She did wonder about the Solitude’s whereabouts, and whether Dane Bradbury would ever happen along again. Even as she chided herself for such wayward thoughts, the vessel’s familiar shape chugged into view. Eden ran a hand over her chignon and smoothed her vest, then stepped out onto the catwalk.
The boat’s whistle sent a raft of butterflies to flight in her stomach, as did the welcome sight of the captain’s smiling face. This time she waved even before he did. He answered with another five-note blast.
“Mama! Look! It’s our captain!” Christian called from the jetty below, where he’d been sailing his miniature sternwheeler in a shallow tide pool. He jumped up and down, waving with all his might.
“Yes, I see. But he may be too busy to visit us, dear. Don’t get your hopes up.” But a large part of her ignored her own admonition. She crossed her fingers, willing him to come…and was on tenterhooks for the better part of the next hour while she scrubbed brass fixtures with Tripoli powder.
The jaunty sound of someone taking the outside steps two at a time made her heart race. Inhaling a calming breath, she went to the door. “Good day, Captain,” she said breezily. “Lovely to see you.”
“Even empty-handed?” he asked just as lightly.
“Of course. A friend is always welcome here.” She stepped aside, allowing him entrance. After all, the regulations did specify visitors were permissible when a keeper was present, with the exception of some duty hours. “Won’t you sit down?”
His large frame dwarfed the small fog trumpet room until he took a seat on the wooden side chair she indicated, propping an ankle on his opposite knee while she took a second seat not far away.
“How have you been?” they asked simultaneously then laughed. He tipped his head in deference to her.
“Just fine. There hasn’t been much fog lately. Soon enough, the winter storms will start, then we’ll be kept hopping.” Stop babbling, for pity’s sake, she thought frantically. “And you?”
“Not bad.” He tapped an index finger idly against his knee. “Rutherford dumped everything on you again, I hear.”
“Yes.” Beginning to warm under the intensity of his gaze, Eden placed her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. She couldn’t allow him to see the effect he had on her. It quite astounded Eden herself! “I don’t really mind, though. He can be—well, never mind.” She flushed.
“Has he ever—” As if unwilling to finish the question, Dane cleared his throat. “So, how’s Christian these days?”
“Growing like a weed, as usual. He saw your ship come in and will probably come running the second he notices the rowboat.”
Dane nodded. “Finish Tennyson yet?”
Unbidden, a smile crept forth. “Only a few dozen times. Let’s see…
Sunset and evening star, and one clear call for me…”
“And may there be no moaning of the bar,” he finished, “when I put out to sea.”
“You…enjoy his work, too?” she whispered.
“Very much. In fact, I—”
Just then the door burst open, and Chris thundered inside. He made a beeline to the visitor. “Ahoy, Captain. Would you like to see me sail my boat?”
“Sure thing, buddy. Lead the way.” With a droll grin at Eden, he got up and followed the towhead outside.
It gave her an opportunity to collect herself, she decided, though she couldn’t help feeling abandoned. She hastened up to the lantern to recheck things before it was time to light the wicks. While there she stepped out onto the parapet to gaze at the two sailors below…one dark-headed and very manly, the other young and already daring. It brought back memories of when she and Chris were part of a family of three. Perhaps, someday, things could work out that way again….
Almost choking on the possibility that Birdie’s ludicrous imagination was getting to her, Eden drew a more rational breath and headed downstairs as the seafaring pair came in once again, hand in hand.
“Captain says I’m gonna be a good first mate when I get big,” Chris boasted, his chin high with pride as he gazed up at his hero.
“I’m sure you will be, sweetheart.” Slowly she raised her own lashes to meet those entrancing silver-gray eyes, and a sensation more powerful than any she had ever felt turned her knees to liquid. She melted to the chair directly behind her.
He didn’t smile but knelt to take Chris by the shoulders. “Say mate, suppose you could talk that housekeeper of yours into brewing a thirsty sailor some tea?”
