Truly Yours Historical Collection December 2014

by Susan Page Davis, Paige Winship Dooly, Connie Stevens

  “Fletcher said he searched the island.”

  “He did. But I don’t feel as if my father is gone.” Her grip tightened against his arm. “When my mother—died, after I came to, I knew instantly that she was no longer with us.”

  “I’ll continue to look for him. If he’s here, we’ll find him.”

  “Thank you.” For the first time her smile appeared to be genuine. “Fletcher and Sylvia seem to think it’s shock talking when I say that. My uncle surely thinks the same.” She shrugged.

  They turned and headed back toward the cottage, the silence around them broken only by the cries of the seagulls.

  She abruptly appeared to shake off the melancholy mood along with whatever thoughts were on her mind by quickly changing the subject. “I’ll make your meals of course.”

  “That would be nice.”

  A most charming blush colored her cheeks. “You can eat in your room or up in the lighthouse if you’d prefer, but I won’t mind if you’d like to join me at mealtime, either. I’d appreciate the company.” She dropped her hand from his arm and hugged her arms around her torso.

  Though in all likelihood she was only trying to be charitable in order to please her uncle, and judging from her actions hoped he’d say no, he couldn’t stop the words that instantly popped out in response to her invitation. “I’d like that.”

  “You would?” Surprised, she stumbled and would have fallen had he not grabbed her by the arm. “Well, then. . .ouch!”

  He’d been so mesmerized by Hollan and her enticing personality that he hadn’t paid enough attention to all the broken shells and the uneven shoreline on this part of the beach. He should have been more diligent. Edward was counting on him to keep Hollan safe.

  “What happened?”

  “I’m fine.” She waved him away, a look of desperation on her face as she tilted her head and listened to the sounds.

  Jacob could only hear the surf breaking at their feet along with the calls of seagulls from up ahead.

  “We’re almost back to the cottage. Sylvia has been feeding the gulls about this time every day, and I can hear them begging up near the lighthouse.” She took a cautious step, gasped, and closed her eyes in pain.

  “You’re hurt. Let me have a look.”

  “No.”

  “You’re soon to be my wife. I don’t think it will hurt for me to take a look. One of the shells must have cut through your boot.”

  “I’m not wearing any boots.” She sighed. Frustrated, she scrunched her fingers in her hair. More loosened tendrils of auburn hair blew around her face. “I like to feel the sand under my feet.”

  She started when he laughed out loud.

  “You find the notion funny?”

  “I find you to be quite funny.” He scooped her up in his arms and carried her away from the shells.

  “I beg your pardon! Jacob, put me down!”

  He had no intention of putting her down. She felt too good in his arms. “I will as soon as we get past these broken shells.” He settled her on a large piece of driftwood before dropping to his knees in the sand. “Let me see the damage.”

  With a sigh she allowed him to look at her foot.

  “There’s still a fragment embedded in your skin. You’re bleeding. No wonder it hurt to walk.” He gently tugged the shell loose, but Hollan still gasped and patted at his arm.

  “Ah, that hurt!”

  “Sorry. The fragment is out now, but you can’t walk on your foot. You’ll fill the cut with sand. Stay put for a moment.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and walked down to dip it in the water.

  Hollan stood, apparently planning to follow him.

  Some things never changed.

  “Must you always be so stubborn?” he called. She’d been an opinionated handful since the first day he’d met her. “I said to stay put. The last thing you need is an infection, and these shells can give you a pretty nasty one if you aren’t careful.”

  He hurried to where she’d settled back down on the log.

  “And you’re as boorish as ever.” She crossed her arms as she huffed out the words.

  He brushed at the wound, but the sand wouldn’t come free. “I’m going to have to carry you back down to the water. You’ll need to hold your skirt up while I dip your foot in the ocean.”

  “You’ll do no such thing. If you’ll lend me your handkerchief, I can make a bandage. When we get back to the cottage, I’ll make a poultice out of herbs.”

