Torchlight

by Lisa T. Bergren

  Then she wept.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The following morning Ben surprised Tara as she was taking fresh muffins from the oven. “Good morning!”

  His deep voice so startled her she almost dropped the pan. “Ben! You’re not going out today?”

  “Nah. Fishin’s been lousy the last week, and I thought I could use a break. I had this idea …”

  “Well, what is it?” Tara busied herself with removing the muffins from the tins.

  “I was thinkin’ … we could try it and see what you think … and you could say no—”

  “What, Ben?” Tara turned to face him.

  He squeezed his crumpled hat, unconsciously wadding it up into a tight ball. “You and I have been working hard since we were just kids. We’ve never taken more than one day off a week in our lives, and I was thinking I’m missin’ out on a lot because of that.

  “Talkin’ to Trevor last night, and hearing about how he’s seen the world, makes me want to get out there too. And then I thought, I haven’t even seen much of my own home state. I’ve been to Acadia, and I’ve been hunting down west, but there’s a lot I haven’t seen. I don’t want Mike growin’ up the same way. And I was thinkin’ you might consider doin’ this with us.”

  “What?” Tara repeated gently.

  “Well, after church Sunday, maybe you could get Sally to fill in—since it’s a slower day than usual—and maybe we three could go explore.”

  “Ben DeBois, I can’t believe you’re saying this. Are you asking me out on a date?”

  He studied her, long and hard. “A date?”

  “A date,” Tara said, lowering her gaze.

  “Does it have to be?”

  “Why, yes, Ben. I think it does.”

  “Call it what you will. I want you to come with us. It’s important to me.”

  Tara smiled mischievously. “I’d love to go. Where should we start?”

  “Let’s sail to Egg Island next week on your boat. Mine’s still in dry dock.”

  “Sailing! That means it’s truly closing in on summer. Now sit down, and I’ll pour you some coffee, and you can share one of these cranberry muffins with me.”

  The departing sound of Trevor’s motorcycle woke Julia. In the early hours that Sunday morning, when Trevor had returned home from his night’s activities, his bike’s single beam had cast a shadow-and-light show on her bedroom ceiling. Now, he was apparently leaving again.

  By the time she raced downstairs to ask where he was headed, Trevor was already roaring down the road. She stood in the grand entry, panting after her hurried descent and looking out the window to the open gates. She sat down on the bottom stair and sighed.

  Why am I holding out? Why don’t I just give in to Miles if he is truly the man I mean to spend the rest of my life with? Is it really so important to God, or is it just old-fashioned idealism? And why am I racing after Trevor like some sick schoolgirl?

  She placed her head in her hands and moaned loudly.

  After showering and making herself some breakfast and coffee, Julia decided to go to the lighthouse. She had been to the top only a few times since her arrival, and she was eager to see the estate’s namesake again. For once she was free from renovation questions, and she didn’t need to entertain Miles. I’ve earned a day off, she assured herself.

  She walked into the foggy morning, thinking that it looked the way she felt. It was during mornings and nights exactly like these that ships had depended upon the coastal lighthouses to guide their way. A huge foghorn stood atop the cottage. Lighthouse keepers had used it to warn ships away by sound, when the sailors could not see the beacon.

  Where’s my lighthouse? Where is my foghorn? Lord, I need some serious direction.

  Julia entered the musty, dark, conical building. After pausing to let her eyes adjust, she moved toward the stairs, which were dimly lit by a shaft of light coming from the windows high above. She climbed the hundred and eighty steps that circled steeply around the edge of the building until she reached the top. “Whew! Better than a StairMaster,” she said.

  Julia looked through the windows to the waves crashing on the rocks beneath her, then looked out to the sea beyond. It was as soupy as London’s fog, and Julia wondered how ships had ever made their way without benefit of radio and sonar. It seemed a miracle that any ships had been spared in these waters.

