Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy

by Roxane Tepfer Sanford

“That’s right, Mrs. Griffin,” he answered, then scooped a pile of potatoes into his mouth.

  I tried to listen to the argument between Ned and his father without seeming too interested. Mrs. Griffin returned with pie for both Frederick and me, then disappeared back into the kitchen.

  I waited impatiently for Ned to return. I overheard my name mentioned; the subject of their argument was money and me.

  “You promised to send money! I can barely keep this place running.”

  “I have sent you all I can. Most of my money goes back into the company. I have hired well-known actors who demand a higher pay!”

  “I saw the ring on her finger. That diamond must have cost a pretty penny, so don’t lie and tell me you’re putting all of your money back into the theater.”

  “I’m doing the best I can!”

  “Why did you bring that girl here? To flaunt her in front of us? You tell your mother she is the love of your life, you stick a ring on her finger, then try to hide it. What kind of game are you playing? Your mother may approve of this new girl, but I think she is as contemptible as any other girl who would allow herself to participate in one of your productions,” Norman spat.

  “You don’t know anything about Lillian!” Ned shot back. I could hear the contempt in his voice.

  Frederick by now was finished with his pie. I pushed my seat back and went to help Mrs. Griffin in the kitchen; I had heard enough of the argument between Ned and his father to lose my appetite for dessert. As I rose out of my seat, the young man who I had believed was too painfully shy to speak, to my surprise said in a low whisper, his eyes barely looking up into mine, “I know you.”

  On most occasions, I hadn’t taken into account my fame and how many people had seen my face on the cover of the nation’s most popular ladies’ magazine. Here at Ned’s family home in such a sleepy little town, it was the last thing I had expected to come up.

  “I think you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on,” Frederick was uncharacteristically bold enough to say. But as quickly as he uttered those words, he excused himself and hurried upstairs. I smiled to myself at his compliment, one of the most innocent, sweetest compliments I had ever received.

  Mrs. Griffin was washing the remaining supper dishes, and I gladly went to assist her. Memories of myself as a young girl helping Opal, Heath’s mother, came flooding back. Opal was like a mother to me. She was the woman I was grateful to have near when my own mother had tragically disappeared out of my life when I was so young.

  From the slightly open kitchen window, we could still hear Ned and his father quarrelling.

  “Those two used to be close, a great pair. Ned is Norman’s only child. John was from my previous marriage to Hugh,” she explained as I began to dry the dishes from the rack beside the deep copper sink. “Hugh left me when John was nine, without word. For no reason he was gone. I met Norman soon after I turned this house into an inn to keep food on the table for John and myself. Norman was one of the first guests. He was going from town to town, aspiring to be a preacher.” Martha naturally reflected back into her memories, thinking of the handsome young man. He was years younger than Martha, and had somehow found his way through a wicked winter snowstorm to the front porch of Martha’s home.

  “He didn’t say where he had come from or where he was going on that bitter cold night. Just said he had come to the right place, grateful to be out of the storm. However, when he said it, he looked straight into my eyes. And I swear, at that moment I saw my future in them. And I was right. Norman and I fell in love in the week we were snowbound, held hostage, and imprisoned by three feet of snow.”

  Martha reached over the sink and lifted my hand, then extended it out so the light from the lamp would reveal the gorgeous sparkle of my beautiful diamond engagement ring.

  “Ned told me he was going to ask you for your hand in marriage. Gave him my blessing. Can’t say the same for Norman. Since Ned moved away to the big city, Norman has felt betrayed. He always wanted Ned nearby. And not only to help run the inn. Norman thought the world of his son. He and John weren’t close. John missed his real pa. So when Ned was born, Norman was beside himself with joy. Norman took him fishing as soon as he could hold a pole. In the winter, those two would be out sleigh riding until their fingers turned blue.

