“I’ll be done in an hour or so.” I nodded, and Warren went on to neatly stack the wood as I patiently waited.
“Are you still hungry, Lillian? I know I am famished,” he asked when he was done.
“I little, I guess.”
“You’re too skinny. Let’s have some apple butter. Let me take you inside,” he said, and went to lift me up, but I said, “No, let me walk. You shouldn’t be carrying me around like a child.”
He was surprised for a moment, then in a more serious tone, asked, “How old are you, Lillian?”
I hesitated before answering. I feared he would call me a kid, the way Heath did, that he would believe I was a little girl and not a young woman. There was no way I wanted him to know my real age, so I lied about it.
Warren eyes scanned me, quickly; his eyes lingered on my bosom for a fleeting moment, then he looked away and I watched his face turn bright red. If he didn’t believe me, there was no indication. He changed the subject by leading me inside and offering me supper.
Warren was gracious and attentive. I told him many stories of my days on Jasper Island. I was happy to have someone hear about my world and the place that made me complete. I mentioned my days at the beach collecting sea shells with Ayden and Heath; I described the summer nights studying the constellations through Heath’s telescope. I told him about some of Daddy’s rescues, how he pulled sailors out of the stormy sea before they drowned, and what a great lighthouse keeper he was. I explained how a lighthouse worked, as Warren didn’t know anything about them. He was amazed at my knowledge and the adventures that Heath, Ayden, and I had shared, and I described everything about Elizabeth—from her curly blond hair and bright blue eyes, to the way Heath and I taught her how to sign.
Warren was most interested in Momma and Daddy and leaned forward with his full attention when I described how in love they were.
“Momma’s eyes lit up every time she saw Daddy. She was so beautiful, and every man who ever saw her thought so. Daddy didn’t like other men gazing at her. But she only had eyes for him, and they were deeply in love; even when she went mad, she was still in love with him,” I said, and took a long breath.
Warren was on the edge of his chair, engrossed in the story then asked in a somber tone, “Your momma—how did she die?”
“Daddy never told me,” I replied, wiping away a small tear that escaped the corner of my eye.
“She is buried here, in Savannah?”
“Yes.”
He went quiet, deep in thought. His eyes glazed over with a sorrow that I had only seen in Daddy. I suspected maybe he had lost a love once, maybe even a wife, but I was unsure I could ask him something so personal. Then he revealed, of his own accord, what I wanted to know. Warren stared at me intently, earnest in his own memories of a woman who’d claimed his heart, just as Momma had done to Daddy.
“I had a love once, a love that took hold of my heart and never let go. She was a strikingly beautiful young woman, and I fell madly in love with her from the first moment I set eyes on her.”
“And what happened to her?” I asked in a soft whisper, both jealous and captivated by his passionate memories of a woman that he obviously never stopped loving.
“To my dismay, to my sheer wretchedness, she was in love with another man. He took her far away; they married, but not one day has gone by that I haven’t thought about her. Not one day, Lillian,” he said, with such angst, it made my heart pound heavy in my chest. I couldn’t imagine any woman not falling madly in love with Warren. He was handsome and sincere. Warren brought a sense of Heath to me, so much so it made me frightened of my own feelings. It was everything Momma had described to me. I felt for Warren the way she had for Daddy. Almost as much, if not more, than I had for my childhood crush Heath Dalton. Momma had told me about love at first sight; she said it happened with Daddy. “The moment he stepped into the room, I knew I would love him forever,” she once told me.
That kind of love was genuine and everlasting, and as much as I thought I could share that emotion with Heath, I knew he didn’t feel the same way for me, though he did kiss me once. But it was a mistake; he told me so. I knew he was thinking of Clara when he placed his soft lips on mine; I remembered. Heath would never love me the way I loved him. He loved me like a sister, nothing more, and nothing less.
The night was sweltering; there was no relief from the imposing heat. Warren gave me one of his long dress shirts to wear and his bed to sleep in. He was a gentleman, in every way.
