The Lumberjacks' Ball (The Christy Lumber Camp Series Book 2)

by Carrie Fancett Pagels

Stepping out into the sunlight, Garrett succumbed to temptation and hired himself a cab back to the orphanage. He’d take little Amy down to the wharf, for departure, in style. God, thank You. But what about Rebecca? He’d give her his notice, but he’d already completed the jobs she needed done.

  As the carriage approached the grey stone orphanage, it slowed. A tall, slender man walking up the adjacent hill with the children. The figure strolled with them, an arm seemingly wrapped around each, yet such should have been impossible. Garrett blinked hard and when he looked again, he spied only the children, huddled on the hill together, on a wooden bench beneath a bent willow tree.

  Amy flew up the walk and into his arms, her face red as his cap. “Sister Constance says I have to take all the brats back with me to Sister Mary Lou.”

  “Wait.” He took hold of her shoulders, which trembled beneath her coat. “Don’t call them that.”

  She sniffed. “I didn’t. That’s what she called ’em.”

  He exhaled loudly. “What children?”

  “Them, us, me.” She gestured to the others as tears dripped down her face. “I wish my grandma Pearl would come get us.”

  “You have a grandmother named Pearl?” He recollected something their camp cook had once said—about having tended lighthouses all her life. Could it be?

  “Yes, but she didn’t answer Father Leo’s letters. We think she’s dead, like grandpa.”

  “Did she run a lighthouse?”

  Amy wiped tears from her cheeks. “Yes, how did you know?”

  A sour-faced nun, the antithesis of Sister Mary Lou, exited the building and shoved a bundle of clothes at Garrett. “The little one isn’t potty trained and the eldest is fond of breaking things. The one in between doesn’t speak much and won’t eat our food—so don’t blame us for her thin frame.”

  Garrett could only gape as the woman spun on her heel and returned to the building.

  “I don’t think God would like what she did.” Amy pulled her brother’s cap further down over his pink-tipped ears.

  “Me neither.” His heart ached that these children would be set out on the curb like refuse.

  “And the man that sat out here and waited with us—he didn’t like it either, but he made me promise to stay and wait for you. And he said all would be well.”

  “All would be well?” That was the same thing he’d heard, and felt, after he’d saved Rebecca. “I reckon it will be, then. But first, I want to go check in with your grandma, Pearl.”

  “You know her?”

  “If she’s who I think then yes, missy, I do. What was your ma’s name before she got married?”

  She stated Pearl’s last name. “That’s a ringer!”

  “Yes!” Amy clapped her hands together.

  “Well then, I know where your grandma is. And I’m gonna go see my Pa and share my good news about my job.”

  The carriage driver assisted them up.

  “I reckon this is gonna cost me a might more than I paid getting here.” Garrett searched his coat pocket, fingering his coins, but didn’t want to count his money in front of the man.

  “No, sir, in fact this entire ride is on me.”

  Amy gawked at the driver. “Thank you, Mr. Stan! And don’t go too fast!”

  The girl clung to him for the rest of the ride as he bounced her brother on one knee and the other two children sat silently in the back, sucking on sugar twists that the driver had handed them.

  When they got out and went to the Mackinaw City dock, Garrett handed her wriggling brother down to Amy and once again offered to pay.

  “Not needed. May God bless you with what you’re doing.”

  As the carriage departed, Amy tugged on his hand. “You should have met the man who waited with us under the tree.”

  So he’d not imagined the stranger. “Did you recognize him?”

  “No, he must be new to the island. But he sure was nice and he smelled so good—like the incense used on holy days.”

  A shiver worked its way under Garrett’s Mackinaw jacket as he picked up the littlest child and went to purchase tickets. This was the right thing to do. He had peace about it. If these were Pearl’s grandkids, she needed to make some decisions. And when she did, he wanted her to know he was making decisions of his own, too.

  10

  The bells jingled as the door opened. Rebecca jumped up from where she’d bent over a shipment of fancy buttons, dropping a card of mother-of-pearl buttons in the process. Without Garrett in the store and Amy gone, all her fears had returned, including nightmares of Myron showing up, waiting in the shadows. She shivered as Tom removed his bowler hat and hung it on a peg.

