Hearts Made Whole (21 page)

His eyes widened.

She leaned into his palm, hoping he could see the truth in her eyes, the truth that his battle wounds didn't frighten her or cause her to think less of him. She admired him for his bravery and his willingness to go on with life after all the suffering he'd gone through.

His muscles turned hard beneath her touch.

She was tempted to slide his hand over to her lips and kiss his injury to show him that his mangled flesh didn't repulse her. But with her brothers and sisters sitting only a short distance behind her, likely watching her interaction with Ryan, she refrained.

Instead, she smiled at him, hoping he could read her thoughts and that he wouldn't mistake them for pity. But before he could react, Monsieur Poupard rounded the house at a limping run. His weathered face was red, and he was breathless, his chest heaving as if he'd run the entire distance from his tiny log cabin by the old windmill to the lighthouse.

Ryan stood and stuffed his hands quickly into his pockets.

Monsieur Poupard staggered to a stop at the sight of them all resting in the grass in front of the lighthouse. “I saw smoke,” he managed, looking to the blackened passageway and then back to the children.

“Aye, we had a fire,” Ryan said.

The old Frenchman turned toward Sarah, who lay motionless, curled up on a blanket where Ryan had deposited her. Her lips were blue, almost the same color as the lake, and her face was even paler in the bright sunshine of the afternoon. Though too weak to move, she smiled at Monsieur Poupard.

At her attention, the man seemed to melt. The wrinkles in his scowling face smoothed, his eyes lit, and his mouth curved into a gentle return smile.

Caroline could only stare in amazement at the transformation.

“The little sick girl is safe?” he asked.

“Aye,” Ryan replied. “Thank the Lord. We're all fine.”

“I hurried here as fast as I could.” Monsieur Poupard wiped his brow with the edge of his red cloak.

“We were able to contain the fire to the passageway,” Ryan said, nodding at the still-smoking roof. “I doused the inner door and wall with water to slow down the spread of the flames into the keeper's cottage.”

Gratefulness welled up in Caroline. Ryan's quick thinking had saved the house.

Monsieur Poupard hobbled toward the door and peered inside. “How did the fire start?”

“One of the lanterns looked like it had been knocked over,” Ryan answered.

“But it wasn't lit,” Tessa said from where she was sprawled in the grass. “I never leave the lanterns burning during the daytime. Caroline has always warned me that it wastes oil.”

“Maybe there was still a small flicker of flame?” Ryan suggested.

Or maybe
someone purposefully started the fire
. Caroline
didn't speak the words aloud. She didn't want to scare her siblings any more than they already were.

“You have to believe me.” Tessa rose, and her lovely features were stricken. Her long hair had come loose too, but somehow it still looked beautiful and even fluttered in glorious dark waves. “I didn't leave the lantern burning. It wasn't my fault.”

“Nay,” Ryan said. “I'm not blaming you, lass. Not in the least. It was probably just an accident. That's all.”

An accident? Just like all the other
bad things that had happened recently?
A shiver crept up Caroline's back. Deep inside she knew the fire wasn't an accident. Just like her getting trapped in the cellar wasn't an accident. Or the ruined garden, or the boys nearly drowning, or the duck nailed to the rowboat . . .

She had to face the truth once and for all. Someone wanted her to leave, and they would keep on threatening her and her family until she complied.

Hugh and Harry had risen from the grass and joined Ryan and Monsieur Poupard at the door of the passageway, looking inside and trying to determine the cause of the fire.

But Caroline couldn't make herself get up, not even to check on Sarah. She could only stare at the scorched house, tears blinding her at the awfulness of all that had happened lately, especially how close her siblings had come to losing their lives. First Hugh and Harry in the boat, and now Sarah and Tessa in the house.

What if she and Ryan and the boys had lingered in town longer after church? Or what if Ryan hadn't turned around and noticed the smoke?

Caroline shuddered.

Her family could have been killed both times. They still could
be killed or harmed if she didn't do something to stop this madness.

