Shine Like the Dawn

by Carrie Turansky

  Palmer’s friends nodded and clapped their hearty agreement.

  Samuelson leaned forward, his expression intent. “Gentlemen, I urge you to keep working toward a peaceful solution. Talk of a deadline to strike will stir up animosity and put everyone on the defensive, and that will only end up hurting your cause.”

  “If they won’t listen, we have no other choice.”

  “Fortunately, it hasn’t reached that point yet. There’s still time to bring both sides together and work things out in a peaceful and reasonable way.”

  Palmer shook his head. “If they want a peaceful solution, then the board will have to meet with us. If not, then we’re ready to take a stand against them.”

  Samuelson’s gaze traveled from one man to the next. “A strike would mean great hardship for you and your families.”

  “True, but if that’s what it takes, we won’t be the only ones who suffer.” Palmer rose from his chair. “Come on, men. We’re done talking tonight.”

  As the men walked out of the room, Nate sat back and blew out a deep breath. His course was set. If anyone was going to stop the strike, it was up to him—he must convince the board to negotiate with the workers. Still, he felt defeated as he remembered the board’s determination to stand strong against negotiating with the men.

  “Don’t look so worried.” Samuelson rose and clamped a firm hand on his shoulder. “There’s still time to prevent a strike.”

  “A short time, yes, but a strategy to see this through…that’s what I need. I’m not sure I can convince the board to do anything.”

  “Then it’s good to remember it’s not all up to you.” Samuelson looked Nate in the eye. “I suggest we pray about it and keep praying until we see men’s hearts change—on both sides.”

  “Good idea, Samuelson.”

  “Shall we start now?” Samuelson bowed his head.

  Nate closed his eyes and listened while his friend offered a humble yet confident prayer for a resolution to the threatened strike. The words flowed over and around him, easing away his tension and bringing him renewed hope.

  He would keep his word to the men and do what he could, but the outcome was in God’s hands…and that was where it needed to stay.

  Nate quietly opened the front door and stepped into the entrance hall at Morningside Manor. With a weary sigh, he pushed the door closed, then walked toward the dimly lit great hall. The only lights on were the two globes glowing at the bottom of the stairs.

  The weight of the day’s events and the lateness of the hour drained away the last of his energy and made his steps heavy. All he wanted now was to fall into bed and let sleep drown out his problems.

  He started toward the stairs, but a soft snore sounded off to his left. He turned and spotted Jackson seated on a chair, his head lowered and shoulders sagging. The poor old butler was evidently waiting for Nate to return before he locked the front door and went upstairs to bed.

  Nate reached out and touched the man’s shoulder. “Jackson.”

  The butler startled, lifted his head, and blinked. “I’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid I dozed off.” He slowly rose to his feet.

  “I’m the one who should apologize. The meeting went longer than I expected.”

  “It’s all right, sir.”

  “Thank you for keeping an eye on everything. You can lock up now and be done for the night.”

  Jackson glanced toward the door. “I don’t believe Miss Clara has returned yet, sir.”

  “Clara is out at this hour?” Frowning, Nate checked the tall clock in the corner. Ten minutes after eleven was certainly too late for his sister to be out.

  “Yes, sir. She left just after nine.” Jackson leaned closer. “Said she was going for a walk.” But the lift of his silver brows made it clear Jackson believed there was more to the story.

  Nate glanced at the stairs, letting go of his desire to head straight to bed. He’d promised his father he would look after Clara, and that meant more than just providing food and shelter for her. He needed to make sure she was all right.

  “You may go on upstairs, Jackson. I’ll go see if I can find her.”

  “Very good, sir.” Jackson dipped his head, then shuffled off toward the staircase.

  Nate watched him, fondness for the old man easing away some of his frustration. They ought to encourage Jackson to retire, give him a pension, and set him up in a cottage on the estate—or perhaps he had family who would welcome him into their home for his final years. Nate sighed. He would think about that tomorrow. Right now he needed to find his sister.

  He walked outside and scanned the front drive and lawn, but there was no sign of Clara. Remembering where he’d found her with Owen Campbell, he started down the gravel path toward the walled garden.

  A full moon lit the walkway and spread a silvery glow on the garden wall. He stepped through the open gateway and scanned the garden paths.

  A faint voice off to the right caught his attention. At the end of the path near the far wall, Clara and Owen stood facing each other. They spoke so softly he could not make out their words, but his sister’s stance and expression made him pause and step into the shadows.

  Owen reached for Clara’s hand and held it with gentleness and reverence. Clara glanced away with a shy smile, then slowly turned back and looked into Owen’s eyes. Even from a distance Nate could read the sweet longing in her expression.

  The young man lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers.

  Nate stilled, taking in the tender scene, surprised by the way it moved him. The two obviously cared for each other, and they seemed to be engaged in nothing more than a moonlight walk.