  She shivered in the cold and wondered again where Trevor had gone. He had Sundays off, but he rarely left Torchlight, preferring to stay in his cottage and read, or look over magazines and books with Julia in preparation for the projects ahead. It was May, and they had completed the plumbing; next they had to replace the walls of the new bathrooms and find appropriate furnishings.

  Julia fought the feeling of abandonment and thought again of Miles as she searched the dense clouds before her. As if on cue, Miles pulled through the front gates and parked in front of the house. She watched as he went inside, but did not go after him. The sight of him still made her angry.

  After several minutes, Miles stormed out of the house, calling her name. He rounded the corner, and Julia watched him stride angrily toward the cottage. She felt like a voyeur. Did he assume she’d turn to Trevor’s arms after denying him?

  Is he right? When I couldn’t sleep last night, would I have gone to see Trevor if he had been home? Not that she would have slept with him either—there was just something about Trevor that warmed her from the inside. Something that was tangibly absent inside when he left Torchlight. What would it be like when he moved on?

  Her thoughts were interrupted by Miles’s exasperated call. “Julia? Julia? Are you up there?”

  “I’m here,” she said softly, not truly caring whether he heard or not.

  “Julia? Was that you? Are you okay? I’m coming up.”

  Julia turned back to the ocean, bracing herself for Miles’s arrival.

  He emerged from the stairwell, panting hard. “There you are! I was worried about you. Didn’t you see me drive up?”

  She didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him. He stood behind her and took her in his arms. “Quite a view from here, huh? If it wasn’t so foggy, we could probably see for miles.”

  “That’s the point of lighthouses,” Julia said.

  “Look, Julia, I’m sorry for last night. I had no right to push you as hard as I did. Can I help it if you drive me wild?”

  He turned her around to face him. “Please, don’t send me away, Julia, please. Please forgive me. For whatever I’ve done. Or for whatever I haven’t done. I was a fool for waiting. I had this idea that I would buy you a house, surprise you with a ring, as well as the keys. I wanted to provide for you, let you know that you would be safe by my side, cared for.”

  “I don’t know, Miles.” She met his earnest, pleading eyes. This is the man I’ve wanted for four years. I do love him. I do.

  “Maybe this will help.” He bent down on one knee in front of her. “Julia Rierdon, will you marry me?”

  Julia’s eyes grew wide in shock. How long had she waited for this moment? But the questions that had taken root in her heart the night before wouldn’t let go. She shook her head as if she could shake them out and into the sea.

  He pulled a ring box from his jacket pocket and opened it to reveal a huge diamond surrounded by twenty smaller stones. “I’ve carried this around with me for a year now. I’ve been a fool to wait so long. You are the most intelligent, beautiful, fabulous woman I’ve ever met. I want you at my side forever.”

  She stood absolutely still, blinking.

  “I’m thinking that an August wedding would be lovely. Here … San Francisco … anywhere you like.”

  Still, she did not speak.

  “Julia?” He shifted uncomfortably in his kneeling position.

  Julia looked from the ring to his face and back again. “I can’t.”

  “Can’t … what?” He looked concerned.

  “I can’t answer you now.”

  Miles sighed in reli
ef. “Of course. How much time do you need?”

  “I don’t know. I need to be alone. Away from you.”

  A furrow appeared on his brow. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you … alone.” He paused. “What do you want, darling? A few days?”

  “No. Longer. I don’t know. A month maybe? Just leave me alone awhile, please. We’ve waited four years. Let’s not jump into this.”

  Miles got up and brushed the dust off his trousers. He stood before her and smiled down into her eyes, encouraging her trust.

  “Wear the ring, Julia,” he said as he picked up her hand and placed it on her finger. It was stunning, the ring of girlhood dreams. The ring of a queen. “I’ll be back soon for your answer.”

  He kissed her on the forehead, then walked to the lighthouse stairs, where he paused. “I trust you’ll make the right decision, darling.” With that, Miles smiled at her and then left without another word.