She had to put an end to it. Today. Now. Before anything else happened. Blinking back her tears, she glanced around the lighthouse grounds, the barren flower beds, the yellowing grass, the rocky shore, the various-sized buckets now lying abandoned. She tried to view everything coldly, through distant eyes. She willed her heart to let go of this place she'd come to love.

Her family's safety was more important than anything else.

As hard as leaving Windmill Point Lighthouse would be, and as much as she'd wanted to put it off, she couldn't any longer. It was time to say good-bye to the lighthouse. She couldn't risk another day here. Not another minute.

She sat up, straightened her shoulders. Suddenly she knew where she needed to go and what she had to do. She didn't dare look at Ryan or the others. Instead, she swallowed the inner protest that rose all too swiftly, stood to her feet, and walked to the lake to clean herself up.

They would stop her if they knew where she was going. She felt certain of it.

Her best course of action was to sneak away when everyone was busy, when no one was looking. Then she'd rush to get the deed done as quickly as possible before anyone could step in and talk her out of it.

R
yan spread another blanket on the grass, hoping the fresh air would lessen the smoky scent that permeated each fiber. While he'd contained the fire to the passageway, smoke had seeped into the house and filled every crevice and corner.

“Last one,” Hugh said as he tossed down a quilt.

Everyone had worked tirelessly for the past hour, including Monsieur Poupard, in trying to clear out the house. They'd focused primarily on Sarah's room, since the chill of day had caused her to start wheezing. When they finally settled her back in her bed, they started opening up the rest of the house and fanning out the smoke.

Tessa and Caroline had been busy boiling herbs that would supposedly lessen the effects of the smoke, and they'd also been hanging rugs and linens on the clothesline.

Ryan straightened, ignoring the burning that rippled through his arm. He'd gotten better at pretending the pain didn't exist, and at times could almost believe he no longer had a piece of shrapnel buried in his arm. It certainly didn't bother him the way
it first had, and he supposed the strengthening of his muscles and constant use had built up his endurance.

He flexed his arm and looked down at the place where his fingers had once been, at the puckered red skin that existed in their place. He'd forgotten about his mangled hand and had touched Caroline's face with his ugly stump. Humiliated at the thought, he tucked his hand in his pocket.

Caroline hadn't minded the contact, but had pressed his hand back against her cheek, as if telling him that his deformity didn't matter to her. Could that really be true? Doubts warred within him, working to cloud the truth. The truth that she'd accepted him with all of his glaring problems, that she'd been kind and helpful when she had no reason to be, and that she'd never passed judgment even when he'd deserved it.

His chest swelled with gratefulness—and something more. He searched the yard, needing a glimpse of her.

“Are you looking for Caroline again?” Hugh asked, peering up at him, his freckled face still streaked with soot and his brown hair flying away in all directions.

“You're always looking at her,” Harry said. He had a broom in his hands and was beating one of the rugs that hung from the clothesline.

Was it that obvious that he longed for Caroline?

Both boys stopped their work and watched him, waiting for an explanation for why he stared at their sister so much.

He thought about making up some excuse, but he had a feeling the boys would see right through him. He reached over and ruffled Hugh's hair and then grinned at Harry. “Aye. Guilty as charged. I can't keep my eyes off her, can I?”

“Do you like her?” Hugh asked, stuffing one hand in his pocket.

Ryan studied the boy. Was Hugh imitating him? With his hand in his pocket, the way his feet were spread, and even the way he cocked his head, all reminded Ryan of himself. Without their father to influence them, were the boys looking to him and following his example?

He bit back a glib answer about how he felt about Caroline and chose his words more carefully. “Your sister is a very fine woman. One of the finest I've ever met.”

Harry stepped around the rug, his face and hair just as messy as his brother's. “Are you gonna marry her?”

Marry Caroline?
Ryan had a sudden flash of earlier that day when they'd walked back to the lighthouse after church, the way she'd smiled at him, as if offering him the whole world in that smile.

