“Heath.”
“What about him?” he said with subtle annoyance.
“Someone has to look after him. He is very sick. If you weren’t always so wrapped up with your duties . . .”
“I’ve been over that with you already. Hazel told me about Heath. He’s in good hands. She and the other girls are taking good care of him. I don’t want to argue again,” he said softly. He pulled me back to him. “I love you.”
I gulped hard, knowing he was going to be angry with me when I rejected his invitation.
“I can’t go with you now. I promised Heath I would look after him,” I uneasily confessed, refusing to meet his eyes.
Ayden abruptly dropped his hands to his side and backed up against the door. “I see.” He had his arms folded across his chest and his dark blue eyes narrowed suspiciously down onto me.
“Don’t you want him to get better?” I asked.
“Of course I do!” he snapped back.
“He wasn’t taking his medicine or eating the soup Hazel offered!”
“And he will for you, of course,” Ayden said with such bitterness it caused the hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end.
“I’m just helping. He is your brother after all.”
Ayden and I stood uncomfortably silent; then he broke his penetrating stare by placing his cap over his freshly groomed hair. He strode briskly past me, leaving me standing alone in the hallway.
I tried not to submit to my fear of Ayden‘s disapproval and continued to seek out a few books for Heath to enjoy while he recovered. One book I came across was Mark Twain’s novel, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. It had been in my extensive pile of books since I was little, yet I’d never got around to reading it.
I knew I wasn’t doing anything wrong and resented Ayden for making me feel otherwise. He should have been grateful I cared to tend to his own brother, that we were family. Instead, he selfishly begrudged my kindhearted deed.
With some difficulty, I put my trepidation aside and hurried back to Heath. When I walked in, I instantly felt welcomed. It was a much different feeling being with Heath.
“You’re awake,” I commented. He even looked a little better. Now he had some color back in his hollow cheeks. “Is there anything you need before I get started? Hungry, thirsty?”
“No, I’m fine. I wasn’t sure you would come back,” he said, seemingly relieved.
“What makes you say that?” I asked, as I opened the book to the first page.
“Sylvia stopped in.”
My head lifted. “What did she want?”
“She said Ayden was going to take you away on a honeymoon,” he said softly.
My stomach began to flutter. Just the mention of Sylvia gave me a headache. She had only come by to see Heath in order to start trouble.
“He did ask me, but when I told him I was taking care of you, he agreed to take leave at another time.” I refused to look at him when I said this. I couldn’t let him see how upset I was over what happened between Ayden and me.
“You should go. He is your husband.” Heath said this with little eagerness.
“Perhaps if you would have been a good patient, I could have,” I replied disdainfully, then began reading.
“What if I promise to behave, to take my medicine, and eat my soup?” Heath interrupted, taking much time to make a complete sentence between coughing spells.
“Don’t interrupt me, Heath,” I ordered, without lifting my eyes from the book.
“So stubborn,” he mumbled.
I read aloud to Heath that late morning until he grew tired and fell into a deep sleep. I slipped out for a short while to assist Hazel with the supper preparations. Most of the children were at school, and though Sylvia was left to help with the baby, she was nowhere to be found. Willard was attached to Hazel’s hip when I came in.
“Would you take him for me? I have been screaming for Sylvia for the past half hour. I’m rethinking school for her. What‘s the point of keeping her from school when she isn‘t learning a thing about working a lighthouse or lifting a finger to help me, for that matter,” she said in a dither.
I took hold of Willard, who clasped onto me with his chubby, soft, baby hands. He was cute - looked very much like Mary.
“He needs a nap,” Hazel informed me when I was uncertain what to do with him.
“All right, then. Let’s go upstairs and go night-night,” I said in a light, sweet voice, which made him smile.
“Here, take his bottle,” she said, while liberally sprinkling salt into her stew. “Beside his cradle on the table is a bottle of rum. Put some on the nipple, then on his gums. If you forget, he won’t get to sleep. He‘s been teething for the past two weeks.”
I didn’t recall Opal using rum to help baby Elizabeth go to sleep.
Willard tugged on the strands of my loose hair as I carried him upstairs. He was surprisingly heavy, and I was relieved when I placed him on the pile of blankets in his cradle.
“Now your ma says you need a little rum.” I turned to reach for the bottle, and as I lifted it, I realized it was empty. So I gave Willard his bottle and laid him back, then searched the room for a new bottle.
I had only been up in the room once before, and this time it was even messier. I had to maneuver around piles of dirty clothes, mattresses, toys, and such. I looked for a liquor bottle. As I scanned the room, for some reason, I was drawn to Sylvia’s mattress that she shared with Polly.
I had noticed just a hint of the beautiful chestnut brown hair and the tiny porcelain hand and pulled Jane out. To my disbelief and horror, her hair had been chopped up! The doll was left nearly bald. Only one thick strand remained. Her dark glass eyes had been smashed, and torn out; there was nothing left but hollow, empty sockets. Her ivory face was painted with streaks of a wine-colored lipstick making her appear clown-like. Next to the doll under Sylvia’s pillow was the full bottle of rum I was searching for. My blood boiled. My beautiful doll that resembled my young mother had been deliberately destroyed!
