Hearts Made Whole (16 page)

“What can I do to make you more comfortable?” She slid backward, taking the sweet temptation of her lips away from him. Which was in both of their best interests.

Still, he could sense her embarrassment, and he didn't want her thinking he hadn't liked the kiss, because that would have been the furthest thing from the truth. “If you kissed me again, I'd be very comfortable. In fact, I'd be back in heaven,” he said softly. “But I'm only a man, and I'm not sure that I'd have the strength to pull away from you again tonight.”

“Oh” came her surprised response.

“I may have made some pretty awful mistakes in my life,” he added, “but at least I've remained honorable in how I've treated women.”

As hard as it might be, he was determined to do the right thing by Caroline too. For he was more attracted to her than any woman he'd ever met before. And although the pull to share intimacies with her was strong, he had to resist.

He would resist or die trying.

T
he rain and the wind continued through the night. And with each passing hour, Ryan grew more miserable. Though he didn't say anything, Caroline could see he was in great pain. He gripped his head and writhed in agony, his body shook with chills, and his muscles contracted with spasms that only seemed to aggravate his wounded arm.

She knew he was suffering the ill effects of not having his opium pills and that in the long run he'd be better off without the medicine. Even so, she was desperate for something she could give him—tea, a salve, anything—that would ease his suffering. But she could do nothing but run a soothing hand over his forehead, cradle him after the spasms, and whisper urgent prayers that God would help him survive the night.

At one point he finally fell into a restless sleep. She was grateful that he could have a reprieve from his agony, even if for a short time. When he awoke, the faint light under the door told them morning had come. Caroline resumed her banging on the door and shouting for help. Yet the rain and wind continued in a steady patter that stifled her efforts.

She prayed Tessa would make a trip out to the cellar, but as the hours passed without anyone coming, the worry began to creep deeper into Caroline's chest so that she could hardly breathe. She couldn't keep from thinking that maybe no one would come to rescue them, that they would die here once their supply of food and apple cider ran out.

Ryan's chills and shaking finally diminished, and he grew lethargic, hardly stirring when she offered him sips of cider throughout the day. When the evening faded once again, she could only close her eyes and fight back the worry clawing at her insides. Another night without knowing how her family was faring. And another night that the lantern would remain unlit.

If only she'd insisted that Tessa learn to operate the light. She'd tried to teach her sister once, but Tessa had never liked going up into the tower and had protested so profusely against learning anything about the light that Caroline decided the issue wasn't worth the fight.

Oh, God, I need you
, her heart cried as she attempted to drag a breath into her air-deprived lungs.
I need you. I need you. I need you
.

It was the only prayer she could utter.

But it was the only prayer that mattered.

After a moment, her chest loosened, the muscles in her back relaxed, and her eyelids fluttered down. The last thought she had before falling into an exhausted sleep was that somehow God was with her, that He'd lifted her burden and given her His peace in its place.

Caroline jolted awake and sat forward, only to find Ryan's head in her lap and his arm thrown across her legs. Light
streamed in from the crack under the door, illuminating his face enough for her to see that he was sleeping and that his features had finally smoothed. The crevices of pain were gone. The taut muscles had loosened. He seemed to be resting almost normally.

She reached out a hand and boldly combed back his hair from his forehead. After the past day of nursing him, the gesture seemed natural to her.

He stirred and exhaled a long breath.

She shifted to get more comfortable and in the process let her hand delve deeper into his hair. She couldn't deny how much she loved its silkiness and the way it cascaded through her fingers.

She brought her other hand to his face and pressed it against his cheek, letting the stubble graze her. She also couldn't deny how much she relished the strength of his jaw and the bristle beneath her fingers.

He moved again, and this time twisted so that her hand slipped to his mouth. In the same movement he wrapped his hand around hers, preventing her from moving it from his lips.

She tensed with the embarrassment of having been so free in touching him. “You're awake,” she said, extricating her fingers from his hair and attempting to move her other hand away from his face.

But he didn't relinquish his grip, and instead his lips pressed against the soft center of her palm. The gentleness and warmth of the kiss made her close her eyes, and she had to bite her lip to keep in a sharp breath of pleasure.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

His only response was to press his lips again, this time grazing against the rapid pounding of the vein in her wrist that surely gave away her desire for him.

She couldn't keep herself from thinking about the kiss she
gave him the first night of their being trapped together. How had she dared it? Yes, he'd just bared his soul to her. He'd been distressed, broken and honest.

But she'd been brazen to kiss him like she did, acting like a common hussy. What would he think of her now?

“Stop worrying, Caroline,” he whispered, positioning her fingers against his cheek again. “Whatever you're thinking, it's not true.”

“How do you know?”

Before he could respond, the door rattled.

She gasped, and he shot off the ground.

“Hello!” she called while crawling forward, renewed desperation giving her a burst of strength.

The plank door rattled again, this time with more force.

Within seconds the door opened, and brilliant light poured over them, blinding them. Cold air rushed in to replace the warmth their bodies had created inside the cellar.

She blinked hard and scrambled through the doorway into wet grass and damp leaves. She bent over it and gulped a breath of the fresh scent of earth.

An oversized pair of scuffed shoes stood only inches away. Kneeling in the grass, the wetness soaking through her skirt, she looked up to find Arnie Simmons standing above her, his eyes wide with concern.

