Judith had noticed me scanning her attire and drank in my envy. She stuck her pudgy nose in the air and gave me a sly smirk. Her protruding round eyes were dark brown, and her hair was coarse, like horse hair, and fiery red.
I paid close attention to their relationship, and right from the beginning, I could see Richard was more like her servant than her husband. When she spoke, he sat at full attention, however I could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. Judith didn’t seem to notice.
“When we arrive in New York, I wish to travel out to the estate immediately,” she said, bringing out a powder compact to dab the shine from her nose.
“Yes, dear,” Richard said, winking at me.
“I’m hungry, Richard. Take me to the dining car,” she whined. Richard lifted her from her seat and led her out of the private car.
When they were gone, I pulled the newspaper from under my seat, glanced at it one last time, then pulled up the seat cushion and slid it underneath. Richard quickly returned and sat back down. “I brought you back a piece of cornpone. If you want a full breakfast, you can go in and place your order.”
Richard was different from the man I met when he was alone. His wife brought out a more subdued and passive side. There wasn’t the sparkle in his eye that he had when he sketched.
“I want to thank you again, Richard,” I said.
He had been looking over his shoulder, almost afraid she would reject her morning feast. “What? Oh, sure, Lillian. I’m happy to help.”
Richard put a warm smile on his face when he realized Judith wasn’t coming back anytime soon, then sat back, stretched his long legs and said, “Don’t forget, you have the power to make all things possible.”
“I don’t know about that. I’m just glad I met you and you convinced me to be a model for a day. That was my ticket home, then and there.”
“So,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest. “Where exactly do you live?”
“On a lighthouse station. My daddy is waiting there for me. There is also a second keeper and his family.”
Richard gazed at me, skeptical. But it was the truth—well, except for Daddy waiting for me.
“I see. It is unfortunate.”
“What is?”
“You keeping your beauty hidden away on a desolate lighthouse station off the chilly coast of Maine.”
“Well, that’s where my family is,” I replied.
“And what became of that friend of yours you were staying with?” Richard asked as his copper eyes went dark and narrow. I refused to let him see the pain and anguish that haunted me, so I smiled and said, “He has his life, I have mine. He said he would come and visit next summer.”
“And your daddy—things are now better?”
Richard had obviously remembered everything I told him with great accuracy.
“Yes, thank you for asking.” I confidently smiled, then realized I was nervously twisting my hair around my fingers. Richard turned to stare out the window, then said without turning back, “The man who was killed yesterday, was that your friend?”
He must have heard a small cry escape my lips, for he sharply swung his head and locked his eyes to mine. I bit my lower lip and didn’t say anything. My heart raced, and I feared he would make me get off at the next stop, abandoning me for being involved in such a terrible incident. But his eyes softened and he reached out to touch my trembling hand.
“Remember, I’m here to help. I’m your friend.”
I eased my hand out from under his, fighting back the tears that were building up under my lids.
Richard cleared his throat, and in a hushed voice said, “I don’t think it would be wise for you to return home just yet.”
I wiped away the tear that escaped the corner of my eye then asked, “Why not?”
“They will be looking for you. No crime, Lillian, goes unpunished.”
“There was no crime,” I cried. My voice had tightened, and I was unable to keep from sobbing.
“I believe, without a doubt, that you have done no wrong. I saw the way he was—” He leaned over so no one would hear him. “I’m certain he did some terrible things to you. He no doubt deserved to be trampled.”
I closed my eyes and took a long breath. Once again, the dark, stormy clouds that always lingered nearby were closing in, leaving my journey to the light on the edge and out of reach.
“What do you suggest I do?” I asked, my eyes closed.
Richard paused, and I listened as he took long, effortless breaths. I waited, wondering what he was thinking then opened my eyes and looked at him. He sat confident and assured, the man with the sketchbook who believed all things were possible.
“Come with us to New York. Let me introduce you around. I have connections. I can make you famous.”
Richard sounded confident, but it didn’t sound good to me at all.
“I think I will take my chances and return to Jasper Island. I have no intentions of being famous. That’s not a life that appeals to me.”
Richard wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Then perhaps it would be wise if you spent a few days with us, just to let things simmer down. You need to lay low until the storm passes. Then you can make your way up to Maine. What do you say?”
I thought about it for a moment. Richard made sense. Maybe he was right; let the storm pass, wait it out. I had learned from my years on lighthouse stations to be wary of storms and to avoid them at all costs; otherwise, you were likely to be torn up, broken, and pulled to the far depths of the unforgiving sea.
