A strange sensation fluttered through her at the recollection of the twinkle in those dusky eyes. The last time she’d felt anything of a similar nature she had been a young girl…one susceptible to the charms of a dashing young man of whom her parents had not approved. But that had been a lifetime ago. She was older now, and wiser. So much wiser.
She pushed out her chair and stood. “I suppose I should be getting back to my duties. Thank you for the lovely supper, Birdie.”
“I’ll bring you some dessert in a little while.”
“Fine.” Eden tipped her head in her son’s direction. “I’ll see you later, sweetheart. Be good for Mrs. Hastings.”
Schooling herself to get back to the routine once she was in the lighthouse again, Eden opened the log and dipped the pen into the inkwell. Supplies delivered this morning, including— She hadn’t actually noted how much kerosene Captain Bradbury had brought. Dropping the pen, she went outside and down the steps, taking the wooden ramp to the shed.
A multitoned ship’s whistle blew just then, and Eden glanced over her shoulder as the Solitude chugged by. Obviously loaded now, the vessel rode a bit lower in the water. Her owner gave a jaunty wave from behind the wheel.
Eden smiled and returned Captain Bradbury’s wave, wondering where he was sailing this time and when he might return, if ever. She’d never actually met a ship’s captain before, and it seemed…well, different.
Suddenly aware that a whole lot of other men aboard the vessel were waving back at her, she all but choked in mortification and hurried into the kerosene shed, her face as rosy as the approaching sunset.
Chapter 3
The DaBoll fog trumpet bellowed an ear-numbing blast into the murky darkness, then stilled again until its next regulated blast not half a minute away.
“That was a good story,” Chris said, oblivious to the noise. “I liked how brave those men were at the fiery furnace.” He snuggled closer to Eden on the wooden bench occupying one side of the square worktable in the fog room. The flickering flames of the blaze she’d built in the hearth to stave off the evening chill and power the fog signal danced over unadorned walls and reflected against the windowpanes of the small octagonal space. How she relished the sweet times she and her son enjoyed together—so few now with Winslow gone and Sherman Rutherford away. She closed the book about Bible heroes and placed it atop the biography she’d started reading earlier. “Let me go and check the light, sweetheart, and then I’ll walk you over to the house.”
“Can I come, too?”
“If you’re careful on the steps.”
He bolted across the braided rug to the stairs, where he stopped just as abruptly to move aside. “A gentleman always lets the lady go first,” he said, the inflection in his voice proving how often he’d practiced reciting the maxim.
Eden swallowed her smile. “Why thank you, kind sir.” Navigating around her son, she started up, with him tripping along on her heels.
She found the oil reserves still quite full, the wicks burning brightly, casting a visible beam out into the pea-soup fog as the trumpet let loose with another five-second blast. Not a fit night for man nor ship, she concluded. At least the Solitude had sailed out of harbor hours earlier. But the relief brought by that conviction dimmed a little at having made a spectacle of herself to that vessel’s entire crew. Even yet the memory filled her with chagrin. Had the captain been equally embarrassed? Suffered annoying taunts from his men?
“Is it all right, Mama?”
Christian’s voice brought her back to the present. He stretched up on tiptoe to peer at the lantern.
Ignoring the flames burning in her cheeks as she checked those in the lamp, Eden nodded. “Everything’s fine for the moment. We can leave now, but don’t forget to keep hold of the railing on the footbridge. We won’t be able to see where we’re going.”
Outside, the heavy mist was every bit as thick as she’d surmised. She gripped Christian’s fingers in one hand and the railing in the other, and he followed suit.
“I hate this creepy stuff,” he said, his voice sounding ever so small in the fading glow of the lighthouse behind them as the moist fog swallowed them up. “Nobody can see us out here.”
“But God knows where we are. He’ll keep watching over us.”
“I forgot.”
Despite her brave words, Eden couldn’t dismiss her relief upon sighting the dim patches of light from within the house. She hurried the rest of the way and ushered Chris inside.
