The Lightkeeper's Daughter (32 page)

The smile she turned on him stole his breath. Such trust and love. He’d nearly broken that trust. He bent over the chest and pulled out small items.

She picked up the tea set and peered inside each cup, then lifted the lid on the teapot. “John, there’s something here!” She thrust her fingers into the pot and withdrew a tiny scrap of paper.

“Get it under the light,” he said when he saw her squint at the tiny print.

She scrambled to her feet, and he followed her to the sconce on the wall. Her brow wrinkled as she strained to see the words. “It reads ‘Fort Bragg.’” She stared at him. “The first time I talked to Katie was when she called to pass along a message from Father’s secretary about having completed the arrangements for his trip to Fort Bragg. She said he went twice a year.”

A memory surged to the forefront of his mind. “There’s an insane asylum there.”

Addie’s hand went to the pocket of her dressing gown and emerged with a paper. “This clue. The one about that reads ‘insane asylum.’”

He knew what she wanted from her thoughtful expression. “You want to go to Fort Bragg.” But his gut twisted at the thought of digging any deeper into this morass.

T
HIRTY-THREE

P
EOPLE NOTICED WHEN
she came to town. Monday morning, Addie could barely make it from store to store without being stopped with a smile and friendly hello. Before it became known she was an Eaton, people were friendly, but now that her identity was common knowledge, they gave her deference.

She knew her smile was lopsided as she spoke and went on her way down the street. Dawn had come with her still wide-eyed and sleepless over the revelations of the night before. Her father cared nothing about her and never would. All that mattered to him was more money and power.

She rounded the corner and saw her uncle outside a tavern. He was staring into the window with a faraway expression that cleared when he turned his head and saw her. “Julia, my dear, you look lovely. What are you doing in town today?”

She brushed a kiss across Walter’s cheek. “I had some errands to run.” Did he know about the will? She didn’t see how he could and have a relationship with her father. He needed to know what she’d found though. She owed him so much. “I found some other things my mother hid,” she said.

He took her arm and drew her off the main sidewalk. “What kind of things?”

“Notes. Clues. One reads, ‘Fort Bragg’ and the other one reads, ‘Father murdered.’”

He blanched. “Did she mean
our
father was murdered?”

“I’m not sure, but that’s what I’d assumed.”

“Fort Bragg. Henry goes there on business a few times a year.”

“So John said.” It was all she could do to hold back the contents of the will she’d found. She had to find out more before she told him.

“I’ll put my investigator on it,” he said. “Thank you for keeping me informed. Now I must go, my dear. I have an appointment. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Let me know if you find out anything,” she called after him. She resumed her brisk stroll down the sidewalk and reached the hospital, a small brick building down the block from the garment factory. Mrs. Whittaker had been taken in more than a week ago, and Addie should have checked on her before today. Her only excuse was how unsettled her life had been.

She climbed the steps to the second floor and found the nurses’ desk. After asking the nurse where to find the older woman, she went to the end of the hall. The scent of carbolic and alcohol hung in the air. The coughing of patients told her she’d reached the right ward. She pressed her hand against her diaphragm and took a deep breath. Pinning on a smile, she stepped into the ward.

She walked between the rows of beds. The stench of blood and sickness nearly gagged her. Gaunt, pale faces turned her direction as she traversed the length of the room, searching for Mrs. Whittaker. When a voice called out her name, she turned and saw the woman struggling to sit up in a bed she’d just passed. Mrs. Whittaker had lost weight and was deathly pale.

She lifted a limp hand to Addie. “Miss Sullivan, is that you?”

Addie rushed to the bed and pressed the woman back against the pillow. “Rest, Mrs. Whittaker. I stopped by to see how you are.”

The woman fell back, panting. She dabbed at her lips with the handkerchief. “I’m better. Stronger. But my poor children.”

“Have they been to see you?”

Mrs. Whittaker shook her head. “The county orphanage won’t let them.” She reached over and clutched Addie’s hand. “Would you go see them? Make sure they’re okay. It would mean so much to me to know they aren’t being mistreated.”

“I’ll do what I can,” she said. “Can I get you anything? Food, something to drink?”

“I’m fine, dear. Or I will be.” Her violent coughing into the handkerchief left flecks of blood.

“I’d better be going, then. I’ll pray for you.” Addie fled the ward.

She raced past nurses pushing squeaky carts and a doctor walking at a fast clip. Out in the sunshine, she gulped in fresh air that had never smelled so sweet.

“Julia?”

She turned at her father’s voice. He stood in his bowler with his suit buttoned and a flower in his buttonhole.

He glanced from her to the hospital. “What were you doing in there?”

“Visiting a friend.”

His brows gathered. “Who would that be?”

She held his gaze. “Mrs. Whittaker.”

“The mother of the girls who work at the garment factory. Julia, I expressly forbade you to get involved with that family. You could catch her disease. You’re an Eaton. Good works are fine, but please limit them to something I approve.”

She curled her fingers into fists in the folds of her dress. “I care about this family, Father. I want to help them.”

He took a firmer grip on his cane. “Then give them money.”

“I want to do more than that. Those children were taken to the orphanage. I can’t bear to think of them there. Five children, Father.” Her voice broke.

“My dear, there are children all over this country in orphanages. You can’t take in all of them.”

She put as much appeal in her voice as she could muster. “Maybe not, but we could take in these.”

His brows rose, and his expression of horror said it all. “Absolutely not!” He took out his pocket watch. “I must go, my dear. I’ll see you at home tonight. Lord Carrington is coming for dinner.”

“Father—” But he was gone before she could object.