  “Ned dreamt of fulfilling Norman’s ambitions to be a preacher. Norman was elated; his son worshiped the ground he walked on. Until one day, Ned seemed to grow up all of the sudden. Took to reading Shakespeare and other books, instead of the Bible. He found a love of the theater, not church. When Norman learned Ned was planning to go to New York City to become one of those actors, he nearly had a heart attack. Couldn’t convince Ned to change his mind and implored him to stay. Nonetheless, Ned had big dreams and ambitions. Ned wanted to make a name for himself.”

  Martha motioned me to come and sit back down in the dining room. She looked forlorn. It was kind of her to think I was worthy of knowing such private family affairs. She already saw me as family, and the guilt of my deception sent a chill through me. Martha Griffin trusted me; she believed I loved her son. And why shouldn’t she? I wondered. Here I was in her kitchen, with a ring on my finger that proved I had accepted her son’s unconditional love. Somehow, she didn’t see the tears of shame in my eyes or feel me trembling when she placed her hand on top of mine.

  “No matter what Norman thinks, Ned has done good for himself. He has the theater, which he loves, and you. That has obviously been gift.”

  Ned appeared from the shadows with a big smile on his face, which masked the pain of the conflict with his father.

  “How are my two favorite girls doing?” he said gingerly and gave us each a peck on the cheek. I blushed and darted my eyes away from his heated gaze, while his mother laughed and smiled - obviously thrilled that her son adored her.

  “Lillian helped me clean the dishes, and now we were sitting and talking. It’s wonderful to have another woman in the house. You promise to visit often after you are married, Ned?”

  “Of course, Ma,” Ned replied and winked playfully at me.

  “Your pa would like that, too.”

  Ned threw her a cynical scowl.

  “He loves you, son, more than he lets on.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  Martha eased up from the chair, announcing she was exhausted and anxious to get to bed. “I’ll have breakfast up and served at five. Hot sausage and eggs.”

  “We’ll be at the table waiting!” Ned called up the stairs.

  “How are you? You look tired,” Ned said thoughtfully. Though he hadn’t noticed the tears I had managed to wipe away, he did notice the troublesome worry on my face. But just as he was about to ask what troubled me, I insisted I was too tired to talk and gave him a swift kiss.

  “Good night,” I whispered, and without waiting for him to return my good night wishes, I rushed up to my room before he discovered how pathetic I really was. And before I lost my nerve and confessed my appalling deception.

  Inside the room, with the lamp turned to a low, spooky glow, I tried to fall asleep. I swore I heard my door open once. I thought I was being spied on. I nervously sat up and turned the lamp up, but saw no one. Outside, the wind picked up. The full moon was now hidden beneath thick black storm clouds. Branches from a nearby tree scraped the clapboard siding, as thunderheads rolled in over the dark lake.

  Still, I tried to sleep, but tossed, and turned to visions of Richard. He loved me with intense desire one minute, then placed a noose around my neck the next. I cried out, pleaded with him for answer: “How could you? How could you lie to me?”

  I woke in a fright, parched and thirsty from sweating under the thick cover of my nightmare. The rain was heavy, and I heard every drop pound against the tin roof as I carefully made my way, with a small oil lamp in hand, down the dark staircase to the kitchen for a glass of water from the pump. It was late, nearly two-thirty in the morning. Though outside a storm raged on,
inside the house it was still and subdued, like the calm before the storm.

  I pumped the well a few times, allowing the water to fill most of my glass, then leaned against the copper-lined counter and drank continuously until my throat didn’t have a scratchy, dry feeling any longer. When I finished, I placed the glass down in the sink, turned to go back to my room, and walked straight into Norman Griffin.

  He had been standing there, waiting for me to bump into him, watching me and sizing me up without my knowledge. Startled, I stepped back, staring up at him and tried to speak, but he did not intend to allow me to say a word. Without allowing me a moment to figure out what he wanted with me, he grabbed hold of my arm with one large hand, and the other covered my screams so they turned into frightened, muffled cries for help.

  Norman dragged me outside, kicking and screaming, into the deluge, through the thick mud and toward the barn. Inside it was pitch black, and he bothered to light a lamp in one of the empty horse stalls, where he threw me down and towered over me so I wouldn’t dare contemplate an escape.

