Undaunted Hope (21 page)

Alex leaned against the kitchen wall and peeked around the doorframe into the front room just in time to see Tessa smile at something Michael said. Her lips curved up, transforming her features from pretty to heart-stopping.

The sight wrenched his chest again, as it had whenever he'd sneaked a look at her. He only had to glance at the happiness on Ingrid's and Gunnar's faces, the rapt attention with which they looked at Tessa, and the adoration in Michael's eyes to know he'd done the right thing.

The night he'd brought the children home cold, shivering, and hungry, he'd cleaned them, fed them, and warmed them thoroughly. The first thing he'd done after he put them to bed was sit down across from Michael and tell him he was sorry for his selfishness. He relinquished all claim to Tessa and had given his brother his blessing on pursuing her in marriage.

Michael hadn't protested in the least. Instead, gratefulness had welled up to replace the melancholy that had overtaken him since Tessa's earlier declaration. The shadows had disappeared from Michael's face, and his eyes had come to life with new spirit.

Seeing the eagerness in his brother's expression only confirmed to Alex that he'd made the right decision, even if his chest felt as thick as three feet of ice. Every mention of Tessa's name since then had hammered him like an ice pick chipping, ricocheting, and battering to get beneath the surface.

Yet when Michael had sat up without help, and the very next day had forced himself to stand and take his first steps since the accident, Alex knew it was because he'd given his brother reason to hope again, reason to keep on going. The reason was Tessa.

Tessa.

Alex watched her tweak Ingrid's nose after the little girl had said something funny. Ingrid's smile was worth more than gold. When she snuggled deeper into Tessa's side, Alex ripped his attention away from the precious sight and returned it to the table where Nadine sat nursing the baby.

She'd yelled at Jimmy and Johnny for bumping into the table and had finally sent them outside to hunt for kindling, which was growing more scarce by the day as the snow refused to melt completely away. Now the kitchen was silent except for a pot bubbling on the cast-iron stove and the satisfied grunts of the baby gulping her meal.

At a burst of playful laughter from the front room, his heart ached with a pain that almost bent him over.

Nadine broke the silence. “I don't think I like what you're doing.”

“I'm just standing here,” he said innocently. “Would you rather I do a song and a dance?”

She narrowed her eyes like she did when she was about to scold one of the children. “Good thing you're not close by, young man. I've a mind to box your ears, that I do.”

Maybe he'd let her slap his ears. Then he wouldn't have to feel the awful ripping in his chest.

“You're giving her up to Michael, aren't you?” Nadine's question was more of statement.

He wanted to pretend he didn't know what she was talking about, but he had the feeling Nadine would see right through his façade, just as she was seeing his pain right now. So he gave a slow nod, unable to speak past the knot in his throat.

“Maybe it's not your position to choose for her,” Nadine continued. “Especially when she already loves you.”

He'd wanted to believe Tessa loved him and shared the same attraction. He'd once thought that even if she didn't have the same fervor for him that he had for her, that it didn't matter, that he had enough for the both of them. Besides, over time he'd woo her and win her so that she'd have no choice but to fall in love with him.

But now it didn't matter what Tessa felt for him. If she'd ever harbored any affection, she'd soon transfer it to Michael. Without Alex interfering, hopefully Michael would be able to make good progress in winning her love.

Alex swallowed hard and tried to formulate a coherent reply to Nadine's declaration of Tessa's love for him. “She cares for Michael too. If he works hard enough, he'll make her fall in love with him eventually.”

Nadine pursed her lips and shook her head.

“He needs her more than I do.” Alex's voice dropped to a whisper. “And the children love her. They need her for a mother.”

“I don't like this one bit,” Nadine muttered. “Not one little bit.”

“It's not easy for me either.” Alex wanted to close his eyes and shut out the sounds and images of Michael and the children
enjoying Tessa's company in the other room. “But it's the right thing to do.”

“The right thing to do is let Michael find his own way.”

Alex shook his head in denial. Michael wasn't ready to find his own way. He was still floundering to keep his head above water, and Alex wasn't about to let him sink.

A hard, urgent knock came from the front door. Alex pushed away from the wall before anyone else could make an effort to rise. As he made his way through the obstacle course of items on the floor, he tried not to look at Tessa even though he could feel her questioning eyes upon him.

