Forever Safe (Beacons of Hope)

by Jody Hedlund

  His dad had been angrier about how he was treating Victoria than she was. Dad had argued with him, told him to put aside his pride, and make things right with his bride. After the tenth nagging, Tom had been tempted to tell his dad the truth, that Victoria wasn’t his, never had been, and never would be.

  Jimmy began the process of unloading several other crates of food and supplies. Tom stuffed the telegrams into his coat pocket and helped Jimmy until the cutter was empty.

  “Why don’t you stay for dinner?” Tom suggested as he wiped his sleeve across his damp forehead. Even though the day was hazy and the sun behind the clouds, the humidity made the air sticky and heavy.

  “Stay and win her?” Jimmy’s eyes widened, and he glanced again at Victoria, who had bent over to retrieve another sopping wet garment from the basket of laundry. Ruth’s hand-me-down skirt pulled taut against Victoria, revealing a very womanly figure.

  Tom quickly averted his gaze but couldn’t stop the slow burn from fanning inside his gut. It was always there, always smoldering even though he’d done all he could that week to douse it. He had the feeling that after Victoria read all of the telegrams, she’d help him snuff it out once and for all.

  Jimmy glanced away from Victoria. The confusion in his eyes would have been laughable, if Tom had been in a laughing mood. Which he wasn’t. “Stay. For. Dinner,” he repeated louder.

  Jimmy’s grin re-appeared. “Why didn’t you say so? I can do that without worrying you’ll break every bone in my body.”

  Tom carried the crates up to the house with Jimmy and then waved the old fisherman inside to visit with his mom. Tom couldn’t put off this encounter with Victoria, one he’d been dreading since sending the telegrams that revealed her location to the world.

  As he approached the laundry line, he heard her humming. At the sight of him, she paused in the process of lifting another wet piece of clothing and gave him a warm, welcoming smile. “I hope Jimmy is planning to stay. I have a pot of clam chowder on the stove.”

  For a second, he could almost believe she’d been born to this kind of life, that she could live in isolation indefinitely, cooking soup and hanging the laundry to dry, instead of relying upon a host of servants to do it for her. He tried to picture her as she’d been in New York when he’d first met her, in her lacy gowns, big flowery hats, fancy hairstyles, and dainty gloves and parasols. That was her world. And this would never be, no matter how comfortable she might appear at present.

  He thrust the telegrams at her, knowing he had to get the inevitable over with. “These are for you.”

  With curiosity lighting her eyes, she started to reach for them. But at the sight of the large bold print “Western Union” filling the top half of the envelope and her name scrawled on the bottom, she jerked her hand away. “I don’t want to see them.”

  “You can read them privately, or I’ll read them to you aloud.”

  She spun back to the rope that served as a laundry line, and she lifted the wet garment she’d been holding and gave a sharp gasp. It was her nightgown. The same one that she’d been wearing when he’d nearly lost control of himself.

  She rapidly bunched up the gown and dropped into the basket before stooping and retrieving another item. His shirt. The one that he’d shed that same night. She paused, and he caught a slight tremble in her fingers before she moved to pin the shirt to the line.

  He released a slow exhale, trying not to think of her. Of them. Of the fire that so easily sparked whenever they were together.

  “Who are the telegrams from?” she asked, focusing on her task and avoiding his gaze.

  “Your parents. A friend. Nathaniel.”

  At the mention of Nathaniel, her hands stilled. “You told Nathaniel where I am?”

  “Yes.”

  Her shoulders sagged like the wet laundry.

  Was she disappointed that their time here was over? He knew he shouldn’t feel any satisfaction that she’d rather be with him than Nathaniel, but he couldn’t help it.

  “I didn’t think you wanted anyone to know where I was,” she finally said.

  “Read the telegram and you’ll understand.”

  Finally, she turned back to him and reluctantly took the envelopes. She opened Nathaniel’s telegram first. The typed print was longer than any telegram Tom had ever seen and had probably cost quite a bit to send. But then again, money wasn’t an issue for a man like Nathaniel.