  “I’ve come to check on you and make sure all is well.” If Garrett had stated those words, there’d be warmth in them—a promise of something just beneath the surface. But with Tom, she sensed the offer was one forced on him by Jo, and his tone was almost as brisk as the Lake Michigan breeze that day.

  She cocked her head at him, appraising the difference between the two men. Tom was handsome, but his attempts to be clever always fell short with her, whereas Garrett understated his capabilities and instead produced a level of craftsmanship she’d never seen before. “Thanks. It’s been slow, other than the ladies coming to pick up their fabric and notions for new gowns for the ball.”

  He laughed. “That’s an oxymoron. A Lumberjacks’ Ball. Woodcutter’s dance maybe—but a ball?”

  Offense rose up in her. “You should see the fancy gowns that Sister Mary Lou is whipping up! Once you view those, you won’t be looking down your nose.” She was beginning to understand why Jo had thought Tom could be cocky.

  The handsome teacher shook his head. “It just strikes me as funny. Sorry. And yes, even my own sweet fiancé will be lovely in one of Sister Mary Lou’s creations.”

  Rebecca stretched her shoulders, hoping to ease some of the tension.

  The door bells jingled again as the door opened. The elderly dockworker limped inside. “Good day, Miss Hart.” He closed the door gently behind him, scooting out of the way on his good foot.

  “What is it, Charlie?”

  “I was supposed to give you a message from Mr. Christy.”

  “Which one?”

  He stroked his chin. “Only know the one fella.”

  Tom surprised Rebecca by pulling a chair over for the infirm man. She should have thought to do so. But Charlie shook his head. “Only here for a minute. Mr. Christy said to get word to you and his sister that he was going to see his Pa downstate.”

  “Is anything wrong?”

  “Dunno, he just hollered that at me when he saw me at the dock on the island. I was getting my daughter settled back in at her work over there.” Charlie shrugged. “Mr. Christy boarded a ship going to Mackinaw City. Looked like he was surrounded by a whole bunch of kids.”

  “What?” Rebecca pressed her hand to her stiff collar, which suddenly felt tight.

  Tom edged toward the dockworker. “Did he say anything else? Like whether something happened to his father? I’m marrying Mr. Christy’s daughter, Josephine.”

  “Nope. And I gotta get back to work.” Arching a shaggy white eyebrow, Charlie surveyed Tom. “You’re marrying that pretty gal, Jo?”

  “Yes.” Tom stood straighter.

  Shaking his head, Charlie clucked his tongue as he headed out the door, disapproval evident in the glimpse she had of his face.

  “What do you make of that?” Tom frowned and looked out the window toward the docks.

  “About Charlie thinking Jo might be too good for you?”

  His cheeks reddened. “No, about your sweetheart going to see my future father-in-law?” He’d spoken the word sweetheart like an epithet, but Rebecca wasn’t about to get pulled into an argument.

  “I wonder if Mr. Christy wanted one of his sons to take over for him because he’s ill. Maybe that’s why Garrett’s father announced he was quitting.”

  “He seemed fine a month ago.” Tom crossed his arms.


  “Yes, well so did my locksmith! But the sheriff told me this morning that he was found dead.”

  “What?” Tom drew in his chin.

  “He’d come down with ague a few weeks back. When he didn’t attend church service or open his shop, the sheriff went in there.” Nausea bubbled up as she imagined what the lawman had found. “I think it’s hard for the elderly to fight off sickness—especially if they don’t have anyone looking after them.”

  “How old was he?” A crinkle formed between Tom’s green eyes.

  She shrugged. “He had white hair.”

  “Well, he sure seemed spry enough when he was traipsing up and down those stairs at the inn.”

  “Are we talking about the same man?” Rebecca retrieved a feather duster from beneath the counter and attacked the nearby display of tea tins with it.

  “Only saw him one time, and from a distance, but he ran up to the top floor with no trouble.” Tom slouched against the door and pulled his pocket watch out.

  “Maybe you saw his assistant.”

