Undaunted Hope (6 page)

Tessa turned her attention back to Ingrid, her mind spinning as she tried to make sense of the situation. Ingrid was clearly not hurt. And Tessa couldn't be sure she had a sore throat either. But for some reason, the little girl had wanted her attention, apparently badly enough that she'd cajoled her brother into coming after her.

Tessa lifted a hand to Ingrid's cheek and brushed back stray strands of her hair. While the girl's cheek was warmer than usual, Tessa guessed the overheating had come from covering herself with too many blankets rather than sustaining a fever.

For an instant, Tessa debated scolding the child for playacting and deception. But when Ingrid sighed a contented breath and leaned her cheek further into Tessa's hand, a sweet ribbon of pleasure wrapped around Tessa's heart.

She lifted her other hand to Ingrid's forehead. “You do feel warm.”

“Yes, I think I'm running a fever,” Ingrid said hastily.

“Perhaps if I sit here for a few minutes and hold your hand, you'll feel better?” Tessa reached under the blankets and folded her hand around Ingrid's.

The little girl smiled and nodded. “I'm already feeling better, Miss Taylor.”

“What if I tell you a little story?” Tessa asked. “That might cure you altogether.”

Ingrid sat up straighter. “Oh yes. I'm sure that would work.”

“And Gunnar, why don't you join us . . .” Her voice trailed off as she turned to look at Gunnar and instead found herself gazing upon a bare-chested Alex standing in the opposite parlor door. One of the bedroom doors they'd passed on their way into the house now stood open behind him.

With one hand he slipped a suspender over his bare shoulder, and with the other he rubbed his eyes as if he'd just awoken. When he gave a big yawn and stretched out his arms, Tessa couldn't keep from staring at the muscles of his bronzed chest, everything perfectly chiseled. On the day of her near-drowning, she'd thought his thin undershirt had left very little to the imagination. Well, she'd been wrong.

He was a beautiful specimen of manhood. She honestly had no desire to take her eyes off of him, even though she knew she was ogling inappropriately in front of the children.

“Why, Miss Taylor,” he said, his voice hinting at humor, “I wasn't expecting you or I would have made sure to strap both of my suspenders.”

She wasn't sure if she could get her voice working, but somehow she managed, “Yes, if you could please cover yourself with
the other suspender, I would appreciate the modesty.” The moment she looked into his face, she regretted the move. His lopsided smile nearly took the breath from her lungs.

“So what brings you here?” he asked. “I'm guessing it wasn't to get a peek at me half clad, although I wouldn't be surprised if that was your ulterior motive.”

She had to pull herself together and stop allowing him to fluster her. He was deriving too much satisfaction from her reaction. “I actually came to check on Ingrid—”

“I wasn't feeling good,” Ingrid interrupted, sitting up and throwing off the blankets. “But I'm doing better now.”

Alex studied her and, seeing nothing amiss, raised one of his brows.

“We shouldn't have bothered, Miss Taylor,” Gunnar said, toeing his boot into the area rug that needed beating and airing.

“I don't mind being bothered,” Tessa started, then stopped and glanced around again as understanding dawned.

The lighthouse was their home. And if the lighthouse was their home, that could only mean one thing. Alex Bjorklund was a lightkeeper.

T
essa took a rapid step backward as if she'd been struck. For a moment, Alex thought he glimpsed horror in her eyes before she averted them.

He stepped to the sofa and retrieved a shirt from a pile of discarded clothes. His fingers fumbled to get the garment turned right side out. He hadn't meant to offend her. But he supposed he had overstepped the bounds of propriety with his remarks. The moment he'd noticed her, he should have immediately donned a shirt.

But her brazen and appreciative stare at his bare chest had sent a jolt of heat through him, and he wasn't able to resist teasing her just a little.

He stuffed his arms into the sleeves and bit back a mutter when the fabric stuck at his bicep. It wasn't his fault that he'd stumbled into the parlor without his shirt on and she was there. Usually he tried to make sure he was up to greet the children when they arrived home from school. But some days, after a particularly stormy night like last night, he overslept. Thankfully,
Ingrid and Gunnar were old enough now to occupy themselves for a short while, and they usually didn't get into too much trouble.

Though the opening of the front door had awakened him, it was the strange voice that dragged him out of bed. He stumbled toward the parlor and certainly hadn't expected to find Tessa Taylor kneeling next to the sofa and smiling down at Ingrid with such tenderness it had nearly broken his heart.

“Please forgive me, Miss Taylor,” he said, jerking the shirt up to his shoulders. He cringed when he heard a sharp rip. “I've behaved like a complete idiot.”

She glanced around the room again with a wildness that said she couldn't wait to escape.

He hadn't meant to drive her away.

“It's my fault,” Gunnar said. “I'm the one who asked Miss Taylor to come.” He exchanged a glance with Ingrid, one that told Alex the two had been up to something.

Ingrid shook her head, her eyes flashing a warning.

But Gunnar continued anyway, always the more forthright of the two. “I'm sorry, Miss Taylor.”

