The Lightkeeper's Daughter (36 page)

Her mother trembled, and her teeth chattered. Addie steered her toward the back door that led to the kitchen. “I’ll find chamomile tea. It might help you.”

Inside, she settled her mother into a chair at the table, then lit the gaslight. The tea was in the pantry off the back porch. No fire warmed the wood cookstove, so she poked at it. No embers glowed in the cold ashes. She would have to start it from scratch. She found kindling and wood, then arranged it in the fire box. The match sputtered when she struck it, then the fire flared to life. She set the kettle on to heat, then turned around to check on her mother.

She wasn’t at the table. “Mama?” Addie called.

She walked into the parlor and found her mother holding a picture of Addie up to the moonlight streaming through the window. Addie was about five. Tears rolled down her mother’s cheeks. Addie embraced her, and the older woman clung to her.

“You’re really Julia,” her mother said, her voice hushed. Her hand caressed Addie’s cheek, then she glanced back at the picture. “I recognize you. All these years . . .”

“I know. But I’ve found you now.” Addie didn’t like the way her mother trembled. It was more than emotion. “Come sit down, Mama. I’ll get you some tea.”

She snatched a throw from the chair as she passed and draped it around her mother’s gaunt shoulders. The kettle shrieked as they stepped into the kitchen. She hurried to grab it from the range while her mother sank onto a chair. Steam rose from the cup of tea as Addie carried it to her mother. While her mother sipped the chamomile tea, Addie ticked through in her mind what she would need for a night in the tower.

Blankets, pillows, food, and water. It might be hours before the men returned.

“I’d like to go to bed now,” her mother said.

“I wish we could stay here in the house,” Addie told her. “But we’re going to have to go to the light tower and lock ourselves in.”

Her mother’s eyes went wide, and the tea sloshed over the lip of her teacup. “He’s not out there, is he?”

“I don’t think so, Mama. But we can’t know what’s happening. We’re safest in the lighthouse. I can padlock us in until the men come back.”

“Thank the Lord.” Her mother’s voice was stronger. She sipped at the tea until it was gone.

Addie heard something. A voice, a scrape. She wasn’t sure what. She rose and flipped off the gaslight, then peered out the window. A light bobbed on the water.

“I think a boat is out there,” she whispered. “We need to go up now.”

She helped her mother to her feet. “Come with me.”

She raced up the steps with Gideon and scooped pillows and blankets off the bed in the room at the top of the stairs. By the time her mother finished the climb, Addie had their supplies ready. She led her mom down the hall to the stairs that led into the tower. The light on the boat appeared to be onshore now. The men could be halfway up the slope by now.

“Very quiet,” she whispered to her mother.

The stairway door hung open. Addie stepped inside and pulled her mother in with her. She shut the door and fumbled in the dark for the padlock. It wasn’t on the door. Where was it? She dropped the bundle of blankets and pillows and felt along the floor for the missing lock. Her hand grazed the gritty floor, then something metal skittered away. She followed its trail and cornered the padlock. The key was in it. She took it out, then looped the padlock through the door handle and clicked it shut.

When she tugged on it, it stayed snug. “Let’s get upstairs,” she whispered. “As quietly as you can.”

She led the way up the winding metal stairs. Wincing every time their footfalls clanged, she kept checking to make sure her mother stayed on her heels. They reached the top. Another door separated the stairs from the light room. It hung open as well. Looking past the Fresnel lens, Addie stared out past the glass enclosing the lamp. Lanterns bobbed on the hillside. One, two of them.

Her fingers tightened on the blankets. “They’re coming,” she said. Gideon snarled, and she quieted him with a glance.

Her mother grabbed her hand. “Who?”

“I don’t know. It’s too soon for John and Thomas to be back with the constable.” She dropped the blankets into the corner and arranged a makeshift bed. “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, Mama. Maybe neighbors arriving to wind the light. If it is, I’ll ask one of them to call the police. Why don’t you lie down and rest a bit?”

Her mother moved to her side. “I feel much better. The tea helped, but I’m so tired.”

Her voice was stronger. Addie helped her lie down, then covered her with another blanket. Gideon lay down beside her. “I’ll be here if you need me.”

With her mother settled, she went back to her post at the window. She crouched beyond reach of the flashing light. The lanterns stopped at the house and winked out. Whoever they were, they were searching the house now.

Carrington’s yacht sped through the night seas. John kept an ear out for Henry’s boat but heard nothing, saw no lights.

“How long until we reach Eureka?” he asked.

Carrington stood at the helm with the wheel in his hands. “A few more minutes.”

“I haven’t heard anything to make us think he’s behind us,” John said.

He paced the deck back to the stern. Water churned behind the yacht. Stars glittered overhead, and the moonlight gilded the railing with a glimmer of light. Still, he saw nothing behind them, heard nothing but the lapping of waves and the chug of their own engine.

He walked back to Carrington. “Could we shut off the engine and listen for anything out there?”

“Certainly. I’ll see to it.” Carrington yelled instructions to power down temporarily.

Carrington turned the helm over to his first mate, then walked with John back to the stern. Both men stood and listened.

John strained his eyes through the darkness but saw nothing. “I don’t think he’s following us.”

“You believe he noticed the ruse and followed the women?”

John leaned over the railing. Nothing. “He’s wily. He could have been closer than we realized but wasn’t firing.”

“If so, he would have seen the dinghy shove off.”

It made horrible sense to John. “We have to double back.”

“You’re sure that’s wise? We’re nearly to Eureka and help.”

“How long?”

“Fifteen minutes.”

“And another forty-five minutes back. Explaining to the authorities will take at least another hour. We can’t risk it. In two hours both Addie and Laura could be missing.”