  “Do you think for one minute I’m going to let such a tramp come into my family and ruin our family’s good name?” Norman spat. “Ned is a good boy, just trapped into a life he doesn’t know how to get himself out of. That city, that devil city is full of sinners, sinners like you,” he shouted, fiercely pointing his long finger down at me. I huddled against the wall, shivering from fear, not from the cold chill of the early spring rain.

  “Please, Mr. Griffin, I’m not . . .”

  “QUIET!” Ned’s father commanded. Then he reached down and lifted me by my hair, causing me to whimper. “You listen and listen good. We are God-fearing people. Ned is one of them and has no business with the likes of you, you hear! I was planning on him moving back in with us, to give up on the business that steals his heart and soul. If he marries you, all that is lost.”

  “But . . .”

  Norman slapped me across the face, not once, but twice.

  “I know what your kind of woman can do to a man. You take hold of his heart, then once it’s in your possession, you crush it, stomp on it, and leave the man with nothing! All his dreams, hopes, ambitions are all lost. Ned wants to be here; I know he does. He is just lost is all. I was lost once,” he muttered, and tossed me back down onto the thin layer of straw that lined the bottom of the stall. “And came upon a woman who I believed would help make all of my dreams come true. Fell in love . . . Oh, how stupid I was. Left my home, my family, for her sake. Took on her boy, John. Gave him my own name. And do you think for one minute after that I was able to make something of myself? No, I was stuck here, in this awful, run-down house, playing husband and pa. I hated Martha for it, for trapping me into living here; hated her for making me fall in love. It was her soft gray eyes, her beautiful figure. She came to me, used her womanly wiles to win my affections. I should have known better!” he shouted, and reached for me again, yanking me up and into his clutches. I tried to pull away, struck out, and cried for Ned. Norman’s fiery eyes glazed over, his jaw tight, his strong hands now fondling me. “You have her heavenly body, you do. I enjoyed her, and was thrilled when my boy came. It was all that stopped me from leaving the way her first husband did.”

  “Stop it! Stop it!” I screamed in a panic, as he struggled to slip my nightgown up over my head.

  “I bet you don’t tell him to stop. I bet you like it when Ned gives it you,” he murmured, as he forced me down and began to unbuckle his belt.

  “Oh, no, not again,” I sobbed uncontrollably while lying helplessly under him.

  “I know your kind; I know what you like,” Norman huffed, and just as he was about to enter me, he suddenly slouched over and went limp. I snapped open my eyes and looked up. Frederick stood with a shovel in hand. I scrambled to my feet as fast as I could and hastily dressed.

  “Seen what he was doing to ya. Wasn’t gonna let him,” Frederick said, as he stood staring down at Norman. He appeared lifeless, and I wondered if Frederick had killed him.

  “Is he . . . ?”

  Frederick knelt down and felt for a pulse, then said in a low voice, “Still livin’.”

  I began to shake uncontrollably and whimpered quietly. What had I done to deserve such torture? Did all men see me as an object and not a person? Did I really live in a world where I was prey, to be hunted and mauled by any man who wished to do so? I was tired of being blamed for every man’s failures, tired of being accused of being a wicked, foul woman. I knew Ned didn’t feel that way, not yet. However, he was bound to. Certainly he would after he learned what I had been planning to do. Maybe Norman was right about me; perhaps they all were.

  Frederick came and put his warm, comforting hand on my shoulder, and I didn’t pull away as he seemed to fear I would. While I sobbed and fell into his arms and clung to him - this stranger who knew nothing of me other than my divine portrait on a magazine - I realized I was lost . . . so very lost. I had been for so many years. Looking for acceptance, love, understanding and harmony since the day Daddy handed me over to Eugenia Arrington and never looked back. I thought I could fill that deep emptiness and loss with handsome men who reminded me of Daddy. I sought their love in hope that they would protect me, care for me, and love me the way my own father should have.

