“I’d better be going, then. I’ll pray for you.” Addie fled the ward.
She raced past nurses pushing squeaky carts and a doctor walking at a fast clip. Out in the sunshine, she gulped in fresh air that had never smelled so sweet.
“Julia?”
She turned at her father’s voice. He stood in his bowler with his suit buttoned and a flower in his buttonhole.
He glanced from her to the hospital. “What were you doing in there?”
“Visiting a friend.”
His brows gathered. “Who would that be?”
She held his gaze. “Mrs. Whittaker.”
“The mother of the girls who work at the garment factory. Julia, I expressly forbade you to get involved with that family. You could catch her disease. You’re an Eaton. Good works are fine, but please limit them to something I approve.”
She curled her fingers into fists in the folds of her dress. “I care about this family, Father. I want to help them.”
He took a firmer grip on his cane. “Then give them money.”
“I want to do more than that. Those children were taken to the orphanage. I can’t bear to think of them there. Five children, Father.” Her voice broke.
“My dear, there are children all over this country in orphanages. You can’t take in all of them.”
She put as much appeal in her voice as she could muster. “Maybe not, but we could take in these.”
His brows rose, and his expression of horror said it all. “Absolutely not!” He took out his pocket watch. “I must go, my dear. I’ll see you at home tonight. Lord Carrington is coming for dinner.”
“Father—” But he was gone before she could object.
She walked on toward her buggy, then saw Katie on the other side of the street. Addie darted between two buggies to intercept her friend, who looked fetching in a blue dress framed with lace at the neck. She carried two bags in her left hand.
Katie shifted one of the bags from her left hand to her right. “Addie, I was just thinking about you!”
“Do you have time for ice cream?”
“Oh, I wish I did. I have some clothing to deliver to the orphanage. Why don’t you come along with me?”
“For the Whittaker children?”
Katie nodded. “Mama and I canvassed the neighborhood for items. I have a nice assortment. The children would be so glad to see you.”
Addie took one of the bags from her. “I could use your advice.”
Katie’s blue eyes widened. “Is this about John North?”
Addie fell into step beside her, and they walked toward the orphanage. “Not just John,” she said.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t even know where to begin. John proposed Saturday night, and I said yes.”
“Addie, I’m so happy for you.”
“Don’t be. When we arrived home, Father informed me that he’d given my hand to Lord Carrington.”
Katie stopped on the sidewalk. “No!”
Addie nodded. “He won’t listen to reason. He’s insisting I marry Carrington.”
“But he might have had something to do with your mother’s death! And he’s old, Addie. Old enough to be your father.”
“I know.”
Katie tipped her head and held Addie’s gaze. “You’ve changed since I met you.”
“In what way?”
“When we first met, you were like Gideon. Eager, happy. You said what you thought with never any guile. Now you’re so eager to please your father that you’re letting him mold you into some idea he has of the proper daughter.”
Addie started to speak but wasn’t sure if she even had a defense. Was Katie right? She thought about her recent decisions. She’d barely objected when her father forbade her from helping the Whittaker family anymore. “There may be some truth to what you say.”
Katie held up the bag of clothes she carried. “Two weeks ago, you would have been the one gathering donations. You would have moved into the apartment and cared for the children yourself instead of letting them go to the orphanage.”
Addie’s eyes burned. “I wanted my father to love me.”
“We all crave approval. But at what cost, Addie? I think this price is too dear.”
Addie’s knees nearly buckled. When was the last time she’d opened her Bible? She hadn’t even asked God what he would have her do in this situation. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I have to go.” She thrust the bag into Katie’s hand and ran back the way she’d come.
Addie fell face-first into the soft moss. The roar of the falls filled her ears and drowned out the sound of her sobs. Edward was eating his lunch under the careful watch of his nurse, so she’d been free to take her dog. Gideon whined and licked her cheek.
This perfect dream was crumbling in her hands. And she’d let it, because she’d allowed other people to become more important to her than God.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered against the softness of the moss. “I wanted so much to belong.”
You belong to me. I am the only Father you need.
The words impressed themselves on her heart. How easily she’d been enticed away from the things that truly mattered. “I thought I was strong, Lord. That nothing could shake my faith.”
And nothing had. Only her willful decisions to let what other people thought matter more than what God wanted. Without so much as a backward glance, she’d dropped her desire for God’s will and followed her own. Her life would mean nothing if she let the world creep in.
She groaned as she remembered the desperate face of Mrs. Whittaker. Addie had let her father’s disapproval keep her from doing what she knew was right. And those children. She’d abandoned them to the orphanage. God had urged her to help, but she’d been afraid.
She sat up and swiped at her face, then opened the Bible she’d brought. Gideon crowded close and put his head on her lap. Her study of the names of God fell out. She picked up the pages. El Shaddai. All-Sufficient God. Why had she thought she needed any man’s approval? Only God’s mattered.
