by Jody Hedlund
Did Arnie think that if he was out of the way, he’d have a better chance winning over Caroline?
“Why are you here, Arnie?” Ryan demanded, turning his pent-up wrath upon the young man. Maybe it was Arnie who’d somehow managed to drag him into bed with Tessa. Maybe he’d knocked them both unconscious and put them in bed together.
As ludicrous as the thought was, Ryan couldn’t contain his suspicion of the man. Arnie Simmons might appear innocent and naive, but he’d seen a dangerous flash in the man’s eyes one too many times. And he knew Arnie was more like his father than anyone recognized.
“I d-drove Mr. Finick over f-from the . . . the inn,” Arnie said. He looked at Caroline, who was still facing the stove, before turning his focus back on Ryan. And there, as dark as the muck on the bottom of the lake, was Arnie’s anger. He was an expert at hiding it when Caroline wasn’t looking.
Arnie stared at Ryan without blinking. “Mr. Finick h-heard about the f-fire and . . . and arrived late last night s-so he could visit the light t-today.”
And catch me in bed with Tessa? Ryan wanted to shout. Instead he stared right back, hoping the man would reveal the truth, praying that indeed Arnie had done something to force him into bed with Tessa.
But Arnie looked down at his shoes before Ryan could probe deeply enough. Once again guilt rammed into Ryan. He shook his head in disgust with himself. He was trying to pass the blame on to someone else for all that had happened. It would be so much easier than taking responsibility for what he’d done and acknowledging the fact that he was still a weak man.
“I’ll need to stay and witness the wedding,” Finick said, rising from his chair and slapping his notebook closed.
Caroline resumed measuring the coffee. “Does this mean Tessa and the children are free to stay at the light?”
“So long as she’s married,” Finick replied, “she’s legally allowed to remain.”
“And the children?” Caroline asked, banging the lid closed on the coffee canister.
“They’ll stay too,” Ryan said, leveling a glare at Finick. Maybe he’d failed Caroline, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take care of her family. “I’ll raise them and provide for them like they were my own.”
Finick pursed his lips but thankfully didn’t protest.
“Where w-will you go, Caroline?” Arnie asked.
“She can stay here too,” Ryan said before she could reply.
“No. I insist that she leave,” Finick said, his mustache twitching. “If she’s not gone by this afternoon, I’ll return with the sheriff.”
Ryan didn’t understand how the sheriff could have any grounds to force Caroline out once he was married to Tessa. She’d be family. But Finick’s tone boded no arguing, and Ryan knew he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to oppose him and risk losing his position at the light, which he couldn’t afford to lose now that he had Tessa and her siblings to care for.
“Don’t worry,” Caroline said. “Once Ryan and Tessa are married, I’ll leave.” There was a resigned sadness to her voice that sliced Ryan’s heart.
He wanted to jump up, walk over to her, and drag her into his arms to reassure her that everything would be all right. But that was far from the truth. The world was falling down around them, and it was all his fault.
“You c-could marry me,” Arnie said shyly.
At the suggestion, Caroline finally spun around. Pain etched her eyes and rippled across her face. “I can’t marry you, Arnie.”
Arnie’s boyish features showed determination. “P-please, Caroline . . . I p-promise I’ll make you h-happy.”
Caroline pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I can’t marry you, Arnie, not now or any time in the future. I’m only sorry it’s taken me so long to figure out what I need, and that I let you have hope when there is none.”
What did Caroline need? Ryan sat back in his chair and stared at her.
“I . . . I will m-make you happy,” Arnie insisted again, his ears turning red.
“I need more than happiness, though,” she said. “I need love.”
Ryan wanted her to look him in the eyes. He’d never even come close to feeling love for another woman before Caroline. But with her, he could almost believe that the powerful attraction between them was indeed love.
Instead of looking at him, she turned in the opposite direction, peering out the window in the direction of the backyard.
Arnie’s hands balled into fists.
