He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity, his expression never softening. Though her knees shook and her insides seemed to split in two, she managed to hold back tears.
Then, when she thought she could bear it no longer, he set his hat on his head and, with a final look at her, left.
Louise slumped against the wall. Warren had beat her, but this was far worse, for she had never truly loved her late husband. Now that Jesse was forever beyond reach, she knew without a doubt how much love could hurt.
Chapter Nineteen
The weeks passed with painful slowness. Autumn warmth gave way to icy mornings and frost glazing the windows. Snowfall couldn’t be that far away. Occasionally Louise would see Jesse walking to the mercantile, but he never stopped at the boardinghouse or even looked her way.
Once the additional lumberjacks stopped coming through town on their way to the camps, she worked with the Calloways and Deckers to ready more of the cabins for the displaced families to use over the winter. More than one woman embraced her with such gratitude that Louise felt her heart swell with joy. Families would be together for the winter. It wasn’t home, but it was a place to call their own temporarily.
Louise and the women scrubbed and sewed while the men painted and stocked the cabins with cordwood for the stoves. Thankfully, the Deckers had instructed the men to send the limbs downstream by barge. That forethought would spare everyone a cold winter.
After rains cooled the smoldering fires, the men had returned to their farms with a borrowed wagon in order to salvage what they could. They returned with very little. The blade of a hoe, the head of an ax. No clothing. No food. Nothing to sustain them through the winter. It had all been incinerated. Everyone in town pooled their resources to ensure the families had enough to eat and sufficient clothing. The store extended credit.
Church services were so full that people stood along the walls and children sat on their parents’ laps. All needed a word to cling to that would get them through the harsh reality of daily life. More than once Louise caught herself scanning the crowd for one face in particular, but he seldom appeared, thus allowing the Blackthorns to attend. When Jesse was there, he stood in the back, far from her, and left the moment the service ended.
The hotel stayed open and did a lively business with the additional lumberjacks and sawyers. With both mills running and the boardinghouse full, many stayed at the hotel. The added business brought great relief to Louise’s friend. With the VanderLeuvens helping out at the hotel, Fiona could again turn her thoughts to the other wing of the building. She caught Louise on their way out of the church early in December.
“We need to prepare the school for the next term. I’ve written to the students to let them know the school will reopen on January 8th. The classrooms need dusting and scrubbing. We also need to discuss the curriculum and what changes need to be made.”
“Have you heard from them?” Louise half feared the parents would not send their daughters back, especially if Priscilla got her way.
“I haven’t yet, but in the letter I offered the full semester at a third the cost to make up for the students’ early departure. That should bring them back.”
Louise hoped so, but she was less confident than Fiona.
“As you no doubt figured out,” Fiona continued as they strode along the boardwalk, “I fear Sawyer will be busy at the mill for a long time to come.”
“Then you will be at the hotel.”
“Just to oversee things. The VanderLeuvens are a great help, but we have changed a few procedures, and they tend to forget that.”
Louise considered the implications. “Managing both the school and the hotel is a lot for one person to do.”
“That’s why I would like to hire another teacher, so you can handle more of the administrative duties during the interim.”
“Can you find anyone willing to step in for a short period of time?” Louise couldn’t think of a single woman in Singapore willing and qualified to teach classes other than Pearl Decker, and she was already teaching the public school students.
“I will place an advertisement. Mr. Farmingham gave me excellent ideas for finding an instructor.”
A new teacher meant Louise must manage the school, train a new instructor and teach classes. It was a lot, and not at all the life she had hoped to have during those brief months with Jesse. Still, busyness was a blessing, for it would distract her from the loss.
“Do you have any time tonight to go over a few things?” Fiona asked. “I would also like to give you a key so you can begin preparing while I’m busy at the hotel.”
“We could do it now or after Sunday dinner.”
“We will go to my office now, but only to get the key. No work. I promise.”
As they walked, the sun warmed the frozen earth and gave a dying gasp of autumn smells. The grasses and plants had died long ago, with the first frost. Only the evergreens hung on. The ash tree on lighthouse property had shed its leaves long ago.
Louise looked up at its bare branches and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” Fiona said with a squeeze of Louise’s hand. “I shouldn’t have pushed him toward you so forcefully.”
Louise had told her friend about Jesse’s proposal and his negative reaction to her admission of barrenness. Fiona had been sympathetic, a true friend, but it didn’t ease the pain.
“It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault that I can’t have children.”
“I’m sorry.” Followed by another sympathetic squeeze. “You could always take in an orphan.”
“He wants children of his own.” Though he hadn’t said it outright, she could see it in the devastation written across his face. She had shed many tears into her pillow, wishing he could consider a path other than the one he’d already decided upon. Clearly he could not. She could not blame him. She had once harbored the same intense desire.
“We’re here!” Fiona said with far too much cheer.
She inserted the key in the front door and they stepped into the school’s foyer, which opened into the parlor. Icy air greeted Louise along with the musty smell of disuse.
