The Lightkeeper's Daughter

by Colleen Coble

  Her dimple appeared. “I promise not to change too much.” She gazed up into his face. “What about your call to Margaret?”

  He shrugged and let his hands fall back to his side. “It was fine.”

  “Did you tell her you wouldn’t be calling on her again?”

  “I did. She took it graciously, then asked when I would return to the city. I told her it would be several weeks.”

  Color stained her cheeks. “Do you intend to see her again?” she asked, her voice low. She turned toward the window.

  He turned her back to face him. “No, Miss Sullivan, I do not. I should not have mentioned her question, but I must admit I wondered if you cared enough to be jealous. My remark was quite ungentlemanly.”

  Her expression warmed. “I care entirely too much, Lieutenant North.”

  No, he was the one who was smitten, and it was much too soon to be so taken with her.

  FOURTEEN

  ADDIE FOUGHT TEARS all afternoon. Hearing how her father had searched for her and her mother had done something to the fences she’d put up around her emotions.

  “You did a wonderful job on your letters today, Edward,” she told her charge.

  His small face brightened. “Can I take Gideon out to play ball as a reward?”

  “It’s nearly time for your dinner.”

  His face puckered. “I don’t like lessons when I have to stay inside. Gideon has been waiting for me to play all afternoon.”

  She glanced at her dog, who stared back at her with hopeful eyes as though he understood. And he probably did. Play was his favorite word. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll go down with you.”

  It was a sacrifice, because she wanted nothing more than to shut her door and go through the letters she’d stuffed under the mattress. What might she discover in those pages? The identity of the man who had attacked her? The reason behind the events that had changed her life?

  She took Edward’s small hand and led him and Gideon outside. Clouds swirled overhead, and a drop of rain plopped onto her face. “We won’t be able to stay long,” she warned. “It’s going to rain.”

  She settled on the wicker chair and watched the boy throw the ball to her dog. Gideon was enjoying it as much as Edward was. The dog wasn’t used to being cramped up in the house. He’d roamed the island at their last station all day, then wandered home at night. The stress of the day had taken its toll, and her eyes drooped. A cacophony of wild barking opened them again, and she leaped from her chair to see Gideon crouched and barking at Edward. The dog lunged forward and grabbed the boy’s arm. Was he attacking the child?

  “Gideon!” she shouted, rushing to intervene.

  The dog succeeded in tugging Edward to a sitting position. The boy’s staring eyes did not respond to Gideon’s agitation. The child swayed where he sat, then he toppled onto his back. Gideon pranced around the boy.

  She knelt beside the boy. “Good boy, Gideon,” she crooned as she checked out the lad. “You saw what was happening to Edward, didn’t you?”

  Addie pulled Edward onto her lap and held him. He jerked, and his eyes rolled back in his head. She pulled her handkerchief from the sleeve of her dress, rolled it up, then thrust it between his teeth.

  Someone else needed to know about this. “Help! Lieutenant North, someone. Please help!”

  At first she thought no one had heard her, then the door opened and a figure stepped onto the porch. She recognized John and waved to attract his attention in case he didn’t see her in the twilight. As he started toward her, the heavens opened up with a gush of rain. She huddled over Edward and tried to protect him from the worst of the water.

  John reached them. “An attack of epilepsy?” he shouted over the pounding of the rain hitting the trees.

  She nodded. “Is it safe to move him?”

  “Yes. Here, let me.” He lifted his son from her lap and rushed with him toward the house.

  She splashed through the widening mud puddles. Gideon loped along beside her. When they reached the porch, she snapped her fingers at her dog. Mrs. Eaton would go into vapors if Addie let the muddy dog onto her redwood floors.

  “Stay, Gideon,” she said. The dog whimpered but lay down. “I’ll get some rags to dry you and come back,” she promised.

  When she stepped inside, she found the household in an uproar. Both grandparents hovered over the unconscious boy. John had laid him on the leather sofa in the smoking room.

