“Away?” He nearly choked on the word.
“Left yesterday, bag and baggage. All three of them.” Balling a handkerchief in her beringed fingers, she tucked it into her skirt pocket.
Just then, the principal keeper emerged from the walkway. “May I be of some assistance?”
“Not likely. I came to call on Mrs. Miles.” Even as he spoke, Dane watched Rutherford elevate his nose in a kind of subtle superiority.
“What a shame. She said something about going home. Been wanting to for some time and finally decided to do it.”
“Any idea when she’ll be back?” Dane had to ask.
The man shrugged. “She didn’t say for sure when—or if—she’d return. No point in your hanging around.”
“And where, exactly, is home? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Hmm.” Rutherford rubbed his chin as if in thought. “Don’t rightly know if she ever said.”
A cloud crossed in front of the sun at that moment…though later, Dane wondered if it had been his imagination. All he knew was he’d hesitated a bit too long in coming back to Bandon.
Unless the Lord wanted him to forget this grand dream he’d started to build a few too many hopes on….
Chapter 7
Eden clutched her gloved fingers tightly together in her lap as the hired carriage left Santa Barbara’s bustling streets and turned toward her parents’ sprawling estate in the scenic rolling hills outside the city. Her insides felt as if a jellyfish had taken up residence, and not even unceasing prayer brought any semblance of peace to fortify her for whatever lay ahead.
She slanted a nervous glance at Birdie. “I don’t know whatever possessed me to let you talk me into this. It’s probably the second most foolish thing I’ve ever done in my life. I wish I’d stayed at Bandon.”
The housekeeper’s lips curved with a placid smile. Nothing seemed to fluster her. “Sometimes people have to see important things through personally. Letters aren’t always enough.”
But Eden was far from convinced.
“Sometimes it takes seeing people face-to-face. Talking things out.” Birdie paused. “And at least you’ll know once and for all if the matter will ever be resolved. You’ve sent up lots of prayers about it. Give God a chance.”
It sounds so simple, Eden conceded. But Birdie doesn’t know my parents.
“Is it much farther, Mama?” Christian asked, craning his neck at the unfamiliar new sights.
“No, sweetheart. We’re almost…there.” She caught herself before uttering the word “home.” It hadn’t had that classification for years, and likely never would again.
But when the carriage reached the brick and wrought-iron gates at the entrance and the horses started up the long, curved drive lined by autumn-hued trees, Eden nearly lost her courage. What was she thinking to come here unannounced, risking humiliation at the very least, and at worst, total rejection? She should have sought God’s guidance more urgently. Waited for Him to open the door…or close it forever.
Before she could request to be taken back to the hotel, however, the conveyance drew up before the stately columned red-brick mansion and stopped. The driver hopped out and began removing their bags, setting them just off the edge of the drive.
Eden forced her legs to step down onto the gravel. She drew a cleansing breath and rummaged in her handbag for the fare while Chris and Mrs. Hastings also disembarked.
“Thank you, madam,” the mustached man said, accepting the money with a polite tip of his hat. Without further ceremony, he climbed back onto the seat and clucked the team into motion, leaving her wishing she had asked him to wait, just in case.
But it was too late.
“Well,” she said, her voice wavering slightly, “I guess it’s now or never.” Dredging up every ounce of gumption she possessed, she left the luggage where it lay then went up the stone walk to the immaculate verandah flanked by perfectly sculpted hedges and late-blooming tropical flowers. The edge of a Belgian lace curtain stirred, but Eden ignored it and continued straight on to the rich walnut door that framed leaded-glass panes. She lifted the brass ring and rapped.
A middle-aged Mexican maid in crisp black and white answered almost immediately, her dark eyes alight with surprise as she glanced over the threesome. “Miss Eden!”
“Is Mother at home, Maria?” Eden asked, amazed at the newfound bravado that came from nowhere.
“She is resting out by the fountain, mi hija. Shall I…announce you?”
