***
Sweet Punkin’! He could kiss this girl every night until the day he died. Overhead, the same constellation shone as it had that night a decade earlier when he and Moose had rescued her—the night he and his brother had gone fishing in the AuSable River. He’d missed the Lumberjacks’ Ball, too upset by Janie’s apparent dismissal of him to attend. Ten long years had passed. He wouldn’t let the next ten be without her. If she couldn’t or wouldn’t move to the island, then he’d have to make something work in St. Ignace. Either he’d find work in town or continue to serve as a lumberjack in his pa’s camp.
He pulled back, reluctantly releasing her.
“Oh my.” Rebecca’s flushed face and sparkling eyes told him what he wanted to know—she felt the same way about him as he did toward her. If he had his way, they’d be married soon and there would be a family started within the year. But that was God’s providence, not his—something he was only now really beginning to understand.
“I don’t want to press you, Rebecca, but please pray about Pearl’s suggestion. If she and Frenchie moved to the island with the girls and if you joined me there, as my wife, we could help each other.”
She shrugged and pulled her shawl up around her shoulders. “If they came to St. Ignace and we were all there together, that could work, too. Right?”
He blew out a puff of air. “Yes, but I ask you to pray about it.” In his heart, he already saw them living in that cozy island cottage, with Pearl and Frenchie and the children living down the street from them.
“I’d have to talk with my father about it, too, Garrett. He’s expecting me to make a strong start with the store.”
He didn’t have a peaceful feeling in his spirit about what exactly Mr. Daggenhart’s motives were. “Does he intend to have you manage it on your own?”
Another dance ended, and Tom switched to a mournful rendition of Kentucky Winder, one of Ma’s favorite songs. His mother loved him so much. What would it have been like to have a ma and pa like Rebecca’s?
“Not exactly.” Her top two pearly teeth nibbled on her lower lip. “He said I should find a manager or a…” She looked up with wide eyes.
“Or what?”
“A husband. But I’m sure he was joking.” She stared down at her hands, now clasped so tightly in her lap that the knuckles were turning white.
“So he had no intention of moving him and your mother up North?”
“That’s what I don’t know, because I thought this was supposed to be my store and my new start. But…”
“But what?” He covered her hands with his.
“Well, he kept talking about how he felt the lumber trade was moving north.”
“True enough.”
“And that moving to the Upper Peninsula might be the wisest thing to do if income continued to fall at the mercantile in the Lower Peninsula.”
“And had it?”
“I think so. But it doesn’t make sense that he’d tell me one thing and then plan on doing another.”
“Rebecca, your pa has never made sense to me. Him and your ma dressing you up like a doll but then paying you no never mind when you needed some real attention. Then what you’re telling me about them shoving you off to the back rooms after the attack. What kind of parent does that?”
“Not a good one.” Pain reflected on her beautiful face. “And I don’t want to be like them.”
A flash of red blazed across the dance area as Amy chased Ruth’s little sister. Frenchie helped Pearl up from a nearby log. They might be spry for their ages, but how would they keep up with all those kids?
They sat silently as the dancers swirled around in the clearing. Tom fiddled with gusto, breaking to loud applause. Then he began to play a mournful tune Garrett didn’t recognize. The sadness contained in the music caused moisture to build in Garrett’s eyes and beside him Rebecca openly cried. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to his side then kissed the top of her head. Despite the absence of fripperies in the camp, somehow she’d manage to have her hair curled and arranged into an elaborate mass of ringlets. Jo had kept her by the kitchen house fire for an hour, using hot tongs. Rebecca did look beautiful. But he’d have thought her just fine even if she wore her hair up in the severe bun she’d preferred.
“If my mother and father do come up to take over the store, I won’t abide it. I’d have to leave.” Her tone was determined, her features set.
“Do you enjoy the work?” She rarely smiled when she was at the shop—not unless Amy had come to help.
Slowly, ever so slowly, like the slow falling of a gigantic tree freshly cut, Rebecca turned to look up at him. She laughed and the chuckles built until she was crying.
