Freedom's Light

by Colleen Coble

  Galen would never marry her. Hannah knew this in her heart. He was using sweet, unsuspecting Lydia for some nefarious purpose of his own. If he had been here in front of her, Hannah would have flown at him. She knew she should not hate, but, God have mercy on her, she hated Galen Wright. Perhaps now was the time to reveal the whole truth to Lydia. Would it make a difference?

  She pulled the coble to shore above the tide line and walked up the steep path to the house. She put her foodstuffs away and went to the fireplace. After rereading the letter, she was struck by the contentment in the tone of it. Lydia truly seemed not to understand the magnitude of what she’d done.

  Hannah buried her face in her hands and wept. She had lost her sister.

  She felt lethargic and drained when she prepared for the evening at Mother Thomas’s. The thought of making small talk all evening filled her with dismay. What could she say if her mother-in-law asked about Lydia? She couldn’t lie, but she couldn’t bear to see the expression of frigid distaste Mother Thomas was sure to wear.

  Hannah rubbed her eyes and put her hair up. She couldn’t change anything, so she simply must bear it. She sighed and slipped her mobcap over her dark curls, then went down the steps. Before she departed, she sat down and wrote a kind letter to Harlis refusing his offer. She’d best not tarry on that task.

  Twilight came early in the winter, and the sun was far down in the west. She lit the lamps in the lighthouse, then trudged through the snow down the path to the stately Thomas residence. The news from Lydia had sapped all enjoyment she might have felt from the invigorating walk.

  Mother Thomas smiled when Hannah was shown into the parlor. “There you are, dear Hannah. Come in and have some tea before supper.” She patted a spot on the sofa beside her.

  Hannah curtsied and sat beside her where she’d indicated. What had happened to make her so agreeable? And was that genuine pleasure in her smile? She glanced at her mother-in-law uncertainly. Could this be the start of a new relationship for them? She allowed herself to hope.

  Bridget, the serving maid, brought tea, and they chatted about the latest news from the war, then Olive joined them. Even her smile seemed genuine. Hannah had always hoped to have Olive as a real friend. Her hope intensified, but she was confused over what could have caused the change.

  They had a lovely supper of battalia pie with hot crusty bread and sweet butter followed by plum pudding. Hannah relaxed in the friendly atmosphere of good food and conversation. After supper they retired to the parlor.

  “Hannah, dear, have you given any thought to your situation?” Mother Thomas laid a gnarled hand on Hannah’s forearm.

  “My situation? What do you mean?” A sense of unease gripped her throat.

  “A woman all alone doing a man’s job is prey for any handsome face that happens along. Have you thought of remarrying? John has been gone nigh on five months. I would see you safely wed to a good man who would take the burden of keeping the lights from you.”

  Hannah gaped at her. Was this truly concern for her or something else? The thought of being responsible only for her house was appealing, but she did not want another marriage of convenience. She suppressed a smile. What would Mother Thomas think if she knew of Harlis’s offer?

  The image of Birch’s dark hair and eyes flashed through her mind, but she quashed it. “I have not given it any thought.”

  “Well, you should. In fact, I have a suitor for your hand.” Her mother-in-law smiled at her slyly. “A finer man is not to be found, Hannah. What say you to Mr. Nathan Gray as a suitor?”

  Nathan Gray. Her thoughts flashed back to the way he had defended her when she and Lydia were brought before the town board. She respected him, but he was old, even older than John had been. He had to be at least fifty. She didn’t know what to say. Her gaze darted from Mother Thomas to Olive. Olive appeared happier than she’d ever seen her, and Hannah realized her sister-in-law wanted her safely wed if Birch ever came back.

  “Well?” Olive said eagerly. “What say you?”

  “I know not what to say,” Hannah said slowly. “Faith, but I have not considered remarriage. Mr. Gray is a fine man, but I do not know him.”

  “Shall I tell him he may call on you here every Saturday?”

