Mason frowned, but Jule ignored him. He didn’t think she should be keeping the candles lit and the wicks trimmed while other ladies slept. But Papa had developed a deep cough, and with fishing every day and minding the lighthouse, it hadn’t gotten any better. She’d helped him with the duties since she was a young girl. As she hurried up the stairs, she resolved to tell Mason why she must help her family for as long as possible. The life of a lighthouse keeper involved the entire family, a commitment to the ships and their safety. She knew he would understand.
Shortly thereafter, Jule and Mason boarded the rowboat he had borrowed from his father and set across Galveston Bay. She loved the blue water, and with the wind blowing in a southerly direction, it took very little time or effort to reach the mainland. The harbor bustled with activity, from the small fishing boats to the shouts and laughter along the docks where goods were loaded and unloaded from the ships’ hulls.
Once they set foot upon dry land, an open-air carriage transported them to his parents’ home on Broadway. The horses’ rhythmic clop along the street lured her into a future time when she would live among these same people. How strange she felt, not certain about her role as Mason Channing’s wife.
Suddenly she sensed his gaze upon her and gave him the attention he deserved.
“I remember the first time I saw you,” he said, slipping his arm across her shoulders.
Jule smiled. “I could never forget.” How well she recalled the warm day last November when he’d knocked on her door to request a viewing of the lighthouse. “I stumbled over my words the entire time I explained the procedures of keeping the lens clean and insuring the proper amount of oil in the lamps. And I didn’t wear any shoes.”
“You were delightful,” Mason replied. “And I didn’t hear a word of the tour. I was too captivated with the beautiful, intelligent young woman before me. Remember the long walk along the beach?”
Jule nodded. “And you returned the following morning to talk to Papa.”
Mason chuckled. “Asking to come calling on you proved more difficult than weathering any storm. He questioned me for an hour about my intentions. I still recall the perspiration dripping down the side of my face—for fear he’d deny me the pleasure of seeing you again.”
“I had no idea what you two were discussing, so I watched from inside the house. When I saw you two shake hands, I thought you had struck a deal of some sort.”
“We did.” Mason laughed.
She had been in complete awe of Mason’s attention, and he’d easily captured her heart with his wit, charm, and honesty.
“Do you know what attracted me the most about you?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
“My bare feet?”
“No, my silly Jule. For the first time in my life, a woman didn’t act like she needed to impress me. You were genuine, and I loved it.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Her eyes caught sight of two boys playing tag. A part of her never wanted to grow up. “What is your mother’s surprise for me?” she asked, attempting to convey her eagerness.
He grinned and lightly squeezed her shoulder. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, but I believe you will be pleased.”
“With your mother’s excellent taste, it must be wonderful.”
“Oh, my darling,” he said with a sigh. “You are most diplomatic, for I know Mother can be trying at times.”
How well Jule knew his mother’s tenacity for securing her own way. However, Esther Channing loved Mason and his father. “Whatever she has for me, I will be gracious.”
His mustache curled upward. “Where were you all those years Father and Mother urged me to take a bride?”
Jule tried but failed to keep from smiling. “Growing up,” she replied, nodding her head for emphasis.
The carriage stopped and Mason assisted her down. “Please wait for our return,” Mason instructed the driver. “I would like to take Miss Portier for a short ride.”
Carrying her threadbare bag in one hand and unlatching the gate with the other, Mason offered her his arm, and they sauntered up the walkway.
Squared by a white wrought-iron fence, the huge edifice looked formidable, even ominous, to Jule. The sight of it always took her breath away. Glancing upward to the angled bay windows, she caught sight of the ornate spindle-type white trim from the front verandah extending to the second-story balcony. Trepidation crept over her while she contemplated the evening ahead.
Once inside, Mason removed his derby hat and held on to Jule firmly.
“I’m right here,” he whispered. “There is no need for you to tremble.”
A servant took her bag while another led the way to where Mrs. Channing awaited them in the music room. This particular area had been painted in cream and accented in peach and gold. A black grand piano rested in one corner near two cream and gold chairs, which held a violin and flute respectively. Mrs. Channing sat perfectly erect on a gold spun sofa beside a floor-to-ceiling window, facing the piano.
“Good afternoon, Mason, Jule,” the tastefully dressed woman said in greeting. She directed her attention to Jule. “And how are you, dear?”
“Very well, thank you,” Jule replied, hoping she sounded the slightest bit sophisticated. “You look quite lovely this afternoon, Mrs. Channing.”
The older woman, dressed in a gown of variegated shades of lavender, nodded pleasantly and lifted a cheek for Mason to kiss.
“I would like to show Jule the progress on our home before dinner,” he said, escorting her to the same sofa with his mother.
“I am so excited for you, Mason. Your home will be grand,” his mother replied, clasping her hands primly in her lap. “I have such plans for the interior design, and I can only imagine the gala events.”
Jule inwardly shuddered. She knew nothing of arranging such things. Why, she had never been to a social affair—of course Mrs. Channing must know how inept she felt.
