Making Waves

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Making Waves Page 29

by Lorna Seilstad


  More violent shivers took hold. Desperate for a way to get out, she ran her hands along the rough walls, ignoring the splinters that dug into her fingers. Her pulse raced. Lord, forgive me. Please don’t make Trip suffer for my cowardice. Help me find a way out of here.

  Nothing.

  Not a lamp.

  Not a match.

  Not a set of ice tongs.

  The room closed in around her, its darkness sucking the air from her lungs.

  Lord, I’m so cold. I can’t breathe in here. I have to get out.

  Directing Mark around the outside of the buildings, Trip watched the two figures in the pale moonlight. In a few seconds he recognized both voices.

  “I want her out of there now, Stone. This wasn’t part of our deal.”

  “Our deal changed when she followed us. Leave her in that icehouse for another couple of hours, and she won’t give you a bit of trouble.”

  Fury surged through Trip, constricting his chest. How long had she been in there?

  “And you can come to her rescue, and she and her family will be eternally grateful.” Clyde Stone tugged at the lapels of his jacket as if he were conducting a business transaction. “Bet her hot head’s cooled down a few degrees by now.”

  “I want her out, now,” Roger demanded.

  “I don’t think an hour in there has really taught her a lesson. You can go. You’ve got business to attend to. I’ll stay and keep an eye on your pet icicle.”

  “What if she freezes to death?”

  Clyde chuckled. “I don’t know her as well as you, but I’m thinking she’ll be fine.”

  Trip’s fists clenched at his sides. Locked up for an hour? Marguerite would be frantic.

  “What are we waiting for?” Mark hissed.

  “For Roger to leave. It looks like Stone’s calling the shots now. One against one is better odds than fighting them both.”

  “You’re forgetting me.”

  Trip leaned closer to the boy’s ear. “No, you’re going to get your sister out of that icehouse while I deal with Stone.”

  “What if he has a gun?”

  “Just get Marguerite out and get her somewhere safe.”

  Roger stood up. “I’ll walk back to the pavilion and rent a rig. When I get back, I’m taking her with me.”

  “No, I don’t think you will.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Gordon, don’t be a fool. The more I think about it, it’s too much of a gamble. That girl talks and we’re both ruined. Time to cut your losses.”

  “But I want her.”

  “And I’m telling you …” Clyde pointed his finger at Roger’s chest. “I’ll deal with this.”

  Roger stared at his partner for a moment, his silence indicating he was calculating the decision. “I don’t like this.”

  “Don’t take it personally.” He shook Roger’s hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.

  Trip stiffened. Roger doing business with Stone couldn’t be a good sign, but at least Marguerite’s suitor was leaving. Every nerve tensed as Trip watched Roger walk away. Fighting the urge to move too fast, he held on to Mark’s arm until he was certain Roger was completely out of earshot. Then he leaned close to Mark’s ear. “Get ready.”

  Mark must have misunderstood. Before Trip could stop him, he bolted from the trees toward the icehouse.

  With no other choice, Trip launched from his hiding place. Running full speed, he tackled Clyde Stone’s midsection and sent the man sprawling.

  Stone, seasoned in fighting, recovered quickly and jumped to his feet. “You just made a big mistake, mister!”

  Trip easily sidestepped the uppercut. He danced around Stone, testing the man’s strength and agility. Stone was much faster on his feet than he expected. With his weight placed on his back foot, Trip prepared to deliver a strong punch.

  One powerful blow and this could all be over. He heard the icehouse door opening and the sound of Mark calling for Marguerite. Being distracted cost him the first blow and allowed Clyde the opportunity to land a right that caught him in the ribs and left him slightly winded.

  Trip circled his opponent, jabbing and ducking. Attaboy, Clyde. Just keep swinging. Wear yourself out. All the years he and his crewmates had spent sparring one another was paying off.

