A Liberating Love (Keepers of the Light Book 3)

by Marlene Bierworth

  “The man rambles nonsense and repeats himself all the time. Some wonder if he’s losing his mind,” said Troy.

  “Just the same, I think I’ll pay him a visit. Maybe bring him a piece of pie.”

  “I’ll go with you, if you like? Tonight, around seven o’clock?”

  “This courting is moving at a rapid pace. It’s not even summer yet. How will you ever wait until fall before seeking the answer to your proposal?”

  “As long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “That makes two of us,” said Bethany, pleased to have the pressure taken off. Her father seemed convinced she’d be hard to live with. Perhaps he was right and should give Troy a break and send him packing. But not until they solved the mystery and her heart agreed that she was ill-suited for a lifetime romance. Fall sounded far enough into the future to make such a decision.

  After supper, Bethany dried the dishes faster than Ms. Fletcher could put them in the rack to drip.

  “You’re in an awful hurry. Do you have any plans this evening?”

  “I do. Did Papa tell you that Troy stopped by the mill today and asked if he could court me?”

  Her face contorted into a frown. “News to me, but I’m usually the last to know, anyway.”

  “Don’t pout. You are the fourth person to know, and that’s far from last. We went on a lovely lunch picnic by the river.”

  “A picnic today and a very long walk yesterday. Does the man think he can monopolize your time?”

  “I agreed to his invitation,” Bethany said. “And tonight, we’re going for a shorter walk after supper. I’m bringing a piece of pie by Old Doc’s place. Troy says he’s under the weather.”

  “Good man in his prime. Can’t say as much for the new fella.”

  “That’s because you don’t know him. He attended medical school and still started his practice in Spruce Hill. We should be grateful to have him.”

  “He’s short, thin, and too young for my liking.”

  “Dr. Flanagan always has a book in his hand, researching the latest trends in medicine. I think he’s a great addition to the community,” Bethany said. “You should be happy he’s bringing our town out of the dark ages.”

  “Why would that make me happy?”

  “Because change is always good. You’ve existed in a rut far too long. Why do you stay with us when you could have had your own kitchen elsewhere, complete with a man that loves you and comes home every night?”

  “It was the agreement.”

  “You mean the one you made with my father to be a nanny and housekeeper? Did you sign up for an entire lifetime?”

  “I did what I had to do. Nothing more, nothing less.” The woman dried wet hands on her bib-apron and picked up the basin with the dirty dishwater. “I need to dump this.”

  Bethany called after her. “Don’t stay here on my account, Ms. Fletcher. If you have an opportunity for happiness, you grab it – do you hear me?”

  “I hear you, child, but you aren’t the boss.”

  Bethany shook her head, confused at the hold Henry Forester had on this woman. He offered her excellent pay for her services, a roof over her head, along with a strict set of rules, but provided nothing that would satisfy a woman’s heart. Bethany would have fled such bondage years ago.

  Troy knocked on the door at seven sharp. She hurried to answer while toting her pie-offering and grabbing a sweater on the hook before she opened it to her official beau. “Good evening, Troy. I’m ready to go.”

  He glanced behind her into the kitchen. “What no firing squad?”

  “No. With permission granted, you are free to knock on this door whenever you please.”

  “And how often would you like me to knock?”

  Bethany pushed him aside. “Come on. Don’t get all soft and mushy on me.”

  He scampered up behind her. “Men like mushy.”

  “And it may happen; at the right moment.”

  “You’re still miffed about my comment at the dinner table. Sometimes I speak before I think,” said Troy.

  “Like most men.”

  “I hope you’re kidding – trying to get my goat?”

  “Just giving you a taste of your own medicine. But I suppose a bit of mystery in a relationship will make life interesting; help to keep us on our toes.”

  Troy reached for her free hand. “I stopped by Doc’s on the way over just to make sure he’d be home when we arrived. Wasn’t too sure how pleased he’d be if when we came calling, we found him roaming the house stark naked.”