He supposed she was wondering why he wasn't friendlier. But the fact was he didn't trust himself. If he looked at her or spoke to her, he doubted he'd be able to carry through with his resolve to let go of her.

He wasn't being entirely fair to her. He owed her an explanation. But for now, he reminded himself that
she
was the one who told him she didn't love him or want to marry him. Even if he wouldn't let a declaration like that stand in his way under normal circumstances, he could always tell her that was why he'd put a distance between them.

Fighting the urge to look her way, he swung the front door open to the mix of snow and ice swirling in the gray afternoon. Even if he was ready for the warmer weather of spring, the frozen ground allowed him to make use of the dogsleds a while longer. He wouldn't have been able to bring Michael to visit Tessa without the smooth ease of the ride. As it was, Michael had suffered over each bump.

When the door opened, he was surprised to see Hannah—the young woman who helped teach the younger children—standing there and panting, with tears streaking her cheeks.

“Hannah?” Had they found her husband's body finally? “What's wrong?”

“I came to see Miss Taylor.” Hannah stood on tiptoe to see past him.

“She's not feeling well. Maybe I can help you in her stead.” He wanted to tell her that he was sorry that he'd lived when her husband hadn't.

“I beg your pardon,” Hannah said, her voice catching. “I don't want to disturb her, but I know she'll want to know—”

“I'm fine” came Tessa's voice. “Come in, Hannah.”

Alex glanced over his shoulder to see Tessa rising from the sofa. The blanket fell away to reveal her shaking limbs. She straightened her shoulders, tossed her long dark hair over her shoulders, and took several unsteady steps forward.

Michael's forehead furrowed in concern and he started to rise from his chair. A grimace of pain halted him halfway, along with Gunnar's cautioning hand.

Alex hesitated. He didn't want to steal her attention away from Michael, but he couldn't stand by and watch Tessa struggle, not when she needed help.

She stumbled over a discarded pair of shoes on the floor.

He bounded toward her and caught her arm. For an instant she held herself rigid. Her eyes turned up to his and gleamed with accusation.

Was she upset that he hadn't paid her any attention? He almost smiled in self-satisfaction but then caught himself.

He was certain she'd yank away and tell him she could take care of herself, but instead she shuddered and nearly collapsed against him. He frowned. She was weaker and sicker than she'd allowed them to see. “Let's get you back to the sofa.”

She shook her head and tugged him forward. “No. I'm fine.”

Hannah hadn't moved from the stoop outside the door. At the sight of the tears trickling down the woman's cheeks, Tessa's fingers dug into his arm and she trembled again.

He was half tempted to pick her up and carry her back to the sofa.

“Hannah,” she said, inching forward slowly, “do you have news of your husband?”

“No, and I don't expect that I will.” She wrung her hands together in front of her. There was a sorrow in the woman's eyes that sent alarm through Alex.

Her tidings were devastating. Alex sensed it even before she said a word. “Miss Taylor isn't well today. I think you better wait to deliver your news until she's feeling better.”

“Tell me, Hannah,” Tessa insisted. “If not news of your husband, what tidings do you bring?”

Hannah glanced at Alex, her eyes rounding.

“Don't let him frighten you,” Tessa continued. “He pretends to bark, but he's really only a kitten.”

“A kitten?” One of Alex's brows lifted. In spite of the seriousness of the moment, he couldn't resist saying something. “I'm more like a giant lion.”

Tessa raised one brow back at him, but then she turned her attention to Hannah and tugged Alex forward. He reluctantly assisted her to the door, though he wanted to put her back on the couch as quickly as possible.

“What is it?” Tessa reached for the woman's hand and grasped it in her own shaking fingers.

Fresh lines of tears trickled down Hannah's cheeks. “I'm sorry, Miss Taylor. I didn't want to disturb you while you were sick, but I knew you'd want to know.”

“Know what?” Tessa squeezed the woman's hand.

Hannah gulped back a sob. “It's Henry Benney.”

At the mention of the boy's name, Tessa froze.

Hannah sobbed again. “He was in an accident at the mine.”

Alex could feel Tessa's body beginning to sag against him.

“What happened?” Tessa persisted.

“The ladders have been icy recently,” Hannah said haltingly. “He slipped and fell.”

Tessa straightened and grabbed Alex with both hands. “Take me to him. Right away.”

