by Jody Hedlund
Hannah shook her head and turned her helpless gaze upon him, beseeching him to finish telling Tessa what she could not.
“Tessa . . .” he started gently.
“Take me to him,” she said louder, almost angrily as she struggled against him.
He didn’t let go of her even as she grew more agitated. She shoved him and wrestled to free herself from his grasp.
Hannah began to sob openly.
“He’ll be fine.” Tessa’s voice was heavy with panic. “He’s young and strong and smart. He’ll make it.” She reached a hand toward Hannah, but the other woman just shook her head and took a step back.
Tessa strained for a moment longer, before finally releasing a strangled, “No-o-o . . .” He could feel every ounce of her strength seep out of her body, and then she collapsed against him. He caught her and easily lifted her into his arms.
She didn’t resist, but instead buried her face against his chest and clung to him. Her body shuddered with silent sobs.
His entire being ached with the need to comfort her, to make her pain go away, to promise her that everything would be all right. But even as he carried her toward the steps up to her attic room where she could grieve in private, he knew there was nothing he could say or do to change what had happened.
Chapter 21
Henry Benney was dead.
She stared with dry eyes at the shallow grave covered with layers of soil, wet leaves, and damp twigs. After a week of warmer weather, the ground had thawed enough for some of the men to shovel aside the remaining snow and dig graves for all those who’d died over the winter. They hadn’t been able to break ground while the temperature remained below freezing. Fortunately the bodies had mostly stayed frozen too. But now they needed to get the deceased buried before decomposition set in.
The low clouds of the spring day had begun to spit rain. Her cloak was damp and her boots wet. Yet she couldn’t tear herself away. Even though everyone else had already left the cemetery, even though she’d promised Michael and the children that she would follow them back into town, she hadn’t been able to make her feet move away from Henry’s grave.
She could still picture his mother and sister with their slumped shoulders, their cheeks splotchy from crying. And she couldn’t forget his father’s face, thin and pale. His eyes were sunken and red-rimmed. More than that, they were empty, as dark and bottomless as the pits of the mine.
When she went to squeeze his cold fingers, she didn’t say anything. She knew there was nothing she could say that would take away his pain, just like nothing would take away hers. The agony in his brief glance had told her everything. He would live the rest of his life with the regret of not keeping Henry in school where he belonged.
Tessa was sure she’d live with that regret for the rest of her life too.
As much as Mr. Benney blamed himself, she blamed herself more. It was her fault the miners had been made to work longer shifts. It was her fault Henry had been forced from the classroom and into the mine.
If only she’d done more to stand up for Henry’s right to stay in school. Maybe if she hadn’t angered Percival in the first place. Maybe if she’d figured out a way to placate him . . .
But how could she have done that without selling her soul to the devil?
A twig snapped somewhere nearby and she raised her head. Barren branches formed a skeletal canopy overhead. Lifeless shrubs surrounded the wrought-iron fences separating one family plot from another. Wilted weeds from the previous year drooped over lichen-encrusted headstones. The granite slab next to Henry’s grave read:
Mary
Died Dec. 8, 1866
Aged 2 years 3 months
She supposed the baby to have been Henry’s sister who had also perished here in this godforsaken land.
She scanned the other grave markers nearby, some in the shape of beautifully scrolled iron crosses now black with age and the harshness of the elements, and others simple stone slabs. How many others, like Henry, had died needlessly?
The sharp throb in her chest radiated into her shoulders and head. She’d already wept all the tears she could during the past couple of weeks since Hannah had brought the news of Henry’s fall. Since then she’d learned more details about his death, that he’d been on a ladder under a projection of the pump rod, which had caused that particular area to be full of ice. His feet had slipped, he struck his father who was behind him at the time, but his father hadn’t been able to grab him.
Mr. Benney had been fortunate that the strike hadn’t caused him to lose his hold, although Tessa had no doubt the man wished he’d fallen instead of his son. After plunging hundreds of feet, the boy was killed instantly. Her mind told her it was a blessing he hadn’t suffered. Nevertheless, her heart protested that he’d had to die at all, not when he’d been so bright, not when the future held so much promise for him, not when he’d been so eager for learning and living.
“Why him?” she whispered to the empty graveyard.
She didn’t expect God to answer. He hadn’t answered when she’d asked the same question after her mother had died, or after her father had drowned, or again when Sarah, her little sister, had passed away. There were no easy answers to death, to why it took some and not others. Even so, she couldn’t keep the anger from rising to mingle with the pain.
“He had so much potential,” she said. She’d already penned a letter to Cole Enterprises to let them know of the death, to inform them of the unsafe mine, to petition for better working conditions. She’d taken it to the company store to be mailed just yesterday, after a much-delayed mail messenger had arrived overland and delivered a backlog of mail.
The letter from home had cheered her only a little. Mostly it had reminded her of all that she was missing in spring, the return of the loons and monarch butterflies, and her sister Caroline’s large flower beds that were likely beginning to bloom in earnest.
