He set the book on his cot beside his other purchase, a miniature wooden sternwheeler he’d picked up for Christian, then grabbed his slicker and exited his cabin.
The entire crew appeared to be scurrying about, tying down anything that had worked loose with the vessel’s rocking in the raging storm. The old wood creaked and groaned against the force of the waves sloshing over her decks.
Pellets of cold rain quickly found their way into the crevices of Dane’s rain gear, trickling down his neck and onto his shirt as he made his way along the hurricane deck. Thankfully, he managed the stairs to the wheelhouse, where Riley wrestled the wheel, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. “How’s it going?” Dane bellowed, taking over.
“She’s holding her own,” the first mate shouted, cupping a hand alongside his mouth, “even in this wind.” But as he spoke, an errant gust whipped the seaman’s cap from his head and sent it end over end across the deck below. He bolted down the stairs in pursuit, snatching it just before it jumped ship.
Watching after him, Dane had to chuckle. Considering his friend wasn’t exactly a young buck anymore, that little spurt proved he had some spry movements left in that lanky frame of his.
Hopefully the gale would blow itself out soon. Dane had a handful of passengers this trip, all landlubbers, and all sequestered below in misery. It had been awhile since any of the grim, green-faced individuals dared venture as far as the rail to hang over the side. They’d be glad to set foot on land when this was all over.
And when this was all over, they’d be at Bandon.
His thoughts drifted to Eden Miles again…as they’d done with surprising ease and frequency, considering. He still had to come up with a logical reason for having bought the book for her. He wasn’t entirely sure himself. All he knew was he couldn’t seem to banish that comely young widow from his mind—her or that little boy of hers with those huge sad eyes. A kid his age should have a pa to teach him things…how to fish, how to tie knots, how to sense changes in the weather. Man things.
Almost from the first moment he’d met that enchanting pair, he’d begun praying for them, asking the Lord to direct some good Christian man their way. One who would look after them, perhaps provide a home so Mrs. Miles wouldn’t have to work. Surely she deserved that blessing.
She reminded him a bit of Louisa, his brother’s widow, in the stalwart attitude she exuded. Dane would never forget the awful day he’d had to bear the sad news of Paul’s being washed overboard in a storm like this one and lost at sea forever. The seafaring life generated far too many widows and fatherless children, which only reinforced Dane’s conviction never to marry—as if he could afford to entertain such a notion in the first place, strapped as he was.
If only I hadn’t left him alone at the wheel. Maybe none of that would have happened. Swallowing against a tide of regrets, Dane gulped in a lungful of air and concentrated on keeping control of the ship. The Solitude had been his brother’s first ship—Paul’s lifelong dream—and Dane would sail it as long as she could still float. He had to keep an income flowing into his sister-in-law’s hands. It wouldn’t undo the past, and it wouldn’t assuage his guilt for being the cause of his brother’s death…but it was the least he could do.
With the ocean at her back, Eden scrubbed the salt spray from one of the windows around the lantern until it positively sparkled. She needed some way to spend her pent-up irritation, and this thankless chore fit the bill perfectly. Dipping her rag into the bucket of soapy water, she wrung it out and slapped it against the next pane.
Besides the havoc last night’s storm had wrought on the lighthouse, the tempestuous forces had left the rocky island strewn with driftwood, seaweed, and other debris. Her gaze fell upon Sherman Rutherford below, clearing away the worst of it while she saw to the morning routine, and she ground her teeth.
She’d barely spoken to him since his—his proposition, which in her estimation was the only appropriate term for it. The man’s audacity galled her. To think that she’d grant him favors, most especially the kind he had in mind, when his primary motivation was to oust her from her position just so he could fill it with some man of his choosing.
And marriage, yet—however far off in the future he’d deign to bestow that legitimacy! Bah! Eden had no desire to repeat a mistake like the one she’d made the first time, thank you very much. She and Christian would make out just fine without having to kowtow to another man. Why, there wasn’t a single male on this green earth whom she considered worth his salt anyway. Not one!
