by Jody Hedlund
He reached a hand down to pat Wolfie’s head as the dog trotted alongside him. He’d left both dogs at the house to keep watch over the children. But of course the minute their mackinac docked, both dogs were at the wharf greeting him with lolling tongues and wagging tails.
“What happened to the window, young lass?” he asked, crossing the yard toward the back door. “Did we get in the way of migrating birds again?”
He yanked open the door that led through the woodshed, well stocked with enough chopped wood to see them through the winter, and was surprised at the mouth-watering aroma that greeted him. His surprise turned to shock when he stepped into the kitchen. Not only was the room spotless, but a pan of golden biscuits was cooling on the sideboard. A pot was cooking on the range, and a heavenly scent emanated from the oven.
He could only stare for an endless moment. Then the sound of a cheerful voice from the parlor drew him in farther. He crossed the kitchen and peeked through the door. His heart stopped at the sight of Ingrid and Gunnar snuggled up to Tessa on the sofa.
She was reading with a delightful animation that would have entertained even the most hard-hearted. Not only that, but she was breathtakingly beautiful with her hair hanging down in messy curls around her face. She usually wore her hair pulled back in a more severe fashion, as was befitting for a teacher, but the loose waves softened her expression.
He leaned against the doorframe, content to watch without their being aware of his presence. He couldn’t deny that from the moment he’d seen her walk off the steamer, he’d been smitten with her. And every time he saw her, he liked her even more.
Gunnar was the first to notice him. “Hi, Uncle Alex.”
At the boy’s greeting, Tessa came to an abrupt halt in her storytelling. Her startled gaze flew to him.
“Hey there, young fella.” He smiled at his nephew, next at Ingrid, then glued his attention back on Tessa.
Tessa extricated herself from the children and stood.
“Hi, beautiful. I see you’re here early for our tutoring.” He couldn’t take his eyes from her. “You couldn’t wait to be with me, could you?”
She tossed her wavy hair off her shoulder and gave him a withering glare. “Don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy.”
He grinned at her response. “Just admit it. You were dying to be with me this afternoon.”
“Actually, in the process of cleaning up bloody geese with broken necks, I’d completely forgotten.”
He pushed away from the door and leveled a look at Gunnar. “Don’t tell me you invited Miss Taylor over to do your dirty work.”
The boy shook his head. “No, sir. I didn’t mean for her to do it.” When his attention slid to Ingrid, Alex knew exactly what had happened. His niece had devised another excuse to make Tessa believe she was needed and then had convinced Gunnar to call on Tessa again. Of course, Gunnar could never say no to Ingrid, and Ingrid knew it all too well.
“Miss Taylor let me help her peel potatoes and carrots and make biscuits,” Ingrid said, sitting forward, her petite face alight with happiness. “And then we cleaned.”
He had to push down that painful pinch again, the one that told him Ingrid needed a woman’s influence. “I thought I smelled something tasty when I walked in.”
“That’s the goose,” Ingrid continued. “Miss Taylor is roasting one for dinner.”
Alex folded his arms across his chest. What would it be like to come home from fishing every day to find not only a tantalizing woman in his house but tantalizing food too?
“Now that you’re here,” she said, “I’ll head back home, gather the lesson plans, and meet you at the schoolhouse.”
“I regret to say I’ll have to cancel our session this afternoon again. Michael will need my help repairing the window before nightfall.” Did relief flit through her eyes? Was she glad she didn’t have to spend time with him? “Don’t be too relieved, Miss Taylor. I’ll be sure to make up for it next week. I’ll expect your attention all afternoon.”
He looked down the hallway that led to the staircase. He guessed Michael had already come in through the front door, ascended the tower, and was probably hard at work. He needed to go up and lend his brother a hand. But a few minutes’ delay with Tessa wouldn’t hurt, would it?
“Ingrid, Gunnar, go see if your father needs anything. Tell him I’ll be up soon to help him with the window.”
The two hurried to obey, Ingrid limping behind Gunnar. Tessa moved to the crate and tucked the book inside. While her back was turned, he strode over to her in three long steps.
When she straightened, he left her no choice but to bump into him. And of course he had to take hold of her arm and keep her from wobbling. At the contact, she sucked in a breath. The air between them was charged. For a long moment he felt an almost irresistible urge to pull her into his arms.
She stared at his fingers clasping her. “I . . . I need to go,” she whispered.
“You can’t leave yet.” He didn’t care that his voice was laced with desperation. “Please, Miss Taylor, join us for dinner.”
Slowly she pried her arm loose. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”
He wanted to tell her that she could never overstay her welcome, that he’d never get enough of her. But there was something skittish about her, and he sensed he’d only push her away all the more if he voiced his desire.
Halfway through the kitchen she turned and offered him a smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I gave Nadine a couple of the dead geese.”
“Of course not.”
“I couldn’t resist,” she said, her voice turning light. “You know how much I like her giblets. Now she’ll have plenty of feet and beaks and heaven knows what else to make the delicacy.”
Alex chuckled, relief loosening his taut muscles. With a last sassy smile, Tessa stepped through the woodshed to the back door. He knew at that moment he was falling helplessly in love with Tessa Taylor.