Alex's heart plummeted in his chest. He knew what Hannah was trying to tell Tessa even before she said anything further. He slipped his arm around Tessa's waist and drew her to his side.

“Please,” Tessa said breathlessly. “I want to see him. I'm sure he'll want to see me too.”

Hannah shook her head and turned her helpless gaze upon him, beseeching him to finish telling Tessa what she could not.

“Tessa . . .” he started gently.

“Take me to him,” she said louder, almost angrily as she struggled against him.

He didn't let go of her even as she grew more agitated. She shoved him and wrestled to free herself from his grasp.

Hannah began to sob openly.

“He'll be fine.” Tessa's voice was heavy with panic. “He's young and strong and smart. He'll make it.” She reached a hand toward Hannah, but the other woman just shook her head and took a step back.

Tessa strained for a moment longer, before finally releasing a strangled, “No-o-o . . .” He could feel every ounce of her strength seep out of her body, and then she collapsed against him. He caught her and easily lifted her into his arms.

She didn't resist, but instead buried her face against his chest and clung to him. Her body shuddered with silent sobs.

His entire being ached with the need to comfort her, to make her pain go away, to promise her that everything would be all right. But even as he carried her toward the steps up to her attic room where she could grieve in private, he knew there was nothing he could say or do to change what had happened.

H
enry Benney was dead.

She stared with dry eyes at the shallow grave covered with layers of soil, wet leaves, and damp twigs. After a week of warmer weather, the ground had thawed enough for some of the men to shovel aside the remaining snow and dig graves for all those who'd died over the winter. They hadn't been able to break ground while the temperature remained below freezing. Fortunately the bodies had mostly stayed frozen too. But now they needed to get the deceased buried before decomposition set in.

The low clouds of the spring day had begun to spit rain. Her cloak was damp and her boots wet. Yet she couldn't tear herself away. Even though everyone else had already left the cemetery, even though she'd promised Michael and the children that she would follow them back into town, she hadn't been able to make her feet move away from Henry's grave.

She could still picture his mother and sister with their slumped
shoulders, their cheeks splotchy from crying. And she couldn't forget his father's face, thin and pale. His eyes were sunken and red-rimmed. More than that, they were empty, as dark and bottomless as the pits of the mine.

When she went to squeeze his cold fingers, she didn't say anything. She knew there was nothing she could say that would take away his pain, just like nothing would take away hers. The agony in his brief glance had told her everything. He would live the rest of his life with the regret of not keeping Henry in school where he belonged.

Tessa was sure she'd live with that regret for the rest of her life too.

As much as Mr. Benney blamed himself, she blamed herself more. It was her fault the miners had been made to work longer shifts. It was her fault Henry had been forced from the classroom and into the mine.

If only she'd done more to stand up for Henry's right to stay in school. Maybe if she hadn't angered Percival in the first place. Maybe if she'd figured out a way to placate him . . .

But how could she have done that without selling her soul to the devil?

A twig snapped somewhere nearby and she raised her head. Barren branches formed a skeletal canopy overhead. Lifeless shrubs surrounded the wrought-iron fences separating one family plot from another. Wilted weeds from the previous year drooped over lichen-encrusted headstones. The granite slab next to Henry's grave read:

Mary

Died Dec. 8, 1866

Aged 2 years 3 months

She supposed the baby to have been Henry's sister who had also perished here in this godforsaken land.

She scanned the other grave markers nearby, some in the shape of beautifully scrolled iron crosses now black with age and the harshness of the elements, and others simple stone slabs. How many others, like Henry, had died needlessly?

The sharp throb in her chest radiated into her shoulders and head. She'd already wept all the tears she could during the past couple of weeks since Hannah had brought the news of Henry's fall. Since then she'd learned more details about his death, that he'd been on a ladder under a projection of the pump rod, which had caused that particular area to be full of ice. His feet had slipped, he struck his father who was behind him at the time, but his father hadn't been able to grab him.

Mr. Benney had been fortunate that the strike hadn't caused him to lose his hold, although Tessa had no doubt the man wished he'd fallen instead of his son. After plunging hundreds of feet, the boy was killed instantly. Her mind told her it was a blessing he hadn't suffered. Nevertheless, her heart protested that he'd had to die at all, not when he'd been so bright, not when the future held so much promise for him, not when he'd been so eager for learning and living.