  “I’m sure you will, and that’ll be fine, just as soon as we get all the sand out.” He didn’t give her a chance to argue as he lifted her up in his arms.

  “Put me down,” she hissed.

  He walked to the water’s edge. “Ready?”

  “No.”

  Ignoring her, he dipped her foot into the ocean, soaking her skirt hem with seawater in the process. “There. That ought to do it.”

  “My skirt is drenched.”

  “I said you’d need to hold it up.”

  She glared his way. “And I said I wasn’t ready.”

  “Would you have ever been ready?”

  “No.”

  “Exactly.”

  She balanced on one foot until an overzealous wave knocked her backward. Jacob steadied her.

  Her breath came in small huffy bursts. She was angry.

  “Now see?” She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “This is exactly the behavior I worried would come along with our marriage.”

  “If you’re referring to the fact that I just cleaned your wound and saved you from a tumble in the water, your worries are for naught. Speaking of our marriage, you might have all the time in the world to stand here and argue, but I have a wedding to attend.”

  “Unfortunately, so do I, and I’m going to arrive looking like a drowned rat.”

  “I recall asking if you were ready.”

  “And I recall saying no.” She started to hobble up the shore.

  “Stubborn woman! You’re going to get the wound full of sand again.”

  “I’ll—”

  He didn’t give her a chance to finish. Instead he flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She shrieked and pummeled him on the back as he stalked up the path with long strides.

  He might as well face her uncle head-on. At the rate they were going, the wedding was likely off anyway. Jacob didn’t like the thought. He still had feelings for the feisty woman in his arms. But less than an hour earlier, Edward had entrusted into Jacob’s care a healthy, pristine niece. Jacob now returned her injured, wet, and angry. The whole ordeal was anything but peaceful and relaxing. In all honesty, dealing with the townspeople couldn’t possibly be any more frustrating than this.

  Jacob didn’t relish the thought of facing her uncle with his obvious failure, but the sooner they got the ordeal over with, the sooner they could put this mistake behind them.

  Five

  Uncle Edward’s booming laugh welcomed them back to the cottage. Hollan didn’t need to see his face—a feat that would be impossible even if she could see, thanks to her present dangling-upside-down-over-Jacob’s-shoulder position—to know that the laughter was at her expense.

  “I’m thrilled that you find my situation so immensely amusing, but perhaps you could stop laughing long enough to make him put me down.” Her indignation was wasted on the man. She couldn’t be heard over the laughter with her face and voice muffled against the back of Jacob’s shirt. She tried to ignore the strength of his muscles, but it was hard to do while feeling the solid resistance as she again pummeled her fists against his back.

  Jacob apparently heard. Or maybe the hard pinch to his side alerted him to her fury. He dumped her unceremoniously on her feet, only mindful at the last moment of her injury. “Thought I was going to drop you on your sore foot, didn’t you?”

  His voice was low, for her ears only, and she shivered at the intimacy. His closeness unnerved her. She limped a few steps away.

  “You’re hurt!” I
mmediately contrite, her uncle appeared at her side.

  “Of course I’m hurt. Do you think I’d let him carry me up the dunes in that humiliating manner for the fun of it?” She sent another ferocious glare in Jacob’s general direction. She didn’t miss his chuckle.

  “She hardly let me do anything. I had to take matters into my own hands. And it’s only a surface wound, Edward, nothing to be alarmed about. Hollan will be fine.”

  “Only a surface wound? At the beach you acted as if I’d bleed to death without your immediate intervention.”

  “No, I only said the wound would fill with sand and increase the risk of infection, which reminds me, you do need to let Sylvia apply that herbal poultice.”

  “Help her over to this chair, Jacob, and we’ll get her taken care of.” Edward summoned Sylvia, and after a quick peek at the wound, she hurried off for the supplies. “Fletcher arrived at the dock just before you two made your appearance. He should be here shortly. As soon as he is, we’ll get this wedding started.”

  Hollan sputtered. “You mean you’re still planning the wedding, even after all this?”

