The Lightkeeper's Daughter

by Colleen Coble

  Heritage? Who were they talking about? The door opened, and she was face-to-face with her mother.

  Her mother’s shoulders were back, and her mouth was stiff. “Spying on me?”

  “No, Mama, of course not. I heard arguing. Is something wrong?”

  “It’s none of your business, girlie.”

  Mr. Driscoll’s shoulders loomed behind her mother. “It most certainly is her business. You must tell her.”

  Her mother scowled over her shoulder at the man, then turned back to Addie. “Oh, very well,” she said. “Come downstairs.”

  “Of course.” Addie still wore her dressing gown, so she followed her mother down the stairs. Gideon stayed close to Addie, and Mr. Driscoll brought up the rear.

  “Sit down.” Her mother indicated the armless Lady’s chair.

  Addie’s eyes were gritty and burning with fatigue. She obeyed her mother’s directive. She glanced at Mr. Driscoll. He wore her father’s shirt and pants, the blue ones with the patches on the knees.

  Addie turned her attention back to her grim-faced mother. “What is it, Mama? What’s wrong?”

  “Wait here.” Her mother went down the hall and into the office. She returned with a metal lockbox in her hands. “Your father never wanted you to know. I told him this day would come, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”

  Addie’s muscles bunched, and her hands began to shake. “Know?”

  Her mother thrust a key into the lock and opened the box. “Perhaps it is best if you simply read through these items.” She laid the box on Addie’s lap.

  The papers inside were old and yellowed. Mr. Driscoll stood watching them with a hooded gaze. “Mama, you’re frightening me,” Addie said. “What are these papers?” She didn’t dare touch them.

  Mr. Driscoll’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “They deal with your heritage, Addie. This woman is not your real mother.”

  TWO

  ADDIE CURLED HER hands in her lap. Where was her fan? She was suffocating. “You’re my stepmother? Why did you never tell me?”

  “You are the most irritating child,” her mother said. “Just read the things in the box.”

  Addie glanced at the yellowed papers. “Can’t you just tell me what this is all about?”

  Her mother chewed on her lip. “The nightmares of drowning you’ve suffered all your life? You experienced a shipwreck when you were about two. Roy found you on the shore and brought you home. He insisted we tell no one how we’d found you.”

  Addie examined her mother’s words. Surely she didn’t mean Papa hadn’t been her real father. “You’re jesting.” She pressed her trembling lips together and studied her mother’s face. The defiance in her eyes convinced Addie she spoke the truth.

  Roy Sullivan had not been her father? He’d saved his pennies to buy her every Elizabeth Barrett Browning book that lined the shelf in her room. He’d bought her the treadle sewing machine. Even the stacks of fabric in her sewing room were purchased by him to give her the start she needed. She’d seen him make many sacrifices for her over the years on his modest lightkeeper’s salary.

  Pain pulsed behind her eyes. And in her heart. She needed air. She started to rise to go outside, then sank back to her chair when her muscles refused to obey. “What do you have to do with this?” she asked Driscoll.

  “I believe I’m your uncle,” he said. Cradling his sling with his good hand, he settled on the sofa.

  Her hand crept to the locket at her neck. “My uncle?” She rubbed the engraved gold. “I don’t understand.”

  Gideon thrust his head against her leg. She entwined her fingers in his fur and found a measure of comfort. “Is Addie even my name?” she managed to ask past a throat too tight to swallow a sip of water.

  Her mother looked away as if she couldn’t hold Addie’s gaze. “Not if my suspicions are right,” Mr. Driscoll said.

  “Then who am I?” Addie pressed her quivering lips together.

  He smoothed the sling. “I believe you’re Julia Eaton, daughter of Henry and Laura Eaton. There are newspaper clippings in the file that lead me to that conclusion.” He nodded at the metal box. “Laura was my sister.”

  Addie focused on the woman standing by the fireplace. Josephine Sullivan. Not her mother. No wonder Addie had always sensed a wall between the two of them. It explained so much. She’d often wondered why her auburn hair and green eyes didn’t match either of her parents’ features. Her mother had cruelly teased her about being left by fairies until her father put a stop to it.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Addie asked.