“Aye, aye, sir!” he said with a sharp salute. And off he ran.
Unable to trust her voice, Eden swallowed.
Dane, however, retook his chair and affected that nonchalant pose of his. “I prayed for you one night.”
She blinked. “You did? I…pray for you often.”
“Well, same here.” He grew more serious. “But I mean I felt compelled to pray. A night about, say, two weeks ago? Sometime around then. Something troublesome happen?”
Calculating back, Eden realized it could have been the very night when Rutherford threatened her. The knowledge touched her deeply. “I…cannot talk about it, but yes. I did have a problem around that time. I thank you for praying.”
“I wouldn’t want any harm to come to my favorite lighthouse keeper, would I?” he teased.
“Am I? I mean…” Completely flustered now, Eden felt a warm flush.
But he only chuckled. “Hey, relax. You’re with a friend, you know. I promised the Lord I’d look out for you until someone better comes along.”
“Is that right?”
“You bet. So every time I come to port, I’m going to row out here to check on you. Make sure everything’s okay.”
Despite her awareness of his very masculine presence, Eden felt herself relax a few degrees, just hearing he’d be coming back. Often, perhaps. And the news brought with it an incredibly heady sensation. “Well, then, I suppose that makes you a…lighthouse keeper-keeper, then.”
Dane threw back his head and roared with laughter, and she could only join in.
“What’s all this?” Birdie Hastings asked, arriving at that moment with a tray of tea and all its accouterments.
“Nothing at all, my dear lady,” Dane announced, slapping his knee. “Nothing at all.”
The housekeeper’s eyes looked from one to the other a few times, but Eden maintained her casual smile. “The captain’s right. It’s nothing.”
“Well, there’s some tea here and some chocolate cake for the two of you. And I’ll leave the door open, if you don’t mind.” Directing a pointed stare Eden’s way, she collected Christian and returned to the house.
When she took her leave, Eden and Dane hooted with laughter.
After that, time passed much too quickly as he related some of his amusing sea experiences, and she told a few comical incidents as lightkeeper.
“And the next thing you know,” she said at the end of one such account, “the bowsprit plowed right past the tower as the clipper piled up on the jetty outside!”
“You can’t be serious,” he marveled.
Eden nodded. “It came so close, we could nearly step right from the catwalk onto the deck. But amazingly, the rescue crew from Bandon was able to free the vessel a day or so after the storm ended.”
The captain chuckled and shook his head. Too soon, he stood to leave. “Well, I do thank you, dear friend, for the delightful visit and the refreshments. I’ll be praying for you, remember, so have no fear.”
“I won’t. And my thanks to you.” Having risen right after him, Eden walked Dane to the door, stopping in the opening while he stepped out onto the landing.
He halted after the first stride. Turning back, he brushed a knuckle softly down her cheek, his eyes lingering on her face. “When the right man comes along, Eden, my dear—and he will, I assure you—he’s going to realize what a wondrous treasure the Lord has brought into his life.” Then he winked and jogged down the steps on his way back to the rowboat.
Eden couldn’
t move.
Chapter 6
Stiff winds blew steadily throughout the long night, whipping tall waves against the base of the lighthouse and crashing around the jutting sea stacks nearby. The wind whistled around the tower in eerie tones that kept Eden’s nerves on edge. Deep darkness cloaked the outside world, except for the limited span of ocean illuminated by the ever-constant beam of refracted light from the lantern’s prisms.
Blackness cloaked her spirit as well. No amount of reading could banish the loneliness that clutched her in tentacles cold as those of an octopus. Where was the happy life she had envisioned for herself in so many romantic girlhood fantasies? Why had she taken fate blithely into her own hands at seventeen and chosen her own will, without so much as consulting God? She deserved the disillusionment she’d found, deserved watching those dreams turn to ashes. Now here she was at twenty-seven, disowned by her parents, widowed with a young child to raise alone, and trapped in a job she was beginning to loathe. With no way out.