She flipped to Proverbs 3. “Let not mercy and truth forsake thee,” she read. “Bind them about thy neck. Write them upon the table of thine heart.” She shut her Bible. With God’s help, she’d cling to the truth and follow him, not the whims of man.
She rubbed Gideon’s head, then pushed him off. She rose and turned toward the path, but stopped when she saw John approaching through the ferns. Had he come here for solace or had he come in search of her? She waited for him to see her.
Brushing the ferns out of the way, he strolled as if he had all the time in the world. His head was bare, and he’d removed his jacket. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. She thought of the scripture that mentioned God’s strong right arm. This was a man she could depend on. A man who would be strong where she was weak.
Gideon bounded forward, then groveled on his back for John to rub his stomach. At the dog’s appearance, John’s gaze went toward the spring.
Their eyes met, and he stopped. A grave smile tugged at his lips. “Addie. There you are.”
“Were you looking for me?”
“Yes. I knew you’d be here.” He glanced at the waterfall. “This is your special place with God, isn’t it?”
She nodded and stepped closer to him. “I feel him here.”
He wound a curl around his index finger. “You’ve changed me, Addie. Sitting in church yesterday, I realized how far I’d fallen away from God. I want to remember what it was like to want to follow him.”
His fingers in her hair caused warmth to spread out from her belly. “I haven’t been a very good example lately,” she whispered. “I let what everyone else wanted come first.”
“I told you it would happen.”
“You did. But no more.”
His hand became more entwined in her hair. He glanced at her bare feet. “I’m glad. I love the real Addie. The one who plays ragtime on the piano, and the girl who splashes me with water and
runs barefoot through the house.”
He pulled her closer, then bent his head. She stood on tiptoes and wound her arms around his neck. Addie inhaled his breath, his essence, into her lungs. He was part of her. She was bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh. His lips met hers, and she tried to put how she felt into her kiss. Her surrender, her love. She would go anywhere, forsake anything, for him.
When his lips lifted from hers, he searched her face. “Will you defy your father and Carrington?”
“Yes.”
“We might move back to San Francisco.”
“I’ll have you and Edward, no matter where we live. That’s enough.”
John glanced at Gideon, who still sprawled on his back, with his belly exposed. “That’s one way to get the dog for Edward.”
She poked him in the ribs. “So that’s all this is? A ploy to get my dog?”
Gideon rolled over and looked on expectantly at the word dog. John laughed and prodded the animal with his foot. Gideon’s expression turned blissful. “Whatever works.”
Her smile died when he held her face in his hands. “I’d take you, dog or no dog. That spring behind us reminds me of you. I saw you described in the Bible this morning. It was in Isaiah 58. ‘And the Lord shall guide thee continually, and satisfy thy soul in drought, and make fat thy bones: and thou shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of water, whose waters fail not.’”
She inhaled and pondered the words. “Which part is me? The fat part?”
He threw back his head and laughed. “No, darling. The spring of water. I was so jaded before you came into my life. You make everything new and fresh. Thank you for that.”
She nestled against his chest again until she heard the sound of her father’s automobile. “He’s home. I have to tell him.”
“Actually, he’s leaving. For Fort Bragg. I came to get you so we could follow him—if it’s still important to you.”
She ran her fingers across the faint stubble on his cheeks. “Bless you for that. But yes, I want to know about my mother. What about his dinner guest? Carrington was coming.”
“Your father canceled when he got home for lunch a few minutes ago.”
He took her hand and they ran toward the house with the dog at their heels. Addie prayed this day would finally bring her some answers.
THIRTY-FOUR
THE RENTED COACH awaited John and Addie when they disembarked at the quay in Fort Bragg. Gideon stayed close on her heels. John had made the decision to bring him, because he might be of assistance to them, though they both worried about Edward. Molly had promised to watch him closely.
Addie could hardly think as they walked past the remains of gutted fish and heaps of fishing nets. Addie held her hankie to her nose, but it did little to block the stench of rotting meat. The pier bustled with fishermen, buyers, and travelers awaiting passage on the next boat to the city.
“We’ll never find him,” she said, once John handed her into the carriage and climbed in beside her.
“Our driver says he’s taken Henry many times over the years. He goes to a home outside of town. So that’s where we’re heading.” He took her hand. “We have to be careful, Addie. We can’t go rushing in there demanding to know what he’s doing.”
“I know. And it’s likely a dead end.” She pressed her trembling lips together. “It’s good of you to humor me.”
“I’d do anything for you, Addie,” he said, his eyes soft.
She squeezed his hand. “And I do love you for it.” She craned her neck to stare out the window as the cab rolled through town. The bustling seaside port seemed to subsist on logging and fishing. They soon left the streets behind and rolled along a country lane that wound through Sitka spruce and wildflowers. The towering edifice at the top of the hill had to be the insane asylum. The stonework and shuttered windows gave it a secretive air.
John leaned forward. “Let us out here. Come back in two hours.”
The driver nodded and pulled the horse to the side of the road. John helped Addie out of the cab, then paid the driver while she called Gideon to her. When the clopping of the horse’s hooves faded, he took her hand, and they walked along the road to the side of the building.
