

### The Girl in the Lighthouse (book I)

Roxane Tepfer Sanford

smashwords edition

Copyright ©2009/2011 Roxane Tepfer Sanford

www.thegirlinthelighthouse.com

_The Girl in the Lighthouse_ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from both the copyright owner and the publisher.

The Arrington series

The Girl in the Lighthouse (2009)

All That is Beautiful (2010)

Sacred Intentions (2011)

For my husband Michael and our six children--Gabrielle, Myles, Douglas, Caroline, Harrison and Jack.

____________

#  Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

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# Chapter One

"There it is, Lillian. Come see," Daddy called from where he stood on deck. I ran to him and jumped into his strong arms as the cool, salty breeze whipped my long, blond hair fiercely against my face. "Over there—just around the bend."

I shielded my eyes from the intense sun that reflected off the gleaming sea, and that's when I saw it. The giant, white, granite lighthouse tower stood twice as tall as our last one and sat in the center of the island, which to me, was almost the size of a small village.

"You will have your very own room," Momma said to me as Daddy pulled her close against him.

Our first home was on a tiny island off the coast of Maine, nearly twenty miles out to sea; it was the only home I knew. Then Daddy's orders came, and he was transferred to a new station on Jasper Island, where we would have our very own quarters, and to my delight, there was going to be an assistant keeper and his family. I had never had a friend before, and was excited to learn there would be children my own age to play with. And since the island was no more than five miles from the mainland, we would be able to venture out on weekly excursions.

My years at Rock Ledge Island Station were lonely, though I had befriended an injured seal that Momma helped me nurse back to health. I named him Eli. He stayed with us until a great storm passed through the winter of my seventh year, and he was gone, swallowed up by the sea. I spent the entire year crying for my beloved pet, my only friend, until Daddy told me one day that I had cried long enough.

I was sitting on my favorite rock, staring out at the endless, dark ocean, as I had done almost every day, even through the bitter winter. However, on that particular day, the air was dry and the sun warmed my face, though inside I felt as dark as the water that surrounded me.

"Lillian, look at me," Daddy said. He took hold of my chin and made me stare up into his dark amber eyes. "It's time for your mourning for Eli to end—as of today. You have had more than enough time to put your heart to rest."

"But Daddy, I miss him so."

"In life, my darling, you will come to learn that time is your greatest asset. Time heals your heart, and soon your loss will turn into your fondest memory, and the love you had will forever remain in a place that you will never have to let go."

At the time, I didn't quite understand what he meant, but I did not cry another day for Eli.

The vessel anchored, and it was time to load up the boats and make our departure. Daddy lifted me up into the row boat, and I sat near Momma, who was staring over at the island. The day was bright and warm; not one cloud floated by in the pale blue sky.

On the shore of the island two young boys enthusiastically waved their hats as their parents, the assistant keepers, waited to help us disembark. I was amazed when I stepped foot on the island and climbed up the steep embankment to see the structure.

The conical lighthouse was nearly one hundred and nineteen feet of granite, with three windows along the tower and a lantern room at the top. At the bottom was the newly-constructed, white, two-story wood house with dark green shutters that was going to be our home.

The boys from below hurried to greet me as I waited to enter the house. "Hello, there," said the tall boy with wildly curly hair, greeting me with a warm smile. "My name is Heath Dalton, and this is my younger brother, Ayden Dalton."

Ayden was years younger, with glossy, jet-black hair and big, dark, midnight-blue eyes. He stayed almost hidden behind his older brother, peered around him, and then rudely stuck his tongue out at me.

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Lillian Arrington."

Heath extended his arm and shook my hand.

Ayden quickly ran off and headed back down to the shore. From behind the house a large, hairy, black dog ran after him.

"That's our dog, Lady," said Heath. "A fisherman gave her to my father last year after he saved the man from drowning when his boat sank in Lake Michigan."

Every lighthouse keeper had saved fishermen and sailors—sometimes dozens a year. Daddy had rescued two that very year.

From down below, someone called Heath's name. "I have to assist with the trunks. It was nice to meet you," he said and hurried off.

Daddy arrived with the first of many trunks, and I followed him inside the house. Momma was only steps behind.

On the first floor was an enormous main room with one fireplace. The floors were laid with strips of oak, the windows tall, with wide-open shutters. To the left was the kitchen, and in the foyer was a narrow stairway that led to the two bedrooms on the second floor. With great anticipation, I ran upstairs and claimed my room. It was large, with a fireplace and my very own closet. The window faced the mainland in the not-so-far distance.

"What do you think?" Daddy asked from the doorway, where he stood smoking his pipe.

"I love it here," I cried, running to him.

He hugged me tight then kissed the top of my head. "Let's get settled. Start unpacking, and when you're done, we will head to the Daltons' quarters for supper. They are a very nice family," he said. Then, in his usual mild-mannered way, he quietly strolled back down the stairs.

Ayden and Heath arrived with my trunk and dropped it at the foot of my bed. Ayden hurried out while Heath lingered for a moment.

"This is quite a house," he said, glancing around. I was mesmerized. His hair was the color of honey, and he was tall, almost as tall as Daddy. Heath had a heart-shaped face, a small nose that pointed slightly upwards, and his skin was already tanned from the early summer sun. I believed he must have been sixteen years old, but later found out he was only fourteen.

Heath smiled at me then told me he was going to someday be a doctor, not a lighthouse keeper. "As soon as I graduate from school, I will attend Harvard," he told me. "I plan to set up practice in Boston. Have you ever been there, Lillian?"

I hadn't known anyone other than Momma and Daddy, let alone been anywhere other than a rocky, desolate island, far out at sea. I had only seen storms and fog and ships navigating the deep, icy waters of the North Atlantic. The only company we had were either rescued sailors or dead fishermen washed up onto the rocky beach.

"No, I have never been to Boston," I replied. "Have you?"

"Have I?" he replied with a huge grin. "That's where we're originally from."

Just then, Ayden walked in carrying a large wooden box filled with all my books. Every month, the lighthouse tender made his way out to Rock Ledge Island to deliver our supplies, and that always included a new box of books and teaching supplies for Momma. Since I was three, she had tended my schooling. I loved writing and especially loved reading. The books I read took me to faraway places. In my mind, I met new people and had great adventures. My books were my only escape from my dreary, isolated existence.

"That's the last of it," Ayden huffed.

"I presume we will see you at supper?" Heath asked.

"Of course," I replied then thanked them for bringing my belongings up to my room.

"See you then," I called from the opened window of my bedroom. Heath smiled, and Ayden scowled at me.

Just before we gathered around the large wooden table set up outside the Dalton quarters, I was introduced to Edward and Opal Dalton. Edward was near Daddy's age and Opal was years older than Momma. Momma didn't have a speck of gray hair on her long, thick, chestnut-brown hair, unlike Opal. Momma's skin was the color of light ivory and as soft as silk. She had large green eyes and her features fine and delicate. I resembled Momma, except my hair was platinum blond and turned even lighter during peak summer months.

Opal greeted me with a pleasant smile, and Edward said, "Hello, young lady." Ayden looked much like his mother, but Heath was the exact image of his father.

The feast was grand, the occasion meant to celebrate new beginnings on Jasper Island. Edward gave the prayer before we began to eat. I sat with Momma to one side and Heath to the other. Daddy and Edward sat at each end of the long, pine table. Ayden sat beside Opal, opposite me. From listening to the adults talk, I gathered the Daltons had arrived from Great Point Station in Michigan only two days prior. In years past, they had also been stationed on the other coast of America, way out in California.

Despite their age difference, Momma and Opal quickly became friends, and of course, had much in common. I could see how happy Momma was to have another woman to talk to. They chatted, Heath ate beside me, and Ayden asked to be excused. He had quickly finished his meal and wanted to explore the island.

"Wait for us," Heath insisted.

Ayden frowned then barked, "No."

"You wait for your brother and Lillian, you hear?" Edward stated firmly. Ayden sat back down with his arms folded over his chest and shot me a look of disgust. I couldn't imagine why Ayden disliked me so.

Heath took his time and carried on a conversation with Daddy, talking about other stations and such. Daddy had only been keeper of one lighthouse, but had served in the Confederate Navy. Daddy told me he decided to become a lighthouse keeper after years spent at sea.

"The keepers stay up all night to make certain those at sea stay safe. Now it's my turn," he told me. "The other benefit to my service, Lillian, is that we can be far away from the disgrace of the war."

Daddy didn't talk about the war between the North and South often. The only time it was mentioned was when he had a point to make or a lesson about life that he believed I absolutely needed to know. When he spoke of the disgrace, I wasn't certain which side he believed was disgraceful. Even though Momma and Daddy were from the South—Savannah, Georgia, in fact, I believed in the war and the fight to free the slaves. I never expressed my feelings; I never wanted to hurt Daddy. If the Daltons were aware that Momma, Daddy, and I were southerners, they didn't show any prejudice.

"Are you ready, Lillian?" Heath asked, and stood. I gladly followed him when he announced he was going to show me around.

Near the house was a vegetable garden, and close by a chicken coop. The woodshed was also near, as was the fog signal house, and not too far from that was the pump house.

"Over yonder is the oil house, and way down below is the boat house. It's in disrepair; the plans are to rebuild it this summer."

Ayden followed as we made our way to the other side of the island. We strolled slowly and I listened as Heath described the last keeper's tragedy.

"His name was Victor, and he was killed in the fire that destroyed the first house, which was built back in 1815. He had been keeper for ten years."

"And his ghost still walks the island," Ayden chimed in, as we stood looking back at the lighthouse.

"Oh, Ayden, don't scare her," Heath said, and he patted me on the head. "It's all nonsense. Ayden's head is full of that kind of stuff."

"No, it's not!" Ayden shouted. "It's true. I've seen the ghost."

Heath laughed and started walking ahead. Ayden picked up a rock and threw it at Heath's head, just missing him. Heath laughed even harder, and Ayden's eyes welled up with tears. Before he would allow me to see him cry, he ran off.

"Come on, Ayden; come back," Heath called, but Ayden wouldn't return. "He'll be fine," he said, continuing to lead. "This is my new telescope. I have already seen a pod of humpback whales."

The telescope stood out on the bluff and faced the great expanse of ocean.

"Go ahead, look through it."

I had never looked through one before and was amazed at how far out into the ocean I could see.

"On clear nights, I come out to study the stars. Do you know all the constellations?"

Heath was so much older and wiser than I, and I admired his intelligence.

"Have you ever heard of Galileo?" he asked. "Did you ever read Starry Messenger?"

"No, I haven't," I said, lowering my eyes for fear he would think me unintelligent.

"I will give you the book to read. I can teach you everything you would ever want to know about the galaxy," he said, looking up into the early evening sky. I was excited that Heath was so interested in me—that he wanted to teach me things I never imagined I would learn first-hand.

"Later tonight, if the fog doesn't roll in, we'll come out here and gaze up at the stars through my telescope. Maybe Ayden will want to come, too. For now we should be getting back now. I have evening chores to do. Besides, you'd better ask your father if you can stay up that late."

Heath apparently thought I was a little girl. He didn't realize I often worked as Daddy's first assistant when Momma wasn't feeling well. I knew how to wash the windows of the lantern, trim the wicks, and had even hauled oil to the top of the tower. I had once stayed up all night, ringing the bell until the fog lifted.

"I'm not a little girl," I said on our way back. "I don't have to get to bed."

Heath stopped and turned to me. "If you don't mind me asking, Lillian—how old are you?"

"I am eleven."

Heath smiled, his eyes softened, and then he said, "Just as I thought. Ayden is eleven, although he acts more like a five-year-old."

We stood for a moment as Heath waited for my reply. I didn't have one. Once again, I lowered my eyes, fearing he would see my insecurities. To my surprise, Heath didn't ignore my feelings as he had done with Ayden.

"Don't feel bad. You're a smart girl, Lillian. I can see that. You and I are going to learn so much here. After the summer is over, I will row you out to the mainland, where you will attend a real school. Doesn't that sound exciting?" Heath put his arm around me, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Yes, it does," I said, giving him a warm smile. Heath smiled in return and walked me back to my house, his arm still on my shoulders.

Before I went to sleep that night, I stood at my window and watched the fog roll in. Daddy stopped in to see me before he made his way up to the tower. "Would you like to work the fog signal tonight, Lillian?" he asked.

"Yes, Daddy," I replied. Daddy nodded his head and said he would see me shortly. Momma soon came up to my room to brush my long hair. It was a ritual we followed every night, even when she wasn't feeling well. Momma had gone to dozens of doctors on our infrequent visits to the mainland, and none of them could figure out what was wrong with her. She was often tired and achy, and her only relief was sleep. That's when I would take over as first assistant for her. I had been learning the duties of a keeper since the age of four. Daddy said I was a natural—that if I wanted to, I could grow up to be a principal keeper. He was certain of it.

"You're a special girl, Lillian; you can do anything you want. Look at your mother. She is smart and funny and the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. You're just like her," Daddy said as I sat on his lap when we were at the very top of the watch tower, staring out at the sea."The whole world is yours to make of what you want. It doesn't matter what people say or think. You do what makes you happy, no matter what."

Whenever he spoke, I gazed into his eyes and somehow knew his words would help me in my most troubled times.

Momma came in, led me to the bed, and then began to brush my hair. "Do you like it here, Lillian?" she asked.

"I do, Momma. Very much."

"Are you happy to have friends?"

"I am. I know Ayden, Heath, and I will become the best of friends. Heath is so smart; do you know he wants to become a doctor someday?"

"Really? That certainly would be an achievement."

"And Ayden—well, I don't think he likes me much," I said, and sighed heavily.

"Why do you say that?"

As she continued to take long strokes of my hair with the soft brush, I tried to think of an answer, but nothing at all came to mind. Momma saw my trouble.

"I think I know why," she said softly. I tilted my head and turned around to face her.

"He thinks you are the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. Since the moment he laid eyes on you, since the first moment you stepped into the room, you captured his heart," Momma said wistfully, her eyes glazed over, as if in her mind she were far away, in another time and place.

"Momma, what do you mean?"

Her eyes fell onto me and she smiled. "It means Ayden loves you and will someday proclaim his love to you."

I didn't think for one minute that Momma was right. Ayden didn't think I was beautiful. And the only man who loved me was Daddy, and the only man I secretly wanted to be in love with me was Heath. If anyone someday would proclaim his love to me, I wanted it to be Heath. I wasn't ready to confess to Momma my feelings about Heath. I was too embarrassed. I had seen what love was; I had seen Daddy and Momma together. They shared themselves in a way that both frightened me and left me curious at the same time. When Daddy kissed her, she would melt away in his arms, and nothing else mattered. When Daddy climbed in bed with her, I was afraid. On the nights that Daddy loved her, I closed my eyes and wished myself away. I was scared to have a man love me like that. I wouldn't want Heath to love me in that way.

"You look tired, my sweet girl. Why don't you lie down and sleep?"

I yawned and rubbed my eyes, then said, "I promised Daddy I would give the fog signal tonight."

"I will do that for him. You get some sleep; it has been a long day," she said, and pulled the covers up over me.

I agreed and kissed Momma goodnight. As she closed the door, I thought of what it would have been like if the fog hadn't rolled in, and Heath had taken me out to his telescope and showed me the constellations. I hoped we would be able to do it some night. I hoped he wouldn't forget his offer.

By late morning, the fog had burned off, and shortly after cleaning up the breakfast dishes, which I washed over at the well pump, I suggested the boys and I go see if we could find some rocks with fossils in them. Heath thought it was a great idea. Ayden showed no interest.

"I would rather haul the oil up to the tower than search for some boring fossils," he grunted.

"Okay, it's your choice," Heath said, shrugging his broad shoulders. He turned to me and winked, then said, "It's just you and me, kid."

The day was warm, and as predicted, the brisk ocean breezes kept the summer days from ever becoming too hot. On the beach were thousands of rocks, both large and small. Immediately, Heath found a rock that had a plant fossil embedded in it.

"What kind of plant do you think it was?" I asked, watching him peer closely at it.

"I'm not sure. I will have to look it up in my book. Let's get more, and we can make a pile over here."

We combed the shore and found dozens of rocks, and as I sat picking through our pile, Heath came over and said, "Close your eyes and put out your hand."

I did.

"Okay, now open your eyes." Heath placed a beautiful seashell in my hand. "That is called a King's Crown."

I gazed up at him as the shimmer of the sun's rays from the ocean cast a glow behind him. I couldn't see his face, only his silhouette. No one had ever given me a gift before, except Momma and Daddy on my birthday. But it wasn't my birthday, and the token gift was given to me by a boy who thought I must be special.

"That's for you to make a collection. Then you can learn every name of every seashell on the shore."

My heart sank as I realized Heath hadn't meant it as a gift, but as a tool to learn. I swallowed my disappointment and said, "Thank you, Heath."

"You're welcome, kid."

The day before, he had called me by my name, not "kid." Kid was the name of a goat, not a girl. In spite of my frustration, I got up and continued to search for more seashells with him.

"This one is an Imperial Venus. And this one is an Atlantic Bubble," he said with great enthusiasm. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ayden lying on the ground, trying to hide and spy on us. If Heath saw him, he didn't let on. Instead, he reached down, picked up a stone, and threw it as far as he could out into the water. In the distance, a schooner sailed by. Above us, the seagulls flew into the light wind; some landed and walked the beach.

Heath then picked up another stone, but instead of throwing it out into the ocean, he quickly spun around and barreled the rock at Ayden.

"I see you there, Ayden," Heath called, laughter in his voice. Ayden scrambled to rise as Heath picked up another stone and aimed it at his brother, but this time, he did not throw it. "Why are you spying on us, little boy?"

Ayden stood tall and proud, then picked up a piece of drift wood and flung it at us, almost hitting me.

"Hey, you almost hit Lillian! Say you're sorry," Heath commanded. Ayden hurried to throw another stick. Heath's eyes grew dark. Ayden saw his brother's anger and turned to run, but Heath was fast on his trail. I scrambled up the small embankment and watched Heath catch up to Ayden and grab the back of his suspenders, then they both toppled to the ground.

Ayden lay on the ground while Heath held his arms down to keep from being punched.

"Say you are sorry," Heath commanded.

Ayden refused.

"I'm going to hold you down until you say it, Ayden," Heath warned. I stood over him and waited for Ayden to give in.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ayden looked at me with eyes full of fury then looked away, muttering, "I'm sorry." Heath loosed his hold on Ayden. I watched as he ran off, heading far away, to the other side of the island.

Heath stood and brushed the dirt from his trousers with his hands. "I apologize for my brother, Lillian," he said softly, gazing over to where Ayden had run off. "He has a fire in him that I don't understand."

I was taken in by Heath's chivalry, in awe of his looks, and enamored with his gentlemanly charm. I thought of what Momma had told me the night before. There was absolutely no way Ayden felt anything other than hatred for me. I was certain of it.

Not long after, we gathered our rocks and brought them back to the house. Heath and I parted ways at my front door.

"I'll see you later, kid. I'm going to go read for a while," he said.

"Bye, Heath."

I eagerly caught his inspiration and ran up to my room to take out one of the books I hadn't yet read. I shuffled through the box and picked up The Innocents Abroad, by Mark Twain. Once again, as always when I read, my mind was transported to a place far away—to countries I imagined visiting some day. There I would meet new people and have new adventures, just like Mark Twain. I envisioned my journey taking several years, and by my side would be the man of my dreams. Before, the man I would someday marry had only been a vision as thick as the fog that rolled in almost every night we were stationed on Rock Ledge Island. Now my vision was clear, and for certain, the man who would share my adventures would be Heath Dalton.

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# Chapter Two

At week's end, Daddy, Momma, and I took the row boat and headed towards the harbor and the mainland. It was a once-a-week excursion Daddy and I made, if not hindered by the weather. Momma came along only that one time.

The village was large, twice the size of the tiny harbor village we journeyed to from a vessel that took us off of Rock Ledge Island in years past. Then it was only for a day, and not more than twice a year. Then Daddy had been quiet, his expression forlorn. Momma had been thrilled to get off the isolated, gloomy island, as was I.

This new village we ventured onto was bustling with activity. There were two large shipyards and several taverns by the docks. There were fisherman, as well as children and families walking the road up to the main street, where there was a general store and several shops. There was a bank, a hotel, and a post office. It wasn't long before I caught sight of the school house and the church just up a small hill. Momma and Daddy had never taken me to church. We did our Sunday praying at home and studied the Bible for most of the morning. Momma loved to sing hymns, and one day wished to have her very own piano. From what Momma told me, the Daltons rowed to the village every Sunday for services. She told me we wouldn't be doing that. Momma also said by the end of the summer we were going to get back to our studies, and I wasn't going to attend school with Heath and Ayden. I didn't understand why.

"But there is a school, and Heath will row us to the village. Momma, please, can't I go?" I cried one night as she sat in her rocker and sewed a loose button back onto Daddy's uniform.

"No, Lillian. I am your teacher; you stay home with me."

"I don't understand," I pouted.

Daddy returned from the woodshed and overheard our disagreement."You will do as your mother says," he stated, and threw her a look of concern.

I stopped arguing with her about attending school with Heath and Ayden. Daddy's law had been laid down, and I would never dare challenge it.

I followed Daddy into the general store while Momma went over to the post office to pick up our mail. Usually, the only letters we received were envelopes with Daddy's wages.

Daddy talked to the store owner for quite a while as I walked around the small shop. On a high shelf sat a row of porcelain dolls. I had never owned a real doll before. These were beautiful; some had golden-blond hair, but the one I liked most had chestnut brown hair, the same exact color as Momma's. The doll's dress was navy blue with red ribbon, and she had on tiny black shoes.

Daddy came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. "I'm finished here. Let's go find Momma."

"Daddy, do you see that pretty doll?" I asked, pointing up to it.

Daddy reached over, turned the price tag, and shook his head."It is very pretty, Lillian, but it costs more than we can afford. And besides, I have a secret to tell you," he said, lowering himself down to whisper in my ear. "I have ordered Momma a piano for her birthday next month."

I couldn't imagine where Daddy got the money to buy Momma a piano, but it really didn't matter. I knew how happy it would make her. I smiled widely, and Daddy reminded me to keep the secret hush. I swore I would.

Momma had Daddy's pay in hand, and together we headed over to the bank. Afterwards, we strolled back through the village. I walked ahead, noticing the other children playing in small groups by the docks. Because I was busy staring at them, I didn't see the large man that stepped out of the tavern and plowed right into Momma. I spun around and watched Daddy throw a punch at the man while bystanders rushed to help Momma up.

"Momma," I cried, and ran over to her. Daddy laid a second punch into the sailor's strong jaw, sending the man to the ground. He lay there, holding his face, glaring up at Daddy. Momma got to her feet with some help, and I hurried to let her lean on me.

Daddy towered over the man that made Momma fall and protected her, just the way Heath had done for me.

"Come, Garrett, take me back," Momma said, her voice shaking.

He turned his back on the man and took hold of Momma. "Are you sure you are all right, Amelia?"

She nodded.

All the way back to the island, I let Momma lean on me as we sat side by side in the boat. Momma was too frail to be knocked down. I saw the worry in Daddy's handsome face. He rowed on against the current until finally we were back on Jasper Island. Daddy pulled the boat onto the shore and carried Momma off and all the way up to the house. Heath and Ayden came over to see what was wrong.

After I had explained what happened, Heath hurried to get his mother so she could help tend Momma. Ayden stood there for a moment and stared at me, and instead of scowling, his eyes softened, and he helped me up the embankment without a word.