I remained calm enough to see Willard to sleep. The alcohol took effect quickly and I stood over him and watched him drift off, clinging to his bottle. He appeared so peaceful, his breathing calm and effortless. I wished I could have such luxury. That baby didn’t have a care in the world. He didn’t know what kind of monster his oldest sister was. Willard had nothing to fear. He wasn’t plagued with tribulations, overwhelmed by grown-up responsibilities, burdened with horrors of a reprehensible past and present day turmoil. I envied the baby to the point where I was nearly jealous. Anger overtook me and filled every part of my being. Visions of choking Sylvia came to mind, followed by thoughts of pushing her off the highest point of the island and watching her fall helplessly into the sea.
I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and instantly snapped back into reality. In just a second, I had the doll placed back in the exact same spot - hidden under the pillow - and passed over the dozens of obstacles get to the small closet to hide. I crouched inside, leaving the door just a crack open so that I could see whoever came in without being undetected.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-Five
Past undone
Sylvia quietly stole in. She stopped by the cradle first, peering in almost lovingly as she covered the baby with the blanket draped over the side.
“There, sweet baby. It’s the only time you are sweet,” she crooned, and then went to the mirror to look herself over. She gazed at herself adoringly, then picked up a brush and began long strokes to her waist-length hair.
I stayed still, only taking subtle breaths when necessary. I needed to get back to Heath, but I was trapped in the bedroom and relished the opportunity to finally obtain the upper hand. She was unaware she was being watched. Though she had locked the door from the inside with the key she kept tucked away in a dresser drawer, she didn’t have the privacy and secrecy she desired.
From the pocket of her dress, she pulled out my bottle of perfume and liberally
applied the sweet scent to her neck, then gently trailed the liquid down her bosom with her finger, with eyes closed and an evil, crooked smile masking her youthful face.
“Now Ayden will desire me,” she whispered aloud. “I see how he looks at me, how his eyes linger on my breasts, how he pretends to accidentally brush up against me. I feel his yearning.”
Sylvia was consumed in some kind of trance. Her eyes fluttered madly under her lids as her hands moved freely over her body, and she breathlessly called out Ayden’s name repeatedly until she finished. Then Sylvia fell onto the bed and went into a childish, uncontrollable giggle.
It took all the self-control I could muster to stay hidden until she decided she was done being a sinful, vile girl - everything my grandmother believed I was. Flashbacks to the words Eugenia Arrington spewed at me, filled with venom and hatred. She accused me of doing such wicked acts. I cringed at the memories and struggled to contain my emotions.
When Sylvia finally left, I made my quick exit. I wanted to confront her, reprimand her for stealing my things, and accuse her in front of everyone of destroying my beloved doll, and most of all of being a lustful, licentious whore who was after my own husband. Nonetheless, I had my priorities. I needed to get back to Heath, to care for him just the way I’d promised.
Heath was awake when I came in, and as if my emotions were sewn onto my sleeve, he asked me what was wrong.
“You need to stop worrying about me,” I said lamely as I dipped the cloth into the bowl, then placed it on his warm head.
“I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me,” he murmured while gazing up at me.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, ready to bring him more soup.
“A little,” he said. He allowed me to help prop him up a bit.
“Good,” I replied through my frozen smile. I was so upset that the minute his expression went serious and disturbed, I excused myself before he noticed my tears. “I will be right back with your soup.”
The island was bustling with activity the minute the children stepped out of the rowboats from school. James, Jr. was a dedicated young man, and reminded me so much of Heath at that age. He took to his chores, and then got straight to his homework and studies. I admired him from afar, as my fondness ran deep. Sometimes, when he walked across the island heading toward the oil house or barn, I would envision him as Heath. Then reality would come flooding back, especially when Sylvia would appear.
This evening she was giddy and extra flirtatious with Ayden as she sat beside him at the table. I came in, only modestly glancing their way. I wasn’t hungry and planned only to go in and dish some soup. Ayden’s eyes followed my every move, waiting for the perfect opportunity to make me jealous, and when I came through the dining room, he swung those penetrating midnight blue eyes onto Sylvia, and then moved his chair close beside hers. No one seemed to notice how close they sat and how Ayden obviously went out of his way to act shamefully and make me jealous. “Sylvia, would you mind passing me the biscuits?” he asked with a devilish smile, knowing she would have to lean over him to do so.
Because there was always so much commotion at supper time - whiney children, sickly Lizzy who would hurl at any given moment, Owen and Oliver pushing each other to get to the food first - it didn’t surprise me that Ayden wasn’t caught flirting with the Coopers’ pretty daughter.
Instead of giving in to Ayden’s immature behavior, I held my head high, turned my back, and went on my way without giving him another glance, though inside I hurt terribly. I was losing Ayden to Sylvia. She gave him the undivided attention he’d always desired. She was a stunning girl, with curves even most grown women didn’t possess, in all the right places.
A part of me hated Ayden for flirting with her and resented him for allowing himself to be captivated by her beauty; the other part of me wanted to deny that it was happening. Sylvia hated me, and what I wanted to do most was get away from all the hostility, to the place where I found my serenity - with Heath. And if there was any consolation prize in it for me, it was my undivided time with his brother that made Ayden crazy jealous.
