Bethany heard the group come up the lane toward the house. She ran to the window, and sure enough, Stan and Clare Spencer led the way with Troy and his younger brother, Crete, jostling and carrying on behind them. Perhaps she’d inquire if he’d like to join her ministry at the Quinn Home, for she suspected he’d be a great help and encouragement to the lost boys who lived there. Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, friends from the church, with their two daughters, came next, and a couple of loggers from Henry Forester’s camp made up the last of the ten guests.
Troy was assigned the seat next to Bethany, which caused her all kinds of fumbling throughout the meal. Just when she reasoned that he must sense her awkwardness, he leaned in and whispered.
“I feel it too, Bethany Forester. Whatever shall we do?”
She twisted her head to confront him and gasped. The man was grinning. Did he consider sentiments a joke; that she was a plaything for his amusement? Bethany did not understand the male species. She had no role model in her life with whom to bond beside her father - and that had been a topsy-turvy relationship from day one. Sitting erect in her chair, she focused her attention on finishing her meal and joined in Mrs. Spencer’s conversion.
When the assortment of pies was brought to the table, the praise continued, but this time directed toward Bethany.
“Oh, dear, you are also efficient in the kitchen. Is there any end to your talents?” asked Clare Spencer.
Bethany mumbled, “thank you,” and continued to stuff forkfuls of coconut cream pie in her mouth. She needed this meal to end. When Father invited the men into the library, she stood and hurried to the kitchen. “Do you need help with cleanup, Ms. Fletcher?”
“Most certainly not. You need to entertain the ladies.”
“Won’t you join us?” Bethany pleaded.
“Your father suggested I should, so perhaps I will – this one time.”
Bethany exhaled. “Thank you.”
The next half an hour found Bethany perched on the edge of a chair holding an empty teacup. She fidgeted today, finding it difficult to entertain females of varying ages gathered in the same room. The young teenage girls played pretentious roles, as delighted children invited to a grown-up tea party. But Bethany could only think of the man seated in the adjoining library with her father.
When a tap sounded on the parlor door, and Troy popped his head in, relief flooded Bethany’s face.
“May I steal Miss Forester from you, ladies? She’s agreed to accompany me on a walk this afternoon.”
A sudden fluster of emotions swirled in the room. Gaging from the excitement of Troy’s mother, Jane Fletcher, Mrs. Henderson, and the giggly girls’, you’d think the man had asked for her hand in marriage.
Bethany stood to her feet. “May I take my leave, Ms. Fletcher?”
“Oh, yes, run along. You’re probably tired of our gossip anyway.”
Bethany smiled but did not respond to the off-handed remark. “Thank you for visiting, ladies. It’s always a pleasure to spend time with you all.” Bethany winked at the two teen girls. “Have a good afternoon, girls.” She walked to the door and grinned at Troy, whispering as she brushed by, “My knight in shining armor. Where have you been?”
After closing the parlor door, he answered. “Been sitting in a smoky room, listening to politics and religious debates. I hate the smell of a cigar. Mr. Henderson and your father both need to be delivered from the habit.”
Troy reached for her hand, and Bethany let him take it. It felt warm and familiar like she’d been ready for his touch her entire life. She halted halfway to the door, pulling him back.
“Do you mind helping me with a task before we leave?”
“Not at all. Lead the way,” said Troy.
They crept past the library and headed for the stairs. When she reached the bottom of the steep attic steps, Bethany stopped. “I have a rather large chest that needs dragged into my room. Do you think we can handle it?”
Troy puffed his biceps, adding a mock expression. “I’m a deputy, remember? Well exercised and ready to serve.”
She chuckled. “Do you really mean that?”
“I do. Helping damsels in distress is my favorite pass-time.”
“I mean; besides this physical favor, I have a bit of mystery I’d like to investigate. Right up your alley, if you’re interested?”
“That’s like asking a dog if he wants a bone. Detective work is the best part of being a lawman.” His eyes lit up, and she felt a kindred spirit.
