Torchlight

by Lisa T. Bergren

  “Indian pudding! Tara, you’re the greatest.”

  “Well, I figured it was a special occasion and all—you know.”

  “If only we had ice cream,” Mike said, licking his lips.

  “Voilà!” Tara said with a smile as she dipped into the third backpack for a thermos container.

  “No wonder it took all three to pack a lunch,” Ben said. “I’m not complaining, mind you.”

  “You better not, Dad. This is the best meal I’ve eaten in weeks!”

  “Hey! You’ve been eating three times a week at my place,” Tara said.

  “No offense, Tara. This is way cooler than any restaurant.”

  “True,” she agreed, looking to the view before them and feeling happy to be alive.

  While their food settled, Tara and Mike listened as Ben read about the island’s history. Then the three set out on a walk around the perimeter. Because the Nature Conservancy had preserved the island for day visitors only, buildings were not allowed. The island had been left as a natural northeastern Eden, with sights around every bend.

  Mike led the way along the damp, narrow trail. Several times, Tara and Ben reached out to steady each other when the terrain became particularly rough. Along the beach at the northwestern tip of the island, they came to Crab Cove, a small inlet that bustled with migrating seabirds who came to feast on the delicacies they found there.

  “Look!” Mike shouted.

  Ben and Tara saw what he had spotted immediately. Among the sandpipers, plovers, oystercatchers, and gulls were several pairs of puffins. Years earlier, ornithologists had conscientiously reestablished the rare birds on the island. Since the animals had a tendency to breed on the islands on which they were born, the puffin population on Egg Island had grown exponentially.

  Among the rough outcroppings of granite, Ben paused at a rock cairn that marked the trail. He smiled at Tara, his eyes crinkling in genuine pleasure. “I haven’t seen Mike this happy in years.”

  “It feels good to me, too. Thanks for inviting me to come along.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  Ben moved off again before she could press him on his comment. The trail climbed as they passed Crab Cove, then entered the Cathedral Woods at the northeastern tip of the island. A thick stand of hundred-year-old red spruce shot upward above the damp, mossy forest floor. Their sturdy trunks cut the ocean wind to a gentle breeze. The result was a scene of such serenity that they agreed it felt like a cathedral.

  “I almost feel like getting down on my knees,” Ben’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

  “I know what you mean,” Tara responded.

  Mike led the way south on the trail, less appreciative of the trees than were his companions. Eventually the forest opened up into a beautiful, verdant meadow. Mike’s sudden appearance surprised three white-tailed deer. They raised their graceful heads and froze, ears taut, as they scanned the meadow for sounds and movement.

  “How’d they get here?” Mike asked in a hushed voice.

  “Probably swam or were brought here by settlers,” his father whispered.

  “What’s up?” Tara asked as she emerged from the forest. The deer caught sight of them and bounded off to safety.

  “Oops. Guess I blew it, huh?”

  Mike rolled his eyes and moved off again while Ben simply smiled.

  On the southeast end of the island, they found the broken remains of a lighthouse that had been battered to bits by the surf long ago. “Probably warned off Boston whalers coming this way,” Ben theorized.

  “I’m glad Torchlight’s lamp fared better,” Tara said. The thought of it took her mind to Julia and Trevor. Would Julia ever see Trevor the way Tara longed for Ben to see her? They belonged together—Julia and Trevor, just as she and Ben belonged together. But she was wearing Miles’s ring. Would she really go through with it? I suppose she just might, Tara mused, just like Ben may never make more of a move than this. She sighed. There’s always friendship. But the thought of it left her disgruntled and irritable. She wanted love. She wanted a family, a husband, a baby of her own. “Come on,” she suddenly said to the men. “Let’s go home.”

  They looked at her in surprise, but she ignored them. If Ben wasn’t going to do more than put an arm around her, if he couldn’t say I love you, then she’d just have to take drastic measures.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The following week Ben, Mike, and Tara invited Julia and Trevor to go kayaking after the early church service. Julia agreed, shaking off the awkward feeling of going with Trevor, as if they were a couple. They met up with the others at Tara’s restaurant. It was a bright, sunny day, much like the weekend before, but even warmer. Summer was coming fast.

