A
lex blew bubbles into two-year-old Jimmy Rawlings's belly. The boy's burst of laughter warmed his heart. He reached for four-year-old Johnny Rawlings standing behind him on the sofa and grabbed him into a headlock, gently flipping him onto the sofa. Then Alex bent and blew bubbles into Johnny's belly, earning a chorus of giggles from him too.
“Time to get started with our tutoring session, Mr. Bjorklund,” Tessa said, standing above him, her fists bunched on her hips.
“I told you it wasn't a good idea to meet here,” he said as he tickled Jimmy. The boy darted to the other side of the front room, where the older boys were sprawled on the floor engaged in a game of marbles. Jimmy skidded into their game and sent the marbles rolling in every direction, earning a chorus of Cornish curses from his brothers.
Tessa cringed and glanced around the crowded room in dismay. “Maybe we should go back to plan A and sit at the kitchen table.” The hesitancy in her voice told him that she knew she couldn't very well order Nadine to move her sewing project off
the kitchen table so that she could tutor Alex, not when Nadine already had everything laid out for lining trousers for winter.
“We could return to plan double A and meet at the school,” he said. That was the original place she'd chosen, but after several thwarted tutoring sessions, she'd changed her mind. “We'll have plenty of quiet there. And no interruptions.” He winked at her.
“That's exactly why we're
not
meeting at the schoolhouse,” she said, cocking her head in that sassy way of hers.
He grinned. He'd determined over the past week to make more steps in winning her affection. Lately it had become increasingly clear that Michael was interested in her. What other explanation could there be for why he had given Tessa the snowshoes he'd lovingly crafted for his wife? Of course, Rachel had died before she'd been able to use them. Nevertheless, Michael had refused to part with them. Then he'd met Tessa . . .
And what other explanation could there be for why Michael continued to look for excuses to fix things at the schoolhouse? Just this past week he'd gone over to caulk around the windows so the cold north wind wouldn't blow into the building so easily.
Alex had decided he couldn't sit back and do nothing while Tessa fell in love with kind, sweet, sensitive Michael. He had to make her fall in love with him first. The problem was he didn't know how to win her. What could an unschooled man like him do to woo a young educated woman like Tessa? He couldn't settle for doing the ordinary things because she wasn't an ordinary woman. Somehow he had to find a way to sweep her off her feet and make her fall head over heels in love with him.
Jimmy jumped onto his back. At the same time Johnny came rushing to his front, attempting to tackle him. Alex roared and stood up, imitating a huge black bear. Both boys clung to him and laughed. He took several lumbering steps forward before
he pretended they were bringing him down. Slowly, so that he didn't hurt them, he crumpled to the ground, until both boys were sitting on his chest and staring at him triumphantly.
Tessa peered down at him. She was trying unsuccessfully to hold back a smile. Suddenly all he could think about was how someday he wanted to have children with her. He wanted to have their little ones crawling over him and calling him Daddy.
He hadn't allowed himself to think about having a family of his own in so long that the thought caught him off guard. He'd always been content with Gunnar and Ingrid. He'd helped raise them since they were infants. But what would it be like to have his own children, his own home?
The thought sent such a sharp sense of longing through him that his breath hitched and his muscles tensed with the need to have her. Above him, as though sensing his thoughts, Tessa's half smile faded and she averted her eyes.
He rolled himself to a sitting position and silently berated himself for his intensity again. He had to stop scaring her. He was scaring himself too. He couldn't second-guess his decision to live with Michael and Gunnar and Ingrid. It had been the right thing to do, the thing his dad would have done.
His dad had lived a life of sacrifice. He'd not only sacrificed for his family to build a new life in America, but he'd also literally given the shirt off his back to strangers on more than one occasion. Alex couldn't think of a better man than his dad. Although he respected the good Finnish man his mom had married after Dad's passing, no one could ever live up to the man his dad had been. Even though Alex knew he'd never be as loyal and strong as his dad, he'd vowed to try to be at least half the man.
Alex stood and shook his head, attempting to clear his mind. It wasn't that he was thinking of leaving Michael and the chil
dren. He wouldn't ever consider doing that, not when they still needed him. But certainly Tessa could join his life at the lighthouse with his family, couldn't she? It was the same question he'd asked himself before, one that kept recurring.
She leafed through a stack of papers and books she'd brought down when he'd arrived.
“Let's go,” he said, not exactly sure where he would take her. “We'll find someplace else to do the lessons.”
She spun and narrowed her eyes at him. “Someplace where we're not alone?”
He looked out the window to the low clouds and the muddy snow. After several inches of snow and arctic temperatures earlier in the week, the fickle November temperatures had risen above freezing and had melted most of the snow into mud puddles.
“How about if we take a walk? Maybe we'll find a place along the way.”
She peered outside too, and her expression turned skeptical. Finally she nodded. Within a few minutes they were bundled up and outside. A fine mist hung in the damp air. Their boots squelched in the long wet grass, fallen leaves, and patches of remaining snow.
“I admire your commitment to my education,” he said as they meandered nowhere in particular.
“I only wish you were as committed to it as I am.”
He chuckled. “I think you're attempting to reform a lost cause.”
She shoved his arm playfully. “No one's a lost cause. You have just as much potential as anyone else.”
“You're on a mission here to change as many of us as possible, aren't you?” While he was jesting with her, he couldn't hold at
bay the thought that perhaps she'd never be satisfied with an uneducated man like him.
“The longer I'm here, the more I see that needs changing.” She glanced in the direction of Percival's big house towering above all the others.