  “Roy refused to allow the truth to come out. You were his little darling.”

  “You never loved me,” Addie whispered. “Even before Papa died.”

  “Your disobedience killed him,” Josephine said. “If I’d told you once, I told you a thousand times not to go swimming out past the breakers.”

  Addie dropped her gaze. “And it’s something I’ll have to live with the rest of my life.”

  “What’s this?” Mr. Driscoll asked. “She killed her father?”

  Josephine hunched her shoulders. “He took this post hoping the sea air would cure his consumption, but it never happened. The stress of saving Addie from her own foolish behavior sent Roy into a decline he never recovered from.”

  Addie bolted to her feet. “I need air.”

  Josephine caught Addie’s arm and forced her back into the chair. “It’s time the truth came out.”

  Addie rubbed her throbbing arm. “If you hate me, why did you keep me?”

  “I don’t hate you,” Josephine said. “But you were a constant reminder of my failure to have our own child.”

  “Then why keep me?” Addie asked again.

  Her mother shrugged. “Money. Someone pays for your upkeep. We receive a monthly check from San Francisco. The attorney who sends the funds would never tell us who his client was, so don’t even ask.”

  “You were paid to keep me from my real family?” She struggled to take it in. “So the sewing machine was paid for by someone else? The books, the fabric, my clothes?”

  “Roy was much too generous with you. I wanted him to save it for our old age. We earned every penny. He saved some, but not enough. Instead he bought you fripperies you didn’t need.”

  “But we’ve been paupers since Papa died. Did the money stop?”

  “With Roy gone, I was able to save it, as we should have been doing all along.”

  “That money belongs to Addie,” Mr. Driscoll put in. “You’ll hand over the bankbook or I’ll file charges for kidnapping.”

  Josephine tipped her chin up. “I raised that girl. It belongs to me.”

  “I don’t want it,” Addie said, tightening her grip on Gideon. How foolish she’d been to stay here and try to earn her mother’s love. “You should have told me.”

  “There was no need for you to know,” Josephine said.

  Addie turned her attention to Mr. Driscoll. “Why are you so sure I’m this Julia Eaton?”

  He pointed with his good hand to the locket. “I gave my sister the locket you’re wearing. She died right offshore here. The woman in the picture is her mother, your grandmother Vera. You look much like both of them.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “A friend passed through here a couple of months ago. She came out to the lighthouse to take pictures with her new Brownie camera and happened to snap a photo of you fishing. When she showed it to me, something in your posture and the way you smiled reminded me of Laura. I knew she’d died nearby, so I decided to come. I never expected . . .” He swallowed hard.

  “The Holy Scriptures say we may entertain angels unawares,” Addie said. “I think that is the case this night.”

  His laugh was uneasy. “I’m hardly an angel, Miss Adeline.”

  Her father had always told her that truth never stayed hidden forever. God laughed at mankind’s plans. What would her father say if he were alive today to face the revelation of the lies he’d told her? E
verything she thought she knew about her life was in ashes.

  She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t understand anything. Why would someone pay you to care for me?” she asked her mother.

  “Roy suspected the person wanted you out of the way. He became obsessed with finding out more and collected these clippings and other evidence.” Her tone made it clear she’d never understood her husband’s obsession.

  Addie buried her face in her hands. “Who am I?” Gideon pushed his cold nose against her cheek. When she lifted her head to stare at Mr. Driscoll, the pity on his face stirred her. “What do you want from me?”

  “I want to reunite you with your family.” He hesitated. “Henry searched for weeks, desperate to find you and Laura. He’ll be overjoyed to find you alive.”

  The thought that her real father had loved her stirred Addie out of her pain. A gust of wind and rain rattled the panes in the window, and she raised her voice over the din. “Reunite us? You mean you want me to go with you?”

  He flexed his swollen fingers. “I hadn’t thought of that. Perhaps you should stay here until I find out who paid to keep you away, and why.”