  The men piled into one car, the women into another, and they headed south to the docks where the Sea Maiden was moored. They stopped in front of a sea kayak rental shop with a sign that read ATLANTIS and scrambled out of their vehicles.

  Inside, they looked at the pictures, brochures, and sea-kayaking paraphernalia that filled the walls. “I’ve never been in one of these before,” Julia said. “Do I need a lesson or something?”

  “Nah,” the clerk said. His young face was tanned already by his afternoons on the water, under the late spring sun. “I’ll explain when we get out there. Just follow your instincts. There’s nothing like it.”

  “I’m game.”

  They finished the paperwork and followed the young man out to Atlantis’s dock behind the shop. There, twenty kayaks in varying colors were tied in individual slips.

  “Now these aren’t the kind of kayaks that tip over easily,” their young instructor began.

  “That’s a relief,” Tara piped up.

  He continued. “Still, take the spray skirt, wrap it around your torso like this”—he demonstrated—“then hop in and attach it to the lip of the kayak’s cockpit. There’s a pull cord here for emergencies,” he said, lifting his up for them to see. “You’ll stay lots warmer that way.”

  They chose their boats and, after stowing their lunches inside and climbing in without incident, were off. Mike whooped with glee as he whipped his double-paddle through the water and gathered speed. His companions were not far behind. They left the shallow bay and headed south to Acadia National Park. The day was hot and windless, unusual for spring.

  As Julia cut through the ocean swells, she thought about that morning’s church service. The sanctuary was a quaint, refurbished building that had originally been erected in the early 1800s. It was the quintessential Northeast church: white clapboard, with the original bell still in the steeple, calling townsfolk to the services. The pulpit had been built to resemble a ship’s prow—which had been common in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries among the seafaring communities. Julia remembered attending with her grandparents as a small girl, holding her grandmother’s hand and listening to her grandfather belt out hymns.

  “Penny for your thoughts.” Trevor’s resonant voice caught her unaware. She had been paddling silently, alone.

  “Actually, I was just thinking about church.”

  “What’d you think?” He slowed his stroke to match Julia’s pace.

  “It was great. That story of the prodigal son always gets me, but today … today I could almost see God with his arms reaching out for me. I’ve been caught up in my own things—moving, working on Torchlight. I forget too easily that my priority should be my faith.”

  Trevor nodded. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the constant prodigal—always coming home to the fatted calf, and then going to spend my inheritance again. It’s a good thing our God is a God of grace.”

  Julia nodded. “It feels good to come home again. It’s where I want to stay.” She smiled at the man who by example had helped remind her of her priorities again. If he hadn’t gone to church the week before, it would have been months before she had been moved to attend. Even with Tara urging her to do so.

  The kayaks slid through the water with little effort. Trevo
r held his head high and leaned forward. He is so at ease with himself, he commands respect from everyone with whom he comes into contact. He has a quiet dignity, a constant, strong presence. My friends like him, the men at the house respect him, and …

  He began to stroke faster, and Julia broke her thoughts to keep pace with him. Trevor grinned at her as each paddle dug to the port side, then starboard; port, starboard. The rhythm lulled her into a more relaxed state of mind. “This was just what I needed,” she said to Trevor as they slowed their pace again.

  “Me, too. Feels great, huh?”

  “Wonderful.”

  He enjoyed seeing her out, away from Torchlight. Her blond hair flew as she stroked forward, and her face was a healthy pink from the spring sun and exercise. Her movements were graceful, and Trevor wondered how she would dance. Confident, free, and easy, he guessed.

  They darted alongside Schoodic Point where broad, storm-washed ledges reflected the late morning sun. After pausing for a break and a snack, they set off across the water to Mount Desert Island, the heart of the park.

