Hearts Made Whole (10 page)

Besides, she didn't want to give Tessa the impression that she'd overstepped the bounds of propriety. Certainly there was nothing improper about her helping Ryan by giving him a shave. But she didn't want Tessa thinking she could take such liberties.

Willing her fingers not to shake, Caroline began the careful process of sliding the razor down Ryan's cheek, inch by inch. The scraping of the blade against bristle was the only sound save the pounding of her heart.

When she finished the first half, she released a long, slow breath and realized that he did the same. Her touch was obviously having an effect upon him too, although she couldn't be sure what sort of effect.

If it wasn't pain, was it pleasure? The thought only made her insides heat all the more.

She worked carefully around his lips, trying not to touch them with each upward stroke. When the pad of her thumb accidently brushed against his upper lip, he hissed in a quick breath.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, but she found she couldn't tear her attention away from his strong mouth; she was mesmerized by both the firmness and the infinite softness of his lip.

She'd never kissed a man before. In fact, she'd never really given it much thought, other than that it was something she'd maybe do one day with her husband.

But now, hovering over Ryan, with her face just inches from his, she couldn't stop from thinking about kissing. What would that first touch of lips be like? How would it feel to share such intimacy?

As if sensing her thoughts, his eyes shifted to her mouth. They hardly knew each other. They were still almost strangers. And yet something seemed to spark between them.

Though she knew he wouldn't dare kiss her at that moment, the desire to do so had etched a sudden intensity into the lines of his face.

“What's going on here?” Tessa's sharp voice made Caroline jump back.

Her entire body was filled with mortification. Ryan too bolted to a straight-backed position.

Tessa stood with one hand on her hip, the other hand clutching a volume of
Romeo and Juliet
. She'd loosened her long ebony hair from its simple plait and now wore it in loose abandon, likely as a result of playacting for Sarah. She scowled at Caroline. “I see now why you don't want me delivering meals to Mr. Chambers.”

“I'm merely giving him a shave,” Caroline replied. But her statement sounded weak, even to herself. “Since I'd shaven Father, I thought I could do the same for Ryan.”

“Oh, so it's
Ryan
now? You're using his given name?” Tessa's dark eyes flashed. “Admit it, Caroline. You want to keep this man's affections for yourself.”

Caroline took a quick step away from Ryan. The hot steam from the bubbling pot on the stove was stifling. “That's absolutely not true. I have no aspirations for his affection. None in the least.” Why would she when they would soon be leaving? Not to mention the fact that he was clearly in the habit of imbibing too freely with alcohol and his pain pills. He was in no condition for any sort of relationship.

Tessa's attention darted between them, her face filled with accusation.

“I was only trying to be nice—”

“Caroline?” A new voice came from the other side of the kitchen.

Arnie Simmons stood in the doorframe, his boyish face crumpled with hurt, his big eyes widened with surprise. He too was glancing between Ryan and Caroline, as if trying to make sense of the intimacy of the situation.

“I was only shaving Mr. Chambers,” she rushed to explain.
But from the way the red bloomed in his ears, she guessed he'd seen the flash of intimacy that had transpired between her and Ryan.

“Aye,” Ryan chimed in. “I was having a terrible time at it on my own. All the cuts are from my bumbled efforts earlier.”

Arnie glanced at Ryan, who wore spots of lather around the edges of his mostly shaven face. Even amidst the tension of the moment, Caroline couldn't keep from noticing what fine features Ryan had now that the whiskers were gone. He cleaned up well. And would probably be downright irresistible with a haircut.

“It's a good thing Caroline offered to help,” Ryan continued, “or I might have sliced off my face entirely.”

Tessa gave a suspicious
harrumph
, and yet some of the fight faded from her face.

“I c-came . . . by,” Arnie said, his cheeks turning as red as his ears, “to check . . . on you.”

“That was very kind of you, Arnie.” Caroline forced herself to look away from Ryan. She reached for the nearby towel and wiped off the soap that coated her fingers. “We're managing just fine.”

Arnie shifted his enormous feet and stared down at them. “My d-dad let me bring the horse and w-wagon out.”

“How nice.” Caroline picked up the razor and dipped it in the basin of water she'd placed on the sideboard near Ryan's chair.

“I can h-help you . . . start moving y-your things.” Arnie's stuttering sounded choppier than usual.

Caroline paused in her cleaning off the razor, turned and smiled at the man. “You always amaze me with your thoughtfulness, Arnie.”