“I’m sorry, Arnie,” she said softly. “I realize now that when I get married, I want it to be for love or not at all.”
Ryan stared at her back, at the strength that emanated from her. Was she admitting that she’d fallen in love with him? Or was she telling him that she would have turned down his proposal because she didn’t love him?
He swallowed the possibility past the bitter remnants of whiskey that stung his throat. Even if she’d once loved him, he doubted she’d be able to anymore, not after what had happened. Regardless, it didn’t matter if he cared about her. Duty called him to marry Tessa.
And nothing or nobody would sway him from doing the honorable thing.
Ryan glanced over his shoulder to the cottage and the lighthouse in the distance. The lake spread out beyond it, choppy and gray in the growing breeze of the morning.
A thick stand of poplars protected him from the chill in the air, yet he was cold to the bone anyway. He knelt next to where he’d laid his trap, marking the area with a piece of red cloth, so that the boys and Monsieur Poupard would know to steer clear of the spot.
He brushed some leaves around the metal jaw to conceal it. If Monsieur Poupard could make a living from trapping muskrat, then surely he could bring in a few extra dollars from the trade. He’d need the additional cash if he hoped to provide for Tessa and the boys and still save enough money to pay his debt to the grieving family he’d hurt during the war.
The shriek of a gull called Ryan’s attention to the cottage again. He expected Tessa to come out any minute. After Mr. Finick and Arnie had left, he told Caroline he’d wait outside as Tessa got ready to ride into town to visit the pastor.
If he was going to marry her, he figured he might as well do it first thing in the day . . . before he talked himself out of it.
Hugh and Harry had long since left for school, but not before watching him with curious and troubled eyes. He suspected they were disappointed in him after finding him drunk and in bed with their sister outside the bounds of marriage. But they probably didn’t know how to give voice to their feelings.
And they were right to be disappointed. He’d let everyone down, including Caroline, and even himself . . .
He should have been stronger. He shouldn’t have considered drinking anything at all. If he hadn’t allowed himself a drink, he might have been engaged to Caroline this morning instead of her sister.
The thought that he’d taken advantage of Tessa, even if she’d been a willing partner, made him sick to his stomach. He straightened and let his hand slide into the satchel he’d hung over his shoulder. His fingers found a tin flask there, the one he’d carried with him all through the war.
With a quick glance in the direction of the cottage, he took another swig, letting the liquid burn his throat. Last sip, he told himself again, just like he had a dozen other times over the past hour as he waited for Tessa. He twisted the cap back into place and stuffed the flask back in his satchel, then wiped a hand across his mouth. Part of him wanted to wipe away the evidence, while another part of him didn’t care.
Maybe it would be easier to endure the day if he numbed his pain, if he became oblivious to what he was doing. Even though Tessa was a nice girl, she wasn’t the one he wanted. And he would need all the help he could get to make it through the wedding.
At least those were the excuses he was giving himself every time he took a drink.
He stepped away from the trap, his feet crunching through the dry leaves and twigs. Something sharp poked into his back
.
“What in the name of all that’s holy,” he muttered, starting to spin to see what he’d bumped into. A branch maybe?
But the second he turned, the sharpness punctured his flesh. “Don’t y-you m-move,” a voice stuttered.
Before Ryan could think of what to do, one of his arms was wrenched behind his back, quickly followed by the other. The tightness of a rope wrapping around his wrists finally jarred him out of his numbness.
He jerked hard to pull himself free, but the point in his back dug deeper and paralyzed him with agonizing pain.
“I s-said not t-to move.” The voice could belong to only one person.
“Arnie.” Ryan let his shoulders relax. “What are you doing?”
“You’re c-coming with m-me.”
“You don’t need to tie me up. All you have to do is ask politely and I’ll come with you.” He tried to give the young man a grin over his shoulder, but the sullen eyes staring back at him took all the humor out of the situation. In fact, there was something deadly in Arnie’s expression that sent a warning through Ryan’s clouded mind.
