Forever Safe (Beacons of Hope)

by Jody Hedlund

  “That sounds like fun, dear,” Zelma said, resting her hand on the open Bible in front of her. Her cup of coffee sat next to the big book. “But surely you know by now that you’re welcome to invite your friends to visit here. I’d love the chance to meet them.”

  “You’re too kind.” She couldn’t keep from bending and drawing the dear woman into an embrace. Her hug probably lasted a smidgen too long, because when she finally stood and tried to keep her tears at bay, Zelma’s brows came together.

  “Why, Victoria, what’s wrong?”

  What wasn’t wrong? She forced a smile and infused cheer into her voice. “I’ll just miss you. That’s all.”

  The crease between Zelma’s brows didn’t go away. If anything, the lines in Zelma’s face deepened.

  Victoria wanted to say that she loved her, for she truly had grown to love Tom’s parents, even if they were a tad exuberant at times. But if she allowed herself to become even more emotional, she’d only raise Zelma’s suspicions further. Besides, she had no time to waste. She had to reach the cutter before Tom could stop her.

  When she chanced one more kiss upon Zelma’s head, the woman reached for her hand and clasped it tightly. For a moment, Zelma looked as though she might say something more. But then she simply smiled, a little too sadly, and let go. “God be with you, dear.”

  As Victoria picked up her bag in the hallway and rushed out the front door, guilt trailed her. She tried to shake it loose as she ran down the beach toward Jimmy, who’d just secured the boat. From the corner of her vision, she could see that Tom was lowering himself to the ground. She had no doubt he’d already figured out Jimmy hadn’t come to deliver supplies.

  “Victoria,” Tom called. “Stop!”

  Without acknowledging him, she continued down the sandy embankment until she reached the dock.

  Jimmy welcomed her with a gap-toothed smile that crinkled his brittle face. “Mrs. Cushman, you’re just the person I was hoping to see.”

  “Same with you.”

  Jimmy dug into his coat pocket and retrieved a folded sheet of paper. “A fancy young gentleman told me to give this to you. He paid me good money to make sure that I put it directly into your hands and none other. And he told me he’d pay me double to give you a ride into Provincetown today.”

  Victoria took the paper with shaking hands. She was glad Nathaniel had followed her instructions and hadn’t insisted on coming to get her himself. She wasn’t sure how she would have explained his presence to Zelma.

  As it was, she had to convince Jimmy to leave right away without lingering for his usual meal. She glanced over her shoulder to see that Tom was almost to the ground. From the slant of his brows, she could see that he was frustrated.

  “I’m ready to go.” She tossed her bag into the boat and began to climb in.

  “Whoa there.” Jimmy caught her and eased her down. “What’s your hurry?”

  “It’s such a lovely day for a ride.”

  Jimmy’s weathered face wrinkled. “You’re going to cry?”

  She shook her head, even though he was close to the truth. She did feel like crying. “I’m fine. I’ll just miss being here.”

  Jimmy’s expression remained confused. “Kiss him here?”

  “Kiss who?”

  “Eh?” This time Jimmy put his hand to his ear, and she realized he hadn’t understood a word she’d spoken.

  “Victoria, don’t leave,” Tom called, sprinting toward the boat. He was attired in the work clothes that he’d worn since arriving to Race Point. Several buttons were undone on the shirt, and paint stains dotted his trousers.

  She hadn’t expected to be able to leave without Tom making an effort to stop her. But now that she was in the boat, the only way he could get her out was by bodily lifting her against her will. “I’m going and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  His boots clomped across the dock until he towered over her, his shadow dwarfing her.

  “You asked Nathaniel to come get you. He’s waiting in Provincetown. And is planning to take you home.”

  He was right. As usual. “Does it matter?” She arranged her skirt around her legs and refused to look up at him.

  “Yes, it matters.”

  Her head snapped up, and she was embarrassed by her desire to hear him tell her that she mattered, that he didn’t want her to go, that he didn’t want to lose her. If he would but say the words she would stay. She would climb out and never leave him.

