Undaunted Hope (9 page)

Tessa tensed as Alex circled around with his rival, a man who was equally bulky and stong-looking. As if sensing her worry, Ingrid's little hand squeezed hers. “Don't worry, Miss Taylor. Uncle Alex always wins.”

As quick as a flash, Alex wrapped the crook of his arm around the man's neck. Then he hooked one of his legs through his opponent's, tripping him while simultaneously flipping him so that he landed on the ground with a thud.

The crowd cheered at Alex's swift move and the fact that he'd landed his opponent almost perfectly on his back. Alex straightened and looked to the referees, who nodded while raising their sticks in the air, signaling that Alex had indeed accomplished a “back.”

A roar of approval rose from the crowd again. Tessa smiled with relief. Alex had won in the first move. By dropping his opponent flat on his back, he'd earned three pins. The pins consisted of the two hips and two shoulders, and as long as three of the four touched the ground at the same time, the wrestler automatically won.

Alex helped pull his opponent to his feet and shook the man's hand again. Then he turned in their direction and waved. Ingrid and Gunnar sent up cheers. Although Alex nodded at the children, he aimed his lopsided smile at her.

Her heart nearly flipped at the thought that, with everyone else there, he'd singled her out.

“You did good,” Gunnar said, staring up at Alex with pride after he'd finished his fourth and final bout.

Alex ruffled the boy's hair. “I don't think I broke any ribs this time.”

“Broken ribs?” Tessa said, her eyes widening to reveal a concern that warmed his heart.

“You were worried about me getting hurt?” His back ached from where he'd been slammed several times. But other than that, he'd survived the wrestling contest with few injuries.

“I wasn't worried about you,” Tessa quipped, tipping her face up and revealing cheeks painted pink from the chill in the air and eyes that sparkled with life. “I just didn't want the children to be exposed to anything too unseemly.”

Unseemly? He'd show her unseemly. He'd kiss her pretty lips senseless in front of everyone. It would be completely inappropriate, but didn't the victor of the tournament deserve a kiss from the prettiest lady here? He sure thought so.

As if sensing his thoughts, especially since he was staring at her mouth, she averted her eyes and her breath hitched with a soft intake.

The crowd swelled around them, pushing them closer. Hands reached out to slap him on the back, and voices congratulated him on his wins.

Yes, a victory kiss. That would surely be all right, wouldn't it?

Now was his chance. Michael was gone, buying Cornish pasties from some of the wives who sold them during the contest to earn extra money. Not that they were alone; Ingrid and Gunnar were watching his interaction with Tessa with curious eyes. What would they think if he wrapped his arms around Tessa and gave her a kiss?

“So will you wrestle again today?” she asked somewhat breathlessly as she fidgeted with Ingrid's hair.

“Ah, I see,” he teased. “You like watching me.”

She started to shake her head.

“Don't deny it, Miss Taylor. You're enamored with my big biceps and Goliath strength.”

“Why, Mr. Bjorklund,” she said with mock indignation, “if you must know, I'm enamored by all the sweat, by the lovely smell of it.”

He laughed. How was it possible that she could always make him laugh? He wished there was a way that he could spend more time with her. If only he could attend the evening school. Yet as soon as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it as he had whenever Michael went on his way to the schoolhouse to attend class.

As much as he wanted to go along and make sure that Tessa paid him just as much attention as Michael, he'd known after the first class that he couldn't skimp on his responsibilities at
the lighthouse simply because he didn't want to share Tessa with Michael.

He'd sensed Michael's eagerness, had watched him groom himself carefully for the first time in five years since his wife had died. Although Michael never showed much excitement or emotion, it had become increasingly clear that he was interested in Tessa. Just how interested, Alex couldn't judge. His brother had always been hard to read.

Nevertheless, the small amount of interest had been enough to worry Alex and make him wonder how he could spend time with Tessa too. His only chance at seeing her was when he dropped Ingrid and Gunnar off at school in the mornings. Usually she was already too busy with the other students to give him more than a friendly nod.

