Undaunted Hope (10 page)

“Do you miss me?” Alex teased.

“As a matter of fact, I do miss you. I'd miss any of my students if they decided not to come back.”

“Michael doesn't want me to leave the light unattended,” Alex said ambling next to her, carrying her bag of books and lesson
plans. “Especially this time of year when the lake is moody. And I guess I have to agree with him. We need to stay on watch.”

She nodded. She knew all too well the demands of the light. It had consumed her father's life for years before his arthritis had made it difficult for him to ascend the tower steps. Eventually the demands had fallen on her sister Caroline's shoulders. Everything had centered on making sure the lantern was lit every night. They'd never been able to go anywhere, do anything, or have normal lives.

The lighthouse had taken much and had given little in return.

“Once commerce on the lakes halts for the winter, then I'll have more flexibility,” Alex continued.

She knew too that they'd shut down the light for the winter, for there would be no need for it again until the spring. That was true of most of the lighthouses along the Great Lakes, including the one on Lake St. Clair where she'd lived. The long, lonely winter was just one more reason why the life of a lightkeeper was less than appealing.

“How many more weeks until you're free?” she asked.

He shrugged. “It all depends. Some years winter comes as early as November. Other years the ice doesn't form until December.”

She calculated the number of days Alex would have to miss her evening class. Even if he was able to start attending in November, he'd be too far behind the others to catch up. “You'll have to miss too many classes.”

“I guess I'm destined to remain ignorant,” he said lightly.

“Of course it's not your destiny.”

“I don't mind. I've always figured God created me to do the kind of work that requires brawn, not brains.”

“That's not true.”

Alex stopped walking.

“Everyone deserves a chance at an education,” she insisted, “including you.”

He didn't say anything.

She turned to face him, not caring about the curious glances they were eliciting from the miners walking past them to their log homes.

“Having an education doesn't make me more or less of a man,” he finally said, his shoulders stiff.

She didn't answer. The truth was, she did believe an education improved people, made them better citizens, better parents, and better workers. “How about if I tutor you?” she said without thinking.

His brow tilted up at the same time as his lips.

She could almost hear his playful accusation that she was trumping up an excuse to spend more time with him, which wasn't true—not in the least.

“I could give you the same lessons I'm giving my evening class,” she hurried to explain. “Then when you rejoin the class in a few weeks, you won't be so far behind.”

His grin widened, revealing his white teeth in contrast to his tanned face. “How can I say no to your request to spend time with me alone?”

“I'm not requesting any time alone—”

“Just admit it. You like being with me.”

“I'll admit to no such thing.” He was an infuriating tease. But she liked it nonetheless. She bent and scratched the top of Wolfie's head, hoping to hide her pleasure.

He sauntered closer and lowered his voice. “So when can we get started? The sooner the better, right?”

She had absolutely no idea when she'd have time to meet
with him. Her daylight hours were filled to overflowing. She was already teaching school six days a week, and her spelling class was meeting after school. She didn't know how she could squeeze one more thing into her schedule.

“I'm not sure . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“What about on Sunday afternoon?” he said. “I know it's the day of rest, but what if I promise that I won't make you work too hard?”

“Maybe . . .” She'd been attending church with the Rawlings family, who went to the Methodist Episcopal church. Out of the three churches in Eagle Harbor, it had the largest congregation, mostly Cornish people. She knew from Ingrid that Alex and Michael joined the few Germans at the Lutheran church.

“And what if I promise to study on my own between times?” His expression contained an eagerness she couldn't resist.

“Maybe you should admit that
you
like being with
me
,” she said.

“I can admit it. Easily.”

She smiled at his answer. She wasn't sure that her suggestion to privately tutor him was the best idea, but suddenly she was looking forward to the coming Sunday more than she wanted to acknowledge, even to herself.

Y
ou're too young to think about kissing boys,” Tessa admonished Josie in what she hoped was her kindest tone.

The young girl was taking off her special Sunday dress and had it halfway over her head. From behind the cotton muslin came a muffled giggle.

