Would-Be Mistletoe Wife

by Christine Johnson

  The girl was awake and looking intently at her.

  Louise closed her Bible. “Are you thirsty?” With shaking hands she poured a glass of water.

  “Why are you here?”

  “You were feverish.” Louise handed her the water and then felt her forehead.

  The girl pulled away. “I feel fine.”

  “Your color is better, but you should still rest.” She fought the defensive wall that tried to rise against Priscilla’s obvious displeasure. “Your ankle swelled badly Friday night, and the doctor said you need to rest at least a week.”

  “The doctor?”

  Was that a flash of calculation that Louise spotted in the girl’s expression? Her sleep-deprived senses couldn’t be certain. “We called in a doctor Friday evening. He visited again yesterday and will check on you later today.”

  “Three days?”

  Louise nodded. “Almost.”

  “Where is everyone?”

  “At church. I’m sure they’ll all want to see you when they return.” Louise didn’t bother to mention that Fiona would take over then. Priscilla had never shown the slightest inclination to annoy Fiona the way she’d attempted to ruffle her.

  “Did Mr. Hammond visit?”

  Why did that question set Louise on edge? Jealousy was sinful and very inappropriate.

  Louise took a deep breath. “He asked about you and was instrumental in bringing the doctor here.”

  Priscilla turned her attention to the glass of water, but not before a coy smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

  * * *

  After Sunday dinner with the traditional roasted chicken, potatoes and gravy, Jesse was ready to escape the confines of the lighthouse. Blackthorn took over the watch after a short nap, freeing Jesse to take a walk.

  The winds were stiff but the day had warmed to an almost summery temperature. He left his coat behind. Jesse trekked north along the top of the dune. To his left, waves crashed ashore after their long trip across Lake Michigan. To his right, the town of Singapore nestled between dunes. Most of the buildings lined the waterfront. Away from the river, the buildings dwindled to a cabin here and there. Sun glinted off the sand, making him squint. He didn’t have a destination. He just needed some time to himself.

  Ordinarily a lighthouse afforded plenty of quiet, but the Blackthorn family brought plenty of lively discussion to daily life there. When the children, ranging from thirteen to sixteen, weren’t in school, the house got noisy. Jesse had grown up in a quiet home. With no mother, his father working, and his sister much older, he often had the house to himself, other than the housekeeper. He undertook quiet pursuits.

  The war brought noise. Too much noise. The cries of the dying still rang in his ears. Maybe here, alone on the dunes, he could find some relief from the voices of the past.

  He plodded on, seeing little beyond his thoughts. A sand cherry here. A patch of dune grass there. He skirted around a juniper with its blue berries that were too bitter for his taste.

  Then he saw Louise, bent over a wiry plant with that old journal of hers.

  From twenty feet away, he could see the dune lily she was sketching. Like the rest of the plant life, its growth was stunted, making it no more than a foot tall, when the flower could rise to three times that height in a good year. Oddly enough, this one still bloomed.

  He moved closer.

  She didn’t notice.

  He cleared his throat, not wanting to startle her.

  She still didn’t seem to hear him. Why not?

  Then he realized the wind worked against him. It blew the sounds he made away from her. He could either shout out a greeting or climb above her and let the wind bring the sounds of his movement to her attention.

  He opted for the former. “Mrs. Smythe!”

  She didn’t so much as lift her head. In fact, she set down the journal, grasped the lily’s flower between two fingers and bent until her lips grazed it.

  “No! Stop!” He hollered at the top of his lungs as he ran toward her. “Don’t eat it!”

  At last she heard him. Lifting her head, she stared at him as if he was mad.

  Jesse covered the distance between them in seconds. Though slightly out of breath, he managed to finish his caution. “That’s Death Camas, highly poisonous if eaten.”

  Her gray eyes lightened, as if reflecting the sun. “I know that.”

  “Then why are you putting your lips to it?”

  “I’m sniffing the bloom. That is one of the items I note in my journal.” She gathered that journal and rose, brushing the sand from her skirt. “I don’t make a habit of eating plants that might harm me.”

  He felt the heat creep up his neck. “I didn’t know if you realized it was zigadenus glaucus.”

  Her eyebrows lifted, revealing the depth of her gray eyes. “I didn’t realize you knew the scientific names of the local flora.”

  “I did study botany in my youth.”

  “Oh.” She looked away, and he had the distinct impression she had not been given the same opportunity.

  “You are so knowledgeable that I assumed you attended school.”

  “Naturally I was sent to school.”

  He wondered if it was the sort that many ladies from wealthy families attended, where scholarly pursuits were frowned upon. “You are self-taught?”

  She jutted out her chin. “I have received instruction.”

  He didn’t pry further. Her defensiveness meant she didn’t judge her education on a par with his. That was nonsense, of course. His father had given him the best he could, but Jesse couldn’t afford to attend school beyond the eighth grade. Further education came from befriending the professor who lived in the same building. After working all day, Jesse would spend long nights soaking in everything Professor Windley taught him.

