Jacob surveyed the horizon. He saw some dark clouds, but he knew Hollan and her father recognized the signs of a serious storm much better than he. “Will it be a bad one?”
“I’m not sure.” She’d balled her handkerchief into a small mass. “I just know the weather’s turned. The seagulls have taken refuge.”
He hadn’t noticed, but now that she mentioned it, the ever-present birds weren’t anywhere around.
“Tell me what I need to do.” He didn’t bother with his plate.
She smiled, but the lines around her mouth betrayed her tension. “First of all, eat. If it’s a big storm, you’ll be busy later.”
“Then talk to me while I eat.” He lifted his plate onto his lap and took a bite of crab cake. It was delicately seasoned and cooked to perfection. She’d garnished the plate with a side of tomato that he’d picked fresh from her garden earlier in the day. “This crab cake is wonderful. The tomato looks good, too.”
“Thank you,” she said absently. Not one to be easily distracted when she had her mind set on something, she continued to stare toward the horizon. “Do you see any clouds?”
He glanced at the ocean as he took a sip of water. “There’s a darkening of the sky way out, but otherwise it’s blue.”
“The storms move in quickly. We’ll need to batten down everything we can. The chairs and table need to go in the storage building, along with anything loose. I’m sure the process is the same as the one you’d go through in town.”
“You’re thinking this will be a large storm?”
“According to the birds, yes. But we won’t know how large till it hits.”
For the first time, he saw a chink in her armor. She’d been great about their whole situation, but her nervousness over the storm’s approach was palpable. He reached over and clasped her hand with his. “God is sufficient for all our needs, Hollan. Always remember that. We’ll be fine.”
She didn’t look convinced. “I’ve lost both my mother and my father in storms. They’ll never be my favorite thing.”
“That’s understandable.”
The wind picked up. The cloth that had covered his plate blew off the table, and Jacob jumped up to chase it. He glanced back at the horizon and saw the churning clouds moving closer at a quick pace.
“It’s coming,” Hollan stated.
“Yes.” He gathered the plate and his mug and carried them into the house. He returned for Hollan. “Come. You’ll be more comfortable inside.”
Hollan shook her head. “I’ll help with the preparations. Do you need to do anything with the light? It’ll be needed more than ever during the storm.”
“I have everything ready.”
They worked around the yard, stowing any loose gardening gear in the storage building. The sky darkened. Clouds passed over the cottage and covered the sun. Hollan shivered.
“I need to light the lanterns. Let me see you into the house.”
“I’d like to wait out here if you don’t mind. I’ll move in before things get rough.”
“As you wish. But I’d feel better if you waited inside.”
“Will you wait out the storm in the lighthouse? Or would you”—she hesitated—“consider waiting it out with me?”
“I’ll be back as soon as my duties are taken care of.”
Relief flowed across her pretty features. “Thank you.” She waved him away.
He hurried through the motions of lighting the wicks that he’d already trimmed to the perfect length. He’d need to return in about four hours to trim them again, but as he looked around everything else was in order. The rain had begun a few minutes earlier, but now it came down in earnest. His cozy room waiting below beckoned him—he’d be drenched before he ever reached Hollan—but he’d given her his word. He didn’t want her sitting through the storm alone, frightened.
He’d just exited the door at the base of the lighthouse, when a gust of wind slammed it shut behind him. The wind pushed him along as he moved toward the cottage. Hollan waited in the doorway, anxiety written across her face.
“I’m here, Hollan. I’m coming. Stay put.”
Samson heard Jacob and shoved his way through the narrow opening, knocking Hollan off balance.
“Samson, no!” Hollan lunged for the escaping dog. She struggled to retain her balance against the force of the storm, but the wind caught her skirts and twirled them in a tangle around her legs. Before Jacob could get to her, she fell, tumbling down the steps with a scream. Her head hit the stone walkway, and she lay unmoving in a crumpled heap.
