Hearts Made Whole (26 page)

Arnie had changed into clean trousers and a fresh shirt. He wore the black bowler hat he donned when he went visiting. It was obvious he was taking the marriage ceremony seriously and that he expected her to do the same.

A chill rippled up her back and warned her that she couldn't stop placating him. Not yet. She tried to smile and hoped it reached her eyes. “Of course I'm excited,” she said into the rag.

At her mumbling, he reached over and removed the gag. She sucked in a shuddering breath while he used his knife to cut the rope binding her hands.

When she was finally free, her first thought was to bolt, to get away from Arnie as fast as she could. She glanced toward
the back of the inn where the door stood wide open. Arnie must have rushed out and forgotten to close it.

Then she examined the road and the woods beyond, searching for an escape route or for anyone she could run to and plead for help. But even as the thought of fleeing came, she saw right away that she wouldn't get far and would only anger Arnie all the more.

As if sensing her thoughts, his fingers snaked around her upper arm and turned into a chain. “Be h-happy, Caroline.” His voice was hard. “If you're n-not happy, then . . . then I w-won't be happy.”

He crossed the cockpit, leaving her little choice but to stumble to keep up with him. Her legs were weak from the cramped coop and lack of oxygen. And whenever she tripped over her feet, he'd yank her up with a bruising strength.

She wanted to protest, but instead she gritted her teeth. She'd have to resign herself to marrying him, though her dread of doing so had grown into a mountain.

He led her through the inn's back door into a small storage room. She had to step around beer barrels and stacks of crates containing an assortment of bottles. At the sight of a long, red cloak hanging from a peg near the door, she gave a start. Was it Arnie's or Mr. Simmons's?

As he tugged her into the large kitchen, the smell of boiled chicken filled the room, along with the tantalizing scent of several potpies steaming on the sideboard.

An old woman was stirring a bubbling kettle on the cast-iron stove. The woman paused and glanced at Caroline with a blank expression, but then quickly focused again on her task. She turned her back as if to send the message that she was too busy to pay attention to anything but her work.

A young girl was sitting on a stool in the corner, paring potatoes. The floor around her was covered with slimy peels and plucked chicken feathers. Wariness filled the girl's dirty face, and her sullen eyes followed them across the kitchen.

Caroline's hope sank. She'd thought perhaps she could elicit help from someone inside the inn, but her chances of doing that were looking bleak.

Once in the hallway that led to the front, Arnie stopped. His fingers dug deeper into her arm, making her flinch.

“You m-must cooperate,” he said, his foul breath too near her cheek, “or I'll p-punish the children.”

Her insides quaked. It had been bad enough for Arnie to hurt Ryan. But she couldn't bear the thought that he'd do anything to harm her siblings.
I cast my cares on you,
God,
she cried silently. She couldn't drag her worries back or she'd sink under the weight of them.

“Don't worry, Arnie,” she said in a strangely calm tone. “I'll cooperate.”

And she knew then she had no choice. She had to do whatever he asked. She wouldn't be able to plot an escape. She wouldn't be able to plead to the pastor or anyone else for help.

She was stuck marrying Arnie.

As if sensing her resignation, Arnie continued into the dimly lit tavern. Through the haze of cigar smoke she could see several men sitting at tables. They paused in their conversation to stare at her.

She could only imagine how she looked, her hair askew, her face and clothes dirty from her time in the smelly coop. Would they question what had happened to her? She could only pray they would sense something wasn't right and step in to defend her.

She saw Mr. Finick sipping from a beer glass. His lips crooked into a smile at the sight of her with Arnie. Had it been only hours ago that he was out at the lighthouse, witnessing Ryan and Tessa in bed together? It seemed like weeks had passed.

Reverend Blackwell stood near the door. He was talking with Mr. Simmons, who had a towel in his big hands that he was twisting and then snapping. She was surprised the reverend had stepped into the tavern. Esther had recruited him early in her campaign against cockfighting, and it was no secret that he preached the benefits of temperance.

Arnie wound through the tables, his grip on her arm unwavering.

When he stopped in front of his father and the preacher, she gulped in a breath trying to still her trembling.