“Thank you; that won’t be necessary. I’ll go myself. Come, Chris.” Taking her son by the hand, she nodded to Birdie, and they walked together through the massive flagstone foyer and exquisitely apportioned living room to French doors, which opened out onto a stone patio.
Her mother, still trim and elegant despite the passage of time, dozed on a wooden patio chair amid a grouping of others. A wide-brimmed straw bonnet covered her upswept hair. An open book rested face-down on the lap of her organdy dress. Off to one side, a marble fountain sent glistening water cascading softly from its wide basin to a broader pool below.
Eden relived a raft of memories, both happy and sad, as she studied the familiar aging face for a timeless moment. Then, ever so gently, she reached out to touch her shoulder. “Mother?”
“Hmm? What?” came the sleepy response as golden-lashed eyes fluttered open, then blinked and widened with recognition. A host of unreadable expressions crossed her refined features as she sat up straighter. “Why, Eden!”
“Hello, Mother. I…had to come. Please, don’t send me away. Us, I mean.”
Gathering herself, the older woman set her book on a small table next to her and came to her feet. Light blue eyes took in the three visitors then softened with moisture as they came to rest on Chris.
Eden knew her son was the very picture of her father as a lad. She raised her chin in motherly pride and moved closer to him. “I’d like you to meet your grandson, Christian.”
“Whom I would have recognized anywhere,” her mother breathed in amazement as he offered his best bow.
“Grandmama,” he ventured.
She cupped her tapered fingers lightly over the crown of his whiteblond head and met Eden’s gaze, her features gentling. She tilted her head at Birdie. “I assume you must be Birdie Hastings.”
How could she possibly know that? Eden thought in confusion.
“Yes, madam.”
“And a true friend to my daughter, not to mention an instrument of the Lord used to open our eyes at long last.”
Watching her mother take the housekeeper’s hands in hers was too much. “I–I don’t understand,” Eden stammered.
Her mother smiled with chagrin and took Eden by the arms, speaking in all sincerity. “I do hope you will forgive me, daughter. I’ve been a foolish, foolish old woman. I only hope you will find it in your heart to pardon me for wasting all this time in bitterness. Your father and I have a lot to make up to you, to Christian. I just pray you will grant us that pleasure.”
Eden gaped at hearing the unbelievable even as the two women exchanged smiles.
“I take it you’ve no knowledge of the powerful letters your housekeeper can pen,” her mother supplied in explanation. “Thanks to this friend of yours, the Lord finally got through to two stubborn old people about the forgiveness He requires of His own.”
“N–no, I had no inkling she’d written.” So many emotions cavorted through Eden’s being, but she recognized the most prevalent one as awe at God’s mysterious workings. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as tears of happiness blurred her vision. Hesitantly, she leaned closer to her mother, wanting to hug her…not quite sure she should.
Her fears evaporated as two slender arms opened and drew her close in a loving, warm embrace.
“Oh, Eden, my dear,” came the murmur against her cheek. “What I would give to turn back the years. But all that is left to us is this precious chance to make things up to you the best we can. We do love you so.”
/> Eden felt a stinging behind her eyes but couldn’t give in to it. “I love you, too, Mother.” And she tightened the hug.
At last her mother released her and eased away. “Well, let’s go inside for some refreshments, shall we?” Linking an arm through Eden’s, she reached for Christian and drew him against her other side. “We have so much to catch up on. Your father should be home shortly. How long can you stay, my dear ones?”
Dane gazed idly at the midnight sky, seeing little more than a splash of stars against the deep blue-black overhead. The sea couldn’t be more calm or the gentle night wind more refreshing. Soft voices of strolling couples drifted from the main deck, and crew members moved throughout the vessel, performing their usual duties. But Dane felt completely alone in the world.
He’d come so close to moving toward a choice which until yesterday had made more sense than any decision he’d ever made before. But it all came to nothing. Eden was gone.
Where is she, Lord? His spirit asked the question for the dozenth time. He’d received no help whatsoever from that stiff, Rutherford. A gleam in the man’s eye seemed to derive singular delight from crushing Dane’s hopes.