  Tourists were few and far between, and it seemed as if the five friends had commandeered the park as their own private paradise. They lunched in the saltwater fjord of Frenchman Sound, riding the gentle swells that ventured inward from the sea. On either side, granite cliffs tinged with pink climbed dramatically upward. In some places the rocks had been worn smooth. Other areas were rough and foreboding. Stands of birch, beech, oak, and maple broke up the dark, dense spruce and fir that lined the shore.

  They spent the remainder of the day exploring the myriad inlets and coves, chasms and large bays that made up Acadia. Julia was resting and rubbing her aching shoulders, wondering how she’d make it back to the kayak shop, when she heard a splash and felt cold salt water wash over her.

  Trevor was off and paddling. “Time to go home, I’d say.” He dug deep into the water as Julia’s shout of disbelief cut the air.

  Julia was determined not to let him get away with it. She met each of his strokes with her own, not gaining, but keeping pace. He was stronger, and his paddles dug deeper, but he was also heavier.

  They continued onward, sapping the last of their strength as they once again reached Schoodic Point.

  With one last mighty stroke, Trevor dug deep into the starboard waters and lifted his oar to dig into the port side. Just then his right plastic paddle came unlatched from the metal rod and floated helplessly away from him.

  Julia laughed as she scooped up the paddle and made her way toward him, a mischievous look on her face.

  “I’m in trouble!” he called. “Help! I need reinforcements!”

  “Oh yeah, you’re in deep, mister! Shout all you want; there’s no one to save you now!”

  Trevor tried to use his remaining oar like a canoe paddle, but it was no use. He spun crazily to the left, and Julia was alongside him in seconds. Their friends hooted and hollered in the distance at Trevor’s impending demise. Holding her own oar like a baseball bat, she took aim as he resigned himself and stretched out his arms as a willing target. The oar hit the water perfectly, casting a huge spray in a graceful arc and soaking her companion.

  Julia laughed as water dripped down his forehead and onto his wet shirt. He smiled with her, shaking the water from his head.

  She paddled alongside him until the boats bumped one another. She handed him the missing piece that had led to his downfall.

  “Don’t mess with the master,” she said smugly.

  His eyes locked with hers, and she quickly turned away and began paddling again, trying to shake off the sense of longing she saw in his gaze, the vague ache that matched what she felt in her heart. Her eyes drifted to the ring on her left hand as she paddled away. Julia found herself cursing her wandering heart. What is wrong with me anyway? She either had to take off Miles’s ring and tell him no or quit flirting with Trevor. She couldn’t have it both ways. It wasn’t fair to either of them.

  “Any chance we’ll have some semblance of order before my brother and his wife arrive?” Julia asked Trevor.

  Jake and Emily would be arriving within weeks, and it seemed that every wall, ceiling, and floorboard in the old house was torn up. Trevor and three local electricians were rewiring the house, gearing it for modern conveniences.

  “We’re doing our best, Julia. This is a big project,” Trevor said.

  “I’m not getting on you. I know you’re working hard. But Jake was just a little boy when we were here last. He can’t even remember what Torchlight looked like. Emily, of course, hasn’t ever laid eyes on it. I hate to have their first impression of the place be that it’s a disaster.”

  “From what you’ve told me, your brother is too laid back to slap a judgment on it like that. You’ve told them we’re in a major rehaul zone, haven’t you?”

  “Yes. But this is their belated honeymoon. They haven’t been anywhere but that Montana ranch since their wedding day. I don’t think they’d be coming now if Emily hadn’t insisted Jake get away and see his only sister. It was like she had to pull teeth to make him take time off. I knew I liked her for some reason.”

  Trevor smiled down at her from his ladder perch, then turned back to his work, peeling layers of old wallpaper and slamming through the plaster as he followed the trail of the ancient wiring.

  He looked back, his face chalk white from the dust of his work. “We’ll work on it, Julia. Maybe we can at least be done tearing out the old stuff and making such a huge mess. But we won’t have the new wires in before next week. They’ll have to live with what we’re living with.”

  “Okay. Just do your best.”

