“My dear, you’ll be pleased to hear I have granted Mr. König permission to marry you.”
He’d not said so, nor had Ben asked. Ben stared, his chest tightening. He couldn’t blurt out that they’d known each other only a few short weeks. He felt like he’d known her all his life and had finally returned home.
Maude’s eyes widened, and she raised a hand to her mouth. She took several steps toward Ben, the scent of geraniums accompanying her.
“I don’t believe I’ll be marrying Mr. König.” She emphasized his phony last name. “And I believe you’ve misconstrued Mr. Steffan’s interest in me as being personal.” She moved beside her father and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Peter Welling pushed his daughter gently away and held her at arm’s length.
Ben cleared his throat. “Well, I can’t say I blame you, Miss Welling. But I assure you, my interest in you is of a very personal nature.” His voice rose with each successive sentence. “Although I do believe a marriage would be premature. Perhaps you’d reconsider, in time?”
“Perhaps.”
“Well, that’s all settled then, daughter.” Welling gave a curt laugh. “And do you know where you’d live with Mr. König if you reconsidered?”
Maude’s face went blank. “Where?”
“In Detroit,” Mr. Welling supplied, his voice low, well modulated. “How would you like that, my dear?”
“I don’t see that as a likelihood.” Maude clutched her hands at her waist.
Ben shrugged his shoulders. “Detroit is where I work.”
Perspiration dotted her fair brow. “I feel confident that I’ll never be living as Mrs. König or Mrs. Steffan in Detroit.”
Welling pulled a cigar from a nearby box.
Maude tried to grasp the cigar from her father, but he pulled it out of reach. “The doctor said you need to stop smoking. It’s bad for your heart.”
Her father laughed. “Ah, but another doctor has suggested my problems are all in my head.”
“In your mind?” Maude stomped one delicate foot on the wool rug.
“Yes, Ada is accompanying me to a specialist in Mackinaw City, who has seen cases like mine caused by stress.”
“Stress?”
“Yes, such as having an obstinate daughter who insists on becoming a businesswoman. Just like my beloved Ada did, leaving me while she pursued her career.”
Had Ben misheard? Adelaide and Peter had been in love? Maude blinked rapidly, as though she, too, was trying to comprehend what her father was saying.
Too angry and frustrated to exchange even the most basic of niceties, Ben took his leave. He didn’t need any more of this humiliation. He’d turn in his story, obtain his promotion, and be gone.
As Ben steamed out of the room, he almost ran headlong into Maude’s little brother, who stood just outside the office door. “Where ya goin’, Friedrich?”
He blew out an exasperated breath of anger. “I don’t know.”
Jack cocked his head. “I heard someone say your name is really Ben Steffan.”
“That’s right. Ben Steffan. I’m a reporter for the Detroit Post.”
“Are ya sorry?”
Ben waited for further explanation.
“For lyin’ to sis.”
And to Jack, too. “I am sorry.”
“Me, too, Mr. Steffan.” Tears ran down the boy’s cheeks, and he turned on his heel and ran.
Ben hung his head as he left.
He’d hesitated in sending in the story. Anna had threatened him, but with there being no further romance between himself and Maude, Harris wouldn’t have a story to write. Ben could get his article in tonight.
He crossed the street, passed the bike rental stand, and stopped beside the lake. If he were thinking of this situation like an objective reporter, he’d think … what?
Spying several smooth stones, he retrieved them and tossed them across the water. The pebbles skipped over the cerulean pool before finally plunking into the water.
This story he was writing about Greyson Luce could save someone from future heartbreak. He’d leave Maude a copy of the story before he left the island, something showing he’d not used her name. And while he hated to portray Anna in such a negative light, at least someone should learn from her choices. Her poor mother …
Jack zipped by on his bicycle, darting in and out of the carriage and pedestrian traffic as if he didn’t care what happened to him.
