by Jody Hedlund
“Your mother will be thrilled,” James said, patting Tom on the shoulder. “You’ll make her the happiest lady in Massachusetts.”
At the thought of deceiving Mrs. Cushman, guilt swooped in and poked Victoria like a seagull pricking its prey. If the marriage would make Tom’s mom that happy, then she would be devastated when she learned of the annulment. From the flicker of a shadow on Tom’s face, Victoria guessed he was feeling the same guilt.
James didn’t neglect to greet Jimmy or invite him to stay for dinner, which the old man agreed to do just as soon as he secured his sails. He refused Tom’s offer of help and shooed them away. As they made their way up the beach to the keeper’s house, Victoria caught sight of a piping plover resting in the dune. The sandy-colored shorebird blended in so well, that Victoria might have missed it except for the black ring around its neck and black band across its forehead.
Tom steadied her with a slight touch to her elbow as they followed James. The man more than made up for Tom’s lack of conversation with a steady stream of news about Greg and Ruth and all that had led up to Tom’s brother-in-law having to finally give up the assistant keeper’s position.
When they reached the house, Victoria admired the hydrangea bushes that had been planted across the front. The white flowerheads were in full bloom and clustered into big puffy balls. After crossing a simple porch, they entered through the door into a wide hallway. She followed Tom and James into a front room with a window that overlooked the ocean. Ruffled white curtains were pulled back with ties on either side, and the walls were painted white, giving the place a clean, airy feel. Several beautiful paintings hung around the room, paintings of lighthouses and the sea.
Near the window at a round pedestal table sat a thin, petite woman. Her legs and lap were covered with a crocheted blanket, in spite of the warmth of the day. Her brown hair was graying, but her face was delicate and pretty. A well-worn Bible lay open on the table in front of her. At the sight of Tom, she gave a cry of delight and held out her arms. “Tom! You’re home!”
He cut directly across the sparsely furnished room to her, bent, and wrapped his arms around her. “Hi, Mom.”
Mrs. Cushman held onto him as though she never planned to let go. Victoria smiled at the tender reunion. Out of the corner of her vision, she caught James wiping at his eyes, clearly moved by his wife’s happiness.
Finally, Mrs. Cushman released Tom, but not before kissing him on the cheek. “You look taller.”
Tom grinned. “You say that every time you see me.”
James walked to his wife’s side, and, much to Victoria’s surprise, he stooped down and kissed her. Not a quick peck. Not a chaste brush of lips. But a full-mouthed kiss that was long enough for Victoria to look away in embarrassment. She happened to glance at Tom at the same moment he peeked at her. He lifted his shoulders as if to tell her this was normal.
James pulled away and pressed a kiss upon the top of his wife’s head before straightening. “Tom has some good news.”
Mrs. Cushman’s cheeks had turned a deeper shade of pink that made her look younger and in love. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at her son in anticipation.
Tom cleared his throat and then held out a hand toward Victoria. She took that as her sign to cross toward him. As his fingers closed around hers, she felt the tiniest of tremors. He was nervous.
She squeezed his hand to reassure him, although again she had a twinge of remorse for allowing his mother’s hopes to rise high, knowing they would crush them at the end of the month.
“Mom.” Tom’s grip tightened. “This is my wife, Victoria.”
Mrs. Cushman’s mouth opened and then closed. She stared first at Victoria and then Tom, her expression frozen with disbelief.
“That’s right, Zelma.” James’s wide smile filled his face. “Our Tom finally got married.”
“Married?” She said the word as if it were an impossibility.
“Yes, just recently,” Tom said quickly as if he needed to reassure himself as much as his mom.
Mrs. Cushman turned her bright eyes upon Victoria, eyes that seemed to peer straight into Victoria’s soul.
Victoria held her breath, wondering if Tom’s mom could see her for the fraud that she was. But the woman only smiled at her gently. “Victoria.” The one word was laced with welcome and acceptance, and Victoria knew immediately that she’d love Zelma. She held out her hand and Victoria took it.
