Love Finds You in Mackinac Island, Michigan (30 page)

Ahead of her she saw tombstones tucked into the forest. She stopped, reading the epitaphs of the old stones until she came upon one with an angel carved into it.

M
AGDELAINE
S
EYMOUR

M
ARCH
8, 1783—J
ULY
6, 1813

S
INGING WITH THE
A
NGELS

Elena rubbed her fingers over the lovely words and imagined Magdelaine singing at that moment. She’d only been thirty years old when she died, and Elena couldn’t help but wonder if she’d found Jonah before she left the earth.

There was no stone for Jonah or their children.

Were her children still alive? Had they ever come to honor her grave? She and Chase were supposed to share the woman’s story together, but it was too late for that now.

When Elena looked up from the grave, something moved near the trees. At first she thought it was an animal, and then she realized that the movement was from a lone man, stumbling toward her and swinging a brown bottle in his hand. She stood to greet him, but when she saw his face, her smile faded.

Edward’s gaze didn’t quite make it up to her face. “Don’t ya look pretty today, Miss Elena?”

She stepped away from Magdelaine’s grave and stood as tall as she could so he wouldn’t think she was afraid. “It’s time for me to go home.”

“What’s the—what’s the hurry?” His words slurred together.

She eyed the brown bottle. “You’ve been drinking, Mr. Powell.”

“That I have.” He laughed, but there was no joviality in the laughter. “You’re a very perspective woman.”

“Perceptive,” she muttered.

“And you’ve become quite enamored with my brother-in-law.”

“I am no such thing—”

“Sarah thinks Chase hung the stupid moon.” He threw the bottle against Magdelaine’s tombstone and the glass shattered. Then he sneered. “You love him, you know. Everyone who saw you run out of the ball… everyone knows.”

“I don’t,” she whispered.

“He might care for you now, but not for long. He runs faster than any scared animal when a lady shows a little interest in him.”

She wanted to say something, to protest his lunacy, but her words were trapped in her throat.

Edward stepped closer to her, his gaze fixed on her like she was one of the chocolates on display in the candy shop. “Chase is foolish that way.”

Her skin crawled. She’d never been afraid on the island before, even roaming at night, but the woods were so quiet here. And isolated. If she screamed now, no one would hear.

Even though Edward was drunk, she couldn’t run fast enough, not with her heavy skirt and corset. If only she were wearing Jillian’s old dress, she might be able to outrun him.

She stepped to the side. “It was a pleasure to see you, Mr. Powell, but I must go home.”

“A pleasure.” He laughed at the word and then reached out, touching one of the curls that dangled over her shoulder. “You don’t need to go home.”

“My parents—they will be waiting for me.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His face was too close to her, his smile smug. She felt sick. “I don’t li–like it when people lie.”

She locked onto his eyes and saw the threat in them.

“There’s no reason to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.” She held her shoulders a bit higher, trying to hide her fear. “Where is your wife, Mr. Powell?”

“Having lunch with Gracie Frederick—Gracie’s going to marry Chester.”

“It seems like every woman on the island is planning to marry your brother-in-law.”

“You jealous?”

“Not particularly,” she said, even as her heart ached at the thought of Chase marrying Gracie or any other woman. But she wouldn’t confide in Edward Powell, even if he were sober.

He glowered at her. “You can hurt him back, you know. Even more than he is hurting you.”

Her shoulders crumbled. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

At her words, hatred flashed in Edward’s eyes. “You and I—we could destroy him.”

She was angry at Chase, at the wounds inflicted by his doubt and maybe pride, but she would never want to destroy him. Even if she gave in to Edward, it wouldn’t destroy him. Chase might have cared for the girl at the lighthouse, but he didn’t love Elena Bissette.

She turned to walk away. “I don’t want anything to do with you or your plans.”

Edward reached for her arm, squeezing it in his grasp. “I don’t care one bit about what you want.”

Elena balled up her fists, praying that Claude was right, that God didn’t just dwell in the skies or the walls of a church, that He dwelt with her in the forest.

And she begged Him to protect her.

Edward shoved her shoulders against a tree. She couldn’t run, but she would fight him with everything she had, for her…and for Chase.

She kicked Edward’s shin, and then she pummeled him with her fists. He yelled at her to stop, but he didn’t let her go. Her mind screamed as she struggled against him, telling her to run. If only she could break free—

The breeze called out her name, so softly at first that she almost wondered if God Himself was speaking to her and answering her cries. But then over Edward’s shoulder, she saw a familiar face sprinting toward her—the same face that had rescued her from her fall on the pier—and there were two soldiers running behind Lieutenant Hull.

God had sent guardian angels.

Silas grabbed Edward’s shoulders and pulled him away from her, throwing him toward his companions.

“Take him to the fort,” he commanded the other men.

Edward resisted the soldiers, but they overpowered him and, minutes later, led him away.

Elena slumped down the tree and Silas turned back to her, sitting quietly on the ground beside her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

His voice was gentle. “Did he—did he hurt you?”

“No.” She paused. “But only because of you.”

Silas stood, offering her his hand. “Let me take you home.”

“It’s not necessary—”

“I believe it is.”

Her legs wobbled as he helped her to her feet, and she wiped her hands over her hair, brushing the leaves from it. Thank God for Silas and his men.

Claude answered Silas’s knock, and his eyes widened when he saw Elena’s tangled hair and muddied dress. He looked back and forth between Elena and Silas, as if he were afraid to ask what happened.

Elena’s lips trembled as she spoke. “Silas rescued me.”

Claude helped her to a chair in the drawing room. “I’m going to get your mama.”

If only Jillian were here to help care for her. She would know what to do.

