Forever Safe (Beacons of Hope) (14 page)

“So you only broke it off for the month?”

“For now. That gives me time to discover my true feelings, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

Before she could read his expression and judge his reaction, he stood. Jimmy was steering the boat alongside the pier, and Tom stretched to help. Within minutes, the boat was secured opposite another cutter and Tom was helping her onto the pier surrounded on both sides by a narrow beach. Scalloped seashells poked through the sand. In some places slimy seagrass had washed up on shore and dozens of gulls now poked among the stringy masses searching for their next meal.

“Tom?” The man who’d come out of the house was striding through the sand with the same ease as Tom.

Tom lifted a hand in greeting. “Hi, Dad.”

The man picked up his pace. Beneath the brim of his black bowler hat, Victoria could see that his face was tanned and leathery from days out in the sun. It was clear Tom had inherited his striking features from his father. Even with a scruffy beard and side whiskers, Tom’s dad had a handsome face with the same dark blue eyes. He was smiling in genuine delight at the sight of his son.

“You said you’d visit, but we weren’t sure when,” Tom’s dad said as his boots clomped against the wooden planks of the pier.

“I wasn’t sure either.” Tom stuck out a hand in greeting, but Mr. Cushman ignored his son’s hand and instead grabbed him into a hug, slapping his back and then squeezing him tight.

“It’s good to see you.” Mr. Cushman pulled back, and his face practically beamed. “Two years is too long.”

Tom hadn’t seen his parents in two years?
Victoria almost choked. Why had he chosen to visit so infrequently? She studied Mr. Cushman again, noting his waders, his brown trousers, and coat just a shade darker. Both were worn and faded, unlike Tom’s clothes, which were always clean and pressed and like new. She’d never once noticed Tom being anything other than perfectly groomed, which she supposed was one of the reasons he was good at his job. He looked professional and dignified enough to fit into a wealthy crowd.

“It’s good to see you too, Dad.” Tom straightened his suit coat lapels before holding an arm out to her. For an instant she caught a glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes, something of the child he might have once been, a child who’d wanted desperately to please his parents but had been unsure how. With a sudden desire to make him proud, she took his arm and moved to his side.

As she did so, Mr. Cushman’s brow rose.

“I’d like to introduce you to, Victoria.” Tom’s bicep flexed beneath her hand. “My wife.”

First astonishment and then wonder flashed across Mr. Cushman’s face. “Your wife? Well, I’ll be…” He took a closer look at Victoria, starting at her hat, which was surely in disarray by now from the wind during the boat ride, and then taking in her travel garments. She wished she’d had time to change into something clean and new and pretty.

Nevertheless, she offered him a smile. “I’m pleased to meet you, Mr. Cushman.”

As though remembering his manners, he smiled in return. “Call me James. I’m pleased to meet you too, Victoria. You’ll have to excuse me. I’d lost hope that Tom would ever consider getting married. So to have him show up here with a bride… Well, it goes without saying that I’m more than a little shocked.”

Victoria tucked away that new nugget about Tom to quiz him on later. For now, she had the urge to convince Tom’s dad that she was worthy of his son, that Tom’s wait had been worth it. “I guess Tom just hadn’t met the right woman until he met me. I came along and swept him off his feet.” She curled her fingers more intimately around his arm and attempted her most flirtatious look. “Didn’t I, darling?”

From the glint in his eyes, she thought he might contradict her, but his words came out smoothly. “Yes. Completely.”

“I’m happy for you both,” James said with a grin. “So very happy.” With that, he reached for Victoria and drew her into a hug. She hugged him back, relishing his easy acceptance. His beard was scratchy against her temple and had the spicy hint of tobacco. He was about the same height as Tom but decidedly not as muscular. When he turned to hug Tom again, Tom accepted the congratulations, although not quite as enthusiastically as she had.

“Your mother will be thrilled,” James said, patting Tom on the shoulder. “You’ll make her the happiest lady in Massachusetts.”

At the thought of deceiving Mrs. Cushman, guilt swooped in and poked Victoria like a seagull pricking its prey. If the marriage would make Tom’s mom that happy, then she would be devastated when she learned of the annulment. From the flicker of a shadow on Tom’s face, Victoria guessed he was feeling the same guilt.

James didn’t neglect to greet Jimmy or invite him to stay for dinner, which the old man agreed to do just as soon as he secured his sails. He refused Tom’s offer of help and shooed them away. As they made their way up the beach to the keeper’s house, Victoria caught sight of a piping plover resting in the dune. The sandy-colored shorebird blended in so well, that Victoria might have missed it except for the black ring around its neck and black band across its forehead.

Tom steadied her with a slight touch to her elbow as they followed James. The man more than made up for Tom’s lack of conversation with a steady stream of news about Greg and Ruth and all that had led up to Tom’s brother-in-law having to finally give up the assistant keeper’s position.

When they reached the house, Victoria admired the hydrangea bushes that had been planted across the front. The white flowerheads were in full bloom and clustered into big puffy balls. After crossing a simple porch, they entered through the door into a wide hallway. She followed Tom and James into a front room with a window that overlooked the ocean. Ruffled white curtains were pulled back with ties on either side, and the walls were painted white, giving the place a clean, airy feel. Several beautiful paintings hung around the room, paintings of lighthouses and the sea.

Near the window at a round pedestal table sat a thin, petite woman. Her legs and lap were covered with a crocheted blanket, in spite of the warmth of the day. Her brown hair was graying, but her face was delicate and pretty. A well-worn Bible lay open on the table in front of her. At the sight of Tom, she gave a cry of delight and held out her arms. “Tom! You’re home!”

He cut directly across the sparsely furnished room to her, bent, and wrapped his arms around her. “Hi, Mom.”

