Not that Elena had proposed anything of the sort.
Galileo nosed his hand, and he petted him. His dog was usually an excellent judge of character. Why did he have to like Andy so much?
He leaned his head back against the chair, muttering to himself. “We both judged her wrongly.”
He didn’t want to stay in his room for the night, alone with his thoughts about Elena, but he waited for a good ten minutes before he cracked the door to make sure that Gracie Frederick was gone. The hallway was empty, so he and Galileo raced out the back door of the hotel and hiked quickly through the woods, away from Gracie and Elena and the others.
How did Elena know how much he liked the stars or even about Silas Hull’s fishing pole?
He had trusted Andy with his secrets. Not just with the telescope—he’d shared his heart with her too. If he lost the bid for the telescope, he would recover, but if he lost Andy—
He stopped and leaned against a tree. His heart fell.
There was no Andy.
Galileo barked, and he turned and trudged up the narrow trail until he was staring at the stones of the lighthouse.
He hadn’t been able to keep himself from dreaming about her, from dreaming about what life would be like with Andy at his side, but the facade was over. Elena had done what she’d intended. She’d hooked him and tried to reel him in, but he wasn’t a fish to be caught and filleted. He’d gotten away and would keep on swimming, upstream if necessary.
He opened the door and retrieved Elena’s drawings from where she’d hidden them.
How had she known these pictures would speak to him? That the picture of her on the beach would draw him to her like a moth to light?
He tossed the book onto the desk.
Either she was a master manipulator…or she was caught up in this web as well.
Maybe Aunt Lottie or even Sarah had told the Bissettes he liked art. He wouldn’t put it past his sister to pretend to dislike Elena, thinking it might make him like her even more.
Perhaps he would never be ready for marriage. If this was what love felt like, this miserable wrenching in his gut, then he didn’t want it at all.
He wanted to be left alone.
But he wasn’t alone. The memory of Elena lingered in the parlor and on every step that led to the top of the lighthouse. He could see Elena sitting at the desk, working on her sketches. If he dared to go up their stairs, he would see her in the broken glass panes above.
He slapped his fist on the desk, and Galileo yelped.
God help him, he had to get out of here.
Turning, he took a step toward the door but stopped. Picking up the sketchbook, he flipped through the pages until he found the picture of her walking on the beach with her hair blowing in the wind…and he tore it out.
He was a fool, that was for certain, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
* * * * *
Long after the orchestra stopped playing and the dancers stopped gliding across the floor, Mama sat down on the side of Elena’s bed, resting her hand on the mound of pillows around Elena.
“What happened?” she asked softly.
Elena bundled a pillow close to her chest. “Nothing.”
“Something must have happened between the two of you. I didn’t think you had met before.”
“I didn’t know it was him before…. We were confused.”
“You ran away, Elena. And then he chased you out the door. This is more than confused.”
“He was extremely rude.”
“Indeed.”
Elena buried her head in the pillow for a moment and then looked up again. “I didn’t know what to say.”
Chase had made himself perfectly clear. He thought she had tried to snag him like the other young women on the island, and the irony was that she had tried to catch him—just not in the way he thought. She hadn’t orchestrated their meeting at the lighthouse, but she would never be able to convince him of that. He’d already made up his mind.
She hadn’t orchestrated it, but there was that slimmest of possibilities—
She knew her father had nothing to do with their meeting, but if Chase was right, if her mother had somehow arranged all of this, Elena would find Jillian and sail far away from this island and its craziness.
She sat up and met her mother’s eyes. “Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That Mr. Darrington and I had met before.”
“Of course not, though the Lord knows and so do you that I tried my hardest to get the two of you together. You both kept disrupting my plans.”
It seemed the Lord had had another plan for them to meet, outside her mother’s control, but if that was so, why did it have to end like this? She’d seen the anger in Chase’s eyes…the disappointment. No matter what her mother said or did, Elena would do nothing to pursue him again, and she was certain he wouldn’t try to pursue her.
There were plenty of other wealthy bachelors in Chicago and Detroit. If her parents couldn’t find a man in either of those cities who was interested in marrying her, they could try Cleveland or Philadelphia or New York City. Her mother could pick a decent man from the flock and she’d marry him. She could never care for another man, not like she had Chase, but perhaps marriage would help to mend her heart.
“I thought—I didn’t know he was Mr. Darrington.”
“Who?”
“The man I met—”
Her mother hushed her. “You can’t marry a man who tried to deceive you.”
Her mind spun. Had he tried to deceive her? She wasn’t sure. He had told her his name, or his nickname, at least, even if he hadn’t said his last name. She was the one who had hidden her name.
“I don’t know if he meant to deceive me.”
“Well, he was certainly unkind to you.”
“But you want me to marry him, Mama.”
She shook her head. “There are other eligible men.”
Papa must not have told Mama yet that they were on the verge of losing their home in Chicago.
Her father walked into the room and leaned against one of the bedposts, compassion heavy in his voice. “How’s my little girl doing?”
“Not well.”