  After descending the lighthouse stairs, Julia opened the door and stepped outside. Trevor was still gone. The cottage seemed to call to her. She glanced around, then walked up the steps. Julia knew it was wrong, but the urge was irresistible. She turned the knob. Unlocked.

  Inside, the room was filled with souvenirs from Trevor’s travels. Trevor had unpacked his many trunks and the few pieces of furniture that had arrived. She walked from table to shelf, looking at his things, wanting to know more about her mysterious employee. There was a hand-carved bowie knife, a brightly colored knit cap from South America … even a white cotton work shirt from Ecuador that reminded her of something Shane Donnovan might have worn. By the pedestal sink she saw an old-fashioned shaving brush and cream with a lid inscribed: Taylor of Bond Street, London, England. Several elegant oriental carpets lay beneath her feet.

  Beside the door stood cross-country skis, a diver’s mask and snorkel, and what looked to be handworked snowshoes. Beneath the window an antique globe sat atop its own wooden stand. Trevor’s bed was an elegant Empire sleigh style with a rich, handrubbed patina. On top lay a soft cashmere afghan, thrown casually over the bedding yet appearing as if it had been artfully placed. She sat down on the bed and picked it up, musing over it and the other rich furnishings. He had taste, artistic taste. Taste for the fine things. She was somewhat surprised … He had always seemed more denim than cashmere to her, more pine than mahogany.

  Handcrafted rods hung over the three wide windows, and from them, heavy canvas curtains gently cascaded to the wooden floor, billowing up at the bottom in generous rolls. A coffee table and a comfortable-looking overstuffed chair were beside the windows. She examined the book he was reading. A History of Lighthouses.

  On the walls hung pictures of Trevor and friends from around the world: in the desert, in a jungle, on top of sky-high mountains; in Asia, Europe, Central America.

  She squinted at each picture carefully.

  “Never figured you were a snooper.”

  She whirled. “I … I …”

  “I parked in front of the house. Thought I’d ask you out for lunch. Were you looking for me? Or did you just want to peek around?”

  Julia found her voice. “I’m sorry. I have no excuse.” She looked up at the devastatingly handsome man in front of her, waiting for him to throw her out. Her heart pounded.

  Trevor draped his leather coat on a peg by the door. “It’s okay, Julia. Glad to know you’re interested. Thought you were too wrapped up in Miles to give me a second glance. I would’ve invited you in eventually. In fact, I think I did. But you declined.”

  Trevor paused and looked at Julia closely. She knew her face must be pale, her eyes wide. “Julia, are you feeling okay? You’re as white as a ghost.”

  She sat down on the edge of his bed. “I’m feeling a bit confused. Where were you?”

  “Church. It’s time I got back in the habit now that I’m settled here in Oak Harbor.”

  “When did you become a Christian?”

  “I’ve studied a lot of religions in the past years. Found the one true faith about ten years ago now.”

  Julia listened to the easy cadence of his voice and thought of the relaxed state in which he seemed to move and live. She saw that he carried a well-worn Bible in his hand. Has he found his peace in the Scriptures? Julia felt anything but peaceful at that moment. “I need to start going back to church again too. With all that’s been going on here, I haven’t focused on finding a church home. Tara called me to join her this week, but with Miles here—” She changed the subject abruptly as she fought off her sense of uneasiness. “Your place looks wonderful. Are you Indiana Jones in disguise?”

  Trevor laughed. “No. Just a careful collector. I have an eye for great things. Which is why I suppose I’m attracted to you.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not a collector’s item at some Far East boutique.”

  “No. You’re not. But you’re worth more than anything in this house. A person can’t own another human being, but he can value her for who she is.”

  Julia turned away. “Have a hot date last night?”

  “You could say that.”

  “When have you had time to meet women?”

  “When Tara found out you were wrapped up with Beckley, she went to work fixing me up with every single woman in Oak Harbor—of which there are about three near my age. I went to dinner at her house last night, to eat with her and Ben, and, you guessed it, one of the eligible bachelorettes was there. Tara said to say hello. I think she’s disappointed that you two haven’t had more time together.”