Tessa dug through the stack of pamphlets and books on the makeshift desk she'd organized in the attic room she shared with Josie. The desk was nothing more than a board balanced on two cut logs. But it sufficed, even if it was wobbly.

After finishing helping Nadine clean up the Sunday noon meal, Tessa still had several hours before meeting with Alex for tutoring. She knew her teacher's contract said she couldn't keep company with men, but she tried to silence the nagging voice of guilt by telling herself that the rule certainly didn't apply to tutoring.

They'd had to put off the tutoring last Sunday because a steamboat had hit a reef off the tip of Keweenaw Point and was
torn to pieces by the powerful waves. Alex and Michael were busy all that afternoon rescuing passengers.

“Too late to tell me not to kiss boys,” Josie said as she pulled the material away from her face and tossed the dress onto the double bed that took up the majority of the space. The girl's short-cropped bangs stood up from the static. Instead of chagrin, Josie's childlike expression radiated pride. “I've already kissed three boys.”

“Three?” Tessa spun and planted her hands on her hips. “That's three too many.”

Josie giggled again. “There's nothing wrong with kissing.”

“Kissing only satisfies for a little while before you're ready to move on to more physical intimacy.”

“What's so wrong with physical intimacy?” Josie asked while smoothing her chemise against her chest, rewarded only by hardly noticeable curves. “If we love each other, then why can't we express our love?”

“When you care for someone, you can express it in many ways,” Tessa said. “But physical affection is designed to remain within the bounds of marriage.”

Josie shook her head. “My mamm and dad sure didn't hold back or else I wouldn't have come along a few months after they got married.”

For a moment, Tessa was speechless. What could she possibly say to counter the girl's bold proclamation? “You need to guard your reputation, Josie,” she said, scrambling for something—anything—that might help. “It's a very precious thing, and once you lose it, it's very difficult to gain back.” At least here in Eagle Harbor, Tessa had finally gone far enough away that her past wasn't trailing her anymore.

“Miss Taylor!” Pounding on the steps was quickly followed
by banging on the attic door. It was one of the young boys of the household. “Gunnar Bjorklund is here for you.”

Tessa's heart gave an extra thump of concern. Danger was inherent at lighthouses. As she clambered down the steps, all she could think about was that Gunnar had come to deliver bad news. But when she found him standing outside, his head hung low and his face flushed with guilt, her worry dissipated.

“Ingrid made me come,” he said, hardly daring to meet her gaze.

Tessa hid a smile of amusement. “Is she sick again?”

“No,” Gunnar said, “but the birds are hitting the tower and she's scared.”

Tessa glanced in the vicinity of the lighthouse. She couldn't see it from the Rawlingses' house, since it was situated farther out into the harbor. From what she could tell, the sky was clear with only a few high wispy clouds. It was a chilly Sunday, yet the sunshine and lack of wind added a mildness to the air.

Was this another of Ingrid's ploys to get her attention? “Are there really birds, Gunnar?”

Gunnar nodded. “Geese. And they've been hitting the tower windows.”

Tessa hesitated. She'd heard of birds getting confused and smashing into lighthouse windows, sometimes knocking off lantern caps or even breaking windows. She wasn't sure, however, that she wanted to be the one dealing with the situation. “Where are your father and uncle? They'll be able to comfort Ingrid.”

“Since the weather is fine, they've gone fishing.”

Tessa crossed her arms and bit back a sigh.

Gunnar shifted. “It's all right, Miss Taylor. You don't have to come. I told Ingie we shouldn't bother you.”

“You're not bothering me,” she said, then reached out and touched his cheek. “You could never be a bother.”

His flush crept higher.

“Let me gather a few things and I'll come with you.” She didn't know what she could do to stop the geese from hitting the tower, but she couldn't leave Gunnar and Ingrid to fend for themselves. The least she could do was walk over and make sure they were both safe.

After donning her coat and hat, she hustled to keep up with Gunnar. Halfway through town she stopped abruptly at the sight of Percival Updegraff exiting one of the miner cabins in the process of buttoning his pants. His coat and vest were askew, his shirt only half tucked in.