That night, Momma didn't come up to brush my hair. She slept through supper. I helped Opal prepare supper then clean up the dishes. Edward took on the night shift, and Ayden assisted while Daddy stayed with Momma and watched her sleep. I stood at my window and gazed up at the sky, which was full of stars. I used to wish on stars when I was younger—that Momma would someday not be tired and sick. But as I grew older, I realized that my wishes weren't coming true.

Down below, I saw Heath make his way out to his telescope by the light of the moon. It wasn't long before I was outside, trailing behind him. He didn't see me and wasn't aware that I sat and watched him peer through his telescope into the sky as the light from the beacon rotated out to the ocean. I watched him for what must have been hours, until I tired and my eyelids grew heavy. Too tired to fight it any longer, I rested my head on the cool, sandy ground, and drifted off to sleep. Later, I was woken by a sharp jab in my leg. I sat up and rubbed my tired eyes, trying to focus. With my vision blurred, I gazed up at what I believed was Victor's ghost! He was an old man, probably more than one hundred years old.

"Are you Victor?" I gasped.

The ghostly old man didn't speak, but turned and disappeared into the blackness. With great fear, I scurried up and ran back to the house. I did the best I could to quietly creep in, not to wake Momma and Daddy. I was successful, and as soon as I got to my room, I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up over my head. Ayden was right; the ghost of Victor was real!

I didn't mention my encounter with the ghost to anyone as a long, stormy week went by. I stayed inside and kept my nose in my books, or when I wasn't reading, stayed with Daddy in the watch tower. With the bad weather, the light needed to be flashed throughout the day. By the fifth day of endless rain and fog, the inclement weather finally broke, and Momma emerged from bed. Daddy was worn from the days and nights tending the light and worrying over Momma. The light he kept on the sea now shined through Daddy's eyes when she came and hugged him, then placed a long kiss on his lips. Daddy held her close to him and told her he didn't know what he would do if he ever lost her. The two stood before the fire in the kitchen, unaware I was there. Their passion for each other tuned everything else out; the rest of the world didn't exist. Even I was a mere shadow in the room.

It wasn't long before we were celebrating Momma's birthday on a hot July evening. Edward, Heath, and Ayden had just finished the lengthy process of repainting the lighthouse tower, and they washed up just before we served supper. Opal showed me how to bake a cake, which I would present to Momma afterwards. Opal was very talented at baking, and I memorized her instructions. Daddy had been to the mainland and had the boat loaded up with the piano. I couldn't imagine Daddy rowing the piano out to the island, but sure enough, he did, and with the help of the Daltons, brought it to shore and up to the house. They put the piano in our parlor, Momma unaware. She had been preparing the chicken all day.

After supper, I presented Momma with the cake. Everyone was very impressed, although the cake was slightly lopsided. Ayden was the first to dig in, and he gobbled down his giant piece.

"This is really good," he mumbled between bites. It was Ayden's first compliment, though not a very gentlemanly one at all. Heath praised me for my efforts and complimented me on learning how to bake so well under his mother's guidance.

Momma was thrilled. Daddy couldn't wait to give her the big surprise. As soon as she took her last bite of cake, he swooped her up and guided her back to our house. He even tied a handkerchief over her eyes then led her inside. When Daddy removed it, Momma's eyes flew open and she covered her mouth to muffle her cries of joy. Daddy stood back and watched her run her delicate fingers over the keys as her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, Garrett, how did you manage—"

He stopped her before she could continue. "Sit down, Amelia, and play a hymn for us."

We all encouraged her, and after some persuasion, she agreed.

"It has been years since I played," she admitted with some apprehension then she began with "Holy, Holy, Holy." Momma's voice must have been created by angels, for angels. It brought a tear to everyone's eyes. Heath appeared especially touched and stared at Momma. Her angelic voice sounded all the way up to the heavens.

"Thank you all for such a wonderful birthday," Momma cried, sending a shy smile over to where Daddy was smoking his pipe.

When the evening grew late and Daddy made his way up to the tower, Momma came in to say goodnight. I sat on the bed, and she gently brushed my hair. Momma was unusually quiet and kept gazing out my window, to the light that flashed every few seconds. Daddy was up there, cranking the weights every few hours to keep the Fresnel lens turning.

"Did you really have a good birthday, Momma?" I asked when she was just about done.

"I did, Lillian. Thank you so much for the delicious cake. You did a fine job," she said, then kissed my cheek with her soft, warm lips. She smelled especially good that evening. I recognized her perfume. She wore it only on very special occasions.

"You sleep tight, my darling," she sang, then blew me a kiss from the doorway. I knew where she was going. Daddy would be pleased to have her company. Daddy hated when Momma was away from him, even if it was only for a few hours. I wondered if all husbands felt that way about their wives. Would my husband one day feel that way about me? I wondered.

The first Sunday after Momma's Bible lesson, after Daddy read two gospels, she sat at the piano and for hours played her favorite hymns. The Daltons had made their way to the mainland to attend services, but I couldn't imagine being more inspired or closer to God than at our very own house. Momma never looked more beautiful than when she was at the piano, and Daddy's eyes never left her, not even for a minute.

By late day, the Daltons had returned, and we all sat down for Sunday supper. Instead of eating outside as we had done almost every day since we arrived, Daddy invited the Daltons to dine with us at our house, and Momma and I prepared the entire meal.

They arrived in their Sunday best. Edward described the service that Reverend Martinson gave. Daddy sat back and listened while Opal and Momma talked about the late-summer agricultural fair. Opal was working on a quilt she wanted to enter.

"There is going to be a circus coming next week," Ayden announced.

It all sounded like so much excitement for the summer. I had never been to either one of those things.

"Do you think there will be elephants?" I asked.

Heath chuckled and patted me on the head, then said, "I'm sure there will be, kid. Maybe even some clowns."

Everyone laughed at Heath's response. Everyone but Ayden. I felt that I was the joke, that Heath thought I was a silly little girl. I asked to be excused, and Daddy allowed me to leave the table. I hurried up to my room and plopped down onto my bed. I needed to show Heath that I wasn't a baby. I then remembered that somewhere in my box was an astronomy book. It didn't take me long to find it, and I sat back on my bed and studied the constellations. I was going to memorize them all and prove to Heath I was just as smart and mature as he was.

He was standing on the bluff adjusting the telescope when I appeared out of the darkness. Startled, he stepped back then realized it was me.

"Lillian, what are you doing out here?"

"I came to study the constellations with you."

Heath looked back at the house, then back to me. "It's late. Don't you think—"

I interrupted him. "Up there—that is Draco. And over there—" I pointed. "Is Hercules."

Heath didn't know what to say. Instead, he stepped aside and allowed me to peer through the scope. The stars appeared so close and clear.

"Over there. Can you see Ophiuchus?" Heath asked as he stood behind me, his mouth close to my ear. "It's the one with thirteen points. The constellation represents Aesculapius, who was the patron of medicine and the son of Apollo."

I lifted my head and turned to look at him. Heath stepped back and uncomfortably cleared his throat, then said, "That's my favorite constellation."

I smiled, though I was certain he was unable to see. I knew I was making a difference. Heath was slowly going to notice that I was a young lady. It was going to take time—years, in fact, but one day, Heath would see me as a woman.

I was thrilled when the very next evening, Heath waited for me to walk out to the bluff with him and gaze up at the midnight sky. We walked quietly across the island as the late-night breezes became chilly. I had forgotten my shawl, and as we were about to start our observations, Heath noticed me shivering.

"Here, have my coat," he said. "You're cold."Tenderly, he placed it over my shoulders.

"Thank you."

Just then, Ayden came running up. "Can I see, too?"

Heath looked to me, and I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Sure, kid. Look through it. Can you see Scorpius? Remember where I showed you it was?"

Ayden was unsure for a moment then he drew back and said, "I see it." He pointed up to the exact location. Heath and I were impressed.

"How about Ophiuchus?"

"That's his favorite," I chimed in.

"I know," Ayden snapped.

Heath nudged his arm. "I mean, I was aware of that, Lillian."

"Now it's Lillian's turn," Heath said.

"What should I look for tonight, Heath?"

He thought for a moment then said, "Find me a planet."

I didn't want for one moment to let him see my uncertainty. I wasn't exactly sure of myself, but I took a chance and pointed one out. "That's Venus."

"Perfect!" Heath said, patting me on the back. "She's smart, Ayden."

I waited for Ayden to scowl at me, but to my surprise, he didn't. Instead, he nodded in agreement. I stayed out on the bluff with the boys. Once we grew tired of the telescope, we lay down on the ground, the three of us, side-by-side, and gazed up at the galaxy. We were quiet, deep in our own thoughts. I thought about how wonderful my new life was, how lucky we were to have been sent to Jasper Island. I had friends now—best friends. Even though Ayden didn't like me, there was something about him that made me want to be his friend. I wasn't sure if it were his big blue eyes that drew me in, but there was something special about Ayden. I hoped one day he would come to like me and want to be my friend as much as I wanted to be his. Then there was Heath. He was my protector, my teacher, and the boy who made my heart long for him, the way Momma's did for Daddy.

By late morning, Momma still wasn't out of bed, another day that she was too tired to rise. It was clothes-washing day. Without her assistance, I gathered the clothes and brought them outside to the washboard. The day was warm, warmer than I had ever remembered in late July. On Rock Ledge Island, it was always cold, even in the middle of summer. Opal was working in the vegetable garden, and Ayden was feeding the chickens. Daddy and Edward were on ladders outside the watch tower, cleaning the windows. I hadn't yet seen Heath. I presumed he had his nose in a book up in his room.

After I did the washing, which took much of the morning, I set out to hang the clothes on the line. The basket by my feet, I stretched as far as I could to hang the heavy, wet clothes, but I was just too short. I was looking around for something to stand on when Heath came around the side of the house and hurried to assist me.

"Here, let me do that, kid," he said, taking the dress from my hands. I stepped back and watched as he hung the dress on the line for me. He reached down to do the rest. Ayden came over and began to laugh.

"Heath is doing woman's work," he giggled.

"Be quiet, Ayden. She was having trouble."

"Maybe Mother can sew you a dress, Heath."

Heath ignored his brother. One by one, he pulled the wet clothes out until he was finished, then he winked at me and strolled off.

Ayden called out, teasing Heath, "You're a sissy, Heath. You're a girl."

"Hush up, Ayden," I flared when I had heard enough.

"Why? Is Heath your boyfriend?" he asked. Ayden's eyes narrowed as he inched closer and closer to where I stood. I immediately shook my head.

"I think you like him. Do you two kiss?"

Tears began to well in my eyes. "Stop it!" I shouted, then turned and ran to get away from him.

Heath saw me running and called out to me. "Lillian, what's wrong?"

I couldn't answer. My throat choked up with wretchedness, I found a private place to sit. On a rock, I sat with my knees up against my stomach and buried my head in them. What Ayden said had frightened me. I didn't know how to handle the overwhelming personal secrets I had concerning Heath. I was afraid of all the new feelings, feelings I had never had before. As much as I fantasized about Heath marrying me, I was afraid of his kiss.

From where I sat on the cold rock, I noticed a pod of whales out in the ocean. There must have been nine of them. As far as I could tell, I believed them to be humpback whales. I used to regularly see them near our old station. I never realized my feelings could ever be hurt; it was the first time I had been teased or treated badly. Daddy had often told me that people could be mean, that there were evil men in the world, and girls like me needed to watch out for them and stay far, far away. He warned me never, ever to be alone with any man other than himself. When he said this, he had such intensity in his eyes that it scared me to think of what he was trying to tell me. Why were men other than Daddy bad? Were they all like the sailors that knocked Momma to the ground? Mr. Dalton wasn't like that. He was as kind as Daddy. I was sure Heath would grow up to be a good man. But would Ayden be the kind of man Daddy told me to stay far away from, the kind that smelled like rum and always looked bedraggled and dirty?

The vision alarmed me, and I quickly put it out of my mind. Inside, Ayden was a good boy. He would grow to like me; he would eventually stop teasing me, and someday, I prayed, would become one of my best friends.

_______________

# Chapter Three

When I returned to the house, Heath and Ayden were waiting for me by the front door. Heath stood behind Ayden, and as soon as I approached, Heath pushed Ayden forward and whispered, "Go on."

Ayden's head hung low. He kicked up the dirt and refused to look at me. Heath grabbed Ayden by the back of his collar after the long hesitation and made him face me. With an expression smothered in defeat he said, "I'm sorry, Lillian."

"What are you sorry for, Ayden?" Heath demanded. Heath was angry, angrier than I had ever seen him. His clear blue eyes didn't sparkle as they always had, but were dark and disturbed by how Ayden had made me feel. Heath tightened his grip on Ayden, which forced him to speak.

"I am sorry for teasing you. I didn't mean it. I will never do it again." Heath let go, and Ayden ran away, completely humiliated.

"If he ever speaks to you that way again, you come and tell me, okay?" Heaths eyes softened, and he reached to touch my cheek then said, "Ayden needs to learn not to pick on little girls."

I would have cringed at his words if he hadn't touched my cheek with his strong hand, which made me tingle all over. Heath then pulled a book from his pocket.

"This is my book about fossils."

Heath was always so kind and generous, I thought. "Thank you, Heath, for everything."

"That's what friends are for. Don't forget that, Lillian."

I would never forget that we were friends.

"I have to go gather up the wood. I'll see you at supper."

With my new book in hand, I went inside. Momma was awake and baking loaves of bread. The house was hot and stuffy—even worse in my bedroom. I placed the book in my box then headed back outside. I decided to go down to the shore and put my feet in the cool water. The ache in my heart had subsided, and I felt much better about the day. The clothes on the line were not yet dry and needed another day. Lady followed me down to the water and sat beside me while I pulled my shoes and stockings off.

The cool water was a great relief to my swollen feet. I lifted the hem of my dress and waded into the water as far as I could without getting it wet. Lady loved the water and jumped right in then paddled around. I grabbed a piece of wood floating in the surf and threw it out to her. She retrieved it with her teeth and paddled back to me so I could take it from her mouth and throw it back out again.

I was near the boathouse. The wooden structure had been destroyed by years of battering rains and winds and was about to crumble. From what I could see, it used to house at least two boats. Most of the wood floating in the surf was from the boathouse.

It didn't take long before I was cooled off. I sat and stared out into the calm sea waters. There were all kinds of vessels afloat. The closest one was a whaler. Daddy had once rescued the entire crew of a whaler. As Momma and I stood in horror, watching the giant ship plunge into the sea, Daddy rowed through the treacherous, icy waters to save the men.

My thoughts drifted back in time, and it took a moment to realize there was someone watching me, someone behind the boat house. Lady sensed my fear and stared at the dark shadow.

"Who's there?" I called, hoping the fear in my voice would not be easily recognized. Lady gave a warning bark, then another. Suddenly, a mysterious old man hurried to a small row boat he had pulled up behind the structure and began rowing. Lady went after him, but couldn't catch him, and he rowed further and further away. I recognized him from the night I fell asleep under the stars. It was Victor!

I couldn't wait to get back and tell Ayden. He would be interested; he would want to see where the old man was hiding. He would be glad to learn there was no ghost, only a strange old man. I went to find him, but he was nowhere around. Opal was plucking the chicken for supper, and I asked where I could find Ayden.

"He went to the mainland with Heath," she said, not looking up.

I wondered why they hadn't told me earlier that they were planning on rowing over. I was just going to have to wait to tell him what I had discovered about who was lurking on Jasper Island.

Heath and Ayden hadn't returned by nightfall, and Opal began to worry. The storm clouds covered the almost-full moon, and the winds began to pick up in intensity. The waters grew into large swells and churned against the shore. Daddy was up in the tower, and Edward set out to look for his sons. Soon the rain began to fall, and thunder boomed up above. An occasional streak of lightning crossed the enormous sky, sending chills of terror through me. Momma and I climbed the circular iron stairway, up to the top of the tower, to join Daddy.

"Do you see them out there, Garrett?" Momma asked, her face consumed with worry.

"The visibility is down to about a quarter-mile. The rain is blinding. But they have the light, Amelia; they will always have the light to bring them safely home."

Momma clung to Daddy, and I stared out into the bleak, stormy night.

"We will man the light. Go with Edward," Momma said. Daddy agreed and hurried to help with the possible rescue.

"Are the wicks ready to be trimmed?" Momma asked. They weren't. I did that while Momma adjusted the vents. "This is just terrible."

"Isn't there anything else we can do, Momma?" I asked.

"No, Lillian. We are helping right here. They will get back safe; I promise."

She hugged me close as we both stood, looking for any sign of them. It was a long time before we saw anything; then in the midst of the terrible storm, we spotted a boat.

"Over there; it's them," Momma cried.

As fast as I could, I ran down the endless flight of winding steps. Outside, through the wind-battered rain, I hurried to where Edward and Daddy had pulled the boat up onto the shore. To my shock, there was the old man I had seen earlier. He had rowed the boys back to the island. I looked from him to the boat. Ayden's body dangled in Heath's arms; Heath's eyes were filled with fright.

"He went overboard," Heath cried.

Daddy took Ayden from Heath's tired arms and carried him to shore. I began to shake in fear as Daddy checked Ayden for signs of life. Opal had brought a blanket and as fast as she could, wrapped it around him. Edward collapsed to the ground next to Ayden and began stroking his hair.

"Come on, boy; don't leave us," he said, his voice firm, insisting that Ayden obey his father.

Opal sobbed over him while Daddy did everything he could to clear Ayden's airway. Heath stood frozen in the rain. And just as we were about to give up hope, just as Daddy sat up and looked to the sky above, Ayden began to breathe. Violently, he sat up, and Daddy turned him over so he could heave up the salty ocean water. Opal fell to her knees and thanked the Lord. Daddy and Edward breathed a sigh of relief. Heath began to tremble and sat down on the cold, wet sand, and the ghost blended into the darkness of the night and disappeared. Edward gathered up Ayden, and he and Opal hurried back up to the house.

"Come, Lillian; you need to get out of the rain," Daddy said, guiding me towards the house. I turned to look back at Heath. He continued to sit, his head in his hands, as the cold rain saturated him. I tried to call out for him to come with us, but he couldn't hear me over the thunder. Daddy hurried me along until I was inside, and left me to change into dry bed clothes.

"I have to go back up to the tower and relieve Momma," he said from outside my door.

I listened as his footsteps moved down the hall, then the stairs. I wanted to go back out to Heath. I threw on my shawl and went to where he had been left behind. Heath was drenched; his hair was wet and pressed flat to his head. His clothes were soaked. He didn't see me approach and was startled when I put my shawl around him. I nervously waited for him to thank me; instead, he threw it off and yelled, "Go away! Leave me be."

I didn't know what to say, but I picked up the shawl and did all I could to hold back my tears.

"Leave me alone," he hollered over the wind and rain. I dropped the shawl and ran all the way back to my room. I flew to my bed and sobbed until I hadn't a tear left to shed, until my body ached and the trembling stopped. Then sleep gradually won out, and I drifted into my dreams.

Ayden was sick in bed for days after the incident. He developed pneumonia. Opal stayed by his side all day and night. I wasn't allowed to see him. His bedroom window was on the first floor, and each day I would peek in when no one was watching. Opal had a chair pulled up next to the bed. She kept cool cloths pressed to Ayden's feverish head.

Then there was a day that Opal stepped out of the room. I took the opportunity to hurry in and see Ayden before she returned. I quietly crept in and stood over him. He looked pale and gaunt, and I was taken aback. I had never seen anyone so sick, not even Momma on her worst days. I wanted to say something to him, but I didn't want him to wake. Instead, I placed his warm hand in mine, closed my eyes, and said a prayer for him. When I opened my eyes, I saw him looking up at me. Before he could yell at me to go away, just as Heath had done days before, I gently dropped his hand and hurried out of the room, back outside. I feared I was going to be in trouble, so I decided to stay away.

Although the island wasn't the size of a village, it was large enough to get away from everyone. I went to the other side and found a spot to rest under a cluster of trees near the edge of a small cliff. I hadn't ventured out that far before, but I was glad I did. It was the perfect spot to be alone, and it had a beautiful view of the harbor in the distance. I sat against the tree and thought about how I wanted to be someplace else. I wasn't happy anymore. Ayden hated me; Heath thought I was nothing more than a troublesome little girl. Daddy and Momma had each other. There seemed to be no use for me anywhere. I imagined myself taking the boat to the mainland and running away. For sure, no one would miss me for long. Maybe Daddy and Momma would for a short time.

As I began to plan my disappearance, I recalled the sailor from the tavern and remembered the warnings Daddy had given me about strange men. Could I be all alone out there in the world? Would I be free from harm? I believed I could take a chance, and would that very night. I thought about what I would put in the letter I planned to leave behind. I would tell Momma and Daddy that I loved them. I would write that I hoped Ayden soon recovered. I would thank Edward and Opal Dalton for their warm welcome when we first arrived on Jasper Island. Then I would say I was sorry to Heath for making him so angry at me.

I remained quiet at supper and didn't eat much of anything. Momma noticed and asked if I was ill.

"No, Momma. I'm fine," I said, and asked to be excused. She stood and came over to feel the top of my head.

"Is she with fever?" Opal asked.

Daddy stopped eating and looked at me with concern.

"I'm fine, really," I insisted. "I'm just a little tired."

Heath had arrived late for supper. He had been reading to Ayden. As soon as he sat, Opal went to care for Ayden.

"You can go," Daddy said, and I left the table without looking at Heath.

It didn't take me long to pack a small leather bag I found in Daddy's room. I would bring only one dress, an extra pair of stockings, and my favorite book—the one Heath gave me.

As nightfall approached, I began my letter, and when I finished, I waited until Daddy was up in the tower and Momma had fallen asleep. It was around midnight when I quietly stole away. The night was especially cold, and I no longer had my shawl. It must have washed away the night I left it on the shore, the night Heath told me to go away. I shivered, my bag in hand, as I made my way past the houses. I would take the smaller of the two boats and row out to the mainland. I had a note in the boat, explaining who it belonged to, and asking whoever found it that it be returned at their earliest convenience. I had only rowed a few times, when Daddy would sit me on his lap and allow me to use the oars.

On this night, the waters were rather calm and the moon was three-quarters, with just enough moonlight to allow me to make my way off the island. When the rowboat was in sight, I stopped to gaze back at the house one last time, then sighed and turned to walk. Just then, someone grabbed my arm. As I went to scream, my mouth was covered, and panic filled my entire body, then Heath whispered his name.

"It's only me, Heath" he said, then took his hand off my mouth. It took me a moment to calm down then anger took over.

"Why did you frighten me, Heath Dalton?"

He stood before me with his coat and hat on and my shawl draped over his arm. "Here, you might need this for your trip," he said, extending the shawl to me. How had he known I was running away?

"I won't need my shawl. I will be just fine without it," I said defiantly.

Heath rested the shawl on a large rock then said, "Can I go with you?"

I didn't understand. "No, I want to go alone."

"I see," he said, and proceeded down to the boat. "Can I at least load your bag for you?"

I crossed my arms over my chest just as Ayden did occasionally, and scowled at him.

"Please don't look at me with eyes so full of anger," he pleaded. "I would like to offer an apology, Lillian. I'm sorry about the other day. I shouldn't have spoken to you in that manner." He slowly came back over to me and took hold of my hand. "You are my best friend, Lillian. You're a special young lady. I wouldn't know what to do if you were gone."

"You have Ayden; you have your books and telescope. You don't need me," I said, choking back my tears.