Didn’t he?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Maude knocked on Jack’s door. He’d not come down for breakfast. Father told her to let him sleep in, but she had a niggling feeling Jack was up to something. He’d had a conniption when told that she wouldn’t be seeing Ben again. Of course her crying episode had upset him, too, but what could she do? She couldn’t protect her brother from life’s difficulties and their effects on his loved ones.
She waited and knocked again.
“Are you sick, Jack?” When he failed to respond, she opened the door. Gauzy curtains waved in the rose-scented breeze.
His oak captain’s bed lay empty, one of the drawers beneath it slightly ajar.
Birdsong carried through the open window. Distant laughter drew Maude closer. After raising the blinds fully open, she peered out. The new guest’s bike was gone from its spot, yet she’d just seen the gentleman in the parlor. Had Jack taken the bicycle?
She left the room and hurried downstairs to find her brother.
The bell above the front door jingled loudly as she reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the lobby. The door opened. Ben had the audacity to return!
He removed his hat and stepped inside. Dressed in a shabby suit, although quite dashing by islander standards, he stood in the hallway, his expression flustered.
She turned and went to him.
He took her hands in his. “Maude, is something wrong with your brother?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“He was crying, and he was riding like a verrückt, like a crazy boy, all over the street yesterday and again when I just saw him.” The rings under Ben’s eyes suggested he’d not slept well. “He wouldn’t even respond when I called to him. Not that I blame him.”
“Where was he?”
“About fifteen minutes ago, I saw him riding down Garrison Road, into the interior of the island.”
“That’s not too far from the arch.” Maude moistened her lips. “Jack’s favorite spot when he’s upset is to sit near that limestone formation.”
“What’s the quickest way to get there?” Ben glanced out into the street, where Stan was pulling away from the curb.
“Ada just purchased a light carriage, a new red gig, and is showing it to Father, out back.”
“Come on.”
Thank God the horses easily responded to his direction as they’d sped toward the rock. Ben kept tight control over their movements. And this light gig was quick.
As they neared the cemetery, Maude pulled on his arm and pointed. “My mother is buried here—it was Grandmother’s wish—in the Cadotte family area.”
Ben directed the horses to a walk. From the road, he spied a bright yellow-and-red floral heart-shaped form propped against a headstone situated near the front, adjacent to an imposing statue of an angel with outstretched wings.
“Look—that’s the homemade wreath Jack and I made last night for Mother’s grave. I should have come out with him when he placed it here.”
Maude’s brother had experienced so many losses this past year. “Jack was concerned that your father might die.”
“I should have talked with him and reassured him more. But frankly, Ben, I’m worried, too.”
He wrapped an arm around her. She didn’t resist when he pulled her near and kissed the top of her head. “I should have seen the signs of deep sadness, this grief, in your brother—I’ve experienced them all myself.”
She peered up at him from beneath her long lashes. “When you were forced from your family home?”
>
“Yes. And when my sister, Magdalena, died.”
“How did you react?”
“I think Jack is a daredevil on his bike, like I was, taking papers into some of the worst slums of Chicago.” Like the boy trying to reach extreme speed when he ran—Ben had always pushed himself harder, longer.
“Look. That’s Robert’s carriage.” Maude pointed toward a landau, waiting at the base of the arch.
Ahead, Swaine waved to them and scrambled from his carriage toward the popular tourist site. Thankfully, with the overcast skies portending rain, no one was about. High above, Jack sat on the top of the arch, his feet dangling over the other side. Gawkers might frighten the boy on his precarious perch. “With this light drizzle, that limestone could be slippery.”
A crease marred Maude’s brow. “Jack has been up there dozens of times, but he knows better than to be up there alone. Or in the rain.” She held out her palm as raindrops began.
Ben slowed the gig and pulled in behind Swaine’s landau. Swaine stared up at the top of the curved, but jagged, rock formation.
With the rain the previous night and the dewy morning, the slick rock could easily cause Jack to fall. Ben had to get to the boy.