  The muscles in his jaw flexed, and he rubbed a hand across his eyes, as though trying to block her out. “Victoria,” he said in a soft agonized voice. “Don’t do this. You’re making things harder.”

  “How?”

  “It’s easier to watch for the attacker here.”

  Disappointment rushed through her. He hadn’t changed his mind. He truly didn’t want her to stay for himself.

  “Jimmy,” she called to the old fisherman who stood at the stern, his wide-eyed gaze flying back and forth between her and Tom. “I’m ready to go.”

  “I’m going with you,” Tom stated. “But I need to change out of these old clothes first.”

  She shrugged. She’d suspected he wouldn’t let her sail away unless he came along. Even if he didn’t love her and didn’t want her, he’d never shirk his responsibilities as long as he was her bodyguard.

  Tom glanced at the house as though debating whether he should chance leaving her with Jimmy.

  She released a humorless laugh. “You surely don’t think Jimmy will hurt me.”

  “Of course not. But I’m worried that you’ll sway him into starting off without me.”

  “If I do, you’ll just chase me down.”

  “True.”

  “Then go change and say goodbye to your mom. I’ll wait.”

  He was back in less than five minutes, wearing his dark navy trousers and matching suit coat over a white shirt. They were slightly wrinkled, and the day-old growth on his jaw and cheeks was out of place, but otherwise he looked sharp and gentlemanly and much too handsome.

  He helped Jimmy prepare for their departure, and once they were underway, she was surprised when Tom took the seat next to her. With the sun shining down on them and the spray of salt water hitting the cutter, she was reminded of their ride out to Race Point, of the attraction that had already been building between them, of the promises and possibilities the month would bring.

  If only she didn’t feel as though she were returning as a failure, that somehow she’d ruined her marriage and wasn’t enough for him.

  He didn’t say anything for most of the journey. Even though she was tempted to engage him in conversation, she refrained. She’d said all she had to say earlier in the week when he’d given her the telegrams. She’d poured out her heart in one last desperate attempt to win him. But he’d rejected her with a finality that told her he’d already made up his stubborn mind, that nothing she could say or do would sway him.

  “I wish you would have waited,” he said quietly as the cutter moved into the bay and the outline of Provincetown grew visible on the shore.

  “I’ve waited long enough. If someone was really planning to attack me again, don’t you think they would have found me by now?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe you’re overly worried about this whole affair. Maybe bringing me all the way out here wasn’t necessary. Maybe I would have been fine staying in Newport all along.”

  He didn’t respond, except for the twitch of a muscle in his neck above the white collar that contrasted his sun-bronzed skin.

  “It was a foolish plan. And I shouldn’t have agreed to come.” Her voice cracked, and she quickly bit her lip to hold back a swell of sorrow and heartache. She stared straight ahead and blinked back the wet heat that stung her eyes.

  She was angry with herself for wishing he’d contradict her, wishing that he’d tell her the month had been the best in his life, even if their time together couldn’t last. But he was silent again. He didn’t speak
until the shingles and clapboards of the Provincetown homes were visible and the calls of the fishermen along the seafront greeted them.

  “I hate myself for hurting you,” he said so softly she almost missed it above the slap of the waves.

  When she tilted up her wide-brimmed hat to get a better view of his face, she glimpsed a haunted sadness in the depths of his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Victoria.” The sincerity in his voice and expression was difficult to resist. She might be angry at herself for falling for him. But she couldn’t stay mad at him. It wasn’t his fault that she was leaving with a broken heart. He’d tried to maintain proper boundaries, hadn’t wanted to cross them, had tried hard not to. But she hadn’t heeded his warnings. She’d plunged forward like she usually did into relationships. Only this time she was the one leaving with the wounds instead of the other way around.

  “I forgive you,” she said, realizing she could do nothing less, especially since she’d done the hurting all too many times with her previous relationships.