"You think that's all I need? I need a friend. Where am I ever going to find another friend like you?" Heath said sincerely.

"But the other night—" I began, no longer fighting back my tears.

"The other night I was wrong to yell at you. It wasn't your fault. I was so very disappointed with myself. I was supposed to take care of Ayden; I should never have let him fall into the sea. I hadn't gotten him home safely. I was beside myself. I know you can understand. I realize I hurt you, and I am terribly sorry. Will you please forgive me?" he begged.

I brushed the tears from my cheeks and smiled up at him. "Of course, I forgive you," I cried.

Heath smiled with great relief. "Will you stay? Will you no longer run away?"

He really wanted me to stay. Heath said he needed me; he said I was his best friend. Of course I would stay.

"Come, then; let's get some sleep. I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted," he said, and looked to see if I was in agreement.

"I guess I'm tired."

Heath and I walked together, side by side. Only as I got to my door did I ask him about the old man who rowed him and Ayden to safety.

"What old man?" Heath asked when we stopped.

"The old man in the boat the night Ayden almost drowned?"

Heath looked puzzled then said, "There was no old man in the boat, Lillian."

Confused and bewildered he never saw the ghost, I bid Heath a goodnight, but just as I turned to go, he leaned into me and placed a quick kiss on my cheek.

"Thanks for staying," he said in a whisper, then waited until I got inside. My heart was beating fast, and I wasn't sure if it was from the ghost that haunted the island or from Heath's innocent kiss—my first kiss ever from a boy.

The very next morning, I was up with the roosters. I couldn't wait to see Heath again. Everything had changed for me.. I was once again happy to be on Jasper Island and thrilled to be a lighthouse keeper's daughter; most of all, I was elated to be Heath's best friend. As soon as I was dressed I wandered downstairs, and that's when I heard their voices. Heath was in our kitchen talking to Daddy. Instantly curious, I stopped at the bottom of the stairs to listen to their conversation.

"It was no problem, sir. I was happy to help," Heath said quietly.

"I know how fond my daughter is of you. You're a fine young man, Heath."

My stomach turned into a giant knot, and I listened closely to their parting words.

"If ever you need my help with Lillian, please come to me. I know she is sensitive, and I realize how young she is."

"I am grateful you convinced her to stay. I was pleased not to have to step in and stop her."

I covered my mouth so they wouldn't hear my gasp, but it was too late. Before they had a chance to say anything, I was outside and running past Momma and Opal. I ran past Ayden, who was sitting outside for the first time since the incident that nearly took his life. I ran as fast as I could, the same way Ayden did when he was humiliated. I ran and ran until my legs gave out just as I reached my spot at the end of the island. I fell hard and cried into the ground. I was just as immature as they said; I was the little girl they were talking about. Heath only came to me because Daddy found the letter and had him go after me. Heath lied; Heath betrayed me. I wasn't his best friend, and he wasn't sorry for yelling at me. I never wanted to talk to him ever again.

Heath tried to get me to talk to him when I had no choice but to return at the end of the day. I didn't want to spend any more nights outside alone, not with the ghost of Victor roaming the island. I ignored him at supper, even when he pleaded with his eyes for me to give in. Daddy noticed my appalling behavior and sent me to my room. I threw down my napkin and stormed off, then sat in my room on my bed until he came up just before his night watch. He wouldn't even let Momma come up and see me until he had words with me.

Daddy stood tall and unyielding and insisted I explain my unacceptable behavior. I refused to admit fault. I had never once defied Daddy, and deep inside feared his disenchantment with me, but I couldn't help myself. I was so distraught over Heath's betrayal and that Daddy had asked Heath to do it.

"Look at me when I speak to you, Lillian," Daddy insisted. I lifted my gaze and shot him a look of hurt and pain. He came to me then and brought me into his loving arms.

"Do you know how much you mean to me, my darling daughter?" he said softly. I cried into his strong chest as he soothed me, stroking my long hair. "Heath did as I asked, Lillian. I wanted him to bring you back because I knew you would listen to him. I see how much you admire him. I just wanted you to be safe. Do you understand?"

"But I admire you more, Daddy," I sobbed.

"Then I should have gone after you. I am truly sorry for that. I know this life isn't easy for a young girl like you. You have no other girls your age to play with. Please believe me when I say this," he said, kissing my wet cheeks.

"I do, Daddy."

"Good. Now no more tears."

I knew when Daddy said no more tears, he meant it. Of course I did as he said and stopped crying. Then the next day, I asked Heath for forgiveness.

Heath was unsure what to say. I could see my anger towards him had hurt his feelings. This time, it was I who had to win him over.

"I still want to be best friends, if it's okay with you."

He didn't answer at first. I waited while he sat on the rock with his fishing pole and began to bait the hook. The sun was high and I could see all of the golden highlights in his hair, and when he finally looked up at me, I could almost see through his blue eyes.

Finally he spoke, and when he did, I was relieved that he was no longer upset with me. "Come; sit and fish with me."

I joined him on the rock, and we sat side by side.

"The circus is coming to town tomorrow," Heath informed me. "And the doctor said Ayden is well enough to go."

We looked to one another and smiled. Everything was finally back to the way it had been, and unbeknownst to me, even better days were to come.

_______________

# Chapter Four

Momma worried when she discovered the boys and me down at the shore, climbing into the boat to go over to the mainland for the first day of the circus.

"Lillian," she said, hurrying to us. "I'm not comfortable with this."

"But Momma, Daddy said I could go with Heath and Ayden," I cried, fearing she would make me stay on the island and the boys would go to the circus without me.

"I will look after Lillian, Mrs. Arrington," Heath said. Ayden was about to push off.

Momma contemplated what to do. If Daddy had told me I could go, she was not going to challenge his authority. Momma knew Daddy was wise and wouldn't let anything happen to me. I was sure Momma was thinking of the night of the storm, the night Ayden was lying on the beach, just about dead. I saw the trouble in her eyes, but I wanted to go more than I wanted her to be content.

"Remember, Momma, the light will bring us home safely," I said, waiting on the edge of my seat for her answer. Heath waited to get into the boat. Finally she agreed, but insisted I be home before dark.

"Thank you, Momma," I said, and I waved to her all the way out to the ocean. She waved until we had turned the end of the island.

I'd always loved being on any boat, but I especially loved rowboats, where I could put my fingers in the cool water and drag them along, leaving a small wake behind me. Heath rowed with expertise, and Ayden kept his head low, sitting silently next to me.

The waters were calm, and it didn't take us long to get to the harbor.

"The circus tents are just outside of town; we'll have to walk a few miles," Heath said. Together, the three of us walked through the small village and down the road to the circus. Families on buckboards passed us on the muddy road. Heath walked steps in front of us, talking about the gypsies that traveled with the circus.

"The gypsy people are the animal trainers. They travel with the performers. Most of them were originally from Austria and Germany."

"I heard they are all thieves," Ayden said.

I didn't know anything about them. Before Heath mentioned them, I hadn't even heard of gypsies.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear, Ayden," Heath said.

"I don't," he replied.

"I've read a little about the circus." I said as we strolled along the wooded road. "Is it true that there are five-hundred-pound women and people who eat fire, and is there really such a thing as a wolf-boy?"

"They are called side shows, and it's all true."

It didn't take us long to arrive at the clearing on a private farm. There was one large tent set up, and several smaller ones were scattered around it. There were wagons everywhere—some from spectators. Others were covered wagons that carried the gypsies and performers from town to town. I even spotted wagons with giant iron bars that housed the lions and tigers.

"Come this way to purchase our tickets," Heath said.

Ayden and I stayed close behind Heath. The crowd was large, and it was difficult to get to the midway. Once we arrived at the small wooden booth, Heath took out a five-cent piece and bought our three tickets. It was hard to see anything in the thick crowd. People were pushing and shoving. Heath noticed I was having trouble and immediately came and took my hand. Ayden stayed close to me as we pushed through to the sideshows. A pitchman was selling an array of colored balloons for one cent, and as we passed him, he went to hand me one.

"A balloon for the beautiful young lady?" the tall man with the funny moustache asked. Heath told him no. The man smiled and winked at me, then continued to holler, "Balloons here!"

"Stay close," Heath told Ayden and me.

In the many different side shows were midgets, a fat lady, a lady who had a beard just like a man, and even a man with two heads!

"That is a Siamese twin. They are very rare. They are created when the two embryos don't completely separate," Heath informed me.

Ayden's eyes were wide, and he gasped each time we came upon a freak.

After we had seen the different side shows, Heath brought us to the marquee. There the ducat grabber took our tickets, and we squeezed through the crowd and into the galley. By pure luck we found three seats together, right at the front. I sat between the boys.

Heath was amused by my wide eyes. I had never experienced such an event or crowd. I couldn't wait for it to start.

Ayden pointed out the clowns that appeared. "There are your clowns, Lillian," he chuckled, remembering the night I learned the circus was coming to town. I laughed with Ayden.

"And there are your elephants," I added. Ayden gave me a big smile.

"Okay, here comes the ringmaster," Heath said excitedly, and the crowd went quiet. We all listened as he explained that there would be rope walkers, perch acts, and even death-defying acts! There would be big, dangerous cats, and funny clowns, and dogs that would walk on balls. Pretty ladies sat on swings hundreds of feet up, then flew through the air, only to be caught by a handsome man on the other swing. I clapped so hard my hands were sore and my face ached from smiling and laughing so much.

Afterwards, when it was over, I was fulfilled and ready to return to our island. Just as we began our walk back to the harbor, talking over all the exciting acts we had witnessed, I noticed a small covered wagon nestled in the woods, not too far from the side of the road. An old lady with a shawl draped over her shoulders was hunched over a small fire. Her wagon read, "Miss Lola—Fortune Teller." I nudged Heath, who was walking at my side, and he looked at me.

"Look," I said. "It's a creepy gypsy lady."

"We should be getting back," Heath said, sensing my curiosity.

"It's still early," I replied. The old gypsy woman noticed us and waved for us to come to her. I looked at Heath, who like me, was very curious. It was our nature—we were always wondering.

"Don't go over there," Ayden warned, hiding behind Heath.

"Oh, come on now; it will be fun," Heath said.

I was the first to hurry over to the old lady in the woods. Heath was right behind me, but Ayden stayed back by the road until he realized that we were leaving him alone. Then he ran to catch up.

The old gypsy knew why we were there and slowly got up to open the flap to her wagon for us to join her inside. Heath reached for a coin as we sat down in the dimly lit, make-shift room.

"Here you go," Heath said, and she took the money from him.

The old lady sat down, and we all huddled close. Several candles gave off just enough light to see her face and a deck of cards that she lifted and handed to me.

"Shuffle them," she instructed. Heath watched as I mixed the cards. Ayden had his eyes closed tightly, obviously petrified. When I felt I was finished, she extended her long, boney hand and took the cards. Then she began to lay them out on the table in a distinct pattern. The cards had mystical drawings and words on them.

"That must represent you," Heath whispered in my ear, referring to the card in the center. It was a colored drawing of a blond-haired girl. The gypsy glared at Heath, and he sat back without another word.

Ayden had opened his eyes and begun to watch as she studied the cards. We waited impatiently for her to speak. I tried to figure out what the cards meant. It all seemed rather confusing. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she spoke.

"I see the past with great clarity and the future with such darkness," she began, in a deep, hoarse voice laced in a heavy, unrecognizable accent. "You are only one child in the family, a sole child."

"Yes, that's true," I exclaimed.

"Your roots are of the South."

She studied the cards with great intensity and shook her head in obvious disbelief. "You are the image of your mother, but not of the man whose name you keep."

I sat up and gulped hard. Heath was about to interrupt, but she told him to stay quiet, then placed down the next few cards over the others.

"I see much pain. You must stay close to the light. When it is gone, you will be lost and alone. It is then that you must beware of others around you. It will be then that the deep secrets of the willow will find you."

"What kind of fortune is that?" Heath demanded when he saw the terror in my eyes. "You're scaring her!"

"I only tell you what the cards have to offer," she stated, and sat back in her chair, then she looked to me, and her black eyes hardened and narrowed. "One day, you will have to choose. Always follow your heart."

"This is gibberish. We should have never wasted our money on this," Heath grumbled, helping me out of the wagon.

It was still light when we returned to the harbor. Heath had promised we would be home for supper.

"I will row as fast as I can," he said. I was quiet, flustered by our visit to the gypsy lady. I had thought Ayden would be frightened and have nightmares, but it was going to be me. She told me things that scared me all the way down to my soul, and because I didn't understand it, frightened me even more. Heath tried to comfort me.

"She is just full of hocus-pocus. Don't you pay any mind to her, Lillian."

Ayden didn't like to see me so upset; for the first time, he was genuinely concerned about me. He sat beside me on the boat. "She is just a crazy old lady. She was probably, probably—" Ayden thought hard for the word he was looking for.

Heath knew what he was trying to say. "The gypsy was senile. That's what she was."

Ayden nodded in agreement and added, "Yup, that's what she was."

While Heath rowed us home, I tried to calm my nerves, but my trembling continued. Heath indicated with a quick glance to Ayden that he should do something. I was surprised when he put his arm around me and looked at me to see if it was okay. It was. I smiled, and he smiled with relief, and the three of us laughed.

"Thank you for making me feel better," I said.

"That's what friends are for. We will always be here to help make you feel better," Heath said.

I kept my sights on our island and was relieved when we finally returned safely. So was Momma.

Momma took a long-needed breath when the three of us stepped foot on the island. She called us over, and we hurried to sit down for supper. Ayden and Heath sat across from me as we dined outside in the twilight of the warm summer evening. It was near nine-thirty and still there was just enough light to allow us to see outside. Occasionally, Momma and Opal served supper late, usually on Saturday nights, when the next day was the Lord's day, a day of rest.

The food was delicious, as always, and since Ayden, Heath, and I were all famished, we asked for second helpings.

"I have never seen you eat so much, Lillian," Momma laughed.

"How far out of town did you kids have to walk?" Edward asked.

"I would say only a few miles," Heath answered. "It was so much fun."

"I even got to see something called a Siamese twin," I said.

"What's that?" Momma asked.

Heath quickly explained what a Siamese twin was. Momma and Opal seemed horrified—especially Opal. She hurried off and knelt in the distance to throw up. Momma was about to see to her when Opal returned to the table, her face flushed and not looking well at all.

"I'm sorry. The thought made me ill."

"You sure you're okay?" Edward asked.

Opal smiled her reassurance and that put him at ease.

"What else did you see?" Daddy asked, wiping his chin with his napkin.

"We saw an old gypsy woman," Ayden announced.

Heath's eyes flew open.

"What do you mean a gypsy woman?" Momma gasped.

Ayden looked to me, realizing he had said too much. The three of us quickly tried to think of what to say. Of course, Heath knew right away what to do. He had to lie.

"As soon as we saw her in the woods, we hurried away."

Momma took a deep breath and closed her eyes, then said, "Thank goodness. Those people are witches. You children stay far away from gypsies."

Ayden gulped hard as Heath looked at me. He warned me to stay calm, that I had nothing to fear.

"I'm just glad you all had a good time and got home safe."

"Amen to that," Opal added.

Heath, Ayden, and I asked to be excused. We wanted to escape before anyone realized we were lying. Before I went inside, I thanked Heath and Ayden and hugged them both. "That was a close one," I said quietly.

"That it was," Heath replied, and with Ayden, walked through the shadows of twilight, back to their house.

It wasn't long before Momma came up for our goodnight ritual. I was grateful to be safe in my room, on the island, and under Momma's love and care. No longer did I have frightening visions of the old gypsy woman. Momma's warm touch and soft voice put all of my fears to rest.

"Did you really have a good time today?" she asked as she began to brush through my hair. My hair had grown so much since we first arrived. It hung past my hips. Momma's hair was only inches shorter, but she always kept it up in a bun until bedtime. Then she spent hours brushing it after she brushed mine. The only time she couldn't was when she felt ill. Then I would offer, but she would send me away so she could rest.

"I did, Momma. I hope the circus comes next year. Then I want to go again."

"When I was a little girl, I went to the circus once. My daddy took me. I was about six years old."

"What was he like, Momma?" Momma hardly ever talked about her daddy, my grandfather.

"He was a handsome man, almost as handsome as your daddy. I was his angel, and he adored me."

"Does he still live in Savannah?" I asked.

Momma sighed as she ran her fingers through my hair. "My parents are long gone, Lillian," she said, with a pain in her voice I only heard when she infrequently remembered them.

All I knew was that they had lived in Savannah where he met my grandmother. I tried to imagine what he looked like, for there were no photographs of them. We had none of anyone in our family. I couldn't imagine anyone as remotely handsome as Daddy.

"What was his name?"

"Whose name?"

"My grandfather's."

"Thomas. His name was Thomas," she said, then cleared her throat and began to fidget. Then she removed herself from the bed and told me to blow out my lamp.

Just before she turned to leave, she gazed out my bedroom window, and after only a moment said, "Mrs. Dalton is expecting a baby come spring."

"A baby? Really? How exciting," I cried. Momma didn't seem very excited about it.

"I suppose so," she muttered.

"Momma?"

"Yes, Lillian?"

"Why didn't you have any more babies after me?" I asked. I had often wondered why I had no brothers or sisters. Especially that day, I wondered why I was a sole child. Momma came back to me and took my face in her hands, making me look up into her melancholy eyes. She sighed then said, "I am unable to have any more babies." She said that with so much anguish that her pain went straight to my heart.

Momma knew I wanted to know why, but that night she wasn't ready, and as she said goodnight to me, left with eyes full of tears.

_______________

# Chapter Five

The very next Saturday was my birthday. It was the first birthday ever that I was going to celebrate with people other than my very own family. In years past, the day came with a gift and a cake and that was all. I had never had a real party. Momma used to tell me one day I could have one; one day we would be able to have the luxury of a birthday party in my honor. As far back as I could remember, I had wished for it to come. Now it had finally arrived.

Opal and Momma spent the morning baking my cake. Daddy told me I didn't have to do any of my morning chores; I could go off and play. Heath and Ayden asked if I wanted to go fishing. I had just put on my Sunday dress, my only dress for a special occasion. Normally, I would have gone fishing with them, but that day I didn't want to get dirty.

"Then just come and sit with us. You won't have to actually fish," Ayden said. They had their fishing poles in hand and stood waiting for my answer.

"I'll bait the hook for you," Ayden added.

"Come on, Lillian. What else are you going to do?"

"I think I want to stay inside and read today. Besides, I'm wearing my Sunday best."

"But it isn't Sunday," Ayden said.

"She knows that!" Heath interrupted. "Okay, Lillian, we'll see you later."

I plopped down on my bed and opened my book. It wasn't long before I would have my school books to study again; there were only three weeks left of fun and play until Heath and Ayden would row in to the mainland for schooling. I would be left on the island to be schooled by Momma. She was a good teacher; Daddy often praised her for my knowledge and intelligence. He'd say, "I know she doesn't get her smarts from me."

Momma always told him to never say that. She'd say he was the smartest man she had ever known, and he would smile and kiss her rosy lips.

Though I was smart thanks to Momma, I wanted more than anything to go to school with Heath and Ayden and meet other children. I wanted to see what it was like in a real school house with a real teacher. Each time I brought it up, Momma told me it was out of the question. "Your father and I don't want to hear this again."

"Why can't I be like other children and go to a real school?" I would groan.

Daddy had come down from a long night in the tower and overheard me crying to Momma. "You are not like other children, Lillian. Now, not another word of this," he commanded.

I didn't understand why I wasn't like Heath or Ayden—why I wasn't worthy of attending school. I was a good girl; I was sure of that. Momma and Daddy both knew I was smart. No school would turn me away. I wanted in the worst way for them to tell me why—just once tell me why.

Although I tried to concentrate on my book, I was too excited about the upcoming evening. Daddy gave me no hint as to what my present was. My presents were always special because Momma and Daddy gave them to me, but just once I did want something I'd wished for. Every time we went to the village's general store, I gazed up at the dolls. Each and every time. Only once did Daddy notice, and that was the day he told me we couldn't afford a doll like that. I had rag dolls that I played with—but never a real porcelain doll. If I ever did receive one as a gift, I wanted to name her Jane, after Jane Austen, the author of many of my favorite books. Something told me this birthday was going to be different from all others and one of my most memorable days.

I had been working for some time on tying my hair back in one of my prettiest blue ribbons, and as soon as I had it just right, I went downstairs. I was the first one ready for supper. Momma had the table set. But as I lit the candelabra in anticipation of everyone's arrival, a gust of wind blew them out. From out of nowhere came a powerful storm. The early evening turned dark, and the winds kicked up as the surf began to pound the island. In a matter of minutes, the rain became torrential. Daddy ran in, soaking wet, and flew past me to get up to the tower and light the lamp. I heard Edward calling for Heath. There was a vessel in peril. I ran to see, too, and just as I stepped outside, the vessel slowly broke apart and went to its watery grave. I could hear men screaming for help, their voices crying out over the howling winds and powerful thunder.

Heath and Edward threw lines out from the shore; it was all they could do. The swells were too dangerous to risk taking the rowboats out. A man bobbed up and down in the huge swells not far from the shore, but the rope just couldn't reach. We stood there, helpless, as one wave after another swept over him and he continued to scream. Then he went silent and disappeared into the sea. Edward and Heath stayed on the shore in the pouring rain until they were certain they could save no one. Then they waited the rest of the night for bodies to wash up.

After the ferocious storm passed and the swells subsided, a thick fog settled in. The night was long and daunting. Heath and Edward pulled one dead man after another out of the water and laid them on the cold, wet sand. Momma insisted I go inside, but I refused.

"There is nothing we can do for them except say a prayer," she said.

"Then that's what we will do, Momma. We will give them a prayer."

Momma took my hand, and we bowed our heads. Opal, Heath, Edward, and Ayden came to stand with us as we listened to Daddy ring the fog bell in ten-second intervals. We held hands while Momma gave the Lord's Prayer for the fifteen sailors and captain that Heath and Edward dragged out of the water.

I didn't remember it was my birthday until the sun began to rise and the fog turned into an eerie white cloud that blanketed the island. The new day was surrounded by death, and my birthday was over. Heavy-hearted, I returned to my room. It wasn't long before there was a soft rap on my door.

"Lillian, it's Heath."

Heath stood, exhausted and drained, out in the hall. He was cold and wet, but he wanted me to have my birthday present. From his pocket, he pulled a necklace made of sea shells. "Happy birthday."

The gesture brought me to tears, and I fell into his arms. Heath caught me and held me as I cried.

Heath awkwardly put his arms around me, and tried to comfort me. "It's okay," he kept repeating. "Please don't cry," he said. Then he opened my hand and put the necklace in it. "Doesn't the necklace make you happy?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I love it, Heath. Thank you."

"Don't say anything to Ayden, but he made you a bracelet to match," Heath whispered softly in my ear.

I stepped back and looked up at him. "Really?"

"Promise you will act surprised?"

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand and agreed. I wouldn't tell Ayden I knew he had made me the bracelet. I wouldn't tell him how happy that made me, and I wouldn't tell him I knew he finally had come to like me.

"I have to get back. We have to row the men to the mainland, to the undertaker."

I reached for his hand and squeezed it tight, then said, "You did the best you could, Heath."

He gave me a solemn half-smile. "I wish we could have saved them. It just makes me want to leave this place and become a doctor so I can really save people. I won't have to battle the rain and the wind; I won't have to fight the sea. I won't have to stand aside and watch as they get swallowed up by the dark, cold water." And with that, Heath left to go load up the bodies and take them to the undertaker, where they would find their final resting place.