  Blood spurted from Clyde’s lip when Trip delivered a lightning-fast fist to his chin. Stone’s head snapped back. He added a hook to the gambler’s kidneys. He didn’t care if it was too hard. This man was ready to kill Marguerite.

  Thinking of her, he glanced toward the icehouse. Again the distraction cost him dearly. Stone landed a blow to Trip’s right eye, yielding a fresh cut, and followed it with a lip-splitting jab.

  Stepping back, Trip saw the perfect opportunity to end it all. Stone left his midsection open. Lightning fast, Trip delivered a thundering right to Stone’s left side with bone-crunching accuracy. The gambler spun, fell against the bushes, and landed on the damp earth. Trip leaned forward, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

  “Trip! Look out!” Marguerite shouted.

  Before Trip could react, Stone came up swinging a log.

  Blinding pain suddenly came crashing down on Trip’s skull. He dropped to his knees. The shoreline blurred in his vision. Then the moonlight slipped away and the darkness swallowed him completely.

  Marguerite was too late. The log hit Trip squarely on the side of his head, and he crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.

  Stone spun toward her.

  “M-M-Mark, get out of here.”

  “I can’t leave you. Trip told me to get you out of here.”

  “Please, Mark, I can’t outrun him. I still can’t feel my toes. G-g-go. Get help.”

  He hesitated and she gave him a shove. Then, without looking back, he sprinted from their hiding place.

  Stone started toward her but suddenly stopped. Marguerite watched in horror as he returned to an unconscious Trip and dragged him down to the dock.

  Marguerite tried to stand, but her burning legs wouldn’t hold her. Under the cover of the alley between the two buildings, she trembled uncontrollably.

  Her gaze fell to the lantern she’d hid earlier. It still cast a faint glow not far from the box of fireworks.

  Marguerite fought her numb fingers and turned up the wick.

  Stone now had Trip on the end of the dock.

  Realization froze her more than the ice ever had. He was going to toss Trip in the water. Unconscious, Trip would drown. But in her own condition, she’d never make it there in time.

  Please, Lord, help me!

  The fireworks.

  Jamming one of the Roman candles into the mortar, she fumbled with the flue on the lantern, her cold fingers refusing to work. Now would be a good time for that blessing, Lord. Feeling returned enough for her to manage to touch the flame to the wick. The rocket shot into the air and burst open like an exploding blossom.

  She fired another and another. The rockets would bring the men on the Grand Plaza running.

  Stone heaved Trip into the water. He turned toward her.

  She lit yet another rocket, aiming it directly at him. He dove out of the way. Rolling to his side, he jumped up and ran away into the night.

  Struggling to her feet, she ignored the knifing pain and stumbled down to the water. The shore’s water, like boiling tea against her flesh, forced the feeling back into her muscles. “Trip!” She searched the dark water for his body. She’d seen where Stone had tossed him, but where was he now? Driven to find him, she dove into the water.

  Lord, where is he?

  Frantic, she moved deeper until she had to swim. Her arm struck his solid form. Straining with his weight, she dragged him back toward the shore. Finally her feet touched the slushy mud and rocks, and with strength only God could provide, she dragged him onto the shore.

  Placing her mouth over his, she breathed air into his lungs. Breathe, Trip. Breathe.

  He coughed and opened his eyes.<
br />
  Tears seeped down her cheeks, falling onto his wet face along with her kisses.

  Thank You, Lord. Thank You. Thank You. Thank You.

  29

  Crowds dispersed quickly once Trip told them the rockets had gone off by accident. Only he, Deuce, Mark, and Marguerite knew differently. Deuce left first, telling them he’d meet them back at the boat shop. Marguerite prayed that the night hadn’t been too much for Trip’s father.

  Now drenched, Marguerite couldn’t stop shivering in the night air.

  “I’m taking you back to my place,” Trip said.

  “I’m fine. I just can’t get warm.”

  “That isn’t fine.” He draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close to his side. “Mark, go home, tell your parents what happened, and fetch her a change of clothes from Lilly. Bring them to the boat shop.”