Silas stood in the door frame of the drawing room as Elena curled up on the chair, her tears erupting like a fountain from a well deep within her…tears of fear and gratefulness, of love and loss. She cried in her hands for what Edward had almost done, for Chase leaving, for disappointing her parents, for disappointing God. All her emotions, the ones she usually poured out on paper in the privacy of the lighthouse, poured down her cheeks.

She heard a door slam in another room before her mother rushed into the drawing room.

“What did you do?” she yelled.

Elena looked up, thinking at first that her mother was angry with her. Then she saw Silas backing toward the hall.

“Don’t, Mama,” she said. “Lieutenant Hull—he saved me.”

Mama stopped, looking at Silas speculatively. “Saved you from what?”

“Is Mr. Bissette home?” Silas asked.

“I’ll get him,” Claude said.

Mama helped Elena stand, and Elena leaned against her as they went up the stairs to her bedroom. As her mother loosened the bands of her corset, Elena heaved in deep breaths that helped to clear her mind and strengthen her body. Mama drew a bath and sprinkled drops of jasmine and lavender oil into it before she helped Elena into the warm tub.

“What can I do?” Mama asked, her voice cracking.

Elena wasn’t sure how to respond. Mama always knew what to do. “I want to rest.”

“I never should have let Jillian leave.” Mama screwed the lid back onto the lavender oil and placed it on the pedestal sink. “Perhaps she would return.”

Elena shook her head. “She’s working up at the fort.”

“I’ll talk to the lieutenant.”

Elena slipped farther down into the soothing folds of the water. “You should apologize to him first.”

Mama nodded before she shut the door behind her.

Silas would make it clear that Elena hadn’t done anything wrong, but her innocence wouldn’t keep the circuit of society ladies from talking. If her fall had been discussed and elaborated on in detail, she couldn’t imagine how quickly this encounter with Edward would spread.

She cringed at the thought of Chase hearing the story through the gossip of society women.

She sank deep into the water, submerging her face, as her hair floated around her.

She never should have encouraged Edward on their first meeting at the Grand. Nor should she have gone walking alone in the woods.

She’d tried to stop Edward from forcing himself on her, and yet Edward’s actions would still wound Chase. He would be devastated at what Edward had attempted to do, for his sister’s sake.

If only she could stop the story from reaching him in Chicago. Or at the very least, she wished she could shield him from the blow.

May 1, 1813

Flowers have replaced the snow, and I have been busy sewing new clothing for Molly and Thomas. When I am finished, I shall take them to the British fort to see if the soldiers can tell me what happened to the children’s father. My husband.

My greatest fear is that they will demand my allegiance as well and take the children from me.

Nickolas knows what happened to Jonah. I saw it in his eyes, and yet he refused to tell me. How can a man live with himself after betraying his loyalty to his country—and hiding what happened to an innocent man?

My hands hurt as I write this, from sewing and cooking and making repairs in the house. There is no longer any fuel for the lamp.

I can’t stop working, for the sake of my children and for Jonah when he returns.

Even if I had a way to leave Mackinac, I wouldn’t. Not until I find out if Jonah is still alive.

“You have another telegram, sir.”

Chase looked up from his rented desk on the fourteenth floor in the Owings Building. The boy seemed to space out his deliveries, one every hour or so, instead of bringing the telegrams all at once. Chase certainly encouraged a budding entrepreneur, though he wasn’t sure he should encourage such misuse of the boy’s time.

The messenger held out the envelope, and Chase tapped on the stack of unopened messages piling up since early this morning. “You can put it here.”

Chase dug into his pocket and pulled out a dime. The boy took it and scurried off for his next delivery. Chase glanced out the window, where the lake and sky blended together in the distance. Whaleback steamers dotted the horizon, hauling coal, lumber, and grain to and from the city. As one industry faded away, others were budding to take its place. The world was changing so quickly, it felt almost impossible at times to keep up with progress.

But it was his job to stay one step ahead, so he picked up his pen once more to finish his letter to Guglielmo Marconi inquiring about his proposed wireless signals. He’d barely completed two sentences before Richard cleared his throat from the door.

“Nelson Reese is here to see you.”

Chase waved his pen. “Send him in.”

He completed one more sentence and then looked up. Nelson was a lanky man with thick spectacles on his long nose. His gaze darted from the window to Chase and then to the floor. Most of the inventors Chase met didn’t know the first thing about business or business meetings, but he didn’t mind educating them. He didn’t know the first thing about inventing.

Chase pointed toward a chair on the other side of his desk. “Have a seat.”

Last night, out on Lake Michigan, he’d seen ridges on the moon and dark spots that astronomers believed to be bodies of water. Brilliant white spots dotted the moon’s surface, as well, and what appeared to be rocks… or perhaps they were mountains.

Only a handful of astronomers had seen such a close view of the moon before, and now he joined them. If he and Richard could work with Nelson to produce more of these telescopes, thousands of others could see the majesty of the skies.

If men like the ones before him persisted, they might find out in his lifetime what was on the moon.

“I’ve been testing your telescope,” he explained. “On Mackinac Island and then last night on Lake Michigan. I wanted to be sure, you see.”

Nelson fidgeted in the chair. “Sure of what?”

He nodded toward Richard, standing beside Nelson. “Richard and I want to partner with you, to make and distribute your telescope.”

Nelson crossed his arms, his eyes shifting between the men. “I was looking for an investor, not a partner.”

“I understand, Mr. Reese.” He crossed his legs. It wouldn’t pay to let this man think he was nervous, but the reality was that he really wanted to be part of making this telescope even if it didn’t generate a profit. “Some companies do just invest, but my father and I—we like to have an active part in making sure our investments are successful.”