Chapter 11
Tessa rearranged the books on her desk for the hundredth time since she’d arrived at the schoolhouse, and she glanced at the door again.
The first day of November had brought a fresh dusting of snow that froze and covered the mud. The thermometer outside the school read twenty-four degrees, so that even after getting the stove roaring, the room was still cold enough that she could see the white cloud of her breath.
She’d come early because she had to confront Hannah about her conduct with Percival. She didn’t want to. But she had no choice, not when impressionable young girls like Josie might hear of the situation—if she hadn’t already.
The door opened, and Tessa took a deep breath of the woodsmoke that hung heavy in the air before turning to face her helper. Instead of Hannah, there stood Michael Bjorklund. He stomped the snow from his boots and unwound a knitted scarf from his neck.
“Good morning.” He looked around, his face relaxing at the sight of the deserted classroom.
“Why, Michael,” she said, “what brings you out this morning?” Had he decided to walk the children to school instead of Alex? She glanced behind him, expecting to see Ingrid and Gunnar following him inside.
“It’s just me,” he said quickly, stepping farther into the room.
Outside, the sun had risen, though it remained hidden behind a thick layer of dark-gray clouds. He’d obviously already turned off the Fresnel lens, but surely he had other morning duties that demanded his attention, such as washing the glass, trimming the wick, replacing the oil, and all the other preparations to get the lantern ready for the next evening.
“Did you get the window repaired?” she asked, thinking back on the incident yesterday, unable to keep her mind from drifting to the moment Alex had arrived home. Every time she was with him, there was a spark between them that never failed to light a fire in her. She’d resolved that she had to keep her distance from the man.
“We have canvas nailed over the opening,” Michael said. “Hopefully we can get a piece of glass to put i
n before it’s too late.”
She nodded. “I don’t suppose a tender crew will come this late in the season?”
He shook his head. “Probably not.”
“It’s too bad the broken window is on the north side. I hope it won’t interfere too much with the beam from the perspective of the bay.”
“True.” He cocked his head and studied her. “How is it that you know so much about lighthouses?”
She wished she knew nothing about them, yet she held back her rude comment. “My dad was a keeper. I spent my whole life in lighthouses.”
“Where’s your father a wickie now?” he asked, using the nickname that many people called lightkeepers because of the work they did trimming the wicks.
“He drowned in a boating accident.”
“I’m sorry,” Michael said. “I shouldn’t have asked—”
“I don’t mind,” she replied. It had been over five years ago and it wasn’t as painful to talk about anymore. “He was rowing our doctor back to Detroit when a storm whipped up the waves and capsized his boat. Both he and the doctor were swallowed up by the lake within a few minutes. My siblings and I had to watch helplessly from the shore. There was nothing we could do to save them.”
“That must have been awful,” he said softly.
“It was.” She was struck by the similarity of the two brothers with each one having blond hair and blue eyes, and yet they were distinct in their build: Alex’s bulky muscles in contrast to Michael’s thinner, more angular lines. Still, there was no doubt that Michael was a handsome man.
He shifted his feet, and an awkward silence settled between them. She was tempted to fill it with her usual teasing chatter the way she did with Alex. But after seeing the differences between the bothers’ personalities, she realized she needed to be patient with Michael. He was more deliberate and serious and would share his thoughts in his own timing.
He brought his hands out from behind his back, and for the first time she noticed that he’d been carrying something. He held out a pair of sleek-looking snowshoes. “I want you to have these.”
In the lantern light, the hardwood gleamed. The rawhide lacings were clean and new and tight. They appeared to be the right size for her feet.
“They’re beautiful,” she said.
“I made them.” A shadow of sadness fell over his features.
Somehow she sensed that the snowshoes held value for him. “I couldn’t possibly take them.”
“I don’t need them anymore.” He held the snowshoes out. “They’re just hanging in the shed collecting dust.”
Who had he made them for? His wife? The question was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit it back.
“Besides, since the geese are all in a hurry to fly south, I’m sure we’ll have several inches of snow by dawn tomorrow.”
“Several inches?”
He nodded at the snowshoes. “You’ll need these to get around.”
“They’re much too nice for me to accept as a gift.”
He placed them on the bench closest to the door. “I’d like you to have them.” Something in his tone told her he wouldn’t take no for an answer.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. If she accepted the gift, would he think there was more between them than friendship? She certainly didn’t want to lead him to believe there was. “If I haven’t told you yet, I want you to know how much I appreciate your friendship.”
His smile faltered, and he looked as if he wanted to say more when the door opened again. This time a young woman bustled in with her son trailing behind. It was Hannah. At the sight of Michael, the woman stopped short. And when her gaze swung to Tessa, she visibly blanched and lowered her eyes.
“I best be going,” Michael said, flushing again, no doubt embarrassed to have been caught talking with her alone.
Tessa could barely manage a good-bye to Michael, for her mind was preoccupied by the remembrance of the blanket sliding off Hannah’s bare shoulder and her face ashen with guilt. After the door closed behind Michael, Tessa shifted her attention to Hannah’s young son, Jeremiah, who was in the process of taking off his coat.