“I will sleep outside on the porch,” he said after I was situated in the bed. “Is there anything I can get you before you go to sleep?”
He was standing at the foot of the bed when he asked me. I sat up and smiled, then said with much sincerity, “You have given me hope, Mr. Stone. Thank you for everything.”
He had saved me from being returned to imprisonment; he was going to take me to Savannah, the first step in my return to Jasper Island, and for that, I was eternally grateful.
“Goodnight then,” he said, and I didn’t close my eyes until he was out the door and settled on the porch for the night.
My eyes were closed, but in my mind, all I could see was Daddy’s face, and I imagined how happy he would be to see me again. At first, he would be taken back by my appearance, but hopefully he would understand and see that he was wrong, that he shouldn’t have sent me away and left me with my evil grandmother. I would tell him how she locked me away and starved me, and that she struck me. Daddy would know that Warren Stone had saved me from the poisonous snake and was the sole reason I was alive and returned to him. I imagined Daddy opening his loving arms and me running into his embrace. He would smother me with kisses and tell me he was sorry, that he’d made a terrible mistake by leaving me in Savannah, and that he would never do such a thing again. We would go on to work the lighthouse together and happiness would find us, even if we were many miles out into the Atlantic, far away from the people of the world.
The only thing I wanted to do was keep in touch with Warren, exchange occasional letters. Perhaps he could even come and visit us. Daddy would thank him for rescuing me, for saving his daughter, his only child. I could see them becoming friends, and I also saw a chance, an ever-so-slight chance, that maybe in time, Warren could fall in love with me, and love me just as much as he did the woman who gave her heart to another man.
I spent the entire night thinking about our trip into Savannah, the train ride home, and the long journey to Jasper Island. I hoped Warren would spare me some money, for I had none. He wasn’t as desperate and destitute as Grandmother, though I didn’t know what he did for a living.
I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and finally, when the sun rose bright and early, I got into my dress and went out to wake Warren. He slouched in the rocker, in a deep sleep, almost the way Daddy used to be when he drank from his bottles of rum. I placed my hand on his arm and lightly shook him until he slowly came awake. His heavy lids gradually opened, and when his eyes fell onto me, he lifted his hand and tenderly caressed my face, then said, “Are you real, or is it just another dream?”
My heart raced, and I instinctively stepped back from him. His hand dropped, startling him. Warren abruptly sat up in the chair and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then when he realized it was me, got up, and apologized for his confused state of mind.
“I fell into a weighty sleep. I’m sorry for not waking right away. I will hurry and hitch the buggy so we can leave.”
I waited for him in the same rocker where he slept while he went around back for the horse. Suddenly, he ran back, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out of the chair and into the house, locking the door behind him. I was startled, but he quickly explained.
“They are out on horseback looking for you!”
“Who?”
“Eugenia and Hamilton.”
I gasped and ran to him. He held me for a moment; I felt his heart beating hard and fast against my bosom. I didn’t want to let go of him, I was so afrai
d they would find me and take me back. Warren knew I was petrified and saw my terror as I gazed up at him. There was great fortitude in his eyes; he wouldn’t let them take me.
“Stay here; let me handle this.”
“Please, Mr. Stone; please don’t let them take me,” I pleaded.
“I promise I won’t.” He reached for his musket, which was leaning up against the wall, and headed out to confront them. I stayed hidden beside the window and peeked out as Grandmother and Hamilton arrived.
“What are you doing here, Eugenia?”
She sat like a stone statue on the horse and demanded to know where I was. “She is my granddaughter. Where is she, Mr. Stone?”
“I don’t know anything about your granddaughter,” he said, holding the musket at his side.
“We saw her with you. Now where is she?” Grandmother screeched.
Warren raised the musket and pointed it at her. “You be on your way, Eugenia. You’re trespassing on my property.”
“Do you want me to bring the constable out here, Warren? I know she is with you!”
