by Jody Hedlund
“Well, hello there, beautiful,” he said, his lips curving into a half-cocked grin. The blue of his eyes sparked, but not with his usual mirth. Instead the sparks were sharp, remnants of his anger from his fight with Michael.
“You’re both ridiculous,” she said hotly. “I can’t believe you’re lying here arguing over me like I’m a piece of cargo for barter.”
“It is ridiculous,” Alex muttered, tossing his brother a glance that seemed to tell Michael he was the loser and shouldn’t have challenged him.
The look only stirred Tessa’s ire. “You’re insane if you think that just because we shared a kiss—”
“Two kisses,” Alex interrupted. “And a half of one up at the mine, remember?”
She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean you’re entitled to marry me.”
“You’re mine now—”
“No, she’s not,” Michael growled.
“Yes, she is,” Alex responded in a steely tone.
She stood directly across from the big parlor window that overlooked the lake. For a long moment the view ensnared her. The jagged boulders poked through the crusty layers of snow covering the ice that still bound the shore. The gray afternoon with the low dark clouds on the horizon was ugly and ominous and taunted her. The clouds were partners of destruction with the icy lake. They rose up to laugh at her and remind her of all they’d taken and still planned to take.
She couldn’t keep from glancing at the swaths of bandages wrapped around Michael’s hands and feet and thinking of the stumps that remained where his fingers and toes had once been. The nightmare of those couple of days of waiting and wondering what had become of the men rushed back to haunt her. It had been torture.
How could she spend the rest of her life wondering and waiting for danger to strike again? It was only a matter of time before something else happened. The next time the danger would take more than fingers and toes.
Michael lay flat on the sofa under an afghan. His handsome face was thin and pale from the past two weeks of illness and inactivity. He was staring at Alex, his anger at his brother flashing in his eyes.
She switched her focus to Alex sprawled on the opposite sofa, which sagged under his bulky frame. He’d folded both of his thickly muscled arms across his chest. His thin union suit stretched at the seams. His blond hair lay in disarray across his forehead, begging her to comb it back. The faint dimple in his chin, the strong jawline, the sandy bristles on his cheeks—his features beckoned to her, had become familiar and dear.
She loved the way his lips could so easily quirk into a grin that never failed to make her stomach flip-flop. She loved his long lashes and the way his eyes lit up when he teased her. She loved the fierceness with which he defended and protected those he cared about.
Was he right? Was she falling in love with him?
Oh, heaven help her. Her chest compressed like a garment passing through a washer wringer. It squeezed hard and cut off the air from her lungs.
As if sensing her attention upon him, Alex turned to look at her. He stopped mid-sentence in a retort to Michael. The frustration and anger in his expression only made her heart hurt more. One word from her could halt the argument between the brothers.
His eyes pleaded with her to choose between them once and for all, to put an end to the misery that had been building between himself and Michael.
She found herself falling into the beautiful blue depths of his eyes. They drew her in irresistibly even as her mind screamed in protest. She couldn’t—she wouldn’t—allow herself to fall in love with a man whom she might lose in one easy breath of the wind or temperamental turn of the weather.
“No,” she whispered hoarsely, taking a step back.
His eyes followed her, and the intensity in them begged her to pronounce the truth.
She shook her head, imperceptibly at first. But when he started to speak, she shook her head more forcefully and retreated two more steps. “No,” she said louder, hating the tremble in her voice that rose from the painful emotions swirling in her chest.
“Please, Tessa . . .” he started.
“I can’t.” She held out a hand to ward off his charm and his effect on her. She could feel Michael’s eyes upon her now too, silently urging her to choose him. “I can’t,” she said again with more force, needing to convince herself as much as she needed to convince them.
“You know you love me,” Alex said softly, patiently.
Tears burned at the back of her eyes. “No!” she lashed out. She wouldn’t give in to her tears or to Alex. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about either one of you. I’m not the woman you need.”
