“It is good.”
Epilogue
June 1895
Henry and his team drove Chase up the hill, to the pathway that led to the back door of Castle Pines. Galileo stayed behind with Henry as Chase snuck between Mrs. Bissette’s budding gardens and around the reflecting pool. Snagging a small stone, he crept around the side of the house and hoisted it over his head to toss at Elena’s window.
Before he threw it, a window on the first floor shot up. Mrs. Bissette crossed her arms on the other side of the frame. “Go home, Chase.”
He dropped the rock.
“She doesn’t want to see you.” Mrs. Bissette checked the time on the chatelaine that hung from her dress. She was no longer the lady of Castle Pines, but she continued to act like she owned the cottage. “Not for three more hours.”
He eyed the partially opened window above him in the room where Elena was staying. “Can’t I ask her a question?”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “I suppose.”
He stepped back, shouting, “Andy—will you marry me?”
His question was met with silence, and Mrs. Bissette nodded to him before she shut the window of the drawing room.
He called back to the upper window. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”
Jillian peeked out. “Elena says this is a good exercise in patience.”
“Patience? I asked her to marry me ten months ago!”
“Then you can surely wait until four o’clock.”
Four o’clock seemed like an eternity to him, just like the length of their engagement. He’d honored Arthur and Mrs. Bissette’s request to wait for marriage, needing to win back Mrs. Bissette’s affections in particular before she allowed him to marry her daughter. Her affections remained prickly, but at least she’d finally approved.
He took another step back, peering into the dark window above him, hoping for just a glimpse of Elena’s smile. He didn’t see her, but he heard the beautiful sound of her laughter.
“You’re still here, aren’t you?” she called.
“I just saw the minister, and he said he could marry us right away.”
“Chase!”
“You’re still going to marry me, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am. At four.”
“I’m afraid you’ll change your mind.” He plucked a tulip out of her mother’s garden and twirled it in his fingers. “I can’t wait to marry you, darling.”
She hushed him. “The whole bluff can hear you.”
He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “I love Elena Bissette!”
She laughed again.
“I can shout even louder if you’d like.”
“It’s not necessary.” He caught just a glimpse of her beautiful profile, her hair swept up with flowers. It was all he could do to keep himself from bolting through the door and sprinting up the steps to steal her away…like Perseus had done with Andromeda.
“Mr. Darrington,” Claude whispered from the bushes.
He turned away from the window, sighing. “You’re supposed to call me Chase.”
Claude held up an envelope. “I got it.”
Chase stole a glimpse at the contents of the envelope and then put his hand on Claude’s shoulder. “You’re a good friend.”
As Claude snuck away, Chase looked back at the window. “I still love you,” he called.
Her voice softened. “I love you too.”
He whistled as he started back up the path. Then he stopped and laughed when he saw Silas crouched by the reflecting pool.
After the booming sales of his fishing rods during the spring, Silas could purchase a house much larger than Castle Pines, but he’d chosen this one for Jillian. After he was discharged from the army, he could fish all summer on Mackinac Island and then ice fish in the winter.
Chase nodded toward the back door. “That woman is a better guard than your fellow soldiers ever were.”
Silas didn’t stand, eyeing the house instead. “I think I can sneak past her.”
Chase grinned at the determined look on his friend’s face. “You do realize that you can go into the house any time now.”
The younger man shook his head. “Jillian would be mortified if Mrs. Bissette found out I was here.”
Chase laughed. “You own the place!”
Silas sighed. “I don’t think anyone told Elena’s mother that the papers she signed were to sell the house.”
“After the ceremony, we’ll remind her that she’s sleeping at the Grand tonight.” As gracious as Jillian had been to the former lady of Castle Pines, even she wouldn’t want Mrs. Bissette in the house when Silas joined her.
Chase clutched the envelope in his hands. He and Elena wouldn’t be spending the night at either the Grand Hotel or Castle Pines. He’d made other arrangements for their first night together.
“How’d it go?” Henry asked as he climbed into the back of the buggy. Galileo was waiting on the seat for him, wagging his tail.
“Mrs. Bissette wouldn’t let me see her.”
“Of course not,” Henry replied as he urged the horses forward.
He smiled. “But she’s still going to marry me.”
“You’re the only one worried about that.”
* * * * **
Thankfully Elena didn’t change her mind that warm afternoon. Three hours later, he held her hand on the lawn of the Grand, with hundreds of friends and family members sitting in rows behind them. Rays of sunlight rippled across the green lake in front of the gazebo, and a light breeze ruffled feathers and ribbons alike.
Their parents were in attendance. Sarah. Aunt Lottie. Richard. Nelson Reese. Even the Fredericks and Gruniers, though there was no sign of Edward Powell or his mistress. Elena didn’t think the Randolphs would come since Silas and Jillian were marrying alongside them, but Mrs. Randolph sat beside her new daughter-in-law, Trudy. Parker was on her other side.