Tessa’s shoulders sagged beneath her cloak. She wasn’t ready to admit defeat, and yet everywhere she looked around Eagle Harbor, nothing had changed since she’d arrived. As far as she could tell, she hadn’t made one bit of difference in anyone’s life since she’d come here. She’d had such grand plans. She’d wanted God to use her to help the people better themselves. So far, though, her presence seemed only to make things worse.
With a sigh she turned away from Henry’s fresh grave and shuffled toward the arched sign that stood over the gated entrance to the cemetery nestled among the evergreens. It read, PINE GROVE CEMETERY. It should have read, The Resting Place of Those Who Died Unnecessarily.
As she began the short walk back toward Center Street, she huddled deeper into her cloak. While she was mostly recovered from her illness, she couldn’t shake the listlessness that had plagued her all week.
“Miss Taylor.” A voice nearby startled her. Percival was leaning against a fence post on the side of the road almost as if he’d been waiting for her. She hadn’t noticed him earlier at the funeral, but then she hadn’t paid much attention to who was or wasn’t in attendance.
She stopped abruptly. A glance up the road toward town told her they were alone, that everyone else who had come out to bury their dead had already dispersed.
“Good day, Mr. Updegraff.” She nodded at him curtly and forced herself to continue walking as she had been. She could feel his eyes upon her as she strode past. With her chin held high she stared straight ahead, refusing to let him intimidate her.
Once she was several feet past him, she allowed herself to breathe again. Maybe he hadn’t been waiting for her after all. Even so, she picked up her pace.
“I received a letter from my Detroit agent yesterday.” His voice came from behind her, from his spot by the post. Something in his tone made her footsteps falter.
“I’m sure you were as glad as I was to finally get mail,” she replied over her shoulder.
“He had some interesting things to say about you.”
A chill crept into her blood. There was no mis
taking the insinuation in Percival’s words. She halted and slowly pivoted to face him.
In his black trousers and matching vest and waistcoat, he was attired out of respect for those who’d lost loved ones. Yet the darkness of his clothes only highlighted the darkness of his eyes that were peering at her with too much familiarity.
What had Percival learned about her?
As if hearing her unasked question, his mustache shifted upward into a small smile. “It appears you haven’t been honest about your past.”
Her chest constricted. She tried to keep her voice level as she responded. “What may have happened in my past is none of your concern.”
“As your boss, it is my concern.” He pushed away from the post and straightened his coat. “You don’t believe I would hire a teacher for this town’s school without doing some investigating as to your background.”
Why? she wanted to blurt. So you could use every little issue you discovered as a way to blackmail the new teacher into doing your bidding? “Regardless of my past, I hope I’ve demonstrated to you and this community my dedication and diligence to my job. I’ve been above reproach—”
“You’ve been lusting after those lightkeepers the whole time you’ve been here.”
“I have not.” Her back stiffened in protest even as guilt whispered that she had entertained too many thoughts of Alex.
“And now I know why,” Percival continued, eyeing her in a way that told her he knew everything about her indiscretion. “You’re not the pure lily-white woman that you want everyone to believe you are.”
He was right. She wasn’t that woman. She had nothing to say in her defense. Even if she hadn’t had relations with Ryan that long-ago night, she’d been terribly wrong to trick him into lying in bed with her.
She’d prayed for God to forgive her and she didn’t doubt that He had. But that didn’t change the facts of what had happened. “I admit I’m not perfect,” she said. “I’ve sinned dreadfully in the past. And now I’m trying to move forward by doing the right thing.”
Percival studied her with the same open hunger she’d seen there too often. “Very well, Miss Taylor. I’ll keep your little secret.”
She shivered, not sure if from the coolness of the air and the dampness of her cloak or from Percival’s presence. She swallowed a rising sense of helplessness and lifted her chin again. She resented that she must ingratiate herself to this lustful man, but for now she saw no other way around it. “Thank you. I would appreciate you keeping this matter to yourself—”
“Under one condition.” His voice had turned brittle, and he started to walk toward her. “I would like you to come to my house for dinner. Tonight.”
“She won’t be coming” came a stern voice from the woods to her left, followed by Alex’s frame emerging from the thick evergreens that lined the road. He stepped onto the muddy gravel and stopped, his feet spread wide, his fists bunched at his sides. He glared at Percival with a deadly intensity.
He too was in his Sunday best—dark trousers and coat that contrasted with his fair hair. He’d lost the rugged look and instead had a clean-cut appeal.
Percival’s eyes rounded, the man obviously taken aback by Alex’s interference.
She didn’t stop to think where Alex had come from, except to thank God that he was here.
“I won’t allow you to coerce Tessa into going with you anywhere,” he said, his voice almost a growl.
“Not your decision to make, Bjorklund,” Percival said. “Go back to your lighthouse and do whatever it is you do all day.”
“She’s not going with you now.” Alex stared at him with hard, angry eyes. “Or ever.”
Percival’s lips curved into a smirk. “It’s time to share the wealth. You’ve had her all to yourself these past months. Now it’s my turn.”
“You’re insulting Miss Taylor.”
“I’m simply stating the truth.”
“Watch what you say around the lady.” Alex’s biceps flexed beneath his coat, straining the seams.
Tessa couldn’t look into his eyes. How much had he heard of Percival’s accusations? If he’d heard everything, she doubted he’d be standing here defending her so nobly.