Mr. Simmons flicked the towel at Arnie. It snapped against his chest with a sharp crack. “I never thought I'd see the day when my boy would get married,” Mr. Simmons said with a grin. “But wouldn't you know, here he is with his bride-to-be.”

Reverend Blackwell glanced at Caroline. At the sight of her disheveled appearance, his eyes widened and filled with questions, questions she wanted to answer.

But Arnie's fingers squeezed her arm, reminding her of his threat. She smiled, praying the reverend could read the despair in her eyes.

“I figure any woman who wants Arnie must be pretty desperate,” Mr. Simmons continued in his smooth voice, followed by a laugh.

Arnie's hand flexed, and his eyes narrowed. But the angry look was gone before Mr. Simmons finished laughing. Instead, Arnie shuffled and stared at his shoes.

“So, Caroline,” Reverend Blackwell said, “was Arnie speaking the truth when he told me you're agreeable to the union?”

Now was her chance to shout her protest, to put an end to this charade. Yet at Arnie's slight shift next to her, she knew his threat to hurt her siblings wasn't empty. After seeing what he'd done to Ryan, she couldn't take any more chances. “Yes, Arnie is correct. I've agreed to marry him.”

Reverend Blackwell stared at her intently for a moment.

Did he doubt her? She prayed he would.

“Arnie might be able to perform for the wedding,” Mr. Simmons said with a widening grin, “but I don't think he has what it takes to perform later—if you know what I mean.” He laughed again, as did several of the patrons nearby.

Mortification poured into Caroline, and she wanted to slink under the nearest table and hide. She hadn't really considered what being married to Arnie would be like. She'd simply thought to survive. But Mr. Simmons's lewd comment only served to repulse her even more.

Arnie's ears turned bright red, and he kept his gaze fixed on his shoes. Were his eyes filled with the deadly anger again? Maybe staring at his feet was his way of hiding his true feelings, keeping him from lashing out at his father. Caroline could only imagine all the teasing Arnie had endured over his life from his father. Perhaps he'd once tried to defend himself, only to find the retribution severe.

And now, after years of holding in the resentment, had it grown into a raging storm capable of destroying anyone who got in its path, namely her and her family?

The reverend cleared his throat. “Caroline, if you're truly in agreement to the union . . .” He waited for her reply, giving her another chance to escape.

“I'm in agreement,” she repeated.

“Then I'd prefer we have the ceremony outside—”

“No,” Simmons said, clamping his arm across the reverend's shoulders. “Don't tell me you're going to make an issue of my establishment on my son's wedding day.”

“Not an issue. Just a preference.”

“If my son wants to get married in his home, then I say you'd better marry him right here. Now.” Mr. Simmons drew the reverend away from the door to the middle of the room, shoving aside tables and chairs as he went, until he'd cleared a spot in the tavern.

“There you go, Reverend.” He let go of the man, stood back, and crossed his arms over his broad chest, as if daring the preacher to defy him.

“Caroline, what would you prefer?” Reverend Blackwell said. “This is your wedding day too.”

With Mr. Simmons glaring at her, she knew she had no choice but to agree to the current arrangement. She'd witnessed Mr. Simmons's temper and flying fists against her father. His anger was as lethal as Arnie's.

“I don't wish to stir up any strife, Reverend.” Caroline forced her tone to remain even. “If Arnie wants to get married here in the tavern, then I'm willing.”

Again the reverend leveled an intense look at her. He knew she'd participated in Esther's protests against Mr. Simmons, and now he had to know something was wrong for her to agree to the demands so quickly.

If only he would grab her and run away . . .

But she knew that would do no good. Arnie would find her and then hurt her family.

Her pulse clattered to a halt. Had Arnie been the one all along
trying to hurt her family? She gave herself a mental shake. He wouldn't have set the fire. He wouldn't have cut a leak in the boat. How could he?

She slid a sideways look at him, at his childlike face that had always appeared so simple and kind. She forced down the fear that rose in her throat, threatening to cut off her breathing. She couldn't believe he was the one who'd brought her and her family so much distress over the past weeks.

But with his threat against her siblings, how could she ignore the connection? Especially with the red cloak hanging by the kitchen door as evidence? She'd believed the spots of red she'd seen in the woods now and then had belonged to Monsieur Poupard. But perhaps Arnie had been there all along, slinking around and spying on her.