  Mother Thomas was inexorable, and Hannah didn’t have the courage to tell her no. “Very well. But I make no promises. I am willing to become friends with Mr. Gray, but that is all I can say at this time.”

  “I shall tell him it is to be friendship only for the time being.” Her mother-in-law’s voice was filled with self-satisfaction.

  Hannah took her leave moments later. Her head was spinning, and she wanted to get home before it was too dark to see. The moon had risen, and it cast a silver glow over the snow as she trudged along the path. Surely this was about Harlis. Mother Thomas would not want to see Hannah wed another of her sons.

  Why had she not told them no? This was likely to tangle things even more. But she couldn’t stop the tiny thrill at the thought of having something to do every Saturday, of having a friend she could talk to. She had never imagined loneliness such as this. Every day she awoke to an empty house, worked all day with only her own voice for company, and went to bed in a silent house with the wind howling in the eaves. She didn’t know how much longer she could bear it. If she just had a friend to talk to.

  Perhaps Olive would be open to a friendly relationship now. If that was true, Hannah would not need to find one in Nathan Gray. Olive lived in her mother’s shadow; surely she would be glad of someone younger as a confidant. Hannah resolved to try harder with her sister-in-law.

  She stopped at the lighthouse and climbed the steps to the first tower. She coughed at the heavy smoke and trimmed the wicks a bit until it abated. The wind blew through the top of the tower, and Hannah folded her arms and looked out to sea. She saw the lights of a ship and stared at it. It seemed rather close. Perhaps it was even anchored offshore.

  With a last glance she turned to go. She thought she heard a sound at the bottom of the steps and paused. Her hand flew to her throat, and she listened, her pulse thumping against her fingers. Nothing came back to her ears except the sigh of the wind. She turned her gaze a final time to the sea. The lights were still there. The ship bobbed beyond the rocks. Mayhap it was a merchant ship waiting until dawn to seek safe harbor.

  Suddenly she heard firm footsteps on the stairs. “Hello,” she called uncertainly. Who would be calling at this hour?

  The steps didn’t falter but made a fast ascent. A man’s steps, from the sound of the heavy tread.

  “Who’s there?” Was it an enemy soldier? Alarm kept her immobile a moment. She looked around for a weapon. She spied a heavy iron pipe in the corner and seized it, then spun to face the doorway with it over her head.

  A man’s head, topped with a tricorn hat, came into view. Her eyes skimmed the scarlet British uniform, then settled on the man’s face—dark, pirate eyes above that rakish grin. Her eyes widened, and she dropped the pipe with a startled gasp.

  Birch’s dark eyes held laughter. “And here I thought you’d be glad to see me.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Birch stared at Hannah from the doorway to the light tower. Faith, but he had forgotten how beautiful she was. Why had he come? It would have been better to have buried her memory in work and activity. Seeing her again would make this strange longing worse. He had no time for a woman in his life. The surf crashed against the rocks behind him, and staring into those mermaid eyes, green as summer, he felt like a pebble tossed by those waves.

  He still couldn’t believe he had stopped here. The nearer the ship had come to Plymouth, the more he told himself he would not stop. But when Gurnet Light had twinkled into view, he had impulsively given the order to drop anchor. He knew the men had wondered at his sanity when he had them drop the ship’s boat over the side and he had rowed ashore.

  He took a step nearer, and she raised a hand to her throat. She blinked as though she wasn’t sure he was rea
l. Was that really joy in her eyes or his own wishful thinking? She opened her eyes again, and his gaze was caught in hers. He wanted to rush forward and gather her into his arms, but he wasn’t sure how she would react. She had kissed him good-bye in a way that still haunted his waking hours, but mayhap it would be best to step back and start anew.

  “I imagined you in New York. How long can you stay?”

  “Not long. A few hours. I should not have tarried here now, but I found I could not pass by without stopping.” He took a step nearer. “Have you been well? Methinks you seem thinner and more tired.”

  She touched his face with her small hand and smiled. “Faith, but I have just been lonely. How is your leg? I did not notice a limp.”

