“I’ve blown it, Bryn.”
“Well, that’s nothin’ new,” she wisecracked. “Come on. Out to the fire escape with you.”
He followed her out, and they settled onto the wrought ironwork. Bryn threw him a big, grungy pillow. “Not the first time you’ve retired out here?”
“Nope.”
“Bryn, it’s not safe.”
“Trevor, you’re here to talk about you, not me. Why aren’t you at Torchlight?”
“I finished my work there.”
“What about Julia?”
“She’s marrying Miles Beckley.”
“Ah. I see. You told her how you feel?”
“In a way.”
“In a way?” Bryn asked, narrowing her eyes. “Didn’t we talk about this? You were going to find a time, a place with her, away.”
“It was never the right time, the right place,” he responded irritably. “I tried! I told her, right in front of Miles—”
“In front of her fiancé? What was she supposed to say?”
He sighed, pulling another pillow to his chest as if it could lend him some comfort, shield off his cousin’s attack. “If she really loved me, Bryn, she could have said so. I saw her later, when I said goodbye.”
“When you said good-bye? What is she supposed to do then, beg you to stay?”
“Well, yes! If she loved me.”
A man leaned out of his window below them. “Bryn? That you?”
“It’s me, Phil.”
“Can you keep it down? I gotta work tomorrow.”
“Will do. Sorry, Phil. Good night.”
The man left the window sill, muttering. Bryn and Trevor stared at each other in the shadows. “You gotta go back, Trevor,” she urged in a hushed voice. “You have to tell her, once and for all, that you love her. Make it absolutely clear.”
“I can’t. You didn’t hear … You didn’t see me try. I gave her a chance.”
“Did you? Really? Did you try every which way possible? What’s she afraid of?”
“That I’ll get tired of Torchlight and leave. She’s freaked out over my traveling, as if that proves that I’ll never settle down.”
“So you left Oak Harbor.” She let the words sit between them like an unwelcome visitor. “Trevor, she’s thirty. She wants a home, probably a family. And you’re the handyman who seems to be just passing through. What was she supposed to believe?”
“What else was I supposed to do?” he whispered angrily.
“You were supposed to stay.”
“Well, I didn’t do that, did I?”
Bryn took a long drink of tea. “Trevor Kenbridge, you have two choices. You can move on, and wonder about Julia all your life. Or you can go back, make it absolutely clear that you love her and will stay with her. She’ll either send you packing or welcome you home. At least you’ll know.” She rose and fondly brushed the top of his head with her hand. “I’ll leave a sheet on the couch. Won’t bother with a blanket. I’ve got a shift in the morning. You’ll be okay?”
“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” He reached for her hand and looked up. “Thanks, Bryn.”
But when she left, he knew he was going to be anything but fine.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Three days before the wedding Julia sat atop the high granite cliffs and asked the question again. Am I doing the right thing? She looked at the bright summer blue sky and spoke to God, “I’m still waiting for a word from you. It’s not too late. But it’s getting really close.”
She wore the woolen burnoose that Trevor had given her. She seemed to be spending more and more time out on the cliffs, searching for answers. Always she wore the burnoose. It gave her a sense of safety. It reminded her of Trevor and his arms around her shoulders.
Where are you? What are you doing? If only Trevor had chosen his timing more carefully when he declared his love! If only she had not sent him away! Julia sighed and closed her eyes as the wind filled the cape’s hood. She still had no answers, just a heart full of questions.
She entered the house and, hearing Miles in the kitchen on the phone, went to the living room to pick up Anna’s journal. Shane was overdue, and winter was fast approaching. Anna was overwrought by his absence.
24 October 1848
By all accounts, he should have returned at least a month ago. I tell myself that he is safe; in harbor somewhere south but unable to send me a message. Or perhaps that message is on the way now. I spend my days on the point, anxiously looking to sea, hoping the Donnovan’s majestic sails will appear on the horizon, and glancing toward the frontage road to see if a messenger speeds toward me with word of my love.