As the orchestra played, Chase pressed the key from the envelope into Elena’s hand.
She wrapped her fingers around it, whispering to him. “What is it?”
“I thought you might want to look at the stars tonight.”
“We don’t need a key to get inside the lighthouse.”
“No.” He grinned. “But we need one to lock the door behind us.”
The smile she gave him melted his core. He understood how Adam must have felt, looking at Eve for the first time. He wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off Elena tonight, not even to look at the stars.
“How did you borrow it?”
“I didn’t borrow it…I bought it.”
Her eyebrows climbed. “You bought it?”
“Claude managed to get it for me—from Thomas Seymour’s grandson.”
When the music stopped, Chase vowed to love the woman before him in both sickness and in health, whether they were rich or poor. And she vowed the same. The wealth of the world could pass away, but he would still have Elena’s love and the love of their Savior.
After Silas and Jillian repeated their vows, while the guests were still dancing and dining and toasting both brides and grooms, Henry whisked Mr. and Mrs. Chester Darrington away. When Henry stopped the carriage, Chase asked him to retrieve them late in the morning.
For a moment, he thought Elena might refuse to climb the trail in her wedding gown, but she picked up her skirts and began to hike over the rocks. She slipped on the moss, but before she fell, he caught her arm.
She smiled at him. “I can’t blame the wind this time.”
“I’m here, Andy, to catch you.”
Together they laughed in the breeze.
When they got to the door, he scooped her up and carried her over the threshold. She gasped when she saw the transformation inside. There were new lace curtains on the windows, a goose-down mattress on the bed with fine sheets, and a quilt. The mice were gone, along with the dust and dirt that had coated the old furniture and floors. Bouquets of flowers decorated the clean surfaces, their
fragrance drifting through the rooms. There was a bottle of wine near the bed, fresh water in a basin, and a basket with food on the dresser.
“I wanted the lighthouse to be a place of joy again.”
She wrapped herself in his arms, and he rested his cheek on her soft hair. “It’s beautiful,” she said.
“Our mothers worked together to help me clean it.”
She stepped back, questioning him with her eyes. “Mama climbed up here?”
“I was going to ask for Jillian’s help, but your mother insisted.”
He took her hand, leading her to the steps. “Come upstairs.”
The lamp room was filled with dozens of candles, but instead of lighting them, he and Elena stood by the window in each other’s arms, watching the colors of the sunset radiate across the island—the work of the Master Artist. He wished he could stay here forever, watching the sky with Elena in his arms.
As night fell, she motioned to the candles. “Shall we light them?”
He patted his pockets and then laughed. “I forgot the matches.”
She joined in his laughter, her fingers running up his lapel. “Perhaps we won’t need matches after all.”
He kissed the top of her head and then lifted her lips to his. When he stepped back, the heat from her lips almost overwhelmed him, his throat gruff when he spoke again. “Did I mention that I love you?”
“I believe you did.”
“And that I’ll never stop loving you?”
She gently traced the cleft of his chin, and then she took off the simple locket from around her neck, handing it to him. “My heart is yours, Chase.”
In the hours that followed, Chase loved Elena Bissette Darrington like he had no other woman, with the sweet passion of a husband. And in those late night hours, when darkness folded over the island, he entrusted to her as well all that he’d kept in his heart.
Author’s Note
Due to a gale coming off Lake Michigan, my arrival on Mackinac Island wasn’t much different than Elena’s. Because of the autumn storm, it was a long journey from my home in Oregon to the island in Michigan—three plane rides, an unscheduled landing in Saginaw due to wind and fog, a 180-mile midnight bus ride to the Pellston airport, a 3 a.m. car ride with a new friend (thank you, Vickie!) to Mackinaw City, and finally a bumpy ferry ride across the Straits of Mackinac.
The sun finally emerged the next afternoon, the winds calmed, and I savored the beauty of this island in all its glory. I explored the island by carriage, enjoyed a five-course dinner at the elegant Grand Hotel, biked the eight miles around the island, and spent hours roaming through the quiet forest, the narrow lanes between the summer cottages, and the buildings in Fort Mackinac. Growing up in Ohio, I always wanted to visit this island where there are no cars, where I could freely walk and bike and explore. Researching and then writing this novel was truly a dream come true for me.
Standing on Mackinac Island during the late-night hours, gazing at the thousands of stars flickering in the sky, I reveled in the majesty of the Milky Way far from the village lights. I’d never seen the splendor of our galaxy—the masterpiece of our Creator—so clearly in my life.
While the current Mackinac lighthouse was built in 1895, this story was inspired in part by an intriguing note on my tourist map, a note about an old light station on the eastern bluffs. I mapped out my bike ride to find the site of this old station. I asked locals and a lighthouse expert about the location. I climbed the bluffs searching for it. No one seemed to know about the station, and even though I found some old buildings and ruins on the east side of the island, I never found the site for this old light.