  He eyed her. “He doesn’t have one. Or didn’t…”

  No point in disagreeing with Tom. “Regardless, he’s passed on now, which means I won’t be getting that back door lock fixed unless someone comes down from Sault Ste. Marie or over from Naubinway.”

  “Let me take a gander at it.” Tom offered what she assumed was one of his persuasive grins. “Jo says I’m handy.”

  Rebecca laughed. “Your good looks won’t get you far with me, but Jo’s recommendation will.”

  “Aw, come on, Rebecca, you know you’re starting to warm up to me. Besides, who knows—you might end up becoming my sister-in-law.”

  “Don’t start…” Shooting him a hard stare, she heard him snicker as he swiveled around.

  “Let me double-check the back work room before I head out.” As they parted the curtains, the scent of turpentine, and something else pungent, made her cough.

  “Phew! What’s Garrett using back here?” Tom waved a hand in front of his face and then opened the back door. “And why is this door unlocked?”

  Wads of cotton lay strewn about on the floor and a box of sawdust sat propped against the wall. “This isn’t like him. Garrett always keeps the room clean and neat.”

  With the door open, a fresh chill breeze dispersed some of the odor but Rebecca’s eyes still watered. “I wish I had my workshop ready out back, but the builder said he can’t complete it until the ground thaws. Which should be soon.”

  “Well, in the meantime, I’m taking these rags outside for you. No need for that odor in there. Not to mention, they’re highly flammable.” Tom made a noise of disgust.

  Surely Garrett wouldn’t have left them. Was he so distracted by something—or by someone—that he’d failed to clean up after himself? Jo had confided about the metis woman he’d been courting. But Jo had said she was gone. Rebecca believed, by Jo’s tone, that she meant the woman had died. Had she returned to Mackinaw City? Doubt niggled at her. Was it Garrett’s past or her own chasing her? Rebecca’s hands began to tremble. “Did…did Garrett tell you about what happened to me?”

  “Not exactly. But he did tell me to look out for you.”

  ***

  A black lab the size of a timber wolf leaped from a dray and charged right at Garrett. Behind him, he heard the children’s collective gasp. “Blue Dog!” Jo’s pet threw himself at Garrett’s chest, and he took the dog’s paws and rested them on his shoulders as the beast licked his face. Chuckling from deep in his belly, Garrett knew camp driver, Frenchie Brevort, must be in town for supplies.

  “Bonjour!” Pearl’s fiancé hotfooted it toward them. “What brings you here?”

  Clapping Frenchie on the shoulder, Garrett pulled him closer and whispered in his ear, “I think these here children might be Pearl’s grandchildren.”

  The white-haired man drew back and glanced to where Blue Dog now lay at the feet of the four children. “Magnifique!” He danced a little jig right there in the muddy street. “Come along, she’ll be so joyeux.”

  “Sure glad you showed up, or I would have had to put this little troupe up for the night here in Mackinaw City.”

  “Won’t your pa be surprised?”

  Amy giggled as Jo’s pet rose and licked each of the children’s hands.

  “Kids, old Blue does that when he wants a treat, so maybe we best duck in and get him something for the drive out.”

  “Oui.” Frenchie tossed Garrett a coin. “And some bonbons for les enfants. Children always like their sweets.”

  Garrett laughed. “I’ll be right back.”

  He took the toddler into his arms and held the youngest brother’s hand while the other two trailed behind him. He turned toward the dog, but Frenchie already had him jumping up into the back of the dray.

  Amy’s tug on his sleeve got his attention. “Mr. Christy, that man doesn’t have any teeth.”

  “Some men ain’t got any sense but a full set of choppers. Which one do you reckon you’d prefer he has?”

  She pooched out her lower lip. “I reckon you’re right.”

  Laughing, he caught her eye. “And I reckon you don’t need to be picking up my speech habits, little miss.”

  “Was that man French?”

  “He’s American, and he fought for freedom for the unfortunates who were enslaved. And that cost him a set of teeth.” Children these days didn’t seem to understand much. But he didn’t want her or the others saying anything to the kind man who’d been like a second father to him, Moose, and Jo. How old was Frenchie anyways? Were he and Pearl going to be up to the task of child-raising?