“What is so dadburned funny?”
“No, Garrett.” She wrapped her arms across her torso as she continued to laugh. “I do not enjoy the work, but I’m persistent if I’m anything.”
“Well then, Miss Rebecca Jane, I believe we’re getting closer to our answer.”
15
After Garrett awoke in the morning, he washed, dressed in his town clothes, and enjoyed the hearty breakfast of biscuits, gravy, eggs, potatoes, and bacon the ladies fixed in the cook shack.
Rebecca sat at his side, where he wanted to keep her always. She sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat again until tomorrow.”
Although he’d laughed, he, too, couldn’t eat as much as he used to, nor did he need to do so.
Cool, rain-cleared air met them as they departed the cook shack. “Smells fresh, but also muddy.” He pointed to the mucky circle where they’d danced the previous night.
Tom shrugged. “At least the showers didn’t start till we were all asleep.”
Beside Garrett, his future wife groaned. “Some of you may have slept…”
“You can use my shoulder as a pillow.” Garrett brushed his lips against her forehead. “Let’s load up.”
Jo, who’d eaten in the kitchen, ran up from behind them, whipping her apron off. “Let me get my bag and I’ll be ready.”
Their father emerged from the cabin. For once, he’d allowed himself the luxury of sleeping in. In a few long strides, he joined them. “I’m expectin’ a passel of weddings before too long, so let’s see you all keep the brides and grooms and the dates straight.”
Drawing Rebecca close, he hoped for a sooner rather than later for a wedding.
Within the half hour, they’d said their goodbyes. Amy ran across the clearing, clutching a cloth doll to her chest. “My grandma says I can go with you!”
She threw her thin arms around Rebecca’s middle then stepped back and displayed her doll, with yellow yarn braids that matched Amy’s own plaits. “Look what Grandma Pearl made.”
***
Rebecca instinctively brushed back a strand of golden hair that had fallen in to the girl’s eyes. “She’s almost as pretty as you.”
Pink, like a sunset over Lake Michigan, washed her cheeks and she dug the toe of her short boots into the dirt of the hard-packed clearing.
Frenchie directed the horses toward them, then brought them to a halt and secured the large wagon. While it wasn’t as old as the dray, the wood was similarly grayed with age. The bed featured four rows of benches behind the driver—enough seating for twelve adults—and a small open section behind, for belongings.
“Mademoiselle Amy, come up front with your grand-père.”
The child squealed in delight. Then, as Garrett lifted her skyward, she chortled.
“I reckon I could get used to such a happy sound.” Garrett twirled her around, as he’d done with Rebecca the previous day, and joy such as she’d never known planted itself firmly in her heart. This man would be a good husband and father, would make a home with her. Somehow, if they could only settle the differences of where they might live and have their livelihoods.
Frenchie loaded their belongings into the back as Garrett swung Amelia up onto the front seat. One of the horses swished a fly away with his tail but otherwise, t
he two horses stood steady as Tom offered first Jo and then Rebecca a hand up into the wagon. The engaged couple took the second bench back as Rebecca settled her full skirts around her on the wide plank row behind Amelia, who gleefully occupied a third of the front driver’s seat.
“Come on, Grandpa, I want you to show me how to drive.”
“Don’t rarely use this vehicle, mademoiselle Amy,” Frenchie carefully sounded out his words, which were hard to understand, with him missing so many teeth. He mounted up and joined Amelia. “I’ll need to keep control of this bulky contraption, but I’ll let you help a little.”
They turned to wave goodbye as Frenchie released the brake and flicked the reins. Within two miles, it was clear why the dray was normally used. Rebecca lifted the watch face from her gold-plated chatelaine. At this pace, they’d be late.
Garrett leaned in, his wool-covered arm pressing into her side and whispered, “We’ll get there in time for the boat schedule.” When he covered her hand with his, she relaxed, as much as she could, onto the bench seat.
Her sweetheart tapped the driver’s shoulder. “I reckon the ladies won’t mind if you push those two a little harder. Might rock the wagon more, but Tom and I can keep our ladies steady.”