“Brr.” Fiona shivered. “I’ll have Charlie bring some wood over and light the parlor stove.”
Considering how short the wood supply was, it was an unnecessary extravagance. “I can sweep and dust without heat.”
“You’ll do no such thing. The lumbering crews will keep sending wood our way for burning. Some of it’s pretty green, but they’re also sending any fallen limbs they find.”
“But there is far greater need. The families—”
“Will have plenty.” Fiona entered her office. “This will be yours now. Once we hire a teacher, if you would prefer to sleep in the hotel rather than with the girls, I can have Sawyer set aside a room.”
“No. That won’t be necessary.”
Fiona opened a desk drawer and pulled out a set of keys. “Here are the duplicate keys to the front door, this office and the door between the hotel and school. I’ll keep the other set for now.”
Louise took it and at once felt the mantle of responsibility.
“Once we reopen, I will increase your wages,” Fiona said.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Of course it is.” She swept out of the office. “Thank you for taking a moment. I should get back to Sawyer and Mary Clare. Sunday is the only day we have together now that the mill is running six days a week from dawn until after nightfall.”
After locking the office, Fiona headed toward the door that connected the two wings of the building. Louise lingered, looking into the classroom that had been her home until the fire. It still looked the way it had when she left. A little dusty, perhaps, but that was it.
“Are you coming?” Fiona asked.
Louise hesitated.
“If you don’t mind, I would like a moment.”
“Take as long as you want, just lock the doors when you’re done.” Fiona then passed through the door to the hotel and locked it behind her.
After her departure, the school took on the deep silence of an unused building. There was sadness in that silence but also a poignant hope. Louise closed her eyes and could imagine the giggles and whispers of the girls. Even the fights, with Priscilla’s group against Linore and Dinah, brought a smile to Louise’s lips.
The stool stood in the corner now, far from the spot where it had tilted and sent her into Jesse’s arms. Louise walked to the shelves where Captain Elder’s books were located. Even by stretching, she could only touch a fingertip to the bottom of the spine. This was the spot where he’d held her oh so long.
She sighed and leaned against the shelving. By closing her eyes, she could relive the entire scene. How strong he was! His arms were as thick as her legs. His eyes had sparkled, with delight she liked to believe. But maybe she’d been wrong. She had certainly erred by not telling him about her inability to bear children. Her desire to prolong the possibility of a deepening relationship had only made the break more severe.
Given such grave errors, how could she manage an entire school?
With the grace of God.
She cast a silent prayer to Him, begging for clarity in what had become a muddled life. An answer could not be expected at once, but she had to trust it would arrive in God’s perfect timing.
After another sigh, she opened her eyes and prepared to leave. Then something on a shelf caught the corner of her eye. What was that nestled near the notebooks, half hidden by a dusting rag?
It was small and brown. She sincerely hoped it wasn’t a dead mouse.
She pulled the step stool closer and climbed onto the bottom rung. That brought the object to eye level and revealed it to be quite safe. In fact, there were two recognizable objects sitting on the shelf. Jesse’s whittled birds. He had loaned them to her for the wreath oh so long ago. When she’d disassembled the wreath and cast the needleless branches into the fire, she’d saved the birds, intending to return them.
She glanced out the window. There he was!
In the distance, he walked up the dune. That meant he’d been in town, though not at the church service. Had he called on her at the boardinghouse only to discover her missing?
She ran to the window and tried to pull it up. It wouldn’t budge. Frantic, she tried the next. It, likewise, was stuck. She moved from window to window until one opened.
Sticking out her head, she yelled, “Jesse!”
He didn’t even turn around. Oh, no. She tried again, cupping her hands around her mouth.
Still no response.
Again, she yelled his name.
He simply walked away.
Crushed, she blinked back tears. She wanted to see him, but he clearly didn’t want to see her. That’s when she noticed that the wind was westerly. It had blown her words away from him.
He had reached the keeper’s quarters. Soon he would be inside. What should she do?
Louise lifted the birds into the light. A brave woman would pay him a call. He had once called her brave. She would go.
Later.
* * *
Immediately after Louise revealed her secret, Jesse agonized over the news. Deep down he’d suspected something was wrong, but her words confirmed what he’d dreaded. It also cemented his certainty that he could not live without the hope of children to carry on the Hammond name. Moreover, a head lighthouse keeper needed a family, especially for a remote island post.
Once he got past the shock and initial pain, he returned to the letters and narrowed the number of candidates down to three. Even though he should write those three first, over the following days he worked out a polite refusal and copied it onto separate letters, a few each day, until his hand ached. Fifty-eight! The resulting stack was enormous, and would cost a goodly amount to mail.
The three winning letters all shared common elements. The women appeared willing to work, could tolerate solitude and loved children. Their grammar and penmanship led him to believe they were educated enough to guide their future children, for a remote island post likely would not have a school.
It all made sense in his head, but his heart lingered.