“I’m going to go up.” Maude began pulling at her shoes.
“No, let me talk to him.” Ben squeezed Maude’s hand and leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead.
Swaine tried calling up to Jack, but the boy shook his head violently, sending pebbles scattering down below and pinging off the rocks. Holding a twist of rope, Swaine slowly backed down as Ben ran to him.
“Can you help me, Steffan?” Sweat dotted the captain’s brow. “I’ve been up there hundreds of times, but it’s not a safe place when wet.”
“Ja, I understand. Give me some of the rope.”
“Let me cut it. If you take half and I have the other half, then maybe we can get it around him and steady him. We’ll need to tie something for ourselves, too.”
“You have enough for four good-sized sections?”
“Yes, I had some in my carriage, thank God.”
God, keep the boy safe.
“I don’t know what’s eating him. Jack rode up on that bike so erratically that I thought he’d gotten into Peter’s medicinal bourbon.” Swaine tied rope around his midsection and Ben secured it to a nearby tree.
“I think he’s afraid. And sad. And confused.” Like Ben had been at the same age. Ben crossed to the opposite side, rope tied and secured as well. If they fell, they’d bang into the nearby rocks, but they’d not fall all the way down, which could be fatal.
Ben checked the cord around his torso and then stripped off his jacket. “I’m coming up there, Jack.”
“Go away!”
He carefully climbed up the side opposite the boy, wanting Jack to see him as he approached. On the other side, behind the boy, Swaine did likewise, edging in onto the top of the rock platform.
“Leave me alone!”
“You invited me up here, don’t you remember? Last week.” Ben tried to keep his tone light. “After we left the Chippewa settlement.”
Jack squinted in Ben’s direction and nodded. “That was before you got Sis all mad.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but she and I are here now.”
When he swiveled to look back toward his sister, more rock chips fell. Ben closed his eyes and prayed.
“So you two lovebirds made up?”
“Ja.”
The boy turned his head straight ahead and stared out at the water. Ben inched forward, on his hands and knees.
“My friend, what are you doing up here?” A raindrop plopped down on Ben’s nose and began to itch, but he daren’t lift his hands.
“I’m practicing to be an explorer.” Jack tossed a stone down into the deep ravine, covered with trees and bushes.
“Ja? Let me tell you about a boy I know who took a very long journey.”
“Was he an explorer?”
“Not really, but maybe …” He’d not thought of it that way.
“I don’t want to hear it—I’m up here because I’m angry.” Jack kicked his foot out and Ben watched as the boy’s shoe cascaded down to the bottom of the ravine, bouncing off the rocks and tree branches as it fell.
From below, Maude called out, “Be careful, Jack!”
Her brother turned his head slightly and shrugged.
Ben sucked in a breath as he moved closer, the old pain from his rib beginning to throb. “This boy I knew—he was angry, too.”
On the other side, Robert made eye contact and nodded, encouraging Ben forward. He wasn’t afraid of heights, but this precipitous position made him dizzy out of a very real fear of falling.
“Why was he mad?”
Ben crept closer to Jack, slippery rock tearing at his skin. “He was very angry because his uncle had been unkind to his family.”
“Yeah, I’m mad at my uncle, too.”
Swaine momentarily closed his eyes and appeared to be praying.
Jack cocked his head. “What was the kid’s name?”
Ben looked down at the water far below him and the child. “His name was Benjamin Friedrich König Steffan.”
“That’s a long name.” Jack swung his feet and the other shoe fell.
Down it fell, as did Ben’s spirits. Dear God, help me and this boy.
“Ja. But he didn’t use all those names.”
“Does he have a nickname?”
“Ja.” He licked his lips. “Ben—but his sister called him pest.”
“My sister never calls me names.”
“Ja, well his did—but he didn’t mind because he liked bothering her, too.”
His eyes misted. In water similar to this beyond them, his sister’s body had been laid to rest, her spirit fleeing to the place where one day he’d join her.