“Caroline.” His voice was wobbly. “Are y-you . . . okay?”

She wanted to hug him. She'd never been happier to see anyone in her life. But before she could get her words of gratitude out, Ryan was crawling out next to her, and Arnie's brows rose into his receding hairline.

“Wow, the sun's bright,” Ryan said. His face was pale, and he shielded his eyes with his uninjured hand.

“He was with you?” Arnie's large ears flamed a bright shade of red.

“We've been trapped inside since Monday,” she explained, glancing first to the position of the sun and then to the tower that glistened like a diamond in the morning light. It was still fairly early. What was Arnie doing out at the lighthouse at this time of day?

“Where is everyone else?” she asked, sitting up straighter and stretching her cramped limbs. “Are my brothers and sisters safe?”

Arnie glared at Ryan. Something dark, almost dangerous flashed in Arnie's eyes before disappearing. “Everyone's here.” Arnie turned back to her. “Search p-parties met here at . . . at f-first light.”

“Search parties?” Finally she stood and then scanned the area. Here and there, groups of people walked together, calling out, searching the forest, the marsh, even walking along the lakeshore.

“We've b-been looking for y-you,” Arnie explained.

Out in the marsh she caught sight of Esther's bulky frame, along with several other women from town. She spotted Tessa and the boys near the forest edge. A group of men milled along the shore, including Esther's husband, the mayor. Even Monsieur Poupard was combing the woods.

Ryan straightened next to her. He swayed, his knees almost buckling beneath him.

She reached for him, linking her arm through his and steadying him. In the bright yellows, greens, and reds of the fall morning, his face was ashen, the dark circles under his eyes testifying to the torture he'd undergone the past two days without his medication.

Arnie took a step back, his attention darting between them with hurt and confusion chasing away his concern.

“It's not what you think, Arnie,” she rushed to explain. “Nothing happened between Ryan and me. He's been so sick.”

A shout in the distance told her the group had noticed her and Ryan standing with Arnie.

Dismay took away her joy at finally getting set free. If Arnie thought the worst had happened between her and Ryan, she could only imagine what everyone else would think.

For a short time, everyone was so glad to see her and intent upon hugging her that they hardly seemed to notice Ryan at all.

Tessa hugged her the tightest of all and then stood back and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I can't believe you were here in the cellar all along.”

“At first we thought maybe you went to Detroit to look for a new job,” Harry said, holding her hand.

“But then Tessa realized you hadn't taken anything with you,” Hugh added, gripping her other hand.

Caroline bent and placed another kiss on each of their heads, grateful they were all right.

Esther stood next to her husband and rested her hands on her swollen abdomen. “I knew you wouldn't leave the kids without telling them where you were going. That's just not like you.”

Caroline smiled at all the faces surrounding her, overwhelmed by the support of the townspeople. “Esther's right. I wouldn't have left without telling you where I was going.”

“So of course when I heard you were gone,” Esther said, “I organized a search party. It was too late in the day yesterday to do anything—and too stormy. But we decided to meet out here at first light and begin searching the area.”

“Thank you.” Caroline reached for Esther's hand and
squeezed it. “And thank you to Arnie for deciding to check the cellar.”

She turned then to Arnie, who was standing awkwardly near the door of the cellar. He'd been so faithful to her, probably the first to arrive that morning ready to search. Throwing caution aside, she reached for the young man and threw her arms around him in a hug.

He immediately held himself as straight as a boat paddle.

Sensing his embarrassment and catching a faint hint of onion on his breath, she released her hold and smiled at him instead.

His face lit up, and he smiled back shyly.

No one else appreciated him. The least she could do was express her gratitude for his kindness.

“Aye, thank you, Arnie, for finding us,” Ryan said, leaning back against the mound that formed the cellar. His legs and hands trembled from time to time, and from the way he shielded his eyes from the sun, she could tell the bright light was making his head ache all over again.

“It's a miracle Arnie checked the cellar,” Ryan added. “Most people wouldn't think to look in a place that locked from the outside.”

“Good point,” Esther said, turning to Ryan and taking in his wrinkled and dirty garments. “Someone had to have been waiting and watching for the opportunity to lock Caroline in the cellar. That kind of thing wouldn't happen by chance.”

Caroline stifled a shudder, not wanting to think about the fact that somehow she'd gained an enemy.

“It would appear that someone has purposefully set out to harm you,” Esther declared, which started a murmur among the rest of the group gathered around them.

“Or maybe someone is trying scare her,” Ryan said.

Esther's full form contrasted her husband's lanky body, made even taller by his top hat. The pair reminded Caroline of the newspaper pictures she'd seen of the late President Lincoln and his first lady.

Monsieur Poupard on the fringes of the group wasn't paying any attention to what they were saying. Instead he was frowning at the area that had once housed her beautiful garden, now completely barren except for a few stray stems she'd yet to pull.

At the rattle of a wagon and the sharp crack of a whip, everyone's attention shifted to the path that wound through the marsh and the approaching wagon.

Two men sat on the wagon's front bench. The one driving was a hulk of a man, his arms bulging, his torso double the size of the man sitting next to him. It could be none other than Mr. Simmons. No one else was as big.

Arnie took an involuntary step backward, bumping into the cellar door, worry flashing through his eyes.

As they drew closer, Caroline's heart sank, and she wanted to slink back next to Arnie and cower with him out of sight.