At her words of praise he lifted his head, and his eyes lit up.

“But I'm glad to report that I won't need to move out this week.”

“This week?” Ryan echoed. “How about never?”

Caroline shook her head at Ryan, but spoke to Arnie. “Mr. Chambers has agreed to let me stay on as an assistant keeper for a little while so that I can train him.”

“Not a little while, Caroline,” Ryan insisted, sitting forward. “I want you to stay. Indefinitely.”

Arnie's eyes widened, and his mouth opened into a rounded O, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

“We can't stay,” Tessa said, stomping her foot. “Especially indefinitely.”

Over the past summer, since their father had died, Tessa had made no pretense about her growing dislike of living at the lighthouse. But this was no time for belligerence, not when their situation was already precarious.

“I'm not pushing you out,” Ryan said. “In fact, I welcome the help.”

“You'll manage fine by yourself,” Tessa said quickly. “It's time for us to move on. To do something different with our lives.”

“But you have nowhere to go,” Ryan added. “And this is your home.”

“We'll make a home somewhere new and exciting.”

“We're staying here for now,” Caroline interrupted her sister and at the same time, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Arnie's shoulders sag.

“But, Caroline—” Tessa started.

“We'll have to move on eventually,” Caroline said in her firm tone, the tone she used whenever she had to be the parent. “I doubt Mr. Finick would agree to letting me stay on here, even as assistant keeper.”

Ryan sat back in his chair with a frown, while Tessa's features relaxed into a smile.

Arnie shuffled forward several steps, his childlike eyes fixed on Caroline's face. “I can take care of y-you, Caroline.”

Caroline swallowed the rapid refusal that arose. She couldn't turn down Arnie's kind offer. Not yet. “I'm still considering your marriage proposal, Arnie. It's a very good option for me.”

At her words she could feel Ryan's attention snap back to her. She didn't dare look at him. She didn't want to see his mocking or disapproval. It was her choice what she did with her life and whom she married.

“I'll help you m-move your things,” Arnie said eagerly.

“No,” she said a little too sharply. For an instant she thought she saw hurt, maybe even anger, flash in his eyes. But he ducked his head.

“I'm sorry, Arnie,” she said gently. “I need more time to think things through, to decide what's going to be best for my family in the long term.”

“You won't . . . won't regret m-marrying me,” he said. “I'll m-make sure of it.”

She didn't quite know how to respond, especially with Ryan and Tessa watching her with curiosity or disapproval, she couldn't be sure.

At the same time, she didn't want to hurt Arnie's feelings. “I know you'll be a good husband,” she said. “I have no doubt about that.”

He toed a loose strand of the braided rug that lay centered on the floor and wiped his sleeve across his dribbling nose.

“But . . .” she continued. Was she stringing him along? Was it selfish to consider marrying him when she held no affection
for him? “I'm not sure that I'm the best choice for you. Perhaps you'll find someone better—”

“You're the only one f-for me, Caroline,” he blurted, his words coming out loud in his effort to speak them.

Caroline's insides squirmed at the awkwardness of the situation.

“Please . . . say you'll m-marry me.”

Ryan gave an exasperated sigh and stood, almost knocking his chair over in the process. “She's not going to marry you. She doesn't need to, because she's going to stay here and do the light keeping, just like she always has.”

Arnie cringed and took a quick step back, lifting his arms to shield his head.

Did he think Ryan was going to throw something at him or hit him? She was sure the defensive stance was one he assumed often around his brute of a father.

She crossed around the table and held out a hand to Arnie, unable to keep the pity at bay. “I can't promise I'll marry you. But I promise I'll think about it.”

Behind her, Ryan groaned.

Arnie lowered his arms slowly. His hopeful eyes met hers.

“In the meantime,” she said, “I'm going to stay here at the lighthouse, since no one is pushing me out the door just yet.”

“How much longer w-will you stay?”

She hadn't really thought about it. “I suppose until circumstances force me out.” Maybe she'd stay until Mr. Finick came back. Maybe she was clinging to the very slight chance that he'd let her stay as an assistant. Or maybe she'd stay until she'd had the chance to find another job and a good place to live.

Whatever the case, she wasn't planning to leave until she absolutely had to.

Even though she didn't speak the words, Arnie seemed to read them in her eyes. She caught sight of the disappointment clouding his expression before he turned to go.

At a cry from down the hallway, all thoughts of marriage and the future fled. She bolted forward, and her heart sped with a burst of panic as it did every time Sarah cried out. Tessa flew ahead of her and into Sarah's sickroom. Caroline followed close behind.