Jack sniffed, and Ben realized the boy was crying, too.
“I miss my mom.”
“I know. It must be hard.”
“And my dad is sick. Real bad, I think.”
Behind him, Ben heard the sounds of carriage wheels crunching over the drive leading to the scenic lookout. Not so scenic today.
“I’m sorry. But he looked well yesterday. I know how it must feel—”
“You don’t know what it’s like. Nobody does.”
On the opposite side, Robert had moved within several feet of the boy. Ben had to keep Jack talking. And glancing in his direction.
“I am Ben, that boy, and my uncle threw me and all my family out of my grandparents’ estate in Germany.”
Sniffing loudly, Maude’s brother’s shoulders stiffened. “Who would do that?”
“My uncle inherited a noble title….”
“Like a duke or somethin’?”
“Ja. Like that. When my grandparents were gone, my uncle sent my parents, me, and my sister packing.”
“That’s mean.”
Ben tried not to look down as he brutalized his pants’ knees by crawling forward, unsure how long he could balance in this position.
“And so we came to America.”
“We’re gonna have the best Olympics team from this country.” The boy’s eyes seemed to focus and brighten, as though seeing Ben for the first time. “Good thing you came to America.”
“But, you see, my sister died on that trip here.”
Knees shaking, Ben was within reach of Jack, as was Robert, who was poised to throw a circle of rope over the boy, lasso-style. But if he startled him, he could fall.
“She died?”
“Ja, my older sister.” Tremors coursed through his shoulders.
“You better sit, Mr. König; you could slip and fall.” Jack patted the damp spot beside him.
“If I sit, I’m not sure I can get back up again.”
“Oh boy, we better get you offa here, then.” Jack looked in the other direction, and Robert offered him the rope.
Perspiration beaded on Swaine’s forehead. “Take it, Jack.”
“Yeah, I t
hink I need it for Mr. König.” The boy took the rope and handed it to Ben.
The boy stood, balancing like a monkey, holding the line. He passed the end to Ben and held on to the taut rope himself.
“Tell me about your family, Mr. König, and hold the rope and scoot back a little at a time, okay? I don’t want ya to get scared and fall—so be careful.”
Ben swallowed. “My mother was rebellious, like me, and she wanted to be a violinist in an orchestra.”
“That ain’t so bad.” Jack took a half step forward and Ben moved slowly backward. Mein Gott, this is up high.
“Aristocrats don’t play in symphonies.” Ben scooted back again and watched as Jack took a pace forward.
“Why not?”
“It wasn’t the thing the royal families in Europe permitted their members to do, even though the rulers loved music and the arts.” Nor would they be crawling around on their knees like this. A piece of rock gouged against his left hand, and he bit back a groan. Jack appeared as relaxed and in control as though he’d walked on wet, slippery limestone all his life. Maybe the boy had, and his sister hadn’t known.
“Did they let you climb rocks like this?”
“No.” Ben’s head swam. As long as the boy thought he was rescuing him, they’d be okay. They had to be.
Maude couldn’t lose her brother, nor could she stand the thought of Ben pitching over the side of what had been her favorite spot on the island.
She pulled up her skirts and got to the top edge of the arch then waited as Ben moved backward, and Jack forward, toward her. She’d grab him if need be, although she didn’t know what she’d do if she did have to get ahold of Ben. Jack, she knew exactly what to do with.
The impudent boy winked at her. If he’d ever deserved a paddling, it was today.
“Tell me about your sister, Ben.” Jack used the tone of voice he reserved for the youngest guests at the inn.
“She was pretty, like yours. Magdalena was a great writer—oh, the stories she could tell.”
Jack laughed. “My aunt Virgie is like that—she’d talk your ears off with stories if you let her.”
Ben ceased his retreat. Maude could see his clothing moving, not from the wind for there was none now, but from trembling. “I … I think I realize something up here, Jack.”
My Heart Belongs on Mackinac Island Page 24