  Tom’s brows rose, revealing his surprise at the ease of her forgiveness. “Thank you.” His whisper still contained a note of sadness that plucked at her empathy. He was hard on himself. Too hard. She guessed that’s why, even after all these years, he couldn’t forgive himself for what had happened to Zelma. She guessed he blamed himself for the loss of her feet and maybe even blamed himself for Ike’s death, although she didn’t see how he could, not if they were prisoners of war. Not if Zelma had made the decision for herself to try to save her sons.

  “When you see Nathaniel, you have to continue with the plans.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t deceive him.”

  “Then wait to say anything until I can talk to him in private.”

  She wanted to refuse. She’d been a part of enough deception during the past month, and it had only led to trouble. It was time to embrace honesty, even if it compromised her safety.

  “I’ll explain the plan to him,” Tom continued, “but until then act like a bride-to-be.”

  “It’s not fair to him if I—”

  “He’ll understand.”

  Nathaniel would do anything for her, even if it meant acting like they were getting married so that they could lure the nebulous attacker. Even so…

  “Please.”

  Was the bossy, stubborn, determined Thomas Cushman actually asking her to do something politely instead of demanding as he usually did? “Could you say that again?”

  His expression was earnest. “Please, Victoria…”

  She put a hand to her head and pretended to faint. “Oh, my. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”

  His brow lifted.

  She tossed back her head and feigned shock. “You said please.”

  A semblance of a grin quirked the corner of his mouth. “I’m capable of it on occasion.”

  She sat up and smiled. “Very well. Since you asked so nicely, I’ll comply.”

  “Comply?” It was his turn to feign shock. He held a hand to his heart and leaned back.

  “I’m capable of it on occasion,” she retorted.

  His grin broke free in all its breath-taking glory. And for just a moment, she felt as though they were on good terms again. But as the cutter brushed against the dock with a scrape, the bump jolted her back to reality, to the fact that she was going home.

  Tom must have sensed it too, because his smile disappeared and his stoic bodyguard mask dropped into place.

  As Jimmy secured the cutter, she twisted the simple wedding band beneath her glove, until finally she tugged off the tight satin and slipped the ring over her knuckle and into her palm. She stared at the ring, wrestling with the desire to keep Tom, to hold him tightly, and to make him love her in return. Somehow.

  She could force his hand if she really wanted to. She was inventive enough to scheme and plot to get her way. But she didn’t want a love that was coerced. She wanted him to give it to her freely. Since he obviously couldn’t, she had to let him go.

  “One last thing,” she made herself say as Tom assisted her out. She placed her hand into his and pressed the ring into his palm.

  His eyes widened. But once she was standing on the dock, he accepted the ring and stuffed it into his pocket without giving it a glance. The action had a finality to it that snagged her chest, made worse by the fact that he didn’t seem to be affected by the show of severing their marriage.

  In fact, as Tom led her away from the waterfront past the racks of drying cod, he was stiff and alert, not displaying the least bit of emotion. Even though she knew by now that his expressionless face meant he was doing his job, she wished he’d demonstrate a little bit of grief at their parting.

  When they finally reached the hotel where Nathaniel was staying, she tried to resign herself to the fact once and for all that she and Tom were destined to go their separate ways. As they stepped inside, the mustiness of cigars permeated the stale interior. Except for the hotel proprietor behind a front counter, the small lobby was empty. This hotel wasn’t nearly as fancy as those she was accustomed to staying in. Even though the striped print seat cushions of the arm chairs and settee were slightly frayed, the room was tidy. A bowl of seashells sat on a low coffee table. More seashells of all kinds and sizes lined the large picture window overlooking busy Main Street.

  Tom stepped in behind her, and his attention moved from one window and door to the next, assessing every detail.

  “Victoria, darling.” Nathaniel’s voice echoed in the stairwell. His patent leather shoes tapped a rapid rhythm as he descended. He wore a Newmarket black coat with a gardenia in the lapel buttonhole. His double-breasted waistcoat was of buff drill that coordinated with his gray checkered Angola trousers.