He sighed. “And Chase seemed to be such a nice chap.”
“He was a bit too dapper for me,” Mama replied. “There are other bachelors on the island, much nicer ones. The man she marries doesn’t have to be as rich as the Darringtons.”
“Deborah.” Papa turned to face her. “There will be no more talk about marrying in this house.”
“But—”
He shook his head. “Elena will let us know when she’s ready to marry.”
Elena wanted to applaud her father’s mandate, but she felt sick instead. How was she supposed to know when she was ready to marry another man? She didn’t want to marry anyone except Chase.
She fell back against the cushions. If only she could escape tonight…
But there was no place left for her to escape to.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The wind ruffled Elena’s walking gown as she gazed at the colorful window display of confectionaries at Murdick’s. Buckets of saltwater taffy, trays of hand-dipped chocolates, and mounds of fudge were displayed behind the glass.
After the week of parties, concerts, and a grand rowing regatta, the quietness on Main Street was almost eerie. Hooves of a horse clip-clopped behind her, pulling a wagon that coated the dusty streets with its barrel of water. The wind blew the water across the sidewalk, spraying the hem of her walking gown.
Days ago, the fort’s remaining soldiers paraded down this street while tourists and food vendors crowded the sidewalks. Hundreds of balloons were released into the sky, and the aroma of candied apples and caramel corn sweetened the air. But there was also a sense of sadness among the society mothers and their unmarried daughters during the week. Chase sailed away the morning after the ball, without a promise to call on any of the debutantes in the future or
even to return to the island.
Now that Chase was gone, her mother stopped insisting that Elena stay caged at home all day. There were still the afternoon teas and social calls, but when Elena wasn’t visiting a neighbor, she was free to roam the village like she’d done when she was younger. Her mother seemed to have given up any hope that Elena would secure a husband over the summer.
No one except her parents and perhaps Mrs. Darrington had any notion that she and Chase had known each other outside society events. When she and Mama went calling, Elena had to endure endless discussion about whether or not Mr. Darrington would return, but her mother kept her promise and hadn’t mentioned again the possibility of her marrying Mr. Darrington or anyone else. For that, she was grateful.
She’d visited Jillian several times at the fort, but even when Elena tried to help, the general’s wife thought her visits distracted Jillian from the children. Elena understood, but she missed her friend.
A bell chimed when Elena opened the door to the candy shop, and it chimed again when she walked back outside with a half pound of chocolate fudge in a paper box. Opening the lid, she broke off a piece, and the buttery chocolate mixed with sugar and walnuts tasted heavenly. She eyed a bench to sit down and enjoy her treat, but she decided to walk instead, away from the village.
She missed her nighttime escapes to the lighthouse, but she didn’t want to return, knowing Chase would never come again. One time she’d started to go but turned around when she reached the trail. It didn’t feel right, enjoying God’s creation without Chase at her side.
She took another bite of fudge.
Instead of walking toward the East Bluff, she turned up the street by Fort Mackinac and began to climb the hill toward the white walls that protected the fort. At one time she had thought Chase an officer, until he had laughed at her. Now she could understand his laughter. He was Chester Darrington of S. P. Darrington & Company, quite above military service. How could she have missed the pride in his heart and words?
She should have run away the first time she saw Chase in the tower. If only he had told her that he was Chester Darrington, she would have stepped right back on the stage. She never should have allowed him to have a glimpse of all that was in her heart and then crush it. The pain was as real as any she’d ever felt before, except that no one could see the bruises.
Near the top of the hill Elena turned away from the fort, wandering left into the trees. She’d allowed Chase to become part of her refuge, part of her communion with God. But Claude had been right; she didn’t need to go to the lighthouse to talk to God. She’d done so every night during the past week on the back patio. He was there…and He was here right now, in the shadows of the sugar maple and wild cherry trees, in the knocking of the woodpeckers that echoed through the leaves. She could feel His peace filling her, and she was grateful for it.
Ahead of her she saw tombstones tucked into the forest. She stopped, reading the epitaphs of the old stones until she came upon one with an angel carved into it.
MAGDELAINE SEYMOUR
MARCH 8, 1783—JULY 6, 1813
SINGING WITH THE ANGELS
Elena rubbed her fingers over the lovely words and imagined Magdelaine singing at that moment. She’d only been thirty years old when she died, and Elena couldn’t help but wonder if she’d found Jonah before she left the earth.
There was no stone for Jonah or their children.
Were her children still alive? Had they ever come to honor her grave? She and Chase were supposed to share the woman’s story together, but it was too late for that now.
When Elena looked up from the grave, something moved near the trees. At first she thought it was an animal, and then she realized that the movement was from a lone man, stumbling toward her and swinging a brown bottle in his hand. She stood to greet him, but when she saw his face, her smile faded.
Edward’s gaze didn’t quite make it up to her face. “Don’t ya look pretty today, Miss Elena?”
She stepped away from Magdelaine’s grave and stood as tall as she could so he wouldn’t think she was afraid. “It’s time for me to go home.”