Birdie glanced up from the rocker then stood, relief apparent on her grandmotherly features. “I was wondering when our little man would be coming home to bed. There’s fresh coffee, if you’d like to take some back with you.”
Eden didn’t need persuading. “Thanks so much. You always know just what I need.”
“I just wish you could stay here where it’s safe and dry,” Birdie countered while Eden went to help herself. “It’s a beastly night.”
“Well, not much point in that wish, is there? It’s up to me to keep things running smoothly right now.”
“Just the same, Sherman owes you plenty for filling in for him all this time. Perhaps we can go out in the country on a picnic. The rhododendrons should be at their peak now.”
“That sounds lovely. I’m sure he’ll approve an outing for us.” The very possibility lessened the oppressive, claustrophobic feeling always brought on by the fog.
Two days later, while cleaning the lens of the soot which always managed to accumulate overnight, Eden heard someone enter the lighthouse. Then Rutherford’s familiar clomping up the tower steps reverberated through the hollowness.
“Oh, Sherman. You’re back,” she said, not taking her attention from her work. Her peripheral vision detected his movement when he ran fingers along an edge of the lantern—as usual, checking the quality of her cleaning. “How’s your father?”
He elevated his chin, making that pronounced nose all the more prominent. Even his tone had a nasal quality when he spoke. “Not well, but more or less stable. I could be summoned to his side again at any moment.” Moving to peer out the window at the river traffic, he slid a hand into the pocket of his uniform slacks. A curious tension permeated the limited confines of the lantern room.
Eden kept right on polishing the glass reflectors. “We’ll keep on praying for him, then.”
He gave a nod. “Anything exciting happen in my absence?”
A ridiculous giddiness surged through Eden, but she managed to squelch it. “We had some supplies delivered. Books, too. I entered everything in the log. Other than a few foggy nights, it’s all been normal.”
“I forgot to pack up the old library before I left. I’ll see to shipping those books back tomorrow. Meanwhile, I can take over here if you’d like a break.”
“Why, thank you, Sherman. I do have some things to do at the house. We can talk later about my taking a day or two off.”
His thin lips tightened at one corner, adding another crease next to his mouth. “As you wish. Er…I…appreciate your filling in for me while I saw to Father.”
Knowing that was as much a complimentary statement as she’d ever get from the principal keeper, Eden nodded. “And I will again, should the occasion arise.”
He gave a perfunctory nod. “Tomorrow we’ll revert to our usual duty schedules.”
“Fine. Good afternoon, then.” All but tripping down the steps, she flew to the house, lighter by a gross with the great weight of responsibility removed from her shoulders for a time.
The countryside along the placid Coquille River was verdant with new growth as Eden and Birdie took a river packet from Bandon to a popular wooded grove several miles beyond the town, Christian and a huge basket lunch in tow. Yellow Irish furze, so prevalent in early spring, was little more than a fading memory now that a riot of wild rhododendron came to the fore, their bright colors intermingled with stunted huckleberry bushes. Here and there, pitcher plants poked their grotesque, cobralike heads against the greenery
of mossy riverbanks and rolling hills thick with gnarled oak and cedar trees.
“Ah, now, this is the life,” Birdie breathed. Reclining in the shade of a maple tree a fair distance from other picnickers, she gazed up at the everchanging cloud puffs outlined against a sky of clearest blue.
“Yes, isn’t it?” Eden smoothed the other side of the blanket they’d spread out on the ground after enjoying their lunch. It had been ages since she’d taken a boat upriver to drink in the dazzling scenery. A virtual rainbow of flowers speckled the fields all around them, turning their bright faces to the sun, while katydids hummed their summer songs on the soaring temperature. She relaxed, determined to enjoy this time away from the river light.
Nearby, Chris was having a grand time chasing butterflies with his net. Eden lay down beside the housekeeper. “You’re what Christian and I were missing, Birdie. If you hadn’t come to our door in those first bleak days after Win drowned…” She paused, then went on. “Well, I would’ve wasted this respite by staying home and catching up on everything under the sun, just like always.”
“Can’t see much need for that, now that you have me.”