“I wish you'd consider coming back to evening school,” she said. “I know the teacher is really mean and hard, but I still think it would be worth your while.”

“You're right,” he said. “She's a bear.”

Tessa smiled. “Since when did you let a little old thing like a bear scare you?”

“She's actually a pretty
young
thing.”

She tilted her face up to him with that sparkle in her eyes that made him wish more than ever that he could see her more often. Surely if he put his mind to it, he could think of something.

Michael shouldered his way through the bystanders until he was standing next to Tessa. He balanced two pasties on a piece of brown paper. “Have you had a Cornish pasty yet?” he asked Tessa, not bothering to give Alex a glance or word of congratulations.

“No.” She eyed the pasty warily. “Nadine has given me the pleasure of many delectable dishes, but apparently not this one.”

“Then you're in for a treat,” Michael said. He held the pasties toward her.

Tessa stared at the thick crusted pastry and raised a brow. “Does it have giblets inside? I'll only try it if it has giblets.”

Michael shook his head. “I don't think so. I'm fairly certain these have venison.”

“Tessa's being sarcastic, Michael,” Alex interjected. Apparently Tessa had experienced something only a Cornish person could love. “Next time Nadine has giblets, make sure to eat it with Cornish Yarg. That way you'll enjoy the giblets even more.”

“Yarg?” She quivered with revulsion. “I make it a practice to avoid eating foods that begin with the letter
y
.”

Alex laughed, but Michael only looked at Tessa with confusion.

“Try the pasty, Miss Taylor,” Ingrid said, taking half of the one Gunnar had given her. “It's delicious.”

Tessa broke off a piece of the pasty that Michael was holding out to her. She nibbled at the meaty side, which in addition to venison had chopped onion and potato. The Cornish miners usually took a pasty in their pocket down into the mine since they were unable to return to the surface at lunchtime. The pasty was easy to hold and eat, and the thick crust often kept the filling warm for several hours. It was the perfect miner's meal. And they were gaining in popularity among the locals.

Tessa took a bigger bite.

Michael watched for her reaction.

She finally rewarded him by popping a larger piece into her mouth and murmuring with approval.

He smiled.

At the sight of his brother's genuine smile, Alex couldn't begrudge Michael a moment of happiness, even if it was with
Tessa. When Michael's wife, Rachel, had died and left him with two young children to raise, Alex quit his tender crew job and moved in with Michael to help his brother, thinking he would stay until Michael got through the worst of his grief.

After the funeral, Alex had assisted Michael in his job as a wharf supervisor down in Detroit. Then when a head lightkeeper and assistant position had opened up in Eagle Harbor, Michael asked him to move there with him. Alex couldn't say no, not when Michael could hardly function from day to day. He'd seen firsthand how his brother was struggling to take care of himself, much less the two children.

Jenny had said she'd needed him too. She'd already put their wedding on hold for the months he'd been gone with the tender crew, and she wasn't willing to delay any longer. At the time, he hadn't understood what her hurry was, why she couldn't wait another year. In hindsight, he could see her frustration hadn't been about the amount of time. It'd been about his unwillingness to commit. He'd put his family above her, and she didn't want to settle for second place in his life.

He had loved Jenny, and her rejection stabbed him painfully. He'd hurt for a long time after that.

He wasn't exactly sure when his deep wounds had started to heal, any more than he was sure when Michael's grief had started to subside. But apparently they were both beginning to feel the urge to be with a woman in a way they hadn't in a long, long time.

Tessa picked off another substantial piece of the pasty and slipped it into her mouth. As she chewed she made a murmur that sounded like a contented kitten. The pleasure rippling across her face sent a spurt of fire into Alex's blood.

Michael was watching Tessa too, and from the flare that
lit his eyes, Alex had no doubt his brother was reacting the same way.