“Jule, dear,” Mrs. Channing began, “perhaps you would like to freshen up before departing. Change clothes, perhaps?”
Cringing, Jule swallowed hard. She had no desire to be rude in response to Mrs. Channing’s question, but she had nothing else suitable to wear. “I will be fine,” she answered with a smile. “But I would like to freshen up.”
“Go ahead, darling,” Mason said with an encouraging smile. “I will be waiting.”
Mrs. Channing summoned a servant, who proceeded to escort Jule to the second floor. There, in the same pale blue and rose room where she had slept the previous times, atop a bed adorned in a white coverlet, lay a lovely silk gown of misty green. Jule gasped at the yards of ruffles and deeper green lace trim. Stunned, she moved toward the bed, admiring the dress’s design. She bent to touch the fabric between her fingers.
“Are you pleased?” Mrs. Channing asked.
Jule whirled around to see Mason and his mother observing her from the doorway. “It is very beautiful,” she replied.
“Good,” his mother said with only a faint smile. “If it fits properly, I will have my seamstress fit you for an entire wardrobe.”
Jule held her breath. “Oh, you must not. I don’t know what I would do with such lovely gowns.”
“Wear them as my wife. With your black hair, violet eyes, and tall slender figure—anything and everything will look perfect,” Mason declared.
Jule blushed at his compliment, not sure how to respond.
“Mother originally had the idea, but I picked the color of the gown.”
Although he had never said or done anything to indicate how he felt, Jule was positive her clothes must humiliate him, especially when he normally viewed young women dressed exquisitely in the most elegant gowns.
“I guessed about your size,” Mrs. Channing said, her petite figure standing perfectly poised. “And in the dressing room, I have selected other things for you as well.”
Determined to retain her pride, Jule searched for the proper words. “Thank you,” she managed. “I am honored to have you
present me with such lavish gifts.”
“Nonsense,” his mother replied, her chin reaching rather high proportions. “I couldn’t have you embarrassing our family any longer in those rags.”
Chapter 3
Mother!” Mason shouted. “I will not have you speak to Jule this way.”
“Son, calm down. Jule is quite aware she is marrying considerably above her station in life.” His mother responded as though she and Mason were the only people in the room.
Mason’s stormy eyes blazed. “You will—”
Jule lifted her skirts and positioned herself between Mason and his mother. “Mrs. Channing, I am fully aware of who I am and the social status of your family. I did not accept your son’s proposal based on his wealth or name but solely because I love him. If my being here is a source of embarrassment to you, fret no more, for I shall leave.” With her gaze firmly fixed on Esther Channing, she added, “Thank you for your generous gift, but I won’t be needing the dress.”
His mother glared at her angrily, saying nothing, but her facial expressions spoke volumes. A moment later, a look of victory calmed her strained features.
“I need transportation back to Bolivar Point,” Jule said, still directing a cold stare at Mason’s mother.
Suddenly Jule realized her haughty pride and outburst did not come from God. She moistened her lips and summoned the courage to address the woman once more. “Please accept my apologies for my impertinent behavior. As a Christian woman, I am chagrined at my rash words; nevertheless, it does not change how I feel.”
“You are not the one to apologize,” Mason said. “Come along, Jule, I will not have you stay in this house one moment longer.”
Jule turned and exited the room. Her heart fluttered and she quaked from the tension of the confrontation, but she refused to allow any tears to fall. Mama had warned her Mrs. Channing might not accept her. The Portiers and the Channings had nothing in common. It didn’t matter that Mason’s mother had spoken shamefully. Jule’s angry retort did not right the matter.
Mason’s mother called for him to return, but his steps did not falter. “I shall surely faint,” she cried. The front door of the three-story mansion slammed with his mother’s hysteria ringing behind them.
“I’m so sorry,” Jule breathed once they stood on the verandah.
“Nonsense,” Mason said, his jaw anchored solidly. “Neither you nor I will ever return to this house.”
He helped her into the carriage and requested the driver to take them to the docks.
“I lost my temper,” she began.
Mason failed to acknowledge her statement. His body seethed with anger. “Mother would try the patience of a minister.”
“You shouldn’t have to choose between me and your family,” Jule said slowly. Guilt settled upon her like a slowly creeping fog. “This is my fault.”
“The Bible says a man should leave his father and mother and cleave to his wife,” he responded. “I should have done this years ago.”
“But we’re not married yet, and until then they deserve your respect and obedience,” she gently reminded him.
“At my age? Nonsense.”
Jule picked up his hand, and he grasped hers firmly. She could think of nothing to say. How could she live with herself, knowing she had been the cause of Mason severing ties with his parents?
The longer they rode in silence, the more regret gnawed at her. She envisioned the years ahead of them—with children and without the Channings as grandparents. All involved would suffer the loss.
Mason needed the companionship of others. His personality demanded it, and surely his life vocation required it. He enjoyed his wide circle of friends, and those people were in the same social realm as his parents. Jule sensed this afternoon marked the beginning of a wedge driven between her and Mason. Someday, he would regret his decision. First, he promised to give up the sea for her, and now he had chosen her over his parents. No love should demand such a sacrifice. Her selfishness, her desires, her needs, and her inability to befriend Mason’s mother led to one conclusion. She loved Mason with all her heart, and she ached with what must be done.