  As I was tenderly held in the arms of a hero, saved from another assault, I suddenly came to my senses. As if I were coming out from a thick, misty fog that clouded my mind, I realized I couldn’t be saved from my malevolent self. As a broken, battered, nearly destroyed woman, I decided it was time to relinquish all ties to the precarious life I had chosen, forsake my wicked visions of manipulation and revenge, and finally find the light through the endless storms - the good, loving light that would take me home. I just wanted to go home.

  As quickly as I could, while Frederick stood guard over my attacker, I hurried to my room, changed, gathered all the money Ned had paid me to be a part of his stock company, and sat down before the small desk to write Ned a goodbye letter.

  My hands were trembling so much so that I knocked over the inkwell and was fortunate to have just enough ink left to write all I needed to say.

  Dearest Ned,

  When you wake in the morning, you will find me gone and your father wounded from the night’s ordeal. It pains me to confess that he attacked me during the night, but that is not the only reason for my leaving.

  You were a safe haven against a storm, a storm that had me swept away into the darkest, most austere place in my mind. I regret to inform you that I have taken advantage of your harbor of love. It was my intention to stay with you until I succeeded with my revenge against Richard for hurting me with his lies and betrayals. I succumbed to my own dark side, and for that, I am terribly sorry.

  I wish you all the best with the company, your hopes, and your dreams. Unfortunately, I cannot be a part of any of them.

  Lillian

  I stole quietly into Ned’s room and placed the letter on the end of the bed. I took a brief moment and stared down at him as he slept peacefully, so unaware of the storm all around. His breathing was slow and steady, his arms curled comfortably around the pillow that supported his head. Tears of regret and guilt streamed down my cheeks as I leaned over and placed the engagement ring beside him. Then before I left, I gave him a quick kiss on his warm cheek and whispered, “Goodbye Ned.”

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Walk away from pain

  Dawn gave way to brilliant skies of orange and pink against the backdrop of pale powder blue as the row boat pulled up to the rocky, familiar beach of Jasper Island. The light in the tower had been extinguished, and the day gave rest and relief to the keeper who had stood stalwartly working it throughout the night.

  An elderly fisherman had been benevolent enough to see me to the island that sat not too far out in the harbor of the small fishing village I had known so well. He kindly answered my one and only question. “What, may I ask, is the name of the primary keeper?�
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  After he assisted me ashore, I bade him farewell and began my climb up the steep, rocky embankment. So many times I had climbed those rocks as a child. Now they didn’t seem as high or treacherous.

  The tower was just as tall and impressive as I remembered. I noticed the boathouse had been completed and was well cared for. There were three rowboats docked inside. To my surprise, there was another small house built not too far from the others that had been home to my family and the Daltons.

  As I anxiously walked up to the house, I took in the sights and smells that had been shut off ever since I was taken away as a young girl. I inhaled the salty sea air and allowed my hair to blow free in the fresh ocean breeze. I listened to the surf pound into the cape of the island and smiled when I heard the first whale’s song after so many years.

  Returning to Jasper Island, I was no longer a little, naïve girl. I had seen and done things I could have never imagined. I had lost my innocence in more than just a physical manner. Life had thrown me into stormy sea swells where I had barely kept my head above water. There was no light to guide me and help me through times of peril. I was lost in a thick fog, struggling to make my way, for the sun to burn off the dense haze and make life worth living again. I had seen madness, anguish, pain, torture, greed, desperation, and failure. Now, I no longer wanted any of those things in my life and was ready to bury the past into the furthest depths of my mind.

  As I drew near to the tower, I gazed up and thought I saw a promise of a future that I desperately hoped belonged to me. Just then, a man stepped outside from the deck of the observation tower. He placed his hand over his eyes to shield them from the intense glare of the early morning sun as he struggled to see me. I saw him straining to place who I was, as if struggling with a faint memory. I stood motionless while he studied me with his spyglass and watched as he peered through it. It was as if time stopped as he gradually removed the apparatus from his eyes and froze for a moment. He seemed uncertain it was I, although I believed he knew in his heart. And to make him believe I was no apparition, I called out, yelled with all the strength I could muster so my voice would reach him so high up, “It’s me . . . Lillian!”