Hearts Made Whole (30 page)

But even if she understood, she didn't like it. In fact, at the thought of him wrenching back from their kiss and striding away from her, fresh agony ripped her again. She was tempted to lower her face into her hands and sob again, as she had so many times already.

Except that she was dry. She'd cried all the tears she could.

“Caroline,” Tessa called from the doorway, “you have to come in now. You need to eat and get warmed up.”

Caroline didn't move. She couldn't make herself.

Tessa waited.

At the ensuing silence, Caroline thought Tessa had left her alone, just as she had all the other times.

But after a few seconds, Tessa spoke again, this time louder and more firmly. “I know you're sad he left, but you have to get on with your life now.” The rattle of a bucket and the clink of fishing lures were followed by Tessa muttering as she picked her way through the clutter in the boathouse to where Caroline sat huddled.

“This isn't the end of the world,” Tessa said, planting her hands on her hips and looking down at Caroline. “Although you may not care now, you don't have much choice. You've been given a prestigious position as head keeper of a lighthouse. It's what you've always wanted. And now you have the chance to prove that women everywhere deserve the same rights as men.”

Caroline shifted, letting Tessa's words seep into her, past her present grief.

“Don't throw away this opportunity,” Tessa continued. “Don't give them any regrets about letting you have the job.”

Caroline sighed and sat forward.

Tessa slipped a hand into the crook of her arm and tugged her upward. She stood, her frozen feet hardly able to support the weight of her body.

“And we wouldn't want Mr. Finick to have any reason to go back to the Board or the senators and make claims that he was right, would we?”

“No,” Caroline agreed in a hoarse voice.

Tessa wrapped her arm around Caroline's waist to support her.

Now that Tessa mentioned Mr. Finick, Caroline was surprised he hadn't been out to the lighthouse to argue with Esther about the validity of the ruling. She supposed that meant he couldn't do anything to stop her now. The ruling was really true. The Lighthouse Board had agreed that she could keep her job.

She wished she could find the same thrill in the decision that she'd had earlier when Esther first read the letter. But there was nothing, except perhaps a small measure of obligation.

“It's getting dark, and you'll need to light the lantern soon,” Tessa said. “We can't have you start your first night as official keeper without a warm meal and warm hands.”

Caroline nodded and allowed Tessa to lead her out of the boathouse. Her first glance was at the empty horse pen. And then the path that led to the woods and town. Both were barren.

She stumbled. But Tessa leaned into her, holding her up once more. “He might be gone for now,” the girl said gently, “but he'll be back. Someday he'll be back.”

Caroline drew comfort from Tessa's reassurance. And she reminded herself that he'd told her he loved her. He loved her. He loved her.

She let the words settle deep inside.

“In the meantime, you have work to do.” Tessa dropped a kiss onto Caroline's head.

Tears came again and clouded Caroline's eyes. She thought she'd cried them all out. But this time she knew the tears weren't over Ryan. They were for her sister, for the love she had for this sweet young woman who was finally growing up.

She laid her head against Tessa's shoulder and let her lead the way up the grassy knoll toward the cottage. “Who would have thought you'd ever be taking care of me?” Caroline whispered.

Tessa smiled. “Sometimes even the strongest need someone to take care of them.”

Caroline's lips cracked into a small smile. She'd sacrificed so much for everyone else as long as she could remember. But maybe Tessa was right. Maybe it was time to let go of that need, to stop always having to be the strong one and let someone else take care of her for once.

S
EVEN
M
ONTHS
L
ATER
M
AY
1866

C
aroline leaned against the gallery railing, peered out over the glistening water of Lake St. Clair, and drew in a breath of spring air. The monarchs had returned from Mexico. Clusters of them hovered along the lakeshore, one of the many stops in their migration north.

She caught the aroma of the peonies she'd planted around the base of the tower. It was her favorite time of year, when the flowers were in full bloom after the long winter. Of course, she didn't have quite as many blooms as in years past, for Arnie had razed most of them last fall. But with the bulbs Monsieur Poupard had planted, her flower garden was given a new start.

Monsieur Poupard came over earlier in the month with cuttings of lilies and daffodils. And now with all of them growing,
the aroma mingled with the thawed lake water and brought contentment to her soul.

“God is good,” she whispered into the bright morning, even as her attention strayed to a fresh mound of dirt in the small cemetery at the edge of the marsh.

Sarah, after holding on through the winter, died peacefully in her sleep in April. Caroline wasn't sure what had kept Sarah alive all winter, but she had a feeling it had to do with Monsieur Poupard's visits.

The old trapper sat with Sarah on many dark days, holding her hand and speaking to her in his strong French accent. And although Sarah had declined so that she lost her ability to speak, her eyes still shone with love, especially when Monsieur Poupard was in the room.