“I have an idea,” Carrington said. “One of us could go to the constable, and the other could go back to check on the ladies.”

“Addie pointed out they might not believe you.”

“True enough, but Henry won’t be there to fill them with his lies. I have some standing with my money and title.”

“That’s our best chance, then,” John said.

Carrington gave instructions to his crew. When the yacht reached the dock at Eureka. Carrington leaped over the side into another dinghy and waved the boat on. John watched him row to shore as the yacht made a wide turn and headed back the way she’d come.

As the boat plowed the waves back to the lighthouse, he stood at the bow and prayed for the safety of the woman he loved and her mother. From here, he couldn’t see the lighthouse winking its warning.

“Should we be able to see the lighthouse from here?” he asked the first mate.

“Not yet, sir. Another half an hour.”

John gripped the railing. If he could swim there faster, he’d plunge into the dark water. He’d never had a premonition before, but his skin prickled and his breath came hard and fast. Something was very wrong.

T
HIRTY-EIGHT

A
DDIE CLASPED HER
knees to her chest and sat with her back propped against the wall. She glanced at her sleeping mother, then back out across the dark terrain. It was only a matter of time before the intruders tried the door to the tower. When they found it locked, they would suspect she and her mother were hiding up here.

The padlock might not hold determined men for long. Or maybe they’d think the lighthouse tower was locked because the lightkeeper hadn’t been replaced. She prayed for God to blind their eyes, to distract them from their search.

She crawled to the metal stairs and peered into the darkness. It was too impenetrable for her to make out the door. Silence pressed against her ears. But they were down there. She sensed them. Easing back to the window, she gazed out again. Moonlight gleamed on the whitecaps and touched the rocks along the coast. Nothing moved, though.

If only they’d go back to their boat and shove off.

Her mother sat up. A scream tore from her throat. “No, Henry! Please, no!”

Addie leaped to her mother’s side. Her heart hammered at her ribs. “Sh, Mama,” she crooned. “It’s okay. It’s Julia.” Gideon followed her.

Please don’t let them have heard her.

Shouts echoed from below. “Up here,” she heard a man yell. She hunkered beside her mother, who covered her face and moaned.

“I’m sorry, so sorry,” her mother whispered. “I had a nightmare.”

Addie hugged her. Perspiration soaked her mother’s hair and the fabric of the back of her dress. She trembled violently.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” she choked out.

Addie helped her bend over, then rubbed her mother’s back as she retched. The stink of vomit made her gag, but she managed to control herself. “Let’s move you over here.”

Her mother nodded and dabbed her mouth with the hem of her gown. “Did they hear me?”

The answer was the thunderous pounding on the door from below. Mr. Eaton’s voice came from the other side of the door. “Julia, I know you’re in there. Open the door this instant.”

Addie clutched her mother to her. “Don’t answer. Stay very quiet.”

It was hopeless to think he’d just go away. They’d all heard her mother. He knew they were there, but it would take time for him to break down the metal door and padlock. God would come through for them. She knew it, depended on it. He would be sufficient to this challenge.

“Get an ax,” she heard her father say to his unknown partner.

Could an ax break down a metal door? She prayed not.

“Julia, this is your father. You must open this door now. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to talk to you.”

Hot words hovered on the tip of her tongue. Not hurt her? He’d tried to sink their yacht. If she said nothing, though, he’d have no positive proof she was on the other side of the door.

Her mother clapped her hands to her ears. “Go away, Henry!” she screamed. “Haven’t you tortured me enough?”

Addie shrank back against the wall. If only she had a weapon. There was nothing up here but a wrench. It might come in handy, though. She groped for it, and her fingers closed around it.

A fierce banging commenced against the door downstairs. Gideon sprang to his feet and began to bark. The man must have found the ax in the well house. She and her mother covered their ears as the relentless battering continued. Addie wanted to scream at the horrific din. She imagined the metal denting and caving beneath the blows. When the noise ceased, the pressure on her chest eased, and she drew in a breath.

When no more demands came from her father for a few minutes, she eased onto her knees and peered out the glass. A movement below caught her eye, and she realized he was on the rickety catwalk. She’d forgotten about it. He sidled along the metal support. The moonlight caught a glint at his side. He had a pistol, and he’d be here in minutes.

“Get up, Mama,” she said. “Let’s go.”

She led her mother through the door and to the top of the stairs, but before they could begin to descend, she heard the battering resume on the door below. There was no other exit. If Addie were alone, she could climb out onto the other side of the catwalk and outmaneuver her father, but her mother was much too weak to accompany her.

Addie gripped the pipe wrench. If she leaned out the window, she might be able to use it on the catwalk and loosen it enough that Mr. Eaton couldn’t approach.

“Sit tight, Mama,” she whispered.

She took the wrench and swung it against the glass. Her mother screamed as the window shattered outward. Gideon ran in circles and barked. A few shards rained onto the floor and crunched under Addie’s feet as she knocked the last few pieces out of her way. Holding on to the window frame, she leaned out and began hammering with the heavy wrench against the metal catwalk. The metalwork trembled under the blows but held fast to the lighthouse.

“Julia, stop at once!” her father yelled.

Pain rippled up Addie’s arm from the blows, but she continued to batter at the metal. She saw him draw his gun and ducked back inside as a bullet ricocheted off the frame where she’d been a moment before. He couldn’t fire his gun while sidling around the building.

She waited a moment, then peered outside to see him on the move again. She leaned out and swung the wrench once more. This time she detected a weakening of the bolt holding the catwalk in place. With renewed vigor, she pounded at it again. Her father was moving faster now. He was within reach of the nearest window. He’d be inside in moments.