Aye, he wanted to wake up to her encouraging smile every morning and let it be the last thing he saw every night. But he wasn't ready to get married, was he? He still had a debt to pay, and he couldn't settle down or support a family until he'd made good on his vow.

“Caroline would sure make a good wife,” Hugh said, his eyes expectant, hopeful.

“Aye, she would,” Ryan agreed. “She'll make some man a good wife. But I'm not certain that man is me—”

“She left a little while ago,” Harry said, cutting him off, nodding in the direction of the dirt road that ran through the marsh.

“Left?”

“I think she was sneaking off,” Harry said. “She walked away like she didn't want anyone to see her.”

“How long has she been gone?”

Harry shrugged. “A while.”

A strange stillness fell over Ryan. He stared at the road. He
couldn't imagine why Caroline would sneak away without telling anyone where she was going or why.

Aye, she'd been upset after the fire. But after she calmed down, he thought she'd be all right. Sure, her face had remained pale and pinched, and she'd spoken very little. He'd just assumed she was still shaken up a bit and that was all.

Then an awful thought clamored within him. What if she'd decided to move out of the lighthouse? What if today's incident with the duck and the fire had pushed her too far?

His body tensed with the need to go after her, to soothe her and assure her that everything would be okay. But would it be okay? Or was he simply fooling himself and her too? Maybe by living at the lighthouse, she was truly putting herself and her family in grave danger.

If she'd come to that conclusion, then she probably acted on the need to protect them. She was too loyal and too devoted to them to do otherwise. A thousand possibilities flashed through his mind, none of them pleasant.

“Do you have any idea where she was going?” Even as he asked the question, another horrible thought flooded him. Had she gone to Arnie Simmons?

Raw fear jolted his body into action. He started toward his horse that was tied on a long rope under a nearby tree.

“Where are you going?” the boys called, following after him.

Tessa stepped out of the house, letting the door bang shut behind her.

“I have to go after Caroline,” he replied.

“Where did she go?” Tessa had bunched her long skirt in her hand and began running behind him.

“I think she went to the Roadside Inn to marry Arnie.”

“What? She can't do that,” Tessa cried.

“Don't worry, I won't let her.” Ryan reached the horse and fumbled at the knot, his fingers unable to work. The need to stop Caroline had his nerves on edge.

Tessa and the boys stood behind him and watched, their faces solemn and filled with concern.

“If she marries Arnie, then we'll be stuck here at Grosse Pointe,” Tessa said.

“If she marries Arnie, she'll be in for a life of misery,” Ryan added. But he knew that alone wouldn't stop Caroline. She'd sacrifice her life and future for her family, even if that meant marrying someone she didn't love. And he wouldn't let her do that; he had to reach her before she went through with the deed.

What if she and Arnie were on their way to the pastor's house even now?

Ryan used his injured fingers, not caring that the others were watching. Caroline was more important than his hand, his dignity, and everything else.

“What if she refuses to come back?” Tessa asked.

With a last jerk, he freed the horse. He hoisted himself into the saddle and urged the mare forward. “I'll bring her back.” He nodded at the boys and then shifted his horse so he was looking down at Tessa. “The keeper job belongs to Caroline. It's never been mine. I should be the one leaving, not her.”

Tessa peered up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun. “If you leave, where will you go?”

He dug his heels into the horse's flanks. “I'll go West. I hear there's plenty of work out there.”

“West?” Her face lit up. “I've always wanted to go West.”

He gave the horse another kick, and the beast bolted forward. He honestly didn't know what he'd do. All he knew was that ever since he'd arrived here, bad things had started happening
to Caroline and her family. Maybe the threats were a warning to
him
and not her. If he pretended to leave for the West for a few days but secretly stayed nearby to keep an eye on her, perhaps he could discover what was really going on.

“Take me with you!” Tessa's call followed him. “Please! We could get married. I'd make you a good wife.”

With a flick of the reins, he pushed his horse into a gallop. The pounding of hooves drowned out Tessa's voice. Under any other circumstances, he would have stopped and gently informed her that they could never get married. Even if she was a lovely young lady, he had no feelings of attraction for her. He viewed her as a sister, not as a possible bride.