I spend my evenings in the lighthouse, making sure the oil burns brightly. I could not have Shane arrive home to a darkened torch. He needs to know I am waiting, ready, hoping. The lighthouse man is angry with me for hovering over his work, and the children are underfoot when they join me. But I cannot care. I have but one focus. Shane.
Where could he be? He would not have survived all those voyages if he was meant to die at sea! Not when finances are no longer a burden! Not when he has four lovely children to watch grow! Not when he has a wife who dearly needs him!
My heart is breaking. Oh, Shane, come home! I love you! How I long for your arms around me again!
“Julia?”
Julia raised her head distractedly, tears sliding down her cheeks.
Miles stood above her. “What’s the matter, darling?”
She swallowed, trying to sort out the right answer. “It’s Shane. Anna thinks he’s lost at sea.”
“I’m on the line, but I’m on hold. I might have to go at any minute. Do you think you should be reading such dark material practically on the eve of our wedding? I want a happy bride in three days—” Then to the receiver, “Yes, I’m still holding.”
“Don’t you see? Shane could be lost forever! Maybe this is when he dies! We know from family history that he died suddenly. But I know Anna now. It’s like I can feel her pain. I don’t want her to hope that he’ll come back, because I know she’ll probably be disappointed—”
“Richard! So nice to hear your voice! I’ve been meaning to speak with you about that case we picked up. I just learned …”
Julia tuned Miles out as quickly as he had turned from her tear-stained face. She shook off a feeling of rejection and went back to the yellowed pages in her lap.
12 November 1849
It is done. I have suffered the most desolate year of my life, hearing that my Shane is gone, but refusing to believe it. It is only now, after a second ship has sailed and returned. The reports concur.
He is gone.
He sailed out of Rio de Janeiro last year, anxious to get home to his family. He ignored his advisors when they warned him of a shift in the weather. Two days later the fiercest storm to hit the coast in twenty years was upon them. We can only guess that the Donnovan went down fighting, with Shane at the wheel, refusing to let go.
I want to be content with the fact that he died at a task he loved, no, lived for. Yet my heart collapses as the Donnovan’s masts must have done on that stormy night, and my insides rip raw as the sails. My spirit sinks, much as her bow must have dipped beneath the angry waves, crushing any cries of hope. Devastation! Oh, total devastation!
I remain the sole proprietor of the Donnovan Shipyard. Indeed, we have built four clippers since Shane took his leave. But the money means nothing. I want my beloved back. I want his arms, his kiss, his companionship. No money can replace him.
If it were not for my faith in Jesus, my torchlight in darkness, and my children, my hope for the future, my desire to live would cease.
Julia’s own tears dropped from her face and melded with the ancient tear stains on Anna’s journal. How she must have wept! Julia grieved for her ancestor, feeling her pain. It felt much too close. She wiped her tears away hastily, fearful they would smudge her great-great-grandmother’s pain-filled prose. “Oh, Anna.” Julia looked out to the lighthouse.
She wanted to go back in time to comfort her. Such a love! Once again she donned her burnoose and went to the cliff.
Engrossed with his call, Miles did not notice her leave.
It was a lovely early August day. Julia’s dress, now repaired, was perfect. The flowers in her garden were blooming, the chairs were in place, the string quartet was setting up. Tara rushed in and out, keeping a close eye on the process in the kitchen but not wanting to miss out on anything upstairs as her friend dressed for the wedding.
Emily was working on the tiny buttons on Julia’s back. She glanced worriedly to her sister-in-law’s downcast face in the mirror. After the fourth effort on the same button, Emily finally paused.
“Julia, what’s wrong?” she asked.
“I don’t know.”
“My wedding day was the happiest of my life! Are you having doubts? What is it?”
“It just feels wrong! This can’t be your average case of prewedding jitters. I’ve got the shakes.” She raised her hand, showing Emily that she could not stop the trembling. Her diamonds glittered in the sun.
