling
author of A Measure of Mercy
OTHER NOVELS BY
COLLEEN COBLE INCLUDE
The Rock Harbor series
Without a Trace
Beyond a Doubt
Into the Deep
Cry in the Night
The Aloha Reef series
Distant Echoes
Black Sands
Dangerous Depths
Alaska Twilight
Fire Dancer
Midnight Sea
Abomination
Anathema
Lonestar Sanctuary
Lonestar Secrets
THE
LIGHTKEEPER’S
DAUGHTER
A Mercy Falls Novel
Colleen Coble
© 2009 by Colleen Coble
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of Thomas Nelson, Inc.
Thomas Nelson, Inc., titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].
Publisher’s note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
KING JAMES VERSION is in the public domain and does not require permission.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Coble, Colleen.
The lightkeeper’s daughter : a Mercy Falls novel / Colleen Coble.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-59554-267-0 (softcover : alk. paper)
1. Nannies—Fiction. 2. California—History—1850—1950—Fiction. 3. Domestic fiction. I. Title.
PS3553.O2285L54 2010
813'.54—dc22
2009045066
Printed in the United States of America
09 10 11 12 13 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1
For Ami,
I’m so glad you encouraged me to write this book!
Thanks for always being my champion.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
EPILOGUE
DEAR READER
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
READING GROUP GUIDE
PROLOGUE
1884
THE SHIP’S DECK rolled under his feet, and he widened his stance to protect his balance and the toddler in his arms. Where was she? He’d been from one end of the steamer to the other. Laura was nowhere to be found. He shifted the sleeping child and eyed the black clouds hovering low on the horizon. A lighthouse winked in the darkening seascape. The wind whipped the waves into a frenzy and tore at the masts. The boat fell into a trough, and the stern rose as the bow tipped. He grabbed at the railing for support. A rumble came to his ears. Thunder? Deckhands rushed by him, and he caught the faint stench of smoke.
“Fire!” a man shouted. “There’s been an explosion!”
He turned to see smoke pouring from the hold. People milled on the deck, and crewmen rushed to lower the lifeboat. He grabbed the arm of a passing crewman and shouted over the howling wind. “The pretty woman with the red hair in a pompadour. Have you seen her?”
“She’s gone. Left first thing this morning before we left the dock. This ship is going down, mate. Get on the lifeboat now!” The man jerked his arm away.
He watched the crewman rush to help panicking passengers into the lifeboat. Gone. How could she leave without a word? Laura would never leave her child. Other people streamed by him on their way to safety, but he stood rooted to the deck until the little girl in his arms whimpered.
“Mama,” she said. “Papa.”
He studied her eyes, so like her mother’s. “We must get you to shore,” he said. His purpose found, he strode to the lifeboat. Wide-eyed passengers crammed every seat. Some had other people on their laps. There was no room. Not for him.
He held up the little girl. “Please, someone save her!”
“Hurry, mister!” a crewman yelled. “Throw her into the boat.”
A woman held out her arms. “I’ll take her.”
Julia clutched him and wailed. “It’s okay, darling,” he soothed. He kissed her smooth cheek, then lowered her into the woman’s arms. The woman had barely settled the child when the steamer lurched and shuddered. It began to break apart as the lifeboat hit the roiling waves. He watched the men in the boat strain at the oars, but the waves swamped it, and it was making little headway.
He couldn’t stay here or he’d go down with the steamer. Shucking his morning coat and shoes, he climbed to the rail and dived overboard. Cold salt water filled his mouth and nose. He struggled to the surface and gulped in air before another wave caught him. The fury of the current took him under again, and he lost track of how many times he managed to snatch a breath before being thrust toward the ocean floor once more. A dozen? A hundred?
Finally his knees scraped rock, and a wave vomited him from the sea to the shore. Nearly unconscious, he lay gasping on blessed ground. He swam in and out of darkness until his brain regained enough function to remember Julia. His stomach heaved seawater onto the sand, and the retching brought him around. He managed to get on his hands and knees and stayed there a few moments until his head cleared and he could stumble to his feet. He gawked at the devastation scattered across the beach.
The sea had torn the lifeboat to splinters. Bodies and debris lay strewn up and down the coast. Shudders racked his body, and he lurched along the rocks. “Julia!” he called. The wind tossed h
is words back at him. She had to be alive. He ran up and down the littered shore but found no trace of the little girl he loved nearly as much as he loved her mother.