The Frenchman crowed. As he whistled to the horses, Amelia swiveled to watch as Garrett wrapped an arm around Rebecca and drew her close. The child made a knowing face, her eyes half-closed, and then turned to the front again. Garrett laughed and pressed a kiss to Rebecca’s cheek, warming her down to her half-boots.
Rebecca gestured to the massive white pines bordering the heavily rutted road. “I wonder if we’ll lose all these beautiful pines.”
Frenchie adjusted the reins and directed the team of horses around a water-filled hole in the road. Amelia squealed and clutched his arm.
***
Rebecca jostled further into Garrett’s arms. He didn’t mind, in fact, he rather liked her warm body snug up against his. When she caught him staring overlong at her, twin circles of red appeared on her cheeks.
“I hardly slept last night. It was kind of the cook to let me stay with her in her cabin. But between Irma’s snoring, the sounds of the insects in the woods, and my concerns about the mercantile, I don’t think I slept more than an hour.”
He whispered, “Are you sure you weren’t just thinking about me and my kiss?”
“Garrett Christy! I am shocked at you.” Her throaty laugh reassured him she wasn’t surprised where his thoughts were.
Frenchie groaned as the horses resisted his directions. Finally, he got them going again. “My pardons.”
“Just get us back to town and we’ll be happy, Frenchie.”
They hit the edge of the deep rut and Garrett caught Rebecca in her arms before she bounced off the bench. “Gotcha, sweetheart.”
“I’ve got you.” Her teasing tone and dancing hazel eyes gleamed with good humor.
Behind them, Jo and Tom’s soft murmurings and laughs reflected the humor that fueled their relationship. Rebecca and he weren’t as quick-witted and funny as his sister and her fiancé, but that was fine—God made folks all different for His own good reasons. And Jo had been spared the trials that poor Rebecca had suffered. As they rode on, Rebecca nodded off, her head rested on his shoulder. She must be exhausted. Garrett prayed for her, and for their future, as the wagon rolled on.
Soon they’d arrived in Mackinac City and said their farewells to Frenchie and his new granddaughter. Then the foursome had boarded the half-full boat and found a secluded spot, with port windows offering glimpses of the water.
Rebecca pointed to the padded benches. “Finally, some comfort! I hate to complain, but those cushions look heavenly to me after the wagon ride.”
“I reckon you’re a wee bit spoiled by the comforts of being a store owner.”
When her mouth widened and eyes narrowed, he wished he’d kept his words to himself.
Jo snorted. “I agree with Rebecca, and I’m a lumber camp boss’s daughter, as you well know.”
Stroking his chin, Tom slid in beside Jo and sighed in pleasure. “Oh, my, yes, much better for my aching backside.”
“Tom!” Jo swatted at his leg. “Mind your manners or we ladies won’t sit by you.”
“Speak for yourself, sister.” Garrett took his spot. “I’m not moving anywhere, and I’d wager two bits that neither is Tom.”
Rebecca arched an eyebrow. “First, we hear of Tom’s body parts, and now of your gambling schemes?”
He shrugged. “If Amy was with us, she’d spend the entire time telling us all about her new dollies, books, and grandparents.” That might be their life soon.
“I wouldn’t mind.” Rebecca cocked her head at him, her hat sliding sideways.
He pressed the fancy cap back down as she straightened, her fingers brushing his as she located and pulled a pin from the bottom, where dark ribbon edged the straw. “Would you like me to help put that back in?”
“No, I’ve got it.” With a deft movement, she’d resecured the hat.
“Wonder if Amy would like a new hat like that one—a little smaller maybe. And one for Pearl.”
“I’m sure she would. Amelia gave her new Easter hat to another child at the orphanage, when she learned her friend had nothing new.”
“Did you know my brother sent over new gloves for all of the children after that?”
“Yes, the Labrons told me at a community meeting. I really like them, competition or not.”