  Color drained from Victoria’s face as she read. When she came to the bottom of the note, she lifted her gaze to his. Her beautiful honey-brown eyes were wide with hurt. “Why does he think the wedding is happening again in two weeks?”

  The look, the tone, the stance all begged him to deny what he’d done, or at the very least give her an explanation that would ease her pain. His chest tightened with the need to give in. He wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her go.

  But he swallowed his emotions. He couldn’t cave in to his selfish desires again. Victoria was better off with a man like Nathaniel, who could give her the kind of life she needed and understand the world she belonged to. Sure, she could adjust to living at Race Point for a few weeks. But she’d grow tired of it eventually and long for all she’d left behind, the glamour and shopping and maids. Tom would never be able to give her a life even close to that.

  Besides, if he wanted to have a relationship with Victoria, he’d have to quit his bodyguarding. It was demanding work—the kind of job he wouldn’t be able to easily leave behind every night to go home to a wife. And if he quit protecting people, what kind of employment would be available to him besides being a light keeper or assistant keeper? Such work would be filled with too many of the memories he wanted to leave in the past.

  No, any chance of having a relationship with Victoria was over. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to harbor any hope that they could have something in the first place. Now it was best not to prolong the separation.

  “You’re marrying Nathaniel in two weeks.” He forced the words, even though his heart tore as he said them.

  For a moment she seemed at a loss for a response. Then her brows furrowed and her eyes began to cloud with a coming storm. “Maybe you’ve ordered my life and told me what to do in everything else, but not in this. You can’t choose whom I marry.”

  “It’s already been arranged.” He nodded at the other telegrams that she held. “That’s why Nathaniel’s mother sent you a message too. Mrs. Winthrop is helping with the planning.”

  “I called off my engagement with Nathaniel, and I have no intention of marrying him anymore.” Her tone turned icy. “Not in two weeks, two months, or two years.”

  “You belong with him.”

  She pushed aside the wet garments that hung listlessly in the damp air and launched herself against him, wrapping her arms around him. “I belong to you, Tom.” She laid her head against his chest. “I want you. Only you.”

  Heaven help him. He gritted his teeth and fisted his hands to keep from doing the thing he wanted to most—hold her close. Instead, he counted to five silently and then pried her loose. As he set her away, the chagrin in her expression was too difficult to witness.

  He turned and started crossing to the house. He hated himself for hurting her. But he had no other choice. “Once you’re with Nathaniel again, you’ll see that I’m right.”

  “You can push me away.” Her skirt swished as she followed him. “But you can’t push me back to Nathaniel.”

  He kept walking.

  “Even if you throw away what we have, I won’t marry him. I’ll write to him today and tell him.”

  Her words stopped him. He spun and retraced his steps. “Don’t you dare.”

  She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I’m sending a note back with Jimmy.” With that she made to sweep around him toward the house.

  He grabbed her arm. “You can’t.”

  “I can do whatever I want.” Her eyes flashed with all the pain and anger that he’d brought her
. But as in the past, he knew making her angry at him was for the best. Then she’d go out of her way to avoid him, and that would make leaving her easier. Maybe.

  Before leaving her, however, he had one more job to do. Find her attacker and make sure she was completely safe. During the past few weeks, Arch had been tracking leads. But unfortunately his friend had only run into dead ends.

  So, during an exchange of telegrams last week, they’d decided to implement their backup plan regarding the perpetrator. They would disclose Victoria’s location and hopefully lure the attacker out to the isolated Race Point Lighthouse.

  “If you want me to find your attacker, then you can’t cancel the wedding.” He hadn’t wanted to say it, to give her the more logical explanation for why he’d sent the telegram to Nathaniel.

  She pressed her lips together in a line of determination that told him she wouldn’t be satisfied until he explained himself.

