Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan (23 page)

“They won’t hear it from me.” Her hand slipped into her pocket, and she drew out an envelope folded into thirds. “Jillian asked me to give you this.”

He hesitated, glancing around them before he took it and stuffed it inside his waistcoat.

Her mother nodded at Parker and then nudged Elena toward the aisle. Two rather large ladies blocked them from moving toward the front of the church, and her mother tried to force Elena between them. The ladies didn’t move.

“Pardon me,” her mother said. “We’re trying to say hello to the Darringtons.”

The women looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “We’re all waiting to speak with them,” one of the ladies said.

Mama tried to press Elena forward again until Papa joined their side. “You’re making a fool out of yourself, Deborah,” he whispered.

“But Elena needs to meet him.”

“In the proper place and time, my dear.”

“He is leaving soon,” Mama insisted, her voice panicked.

“But he won’t remember meeting her here, not with this crowd of people.”

This time her mother didn’t listen to reason. She took Elena’s wrist and continued to move forward until there was a barrier of shoulders and arms that she couldn’t pass, not without, as her father put it so bluntly, making a fool out of herself.

Elena turned to appeal to her father, but she only saw his back as he went toward the door. For a moment, she felt abandoned by the one man who was supposed to take care of her, the man who had told her that he wanted her to marry for love. But then she realized he had already tried to stop his wife from her foolishness. It was time for Elena to stop her now.

“Papa’s right,” she whispered. “He’ll never remember meeting me, with this crowd.”

Her mother was trying to edge around another woman, but there was no room for her to pass. “He most certainly will.”

“We’ll seem desperate, Mama.”

Even if her mother was desperate, she knew quite well that they could never let Mr. Darrington know this. Her mother didn’t seem so concerned at the moment about their appearance, perhaps because Mr. Darrington was preparing to leave the island. If she didn’t introduce Elena soon, she might not have an opportunity to do it.

But that didn’t mean Elena must show her desperation as well.

Elena took a step back, away from the crowd. Mama tried to nudge her forward again, but she shook her head. They would have to meet Mr. Darrington another time.

Elena shook the minister’s hand at the doorway, and her mother moved slower than normal toward their waiting carriage, lingering first by the doorway and then by the side of the building before she reluctantly got into the carriage with her family.

February 13, 1813

Winter lingers on, but I have begun singing again. The music sustains me in the darkness.

Thomas and Molly sing with me about God’s goodness even when we don’t feel it, about His joy even when we are sad, about His peace even when we worry so.

Nickolas Westmount came again last week, carrying bread and jam for the children. This time I was ready with my questions. At first he avoided answering, as he had the time before, but when I persisted, he finally told me some of what he knew.

The British, he said, might have taken my Jonah to the fort. They’ve demanded every islander renounce their citizenship with the United States and take an oath of allegiance to their king.

Jonah Seymour would never renounce his allegiance to our country. His father died fighting for this country during the first war with the British. If he’d been old enough, Jonah would have fought too. What would the redcoats do if he wouldn’t swear his allegiance to the motherland? Nickolas couldn’t answer that question.

If Jonah is at the fort, perhaps the British will return him soon. Once the weather turns warm again, won’t they need him to care for the light?

Nickolas couldn’t answer those questions either, but this time his visit filled me with hope. Perhaps Jonah hadn’t been killed or wounded or trapped in a cavern. Perhaps he was safe at the fort, biding his time.

As Nickolas hurried away from the house, I realized there was one more question I hadn’t asked. And he never volunteered the answer.

If they were imprisoning those who wouldn’t swear allegiance to the crown, why had the British allowed Nickolas Westmount to remain free?

Elena stepped through the doorway of the lighthouse and waited as the mice scurried away. Her heart pounded as she walked toward the spiral steps.

“Chase?” she quietly called up to the tower.

Silence was her only answer.

She shouldn’t want him to be here, not as much as she did. Nothing could happen between them except friendship. Yet what was so wrong with their being friends?

It had been three nights now since she’d met Chase. Three nights since she’d been able to escape the house on her own. Last night it had been raining too hard for her to leave their house—her father would have guessed something was amiss if she’d tried to go in that weather. Clouds had lodged themselves over Mackinac tonight, swallowing even the smallest star, but the rain was gone.

Tonight she would wait. And she would draw. She hadn’t seen her father in the hallway tonight, but she suspected that he knew she’d left.

Had Chase been back here since their first meeting? On her entire bike ride over, she prayed that he hadn’t given up on her, that he would come again. They’d never made any promise to continue to see each other, but he’d said he wanted to see her. She hoped it was true.

Her lantern lit the walls of the kitchen, and she climbed on a chair to the top shelf above the table to retrieve her sketchbook and pencil box. If Chase had found it, at least he had returned it to her new hiding place.

Instead of going up the steps to the tower, she moved back into the parlor and sat down at the desk. Picking up one of her charcoal pencils, she began to draw. She drew a man on a dark horse riding along the shore, his strong profile facing the lake. Lightning flashed behind him, and she felt its power as she drew it, just like the power of the man.

Lost in her world, she didn’t hear the door open. When she looked up, Chase was studying her with his easy smile.

She caught her breath, words escaping her.

He flung his hat on the post. “Hello, Andy.”

Trailing behind him was a white dog spotted with black. The dog scooted up beside her and she set her pencil down, petting his damp fur before she looked back up at Chase. “I didn’t think you would come.”