Six
Samson turned at once, hurrying back to his mistress. Jacob pushed him aside and scooped Hollan up in his arms.
“C’mon, Samson, let’s get her inside.” Rain blew through the open doorway as Jacob entered. He hurried to deposit Hollan on the quilt-covered bed. He forced the door shut before turning to stoke the fire. Though the fire burned warm, the light wasn’t bright enough for him to check Hollan for injuries.
He lit a lamp and placed it on a small table near the bed. Samson, panting, stood with his front paws on the edge of the bed. He whined and licked Hollan’s hand.
“She’ll be fine.” Jacob hoped his words were the truth.
The dog looked unconvinced.
“Hollan, can you hear me?” Jacob caressed Hollan’s cheek with the back of his hand.
She remained still, her skin pale against the bright pastels of the quilt. He’d give anything to see her brown eyes open to peer into his. A trickle of blood ran down the side of her cheek. With careful fingers, Jacob tenderly sifted through her hair until he found the wound. It didn’t appear to be deep at first glance, but with the amount of blood loss, it needed his attention.
First, though, he had to get her out of her wet shoes and dress. “Samson, help me out here. Hollan will tan my hide if she thinks I took any liberties with her.”
Samson turned tail and headed for the fire, though he did thump his tail three times in sympathy before curling up into a cozy ball. Or at least Jacob imagined the thumps were a show of sympathy.
“She’s my wife, buddy. It’s fine, really.”
Then why, he asked himself, am I talking to the dog like he can understand or even cares about my justification of what I’m about to do?
“She’ll get pneumonia if she continues to lie here in a wet dress.”
Samson snorted, and Jacob figured it was the dog’s way of laughing at his dilemma. Or maybe the sound was just a contented sigh because as a dog Samson didn’t have to worry about such things. Or maybe it was just a random dog sound that had nothing at all to do with the crazy individual who was talking to him, trying to figure out the inner workings of a dog’s brain when he really needed to be caring for the woman who lay helpless in front of him.
Jacob decided to ignore the irritating thoughts that were pummeling through his head, and with purpose he unhooked Hollan’s boots and slipped them off her slender feet. Though he knew she hated it, she’d taken to wearing the boots ever since she cut her foot on the shell. He doubted the habit would continue after she healed.
Next his clumsy fingers unfastened enough tiny buttons down the front of her dress to rival the amount of stairs in the lighthouse before he was finally able to pull the wet material down and over Hollan’s arms. He tugged it down over her waist and away from her motionless body. He was relieved to find her underclothes dry, so he was able to leave her covered. Her petticoat and camisole did a fine job of keeping her modesty intact. He did a cursory examination for further injuries before tucking the blankets around her. He slipped the wet quilt from the bed and with a sigh of relief that the deed was done, moved the quilt and the dress nearer to the fire to dry.
Jacob dipped some warm water from the pot that hung over the flame into a small bowl. A huge gust of wind blowing against the cottage made him jump. The storm was intensifying. It sounded like this one might turn into a full-fledged hurricane. At least in her present state, Hollan wouldn’t worry about the
ir safety.
The search for rags took a bit longer, but soon he was back at Hollan’s side, ready to clean her wound. He said a quick prayer of thanks that he hadn’t seen any other signs of injury while he settled her in. He could only pray the head wound wasn’t as bad as it looked.
“It’s already stopped bleeding, Samson. That’s a good sign, don’t you think?”
This time Samson didn’t even bother to open an eye. Jacob found it reassuring that the dog didn’t seem nervous about the storm.
“I’ll take that as a sign that you trust she’s in good hands,” Jacob muttered as he cleaned the wound. Now that the bleeding had stopped, the cut didn’t appear to be deep at all.
A lump was forming under the gash. Jacob was cautious as he smoothed Hollan’s auburn hair away from her face. Even now she was so beautiful. “You’re going to be all right, Hollan. I’m here with you.”