“How are you normally when you’re center stage?” Emily asked quietly.
“Never anywhere near this bad. I’m in sorry shape.”
Eleanor bustled in, interrupting their conversation. “Oh, you look lovely! I think you need a bit more blush though. You should be ready soon, Julia. We want the guests to be seated in half an hour, and the photographer wants to take some shots of you alone. He’ll take precautions to keep you out of Miles’s sight.”
“Small miracles,” Julia muttered.
“What?”
“I said, ‘Special moments.’ I want to savor each of them.”
“Yes, well. Emily looks like she’s doing her best to get you ready.” She gave her new daughter-in-law an attempt at a smile. “I won’t stay in your way. I’ll go see how Tara and the kitchen staff are progressing.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Julia said wearily.
Emily went back to work on the buttons. When she got to the top, she turned and gathered Julia’s veil, which was attached to a crown of pearls. The netting, dotted with its own ivory stones, ran the entire length of Julia’s short train. For a garden wedding, the dress was a little long, but Julie hadn’t wanted to pass up the chance to wear the romantic gown.
“Julia,” Emily ventured. “If you don’t want to do this …”
“No,” Julia forced a smile. “I’m being silly. It’s just the jitters. Let’s go.”
Emily carefully pinned the veil to Julia’s hair, done up in a chignon. The hairstyle reminded Julia of the first night she and Trevor had dined together, then read from Anna’s journal. How he had looked at her! It made her knees weak just to think of his warm gaze. Julia closed her eyes, willing away the image of him.
“This is the magical moment,” Emily said. “Watch.”
Julia did as she was told, watching her image in the full-length mirror as Emily climbed a chair beside her to unfurl the veil and place it in front of her face.
Looking through the netting, she did feel like a princess. A shiver ran down her spine. “Magical,” she agreed.
“You look beautiful,” Emily said. “The dress, your hair … It’s like stepping back in time to watch Anna and Shane. You truly are stunning.” Her eyes glimmered with tears, and Julia’s eyes welled up in response.
“It’s time, darling,” Eleanor said, ducking into the room again. “The photographer is getting impatient.” She left without waiting.
Julia took one last look out the window. The guests were arriving and being seated in the garden, facing the ocean. In front of them, she would join Miles for their vows. It’s all set. I’d be crazy to back out now. Trevor’s long gone. Miles is waiting. The wheels are in motion. What’s done is done.
She turned to follow Emily down the stairs.
It was a warm summer afternoon, and a gentle breeze favored them. It was truly the perfect day for a wedding. The musicians began the familiar strains of Pachelbel’s Canon just as the last guests took their seats. Julia wanted to catch Tara’s arm as her friend brushed by with a quick “good luck.” She wanted to stop Emily from starting down the aisle, leading the way for the bride. But her mouth did not utter a sound.
She fought to catch her breath.
Miles walked to the front, grinned back at Julia, and with his eyes, beckoned her to come forward. He looked handsome in his tuxedo, his brown hair glimmering in the sunlight. His eyes were full of hope. He was totally at ease.
Have we even talked in the last few days? It seems like he’s always on the phone or away. Is that what our life will be like? More apart than together? She felt frozen in place, a smile plastered on her face, the guests looking at her with questioning eyes, the musicians repeating the last refrain so they would not run out of music before the bride arrived. Still, Julia leaned backward, not allowing her father to escort her down the aisle. He leaned down to whisper encouraging words to her. Miles’s brow furrowed.
“It will be okay, honey,” Jacob said. “You’ll see, it will be fine. You’ve made a fine choice.”
The soothing cadence of his voice thawed her frozen stature, and she allowed him to lead her down the aisle without further resistance. She trusted his voice, his tone. This was the man who had always cared for her and always would. He trusted Miles. Shouldn’t she, too?
They met Miles in front of the small gathering. Jacob shook the hand of his future son-in-law. He raised Julia’s veil to kiss her briefly on the cheek, then took her hand and joined it with Miles’s.