  Bethany gasped. “Does he do that – I mean, do men do that?”

  “Not all men but perhaps one that’s going senile.”

  “Must be terrible not being able to put your thoughts in order and make sense of your surroundings. But on a brighter note, I must ask you this before I forget again. I help Drake and Angela out at the Quinn Orphanage two evenings a week. Just read to the kids or play games, nothing life-changing, but enough to give the couple a break from tending to the children. I watched you with your brother on Sunday and thought you’d make a splendid volunteer. You could come out on the same days I do. I can never take all six of them off their hands at the same time.”

  “Never thought about it before, but it’s a good idea. I love to play ball and enjoy tossing games. Do you think the boys will?”

  “There are three mischief makers over ten that could use a different form of activity to burn up some energy. They are eager for a younger male companion. It’ll give poor Drake a breather. His heart is in the mission, but after working at the mill all day, he comes home tired.”

  “Perfect then. Which nights should I come calling at your door to escort you to our new positions?”

  “I usually go Tuesday and Thursday, right after supper – around six-o’clock and leave after I tuck the young ones under the covers at eight. Does that suit your schedule?”

  “I can say yes to you now, but things at the office change rather suddenly. So, if I’m not here when you’re ready to leave, go on without me. I’ll either catch up later or will have to bow out.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Afraid that’s not too predictable for young’uns who are depending on a friend.”

  “You can explain it to the boys straight off. They’re not infants; they’ll understand. They might find it rather exciting to be playing games with a lawman.”

  Troy laughed. “Likely prefer me to be a hooligan who can twirl his guns and put on a show for them.”

  “Doesn’t matter what they might prefer. Make it your goal to keep the boys on the right side of the law ‘til they figure out their own path. That’s a noble cause.”

  “Suppose just keeping them alive and giving them prospects for a future will be noble enough. Abandoned by your own kin. That has to be tough,” said Troy.

  They moved on quietly, each one lost in thought. Troy broke the stillness. “We’re nearly there. Not sure the path our conversation will take with old Doc or if there’ll be a speck of sense in anything he says.”

  “A fool’s errand? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Not a fool – a possibility. We may never find out the truth about what happened that day or your mother’s relationship with our mystery man. Are you going to be all right with that?”

  “I won’t fall apart if that’s what you mean, but it will disappoint me. Something is driving me forward, and I can’t stop the hope from giving life to the dream.”

  They stopped in front of an old cabin, probably one of the first built in Spruce Hill, and its age showed. Wild brush and weeds covered the yard, making the dilapidated building appear abandoned. Moss and tall grass sprang up through the cracked planks of the walkway leading to the door. They skipped one step to avoid falling through to the ground below before successfully landing on the uneven floor of the veranda. Troy knocked hard enough to alert the deafest old man.

  The door swung open, and a man stood before us, his welcoming toothless smile riding atop the ruts
on his aging face. Bald on the top, but long, stringy strands of white hair layered down his neck, and his clothes appeared ready for the washtub. But he was eager for company and pulled Troy in.

  “Glad you come back, boy. I even remembered,” he chuckled. “I rustled us up some vittles. Mighty purty lady you brought along. And what’s this? A piece of pie for me?”

  “Yes,” said Bethany as she passed it to him. “We just finished supper, sir. You didn’t need to go to any trouble.”

  “No trouble at all.” He left them standing by the door and scuttled toward the kitchen carrying his pie.

  When Bethany noted the effort that he’d put into the table setting, she rested a hand on Troy’s arm. “Thank you, Doc Jenson.”

  He roared laughing. “Long time since someone called me Doc, but I like it.”

  “You brought me into the world,” said Bethany.

  “What’s your name, girl?”

  “Bethany Forester. My parents are Henry and Simone.”

  “Ah yes, liked the woman, but the man always seemed a bit of a grump. Took life too serious.”

  “He’s mellowed, somewhat, with his advancing years.”

