The Lightkeeper's Daughter (6 page)

She and Driscoll and Edward’s nurse, Yvonne, faced a form on the ground, and it took a moment for the scene to register. When he recognized his son, he ran toward his boy. “Edward!” He knelt beside him.

The boy’s eyelids moved, but he didn’t awaken. At least no seizure contorted his features. “He had a seizure?” he asked, glancing up at Yvonne. She nodded. He touched Edward’s forehead. “Edward. Wake up, son.”

There was still no response and likely wouldn’t be for a few more minutes. Edward would be tired for hours. John clenched his fists. If only he could fix this for his son. He took a deep breath, then smoothed his son’s hair. “It’s all right, Edward. I’m here.”

“He collapsed so quickly,” Miss Sullivan said in that compelling, husky voice.

He rose and nodded. “Were you here when Edward’s attack occurred?”

“Yes, Lieutenant North.” Her worried eyes never left the boy. “We’d just come out to meet him when he fell.”

He lifted his son in his arms and carried him toward the house. The young woman fell into step beside him. The dog started to follow her, and she made a hand gesture that stopped it in its tracks.

“Is there anything I can do? If I’m going to be with him most of the day, I need to know how to handle this when it happens.”

At least she wasn’t flustered by the incident. She’d taken charge here the same way she’d done in the sweatshop. His deceased wife had dissolved into hysterics every time Edward had a “fit,” as she called it. She’d never reconciled herself to the idea that her son had a chronic problem.

“Come with me,” he told her.

He carried his son into the house and up the staircase to his bedroom. He laid the boy on top of the quilt and stood staring down at him. He ached to take the ailment on himself, but all he could do was stand by.

Miss Sullivan stepped closer to the bed. “Why isn’t he waking?”

“He’ll be up and around soon. But he’ll be tired. He had a seizure.”

“What can be done to help him?”

“I’ve had him to the best neurologists in the country, but there is no treatment for it.”

“So he’ll always have to deal with this?” Her gaze softened even more.

He nodded. “The main thing to remember when he has a seizure is that he needs to be kept safe. Help him to lie down, and put something soft between his teeth so he doesn’t bite his tongue, then wait it out.”

She caressed Edward’s hair. “Poor child.”

John warmed to her empathy. He thought it was sincere. “He’s a good lad. Never lets it get him down.” He folded his hands across his chest. “You were most confident in the sewing factory. I think it would be difficult for anything to get the better of you. I liked that.”

Color stained her cheeks. “Thank you, sir. I was thankful for your protection.”

“You’re much younger than I expected.”
And prettier
, he could have added.

Her green eyes held a challenge. “I’m nearly twenty-five.”

“I merely remarked on your youth. If Walter thinks you are suitable, I’m sure that’s the case.”

She dropped her gaze to the floor, and her cheeks went rosier. “I’m sorry for my tone, Lieutenant North.”

It wasn’t his fault he liked her appearance entirely more than was proper. “Forgive me, Miss Sullivan. I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable in your position. Take care of my son, and teach him well, and you’ll hear no complaints from me.”

“I will do my very best,” she said. She turned toward the bed. “He’s awakening.”

Edward yawned, and his eyelids fluttered, then opened. “Papa? I did it again.”

John sat on the edge of the bed and slipped his arm under his son’s head. “It’s all right, little man. You’re fine now.”

Edward bolted upright. “Where’s the doggy?”

“What dog?”

“The one that helped me,” the boy asked Miss Sullivan. “Was it your dog?”

“Yes. That’s Gideon.”

“He knew I was getting sick and helped me sit down.”

John hid his smile. And his skepticism. “What did he do?”

“He jerked on my arm until I sat,” Edward said.

John glanced at the woman. Her expression was soft as she stared at his son. “Did you know the seizure was coming?”

Edward shook his head. “I was going to toss the ball for him. Can the dog sleep on my bed?”