“She’s no lady,” Percival said. “In fact, I’ve learned she’s little better than a whore.”
Tessa cringed at his declaration, and shame flooded her soul. Alex would surely leave her alone now. He’d already done a good job of that lately anyway. The revelation about her past would only give him all the more reason to avoid her.
She lowered her head and stared at the hem of her black mourning gown. She wasn’t surprised to hear the crunch of his footsteps. He’d run away from her for sure as fast as he could.
The crunch was rapidly followed by a whack and a grunt, then a thud and muffled cry of pain.
She glanced up in time to see Percival holding the side of his face and staggering backward, with Alex’s fist making a line straight at Percival’s belly. The punch doubled Percival over.
Alex raised his arm again, and rage contorted his features, turning the handsome face into that of a fierce warrior. “Don’t talk that way about Miss Taylor ever again,” he ground out.
With one hand on his face, Percival rubbed the other against his stomach. For a long moment he didn’t say anything. He seemed to struggle to catch his breath.
Alex slowly lowered his fist and took a step back, all the while continuing to pin Percival with a deadly glare. Alex wasn’t the local wrestling champion without cause, and she supposed Percival knew he didn’t have a chance against Alex when it came to hand-to-hand combat.
Percival tried to straighten, then grimaced.
“I hope I’ve made myself clear,” Alex demanded.
Percival spit out a glob of blood and glared back. “You just bought a ticket to the graveyard.”
“You might be able to bully everyone else in this town, but you can’t touch me.”
“Oh, I can touch you all right.” Percival spat again. “I’ll make good and sure you regret interfering with my business.”
“If you don’t stay away from Tessa, you’ll be the one with the regrets.”
Alex reached for Tessa’s hand and tucked it within the crook of his arm and tugged her gently forward. She couldn’t meet his gaze. She didn’t know how she’d ever be able to look him in the eye again.
She could feel Percival’s stare burning into them. As much as she tried, she couldn’t stop her legs from trembling and was grateful for Alex’s steady arm. She half expected the bang of a gunshot and the piercing pain of a bullet in her back.
Percival was angry enough to kill and that thought would have worried her, except she was too overcome with embarrassment. As she hustled along next to Alex, she couldn’t find any words to ease her mortification. He didn’t say anything either, which only made her want to run away and hide.
Finally when they turned onto Pine Street and were hemmed in by a tall stand of pines, Alex stopped and gave her little choice but to halt next to him.
“I’m sorry Percival said those things,” he said softly, his tone still carrying a hint of aggravation.
She stared at his shirt collar. “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”
“He’s lucky I didn’t kill him then and there.”
“I have the feeling you’re going to get in trouble now because of me.”
“He can’t do anything to me and he knows it. It drives him crazy.”
“But he’ll figure out some way to punish you for coming to my rescue and for hitting him.”
Alex shrugged. “I’ve been waiting a long time to give him what he has coming. I only wish I’d punished him earlier. Maybe then things wouldn’t have gotten so out of control in this town.”
“Just be careful.” She started to slide her hand away from his arm, but he grabbed onto it and held it firmly in place. “Those things Percival said about me . . .” she started.
“It doesn’t matter, Tessa.”
“I
t does matter,” she said, unable to contain the anguish in her heart. “I made a horrible mistake in the past—”
He put a finger to her lips to silence her.
Suddenly all she could think about was being in his arms, holding him, and letting him embrace her and comfort her. It was the one place in all the world that she wanted to be more than anywhere else. She swayed toward him. She’d missed him over the past couple of weeks with the distance he’d put between them.
He leaned closer to her and dropped his finger from her lips. “Tessa,” he whispered.
Was that longing in his voice? Did he miss her as much as she missed him? But how could he? Not after what he’d learned about her today. Maybe he’d only heard part of the revelation. Or maybe he assumed Percival was lying.
She had to clarify. “I’m not lily white.”
“I don’t care.” His response was quick, almost as if he’d anticipated her words. “Whatever your past mistakes, I’ve seen the godly woman you’ve become. That’s all that matters.”
Her heart warmed at his praise. “But I have a tarnished reputation.”
“You’re making for yourself a new reputation, one that everyone here admires and respects.”
“Not if Percival tells what he knows.”
“If people are stupid enough to listen to his opinion, then they’re not worth having as friends.”
She wanted to believe him, wanted to find hope in his words, but she’d already faced too many rejections from well-meaning people.
His blue eyes regarded her with a compassion that brought a lump to her throat. She wanted to tell him what a fine man he was, how considerate and wise.
He brought both of his hands up to her cheeks and tenderly held her face. The kind look in his eyes filled her with a reassurance that no matter what, she’d always have a friend in him.
“Thank you for believing in me,” she whispered.
He smiled, and the warmth in her chest expanded. Her whole body seemed to melt as sweet longing coursed through her veins. She’d never felt this way about a man before. She’d never been so entirely attracted or so utterly enraptured. The past days without his presence had awakened her to a need for him. It was almost as if she’d been parched and thirsty but hadn’t known how much until she was with him again, talking to him, and drinking him in.