When I returned to Mackinaw City, I toured a historic lighthouse that looks out into the Straits of Mackinac. And I wondered, what if…? What if there had once been an old lighthouse high above the eastern shore? And what if the lighthouse keeper disappeared?
The British took control of the island in 1812, saying it was a “fortress built by nature herself.” Americans who remained on the island had to swear allegiance to King George III. Those who didn’t change their allegiance were arrested and sent away, some of the men leaving behind their wives and children. The Americans returned in 1815 after the signing of the Treaty of Ghent.
While I try to remain as historically accurate as possible in my novels, I’ve taken license with a few facts in this story. The mansion for Michigan’s governor wasn’t built until 1902, initially as a private residence. Instead of Silas Hull, George Varney of Poughkeepsie, New York, filed for patent for his fishing rod joint in June 1894.
It wasn’t until the 1920s that astronomers determined that Andromeda was actually a separate galaxy instead of a spiral nebula within the Milky Way. While the exact number is unknown, scientists now believe there are at least one hundred billion galaxies in our universe. For some incredible images of these galaxies, check out the Top 100 on www.spacetelescope.org.
And the Grand Hotel did hold a dog race in the late 1800s, the village dogs running amok. The hotel never held a dog race again.
As with all my novels, parts of this story reflect my own journey. In the midst of writing it, I joined eighteen other women for a life-changing week outside Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Each of us was asked to speak about one of God’s many names, and I spoke about our mighty Creator. The beauty of God’s creation was reflected in the eyes of my Haitian sisters, His Spirit clearly moving among them as they spoke of miracle after miracle. In the midst of incredible devastation, God continues to work through each of them and their families in miraculous ways.
Thank you to Diane Comer and Jodi Hughes for inspiring me to learn about the many names of God and love my sisters in Haiti. My American “sistas”—Jodi S., Ann, Caryn, Vicki, Beth, Orlena, Amanda, Liz, Whitney, Allie, Jenna, Kay, Penny, Julie, Mary Kay, and Kathleen. I loved studying God’s names and loved even more sharing these names alongside you.
Writing a novel truly takes a village, and I’m grateful to every person who has journeyed with me in the writing of this book. A special thank-you to:
Rachel Meisel, for her enthusiasm for this story. I love working with you, Jason Rovenstine, Ellen Tarver, Connie Troyer, and the entire Summerside team.
Jim Beroth, my amazing dad and expert fisherman, who is not only a huge encouragement to me but who flew out to Oregon multiple times in the past year to play with his granddaughters while I wrote, had surgery, and spent a week in Haiti. We’re pretty sure Pop Pop might have helped hang the moon!
Michele Heath, Leslie Gould, Nicole Miller, Dawn Shipman, and Kelly Chang, the best of friends and critique partners, for their insight and ideas. My stories would not be the same without your enthusiasm, direction, and honesty when something is just not right.
Bob Tagatz, the historian at the Grand Hotel, for sharing so many fascinating stories from the hotel’s past. Mary McGuire Slevin, from Mackinac Island’s Tourism Bureau, for checking my facts about Mackinac today. Anne St. Onge at the Mackinac Island Public Library, for her gracious assistance in locating a mound of resources. I’ve tried to get my facts straight, but I’m all too aware that I make mistakes. Any errors in this story are my responsibility.
Thank you to my earthly angels—Sarah Wilmot for helping me carry my load. Sandra Bishop for her friendship and insight. Vickie Texada and her father for giving this stranger a ride in the middle of the night.
My dear readers, for your e-mails and letters. Not only do I treasure every one of your notes, I love hearing your stories.
Jon, Karly, and Kiki—the delight of my life. God wove our four hearts together, and your love, prayers, and many hugs overflow my heart daily. I am so blessed….
Words can’t express my gratefulness to the mighty Creator for His many gifts. As I linger under the night skies, savoring the work of the Master, I marvel at His infinite creativity both in the heavens and on this earth.
With joy, Melanie
About the Author
Melanie Dobson is the award-winning
author of ten novels, five of them historical romances for Summerside Press, including Love Finds You in Nazareth, Pennsylvania and Love Finds You in Amana, Iowa. In 2010, Melanie won ACFW Carol Awards for Love Finds You in Homestead, Iowa and The Silent Order. Also in 2010, Love Finds You in Liberty, Indiana was chosen as the Best Book of Indiana (fiction). Melanie’s next historical romance, Where the Trail Ends, will be published in October of 2012.
Melanie is the former corporate publicity manager at Focus on the Family, and she worked in public relations for fifteen years before she began writing fiction full-time. Born and raised in the Midwest, she has lived all over America and now resides with her husband and two daughters near Portland, Oregon.
WWW.MELANIEDOBSON.COM
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Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan Page 28