  Clara wrung her hands. “Oh, why does this happen to our sweet lad?” she moaned. She caught sight of Addie. “What happened, Adeline? Was he upset?”

  Addie shook her head. “He had a good day of studies. I gave him permission to toss the ball to Gideon, and he was having a good time.”

  “Maybe he got too hot,” Mr. Eaton said.

  “I don’t think so,” Addie said. “Gideon was doing the running. I heard the dog bark and saw Edward standing still, just staring. Gideon grabbed his shirtsleeve and pulled him down. A few seconds later he fell back.”

  John glanced up from his vigil beside his son. “The dog sensed it before it happened? Just like the day you arrived?”

  “I think so. I watched it with my own eyes.”

  “Amazing,” Mr. Eaton said. “Edward claimed it was so from the very first.” He fixed his gaze on Addie. “What magic is this, Miss Sullivan?”

  “Gideon seems to sense these things,” she admitted. “He has often led me to injured animals or children.”

  “Did he lead you to the child in the garment factory?” John asked in a low voice.

  She nodded. “He’s a remarkable dog.”

  “We must breed him and see if this trait can be duplicated. I did some checking with a neighbor who has a shepherd. She’ll have a female in heat in a few weeks. With her permission, I’d like to see what kind of pups we might get.” Addie’s cheeks went red, and Mr. Eaton stuttered. “Pardon me, Miss Sullivan. I should not be discussing something so indelicate. Have I your permission to, uh, mate Gideon?”

  “Please do, sir,” she said. “I’d love to have some little Gideons running around.”

  John was thinking more about a little girl with Addie’s magnificent eyes.

  Addie leaned against her closed door and let the pent-up air escape from her lungs. Every moment in the handsome lieutenant’s presence left her more infatuated. When should she tell him about her identity? She longed to reveal it to him. As soon as Mr. Driscoll returned, she planned to inform him she couldn’t keep the truth from John. She loved his name. Such a strong, manly sound encompassed by that one-syllable word.

  She turned on the gas lamp, closed her curtains, then slipped into her white nightgown. In Gideon’s absence, the room echoed with emptiness. He was so necessary to Edward, but she missed her companion. If the puppies were found to have his innate sense of compassion, Edward could have his own puppy.

  They were much alike, she and Gideon. Ever since she could remember, she’d been able to sense another person’s pain. When her father had a headache, Addie knew where to rub. When her mother broke her ankle, Addie’s had throbbed as well. This was the first time in her life that she knew the right thing to do was to gift her dog to the child, but she couldn’t quite summon the will.

  Adrenaline still raged through her. The letters under her mattress awaited discovery. Standing by the gaslight, she realized she hadn’t prayed in two days. No wonder her day hadn’t gone well. That was usually her first thought, and the realization it had been her last thought struck her hard. She dropped to her knees by the bed and poured out her distress to the Lord. The agitation faded, and peace warmed her like a blanket.

  It would be all too easy in this environment to forget her roots. To lay aside what was truly important. She had to be on her guard.

  While she was on her knees, she thrust her hand under the mattress and found the bundle of letters. She rose and carried them to the chair by the lamp. Her hands trembled as she held them under the warm glow of light and tried to decide wh
ich letter to read first. Chronologically made the most sense. She sorted them by postmark. Some had the bold slash of a man’s handwriting.

  Once they were sorted, she laid the stack on the table and lifted the first one. It was addressed to her mother in a delicate handwriting.

  Laura,

  You simply must come to tea next week. Wednesday at 2:00 p.m.? Bring Clara if necessary, but come! Mr. Henry Eaton has confessed that he is quite smitten with you. He says Clara knows they are friends only. He asked me to intercede on his behalf.

  Most warmly,

  Inez

  Addie noticed the date. October 19, 1875. The first meeting between her parents. She could imagine how it played out: her father, slimmer and with his hair still dark, bowing over her mother’s hand. Was it love at first sight? And what about Clara? Had she known Henry felt nothing for her but friendship?