They both began to protest, but she cut them off. “The day I left Windmill Point Lighthouse, I vowed I’d never step foot into another lighthouse for as long as I lived.”
“You’re here.” Alex pushed himself up. “Which means some promises are meant to be broken.”
“I’ve always hated living in lighthouses.” Her voice cracked as her thoughts traveled back to the stormy night her mother had left their keeper’s cottage for the last time. She’d dressed in her oil-slicked coat and hat. The lightning had flashed in the window, illuminating the anxiety and determination on her face when she stooped to kiss her two oldest daughters good-bye. Her kiss had lingered wistfully against Tessa’s forehead, warm and gentle and fearful, as it was every time she went with her father to attempt a rescue. It was almost as if her mother had known that each time she put out in the little rowboat, she might not return.
Their father had come back hours later, his expression grief-stricken, his shoulders slumped, his eyes reflecting his broken heart. Mother wasn’t with him. She’d never be with them again. Even if she’d given her life to save several of the survivors of the shipwreck, Tessa’s hatred had taken root that dark night. Over the years it had dug into her soul deeper, until she couldn’t uproot the hatred without ripping apart who she was.
Yes, there were other jobs just as dangerous—like working in the mines. There were wars and diseases and any number of factors that could take away the people she loved. But her resentment toward the sea and the lights ran too deep.
“I hate lighthouses,” she said again, unable to keep the venom from her voice. “And I hate the lakes. After having no choice but to live in them all my life, now that I’m finally free, I won’t go back. I won’t marry a lightkeeper. I won’t live in a lighthouse. And I won’t allow myself to love someone who has any connection to them.”
At her declaration, Alex sat back speechless, his eyes wide. Michael, too, looked at her in surprise. The silence was broken only by the crashing of the distant waves against the remaining ice. The slap of water was harsh and continuous, as if even the sea had risen up to agree with her.
“I’ll never marry either one of you,” she said with a finality that tore at her heart. Though the words were as harsh as the waves, she had to say them. She had to make the men understand once and for all that she meant them. “No matter how sweet you both are . . .”
Her voice cracked as her throat clogged with emotion. She had to get out of here. She couldn’t let herself break down in front of them.
With her hand over her mouth to capture the sobs, she whirled away from the parlor, raced through the kitchen, and didn’t stop in the woodshed to wrap her scarf around her neck. Blinded by tears, she shoved open the door and rushed outside.
The fat flakes of snow had changed to splattering drops of rain. They fell hard against her face and against the ground, making it slushy. She ran fast, needing to get away from the lighthouse, needing to escape the clutches it had dug into her, and needing to get away from the men who’d somehow, against her best efforts, managed to win her heart.
Chapter 19
Alex shifted on the sofa. Neither he nor Michael had spoken in the past hour since Tessa had left. Outside, evening shadows were beginning to lengthen. The only sound was the patter of rain against the window, a steady rain that would begin the job of was
hing away the snow and ice that still clung to the land.
He released a pent-up sigh. The constant rumbling in his stomach told him it was past time for him to get up and start dinner. Tessa wouldn’t be there to make anything for them tonight. From the silence that shrouded the house, apparently Ingrid and Gunnar weren’t planning to make anything either.
The two had shouldered a fair share of the housework and cooking during the past couple of weeks, but he was more than capable of doing the work now. Michael had been right about one thing. He’d lain on the sofa so that Tessa would fawn over him, so Michael wouldn’t get all of her attention.
He pushed himself up from the cushions and forced back a groan. Only a few blisters remained on his fingers and toes, yet his entire body still ached from the fever and cough that had lingered and rendered him weak.
Once he was sitting he glanced at Michael, who was wide awake and staring at the ceiling, at a long crack that divided the room between them. His expression was grim. The emptiness in his eyes reminded Alex of the dark chasm that had existed for too long after Rachel’s death.
