Forever Safe (Beacons of Hope)

by Jody Hedlund

  “In our marriages,” Zelma continued, “we can let the difficulties drive us apart or drive us to our knees.”

  The clomping on the steps cut off their conversation. The men were coming down—James from his day of sleeping and Tom from changing his work clothes. The two had come up with a rotation. James took the night shift in the tower. And Tom did all of the cleaning and repair work that needed to be done during the day. Victoria had overheard James insisting on the schedule so that Tom could spend his nights with his new bride. Of course, Tom had protested, his voice tinged with embarrassment. But James hadn’t listened to any other plan.

  Victoria hurried to untie the ugly apron and hide it in a drawer in the sideboard.

  “I thought I smelled something delicious,” James said, walking into the dining room first, his dark hair freshly groomed and his face relaxed from his hours of slumber. He smiled at Zelma and bent to kiss her on the top of her head.

  “Victoria made fried chicken tonight,” Zelma responded.

  As Tom entered the room, Victoria busied herself taking the lid off the platter of chicken. She retrieved a long serving fork and placed it next to the chicken pieces, which were golden with batter and spices. She tried not to notice Tom, but his presence in a room was difficult to miss—the heat of his body, his darkening skin after a week in the sun, the fresh bay-rum scent from his soap. And his eyes, so dark and brooding, so beckoning. Always making her want to go to him and smooth away the lines in his forehead.

  “The meal looks pretty,” Tom said, pulling out her chair and helping her get situated before taking his seat next to her. Although he was never as gushing as his dad, she appreciated Tom’s compliments every night. In fact, during the afternoons when she was planning and making the meals, she couldn’t deny that she was doing it for him, to earn his praise and to make him happy.

  “Thank you.” She offered him a smile, but his smile in return was forced. Clearly, he was still upset at her for asking to hire a seamstress. From the unyielding dark blue of his eyes, she knew he wasn’t planning on giving in to her need.

  Her smile faded, replaced rapidly by irritation. He couldn’t expect her to wear only three outfits all month, especially now that two were nearly ruined. She’d already given in to his plans and wishes enough. It was his turn to compromise.

  Across the table, James glanced between them, as though sensing their coldness to one another, but Victoria bowed her head in preparation for the blessing that James spoke before every meal. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tom do likewise.

  “Before we pray, I’m in need of a kiss from my wife,” James said, turning to Zelma. “I haven’t had one since this morning, and I’m hungrier for a kiss than for food.”

  Zelma’s tinkling laugh of delight was cut short by James’s crushing kiss. Victoria had finally begun to grow accustomed to their displays of affection. But as this kiss continued and turned more passionate, Victoria fidgeted in her chair and stared at the dish of raspberry cream pudding on her plate, her face growing hotter with each passing second. She was embarrassed by the strange warmth that blossomed in her middle, a warmth that made her wonder what that kind of kiss would feel like.

  Next to her, Tom shifted, and she could sense his discomfort. “Excuse me, Mom, Dad,” he finally said. “Dinner is getting cold.”

  James broke away, grinning from ear to ear, and Zelma was breathless and flushed. “Now, that’s what I call a kiss,” James said.

  “I should say so,” Zelma responded with a shaky voice.

  James looked at Tom and narrowed his eyes. “Your turn.”

  Tom’s brows rose as fast as sparrow wings. “My turn?”

  “Yeah, let’s see if you can top that.”

  “No.”

  “That’s because you can’t.” James glared at Tom, daring and rebuking him at the same time.

  “I know how to kiss.” Tom’s voice was low.

  “I doubt it.” James took Zelma’s hand. She started to say something, but at a squeeze of his fingers she closed her mouth. “I haven’t seen you kiss your wife all week. No wonder she’s mad at you.”

  “Maybe we’re more private than you.”

  “Or maybe you need to take a few lessons from me.”

  “I told you, I can.”

  “Then prove it.” The two were deadlocked in a stare.