  She picked up the next letter and saw a man’s bold scrawl. From her father perhaps? She opened it and held it under the light.

  My dearest Laura,

  I am the happiest man on earth now that you know my feelings. Your face, your form, haunt my dreams. I am a man obsessed. Would you honor me with your presence on a ride along the shore next Saturday? I will be sure to bring a carriage with enough room for Clara if she could be persuaded to act as chaperone.

  Your humble servant,

  Henry

  Addie drew the back of her hand across her damp eyes. The love her father felt was clear. She suspected her mother had the same experience. Reading their exchanges was like reading an Elizabeth Barrett Browning love poem. Totally enthralled with the relationship unfolding in the letters, she picked up the next one.

  Laura,

  I’m thrilled things are so wonderful between you and Henry. I’d be honored to be your bridesmaid for the wedding in June. I completely understand that your stepmother would insist that Clara be the maid of honor.

  Warm regards,

  Inez

  Addie gave a blissful sigh. John’s face flashed through her mind, but she pushed it away and picked up another envelope. The next five letters were all invitations to different parties and teas. The last was addressed in her mother’s handwriting. It was in an unaddressed envelope with only the name Henry slashed across the front.

  My dearest Henry,

  I know you do not understand, but I must be gone for a few weeks. I still love you very much, but when I overheard the awful truth, it was more than I could bear. I will be in touch when I’m settled in the hotel. Don’t try to make me come home yet. I need some time.

  Laura

  Addie folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. “Awful truth,” her mother had said. What would cause a wife who was clearly devoted to her husband to flee with her daughter? Addie needed to talk to Mr. Driscoll. He’d said he would be home tonight. Maybe he was in his room. She snatched up her dressing gown.

  FIFTEEN

  JOHN TUCKED THE sheet around his sleeping son, then stepped over the dog and tiptoed out of the room. He started across the hall to his own bedroom and heard the murmur of voices. A man and a woman were arguing. Or at least it sounded like an argument. In case the woman was in distress, he followed the sound around the corner to the other wing of rooms. As he neared, the voices became clear enough to identify.

  Driscoll and Addie. They were in the schoolroom.

  He stopped before he turned into the final hallway. He’d listen a minute to make sure things were all right, then head to his bed. If she needed him, he wanted to be there.

  “Why would she leave so suddenly?” Addie asked, her voice raised.

  “You should have told me before you read the letters,” Driscoll said.

  “I have to know the truth.”

  Frowning, John sidled nearer while staying hidden around the corner.

  “And we’ll find out the truth,” Driscoll said. “But we have to work together, Addie.”

  “I want to find out what happened,” she said. “Who I am.”

  Driscoll cleared his throat. “You should have told me the minute you found the letters.”

  “You’ve been gone, Mr. Driscoll. Did you discover anything?”

  “Unfortunately no, child. Tuttle died six months ago.”

  “He still might have been the one behind it.” Desperation tinged her words.

  “The money would have stopped.”

  “Unless he made arrangements for it to carry on in the event of his death. I want to tell Mr. Eaton now. And John.”

  John’s gut clenched at the way her tone went soft when she said his name. At least keeping the secret from him hadn’t been easy for her. Whatever it was.

  “We have to be careful, Adeline. Someone has already attacked you. You’re making yourself a target if we announce why you’re here.”

  “I think it would be worth it. I’m tired of the charade.” Her voice dropped to a near whisper.

  “I advise patience.”

  “My whole life has been turned upside down since you appeared on our doorstep, Mr. Driscoll. It’s easy enough for you to advise patience when you’re not the one whose future hangs in the balance.”

  “I’m sorry, Addie.” Driscoll’s voice grew gentle. “I know this has been hard for you. Get some sleep. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

  “Very well. I can see you are not going to budge. Good night, Mr. Driscoll.”