A sliver of worry pricked Alex. “Tessa hasn’t died,” he said as he stood and straightened his stiff joints.
“I know that,” Michael replied.
“Then stop acting like it.”
“She won’t be back.”
“Sure she will.”
“Didn’t you hear her? She made it clear she doesn’t want either one of us.”
“She was caught up in the emotion of the moment.” Alex lifted his arms above his head and stretched. “She didn’t mean everything she said.”
“Her father was a wickie and drowned in front of her eyes.”
The news slammed into Alex’s gut. He dropped his arms, his chest compressed as if he’d gotten the air knocked out of him. “She told you that?”
Michael nodded. “She lost her mom and sister too.”
“How?”
“She didn’t say, but I’m guessing in lighthouse accidents.”
For an instant, Alex couldn’t keep from wondering why Tessa hadn’t shared about her past with him. Maybe she was closer to Michael than he’d realized. After all, his brother had spent more time with her, especially when she’d been holding the evening class and he’d walked her home every night.
“She won’t be coming back,” Michael said again, this time with a finality to his tone.
Alex didn’t want to agree with him, didn’t want to believe him. But she’d clearly been heartbroken. His own heart throbbed every time he thought about the anguish that had constricted her pretty features and had laced her voice.
After she’d run out of the house, his body had keened with the need to run after her, to reassure her that everything would work out all right and that they’d overcome the obstacles that stood between them. But he’d held himself back, sensing she needed time to herself. If he’d gone after her, he would have pushed her further away.
The urge to go to her welled up so strongly that he almost staggered. Now that he knew more about why she hated lighthouses, he needed to make her understand that her fears were unfounded.
But were they?
He had only to think of the times his and Michael’s boat had capsized during rescues, of how close they’d come to losing their own lives on numerous occasions, not to mention the most recent incident of getting lost in the dense fog while ice fishing.
The life of a lightkeeper was fraught with danger. He couldn’t pretend otherwise.
He blew out a frustrated breath. No matter the danger, they couldn’t let that stop them from sharing their lives together, from enjoying and loving each other for whatever time God gave them in this fragile life.
He limped forward with renewed determination. He had no choice but to go to her and make her see reason.
“You can’t run after her,” Michael said tersely.
“Why not?” Alex swayed with dizzying weakness. He paused to steady himself. “You can’t stop me.”
“Accept that she doesn’t want us.”
“You can accept it,” Alex said, “but I’m not giving up so easily.”
Michael again looked up at the crack in the ceiling that stood between them as visibly as the crack that had grown in their relationship since Tessa arrived in Eagle Harbor.
Alex started to leave, but then guilt brought him to a stop. Slowly he pivoted. As much as he wanted to resist looking at his brother’s sad face, his eyes were drawn there. Michael was pale and haggard, still suffering from the pain of his amputations. More than that, he wore an air of defeat.
Was Michael that enamored by Tessa that her loss would send him back into the abyss, the abyss Alex had labored to pull Michael out of the last few years?
Alex’s shoulders sagged in a defeat of his own. He couldn’t go see Tessa now, not when Michael was clearly falling into a pit of despair. A visit to Tessa might only serve to plunge him to the bottom. He’d have to put it off until later, perhaps after Michael fell asleep.
“Let’s call a truce.” Alex tried to infuse enthusiasm into his voice that he didn’t feel. “I’ll get the kids down here, and we’ll make some dinner.”
Michael didn’t say anything. He rolled onto his side so that his back was facing Alex.
Alex stifled another sigh and shuffled to the front hallway that led to the winding iron stairway. “Gunnar. Ingrid,” he called. “Come down and help me get dinner started.”
His voice echoed upward against the cold brick tower. From the grates in the steps he could see the doorway to the second floor was closed. He waited a moment for the children to respond, but all he heard was the rain striking the nearby tower window.