  “Good to hear. Only got one life; best make it the best we can.”

  He pulled out a chair. “Sit down, Miss… what did you say your name was?”

  Bethany sighed. This would be a long visit if they never made it past names. “Bethany Forester.” She accepted the stale bread on her plate and nibbled at the corner. The cup he offered contained no color, poor man’s tea some called it.

  “Want some cow’s milk in the hot water?” he asked.

  “No, thank you. This is fine. Please sit down and talk to us,” said Bethany.

  “Let me get a fork for my pie first.” Within the minute, he plunked across from them, and her heart reached out to the old man who devoured the dessert on his plate in four huge bites. The smile he offered revealed an inner joy she couldn’t hope to understand. Maybe it had something to do with not possessing one’s full mental capacities.

  Troy spoke. “So, Doc, you mentioned remembering Simone Forester?”

  “Did I?”

  Bethany’s hopes plummeted. He’d forgotten already. “My mother, the one you liked?” she prompted him.

  “Oh, yeah. Have to pardon yer old Doc. Thoughts swimming against the currents in this old brain of mine.” He took a sip. “Purty healthy girl. Think the only time she came to see me was when she was with child.” He slurped loudly in his cup. “Both of them, I reckon.”

  Bethany gasped. “Both? She had two children?”

  “Children? No, I never had children. Couldn’t find me a woman that would stick with me long enough.”

  Bethany’s eyes pleaded with Troy. They were so close to uncovering a new clue.

  “Doc, what happened to Simone Forester’s baby?”

  “Forester? Naw that weren’t her name; if my mind ain’t playing tricks again.”

  “Do you recall her name?”

  “What’re you askin’ me for? You know her better than me.”

  “They told me Charter was her maiden name. Does that ring a bell?” asked Troy.

  S.C! Yes, they were the initials embroidered onto the hanky in the box at home. Troy never mentioned that he’d learned her maiden name. He must have seen it written on her death certificate in the files.

  “Only bells ringing in my head are them church bells. The chiming wakes me up every Sunday. You two attend the house of the Lord?”

  Bethany downed her warm water and stood. “We do. Would you like me to pick you up next Sunday?”

  “Better not. The Mrs. is bedridden now. I keep her company most days.”

  “I’m sorry we troubled you, sir.” It disappointed Bethany that he couldn’t focus on one conversation at a time. Still, she was grateful for the small progress they’d made – if any of it were true.”

  Troy pushed to his feet. “Is there anything I can do to help you before we leave?”

  “That’s a right nice gesture, boy, but I make out fine. The Mrs. helps me out when she feels up to it.”

  Troy and Bethany exchanged an expression of pity. Only moments before, Doc claimed he was single, but perhaps he’d confused his present status and meant a widower. Regardless, Bethany had no doubt he talked with the Mrs. regularly – alive or dead.

  Once outside, Bethany yanked the wool sweater tight around her neck. “I’ll be glad when summer hits.”

  “Won’t matter. Evenings always bring a chill off the bay no matter what the season.”

  “Oh, Troy, my heart breaks for the man. And why have his patients from years ago abandoned him to live in such a state alone?”

  “Folks work hard to keep bread on the table. Not too much time left over to entertain a man who won’t remember ten minutes from now you were even there.”

  “Lost seniors and lost children,” Bethany sighed. “What’s the town coming to that we don’t have time for the unfortunate?”

  “You have the biggest heart I’ve ever encountered, Bethany Forester, and I’m so proud that you’re considering marrying this lonely deputy.”

  Bethany blushed. “Do you think there is any merit in his claim that my mother was pregnant with two children – or that the woman he recalls is even Simone Forester?”

  “I’d say anything’s a possibility at this point. Never lose hope when there’s a lead to follow.”

  “Thank you, detective Troy,” she teased. “Imagine, if it’s true. A sibling could be alive and breathing somewhere out there?”