  “Are you sure Tara’s not interested in you? Maybe she’s just using me to get to you.” Julia’s voice sounded weary, without its usual teasing lilt. Trevor looked at her curiously. “Nah. I think she’s got a thing for Ben DeBois. Great guy.”

  Julia stood and looked out his window while Trevor watched, wondering how to reach out to her. Why is she here?

  Her hands rested on the freshly painted window sill. Trevor’s gaze moved from her feet up to her fingertips. There he spied the ring. His heart stopped, and it took him a full minute to speak. “So, he finally popped the question.” He forced light into his voice when he could not find it in his heart.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you set a date?”

  “I didn’t answer him.”

  Trevor felt his heart pumping again. “When is he expecting an answer?”

  “When I figure out what to say.”

  “When is he coming back?”

  “I don’t know. I wanted some time. A month. Maybe longer.”

  “How could a man who just proposed leave you for that long?”

  “He has business.” Julia continued to stare out at the sea.

  Trevor walked over to Julia, started to reach out and pull her into his arms, but let his hands drop. Regret seized him. Why hadn’t he met Julia sooner? Why hadn’t God led them to Torchlight before things had progressed so far with Miles? And why was she considering a proposal from such a man?

  He moved to her side and followed her gaze. “Do you want to marry him?” He forced his tone to be nonjudgmental.

  “I don’t know.” She looked up at him. Although they stood a foot apart, she felt feverish at his nearness. “I have four weeks to figure it out.” Why couldn’t she feel this way about Miles? We used to be this close … this magnetic. Didn’t we? Their passion seemed tame now in comparison to what she felt toward Trevor. But Miles … Miles would always be there for her.

  “How come you never married?” she asked.

  “Didn’t want to be tied down,” Trevor hedged. Never met the right woman.

  “I thought so. Just one of those noncommittal types?”

  “Maybe.” She was wearing another man’s ring. How could he expose his heart?

  “What are your plans, Trevor? Are you moving on after you finish at Torchlight?”

  “Most likely. What else would I do in this town? I’ve done my share of fishing in Alaska. Didn’t care for it. And, well, there’s nothing more to keep me here.
Right, Julia?”

  She glanced at him and then rushed toward the door, as if near tears.

  He met her there, shutting the door as soon as she opened it a few inches. “Right, Julia?”

  She paused a long moment, still staring at the door, then whispered, “Right.”

  Only then did he let her flee the cottage.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The weekend’s developments left Trevor and Julia both feeling as if they were in a stupor. After three days, Trevor could no longer stand their silence. As they pored over catalogs, he dead-panned supposed interest in bright pink sinks and a tub in the shape of a lion’s head.

  “What? You’re telling me you don’t care for my taste?”

  “Well, I guess not—at least not when it comes to my bathroom fixtures.”

  “Then I suppose you won’t like this—”

  “No, leopard skin toilet-seat covers are definitely out. Maybe if they went better with the house …”

  “There you go! Think of it. We could redecorate Torchlight to be a safari getaway—it’d be the perfect tourist draw.”

  “Yes, and oh so classy.” She looked up at him, and they both burst into hysterical laughter.

  Wiping the tears from her face, Julia smiled at Trevor. “I guess I’ve needed a break from my heavy thoughts lately. Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He stood up. “Look, we have to begin on the electric wiring of this old house tomorrow. I’m going to have a good week of long workdays in front of me. What do you say to getting out of here for the evening? Let’s go get dinner. My treat.”

  “Your treat? Sounds like an offer I can’t refuse. I’m paying you a fortune, after all.”

  “Yeah, right. Just bundle up. It could be cold where we’re going.”

  “Hmm. Sounds like a mystery dinner.”

  Trevor only lifted his eyebrows mischievously and then walked out the door.

  Two hours later he rumbled up in front of the mansion on his bike. Julia peeked out. “Don’t you want to take the car?”