Her dead husband was the lucky one.
Choking back the tears clogging her throat, Eden fell to her knees, overwhelmed by the depth of her own bitterness. “Forgive me, dear Lord, for grieving You with such a horrid thought. I know You are aware of my circumstances, whether ordained by Your holy will or chosen by my own stubbornness. And I know You’ve promised never to leave me or forsake me. Your Word says that all things work together for good to those who love You, those who are the called according to Your purpose. Please help me to concentrate on the blessings in my life: Your presence, my precious son, the loving housekeeper You’ve sent to look after us…and my new friendship with Dane Bradbury.”
Even the mention of the captain’s name flooded Eden with warmth. For a tiny moment she wondered what her life might have been like had their paths crossed before, when she was a happy, obedient daughter living at home. Before she had chosen the wrong lot. Would God have allowed something beyond the sweet friendship which now so brightened her world?
For me, it’s already gone beyond friendship, her heart admitted.
Eden took no joy in the sad truth that draped over her shoulders like a burial shroud. It was too late. She’d already thrown away her love on someone who’d taken it and trampled it underfoot. If she deserved to love and be loved again, wouldn’t her parents have forgiven her and taken her back into their arms? After all, they professed to be Christians, too.
As if the captain even hinted at offering you more than friendship anyway, her better sense railed. He made it a point to let you know he’s praying for someone else to come to your rescue. Do you need a more obvious clue that he isn’t looking to marry anyone, least of all you, a widow with another man’s child?
Methodically, she picked up a rag and began wiping down the stair rail. This was her life now, tending a lighthouse and a little boy. The result of the choice she’d made.
Wishing was for young girls who were innocent enough to believe dreams came true.
“Please help me, Father, to stifle my improper thoughts and feelings. Help me learn to accept my life as it is now and not to expect things I have no right to dream about. May I find all I need in You.”
A gentle peace wrapped around her, increasing as gradually as the rising sun now tinting the eastern sky. Spent as though she’d survived a costly battle, Eden extinguished the lantern then trimmed the wicks evenly and refilled the oil reservoirs in preparation for going home for some muchneeded sleep.
Sherman Rutherford picked that afternoon to return to his duties.
Back at work, rested and refreshed after several hours’ slumber, Eden heard the keeper approaching the lighthouse just as she finished mopping the floor. She gave passing thought to arming herself with the bucket of scrub water, then chided herself for such bizarre notions. After all, she could brain him with the mop handle if she needed to. Mentally she braced herself.
The door opened, followed by Rutherford. Incredibly, the man wore a sheepish half-smile. “Before you say anything,” he blurted, his hands raised in front of him, “I want to beg your forgiveness for my abominable conduct when I saw you last.”
Eden’s grip on the mop relaxed. So did her jaw until she realized she needed to shut her mouth.
“I know I was a beast,” he went on. “You have every right to file a grievance with the board. Of course, I hope you won’t feel that’s necessary, since I’m groveling at your feet now, willing to do anything to make up to you for such despicable conduct.”
“W–why, Sherman, I…don’t know what to say.” Of all the scenarios Eden had imagined, this had to be the absolute farthest from her mind. He was actually repenting? Dare she hope he’d allow her to stay on? Without fear of future confrontations?
“I’m most sincere, I assure you. Here, let me empty that water for you. You shouldn’t be getting your hands dirty.” And with that, he snatched the pail unceremoniously from beside her on the floor and went out onto the landing. She heard the splash below when he heaved the contents over the rail.
“Now,” he said on his return, “what else needs doing?” He shot a glance around the fog trumpet room. “Everything looks immaculate, as usual. Splendid work, Eden. Splendid work, indeed. I can take over now. You’ve really earned a week off, of course—maybe even longer—in repayment for filling in for me. Do give it some thought.”
Something about this new Sherman Rutherford sent off alarm bells in Eden’s head. She could only wonder at the unexpected change. “I…was sad to hear of your father’s passing,” she began, untying her apron and hanging it up.