  After purchasing some chews for the dog and candy sticks for the children, he ushered them outside, again, before the busybody ladies in there could ask him any questions. “Come on now, we best be getting out to the camp before it gets dark.”

  A beaming Frenchie met them outside and assisted each child up into the back of the dray. “Good thing I have room. You all fit well. Just sit there and cover up.” He pointed to a tall stack of wool blankets.

  Ensuring that each was properly seated and bundled up, Garrett climbed up front and hopped onto the buckboard with the driver.

  “Your father is doing well. Anxious to hear which homme will run the new camp.”

  “Won’t be me.”

  The man cackled. “That’s what Pearl said.”

  “Speaking of which, I need to ask you some things about her.”

  After Frenchie released the brake, he clucked his tongue and slapped the reins against the two horse’s backs. “Such as?”

  “Well, for one thing, where was she before she came out to the camp to cook?”

  “She was at the lighthouse for a long time after her mari—her husband—died, until they could replace him as the keeper. She ran the place by herself for a while, but she was lonely there.”

  “Did she have an estranged son—one who ran off?”

  “Oui. Odd, but she just recently had mail forwarded from the old post office near their last lighthouse. Her son had a falling out with his parents many years ago. Ran off and sailed as a marin marchand, how you say—merchant mariner. Never bothered visiting his maman again. Pearl was so heartbroken. He wrote he owned a small store on Mackinac Island and had a wife and a famille. Wanted to see his parents again.”

  Garrett’s heart sank into his stomach. He didn’t want to destroy Pearl’s hope. God, what do I do? What do I say?

  The two men rode in silence, as the children chattered with one another in the back. Frenchie shook his head sadly as he directed the horses to turn onto the camp road. They had miles ahead of them, and Garrett hoped to learn more. “I sure don’t want to upset your new wife. Nor you. But these here kids are her grandchildren and…”

  Frenchie spit out a stream of tobacco into the muddy rutted roadway. “Orphelins?”

  “Yes, orphans.”

  “C’est dommage. What a shame. Pearl and her son could have reconciled before he die
d.”

  They traveled on into the woods. Here and there fresh green grass and buds strained to start a new spring. By the time they arrived at the logging camp, Garrett knew what he had to do. He explained to Frenchie, who took the children to his cabin, and then sought out Pearl at the cook house. The familiar scent of pine, woodsmoke, biscuits, ham, and baked apples brought on a powerful hunger not only for the food but for the fellowship of the other lumberjacks and their families, as well as his own. But Moose wasn’t there, and Jo and Tom were gone, too. Moisture blurred his vision and he blinked. Must have been misting rain outside and he’d not noticed. He strode up the narrow aisle between the long tables set with red and white checked oilcloth, just as they’d been several months earlier. Nothing had changed, except him. In two weeks, he’d be at the Grand Hotel constructing cabinets, armoires, and bed frames. He’d be residing in nearby in a small house with enough room for a wife and even visitors, or children should he be so blessed. The woman who immediately came to mind—would she entertain the notion of marrying a former lumberjack?

  Lord, watch over Rebecca while I’m gone. And over Moose and Jo and Tom, too.

  ***

  Rebecca sucked in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly as Tom constructed a wooden make-shift bar to secure the back door. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  “If you mean this extra latch, then yes.” He slid the rectangular piece of oak down and into place, which would safeguard the door from entry. “If you mean about going to Mackinaw City, yes, again—but that’s Jo’s good idea, and this is mine.”

  Again he offered her his half-grin, which always seemed to make Jo acquire a silly grin, but just made Rebecca shake her head at the man’s attempt to charm. That was something she loved about Garrett—he never tried that stuff on her. Honest, direct, and simple about what he did, Garrett made no attempts to manipulate people or influence them unless he felt it was for their own good. She loved his quiet manner when he worked on wood so intently, sanding down and finishing off until the object shone its most perfect patina. And he’d impressed her with his emotional constraint and because he didn’t flirt with the women in the shop. Even when those examining his armoires, for purchase, would bat their eyes and giggle, he ignored their behavior. She loved how he… She loved him.