“Mason,” Jule began, withdrawing her hand from his. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather someone else took me home.”
“Why?” His eyes narrowed.
“I’m breaking our engagement. I no longer want to marry you.”
“Tell me you don’t love me,” he said quietly. “Look at me, Jule.”
She slowly turned to him, defiantly holding herself aloof, but he saw the desperation in her striking violet eyes. He heard the emotion in her voice and realized she’d do anything to stop a flow of tears.
Jule’s chest rose slightly as she inhaled. “I do not love you. Your mother spoke correctly. I wanted to marry you for your wealth, nothing more, but I can’t follow through with it. At least, I have some decency left.”
Mason met her resolve with the same determination as when he sailed into unsettled waters—stouthearted and bold.
“I remember when the captain used to catch me in a lie,” Mason said impassively. “He’d warm my backside with a leather strap.”
Jule’s eyes widened, and her fists tightened into a ball on her lap.
“So, do I need to resort to Father’s method?”
The color drained from her face. She stiffened. “Mason Channing, I am not a child. I have spoken the truth, and you must accept our broken engagement.”
“Indeed not.”
“Why? Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“No, Jule,” he replied gently. “You love me as much as I love you. This little ruckus—”
“Little?” she asked, glancing about to make certain no one had heard.
“Little,” Mason repeated. “Mother is always on a tirade about something. And she’s not accustomed to people standing up to her, which we both did.”
“But you said you were never going back,” Jule stated, obviously bewildered.
“And I shall not,” Mason declared. “It is not your fault or doing. This afternoon merely displayed an accumulation of pent-up feelings. We will find a home together, and I plan to go ahead with my idea of building ships.”
“They are your parents,” Jule pointed out.
“True. I love them dearly, but unless they can accept you as my wife, we have nothing in common.”
“I loathe this contention,” she said with a sigh. “You should marry a woman of whom your mother approves.”
“Ridiculous,” he countered. “God gave you to me as an exquisite treasure.” He reached across the carriage and took her hand. “I will not let you go. Tell me now you don’t love me, Jule.”
He studied her delicate features. Her thick black tresses framed her heart-shaped face, and he fought the urge to slide the bonnet back so he could see the bluish cast of her hair against the sun. She possessed a natural pink glow to her cheeks, unlike so many women who used other means to make them appear healthy. He loved her smooth creamy skin and her pert little mouth that reminded him of a perfectly shaped bow. Did she have an inkling of what she did to him?
Mason wanted to draw her into his arms and convince her of his love, but sweet words of endearment could not heal the hurt inside her. The afternoon had been a nightmare, and he knew Jule blamed herself for the tempers flaring between the three of them. He recognized her intelligence and respected her individuality and profound faith in God. They needed to discuss the problems dividing them.
Frankly, he looked forward to securing his own quarters. He could picture a better rapport with his parents by not seeing them daily. A few days ago, he’d seen a home for sale on Sealy Street, a beautiful Victorian with many roof extensions and a tower corner. If Jule approved, he could easily purchase it and have it redecorated during his stay at sea.
He waited for her reply; his gaze firmly locked with hers. Time suspended.
“I do love you,” she finally admitted. “But Mason, I simply cannot bear to be the cause
of dissension with your mother. Once your father hears about your shipbuilding, he will blame me, too.”
Mason understood her doubts. “Then I will take you back to Bolivar Point and make amends with Mother. Tomorrow, I will initiate a conversation with the captain and explain my plans.”
Her face brightened, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. “I will pray for all of you,” she whispered. Glancing down at the hand wrapped securely around hers, she continued, “I want to learn those things that will enable me to step into the role as your wife, but I need someone who can teach me without reproach.”
“I know,” he murmured. “If Mother cannot bring herself to have a solid relationship with you, I will find someone to help you—not for my sake, but for yours. Society’s rules and latest fashions matter not for me. I am content with you as my wife. Nothing else matters.”
She sighed and tilted her head. “I only want you as my husband. Even so, a shipbuilder’s wife needs to know how to entertain and dress properly.”
Mason enjoyed a chuckle and drew her close beside him. Life with Jule promised to be full of surprises and no doubt a little riff or two. He had wanted to have a gown designed for her before, but she’d refused, stating that she would save to purchase fabric and sew it on her own. Maybe he should not have succumbed to his mother’s whim, but he thought the gesture might bring the two women closer together.
He loved Jule’s spunk and her devotion to him. Most of all, he cherished her belief in him as a man.
With evening’s dark blanket settling across Galveston, Mason entered his parents’ home. Odd, he had not referred to the brick mansion as his own since a boy. Depending on the outcome of his conversation with his mother, he would know whether he needed to seek a hotel room for the night. He really didn’t care…or did he? If Mason dealt honestly with himself, he must agree with Jule. The differences between him and his mother needed to be resolved and an understanding reached with Father about his life vocation.
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