“I’m pleased to hear that.” Bethany glanced behind her. “We’ll talk after we develop those muscles a bit more.”
After much grunting, creative squeezing and lifting, Simone’s chest rested against the footboard of Bethany’s bed. “Thank you,” she moaned. “I could never have managed it alone.”
“It’s a gorgeous chest. Too nice to be hiding in a dusty attic.”
“It belonged to my mother.” She watched his reaction, and when he did not recoil from the mere mention of the crazy woman, she continued. “The mystery I alluded to downstairs also involves my mother. Are you still up for the challenge, deputy?”
“More than ever.” He grasped her hand. “As a senior student in the Spruce Hill schoolhouse, I watched the class pick on the new little girl when you first came to school and never once raised a hand to come to your defense. I owe you big time.”
“I was hoping...” She bit her lip nervously.
“That I’d do it for another reason?” Troy interrupted, that silly grin toying around his full lips.
Bethany slapped him playfully. “You are rather forward today, aren’t you, sir?”
“Had my birthday last week. Turned the ripe old age of twenty-six and figured I should scan the prospects in town for the future Mrs. Spencer. Strange how I never got past you, Bethany.”
“Well, this is hardly the place to discuss such things. If my father sees you in my room, he will have us married before the day is out, with his shotgun pointed at your back should you try to run from your responsibilities.”
“Agreed. Not the way I want to stroll down the aisle with the love of my life.” He took Bethany’s arm. “Let’s go on that walk.”
Chapter 4
Lookout Rock
Bethany led out in a quick jog, and Troy moved in beside her. “You realize walking is exercise, right?”
“Afraid you can’t keep up to a lady hampered with a nuisance dress?”
“A beautiful dress, on a beautiful lady, I could add. Let me know when you’re tired and we’ll stop,” he teased.
They lingered briefly at the bridge, watching the water pass beneath them on its way to empty into Chauntis Bay. As they moved forward, Bethany intentionally led them in the direction of the beach. She pointed to a bunch of old stumps someone had placed in a circle around a fire-pit that overlooked the beach area. “Can we sit?”
“Too early for a fire,” said Troy.
“But not too early to tell you a campfire story. It’s becoming quite a mystery. I never thought I’d share, but I feel I can trust you. Can I trust you, Troy Spencer?”
“You know you can.”
Bethany gazed at the open water and drank in the fresh aroma for strength. “In the chest you carried to my room, I discovered a jewelry box, one of the many items my father had stashed inside after my mother’s death.”
“You just found it now? It’s been, what – thirteen or fourteen years?”
“Thirteen. But the attic was just opened a couple days ago. You can’t imagine the thrill of rediscovering my mother. When I was five-years-old, my father removed all traces of her and locked the memories away.”
“Every memory?”
“Packed in that chest, except for the objects that Papa pitched. He was angry then; in fact, he still flares up at the mere mention of Simone Forester. I have no idea why or how someone can carry hatred for that long.”
“And now you think you found something that may suggest his reason?” asked Troy.
> She sat straight and stared at Troy. “I never thought of it that way. What if he knew about the stranger? That would make him angry, for the man in the photo next to my mother is very handsome.” Bethany’s face contorted as new questions surfaced. She mumbled, “No, I don’t think he knew because the photo was in a secret compartment in her jewelry box, locked in the attic all these years.”
“Maybe he never saw the picture, but confronted the man in flesh and blood.”
Bethany gasped. “Oh, I hope not. The look the two of them shared was love in full bloom, and that would make any red-blooded husband jealous.”
“Perhaps it was before he met her, a childhood sweetheart?”
“She was pregnant, Troy. And I’m the only child she birthed.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Bethany stood to her feet and paced. “I don’t like where this conversation is going. I started this investigation to discover the identity of the man standing beside my mother in the photo, one she greatly admired or perhaps even loved at some point in her life. I never intended to stir up a kettle of fish that would destroy my father.”