Eden reached over to squeeze the older woman’s hand. “And well we know it. You happen to be the first friend I’ve had since I married.” She paused, debating whether a few questions would seem intrusive. “What brought you to us?” she finally ventured.
A pensive expression connected some of the lines on the careworn face, then eased into acceptance. “Oh, I expect I needed somebody, just as I figured you might. Until my Amos took sick and passed on, my life was as predictable as anyone else’s. But that last spell hung on so long it depleted our savings—what we hadn’t invested in a get-rich-quick scheme, that is. We’d expected the interest to see us through our old age.” She exhaled a wistful sigh. “One never knows what’s coming down the road…and I expect that’s a blessing. We’d always kept to ourselves, mostly. So after my poor Amos left this world, I had no place to go.”
“And with no children…,” Eden added, her own sympathy for the dear woman deepening.
“We had a son once,” Birdie admitted, a strange little smile on her face. “Dearest angel to walk the earth, he was. But he caught a fever and died when he was almost the same age as your Chris.”
Eden’s breath caught. “Oh, how sad.”
“All but killed Amos when it happened. But somehow we muddled through the loss. We had the Lord, we had each other, and Amos had his good job at the shipyard. At least, up till last year when he got hurt, then took sick.”
“Perhaps that’s why God brought you to us, then, to give you someplace to lavish all that love you have.”
Birdie’s smile brightened, erasing several years of lines from her face. “Could be. I sure did appreciate your taking me in.”
“I only wish I could pay you better for all your hard work.” Eden gave the older woman’s hand a pat.
“Pshaw. What more does a person need than a good home and a reason to keep on living?” A few silent moments passed before Birdie spoke again. “Mind if I ask you something?”
“Not at all.”
“What’s between you and your folks? Doesn’t seem right, them refusing the letters you send week after week.”
Eden turned with a rueful smile. “That’s been going on for years now. Ever since I married Winslow. I met him at a church picnic when he visited relatives in our congregation. He was so dashing, so gallant…at least in the beginning.”
“They didn’t take to him?”
“That’s an understatement. But they never got to know him, really. And the fact that he was a bit older than I…that didn’t sit well with them either. They had a more advantageous match in mind for their only daughter. They forbade me to see him.”
“Hmm. Might I guess? You ran off with him anyway?”
Eden nodded in resignation. “I thought they’d come around eventually. I thought wrong. And later I understood their reservations, only by then it was too late. I could only make the best of it. We didn’t have a horrid marriage, exactly, but we really had little in common. And he put his foot down about my making other friends. I had more than a few regrets— especially when he’d lapse into one of his black moods where I couldn’t reach him no matter how I tried.”
“But you’d think—I mean, now that he’s out of the picture…” Birdie’s face reddening, she gave a huff.
Of the same mind herself, Eden could only agree. “I’ll just keep trying. Maybe in time they’ll find it in their hearts to forgive me for going against their wishes. After all, I’m the one who must live with having squandered my opportunity for love, not waiting for the Lord to guide me to the one of His choosing.” Noting a peculiar look on Birdie’s face, she plunged on. “But how could they not adore Christian? After all, he is a part of them, too.”
As if on cue, the child darted out from behind a blooming rhododendron. “Peekaboo!” The moment of camaraderie came to an end.
Eden watched a bead of perspiration trickle down Sherman’s temple.
“Hold it steady, would you?” He grunted, struggling to replace the last part of the clock mechanism which controlled the workings of the lantern. “No doubt they’ll dock our pay for this,” he groused, “even though we were not at fault.”
Refusing to encourage the man’s negative opinions, Eden offered quiet assistance. The chore couldn’t take much longer anyway, and once she tidied up the discarded pieces of the works, her duties for the day would be over.
“There,” he said. Gingerly dusting his hands and the front of his jacket of any minute shards of debris, he gave a wry grin and came to his feet. “Good as new.” He gave the long chain a tug to set the clocklike mechanism into motion. “Better, in fact.”
The man had no end of pride.