A multitoned blast from a passing vessel forged into her musings.
With a start, Eden jumped. A smile came unbidden to her lips as she turned and recognized the Solitude.
She easily made out the ship’s owner at the wheel, along with a rawboned sailor she’d noticed before. Captain Bradbury grinned and waved in passing. She smiled and waved back, suddenly unconcerned about such mundane matters as his crew or Sherman Rutherford or decisions made by the Lighthouse Board. After all, it was a really lovely day….
Guiding the sternwheeler from the choppy waters of the Pacific and over the everchanging bar at the mouth of the Coquille, Dane had spotted the activity around the river light immediately: Rutherford stacking driftwood, Mrs. Miles shining windows up on the parapet. His gaze lingered on the charming picture she made, the sleeves of her shirtwaist rolled up above her elbows, tawny hair in slight disarray. It wasn’t in a prim bun this time, but long and glorious, tied at her neck with a ribbon and hanging in golden splendor down her back. He waited until she bent over to wet the rag again, then blew the horn.
“Prit’ near scared the pretty little gal right off the catwalk,” Riley snickered.
“Just a friendly greeting.” He barely kept a lid on his own mirth at her reaction as he grinned and waved. The smile she offered in return made the sunshine pale by comparison and made the one on his face much harder to squelch.
Maybe he’d ask if there was something else he could deliver out there.
As it turned out, there wasn’t. But driven by a force he wasn’t about to analyze, Dane made certain that Riley and the crew were occupied with the loading of a new shipment of lumber, then he borrowed a rowboat from Haydon Jeffries. He headed for the lighthouse, the book and the toy ship in a sack at his feet. In all likelihood she’d be on duty and unavailable, so he wouldn’t stay long; just give her the things and leave. He really should be taking care of his own business anyway, not starting something he couldn’t possibly finish.
Nearing the island, he caught movement ashore by the duplex, and it buoyed his spirit. Eden was out and about. That should make things easier. He beached the rowboat and strode toward her, the small tokens in his hand.
Clipping roses from the lattice beside the wide front porch, she turned on his approach, and her fingers flew to the lace ruffle at the throat of her summery gown. “Captain Bradbury.”
“Mrs. Miles.” He swallowed. “I, uh, wondered how you fared in last night’s storm.” Great start, idiot, he thought, cringing.
“Probably a little better than you must have out at sea,” she countered.
Dane had to laugh. “I must admit, we had a few rough moments here and there.” He held out the bag. “I…brought you a little something. You and the boy, I mean. It’s nothing, really. Just a thanks for keeping the light burning.”
“Why, I don’t know what to say.” Surprise widened her marvelous eyes as she set down the cut flowers and took the bag. She lowered her lashes to peer inside, drawing out the book. “Oh! How thoughtful! Thank you, Captain. I shall read it later tonight, while I’m on watch.”
“I hoped it might fill a few hours.”
“I’m sure it will. I…might I offer you a cup of tea or something? I’ve just brewed a fresh pot.”
“I should be getting back to the ship,” he hedged.
“Oh, but Chris should be back any moment. He’s picking berries with Mrs. Hastings. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to miss se
eing you. You made quite an impression on him, actually.”
Her look of disappointment was his undoing. Dane rocked his head back and forth. “Well, I suppose a few more minutes won’t hurt anything. Sure, I’d enjoy some tea.”
“And huckleberry pie, I hope. Mrs. Hastings is an excellent cook.”
“Now there’s something I never refuse.”
As she bent to gather the roses again, a laugh of glee announced the return of her son. “Captain!” Christian trotted up to them, a panting Birdie Hastings lagging behind by several paces, an abundance of straggly hairs proof of the effort it took to keep up with the lively youngster.
“Hello, buddy.” A lump formed in his throat when the child smiled up at him, guileless eyes shining.