  Chapter 6

  Treasures

  Tuesday, Bethany’s office door swung both ways all morning. A spring breeze blew through the window behind her, and the noise of the mill wheel sloshing round and round through the water provided the peaceful background hum that kept her spirits high while she worked. Between contractors and personal projects, Spruce Hill was moving into the best construction year the Forester’s had ever experienced. Bethany sat eating at her desk when her father popped his head in the door.

  “Miss Forester.” The owner of the mill liked to use her surname at the office. “It’s a warm day, and I’ve had you locked in this room entertaining clients. Take your sandwich and eat by the river.”

  “I’m too busy. But I plan on taking Saturday morning off this week.”

  “Doing something with that new man of yours,” Henry teased.

  “Possibly.” She could not stop the color from flooding her cheeks. “You like him, don’t you, Papa?”

  “I do. A good choice, daughter.”

  Bethany stood to her feet and stretched, covering the distance between them and planting a kiss on his cheek. “I think so too,” then headed back to her seat. “Business is booming, and I am determined to complete the paperwork for sales and make sure we have the logs coming in from our outside sources. Your camp alone cannot hope to keep up with this rush of orders. Then it’s off to Wernicke with the details so he can schedule the work and make it all happen at the mill.” Bethany took a deep breath. “It’s rather exciting, all this town growth.”

  “Let me relieve you of interviews with buyers this afternoon. Make use of me while I’m home. Need to go to Astoria later in the week.”

  “Gladly.” She passed him the contracts he’d need to fill out and have signed with potential customers. “Tell Trudy to send them your way.”

  Bethany worked through the piles all afternoon. Wernicke’s file was filling up with new orders. Poor Chap will scratch his head wondering how to get it all done. Just as she breathed a sigh of contentment, her father entered and slapped two new jobs on her desk.

  “Had them eating out of my hand, begging to sign on the dotted line. Guess I haven’t lost my touch.”

  “You will never lose your touch for business, Papa,” said Bethany. “But these will wait for tomorrow. I need to get home. This is my night to volunteer at the Quinn house.”

  “Ah, yes, the children. Maybe when you get hitched, you won
’t feel the need to tend to other people’s children and will stay home and mind your own.”

  “What? And give up all the fun I have working for you?” she snickered and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “See you later.”

  As she walked home, she debated her father’s comment. Marriage required maintaining a home, raising children, and keeping a husband fed and happy. How would that fit into the life she’d envisioned as the future owner of the business? She cared deeply for Troy, and if she ever planned on walking the aisle with a man, he’d be the perfect catch. But now the question nagged at her insides; was she meant for family life, or should she remain a spinster running a thriving business?

  When Troy knocked on the door promptly at six, she regarded him with a twinge of regret at her haste in accepting his proposal to court. He beamed, and she realized he’d fallen in love with her. Did she love him – enough to give up the mill?

  “What – is my face dirty?” Troy asked in his usual fun way.

  “No. It’s nice to see you.”

  “You missed me? Splendid! Just what I needed to hear after an exhausting day at work.” He leaned in closer. “Can’t wait to have you standing at the door every night when I come home.”

  Something in Bethany’s gut wrenched, and she bit her lip. Spinning around, she grabbed a heavy sweater off the hook and her bag laden with her newfound book treasures. She yelled to Ms. Fletcher.

  “Be back around nine.” She smiled, knowing that she’d added an hour onto her evening, just in case Troy wanted to walk and talk afterward.

  Spending time with Troy made her feel young and adventurous. Would that thrill continue if she gave up her position at the mill? Or could she dare to imagine that perhaps a new future loomed for the girl who’d considered her heart an emotional wreck, not fit for any suitor? Too many unanswered questions. She prayed time would tell the ending to her story.

  “How was your day?” asked Troy.

  “Exhausting but exhilarating,” Bethany said as they walked side by side. “How about yours’?”

  “Had to intervene in two ruckuses. Men with ideas and money are not always a good fit for the local loggers: Don’t think the same. There’s always someone looking to swindle his fellow man.”