At the sight of Sarah in a heap on the floor, Tessa rushed over to draw the girl into her arms.

“Sarah!” Caroline said. “What happened?”

The young girl's face was deathly pale. The blue veins in her temple seemed to pound through her translucent skin. The pallor made her dark hair all the blacker and her green eyes even brighter.

“I'm all right,” Sarah whispered. “I just wanted to hear what everyone was saying and got too close to the edge of the bed.”

Crooning words of comfort, Tessa helped Sarah back to her bed, positioning her on her side. Sarah bit back small cries of discomfort and pretended to smile. But the girl's brave efforts didn't fool Caroline. She knew Sarah lived in a constant state of pain that was made worse every time she moved.

Caroline fought back images of Sarah when she was little, of how she'd been an energetic girl who danced and ran and climbed trees. Now all her sister could manage was scooting a few inches in bed.

Caroline wished there was more she could do for Sarah, to make her life more bearable, more pleasant, or more interesting. She couldn't imagine being cooped up day after day in the same room, breathing the same stale air, and never being able
to do anything, and she loathed that she couldn't make life better for Sarah.

With firm steps, Caroline crossed the room to the bedside table, to the small vial of Dover's powder, all that was left of the pain medicine. “Should I give her some?” she quietly asked Tessa.

Tessa shook her head as she smoothed Sarah's unruly hair off her face and back against the pillow. “I'll massage her first and see if that helps.”

In the doorway, Ryan cleared his throat.

Sarah's eyes popped open and locked on their guest.

Ryan, his face still nicked and edged with traces of shaving soap, stepped into the room. “You must be Sarah.”

Sarah nodded. “You're the one everyone's talking about.”

“We're not
all
talking about him,” Caroline rebuked softly.

“Yes, you are,” Sarah said with more strength than she'd showed recently. “You and Tessa can't stop ogling.”

Tessa gave Caroline a sideways look. “I said
Caroline
can't stop ogling.”

“I've seen you ogling too,” Sarah replied with a giggle.

Before Caroline could correct Sarah, Ryan chimed in. “At least now you get to see for yourself that I'm not worth the ogling.”

Sarah peered past Tessa, taking in Ryan's appearance.

“I can see that you, on the other hand,” Ryan continued smoothly, “are the prettiest one in this house.”

At his words of praise, Sarah smiled, a dazzling, unforced smile. And when he grinned back, a slight hue of pink formed in her cheeks. He came into the room then and lowered himself onto the chair next to Sarah's bed as though he planned to stay awhile. Sarah's eyes took on a dreamy quality.

“So, tell me,” he said, “what exactly do your sisters say about me?”

Sarah giggled again.

Caroline exchanged a glance with Tessa above the girl's head. Whatever discord Ryan might cause between them, she could tell from the look in Tessa's eyes that they both could agree Ryan would be a good diversion for Sarah.

That was really all that mattered.

T
he breeze coming in the half-open door of the tower was cold. Caroline gazed out the window facing east toward the brightening sky. As the days of September ticked away, the sun grew lazier in making its appearance, and Caroline was having to keep the light on longer every morning.

She didn't mind lingering in the tower. Even though she was tired from the sleepless night, the first light of dawn always seemed to bring a fresh reminder of God's presence. She might have darkness in her life, and her current predicament might be confusing and hard, but God was still bright and unchanging behind the clouds. As her father had always said, God was good all the time, no matter what bad things came into their lives.

Right now, with the uncertainty and difficult choices that lay before her, she needed that fresh reminder more than ever.

At the slap of footsteps against the metal tower stairs, Caroline pushed away from the window. Now that she had to stay in the tower later, she guessed Tessa had sent one of the twins up to deliver her breakfast and coffee before they set off for
school. Even if she and Tessa had their areas of disagreement, Tessa never wavered in her thoughtfulness.

When Ryan's head poked through the hatch, Caroline's ready smile of thanks faded.

“May I come up?” His eyes pleaded with her and were as warm as heated molasses.

She hesitated. He hadn't come up to the tower again since that first morning. She'd been relieved to have the tower duties to herself. She wasn't ready to relinquish them. But she knew she had to prepare him to take over at some point. She cared too much about the light and the vessels it protected to let an inexperienced keeper take the helm without sufficient training.

“I'm not stopping you,” she said, reaching for the rag she'd discarded earlier. She swiped at an invisible blotch on the window, the rag squeaking against the glass.