  The entire exchange took Victoria by surprise. But she was even more surprised when Tom reached for her, turned her just slightly, and then slipped his hand up behind her neck. He leaned in and hesitated only a moment before dropping his sights to her lips.

  Her heart did a wild flip at the realization that he was going to kiss her. She couldn’t deny that she’d wondered what it might be like, especially after that time he’d held her during the steamboat ride. But he’d kept himself at a proper distance from her, even though they were legally married and sharing a room. She may have been concerned about the propriety of the situation the first night after she’d learned that he had to sleep in the same bedroom, but he’d behaved like a perfect gentleman all week. He’d kept to his spot on the sofa and his bed on the floor, had allowed her all the privacy she needed when dressing, and hadn’t initiated any physical contact. In fact, she’d been the one to hug him the night of the bath.

  Now, with his warm fingers against the back of her neck, capturing and positioning her, she held her breath in anticipation. His gaze briefly met hers, seeking her approval. She didn’t want to say no, even though a part of her told her she should. The truth was she’d been waiting for him to kiss her.

  He must have read her acquiescence because he licked his bottom lip and focused on her mouth again. His fingers on her neck guided her at the same moment that he bent and angled his mouth to fit against hers.

  When his lips touched hers, he was tentative. But the warmth and damp pressure sent a heady rush through her. Behind the tender, sweet kiss she sensed a restrained passion and strength that made her tremble.

  Before she could move to open her lips and kiss him back, he broke away and released his hold on her neck. His dark eyes glowed with something she didn’t understand, but that made her heart beat faster. Without giving her time to explore the swell of new feelings, he swiveled to face his dad. “Did I pass your test?”

  His dad snorted. “Absolutely not. No wonder she’s kicked you out of the bed and you’re having to sleep on the floor.”

  They knew? Victoria’s heart lurched, and she was sure her face revealed her mortification. She was thankful for once that Tom was schooled in hiding his emotions, that his expression remained unchanged at his father’s revelation.

  “What happens in our marriage isn’t your concern,” Tom said in a steely voice.

  “Kiss her like you mean it.” His dad’s voice was equally steely, and Victoria realized where Tom got his stubbornness.

  “I already did.”

  Once again they locked glares, neither willing to back down. And once more Zelma started to speak, but James patted her arm, and she remained quiet.

  Victoria tensed. Should she intervene and put an end to the stand-off? She had the feeling Tom wouldn’t kiss her again, that he was too noble to push himself on her, even to prove himself to his dad. Maybe if she let Tom know he could kiss her again…that she wouldn’t mind. Because she wouldn’t, would she? She could allow another kiss for his sake.

  Underneath the table, she slid her hand over to his, which was fisted tightly. The muscles in his arm were taut. She ran her fingers over his wrist and tugged him in her direction. His gaze snapped to hers, and his brows rose, revealing the tumult rolling in the dark depths of his eyes.

  She tugged him again and leaned in. She wanted to say, “Just kiss me.” But she wasn’t that bold. Instead, she prayed he could read the message in her tentative smile.

  Before she could catch her breath, he moved so swiftly and strongly she felt as if he’d knocked her completely off her feet. He captured her face between both large hands and br
ought his lips down against hers. This time, his kiss was powerful, his mouth open and demanding.

  His lips unlocked her own passion, unleashed something she’d never known was inside her. As his hands moved from her face to her hair and then down her back, she was helpless to do anything but wrap her arms around him in return. All the while, his mouth never wavered from hers. His lips pressed harder until her body was on fire with a need for him she didn’t understand.

  “Oh.” She couldn’t contain the soft gasp against his hungry lips. The gasp brought his hands back up to her hair, to her neck, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Each brush of his fingers was invitation to kiss him more deeply, to take him in, to love him.

  Love him?

  Her kiss stilled for a moment. But it was apparently long enough for him to sense her hesitancy. He wrenched his mouth from hers and pulled back a fraction so that his labored breaths bathed her mouth.

