Heath challenged me with a fiery glare, anger bolted through his typically warm, translucent blue eyes. “You are the most impatient, frustrating, aggravating, irritating woman I have ever known!”
“And you are the most arrogant, condescending, and childish man I have ever met,” I fired back, then strode off in a huff.
“As for supper, don’t set a plate for me!” he called. “I wouldn’t dine with you if you paid me a hundred dollars. Do you hear me, Lillian Arrington?”
I stopped in my tracks, then sharply whirled about. “My name is Lillian Dalton, and in the future, you may refer to me as Mrs. Dalton!”
“Fine, Mrs. Dalton!” he boldly shouted back.
With my hands clenched into small fists, I pounded my hips, then stomped into the house. Oh how Heath was driving me mad! His behavior was despicable. Now I had to find something to wear before I caught my death in the saturated dress. I paced my room staring at the empty closet until I suddenly remembered Momma’s dresses. She had left several behind.
I undressed in Ayden’s room and slipped into one of her simple work dresses. It barely fit, for I was taller and slightly broader than Momma had been. But the dress fit well enough, and feeling the material against my skin made me feel closer to her than I had in years. Back in Savannah, in the room where I was held prisoner, I wore many of her beautiful gowns. Though they barely fit me, it was comforting to know she moved, breathed, and was alive in those dresses. And as I wistfully recalled how lovely she was, I could almost feel her small, thin arms holding me close, and her soft, angelic voice whispering that everything was going to be fine, that she and Daddy were always watching over me, guiding me in the right direction. I stepped before the mirror and gazed at myself, still startled at how much I looked like her, how I possessed so many of her delicate, beautiful features.
While I was deeply immersed in thoughts of Momma, I hadn’t noticed the skies darkening, threatening a sudden storm. Then in an instant, a crackle of lightning bolted from the sky, followed by an explosion of thunder. I jumped and let out a startled scream, then sped over to the window. The day rapidly turned black, the wind began to howl, and the sea grew into high, perilous swells. I fumbled with some matches and hurried to light the lamp, then ran all the way, without taking a breath, up to the top of the lighthouse tower.
When I went to light the wick, I realized that no fuel had been hauled up! Without a moment to waste, I turned and ran back down, tripping over the loose hem of the old dress. I clung to the rail to balance myself, then continued down, faster and faster, until I reached the last dozen or so steps, when again I tripped, only this time when I reached for the rail, I lost my grip. Out from my hands went the lantern as I toppled down and around the solid, iron stairs until I landed at the bottom. Fire immediately broke out all around; flames and smoke filled bottom floor. I tried desperately to crawl away, but an excruciating pain shot through my left leg, leaving me helpless to escape.
The fire was spreading, only inches from reaching me, and the smoke stung my eyes, seeped into my throat, and caused me to choke. I began to scream, calling for Heath. “Heath, help me!” I cried repeatedly, until the smoke began to take over, filling my lungs. “Heath, Heath,” I moaned. “Please help me.”
Finally, just as I all but gave up, preparing myself to die with a silent prayer, ready to see Momma and Daddy up in heaven, Heath bolted in and saved me from certain death.
* * *
Chapter Nineteen
Try to find a meaning
Heath hovered over me, shielding me from the rain, his face distraught and frightened as I lay on the flooded ground gasping for air. Out of the corner of my eye, while choking and coughing, I saw a man through the haze, running back and forth from the shore repeatedly with buckets of water to extinguish the inferno.
“Thank God I saw the smoke coming out from under the door. Thank God,” Heath kept repeating as he cradled me in his arms. Then he carefully lifted me, using both arms, and rushed me into the house.
I screamed out in pain, “My leg!”
Once in the house, I lay on the floor before the fire. Heath ran for a quilt and tenderly placed it over me. “I have to get my doctor’s bag. I will be right back,” he said, his eyes filled with concern and barely contained tears.