  “No limp. It does not even pain me.”

  “Come to the house, and I shall fix you some tea. Have you supped?”

  Regret flashed in her eyes before she stepped away to go down the spiral steps. Until he saw her again, he hadn’t realized just how important she had become to him. He followed her down the steps to the house.

  He glanced around as they entered the house. The memories of talking with Hannah about everything from politics to trading on the high seas swept over him. The house seemed empty. “Lydia is gone? Did she go home to Charles Town?” He really didn’t want to talk about Lydia, but Hannah was not completely at ease yet. The separation had been too long for them to just assume the easy camaraderie they had enjoyed in the fall.

  Hannah took her time pouring the hot water into the teapot as though to avoid the question. She put the lid on the pot and set it aside to steep a few minutes. “No, I fear she did not, Birch.” When she turned around, he saw the tears sparkling in her eyes.

  He took a step closer and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. The loneliness in her eyes touched him.

  She took a deep breath, and a scarlet tide surged up her face. “She is in New York with Galen.” She raised miserable eyes to meet his. “She is living with him, though not married.”

  Birch had seen that and more since the war began. Women who flung themselves at any uniform just to have enough to eat. But Lydia had no such excuse. If she had been here, he would have wrung her neck for distressing her sister. No wonder Hannah had been lonely. He didn’t like the idea of her alone in the lighthouse. The enemy would like nothing better than to find her defenseless.

  He thumbed a tear from her cheek. “You can do nothing about it, Hannah. Let it go. She must make her own choices.”

  She shook her head. “She has no shame, Birch. There was no apology for her actions in the letter she sent. No real remorse for the heartache she causes me.” Hannah shuddered. “I have not been able to write our parents and tell them. If Father knew, he would kill her.” She turned away and poured the tea into cups and handed one to him.

  He wrapped his cold hands around the hot cup and blew into the steaming liquid. The aroma warmed him as much as the heat. He didn’t quite know what to say to Hannah, how to comfort her. He pulled his pocket watch out surreptitiously. He could only stay an hour, and they must go with the tide. He had no time to waste with talk of Lydia.

  He followed Hannah to the sofa by the fire. The crackling blaze drove shadows from the room, and he could see her pensive expression.

  “I saw Galen in New York. He seemed to have plenty of female companionship there.”

  Hannah sighed. “It is as I feared. When he tires of Lydia, he will cast her off. I do not know what will become of her. It is in God’s hands, I know, but it is hard for me to leave it there.”

  He frowned. He could do without her talk of God. God had done nothing for him that he could see. Or for Hannah either, for that matter. Widowed at eighteen, stranded on a lonely outcropping of land with only the seagulls for company, dealing with difficult in-laws. No, God had done her no favors.

  “You still scowl whenever I say anything about God.” A tiny frown marred the smooth perfection of her forehead. “I had hoped you would have put your anger at him behind you.”

  “I shall never be satisfied until my brother’s murderer pays for his deed. I will not wait for God to bring justice.” Birch had served God faithfully for years, and then he had taken the one person Birch loved most in the world. The betrayal had rocked the faith he had thought unshakable.

  There was another matter he felt she needed to know. It was the excuse he’d used to convince himself to stop. “Did you know Galen was the one who arrested and hanged your husband?”

  He was sorry he had been so abrupt when he saw her blanch and draw back.

  The teacup fell from her numb fingers and shattered on the floor. “Galen? He-he killed John? Surely you are mistaken.”

  Birch shook his head, then knelt and picked up the broken shards of pottery from the floor. “No mistake, Hannah.”

  She took the pieces of teacup he handed her and stared at him with ashen cheeks. “Are you sure of this?”

  He hated to cause her more distress, but Hannah needed to be on her guard against Galen. The man had an agenda, and Birch wished he knew what it was. “Galen asked how you and Lydia were. When his superior officer heard the name Thomas, he mentioned it. Galen tried to pretend he had no idea John was your husband. I admit the name is common, but there was something in Galen’s manner that made me think he was lying. Watch him with care, Hannah.”