  “I do think you belong with Nathaniel,” he started, and when she began to tug away from him, he rushed to finish. “But that’s not the only reason I sent him the telegram.”

  She ceased struggling and gave him her full attention.

  “I’ve come to the conclusion that the attacker was hired by someone who doesn’t want you to get married.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “A dozen little clues.” He’d been slowly putting all the pieces together. The attack on Arch had been planned by someone who knew Victoria’s habits. If he’d wanted to kill her, then he wouldn’t have simply attempted to stab her. No, the stabbing had been intended to wound her enough to postpone the wedding. When that hadn’t happened and the Coles had hired him to be her new body guard, the perpetrator had to think of a different way to stop the wedding. Swapping drivers on the way to the ceremony had been so well-timed, perfected down to the last detail.

  “Who wouldn’t want me to get married?” she asked. He couldn’t keep from noticing the redness of her hands, likely from the strong lye soap. The pungent odor was strong in the damp air. “That makes no sense.”

  “Maybe one of your father’s competitors feels threatened by your marriage.” He’d heard Victoria talk with Theresa on more than one occasion about how her marriage to Nathaniel Winthrop would move Victoria’s family into Mrs. Astor’s elite circle. Such a move would benefit Mr. Cole’s business aspirations. A competitor would want to stop the advantage. And anyone who knew how much Mr. Cole loved his daughter would also be willing to capitalize on that affection. Continued threats would make Mr. Cole desperate enough to give in to any demands his enemies might make.

  “Whatever the case,” he continued, “the new wedding plans are already public. And so is your current location.”

  She glanced around the beach, the horizon, and then inland to the sand dunes, as if expecting to see an attacker. “So I’m no longer safe here?”

  “If anyone comes, I’ll see them. That’s why I chose this place.”

  “What if someone tries to sneak out here at night under the cover of darkness?”

  “Hopefully Dad would see them.” And of course, Tom intended to stand guard. His plan wasn’t foolproof, but it was still the best way of trapping and netting their culprit. He was counting on the imposter not knowing exactly how isolated the lighthouse was and believing it would be an easy place to capture Victoria. He was also hoping the attack would happen sooner rather than later.

  “And have you told your parents?” She looked first at the upstairs window of the bedroom where Dad was sleeping and then toward the sitting room where Mom was chatting with Jimmy. “Do they know the truth now?”

  “No. They don’t need to know.”

  “You’re planning to let them think you’re still married to me indefinitely?”

  “For a while.” Once they captured the attacker, he’d return Victoria to Newport, get the annulment, and leave for Europe. Maybe he’d tell his parents about the annulment the next time he visited, explain that he and Victoria were just too different and that parting ways was the only option. In the meantime, he wouldn’t say anything. He’d let his mom and dad stay blissfully ignorant as long as possible.

  “I don’t feel right about deceiving them any longer,” she said. “Maybe we should tell them everything.”

  “No. Dad would kick me out.” Or maybe kill him. Both of his parents loved Victoria without reservation. Yes, she was easy to love. But he had no doubt they’d accepted her because they wanted to support him. If they discovered the depth of his deception, they’d be deeply hurt.

  Victoria was studying his face, likely reading his indecision. “We don’t have to deceive them. We can stay together.” Her eyes lit again and the frustrated lines in her face softened. Hope seemed to come so naturally to her. If only he could find hope as easily.

  “Please, Tom.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you.”

  Her words dried his throat and radiated down into his chest, lodging there painfully.

  She reached for his hand and her fingers twined around his.

  How could he let her go? He closed his eyes and forced back his own declaration of affection for her. He’d gone over this a hundred times in his mind. He was determined to relinquish her, and he had to stay resolute this time.

  “I can’t.” He tugged his hand loose but felt as though he were leaving his heart within her grasp. Then he strode away. And he didn’t look back, even though the empty, aching cavity in his chest begged him to.