She walked on toward her buggy, then saw Katie on the other side of the street. Addie darted between two buggies to intercept her friend, who looked fetching in a blue dress framed with lace at the neck. She carried two bags in her left hand.

Katie shifted one of the bags from her left hand to her right. “Addie, I was just thinking about you!”

“Do you have time for ice cream?”

“Oh, I wish I did. I have some clothing to deliver to the orphanage. Why don’t you come along with me?”

“For the Whittaker children?”

Katie nodded. “Mama and I canvassed the neighborhood for items. I have a nice assortment. The children would be so glad to see you.”

Addie took one of the bags from her. “I could use your advice.”

Katie’s blue eyes widened. “Is this about John North?”

Addie fell into step beside her, and they walked toward the orphanage. “Not just John,” she said.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t even know where to begin. John proposed Saturday night, and I said yes.”

“Addie, I’m so happy for you.”

“Don’t be. When we arrived home, Father informed me that he’d given my hand to Lord Carrington.”

Katie stopped on the sidewalk. “No!”

Addie nodded. “He won’t listen to reason. He’s insisting I marry Carrington.”

“But he might have had something to do with your mother’s death! And he’s old, Addie. Old enough to be your father.”

“I know.”

Katie tipped her head and held Addie’s gaze. “You’ve changed since I met you.”

“In what way?”

“When we first met, you were like Gideon. Eager, happy. You said what you thought with never any guile. Now you’re so eager to please your father that you’re letting him mold you into some idea he has of the proper daughter.”

Addie started to speak but wasn’t sure if she even had a defense. Was Katie right? She thought about her recent decisions. She’d barely objected when her father forbade her from helping the Whittaker family anymore. “There may be some truth to what you say.”

Katie held up the bag of clothes she carried. “Two weeks ago, you would have been the one gathering donations. You would have moved into the apartment and cared for the children yourself instead of letting them go to the orphanage.”

Addie’s eyes burned. “I wanted my father to love me.”

“We all crave approval. But at what cost, Addie? I think this price is too dear.”

Addie’s knees nearly buckled. When was the last time she’d opened her Bible? She hadn’t even asked God what he would have her do in this situation. “You’re right,” she whispered. “I have to go.” She thrust the bag into Katie’s hand and ran back the way she’d come.

Addie fell face-first into the soft moss. The roar of the falls filled her ears and drowned out the sound of her sobs. Edward was eating his lunch under the careful watch of his nurse, so she’d been free to take her dog. Gideon whined and licked her cheek.

This perfect dream was crumbling in her hands. And she’d let it, because she’d allowed other people to become more important to her than God.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against the softness of the moss. “I wanted so much to belong.”

You belong to me. I am the only Father you need.

The words impressed themselves on her heart. How easily she’d been enticed away from the things that truly mattered. “I thought I was strong, Lord. That nothing could shake my faith.”

And nothing had. Only her willful decisions to let what other people thought matter more than what God wanted. Without so much as a backward glance, she’d dropped her desire for God’s will and followed her own. Her life would mean nothing if she let the world creep in.

She groaned as she remembered the desperate face of Mrs. Whittaker. Addie had let her father’s disapproval keep her from doing what she knew was right. And those children. She’d abandoned them to the orphanage. God had urged her to help, but she’d been afraid.

She sat up and swiped at her face, then opened the Bible she’d brought. Gideon crowded close and put his head on her lap. Her study of the names of God fell out. She picked up the pages.
El Shaddai. All-Sufficient God
. Why had she thought she needed any man’s approval? Only God’s mattered.

She flipped to Proverbs 3. “Let not mercy and truth forsake thee,” she read. “Bind them about thy neck. Write them upon the table of thine heart.” She shut her Bible. With God’s help, she’d cling to the truth and follow him, not the whims of man.

She rubbed Gideon’s head, then pushed him off. She rose and turned toward the path, but stopped when she saw John approaching through the ferns. Had he come here for solace or had he come in search of her? She waited for him to see her.

Brushing the ferns out of the way, he strolled as if he had all the time in the world. His head was bare, and he’d removed his jacket. His sleeves were rolled up to reveal his strong forearms. She thought of the scripture that mentioned God’s strong right arm. This was a man she could depend on. A man who would be strong where she was weak.

Gideon bounded forward, then groveled on his back for John to rub his stomach. At the dog’s appearance, John’s gaze went toward the spring.

Their eyes met, and he stopped. A grave smile tugged at his lips. “Addie. There you are.”

“Were you looking for me?”

“Yes. I knew you’d be here.” He glanced at the waterfall. “This is your special place with God, isn’t it?”

She nodded and stepped closer to him. “I feel him here.”

He wound a curl around his index finger. “You’ve changed me, Addie. Sitting in church yesterday, I realized how far I’d fallen away from God. I want to remember what it was like to want to follow him.”

His fingers in her hair caused warmth to spread out from her belly. “I haven’t been a very good example lately,” she whispered. “I let what everyone else wanted come first.”

“I told you it would happen.”

“You did. But no more.”

His hand became more entwined in her hair. He glanced at her bare feet. “I’m glad. I love the real Addie. The one who plays ragtime on the piano, and the girl who splashes me with water and runs barefoot through the house.”

He pulled her closer, then bent his head. She stood on tiptoes and wound her arms around his neck. Addie inhaled his breath, his essence, into her lungs. He was part of her. She was bone of his bone, flesh of his flesh. His lips met hers, and she tried to put how she felt into her kiss. Her surrender, her love. She would go anywhere, forsake anything, for him.

When his lips lifted from hers, he searched her face. “Will you defy your father and Carrington?”

“Yes.”

“We might move back to San Francisco.”