“I meant to come up last evening,” he admitted from his spot on the ladder rung, “but I wasn't in the right frame of mind.”

She wanted to tell him that if he didn't combine whiskey with pain pills, he'd likely have a better chance of staying alert. Instead she rubbed on the glass harder.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him ascend until he was standing awkwardly and staring around the room.

“Listen, Caroline,” he said in an almost anguished voice. “I hate myself for not being able to follow through with the work. You have to believe me when I say I want to, that I'm trying to make myself a better man. But sometimes I think I'm hopeless and that I'll never be able to do anything right.”

His confession tore at her, along with the droop of his shoulders, the lump of his hand stuffed into his pocket, the unseen scars on his arm. She knew all of that only mirrored the wounds deep inside him. He was a hurting man inside and out, and
she could do nothing less than show him the compassion he so desperately needed.

“You're not hopeless,” she said gently. “You're here now, aren't you? Would you like me to show you how to turn off the lantern properly?”

“Aye. I'd be eternally grateful.” His Irish brogue sounded thicker in the mornings, for some reason.

She found that she rather liked it. In fact, she was finding that she liked all too many things about him. Her thoughts flashed to yesterday's shave, to the softness of his skin and the firmness of his lips. Even though she'd told herself she wouldn't think about the shave again, she glanced at his cheek and then his upper lip.

He'd cleaned up nicely, and it was difficult not to admire his smooth face. His tousled hair flopped back and forth across his forehead.

“I didn't have the chance to thank you for the shave,” he said, patting his cheek, apparently well aware of her perusal.

“You're welcome.” She spun toward the lantern, her insides rolling in strange waves. “I was happy to help.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she ducked her head. What was she saying? She practically admitted that she'd enjoyed the experience.

He didn't say anything in response. But his footsteps clanked closer, until the heat of his presence was behind her. Her stomach gave another lurch, and she waited, hardly daring to breathe. She almost believed he'd slip his arms around her and pull her back against him.

Why was she thinking such thoughts now? Especially with a man whose very presence had turned her comfortable life upside down?

“So what do I need to do first?” he asked, his voice low.

The lantern room was small. The lens stood on its pedestal in the middle. There was enough space to walk comfortably around it. But with two adult-sized bodies angled at the lantern, closeness was inevitable.

At least that was what she told herself.

She opened the little door at the back of the lens, its brass hinges creaking faintly. She reached in and pointed to a knob. “First, you have to turn the wick down slowly so that you don't cool off the chimney too suddenly.”

He stretched past her, brushing against her arm as he grasped the wick. Though she was tempted to lean into him, she stepped aside to give him better access.

Once the flame was low, he turned to face her, his body altogether so near that her thoughts became jumbled.

“What next?” he asked.

She had to swallow hard before she could speak. “Now that it's low, you can blow across the top of the chimney to extinguish it. Be careful not to blow down inside, but just across the top. Like this.” She demonstrated by giving a gentle puff.

A smile crooked his lips. “I don't think I can extinguish it with your expertise, but I'll try.”

With one breath the flame went out, and the lantern turned black. It would have plunged the lantern room into darkness, except that over the years she'd learned to have her kerosene lantern lit ahead of time so that she could finish the remainder of the tasks with the aid of more than just the natural light of dawn.

“How'd I do?” he asked, his eyes glimmering with playfulness.

“You're catching on fast. But only because you have such an expert teacher.” She was surprised by her attempt at banter and had to turn away to hide her smile.

Was she flirting again? What was wrong with her?

She busied herself with removing the chimney and explaining how to wrap it in flannel until it was entirely cooled. She showed him how to wipe the ash from the wick and then how to clean the whole length of the air spaces in the burner with a long goose feather.

She demonstrated the rest of the duties she performed each morning to keep the light in the condition that was laid out in the
Instructions for Light-Keepers
. Of course, even though she followed every regulation, her efforts were never good enough for Mr. Finick.

She found that she could talk with Ryan easily, just as she had when she'd shaven him. As they worked, he asked her plenty of questions about the light, proving himself to be an eager learner, and she was all too happy to share her knowledge about the lens, equipment, and navigation on the lake. The sun had risen above the tree line by the time she showed him the supply room at the bottom of the tower stairway.

“Tomorrow morning I'll let you go through the whole process by yourself while I watch,” she offered as she closed the closet door.

The enthusiasm in Ryan's expression fell away. “If I make it up to the tower in time.” His eyes took on the weariness and sadness she'd seen there too often.