  “Now that was a kiss worthy of the Cushman name,” James said, grinning.

  Zelma was beaming.

  Suddenly Victoria was more mortified than she’d ever been in her life. She’d just kissed their son, and not a chaste little kiss. But a passionate long kiss that had involved lots of touching and even her gasp.

  She couldn’t look either of them in the eyes. She doubted she’d ever be able to again. Or look Tom in the eyes. What must he think of her now after she’d thrown herself into his arms?

  “Let’s say the blessing,” James said, “and eat before the food gets cold.”

  “Good idea, dear,” Zelma said.

  Tom slowly released his grip on her. His breathing was still ragged, and he seemed almost reluctant to pull away.

  “Of course, we can always put yours in the warming oven for later.” James waggled his eyebrows at Tom.

  Tom sat back in his chair, unable to hide a ripple of embarrassment that crossed his face. “No, Dad. We’ll eat now.”

  Somehow Victoria made it through the meal. She wasn’t sure how she managed to speak coherently. Or how she managed to swallow any of the food. She certainly didn’t taste a single thing. All she could think about was the fact that Tom was only inches away. She could feel the heat from his leg when it brushed against hers under the table. And when he reached for a second biscuit and his arm touched her, she almost gasped again.

  She was relieved when dinner was finally over. As she rose to begin clearing the table, James waved her away.

  “Go on,” Zelma said. “We’ll clean up. You two go spend some time together.”

  James chuckled. “Yeah, go burn off that heat.”

  Victoria froze, her hand on the plate in front of her. Was the heat that noticeable? A flush crept up her neck, and she had the sudden urge to flee and hide until she could cool down and think more rationally.

  Tom touched her arm, and she jumped. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand.

  He wasn’t planning to lead her upstairs to the bedroom, was he? For more of that kind of kissing? Her pulse jumped from both nervousness and desire.

  “Let’s go for a walk.” His eyes were a warm blue that held only tenderness. No anger. No aloofness. No shame. No regret.

  “That sounds nice.” She took his hand, and when his fingers closed around hers, she couldn’t help thinking of those same fingers touching her back, neck, and waist. She’d liked it. Very much.

  And she liked the gentle pressure of his hand against hers as he led her out the house and down to the path to the beach. The horizon was clear, not a boat in sight. The summer evening was still warm from the day, but the brilliance of the sun was beginning to fade, promising a cooler night. When they reached the shore, he kicked off his boots and pulled off his socks before rolling up his trousers.

  She laughed at the sight of his bare ankles and calves. “You look like a sandpiper.”

  He grinned and nodded to the mound of sand behind her. “Sit down.”

  She complied and was unprepared when he kneeled in front of her and took one of her feet into his lap. “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t answer but instead began to unlace her shoe. Once it was off, he tossed it next to his in the sand. He didn’t look at her as he found the garter at her calf. As he untied the lace and made contact with her leg, she sucked in a breath. He focused on the stocking and quickly rolled it down over her toes. She was afraid of her reaction should he touch her bare foot. Thankfully, he only placed her foot into the sand and began the work of unlacing her other shoe and removing the garter.

  Even though his touch had been brief with each foot, the fire within her blood had come blazing back. When he finally glanced at her from where he knelt in front of her, she could see a fire smoldering in his eyes too.

  What was happening between them? What had those innocent kisses ignited?

  Certainly she’d never had any feelings close to this with Nathaniel or any of her other suitors. She’d never been kissed the way Tom had kissed her. He’d been right. His kiss hadn’t been nice. It had been powerful and beautiful and earth-shattering.

  A shadow fell across his face. “Listen, Victoria—”

  “Don’t apologize for kissing me,” she said almost vehemently. “I don’t want to hear it.”

  He ducked his head, and she longed to dig her fingers into his hair. “But I shouldn’t have—”

  “I don’t regret a single second of it.”