  He crossed rapidly toward her and didn’t give her the expected chaste kiss on her hand or even a slight kiss on the cheek. Instead, he pulled her into an almost desperate embrace.

  “I’ve been so worried about you,” he said against her ear.

  “I’m sorry I worried you,” she replied. “But I’m doing just fine. I promise.”

  He held her tightly for several long seconds. Behind her Tom cleared his throat, and she wriggled to free herself. Nathaniel released her but immediately reached for her hands. She was glad for the gloves hiding her chafed skin. Even so, her gloves were no longer the pristine white that they’d been when she’d left Newport.

  His eyes sought hers, warm and tender as always. His mustache and hair were groomed with care, and he looked every bit the dashing gentleman who had captured her heart at the start of their relationship.

  “How are my mother and father?” she asked.

  “They send their love.” Something reserved in Nathaniel’s response told her that perhaps her father wasn’t a proponent of her early return.

  “And your parents?”

  “Mother is excited to be planning the wedding again. And Father is, well…” His eyes reflected a pain she seldom saw there, usually only when he thought about his father. “He’s busy,” Nathaniel finished with a forced smile.

  Everyone in New York society knew about Mr. Winthrop’s moodiness and the fact that he disappeared for months at a time. No one knew where he went or what he did in his absences, and the one time she’d asked Nathaniel, he’d only shaken his head and said he was sworn to secrecy.

  “Oh, darling, I’ve missed you so much,” he said.

  She squeezed his hands and struggled to find the right words to say in response. She couldn’t very well tell him that she’d missed him too. The truth was that she’d hardly thought about him. So she settled for the next best answer, which was partly true. “I’m glad to see you again.”

  “You made me the happiest man in the world to get your first telegram telling me that you wanted to renew our engagement and go forward with the wedding.”

  Words of denial were on the tip of her tongue, but she could almost feel the tension radiating from Tom’s body. When she glanced at him, his dark eyes were full of
warning. And a plea to stick with the plan.

  How could she deny him, especially after he’d asked her so sweetly? But at the same time, how could she move from one charade to the next?

  Nathaniel was pulling something out of his coat pocket, and before she knew what he was doing, he was down on one knee in front of her, holding out her engagement ring, the enormous sapphire set into a circle of diamonds that she’d once thought was the most beautiful ring in the world. “Please, put this back on and promise you won’t ever take it off.”

  Again she peeked at Tom. He didn’t say anything. Something like uncertainty flashed across his features. Was he having second thoughts about pushing her together with Nathaniel, or was he simply feeling guilty for perpetuating a lie?

  Nathaniel didn’t wait for her answer and tugged off her glove.

  She drew back. How could she do this? Especially with Tom standing behind her watching. “Nathaniel, I—”

  He captured her hand and proceeded to slide the ring on.

  She started to protest again, but her stilted words halted at the sight of a newcomer descending the stairs. With a soft exclamation of delight, she stepped around Nathaniel and rushed toward the young woman. “Theresa!” Before Theresa could descend the last step, Victoria was already drawing her friend into a hug.

  Theresa gave a shaky laugh at Victoria’s exuberance. “Oh, my. I guess it’s good to see you too.”

  Victoria embraced her friend a moment longer before pulling back with a smile. “Look at you!” Victoria studied Theresa’s two-toned sage green silk taffeta, which had a bodice that molded Theresa’s slim body all the way to her waist. Her luscious dark hair was pulled up stylishly so that curls formed at both temples. “You look beautiful, and I’m very jealous of your gorgeous gown. Is it new?”

  “Made in Paris.” Theresa swished the skirt.

  “I absolutely love it.” Victoria stood back and nodded with appreciation at the fine workmanship.

  “I told her the colors are perfect,” Nathaniel added, moving to Victoria’s side and tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. Although he seemed to be complimenting Theresa, he was staring at Victoria’s face with unswerving adoration.