“How many opium pills are you taking at a time?”

“Two.”

“That's a powerful dose.” There had been plenty of times when she would have sold everything they owned for even a quarter of an opium pill to give Sarah, especially during those long nights when her sister's muscles had begun to constrict and cause her excruciating pain. She would have done
anything to ease the dear girl's suffering, even taking it upon herself.

“You must be in a lot of pain to need two pills,” she said.

His face was shadowed. The light from the hand lantern she held at her side didn't reach high enough, and she was tempted to lift it to allow herself a closer examination of his face and his injuries. But as before, she held herself back.

She wouldn't pry. She'd wait for him to share.

He didn't say anything for a long moment. Finally he opened his mouth to speak, closed it. Then opened it again. “The doctor who worked on my arm couldn't get the piece of shrapnel out without digging in and destroying muscles and possibly bone.”

He stopped, his eyes round with the agony of the nightmare he was reliving.

She wanted to put a hand up and tell him he didn't need to say anything else, that she understood.

But he swallowed and continued, “When the doctor told me he needed to cut off my arm from the elbow down, I begged him not to. At the time, I thought I'd rather live with the pain than lose my arm. Especially since half my hand had already been blown off.”

She could picture him on the operating table, already suffering from his injuries, likely half delirious with pain. She'd heard horror stories about the conditions of the medical tents, the blood and flies, the buckets of sawed-off limbs, the stench of decay.

“I didn't want to lose any more of myself.” His voice tapered to a whisper. “But I don't think it worked very well.”

She couldn't help but think he was referring to his soul, that maybe he'd saved his body but had ended up being so miserable that he drank and medicated himself into a stupor most of the time.

“I make very soothing birchbark tea that eases Sarah's pain,” she said. “I also have some feverfew in my garden. Sometimes chewing a fresh leaf or two can lessen the aching.”

“Do you think they'd work on me?”

“Most of the time lately all I've had for Sarah are the natural remedies I make from my flowers and herbs. They don't work any miracles, but they take the edge off her suffering.”

He studied her face. Sunlight had begun to creep through one of the windows cut into the tower wall halfway up and was making the stairwell glow.

“I can't promise the herbal medicines will help you,” she said, “but it's worth a try. Then perhaps you'll gradually be able to cut back on your pain pills.”

He nodded, but not too convincingly.

She didn't have to be an expert to know that the opium pills caused a powerful craving for more, that even if he wanted to cut back, his body would resist, especially since he'd been taking them for a while. She'd heard that the Union Army surgeons regularly prescribed opiates to injured soldiers in spite of the drug's highly dependent quality. It provided temporary relief, but at what price? How many soldiers had returned home unable to survive without the drug?

Whatever the case, she'd do what she could to help him in the short time she had left at the lighthouse. And she'd start by cutting him the feverfew to chew.

She led him outside and started around the house. She'd pruned most of the perennials that grew in front of the house and missed them already.

“I take it the beautiful garden behind the house is yours?” he asked while following her.

She nodded. “I always let the back garden bloom as long as
possible for Sarah.” She breathed in the crisp moisture coming off the lake and drew her shawl about her shoulders. “I've even planted varieties that would bloom at different times of the year, so that Sarah would have a continuous array of color to greet her every time she looks out her window.”

“You take good care of everyone, Caroline.” The admiration in his tone was like a much-needed pat on the back.

She worked hard day after day to take care of her family, and most of the time no one noticed. Of course, she wasn't doing it for the recognition or the praise. She did it because it was the right thing, and because it was her duty as the oldest to step into her parents' shoes—first her mother's and now her father's—and provide for her brothers and sisters.

“But the question is,” Ryan said, tugging on her arm and gently pulling her to a stop, “who takes care of you?”

“I don't need anyone to take care of me. I've done just fine since Father died.”

“I'm not saying you're unable to take care of yourself. It's obvious you're a strong woman.” He stood taller than her, but not by much. The sunlight touched his hatless head, glinting through his hair, turning it the color of sun-bleached sand. “You're very capable, yet you bear so much by yourself. You're always worrying about everyone else's needs and putting them before your own. Maybe you need to take care of yourself too.”

She started to shake her head in protest, but at the tenderness in his expression, a gentle hand seemed to reach around her heart and squeeze. “I'm doing fine,” she said, but her tone was unconvincing even to her own ears.

“I suppose that's why you're considering marrying Arnie. Because you love him and know you'll have a life of happiness by his side.”