Reverend Blackwell stood stiffly for a long moment, staring at her, as if waiting for her permission to proceed.

“Let's get on with the nuptials,” Mr. Simmons growled. “I don't have all day, and neither does Arnie. Some people have real work to do.”

Mr. Simmons shoved the reverend forward so that he stood directly before her and Arnie. He hesitated an instant before slowly opening his Bible.

Arnie's grip on her arm didn't slacken, and a deep despair settled over her. She couldn't listen as the reverend began reading about how marriage was a covenant and holy estate and that it was not to be entered unadvisedly. She tried to tell herself that love didn't matter, that she was doing what was best for her family. And that was all that mattered.

Reverend Blackwell's voice seemed to grow softer and slower the longer he read, and when he finally came to her vow, she wanted to turn away and ignore him.

“Caroline, wilt thou have this man to be thy wedded husband, to live together after God's holy ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him and serve him, love, honor, and keep him, in sickness and in health? And forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him so long as you both shall live?”

She started to speak, but the words caught and she couldn't squeeze them out.

Arnie's fingernails dug through her sleeve into her flesh.

The reverend stared at her, his eyes beseeching her to say no.

“I—” she began.

The front door of the tavern flew open and hit the wall with a crash that shook the windows.

“Stop!”

S
top!” Ryan shouted again. “Don't marry him!”

After running the entire distance from the old windmill to the tavern, his chest was heaving, his sides aching. He swiped his sleeve across his forehead, clearing away the sweat, and at the same time he leveled Poupard's rifle at Arnie.

“Ryan!” Caroline cried, both anguish and relief in her voice.

Through the smoky haze of the room, he didn't want to take his aim off Arnie, but he chanced a quick glance at her. Seeing the scratches on her cheek, the dirt smeared on her face and neck, a fierce anger swelled in his gut.

He let out a roar of frustration and stepped forward. “I should kill you!” he yelled at Arnie.

Before Ryan could make another move, Arnie seized Caroline and dragged her in front of him, pinning her and using her as a shield.

“Let her go, you big coward.” The heat of frustration fanned hotter. All he could think about was killing Arnie. He wanted to blast a hole through the man's black heart so that he could never again hurt Caroline or her family.

“Now, hold on, boy,” Simmons said, standing near Arnie. “What makes you think you can barge in here and stop this wedding?”

“He's coercing her into the marriage.”

Simmons puffed out his chest, and his thick arms flexed. “There's no coercing going on here. We all heard the girl say she wanted to marry Arnie.”

Ryan's mind scrambled to come up with a plan, a way to take out Arnie and Simmons without harming Caroline. Though Arnie was stronger than he'd expected, he had no doubt that he could get the upper hand now that he was alert. But he wasn't sure he could take on Simmons at the same time.

Maybe he'd have to shoot Simmons first.

The reverend had closed his Bible, wariness creasing his forehead. Could he count on the reverend to help him if he lunged for Arnie? Or would he only put Caroline in more danger?

“Caroline isn't marrying Arnie because she wants to,” Ryan said, eyeing the bar where Finick sat with his beer and watching with an eagerness that only fueled the rage in Ryan's belly. “She's agreeing to marry Arnie only because she wants to save me. Arnie threatened to kill me if she didn't marry him.”

Arnie yanked Caroline backward so that she gasped and fell against him. His arms slipped around her body in a possessive hold, one that was too intimate.

Her wide eyes flooded with panic and called out to Ryan for help.

His hold on the rifle tightened, although he knew he couldn't take a shot at Arnie, not while Caroline was anywhere nearby. He'd have to figure out a way to get Arnie to loosen his hold.

“Why don't you stand up and face me like a man?” Ryan
called, hoping to bait Arnie. “Instead of sneaking around like a coward.”

“Arnie doesn't sneak around,” Simmons bellowed.

“Aye. You've raised a coward.” Ryan spat the words. “Instead of squaring off with me to my face, he's been sneaking over to the lighthouse and trying to scare Caroline into marrying him.”

“Not my son—”

“Aye,” Ryan insisted. “He's the one causing all the trouble. He locked us in the cellar, almost drowned the twins, and started the fire yesterday.”