As the Solitude made steady progress northward, he mulled over the sternwheeler’s name. In the frenzy of trying to keep up with his own and his sister-in-law’s financial concerns, the peace and quiet of his quarters had provided a welcome solace. But lately he’d come to a different opinion. Solitude was just a pretty word for loneliness. Should he give up thoughts of marriage and simply concentrate his efforts on paying the remainder of Paul’s debts or chance one more trip to Bandon? He knew he was running out of time. Fall’s changeable weather would soon limit sailing ventures along the north coast. But if Eden Miles was going to be lost to him forever, he wanted to hear it from her own lips.
Even if it killed him.
Then again, maybe he shouldn’t bother.
Eden found the week in Santa Barbara filled with an endless array of delights. Christian absolutely reveled in the attentions of his new grandparents, and Maria spoiled him royally with all manner of delicious treats from the kitchen. Birdie fit right in like a long-standing family member, and the mild California days passed with incredible swiftness.
Now as Eden waited for her father to drive them back to the wharves to catch their steamer home to Bandon, a sense of bittersweet sadness crimped her heart. Life had been lonely during the long years when misunderstanding caused her parents to shut her out of their lives. But now that the relationship had been healed and restored, she would know a whole new kind of loneliness. They would not be able to watch Christian grow up.
Her mother’s voice interrupted her musings. “Well, dear, I still don’t understand why you feel you must leave us again. There’s no reason for you to make your own way in the world when we have this huge house with so many empty rooms.”
“I know, Mother,” Eden assured her. “But I have a contract to see through. And I’m interested to know if they think I’m qualified to keep my position permanently.”
“Ever the independent one,” the older woman chided. She released a patient sigh. “Well, in the event that your lighthouse assignment doesn’t work out, please remember you and Chris will always have a home with us. And Birdie, too, if she can put up with us.”
“Let me tell you, it’s been a long time since I’ve felt so welcomed,” the housekeeper assured her. “I can’t thank you and your husband enough for including me during this most precious of times. I’ll look after your daughter and grandson to the best of my ability. I promise.”
“I’ve no doubt of that,” Eden’s mother replied.
The shiny barouche drawn by matched gray geldings emerged from the carriage house in back. “Everybody ready?” Eden’s white-haired father boomed, drawing the horses to a stop.
“Be right there, Grandpapa,” Chris called. He turned and threw his arms around his grandmother, then Maria. “Good-bye. Good-bye.”
A round of hugs circulated among the others, and the women dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs, laughing self-consciously at their emotional display. Then Eden, Birdie, and Chris climbed aboard. When they pulled away, they waved until the mansion disappeared from view.
“This has been a week I shall always remember,” Eden’s father said, reaching a big hand beside him to pat Christian’s knee. “You’re a fine, fine lad, son. You take good care of your mama for us, y’ hear?”
“Yes, sir. I will.”
“And come visit us again soon.” He turned and winked at Eden.
Later that evening, settled in the tiny cabin aboard the coastal steamer as it headed northward to Bandon and ports beyond, Eden lay still until Birdie and Chris drifted off to sleep. Her heart was so full of wonder and gratitude, she wanted to pour out her praises to her heavenly Father. But once she slid down onto her knees, no words would come…only tears of joy. She rested her head on her arms and wept until there were no more.
“Well, well,” Sherman said when Eden reported for duty her first day back. “I trust you had an enjoyable vacation.” He put his polishing cloth in the box of others to be laundered then straightened, sliding his hands into his trousers pockets and eyeing her in an unthreatening manner.
“Yes, we did. Very much so, thank you. How have things been here?” She glanced around, noting that everything appeared up to the principal keeper’s normal high standard.
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Any visitors?”
He averted his gaze. “No one to speak of. Ready to go back to work?”
“Ready and willing.” With a mock salute, she went to get her work apron. But her intuition sensed the keeper hadn’t told her everything. As soon as he left, she crossed to the log to see what he’d left out but found nothing amiss.
