“Hasn’t your family done enough damage?”
“I did nothing but would appreciate answers to secrets that have bothered me my entire life.” Bethany pleaded with him, and his eyes softened.
“You’re the new baby.”
“Was there an old?”
The man fanned his bony fingers through a graying mound of hair that still lay thick on his scalp.
“I’m too tired for this.” He looked at Bethany. “Does your father know you’re here?”
“No. I came on my own.”
“We agreed to stick to the original story.” He chuckled sarcastically. “Although he got the better end of the deal when my niece opted to stay with him. But if I’d known how it all would play out, I’d have never agreed.”
“Is there any way you can tell Bethany what happened the day of her mother’s death – to satisfy her mind – but keep your word to Mr. Forester and Ms. Fletcher?”
“Only if the little miss here keeps her mouth shut – but she won’t. I’ve watched her, and she’s one that likes to upset the applecart.”
Bethany cringed at such a harsh description of her character. “Have I offended you, sir?”
“Not directly, but just the fact that you breathe air when our wee Stacy never saw the light of day, that’s insulting enough in my books.”
Bethany sat in a straight-backed chair, not at his invitation but because her legs would not hold her upright another moment. This man knew hatred worse than her fathers’, and his bluntness hit her with a powerful force.
The man filled three glasses of water and plunked them on the table. “Why don’t you sit down – make yourself to home?” The comment held a sarcastic twist, but Troy sat next to her, covering her hand with his.
Christopher walked to an open hole in the wall where the cool afternoon air blew through. “See the lad out there. Plumb crazy and more than I can handle. His Ma was a fragile thing too. She died young; the boy proved too much worry for her pretty head.”
“And you think your son has contracted this disorder?” asked Bethany.
“Is that a nice way of saying he’s gone mad like his Ma?” He slammed his fist against the wall. “Spare me your pity.”
Bethany’s heart locked, leaving her to trust Troy to continue the interrogation.
“When did your son first show signs of the weakness, Mr. Bascall?”
“The first time was when the love of his life lost the baby, and the second happened on July 23, 1857, when she departed this earth.”
“Mrs. Forester died that day. An alleged suicide?” The man snickered and pounded the wall again, but Troy continued. “Did your son love another man’s wife?”
“Simone should have been his. That cursed gloom settled over him when the baby died, and he just took off. She lived under heavy stress while hiding out at the lighthouse – always on the lookout for relatives landing on our doorstep. Spouted some nonsense about them snatching her away to live in a prison tower. The little woman carried a big load. Turns out, her folks never came looking, but it was too late for the poor baby that had lived a lifetime of grief before it ever entered the world. She died inside the womb before taking her first breath. Chris dug up the baby’s remains when we moved here and buried her bones out there beside her Ma.”
Bethany brightened. “You found my mother’s remains?”
“No way. Waves swept her body to parts unknown, but we have a marker, and the boy’s convinced himself she’s resting there.”
“Perhaps you should start at the beginning. How did you come to know Simone Forester?”
“That wasn’t her name when she landed at Lookout Rock. When Chris spotted her standing outside the door all wet and bleeding, he fell in love instantly. I never knew such a thing could happen so fast ‘til I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Charter – was that her name?” Troy asked.
“Yep, though she was pretty tight-lipped about it for a long time. Got to the point, I suspected she was running from the law, and we were harboring a wanted criminal.”
A voice sounded from the doorway. “Simone wasn’t a criminal, just mixed up, like me sometimes.”
Chapter 9
The Healing Truth
Christopher ran for the back door. “What are you doing sneaking around? Thought you were busy outside.”
“Finished my visit with the dead and heard voices inside. Figured I’d see how it felt to talk to somebody breathing air – other than you.”
He pushed past his father and walked cautiously toward Bethany, his curious eyes fixed on her face. The picture of her mother and the tall, dark stranger flashed through her mind, and she entertained little doubt this man was the one who had stolen her mother’s heart.
“You look like her,” was all he said when he stopped at the table where Bethany sat.
“I take that as a compliment, sir. My mother was beautiful.”
For a moment, a shadow invaded his face. And from his countenance, Bethany could see scattered mind-fragments scurrying to find a place in the order of things.
“Our Stacy might have looked like you.”
The senior Christopher seethed. “The baby was never your Stacy.” He immediately explained the slip of his tongue. “My son did not father the child. The sin-seed already festered inside when Simone arrived in Spruce Hill.”
“But we fell in love, and that made the baby mine. You’ll never persuade me otherwise.”
“If you loved one another, why didn’t you marry her and start your own family?” asked Troy.
“The tormenter fell on me like a ton of logs, and I got lost on the inside my head for a while. When I finally returned to the lighthouse, she’d moved into Spruce Hill and married Henry Forester. Even had a baby. She refused to jeopardize her new life and home with a man who abandoned her when the going got tough. Simone was hard on me, and her anger almost brought the shadow back.”