Caroline learned that the Frenchman had once had a little girl of his own, but that he'd been gone for long portions of the year trapping and had missed out on much of his daughter's life. He was out in the wilderness when his daughter had contracted consumption. By the time he received the news and made it back home, she'd passed away.

One stormy winter night, Monsieur Poupard had relayed the story to Caroline, and she'd understood then his need to be with Sarah and make her life as happy as possible before she died.

Caroline looked away from the grave marked by a simple cross and adorned with as many flowers as Caroline could manage to plant in the vicinity. She drew in another deep breath and moved back into the lantern room. She'd already extinguished the light, but there was something about being outside on the gallery in the early morning that nourished her.

A quick survey of the room told her everything was in order for the day. She smiled with a measure of pride in a job well done.

She'd done an excellent job—those were the exact words of the new lighthouse inspector who'd come for a visit yesterday.
Excellent
job
. Her smile widened as she made her way down the winding stairway.

Last fall she'd learned that Mr. Finick had been fired, that someone had gone to the Board and reported the old inspector for taking bribes from locals. She had the suspicion that Ryan had been the one to do the reporting, not long after he'd left, although she couldn't be certain.

Someone had also filed reports about Mr. Simmons's illegal smuggling. He hadn't been caught at it, but now that the authorities had gotten involved, Caroline noticed a decline in Simmons's clandestine activities. Or at the very least, he'd moved to a different area of the lake to engage in his smuggling.

Whatever the case, she was grateful Ryan had sought justice before moving on. She guessed he'd made his reports in an effort to protect her from further harassment.

With the arrival of the new inspector, and his glowing words of praise, she felt pleased to be paving the way for women who would come after her. If she could do a job considered only suitable for men and do it equally well, then why couldn't other women do what they loved too?

At the bottom of the tower, she stepped into the restored passageway. Before the winter set in, the Lighthouse Board had sent out a crew to rebuild the connecting room. She was grateful for their swift attention and help.

With her logbooks stacked neatly on a new table and a jar of fresh-cut peonies next to them, she thought back to that fateful day when Mr. Finick had visited last fall, when he'd been disgusted with her flowers and had ordered her to leave the light. The day Ryan first arrived . . .

A quick blade of pain sliced her heart.

She crossed the small room and pushed open the door leading into the cottage, trying to just as easily push aside the pain that remembrances of Ryan elicited, even seven months after he'd left. It had gotten a little easier to stop thinking about him constantly, and it was a little less painful when she did. But not by much.

She missed him every day, every hour. She prayed that wherever he was, and whatever he was doing, that he'd finally found peace and healing.

“Is that you, Caroline?” came Tessa's voice from the kitchen.

Caroline passed by her bedroom door, wanting nothing more than to fall into her bed and sleep. She'd stayed up in the tower too long that morning to take in the fragrances and bright colors of spring.

She poked her head into the kitchen, to the sight of Tessa at the table dressing a muskrat. Her arms were covered in dark blood from the carcass lying in the roasting pan in front of her.

Caroline wrinkled her nose. “I see Monsieur Poupard has delivered another of his gifts this morning.”

Tessa nodded. “He's a godsend. If not for him, our bellies would be rumbling much more often than they do now.”

“True.” It hadn't taken Caroline long to figure out that Monsieur Poupard was the one leaving muskrat on their doorstep all along. She'd once thought it was Arnie. But when the secret deliveries continued even after Arnie had been hauled away to prison for arson and kidnapping, they'd finally set up a lookout. One early morning, Tessa and Sarah spied Monsieur Poupard sneaking out of the woods and toward the cottage with a skinned muskrat across his shoulder.

They hadn't told Monsieur Poupard they knew he was the
one leaving the gifts. But they always invited him for dinner on the evenings Tessa roasted the meat.

“He's coming for dinner tonight.” Tessa winked at Caroline. She and Tessa laughed together often over the fact that now Monsieur Poupard gave them muskrat even more regularly.

“Good,” Caroline said with a return wink. “I'll warn the boys to be on their best behavior.”

Of course, the twins still caused Monsieur Poupard all kinds of grief. But underneath his gruff exterior, she could tell he cared about them too.

Caroline smothered a yawn and turned to retreat to her bedroom.

“I've already pulled the curtains for you,” Tessa said in a rush.

Caroline stopped at the strange statement.

“I was in there tidying up,” Tessa explained, “and so I went ahead and got the room ready for you.”

“Thank you.” Caroline couldn't make sense of the tiny note of excitement in Tessa's voice, except that it was finally May and summer was just around the corner. And with the coming of summer she'd promised Tessa she would investigate a school for teacher's training, so that perhaps Tessa could leave the community behind her.