“Gunnar! Ingrid!” he called louder, realizing he hadn’t heard or seen them since he and Michael had started arguing. Lately all the children heard between him and Michael was fighting. He wouldn’t doubt that the two had hidden to avoid it.
“You can come out now,” he yelled up the stairwell. “Your daddy and I promise we won’t fight anymore today.”
He strained to hear their footsteps, but only the distant rumble of thunder responded.
He started up the narrow steps, one at a time, forcing his weak legs to climb. “All right, you two. You’ve awoken the big grouchy bear.” He let out a loud roar that, if he could say so himself, sounded almost like a real bear’s roar. “The bear’s coming to get you.”
Usually his pronouncement brought a chorus of giggles and a scampering of footsteps. Yet in the hollow emptiness of the tower, his heavy steps pinged eerily against the metal. When he reached the second floor, he opened the door in anticipation of them jumping out and attacking him. Nothing moved, no one there.
He poked his head first into Ingrid’s room, then into Gunnar’s. As he searched every corner and glanced under each bed, he soon realized the children weren’t there. With a frown, he made his way back downstairs and searched his and Michael’s bedrooms, the kitchen, and the woodshed.
“Have you seen the kids?” he asked Michael. “I can’t find them anywhere.”
“I haven’t seen them since they came home from school,” Michael said.
“Did they say they were going somewhere?” Alex peered out the kitchen window that overlooked the path leading toward town. The darkness was creeping in faster. It wouldn’t be long now before it swallowed up the remaining gray light of evening.
“No. They didn’t get my permission to leave,” Michael said, his face creasing with anxiety.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.” Alex tried to guess where the children might be.
Within the shadows of the room, the pallor in Michael’s face was even more sickly than earlier. “Do you think they heard Tessa? When she said she wouldn’t marry either of us?”
Alex thought back to when he was on the sofa before Tessa had arrived. The children were on the stairwell playing one of their favorite games. They pretended the tower was a mine shaft and they were descending into the earth to blast for copper
.
“What if they heard what Tessa said?” Michael tried pushing himself to a sitting position but was too weak to hold himself up for long.
“It doesn’t matter—”
“Yes, it does!” Michael cried. “Ingrid has been telling me every day how much she wants Tessa to become her mother.”
Tessa become Ingrid’s mother? He’d noticed Ingrid’s affection for Tessa. But had she been playing matchmaker for her father? He supposed it only made sense, especially after the few times Ingrid had made excuses to invite Tessa into their home.
Unease pooled in Alex’s stomach. “You don’t think Ingrid got upset, do you?”
“Tessa was adamant about not marrying us. If Ingrid heard that, then I’m sure she was devastated by it.”
Alex looked outside again. The darkness was almost complete. He could only imagine Ingrid and Gunnar sitting on the metal steps, their eyes wide, listening to him and Michael yelling at each other again about who deserved Tessa.
He groaned at the thought. Why hadn’t he been more careful with his words? Why hadn’t he thought to rein in his frustration to protect them?
“Help me up,” Michael demanded, trying to push himself off the sofa again. “I need to go find them.”
Alex shook his head. “Stay there. I’ll go look for them.”
Michael sat up. His thin face was strained, and sweat broke out on his forehead. “I’m coming with.” He shoved his body upward, but the moment he put pressure on his toes and feet, he gave a strangled cry and fell back into the cushions.
Alex crossed the room and swung Michael’s feet back up on the sofa, returning them to the pillow that had elevated them. Michael’s eyes were squeezed shut, his mouth clamped into a grimace. Alex was tempted to berate him for getting up before he was ready, but he knew that would only frustrate his brother more. If the situation had been reversed, Alex would have killed himself to search for the children.
He quickly finished situating Michael on the sofa. As he started to move away, Michael’s hand shot out and captured his. Alex glanced down and found himself gazing into Michael’s stricken eyes, which revealed the pain that went all the way to his soul, the pain of having lost someone he’d loved once and the fear of losing again.