  In spite of teaching in a lumber boom town, Louise came from quality. Her clothing shouted that out. Something had happened to force her to leave home in answer to an advertisement for a bride. What a shock this town must be for an educated woman.

  “You know as much as even the finest botanist, say, William Saunders.”

  “William Saunders,” she gasped, her eyes wide. “He designed the Gettysburg cemetery, among many achievements. I am hardly in that class.”

  He pointed to her journal. “If you’re noting the scent of each flower, your records must be very comprehensive.”

  A pleasing pink flushed her cheeks. “It’s an avocation I greatly enjoy. That is all.”

  “An avocation.” He let the word settle on his tongue. Few women of his acquaintance would know the word, least of all use it. Louise Smythe continually surprised him.

  “I’m sorry. An avocation is a pastime. In this case, most people view it as a bit of a hobby.”

  Jesse struggled to hide a grin. Even though he’d admitted to studying botany, she still thought him as uneducated as the lumberjacks and sawyers passing through the village. What fun it would be when she discovered just how wrong she was. “Thank you for the explanation, but I only repeated your wording from surprise. It’s unusual to find both a scientist and a lover of words in a lumber town.”

  She sucked in her breath and lowered her gaze. “I—I find few care for such a virtue in a woman.”

  Virtue was an odd word to use, as if she was embarrassed by her intellect and needed to justify it.

  “I happen to enjoy the company of an educated woman.”

  She lifted bright eyes to meet his gaze, and Jesse could have bit his tongue. What had possessed him to blurt that out? Now she looked upon him with a hopefulness that would do neither of them any good. She wanted to marry. He had no intention of marrying a war widow.

  He rephrased his statement. “I meant that I enjoy the friendship of an educated woman.”r />
  She blinked several times before looking away.

  Once again his tongue had gotten him in trouble.

  * * *

  Louise could not figure out Jesse Hammond. One moment he showered compliments and understanding her way. The next he made it painfully clear that she could not expect a relationship beyond friendship. Fine. That was all she wanted too.

  Then why the sinking disappointment?

  She squared her shoulders. “Of course. Friendship is all I’m seeking now as well.”

  That was true. Then why did it feel like a lie?

  Even so, his expression relaxed, and he returned to the friendly demeanor he’d had before she’d somehow given him the impression she was sweet on him. “What did you learn about your specimen?”

  Botany provided a safe harbor for both of them. By focusing on the plant, she could almost forget how close Jesse stood and how gentle were his words.

  She kept her gaze on the lily. “It is stunted this year, just like the tall wormwood. Last year it stood at least double this size. I’ve been watching it all year for growth, but after the burst in the spring and early summer, it stopped entirely.”

  “Yet it bloomed.”

  She had to admit that, even as her heart raced from his nearness. What was wrong with her? She was not in the market for a husband, especially not one whose size reminded her too much of her late husband. She could only account for this irrational reaction as a result of some unknown biological reaction. That meant it would fade soon enough. She must simply press on until the first flush of attraction ran its course. Since avoidance had proven impossible, she would rely on strict regulation of her emotions. Focusing on the practical was a start.

  “The bloom came later than normal and is smaller in size.”

  He nodded. “And the leaves?”

  “They are wiry and tough, like the grasses that grow in the sands. In my estimation that makes it better able to withstand the harsh climate.”

  “Especially when rainfall is lacking. I gather from the dryness of the plants and bushes that it hasn’t rained much this summer.”

  She couldn’t help but sigh. “Barely at all. Those who attempted to grow vegetables in town have given up the effort. I understand the harvest inland is greatly reduced also. It will be difficult and expensive to get fresh vegetables and fruits.”

  “We could resort to juniper berries.”

  She could not help but give him a sharp look.

  “Forgive me. They’re pretty unpalatable.” Jesse looked toward the lake. “The sun has set. It grows dark quickly this time of year.”

  Louise looked west. “I didn’t realize how late it had gotten.”

  “Please allow me to walk you back to the school.”

  She hesitated. He could not know how this would confirm the speculation already running wild around town. On the other hand, a misstep alone and this far from town would mean spending the night on the dune. That could prove dangerous, if not fatal.

  “As friends,” he added. “No gentleman would leave a lady alone so far from town.”

  She allowed a brief smile. “Very well, then. You may walk me to town.”

  He extended an arm.

  She hesitated, knowing what his touch had done to her in the past. Maintaining control of her emotions would not be easy if she was constantly close to him. Moreover, once they drew near the school, they would be in full view of Priscilla’s room.

  “If you don’t mind, I prefer to walk on my own.” At his look of shock, she added, “It allows me to make notes if anything should catch my eye on the way.”

  It was a pitiful excuse, but he seemed to accept it.

  So they walked side by side. His presence was still powerful, sending her emotions swirling and her imagination dreaming of dances and all the foolishness of her girlhood. Stop! She was widowed, a woman experienced in both the joys and heartache of marriage. That experience should erase any feelings toward a man, but it did not. It most certainly did not.

  Lest a stumble force him to come to her rescue yet again, she carefully placed each step. Her short strides already made her twice as slow as him. Yet he slowed for her, pausing and watching to ensure she did not fall.