  “Indeed. Why wouldn’t I? Jacob just proved he could deal with you quite nicely.”

  “Deal with me? You consider slinging me over his shoulder against my wishes dealing with me nicely?”

  “Compared to the alternative, yes. The gash isn’t life threatening, but walking on it wouldn’t have been wise at all. Jacob made the best decision for you, based on the options.”

  Hollan snorted and shifted in her chair, turning her back on both of them.

  “Dear, have you changed your mind?” She heard concern buried beneath the humor as her uncle placed a hand on her shoulder. “If so, you can pack a small bag and leave on the boat with us. We can collect the rest of your things later. Jacob can stay and tend to the light.”

  Hollan considered his offer. The emotions she felt when Jacob stood nearby concerned her more than any of his actions. She knew he had only her best interests at heart. But she hadn’t expected the old feelings to come rushing back in such a vivid way. A part of her she’d thought long dead had come back alive in his presence. The realization scared and unnerved her.

  “No, I’ll be fine.” And she would be. She wasn’t leaving her island. Samson plopped down beside her with a contented sigh, breaking the awkward moment. “Samson seems happy enough to hear he still has a home.”

  “He could have stayed out here with me.” Jacob stood nearby, listening.

  Hollan wished she could see Jacob’s expression. Was he disappointed she hadn’t taken her uncle up on his offer? Would he have preferred to stay at the lighthouse alone? She thought about it a moment and decided she didn’t care. She hadn’t made him come out to get hitched, and if he had his doubts, they were his problem to deal with.

  “Aunt Ettie’s going to be upset about missing the ceremony.” She addressed the statement to her uncle.

  “I asked if she wanted to come, but she was so sure you’d turn us down flat, I couldn’t get her in the boat.”

  “She still hates it out here. She’s never cared for the island.”

  “She loved your mother like a sister. And though she wanted to be here with you, she can’t deal with coming to the island just yet. I think she fully expected you to return to the house with me.”

  “I understand. Tell her I’ll be in to see her soon.”

  “She’ll want to have you both over for dinner.”

  “We’d like that.” Jacob spoke for them both. “Ettie is a wonderful cook.”

  Hollan wondered about the fact that it didn’t bother her that he spoke of them as a couple. Instead, it felt natural. Comforting.

  Sylvia arrived and busied herself with tending to the cut. Fletcher arrived at the cottage, and the men exited and walked over to the dunes. A short time later Sylvia had Hollan bandaged up and ready for the ceremony. She helped Hollan into her prettiest blue dress—a color Hollan belatedly remembered was Jacob’s favorite. She blushed, wondering if he’d think she’d chosen it especially for him.

  “You look beautiful, Hollan. Your mother would be proud.”

  Hollan hugged the older woman, not sure she agreed. Her mother would have wanted Hollan to marry for love. They’d talked about it many times before, back in the carefree days when she was happily engaged to Jacob. Though the man remained the same, the circumstances had changed.

  When Hollan didn’t answer, Sylvia cupped her cheeks. “Your mother would understand.”

  Hollan nodded her agreement. “I’d like to think so.”

  “Jacob is a good man. If you give him a chance, he’ll make you very happy. I think God has something beautiful planned in all of this.”

  Though Hollan wasn’t so sure about that, she hoped her friend was right.

  They decided to say their vows on a dune overlooking the ocean. The whole situation felt surreal. The wedding, although very similar to the one in her dreams—the wedding she’d wanted the first time before Jacob left—seemed a farce. The man standing beside her was nothing more than a stranger, and only a handful of loved ones stood alongside to witness the event.

  Other than those few minor details, she thought wryly, the afternoon couldn’t have been more perfect for their ceremony. Hollan loved being serenaded by the seagulls that flew over their heads. The ever-present sound of the waves crashing onshore brought a familiar comforting reassurance. She knew the sounds inland would be similar—the small village was a coastal town after all—but she wouldn’t hear the roar of the surf from the Atlantic Ocean. She wouldn’t be able to tell weather conditions solely by the force of the waves hitting shore. She’d not be able to wade along the tide line, nor would she be able to wander freely as she did now.