Troy grabbed her wrist to stop her from pacing. “But you stirred the kettle, and the Bethany Forester I know will not rest until she sifts through this mystery and truth reigns.”
“I’m not sure I’m up to it anymore,” she moaned.
“Of course, you are. And I’ll stay by your side every step of the way.” His smile lit up his entire face allowing tension to seep from Bethany. “So, I suppose you’d like to visit Lookout Rock?”
“I was hoping to walk there today, to see firsthand the spot where she died.”
“You’ve never gone?” asked Troy.
“For fear of the illustrious Henry Forester and his sidekick Jane Fletcher, no sir, I have looked from afar but not stepped in the yard or dared to peer over the cliff. I fear I am not as brave as you believe me to be.”
“Your father can be overbearing. I understand your hesitation.”
“When the news and taunting at school finally stopped, I was more than eager to let the past die with my mother.”
“Until you found the picture? Perhaps it’s time to drag out the skeletons in the family closet and allow everyone living and dead to rest in peace.”
Bethany began to walk again, taking the dirt pathway that led to Lookout Rock.
“Do you believe in the afterlife?” Bethany asked.
“The Bible tells us he’s gone to prepare a heavenly home for those that believe. And I believe.”
“Yes, but do you think there is room for people trapped in a middle place?”
“Some religions teach that.” He looked at Bethany. “What are you getting at?”
She may as well exhibit crazy right from the start and watch the man run for the hills. “I mean ghosts. Do you believe in ghosts?”
“Can’t rightly say I’ve given that much thought.”
“Perhaps I’m confusing the sensations I feel with the Holy Spirit’s leading – that would make more sense, right?”
“Sounds better already,” said Troy, his expression neither condemning nor agreeing. He stopped walking and took both her wrists again. “Understandably you’re puzzled – I would be if I found such a photo in a secret place. Why don’t we just follow the clues and see where it leads?”
“I pray for God’s leading every day.”
“Where two or three agree, He is in the midst. Let’s pray about this mystery before we go a step further.” When he finished, Bethany felt the burden lift from her shoulders. To share this adventure with such a devout Christian was more than she could have hoped for.
“Thank you, Troy. You are my first answer to prayer.”
“My plan all along,” he said playfully.
Bethany swatted him again. “Time to move on, Detective Spencer.”
“Detective has a nice ring, don’t you think?” he asked as he hurried to catch up to Bethany, who’d set off on the run toward Lookout Rock.
As they neared the lower cliffs and plateaus of Lookout Rock, the fields brimmed with new life. Trilliums and wildflowers littered the landscape while red blossoms fell from the flowering trees to cover the new grass in front of Lookout Rock. The gardens displayed tulips, daffodils, and pansies, and she immediately loved the place. To think it took her eighteen years to risk coming, just to discover that no impending doom greeted her or accompanied the off-limits-or-else that her father had threatened as a child. Leaning against the picket fence, she drank it all in.
The white-washed boards, the burnt-red shutters, and that massive oak door where her mother had posed for the photo. Slowly she lifted her head and noted that at the peak, a brighter trim of red contrasted against the white, a clear display to warn those traveling at sea. A protective railing mounted the outer edge of the balcony area.
Between the effects of the swirling light and the realization that her mother had contemplated taking her life from those heights, her soul grieved. White knuckles gripped the post. When a hand covered hers, she looked sideways at Troy.
“Are you all right?”
“She jumped from up there – on the other side where the jagged rocks are.”
Troy wrapped an arm around Bethany, and they stood in silence. Uncertain how long they stared, a sudden voice broke the trance.
“Hey, you two! Did you come all this way just to gawk at the place? I got the coffeepot on if you’d like a cup of Joe?”
Troy looked at Bethany, and when she nodded, he said, “Been a while, Arne, since I’ve come up. Don’t mind if we do rest a spell.”