  He remembered the way he’d spoken to them the first time he found them together, and he had a nagging sense he might have been too quick to judge the situation. Why hadn’t he taken Maggie’s advice and sought out Owen since then? If his sister cared that much for the man, Nate ought to at least let Owen explain his intentions.

  Clara stepped back, then she kissed her fingers and waved to him. He lifted his hand, returning the farewell gesture. Owen turned and walked out the garden gate on the far wall.

  Nate stayed hidden in the shadows as Clara hurried past. This was not the right time to speak to her or Owen. But when he did speak to them, he would listen first and weigh his words carefully before responding, as Maggie had encouraged him to do.

  He pulled in a deep breath of damp, lavender-scented air and listened to the crickets chirping in the bushes. He waited a few more seconds, soaking in the tranquility of the moonlit garden, then he started back toward the house, his burden lighter and his mind more at peace.

  Maggie followed the steep, winding path down the hillside through the rock-strewn gardens. The sound of the rushing stream rose from the bottom of the ravine, drawing her closer. Birds called to one another and darted through the evergreen trees overhead while the fragrant branches swayed in a gentle breeze.

  She’d always loved following this path and seeing what lay around the next bend. Today, pink and purple azaleas bloomed on the hillsides between large boulders and low creeping heather. Beneath the tall evergreens, lush ferns, primrose, and bluebells carpeted the ground.

  Her father had designed this garden his first year at Morningside, choosing every bush and tree and overseeing their planting. It was wonderful to see how much it had filled in and become even lovelier in the passing years.

  All morning she’d longed to leave the house and have some time alone to think through everything that had happened in the last few days. But it wasn’t until after lunch, when Grandmother and Violet were settled with sewing and books, that she’d felt she could finally slip away. What a relief to walk outside and not have to worry about seeing Helen Harcourt and having to pretend she didn’t know what she had done.

  She continued down the path, and her thoughts shifted to last evening. After Violet was asleep and Grandmother was absorbed in reading a novel, Maggie had written a detailed list of all she remembered
about the accident and the Harcourts’ actions afterward. Next she added what she’d read in her father’s journal, then listed highlights from Helen’s diary. Finally, she recorded the conversation between Helen and Roland, making sure she had it almost word for word. When she finished, she’d folded the sheets of paper and slipped them into her mother’s Bible on her bedside table.

  After breakfast she showed her notes to her grandmother, then they prayed together about the next steps to take. Maggie’s prayers were halting, but she stepped out with what little faith she had and asked God for His leading and protection. She wasn’t sure if it was a direct answer, but she sensed it would be best if they left Morningside and returned to the village as soon as arrangements could be made.

  She reached the lower path by the stream. The sound of water rushing over and around moss-covered rocks blocked out most other sounds. It tumbled downhill, running on to join the river Coquet and then flow into the North Sea.

  She left the path, stepped out on a large rock at the edge of the stream, and looked down at the colorful stones below the surface of the water. Leaning closer, she watched the little gray minnows dart between the rocks while the water gurgled and splashed over them in a hypnotic dance.

  “Maggie.”

  Startled, she jerked, then teetered on the slippery rock.

  “Whoa!” Nate reached for her, his arms encircling her waist and drawing her back toward him.

  She laughed, but his nearness made her heart beat hard and fast.

  “I’ve got you.” His warm breath caressed her cheek as he held her close. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.” But her unsteady voice sounded anything but fine. She looked over her shoulder and found his face only inches from hers.

  Light glimmered in his eyes, and a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

  How handsome he was, with his dark, wind-tossed hair, strong chin, and deep-brown eyes. But it was more than Nate’s dashing appearance that drew her to him. His kindness toward her and her family had proven his character time and again.

  She looked into his eyes and felt her last bit of resistance fading. If she lifted her face toward him and let her eyes drift closed, would he kiss her? A tremor passed through her at that thought.

  He tightened his hold in response, searching her eyes. “Maggie?” His voice was low and husky, and the light in his gaze flickered into a flame.

  Time seemed suspended as she teetered on the edge of her decision. If she followed her heart and gave in to the feelings coursing through her, where would it take her? She cared for Nate more than she’d ever cared for any other man, but should she give away her very first kiss before she was certain of his love for her?

  He must have read the uncertainty in her eyes, because his expression dimmed and he loosened his hold. “We’d better step back from the edge,” he said softly, then lowered his arms and helped her down from the rock.

  A thought struck Maggie, and a painful ache filled her chest. Very soon, Nate would have a good reason to distance himself from her. Once she accused his stepmother of murder, it could be the deathblow to their friendship.

  He glanced down the path. “Would you like to walk with me?”

  Maggie slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. “Nate, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  “What is it?” The openness and trust in his expression only made her heart ache more.

  “I sent Reverend Samuelson a letter, asking him to help us find somewhere to stay in the village.”

  He stilled and studied her. “Why?”

  She swallowed and had to force out her next words. “I think it would be better if we were nearby when they start working on the shop.”

  His eyebrows dipped. “I can take you to the village whenever you’d like. You can see to your business or spend time with your…friends…if that’s what you want.”