Alex let out a sigh, pushing down a swell of jealousy. He didn't want Michael to like Tessa so much. His brother's affection would only complicate matters when Alex finally swept Tessa off her feet.

A
doration,” Henry Benney said. “A-d-o-r-a-t-i-o-n. Adoration.”

Tessa nodded at her brightest student. “That's correct.”

He was the last one standing at the front of the classroom for the spelling quiz she'd given to those students participating in her extra class in spelling.

Even though the spelling club met after school, she'd determined to offer the challenge to all her students. She wanted to foster a love of learning in them, to awaken an interest in studying by making each subject appealing. She knew that if her scholars fell in love with a subject, they would make more of an effort to learn and perhaps even do so on their own.

So far she had fifteen students who'd decided to stay after for the extra class. While several of the students were too young to participate, like Ingrid, she'd still promised the class that she would organize a special spelling bee with some of the other local schools during the winter. If they wanted to compete, they needed to start preparing right away.

“What does
adoration
mean, Miss Taylor?” Ingrid asked from her bench in the front row.

“Does anyone else know?” she asked, looking to the other students.

Henry raised his hand.

“Yes, Henry?”

“Does it mean strong admiration?”

She nodded. “Correct again.”

“Kinda like my daddy feels for you, Miss Taylor?” Ingrid asked.

The class tittered. Tessa inwardly squirmed and tried not to glance upward to the general vicinity where Michael Bjorklund was even now repairing a spot in the schoolhouse roof.

He'd come several times that week after school to patch the roof, which had leaked during a recent rain.

Ingrid looked up at her with wide adoring eyes. Tessa was tempted to reply that Ingrid herself embodied the definition of adoration. But the expectancy on the little girl's face told her that she wouldn't be satisfied until she had an answer about her father.

“I think your father is very kind, Ingrid,” Tessa said, choosing her words carefully. “I have the feeling he wants to make sure the schoolhouse is in good working order because he cares about your education.”

That was only partly true. Michael did seem to genuinely care about Ingrid and Gunnar's education. But he'd also been looking at her with something more than scholarly interest. She'd sensed him appraising her on more than one occasion with an interest that went beyond the parent-teacher relationship.

She knew she needed to say something to him soon, so he
understood that she couldn't involve herself with a man at this point in her life, not when she was determined to be a teacher—at least for a few more years. Since married women weren't allowed to teach, she'd crossed marriage off her to-do list for the time being. She certainly didn't want to lead Michael to believe she was eligible when she wasn't.

“Don't you think he's real nice, Miss Taylor?” Ingrid asked, not having yet caught on to the fact that she needed to raise her hand to ask questions.

Again the other students giggled. Gunnar blushed and shot Ingrid a censuring frown.

“He's very nice, Ingrid.”

“And handsome too?”

Tessa fought back a smile. She couldn't deny that Michael Bjorklund was a handsome man, much like Alex. “Your father is fine-looking. And so are you.”

Ingrid smiled. “Then maybe you can come out to the lighthouse and have dinner with us soon.”

Tessa almost choked at the girl's audacity. “That's sweet of you to offer, Ingrid, but as your teacher I have to remain impartial—uninvolved, that is. I can't have personal entanglements.”

Ingrid's unchanging wide-eyed stare told Tessa the little girl hadn't understood a single word she just said.

Tessa scrambled to find another answer that could explain why she wasn't romantically inclined toward Michael. But how could she possibly tell a six-year-old that even if she were open to the idea of marriage, she would never consider a man like Michael. He was a lightkeeper, and she wanted nothing to do with lighthouses ever again.

With all eyes watching her, waiting for further explanation, she glanced at the clock on the wall. Half past four. “Would
you look at the time? Where did it go? Now we need to be done for the afternoon.”

She encouraged the students to practice their word lists at home that evening and then dismissed them. As they filed out, she erased the board, hoping to avoid any more of Ingrid's questions.