He couldn’t do anything more for her for the time being. He slipped into some of her father’s dry clothes that he had found in a trunk across the room and hung his own clothes to dry. He finally settled in a chair beside Hollan’s bed and began to pray.
❧
Hollan opened her eyes and peered into the dusky gloom. The effort was rewarded by a shooting pain that forced her to close them again. She struggled to get her bearings. She remembered the storm and Samson slipping past her. She’d reached for him and had fallen. She had no memory beyond that, except for waking in the bed minutes earlier.
I hope the injury didn’t affect my returning vision. Slowly, realization flowed over her. She’d opened her eyes and had seen into the gloom. She’d been able to see perfectly. The few images she’d been able to take in were engraved upon her mind. The fire burned low. Samson slept near the hearth, closer than was safe, as usual. Her dress and a quilt, along with a set of men’s clothes, hung on the backs of chairs near the fire to dry.
Men’s clothes hung by the fire? She noticed the sound of deep breathing from a chair pulled up close beside her. She opened her eyes again, slower this time to let her eyes acclimate, and for the first time in three years she stared fully into the handsome face of the man she’d once loved. Jacob was stronger, sturdier, but still as striking as ever.
“Jacob.” She whispered the word softly, but his eyes flew open as soon as she uttered it.
“Hollan.” He slipped from the chair and onto his knees beside her. “How do you feel?”
She couldn’t stop looking at him. “Dizzy.”
“You hit your head pretty good right about here.” He touched his fingers near the wound then caressed lightly down her temple. “You gave Samson and me quite a scare.”
“I’m sorry.” She shivered at his touch. To cover her reaction, she reached up and felt the raised bump.
“I hardly think you meant to do it.” He pulled her hand away from the wound and smiled. “I cleaned the injury, but you’ll want to be careful. It will be tender for a few days.”
“Thank you.” She peered over his shoulder. He didn’t release her hand. He was too close. She felt vulnerable. “Has the storm passed?”
“Not completely, but it has calmed down some.”
Her head ached. She closed her eyes and listened to the rain pattering against the roof. The aroma of simmering stew set her mouth to watering. And Jacob hovered nearby. The thought made her tremble.
“You’re shivering. Let me stoke the fire.”
It wasn’t the cold that caused her tremor. She felt plenty warm in the cocoon of blankets he’d apparently tucked around her. It was his gentle touch that made her shiver, that stoked a whole other fire and set forth a new longing within her, a longing for things to be as they had been before. Back when he wanted to marry her out of love, not obligation. Before he left town, before she’d lost her sight, and before she’d lost her parents.
She studied him as he moved about the hearth, stepping carefully over the sleeping dog. His hair was indeed longer. He’d pulled it away from his face, which accentuated his high cheekbones. He smiled as he worked, his features relaxed with relief. When he leaned in from the far side, the fire flared, and she could see the green of the eyes she’d missed looking into for so long.
A sudden panic ran through her. Her vision felt different this time. It felt permanent. She couldn’t put her finger on the change, but she had peace that her vision would remain. What if, now that she could see again, Jacob decided she no longer needed him and he was free to move on? He could have their marriage annulled and return to his previous plans—whatever those plans might have been. Surely he had some. She wasn’t ready for more changes. Not yet anyway.
“What are you thinking?”
Hollan jumped. She hadn’t noticed him crossing the floor to her side.
“Tell me your thoughts. You looked scared there for a moment.” He pulled his chair closer and settled beside her. “Whatever your concerns were, don’t worry about a thing. I’m here, and I don’t intend to leave.”
So you say now. When you find out you don’t have to watch out for me anymore, you might feel differently.
She so badly wanted to stare into his eyes. Instead she closed her own and feigned weariness. “If you don’t mind, then, I’ll rest for a little bit longer.”
“Do you really want to sleep, or are you merely avoiding the truth?”
“The truth?” Did he still know her so well after all these years? Had he noticed the change in her as she savored the familiar sight of his face?
“I think I understand. You’re uncomfortable with our arrangement, yet you fear being alone. I’m sure this isn’t easy for you.”