Aye, he'd noticed her flirting, but he hadn't made much of it. But perhaps he needed to make sure he wasn't encouraging her affection. She was obviously reading more into their relationship than was there.

With his head bent low, he tore down the dirt road, his pulse pounding in a wild and reckless rhythm that matched the horse's. He urged the horse faster. How could Caroline even consider marrying Arnie?

For an instant, betrayal sliced into Ryan's heart. Didn't she care about him? He thought she'd enjoyed being with him, talking and laughing together. And he thought he'd seen attraction in her eyes. What about the kisses they'd shared? Hadn't they affected her the same way they had him?

As he rode, the chilled breeze cut through his shirt and slapped his cheeks as if to remind him that he was losing Caroline. If she married Arnie, he couldn't have her. His gut flamed in protest.

The truth was he wanted her. Aye. He'd never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Caroline Taylor.

Simmons's Roadside Inn loomed ahead, the peak of the slate
roof rising above the trees, and the whitewashed boards showing through the branches.

Galloping around the last bend in the road, his heart skittered to a stop at the sight of Caroline in her pretty blue Sunday dress. Even though it was covered with soot, it was still a bright spot among the browning landscape. She was walking with firm, steady steps, apparently resolved in her mission.

At the sound of his horse's hooves, she glanced over her shoulder.

“Caroline!” he shouted. He quickly closed the distance between them, reined in his horse beside her, and slid down off the saddle. His chest heaved from the strain of the ride. “Please . . . don't marry him.”

Her beautiful blue eyes drooped like wilted flowers amidst the paleness of her face. “I have to.”

“Nay, you don't.”

“It's my best option, Ryan.”

“I'll leave the lighthouse. I'll find a new job.”

“That won't solve the problem.” Her voice sounded so anguished, it tore at him. “Don't you see? The danger is all because of me. Because I haven't left the light yet.”

“But none of this happened before I came. I'll leave and then things here can go back to the way they were before.”

Her grip on her shawl was tight enough to turn her knuckles white. “Whether you're here or not, I'm clearly not wanted. And I can't put my family in danger any longer.”

The determination in her eyes was palpable and sent alarm racing like cold water through his blood.

“My best option is to marry Arnie,” she repeated, then turned away from him, lowered her head and walked forward, albeit more slowly than before. “Please don't try to stop me, Ryan.”

“Nay!” He stalked after her, frustration pummeling him. He reached her in two easy strides, grabbed her arm, and forced her to stop and face him. “Nay, I'll not sit back and do nothing while you throw your life away.”

Her eyes flashed, and she tried to yank out of his grasp.

“And marrying Arnie is
not
your best option.” He held her tight and glared at her. “Your best option is marrying me.”

At his words she froze.

He froze too, hardly daring to breathe. Had he just proposed marriage to her?

Her eyes widened in disbelief.

What was he thinking? Hadn't he just told the twins he wasn't ready to get married?

As if hearing his doubts, she started to shake her head.

“Aye,” he said, sliding his hand into hers before she could pull away. Why not marry her? “If we get married, then you won't have to leave, and you won't have to move Sarah.”

His words stopped her protest.

“The boys and Tessa would be taken care of. And you'd have everything you need.”

“But we'd still be in danger,” she said but less adamantly. “The person or people trying to drive us away might continue to hurt us.”

“If someone is trying to drive you away, they wouldn't have a reason to do so—not after we're married.” If Simmons wasn't behind the attacks, his next best guess was Finick. And if he married Caroline, Finick would have no choice but to leave them alone. That was his hope anyway. “You'd have every right to live at the lighthouse as my wife.”

His wife . . . He'd been working hard to keep proper boundaries between himself and Caroline, but if he married her, he
wouldn't have to worry about being alone with her anymore. He could touch her whenever he wanted. And kiss her . . . He couldn't stop his gaze from dropping to her lips.