“Miss Taylor,” he said, glancing first at her and then at Gunnar. “Where are you heading? Certainly not out to the lighthouse again?”

“Again?” Actually it wasn't any of his business where she was going or why. He might be her boss, but he couldn't tell her where she could or could not go. He'd already visited her evening school twice over the past couple of weeks since he'd been back in Eagle Harbor. Both times he stood at the back of the room and watched every move she made. Though she'd tried to ignore him, his scrutinizing made it difficult.

“I heard you visited the lighthouse while I was gone.” He combed his mussed hair off his forehead.

“Is there anything you don't hear about, Mr. Updegraff?” she asked, clutching her coat against the afternoon chill that seeped through the wool.

“As chief clerk it's my job to know everything that happens in this town.” He straightened his vest. “Lives depend upon me.”

The cabin door behind him opened a crack to reveal a woman
wrapped in a blanket. She held out a hat, Percival's round top derby. As she stretched out her arm, the blanket slipped away exposing a bare shoulder and daylight fell across her features. It was Hannah, the woman who helped the younger children at school.

“Hannah?” Tessa said and stepped forward, confused to see the woman wrapped in a blanket. “Is everything all right?”

At Tessa's voice, Hannah's eyes widened. Mortification poured across the young woman's pretty face. She cast her eyes downward. “Everything's just fine.”

Percival took the hat from Hannah and placed it carefully on his silvery black hair. “I was just stopping by to get an update from Hannah on her work at the schoolhouse.”

Get
an update from Hannah?
Tessa almost snorted. On Sunday afternoon? Where were her husband and son? Were they out fishing too?

Hannah slipped backward and shoved the door closed. Tessa's heart sickened at the thought of what was really going on. With Percival's disheveled state and Hannah wearing nothing but a blanket, it was obvious he was doing more than getting an update from her.

Tessa was half tempted to open the door and confront her helper. Was she, a married woman, having an affair with Percival behind her husband's back? Why would she? And how dare she show up at school to help teach the children when she was living a life of sin?

Gunnar stood next to her, shifting from one foot to the next. What would the children think once they learned of Hannah's conduct? It was no wonder girls like Josie had so few morals, with the adults of the community having such low standards.

Tessa reached for Gunnar's arm to tug him along.

“I'd prefer that you abstain from visiting the lighthouse, Miss
Taylor,” Percival said after her. “I won't allow female teachers to visit with single men.”

“You needn't worry,” she called over her shoulder. “Most of the men are out fishing. As you're apparently well aware.” She sped along, having no trouble keeping up with Gunnar this time. With every step her anger fomented until it was a boiling cauldron. She despised men who held a double standard, rebuking women to remain above reproach when they felt they had every right to fornicate in plain view of others.

By the time Tessa reached the lighthouse, she was so incensed she had to take a deep breath before stepping inside. As she entered the front room, the sight of Ingrid's frightened little face peering out from under a huddled mass of blankets on the sofa left Tessa forgetting all about Percival.

“Miss Taylor!” Ingrid cried.

Tessa rushed to the girl, sat down next to her, and pulled her into her arms. Ingrid wrapped her bony arms around Tessa's neck and buried her face into Tessa's hair, which she was still wearing in loose ringlets to match her Sunday dress.

“Everything will be all right,” Tessa promised, hugging Ingrid even closer.

Gunnar stood just inside the door, watching her hold Ingrid. Tessa smiled at him over Ingrid's head.

“Are the birds gone now?” she asked.

Ingrid nodded. “I think so.”

Tessa listened and couldn't hear anything but the faint crashing of waves outside the lighthouse.

“How about if Gunnar and I go up and see?”

Ingrid scrambled off the sofa and reached for her crutch. “I'll go with you.” Instead of fear, there was a sparkle of excitement in the girl's eyes.

Tessa sat back, both surprised and amused. If Ingrid had been afraid, she'd certainly gotten over it quickly.

“Come on, Miss Taylor,” the girl called as she limped across the room.