So he didn’t know her vision had fully returned. If she kept it that way a bit longer—at least until she had her bearings about her and could come up with a new plan—it would give her more time to think things through. Her head hurt and everything felt too overwhelming. She’d be able to make better decisions in the next few days.
“I feared being alone through the storm far more than I fear your closeness.” There. She’d said it. But she wasn’t sure that was completely true. His presence brought about a sense of awareness and accentuated an emptiness she hadn’t noticed before he’d arrived back on the island. Already his presence brought her a sense of peace that she didn’t want to lose. The fear of losing him so soon rivaled the fear of the storm. “At least, for the moment I think that’s true.” She cringed. She should probably stop talking until she had more rest and could think through her words, before stating them, with a clear mind.
He leaned close, his lips near her ear, causing tiny bumps to rise up on her forearms. “My closeness makes you nervous?”
She ordered her eyes to remain closed, though she longed to open them and see his face. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin.
“Yes,” she admitted through clenched teeth. The man was toying with her. She didn’t feel as bad about keeping her returned vision a secret at this rate. Here she lay helpless in bed and he used the situation to his advantage. She held back her smile. Deep down she didn’t really mind his teasing.
Now he raised a finger and caressed her cheek. His touch was so gentle, so considerate; the act caused tears to form in her eyes. Her emotions were all over the place.
She opened her eyes. “I have a confession to make. My vision comes and goes. For the moment my vision has returned.”
His face lit up. “That’s wonderful news!”
“It is, but I’m confused and overwhelmed.” And that was the pure truth. Hollan hadn’t felt so mixed up and inundated with changes since she’d lost her mother.
“Have you prayed about it?”
She released a small breath and stared at the beams that ran across the ceiling. “I haven’t prayed about much of anything in a long, long time.”
“You don’t believe anymore? You’ve lost your faith?”
The disappointment and concern in his voice had her firing off the first answer that came to mind. “No!”
She hes
itated before saying anything more and analyzed his question a bit more thoroughly. Had she lost her faith? At the very least, she’d buried it beneath the pile of rubble that had been her former life.
“I’m embarrassed to say I haven’t given it much thought lately.” Guilt pricked at her conscience. If her faith had been strong, would she have let it drift away so easily? Most people used their faith to get them through the tough times—they didn’t forget about it completely. “What does that say about me?”
“It says you’ve been through a lot.” He shifted his position. “Is God still in charge of your life?”
“I guess so. . . I mean, yes, I want Him to be. I haven’t given it much thought before now.”
“God understands anger. But you can’t let the anger make you so bitter that you turn against Him.”
“No, of course not. Yet that seems to be exactly what I’ve done. That night. . .I lost so much.”
“I know what you lost.” Jacob tightened his grip on her hand. “Do you want to tell me about it? I feel responsible.”
“How could you be responsible when you weren’t even here?” She hadn’t meant the words to sound so venomous. It might help to talk about it, to share with Jacob what happened that night. “Mama and I were talking about the wedding when we heard a noise outside. Mama went to check. A storm lurked over the water, and the wind had started up. I stayed inside and continued to work on our dinner, and the next thing I knew, Papa came in through the door. He said he’d sent Mama inside.”
She untwisted and smoothed the sheets she’d wrung tight with her hands. He reached over and massaged away the tension that had gathered in her clenched hands. His touch encouraged her to continue. He deserved to know. The experiences had shaped her into the person she was today.
“Mama hadn’t returned, and we both knew something wasn’t right. Papa was upset and ran to check the beach while I searched the grounds around the house. Neither one of us thought to check the lighthouse, because Papa had just come from there. After looking out over the dune, I turned to go back to the house and I saw a flash of color from the ledge that circles the light. Papa couldn’t hear me, so I went up without him. Mama had been crying, and she stood at the rail, much too close to the edge with the storm brewing around us.”
Truly Yours Historical Collection December 2014 Page 20