“I suppose a few days couldn’t hurt,” I said, resigned.
“Good, very good. Judith wants to return to the estate and you and I will remain in the city. After a few days, I will put you on the train, and off to Maine you shall go.” Richard was satisfied, but he hadn’t broken the news to Judith.
“You won’t tell your wife about—”
He stopped me by leaning in and putting his long finger over my lips. “This is between you and me. This is our secret. Let me do all the talking.”
Another secret. That part I worried about. Secrets were no good; they only led to more problems, sometimes even horrible tragedies.
Judith returned to the car. Richard stood at attention and waited to assist her to her seat. When she turned to sit, Richard smiled and winked, then sat back down next to her. Judith gave me a quick scowl then closed her eyes and said, “I’m ready for a nap.”
Within only a few minutes, she was resting her head on Richard’s shoulder and snoring loudly. I giggled, and Richard rolled his eyes in displeasure then whispered, “She snores like a pig.”
I nodded, and I sat back, relaxed, and found my hand pressing against the small book hidden in my skirt pocket. Then I remembered Hattie and what she told me. This was Momma’s book, her thoughts and words from when she was a girl. There were stories and secrets and forbidden love captured on every page of paper, and I had it in my possession. I carefully pulled out the journal and held it in my hands for a while. Richard had closed his eyes and leaned his head against Judith’s, dozing lightly.
I looked down into my lap and slowly opened the frail book. My eyes fell onto the first discolored page, and I hesitated, my fingers trembling as they held the tattered book open, and I apprehensively began to read Momma’s wistful words that were filled with all things disgraceful and wholeheartedly beautiful.
# # #
*The Arrington saga continues with All That is Beautiful (book II)*
It is the year 1878, and at last, Lillian, now a young woman, is free from the prison called Sutton Hall and the evil grandmother who ruled. After years locked away far from her beloved lighthouse on Jasper Island, she finds her only escape through sheer luck and the generosity of one man, Richard Parker, an aspiring commercial illustrator. Though Lillian is shamed by the sins of her parents and the unspeakable act committed by Warren Stone, she entrusts her life to the charismatic, though married, Richard, until it is safe to return home. However life, as unpredic
table as the sea, has other plans for Lillian. Not long after leaving, she is caught up in an adult world of money, greed, drugs, and sinful pleasures, turning her life upside down once again. It is only when Lillian discovers the shocking truth to Richard's cruel years of deception that she finally returns to her lighthouse, desperate to recapture her lost years, and most of all, lost love. But fate has one more devastating surprise in store, leaving Lillian with incomprehensible choices, and ultimately, tearing her beautiful new world apart.
All That is Beautiful (book II)
Roxane Tepfer Sanford
Copyright © 2010 Roxane Tepfer Sanford
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from both the copyright owner and the publisher.
All That is Beautiful is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Printed in The United States
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010906355
ISBN: 978-1468128376
Books by Roxane Tepfer Sanford
The Arrington series
The Girl in the Lighthouse
All That is Beautiful
Sacred Intentions
* * *
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty- Two
Chapter Twenty- Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
* * *
Acknowledgments
Huge thanks to my immediate family and friends for all the support I’ve received over the past year. Your overwhelming enthusiasm has encouraged me to forge ahead, dismiss my scores of doubts, and make this book a reality.
To my children, especially, for your patience and understanding all the hours I remain locked away in my “office” and in front of the computer.
To Aunt Kathleen Sanford, for your unconditional love and support for our family, as no other.
Randi, my lifelong one and only. Thank you for always believing in me.
And for Michael, in the midst of all the madness, I truly do appreciate all your patience and endless love.
* * *
Prologue
Trust is something long ago I took for granted; but trust is now a word foreign to me. From my humble beginnings, I had all the trust in the world. I had my parents, who were devoted to me and protected me from all the evils of the world, or so I believed. I was as innocent as a baby bird, safe and secure in her isolated nest, cared for and nurtured until it was my time to fly away and soar, to become independent and self-sufficient, on my own, to make a brand new life for myself. Back then, I had dreams of my future, and they were simple, sweet dreams. Dreams of everlasting love with the handsome boy who had captured my heart from the moment we met. Momma taught me early on about love. She knew what true love was. She and Daddy shared a special love. It was a love as predictable as the sunrise to each new day.