ONE
1907
ADDIE SULLIVAN’S STIFF fingers refused to obey her as she struggled to unbutton her voluminous nightgown. The lighthouse bucked with the wind, and she swallowed hard. Her room was freezing, because they’d run out of coal last week and had no money to buy more. Her German shepherd, Gideon, whined and licked her hand. She had to get dressed, but she stood paralyzed.
A storm like this never failed to bring the familiar nightmares to mind. She could taste the salt water on her tongue and feel the helplessness of being at the mercy of the waves. Her parents insisted she’d never been in a shipwreck, but throughout her life she’d awakened screaming in the night, imagining she was drowning. In her nightmare, she struggled against a faceless man who tossed her into the water from a burning ship.
Thunder rumbled outside like a beast rising from the raging waves, and the sound drew her unwilling attention again. “The Lord on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea,” she whispered. Her agitation eased, and she reached for her dress.
The front door slammed, and her mother’s voice called out. “Addie, I need your help! Get your kit.”
The urgency in her words broke Addie’s paralysis. She grabbed her dressing gown. The medical kit was in the bottom of her chifforobe cabinet. “Come, Gideon,” she said.
Carrying the metal box of bandages, acetylsalicylic acid powder, and carbolic acid, she rushed down the steps with her dog on her heels. She found her mother in the parlor. The patient lay on the rug by the fireplace. Her mother, lighthouse keeper Josephine Sullivan, stepped back when Addie entered the room. The woman’s overalls and jacket were drenched from the rain and surf.
“You took long enough, girlie,” she said. “I suppose you were hiding in your room.”
Addie eyed her mother’s set mouth, then knelt by the man. “What’s happened? Where is he injured?”
“His arm is swollen. I think it’s sprained. He has several cuts. I found him at the foot of the stairs to the lighthouse. I think he fell. He passed out as soon as I got him in here.” Her mother stepped over to turn on the gaslights. Their hiss could barely be heard above the storm.
“I’ll get you some tea after I tend to our patient,” she said to her mother.
The wind had whipped her mother’s hair free of its pins. Her gray locks lay plastered against her head. The wind rattled the shutters and lashed rain against the windows. “And food. You should have brought me something.”
Addie clamped her mouth shut. The last time she’d tried to take food to her mother as a storm rolled in, her efforts were met with a tantrum. She turned her attention back to her patient. He was in his fifties and had little color in his face. Judging by his clean-shaven jaw, she guessed him to be wealthy and following the fashion of the day. His expensive suit, though shredded, bore out her speculation.
“Help me get his coat off,” Addie said.
Her mother reached for the scissors from her sewing basket. “Cut it off. The clothing is useless anyway.”
“But what will he wear?”
“Something of your father’s.”
Addie choked back her objections and took the scissors. The man’s tie was missing, and blood showed through the white shirt under the jacket. She cut the shirt to gain access to his swollen arm. “I think it’s only sprained.”
Her mother dropped into a chair and pushed her wet hair out of her face. “As I said.”
“It’s God’s blessing that he’s unconscious. He might need the doctor.”
“The isthmus is covered. I’d have to wait until low tide to reach the mainland.”
“I’ll secure his arm in a sling. He’ll be fine in a few days,” Addie said. He flinched and moaned, and she knew he’d awaken soon. She pulled out a bandage and secured his arm, then sprayed the cuts with carbolic acid and bandaged the worst of them. “Was there a shipwreck?” she asked.
Her mother shook her head. “Not that I know of. Just this man lying by the steps.”
Addie silently prayed for him while she immobilized the arm in a sling of muslin. He moaned again. His eyelids fluttered, then opened. He blinked a few times, then struggled to sit up.
“No, don’t move,” she said.
He squinted into her face. “Where am I?”
“At Battery Point Lighthouse. Outside Crescent City,” Addie said. “California,” she added in case he was a bit addled. She touched his clammy forehead.
“The steep hillside,” he muttered. “I fell.”
“The steps are treacherous in this kind of weather. But you’re going to be fine in a few days. I think your arm is sprained, but that’s the worst of it.”
His eyes lingered on her face, then moved to the locket nestled against her chest. He frowned, then struggled to sit up as he reached for it. “Where did you get that?”
Addie flinched and clutched the locket. “It was my grandmother’s.” She looked away from the intensity in his face.