  Seeming glad to have a job, Mark sped away.

  Marguerite leaned into Trip’s side. “Shouldn’t I be fussing over you? You’re the one who almost drowned. How’s your head?”

  “Not as hard as yours.” His voice held a warm lilt. “How’d you get me out?”

  “I swam.”

  “Remind me to thank Lilly.” He chuckled and kissed the top of her head.

  She stopped and held the lantern up to his face. Gingerly she brushed her fingers over the gash above his eye. “I’m so sorry about all of this. If I would have just told Roger the truth in the beginning – ”

  “Shhh. It’s over.”

  “No, it’s not. Trip, they stole my father’s money.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Stone said something about rigging the faro bank. They were in it together. I’m not excusing my father’s choices, but …”

  “I know.” He pulled her into a tight embrace.

  She shivered again. “I just want it to all go away.”

  “It will. I promise.”

  Reaching the boat shop, Trip held the door for her. “If we go into the workshop, the embers should already be glowing beneath the troughs. I’ll throw on another log and that ought to warm you up.”

  They crossed through the office, Trip snagging a jacket from a hook on the way through. He stirred the embers and wrapped her in the navy wool coat. How could she be cold when it was at least eighty degrees tonight?

  Trip stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Better?”

  “Much.” She leaned into his solid chest, letting the warmth in her heart fill her.

  “Get your hands off her.” Roger stepped in through the open back door.

  Trip moved between Marguerite and the man who’d made her life miserable. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to take what’s mine.” He pulled out a small pistol from his pocket.

  Marguerite gasped.

  Roger’s lips curled and he raised his bushy eyebrows. “When I saw you at the icehouse, I figured if you won, you’d bring her here. If you didn’t, Stone would have taken care of you, and I’d still be able to have her. Either way, she’s mine.”

  “She isn’t yours.” He took a step forward. “She belongs to God, and there’s no way you’re taking her anywhere.”

  Marguerite turned when she heard someone in the office doorway. Captain Andrews nodded toward her. Then she saw the rifle resting in his hand, aimed directly at Roger.

  “Trip,” he said, “I thought you’d like to know I already sent Harry for the sheriff. And mister, I’d set down that little gun if I were you. I’m not exactly feeling friendly toward you right now.”

  Roger paused, but when Captain Andrews didn’t flinch, he laid the pistol on the floor. He held his arms out. “So it’s come to this, Marguerite. Who’s going to believe you? The sheriff knows who I am. It’ll be your word against mine, and you’re going to look like a fool. Why don’t you let this go?”

  She stepped beside Trip. “You tried to force me to marry you by stealing my father’s money, your partner almost killed Trip, and you nearly froze me to death.”

  “I didn’t steal it. He gambled it away.”

  “With help from your partner.”

  “All right, I’m a businessman, so I’ll make you a deal.” He pushed up his spectacles. “I’ll repay all of your father’s losses if you keep this from the authorities. Your family will have their money, and you can go have a happily ever after with sailor boy.”

  “Let you go free and you’ll repay his losses? All of it?” It was almost too good to be true. She turned to Trip. “What do you think I should do?”

  He didn’t take his eyes from Roger. “It’s your decision.”

  Telling the sheriff that the whole incident was a misunderstanding would be such a simple thing to do. But she was so tired of the lies and so tired of not trusting the Lord.

  The truth will set you free.

  She licked her lips. “I won’t lie anymore. If my family has to suffer the consequences for my father’s choices, then so be it. I have to trust God to take care of us.”

  Last night seemed like a lifetime ago. When the sheriff had arrived, he’d arrested Roger and said he’d also arrest Clyde Stone before morning. He’d warned Marguerite that Stone was a slippery character, but he still thought he might be able to get her father’s money from the gambling hall owner. Stone had too much to lose if he didn’t cooperate.

  Now tonight, Marguerite was free. No lies weighed her down. A lightness filled her as she went about preparing for the Water Carnival ball, the conclusion of the festivities.