She followed Gunnar and Ingrid past the kitchen which was as untidy as the front room, if not more so, with dirty dishes piled on the table, food stains and crumbs on the floor, and dried spills and grease coating the wood-burning stove.

They moved to the front hallway to a door that opened to a spiral staircase made of cast iron. She ignored the rising protest, the inner voice that urged her to flee. Instead she forced her feet to climb one step at a time. She soon realized that the staircase served two functions. It led to the second floor of the house and also provided access to the lantern room.

The narrow steps twisted upward all the way to the hatch. Gunnar pushed up the metal hatch door and climbed through easily. Ingrid followed closely behind. Despite her deformed leg, the girl had learned to climb, even if it was slow and awkward for her.

Peering up through the hatch, Tessa couldn't contain a shudder. Hadn't she vowed that she wouldn't step foot into another lighthouse for as long as she lived? So what in heaven's name was she doing here?

Ingrid knelt at the opening. “What's the matter, Miss Taylor? Are you scared?”

Tessa hesitated. She very well couldn't tell Ingrid that she resented everything about lighthouses. To do so would crush Ingrid's spirit. She had to set aside the bitterness of the past and help Ingrid and Gunnar.

“It's all right,” Ingrid said. “Once you're up, I'll hold your hand.”

“That's good to know,” Tessa said, then finished the climb with unsteady feet. “I'm sure I'll feel much safer with you right by my side.”

“Watch for broken glass,” Gunnar warned, reaching out his hand as she straightened.

She found herself face-to-face with a fourth-order Fresnel lens at the center of the room. Its shiny glass prisms gleamed in the sunlight. The room was octagonal in shape with eight windows set in cast-iron frames. One of the glass panes had been smashed, and there in a pool of dark blood and shattered glass lay a goose, its eyes open, its neck broken at an odd angle, and its sleek body slashed in several places.

The wind coming off the lake blew through the broken window, sending chills up Tessa's arms and back. It pushed against her, telling her to retreat, to stay away lest she lose even more.

Ingrid's warm fingers slipped into hers. “Don't worry, Miss Taylor.”

Gunnar popped open the latch on a half door and swung it open to reveal a wide gallery surrounded by a railing. He bent low and climbed outside.

Ingrid pulled Tessa onto the open catwalk too. As she stepped into the biting wind, she didn't bother to glance at the lake. She already knew what she'd see: the angry waves with their frothy caps seeking their next victim. The sound of their constant crashing was enough to endure without having to look at them too.

There on the iron galley lay several more dead geese. She guessed they'd hit the windows hard and broken their necks.

“There's nothing I can do right now with the window,” Tessa said. “But we can at least clean up the mess.”

Gunnar went to fetch a broom and a pail of water while Tessa gathered the geese on the catwalk. When he returned, he swept
up the jagged glass and she scrubbed the blood from the floor. Finally they started back down with the geese.

“Gunnar, you run two geese over to Nadine to cook up,” she said once she was standing outside in the yard behind the woodshed that formed the back of the house. “Ingrid and I will pluck this one and set it to roasting.”

Gunnar obeyed without question. Tessa went to work clipping wings and plucking feathers. Though she hadn't dressed a fowl since starting her teacher training, the steps came back easily. After chopping off the head and feet and removing the entrails, she rinsed the blood away and placed the bird in the roasting pan Ingrid had located.

Once the goose was in the oven, she decided she may as well prepare something to go with it. So with Ingrid by her side, they peeled potatoes and carrots and set those to boil on low heat. Ingrid's eagerness at helping warmed Tessa's heart. By the time Gunnar returned from delivering the geese, they were in the middle of making biscuits.

While the food baked and the kitchen filled with tantalizing aromas, she had the children go to work by helping her tidy up. They washed the dishes, swept the floor, and scrubbed until she finally stood back and crossed her arms, pleased at the progress. The children shared with her how their father and uncle wanted to win the Efficiency Star to help raise money for surgery on Ingrid's leg, but that they'd never once been able to earn the special badge along with its prize money.