Christopher pounded on the table. “Shortly after, my boy Chris, developed a high fever, teetering between life and death. That’s when I sent for Jane. She’d helped out nursing during the war and decided to come and see what she could do for her sick cousin. But the boy got worse. Somehow Simone caught wind of it and raced all the way to the lighthouse crying and carrying on like it was all her fault. She talked to his unconscious body all day, and when he woke, he remembered all her star-struck words. They hugged and made up, both knowing their separation denied true love.” He laid a loving hand on his son before continuing.
“Simone’s marriage to Henry Forester was a farce in a lot of ways. She’d needed a place to live and protection in case her family came searching for her. The fool never questioned her suggestion for a quick wedding. Poor girl regretted her hasty decision straight off. Henry was hard to live with and harder to love.” Christopher looked at Bethany. “Sorry, those are her words, not mine.”
“I understand. My father can be difficult.” Bethany could not deny her father’s character.
“That’s an understatement.” Christopher laid a hand on his son’s shoulder as his face hardened. “And that’s the end of the story. If you want more, you’ll need to ask Henry Forester.”
“Why can’t you tell us?” asked Troy.
“Not my place to tell secrets of the past. We swore to the agreement.”
Bethany grew angry and bolted to a standing position, her fingers white-knuckling the edge of the table. “You mean the same agreement that keeps Ms. Fletcher a prisoner in my home and under the thumb of my father? She’s your niece – do you not care that she finds a life apart from a tragic past? And your son – perhaps if he faced the truth, he’d rise above the shadows that constantly pull him under?” Troy placed a hand over hers, but she pulled it free. “Not to mention me, whose unanswered questions have haunted me for thirteen years.”
Tears pooled behind her anger. Bethany pushed past everyone and headed to the back of the property for fresh air. She fell on the ground where she’d seen her mother’s lover kn
eel, and cried bitterly for the many victims these secrets had devoured.
Bethany felt the presence and lifted her head. Chris stared at her from across the graves, and she realized he watched in fear that Simone’s young crazy daughter might unleash again. She laughed, and the atmosphere changed in an instant.
“I apologize for my outburst. I usually have better control,” said Bethany.
“That’s all right. The same words jam in my throat. I often wondered if screaming them loud enough would send the ghosts running for the hills.”
“I’m sure it would help. I feel much better after venting on you poor unsuspecting gentlemen.”
Bethany watched as his face brightened. The crooked grin and beautiful eyes that she’d seen him radiate on her mother in the photo sparked to life, and she knew how her mother could have loved this man.
“To have loved my mother despite her needy condition upon arrival in Spruce Hill: Your kindness is exemplary, Chris Bascall. My father would not have turned his life upside down to accommodate a stranger at his door, especially one in her state.”
“Forester was furious when he found out she’d visited me on my sickbed. After that, he lay in wait to follow her. He lost it when he caught her in my arms, but the bloke misinterpreted the embrace, thinking it was a new romance when she was just saying goodbye. Simone had never told him about her past, with me or as a child. She told me once that her husband would not understand and possibly toss her out in the streets as yesterday’s trash – which would have been fine with me. I’d have brought her home. But she loved you and would not jeopardize losing her child again.”
Bethany’s mother loved her. She basked in that for a moment, but the doubts returned with a vengeance. No mother who loved her child would end her life by jumping off the lighthouse tower.
“My father discovered you and she together at Lookout Rock?” Bethany was almost afraid to ask. “Was it the day she died?”
Chris ignored Bethany and let the loose dirt covering the grave run through his fingers. “A daughter would have brought us such joy. We talked about our Stacy a lot, imagining the woman she might have become. I know the lass would have been right proud to call you sister, Miss Forester.” Chris nodded toward the house. “My father speaks highly of you.”
“He does? I personally thought he hated me.”
“He’s all roar with no bite.”
“Can I help you overcome the shadows, Chris? I’ve experienced the downtimes in my life but guarded against the darkness to keep my head in the light. Do you go to church?”
“Used to. Pa and I still read the bible now and then.”
“Get your strength from that source. I guarantee you’ll be pushing shadows out of the way once you grow a relationship with your Creator.”
Chris smiled. “And how can I help you – besides telling the details of that day? A lot of it escapes me. Think I lost consciousness somewhere in the scuttle. Henry Forester can fill you in, or you may choose to let the ghosts lie.”
“There is no peace found in the darkness of a lie. I can’t let it go. Henry Forester is also well acquainted with shadows. I have to believe freedom for us all lies in revealing the truth.”
“You are a brave woman,” said Chris.
Troy loomed over them. “The day is getting on, Bethany, and we have a long trek back. Got us a homemade recipe to combat the bugs and my guns loaded to shoot any bears or coyotes that may cross our path.”
Bethany scrambled to her feet. “Are you trying to scare me? Cause it is working.”
“Did you forget that you’re traveling with the strong arm of the law?” teased Troy.
Christopher yelled from the house. “Come and get it.”
“Our former reluctant host has offered to feed us before we leave. Even offered to let us sleep over, but I wanted to save your honor. Wouldn’t be fitting to have folks think the deputy and the manager of the mill are slipping out before saying their vows.”
Bethany took his arm. “I’ve tackled far worse today, Troy. Let’s eat and be on our way. And tomorrow, I will confront my father and put an end to this mess.”