By the time they reached the entrance, the primary keeper of the light had recognized his guest. “Well, I’ll be. If it isn’t Troy Spencer, a working man now, upholding the law so the rest of us can sleep easy at night.” He grabbed Troy’s hand and shook it furiously.
“Not sure the law would get over here too fast should you have an emergency,” said Troy.
“Got a gun, just in case,” he chuckled. “Who’s that with you?”
“This is Bethany Forester. She runs the mill in Spruce Hill.” Bethany felt pleased with Troy’s introduction. Most people would say her father owns the Forester Mill in Spruce Hill.
A brief shadow crossed Arne’s face, but he recovered quickly and replaced it with a broad smile. “Welcome to my humble home. Get all the lumber I need from your mill, but shame on me, never popped my head in the office to say hello.” He looked at Troy. “Knew you’d come to the Lookout someday courting an enterprising young lady.” He backed away and waved them inside. “Come in. Must have known company was coming. Made us a full pot.”
Bethany crossed the threshold slowly, taking in the exact spot her mother had stood under the small porch area. The past rushed into the present. Instead of weakening her resolve, she experienced a boost of energy like she’d awakened from a deep sleep.
“Sit yourselves over there, and I’ll get the drinks,” Arne said, limping into the kitchen.
Troy pulled out a chair for Bethany and whispered, “Arne injured his left leg in a farming accident.”
Bethany sat, grateful to be off her feet. The wood table was huge and took up much of the dining area. She scanned the room while the men chattered by the old cookstove. To put it kindly, the interior was rustic. In the kitchen, three long shelves, filled with dishes and food supplies, lined the wall on each side of a large window. Against the same exterior wall was the workstation, with a wood counter to prepare food. From where she sat, she could see the clear blue sky outside and hear the waves crashing against the rocks below.
She changed her focus to the sitting area on the other side of the room. Comfy chairs positioned on each side of a stone fireplace created a beautiful focal point and inspired relaxation. Bethany wondered if her mother had experienced tranquility there, dreaming in front of its blazing fire with her mystery man. Her gaze pressed downward to the planked flooring by the chairs. A thickly braided rug covered the space and a rectangul
ar table parked in the middle of it. A spiral staircase took center stage in the room, and Bethany’s eyes raised nervously toward the top of the house – the main purpose of her visit to Lookout Rock.
Troy placed two cups on the table and sat in the seat next to her. She wrapped her fingers around the mug and exhaled. Smiling at her host, who’d plunked in a chair across from them, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Svensson. You have a lovely home.”
He roared laughing. “It’s a lighthouse with two bachelors onboard. Needs a woman’s touch to make it a home. Maybe someday one will come knocking on my door – what do you think, Troy? Think some woman would like to live out here with the likes of me?”
“God has one picked out, just you wait and see.”
Bethany entertained no doubts that the right woman would jump at the chance to couple up with this blonde-haired, blue-eyed Swedish man. His melodious sing-song voice could easily entertain a lady for an entire lifetime.
Arne jumped to his feet. “Forgetting how to treat a lady. I made a cake yesterday, and you coming along saved me gaining all that weight eating it alone.”
The pie eaten at lunch had settled during the hike to Lookout Rock, but the last thing Bethany wanted was more dessert. She bit back the urge to say no thanks and smiled. “Why, thank you. Can’t wait to taste what a man puts together in his kitchen.”
As he cut three huge pieces and placed them on a plate, he said, “I’ve learned a lot of things living so far from town.”
“And some lucky woman will appreciate your efforts,” said Bethany as she lifted the first bite to her mouth. “It’s wonderful, so chocolate and creamy. I will definitely be passing the word around of your availability to all my lady friends.”
“You have an assistant that works at the lighthouse, right?” asked Troy.
“Sure, Hamlin. He doesn’t cook much, but he is great with the milking cow and laying hens. And the tales he spins keeps me laughing long after the story’s told. Today’s his day off, so I’m all you got.”
A Liberating Love (Keepers of the Light Book 3) Page 3