He was sure she was thinking about Percival's abusive power, just as he'd done many times over the past couple of years since Percival had taken over as chief clerk. Thankfully he and Michael could act independently without worrying about what Percival would do to them. But the same couldn't be said of anyone working for the Cole Mine. If any of the miners displeased Percival or refused to do what he wanted, the ramifications were swift and unpleasant. Of course, Percival bought the favor of a select few men, like Mr. Rawlings, who got the bigger homes and better pay.
As they walked, she told him about Percival's control over Hannah and her desire to do something to help the poor woman. And then he shared the lesson he'd learned the hard way with the last Cole Mine mechanic. He'd gone to Percival's office and had defended the family against untrue accusations that Percival was leveling. The next day the entire family had been thrown out of their home with only the few possessions they owned, jobless and penniless. Alex had used his meager savings to help them buy passage on a steamer headed to Detroit, along with enough cash to hold them over until they could find new employment.
After that, Alex had taken more care with how he helped the people in the community. He learned that if he or Michael interfered, Percival only made things worse for the miner and his family.
“I want to give everyone the ability to move out of here and get better jobs if they want to,” she said as they passed several dingy cabins.
“And who says they need better jobs? There's nothing wrong with being a miner.”
“It's menial labor.”
Though her words were spoken matter-of-factly, without derision, he couldn't keep from feeling a sting of embarrassment. His work was menial too. In many ways he was much like the miners, accustomed to working hard with his hands. If she thought the miners were ignorant and needed improving, what did she think of him?
“It's much more complicated than it looks,” he said in defense of himself as much as the miners.
“There are many other jobs which aren't nearly as dangerous or demanding.”
With a nod, he veered toward the east, knowing exactly where he wanted to take her. “You may not believe this, but some people actually like doing âmenial labor.'”
“You're right. I don't believe it.” She followed alongside him as he steered her down a path that led away from town and toward the wooded hills. “I don't think people willingly choose mine work or other heavy labor. Rather, they fall into it because that's all they know how to do.”
He mulled over her statement. Had he fallen into his line of work as a tender crew member because of his strength? Would he have chosen to deliver supplies to lighthouses if he'd had the opportunity to do something else? Like make more of a business out of breeding his elkhounds?
Perhaps there was some truth to what Tessa was saying. Even so, not everyone needed an education in order to have a fulfilling job. Many of the miners loved what they did and wouldn't change it even if they could.
“Why are we at the mine?” she asked when he stopped at the
base of a bluff. Ahead was the stamp mill and a connecting side shack that housed a steam engine and boilers used to operate the engine. Once the miners removed the rock to the surface, wooden chutes transported the rock down the bluff to the stamp mill where it was crushed and washed, separating out the pieces of copper. From there the copper was placed in barrels and hauled by wagon to the harbor to be loaded onto steamers for shipment to ports in Detroit, Chicago, and Cleveland.
On a Sunday afternoon, the normal grinding from the stamp and hissing from the boilers were replaced with an eerie stillness. The tall stone smokestack next to the boiler room was void of the usual streak of gray that rose from it.
“Should we be here?” she asked, studying the huge mounds of crushed rock filling the land that had at one time been untouched and populated by a thick forest of evergreens.
“Come on,” he said and reached for her hand. He tugged her along a path that led uphill. When he reached the top, a thump within the hoist building stopped him. The log shack housed the machine that was responsible for bringing up all the rock and material from the depths of the mine. He considered taking Tessa inside to show her the details of the machine and explain how the process worked, but instead he directed her toward shaft house number two.
The door was unlocked as he knew it would be. He stepped inside and she behind him, her eyes bright with curiosity. At the center of the building was the shaft hole where the miners descended into the bowels of the hill. The tip of a ladder rose from the dark cavern.
“Are we going down?” she asked, creeping toward the gaping opening. The tap-tap of dripping water greeted them, along with cold damp air wafting up from the underground caverns.
No matter the temperature at the surface, the underground chambers were always forty-five degrees whether in the dead of winter or on the hottest day in summer.
He hadn't released her hand and used the opportunity to tighten his hold. “Maybe some time we can go down, but we're not equipped for it today, unless of course you want me to tie up your skirt.”
“Maybe it would help if I took it off altogether,” she retorted.
He grinned. “Let's wait for that until after we're married.”
The shaft house was windowless, the only light coming from the open doorway, but still he could see a blush creep into her cheeks and remorse crowd out the sparkle in her eyes. She tried slipping her hand out of his, but he wouldn't let her.
Instead he tugged her down to the edge of the shaft until they were both sitting with their legs dangling over the long steep drop that was at least a hundred fathoms. He wouldn't tell her, but he'd never allow her to climb down the ladder, especially this time of year when the damp ladders turned icy or sometimes broke.
There were usually several falls every winter that either killed or severely maimed miners. Even more dangerous were the accidents from broken cables that hoisted the large buckets of rock upward. The loose rocks cascaded down and fell onto unsuspecting miners climbing up from below. But he knew he couldn't tell her any of that now or he'd only prove her point that the miners needed a way out of their dangerous occupation.
Tessa sidled close to him, her shoulder brushing him. He was tempted to slip his arm around her waist and draw her even closer, but he resisted.
For a while he explained how the mining operations worked, how the men would sink the shaft twelve fathoms and then
blast a drift that was four feet wide and six high along a vein of copper. They would timber up the drift and lay track for a wagon or cart that could bring rock to the shaft to be raised to the surface.
“I concede your point,” she said. “Mining is more complicated than I realized.”
“The men may not be book smart like you,” he said, “but the Cornish are experienced in deep-mine operations. They know drilling techniques that cut the copper into manageable-size pieces. They're experts in blasting. And they've mastered the ability of removing the ore to the surface from hundreds of feet below.”
“Even if they are experts in copper mining,” she said, “I still think more of them deserve the chance to do something better with their lives.”