Along with my dreams of love, there were dreams of new discoveries in places far from our lighthouse station . . . places across the very sea that I sat and stared out onto nearly every day of my childhood. The possibilities seemed endless at the time; the world was mine to make of what I wished. Moreover, if I did not know it of my own accord, my daddy told me so. I trusted my daddy and his words of wisdom, as there was never any reason not to. Not until one fateful day, when I was thirteen years old. That was the day I lost all my trust in everything. That was the day that changed the way I would see life forever.
Faith, meaning belief. I endlessly questioned my faith in what was left of my future. I imagined my future bleak, deeply meaningless, and plagued with even more despair. After all, it was what I had come to know. How could I have any faith left after all that has become of me? I repeatedly asked myself. I was betrayed, taken advantage of, abandoned, beaten, and left for dead by those who should have held nothing but unconditional love for me. How many times can one shatter before completely breaking apart? I wondered with such a pain in my wounded heart, a deep pain that never seemed to ease.
Now, I was not about to feel sorry for myself or have anyone pity me. After all I had endured, I’d become stronger and wiser, although left with scars that would never completely heal, scars that were bitter reminders never to forget where I had come from, who had left me there, and where I needed to go.
Returning to my beloved lighthouse was my number one priority. I would reach in and find what little faith remained, that tiny little ounce of it protectively stored somewhere deep down in my soul, just to bring me back to the only place I would ever feel whole again - the place where I was pure and innocent, the nest that had protected me from all the evils of the cruel world. Now all that remained of the past long ago were dark shadows that seemed to follow me everywhere . . . calling for my return.
Reluctantly, left with little choice, I put all that fragile faith in one man. Richard Parker was the man to whom I gave what was left of me, believing he was my only hope. I prayed to God, if he would only hear my prayers, that Richard would be my savior, the man who would shine light on the shadows of my life and lead me home.
What a naïve girl I was.
* * *
Chapter One
A long and painful fight
I rubbed my tired eyes as I was nudged awake. Richard stood over me as passengers all around were pushing by, trying to get off the stuffy train as quickly as possible. "We finally made it,” he happily announced, and then he took hold of my arm and assisted me up. Judith waited for me to hurry and threw me her customary look of displeasure.
Richard eased me into the line and we all proceeded off the train. The station was bustling and chaotic, but Richard and Judith knew just where to go. I quickly followed along, still groggy from my long afternoon nap, realizing the two of them were not slowing down for my sake. It was then, in a panic, I realized I had left Momma's journal on the train. "I have to go back," I cried, grabbing hold of Richard's coat.
He stopped, swung around, then hastily asked, "Why, Lillian?"
"My book. I forgot it!"
Up ahead, Judith climbed into the carriage with the assistance of her driver. When she realized Richard was not right behind, her face turned as red as a ripe tomato.
Richard patted me on the head and smiled. "Come, we must be on our way." Richard then moved toward the carriage, but I pivoted around and darted back to the train.
"Come now, Richard," I heard Judith command. I didn't turn to see what he would do next. The conductor who walked the platform refused to allow me back on without a ticket.
"I forgot something. I will retrieve it and get right off. Please! “I cried, pushing my way past him.
"Listen, little lady, without a ticket, you can't board the train," he barked, nudging me back. Tears began to stream down my face, blurring m
y vision. Richard came up behind me, moved me aside, had a brief word with the conductor, then boarded the train. Within a minute, he had Momma's journal safely in my hands.
"Can we go now?" he asked in an exhausted tone.
"I'm sorry, it's just . . ."
"Judith had the carriage go on without us. I have another one waiting. Now come," he said, and this time he took my hand and led me straight to the carriage. Richard leaned his head back against the seat and took a long breath, then turned to me. I was still crying. "There, there now..." he said, in the calm, self-assured voice I was used to when he wasn't with his wife. As soon as we get to the house and get settled in, you will feel better."
I wasn't sure if I would ever feel better. How could I, after all the pain and anguish, lies and betrayals that made up my entire existence? I was now left to pick up the pieces of my shattered world, try to lift my head high from the disgraceful mistakes of my ancestors, and go on. Somehow, I had to find a way to become whole again and get on with my life.
Looking at Richard, the man who was giving me a real second chance, made me feel almost at ease. Once again, there was a man to take me in under his wing. He couldn't be anything like Warren, my real father, I told myself. Richard, I wanted to believe, was different, and although I was leery and guarded, I attempted to trust that he wasn't going to take advantage of me. What choice did I have? He wasn't a man from my family’s dark, shady past, lurking around, waiting to capture me as if I was his prey. Richard and his wife were a safe haven for me, just as a lighthouse was for a ship in peril.
Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy Page 58