“You know your grandfather doesn’t allow dogs in the house.”

“But this is a special dog. He helped me. I’ll ask Granddad myself.” Edward scooted to the edge of the bed. He staggered when he gained his feet but quickly straightened.

“You’re the only one Granddad might listen to,” John muttered after his son disappeared through the doorway.

Glancing at the new governess, he wished he would quit feeling as though the undertow were carrying him out to sea.

S
IX

A
DDIE COUNTED EVERY
tread as she walked back to the entry. Twenty-one. She kept track of every time she put her foot down on the entry and porch, and on each of the front steps. Thirty. And she prayed. The austere man she’d glimpsed sitting in the automobile next to the lieutenant wasn’t what she’d expected.

The yard was empty except for Gideon and Edward. Smiling, she approached the boy and dog. “He likes you, Edward.” She couldn’t resist touching his hair again. The soft locks curled around her finger.

“Can I have him?” The question was asked with the innocence of a child who had never been denied.

Addie inhaled as she tried to decide how to answer. She’d raised Gideon from a puppy and would never give him up. “I’ll be happy to share him,” she said finally. “But he’s my dog.”

Edward’s lip thrust out. “I want him to be my dog.” He began to sob.

Addie wanted to gather him in her arms and soothe his cries, but she knew it wasn’t wise to give in to every demand.

“How did you get him to do that?” a gruff voice demanded from behind her. “The dog, I mean. Yvonne informed me the canine appeared to have anticipated my grandson’s fit.”

She turned to see Henry Eaton approaching. He’d removed his cap and scarf. Flecks of mud dulled the sheen of his boots. “I don’t know, Mr. Eaton. I’ve never seen him do anything like this before.”

Edward had his arms around Gideon’s neck. “He seemed quite attuned to the lad,” Mr. Eaton said.

“He’s always been intuitive. Whenever a shipwreck occurred at our lighthouse, he knew before we did. He would have plunged into the raging sea if I had allowed him to do so.”

“He must stay with my grandson at all times,” Mr. Eaton said. “You’re the new governess, is that right?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, raising her voice above Edward’s hiccupping sobs.

He studied the dog again. “We should breed him. His pups might have his magical ability as well. I’ll find a female at once. Where did you find him?”

“In Crescent City. My father bought him from a neighbor.”

“Give me his name, and I’ll see if he has any other dogs with this one’s ability. What’s the dog’s name?”

“Gideon.”

“This is a lucky day for us, young lady. We must do all in our power to make sure you and the dog stay with us.”

The note of approval in his voice brought the truth to the front of her tongue. How much greater would his welcome be if he knew she was his daughter? She had to get away before she blurted out the story. “I believe God brought me here for a reason, Mr. Eaton. I’ll do my part to follow the Lord’s guidance in all ways.”

“Such simple faith,” he said. “Very quaint.”

His condescending tone squared her shoulders. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to unpack.”

The intensity of his demeanor softened. “I’ve come on too strong with you. Please accept my apology, Miss Sullivan. We all indulge the child too much. It’s his af-affliction, you see.”

His heartfelt stammer tugged at her heart. “No need to apologize. “I’ve already fallen in love with Edward myself. I’ll protect him with my life. After all, God has arranged this for Edward’s benefit.”

Eaton tipped his head to the side. “You look familiar. Have we met?”

She turned her head. “I don’t remember meeting you, sir. I grew up much north of here.”

“Strange,” he muttered. He put his large hand on Edward’s head. “Enough of these histrionics, Edward. The dog will be here for you. Miss Sullivan has graciously agreed to share the animal with you. Stop the wailing.”

Her charge sniffled, then swiped the back of his hand across his wet face. “Can he sleep with me, Granddad?”

“You know I quite dislike animals in the house, boy,” his grandfather said.

“But he helped me!” Tears filled Edward’s eyes.

Eaton sighed. “Very well. But keep him out from under my feet. And out of the kitchen, you hear? It will be your job every morning to put him out for the day. He’s not to lie around on the rugs.”