“The captain brought you this,” Eden announced, handing over the sack.
He peeked inside. “Oh! Oh!” he cried, taking out the tiny sternwheeler. “It’s just like yours! Look, Mama! Oh, thank you. Thank you.” Flinging his arms around Dane, he all but stopped the circulation from Dane’s waist down.
Watching Eden and her housekeeper witnessing the lad’s delight in his new toy, Dane derived nearly as much pleasure as that which pooled in their eyes.
It made him pray even harder that God would send someone to love and care for Eden Miles and young Chris. Someone truly worthy of her…of them, he quickly corrected. He couldn’t allow his thoughts to go beyond that.
Chapter 5
Now, that was one fine, fine man,” Birdie exclaimed, shortly after Captain Bradbury had left and Christian was sailing his toy boat in a washtub of water on the porch. “Not a bad one to look at, either.”
Agreeing inwardly, but not about to broadcast the fact, Eden noticed she’d dropped a stitch in the crocheted dresser scarf she’d started the previous day. She unraveled the thread to redo the row.
“Yes, sir, a fine, upstanding man,” the housekeeper went on. “A lady’d do lots worse than reel in a catch like him.”
“Why, Birdie, I had no idea you were in the market,” she teased.
“Me! Pshaw! I meant for you, Eden-girl, and you know it.”
Setting down her handwork, Eden met her friend’s shrewd gaze. “As I told you the other day, I wasted my chance at love. It’s too late for me to wish otherwise now.” She shook her head. “Besides, the man was merely being kind.”
“Well, now, there’s kind, and then there’s kind,” Birdie insisted. “And methinks I can tell one from the other well enough.”
“And I think you’ve gone over the edge,” Eden said evenly but without rancor. “Just because a ship’s captain happened to come by a time or two, that hardly constitutes more than simple friendship—and that’s as much as I’m entitled to, I assure you.”
Birdie just smiled knowingly.
“And besides, I’m perfectly content with my life as it stands. I have no right to try kindling any sort of flame other than the one in the lighthouse—particularly with a man of the sea whose bills of lading may never again bring him in my direction. I do, however, enjoy the blessings of our new friendship.”
The maddening smile only widened.
Miffed, Eden put her work away and rose. “Furthermore, I must change for my duty hours.” Without another word, she hurried to her room.
But later, when she was all alone in the stillness of the lighthouse, no amount of busywork could keep the housekeeper’s words from echoing in her mind. Especially when she tried to distract herself with a certain volume of poetry and discovered the captain had written a personal note on the flyleaf: To keep you company in the quiet hours. Kindest regards, D.B.
“There’s kindest, and then there’s kindest,” Eden mumbled facetiously, imagining the suppositions Birdie Hastings might draw from the inscription. Setting the book aside, she started for the stairs to check the oil supply once more.
The door of the fog room creaked on its hinges.
Fine hairs on Eden’s neck prickled, and she tensed then exhaled with no little relief when Rutherford came in. “Oh, it’s you.”
“You were expecting someone else?” he said, a sneer hinting at baser thoughts as his gaze roamed over her in blatant crudeness.
“No, actually I wasn’t expecting anyone,” Eden said. “My shift isn’t over for a few more hours.”
“Yes, I know.” He sauntered to the pulley and toyed with one end of it. “I couldn’t sleep. I noticed you had company earlier. A new beau, perhaps?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She stepped on the first rise.
With surprising speed, he crossed the fog trumpet room, and his hand covered hers on the handrail, halting her progress. “Because that wouldn’t be…wise, you understand.”
Eden tamped down a surge of alarm. “Are you threatening me?”
“Threatening you?” He smirked. “I’d prefer the term ‘warning,’ myself. An indiscretion on your part might be most…detrimental to your case.”
“And what about one on your part, Sherman?” she hissed, snatching her fingers from beneath his. Without waiting for his reply, she practically flew the rest of the way to the lantern room. There she paused to catch her breath, a feat that became easier only after she heard the structure’s door open and close below.
