At the pier, two people stood in the shadows, the same place where Jonathan had seen Wilda and George the previous night.
Stealing through the night, George’s words grew more distinguishable, his voice low and raspy as Lynette had described.
“My darling, Lynette means nothing to me. Only you. Did you visit the constable?”
“I did,” Wilda said. “I assured him Lynette had planned the demise of her family and admitted the crime to me.” Her last words were spoken victoriously.
“Did he ask why?”
“Yes, and I told him she was upset because you’d left her. Remember, Lynette and Amanda were once close to me. He believed every word.”
“Thank you. Soon he’ll make the arrest, and we can be together.”
“Oh, George, I can hardly wait.” Wilda’s words churned McNair’s stomach. “I’ll go wherever you wish.”
“Has Lynette told Jonathan the whereabouts of her father’s money?”
McNair perked his attention.
“I don’t think so. This evening I prepared his favorite meal and asked him how Lynette planned to support herself. He had no idea.”
“We need that money, Wilda. Is it possible you could befriend Lynette?”
“I despise being around her, but for you I’ll do my best.”
George drew Wilda to him. “That’s all we need to leave this town.”
Constable Smythe walked toward the couple. “George Zimmerman, Wilda Adams, stop where you are. Both of you are wanted for questioning in the deaths of the Brittmore family.”
George ran toward the water’s edge.
“Stop!” Constable Smythe hurried after him.
Wilda screamed.
McNair faced her, shoving his anger to a place where it wouldn’t surface. “How could you do this to Jonathan?” he said evenly. “And what about the young woman you betrayed for the likes of a murderer?”
She lifted her chin. “George is innocent of any crimes. He loves me.”
McNair pointed to the ocean. “If he loves you so much, then why is he rowing out to sea and not here declaring his innocence?”
Wilda touched her heart. “He’s afraid of Lynette and Jonathan.”
“Since when did love mean abandoning someone when they need you? You’re here facing arrest while he’s free.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
But he did. “Love doesn’t mean murder.”
Chapter 16
Lynette blinked at the sand-like tears stinging in her eyes. She’d been up and down the lighthouse steps all night with Mrs. Creed. Fever raged, and Lynette feared the worse. The time was shortly after midnight. How long could this night be?
Prayers stayed on her lips—for the woman to regain her health, for McNair and his mission, and for George to be found. She now understood why her family had been killed and why she was being blamed. But without proof, she’d be tried for murder.
McNair. Indeed she missed him. The sight of him stayed fixed in her mind—warm brown eyes and thick dark hair. She treasured the lingering look that left her wondering what was in his heart.
For the first time, love had stepped into her life. But she could do nothing about her tender feelings unless McNair broached the matter. She’d not risk having her feelings rejected.
Glancing at the sleeping woman, she hurried to the lighthouse. Once everything was in order, she considered George again. How had he gained entrance to the lighthouse? The walls were thick, and the winding staircase narrow. Could there be….She studied every inch of the circular wall, running her fingers across the rough surface.
She pressed on the stones until an indentation the height of a man confirmed her suspicions. A doorway opened and revealed a hidden stairwell. Surely Papa had not known about this. Grabbing the lantern, she followed the steps to the ground where the doorway exited on the opposite side of the exposed stairway. Brush hid the stones that moved wide enough for one to steal in or out.
Satisfied she’d put together how George had maneuvered his charade as an apparition, she checked on Mrs. Creed before ascending the main stairway to the top.
In the tower, Lynette saw George, his back to her. He stared out to sea in the stance she well remembered. He swung around, and she knew he’d been expecting her.
“Why now?” she said. “You’ve had so many opportunities to approach me when I was alone.”
“I had to make sure you hadn’t lost your mind.” George sneered, the same contemptible look he’d given all of them.
“What do you want?”
He stepped closer. “Many things, my dear. The money your father left you is a good beginning.”
She forced down the rising fear. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I take what I want. You should realize my determination by now.”
“Like the murder of my family?”
He smiled wryly. “You’re getting smarter. Do you want to know how I eliminated them?”
“No.”
He laughed, and the insane sound sent chills up her spine. “You’ll hear anyway,” George said. “Your father was first. The sniveling man had crossed me too many times. His demands. His threats. I tossed him over the boat and hit him in the head with an oar.”
“Please.” Her stomach twisted.
“Then your mother joined him in the same way. Dear Amanda was hysterical. She slapped me. Tried to take the oar, as if she were any match for me. I used my knife to silence her. Getting rid of your sister was my biggest treat.”
“She was carrying your child.”
“What I wanted was you and the money. Their deaths are your fault.”
Why hadn’t they seen his madness? “My sister loved you.”
“To her demise.” He took another step toward her. “You want my life, the excitement, the challenge?”
“I’d rather be dead.” And she meant it.
“Do you prefer the new lighthouse keeper?” He reached to grab her, but she moved around the lenses.
Lynette lifted her chin. “Mr. Hattchery understands the meaning of integrity.”