“Oh, well, it wasn’t something we weren’t expecting, you know.” Moving to the log, he looked over the current page, then idly flipped back one or two to scan the various entries. “He’s gone to his eternal reward, I’m sure.”
“And the rest of your family? Your mother?”
“Fine, just fine.” He pursed his lips then met her gaze. “I’ve…brought her back here, actually. She’ll be living with me now.”
Suddenly Eden had the suspicion that he’d come by his domineering ways quite naturally. She could almost imagine what his mother would be like. In fact, she could hardly wait to meet the woman!
Dane studied the clouds gathering on the horizon. Fall never failed to bring unsettled weather on its cool breezes, and all too soon winter storms would pound the coast. Limiting his ventures south. Keeping him in his home port, Seattle.
How was Eden faring? Had the Lord answered his prayers for her and sent someone to take care of her?
Trying to visualize the man worthy of the Widow Miles, Dane came up empty. She was one in a million. In fact, if he were looking to get married and settle down, he wouldn’t mind proposing to her himself.
The realization jolted him down to his boots.
“Only I can’t make that kind of commitment,” he muttered. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Huh? You say something?” Riley Baker peered up from the charts he’d spread out on the floor of the wheelhouse.
Dane grimaced. “See if you can come up with an estimate of the time it would take us to sail to Vancouver. The one in British Colombia.”
“Sure thing, Cap’n.” The redhead slid a section closer and buried his nose.
Marriage, Dane thought. Could I possibly consider taking on a wife, a child? Maybe additional offspring? Louisa’s accountant says Paul’s debts will be paid by early next year, but she’ll still need to live and eat, and so will those kids. I can’t let them down. A few years ago, I had my future all planned out then was forced to give up my own dreams. Now all I can think about is a heart-stopping smile and two beautiful blue eyes, a voice like a song, all belonging to a lady who makes me want things I shouldn’t even be considering. How did this happen?
“Well,” Riley said, “near as I can figure it, it’ll take—”
“Never mind,” Dane interrupted.
“Huh?”
“I need to go someplace else first.”
Autumn’s paintbrush lavi
shed its full splendor along the coast in a glorious blend of brilliant hues made even more wondrous by pleasantly warm temperatures as the Solitude rounded the island of Rackleff Rock. Guiding the vessel over the Coquille River bar, Dane strained his eyes for a glimpse of Eden Miles.
But Sherman Rutherford’s bony frame came into view instead, as the principal keeper washed the outer windows of the light.
Swallowing his disappointment, Dane quickly buoyed himself with the assurance that Eden was off duty…which suited his purposes much better. Perhaps he could convince her to have dinner with him in town or go for a buggy ride. Anything to have an opportunity to talk. Find out if she shared any of the same inclinations he was finally beginning to explore.
He knew he didn’t have a lot to offer her. His home consisted of a two-room apartment over a butcher shop. His worldly goods—a couple dozen books and a few hundred dollars. All the rest of the income from his sailing enterprise, after paying the crew’s salaries, had gone to Louisa. But now that Paul’s debts were nearly paid in full, he could at least plan to save some money for himself. With the apprenticing he’d already done, it shouldn’t be a problem to get a job building ships again, work his way up to starting his own business. Even supporting Louisa and her children, he’d be able to provide a decent living for Eden and Christian eventually. Assuming she was interested, of course.
And that he would find out soon enough.
The minute the ship docked, he borrowed a boat and rowed to the dwelling across from the island, where he beached the rowboat and strode over to her side of the duplex.
Strange…the windows were closed up with the curtains drawn, and he could neither see nor hear any movement about the place. Filling his lungs, he rapped at the front door. Once. Twice.
While he waited, a rather large-boned woman came around from the other side. No smile softened the stern lines on the queenly face crowned by a coronet of silver braids. “You won’t find anyone there, young man. They’ve gone away.”
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