Hot tears flooded her eyes, and she sagged against the curved wall encircling the platform, feeling miserable and vulnerable and even soiled. She rubbed any remnants of his touch from her skin as best she could on her navy skirt. What if he hadn’t left when he did? What if he’d forced himself on her? What then? Could she continue to insist she stay on here if this incident was a foretaste of what she might face in days ahead?
Yet, what else could she do? Where could she go?
Straightening, Eden turned to stare dejectedly out the windows at the ocean, ever constant, its waves dancing in the beam from the lamp. Not a ship was in sight. Idly she wondered if Dane Bradbury had made his next port safely. His surprise visit had been an unexpected treat…one she’d not soon forget. He would never know how very precious his friendship was to her. As for right now, she could only pour out her heartache to her Friend of friends, hoping His peace would come and fill her soul.
Dane closed his Bible and lay back on the cot, propping his head in his open palms. For some reason, he felt an urge to pray. For Eden Miles. The night was calm, the ocean like silk, nevertheless, he turned over and slid to the floor on his knees.
Dear Lord, I don’t know if Eden is having a problem or in some kind of trouble, but I ask that Your angels surround her even as I pray. Keep watch over her, Father, and keep her from harm. She needs someone to take care of her so she can stay home with that nice lad of hers. Bring that person into her life soon, Father. And, until then, help me to be a true friend to her. One she can trust. I ask these things in the name of Your Son, Amen.
Climbing back onto the bunk, he stared up at the wood slats on the ceiling once more. He had no reason to continue dwelling on the very enjoyable time he’d had with Mrs. Miles and her son. But since his obligations to Louisa and the Solitude prevented his having any real designs on the widow, what harm could it do to reflect on that heart-stopping face of hers or let the memory of her voice sing across his heart like a soft Pacific breeze? A man could get used to reveling in those things…especially since it was all he’d ever have. And what could it hurt? He drew a ragged breath then slowly exhaled.
Better watch it, buddy, his conscience warned. She needs a husband, not a daydreaming sot who should leave well enough alone. You can’t afford to consider marrying her or anyone else, now or ever. And you’ve prayed for her. Just let God work out the situation.
A knock reverberated on his door. “Captain? We’re picking up lights from a ship in distress,” one of the men announced.
“Be right there.” Actually relieved at something to otherwise occupy his overactive mind, Dane quickly dressed and went to see if they could provide aid.
“You’re pretty quiet this morning,” Birdie commented when Eden finally got
home. “Something happen during the night?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Eden fudged, not wanting to alarm the sweet woman unnecessarily. She sank into one of the kitchen chairs, resting her arms on the tabletop as the housekeeper scrambled some eggs and poured orange juice into a glass for her. “I had a small problem, but once I prayed about it, the Lord filled me with peace. I trust He’ll keep the matter under control.”
“Well, I hate to drop this on you, weary as you look,” the housekeeper said over her shoulder while she kept on cooking, “but Mr. Rutherford got called away about an hour ago. His father’s taken another bad turn. He sends his apologies for causing you extra work.”
Eden didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but sent silent thanks to the Lord. Weariness swamped her, but she knew a few hours’ sleep would cure that. She’d already seen to extinguishing the light, filling the oil reservoirs, and replacing the wicks. Nothing else pressed at the moment except the never-ending battle against tarnished fixtures. She smiled at Birdie. “That’s fine. I can deal with it.”
“Good.” The housekeeper dished up the meal and brought the plate to the table, setting it before Eden. “Well, have a bite of breakfast, then you can get some sleep. Chris and me will keep an eye on things.”
In no position to argue, Eden did her bidding.
Another two weeks hinted at the end of summer, and autumn’s first kiss began tinting the rolling coastal hills. The principal keeper had yet to return from settling his now-deceased father’s affairs, but Eden was in no hurry to set eyes upon that sly face again, even though his absence made double work for her.
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