Tessa took a breath, seemed to push aside her own reservations, and then looked at Gunnar. “You needn't ever feel bad about coming to me. That's what I'm here for. But now that I know you're in good hands, I'll be on my way—”

“Don't leave yet, Miss Taylor.” Ingrid slid off the sofa, reached for her cane, and hobbled toward Tessa. “Please stay for a few more minutes.”

Tessa didn't resist when Ingrid grabbed her sleeve. Instead she pressed a hand to the girl's cheek as Alex had seen her do when Ingrid was on the sofa.

The adoration in Ingrid's eyes pinched Alex's heart. She'd
gone far too long without a woman's touch. Now that she had it, she was basking in it.

“I can't stay, Ingrid,” Tessa said gently, lifting her gaze and meeting Alex's with a mixture of pity and sorrow.

Was she feeling sorry for him?

“Perhaps your father will allow you to participate in the special spelling classes?” Tessa directed her question to him. Arched with long lashes, her luminous green eyes were as irresistible as Ingrid's.

“Well?” she said, waiting for him to give permission for Ingrid to take part in the spelling classes.

“I don't know . . .”

“Maybe you'll allow Gunnar to join the classes too?”

Wait
a minute.
Alex glanced first at the eagerness in Ingrid's expression and then at the guilt that still shadowed Gunnar's. Did Tessa think the two were his children?

He almost grinned at the realization. Of course she'd think Gunnar and Ingrid were his; they shared the same family name. He brought them to school every morning. And they all had the Bjorklund Finnish looks.

Maybe that was why she'd been aloof with him. With her polite façade in place, he'd decided she was simply trying to stay as professional as possible around her students, and he'd attempted to respect that.

At the thump of footsteps in the other bedroom behind him, Alex couldn't contain his smile, relishing the shock Tessa was about to get. “I'm not sure I can give my permission,” he started.

Frowning, she said, “Mr. Bjorklund, I assumed you were the kind of man who took the education of his children seriously.”

Behind him the door opened, and the stomp of footsteps drew closer.

“I do take the education of my children seriously, Miss Taylor. The only problem is that I don't have any children.”

Confusion creased her forehead, and her lips stalled around an unspoken word.

“Who's here?” Michael asked in a groggy voice behind him.

Alex stepped out of the doorway and allowed Michael to enter the parlor and stand next to him. Of course, his older brother was fully attired and had even managed to comb his hair. Michael was a couple of inches shorter than Alex and had a leaner, thinner body. But otherwise he and Michael, though four years apart, looked a lot alike.

Tessa's eyes widened at the sight of Michael.

“Miss Taylor, if you'd like to get permission for Gunnar and Ingrid to attend spelling classes, then you'll have to ask their father for yourself.”

Her attention bounced back and forth between Alex and Michael.

“Daddy!” Ingrid called, leaning closer to Tessa. The girl's eyes sparkled. “Daddy, this is our new teacher, the one we've been telling you about.”

Next to him, Michael stiffened and raised a hand to his hair to comb it again even though every hair was already in place. He cleared his throat. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Taylor.”

“And I, you, Mr. Bjorklund,” she said hesitantly. “So Ingrid and Gunnar are your children?”

“Yes.” Michael's voice squeaked, and his features became a tense mask of nervousness.

Alex stared at his brother's strange reaction. What reason could Michael have for being nervous around the new schoolteacher?

“They talk about you all the time,” Michael continued.

“They're delightful children,” Tessa responded by smiling at Ingrid in spite of having been completely surprised by the situation. Then she turned narrowed eyes upon Alex. “Now, your brother, on the other hand, I'm not quite sure
delightful
would be the word I'd use to describe him.”

Alex chuckled. There was something about the spitfire in her attitude that never failed to humor him.

At their exchange, Michael's forehead wrinkled.

“Daddy,” Ingrid said, “isn't Miss Taylor the most beautiful woman you've ever seen?” Ingrid was peering up at her teacher with such adoration that once again Alex's chest ached. It hurt to see her so desperate for a woman's attention.

He'd thought he and Michael had done okay raising the children together. He'd assumed the attention they gave Ingrid and Gunnar had been enough. The children had two fathers instead of one. Two really good fathers, if he could say so himself.

But perhaps two adoring fathers could never take the place of one loving mother, no matter how hard they'd tried.

“What do you think, Daddy?” Ingrid insisted.

Michael peeked again at Tessa, and much to Alex's amazement, his brother's face turned bright red. “She seems like a very nice lady,” Michael mumbled.

Gunnar was blushing too.

Like father, like son. The two were enamored with Tessa Taylor and too shy even to look her in the eyes. Alex would have to tease them mercilessly later.

For now, however, someone needed to take charge of the situation. He turned a bold gaze upon her. No one could ever accuse him of being shy. “I think we all agree that your new teacher is very pretty.”

He regarded her appreciatively. She was wearing the same
green skirt and matching bodice she'd had on the first day she arrived, only this time it was dry and sewn together. The color served to highlight her creamy complexion and bring out the brightness of her eyes. At his perusal, some of the strain eased from Tessa's features, and a smile almost made it to her lips.