The heavy fog didn't lift until exactly one week later. There were times I believed I would never see the sun again. Even though I hated the sea sometimes, I longed for the damp fog to retreat and leave us be, so I could once again gaze out and see the whalers and schooners. For days on end, Daddy worked the light with Edward, the two taking turns. Momma fell to bed, sick with sadness over the loss of the sailors. Opal was left to do the cooking and cleaning, while Heath tended to the general maintenance around the houses. Ayden stayed close by as the others were kept busy. When I wasn't helping with Opal, Ayden and I would go off looking for something to keep us busy.

"Why don't we play hide and seek?" I suggested. "I bet you can't find me in this dense fog."

Ayden was up for the challenge. "Okay, I'll hide first," he said, and he ran into the fog. He disappeared instantly. "Can you see me?" he called.

"No, I can't see you."

"Come and find me, Lillian."

My only landmark was the light from the tower. If I didn't have that, I would certainly be lost. I slowly walked into a foggy world that resembled nothing of Jasper Island. I could barely see my hand in front of my face. In the distance, I heard Ayden laughing and remained on his trail. His laughter was light and silly for a while, then faded. I stopped and closed my eyes, then intently listened for him. He had stopped laughing. All I could hear was the fog bell and the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks. Once or twice, I heard the steam whistle of a vessel in the far distance, then not long after, I heard the melancholy songs from a pod of whales.

I searched for Ayden by the shore, and over the island, walking slowly, afraid I would fall off the bluff. It was eerie being alone. When I couldn't find him, I grew tired and called for him. Through the murkiness, I could tell I was very far from the lighthouse.

"Ayden, I give up," I called. "Come out; come out, wherever you are, Ayden!"

Still he didn't give up.

"Ayden Dalton, where are you?"

I heard him call my name. I turned in circles, lost and confused as to what direction he was calling me.

"Ayden, I can't see you!"

"Over here, Lillian."

I turned again and again, spinning in circles, trying to figure out where he was, then out of nowhere, a figure appeared from the mist. I screamed.

"Lillian, where are you?"

"Ayden!"

Ayden came through the fog, running until he found me, and then he stopped short next to me and stared with disbelieving eye at the ghost. Then the ghost vanished, just as quickly as he appeared.

"Did you see him, Ayden? Did you see Victor?"

"I saw him."

I took hold of Ayden's hand then whispered, "Did you see him the night you almost died?" Our eyes locked onto one another, and the fog bell rang. "He saved you, Ayden."

As unbelievable as it was, as much as Victor left both Ayden and I with wide eyes and our hearts pounding in our chests, we knew he was there to protect us. His image was frightening, but we were safe when he was around. And only Ayden and I could see him.

Ayden didn't let go of my hand as we made our way through the fog, following the light back to the tower.

"We tell no one of this," I said to him. "This is our secret. Do you swear, Ayden Dalton? Swear you won't tell a soul."

Ayden squeezed my hand, his eyes unwavering, then said, "I swear."

After the week of ominous fog, the sun brought bright blue skies and rejuvenated us all. Daddy was exhausted and fell into bed just as Momma came out of her long sleep. She allowed him to sleep that first star-filled night while she manned the tower.

The days that passed seemed more like a strange dream than reality. I, more than anything, didn't want to remember most of it. I hated thinking of the dead bodies, the eerie fog, Momma's ill sleep, Daddy's fatigue, and the ghost that stayed near. The only thing that kept those thoughts from turning into horrible nightmares was Ayden's new friendship for me. And there was one other very special thing besides my friendship, besides the warm sun that chased the fog away that lifted my spirits.

Just before Daddy collapsed into bed, he came to me with a box in his hand. I had been reading on my bed when he knocked on my door. Poor Daddy; it was the most tired I had ever seen him. His eyes were hollow, his face pale. His uniform was unkempt, his hair messy under his cap. But he came to me with his last ounce of energy and placed the box next to me.

"I'm sorry about your birthday, Lillian," he sighed.

"It's okay, Daddy."

"Open it. Tell me if you like it."

I put my book down and brought the long box onto my lap. Slowly, I opened it, and inside was the doll, the beautiful doll I had wished so hard for.

"Oh, Daddy," I cried. "Thank you so much."

"Are you happy?" he asked, with such worry.

I jumped up and hugged him as tight as I could and covered his scruffy face with dozens of kisses.

"I have never been so happy," I exclaimed.

"You know I would go to the ends of the earth to make you happy, don't you, Lillian?"

I took his face in my hands and said, "I love you the most, Daddy."

He brought me close and stroked my long, thick hair. "You will always be my special princess. No matter what life brings, no matter what dark shadows are cast over the bright sun, know your daddy loves you. Never believe anything less of me, my darling daughter."

Daddy was practically begging me to understand him. Of course, I promised him. Why would I think anything different? I could never doubt Daddy's constant love for me. Nothing in the world could ever change the way I felt about him. Daddy had the deepest part of my heart; he had my love, which was so strong, not even the most brutal of storms could break it. My love for him could never sink, not like the ships that broke in half and plunged to the bottom of the sea. My adoration for Daddy kept me from any affliction that came my way. There was no reason to believe otherwise.

I was eager to show Heath and Ayden my beautiful doll. They had just returned from fishing. Both had caught a half-dozen fish, and Opal took them to prepare for supper.

"Look at what Daddy gave me for my birthday," I said, gleaming with happiness.

"That's some doll," Heath said.

"Her name is Jane. I am the luckiest girl to have such a doll."

"You be careful with her, Lillian," Heath said.

"Oh, of course. I'm going to keep her on my bed. She is not a doll for playing with."

"Then what's the point?" Ayden asked.

"Well, she is to look at and admire."

"She kind of resembles you," Ayden said, taking a closer look.

"Indeed she does," Heath added.

"I'm going to put her back up in my room. See you both later," I sang.

I wasn't sure if Momma had seen my doll. I wasn't sure if she even remembered missing my birthday. I didn't want to bring it up; I didn't want to make her feel bad. It wasn't her fault she was often sick. There was no medicine the doctors could give her to make her well. She had taken all kinds of powders in years past, but none of them worked. Daddy and I had become used to her episodes of weariness, her weeks of bed rest. It was ordinary to us, though bizarre to Heath and Ayden. Their mother was strong and always full of energy. She wasn't fragile like Momma.

I found Momma sitting outside under the last of the warm summer sun. She had been knitting a baby blanket and had dozed off into a peaceful nap. She looked relaxed, and there was even a smile on her delicate face as she dreamed. I watched, unable to decide if I should wake her. Momma hadn't spent much time with me lately. I missed her goodnights, her soft tender hugs.

"Momma," I whispered, gently touching her hand. "Are you awake?"

Slowly, she lifted her eyelids and gazed up at me. She didn't speak at first and appeared rather confused. Then she reached for my hand. "Hattie, Hattie is that you?"

Hattie? Who was Hattie?

"Momma, it's Lillian."

"Lillian?" Her eyes focused then flew open, as if she had just seen a ghost.

"Momma, I'm sorry for waking you. I wanted to show you my doll. Daddy gave it to me today."

"Oh, oh," she said repeatedly then sat up. She reached for my doll and held it. Time seemed to stand still for me while Momma's mind scrambled to come out of some distant memory.

"Who is Hattie?" I asked. She didn't answer. "You called me Hattie, Momma."

"Did I, Lillian? I'm sorry; I was dreaming," she admitted, then gave the doll back to me.

"I am sorry for waking you," I said, then turned to go. I looked back to see Momma staring off vacantly. Her expression was filled with puzzlement. I was left with a feeling of unease in the pit of my stomach. What was Momma dreaming about that took her mind so far away? We never knew anyone by the name of Hattie. She had not once mentioned anyone to me other than my dead grandparents. Momma had no brothers or sisters. I could have speculated all day as to who Momma thought I reminded her of. A part of me wanted to know. I had always wondered about Momma's life before she met Daddy. Maybe Hattie was an aunt or a cousin, though I wasn't told of any that existed. My efforts to learn much of anything about Momma and Daddy before I was born had left me only a mystery. Without photographs, there was nothing for me to think about except what was in my own imagination. The clues that Momma gave were bewildering. Without Momma's occasional flashbacks, I would never even know as much as I did.

Daddy never, ever mentioned anyone or anything about his past, except that he was in the Confederate Navy. That is all I knew, and I didn't dare ask him more, for when I did, his eyes would turn dark and cold as the sea just before it turned to ice.

"The past is the past and buried like the dead. None of it matters anymore. There is nothing for you to know, Lillian," Daddy said, and insisted I never ask him of it again. When Daddy said this to me, Momma was standing deep in the shadows. I caught a glimpse of her just as Daddy sent me on my way. All I could see were her troubled eyes reflecting the flame from one lone candle.

By strange coincidence, at supper Opal announced that her parents were going to arrive at the end of the following week for a visit. It was Heath and Ayden's birthday month. Momma and Daddy looked to one another, concerned.

"Grandpa Zechman retired as a professor of mathematics. He taught at Harvard. That's where I'm going to go," Heath said.

"I don't want to go to college. I want to be a lighthouse keeper like father," Ayden announced.

"And you will be a fine lighthouse keeper at that, Ayden," Edward said.

"Both jobs are important," I chimed in. "Both save lives."

Daddy smiled proudly and winked at me.

"I have no doubt that all of you children will grow up to be successful," Opal said.

Momma must have sensed what I was thinking. What would I grow up to be successful at? Women were meant to stay home and have babies. They did the cooking and cleaning. I wouldn't ever call that successful.

"Lillian will be a fine lighthouse keeper, won't you?"

"A girl for a lighthouse keeper? I don't think so," Ayden laughed.

I swallowed hard and tried not to let anyone to see the tears welling up in my eyes. Of course, I wanted to be as brave as Daddy was, as dedicated and enthusiastic as any lighthouse keeper. I believed it was a job I could do with my eyes closed if I had to. Daddy then and there let me know he believed in me.

"Lillian will be a fine lighthouse keeper; there is no doubt in my mind. She is smart and strong and knows how to work the beacon almost better than I."

Momma's smile grew wide, matching my own. Daddy had confidence in me; Daddy knew I could succeed at anything, regardless of what anyone thought. Heath instantaneously agreed.

Ayden obviously objected. His face was twisted with skepticism, but for my benefit I believed, he made no other comment.

"Behind every successful man is a great woman," Daddy said, and he touched Momma affectionately on her cheek and went to prepare for the night ahead. Heath blushed and lowered his eyes. Daddy had never done that before—touched Momma anywhere other than the privacy of their own dwelling. A simple touch or look between the two of them held a passion and fire that made everyone around them take notice.

Momma came to see me to bed earlier than usual. She said she was going to stay up with Daddy in the tower. After a quick brush of my hair, she leaned in and kissed me goodnight.

"Momma?"

"Yes, Lillian?"

"Is it true that you make Daddy the great man that he is? Does every wife do that for their husband?" I asked skeptically.

I already knew that Momma made Daddy's heart beat; I was aware that the sparkle in his deep brown eyes came from the light Momma shined into his life. But what was it about her that made him want to save every ship in peril?

"Someday you will understand. You will be old enough to see how your presence can make a man go to the moon and back for you, how he will find compassion for others just because he is in love with you. He will risk everything, even his own life. It is because his heart is joined with mine through eternity that he has the conviction to live life to its fullest. It is not me that makes Daddy the great man that he is, but the love we share." Momma kissed my forehead and pulled the covers up under my chin, then softly said, "You can have any man you want, Lillian. Just remember to follow your heart."

Those words rang familiar. The gypsy woman had said the exact same thing.

_______________

# Chapter Six

Heath and Ayden were lucky to have visitors, especially to have their grandparents come to Jasper Island. They didn't know I had no grandparents. They were unaware that Momma, Daddy, and I would never have the good fortune of family in our lives. I so envied them, and if I were to be granted a most special wish, it would be to have everything I felt I was entitled to; which included grandparents.

The Zechmans arrived early Friday morning, the last day of the month of August. Edward rowed them from the vessel to the island. Heath and Ayden stood by to retrieve their trunk, and Opal waved frantically as soon as she spotted the row boat coming ashore.

Daddy and Momma kept to themselves, staying up in the tower, cleaning the lenses and mirror. I was surprised when they headed up to the tower and didn't stay behind to greet Opal's father and mother. They had only just cleaned less than a day before.

The grandfather was a tall, proud man with thick, silvery-blond hair, wearing a bowler hat. His sack suit was dapper, and he took out a monogrammed handkerchief to clean off his spectacles after he stepped onto the rocky beach. He appeared to be only a few years older than Edward and Daddy, but I was certain he couldn't have been. The grandmother had a gentle, kind expression, just like Opal's. Her hair was all silver and pulled back into a tight bun. She was a smaller, thinner version of Opal. I noticed a beautiful cameo on her wine-colored pagoda day dress, which resembled nothing that Momma or Opal wore to work in every day.

The Daltons gave them a warm welcome and introduced them to me. Heath put his hands on my shoulders and stood behind me, then said, "Grandmother, Grandfather, this is Lillian Arrington."

They both smiled, and one at a time came and embraced me.

"So you are the young lady that has befriended my grandsons. Heath writes about you in every letter," the grandfather said.

"You are just as lovely as Heath described," the grandmother added. My stomach filled with what felt like a hundred butterflies when she revealed what Heath wrote in his letters. Did he really think I was lovely, or was he just trying to be kind? When I turned to look at him, his expression hadn't changed. He wasn't embarrassed. I believed he was just being kind.

"Come, Mother; let's get you settled in."

Heath and Ayden hauled the trunk up the embankment and to the house. I trailed behind Opal and her mother. They obviously had a close mother/ daughter relationship, reminding me of what I had with Momma. I was grateful for it. I couldn't wait for Momma and Daddy to meet them and hurried up to the tower.

"They are here," I called, as I climbed up the circular iron steps to the observation deck. Momma was gazing out through the clear windows while Daddy cleaned the Fresnel lens.

"Were you watching, Momma?"

"Yes, Lillian; I saw them arrive."

They didn't seem like they were going anywhere.

"Aren't you coming down?"

"Not now. We will meet them at supper," Daddy said, not looking up.

I knew it was not proper, but what could I say? It was awkward when I returned without Momma and Daddy.

"Where are your parents? Have they come down from the tower?" Edward asked.

I wasn't sure what to say. I wanted to lie and tell them something had broken and they were up there trying to fix it, but I wasn't even sure what I would say was broken.

By the time I ran through my options, Edward had realized I was trying to cover for them.

"It's all right, Lillian. I suspect they have important things to do. We will introduce them at supper," he said. I hoped he understood, because I didn't.

Heath and Ayden were gracious enough to allow me to spend time with their grandparents. Heath was excited to show his grandfather his telescope.

"Tell me what you have learned," the grandfather said. Heath eagerly demonstrated how the instrument worked then explained where all the constellations were and what they represented.

"Even Lillian knows them now," Ayden informed him.

"Heath taught me. He is a good teacher. We have been studying fossils, also."

"I see. It sounds like you children use your time wisely. I'm glad to hear that. There is much to learn in this world," he said.

Heath idolized his grandfather. I didn't blame him. Ayden, on the other hand, was not cut of the same cloth. Ayden enjoyed working with his hands. He was as smart as Heath, just in a different way. Heath didn't care to know the anatomy of a lighthouse, although he could easily learn if he had wanted to. Heath spent as little time as possible in the lighthouse and showed vague interest when Daddy and Edward talked about it. However, Ayden sat intrigued, his mind taking notes, memorizing every aspect of what it took to be a lighthouse keeper. For me, it was second nature; it was all I knew. The three of us were so different, but we all had the same goals—to be the best at what we set out to do.

Ayden was obviously aware of his grandfather's affections for Heath. Instead of trailing along and trying to keep up with their discussion on mathematic equations, he asked me if I wanted to go have a game of checkers. He had never asked me before. Heath and Ayden played all the time and occasionally I had a go of it with Heath.

"Sure, Ayden," I said, though I was more interested in staying with Heath and his grandfather. But I could see how much he wanted me to.

"You two have fun," Heath said, barely giving us a second thought.

"You have wonderful grandparents," I told Ayden.

"I suppose so," he replied, not thinking much of it.

"Do you have any others?"

"Any other what?"

"Grandparents. Like your father's parents?"

Ayden set up the board. He took black. "Yes. They live back in England. I've never met them."

So Ayden also had grandparents he'd never met. We had something else in common. It made me feel better; it made me feel less different.

"Have you ever been there?" I asked then made the first move.

"Where?"

"To England."

He didn't look up from the board. "No."

"I would love to go to England. From there I would want to see France and Germany."

"I wouldn't," he replied, then jumped me.

"Why not? I think it would be fun to travel the world and experience different cultures," I said, as my mind took me to Paris. "Did you know they eat snails?"

Ayden grimaced then said, "That's disgusting."

"It's called escargot."

"I don't care what it's called; it's still disgusting. I would never eat it. I never want to live anywhere but on a lighthouse station," he declared while I made the next jump.

"Don't you think that is kind of boring? After all, you can be a lighthouse keeper and travel on your time off."

"I won't travel."

"Never?"

"Never, ever."

I sat back against my chair, amazed. There was a whole world out there. In just a few rows of an oar, one could climb aboard a vessel and discover new lands. Ayden didn't see how marvelous the thought of that was. All he wanted to do was stay put on a remote island and man a tower. That was it. As exciting as that could be, I was not going to stay isolated for the rest of my life. Maybe instead of being a lighthouse keeper like Daddy, I would be an explorer, or maybe even an anthropologist. I didn't share my exhilarating idea with Ayden. He didn't have my ambitions; he had no desire to experience new people and places. That was one thing we absolutely didn't have in common. That was the one thing that, in years to come, would put our friendship to the test and on the threshold of its demise.

Supper was formal in honor of the guests of Jasper Island. I returned home after two hours of checkers with Ayden to wash up and change into my best dress. Momma had already prepared herself and was in the kitchen gathering up the apple pie she made especially for the occasion. Daddy had gone to the mainland earlier in the week to get the apples she requested. The house was filled with the most delectable aroma; it made my mouth water. After chocolate cake, apple pie was my favorite. During the autumn season, though we used to be far off in the Atlantic Ocean, the supply vessel often delivered a box of apples a year, and Momma made pie after pie. Daddy and I could never get enough.

"I'm going to get too fat to climb the steps to the tower if I keep eating your momma's scrumptious pies," Daddy laughed to me.

He used to say that all the time, and I believed he would on the evening we dined with the grandparents. But as he walked through the house to change into his cleanest sack coat, he didn't comment. Daddy appeared preoccupied, even uptight. Momma, on the other hand, was joyful, much different from earlier. She sang as she baked her pie. Even Daddy, who always stopped to smile when he heard Momma's beautiful voice, didn't that evening.

Momma, Daddy, and I arrived fashionably late. Opal had set up a lovely supper table. It was the first time we had dined in their home. The Daltons' house was a scaled-down version of ours. The rooms had the same basic layout, except there was a bedroom on the first floor, and all the rooms were smaller. It was a tight fit around the table, but we managed. Edward and the grandfather sat at the ends of the long table. Daddy appeared awkward, sitting off to Edward's side. I sat between Momma and Daddy. The introductions went rather well, I thought, as Daddy seemed to turn off some kind of switch inside him. He was cordial to the grandparents, and I was thankful. I had not known Daddy to be unkind to anyone, except for the drunken sailor that Daddy quickly put in his place.

As predicted, the conversation went straight into getting to know Momma and Daddy. This was Daddy's worst situation; Daddy was private and didn't like to reveal much about him, Momma, and me, unless it had to do with his position as primary keeper, or his experiences at Rock Ledge Island. If anyone approached Daddy with a subject other than that, he dodged the questions, changed the subject, or simply removed himself from the discussion. I had no idea why anything about Momma and Daddy's past had to be kept silent, other than the fact that he had been a Confederate soldier. Was that the only thing that made Daddy cringe? Could it be the worst shame of his life?

"Where were you stationed before Rock Ledge?" the grandfather asked.

Daddy took a bite of his potato, and I saw Momma and him exchange an uncomfortable glance.

"I served in the navy," Daddy answered with dignity.

"In the war?"

"Yes, sir." Daddy calmed when the grandfather didn't ask which side Daddy fought for. He obviously presumed it was for the Union.

"We certainly honor your service, both then and now," the grandmother said.

Daddy thanked them. Momma was rather fidgety, and Opal noticed.

"Amelia, are you all right?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Momma was flushed.

"Where are you originally from?" the grandfather asked Momma.

"We are natives of New York," Daddy answered for her, which was a lie.

"New York?" Edward said, confused.

"I thought I had mentioned it. In any case, we haven't been home in a long while."

Momma looked at Daddy, and I noticed him reached under the table to squeeze her hand, then he quickly let go.

The grandfather was about to speak, when Opal, sensing how much the inquisition made Momma uncomfortable, changed the subject. "Father, tell us about your voyage this coming spring."

I watched as Momma took a long-needed breath.

"We will be sailing on the Atlantic, a new ship, a White Star Line vessel, from Liverpool to New York," said the grandfather.

"It was built in Belfast last year. She's four hundred and twenty feet in length and breadth—forty feet, nine-tenths," Heath stated.

"And what's her registered tonnage?" the grandfather quizzed, making sure Heath was thorough with his statistics.

"That would be two thousand, three hundred, and sixty-six," Heath quickly answered.

"Very impressive."

Heath was always looking to impress us. Even Daddy had lifted his brow in amazement. Heath had his grandfather's astuteness, his father's good looks, and his mother's gentle nature. I was thrilled to have such a boy as my friend, my best friend. I couldn't help but long for Heath to someday feel more for me, something other than friendship. I hoped one day he no longer saw me as a little girl—that I would grow up to be as attractive and mesmerizing as Momma. If I turned out to be the likeness of Momma, I was certain Heath would fall in love with me.

Momma was excited to serve her apple pie for dessert. Opal set it in the stove for a few minutes to warm it up.

"It's smells delicious, Mrs. Arrington," Ayden commented. He was anxious to have a piece.

"Indeed it does, Amelia," the grandmother added.

Daddy sat back with a smile. He was so proud of Momma. Daddy was always proud of her. Whatever she set her sights to do, she did perfectly.

"Can I get anyone some coffee or tea?" Opal asked.

The men asked for coffee, and Momma wanted tea. Opal slowly lifted herself and walked around the table. Inside of her, she had a baby growing, I remembered. It must feel strange, I thought. I wondered if she felt it move around. As she passed me, I felt the urge to reach out and touch her belly, but I kept my hand still and at my side. As much as pregnancy frightened me, a small part was fascinated.

"Lillian?" Momma said to me, bringing me out of deep thought.

"Yes, Momma?"

"Show the grandmother your necklace and bracelet."

I looked down at my wrist.

"She commented on it. I told her Heath and Ayden gave them to you on your birthday."

"Oh, yes, here."

I extended my arm so she could take a closer look, and with my other hand I pulled the necklace out from under my collar. Ayden turned away, while Heath gleamed with pride.

"All sea shells from the beach below," Heath told her.

"Beautiful," the grandmother said as she held my hand in hers. Her hands were wrinkly and boney and covered in small brown spots. I had never been touched by such an old hand. I supposed if I had a grandmother, her hands would be just like hers. Tenderly, she let go and smiled at me, then said, "A lovely necklace for such a lovely young lady."