The trip back to Spruce Hill was long and treacherous in the growing darkness. Troy, despite his quick planning, had wondrously remembered to bring a lantern, which guided them safely along the path and kept the wildlife at a distance. They parted company at the front entrance to the Forester house with a simple goodnight. After sneaking into the house undetected, her next greatest desire was to crawl under a mountain of bubbles in a tub of hot water and soak off the cold dampness of the woods. Bethany denied that pleasure knowing the ordeal would wake Ms. Fletcher and would cause additional trouble. She crawled beneath the blankets and fell asleep before she finished uttering a short prayer of thanksgiving for journeying mercies.
It was mid-morning when Bethany stirred. The sun was high in the sky, as she stretched her achy bones and groaned. Saturday was bath-day, and eagerness to indulge took priority. Remaining in her nightdress, she hustled downstairs, and filled kettles of warm water from the reservoir then toted them inside a small room off the kitchen designed for bathing. She filled the washtub as close to the top as she dared and dripped in fragrant oil and soft sudsy soap. Gingerly, she stepped into the luxury shaped reclining tub. Papa had ordered it from the catalog last Christmas. Every experience was sheer delight; climbing in, lying back, and enjoying a well-deserved reward for enduring a long work week.
When the water chilled, she reluctantly crawled out, dried using a huge fluffy towel that smelled outdoor-fresh and covered her tingling body with a fuzzy housecoat. She peeked into the kitchen, and when no one answered her call, raced to the second floor to dress for the day.
At the dressing table, she stared at the image in the mirror and smiled. Chris had said she resembled her mother, a thorn in her father’s side, to be sure, but a fact that pleased her. Even though Simone Forester died far too young, she’d known adventure. A midnight swim in the treacherous waters of Chauntis Bay, discovering love when Chris answered her knock on the door of Lookout Rock, and whatever drama occurred before her arrival in their logging town. The Bascall men suggested Simone had escaped from her childhood home – probably after her parents turned her out because of the ill-timed pregnancy. To experience joy for such a short while and then have it snatched away. Losing the unborn child and her first love, would inflict hopelessness on any strong-willed woman. Yes, desperate enough to surrender to a life with Henry Forester – a great provider and upright man in the community – but one Bethany suspected quenched her mother’s independence. She wondered if her parents ever loved one another?
Bethany gathered her blonde hair on top of her head, pinning it and allowing the soft curls a bit of freedom to take the harshness from the style. Her father liked it when she appeared grown up in dealings at the mill. Appearances were all too important in her father’s eyes – pride for lack of a better description. Possibly that had helped to silence this thirteen-year-old family secret; placing the blame on her mother being the easy way out. The dead could not rise to protect character under trial. But Bethany resolved to stand in her place and demand an accurate account from her father.
Green eyes intensified and stared straight ahead. Bethany’s image portrayed assurance that everything would be all right; that bringing darkness to light would heal wounds, not open them. She’d witnessed transparency in Chris’s eyes yesterday as they’d left the cabin in the woods. He’d even thanked her for coming, claiming his mind felt less muddled just by meeting her. She trusted that knowledge would bring her mother peace in the afterlife – if such earthly knowledge existed there. Life after death remained a mystery that baffled the brain of mere humans, the only single certainty being that absence from the body ushered a soul into the presence of God. And that was all Bethany, who walked in faith, needed to know.
Never intending to cause grief to her father, she wore his favorite dress; two shades of green that he claimed brought her eyes to life
. The garment was snug on the top and hugged her waistline, but the skirt billowed out as it fell to the floor. With her primping done and Henry Forester not yet returned from his business trip, Bethany decided to go shopping. She had letters to mail, and the rolls of fabric lying on Hank Densley’s display table deserved a second look.
The house was quiet, and she wondered for a second time where Ms. Fletcher had disappeared to this time of day. She closed the front door behind her and breathed in the fresh spring aromas. An eastern breeze danced through the air, stirring the sea-scents that churned from the water’s floor. She wished her destination were the beach instead of the uncertainty of bringing closure to the mystery at Lookout Rock. She wondered if Troy worked today. It appeared the closer she viewed the love Simone had known for a fleeting moment with Chris, the easier it grew to resign to the role of a happily married woman. Troy would provide love along with security, the dream that had evaded her mother.
At the store, Bethany browsed through the fabric and settled on a cotton turquoise that would make a serviceable dress for the summer at the office. She picked a delicate lace, and the design came together in her mind. Trimming the collar and the cuffs with this contrasting lace would spice it up. A low whistle sounded from behind.
“My, don’t you look lovely on this fine Saturday, Miss Forester.”
Bethany spun around, Troy’s open admiration captivating her. “And good day to you. I trust you slept well?”
“Like a log,” he said. He nodded to the material Bethany held in her arms. “Good choice. I’m partial to blue and green.”
“A girl can always use a new dress at the beginning of a new season, especially spring.”
“Are you free to join me at the café for a late breakfast and coffee?”
She laughed. “I did skip breakfast – how did you know?”
“Lucky guess. But I’d be interested to know how you slipped by your cook without her force-feeding you. That woman lives to keep you healthy and happy.”
A Liberating Love (Keepers of the Light Book 3) Page 8