Mrs. Cushman held onto him as though she never planned to let go. Victoria smiled at the tender reunion. Out of the corner of her vision, she caught James wiping at his eyes, clearly moved by his wife’s happiness.

Finally, Mrs. Cushman released Tom, but not before kissing him on the cheek. “You look taller.”

Tom grinned. “You say that every time you see me.”

James walked to his wife’s side, and, much to Victoria’s surprise, he stooped down and kissed her. Not a quick peck. Not a chaste brush of lips. But a full-mouthed kiss that was long enough for Victoria to look away in embarrassment. She happened to glance at Tom at the same moment he peeked at her. He lifted his shoulders as if to tell her this was normal.

James pulled away and pressed a kiss upon the top of his wife’s head before straightening. “Tom has some good news.”

Mrs. Cushman’s cheeks had turned a deeper shade of pink that made her look younger and in love. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at her son in anticipation.

Tom cleared his throat and then held out a hand toward Victoria. She took that as her sign to cross toward him. As his fingers closed around hers, she felt the tiniest of tremors. He was nervous.

She squeezed his hand to reassure him, although again she had a twinge of remorse for allowing his mother’s hopes to rise high, knowing they would crush them at the end of the month.

“Mom.” Tom’s grip tightened. “This is my wife, Victoria.”

Mrs. Cushman’s mouth opened and then closed. She stared first at Victoria and then Tom, her expression frozen with disbelief.

“That’s right, Zelma.” James’s wide smile filled his face. “Our Tom finally got married.”

“Married?” She said the word as if it were an impossibility.

“Yes, just recently,” Tom said quickly as if he needed to reassure himself as much as his mom.

Mrs. Cushman turned her bright eyes upon Victoria, eyes that seemed to peer straight into Victoria’s soul.

Victoria held her breath, wondering if Tom’s mom could see her for the fraud that she was. But the woman only smiled at her gently. “Victoria.” The one word was laced with welcome and acceptance, and Victoria knew immediately that she’d love Zelma. She held out her hand and Victoria took it.

Zelma, like her husband before her, drew Victoria into a hug and held her tightly. “You’re most welcome here, Victoria,” Zelma said. When Victoria straightened, she decided that she was going to enjoy her stay at Race Point much more than she’d thought possible.

“You’re very kind,” Victoria said, and then she embarrassed herself by yawning. She managed to cover it, but not quickly enough.

“Your wife is tired,” James said to Tom, almost with a note of accusation in his voice.

“We’ve had a long night and day of travel,” he replied.

“Why don’t you take Victoria upstairs?” his mother said. “She can refresh herself and rest before dinner.”

Victoria realized she was so weary she could hardly stand. Somehow she managed to excuse herself from Tom’s parents and follow him up a stairway. Another long hallway ran through the length of the second floor, with two bedrooms on either side. She supposed two were for the keeper and two for his assistant. The room Tom led her to was at the front of the house facing the ocean and had a large double bed, a tall chest of drawers, and a sofa in front of the window.

The walls were painted a light shade of blue. White ruffled curtains like those in the big sitting room downstairs hung at the windows, and a matching white bedspread covered the bed. A couple of paintings graced the walls, and, like the others she’d seen, these were of the sea. Although the room was small and rather plain, it was pretty and clean. She could survive a month in it, couldn’t she?

Tom issued her several instructions, but she was too tired to pay attention. After he left and closed the door behind him, she sat on the edge of the bed, worked off her shoes, and rolled down her stockings, letting them fall in balls on the floor. She wiggled her cramped toes and realized that sand was gritted between each one. She searched the wall for a pull cord, a way to call one of the servants to bring her a basin of water for washing, but as she stretched, she fell back onto the mattress.

The breeze blowing through the open window tousled the loose tendrils of her hair and cooled her cheeks. She closed her eyes, telling herself that she would rest for just a moment, that she had nothing to worry about here at Race Point, that she was finally completely safe. But as her eyelashes hit her cheeks, her thoughts returned to Tom and their marriage. And she couldn’t keep from thinking that perhaps her heart was in the greatest danger of all.

T
om knelt on the floor of the lantern room and scrutinized the bridge, to which the chain was attached. He tightened the small screw that held the upper end of the chain until it wouldn’t budge. Then he slipped the small weights in the plunger through the opening at the top plate. “That ought to do it.”

His dad squatted beside him and peered into the pedestal. He held up an oil light to shine on the various gears and weights that made the fourth order Fresnel lens operate. He squinted at the plunger that Tom had just replaced before sitting back on his heels. “Well, let’s turn her on and see how she does.”

Tom stood and wiped the grease from his hands as he studied the beehive-shaped lens with its heavy glass prisms mounted into bronze frames and bolted together. The lens itself was in perfect condition. Dad had kept it shining like a diamond. But without Greg’s mechanical help, some of the inner workings were beginning to give Dad grief.

The fuel supply was already refilled and the wick trimmed. His dad raised the damper-tube and lifted the chimney-holder to the surface of the burner the way Tom had seen him do thousands of times during his childhood. Next his dad touched the flame to the wick and then adjusted the chimney and the damper-tube to prevent any smoke. He kept the flame low at first to heat the chimney slowly. He’d gradually raise the wick until the flame was at its best, but he usually waited about thirty minutes before doing so.

The beam rotated all the way around, which distinguished Race Point from other lighthouses on the Cape. Tom counted the seconds it took for the beam to rotate, flashing white every ten seconds, and calculated the distance it would reach to passing ships. He guessed sixteen nautical miles. The view from the lantern room, as always, was breathtaking, especially with the setting sun casting its glow on Cape Cod Bay to the west.

Tom breathed the cool sea air coming in through the half-galley door. He might fight ghosts from the past whenever he was around his family, but he couldn’t deny that he always loved being up in the tower.