  Chapter 17

  Victoria twisted the wooden cross in her chapped hands. The dark pieces of wreckage were smooth now with the passage of time. How many years had it been since her father had been shipwrecked and fashioned the cross? She guessed at least twenty.

  Her father had given the cross to her mother. Eventually her mother had given away the cross too, with an accompanying letter that explained the story behind the cross and the hope found in God.

  Over the years, the cross had apparently passed through many different hands, giving hope to all the lives it touched. Then finally, through circumstances that had surely been divinely ordained, Victoria had ended up with the cross during the summer she’d gone with her father to Michigan. A young school teacher by the name of Tessa Taylor had been living in Eagle Harbor, one of the mining towns her father owned. Her father had happened to see Tessa with the cross and had immediately recognized it as the same cross he’d made when he’d been stranded at Presque Isle Lighthouse in Michigan as a young unmarried man. Of course, Tessa had been delighted to return the cross to them, and Victoria had kept it close ever since.

  Even though her mother’s original letter had instructed the bearer of the cross to pass it along to someone who needed hope, Victoria hadn’t wanted to part with the treasure. She’d felt as though the cross had come home, that it was hers to keep.

  The breeze from the open bedroom window eased her discomfort from the heat just slightly, no more than the cross had eased the pain radiating in her chest.

  She’d always believed the cross was supposed to bring her hope. Wasn’t it? At least that’s why her father had designed it all those years ago when he’d been stranded away from his family in the Michigan wilderness after a shipwreck had nearly killed him. It had been his reminder to hope and pray. Of course, all had ended well for her father. He’d met and fallen in love with Mother. They’d gotten married and were still happy together.

  Ironically, Victoria had fallen in love and gotten married too, not quite in that order. But apparently she wasn’t destined to have the same happy ending that her parents had found.

  With a sigh, she bent down and tucked the cross back into her carpetbag, which she’d packed several days ago after Tom had rejected her love with a finality that had broken her heart. She supposed she’d been harboring hope until then. But when he’d told her that he couldn’t love her in return and had walked away without a backward glance, he’d taken all her hope with him.

  Before Jimmy had sailed away, she’d given hi
m a telegram to deliver to the Western Union office in Provincetown, and ever since then she’d been waiting. Every day she had to stay was torture—being near Tom but knowing he didn’t love her or want her as his wife.

  She pulled back the curtain to her view of the tower, where he was sitting on his makeshift platform painting for the second day in a row. He’d been avoiding her every bit as much as she was him. He hadn’t slept on the sofa, hadn’t eaten meals with her, hadn’t come to the house for breaks.

  James was angry with Tom, and at least once a day she heard him encourage Tom to humble himself and work out his problems with his wife. But Tom remained as silent and unmoving with his dad as he was with her.

  He was tense and on high alert, back to his bodyguard role. She suspected he wasn’t getting much sleep. He was always up early in the morning, and she never heard him come in the house at night. Even though his words about expecting the attacker to arrive any day had scared her a little at first, she’d quickly shed her fear. If someone really decided to come all the way to Race Point to attack her, she had no doubt Tom would keep her safe.

  When Tom waved to a rusty cutter docking on the waterfront, Victoria’s heart gave a leap. Jimmy had come. Finally. And from the lack of usual supplies weighing down his boat, she knew that he’d come for her.

  Even though her pulse pattered with both trepidation and anticipation, she quickly put into place the plan she’d been formulating since she’d sent the telegram. She’d already had her bags mostly packed, so it only took her a matter of seconds to finish stowing away the few toiletries she’d used that morning. As she made her way downstairs, she rehearsed what she would tell Zelma.

  “I’m going to Provincetown today,” she said after bending down and kissing Zelma’s head, as she’d grown accustomed to doing in the mornings. But this time she couldn’t meet the perceptive woman’s gaze. “I’ve arranged to visit with some of my friends there.”

  It wasn’t exactly a lie. She was going to Provincetown and meeting with friends. But it was more than a simple visit.