“He’s deceived you, my dear. I have a tidbit of information about him. Wilda Adams so graciously keeps me informed of all her husband’s business. It seems Mr. Hattchery delayed in rescuing a nephew, and the poor lad drowned. What do you think of your hero now?”
“You expect me to believe you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” He pointed to the catwalk. “Are you going to join me out there willingly, or will there be a struggle?”
“There will be a fight.”
George laughed. “My stubborn Lynette, I have your death all worked out. You could not bear the guilt for what you’d done to your family and jumped into the ocean.”
Lynette thought about the rifle. Even if she could escape him and claim it, George could overpower her and hurt Mrs. Creed. “There is no money.”
“Then your lighthouse keeper will find your body floating in the water.”
“He’ll know better.” She heard footsteps.
“Lynette,” McNair called. “Are you there?”
“George has me,” she said.
McNair’s steps came faster. Whaley growled. Oh, her protectors.
George grabbed her waist and dragged her to the catwalk. She stared at the hidden stairwell that George had used.
“You could escape and leave us be,” she said.
“Not until I have what I want. I’m not afraid of your lighthouse keeper.” He clasped his hand over her mouth.
She sunk her teeth into his hand. He cursed, and she tried to wiggle free as Whaley and McNair emerged from the staircase. Whaley leaped at George, knocking her and her assailant to the floor. McNair pulled her from harm and stood over George where Whaley had him pinned.
“You, sir, will meet justice for your murderous actions,” McNair said. “Wilda Adams has confessed to everything.” Lynette handed him rope, and he flipped George to his stomach. “Keep
him down, Whaley, while I bind his hands.” Once finished he glanced at Lynette. “Did he harm you? Because if he did, I’ll end his life myself.”
She trembled even though the danger had ceased. “He admitted to murdering my family.”
“And I’d do it again,” George said. “They deserved it for making my life miserable.” He spit at McNair. “Lynette knows of how you let the boy suffer and die.”
Lynette’s gaze flew to McNair. His face twisted into grief. “ ’Tis true.”
Chapter 17
McNair and Lynette watched the evening sky of yellow and orange fade into dark blue. Two days had passed since Constable Smythe had arrested George for the murder of the Brittmores. Wilda Adams had been arrested, too, and Jonathan was heartbroken. He’d sent to Boston for a lawyer, but the woman claimed she was as guilty as George. Although McNair had coerced George to believe Wilda had confessed her part, in truth she’d stayed loyal to her lover.
Mrs. Creed had rallied with the aid of the mainland’s doctor. McNair didn’t want to think of Lynette having to deal with one more death. Yet he faced an even more difficult challenge—telling Lynette how his nephew had died.
“I need to tell you what happened before I took this position,” McNair said. “George spoke the truth about my nephew. The boy drowned, and it was my fault.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did you try to save him?”
He nodded, the memories as vivid as the afternoon of the drowning. “But I was too late. My hesitation contributed to his death.”
She turned to him, touching his arm. “Simply tell me what plagues you.”
“Robbie was eleven, a mischievous boy. Loved life. Loved to play pranks on others.” An image of the sandy-haired boy flashed through his mind…and the despair of his mother who’d already lost her husband. “Since his father died, Robbie had developed a need for others to give him attention. Many times he cried for help when nothing threatened him. That’s what happened in the river. I thought he was teasing, and I wanted to teach him a lesson.”
“The hesitation.”
“Yes. When he cried for help the second time, I dove into the river. The last thing he shouted was about a cramp in his side. I pulled him from the water, but I’d let him drown.”
“McNair, you can’t blame yourself for his death.”
“Why?” He heard the bitterness in his voice.
“It was an accident.”
“My sister blamed me.”
“Grief can cause one to blame anything or anyone.” She fought for obvious control. “I blamed God for the deaths of my family, for allowing George to end their lives. Mrs. Creed helped me to see things in a different perspective.”
“How?”
“She said our lives are in God’s hands. We may not understand the why of an untimely death, but it’s all part of His plan, a perfect plan even if we don’t agree. Perhaps the reason for my family’s deaths won’t be clear until eternity, but I have to trust God knows best.”
“That doesn’t justify my actions with Robbie.” He removed her hand from his arm, and he despised himself for it. “Lynette, I’m not a good man for you.”
She gasped. “Don’t I have a say in the matter?”
“I can’t say what’s in my heart. My deeds stop me.”
“I don’t care what you’ve done.”
He stood. “I’m going back to the lighthouse. We have nothing because I have nothing to give.”
“Your heart, McNair, is all I want.”
He stared at the harbor. “We don’t have a future. I’ll be resigning my position here.” He walked away. The past tortured him, and a future without her left him numb. How could a man love and fear love at the same time? At times he thought he might suffocate without her presence. Such a man he was—a coward and yet he’d die to protect her.
Lynette had taken a bold stand and spoken her heart, and McNair had turned away. She’d allowed herself to believe the two of them could have a life together. But she obviously meant nothing to him. How foolish she felt. Picking up a handful of sand, she let it fall through her fingers. Lost…so much had been lost.