“Uncle Alex?” Ingrid called out a greeting laced with surprise.

Tessa spun before she could stop herself. Sauntering down the center aisle was Alex, his hair wind-tossed, his smile carefree. He was wearing his blue-striped sweater, the one that made his eyes especially vibrant.

“You didn't need to come get us,” Ingrid informed her uncle. “Me and Gunnar have been walking home by ourselves just fine.”

“Gunnar and I,” Tessa corrected.

“Gunnar and I,” Ingrid said. “Besides, Daddy is here fixing the roof.”

“I'm well aware that your father's here,” Alex said, glancing up. “He's been here every blessed chance he can get.”

“Aren't the two of you supposed to be sleeping during the afternoons?” Tessa asked.

“We should be,” Alex replied wryly. “But apparently, one of us has been using that time to visit the schoolhouse every day while the other of us sleeps the afternoon away.”

“Your brother has been a saint to make the repairs. He's obviously very dedicated to seeing that his children are taken care of.”

“That's not all he's dedicated to seeing,” Alex mumbled.

Tessa almost flushed at Alex's insinuation, but decided to pretend she hadn't caught the implication. “Your brother is a good man. A very good man.”

“Whoa. You could have stopped with
good
. No need to gush over him.”

Tessa smiled. Did she detect some sibling rivalry? “Well, I do appreciate his kindness. He's been generous to help around here without receiving any compensation.”

As if sensing her goading, Alex grinned slowly. “Head on out now, you two,” he said to Ingrid and Gunnar while staring at Tessa. “And make sure to tell your father that I think one of the gears on the lantern is stuck. He needs to take a look at it right away.”

When the schoolhouse door opened and then banged closed after the children left, Alex said in a low voice, “You're right about Michael. He's much more thoughtful than me.” He moved toward her and didn't stop until he stood directly in front of her. In fact, the presence of his towering body overwhelmed her so that she took a step backward and found herself at the edge of the blackboard. “There's no way I'd help patch the roof without expecting some kind of compensation from you.”

When his attention dropped to her lips, Tessa caught her breath and flattened against the blackboard. She knew exactly what kind of payment Alex had in mind. It frightened her to realize she might not want to resist him if he tried to kiss her. But certainly he wouldn't try, would he?

He slid an arm past her and rested a palm against the board near her head.

“You'd be disappointed,” she said, wishing she didn't sound quite so breathless. “Because I don't offer any compensation.” He was altogether too near. She caught the whiff of a fresh soapy scent and felt the warmth of his breath.

His cocked grin told her that he didn't believe her, that he knew the effect he had on women. “Not even for this?” He held up his other hand. He was holding a book, and the gold lettering on the spine read
The Courtship of Miles Standish
.

She smiled at the book. “Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.”

“Your favorite, isn't it?” he asked.

She was amazed he remembered. She reached to take the book from him, but he moved it high above their heads.

“If I let you borrow this,” he said softly, his attention again on her lips, “what will you give me in return?”

“What do you want?” She already knew, and her pulse began to race at the thought of actually kissing the handsome man in front of her.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

Her stomach fluttered. “Maybe just a very brief one.”

“Brief what?”

“Kiss.”

“Kiss?” His tone lifted. “Miss Taylor, are you thinking of kissing me?”

She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “I thought that's what you wanted—”

“No,” he said. “I was thinking of that pie you promised me.”

“Pie?” She realized then she'd been staring at his mouth. She tore her gaze away and found herself looking into his eyes, which were filled with humor. “You big tease.” She pushed at his chest, sending him stumbling back a couple of steps. “You're terrible!”

He bent over with laughter.

She couldn't keep from smiling. Even if she was embarrassed at being caught thinking about kissing him, she knew he'd been thinking the same. Part of her was actually relieved that he hadn't coerced her into a kiss, although she had to admit there was a tiny part of her that was disappointed too. Her heart was still beating fast at the thought of what it would be like to feel his embrace and the touch of his lips.