I moaned aloud, shivering from the cold and the pain. Neither the heat from the fireplace nor the comfort of the soft quilt settled my shaking. I began to cry from the terror of my ordeal, realizing how close I had come to dying a horrible, agonizing, fiery death.
“I’m back,” he announced breathlessly, then quickly fumbled through his large, black leather bag and pulled out a syringe and needle. “This will ease your pain. Then I will check your leg to see if it’s broken.”
The shot stung, causing me to screech.
“I’m sorry; I know it hurts,” he said.
Soon the room began to spin, and recollections of my days inhaling magic powders up my nose came rushing back. Heath carefully, tenderly, placed his hands on my leg, both hands I noticed through my foggy drug induced state, and declared I didn’t have a broken leg. “It’s badly bruised, and you have a few small lacerations from the shattered glass of the lamp, but it’s not broken.”
The flickering glow from the fire and the burning medication he inserted into my arm made everything all around seem distorted and faint. While Heath spoke, his voice became garbled and indistinguishable, yet I sensed every word he was saying. My face was close to his, cupped in his warm hands, and I strained to see him clearly, even though our faces were only inches apart. Soon I was drifting off, helplessly riding the giant waves of my mind, up and down, then drowning, going deeper into a heavy, merciful sleep that I didn’t wake from until a day later.
The nor’easter raged on, the days dark as night; the cold rain battered the island. The wind was relentless - howling, destructive, and unforgiving. Waves taller than most vessels, as high as city buildings, filled the angry, churning sea.
Heath stayed by my side as I drifted in and out of consciousness. When I was awake, he remained silent, and didn’t speak when he helped feed me. Only when I called out for Ayden as I began to fall back into a weighty sleep did his expression become indignant and his somber voice hoarse. “Ayden hasn‘t been able to return. The storm has not let up for two days.”
“The light . . . who is minding the light?” I murmured sleepily just before exhaustion won out to take me away from the worry and anxiety that plagued me.
“Hank, the fisherman. He arrived on the island to save himself from the storm. He is working the light while I care for you,” Heath replied solemnly, then took my hand in his and placed a long kiss atop it. Or so I thought. My delusions were frequent. I thought he was Daddy at times and he awkwardly corrected me when I pitifully reached out and begged him not to leave me with the wicked, evil grandmother. “Please, Daddy, please don’t leave me!”
“Your daddy isn’t here. It’s me, Heath.”
“Was I a bad girl? Don’t you love me?” I sobbed tears soaking my face. “She hates me, Daddy; she locks me away and starves me. I am alone, afraid. She will come back to strip me naked and whip me again if you don’t come soon. She thinks I’m the devil’s spawn. She knows about you and Momma; she knows you are brother and sister.”
Heath desperately tried to shake me to my senses, begging me to stop. “You’re not in Georgia anymore. You’re safe here, Lillian, on Jasper Island.”
“Daddy, come back! DADDY!”
Finally, the storm ended, and the sun began to peek around the menacing gray and black clouds. Heath had weaned me off the medication. My leg was healing nicely. However, a deep yearning penetrated my heart, leaving me feeling depressed. I missed Ayden. I sat in the chair next to the window staring out toward the harbor, waiting to catch a glimpse of his rowboat.
“Why isn’t be back?” I asked Heath when he entered the room, knowing he didn’t have the answer.
After placing the plate of food on th
e table, he came to the widow and glanced out. “I will go to the harbor in a little while and find him. For now, I want to check your leg.”
“It feels fine,” I said without moving my stare.
“One more look. Then I will leave you be,” he replied with some dejection in his weary voice.
No longer did he taunt me, aggravate me, turn my stomach into a giant knot. Heath became the image of his former self - the thoughtful, sensitive young man I used to know. He was my doctor, my caregiver, the man who came to my rescue. Yet I couldn’t meet his eyes or accept his subtle offering of unadorned friendship. I didn’t want to acknowledge that once again he was a hero, and I didn’t look forward to the commotion from Ayden or anyone else who heard.