Arnie's ears had turned red again, and he stared over Caroline's shoulder defiantly, confirming Ryan's suspicions.

Caroline's face didn't register any surprise at the revelation, only resignation, as if she'd already guessed Arnie's role in all the problems that had occurred at the lighthouse.

Finick set his glass down with a clunk and slid off his stool. “Setting fire to a lighthouse is a federal offense.”

Ryan was tempted to point out to Finick that he was a hypocrite, that aiding illegal smuggling was a federal offense too. But now was not the time to confront the inspector with his own misdeeds. Not when Caroline's life was at stake.

“Is this all true, son?” Simmons glared at Arnie. “Have you been sneaking around and causing trouble?”

Arnie shook his head. “I'm not a c-coward. She was t-taking too long in her decision to . . . to m-marry me.”

Simmons cursed under his breath. “Then she's not here willingly after all?”

“You w-want to marry me,” Arnie said in a childlike voice, clutching Caroline and looking at her with desperation in his eyes. “Don't y-you, Caroline?”

“No, Arnie. I was only agreeing to marry you because you threatened to hurt Ryan and my family if I didn't.”

Hurt flashed into his expression, followed rapidly by anger.

Trepidation surged through Ryan, and he jolted forward with an urgency to save Caroline, but he was too late. Arnie's long fingers closed around Caroline's neck with a quickness that allowed only the barest of gasps from her, before his grip cut off her airway.

“Let Caroline go, Arnie,” Ryan said.

But Arnie's grip tightened on her neck. Ryan then realized that he was determined to kill Caroline rather than let her go.

Her eyes bulged in fear. She lifted a hand in an attempt to pry away his fingers, but his hold was too firm.

Ryan started toward the two with steady steps.

Caroline's eyes turned wild with the need for a breath, and she clawed at Arnie's hands, growing more desperate with each passing second.

Simmons began shouting at Arnie, berating him for being a coward. And Finick was going on about how much trouble Arnie was in for starting the fire, how he would need to have him arrested. The reverend was beseeching Arnie to release Caroline at once. But their voices couldn't penetrate the alarm screaming in Ryan's head.

He wanted to rush at Arnie and tackle him, but he was afraid the man would snap Caroline's neck and kill her instantly if he did.

Caroline's eyes started to roll back. She was losing consciousness.

Oh, God,
help me!
He had no choice. He had to attack the monster before he strangled Caroline.

“Caroline!” he shouted and then leaped for her.

Before he could reach her, something smashed into Arnie's head.

The jolt forced him to loosen his grip. It was all Ryan needed. He grabbed Arnie's arm, twisted it away from Caroline, and yanked her free.

She wheezed for a breath and nearly crumpled at his feet.

Arnie pounced after her, but another slam across his head sent him reeling backward in pain.

Ryan scooped Caroline into his arms and lifted her against his chest as though she weighed no more than an infant. At the same time he saw Simmons beat Arnie over the head again with a broom handle.

“No son of mine is a coward!” Simmons shouted, his face ruddy and etched with fury.

Arnie lifted his arms over his head and cowered into a ball. He did it so quickly and naturally that Ryan couldn't help wondering how many times he'd crouched into such a position during his life to protect himself from his father's rage.

Ryan didn't give the two more than a passing glance before spinning around and striding across the tavern with Caroline in his arms. He kicked open the door and burst outside.

Caroline's face was pale, and she gasped for air, still wheezing. He walked a good distance away from the tavern before kneeling and setting her on his lap.

Her eyes still showed her panic, and she clutched her throat. Beneath her fingers, bruises were already forming on her skin where Arnie had choked her.

Ryan brushed his hand across Caroline's cheek, trying to calm her. “Shhh,” he whispered. “Everything will be okay now.”

She nodded, but she struggled still to breathe normally.

He gently smoothed her hair back, then leaned forward
and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I've got you now,” he murmured, trailing kisses to her temple. “No one will hurt you again.”

She let out a shuddering breath, and her body melted against him.

He pulled back and looked her in the eyes. The franticness had dissipated, replaced by gratefulness.

“I was afraid I wouldn't see you again,” she croaked. “How did you get free?”

“Monsieur Poupard heard my call for help.”