“Why don’t we go to the front door?” Addie asked.
“We can’t walk in and ask why Henry comes here twice a year or why he’s broken his routine and come here today. If there’s anything unsavory going on with the residents, they are hardly going to admit it.”
She clung to his hand and stared at the large home. Her silly vapors had brought them on a wild goose chase, and she would be embarrassed when they found out nothing. Hiring the boat and their lodging wouldn’t have been cheap either.
The road wound around to the back of the asylum. A garden with a labyrinth and clipped hedges caught her eye. Stone benches and a small waterfall looked serene and inviting. Several people wandered among the flowers on the other side of the fence.
Her fingers tightened on John’s forearm. “Isn’t that my father?” She pointed toward a man sitting beside a woman on a bench.
John peered. “I think you’re right. I can’t make out much about the woman.”
“Can we get closer without being seen?”
“I think so. There are so many huckleberry shrubs through the back field. We can hide behind them as we get closer. Mind your skirt, and hang on to me. The ground will be uneven.”
She nodded and clung to his support. He led her down into the valley from the road. They moved from shrub to shrub until they stood five feet from the stone wall. The barrier was eight feet tall without a gate on the backside.
“We can’t see anything now. We had a better view from up on the road,” she said.
“We might be able to hear something.”
He took her hand and led her to the wall. Holding his finger to his lips, he sidled down the stone structure in the direction of the bench where they’d seen her father sitting. She strained to make out the conversation on the other side of the wall.
“Are you chilled?” Her father’s voice spoke. “I can get you a shawl.”
He continued to speak of the weather, his day, and the news from the city. There was no response from his companion. John and Addie exchanged puzzled glances.
Addie peered through the gloom but couldn’t make out the woman’s features.
“I have to leave you now, my dear,” her father said. “It’s been good to see you.”
Addie and John waited. She heard footsteps fade along the cobblestone path to the building.
“How do we get into the garden?” John asked.
“There might be an access near the building.”
She followed him along the perimeter. Attached to the stone building was a small gate. Wild roses grew beside it and perfumed the air. He tugged on the padlock, but it didn’t budge. He shrugged and dug out a pocketknife. He poked and prodded until he succeeded in popping the lock. Once the lock was removed, he twisted the handle and opened it slowly.
“Coast is clear,” he said, stepping through.
She followed him with her pulse hammering in her throat. A six-foot-high clipped hedge blocked the rest of the garden from view. When they stepped past it, she realized they were in the maze. Finding their way out might not be easy. John led her down a few false paths, but they finally came out by a fountain that gurgled its welcome.
Addie’s gaze fell on the woman who sat on the bench. Her breath came fast as she noticed the woman’s faded red hair, high cheekbones, and green eyes. It had to be her mother.
Addie knelt in front of the woman and took her cold hand. “Mama?” This lady was an older version of the portrait Addie had seen at the Eaton manor. She knew without any doubt that this person was Laura Eaton.
The woman’s eyes focused on her, and a tiny frown crouched between her brows. “I had a little girl once.” Her trembling hand touched Addie’s hair.
“This woman is your mother?” John’s voice shook.
Unable to speak, Addie nodded.
The woman’s slurred speech and wide stare hinted at the reason for her compliance. “I think she’s drugged.” John said, glancing around the garden. “Looks like no one is out here.” He checked the time. “We’ve got an hour before the cab comes back.”
“We could start walking to town.”
“Someone will be looking for her soon. It’s nearly sundown.”
She realized he was right. The quality of light had changed. “We could hide if someone comes.” She grabbed his hand. “Please, John, I can’t leave her here.”
“I agree.” He knelt by her mother. “Mrs. Eaton, it’s time to go.”
“Go,” she agreed, her eyes vacant. She came to her feet when he tugged on her hand.
A bell chimed. “That’s probably the dinner bell,” Addie said. “We have to hurry. Someone will be coming.” She took her mother’s hand. “Come along, Mama.”
Saying the words hit her. Mama. She had a living mother, even if she was damaged. She led her mother to the gate, and they stepped through. John pulled it shut behind him, then fiddled with the lock.
“It’s broken,” he said. “I’ll have to leave it.”
They hurried across the field. Addie was thankful for the darkness that now quickly began to fall. They would be harder to track when a search ensued.
“It’s a big place,” John said. “I expect they’ll search the building first and won’t realize for a while that she’s missing.”
“I hope so.”
“Our hotel is on the edge of town. I’ll register us while you stay outside with her. I’ll come get you when it’s safe to go to our rooms. She’ll need to stay with you.”
Addie tightened her grip on her mother’s hand. “Of course.”
They reached the road and began the trek toward town. Her new shoes pinched her toes, and she prayed she could endure walking until the cab came. “How much longer before the cab arrives?”
John checked his watch. “Forty-five minutes.”
An eternity. “This road doesn’t seem to be well traveled.”
“A blessing for us,” he said.
The Lightkeeper's Daughter Page 24