Why hadn’t Louise told him sooner? Why wait until he proposed? Yes, he’d told her they could be no more than friends, but his actions said otherwise, and actions meant a lot more than words. She must have realized his feelings were changing. After all, she had responded to every touch and look with eagerness.
He went back to the candidates’ letters. None of them mentioned stature. Hair color, yes. Weight and height? No. For all he knew they were just as short as Louise. And for all their boasting, he had no proof that reality could match their claims.
These letters were more difficult, for he couldn’t work out a one-size-fits-all response. He had to ask tough questions in order to have an idea what he was getting into. After all, marriage was forever. If he chose unwisely, he would be stuck with the consequences the rest of his life. The potential pain weighed heavily against the desire for children.
Why had God made the one woman he loved infertile? It wasn’t fair.
He railed at the Creator, stomping around the lighthouse and snapping at anyone who dared talk to him. Weeks passed quickly in the rush to prepare the lighthouse for winter. All work not accomplished during the warmer months now needed to be completed. His days were long, and he fell asleep the minute he sat down on his bed.
That was the excuse he used, anyway, instead of tackling those last three letters. The customs collector wouldn’t be in a hurry to nominate anyone, after all. The Board wouldn’t put the new keeper in place until the ice broke in the spring and a tender could get to the island. He had months to get to know these ladies, who doubtless were busy with Advent underway and Christmas looming.
So he joined the family for Sunday dinner that first Sunday afternoon in December. The air had a snap to it, but the sun had melted the morning frost. Mrs. Blackthorn’s chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy were finer than anything he’d eaten before landing this job. Could the candidates cook? He couldn’t remember. Maybe after dinner he’d take a look. He had no idea if Louise could cook. Since she lived at the school and boardinghouse, she had no chance to cook. A woman of her upbringing likely had never learned that skill. She would have had servants to do that.
Yet one more thing she hadn’t told him. The bitterness in his heart grew a little harder.
“Ice is startin’ to form on the river,” Blackthorn mused between bites of food. “Won’t be long now before the ships stop coming.”
“Don’t you think they’ll run as late as they can, considering the demand for lumber in Chicago?” Jesse said.
“Yep, but there comes a time when even the greediest ship owner won’t put his vessel on the lake. Once the ice gets thick, everything stops.”
“It’ll take three times as long to get letters,” Mrs. Blackthorn added. “Why, I sent a letter just after Christmas last year, and it didn’t reach Philadelphia until spring.”
“That was a mix-up somewhere along the way,” Blackthorn said, “not because the mail boat stopped running.”
“The mail boat stops?” Jesse had not taken that into account. He must write his letters at once if that was true.
“Every year,” Blackthorn confirmed.
Once dinner was over and the last bite of butter cake devoured, Jesse excused himself. The Blackthorns assumed he wanted to nap, but he sat down and wrote those letters. There was no time to dally now. He had to get them out in the post while the lake was still ice-free. Only one letter might get through before spring. That meant making a decision now. Two ladies would get the letter declining to meet them. The thi
rd—the one most like Louise—would get an acceptance letter. The refusals came easily. The words of acceptance were much more difficult, but he managed to get them on paper.
After tucking the letters into his inner coat pocket, he headed for the store. The wind had picked up, and he hunched his shoulders against its knifing edge. Rather than take the long route from the front of the lighthouse and along the docks, he cut across the dune behind the school and hotel.
He instinctively looked up at the school’s windows. Until the fire, he’d taken comfort in the warm glow emanating from them. Though it was still light out, the sun had already slipped lower, bringing out a few lamps. Not in the school. It stood dark and silent, as if accusing him of making a grave error. He shook it off.
For him, marriage would be a matter of practicality, not emotion. Without sentiment clouding the relationship, he and the one he chose could proceed in a businesslike manner. Things would run on schedule. No surprises. No mistakes.
Had something moved inside the school? He hesitated and squinted against the glare of the afternoon sun against the window panes.
Nothing. He must have been mistaken. Wishful thinking.
After raising his collar, he plunged forward. Those letters would go out today. No looking back.
* * *
After Sunday dinner, Louise returned to the school to prepare for her meeting with Fiona that evening. To her surprise, Jesse rapidly descended the dune again half an hour later. He gave the school one prolonged glance before hurrying into town. Not long afterward, he returned. This time his pace was slow, his shoulders bowed and his feet leaden, as if slogging through deep mud.
Her heart went out to him. Whatever had happened during that brief foray, he was greatly disappointed in the result.
Had he gone to the boardinghouse to call on her?
Louise had purposely not told anyone where she was going. If she had, Dinah and Linore would have begged to come along. Today she needed the solitude to consider what Fiona was asking of her. Her friend was certain Louise could do the job. Louise wasn’t as sure. She had never been in charge of anything, and she had botched both the relationship with Priscilla and with Jesse. Could either be salvaged?
Would-Be Mistletoe Wife Page 20