"Thank you, ma'am," I said softly then slowly pulled my hand away.

Daddy gave me a satisfied nod that told me I had done well; he approved of my poise. It was one thing Daddy emphasized. "Always stay self-assured and controlled; keep your head high. Be polite and courteous—always, Lillian."

After dessert, after all of the compliments on Momma's pie, the men headed up to the lighthouse, including Heath and Ayden, while I helped clear the table. I listened as Opal commented on how well the supper went. Momma acknowledged how well-bred her parents were. I sensed Momma was relieved it went so well. Her chipper voice told me all of her concerns about meeting the grandparents were long gone. She again felt secure in her environment and no longer feared her confidential times of yore would be exposed. Someday, I hoped Momma and Daddy would let me in, trust me enough to have their secrets revealed, and divulge whatever burdens they carried year after year.

The week of the grandparents' visit seemed to fly by, and before I knew it, Edward rowed them out to meet the vessel that would take them back to Boston. The very next day, Heath and Ayden started school. They were gone before the sun came up, rowed to the mainland, and took the short walk to the school house. It was a lonely morning without Heath chattering about something he read, or something he discovered somewhere on the beach. I didn't have Ayden to ask me to play checkers or hide and seek. Instead, I had my own morning chores—gathering the eggs, sweeping the house, and cleaning up with Momma after breakfast. Then Momma called me in to start my studies.

Our first lesson began with the Mexican-American war then Momma proceeded to arithmetic. After lunch, Momma needed a nap and told me to take out my McGuffy reader and spend at least one hour reading. I took the book with me outside to the bluff. I sat under my favorite tree, in my favorite spot, where I planned to do as Momma said. But as I leaned against the tree, I couldn't help but think of Ayden and Heath. I couldn't wait to hear what their first day of school was like. What was the name of the school master? How many children would attend? What did they play at recess? I worried that they would make new friends and forget all about me. Maybe a pretty girl would catch Heath's eye. What if Ayden found a new friend he would rather play with? I couldn't stand the thought of them coming home and not running to me and asking me to spend time with them. I felt so lonely knowing they weren't even on the island for me to call out for. Heath was always nearby to lend me a hand, and Ayden was the only one who shared my secrets of the ghost.

My feelings left me glum, and I certainly didn't feel up to reading. So I closed my eyes and envisioned a day when I was a grown up and no longer under Momma and Daddy's wings. I would fly away, just like all baby birds did when it was time to go. I would leave the lighthouse and only return for occasional visits. I would return with treasures collected from all over the world. I would come bearing gifts for everyone, just as the grandparents had. The day couldn't come soon enough for me.

The hours of the day went by like minutes, and I grew tired waiting for time to pass. Instead of doing what I was told, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep. The air was warm, and the salty breezes cascaded over me as I lay down on the ground. It was only seconds before I fell into a dream.

The voices that filled my mind brought me out of a peaceful sleep. I wasn't sure if they were in my dreams or real. I slowly sat up, rubbed my eyes, and focused. Ayden and Heath were rowing up to the island; they were not too far out. I stood on the bluff and called to them. They spotted me and waved back. Without a moment to waste, I hurried down to the beach. Though they had only been gone for most of a day, it seemed as if they had been away for a lifetime.

The minute their feet reached the beach, I ran and threw my arms around them. They were taken aback, surprised at my burst of gladness.

"I missed you both," I cried. "How was your first day of school? Tell me everything; tell me all about it."

"It was boring; school is always boring," Ayden muttered. "I wish I could stay here with you."

Surprised, I shook my head then looked at Heath.

"Ayden hates school. He sits there with a big pout on his face. Today he refused to take out his chalk and slate."

"Ayden, why wouldn't you do ask the teacher asked?" I wanted to know.

"She is a mean lady, and I'm not going back!"

"She is not mean, and you are going back. And when Father learns how badly you behaved and that you didn't mind Miss Weatherbee, you're going to get a lashing," he said.

"Oh, you wouldn't tell on him, would you?" I gasped. Just the thought of Ayden being struck with a strap made me feel ill.

"No, I won't say anything. But Father is sure to find out."

Heath left Ayden and me standing there. In Ayden's eyes, I saw the hostility he kept towards his brother.

"No need to worry. He said he wouldn't tell," I assured him.

"Who does he think he is, anyways? He isn't as perfect as he wants everyone to believe," Ayden mumbled. Then his expression of anger faded into amusement. "Do you want to hear a secret, a secret about Heath?" Ayden whispered.

I wasn't sure I ever wanted to know anything bad about him, and I couldn't even imagine what secret Heath would keep. Ayden noticed my reluctance, and before I could object, he revealed something that if I truly believed, left me with immense doubt of Heath's character and profoundly disenchanted.

That night at supper, I didn't look at Heath; I just couldn't. When I thought he was looking my way, I would shift my eyes down to my plate. I had suddenly realized Heath was years older than me. He had his mind set on being a successful doctor and his heart set on the most intelligent and beautiful woman that crossed his path. Ayden had revealed a side of Heath I had both feared and longed for. It had me confused and battling with myself since the moment I first laid eyes on him.

If Heath were aware of my conflict, if he noticed my dejection on that first evening back from school, he didn't acknowledge it. Just as we began to eat, Opal and Edward made each of the boys recite one important lesson Miss Weatherbee had taught. Heath was first, and he cited a quote from Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. Then Edward looked to Ayden, who had lowered his head to avoid his father's mandate.

"Ayden, your father asked you to recite a lesson," Opal said.

Heath swallowed hard, knowing what was about to happen. Obviously, this had happened before. We all waited for Ayden to obey, but he objected with his silence.

"Ayden Alexander Dalton, you rise from your seat and recite a lesson Miss Weatherbee gave you," his father commanded.

Ayden stood and put his napkin on the table, his head still bowed to the floor. I believed he was about to admit he misbehaved, but instead, he lifted his head and revealed a smile full of vice. "Father, I am sorry. I cannot recite a lesson given by Miss Weatherbee because she was too busy."

I sat on the edge of my seat, afraid of what Ayden was about to say. From the dark, malevolent look in his midnight-blue eyes, I knew he was going to throw Heath to the wolves.

"Too busy? What does that mean?" Opal asked.

His father's eyes narrowed and Heath turned white as a ghost.

"It means Miss Weatherbee, our teacher, was too busy letting Heath kiss her."

Momma gasped, Opal sat back in shock, and Ayden stood self-righteous at his brother's wrongdoing. Heath could have protected himself; he could have lied. He should have lied. I closed my eyes as Edward stormed over to Heath, grabbed him by the collar, and slapped him across the face with his free hand. Heath fell backwards and into the wall then slumped to the floor. Daddy jumped up and ran to stop Edward from hitting Heath again.

"Don't do this to him," Daddy pleaded, holding Edward back.

Momma began to sob. Opal said nothing as she came to wipe the blood from Heath's lip. I glared at Ayden with eyes so full of disgust it made him wince then he stumbled over Heath and ran out.

Momma lifted me by the arm and insisted we go. I looked at Heath one more time. He sat motionless and stunned. He had obviously been shot in the heart by his brother's hostile betrayal.

Lying in bed, I cried quietly. I cried for Heath, for his physical and emotional pain. I cried for Ayden, who let the darkness into his soul too often and betrayed his own flesh and blood to save himself, and most of all, I cried for me. The tears that soaked my pillow were for my broken heart. Little did I realize my heart would be broken and shattered into a hundred pieces more than once in a lifetime.

_______________

# Chapter Seven

The weeks to come changed the dynamics of our tight-knit lighthouse family. The very next day, after the unpleasant school incident, Edward and Opal took Heath and Ayden back to the mainland to have an emergency meeting with the town school board, and from what I was told, Miss Weatherbee was immediately dismissed from her position, and the search began for a new school master. Apparently, the school was lucky to have had a teacher in the first place. She was the only one out of dozens to accept the position. Miss Weatherbee, from what I heard, was only fifteen, the same age as Heath.

Edward put Heath on a strict punishment. From sun up to sun down, Heath was to work on building a new barn. He had no assistance; no one was allowed to talk to him. From what I observed, even Edward wasn't speaking to his son. Heath refused to talk to Ayden, and Opal was caught in the middle. She was distraught and sickened over what her family was going through. And the worst change of all, the thing that left my heart aching, was that Heath refused to look at me, as well. He didn't say hello when I was near the barn; he turned away from me when I was at the well retrieving a bucket of water to do the dishes. Heath was hurting more than anyone realized. He didn't seem like a guilty boy who stole secret kisses from an attractive girl; he was unashamed and very, very angry.

While a new teacher was sought after, Momma insisted the boys learn their studies with me. After the barn was complete, Ayden and Heath came to our house and took their lessons from Momma. I worried that Ayden would be less than respectful, that he wouldn't obey her, but surprisingly he did. In fact, he left Momma proud of how quickly he was learning. He was always eager to do his arithmetic or to recite a passage from his reader. Ayden always sat on his stool, giving Momma his undivided attention. Heath, on the other hand, had lost his passion for learning. Of course, he did as Momma instructed; he was at all times respectful and did his work as he was told. His grades were excellent, as usual. But the sparkle in his brilliant blue eyes had vanished, and I seemed to be the only one to notice.

Each day after lessons, Ayden would go off and help Edward with duties around the island, while Heath walked away without word, went back to his house, and hid away in his room. No one seemed to care; no one was aware that he continued to suffer, and it disturbed me greatly. Daddy would not have allowed me to stay so disheartened. He would have come and talked to me and made me see that it was all going to get better, and that I should no longer pity myself.

On one sunny, brisk, fall day, I went to Heath. He was up in the observation tower, gazing out at the picturesque, infinite ocean. It had been so long since we talked; it felt awkward to approach him. At first, he didn't realize I was there he was so deep in thought. Then as I came to stand beside him, he turned and looked at me. His eyes were full of tears; he wore his broken heart on his sleeve.

"You shouldn't be here," he muttered, and he wiped the tears with the back of his hand.

"Why not? I'm your friend."

"I don't have any friends," he said, then looked away.

I reached for his hand, but he snatched it away. I gulped hard, afraid he would yell at me, and then I reached for it again. This time, to my surprise, Heath didn't object to my touch. We stood hand-in-hand, without word. My presence was helping him; it allowed him to finally let his guard down. Through his hand, I felt the sadness he had bottled up for all these weeks. I felt his anguish. Then, I did as Daddy would, and told him to stop crying.

"I can't, Lillian; I can't stop crying."

As each of his tears slowly fell, they glistened in the sun.

"Don't you hate me? Don't you hate me the way the others do?" he groaned. I didn't hate him; in fact, through his suffering, I loved him even more.

"I could never hate you, Heath Dalton."

"Miss Weatherbee—" he said softly, then turned and looked into my eyes.

I knew he was about to reveal what happened; he was going to tell me about the kiss. I wasn't sure I was ready, and my stomach turned into a giant knot. But I was there to help, as any good friend would be.

"She was out back, fetching some water from the well. I went to help her pull the bucket up, and she lost her balance and fell back into me. We landed on the ground," Heath said, then took a long breath. I saw how difficult it was for him, how embarrassing it was. "Ayden saw me on top of her, but it was all due to the fall. I didn't kiss her, Lillian. I would never do such a thing."

I moved in and allowed him to lean on my shoulder. Heath was much older than I and stood a foot taller. He always had the right words to say; the poise and dignity he carried with such self-assurance seemed years beyond his age. However, on that day, I was the one with the sensibility to see him through his angst. Heath had fallen victim to wrong conclusions. Heath had lost his parents' respect and been hurt beyond words by Ayden's acrimonious disloyalty to the sanctity of their brotherhood. I didn't understand why Heath would take the blame for something he didn't do.

Heath knew what I was thinking. "They should never have believed such a thing. Don't they know me better? I should have told them right away what happened; I realize that now, but I didn't ever think—" He stopped and stood back, then lowered his head. Of course, Heath didn't think Ayden would actually do it. Neither Heath nor I would have ever believed Ayden would sacrifice his own brother for his own pleasure. I knew Ayden was envious of Heath, but never believed he only possessed pure jealousy. We both knew now, though the truth came too late.

"You have to go tell them; you have to let them know you didn't do what you were accused of, Heath," I insisted.

"It doesn't matter anymore," he replied, with such sorrow in his voice it made my heart sting. I knew then that Heath wasn't about to try undoing what had already been done.

I would not stand by and allow Ayden to destroy Heath, if it weren't already too late. I left Heath alone in the tower to seek justice. At first, I was going to Ayden to lash out at him; I was going to demand he confess his terrible untruth and have him apologize to Heath. But as I made my way down the long flight of iron stairs, I realized it probably would do no good. So I decided to go to Daddy. He was fair. Daddy would never want anyone to be unjustly convicted. Daddy would make things right again.

He was sitting in the rocker by the fire, smoking a pipe and reading the newspaper when I came in. I had passed Momma in the vegetable garden so I knew I would be alone with Daddy.

"Can I talk to you, Daddy?" I asked. He put the paper down on his lap and motioned for me to come over. I knelt down, my eyes so full of sadness they had already begun to well up with tears.

"What is wrong, my darling?" he asked, stroking the top of my head. My words came out like water from behind a broken dam. With a heavy voice, I told Daddy about Ayden's lie and Heath's broken spirit. I gave him the details, the account of what really happened.

"Are you certain?" Daddy asked, sitting up with an expression of momentous concern.

"I am, Daddy."

In a moment, Daddy was off to see Edward. I waited in my room, on pins and needles. Whatever would happen would be monumental. Ayden's lie had caused Miss Weatherbee to lose her job and be disgraced by the community, created an arduous responsibility for the school board that trusted the eyewitness account, made his parents distrust their much-loved son, and worst of all, had taken innocence away from the brother he without doubt should have loved, admired, and remained steadfastly loyal to.

Edward, when forced to, often showed a side of himself that his sons feared. His gentle, good-natured character, just like Daddy, if pushed to the limit, would be taken over by fury and rage. As much as I wanted Heath to have his parents' respect and approval returned, as much as what Ayden had done appalled me, I couldn't bear to listen to Ayden's punishment. His wailing from the whipping could be heard all the way up to my room. I covered my ears with my pillow and curled up on my bed. Then Momma bolted in.

"What's happened?" she cried, her eyes full of terror.

"Ayden wasn't telling the truth. Heath never kissed the teacher," I explained over all the commotion outside.

Momma rushed to my side and held me close. She was trembling and frightened even more than I. As she rocked me, she mumbled over and over, "Please, God, please, make it stop."

Then, out of nowhere, Daddy appeared and hurried to Momma, pulling her into his embrace. She wasn't aware that he was comforting her; she kept sobbing and her eyes glazed over with intense fear. I would have thought Daddy would rush to my side, but instead he hushed Momma like she was the child. And when the wailing from outside finally stopped, Momma collapsed in Daddy's arms, then he swept her up and carried her off.

I sat in disbelief, confused and troubled. I didn't know how to make sense of what was happening around me. Everything felt unstable. Would anything ever be as it was? Would Ayden ask for Heath's forgiveness, and would Heath accept? Could their relationship ever be the same? Would Opal and Edward let this pass? And would Momma be able to recover from the ordeal?

Some of my answers came right away. Outside, I kept to the shadows of the late afternoon to observe what was all around. I was relieved to see Edward embrace Heath. Heath's smile lit up my heavy heart. Daddy was on his way up to the tower; he had left Momma to rest. I saw no sign of Ayden or Opal until I crept by the windows of their house. I covered my mouth with my hand so they couldn't hear me as I tried to catch my breath. Opal was tenderly wiping streaks of blood from Ayden's back. He winced with every touch of the cloth. I had never witnessed the aftermath of a whipping; I could never have imagined that a leather belt strap could cause such deep, bloody welts. As I peered through the window I saw something in Ayden's eyes that told me all could be forgiven. In his eyes were shame and remorse. Ayden had learned a valuable lesson, and with good judgment, would stay far from his dark side.

I was ever so grateful when Heath and Ayden slowly began to welcome back their brotherhood and embrace forgiveness. Heath returned to the wise, caring friend he once was, and Ayden, instead of holding animosity for Heath, looked up to him and allowed his heart to be opened. Ayden began to admire the attributes that made Heath so special, and I saw Ayden slowly wanting to become more like his older brother.

Ayden made things right, and with great reluctance, Miss Weatherbee returned to the school. Ayden had to address the school board, hat in hand, and admit to his fabrications, confessing that he had set his brother and Miss Weatherbee up so that Heath would be humiliated and punished, and the teacher branded with a scarlet letter and sent away so there would no longer be a teacher for the school. Then he would not have to worry about school anymore.

Besides the physical punishment Ayden had to endure, he was also assigned hours and hours of extra school work, and for the entire winter, he was to feed the pot belly schoolhouse stove with wood throughout the day, even in the wee hours of dawn. Ayden was told to row himself to school, and Heath would follow later, but Heath wouldn't have it. He didn't want his brother alone on the sea. So he woke at four in the morning with Ayden and rowed the five miles all the way to the mainland.

Momma was the only one who didn't rebound from the unpleasant incident. Since the day Ayden was harshly whipped, she had remained in bed, though instead of always sleeping, she often quietly cried. Most often, when she was ill, she didn't cry, only slept, like the beautiful girl in Sleeping Beauty. Even Daddy, who could eventually wake her from her strange need to sleep, could not get her out of bed. Every morning, after his long hours in the lighthouse, he came to Momma, climbed into bed, and held her for hours. She clung to him each time as if it were going to be the last, like a little girl in his loving embrace. Daddy did all he could to get her out of her dreadful frame of mind; he tried everything to get her to stop crying.

Opal, exhausted herself from the baby that was beginning to take over her body, came by every day to try and get Momma to eat. Momma nibbled on food sometimes. This went on for weeks and weeks.

As the end of fall approached, Momma didn't change. Though it was her favorite time of year, the time to bake apple pies by the dozens, she remained locked away in her room. For days, I went without seeing her. Daddy told me to stay away. I did the best I could to manage around the house and teach myself. I spent hours reading, and when Heath noticed how my education was being neglected, went to Daddy.

Heath intercepted Daddy on his way to the oil house. I stayed back and let Heath speak to Daddy alone on my behalf. I watched their facial expressions and hand gestures closely. Daddy was giving Heath his undivided attention. Heath was now only a half-inch shorter than him, and they stood eye-to-eye talking. Once Daddy turned and looked towards our house, probably after Heath mentioned how ill Momma was and that there was no way she could tutor me any longer. I wanted Heath to convince Daddy to allow me to attend school with them, to take the boat ride over to the mainland each morning.

Just the thought of getting a public education excited me. However, I knew how Daddy felt about it, and I didn't want to get my hopes up. Momma and Daddy had always been so adamant that Momma would give me all of my schooling. Would he realize that Momma could no longer do it?

They talked for a long time, going back and forth on their own points. Heath was persistent; he wasn't ready go give up, but I knew how strong-willed Daddy was. I wasn't sure what the outcome was until Daddy walked off. Heath turned around with an enormous grin on his face. I was going to go to a real school!

"Thank you, thank you, Heath," I said, with much joy. "Thank you for convincing Daddy."

"It wasn't easy, but he knew it was the right thing to do."

"Did he say I can go tomorrow?"

"First thing. You have to be up with Ayden and me," he warned.

I wasn't afraid to get up that early. I wasn't sure I would even be able to get to sleep knowing I was finally going to school. Inside, I contained my happiness. I knew Daddy wasn't happy about it and had agreed only because it was absolutely necessary.

Daddy and I boarded one of the two boats and rowed to the mainland one hour after Heath and Ayden. Daddy had to get me registered with Miss Weatherbee. I had picked out my prettiest ribbon to tie my hair back with and wore my seashell necklace and bracelet. Momma wasn't awake to see me go. I didn't think Daddy told her. Daddy had a somber expression on his face while he rowed and kept his eyes on the lighthouse. Dawn had just approached as we stepped foot in the village. Along with a few scattered children, we made our way up to the small, white, clapboard-sided school house.

The bell rang the signal that indicated school was about to start. My stomach began to twist up with nervousness and anticipation. I was sure, because I had Heath and Ayden there, all would go well. I wanted the other children to like me; I hoped I could make even more friends.

Daddy took hold of my hand, and without word, we passed the young boy who was ringing the bell. Inside, we walked up the center row and approached Miss Weatherbee's desk. Ayden sat alone to the left, while Heath was in the last row, beside a boy who looked to be about the same age. Heath gave me a wink, and I smiled in return.

"Miss Weatherbee, this is my daughter, Lillian Arrington," Daddy announced as we stopped before her small, wooden desk. Miss Weatherbee was only fifteen, but she looked much older—almost as old as Momma. Her hair was honey gold and tied back in a tight bun. She was slim, her features refined. She asked Daddy for the full spelling of my name and wrote it down in a ledger book. Then she looked up at me. Her eyes were soft gray, and her lips a pale rose color.

"Welcome to your first day of school, Miss Arrington. Please take a seat on the opposite row, beside Ayden Dalton."

I could feel all the students' eyes on me as I immediately did as she asked and sat on the large wooden bench next to a girl I assumed was near my age. Daddy thanked her, threw me a quick nod, and went on his way. Daddy obviously felt awkward bringing me to school. It went against what he and Momma had always agreed to, and it troubled him.

After Daddy left, I began to relax a little. There were ten students—six boys and four girls. The youngest students sat in the front row, in front of Miss Weatherbee's desk. There was a large blackboard behind her and one off to the side. Already there were assignments for the different grades listed on the board, and Miss Weatherbee instructed the class to begin. I wasn't sure which grade I was in, so I called out to her. She was writing when I interrupted. All the kids giggled under their breath, except for Ayden and Heath.

"Miss Arrington, if you need something or have a question, please raise your hand and wait until I call on you." Her voice was surprisingly stern. Miss Weatherbee kept her gaze on me, waiting for me to raise my hand. Nervously, I put my arm up.

"Now, what is it?"

"What grade am I in, Miss Weatherbee?" I asked with a slightly jittery voice.

Again, the children giggled.

"Silence," she commanded, smacking her ruler on the text book on her desk. I would never have guessed such a sweet-looking lady could have such an imposing tone.

The room immediately grew silent.

"Miss Arrington, you're in the sixth grade."

I glanced at Ayden for comfort, but he was staring straight ahead, and I could only see Heath out of the corner of my eye. For a moment, I began to panic; I didn't like being laughed at. I was disturbed by the way Miss Weatherbee shouted at the class. The knot in my stomach grew larger and began to make me queasy. The room grew hot, and suddenly I couldn't catch my breath. Then, without warning, I violently heaved my breakfast up all over the floor in front of me. The girl beside me jumped away as I heaved one more time, then I began to cry. Miss Weatherbee shot up and called for someone to get the bucket and pail. The children were repulsed and began to tease me. I was so humiliated that I ran out crying. I ran out of the school and down a long, grassy knoll until I came to the tree-lined road. There I stopped and buried my face against a thick maple tree and sobbed uncontrollable. My dress was soiled and had a nasty smell. The first chance I had to go to school, and I had to ruin it for myself. I didn't think I would be so nervous. I could have never anticipated throwing up. Heath rushed out to me with a cloth soaked with well water.

"You can use this to clean up," he said. I didn't look at him.

"Lillian, it's okay. We understand. It happens," he said in a soft, caring voice.

"I can't go back in there; I just can't," I moaned.

Heath didn't say anything. Instead, he began to wipe my dress for me.

"I can do that," I said, snatching the cloth away.

"I'm sorry."