“Why him?” she whispered to the empty graveyard.

She didn't expect God to answer. He hadn't answered when she'd asked the same question after her mother had died, or after her father had drowned, or again when Sarah, her little sister, had passed away. There were no easy answers to death, to why it took some and not others. Even so, she couldn't keep the anger from rising to mingle with the pain.

“He had so much potential,” she said. She'd already penned a letter to Cole Enterprises to let them know of the death, to
inform them of the unsafe mine, to petition for better working conditions. She'd taken it to the company store to be mailed just yesterday, after a much-delayed mail messenger had arrived overland and delivered a backlog of mail.

The letter from home had cheered her only a little. Mostly it had reminded her of all that she was missing in spring, the return of the loons and monarch butterflies, and her sister Caroline's large flower beds that were likely beginning to bloom in earnest.

Tessa's shoulders sagged beneath her cloak. She wasn't ready to admit defeat, and yet everywhere she looked around Eagle Harbor, nothing had changed since she'd arrived. As far as she could tell, she hadn't made one bit of difference in anyone's life since she'd come here. She'd had such grand plans. She'd wanted God to use her to help the people better themselves. So far, though, her presence seemed only to make things worse.

With a sigh she turned away from Henry's fresh grave and shuffled toward the arched sign that stood over the gated entrance to the cemetery nestled among the evergreens. It read, P
INE
G
ROVE
C
EMETERY
. It should have read,
The Resting Place
of Those Who Died Unnecessarily
.

As she began the short walk back toward Center Street, she huddled deeper into her cloak. While she was mostly recovered from her illness, she couldn't shake the listlessness that had plagued her all week.

“Miss Taylor.” A voice nearby startled her. Percival was leaning against a fence post on the side of the road almost as if he'd been waiting for her. She hadn't noticed him earlier at the funeral, but then she hadn't paid much attention to who was or wasn't in attendance.

She stopped abruptly. A glance up the road toward town told
her they were alone, that everyone else who had come out to bury their dead had already dispersed.

“Good day, Mr. Updegraff.” She nodded at him curtly and forced herself to continue walking as she had been. She could feel his eyes upon her as she strode past. With her chin held high she stared straight ahead, refusing to let him intimidate her.

Once she was several feet past him, she allowed herself to breathe again. Maybe he hadn't been waiting for her after all. Even so, she picked up her pace.

“I received a letter from my Detroit agent yesterday.” His voice came from behind her, from his spot by the post. Something in his tone made her footsteps falter.

“I'm sure you were as glad as I was to finally get mail,” she replied over her shoulder.

“He had some interesting things to say about you.”

A chill crept into her blood. There was no mistaking the insinuation in Percival's words. She halted and slowly pivoted to face him.

In his black trousers and matching vest and waistcoat, he was attired out of respect for those who'd lost loved ones. Yet the darkness of his clothes only highlighted the darkness of his eyes that were peering at her with too much familiarity.

What had Percival learned about her?

As if hearing her unasked question, his mustache shifted upward into a small smile. “It appears you haven't been honest about your past.”

Her chest constricted. She tried to keep her voice level as she responded. “What may have happened in my past is none of your concern.”

“As your boss, it
is
my concern.” He pushed away from the post and straightened his coat. “You don't believe I would hire a
teacher for this town's school without doing some investigating as to your background.”

Why?
she wanted to blurt.
So you could use every little
issue you discovered as a way to blackmail the new
teacher into doing your bidding?
“Regardless of my past, I hope I've demonstrated to you and this community my dedication and diligence to my job. I've been above reproach—”

“You've been lusting after those lightkeepers the whole time you've been here.”

“I have not.” Her back stiffened in protest even as guilt whispered that she had entertained too many thoughts of Alex.

“And now I know why,” Percival continued, eyeing her in a way that told her he knew everything about her indiscretion. “You're not the pure lily-white woman that you want everyone to believe you are.”

He was right. She wasn't that woman. She had nothing to say in her defense. Even if she hadn't had relations with Ryan that long-ago night, she'd been terribly wrong to trick him into lying in bed with her.

She'd prayed for God to forgive her and she didn't doubt that He had. But that didn't change the facts of what had happened. “I admit I'm not perfect,” she said. “I've sinned dreadfully in the past. And now I'm trying to move forward by doing the right thing.”