Arnie yanked on the knot binding his wrists together. The pressure chafed his skin, and the pain rippling through his injured arm nearly made him pass out.
“What’s going on, Arnie?” Ryan asked.
Arnie tugged on the rope, dragging him farther into the woods, leaving him no choice but to stumble backward. Either that or have his arms dislocated from his body.
Ryan couldn’t make sense of why Arnie was tying him up at knife point. Was Arnie jealous?
“Listen,” Ryan said, trying to keep up with Arnie, which wasn’t easy to do while being dragged backward. “I know you’re upset about Caroline’s refusal to marry you, but that doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
Arnie didn’t reply, except to continue to haul him into the thick woods, away from the lighthouse.
“Come on, Arnie,” Ryan pleaded, digging in his feet despite the pain in his arms and shoulders. “Let me go!”
Arnie stopped abruptly, and before Ryan could react, the young man pressed the knife against his throat. The blade scraped his skin like a razor, making him wince. Ryan knew that the alcohol in his system had dulled his ability to react, that if he’d had his senses and strength at full capacity, he probably would have broken free of Arnie by now. In fact, he probably would have heard Arnie sneaking up on him in the first place.
As it was, he was in no condition to fight off Arnie.
“If . . . if you c-cooperate,” Arnie said, “then m-maybe I’ll let y-you live.”
The wind rattled the dry leaves overhead. Through the leafless spots, he caught sight of the gray-blue sky. It reminded him of Caroline’s eyes, especially their smokiness when she was troubled.
Could he overpower Arnie? He tensed and tried to make himself think of how.
As if sensing his thoughts, Arnie drew back the knife and then rammed the butt of the knife against Ryan’s injured arm.
Ryan couldn’t hold back a cry, and his knees began to buckle. Arnie pressed the blade against his throat again, and the cutting pain forced Ryan to stay on his feet.
“If y-you don’t c-cooperate,” Arnie said in a harsh whisper, “I’ll cut you up and t-turn you into f-fish bait.”
Chapter 22
Caroline stepped back and studied Tessa, who stood in the middle of the kitchen. In contrast with their mother’s beige wedding dress, Tessa’s skin and hair looked even darker and more radiant.
“You look beautiful,” Caroline said, realizing just how much Tessa took after their mother.
After plying her sister with several cups of coffee, Tessa was still groggy and grumpy. But she’d managed to rouse herself enough to don the wedding gown. At first Tessa had protested, saying she would wear her Sunday best, but Caroline had insisted.
“So you’re not angry with me?” Tessa asked, tucking a last loose strand of hair into a messy knot.
Caroline suppressed a weary sigh. How could she be angry? Not when it was partially her fault that Tessa was in the current predicament. If only she’d rebuked Tessa for flirting. If only she’d set a better example herself. If only she hadn’t invited Ryan to sleep in the house. If only she’d exercised more caution.
If only she’d accepted Ryan’s offer of marriage last night . . . Maybe then he wouldn’t have felt insecure and hurt. Maybe then he wouldn’t have needed to drink. Maybe then he wouldn’t have turned to Tessa for comfort.
She shook her head, ignoring the regret she felt when considering how close she’d come to getting engaged to Ryan. She had to put it out of her mind once and for all. Ryan was marrying Tessa. There was no other choice.
“What’s the use in my being angry?” Caroline answered, unable to keep her voice from breaking. “He was only offering to marry me because he wanted to help me out, not because he loved me.” At least that was what she’d been telling herself. Whether or not she fully believed it was another matter altogether.
Guilt passed over Tessa’s face, and she lowered her chin.
Caroline hadn’t asked her what had taken place. She supposed part of her was afraid to hear the truth. She didn’t want to think that Ryan had desired Tessa the same way he had her. Surely it was all a terrible mistake, the result of the drinking. A mistake he wouldn’t have made if he’d been sober.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t stop thinking about the two of them in bed together.