  She wrung her hands and rose to her feet. “Lydia . . . She has no idea with whom she has taken up. What can I do? How can I possibly save her? I knew what Galen was capable of years ago, but I had hoped, I prayed he was older, wiser, gentler.” Tears shimmered in her eyes.

  What did she mean? What had Wright done to her in the past? A wave of protectiveness swept over him, and he clenched his teeth. He would make sure the man never hurt her again. “If you like, I could investigate further when I go back to New York.”

  “You would do that for me?”

  Did she not realize he would do just about anything for her? Where she was concerned, he was weak and helpless. “Of course. I will make inquiries as soon as I return.”

  “I must get word to Lydia once I know the truth.” She made an effort to smile. “But let us talk of something else. I see you have another ship. I thought you were going to work in New York.” A shadow crossed her face as though she suddenly remembered they were on different sides of the war.

  He longed to tell her the truth but looked into the fire instead. “I met a man who offered me the chance to captain a new ship. I missed the sea, the sound of it, the smell of it.” He turned and smiled. “I would have been mad to refuse such an opportunity.”

  Her dimpled smile flickered. “I should love to go to sea someday.” She leaned her chin against her fist. “My mother taught us to read, and I found escape in books. When my father would be in a drunken rage, I often ran to the water and prayed to be on a passing ship.” She sighed. “Where will you go? To China or Africa? I would love to see China.”

  He felt a stab of regret that he couldn’t smuggle her aboard and take her to sea with him. “Wherever the navy sends me for supplies. Most of my trips will probably be back and forth to England, transporting ammunition and food for the soldiers.”

  Her frown came again. “I cry you mercy, but I keep forgetting we are enemies.” She gave a light laugh, but the troubled expression in her eyes didn’t fade.

  He could never be enemies with this woman. What had he been thinking of to come here, knowing he had to keep the truth from her? He glanced at his pocket watch again. He had to go soon. Did he dare a kiss? And would her embrace still move him like the first one?

  “Does not the Good Book say we are to love our enemies?” He leaned closer to her and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

  Her green eyes looked startled, and she drew back slightly.

  “Methinks we should begin.” He bent his head and his lips found hers. A vast ocean of longing swept over him, and he pulled her close. Her lips were soft and pliant beneath his. Was this love? He had not yet given a nam
e to the way he felt about Hannah, but he had never felt like this about anyone else. His breathing quickened, and he drew her closer still.

  She tore her lips away, and he felt bereft. “I cannot,” she gasped. She stood and turned her back to him. Her shoulders shook with the intensity of her emotions.

  He rose and placed his hands on her shoulders. “What is it, Hannah? Do you not care for me as I care for you?” Fool that he was, he had hoped she felt something for him.

  A sob shook her small frame, and she shook her head frantically. “It isn’t that, Birch.” She clamped her lips shut as though she feared what she might reveal.

  “We are on different sides of this war, but the battle will not last forever, and there is much I would tell you. Trust me, Hannah. Things are not always as they seem.” If he had to tell her the truth, he would.

  Fresh tears trickled down her cheeks. “I must not love you, Birch. God says I must not. You must put aside this bitterness you hold first.”

  God again. He squeezed his eyes shut at the pain in his heart. Must God take everything he loved in this world? Did he mean to treat Birch as he did Job?

  Birch opened his eyes and took a deep breath. “I would not talk you into something you have no wish for.” He knew a feeble excuse when he heard it. So be it. If she loved God more than him, it was best he found out now.

  He dropped his hands from her shoulders. “I must go. The crew will wonder what keeps me.”

  She dabbed at her tears with a handkerchief she had pulled from her pocket and nodded slowly. “I shall walk you to your boat.”

  “There is no need for you to come out in the cold.” He just wanted to get away. If he ran far enough away from this cold cliff, maybe he could forget this mermaid girl someday.

  “I want to.” She handed him his coat, then slipped her cloak about her shoulders. “Where do you journey now?”