Warren aimed the musket right at her. “Get off my property before I shoot you, Mrs. Arrington. I mean it.”
She hastily looked to Hamilton, then back at Warren. “We’ll be back—with the constable next time,” she said, and the two of them rode off.
My heart was in my throat. I could barely catch my breath. Warren came in and put the musket down. “They’re gone.”
“What are we going to do?” I cried, unable to fight back my tears.
Warren came to me and placed his hands on my arms. “Don’t worry about any of this. I will take care of it.” He was confident; his eyes told me he would fight to the death for me. I didn’t understand why he would risk so much for me. After all, he was a complete stranger.
So we sat and waited for Grandmother to return. The morning went by painstakingly slow. It was a typical, early summer Georgia day—hot and humid. Warren was subdued, and I sat on the bed as he watched out the window, musket in hand, waiting for them. I felt guilty for his involvement, and went to him, to apologize.
“I’m so very sorry, Mr. Stone. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. All I wanted was to get to Savannah, to the train, and make my way home to the lighthouse station.”
I placed my hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and took a long breath, then another.
I wasn’t sure if he was angry or sad, or both. I didn’t want him to point a finger at me, to hold me accountable for all of the unexpected problems he had to deal with, but I wouldn’t blame him for one second if he did. He had every right to send me back to Sutton Hall.
“You don’t need to be sorry, Lillian. None of this is your fault.” He opened his eyes and continued to stare out the window.
“But it is,” I cried.
“Please go back and sit.”
I lowered my hand and did as he said. I sat against the wall and closed my eyes, tired, emotionally drained, and overcome with the day’s oppressive heat. It wasn’t long before I crept down, placed my head on the pillow, and drifted off into a nap.
Warren shook me awake. The sounds of crickets were all around. It was night; the only light came from the one oil lamp on the table by the window. I had slept the day away. I flew up, prepared for battle.
“Relax. They didn’t return.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just as I said. It is late, almost ten o’clock. There was no sign of them all day.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, and impulsively hugged him. “Isn’t it?”
Warren gave me a forced smile then said, “Of course.”
He believed they would come. If not that day, then maybe the next. Grandmother wasn’t going to give up. Warren knew better. My smile faded, along with his. He sat on the edge of the bed, exhausted. I was so grateful to him, and I hoped he understood. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him.
“Sleep in your bed, Mr. Stone. I can sleep on the floor.”
“Thank you, Lillian, but I will be fine on the porch. I have to stay awake, just in case they decide to ambush us at night.”
“I’m not tired. I can stay up on watch.”
He chuckled at my suggestion. I was immediately insulted, and he recognized it. “Thank you very much for your offer. Yes, I am tired, but not tired enough to allow you to sit outside and get eaten alive by mosquitoes.”
He didn’t want me outside, but not because he thought I was a little girl, as I had speculated. I laughed at my own insecurities, and that made him laugh. The two of us sat laughing together, and it felt good. I moved next to him; the moment seemed right for me to place a kiss on his scruffy cheek to thank him.
He was surprised, and faintly asked, “What, may I ask, did I do to deserve a kiss from such a beautiful girl?”
I lowered my head and felt my whole body become warm and flushed. “For making me laugh. I haven’t laughed in a long, long time.”
He put his arm around me, sighed, and said, “Me, either.”
Neither of us were ready for sleep and it wasn’t only because I was rested and he felt the need to protect me. As we sat beside one another and the relief from the night air came and cooled the cabin, I felt our connection intensify. Warren had proved that he would lay down his life for me, instantly causing me to love him. I once knew Daddy would do that for me, and even Heath or Ayden without doubt; they all loved me because we were family. But Warren had just met me, and he did it because he desired to, and not just because it was the right thing to do. It was something more; I saw it in the way he looked into my eyes, and as his body tensed when I touched him.