“What’s the—what’s the hurry?” His words slurred together.
She eyed the brown bottle. “You’ve been drinking, Mr. Powell.”
“That I have.” He laughed, but there was no joviality in the laughter. “You’re a very perspective woman.”
“Perceptive,” she muttered.
“And you’ve become quite enamored with my brother-in-law.”
“I am no such thing—”
“Sarah thinks Chase hung the stupid moon.” He threw the bottle against Magdelaine’s tombstone and the glass shattered. Then he sneered. “You love him, you know. Everyone who saw you run out of the ball… everyone knows.”
“I don’t,” she whispered.
“He might care for you now, but not for long. He runs faster than any scared animal when a lady shows a little interest in him.”
She wanted to say something, to protest his lunacy, but her words were trapped in her throat.
Edward stepped closer to her, his gaze fixed on her like she was one of the chocolates on display in the candy shop. “Chase is foolish that way.”
Her skin crawled. She’d never been afraid on the island before, even roaming at night, but the woods were so quiet here. And isolated. If she screamed now, no one would hear.
Even though Edward was drunk, she couldn’t run fast enough, not with her heavy skirt and corset. If only she were wearing Jillian’s old dress, she might be able to outrun him.
She stepped to the side. “It was a pleasure to see you, Mr. Powell, but I must go home.”
“A pleasure.” He laughed at the word and then reached out, touching one of the curls that dangled over her shoulder. “You don’t need to go home.”
“My parents—they will be waiting for me.”
“Don’t lie to me.” His face was too close to her, his smile smug. She felt sick. “I don’t li–like it when people lie.”
She locked onto his eyes and saw the threat in them.
“There’s no reason to be afraid.”
“I’m not afraid.” She held her shoulders a bit higher, trying to hide her fear. “Where is your wife, Mr. Powell?”
“Having lunch with Gracie Frederick—Gracie’s going to marry Chester.”
“It seems like every woman on the island is planning to marry your brother-in-law.”
“You jealous?”
“Not particularly,” she said, even as her heart ached at the thought of Chase marrying Gracie or any other woman. But she wouldn’t confide in Edward Powell, even if he were sober.
He glowered at her. “You can hurt him back, you know. Even more than he is hurting you.”
Her shoulders crumbled. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
At her words, hatred flashed in Edward’s eyes. “You and I—we could destroy him.”
She was angry at Chase, at the wounds inflicted by his doubt and maybe pride, but she would never want to destroy him. Even if she gave in to Edward, it wouldn’t destroy him. Chase might have cared for the girl at the lighthouse, but he didn’t love Elena Bissette.
She turned to walk away. “I don’t want anything to do with you or your plans.”
Edward reached for her arm, squeezing it in his grasp. “I don’t care one bit about what you want.”
Elena balled up her fists, praying that Claude was right, that God didn’t just dwell in the skies or the walls of a church, that He dwelt with her in the forest.
And she begged Him to protect her.
Edward shoved her shoulders against a tree. She couldn’t run, but she would fight him with everything she had, for her…and for Chase.
She kicked Edward’s shin, and then she pummeled him with her fists. He yelled at her to stop, but he didn’t let her go. Her mind screamed as she struggled against him, telling her to run. If only she could break free—
The breeze called out her name, so softl
y at first that she almost wondered if God Himself was speaking to her and answering her cries. But then over Edward’s shoulder, she saw a familiar face sprinting toward her—the same face that had rescued her from her fall on the pier—and there were two soldiers running behind Lieutenant Hull.
God had sent guardian angels.
Silas grabbed Edward’s shoulders and pulled him away from her, throwing him toward his companions.
“Take him to the fort,” he commanded the other men.
Edward resisted the soldiers, but they overpowered him and, minutes later, led him away.
Elena slumped down the tree and Silas turned back to her, sitting quietly on the ground beside her.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
His voice was gentle. “Did he—did he hurt you?”
“No.” She paused. “But only because of you.”
Silas stood, offering her his hand. “Let me take you home.”
“It’s not necessary—”
“I believe it is.”
Her legs wobbled as he helped her to her feet, and she wiped her hands over her hair, brushing the leaves from it. Thank God for Silas and his men.
Claude answered Silas’s knock, and his eyes widened when he saw Elena’s tangled hair and muddied dress. He looked back and forth between Elena and Silas, as if he were afraid to ask what happened.
Elena’s lips trembled as she spoke. “Silas rescued me.”
Claude helped her to a chair in the drawing room. “I’m going to get your mama.”
If only Jillian were here to help care for her. She would know what to do.
Silas stood in the door frame of the drawing room as Elena curled up on the chair, her tears erupting like a fountain from a well deep within her…tears of fear and gratefulness, of love and loss. She cried in her hands for what Edward had almost done, for Chase leaving, for disappointing her parents, for disappointing God. All her emotions, the ones she usually poured out on paper in the privacy of the lighthouse, poured down her cheeks.
She heard a door slam in another room before her mother rushed into the drawing room.
Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan Page 22