She’d titled him noble, giving, a man much like Papa. McNair had helped her bring George to justice and settled what happened to her family. He’d saved her life and risked his own. But he was leaving.
Brushing the sand from her hands, she resolved not to be selfish. She’d leave in the morning. Those who looked to the lighthouse for guidance needed McNair more than she did. God had brought her through the grief of losing her parents, and He’d carry her through the loss of love.
Lynette thought of her list of accomplishments before leaving the island. Not all had been fulfilled, but she could move on. With her inheritance, she’d open a boardinghouse and a fine eatery.
“A plan,” she whispered and begged her tears to dry.
Inside her room, she packed some of her belongings, and the rest she’d send for later. Mrs. Creed was well enough to make the short trip.
As though the older woman knew of Lynette’s despair, she appeared in the doorway. Frail and in a white gown, she seemed to know Lynette needed her.
“Tell me what troubles you,” Mrs. Creed said.
“If I don’t leave, McNair will resign.”
“Oh, my dear girl. Why?”
“He doesn’t share in my feelings.”
“Hogwash.”
Any other time, Lynette would have laughed. “He said we don’t have a future.”
“He’s a blind fool. I know what I see.”
“Maybe we wanted something to be so and didn’t see the truth.”
“We’ll weather this together, my child. My home has plenty of room for the both of us.”
A thickening in Lynette’s throat stopped her from accepting the invitation. Instead she nodded her appreciation. “Is God testing me to see how much I can take? I forgave George and Aunt Wilda. I understand what revenge and regret can do to a person’s soul.”
“God has this matter resolved. Whatever He has for you is far better than anything we could hope for.”
Mrs. Creed’s wisdom fell like shells in scrambled eggs. The familiar loneliness that had stalked her since she realized George’s madness had seized her again. Lynette knew she should be filled with gratitude for all God had done on her behalf, but her heart ached for a man who’d rejected her.
“Maybe he needs time to figure out what he wants,” Mrs. Creed said. “Men are creatures who don’t make decisions lightly.”
“And what am I to do in the meantime?”
“Wait. Pray. Go on with your life until God shows you a different path.”
Chapter 18
Two weeks later, McNair still fought the heaviness weighing on him. Lynette was gone, but what did he expect? What happened to Robbie stood in the way of their happiness. How could any woman respect a man who’d hesitated before trying to save a drowning boy?
Jonathan had taken Lynette and Mrs. Creed to the mainland. Mrs. Creed had hugged McNair good-bye but Lynette had kept her distance, her way of not causing either of them any more discomfort. If he left Bird Island, where would he go? Certainly not home where those whom he loved blamed him for a child’s death. He’d thought the lighthouse position would help him forget. Then he met Lynette, and everything he’d wanted in life had rushed over him.
She’d left a poem for him, and he read it every day. He pulled it from his pocket and reread the memorized lines.
Oh fickle heart how easily you were deceived,
The lies have left me alone and bereaved.
Shall I ever see the truth your lips failed to tell,
Or will I want for you until my last breath fails?
On the kitchen table he’d found a slip of paper with only two lines.
Sail away, dear heart, to where the sea meets the sky,
And maybe then I can say my tender good-byes.
McNair descended the tower with Whaley at his side. She’d left the dog for
him, and the animal’s presence helped keep her memory alive. Entering the cottage, he smelled the loneliness. The days of Lynette’s smile and all she had to give were gone.
With the kettle on the fire for tea, he roamed outside. A boat rowed his way. Probably Jonathan. The poor man needed someone to talk to as much as McNair needed a listening ear. Wilda had chosen to remain in jail near George, although Jonathan visited her daily. He’d tried to resign his position as mayor, but the town claimed they needed him.
Whaley barked. A woman sat in the boat with Jonathan. Yet it wasn’t his Lynette. Curiosity overcame him, and he made his way to the shore.
Rachel…What business did his sister have with him? Clenching his fist, the memories of Robbie’s accident tormented him. The words she’d flung in sorrow and hatred.
Lynette would tell him to trust God.
Rachel waved, and he returned the gesture. McNair’s pulse sped away. What did this mean? Jonathan helped her from the boat, and she ran to McNair. Rachel’s smile met him. The anger had disappeared. When she reached to hug him, tears filled her eyes, and he held her close.
“I’ve missed you,” Rachel said, her small frame reaching up on tiptoe.
“And I you,” he said.
“I’ve come a long way to talk to you, brother.” Her soft voice calmed him for whatever she had to say.
“I’m going to take a walk,” Jonathan said. “Let you two talk privately.”
McNair nodded, wishing his friend would stay. “What is it, Rachel? Are there problems at home? Is Mother in good health? Our sisters?”
“Everyone is in good health. They wish you well, hoping you can plan a trip home soon.”
“I don’t understand the meaning of this.”
She took his hand, the way she used to do when they were children. “I’m here because I need to ask your forgiveness.”
McNair stepped back. “Why? You’ve done nothing.”
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