“You know,” he continued, “the two of us make a pretty good team, if I do say so myself. There hasn’t been one complaint by an inspector since the light was commissioned—though heaven knows they’ve poked their snoots in here often enough with their magnifying glasses, looking for the slightest infraction.”
Not certain how to reply, Eden made no comment. Lately she’d noticed him staring at her in a way that made her uncomfortable. He’d been distracted, as well, as if something were pressing on his mind. She figured he’d come out with it if she waited long enough.
“You, uh, must be…lonely these days,” he finally blurted in typically tactless fashion. “I mean, no husband coming home at night anymore.”
“We get by, Chris and me. We have Mrs. Hastings.”
“Still…” His dull eyes darkened beneath hooded lids. “A young woman such as yourself—a handsome one, I might add—must tire of the solitude of that big bedroom.” Almost imperceptibly he inched closer.
Solitude. The very word brought an entirely different picture to Eden’s mind than the one Sherman Rutherford was implying. Would the sternwheeler ever come into Bandon again? Not that she expected future visits from Dane Bradbury, but he was the first ship’s captain she’d met personally. Surely that would account for her curiosity.
“So you see, I thought perhaps you might look kindly on the advantages of such a possibility,” the keeper was saying. He rocked back on his heels, as if relieved to have finally spit it out.
Not having heard the bulk of the words that had droned on while her thoughts were elsewhere, Eden stared blankly at the thin face before her. “I beg your pardon?”
His expression flattened, like a sail suddenly devoid of wind. “I said, perhaps the two of us might—” He gestured significantly. “You know. Keep company of an evening. Get to know each other. A little give-andtake. More or less work toward a permanent arrangement. I would marry you, eventually, of course.”
To Eden’s utter horror, she snorted. Then sputtered into a giggle. “You can’t be serious.”
Flustered, Rutherford straightened to his full, insignificant height, his mouth a touch white around the edges. “Of course I’m serious
,” he affirmed, his expression hardening like granite. “After all, you seem to enjoy tending the light here, and we do function reasonably well as a team. But you know as fully as I that the position as assistant should rightly be filled by a man.”
This time it was she who took offense. “Oh, I understand now. I may be allowed to stay on here if you deign to grant your approval— which you will, provided I…how did you put it? Keep company with you?” Her voice, normally controlled, rose to a near squeak. “Well, let me tell you, Mr. Rutherford. I will give you no reason to find fault with the quality of my work. I intend to make every possible effort to perform satisfactorily all tasks required in the regulations—in the future as I have in the past. Humph! Man, my foot.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she hiked her chin.
He regarded her evenly. “Well, well. I presume we shall see, won’t we? It is, after all, the opinion and recommendation of a principal keeper that carries the weight with the board.”
Eden sniffed. Then taking the broom, she began sweeping the gallery floor clean. The man was as opinionated and prissy as an old-maid schoolmarm. She could understand why he sported few friends. In fact, now she could understand a whole lot of things.
Well, so would he. So would he. No matter how hard she had to work from now on, she would keep her position here. Or die trying.
Chapter 4
In his personal quarters, Dane peeled out of his soggy clothes and reached for some dry things. The driving rain would make short work of these, too, but even a few minutes’ warmth would be worth it after hours of being chilled to the bone. He shoved his legs into some fresh trousers from the closet and crammed his shirttails into the waistband, fumbling with numb fingers to fasten them closed. He didn’t want to leave Riley at the wheel any longer than necessary.
The sternwheeler lurched, sending a newly acquired book toppling off the built-in bureau. Dane bent to pick it up, sliding his hand along its smooth binding. He’d never purchased a collection of poetry before, but when he’d spotted the work by Tennyson at the bookseller’s shop in Seattle, the rich maroon leather and gold lettering caught his eye. He didn’t plan to keep it. What he did plan—if he had the occasion to cross Eden Miles’s path again—was to see that she got it. Anyone who delighted in good reading as much as she did would likely appreciate this appealing little volume. There hadn’t been anything of this nature among the rotating library selection shipped to the lighthouse. Somehow, he sensed she’d like it.
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