So, she liked compliments? Well, he liked giving them.

“Mr. Bjorklund,” Tessa began.

Michael lifted his face and responded with “Yes” at the same moment as Alex.

Tessa glanced between them, her smile widening.

“You're more than welcome to call me Michael,” Michael said shyly.

“Then Michael it is,” Tessa said, giving Michael a smile.

When Michael returned Tessa's smile, Alex could only stare. His brother hadn't smiled at another woman since his wife had died.

“Would you be willing to allow Gunnar and Ingrid to attend my special spelling classes?” Tessa asked. “I'll be hosting a spelling bee this winter for all those who participate in the class.”

“Sure. They can attend,” Michael said readily. From the puppy-dog look on his face, Alex had the feeling his brother would agree to anything Tessa requested, even if she asked him for half his worldly possessions, which unfortunately wasn't much at the moment.

Ingrid gave a small cheer of happiness, hobbled over to Michael, and hugged him. Tessa watched the interaction between father and daughter with a wistful smile. Then she glanced around the room again unable to hide a shudder as she stepped toward the kitchen door.

He tried to view the room as she saw it—the mismatched and
worn furniture, the faded carpet, and then the miscellaneous tools he'd stacked on one of the end tables.

They'd missed earning the superintendent's Efficiency Star this past summer because the house had been “too disorganized and unkempt.” Alex couldn't understand why the inspector didn't put more weight on the things that mattered, like a flawless record of lighting the lantern, or their above average lifesaving rescues.

Every time the inspector visited, the older man shook his head at the condition of the keeper's dwelling and told them he could dismiss them for not keeping the house cleaner. But one look at Michael and the children always softened the inspector's heart. He knew they were bachelors trying to raise two children on their own. So he always left with the same warning to do better the next time.

Now they had no choice. They
had
to do better the next time. If they had any hope of raising enough money for Ingrid's surgery, they needed the bonus that came with the Efficiency Star.

“I really must be going,” Tessa said, but then she stopped as her attention caught on a wooden crate sitting next to the sofa. Her eyes rounded and she sucked in a breath.

She went to the box, knelt next to it, and peered inside. “Oh, heaven,” she said, stroking one of the spines reverently. She whispered several of the titles. “
Alice in Wonderland
,
Little Women
,
Great Expectations
. Where did you get all these books?”

“The Lighthouse Tender Crew brought them the last time they delivered supplies,” Alex answered.

“Since when do tender crews deliver books?”

“Apparently they're trying something new with the books. They hope to start a lending library of sorts that's passed from lighthouse to lighthouse for keepers and their families.”

“Amazing,” she said, fingering another book. “My favorite,
The Courtship of Miles Standish
.”

“I suppose the Board has decided if they can keep their staff from getting so bored during the winter, they'll have less turnover.”

She lifted one particularly thick book from the crate and traced the silver-embossed lettering engraved on its black cover. “So you'll have this precious supply of books all winter long?”

Alex nodded. “They're for Gunnar and Ingrid to read.”

Tessa looked at him sharply. They both knew that Gunnar and Ingrid weren't proficient enough to read the thick books in the crate. “
You
and their father will need to read them to the children, Mr. Bjorklund.”

Alex didn't dare look at Michael. He had the feeling his brother's face had flushed with the same embarrassment that was swirling through him. How could he respond to Tessa without coming across as the complete dolt that he was?

“They won't be able to read them to us, Miss Taylor,” Ingrid said.

“I'm disappointed with such news.” Tessa leveled a censuring look at him.

He lifted his shoulders in question. Why was she singling him out? Why wasn't she bestowing her wrath upon Michael too?

“My daddy and my uncle never read to us,” Ingrid said.

Alex shook his head at his niece, warning her not to say anything else. But she lifted her chin almost defiantly and continued, “But it's not because they don't want to. It's because they don't know how to read.”

Tessa sat back on her heels and stared between him and Alex with widening eyes.

Michael ducked his head.

Alex had long ago stopped caring about the fact that he'd never had but a rudimentary education, enough that he could do a few sums, read what he needed to, and sign his name. What use did he have for any learning beyond that? He wasn't destined for being a teacher or minister or any other line of work that required an education. He was a lightkeeper, and before that he'd worked on the tender crews delivering supplies to lighthouses.

She stood. “I'm starting an evening school next week for parents and students who aren't able to come during the day. Perhaps you'd both like to attend.”

“I've gotten along so far just fine,” Alex said. “I don't need any more education.” That wasn't entirely true. He knew he'd be able to do so much more with his dog breeding if he were better at the business aspect of raising purebred elkhounds. But he wasn't about to admit that to Tessa.

Her delicate brow wrinkled above her flashing eyes. “You'll come to my evening class, won't you, Michael?” she asked, all the while glaring at Alex.

Michael hesitated only an instant before nodding. “Sure, I'll come.”

Tessa smiled at him. “Excellent. Then I'll look forward to seeing you there.”