Hank was aware, though he left the island before I had a chance to hear about Heath’s courageous deed. And although he had battled fire and smoke to save me, dragged me out, and breathed his own air into my suffocating lungs, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of granting him the title of hero.
“I said I’m fine. Please go find Ayden and bring him home. Maybe something terrible happened. You said two schooners went down. The seas were merciless. What if . . .”
“I will go. Please eat,” he implored with his head lowered, his shoulders slouched. He turned to go.
I hadn’t asked him how he managed to use his badly scarred hand all the days he cared for me, and wondered why he wrapped it back up afterwards and refused to move it again. Even when he got out onto the water with the rowboat, he only used his good, capable arm to row. The effort would take him twice if not longer to reach the harbor. Then I thought that perhaps I had imagined it, as I had so many other things. Memories of the past days after the fire were foggy. Perhaps I was wrong. Maybe Heath didn’t cry and plead for my friendship, beg for forgiveness for treating me so appallingly. Did he really tell me he set his own hand on fire so that Sarah would no longer want him, so he could return to Jasper Island without question? Could I have heard him confess he made up the story of running into the fire and saving the boy, just because he’d loved me all along? And that he made a terrible mistake the day I went to leave the lighthouse, the same night Daddy put us on a stagecoach never to return, and he kissed me, then told me to go away and leave him alone?
No, it must have been all made up, my mind playing terrible tricks on me, all induced by the drug Heath had administered to me. I didn’t dare to believe any of it was true.
If my leg was healed, I would have been able to run and jump into Ayden’s arms the minute he opened the door, with Heath only steps behind, and throw my arms about his neck and smother him with dozens of kisses. Instead, I hobbled along, slowly hopping down each narrow step until I reached the bottom. There, instead of greeting me with a beaming smile and eyes wide open, Ayden moseyed in, placed his cap on the mantel, then turned to me with weary, bleak eyes. “I am terribly sorry,” he said, then came and held me. “I should have had the fuel up in the tower. This was all my fault!”
“I’m fine. All is well now,” I cried, pressing my cheek against his, wishing he would cheer up and be grateful instead of gloomy.
“How could I have been so stupid!” he groaned and pushed himself back from me.
“Please don’t dwell on this. Heath has made me well, and yes, I limp a little and am sore, but I am perfectly fine!” I protested.
“If it wasn’t for Hank saving you, my life would not be worth living,” he muttered and held my hands tightly in his. I shot a puzzled look to Heath. He shifted his eyes away, avoiding my confusion.
“What do you mean?”
“I have to be going. If you need anything, just call,” Heath interrupted, threw me an uneasy look, then closed the door softly behind him.
“Don’t you remember Hank saving you from the fire? Did you black out?”
“Who told you this?”
“Hank did and Heath confirmed it. Oh, to know you are all right,” Ayden said and brought me into his embrace. “Again, I am sorry. I will never let anything like that happen again. I will do better. I will make you proud. Whatever it is that you need, just ask me, all right?” he asked his voice hoarse, his heart heavy.
I shook my head in disbelief, though Ayden didn’t notice. Heath had Ayden thinking it was Hank who’d come to my rescue. Hank was the hero, not Heath. He’d fabricated a tale so there would be no hoopla, no honor for saving my life.
Puzzled and taken aback, unable to comprehend what my mind was trying to absorb, I told Ayden I was tired and asked him to come sit with me back in my room. “ Tell me everything that happened, where you were these past few days.”
I lay comfortably in my bed and listened attentively as Ayden described the reason for his absence.
“When I stepped out from the post office I noticed the dark clouds sweeping in. I don’t think my feet touched the ground until I reached the rowboat, but by then it was as if a giant monster had been unleashed into the sea. I couldn’t believe the waves; my heart sank as the wind and rain battered the island. The visibility quickly diminished and I knew there was no chance I could get back to Jasper Island. I was relieved when I could vaguely make out the light. I knew you were up there, minding the light as any good keeper’s wife would do.” His voice began to crack, his eyes filled with tears that he refused to let escape, blinking them away. “The hotel was full, so Mr. Goodwin let me stay in the stable. But I couldn’t sleep. All I did was worry about you. There was no chance any boat on the ocean would survive that kind of storm. I believed you and Heath would have many rescues and I wished I were there. I was worried sick!”