Edward’s eyes began to shine. “Yes, sir!”

Addie hid a smile at the boy’s deft manipulation. She would have her hands full with him. He’d been coddled all his life. While she pitied him his affliction, it would be her job to see that he developed into a man, not a namby-pamby without backbone. At least her father showed love and compassion.

A movement caught her attention, and she watched Lieutenant North approach from the carriage house where the automobile was stowed. Warmth crept into her skin. When they’d talked over Edward’s bed, she’d had the most peculiar sensation, as if something inside her had recognized him—the timbre of his voice, the way he looked at her as if he really saw her. He possessed everything she’d dreamed of when she read Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s poetry: wide shoulders that tapered to a trim waist, unruly black hair, and dark brown eyes that pierced right through her defenses. She’d read about love at first sight and assumed it was the stuff of dime novels, but when she held this man’s gaze, she could almost believe in it.

Her gaze went to her dog. Had he really sensed Edward’s approaching seizure? Often she’d thought Gideon could sense pain and despair. He’d proven it again today when he’d led her to the garment factory. What if he possessed some innate ability to predict the seizures? He could be a great boon to the child.

She told herself not to be so silly. It was a childish fancy that had taken Edward. He’d soon outgrow it and move on to a new obsession. Children always did. She turned toward the driveway as a carriage turned in at the gate.

John turned his back on Miss Sullivan and approached his mother-in-law’s carriage as it rolled to a stop. He extended his hand to help her alight. Would Katherine have aged as well as Clara? Her creamy skin was unlined, though he knew she had to be fifty or a little older by now. The smile he greeted her with was genuine. “Clara, it’s good to see you.”

She touched a gloved finger to his cheek. “John, when did you arrive? You look quite handsome with that tan.”

He brushed his lips across her cheek and inhaled her rose perfume. “Just this afternoon.”

“Fetch my parcels from the driver, would you? I am perishing for tea.” She swayed off toward the house without waiting for his answer.

John shrugged and did as he was told. Henry never begrudged her any of the funds she spent on her fripperies. Katherine might have paupered him in following her mother’s example. Carrying the parcels, he strode to the house, where he handed off the purchases to Molly, then followed the sound of voices to the parlor.

Miss Sullivan stood with her back to the wall and her hands clutched in front of her green dress. She faced his mother-in-law. Driscoll stood off to one side with Edward.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said. “I studied three years of Latin, though I don’t think Edward is quite ready for another language.”

“I agree, Miss Sullivan.” Clara made a sweeping survey of the younger woman. “Your dress is quite well made. Where did you find it?”

“I made it, ma’am.”

“How refreshing to find such an industrious young woman. How did you learn to sew such a stylish garment?” Clara stepped nearer and examined the waist of the dress. “The way the waist dips is very becoming. And the stitches are invisible.”

The young woman shifted, and the color leached from her cheeks. “My mother taught me to sew when I was a child. She thought the income would help the family, but I discovered a real love for textiles and design.”

To John the dress appeared ordinary, but then, what did he know of style? He noticed how long Miss Sullivan’s lashes were and averted his gaze. She was his employee.

Miss Sullivan touched Clara’s hand. “Are you feeling all right, Mrs. Eaton? A headache perhaps?”

Clara pressed her other hand hard on her forehead. “My head does ache. How did you know?”

“I saw it in your eyes. Let me rub it for you,” Miss Sullivan said. “I have some peppermint oil that will help ease the pain.”

“What a dear you are,” Clara said. “We have a few minutes before dinner, and anything you might do to help would be most welcome.”

“I’m sure it will comfort you,” Miss Sullivan said.

“Over our meal I wish to know more about your dressmaking skills. I’m planning a ball for Henry’s birthday in two weeks, and I must have a new dress. I have an idea in my mind’s eye, and perhaps you can bring it to life.”