  Lilly held out a sapphire blue moiré and cream-colored damask gown. “I been savin’ this one for a special night ’cause I know it’s your favorite.”

  “Thank you, Lilly.” Tears pricked her eyes.

  “Now, don’t go gettin’ all misty. You’ll mess up that pretty face of yours.”

  “You are the best friend I could have ever hoped for, and I don’t know what’s going to happen to us – to you.”

  “God’ll take care of me, Miss Marguerite.” She touched a handkerchief to Marguerite’s tear-streaked cheeks. “He always does. Don’t you fret. Now let’s get you dressed for that dance.”

  Marguerite took Trip’s breath away. From the envious expressions of the other men at the ball, he could tell they found her fascinating. She moved with a rare grace and fire. They couldn’t help but watch her.

  His chest swelled as he took her into his arms. She was remarkable. Nothing kept her down. Nothing stopped her. Even tonight, she had overcome the discouraging events and now danced as if her only thought was of him.

  Although she couldn’t possibly look lovelier, it wasn’t the elegant gown, the upsweep of her honeyed hair, or the sparkle in her powder blue eyes that drew him to her like a moth to a flame. Tonight it was a heart at peace with the Lord.

  The music died away from the waltz and she mentioned the heat of the room.

  He chuckled. “Yesterday you couldn’t get warm and today you’re too hot. Just like a woman. Can’t make up your mind.”

  She swatted his arm.

  He flashed a grin and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Let’s go outside for a breath of fresh air.”

  They migrated to an empty area in the club’s veranda. Stopping by the rail, she turned to face him, gently brushing her finger over his bruised lip. Her heart swelled. “I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “I’m sure your head doesn’t agree.” She placed her hand on his heart, a rush of feelings engulfing her. “But I hurt you more here.”

  He covered her hand with his own. “The truth is painful sometimes. We both had a lot to learn about it.”

  “Your mother’s death?”

  “Was tragic, but it’s good to know she didn’t leave me.” Pain flashed in his eyes. He looked upward. “She’s up there – in your stars – watching over us.”

  “My stars?” She stepped away from him, but kept hold of his hand and tipped her head to the sky. “Do you know why I like them so
much?”

  “Because it drives your mother crazy?”

  She giggled. He knew her so well. “That too. But it’s because they always remind me of how great, how vast, God is. Nothing I do or don’t do can take away God’s love. For someone like me, that’s important.”

  He kissed her gloved fingertips.

  “Look! A shooting star.” She pointed at the sky.

  “Make a wish.” He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

  She closed her eyes, let her head fall back against his shoulder, and made her silent request. “Did you see the comet last November?”

  “I think the whole city saw it.”

  “It scared my mother. Especially the earth tremors afterward. She thought the world was coming to an end.”

  “I’m glad she was wrong, because then I wouldn’t have met you.” He hugged her tighter. “What did you do?”

  “I made a wish on it.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Laughter filled his voice. “Let me guess, big comet, big wish. Same one or different from tonight’s?”

  “Same.”

  “You’re not going to tell me?”

  “Then it wouldn’t come true.” She turned in his arms. “Tell me yours.”

  “That hardly seems fair. Besides, how do you know I made a wish?”

  “I just do.”

  “Well …” He paused, and the look in his eyes made her shiver in anticipation. “Since I don’t believe in wishes, I’ll tell you I’ve been praying I could spend the rest of my life pulling you out of the water.”

  “Wait a minute, mister. I pulled you out this time.” She stopped and her eyes grew wide. Her heart hiccuped. What was he saying?

  He grinned, dimples deepening like craters. “I do believe I rendered you speechless. I think I’ll take this rare opportunity to ask you to marry me.” He cupped her face. “I love you, Marguerite Westing. I love how you make me laugh. I love your determination, and I love your spirit. I love how you make waves wherever you go. Will you fill all my days with strawberry sundaes and stars and surprises? Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

 

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