This is it.
The minister began the words of the ceremony, but Julia lost track of what he was saying after the auspicious beginning, “Dearly beloved …”
Did Anna feel this way when she married Shane? It sounded as if he’d had to work hard to convince her. And look how in love they were! Maybe we can develop that kind of love! She looked up into Miles’s face hopefully but saw nothing there to convince her.
The rumble of a motorcycle engine came to her ear, although Julia did not take her eyes from the minister.
“Miles Hanford Beckley, do you take Julia Sirene Rierdon to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, so long as you both shall live?”
“I do.”
As if in a tunnel, Julia watched from a distance as Miles placed the gold band upon her finger. Could they not all hear the engine? Could they not guess at the significance? Were they all deaf?
“Julia Sirene Rierdon, do you take Miles Hanford Beckley to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, so long as you both shall live?”
“Do not say yes,” a voice commanded from the aisle. The guests let out a collective gasp.
Julia turned to look at him. He had come back. Her heart sang; her eyes danced. He was home!
She looked to Miles. He was angry at the intrusion, worried that she might change her mind, wondering what was the proper action to take.
“Why are you here, Trevor?” she asked quietly.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I think you know why I’m here,” he said so everyone could hear. “I’m here because the farther away I got, the more you were on my mind. I’m here because the more I’m with you, the deeper I fall in love. I’m here because you are the smartest, most beautiful, and most incredible woman I’ve ever known. I’m here because I cannot imagine life without you, and I think you’re marrying the wrong man. I’m here because I would like to ask you to be my wife, and I’m here to promise I will never leave you again.”
With that, he bent down on one knee and brought out his own ring for her, a simple antique band of gold.
Miles, furious, made a move toward Trevor, but Jake held him back with a firm grip on his forearm and shoulder. “My sister needs to make a decision,” he said. “And you need to let her do it without interfering.”
Julia looked from Trev
or to Miles to Trevor again, blind to her family and friends. Everyone held his or her breath as she contemplated her decision.
“I’m sorry, Miles,” she said as she looked up at him, genuinely apologetic as she slipped off his ring and pressed it into his palm. “I never should’ve let it get this far.”
“I’ll say.” He threw the ring to the ground as if it were plaster and stomped off. He paused for a moment, turned, and shook his finger at her. “You haven’t heard the last from me,” he said.
She ignored him. Her eyes were on Trevor, who remained on bended knee in front of her. The crowd was silent as they waited for the rest of the scene to unfold, but Julia concentrated only on the handsome man in his brown leather bomber jacket and white T-shirt. Here was a man who truly loved her. Here was a man who had the potential of being what Shane was to Anna. Here was the love of her life.
Julia reached out and took the worn band from his hand.
“It’s about the same age as Anna’s would have been,” he said.
“An appropriate engagement ring,” she said. She leaned down to stroke his strong, square jaw line gently. “I’m so glad you came back for me,” she said.
He rose and, lifting her veil, kissed her soundly. “So am I. So am I.”
Dear Reader,
Torchlight is the second book I wrote, and I wrote it after seeing a picture of a lighthouse in a magazine. The story spun itself from there. I loved the romance of “torches,” as the sailors of old used to call lighthouses, and the obvious symbolism of Christ. Haven’t you looked for his light when things were really, really dark? What a gift to have a Beacon that is ever present when we are in danger of crashing on the rocks.
My own family history fascinates me—thus the interest in developing Anna and Shane’s own love story. Talk about high romance! They were so intriguing to me that I think I’ll have to go back and write their entire story someday. My family were not sailors, they were immigrants from Norway and Switzerland; they must’ve broken their backs trying to tame the land as farmers in North Dakota and Montana. The quest by Julia (my great-grandmother’s name) to refurbish the old family mansion was, in many ways, a quest to know, to understand, my roots a little better. I dug even deeper for those roots in my Northern Lights series. If you liked Shane and Anna in this novel, check out The Captain’s Bride.
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