  He kept his head bent. “I should regret it,” he whispered hoarsely. “But I don’t.”

  She smiled at his confession. “Good.”

  “But I can’t do it again.” Meeting her gaze, his expression was tortured and earnest all at once.

  “Can’t kiss me again?”

  “Not ever again.”

  He was right, even if she was secretly disappointed at the thought of never having the chance to experience another one of his kisses.

  “I promised your dad that he had nothing to worry about with our marriage arrangement, that you’d be safe with me.”

  She nodded. Even without Tom’s promise to her dad, she’d made a promise to Nathaniel to think about their relationship. She certainly wasn’t respecting him if she was already kissing another man.

  “So if we can’t ever kiss again, then can we at least be friends?” she asked.

  “Perhaps if we’re friendlier toward each other around my parents, they won’t pressure us so much.”

  “Oh, my.” She squirmed just thinking about all their comments and kissing. “I daresay, they are determined to make us a good married couple, aren’t they?”

  “Very.”

  “At least they care about us. If we were a real married couple, their advice and help would be a blessing.”

  Tom shook his head. “I don’t know how Ruth and Greg handled their meddling.”

  “I think their so-called meddling is cute.”

  “It’s frustrating.” Tom glanced back to the house and tower not far down the beach from where he’d led her. Against the backdrop of sand and sea in the fading evening, the lighthouse was picturesque.

  In hindsight, she could see the wisdom of hiding at Race Point. She’d never guessed that she could live without all the comforts of home. But she’d already survived one week, and she could admit she liked being at the lighthouse better than she’d imagined.

  “Your dad’s very hard to resist.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “Now I know where you get your powers of persuasion.”

  Tom smiled and stood, brushing the sand from his trousers. He reached for her hand and helped her to her feet. “Then let me persuade you to wade with me in the low tide.”

  She took his hand and allowed him to assist her to her feet. As they started forward, the sand squished between her toes, still warm from baking in the sun all day. She expected him to release her and resume a respectable distance, but he kept hold of her. He even placed a kiss on her temple.

  A tremor of delight coursed through her, and she brushed her arm aga
inst his. “I thought you weren’t going to kiss me ever again.”

  “That wasn’t a kiss,” he said softly. “You should know that now.”

  Her insides fluttered. Oh yes. She knew what a real kiss was like now.

  “Besides, Mom and Dad are watching us from the window.”

  “Oh, so you’re putting on a show for them?” She started to pull away, not sure why the playacting should bother her now after all the acting they’d already done. But somehow his words stung.

  His grip tightened preventing her escape. “Their prying gives me an excuse.”

  “An excuse?”

  “To hold you.”

  This was one time she liked his blunt honesty, and in response she rested her head against his shoulder.

  “As a friend, of course,” he added with a mirthful emphasis on the word friend.

  “Then I won’t object. As a friend.”

  The sand became wet and cold as they walked out where normally the waves and water crashed. But with low tide, the beach was exposed, leaving small translucent jellyfish and tiny crabs out in the open for the seagulls swirling overhead.

  She hadn’t walked on a beach barefoot since she was a little girl. Now, next to Tom with the damp sand beneath her feet, the sea breeze caressing her face, and the softening glow of the sun painting a masterpiece over the water, she couldn’t imagine any other place she’d rather be.

  When they reached the ocean’s edge, they stopped and let cold but gentle waves lap their toes. They stood silently, and when she glanced at Tom, she could see deep satisfaction in his features, a peace there she’d never noticed before.

  “You love the ocean,” she stated softly.

  “I always have.” The wistfulness in his tone twisted her heart. She couldn’t stop herself from pulling her hand from his and sliding it around his waist instead. When he did likewise, so that she was tucked against his side in the crook of his arm, she realized she was exactly where she wanted to be. She didn’t miss the parties or the shops or the theater or the yacht races. She didn’t miss her home or her maids or even her friends.