The situation began to escalate as the weeks went on, with no storms or fog to keep Ayden locked in his tower for days on end, which would have distracted him from his problems. While he was working around the island, I felt him watch me as I made my way to Heath’s quarters, where I spent almost every waking hour.
It was almost bittersweet to watch Heath recover, grow stronger, and fill out as he regained his appetite, because I knew he wouldn’t need me anymore. I began to crave his time and attention and enjoyed our talks and recollections of earlier days on the island. The book, Tom Sawyer, inspired fond memories of our childhood antics. I caught onto Heath’s laughter when he spoke of Halloween night and the mischief we’d created.
“I remember how we opened the gate to Mr. Powell’s farm and let the cows loose, only to find out from your father the next morning that it was one of our own cows we had let go,” I giggled, thinking back.
“My father kept remarkably calm, given the situation,” Heath said with a light chuckle.
“I was glad everything turned out fine in the end, and the cow made it to the island. It was wonderful having fresh milk with supper.”
“Everything always works out in the end,” he said sleepily, yawning through his smile. He rested his hand over mine as he drifted into a light afternoon nap.
I did go to the mainland to retrieve the mail, and when I returned, I sat and read him inspirational letters from Elizabeth and his parents, though he was still unaware of the sporadic letters addressed to him that I had secretly placed under my mattress. I had moved the pile of letters from my dresser, far from Sylvia’s snooping eyes. I was well aware that she came into my room when I was with Heath, and I managed to hide all my most precious belongings under Heath’s bed when he was sleeping.
By Sunday, Heath was out of bed, the natural rosy color had returned to his handsome face, and the dreadful coughing had greatly subsided. He was clean and freshly shaven, no longer possessing a thick, bushy blond moustache. He insisted we walk outside in the fresh, brisk autumn air. Heath had something important to tell me, he continued to say, but I always insisted he wait until he was well.
“Don’t weigh yourself down with anything that has to do with me,” I repeated each time he would look at me with his worried stare. “When you get better, then you can reveal anything you feel I need to know.”
When I said this, I believed Heath was about to confess his love for me. Not as a brother-in-law or as a friend, but the way a man loves a woman, the same way Daddy felt for Momma. I saw it in his eyes. I felt it when we were near to one another, and I sensed it when I was far away. However, I was not embracing the idea that Heath loved me the way I had always dreamed. In fact, I feared the moment he would give his confession, and I put it off as long as I could. What would I do with that information? I asked myself each night as I tried to fall asleep. I loved Ayden; I truly did. I wasn’t ready to give up on my vows, yet I could never love him the way I loved Heath. And it didn’t help the way he was treating me - the way he habitually flirted with Sylvia and allowed her to follow him just about everywhere. The more I resisted Ayden, the more he gave his attention to her. Little did Ayden realize that Hazel had become all too aware, and with great discretion, so as not to humiliate Ayden or me, convinced James that Sylvia needed to go to school. It was her way of discreetly solving the pressing problem.
“Sylvia isn’t learning a thing here at the station. She sleeps all hours and is never near when I call. She pretends to be interested in learning the duties of a keeper.” I overheard her tell James that same morning. They were in the kitchen, and I stood outside the window listening carefully. I knew how much was riding on Sylvia’s going to school. She would be away from Ayden all day and banned from spending any more time in the watchtower with him.
“Sylvia is interested. Why do you think she spends so much time up there?” he asked, appare
ntly clueless and unaware of Sylvia’s infatuation with my husband. “What exactly are you saying, Hazel?”
There was a short pause between them, and then Hazel sounded as if she were becoming irritated with James’ resistance to the idea. “She is going to school, starting tomorrow.”
“Whatever you say, dear. You know best when it comes to the children.”
With one burden lifted from my shoulders, I gazed up at Heath, who was staring intently out into the vast expanse of churning sea. He was obviously contemplating how to reveal what had plagued him for such a great while. I’d held off a confession long enough. I gulped hard, finally ready to allow his words of love to sound in my ears. I had put my fears aside and decided to relish the moment - the one I had waited what seemed a lifetime for.
Indeed, I was married to Ayden - Heath’s brother - and thus was unobtainable, but my heart soared just to think Heath had finally let his guard down, opened his eyes, and really seen me for the first time. No longer did Heath see me as a sensitive little girl, I believed, or a grown woman who had, unfortunately, ended up on the wrong side of the tracks. I believed that I had finally stolen in and melted his heart, and that he embraced not only my outer beauty, but also my inner radiance.
“Lillian,” Heath began tentatively, with an outwardly heavy heart and deep emotion. His eyes locked onto mine as we stood before one another with the chilly ocean wind whipping through our hair. Nothing and no one mattered at that moment. I was swept away in my own foolish belief that Heath could love me, and that I could love him, yet remain true to Ayden and to my wedding vows.
“Yes, Heath?” I said wistfully and took hold of his gloved hands. My heart was racing with excitement as I waited on edge to hear him say to me, “I love you, Lillian.”
Box Set: The ArringtonTrilogy Page 85