It had been a long, hard year for Tessa. She was shunned by most in the area, though Caroline had done her best to spread the news about what had really happened. Still, people stared at Tessa whenever she went to town, whispering behind their hands about her.

The whole experience had helped to mature Tessa, which was at least one blessing that had come out of it. But Caroline understood her sister's desire to get away from the rumors and
blemishes on her reputation. And Tessa still wanted to move away from the lighthouse. While she'd allowed Caroline to teach her a few basics about the lantern, she insisted she never wanted to live in a lighthouse again.

Caroline plodded down the hallway, then paused to look into Sarah's old room. The empty bed, the smooth coverlet, the overall barrenness of the room opened the fresh wound in her heart.

She'd lost people she held dear over the past year, and she didn't want to lose Tessa too. But she had to admit that Tessa was growing up and finally ready to get married. She could only pray that one day the right man would overlook Tessa's past mistake and love her regardless.

Caroline turned to her bedroom door and opened it. Weariness drooped over her, and she shuffled inside, closing the door behind her.

Blackness surrounded her, and for a moment she was tempted to go back out into the light and skip sleeping for the day. It was this time of the morning, when she was overly tired, that she thought about Ryan the most and missed him. There were still too many mornings when she cried herself to sleep, even though she tried not to anymore.

Blindly she crossed the room until she bumped into the bed. Her fingers made contact with the warm cotton nightgown Tessa had laid there. She'd even pulled back the covers, so that Caroline's hand brushed against the coolness of the sheet.

With a sigh she sat down on the edge of the bed and crossed her ankle over her knee. She unlaced her boot and slipped it off, letting it fall to the floor. Then she shed the other and dropped it to the floor as well.

She dug her fingers into the knot at the back of her neck and
fished for the hairpins, holding each one between pursed lips as she found them.

In the stillness of the room, she heard the faint
swoosh
of someone releasing a breath of air. She froze with half a dozen pins pressed between her lips, her hands deep in her hair.

Was someone in the room with her, or had she only imagined the sound?

After a moment of listening to absolute silence, she shook off the chills and resumed fishing out the remainder of the pins. She tossed her head, and her hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.

The bed squeaked and shifted behind her. Caroline jumped up with a scream. It was a muted scream, as she tried not to lose her hold on the pins in her mouth.

At a muttering from the opposite side of the bed, Caroline groped for her pillow. She let the hairpins drop, no longer concerned about losing them. Not when there was an intruder in her bedroom.

She lifted the pillow and brought it down with a thwack.

The intruder muttered again.

Caroline didn't stop to think. She needed to defend herself. So she brought the pillow down again, and then a third time.

A burst of laughter from the bed stopped her in mid-swing. Something about the laughter sent her pulse racing but not with fear.

“Caroline?” the one laughing said. “Are you trying to kill me again?”

“Ryan?”

“Aye.”

She had to stifle a real scream this time by pressing the pillow over her mouth.

The bed squeaked again under his weight. His feet dropped to the floor and thudded as he moved away from the bed. He threw open the curtain and flooded the room with light.

Holding up a hand to shield his eyes, he gave her a full view of his injury—the puckered skin, the scars, the stumps that remained where his fingers had once been.

It really was him.

A grin lit up his face, which was covered with whiskers similar to the first time she'd seen him. His hair was long and in need of a cut. She half expected to see him in his underclothes, but thankfully he was fully attired, except for his bare feet.

She couldn't keep from drinking him in, from taking in his warm brown eyes and handsome face. His arms were thicker, his muscles bulging against his sleeves. He'd clearly filled out over the past months.

“When you're done staring,” he said, his smile inching higher, “maybe you can explain why you were beating me up.”

“Oh, sure.” She smiled back. “And then maybe you can explain why you were in my bed.”

“Unlike you, I have an excuse,” he teased. “I was tired. I rode for two days almost nonstop to get here. When I arrived early this morning, Tessa told me I could sleep here, that she'd wake me when you came down.”

“Looks like she woke you, all right,” Caroline said wryly. She could almost see Tessa in the kitchen, giggling at the reunion she'd orchestrated.

Ryan tilted his head, and slowly he let his gaze travel over her, from the top of her head to the tips of her stockinged feet showing beneath her hem.

There was something slightly dangerous in his eyes that burned into her and twisted her belly with pleasure.

When finished, he retraced his path back to her hair and lingered there. “You're more beautiful than I remembered,” he whispered, his smile fading.

She was still holding the pillow in front of her. She tossed it back onto the bed that stood between them. “I wasn't sure if you remembered me at all after so many months.”

“I thought about you all the time. Every second of every day.”

His admission added fuel to the fire building inside her. But the pain of the past months without him came swirling back and urged her to use caution. She didn't know why he was back and what he wanted from her. She couldn't let herself love him again if he was only going to leave her once more.