I was the one who was sorry. I should have never let him talk Daddy into allowing me to attend school.

"Just go back to school. Tell Miss Weatherbee that I will not be returning. I will wait for you boys by the harbor," I said, lifting my head and wiping the tears from my flushed face.

Heath's eyes grew dark and his face serious. "You're going to wipe your dress off, Lillian Arrington, then get back to class. You're not going to miss your chance at an education just because you made a mess. You are better than that."

"No, Heath; I'm not," I said, choking back my tears.

"Do you think I would be best friends with a quitter? You didn't quit on me, and I certainly won't quit on you." Heath took the towel and wiped off my dress. I stood quietly while he cleaned me as best he could. Then he smiled, and his eyes brightened. "That's better. Now come." He took hold of my hand and led me back to school.

I cringed when I walked through the door. I waited to hear the laughter and the whispering, taunting, and teasing; however, no one said an unkind word or made an unkind gesture. Miss Weatherbee stood, welcomed me back, and began her lesson as if nothing had ever happened.

I took out my chalk and slate and kept my eyes from meeting anyone's. I spent the morning recovering from my emotional turmoil by concentrating on my work, making sure I got everything correct. When Miss Weatherbee came to check my work, she was pleased. Then I caught a glimpse of Heath smiling with great satisfaction. Not long after, it was time for lunch and recess. Opal had packed my lunch along with the boys'. We each had our own serving of deviled ham and soda crackers. We found a comfortable spot to dig into our pails under a maple tree with leaves in peak autumn colors.

"I'm sorry about what happened to you, Lillian," Ayden said, sitting next to me.

"It was so embarrassing," I mumbled.

"Well, it's over now," Heath said.

Then Ayden began to give me the names of the school children. "The two youngest are Marvin and Mary. They're twins. Over there is Eleanor." She was the brown-haired girl that sat next to me. He pointed out and named the group of girls near her. "Clara, Betty, and Eloise." The boy beside Heath on the school bench was William. He was already sixteen, but ranked on the third-grade level. "He's not book-smart," Ayden informed me. "So Miss Weatherbee never calls on him. He's lucky."

"He is not lucky, Ayden. It is unfortunate," Heath chimed in.

We had an hour to eat and play. I wanted to stay away from the others because of my dress. It still had a slightly foul odor. Ayden ate quickly then went to join the boys in a game of marbles. The girls were playing hopscotch. I had never played that before. Heath saw my interest and suggested I go over.

"No, I don't want to, Heath. This is fine, sitting here with you. Besides, I have a new book I want to read."

The day was rather warm, and not a cloud floated in the sky. It was nice to be off the island. Heath also took out a book, but when I looked over the top of my book at him, he wasn't reading. He was watching the girls. One particular girl, Clara, was the prettiest. She had long, silvery-blond hair and large, cornflower blue eyes. She stood out from the other girls; her figure was more like a mature woman's, even more than Miss Weatherbee's. Heath seemed captivated by Clara. I had never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at her. Instantly I was jealous, but I didn't want Heath to see.

"How is your book, Heath?" I asked. His face turned red, and he quickly shifted his eyes from Clara to his book then mumbled, "Good. My book is good."

I wanted to call him out, tell him that I saw him watching her. I wanted to yell that I was prettier than Clara. I wanted Heath to look at me with zealous eyes. But I didn't have what Momma said men liked to look at, what made men stop in their tracks.

"When you grow older, Lillian, you will blossom, and every man will turn to gaze your way," she told me one evening when I was eight years old. Every man, sailor, and captain that laid eyes on Momma stared in awe at her beauty. I wanted to know why. What she told me made me afraid. I wasn't sure I wanted every man to want me. I only wanted the man I fell in love with to want me. Momma didn't seem to mind all the attention she received, but I knew Daddy hated it. He glared at the men whose eyes lingered on her.

The bell rang, and we all hurried back inside for the remainder of the school day. I was glad when it was finally time to return home. I wanted to get out of my filthy dress, I wanted a hot supper, and most of all I wanted to climb into bed and try not to remember too much about my first day of school. I didn't want to remember that Heath found Clara so beautiful. As much as I wanted to forget, Daddy was waiting for me, to hear every detail about my day. When I came inside, he immediately noticed my stained dress.

"What happened?"

"I wasn't feeling well; I got sick," I admitted, and then asked to be excused so I could change. Daddy wanted to know more and wouldn't allow me to go to my room.

"Why were you sick? You were fine when I left you." Daddy was bothered.

"It was just nerves, Daddy. I quickly felt better."

He was suspicious, and I could see he was beginning to regret sending me. I had to think of something to ease his concerns.

"Heath helped me clean up, and Miss Weatherbee gave me great sympathy. It was fine, Daddy, really," I said, hoping he would believe me.

"No one made fun of you? The children were nice to you?" he asked, rubbing his square chin with the tips of his fingers.

"Yes, Daddy. I made all kinds of new friends. I even made a new best friend. Her name is Clara," I lied. I wasn't sure what drove me to make up such a fib, but it sounded good. Daddy's face relaxed. He was satisfied.

"Okay then. Clean up for supper." Before I turned to go upstairs, I asked how Momma was feeling and if she was going to join us for supper.

"Not tonight, Lillian," he said softly. I couldn't remember the last time Momma dined with us. It had been so long. The only time I got to see her was before bed. Then I came to her the same way she used to come to me. I was now the one to brush her long hair and kiss her goodnight. Sometimes she was happy to see me. She would open her loving arms and welcome me. Although she was weak, I could still feel the love she had for me. She would tell me that she would be better soon and able to spend real time with me again.

Then there were the nights that Momma sat up and stared off into the darkness. She didn't call for me; she didn't even realize I was there until I lit the oil lamp and spoke to her. Then with her glazed-over eyes, she would try to focus on me. Once again, she didn't know it was me, and called me Hattie.

"Where have you been all day, Hattie? Come sit with me," she said in a timid, childlike voice.

"Momma, it's Lillian. I'm not Hattie," I said, holding back my tears. I hated when she called me that name. I didn't know who Hattie was.

"Were you off playing with Jacob-Thomas again? You're going to get into a wad of trouble," Momma said, with a thick southern accent. It seemed she was pretending, possibly playing a cruel joke on me. But when I looked deep into her eyes, I knew her mind was far away. I couldn't tolerate being around her when she was like that and found it becoming that way more often than not.

I didn't spend long at supper. I was exhausted and asked to be excused early. I kissed Daddy on the cheek, and as I went to go, he reminded me to stop in and say goodnight to Momma. I took a long breath then let it out in a heavy sigh. Daddy put his pipe down when he noticed my apprehension.

"Lillian, is there something wrong with saying goodnight to your momma?"

Everyone had stopped eating to wait for my answer, but I paid no attention to it. With pleading, tear-filled eyes, I looked at Daddy and said, "She thinks I am someone named Hattie."

Daddy's troubled, dark eyes widened and locked onto mine. The way he looked at me, alarm covering his face as if it were some kind of mask, made my heart cry out for the mother I knew, though I tried to deny it, would never be mine again.

_______________

# Chapter Eight

School was a great escape from the disturbing days on the island. I became just as passionate as Heath about book learning. I excelled, and within the first month, Miss Weatherbee sent a note to Daddy requesting permission for a grade level advancement.

"You don't want to bite off more than you can chew, Lillian," he said as I followed him out to the barn. The stalls were completed and a milking cow had been paid for. Daddy was told he could bring it out to the island whenever the weather permitted. The seas had been choppy, the swells too high to transport the animal. The water was almost too rough for Heath to row us to school.

"What does that mean?" _What was I biting off?_

"It means that you should leave well enough alone. Your grades have been excellent where you are ranked now. If Miss Weatherbee moves you up, maybe you will find the work too difficult."

I leaned up against the barn wall and watched as he tightened a few loose bolts in the stall.

"I can do it, Daddy. I want to. I won't fail; I won't let you down," I said, hoping he could easily be reassured. He wasn't.

"It has all happened so fast, Lillian. A month ago, you weren't ever going to attend school; now you are being advanced, and then who knows what else? Will you be sent to the university next?" Daddy was exaggerating, most likely out of fear. He was worried I would be hurt, or maybe he worried that my excellence in school would somehow take me further from his protection.

"Can you at least think it over?" I asked. He stopped, sighed heavily, and said, "I will think about it."

I ran up and kissed his scruffy cheek.

"All I want is for you to be happy. You understand that, right?"

Of course I understood. Deep down, I was glad he was so protective of me. I knew Daddy would always make sure nothing bad happened.

With Daddy's word that he would think it over, I left him to go to the Daltons' and help prepare supper. Opal had just returned from seeing Momma. I always knew when she had been with her. Opal's eyes revealed the encounter; they were dark and troubled. I wanted to ask how Momma was, if there were any change, but I was afraid to hear the answer. Daddy and Opal did their best to keep me from knowing how bad it really was. But sometimes something would slip out.

"She kept asking for her brother," Opal whispered to Edward. I was by the stove, stirring the soup. They thought I was far enough away not to listen. I knew for certain Momma didn't have a brother. Momma always told me I was an only child, like herself. She said she understood how lonely it was not to grow up with a sibling.

"I'm sorry I couldn't give you a brother or a sister," she would say with such pity in her soft voice.

Opal went on to describe Momma as senseless. Edward must have become aware that I was listening by my hurt expression. He cleared his throat, which made Opal look at me.

"Oh, you poor dear," she said, and came to hug me. It had been so long since I had been hugged by Momma that I immediately burst into tears. Ayden had just walked in when he saw me crying.

"What's the matter with Lillian?"

"Hush now, Ayden," Edward barked.

"Is she crying about her crazy mother?"

My head shot up when he said that. They all thought she was crazy?

"Ayden Alexander Dalton!" Opal yelled.

Edward took him by the collar and removed him from the kitchen. I let go of Opal and ran out of the kitchen, through the house, and outside. I ran past our house and towards the beach as I caught a glimpse of Momma standing at the edge of the bluff. What was she doing there? She was in her bed clothes, her long hair down, lying along her thin arms. Daddy was still in the barn, so I hurried to get him. Lady appeared and followed me. I quickly wiped the tears from my eyes and said in a panic, "Momma is out by the bluff."

Daddy dropped his tool and took off, yelling her name. Heath came running when he heard the alarm in Daddy's voice. He had been fixing a loose board on the chicken coup. Momma was on the edge, about to jump off.

"Amelia, stop!" Daddy cried. Heath got to her first, but she had already taken a step off, and as he grabbed hold of her, they both fell into the sea.

"Edward, Opal!" I called out. "Help!"

Daddy plunged into the sea after them, and Lady followed suit. Her strong instinct to save Momma from drowning kicked in, and she paddled out with them.

"Lillian, what is it? What's wrong?" Edward asked when he came running.

"Daddy, Momma, and Heath," I sobbed, pointing to the bluff. "They went over to save Momma."

Edward bolted down to the edge to look over then he rushed to the boats. Ayden was right behind, and together they pushed the boat out then jumped in. Daddy tried to swim to where Heath had Momma by the back of her clothes. He was trying desperately to keep them both above water.

"Over there; they are over there!" I yelled to Edward.

"I got her; I got her," Heath called. Daddy finally reached them, but the heavy surf was sending them straight towards the rocks. Opal had come to my side and reached for my hand, then said with a jittery voice, "They will be fine; Edward will pull them to safety."

I wasn't sure, and I didn't think Opal was, either. We stood helpless as Heath and Momma were dunked over and over by the violent waves. Momma seemed oblivious to it all. Daddy told Heath to let go and let him hold Momma, but Heath wouldn't. Finally, after battling the treacherous currents, Edward reached them, and with Ayden's help, lifted Momma in first, then Heath. Daddy grabbed onto the boat and flung himself into it, and Lady paddled back to shore.

Opal had me run to get the blankets. "Hurry, Lillian!"

Our house was closer. I retrieved blankets from both rooms and had them at the shore as Edward pulled the boat up onto the beach. Heath climbed out. Daddy lifted out Momma, who was unconscious, just as Ayden had been the night he almost drowned. But Momma was breathing; she was alive. Daddy scooped her up and ran with her in his arms to the house to lay her down before the fire. I was shaking from the ordeal and sick to my stomach. Opal came and held my hair back as I heaved.

"It's all over. She is fine," she said. But Momma was not fine. She was crazy, just as Ayden said. She tried to kill herself, and Heath and Daddy almost died saving her.

After I had emptied my stomach, I sat on the ground. Heath walked up, soaked to the bone. Opal told him to get inside and change into warm clothes. "And sit by the fire. I will be right there."

I didn't know what to do, or where to go. I was afraid to go back to the house. I didn't want to see what Momma was like. It was Opal's idea to have me spend the night at their house.

"You will be all right, Lillian. God has a plan for all of us. Sometimes we don't always understand what it is."

Was Opal telling me that God wanted Momma to jump off the edge of the bluff? Did God want her to kill herself? That was a sin; that couldn't be in God's plan. Then I realized the devil himself told Momma to do it. The devil was making Momma crazy.

I was emotionally exhausted when I sat down next to the fire where Heath was warming his hands. He was still shivering from his plunge into the bitterly cold Atlantic. Opal came and brought us each a bowl of soup.

"Stay warm, Heath. I don't want you catching pneumonia the way Ayden did."

"I will, Mother," he said, and drank the hot chicken soup straight from the bowl.

I watched him and wondered if he was angry with Momma. He didn't look angry, but I wouldn't blame him if he was. He risked his life to save her. And if he wasn't angry with Momma, I certainly was. I wanted to thank Heath for saving her, but I was afraid to say anything. He sat without words, just staring into the fire. Edward came in and hung his hat, and told me Momma was better, and that Daddy had put her back in bed.

"Did he lock the door?" Opal asked when she stepped out from the kitchen.

"Yes, the door is locked."

Heath lowered his head and closed his eyes. He was either relieved that she was safe from harm, or that he wouldn't have to risk his life again. Jumping into the arctic sea wasn't the way Heath wanted to save someone. That's what Ayden and Edward were born to do. It wasn't his way, and after that day, I could see how much Heath longed to leave behind everything about the lighthouse station and go off to the university, where he would get his medical degree and become a doctor. That's the way Heath wanted to be a hero.

Ayden came to see me before I fell asleep in his bed. He had been kind enough to allow me to use his room. "I'll sleep on the floor beside the fire," he said.

"Thank you, Ayden," I said before he closed the door to allow me to change.

"Lillian?"

"Yes, Ayden?"

"I'm sorry about what I said. I'm sorry for calling your mother crazy," he said, then softly closed the door.

But he was right, and I knew it.

Opal told me when I came down for breakfast that Daddy had gone to fetch the doctor.

"You can stay home from school today if you need to, Lillian," she said.

Ayden and Heath sat and waited to see what I wanted to do. But I, more than anything, wanted to go. Heath looked better; his face was rosy and full of the jovial spirit I had come to expect.

Because Heath was physically tired from the rescue, he allowed Ayden to row to the mainland. Ayden was a good rower, but he did not have Heath's speed. The day was overcast, and there was a strong threat of rain.

"You have to hurry," Heath said to Ayden as a few drops of rain began to fall.

Ayden struggled, but increased the tempo so we arrived on the mainland just before the storm blew in.

"Hurry," Ayden said. We ran and made it to the school just as the torrent came down.

Quickly we took our seats then Miss Weatherbee called me up to her desk. "Your father gave me permission to move you up a ranking," she said.

"He was here?"

"This morning. He signed the papers." She smiled at me, pleased.

Daddy had come through for me; he hadn't forgotten about me, even through all the mayhem with Momma.

Miss Weatherbee told me to take a new seat beside Clara Roth. I grabbed my slate and chalk and sat beside her. She whispered, "Hello," then slid over. I felt so small next to her; her beauty cast a shadow over me. I wanted so much to look like her when I was her age. I wanted Heath to look at me the way he did Clara. Now that I sat on the same row, Heath had a reason to glance at her. When he had the opportunity, he would smile at me, but I knew very well why he was doing it. I didn't like it; it annoyed me. I had never seen someone so enamored with a woman, except for Daddy. He used to gaze at Momma with such yearning eyes. However, lately, he only had eyes full of despair for her. It was devastating to see how quickly things in life could change, as if a rug could be pulled right out from under you. That's what happened with Momma. No one saw it coming. It was like the storms that broke out of nowhere, like the calm, still sea that suddenly began to cast giant swells that violently took massive ships to their watery graves.

If anyone could save Momma from being swallowed up in the dark sea of her own mind, it would be Daddy. For certain, he was going to find the very best doctors to help her at least return to the way she used to be when she was at her sickest. She used to tell me that Daddy would go to the ends of the earth and back for her, and now Daddy was about to take that journey.

While at school, I couldn't help but go back and forth in my mind between my own happiness in school and the troubled times we were all suffering on the island. Because Daddy was being selfless and allowing me to attend school, Opal had to tend to Momma when Daddy couldn't. When Daddy had to be up in the tower, Opal had to keep watch and tend to her needs. Opal stayed up, sometimes days on end. Daddy didn't realize how exhausted she was. He didn't notice the bags under her eyes, the slow pace she kept when cooking supper for the group. Edward suggested Daddy think about resigning as primary keeper and stepping down to first keeper. Essentially, they would switch positions. But it had to be put in writing and submitted to the government, and no matter, because Daddy wouldn't hear of it. We were all looking to the doctor that Daddy brought to see Momma for the answers. Would he have powders to put Momma's mind at ease, at least enough so she was no longer a danger to herself or anyone else?

The doctor had just returned to the mainland when we arrived on the island after school. Daddy was still with Momma when I came in, sitting on the edge of their bed with his head in his hands. When he heard me enter, he looked up.

"She's sleeping peacefully. Come in." Daddy was weary.

I sat down on the bed next to him and couldn't look at Momma. I wanted to thank him for allowing me to move up a grade; I wanted him to see how appreciative I was, but I knew it wasn't the right time.

"What did the doctor say? Did he give her new medicine?"

"He gave her some powders to calm her nerves and help her sleep."

"Will it help her? Will it make Momma remember where she is and who we are?"

Momma, even through the midst of the thick fog in her mind, did remember Daddy. She continued to call him Garrett. But none of us, not even me, did she remember.

"I certainly hope so. I miss your momma very much. I know you do, too. With your help, and the doctor's medicines, maybe Momma can come back to us. I don't know what I'll do if she doesn't," he said, and he couldn't contain his tears. I had never seen Daddy cry before, not once. He was always so in control, so self assured. Now he was smothered in doubt and completely insecure. I didn't want Daddy to turn to me for comfort. First, I had lost Momma, and now Daddy was becoming unhinged. It felt awkward to put my arms around Daddy while his shoulders shook from his sobbing. I was glad when Opal appeared in the room.

"There is a fog rolling in," she said softly. Daddy quickly wiped his tears, put on his hat, then hurried out without another word.

"Does he need me to stay with your momma?" she asked, gazing at Momma with a deep, forlorn expression.

"No. The doctor gave her sleeping powders. I'm sure she will rest all night now."

Momma seemed more at peace than she had for quite some time. It even looked like she had a smile on her face.

"We should still lock the door," Opal said. The key sat on a small table next to the door. I took it, closed the door, and turned the key in the hole until I heard the click, indicating it was locked.

"Do you feel comfortable enough to sleep here tonight, or do you still want to stay with us?" Opal asked.

I was ready to return to my own room with my own things. It felt better knowing Momma was getting the care she needed, that she was under the care of a doctor, and that no harm would come to her.

"I'll be fine," I said, and went to hug her. I had put my arms as far as I could around her protruding belly, when all of a sudden I felt the movement of the baby inside her. I jumped back.

"Did you feel that?" she laughed. "The baby just kicked."

"Does it hurt?" I asked. I had never felt anything like it before.

"No, not at all. It kind of feels like lunch moving around."

I couldn't imagine wanting to have a baby inside of me, but Opal appeared thrilled.

"Do you think it's another boy?"

"I don't know. I would love another son," she said, then leaned close to my ear. "But a baby girl would be even better."

How exciting it would be to have a little girl to play with. She could be kind of like my very own sister.

"When is she going to come?" I asked Opal on our way to her house for supper.

"No later than March first, the doctor told me."

A spring baby. That was something to look forward to. Among all the trials and tribulations, through the misery and bleakness, like the fog that rolled in, I was content to believe in better and brighter things to come, for unrelenting happiness to seek me out and make my world turn right side up again.

It wasn't long before the days became chilly and the nights frigid. From the island, I saw the mainland turn into a beautiful landscape of red, yellow, and orange. The fall had never been a time to celebrate, but to prepare for the hostile, harsh, and sometimes hellish winter to come. However, since we came to Jasper Island, I had learned not everything that made me happy revolved exclusively around the weather. There were holidays I knew nothing about. Like Halloween. I had never heard of it before.

"It means All Souls Day," Ayden told me on our walk from the school to the harbor. "And the very next day is All Saints Day."

"What do you do on Halloween?" I asked. What could you do to have fun on a day that had anything to do with dead people?

"Kids come into town and play tricks on people and make all kinds of mischief," Ayden said with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

I looked at Heath to see if he wanted to participate in something like that. To me, it would be out of his character.

"Don't you get into trouble for making mischief?"

"No. It's actually the one day it's accepted. So what do you say, Lillian? Will you come with us tomorrow night?" Ayden asked.

"Will the other children be doing it, too?"

"Of course. We have plans to meet at the cemetery near to the school," Heath said.

I wasn't sure. I would have never thought of participating in such wickedness. But if Heath was doing it and thought it was okay, I figured I would, too.

The kids were whispering about what trouble we were going to cause on Halloween the next day at school. Apparently, Heath had organized it. We were all to meet at six o'clock at the cemetery then head to the nearest farms to turn over outhouses and even let some of the cattle loose. Everyone was going to be there, except Marvin and Mary.

If Opal and Edward were aware of what we were planning, they didn't seem concerned. In fact, they both retired to bed earlier than usual. Daddy was up in the tower, the light already lit for the long night ahead. It was already pitch-black out, and it was only five o'clock. The winter solstice was slowly creeping in, leaving us with less and less light, and the long days of cold darkness were on their way. Momma was sleeping soundly and locked up tight. I would be home in time to check on her before Daddy even knew I was gone.

Heath and Ayden were down on the shore, waiting for me to board. Through the chilly darkness of the last night of October, we made our way over the sea to the mainland. The harbor was noisy and bustling, as usual; drunken sailors from the taverns roamed the streets, making all kinds of trouble. In the day, they weren't around, but at night-time, fancy-dressed ladies were with the sailors and fishermen.

Heath noticed me staring at them. "You stay away from women like that, Lillian. They are full of sin. They are evil women," he warned me.

"Why? What's wrong with them?"

"You don't need to know anything else but that," he said, and told Ayden and me to hurry up. I walked only steps behind Heath, but Ayden trailed behind, still looking at the pretty, dressed-up ladies of the night. Heath caught on, stopped, and grabbed hold of him.

"You better not ever let Mother or Father catch you looking at that kind again. Come on, now; we need to hurry, or they will start without us," Heath said, and the three of us picked up the pace. As we hurried through the village, I noticed pumpkins on porches with carved faces and lit candles inside them, creating a spooky glow.

"What are those?" I asked Heath.

"Jack-o-lanterns."

"Didn't you ever hear the story of Stingy Jack?" Ayden asked.

"No, never."

Heath explained the Irish tale to me.

"So you think it's true, Heath?' Ayden asked.