Dane Bradbury had been very much in her thoughts during her absence, and she was extremely relieved to hear he hadn’t come into port while she was away. Perhaps that meant the Solitude might be making another appearance in the near future and she’d be able to tell the captain the wonderful news about the reunion with her parents. With that hope to lift her spirits, she headed for the tower steps to make sure all was in readiness for the evening hours.
Chapter 8
When the remainder of the month passed by without sign or sight of Dane Bradbury or his sternwheeler, Eden began to wonder if something had happened to him. She’d come to count on his visits every few weeks—whether she’d intended to or not— and this uncharacteristic absence disturbed her deeply.
But then again, her sensible side railed, the captain did have a business to run. Perhaps more important matters occupied him. She had no right to feel slighted. Thus reproached, she pressed her lips together and continued sweeping down the tower steps in preparation for the end of the morning shift.
“Almost done, Mama?” Chris called from the worktable, where he sat drawing while waiting to walk home with her.
“Yes, sweetheart. There’s only—” Just then, the heel of Eden’s shoe caught the edge of a rise, and she plunged headlong down the remaining five steps. Her cry of surprise turned to one of pain when her left wrist took the brunt of her weight.
“Mama!” At her side already, Christian did his best to help her up.
“I’m…I’m all right,” she tried to assure him, rising unsteadily to her feet. She blinked back the tears already clouding her vision and clutched her throbbing wrist.
His eyes filled to brimming. “No, you’re not. You hurt yourself. Come on; Mrs. Hastings’ll know what to do.”
“But I’ll be fine. Truly.”
Every bit the little man, however, her son took over. With a surprisingly strong arm around her waist, he steered her out the door and down the steps, not letting go the whole length of the footbridge, solemn whenever she’d let out an unbidden grunt of pain.
“What’s happened?” Birdie’s face showed alarm when she emerged from the house on their approach.
“Mama fell. She’s
hurt.”
“It’s just my wrist,” Eden said, attempting a smile. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”
“Will it, now?” the housekeeper said, pursing her lips as she observed the already-swelling limb. “I’m taking you right to town, to the doctor. Chris, go tell Mr. Rutherford to get the rowboat out for us.”
No amount of resistance dissuaded the older woman, and Eden realized she could only submit to all the humiliating attention caused by her misstep. Within moments, she found herself being rowed across the river by Birdie. Eden sat in silence, her teeth clenched against the maddening pain.
Dockworkers lent their assistance at the wharf, securing the boat and helping Eden to disembark, and a lantern-jawed man came forward. “There a problem here?”
“A doctor,” Birdie supplied. “Mrs. Miles needs a doctor.”
“Sure thing. Doc Green’s place is not far from here. I’ll see if I can round up a ride for ya.”
“Thanks.”
“Say, ain’t you Birdie Hastings?” he asked suddenly, peering more closely at her, his eyes brightening. “I’m Haydon. Haydon Jeffries. Remember? You ’n Amos used to sit in front of me at church now and then.”
“Oh, yes,” Birdie replied, somewhat distracted. “I remember.”
“I been wonderin’ what happened to you since Amos passed on, rest his soul. I’ll drive ya myself. My wagon’s parked right over there.”
“Well, thank you, Haydon. That’s thoughtful of you.” And the two began a lively conversation, though Birdie often checked how Eden was doing.
Eden’s discomfort precluded paying the pair much mind as the wagon bumped and jolted along the street. Not long afterward, when the physician’s ministrations were finished, she came back outside, her left arm in a sling. Thankfully, she found the kind man from the wharves had waited and was amusing her housekeeper and her son with a story.
“How’re ya doin’, young lady?” he asked, hopping down and handing her up to the seat beside Birdie.
“It’s just a sprain. I’ll be fine. I’ll still be able to do most of my chores at the lighthouse.” Despite the nagging ache, having the wrist tightly wrapped and slightly elevated did make it more bearable.
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