“They had the white gloves in stock, and gave him a nice discount.” This wasn’t exactly where he wanted to head this conversation. It was like going halfway around the hill when he should have stopped at the bottom. “Like me, he has a soft spot for children.” He blinked back some mist that must have pressed through the ferry windows. Misty Fawn’s children could have been his. But they’d never gotten a chance to grow up. He had to trust God, though, who’d received them into His kingdom. But now, he had another chance to help Frenchie and Pearl with Amy and her siblings.
He had to get Rebecca thinking about coming to the island. Surely she could set up shop there. But he’d not spied a “For Rent” sign anywhere. He should have looked. Should have thought of that. But he hadn’t.
She gazed up at him, a honeyed curl bouncing against her lacy bodice as the ship carried them over the frothy waves. “I like children, too.”
“Good.” He grinned. “I knew that from how you are with Amy.”
“And I’d like to help the Brevorts any way I can.”
“Me, too. But first I’ve got to get settled in my new work.”
She pressed her pink lips tightly together.
Garrett pointed through the window, to the Grand Hotel, as the steamboat puffed past the island. “Are you familiar with the street that runs next to the hotel?”
“I’ve been over a few times, but yes, I think I recollect.” Rebecca squinted through the portal with him. Haze hung over the water beyond.
“That’s where the housing for the craftsmen is. About a half mile down that road. Nice building, clean, neat, and new.”
Jo cleared her throat. “And room enough for two?”
“And hopefully more.” Garrett ran a hand along Rebecca’s smooth jawline.
Tom chuckled. “Like me and Jo, right? We’d love to come visit you.”
His sister kicked the toe of Tom’s boot. “I don’t think my brother meant us.”
“Nope.” Garrett winked at Rebecca.
Jo scowled at him. “Will you stay all winter?”
“Reckon so. That’s the condition of my employment.”
Rebecca squeezed his hand as though warning him. “Things aren’t exactly settled yet.”
After that comment, the foursome sat quietly.
Before long, St. Ignace’s shoreline came into view. The nearer they got to the dock, the stronger the odor of smoke grew. Not the familiar scent of hearth fire but a metallic, full ashy stench that assaulted his nostrils.
Tom point
ed. “There’s a fire!”
***
Rebecca clutched at her neck and the cameo she’d pinned there earlier, a gift from her parents many years ago. She pressed Garrett’s brawny arm. “I’m afraid.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. Her heartbeat ratcheted upward. He was anxious, too.
Be anxious for nothing.
Jo pressed her face toward the window. “I can’t tell where it’s coming from.”
Oh, God, please don’t let it be my store.
Immediately, God convicted her spirit—the safety of those people near the burning property was of more importance. Please let all be well.
“Let’s go above deck and see.” Garrett took her hand and pulled her upward.
The foursome mounted the steps to the main deck and found room to stand at the rail, where the other passengers gawked at the village. The ship bobbed through the waves, onward, into thicker smoke. Jo plucked a handkerchief from her reticule and pressed it to her nose.
Rebecca closed her eyes as Garrett pulled her against the safety of his chest. “Please tell me when you can see where the fire emanates from.”
Patting her back at first, soon he shifted to slow stroking motions from her tense neck to the tight muscles in the middle of her corseted back. “Don’t look, darlin’,” he crooned and then exhaled so deeply that her face pressed into his shirt buttons.
Tom coughed. “Water wagons and sand everywhere.” Tom’s voice held relief, though.
She pulled away, suddenly aware that Mrs. Jeffries’ inn might be afire. But the inn stood tall and proud at the mouth of the harbor. Her little shop, or rather what was left of it, wasn’t as fortunate.
“Gone,” was all she could mutter. A gap stood between her business and the two adjacent buildings. Gone. Ashes. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. What had once been her escape was gone.
Tom wrapped an arm around Jo. “They must have gotten there quickly to have kept it from spreading.”
“Thank God.” Rebecca tried to be grateful, but fear overwhelmed her and she shook from head to foot. “At least no one was inside.”
The Lumberjacks' Ball (The Christy Lumber Camp Series Book 2) Page 11