"What? That Stingy Jack made a deal with the devil? And that he put the glowing coal into the turnip?"

Ayden nodded.

Heath pondered the question, then smiled and said, "No way."

I giggled.

"Over there; that's the cemetery."

There was no moon out; we could only see children by the candles they each had. It was spooky and eerie as we made our way past the tombstones. The piles of dried leaves crackled under our feet as we walked. Eloise came over and gave Heath a candle.

"Is everyone here?" he asked.

"Everyone is here. Are you ready?"

The glow of the candle lit up the stone beside us. I turned to read the name with Ayden. We both gasped. It was Victor's tombstone.

"What?" Heath said then lowered the candle to get a better look.

"Oh, it's just the old keeper's grave," he sighed. Ayden and I knew it was more than just a grave. His spirit was always nearby, watching. Ayden and I locked eyes. He was just as spooked as I was. Just then, Clara came over with Betty and William. Heath stood up straight, cleared his throat, and said, "Hello, Clara." She gave him one of her prettiest smiles. Within a moment, some kind of love switch was turned on inside Heath, and he no longer paid me any attention. He asked Clara to walk with him as he led the way.

"He sure is smitten with her," I heard Betty say to Eloise. Ayden giggled.

Heath swung around and told us all to be quiet. My heart sank when he didn't even look at me. I stayed with Ayden, and we were the last two to reach the edge of Old Man Powell's farm. The farmer supposedly hated children. When some of the students in years past walked by his farm, he let his watch dogs loose on them. Most often, the children were able to outrun the vicious canines, and if they couldn't, they ended up climbing the nearest tree.

The first thing the boys did was tip over the outhouse. Then William opened the gates to the corral, and one by one, the cows strolled out. All together, ten walked along the dirt road. Ayden couldn't contain his hysteria and fell to the ground laughing. Heath then asked who was brave enough to get close to the house to throw eggs at it. William raised his hand.

"No, William. Let Heath do it," Clara said. She batted her long lashes at him and immediately, he agreed. Through the darkness we all crept along the fence until we got close to the front door. Clara reached into the pockets of her dress and handed him an egg for each hand.

"Okay, as soon as I hit the house, everyone run back to the cemetery."

Suddenly I became uncertain and approached Heath. "Maybe we shouldn't. Don't you think we have done enough?"

"Stop being a baby, Lillian," Betty said.

"Go ahead, Heath; throw them," Clara squealed. Heath wound up and belted the eggs, one after the other. They splattered all over Old Man Powell's front door.

"Run!" he hollered, as the front door flew open. Ayden and I were the fastest runners, but Heath was not far behind. We were all close until we heard the vicious dogs barking.

"They're after us," Heath yelled. "Everyone separate."

We scattered into the woods. I thought Heath was with Ayden and me, but when I looked back, he wasn't there.

"Keep running," Ayden said.

"Heath! Where's Heath?"

"He'll be fine; come on." Ayden took my hand and ran, pulling me onward. Finally, we made it safely to the cemetery. In the distance, we could faintly hear the barking.

"What if the dogs catch them?" I asked fearfully. Just then, Eleanor appeared, followed by Betty. We all stopped to catch our breath.

"Did you see Heath?"

"No, we went around to the north side. William, Heath, and Clara scattered in the opposite direction," Betty stated.

"We better get going," they said.

"Shouldn't you wait with us?" Ayden asked.

"We have to get home. We'll see you in school," they said, and left us.

It had been several hours since we arrived, and the night air had gone from chilly to frigid. Ayden and I had no candle, but luckily, the moon appeared out of the shadow of the once overcast sky.

"What should we do?" I asked Ayden. "Should we go and look for them?"

"No, they know how to get back here. We'll stay put." Ayden noticed my shivering and gave his coat to me. All around us was still and eerie because we could now see all of the tombstones that surrounded us. Above us, in the tree, an owl hooted, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

"Don't be scared, Lillian, please," Ayden begged.

"I'm not," I insisted. But I was.

Alone, Ayden and I stood in the middle of the cemetery for hours.

"I'm tired," I cried. "What are we going to do?"

"Maybe we should go to the harbor."

I agreed. There was no sense in waiting any longer. If Heath hadn't returned to the cemetery, for certain he would be waiting for us by the boat.

_______________

# Chapter Nine

Heath was standing by the boat when we arrived.

"Where were you?" Ayden shouted.

"I had to walk Clara home."

"You were supposed to meet us back at the cemetery," I said.

He didn't respond to that. Instead, he shuffled his feet around in the ground and refused to meet our eyes.

"How could you leave us ?" I cried. I was angry and upset. Heath had forgotten all about us. Instead, he took care of Clara.

"I'm sorry. She was scared; I didn't want her to walk home alone in the dark." He was apologetic, but it was obvious he had no regrets about his decision to stick with Clara instead of us.

"You should have stuck to the plan, Heath," Ayden said, scowling at him.

"I know. It's over now. Let's get back to the island before they figure out we're missing," he said. The three of us climbed aboard, but it felt different. No longer were we the Three Musketeers, like always. Heath had strayed, and all for the sake of his adoration for Clara Roth.

Heath got us back to Jasper Island in record speed. I was worried that Daddy would come to check on Momma and find me gone. He would be beside himself, and I would certainly be banished to my room. I was worried, while Ayden was still fuming.

"You can't just off and leave us. We were waiting for you in that creepy cemetery for hours."

"Can't we let this drop?" Heath asked when he pulled the boat up on shore.

"I'm not going next year," Ayden said, and stormed off.

"He's right, you know," I said, just before I left him.

"I said I was sorry," he replied softly.

"And what exactly are you sorry for?" I demanded. I wanted him to feel guilty. I liked how our interrogation was causing him to crack and feel some remorse.

"What else can I say?" he asked, his eyes pleading for me to understand. I didn't want to understand that he loved her and not me. How could I accept that he obviously thought she was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on?

"Goodnight, Heath Dalton," I said, and stormed off, just as Ayden had.

We were fortunate enough to have returned before Daddy had a moment to check on Momma. I had just jumped into bed when I heard him walk down the hall. He quietly opened my door to make sure I was sleeping soundly. Then he proceeded down the hall, and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was close, too close. I didn't ever want to take that kind of chance again. I wasn't ever again going to allow Heath to talk me into mischief, just to abandon me anyways. I learned something that Halloween night. I learned that Heath was like any man and would bite off his own arm, for the sake of possibly winning the love of a beautiful girl.

The very next day, the entire village was talking about what occurred at the Powell farm. Edward, who had been to the mainland, brought home a copy of the local newspaper.

"Some kids really made some trouble for the farmer on Halloween night," Edward said as he peered over the paper to catch our reactions. "Apparently, Mr. Powell witnessed a tall lad no older than sixteen running away from his house after throwing some eggs."

"That is just terrible," Opal said, pouring Edward another cup of coffee. Daddy came in, looking typically exhausted, sat beside me, then said, "Nothing for me this morning."

"Are you certain, Garrett?" Opal asked. Daddy had no appetite when Momma was sick. Daddy had lost weight since Momma fell ill, so much so he asked Opal to take in his uniform trousers, as his belt had no more buckle holes left.

There was nothing Momma could do to make herself well, but Daddy had a choice. He needed to take better care of himself.

Edward folded up the paper, and cleared his throat, then revealed a fact that made Heath turn white as a ghost. "The cows that were let out—one of them was ours."

Daddy was startled. He hadn't heard what went on the previous night.

Heath and Ayden looked guilty as sin. I kept a straight face. It was easy because Edward wasn't directing his suspicions at me.

"You know what I think would be a good idea?" Edward said. He winked over at Opal, who was in the dark over what he was about to suggest. Daddy sat back and crossed his arms over his chest after Edward handed him the paper to read.

Ayden and Heath sat in silence as Edward told them he had already volunteered them for the cow round-up.

"That certainly is a good idea," Daddy said. "Plans were to transport the cow to the island tomorrow."

"We can finally have fresh milk. I can't wait," Opal said. Edward stood, and the boys followed suit.

"I think now is a good time to set out," he said to them. Their guilt-ridden faces were all I saw as they were marched out of the house.

"There is definitely one good thing about having a little girl," Daddy commented. Opal gave a little smile. She was thinking that she might be lucky enough to have one, while I was thinking about how naïve Daddy was.

I went to the bluff to watch the boys row back to the mainland. When they saw me, they waved. They weren't mad that they had taken full blame, and I was relieved. I was amazed and grateful that Ayden didn't turn me in. Over the past several months, he had passed into maturity. Although he was terribly mad at his brother, he had learned to stay loyal to him. That was more important than anything.

"Hurry back!" I called to them, though they couldn't hear me over the November winds. They were almost gale force, and Heath struggled to row. When I could no longer see them clearly, I turned and saw Momma looking out the window. She was out of bed. I had to warn Daddy.

"Come quick," I said. "Momma is awake."

Daddy rushed to the house, through the front door, up the stairs, and fumbled with the key to unlock the door. Maybe he thought she had come out of her trance and was fully recovered. Was there any chance at all? I came in right behind him.

"Amelia, you shouldn't be out of bed," he said, guiding her back.

"I saw the children. I think they want me to come and play," she said. Momma was as confused as ever. "Hattie and Jacob-Thomas went out on the river. I want to go watch them, Garrett. Can't I, just this one time? I promise we won't get caught again."

Daddy threw up his arm and pointed for me to leave."You must leave."

"But Daddy," I cried.

"Now!" he yelled. I turned and ran down the hall to my room. I heard him slam the door closed and lock it from the inside. I lay down on my bed and cried, just as I had done so many times before. Daddy had never raised his voice to me, not once. He should have yelled at Momma and told her to stop thinking she was a little girl. She was his wife and a mother. Why did she continue to think she was somewhere else, in another time and place? Didn't the powders help at all? Weren't there any doctors that could make Momma come to her senses?

I took my beautiful doll and placed her on my lap. She kept me company on the days that Daddy stayed locked away with Momma and Heath and Ayden were too busy with chores to play with me. Jane listened to all my worries. I could tell her anything; I could reveal my most cherished secrets. Even though she looked back at me with eyes as glass as Momma's, she was all I had.

As the day went on and turned colder, the temperature in the house dropped dramatically. I crept out of my room and listened at Momma and Daddy's door. I didn't hear them. I suspected they had fallen asleep. Daddy must have forgotten to stoke the fire. When I got downstairs, I noticed the fire was completely out. I stood there shivering, not sure what to do. I would either have to wake Daddy or do it myself. Edward and Opal had done so much for us already. Our family needed to be independent some of the time.

I brought some wood in from the large stack near the house. The wind was strong, and I had trouble closing the door behind me. I had never made my own fire, but I'd watched Daddy do it thousands of times.

"Put the matches down," Daddy said from the top of the stairs. I was startled to see him. "I'll do that."

I handed him the matches and stepped aside. In a moment, he had a small fire going. I watched the soft glow light up his tired face as he knelt on one knee. What were Daddy and I going to do without Momma? We both missed her laughter and gentle touch. And as much as I missed it, Daddy missed it twice as much, if not more. Momma loved me, of course, but when it came to Daddy, it was like no one else in the world could ever love him the way she did. She put all of Daddy's wants and needs first, and she would have chosen nothing less. Now he was empty.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," Daddy said, motioning for me to come to him. I stepped forward and allowed him to hug me. "I am so sad when your momma is like that. You can't be around her when she is in that state of mind. Do you understand me, Lillian?" he asked. He was determined to keep me away from her, far from her delusional world.

"Who are all those people she talks of?"

"She is imagining things. Those people are just figments of her imagination. Please don't listen to anything you might overhear. Can you promise that to me?" His eyes pleaded for me to obey. As much as I wanted to think what was in Momma's mind was purely in her own imagination, it all seemed too real. She believed Hattie was here with her, and she longed to play with Jacob-Thomas. Could they have been characters in a book she read as a child? But she always knew who Daddy was. If she was completely delusional and her friends were all make-believe, how could he play any part in her distorted state of mind? I agreed just to appease him, but I had so many questions, most of which I believed Daddy could indeed answer.

The cow was finally found and brought to Jasper Island. No harm had been done, no punishment handed out. Luckily, Farmer Powell couldn't confidently identify Heath. Heath knew he was lucky, and vowed never to cause so much trouble again. What also ended up in his favor was Clara agreeing he could be her beau. Heath didn't tell Ayden or me that he was going to ask her. I found out during recess.

"I'm so happy, Lillian, I can't even begin to tell you," she sang. As happy as she was, I was twice as unhappy. "He is so smart and handsome. I'm the luckiest girl in the village."

It sickened me to hear her talk of Heath like that, and I walked away without remark. She was right; she was the luckiest girl. Although he had been my best friend, my closest confidant, something about Heath continued to change. All he wanted to do in his free time was be with Clara. They would sit in the field and eat lunch together. Sometimes he would push her on the swing, and other times, he would read poetry that he wrote especially for her. Ayden found the poems in Heath's room. It was apparent he had been snooping around. I didn't approve of it, but I didn't reprimand him for it, either.

"Those poems he wrote make me want to heave up my breakfast," Ayden said as he handed several pieces of paper to me then went to use the outhouse. I had just finished hanging the wet clothes on the line. I wiped my hands on my apron to dry them then slowly read Heath's private words to Clara. My heart raced as he described her uncompromising beauty and his yearning to have her be forever his. Heath wrote in some of his poetry that when he stared up at the night sky and gazed at the sparkling stars, he saw her eyes. I read each poem, one at a time, until I got to the last one. Then it was snatched from my hands. Heath stood looking at me in disbelief, repulsed. I couldn't speak; I couldn't find the words fast enough to excuse why I had, in my very hands, his most personal possessions.

"How could you go through my things?" he asked me with a tight, hurt voice. He didn't wait for me to answer. "I thought I could trust you," he mumbled, and walked away, leaving me standing there.

Ayden returned to find me in tears. "What happened?"

"Heath. He found me with the poems."

Ayden wanted to fix what had been done. He was going right away to admit he had taken the poems and given them to me.

"It wouldn't change anything. Even if you admit to taking them, he saw me reading them. I invaded his privacy, and for that, I am sure Heath will never forgive me."

I handed Ayden the papers to give back to Heath. Heath would expect such childish behavior from Ayden, but not that I would do such a horrible thing. I'd made a huge mistake, one that would change the way Heath Dalton felt about me. Little did he realize that his hurt killed me. At supper, Heath wouldn't even sit at the table with me. He asked to be excused.

"What's wrong? Are you ill?" Opal asked.

"No, I just don't feel up to eating. May I be excused?" Heath shot me a look of revulsion. If he only realized I hadn't meant to hurt him.

"Go ahead, Heath," Edward said.

Heath couldn't avoid eating supper forever. He needed time to calm down. I knew that was his way. Time always healed Heath's suffering. I figured by the first of the week, when we were back in school, it would all be forgotten. I had no such luck. Ayden tried to stand up for me; he hated the way Heath ignored me.

"Lillian apologized to you, Heath. What more can she do?" We were in the rowboat, on our way to school. I was tired of the three of us bickering more than getting along.

"It's all because of Clara. You have treated Lillian badly ever since you went mad over Clara," Ayden shouted.

"You stay out of it," Heath demanded.

"That's enough!" I yelled. The two of them stopped and stared, wide-eyed, at me.

"Ayden, your brother has every right to be mad at me. And if he never speaks to me again, so be it."

The row boat hit the shore, and I jumped out. The water was freezing, but I didn't care. I hurried through the water. Ayden called for me, but I didn't wait. I was truly beside myself with Heath's bitterness towards me. I couldn't think of anything but how he constantly threw me a scowl, just as Ayden used to.

By the time I got to school, the bottom of my dress had mostly dried, though my feet were still wet and freezing. I took my seat, but immediately noticed Clara was absent. Heath and Ayden sat down right after. When Heath saw Clara wasn't beside me in her usual place, he grew concerned. As class began and she didn't arrive, Heath raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Dalton?"

"If you don't mind my asking, ma'am, might you know why Clara is absent today?" All of the children giggled.

"She didn't tell you?" Miss Weatherbee asked, her face twisted in confusion.

"Tell me what, ma'am?"

"Clara moved away, Heath."

"Moved away?" Heath frowned in disbelief.

"That's enough of this. Class has begun. Betty, please recite your spelling words."

Heath looked as though he'd lost his most cherished possession. I felt bad for him. He tried so hard to fight his tears, but they just kept streaming down his face.

Miss Weatherbee took notice. She came to him and whispered, "Go get some fresh air."

Heath scurried out and didn't come back. When we were dismissed for the day, Miss Weatherbee gave Ayden a note to give to Opal and Edward. Ayden didn't read it; he didn't have to. I asked everyone why Clara moved, but no one knew the reason. We all suspected it was because of financial reasons. What else could it have been? Maybe Heath went to find out. Hopefully, his parents would understand.

"That's if they find out," Ayden said, and tossed the letter into the harbor. Heath had enough to be distraught about. He didn't need Opal and Edward getting angry over Heath's departure from school.

Heath showed up in defeat. He got into the boat and took the oars, then rowed us out onto the sea.

"Did you find out what happened to her?" Ayden asked. Heath's eyes were red from crying. I pitied him more than ever. I'd never wanted him to love Clara, but I certainly didn't want to see him so devastated, either.

One of the rumors was that Clara and her family left because they could no longer afford the farm. Another, more ludicrous rumor, was that Clara's mother had been a burlesque dancer in years past, and when the truth was exposed, her father packed them up and moved the entire family away. No one was able to get to the truth of the matter. It left Heath unhappy and despondent. During school, he kept to himself, and on the island, after chores, he stayed alone. At supper, though all of us were sympathetic, we couldn't understand what he was going through. All of us but Daddy. Daddy was perfectly aware of how troubled Heath was and the pain that sheared into his heart. Daddy's eyes were full of sympathy and compassion, though Heath was utterly oblivious to it.

We passed another new holiday for me. I learned about Thanksgiving for the first time. At school we studied the Pilgrims and Indians and how they gave thanks for what they had and shared what they had in common. If only Heath had brought that message home, maybe he would have smiled at our Thanksgiving feast. Even Daddy managed to enjoy the holiday a little. Maybe it was because it was all new to him and not something he had shared before with Momma.

"This was a fine meal, Opal," he said, then sat back in his chair to light his pipe.

Opal had made a feast fit for kings. I'd helped her cook a little, but what thrilled me most was that she allowed me to bake an apple pie by myself. I had watched Momma for years; I knew the recipe by heart. Daddy was amazed that it tasted just like hers. Instead of being saddened by it, it brought a smile to his face. Then he got the idea to bring Momma a piece. Her appetite was better, and she'd gained some weight back, Daddy told me. That was mostly due to Opal's good cooking and unwavering dedication. If he hadn't had Opal to tend to so many of Momma's personal needs, I don't know what Daddy would have done.

"Can I go with you, Daddy?"

I hadn't seen Momma in weeks. I'd respected Daddy's wishes and stayed away. It was hard on nights when Daddy was up in the tower and she was calling for him. All I could do was cry myself to sleep.

"All right, Lillian, you can come with me."

I sliced Momma her piece of pie, and Opal handed me a plate, then said with concern, "Don't stay too long."

"I won't."

The pie was still warm from sitting on top of the stove. Daddy pulled the key from his pocket, sighed heavily, and opened the door. Momma was in a deep sleep. Daddy had to shake her little to wake her. When her eyes opened, it took her a moment to focus on Daddy.

"Sit up, Amelia; Lillian made you some pie." I moved closer. Daddy lifted her into a sitting position.

"Garrett, what day is it?" she asked in a sleepy voice. Daddy gulped hard, not knowing what world she was in.

"It's Thursday, Amelia. It's Thanksgiving. Lillian has the piece of pie for you. Are you hungry, my darling?"

She stared at him with blank eyes. It wasn't going as well as Daddy had hoped.

"I think it would be better if you go, Lillian," he said.

My heart sank. She was never going to change. Daddy needed to accept it and allow me to have whatever there was for Momma to offer.

"I won't listen to anything she says, I promise." I needed him to see I was mature enough to handle Momma.

"I just can't," he said, shaking his head. I put my hand on his shoulder. He placed his hand on mine, then said, "Not yet, Lillian."

I couldn't imagine what was holding him back, what he feared from all of Momma's gibberish.

Daddy took the pie and set it down, then came and hugged me before I left him alone with her.

"In time, Lillian. Be patient." I reluctantly agreed.

It was Edward's turn to man the tower, so I knew Daddy would be staying with Momma for the rest of the night. I went back to help Opal clean up after supper. Ayden was in the lighthouse with his father, and Heath was returning from the well with a bucket full of water. When he saw me, he left to go to stoke the fire.

"I can do this. Why don't you go talk with Heath?" Opal said.

"He doesn't want to talk with me," I said sadly.

"Whatever happened between you two, Heath will forget and forgive. He is a sensitive soul. Sometimes too sensitive and thin-skinned. Don't give up on him. You are good for him. Though you are years younger, in many ways, you are also years ahead of Heath. And you two are more alike than different."

"Ever since Clara—" I mumbled and lowered my head.

Opal made me turn and face her then lifted my chin. "Look at me." I looked deep into her eyes. "Heath is a young man now; he is beginning to see the world differently. His priorities have changed. He no longer wants to play the same way you and Ayden do. It's natural; it's the way God intends it to be. But that doesn't mean he doesn't value you as a person and a friend."

"But it all happened so fast, practically overnight," I cried.

"I know. And it will for you. In a few years, you will understand what I am telling you."

This wasn't all new to me. Momma had revealed many details about men to me. Some fascinated me, while what Daddy warned left me frightened to death. Opal's advice was somewhere in the middle. I did as she suggested and went to Heath. She gave me the courage to face his resentment towards me. I did it because I loved him, as a friend and as a young man who I thought would make a wonderful husband for me someday—someday, when I had blossomed from a little girl into a beautiful young lady, just as Clara had been. Then Heath's eyes would light up when he saw me; his eyes would linger on my bosom the same way they did with Clara.

Heath had just finished putting another log on the fire when he noticed me.

"Please, don't leave. Please listen for one minute," I begged. I approached him and took hold of his hands. He refused to meet my eyes.

"I made a terrible mistake, Heath. I regret reading your poems, and I ask for your forgiveness. I promise I will never do any such thing again." It felt good to at least try to win his affections back.

"Why did you do it?"

Heath wanted to know why, but there was no way I could confess my reasons. My longing to have him like me the way he did Clara needed to be kept to myself. If I told him, he would laugh and call me a silly little girl. After all, I was still physically a little girl.

"When Ayden handed them to me, I didn't realize what they were. I didn't know they were your poems," I lied. I wasn't doing a very good job; I could see he didn't believe me.

"It doesn't matter now. She's gone," he said flatly.

"Maybe she will write to you," I said—the most encouragement I could muster. I wanted to sound enthusiastic and optimistic for his benefit. I wanted to be the friend he once turned to.

"Maybe. I accept your apology, Lillian." Then he dropped his hands. Though he forgave me, Heath wasn't going to forget how I betrayed him. He didn't need me the way I still needed him. His childhood was slipping away and leaving him perplexed by all the changes that came with it. Heath's voice had deepened since his fifteenth birthday; he had begun to shave every morning with his father. He had also grown a few inches taller, passing both Daddy and Edward in height, making him over six feet tall. And then there were his emotional growing pains. Heath had never been in love before; those deep emotions were foreign to him. He was just beginning to find his way to figuring it all out when Clara disappeared from his life. Now he was confused. What would he do with all the newfound passion? Where would he focus all of that intense energy? There wasn't a girl that could replace Clara, at least not then. Heath would have to wait years before he was again given the opportunity to love.