“Laura.” He clutched his arm. “My arm hurts.”
Laura? She touched his head to check for fever. “Let’s get you to the chair.”
She helped him stand and stagger to the armchair protected with crocheted doilies. He nearly collapsed onto the cushion, but his attention remained fixed on her locket.
She was ready to escape his piercing stare. “I’ll make us some tea.”
In the kitchen she stirred the embers of the fire in the wood range, then poured out hot water from the reservoir into the cracked teapot. The storm was beginning to blow itself out, and she no longer saw the flashes of lightning that had so terrified her. She ladled vegetable soup into chipped bowls from the pot she’d kept warm for her mother. The sound of her mother’s raised voice came to her ears and nearly caused her to spill the hot tea.
“You have no proof!” her mother shouted.
“What on earth?” Addie placed cups and the teapot on a tray, then rushed to the parlor. The man and her mother were tight-lipped and tense when she entered.
“Is everything all right?”
When neither the man nor her mother answered her, Addie set the tray on the fireplace hearth and poured tea into the mismatched cups. What could they possibly be arguing about?
She stirred honey into her mother’s tea, then handed it over. “Honey?” Addie asked their guest.
He shook his head. “Black, please.” He took the cup in his left hand, which shook. The tea sloshed. He didn’t take his eyes off Addie. “I didn’t believe it until I saw you.”
“What?”
He set his tea down and glared at her mother before turning his attention back to Addie. His lips tightened. “The way you stand, the shape of your eyes. Just like your mother’s.”
Addie’s eyes flitted to her mother. “Is your vision blurry?” she asked. Addie had often coveted the lovely brunette hair she’d seen in photos of her mother as a young woman. It was so straight and silky, and quite unlike her own mop of auburn locks that reached her waist. She actually looked more like her grandmother, the woman in the picture held by her locket. “What is your name?”
“Walter Driscoll. From Mercy Falls.”
“Near Ferndale,” she said. “There’s a lighthouse there.”
“That’s right.”
“What are you doing in Crescent City?”
“Looking for you,” he said. His voice was still weak, and he was pale.
He must be delirious. She noticed the swelling in his elbow had increased. “Is your arm paining you?”
He nodded. “It’s getting quite bad.”
She reached for her medical supplies and pulled out the acetylsalicylic acid. She stirred some into his tea and added honey to cover the bitterness. “Drink that. It will help.” She waited until he gulped it down. “Let me help you to the guest room,” she said. “Sleep i
s the best thing.” He wobbled when she helped him up the steps to the spare room across the hall from hers.
Her mother followed close behind with Gideon. “I’ll help him prepare for bed,” she said. “It’s not appropriate for a young woman.”
Addie studied her mother’s face. The woman’s mouth was set, and Addie could have sworn she saw panic in her eyes. “Of course, Mama. Call if you need anything.”
Closing the door behind her, she went to her bedroom and shut herself in with Gideon. The dog leaped onto her bed and curled up at the foot. She petted his ears. The foghorn tolled out across the water. The fury of the waves had subsided, leaving behind only the lulling sound of the surf against the shore. She left the dog and stepped to the window. She opened it and drew in a fresh breath of salt-laden air. The light from the lighthouse tower pierced the fog hovering near the shore. She saw no other ships in the dark night, but the fog might be hiding them.
The voices across the hall rose. Her mother quite disliked nosiness, but Addie went to the door anyway. Gideon jumped down from the bed and followed her. Addie wanted to know the reason for the animosity between Mr. Driscoll and her mother. She caught only a few floating words. “Paid handsomely,” she heard her mother say. And “truth must be told” came from Mr. Driscoll.
What did her mother mean? They had no wealth to speak of. Many times since Papa died of consumption, they’d had little more for food than fish they could catch or soup made from leeks from their garden. The small amount of money Addie brought in from the dressmaking helped her mother, but there was never enough. Someday she wanted to walk into a shop and buy a ready-made dress. New shoes were a luxury she hadn’t had in five years.
“She’s not your child,” she heard Mr. Driscoll say.
Addie put her hand to her throat. Did her mother have another child? Gideon whined at her side. “It’s okay, boy.” She had to know the truth even if it made her mother furious. She opened the door and stepped into the hall.
“If you don’t tell her, I will,” Mr. Driscoll said. “She has the right to know about her heritage.”
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