“I’m happy you were safe,” I murmured as he knelt beside me and rested his head against mine.
“But you weren’t. How can I forgive myself for neglecting the lighthouse?” Ayden finally let his tears flow, and he sobbed uncontrollably into my pillow.
“Ayden, oh, Ayden,” I crooned and stroked his dark hair. “If I forgive you, can’t you forgive yourself?”
He shot up and quickly wiped his tears away with the back of his hand.
“The mail . . . I dropped it running back to the harbor. There was a letter for Heath,” he said, pulling it from his coat pocket. “But it got ruined.”
Ayden felt as if he could do nothing right, not even deliver a letter without something going wrong.
“I will give it to him and explain.”
“Can I get you anything?” he asked meekly.
“Some tea would be nice,” I said with a smile.
“Tea it is. Rest until I get back. Then I will read to you if you would like, before I get to work tonight.”
“I would like that, very much.”
He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, but when he did, I swore a subtle hint of perfume lingered in his hair. It couldn’t have been; I was still imagining things, simply from being fatigued, I hastily convinced myself. Ayden loved me; he cried for me; he wanted to be with me and only me. He wasn’t like other men; he didn’t have a wandering eye. Ayden was patient, devoted, and passionate about waiting for me, his wife, his cherished bride.
Life went on as normal as could be. Ayden lived and breathed the lighthouse, though making certain he gave me his full attention when near me. As soon as I was able to, I got right back to my daily work schedule. In the evenings, I stayed with Ayden and watched him work, kept him company, and gave him my undivided attention.
Heath, on the other hand, stayed distant, puttering about the island or assisting Ayden, and for a while, locked himself away in his cottage and retreated to reading. Only one thing was different, a dramatic change in the direction the wind blew. After the storm, the sun never recovered, and the typically pale blue sky was now obscured with menacing clouds that threatened to douse whatever sunshine managed to elude them. There was a substantial chill in the air; it was much colder than normal for late August.
The talk at supper was of the new keeper and his large family. Heath managed to converse easily with his brother, but limited h
is attention when it came to me.
“When they arrive tomorrow, let’s cook them a big supper. Are you up for that?” Ayden cautiously asked.
“I will make three times the amount I normally do. I can even bake a cake.”
“Wonderful! They should feel more than welcome with one of your delicious cakes,” Ayden said as I poured him a cup of coffee.
“Luckily, we have the second cow now. Plenty of milk for all their young ones. Can’t believe our little island will be full of children,” I said.
“Heath, did you finish the repairs I asked you to do?”
Heath was working to fix the leak in the roof of the second keeper’s house. He made it appear easy to climb the ladder, and somehow managed to hold onto his tools with one hand.
“It is done. I expect they won’t have any more leaks, unless a storm as sizeable as the last blows through,” Heath said while locking eyes with mine.
My face filled with heated flushed, and tingles shot through my body, just as they used to, taking me by surprise. We now shared a secret, one that burned inside me as hot as the flames that dared to threaten my life. I could have told Ayden, exposed Heath’s heroic act, and revealed how I believed he also inflicted his own injury, just to get himself back to our island to be near to me. Heath, for some unknown reason, didn’t disclose all of my past to Ayden, or divulge the murder of Ned Griffin that I had surely caused. Heath didn’t elaborate on the unpleasant details of my wayward past, the ones I had kept from Ayden when I first confessed my life in Savannah and with Richard Parker. I was relieved in one sense, yet I couldn’t shake the persistent worry in the back of my mind, the voice that warned me and was there to remind me to be cautious and take nothing at face value. Don’t let your guard down, Lillian. Heath is still very dangerous. He could ruin all you and Ayden have. He still hates you. He doesn’t want to see you happy. He is not the kindhearted boy from years ago.
Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy Page 78