Zelma, like her husband before her, drew Victoria into a hug and held her tightly. “You’re most welcome here, Victoria,” Zelma said. When Victoria straightened, she decided that she was going to enjoy her stay at Race Point much more than she’d thought possible.
“You’re very kind,” Victoria said, and then she embarrassed herself by yawning. She managed to cover it, but not quickly enough.
“Your wife is tired,” James said to Tom, almost with a note of accusation in his voice.
“We’ve had a long night and day of travel,” he replied.
“Why don’t you take Victoria upstairs?” his mother said. “She can refresh herself and rest before dinner.”
Victoria realized she was so weary she could hardly stand. Somehow she managed to excuse herself from Tom’s parents and follow him up a stairway. Another long hallway ran through the length of the second floor, with two bedrooms on either side. She supposed two were for the keeper and two for his assistant. The room Tom led her to was at the front of the house facing the ocean and had a large double bed, a tall chest of drawers, and a sofa in front of the window.
The walls were painted a light shade of blue. White ruffled curtains like those in the big sitting room downstairs hung at the windows, and a matching white bedspread covered the bed. A couple of paintings graced the walls, and, like the others she’d seen, these were of the sea. Although the room was small and rather plain, it was pretty and clean. She could survive a month in it, couldn’t she?
Tom issued her several instructions, but she was too tired to pay attention. After he left and closed the door behind him, she sat on the edge of the bed, worked off her shoes, and rolled down her stockings, letting them fall in balls on the floor. She wiggled her cramped toes and realized that sand was gritted between each one. She searched the wall for a pull cord, a way to call one of the servants to bring her a basin of water for washing, but as she stretched, she fell back onto the mattress.
The breeze blowing through the open window tousled the loose tendrils of her hair and cooled her cheeks. She closed her eyes, telling herself that she would rest for just a moment, that she had nothing to worry about here at Race Point, that she was finally completely safe. But as her eyelashes hit her cheeks, her thoughts returned to Tom and their marriage. And she couldn’t keep from thinking that perhaps her heart was in the greatest danger of all.
Chapter 9
Tom knelt on the floor of the lantern room and scrutinized the bridge, to which the chain was attached. He tightened the small screw that held the upper end of the chain until it wouldn’t budge. Then he slipped the small weights in the plunger through the opening at the top plate. “That ought to do it.”
His dad squatted beside him and peered into the pedestal. He held up an oil light to shine on the various gears and weights that made the fourth order Fresnel lens operate. He squinted at the plunger that Tom had just replaced before sitting back on his heels. “Well, let’s turn her on and see how she does.”
Tom stood and wiped the grease from his hands as he studied the beehive-shaped lens with its heavy glass prisms mounted into bronze frames and bolted together. The lens itself was in perfect condition. Dad had kept it shining like a diamond. But without Greg’s mechanical help, some of the inner workings were beginning to give Dad grief.
The fuel supply was already refilled and the wick trimmed. His dad raised the damper-tube and lifted the chimney-holder to the surface of the burner the way Tom had seen him do thousands of times during his childhood. Next his dad touched the flame to the wick a
nd then adjusted the chimney and the damper-tube to prevent any smoke. He kept the flame low at first to heat the chimney slowly. He’d gradually raise the wick until the flame was at its best, but he usually waited about thirty minutes before doing so.
The beam rotated all the way around, which distinguished Race Point from other lighthouses on the Cape. Tom counted the seconds it took for the beam to rotate, flashing white every ten seconds, and calculated the distance it would reach to passing ships. He guessed sixteen nautical miles. The view from the lantern room, as always, was breathtaking, especially with the setting sun casting its glow on Cape Cod Bay to the west.
Tom breathed the cool sea air coming in through the half-galley door. He might fight ghosts from the past whenever he was around his family, but he couldn’t deny that he always loved being up in the tower.
His dad laid a hand on his back. “It’s wonderful to have you here, son.”