  “As always.”

  They were interrupted by the doorbell, which rang and stuck. As the loud ringing echoed through the house, Julia ran to the front door, opened it, and banged on the doorjamb three times, unsticking the bell. “Sorry,” she said to Tara with a smile. “As you can see, there’s another project every time I turn around.”

  “You should’ve let me bring lunch.”

  “Nonsense. You must feel like you spend your whole life cooking for everybody else. I thought it was high time someone cooked for you.”

  “I knew we’d be friends as soon as you sat down on my barstool,” Tara said as she entered and looked around. “I didn’t know you were going to destroy the ol’ girl. I thought you were going to fix her.”

  “It takes a lot of destruction to reconstruct. Come on into the kitchen. It’s the one room that already has semimodern wiring, so it’s escaping this phase. I’m using it as my haven.” As they walked out of the foyer and into the large blue-and-white room, a loud crash sounded upstairs, rattling the copper kettles hanging from the ceiling. A muffled voice could be heard above them. Julia went to the bottom of the stairs and called up to the electricians at work. “Everyone okay?”

  A dusty man in white coveralls appeared at the upstairs railing and looked down at her with a broad smile. “We’re okay. Mack was just looking down at Tara in the entry, and he fell off his ladder.”

  Julia smiled back at him. “Tell him it serves him right for gawking at my friend while I’m paying him.”

  “I will.”

  Julia grinned at Tara, who had listened to the exchange from the kitchen doorway. “You’d better stay in the kitchen. I can’t afford to have the men lookin’ after you and not their work.”

  “What can I say? I have to beat them off with a stick.”

  “Life’s rough.”

  “What’s for lunch?”

  “Shrimp salad. Sound okay?”

  “Sounds great.”

  Julia pulled from the refrigerator two plates piled high with salad and took a freshly baked loaf of French bread from the pantry. She and Tara each tore off a chunk of bread and ate it, unbuttered, as they sat at the kitchen counter in the relative peace of the room.

  “I’m glad you could come today, Tara,” Julia said. “I wanted you to see what we’re doing here. If I weren’t so obsessed, I’d make i
t into town more often to see you.”

  “Well, as soon as things get under control, I’ll expect to see more of you.” Tara took a bite, chewed, and swallowed. “You make a mean shrimp salad. If this inn doesn’t make it, you can always come in and help me at the restaurant.”

  “I might have to take on a summer job if the place keeps sucking up money at this rate.”

  “I can’t begin to imagine. Luckily you hired a handsome and talented overseer early on.”

  “He has been a blessing. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t sent him my way.”

  “I bet.”

  “Tara …”

  “Oh, don’t tell me you haven’t kissed him! I’ve seen how you two look at each other.”

  Julia lowered her voice and made a face at Tara. “No, I haven’t. We don’t have that kind of a relationship.”

  “Why not?”

  “Hello? Is anybody in there? Do you remember that someone proposed last month? Why would I be kissing another man this week?”

  Tara pointedly looked at Julia. “I hadn’t heard that you called Miles to say yes.”

  “No. I haven’t yet. But I’m wearing the ring.”

  “There’s still hope.”

  “Tara! You’re just getting to know me. Why are you so sure Miles is the wrong man?”

  “I’m not so sure Miles is wrong for you. It’s just that Trevor”—Tara’s eyes went to the door—“Trevor seems so right. It’s as though you two were made for each other, and everybody can see it but you.”

  “Well, I don’t think he’s as interested as you think.”

  “Oh no?”

  “Tara Waverly, if you know something I should, you’d better lay it on the table.”

  “Sorry, I’m just here for a friendly lunch date, not to get into the middle of some warped love triangle.”

  Julia put her head in her hands. “Don’t call it that. Trevor and I are just friends.”

  “Okay. But you’re the friendliest friends I’ve set eyes on in a long while.”

  Julia and Tara finished their lunch and decided to climb the lighthouse stairs with their coffee. Tara beamed. “I haven’t been up there in months!”