These were all things I had witnessed before; I was aware of how a man desired a woman. I saw it in Daddy’s eyes; I saw it in Heath’s when he was in love with Clara, and it was there when Warren looked at me. Although I was petrified of what might come of our new and unexpected relationship, I was thrilled at the same time and wanted, for the first time, to be kissed by a man. I waited nervously beside him, twisting my long hair around my finger, for him to act on his yearning, and after a long, still silence he finally turned and faced me. I was ready for his lips to lower to mine, and I closed my eyes in anticipation.
_______________
Chapter Sixteen
Warren didn’t lean in and kiss me; instead, he stood and cleared his throat, then excused himself. “I need some fresh air.”
I was stunned, then embarrassed. I wanted to cry in humiliation. He was outside pacing the porch while I wondered how I could have misread him. I was so confused by my feelings towards Warren and the mixed signals he gave me. I had been immature once again, stupid, and had embarrassed myself to the point that I feared he wouldn’t even want to be in a room with me. He was probably angry at me the way Heath was on the last day we were together. I must have teased him in some way; I had made some advance that disgusted him. It wasn’t lady-like; I was everything Grandmother said Momma was.
I needed to forget what had happened, so I curled up in a ball and tried to go back to sleep. Warren’s face kept flashing before me then his face would turn into Heath’s. I took the pillow and covered my face, then silently cried myself to sleep.
Warren was not in the cabin when I woke, heavy-hearted, in the morning. I got out of bed with a nagging reminder of the night before. I hoped he would still want me to stay, and I prayed he wasn’t angry. There was a good chance Warren could forgive my un-lady-like advances; after all, he had refrained from kissing me. I could only hope.
He was neither in the cabin nor on the porch. I waited for a short while to see if he would return from the outhouse, when I noticed Grandmother and Hamilton coming up on horseback. I ran inside, locked the door, and backed into the corner.
Where was Warren? What was I going to do? Maybe the constable had already taken him away and they were here to get me. I stood motionless, praying they would go away. I listened closely as the horses stopped; my heart was beating so hard I swore it wo
uld lead them right to me. I bit my lip and trembled until Grandmother called out, “Your daddy has come for you, Lillian. You need to come to Sutton Hall. He is waiting there to take you home.”
Daddy had come for me, finally! Without thinking, purely elated, wanting to get to him as fast as possible, I ran outside, and to my horror, realized I had acted too soon. I stopped in my tracks, but it was too late. A man, the constable, grabbed me, covered my mouth, and took me to his horse.
“Let’s go,” Grandmother said. I was forcefully gagged and lifted onto the horse, and then we galloped away.
I turned to look back at the cabin, to see if Warren had witnessed what had just happened, and I caught a fleeting glimpse of him lying face down on the ground, in a pool of blood, behind the stack of wood. He was dead; they had killed him to take me back. My stomach twisted into a giant knot, and I fell limp.
It didn’t take long to reach Sutton Hall, where I was taken to my own personal cell and stripped naked, whipped, and beaten by my horrible grandmother.
“How dare you run off with him!” she hollered, and with the rawhide whip, lashed my blood-streaked back for the tenth time. “You are a vile tramp, an unholy creature!” she repeated, over and over, as my screams of pain turned into stifled moans.
“What did you do with him? Did you get in his bed? Did you allow him to put a child inside you?” she raged.
When I couldn’t answer, my throat closed up from sheer terror and pain, she knelt over me. I was face down and tied to the bedposts, but she grabbed hold of my hair and made me look into her dark, sinister eyes.
It was all I could do to muster the energy to say, “No.”
“I don’t believe you,” she hissed, then from her pocket she pulled out a pair of scissors and began to cut my waist-length, platinum blond hair. “This will keep any man from ever looking at you again.” Within minutes, my beautiful hair was scattered all over the bed. She flew out of the room and locked the door behind her. She hadn’t untied me, and I lay there, my nude body covered in blood, filled with so much pain and humiliation that I wished she had put the scissors through my heart and killed me. I would have been better off.
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