  “How is the young lady who turned her ankle?” he asked.

  Only then did she realize how quickly Priscilla had slipped from her mind. She counted the fact that he did not mention Priscilla’s name a clear indication that although the girl might find him appealing, he had no such interest. “She is much improved.”

  “Good.” They walked a few steps in silence.

  “Though unable to attend classes for another few days.”

  “I’m sorry. Perhaps I should postpone the lecture on the weather.”

  Louise had forgotten about Jesse’s lecture, scheduled for tomorrow. “Perhaps you should.”

  “Gladly.”

  He sounded a bit too ready to put off the lecture. Then again, she was terribly tired and might be misinterpreting his intent. “Thank you for your assistance.”

  “Assistance?”

  “Getting the doctor.”

  “Oh. Anyone would have done the same.”

  She supposed they would. People here cared about each other. The sand slid beneath her left foot and his hand shot out to steady her, but she brushed away his assistance and hurried forward to more stable ground.

  “It’s a beautiful sunset,” he said moments later.

  “Yes.” Pink stained the undersides of the clouds. “God’s creation always makes me pause in awestruck wonder.”

  He stopped then. “You do not subscribe to scientific explanations?”

  She had not considered that their walk might lead to a debate. “I believe God created the heavens and the earth. Don’t you?”

  “I agree.” But his brow was creased.

  “Then why do you look so concerned?”

  He pointed toward the lighthouse. “Mr. Blackthorn should have lit the light by now.”

  She caught her breath. “I’ve kept you out here too long. Go. I can make my way home from here.”

  He looked unwilling to leave her.

  “Go,” she urged. “He might need you. Ships rely on the light. I will be fine. I simply need to descend the dune and walk through town to the school.”

  He shook his head, stubborn to the last. “You might slide again and fall. Come with me to the lighthouse. One of the boys can walk you home.”

  It was a sensible solution. Then why did she feel as if she was walking into trouble?

  Chapter Six

  Jesse found Blackthorn at the kitchen table while his wife rubbed a smelly ointment into his shoulder.

  He stopped at the doorway, preventing Louise from walking into the room and seeing a man with his shoulder exposed. “What happened?”

  “Pulled something lugging the oil up to the lantern.” Blackthorn glared at him. “Tried takin’ it all at once, like you’ve been pestering me to do.”

  Jesse swallowed a trace of guilt. He should have told the keeper that he’d rethought that idea. “Where is the oil can?”

  “Where I left it. Where else would it be?”

  Jesse supposed he deserved the surly response. After all, it was somewhat his fault. “I’ll fill the lamps.”

  The keeper’s gaze narrowed. “Tryin’ to take my job?”

  “No, sir. Assisting you.” Jesse could feel Louise at his back.

  “I’ll go now,” she said quietly.

  Mrs. Blackthorn stopped rubbing the ointment. “Who’s that? Did you bring a lady caller?”

  Blackthorn hastily stuck his arm through the sleeve of this shirt and buttoned it.

  “You just hold on, Samuel,” Mrs. Blackthorn said. “I’m not quite done.�
� She then turned her attention back to Jesse, calling out, “You tell her to wait in the parlor, and I’ll be out presently.”

  Jesse gritted his teeth. This was getting more and more out of hand.

  “I’m not staying,” Louise said a bit more forcefully.

  “Nonsense. Jesse, you tell your lady friend that I will be done here soon.”

  “It’s not a lady friend,” Jesse explained. “I merely walked Mrs. Smythe here since it was getting dark.”

  “Mrs. Smythe! Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I’m heading back to the school,” Louise called out from behind him. “We can talk later.”

  “No, no,” Jane Blackthorn called out. “Let’s have a nice chat.”

  Jesse heard Louise step back just before Mrs. Blackthorn wiped the ointment from her hands and headed his way. He stood aside to let her pass. Better the women get together than Louise walk down the slope to the school in the dark. Mrs. Blackthorn would insist on sending one of her sons with her. That left him free to assist Blackthorn.

  “I’d—that is, we had better get the light lit. Could be a long night,” Jesse added for the sake of the women.

  Blackthorn breezed past him, muttering under his breath.

  Jesse let the man lead. He’d tried to be diplomatic. He’d tried to take into account the man’s feelings. But the man barged ahead with the subtlety of a bull. Blackthorn couldn’t possibly carry the oil transfer can up the circular staircase, not with a lame shoulder.

  “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing,” Blackthorn snapped. “You’re not gettin’ my job anytime soon.”

  It would be a lie to claim he didn’t want it. “I’m here to assist you.”

  “Assist. Humph.”

  Blackthorn didn’t even glance at him as he opened the door to the small room between the quarters and the tower.

  Jesse hated that he felt like a child begging to show his father that he could do the task. It was demeaning. Had Louise witnessed the exchange? If so, her opinion of him must have suffered a blow. She would rightly assume that he wasn’t qualified to lecture about lighthouse tending if he wasn’t even allowed to carry a can of oil.