“Thank you for coming for me.”

“I was so afraid,” he whispered, his heart pounding with the thought of how close he'd come to losing her.

“Are you hurt?” she asked, searching his face.

He probably looked a mess from the beating Arnie had given him earlier. His arm still ached badly, but the relief at rescuing Caroline drowned out everything else.

“I'm fine. Now that I have you.” He ran his fingers along her jawline to her chin and then to her lips. Her color was beginning to return, and she appeared to be breathing more evenly.

“I'm sorry, Caroline,” he said hoarsely. “If I hadn't been drinking again, none of this would have happened.”

“You don't know that.”

“Aye. I would have had my wits about me. I wouldn't have ended up in bed with Tessa. Arnie wouldn't have captured me. I would have been able to fight him off. You wouldn't have gotten hurt.”

“You can't expect yourself to be perfect, Ryan. You're still healing.”

“Apparently I need a lot more healing than I thought.”

“You'll get there.” Her voice contained all the confidence in him that he'd grown to love. Aye, he loved her through and through, especially for always believing in him.

He pressed another kiss to her forehead. “Ah, Caroline,” he whispered against her soft skin. “You're a beautiful woman, both inside and out.”

At her swift intake, his attention dropped to her lips. The warmth of her breath beckoned him, and the sweet fullness tantalized him to draw more comfort from her. He shifted so that his lips hovered above hers.

He hesitated only a moment before leaning in. He pressed hard, all of the fear and desperation driving him, urging him to lay claim to her.

She slipped her arms over his shoulders and around his neck and clutched him, her hold tightening with her own desperation. Her lips melted into his, gently at first, but gradually growing more demanding, her breath hot and passionate.

“Ahem” came a voice above them.

Caroline broke their kiss with a gasp. They pulled away from each other to the sight of Reverend Blackwell standing above them, watching them.

“Reverend Blackwell,” she said, mortification spilling across her features. She moved to extricate herself from Ryan's hold, sliding onto the dirt road with a thump.

Ryan was loath to let her go. His body ached to draw her close again. But she scrambled away from him and tangled in her skirt in her attempt to rise and make herself presentable.

He jumped up and offered her a hand, but she looked away and rose on her own, busying herself with brushing and straightening her skirt. She was clearly embarrassed, and guilt prodded him to try to put her at ease.

“I'm sorry, Reverend,” he said, clearing his throat. “I was so relieved Caroline was safe that I got a little carried away.”

The reverend's lips twitched with the beginning of a smile. “I was hesitant to carry out the marriage ceremony between Caroline and Arnie. Now I know why.”

Caroline wiped at a stain on her skirt, her cheeks flushed.

“Besides the fact that Arnie is mad,” the reverend continued, “she can't marry him when she's obviously in love with someone else.”

In love?
Ryan's gaze snapped back to her, and he willed her to look into his eyes so that he could see the truth there for himself. Did Caroline love him after all?

“We should all be thankful to God that Ryan intervened when he did.” The reverend held out the rifle Ryan had left behind in his haste to get Caroline out of the tavern.

“Aye, Reverend. I'm mighty thankful.” Ryan took the rifle, but his attention didn't budge from Caroline. He loved her. Was it possible that she felt the same way?

“I guess this means I should prepare myself for a real wedding?” the reverend said, a hint of teasing in his voice. “When should we set the date?”

Caroline's expression froze, stricken, almost as if the reverend had knocked the wind from her. She glanced briefly at Ryan, yet it was long enough for him to read one word there:
Tessa
.

His chest caved under the weight of the name. He was engaged to Tessa. In fact, if Arnie hadn't kidnapped him and dragged him to the windmill ruins, he'd likely already be married to the girl.

His mind raced for an excuse, for something that would release him from marrying Tessa. He didn't want her, didn't love her, and couldn't imagine spending the rest of his life by her side. Not when he was desperately in love with Caroline.

“So what do you say, young man?” The reverend's smile blossomed brightly. “You might as well do the right thing for Caroline and marry her, since it's quite clear you care deeply for her too.”

Ryan glanced at the sky, trying to guess the position of the sun behind the clouds. It was already afternoon. He couldn't go through with marrying Tessa today, not after all that had happened.