He held out the book to her again.

This time she didn't reach for it.

His smile faded, and his eyes darkened with unmistakable desire.

She sucked in her breath.

“Here,” he said. “I want you to read it. No strings attached.”

Tentatively she reached for it, and when he let go, she found that she was almost trembling under his scrutiny. She hugged the book against her chest. “Thank you.”

He nodded.

The schoolhouse door opened, and Michael poked his head inside. At the sight of Alex, he frowned. “What are you doing here?”

Alex shrugged. “What does it look like?”

All Tessa could think about was how Michael would have answered his brother's question if he'd arrived a minute earlier.

“I'm here to walk Tessa home from school,” Alex said.

“I'll take care of that,” Michael shot back.

“Didn't the kids tell you about the problem with the gears?”

“The gears were just fine when I went off duty this morning.”

“I know for a fact that one of them is loose now.”

Michael muttered something under his breath and then looked at Tessa. “I've got the roof patched up. Does anything else need fixing? I could come back tomorrow.”

At the hopeful tone of his voice, Tessa couldn't say no. “Some of the students' benches are wobbly. I don't want to take up more of your time, but I'd be grateful if you could take a look at them.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He gave her a nod with the hint of a smile, and with a last frown at Alex, he stepped outside, leaving the door wide open behind him.

After Michael was gone, Alex shook his head. “Wobbly benches? That's a poor excuse to get alone with Michael.”

She started stacking papers and books into a pile on her desk. “I'm not planning to spend any time alone with your brother.”

“That's good,” Alex said, standing directly behind her. He'd moved in close so that his breath tingled the nape of her neck. If she leaned back a fraction, she would have bumped his chest. “Don't you know you're only allowed to spend time alone with me?”

“And who made that rule?” She fumbled at the papers, trying to act nonchalant, as though his presence didn't affect her so much.

“I did.”

She had the urge to lean back against him. Would he wrap his arms around her, draw her close, and bury his face in her neck? The thought almost undid her.

Stop this instant
, she scolded herself.
You have to be stronger. You have
to resist temptation
.

Behind her, his breathing quickened.

She steadied herself and then ducked away from him. “Listen, Alex,” she said while putting a safe distance between them. No matter how lighthearted he was, there was no denying that an attraction existed between them. She had to be honest and make sure he understood that she could never be anything more than friends with him.

“I don't want to mislead you,” she started again.

He watched her with his infuriatingly lazy grin.

“I can't . . . We can't . . .”

“What are you trying to tell me, Miss Taylor? Have you been entertaining thoughts of courting me? Is that why you told me your favorite book is
The Courtship of Miles
Standish
, so that you could plant ideas in my mind about courting you?”

She laughed. “Yes, that's exactly what I was trying to do. How did you guess?”

“Well, you can put that thought far from your mind. I have no intention of courting you.”

“Well,” she repeated, “that's good, because I have no intention of being courted.”

“There's no law against loaning you a book, is there? And last I checked, it was the polite thing for a man to make sure a lady made it home safely.” His expression was so innocent, she wondered if perhaps she'd imagined the heat sizzling between them. Was she the one insinuating more than there really was, like she had with the kiss?

He waited for her to finish tidying up, all the while leaning against the doorframe and watching her. She was glad to step outside and let the cool October air soothe her overheated cheeks.

As they walked the short distance through town with Wolfie and Bear running ahead, the miners were pouring out of the hills, having ended their day shift. Others were waiting to descend the ladders and take their places. She nodded greetings to some of the men she'd gotten to know through her evening class. Their black soot-covered faces widened into smiles that warmed her heart.

“Why did you come to my evening class only once?” she asked Alex once they turned off Center Street and started down the grassy path toward her home. The shadows from the surrounding hills and the thick woods had lengthened, and the late afternoon sky was already turning darker.