He leaned back against the doorpost. “It seems to me that you’re the one who didn’t come on Saturday night.”

“You were here?”

“I was, and I have to admit, I was a bit lonely.”

“I was with my—” She hesitated. She wanted to see this man, but she wasn’t ready to tell him about her parents.

He studied her for a moment. “I missed you.”

The dog nudged her hand, prompting her to keep petting. She laughed as she brushed her hand over his back again. “Who is this?”

“My new companion,” Chase said simply. “I tried to take him back to where I thought he lived, but the people at the house said it looked to them like he’d found a new owner.”

“He’s a smart dog, then.” She leaned back in her chair. “What did you name him?”

“I was going to call him Andy, but the name was already taken.” He shrugged. “Now I can’t decide what to call him.”

The dog licked her cheek, and she laughed. “He’s friendly.”

“What should we name him?”

Her heart leaped at the word “we,” and then she felt silly. Chase was only asking for her help.

“Something practical, perhaps, like Spot or Moses.”

“I can hardly believe the word ‘practical’ just came from your lips.”

She laughed again. “Or something more exotic…like Akiko.”

“Sit, Akiko,” he tried to say, but he butchered the name. “I can’t say that.”

“If he were my dog—” When she hesitated, he stepped closer, watching her.

“What would you name him if he were your dog?”

She looked toward the window. “Something that reminded me of the stars, of the people who love watching them as I do.”

He turned a wooden chair around and sat in it. “How about Galileo?”

She smiled. “That’s the perfect name.”

Chase leaned over to pet him. “How do you like that name? Galileo.”

The dog barked once, as if he agreed.

Chase moved his chair toward her, looking down at the desk. “What are you drawing?”

Her eyes traveled down the pad and she slammed her book closed. But it was too late, and she knew it. He’d seen what was on her paper.

The grin edged further across his handsome face.

“It’s a picture of a friend,” she tried to explain.

“A good friend?”

She felt the heat climbing her cheeks and hoped he wouldn’t see the pink tint of her skin in the shadows.

“I didn’t expect you to return so soon,” she stammered. “It’s been too cloudy to see the stars.”

“The stars weren’t the only reason I wanted to return.”

“I—” Surely he could see her red face now, even in the dim light.

He crossed the room, waving her to join him. “Let me show you something.”

She followed him to the other room. The bedroom. Even though there was no mattress left on the bed, she felt strange, being here with him. What had she been thinking, hoping to meet this stranger here? She’d been so silly, wanting and wishing to see him again.

He opened the trunk and pulled out the book. “I wanted you to see this.”

She stared at the cracked cover and her heart sank. She had thought he had meant her, that he had returned tonight to see her, but he had come back for Magdelaine’s diary.

She was being so foolish, hopelessly opening her heart to a stranger who wanted to be her friend. Just a friend.

Rain began to patter against the windows, and lightning flashed through the room. If the storm continued, they might be stranded here for hours.

He motioned for her to sit on a rickety-looking chair beside the bed. She tested the chair, and it seemed sturdy enough. As she sat, she avoided his gaze so he couldn’t read all that was in her eyes, in her heart. For if he looked too closely, she would be exposed—all her hopes, relief, even desire was there, as transparent as the air they breathed.

It wasn’t for him to see.

“You found Magdelaine’s journal.”

He nodded.

“How did you find it?”

He shifted on the bed frame like a schoolboy caught telling a fib. “I was looking for your drawings.”

“Ahh—” She should at least pretend to be angry, but his compliment made her smile instead. Even if she wanted to keep her work hidden, he’d wanted to see it.

“I read a few pages, and then I stopped.”

“Why didn’t you read it all?”

His smile faded as his eyes grew serious. “I wanted to share her story with you.”

It felt so warm in the room, as if the ghost of the lightkeeper had returned to light the stove. Heat flickered on Elena’s cheeks, but she didn’t dare break from his gaze. He would think she was scared, and she wasn’t scared…at least not of him harming her.

The only thing she feared tonight was that he might hurt her heart.

As thunder cracked in the distance, she reached out and brushed her hands over the cover, honored by his gift.

“I wanted to share it with you,” he said, “but it seems you’ve already read her story.”

She sighed. “It’s a story without an ending.”

He put the journal on the bed by his side. “Do you think this Magdelaine would mind if I took her story home to read?”

“I don’t believe she would mind at all.”

He looked around the dusty room, seeming to take in the sights of the bare furniture and the curtains that had been chewed by mice. “I like being here with you.”

She caught her breath. “I like it too.”

“But I’d still like to know your real name.”

Panic wrapped itself around her heart like a noose. The truth would change everything. “I can’t tell you.”

He leaned forward. “We could spend time away from the lighthouse as well as here.”

“I’m a much different person away from the lighthouse.”

He stretched out his legs and then scratched Galileo’s neck. “But why must you be so different when you’re away?”

“It’s what is expected of me.”

“You don’t seem to be the kind of woman who worries about what is expected of her.”

She shook her head. “You don’t know me very well.”

“Something I’m trying very hard to change.”

She nodded at the book beside him. “It’s not like you’ve been an open book to me.”

“What would you like to know, Miss Andy?” He hesitated. “It is
Miss
, isn’t it?”

A smile flickered on her lips. “It is.”

“I hoped as much.” His eyes softened again. “Now, what would you like to know?”

Part of her wanted to probe him for specifics, but part of her was terrified to ask even the simplest of questions, in case he expected her to reciprocate.

“Where are you from?” she finally asked.