Percival studied her with the same open hunger she'd seen there too often. “Very well, Miss Taylor. I'll keep your little secret.”

She shivered, not sure if from the coolness of the air and the dampness of her cloak or from Percival's presence. She swallowed a rising sense of helplessness and lifted her chin again. She resented that she must ingratiate herself to this lustful man, but
for now she saw no other way around it. “Thank you. I would appreciate you keeping this matter to yourself—”

“Under one condition.” His voice had turned brittle, and he started to walk toward her. “I would like you to come to my house for dinner. Tonight.”

“She won't be coming” came a stern voice from the woods to her left, followed by Alex's frame emerging from the thick evergreens that lined the road. He stepped onto the muddy gravel and stopped, his feet spread wide, his fists bunched at his sides. He glared at Percival with a deadly intensity.

He too was in his Sunday best—dark trousers and coat that contrasted with his fair hair. He'd lost the rugged look and instead had a clean-cut appeal.

Percival's eyes rounded, the man obviously taken aback by Alex's interference.

She didn't stop to think where Alex had come from, except to thank God that he was here.

“I won't allow you to coerce Tessa into going with you anywhere,” he said, his voice almost a growl.

“Not your decision to make, Bjorklund,” Percival said. “Go back to your lighthouse and do whatever it is you do all day.”

“She's not going with you now.” Alex stared at him with hard, angry eyes. “Or ever.”

Percival's lips curved into a smirk. “It's time to share the wealth. You've had her all to yourself these past months. Now it's my turn.”

“You're insulting Miss Taylor.”

“I'm simply stating the truth.”

“Watch what you say around the lady.” Alex's biceps flexed beneath his coat, straining the seams.

Tessa couldn't look into his eyes. How much had he heard
of Percival's accusations? If he'd heard everything, she doubted he'd be standing here defending her so nobly.

“She's no lady,” Percival said. “In fact, I've learned she's little better than a whore.”

Tessa cringed at his declaration, and shame flooded her soul. Alex would surely leave her alone now. He'd already done a good job of that lately anyway. The revelation about her past would only give him all the more reason to avoid her.

She lowered her head and stared at the hem of her black mourning gown. She wasn't surprised to hear the crunch of his footsteps. He'd run away from her for sure as fast as he could.

The crunch was rapidly followed by a whack and a grunt, then a thud and muffled cry of pain.

She glanced up in time to see Percival holding the side of his face and staggering backward, with Alex's fist making a line straight at Percival's belly. The punch doubled Percival over.

Alex raised his arm again, and rage contorted his features, turning the handsome face into that of a fierce warrior. “Don't talk that way about Miss Taylor ever again,” he ground out.

With one hand on his face, Percival rubbed the other against his stomach. For a long moment he didn't say anything. He seemed to struggle to catch his breath.

Alex slowly lowered his fist and took a step back, all the while continuing to pin Percival with a deadly glare. Alex wasn't the local wrestling champion without cause, and she supposed Percival knew he didn't have a chance against Alex when it came to hand-to-hand combat.

Percival tried to straighten, then grimaced.

“I hope I've made myself clear,” Alex demanded.

Percival spit out a glob of blood and glared back. “You just bought a ticket to the graveyard.”

“You might be able to bully everyone else in this town, but you can't touch me.”

“Oh, I can touch you all right.” Percival spat again. “I'll make good and sure you regret interfering with my business.”

“If you don't stay away from Tessa, you'll be the one with the regrets.”

Alex reached for Tessa's hand and tucked it within the crook of his arm and tugged her gently forward. She couldn't meet his gaze. She didn't know how she'd ever be able to look him in the eye again.

She could feel Percival's stare burning into them. As much as she tried, she couldn't stop her legs from trembling and was grateful for Alex's steady arm. She half expected the bang of a gunshot and the piercing pain of a bullet in her back.

Percival was angry enough to kill and that thought would have worried her, except she was too overcome with embarrassment. As she hustled along next to Alex, she couldn't find any words to ease her mortification. He didn't say anything either, which only made her want to run away and hide.

Finally when they turned onto Pine Street and were hemmed in by a tall stand of pines, Alex stopped and gave her little choice but to halt next to him.