Tom nodded. He loved his parents. But being with them reminded him that he’d killed their firstborn son. Maybe he hadn’t plunged the knife into Ike’s heart. But he’d been the cause. Even more than his regrets over Ike’s death, he couldn’t bear to witness what his foolishness had cost his mom. It was too awful to see, and every time he came home, there was no escaping the pain.
“Thanks for coming to visit. I know it’s not easy.” His dad’s voice was gentle.
“It’s good to see you and Mom.” They never made him feel guilty about Ike. But how could they not blame him?
“How long will you be able to stay?”
Tom had always cut his visits short in the past which had always disappointed his parents even though they didn’t say so. At least this time he would please them. “I’m your new assistant.”
His dad’s expression went from guarded to wide-eyed in an instant. “My assistant?”
“For the short term.”
“Assistant?” His dad repeated as though he hadn’t heard Tom right.
“Yes.”
A grin split his dad’s weathered face. “How did this come about? And why didn’t the inspector send me a telegram?”
Tom had made the arrangements last evening with the inspector via several telegrams. The inspector had been glad to fill the position with a qualified man. But of course, Tom couldn’t tell his father the truth about why he was really there. “I agreed to fill in until the inspector could find someone permanent.”
His dad studied his face. Could the wise man sense more to the story than Tom was admitting? “That’s fine. Very fine. I’ll take you as long as you’re available.”
“I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“We’ve managed. Your mother never complains. Even though I’m not the greatest cook in the world.”
“You made a good meal tonight.”
His dad chuckled. “I didn’t burn it.”
Tom couldn’t fault his dad for much, if anything. He’d been a good father and was an excellent husband. He hadn’t deserved so much tragedy.
They fell silent and stared out the window at the fading orange glow on the horizon. The distant crash of the waves reached out to soothe Tom and the guilt over his deception with Victoria that had been nagging him since he’d hugged his mom.
“Victoria is beautiful,” his dad said quietly.
“Yes, she is,” Tom admitted, although it wasn’t hard to do. He thought back to the picture of her asleep on the bed when he’d gone in to let her know dinner was ready. He’d tried to wake her, but she’d rolled away from him, deep in slumber.
“I always knew that when you got married, you’d attract a pretty woman.”
Was Victoria attracted to him? He didn’t think so. She might flirt with him once in a while. But that’s the way she was with men. “Guess I take after you. You always said Mom was the prettiest girl you ever met.”
“That’s true. She still is the prettiest girl I ever laid eyes on.”
Tom nodded. His dad had always spoken of his mom with the highest praise. In fact, Tom couldn’t remember ever hearing his dad speak a negative word about her.
“Victoria seems like a nice girl,” his dad pressed.
“She’s very sweet.” Again the admission was easy. Victoria might be spoiled and self-centered. But she had a good heart.
“I pray that God will bless you with the kind of marriage that your mother and I have.”
Even if his relationship with Victoria had been genuine, he didn’t see how it would be possible to have the kind of marriage his parents had. He’d seen few like theirs. But he said the words he knew his dad expected. “Thanks, Dad. I hope so too.”
He sensed that his dad wanted to say more, but after a moment he moved toward the hatch and the ladder protruding from it. “Speaking of your mother, I need to go check on her and carry her up to bed.”
Tom’s gut twisted at the thought of his dad caring for his mother day after day, especially over the past week without any help or relief from Ruth or Greg. He wished there was more he could do. Perhaps he’d check into hiring a nurse to live with them. For now, while he was there, he’d do all he could.
He took one last look up and down the coast, assured himself that no one was in sight, and followed after his dad. “I’ll help you.”
Against his dad’s protest that he could do it himself, Tom carried his mom up to his parents’ bedroom, which was directly across from Victoria’s. He helped to situate his mom on the edge of the bed and tried not to notice how much thinner and frailer she was compared to the last time he’d seen her. After kissing her goodnight, he offered to watch the lantern so that his dad could have a night off. But his dad insisted that Tom get a good night’s sleep.
