Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan (18 page)

She looked back at the telescope.

He supposed he could deny her the use of it, but doing that would only raise her suspicions. Truth be told, he wanted to know what a lover of the stars thought about Nelson’s invention.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

She eyed him carefully. “It depends.”

“I can’t allow you to look at this unless you promise to keep it a secret.”

She looked down at the telescope again. “I won’t tell a soul.”

He watched her for a moment longer. Trusting her was a risk, almost like Edward and his gambling, but he wanted to trust her.

“You’ll have to turn off your light.”

She didn’t hesitate. She turned the knob to stop the kerosene, and the light faded away. Then she set the lantern down and her drawings alongside it.

He motioned for her to step out onto the balcony. She didn’t test the floor as he had done, seemingly confident that it would hold for her. They stepped outside together, his eyes adjusting again to the night.

The woman close to his side smelled of jasmine and rosewater, and he shook his head, trying not to get intoxicated by the scent. He would enjoy their time together, perched above the trees, but it was nothing else.

“You can’t see much on the moon tonight.”

“I want to see the stars.”

When he locked the telescope onto the tripod, she leaned toward it. Her shoulder brushed his arm, and he flinched from the surge that shot across his skin.

He was being ridiculous. He had danced closer to many a woman, holding their hands and shoulders as he guided them across the floor. But not one of them made him tremble like this woman beside him. Tonight he would have to pretend it was a dance. In the morning, she would be gone.

“Get closer to the eyepiece,” he instructed as he held the telescope for her, being careful not to touch her skin again.

She was silent for a moment, and fear clenched him. If this beautiful woman, a self-proclaimed lover of the stars, hated the telescope, he would never garner the word of mouth he needed to distribute it. He needed both men and women to tell their friends about the extraordinary power of this instrument. And about the mysteries it revealed.

“Amazing,” she whispered as she swiveled the instrument across the night sky.

He smiled in the darkness. It was exactly what he’d hoped she would say.

“It’s spectacular, isn’t it?”

She looked at him in the starlight, quoting words from Scripture: “‘God made two great lights; the greater light to rule the day, and the lesser light to rule the night.’”

“He did a mighty fine job, didn’t He?”

She bent to the telescope again, and the minutes passed slowly as she savored the sky. “I can see dark blue patches with the red on Mars. I read once that there might be life on that planet.”

“Do you see Saturn?” he asked. “It has the wide ring around it.”

She took a deep breath. “I never imagined seeing the planets like this.”

He pointed out the constellations—Orion, Gemini, Cassiopeia—and she studied each one.

“Did you make this?” she asked as she finally straightened.

“No,” he paused. “A friend did.”

“Tell your friend it’s extraordinary.”

Chase nodded. “He would thank you.”

“Sometimes I wonder—” She looked back up at the skies. “Do you think anyone does live up there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Perhaps they are looking down at us, wondering about the earth.” She took a deep breath. “Out there are supposed to be galaxies beyond ours. And maybe even thousands of stars and planets that we can’t see without a telescope.”

“Have you seen Isaac Roberts’s photographs?” he asked.

She glanced back at him, and for the first time, she smiled. “I have. The one of the spiral nebula is my favorite sight in all the heavens.”

“Your favorite?”

She shrugged, so slight that he might have missed it if he weren’t studying her. “I understand her, that’s all.”

It was a strange thing to say, but he didn’t press her. There was a hint of wildness in her eyes, like an untamed horse poised to flee.

“They call it the Great Nebula of Andromeda,” she said.

He glanced back out at the stars. “I wonder what
Andromeda
means.”

“I’ve been here far too long.” She stepped back into the dome. “It’s late.”

He pulled out his pocket watch. It was half past two. “I believe it was already late when you arrived.”

“Do you live at the fort?” she asked.

He hesitated. If she found out who he was—it might break the magic. “I’m living near it, for now.”

“I heard everyone is leaving.”

“I’m not leaving until next week.”

“Do you know a Lieutenant Hull?”

His eyes widened. “I do. But how do you know—”

“He made the most fascinating fishing pole,” she said. “Perhaps your friend would be interested in that as well.”

“I’ve seen the pole.” Chase eyed her pretty face. He’d never met a woman who recognized the potential of an invention like this before.

She stepped away from him. “Thank you for letting me look through your telescope, Mr.—”

“My friends call me Chase.”

She watched him as she backed toward the stairs. “Then it was nice to meet you, Chase.”

He didn’t want her to go. “You can’t leave, not until I know your name.”

“My name?” She asked as if no one had ever asked her the question before.

“Most people get one when they’re born.”

She hesitated again. “I happen to like the name Andromeda.”

“Andromeda?” He grinned. “That’s much too hard to say.”

“Plenty of names are difficult to say.”

“Hmm…I think I shall call you
Andy
.” He watched her face, not wanting her to leave. “I hope to see you again—Andy.”

She gave him a smile, tentative at best, before she rushed down the stairs.

Elena pedaled her bicycle slowly through the trees, smiling in spite of herself. Who was this man who owned such a powerful telescope? A man who marveled at the stars alongside her?

Her mother would think it scandalous, her meeting a stranger—a soldier—at the lighthouse, even in the middle of the day. But it was the middle of the night, and she had enjoyed every moment of talking with him about God’s creation.

None of the society men she met ever once talked to her about such things. They seemed to view the stars as a way to romance the women they were with, using creation instead of appreciating it.