  She stiffened. What did he mean by that? “Mr. Ledbetter said rebuilding will take at least three months, maybe more. That’s much too long for us to impose on you and your family. I think it would be best for everyone if we found somewhere else to stay.”

  His face had grown ruddy while she spoke. “It’s because of Joseph Neatherton, isn’t it?”

  She pulled in a sharp breath. “Why would you say that?”

  “It’s obvious how he feels about you. He made that perfectly clear the last time we saw him.”

  “Joseph has been our neighbor and friend for years.”

  “And I’ve known you since you were twelve. Doesn’t that give me just as much right to be considered your friend?”

  “Of course we’re friends. And I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for us, but I don’t think we should take advantage of your generosity for months at a time.”

  Nate frowned. “There’s more to it than that. I can see it in your eyes, Maggie. There’s something you’re not telling me.”

  She looked away. Why was he making this so hard?

  “Joseph Neatherton practically knocked me down just for taking you to meet with that builder. I can assure you he has something much more permanent than friendship in mind.”

  Maggie lifted her chin and matched his strong tone. “What he wants and what’s going to happen are two very different things.”

  “So you’re not in love with Joseph Neatherton?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Nate!”

  “What?”

  “It’s not fair to ask me a question like that.”

  He stalked a few steps away, picked up a rock, and flung it into the stream, then glared into the woods across the water. She waited, feeling torn between wanting to push him into the stream and calling him back and promising him she did not love Joseph.

  He sent another rock flying, and it dropped into the deep water on the far side. Finally, he turned and walked back toward her. “I shouldn’t have asked you that. I’m sorry.” The lines on his face softened, and regret surfaced in his eyes. “I hope you won’t stay angry with me.”

  “I’m not angry, just…confused about what I ought to do.”

  “Well, you can be sure of this…I want you to stay.” His gentle tone and imploring look hit the mark.

  Her heart clenched. “You might think that now, but very soon things are going to change and you won’t want me at Morningside anymore.” Tears burned her eyes, and her throat clogged.

  He stepped closer. “Maggie, what is it?”

  Tell him the truth. The Voice she had ignored for so long spoke straight to her heart.

  Did she have the courage? Could she trust Nate? She blew out a deep breath, then looked into his eyes. “It’s a long story.”

  He took her hand and drew her toward the edge of the stream to sit on a large rock. “However long it is, I’m ready to listen.”

  “All right.” She sorted through the details, trying to decide where to start. “Do you remember the day, a long time ago, when I climbed the tree to look into that bird’s nest? I think I was thirteen.”

  He grinned. “This must be a very long story if you are starting that far back.”

  She pushed his arm. “The bird attacked me, and I fell off and landed on you.”

  His mouth tugged up on one side. “Yes, I remember.”

  “On the walk home we heard your stepmother talking to a man in the woods. I wanted to stay and hear what they were saying, but you knew it was wrong, and you said we should leave.”

  He nodded, his smile fading.

  “My father saw them too, more than once. He confronted your stepmother and urged her to break it off and tell your father everything. He said if she didn’t, he would go to Mr. Harcourt himself.”

  Nate waited, unreadable emotions in his eyes.

  “But Helen wouldn’t listen. She threatened my father, saying unless he kept quiet, she would ruin his reputation by saying he had made advances toward her.”

  Nate’s expression grew grave.

  “But my father stood firm and gave her three days to
tell your father the truth…but he didn’t live long enough to follow through.”

  Shock flashed in Nate’s eyes. “He told you this?”

  “No, he never said a word to me or anyone else. He died, carrying Helen’s secret with him to the bottom of Tumbledon Lake.”

  “Then how do you know about it?”

  “I read it in his journal.”

  His gaze darted toward the house and then back to her. “Do you have it with you?”

  She shook her head. “It was destroyed in the fire.”

  “So you have no proof of your father’s conversation with Helen?”

  “No, but I know it’s true.”

  Nate’s brow furrowed.

  “There’s more. A man named Roland came to the house Sunday to see Helen.” Maggie told him everything she’d heard in that exchange.

  “So you think this man Roland is the one she was meeting in the woods?”

  “No, I think Helen wanted to silence my father, and she arranged for someone to damage the boat so it would go down. Roland knows about it, and he’s blackmailing her to keep it a secret.”

  Nate stared at her for a few seconds. “Have you told anyone else?”

  A prickle of unease traveled through her. “Only my grandmother.”

  “Good. I think it’s best if you keep it to yourself for now.”

  Maggie’s stomach tensed. Was Nate trying to protect his family’s reputation and prevent Helen’s arrest? Was that why he wanted her to keep quiet?

  She had to know where he stood, even if it meant she must stand against him. “I think I should go to the police.”

  Nate shifted on the rock and faced her. “Your suspicions are logical, but you have no proof someone tampered with the boat.” He frowned toward the water for a moment, then looked back at her. “That’s the missing piece. If we can find out who she hired to damage the boat, then I think the police will listen.”