  “I need to help my mother.” My mother. The familiar words mocked her, but surely the devil she knew was better than the one she didn’t.

  “That’s right,” Josephine said. “I depend on your assistance.”

  Mr. Driscoll looked at Josephine. “I suspect you have milked every drop of sweat possible from the poor child over the years. You deserve nothing more from her.”

  Though his words made sense, Addie shied away from the idea of leaving the life she knew. “I’d rather not face them until I know they want me.”

  He studied her face. “I can’t introduce you as Julia until I get more proof. I don’t want to subject you to possible scrutiny until we’re sure.”

  She picked up the metal box. “The things in here don’t prove it?” She skimmed through the articles about the shipwreck. One article mentioned the Eaton family’s desperate search for Laura Eaton and her child, Julia.

  He shook his head. “Your father collected articles about the shipwreck, but that’s hardly proof of your identity. It’s enough for me when I see the locket and look at your face, but Henry will demand more than that.”

  She slumped back against the chair. “Why wouldn’t he see the resemblance as you do?”

  “Henry Eaton is wealthy beyond your imagination. Better men than I have tried to hoodwink him without success. He is skeptical of any unproven claim.”

  She lifted her necklace. “But the locket?”

  He chewed his lip. “Yes, he might believe the locket.” He glanced at Josephine. “Where was it found?”

  “It was around Addie’s neck when Roy rescued her.”

  He nodded. “There are many questions about how you came to be here and why. Henry will want a logical explanation of how this happened. I’d like to have something more to prove your claim. When he realizes you’re his darling Julia, you’ll be showered with love and material possessions.”

  “I don’t really care about money.” Loneliness had dogged her all her life. The lighthouse stood on a rocky cliff that was an island most of the time. The only access to the mainland was an isthmus at low tide. Even then, her parents had rarely allowed her to go to town, and she’d longed to fit in, to find friends to laugh with and share with.

  Addie stared at him with fresh eyes. Pain etched his mouth and left pallor on his face, but his blue eyes held keen determination. How had he gathered her true need so completely no longer than he’d been here? “Is the Eaton family large?” she asked. “Have I any siblings?”

  “Not living,” he said. “Your sister, Katherine, died in a streetcar accident three years ago. She was your half sister. Closer, really. After Laura died, Henry married our sister, Clara.”

  “Can you tell me more about the family?”

  “There were three of us. Clara and I have the same mother. Our mother died in childbirth when Clara was born. Laura is the daughter of our father’s second wife, so she was our half sister.”

  “So you’re the oldest, then Clara, and my mother was the youngest?”

  He nodded. “There are three years between Clara and me, and two years between her and your mother.”

  Addie’s eyes filled. An entire lifetime of belonging had slipped from her fingers. “Katherine was my only sibling?”

  He nodded. “But you have a nephew. Edward. He’s five.”

  “A nephew! Do we look alike in any regard?”

  “More than a bit,” he said. “I have a thought. I can’t just take you into Eaton Manor and announce you are Julia. However, Edward’s father, John, has mentioned his need of a governess for Edward. Henry is raging about it. He dotes on the boy—being his only grandchild—and has had the care of him since Katherine was killed.”

  For the first time she was tempted to actually do this thing—to go to this family where Mr. Driscoll claimed she belonged. “Why hasn’t Edward been with John?”

  “Henry persuaded him that the boy needed his grandmother as he worked through the grieving process. Besides, John is a naval officer and was out to sea when Katherine died.”

  “The poor child. I would become his governess?”

  He nodded. “If your education passes muster.”

  “I love studies. I obtained a degree through correspondence.”

  “So you wish to accompany me?”

  Did she? She chewed her lip, then slowly nodded. “I’ll come.”

  “You will not!” her mother said.

  Mr. Driscoll fixed her with a cold stare. “You have no say in this.” He turned his attention back to Addie. “You’ll enter the household as my ward, the daughter of a friend. That way you’ll be part of the family.”

  “Then what?”