But Chase hadn’t been trying to romance her—or at least, he didn’t seem to be. She didn’t feel a bit of remorse about tonight. Even if Chase wasn’t part of the circles her mother deemed proper, he had somehow learned how to be a gentleman, more so than some of the men she’d met recently. Perhaps he had a good mother.

She should have been afraid of Chase, but she wasn’t. At first, she was furious at him for stealing her sketches and invading her space. But he was just as surprised tonight to see her as she was to see him, and perhaps just as annoyed.

She hadn’t wanted to be intrigued by him in the least, only in his telescope. But the more he spoke, the more he interested her as well. He was a handsome man, to be sure, and maybe a little too charming. The girls in the village must swoon every time he came to town.

She wished she could have been honest with him, even if she only shared her first name, but she couldn’t possibly tell him who she was. If her fall on the pier had crippled her reputation, meeting a soldier at the lighthouse—at night—would ruin it. Even if nothing inappropriate happened between them, her mother’s friends would assume that she was just like Hilga, and her indiscretion could cost her and her family dearly.

No one could know about tonight, not even Jillian. She trusted Jillian completely, but sometimes it seemed like the walls in her house had ears. She wouldn’t do anything, intentionally at least, to harm her family’s reputation.

She might never see Chase again, but she would never forget this night. Nor would she forget him. The man liked the stars, and he had even liked her sketches. When she left tonight, she’d hidden her sketchbook in a different place, but the next time he came, if he looked hard enough, he could find it.

If he ever came back—

She shook her head. She didn’t want Chase to come back to her light-house… or, at least, she shouldn’t want him to return.

For six summers now, it had been her private escape to meet with God and enjoy His creation even as she created with Him. This man had done nothing to harm her, but she should still feel violated. Or angry at him, at the very least, for invading her privacy.

Yet she couldn’t seem to help herself. She liked the thought of him returning to the lighthouse, of seeing him again.

She groaned as she pedaled down the lane to her home.

She couldn’t possibly think anything more of Chase than a friendly acquaintance during a chance meeting. She was destined to marry someone of connection and wealth for her family’s sake, and she wouldn’t forsake her role in helping her family.

Even so, she’d enjoyed the moments of his company the way she hadn’t with any other man. He teased her as Parker did, and yet he appreciated her sketches. Art, he’d called them.

She’d never thought of herself as an artist before.

As she drew close to her back gate, she extinguished her lantern and hid her bicycle behind the hydrangea bush. She tiptoed down the stone steps and heard the dog barking again from their neighbor’s house. The exhaustion after the masquerade party, the irritation at Mr. Darrington’s words, had disappeared. Her heart felt as if it were soaring like an osprey above the water.

She hurried as quietly as possible down the pathway to the back porch.

Stepping onto the porch, she heard a low rumble behind her. Her heart stopped for a moment, and she turned slowly.

It sounded as if her neighbor’s dog was growling at her.

She scanned the moonlit yard, but nothing moved. The groaning sound grew louder.

She listened closely in the shadows, but the noise no longer sounded like a growl. It sounded more like a…snore.

Was someone sleeping in their backyard?

She tiptoed across the patio and grass. The sound seemed to be coming from one of their lawn chairs. Often she’d seen people sleeping on the streets of Chicago or in a park, but she’d never known of anyone spending the night in their yard, either here or at home.

She moved around the chair quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeper. If he were a stranger, she’d get Claude or someone else to help.

But he wasn’t a stranger at all. Instead, her father sat partially upright on the chair, sound asleep.

What was he doing outside?

She nudged his shoulder, whispering to him. “Papa?”

Startled, he leaped to his feet, staring at her for an instant before seeming to realize where he was. He sighed as he sat down again. “When did you get home?”

She blinked and then watched him for a moment. “How did you know I was gone?”

He chuckled softly, running his fingers over hair that had begun to turn silver in the past months. “I always know when you go to the lighthouse.”

“Lighthouse?” The question sprayed from her lips. She’d thought Claude, Jillian, and Parker were the only ones who knew her secret.

“Do you really think Claude would let you go out at night without telling me?”

She clutched her hands together, the question ringing in her mind. After Claude had told her about the lighthouse, she’d sworn him to secrecy along with the others, but she should have known he wouldn’t keep the secret from her father—Claude was much too loyal to him and much too protective of her.

Part of her wanted to be irritated at him for sharing her secret, but she couldn’t muster any anger—not at Claude for sharing her secret or at Chase for stealing it.

“At first, I followed you every night you went. Every night I thought it would be your last time, thinking you would get bored with the place.”

She shook her head. “I could never be bored with it.”

“I figured that out after the second or third year.” He sighed. “I followed you for three years, but then my knee started to go bad on me. The year after you turned sixteen, I finally determined that you were old enough to go on your own.”

She leaned back against a tree. “So you wait out here for me?”

He nodded. “Every time.”

All those nights she had returned from her bike ride, at two or three or sometimes even four in the morning, tiptoeing back to the house so she wouldn’t waken anyone…all those nights she’d been so careful to sneak out of the house so no one would hear, thinking she was alone, when all along her father was following her.

“But you were sleeping, Papa. How would you know when I return?”

“I don’t always fall asleep,” he said. “But if I do, I just go look for your bicycle when I wake up.”

Her heart softened. She was glad he still worried about her. “You don’t have to keep waiting up for me.”

“Maybe so, but it makes me feel better to know when you’re home.”

She stepped forward and sat in the chair next to him. The breeze fluttered across her skirt and ruffled her hair, but she didn’t care the least what it did tonight.