  “Good night, my dear.”

  Driscoll’s footsteps neared, and John slipped into an empty guest room until the noise of his passage faded down the hall. Driscoll had brought Addie here for a reason, but the import of it escaped John. The rock in his gut grew heavier. The discussion John had overheard made one thing clear. Addie wasn’t the innocent he thought. Just as much pretense ran through her veins as through all the other women he’d known. He’d been sure she was different. He’d been ready to pursue her. He’d even stepped away from a good match because of her. Addie’s directness had been all a front. How very clever of her.

  When he stepped back into the hall, he nearly ran down Addie. He caught her before she stumbled back against the wall.

  “You startled me,” she said. Her bare feet peeked out from under her green dressing gown, and her hair was down.

  A visceral emotion hit John in the gut. His fingers itched to plunge into that thick mane of auburn hair, to examine the red tints in the firelight. He imagined lifting that heavy curtain to place a kiss on the warm skin of her neck. Resisting the liquid warmth of her eyes, he released her arm and thrust his hands in his pockets.

  Neither spoke for a long moment. A blush colored her cheeks, and he eyed it. Figuring out how to blush on command must have taken some training and practice. It gave her an innocent air that had completely fooled him.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked, clutching the neck of her dressing gown.

  Would she tell him the truth if he asked why she was really here? He could tell her he’d overheard her conversation with Driscoll.

  “No, nothing,” he said abruptly. “You’re up late. Can I help you with something?”

  Her dimple flashed. “I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d get some warm milk.”

  “You’re going the wrong way.”

  “I get so turned around in this big place.”

  More lies? Probably an excuse to explain her presence.

  He led her down the hall until it teed to the right, then to the end of the next hallway. “Careful, the stairs are steep.”

  He went down the steps ahead of her. Even in the kitchen stairway, the Eatons had spared no expense. Flocked wallpaper covered the walls, and the stairs and handrail were redwood. John and Addie emerged in the large kitchen. The wooden counters were clean and ready to be used in the morning.

  He took a glass down from the cupboard and went to the ice chest. “Would you care to have it warmed?”

  She held out her hand for the glass of milk. “You don’t need to wait on me. I don’t want to keep you from your bed.”
r />   He handed it over and watched as she poured hot water from the kettle on the woodstove into a bowl, then set the glass of milk in it to warm. “I’m a little hungry. Would you care for some jam and bread?”

  Her smile came. “I admit I’m a bit peckish myself. Let me get it. Sit down.”

  He sat at the kitchen table and watched her cut thick slices of bread and spread them with jam and butter. The intimacy of the moment swamped his resolve not to look at her hair.

  He had to remember she had a secret agenda.

  The warmth John had shown for days was replaced by a chill demeanor that tightened his lips and hooded his eyes. As Addie layered on the toppings, she cast her mind back over the day and couldn’t think of anything she might have done to offend him.

  She placed the food on a plate and slid it in front of him. She slipped into the seat across from him and propped her chin in her hand. “I fear I was too honest about my feelings, Lieutenant. I’ve frightened you with my boldness, perhaps?”

  “Candor is never misplaced, Miss Sullivan. Falsehood, on the other hand, is something I despise.”

  “Falsehood? Surely you know me well enough by now to know I say what I think.”

  “The problem is not what you say but what you don’t say.”

  She studied his cold, dark eyes when he finally raised them. “You know,” she whispered. “I wanted to tell you right from the start, but Mr. Driscoll forbade me to say anything.”

  “I heard you talking to him a few moments ago.”

  She thought about that conversation. Nothing had been said about her identity. All he knew was that she had some purpose for being here, but she couldn’t endure his coldness. “You don’t know all of the story, but I want to tell you.”

  “Will it be the truth?”

  “Have I ever lied to you, Lieutenant?”

  “Right now, I’m not really certain. I thought you were the clearest pool of honesty I’d ever peered into. I admit I’m most disappointed in you.”