  “I plan to hire a Pinkerton investigator in San Francisco. I’ll have him talk to this attorney and ferret out who hired him and why.”

  Addie hadn’t been thinking about the faceless person who had contrived to keep her out of the family. “Why would someone do that?”

  “It’s something we must discover. Henry hasn’t risen to prominence without making many enemies along the way. I have several people in mind.”

  “Who?”

  He rose. “A couple of years before Laura’s death, there was some scandal about one of Henry’s rivals. When he went broke, his son committed suicide. Perhaps he sought to exact revenge. A child for a child.”

  She gulped in air. “This person might be dangerous. Are you sure of my identity?”

  “Read the papers in the box, Addie. You’ll see there is no doubt.” He went toward the steps. “I’ll leave you alone to absorb this news, my dear. I’m utterly exhausted, and my arm is a misery.” His shoulders were stooped as he climbed the stairs.

  There was no sound in the living room except the hiss of the gaslight. Addie stared at her mother. No, not her mother. Josephine Sullivan. Addie wasn’t a Sullivan. Her entire identity had been stripped away.

  Josephine sipped her tea. “You’re about to be dropped into the lap of luxury. I expect you could send money to help me out from time to time.”

  “Did you ever love me at all?” Addie said, her voice barely audible.

  “Let’s not talk anymore tonight.” Josephine moved from the fireplace and went up the stairs.

  Addie sat frozen on the chair with the metal box in her lap. She dropped it to the floor, and the papers scattered. With a cry, she fell to her knees and buried her face in her dog’s warm coat.

  THREE

  THE OFFICES OF Mercy Steamboats squatted on the corner of Main and Redwood. A three-story brick building, it presented an austere front to the world. Naval Lieutenant John North paused at the door long enough to remove his hat, then stepped into the entry.

  “Good afternoon, Lieutenant North.” Mrs. O’Donnell smiled from behind her typewriter. “Mr. Eaton is in his office. He asked me to send you in when you got here.”

&nb
sp; John walked down the tiled hall to the first door on the left. The imposing walnut door was closed. He gave a brisk rap on the polished surface. He’d slept little on the steamer from San Francisco, and his eyes burned.

  “Come,” Henry’s voice called.

  He’d rather go. John entered and closed the door behind him. “Good afternoon, Henry.” When John had married Katherine, she’d insisted he call her parents Mother and Father, but it had never been natural for him. After she was gone, he’d been glad to revert. He suspected Henry felt the same way.

  Henry regarded John over the top of his spectacles. “The ferry was late?”

  “A few lingering storm swells slowed us down.”

  John settled in a chair and studied his father-in-law for clues to his mood. Henry’s expression was as dark as the clouds rolling in from the west. A tall man, he had a thick head of brown hair that held only a few streaks of gray in spite of being in his midfifties. His brown suit—impeccably cut, of course—fit his muscular frame perfectly. His waxed mustache suited his angular face.

  “Have you been to see Edward yet?”

  John shook his head. “That’s my next stop. I’ll set the nurse to packing his things.”

  Henry leaned forward. “What the devil are you thinking to yank him from the place he’s been secure?”

  “Henry, you knew all along this arrangement was temporary. I appreciate all you’ve done, but Edward is my son. Not yours. Not Clara’s. He belongs with me.”

  Henry banged his fist on the desk. “You were happy enough to leave him with us when Katherine died.”

  “That’s rubbish and you know it. I had no choice. I do have a choice now. My new assignment is at a desk, and Edward can be with me.”

  “You have no one to care for him.”

  “Actually, I do. Walter rang me, and the daughter of a good friend of his is seeking a position. He is bringing her in today to see if she will suit.”

  Henry’s mouth grew pinched. “Can’t the child at least stay until after my birthday ball? You too. You’re on leave for a month. There’s time to ease him into new arrangements.”

  Perhaps it would be best to let Edward get used to the idea, used to his father and the new governess. The last thing John wanted was to inflict more trauma on his boy. “Very well. But let’s not argue about it anymore, Henry. It’s bad for Edward.”