“Good morning, Hannah,” Tessa said. “And good morning, Jeremiah. How would you like to be in charge of bringing in some extra firewood this morning? I have a feeling we’re in for a very cold day.”
The boy, about Gunnar’s age, nodded and pulled back on his coat. Once he’d gone outside, Tessa faced Hannah squarely.
Before she could speak, Hannah’s lips began trembling. “Please,” she whispered hoarsely, dropping her chin and staring at the floor. “Please don’t say anything to my son. He doesn’t know.”
“I won’t,” Tessa reassured. “But, Hannah, I think we both know that your conduct is completely inappropriate. As a teacher’s helper, you’re supposed to model godly behavior for our young charges.”
“I know . . .” The anguished admission was barely a whisper.
Tessa wanted to be angry, but she couldn’t muster any emotion but pity. “I don’t think you should help anymore, do you?”
Hannah’s head shot up, and a new desperation rippled over her pretty features. “I can’t stop. Mr. Updegraff warned me I had to continue working at the school.”
Tessa frowned. “Why does he care?”
“He told me I have to report to him everything you’re doing.”
Percival Updegraff was spying on her? And Hannah was helping him? First astonishment, then anger rose within her. “I’m sorry, Hannah. I can’t allow you in my classroom any longer.”
“Please don’t make me stop.” She reached for Tessa’s hands. Cold fingers gripped Tessa’s. “If I don’t do what he says, he’ll fire my husband.”
The agony in Hannah’s eyes stopped Tessa’s tirade. Something deeper was happening in this community. She’d known Percival was controlling, but surely he couldn’t have quite so much sway. “So he makes you come to the schoolhouse every day?”
She nodded. “But I like helping the kiddies. I really do.”
“What else does he make you do?” Tessa asked hesitantly, not sure if she wanted to know the answer.
Hannah let go of Tessa’s hands and then twisted her skirt. The embarrassment on her face and the silence spoke more than any words could.
Revulsion swirled in the pit of Tessa’s stomach. She nudged the closest bench to straighten it and fidgeted with the bench across from it. “Does he force himself on you?”
For a long moment Hannah didn’t say anything. The only sound was the popping of the wood in the stove. Finally she said, “If I don’t do what he wants, he’ll not only fire my husband but he’ll make sure Mr. Nance never gets another mining job.”
Tessa swallowed hard, pushing down the rising indignation. “I’m sure your husband can find another job somewhere else.”
Hannah shook her head. “Not in any mine around here. Most of them are struggling with production. They aren’t hiring on anyone new.”
“Couldn’t he do something besides mining?”
“That’s all he’s ever done. It’s the only thing he knows how to do.”
This was exactly why the miners of Eagle Harbor needed an education. They were stuck in their jobs and poverty with no way out, and their ignorance was making them captive to men like Percival Updegraff.
“Surely your husband won’t stand for Percival using you like this.” If Mr. Nance loved his wife, how could he allow Percival to take advantage of her in such a perverse way?
“I’m not sure if he knows yet,” she whispered. “Even if he did, there’s nothing he can do. The last man who told Mr. Updegraff to keep his hands off his wife ended up dead in shaft number three.”
“Percival murdered someone?”
“The man was crushed by falling rock. There’s no way to prove that Mr. Updegraff was involved, but everyone knows what happened. Mr. Updegraff made sure of that.”
Tessa stifled a shudder. Apparently Mr. Updegraff was more dangerous than she’d realized.
“Please don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, especially Jeremiah,” she begged again.
“I promise I won’t.”
“You can’t talk about it with anyone or Mr. Updegraff will find out.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep it to myself.” Tessa reached for Hannah and drew her into a hug before the woman could protest. “And forget I ever said anything about leaving your job. You have it as long as you need it.”
Hannah sagged against her. A sob escaped before the woman could prevent it.
Tessa squeezed her hard. “We’ll find a way out of this. I promise.”
As the door opened, Hannah wrenched free, wiped at her cheeks, and then plastered a smile on her face. Tessa could see now that the smile was hollow, that the woman was slowly dying on the inside.
Tessa’s chest expanded with a painful lurch. She’d been too quick to judge Hannah, just as so many people had been quick to judge her. Hannah was already punishing herself enough, and she didn’t need anyone else adding to her misery.
Chapter 12
Alex blew bubbles into two-year-old Jimmy Rawlings’s belly. The boy’s burst of laughter warmed his heart. He reached for four-year-old Johnny Rawlings standing behind him on the sofa and grabbed him into a headlock, gently flipping him onto the sofa. Then Alex bent and blew bubbles into Johnny’s belly, earning a chorus of giggles from him too.
“Time to get started with our tutoring session, Mr. Bjorklund,” Tessa said, standing above him, her fists bunched on her hips.
“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to meet here,” he said as he tickled Jimmy. The boy darted to the other side of the front room, where the older boys were sprawled on the floor engaged in a game of marbles. Jimmy skidded into their game and sent the marbles rolling in every direction, earning a chorus of Cornish curses from his brothers.