“I know you like him,” Tessa said, picking at the lacy hem of her sleeve. “But I like him too. He’s handsome, and funny, and sweet—”
“He’ll make a good husband,” Caroline said past the ache in her throat. She spun away from Tessa, tears pricking her eyes, tears she didn’t want her sister to see.
What was done was done. There was nothing she could do to change anything now. The only thing she could do was endure the rest of the day. Then she’d leave. She’d go to Esther’s and stay with her friend, at least until she could pick up the pieces of her broken heart.
“Finish up quickly,” Caroline called over her shoulder. “I’ll meet you outside.”
Earlier, Ryan had put on his Sunday best and had hovered around the kitchen, his shoulders slumped, his demeanor imploring her to look at him.
But she’d refused to glance at him, even briefly. She hadn’t wanted to see the apology that was sure to be in his eyes.
Finally he’d shuffled outside with his traps, and though she hadn’t wanted to think about him, she watched him head off slowly, almost dejectedly, toward the woods. She didn’t want to be happy that he was upset, but part of her was glad that at least he was a little despondent about the whole predicament.
Caroline grabbed a basket from near the door and went across the yard toward the cellar. Finally alone, a sudden sob caught in her throat.
“Stop it this instant,” she chided herself. “He’s not worth the tears. Not when he can jump into bed with any pretty face he meets. I’m just glad I found out what he’s really like before committing to him.”
But another sob pushed for release. She wasn’t fooling herself with her tirade against him. No matter his faults and weaknesses, she’d allowed herself to fall in love with him. And the truth was he was worth the tears. Deep down, past his wounds, he was a good man.
As she stopped in front of the cellar, her mind filled with images of their time together locked inside, of sitting shoulder to shoulder in the dark, cramped space, of bearing their secrets to each other. Even though he’d been sick and she’d been worried, they helped each other through the difficult time.
Wasn’t that part of the blessing of having a partner, so that they could help bear each other’s burdens?
A gust of wind pushed against her, swirled her skirt, and crept underneath, sending chills up her body. Leaves blew against the wooden-plank door and rattled the lock.
The skin on the back of her neck pricked, as if someone were watching her. She glanced around, taking in the tower, the keeper’s cottage,
the boathouse, and the lake beyond. She scanned the marsh with its long grass turning golden, and finally she studied the woods where Ryan had gone.
No one was there, not even Ryan. Yet as her fingers closed around the cold iron of the lock, her pulse quickened unsteadily. She considered waiting to retrieve the vegetables she needed for a stew. What if someone was out there waiting to lock her in again?
“You’re just being silly,” she whispered to herself. She was allowing worry to control her again, and it was about time she stopped.
With trembling fingers she fumbled at the lock, slipped the lever, and opened the door wide. At last, she forced herself to step inside, setting the basket against the door to prop it open.
Inside, she swiftly gathered what she needed, tossed the vegetables in the basket, and then scrambled backward.
Halfway out, she bumped into a man’s shoes and legs. She gave a start and yelped.
The man didn’t budge, and she had to let go of the basket to squeeze past him, crawling across his scuffed, overlarge shoes.
She looked up and released a breath of relief at the sight of Arnie towering above her. “Arnie! You startled me.”
He didn’t say anything. Nor did he move. Instead he glanced about the yard, almost nervously.
She stood and untangled her skirt, brushing off the dirt and bits of leaves. “I didn’t expect to see you again this morning.”
His nose was red and dripping, and he lifted his arm to wipe it with his sleeve. “I n-need you to c-come with me. N-now.” His hand clamped around her wrist.
She froze, staring down at his grip, then up at his face—at the shifting of his eyes and the hard set of his jaw. Her insides twisted with worry. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Ryan?”
He hesitated, glanced at the woods, and then nodded. “He . . . he needs your h-help.”
All thoughts of keeping Ryan at arm’s length fled. If he was in trouble, she had to go to him. “Where is he?” She started forward, but Arnie’s tight hold on her wrist stopped her.