  She had Jacob to thank for that. His presence allowed her to remain where she wanted to be. She turned her attention to the man at her side. She wished she could see him more clearly. As it was, the sun silhouetted his broad shoulders, and she could tell he wasn’t the skinny boy who’d left her behind. She wondered how the planes of his face had changed with the years. She felt sure her vision would clear again. She’d see him soon enough. And even if she didn’t, she had the details of the past tucked away in her memory. His sea green eyes wouldn’t have changed, but his hair apparently had. Judging by the way the strands blew around in the wind, he’d let it grow longer than before, but she imagined the strands were the same sun-kissed color they used to be. He never had been one to stay indoors any more than necessary.

  Her uncle’s voice intruded on her musings. “I think we’re ready. We need to finish up and be on our way.” The usually wordy man surprised her as he made quick work of the ceremony.

  “Jacob, you may now kiss your bride.”

  Before Hollan could work up a full panic, Jacob leaned forward and gently touched his lips to hers in the most gentle of kisses. Against her will, her heart began to soar.

  ❧

  The first few days of their marriage were awkward to say the least. Jacob could see the strain as Hollan tried to work into a steady routine of normalcy. They started each day with breakfast. Hollan worked hard to have the meal on the table before he arrived at the cottage door.

  “You aren’t normally an early riser, are you?” Jacob asked during their meal on their fourth morning together.

  “Why do you ask?” she questioned, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

  He laughed. “You’re about to fall asleep in your eggs. At first I figured you weren’t sleeping well due to our new role as—neighbors.”

  “We aren’t simple neighbors, and you know it.” She swiped his half-eaten plate of food from in front of him and made her way to the counter. “We’re in a completely unique situation, and I do find myself losing sleep trying to make sense of it all.” She snatched up a rag and returned to the table, wiping hard at the crumbs.

  “You trying to wipe clean through the wood?” He stayed her hand with his.

  Her breathing hitched, and she qui
ckly pulled away. “Don’t you have a lighthouse to tend to?”

  “Again the lack of subtlety.” He enjoyed putting a blush on her cheeks. He stood and pushed in his chair. “But yes, I do need to wipe down the lens.”

  “Don’t forget to trim the wicks. And refuel the lanterns.”

  “Did all that before coming in for breakfast. Some of us get up early.”

  “Or never go to bed at all,” she muttered.

  “I sleep. I just don’t need a lot of it. I sneak in a few hours before dusk and in between work.”

  Hollan rolled her eyes.

  “Let me know if you need me.” He wondered if she’d ever truly need him. If she’d ever care about him the way she used to.

  He closed the cottage door behind him and walked over to the lighthouse. He climbed the multitude of narrow stairs that led to the top level. The day was clear, and he could see a good ways out. As had become his habit, he went around the entire walkway, looking for any sign of Hollan’s father. If the man hadn’t washed out to sea, he didn’t know what had happened to him. For Hollan’s sake, he hoped they’d someday find out. Hollan told him the lighthouse inspector was due for a visit within the month, and if her father hadn’t returned, they stood to lose the contract. In the meantime, he’d do everything he could to keep the light in good working order.

  Jacob slipped into Hollan’s father’s cleaning coat. The lens had to be immaculate at all times in order to work properly. He first wiped away all loose particles of debris with a feather duster. He then used a fine cloth to carefully remove any smudges left by the oil. The prisms were delicate and easily scratched, so he always made sure to touch them with caution.

  He spent longer than he’d intended on the job, and the sun tipped slightly toward the west before he headed to the cottage for the midday meal. Hollan waited in a chair out front, staring toward the horizon, her forehead creased with concern.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s getting ready to storm.” She motioned toward a cloth-covered plate that sat on a small table tucked between the two chairs. Samson lifted his tawny head and wagged his tail in acknowledgment before lowering his chin back down to rest upon his front paws, his favorite napping position.