Tom crossed the hallway and peeked in on Victoria. Seeing that she was still asleep, he closed the door and backed away. The room he’d given her had belonged to Greg and Ruth. The smaller room at the rear of the house had belonged to their two young children. He could sleep in one of the beds in there. Maybe he could even push the beds together to be able to stretch out more comfortably.
He hesitated.
“Is something wrong?” The question startled him, and he spun to see his mom and dad, both sitting on the edge of their bed, watching him. Dad had his arm around Mom, and she’d leaned her head on his shoulder.
Inwardly, Tom chastised himself for his sloppiness. He should have closed their door on the way out. Even then, he should have made a show of going into Victoria’s room like any eager new husband would. He didn’t want them suspecting anything was wrong this early in the month.
Instead, he smiled. “Nothing’s wrong. I wasn’t sure if I should disturb Victoria. She’s sleeping so soundly.”
“I’m sure she won’t mind a little disturbing from you.” His dad winked.
The implication brought forth a bucket full of images, especially ones from earlier in the day when he’d embraced Victoria on the steamship and all of her soft curves had pressed against him. When he’d nuzzled her ear, he’d caught the fragrance of hydrangeas and tasted the delectable smoothness of her skin. He may have started off acting, but his body’s reaction had put him in a dangerous state of mind. He’d needed to cool off, and so he’d gone above deck for a few minutes.
“Go on in,” his mom said with a knowing smile. “I’m sure she’ll be glad to have you nearby.”
If Victoria awoke and found him sleeping in the same room, she certainly wouldn’t be glad. She’d be livid. But what choice did he have now?
“You’re right.” He smiled again, hoping the smile didn’t look as stiff as it felt. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” his mom replied cheerfully.
“Don’t stay up all night.” His dad winked again. “After all, I’m planning to put you to work tomorrow.”
Tom had never blushed before in his life, but at his father’s brashness, his face was on fire. He couldn’t seem to find the doorknob and enter the room fast enough. When he was inside, he leaned back against the door and exhaled. Then he couldn’t h
elp grinning at the absurdity of his predicament and his parents’ comments.
He’d grown up watching his parents kiss and show unabashed affection for one another and had thought that was the way every married couple acted. But now that he was older and more worldly-wise, he realized they had a rare treasure to still love one another so passionately after more than thirty years of marriage.
He never planned on getting married—at least in the true sense. Marriage was out of the question with the kind of life he led as a bodyguard. Even now, he wondered if he’d made a mistake in having this temporary marriage with Victoria. It was just that yesterday, after the kidnapping attempt, he’d panicked. He’d decided that the only place she’d truly be safe was here, at Race Point.
Situated at the northernmost tip of Cape Cod, the lighthouse was completely isolated. Hiking overland from Provincetown was possible. But through the sand and dunes, it wasn’t an easy trek. And if someone came by boat, Tom would be able to see them coming long before they arrived at the doorstep. Besides, no one but Victoria’s father knew exactly where they were. In fact, Tom hadn’t even given the lighthouse inspector Victoria’s name and had only referred to her as Mrs. Cushman.
Henry Cole had been reluctant to the marriage part of the plan. He’d likely had concerns about Tom attempting to make claims on Victoria’s inheritance or going public with the marriage and ruining his daughter’s chances of a future match. But Tom had reassured Mr. Cole that even though the marriage certificate would make their stay at Race Point legal, the document was only a piece of paper and no one else would ever have to know about the arrangement. He’d promised Mr. Cole the same thing he’d promised him when he started the job, that he’d treat Victoria with the utmost professionalism at all times. Then once the assailant was captured, he’d leave for Europe and wouldn’t speak of the temporary marriage ever again. Mr. Cole hadn’t needed to make him sign a legal document relinquishing rights to Victoria’s fortune and outlining the terms of the separation. Tom wouldn’t have ever even dreamed of trying to gain anything from the marriage. But he’d gone along with Mr. Cole’s stipulations anyway.