_______________

# Chapter Ten

The last of the occasional warm autumn days ended abruptly, leaving the island covered in a blanket of thick snow. Out on the sea, enormous icebergs began to form, creating all kinds of hazards for the vessels that inhabited the North Atlantic. Daddy and Edward had more than enough rescues during the first part of December to keep them busy. Vessels were constantly thrashed around by enormous swells, some even broken in half, only to be sucked down into the frigid sea. By some great fortune, there was no loss of life. One winter storm in particular lasted for three days and dropped a foot of snow under blizzard conditions. There was no way to reach the mainland to attend school. We couldn't go outside, except to do our chores as quickly as possible. While Daddy was working days on end up in the tower, I was left with strict instructions to watch over Momma. Opal couldn't manage the house and Momma while Edward and the boys were off doing rescues, so Daddy came to me.

He took out my hand and gently placed the key in my palm. I could see his reluctance, but what could he do? Momma needed looking after. I was happy to do it.

"Please, Lillian, do as I say. Only go in to help her eat and empty her chamber pot. That's it. I know you miss your momma, but your company will not be received the way it once was. Don't pay her any mind."

Daddy had left Momma in my care for the first time in months. Though he was extremely reluctant, he had no choice. The doctor had been by just before the last storm broke, gave Daddy the same medicines, and recommended the same treatment. Bed rest and more bed rest.

She was sitting up, playing with one of my old dolls that Daddy had given her. Her hair had grown long, and it still had a beautiful shine. Daddy brushed it every night, because that's what would have made her happy, if she were aware. Momma looked like a little girl, younger than me in the big bed.

"I came to see if you are hungry," I said, as I slowly approached the bed. She smiled and asked me to sit with her. I wanted to; I wanted to leap onto the bed and jump into her arms. I needed her to hold me and put a hundred kisses on my cheeks as she used to do when I was little. But I remembered what Daddy made me promise.

"Opal made some delicious fried chicken. Would you like some, Momma?"

"Your hair looks different, Hattie. What have you done to it?"

My legs began to tremble beneath me. My promise rang in my ears, but my heart wanted to enter Momma's world, even if only for a little while.

"Come and sit with me. We can play dolls," she sang.

"Aren't you hungry?"

"We can eat later. Come play with me. I insist."

"I can't, Momma," I said, fighting my tears. "I'll be back later." I locked the door behind me. It was harder than I expected, and didn't know if I could do it. It was painful to see my beloved Momma act like a seven-year-old child. She looked like the same Momma, but inside, she was a different person.

Afterwards, in the early evening, when I explained to Daddy what happened when he came for a brief checkup on me, he was uncertain what to do.

"The weather is too ominous; I can't be away for more than a minute. Bring Momma her supper, Lillian, and leave as soon as she is finished. And give her one of your other dolls. She loves dolls," he said, then left, shaking his head in disbelief.

Opal had Heath bring Momma's supper plate. Ayden and Edward were on standby for the next vessel to go down. Heath battled the wind and snow to make it to our house, which was only a few hundred yards from his front door. His face was covered with white, powdery snow.

"Come in, quickly," I said. I ushered him in and took the plate. He removed his boots, hat, and coat.

"It's wicked cold out there," he commented.

"Warm up by the fire; I'll be back down in a few minutes."

I stopped in my room to get Momma one of the dolls she'd made me a long time ago then went to her room. I woke her with the sound of the key turning in the lock.

"I have supper for you."

She sat up as I placed the plate on the table beside her bed. "Ummm, smells delicious," she said.

I took the napkin and placed it under her chin.

"Oh, can I play with that doll?" she asked, when she noticed it on the bed.

"Of course; I brought it for you."

Now she wasn't interested in eating.

"You should eat."

"Maybe later," she said, and pulled the napkin off.

"I can't bring it back later. Please eat," I begged.

"I like this doll the best. Can I have it, Hattie? I will give you one of mine. Mine are more expensive, and I have seen you looking at them on my shelf, especially the one I named Lillian."

I gasped. It was eerie to hear Momma tell me she had a doll with my name. Heath was in the doorway and overheard her madness. Momma spotted him and, as predicted, believed he was someone from her past. Maybe it was the brother she thought she had. She called out to him. "Patrick, is that you?"

Heath looked to me for an answer.

"No, Momma; that's Heath Dalton. Don't you remember him? He is Edward and Opal's son. Ayden is his younger brother," I explained, as if that were going to make a difference.

"Patrick, Patrick," she repeated his name over and over in a heavy voice. "Do we have to leave today? I'm afraid." Momma pulled the covers up to her face as trembled in fear.

"What should I say?" Heath asked me in a whisper.

"Tell her she is safe, that she doesn't have to go." I hoped that would help calm her down. Heath was kind enough to play the part; he wanted to help comfort her. He came and took hold of her delicate hand.

"There is nothing to fear; you can stay right here."

Momma was obviously relieved, took a long breath, and said, "Promise me, Patrick—promise me we never have to leave Sutton Hall."

Heath shot me an uncertain look, but I nodded, indicating he should agree.

"I promise."

"Will you eat now, Momma?"

She smiled widely and agreed. Heath and I watched as she devoured her food. She was messy and forgot her etiquette. I wiped her face as Heath took her empty plate. I helped her with a glass of milk to wash her food down. Then as we left, she began to play with the new doll I brought her. Heath was at a loss for words. I was sure he had never witness such lunacy before. It felt awkward to have to explain.

"Momma thinks she is in Savannah," I explained.

Heath frowned, and I realized I had divulged a piece of a secret. Daddy never wanted anyone to know we were southerners.

"I thought you were from New York."

"Well, I was born there," I answered, though I wasn't positive that was where I was born. No one ever told me; I just assumed. I scrambled to think of a way to cover my mistake.

"Momma thinks that is where she was from. She makes up all kinds of things. Daddy said she had never been to Georgia."

"Oh," he mumbled. "I see."

"She will probably go to sleep now." We stood at the top of the stairs. Heath was so much taller than me; I had to almost strain my neck to look into his eyes. I could tell Heath was not comfortable with me the way he used to be, and it saddened me.

"I better get back to Mother," he said. I followed him down to the front door. His coat had dried from the heat of the fire, and I handed it to him.

"Thank you, Heath."

"For what?"

"For being kind to Momma," I said as a tear escaped my eye and cascaded down my warm cheek.

"If I can help in any way, Lillian, just ask. Okay?"

I looked away so he wouldn't see my obvious adoration for him. My heart ached for him the way his must have for Clara. The more he pulled away from me, the more I wanted him back in my life the way it used to be. I wanted the sparkle back in his clear blue eyes, for him to want to teach me about the moon and the stars, and most of all, I wanted to win Heath's heart, just as Clara had.

The snow continued to fall, day after day; it finally ceased on Christmas Eve. It was our first Christmas on Jasper Island and much different from all the years past. Holidays such as Christmas and Easter were not joyous and jovial. They were religious events that Momma kept strict. I wasn't aware that on Christmas, someone called Santa made his way across the world on a magical sleigh and stopped in the night at every house that had a good boy or girl to leave a gift. Santa apparently flew through the air with a sleigh full of toys pulled by magical, flying reindeers. When Ayden told me this, I was astounded.

"And when he lands on the roof, he comes down the chimney and leaves the toy on a table near the Christmas tree."

"We don't have a tree in the house," I said. It all sounded so ridiculous.

"Father is out on the mainland chopping one down as we speak. Then we will decorate it tonight."

I looked at Heath, who was sitting next to the fire and reading a book. He peered over the cover and smiled, then said, "It's all true, Lillian."

"So this Santa man will bring me a gift tonight?"

"You have to be asleep, though. If you're not, he can't come down the chimney," Ayden said.

"But we don't have a tree," I stated flatly.

"You won't need one. You can sleep at our house, and Santa can leave your present on the table by the tree. You can decorate it with us. We string the tree with beads and hang glass ornaments," Heath explained, and then he went on to give me a history lesson about the origin of Santa Claus. I sat patiently and listened, but it was hard not to allow my mind to wander, thinking of the present Santa Claus might bring me. I already had a beautiful doll; what more could I want? I couldn't imagine how Santa would guess.

Ayden left to go and get me one of his favorite books then he handed it to me when he returned. It was called, The Night before Christmas, and it had drawings of Santa.

I tried to put it together in my mind. It all sounded very exciting. I couldn't imagine why Momma and Daddy had never told me of such a thing.

Edward arrived in the early afternoon with the tree. It was just small enough to fit through the front door after he trimmed the branches and trunk. Opal had Heath and Ayden bring down a large wooden box full of lovely decorations.

"What are these for?" I asked, holding up small, round, wooden hoops.

"You put the candles in them then they go on the tree," Opal said, showing me. "You've never seen a Christmas tree before?"

"She's never heard of Santa, either," Ayden chimed in.

"Really?" Opal exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Well, she knows all about it now," Heath added.

"Come on, then; let's get the decorations on the tree before supper is served." Opal was preparing everything from sweetbread pates and rice croquettes to the main dish—quail.

Daddy came in from a long nap with Momma. I had just finished setting the table.

"Come, everyone, sit," Edward called.

Ayden and Heath eagerly sat and waited patiently for the prayer. I could almost hear their grumbling stomachs; the food smelled so good. Edward gave a rather long-winded thanks to God then declared it was time to dig in.

"You boys make sure you save room for dessert. I made your favorite—nesselrode pudding," Opal said.

"This is a fine meal, Opal; thank you for having Lillian and me," Daddy said. The way he said it made Opal's eyes tear up. Even Edward heard the angst in Daddy's voice and patted him on the back, then said, "You are always welcome, Garrett."

Most of the time, I felt like a member of the Dalton family, but occasionally, there was something said or done to remind me that Daddy and I were alone now that Momma was ill and were merely guests in their home. I mentioned to Daddy that Heath and Ayden wanted me to spend the night so Santa could leave me a gift.

"Well, I don't know, Lillian," Daddy said.

"It's fine with us, Garrett," Opal told him.

"Amelia—she wouldn't approve," he mumbled.

I waited quietly and patiently while he thought about it. So far, Daddy had given in to all of my wishes; I hoped he would say yes to this one.

"Can I speak with you in private?" Daddy asked Opal.

"Of course," she said, and together they went back into the kitchen.

I glanced at Ayden to see if he knew what they were discussing. He shrugged. It didn't faze Heath or Edward. Maybe Daddy wanted to work something out for Momma's care for the night ahead.

Their time in the kitchen was short. Daddy sat down and announced I couldn't stay. I thought Ayden and Heath were more stunned by his decision than me.

"She can't stay, sir?" Ayden asked in disbelief.

"No, she must come home with me after dessert."

Daddy didn't look at me when he said that. I didn't know anything other than I was saddened and hurt.

"Maybe next year, Lillian," he said, when he finally looked my way. I lowered my head so the tears would drop straight down on my dress and not run along my cheeks for everyone to see, especially Heath, who sat across from me. The atmosphere quickly went from cheerful to gloomy.

"If you don't mind, could I be excused?" I asked.

"Lillian, please stay for pudding," Opal kindly said.

"Please stay. You will really like it," Ayden added with great enthusiasm. It wasn't until Heath asked that I lifted my head, and quickly wiped my tears away.

"Stay," was all he said. It was his pleading, poignant one word that changed my mind.

In life there are times that are forever memorable, moments that are worthy of keeping for one reason or another. I would keep that moment close in my mind, especially when I found myself all alone and desperately needing to be reminded of what value I had.

Just as night began to fall, we filled the hoops with candles and lit the tree. I had never seen anything so beautiful. The glow from the candles made the beads glisten, and the delicate glass ornaments threw off prisms of light all around the room. Daddy had me say goodnight.

"I hope you get a really nice present from Santa," I said to Ayden.

I could see he felt terribly sorry for me. Heath tried to smile, for my sake, but it did no use. I couldn't hold back my disappointment any longer and began to sob. I wanted more than anything to be included, and to feel a part of something other than the insanity of Momma and Daddy's struggle to cope with emotional torment. Every day, I had to face my bizarre reality and find a way to live in a world that left me full of questions about the secrets in Momma's mind. Daddy wasn't aware of the emotional toll it had taken on me. He looked past my tears and ushered me on.

"Momma is sleeping soundly. I don't want you to see her tonight," he said when he came to tuck me into bed.

I was so angry with Daddy for not allowing me to stay with the Daltons that I turned my cheek away when he was about to give me a goodnight kiss. He was surprised. I thought he might have stayed and talked about his decision, but he left, not closing the door behind him. It wasn't fair, I thought. I deserved things that other children got to experience. I hadn't realized how different we really were until we moved to Jasper Island. We had endlessly tried to stay hidden. That's why Daddy chose to be a lighthouse keeper—so he could stay in the shadows, far from the eyes of the world and all the scrutiny and judgment that came with it.

I couldn't sleep that night. I thought of Santa Claus and decided to sit by my window and wait to see him come out of the sky, to see if he was indeed true and not just a made-up story. If Santa were real and flew through the night, then Daddy must have seen him some time in the years he was a lighthouse keeper. Maybe there was a reason Daddy didn't want me to have any part of the Christmas celebration other than Momma's wishes. I didn't know for sure. I was speculating on so many things it made my head spin and gave me a terrible headache. My head pounded above my eyes, and I wished for some relief. The strain of staring out the window wasn't helping, and after I saw the ghost of Victor, as I had so many times before that it had become somewhat ordinary, walk by on his usual rounds of the island, I decided to sneak into Momma's room and take some of her powders. That would relieve my pain. It always had for her. I went in and out without being noticed and quickly took the medicine. At first, when I lay back in my bed and closed my eyes, I thought it wasn't helping, but not long after, I felt lightheaded, and my eyelids grew heavy. My pain dissolved, and I fell into a deep sleep from which I wouldn't wake for an entire day.

"Lillian, Lillian, wake up." I heard the urgent tone in Daddy's voice and fought off my deep grogginess, only to open my eyes and see him standing over me, his face full of distress.

I tried to sit up, but my head felt like there were a hundred stones keeping it down.

"Don't get up; lie still," Daddy said. Opal came and placed a cool cloth on my head.

"Why do I feel like this Daddy?" I moaned.

"The powders. Momma's powders. Lillian, why did you take it?" he asked desperately, holding my weak hand in his.

I couldn't recall what he was talking about; I didn't remember anything about Momma's powders. He saw how confused I was and moved so Opal could sit beside me on the bed.

"You went into your momma's room and took her powders. Do you remember?"

Then it came to me. The terrible headache that wouldn't go away.

"I didn't feel well; I thought I could use them to feel better," I explained.

"Why would you do such a foolish thing? You almost died. Those medicines aren't meant for a child," Daddy lashed out.

"Garrett, don't upset her," Opal said.

"I'm sorry, darling; I was just worried sick, worried out of my mind." Daddy was disheveled, worn, and had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and fret.

"You made a mistake, that's all," Opal reassured me in a motherly voice.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," I mumbled, then began to drift back into a light sleep.

"Let her rest. You can talk with her more tomorrow," Opal said to Daddy.

I wanted to stay awake, but I couldn't fight the overwhelming need to shut my eyes.

Another day passed, and I woke to a blinding light that bounced off the bright white snow into my room. I was alone this time. I slowly opened my eyes, and the first thing I focused on was a brand-new doll house on the side table near the window. I couldn't believe my eyes, so I rubbed the sleep away to be certain I wasn't still dreaming. I wasn't. The doll house was a white, Italian-style villa. I slowly got out of bed and reached out to touch it. It was real. But where did it come from? The door creaked open, and Ayden stepped in. I was in my cap and gown, and he immediately blushed when he saw me then said in a jittery voice, "Mother told me to check on you."

He went to step back and close the door, but I called him back in. "Wait!"

He stayed behind the other side of the door. "Yes?"

"The doll house, Ayden. Where did it come from?"

Ayden refused to step back into my room and spoke through the door. "Santa. He left it for you at our house."

Santa came; he really came and even remembered me! I was stunned speechless.

"I will go tell Mother you are awake."

I heard him scurry down the hall. Opal came in and hurried me back into bed. "You shouldn't be up yet," she said, pulling the covers over me. Then she called Ayden back in. Once he saw I was covered up, he willingly entered.

"Santa left that for me, Mrs. Dalton? Is it true?" I asked, concerned that Ayden was not telling me the truth and maybe it really wasn't mine to keep.

"Yes, Lillian, he did."

"And it's really mine?"

"Of course. Now don't get too excited. You are not well enough to get up and play with it. You need to take it slow; that's what the doctor said."

"Okay, I will. I promise." I would do anything to make sure I got well quickly so I could actually play with the dolls in the house.

"Ayden, stay with her while I make her a plate of food."

He didn't know what to say to me at first and stared at me as if I had just come back from the dead. Then, after he fidgeted in the chair for a few minutes, he described how Daddy came to see me on Christmas morning and couldn't wake me.

"Your father came running over with you. He said you were in some kind of a coma, that he found your momma's powders missing. He and my father got you into the boat and battled the rough seas to get you to the mainland and the doctor. You were gone for all of Christmas Day. I was up in the light tower manning the light when I saw the rowboat. You were brought back to bed; the doctor told them you would wake when the powders wore off. He couldn't say how long it would take, or if you would die in your sleep."

I sat in bed, full of dread at what I had put Daddy through. When I took the medicine, I'd never realized it would do me any harm—that I might never recover and possibly die. It was careless and irresponsible, and I wanted more than anything to apologize to Daddy.

He didn't come see me until late that day. I had been sitting up in bed all day, waiting for him. The skies outside my bedroom window turned from pink, to orange, then a fiery red, and then slowly spilled into a dark red, until the sky ended up a midnight blue color, the same exact color of Ayden's eyes. Daddy was the last of many visitors that day. Opal came twice with plates full of food, Ayden came often to play a game of checkers, and Heath stopped in to say hello and see if I was feeling better.

"What do you think of the doll house Santa brought you?" he asked, standing at the foot of my bed with his hat in his hand.

"It's wonderful. I am so lucky," I said.

"I'm glad you are better, Lillian. You gave us all quite a scare."

I didn't know what to say, except, "I made a terrible mistake."

"We all make mistakes. Just be careful next time." Heath said it in a fatherly way, in a manner that didn't equal his age.

I gave Heath the same promise I gave to Daddy when he came in.

"My world would have ended then and there if you were taken from me," he said, gazing deep into my eyes. "Your momma and I wanted you in the worst of ways. When she was carrying you, we prayed to have a baby girl. When you were born, it was the happiest day of my life. I need to get to Heaven before you and before Momma, so I can show you both the way when it's your time. Please don't go before me," he pleaded, not imagining at the time that his worst fears were already on their way to be.

_______________

# Chapter Eleven

The very night after Opal's mother and father tragically died in the sinking of the great ship Atlantic, Opal went into labor a month late. Edward and Ayden went to the mainland to bring the doctor back to the island to deliver the baby. Since Momma couldn't stay by Opal during her excruciating hours of labor, Heath tended to her. Daddy was up in the tower, manning the light. I had been in their house for some time, there for any support needed, but as the labor dragged on and Opal's screaming and moaning intensified, I became afraid and could no longer listen to it. She cried out for help; she called for God to take the pain away. I covered my ears, unable to bear the torment she was going through. How could any woman want to go through such agony?

Heath came outside, to where I stood huddled close to the house, shielding myself from the cold breeze. "Are they back yet?" he asked with grave concern.

"No."

"She is going to have the baby soon. She is calling for the doctor. I don't know what to do. I have read only a small portion about birth in my medical books."

Heath wasn't his usual confident self. He was afraid for his mother and feared if the doctor didn't arrive, he would have to take over and deliver his own sibling.

From inside, Opal screamed for Heath. He swung around and ran back in. Opal let out a sound I had never heard before, an agonizing shriek that went right through me, and then there was silence. For a moment, I listened for the cry of a baby, but I heard nothing. My heart stopped. I dreaded that something had gone terribly wrong. I ran in and was about to go into the room, trembling and afraid of what I might see, but Heath threw the door open just as I'd gathered enough courage, and with the brand new baby in his arms, announced, "It's a girl!"

I couldn't believe my eyes. She was a beautiful baby—a big baby—in Heath's loving arms.

"Meet my new baby sister, Elizabeth Ann Dalton."

I reached out and allowed the baby to grasp my finger. Just then, Edward and Ayden rushed in, the doctor only steps behind, and stopped in their tracks when they saw the newborn with Heath. The doctor hurried in and went to Opal.

"What is it? A boy or a girl?" Edward asked as he lovingly gazed at the baby.

Heath carefully handed him the bundle, then said to his father, "You have a daughter."

Tears came to Edward's eyes as he proudly held his new child. Ayden peered up at her, but he was afraid to touch her. Opal called for Edward. An enormous grin on his face, he went in to see his beloved wife. The doctor gave them both a clean bill of health, and while he was on the island, went to check on Momma. Ayden stayed in the tower while Daddy went with the doctor to see Momma. I stayed with Heath and made Opal a plate of food, which he took in to her.

"You were wonderful," I said as he sat in the chair beside the fire. Heath was amazed with himself, and his confidence in a career as a doctor returned.

"I could have never imagined that birth could be such a miracle. Of course, I knew it in my mind, but to actually witness it, to see the baby take her first breath—" Heath looked off, as if in his mind, he was reliving it all over again.

I placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, "Your mother was lucky to have you." He glanced up at me, his eye full of optimism for what life could offer, and he placed his hand on top of mine. The warmth I felt ignited a spark in me that made me tingle all over. Heath appreciated my compliment and thanked me, but his hand lingered, and I couldn't tell if it was deliberate or not. I liked the way it felt and remained beside him until he eventually slid his hand into his lap. The evening was remarkable, like a dream. We had a new baby on the island, Opal was fine and resting, and Heath had found the dream that had once been lost to the harsh reality of life on Jasper Island. It was hard not to be drawn to his enthusiastic energy and true passion, as it was difficult to fight the urge to admire his good looks and charm, and fall madly in love with him.

It was a new experience to have a baby on the island. I had never been around babies before and wasn't certain I would like them. But Elizabeth captured my heart from the moment she grasped her tiny finger around mine and wouldn't let go. Her eyes were as translucent as Heath's, and she had his uncontrollably curly hair, though her features were similar to Ayden's. To my delight, on days that there was no school or we couldn't get to the mainland, due to bad weather, Opal let me care for Elizabeth. I sat with her by the fire, softly singing Momma's favorite hymns to her. She always stared up at me with wide, fascinated eyes and drank in everything about me. When she was able to coordinate her pudgy, dimpled hands, she would reach out and touch my face. I liked everything about Elizabeth, from the way she smiled at me, as if I were the most amazing person in the world, to the way she smelled of soft baby powder. She made all kinds of funny faces, her way of expressing herself. She never cried, not once, not even when she was born.

"She is unusually quiet," Opal had said with a worried frown.

By the time Elizabeth turned two, Opal's general concerns grew specific, and she told me one day what she feared.

"I think she can't hear," Opal said, choking back her tears. "Edward and I made plans to go to Boston to see a specialist. We are leaving at the end of the week."

I was holding Elizabeth. I didn't know anything about babies, so I'd thought she was normal. I would have never guessed she could be deaf.

Heath announced he was going with them at supper that night, but it was obvious it had not been agreed to.

"You have to stay with Ayden," Opal said.

"I can take care of myself," Ayden interjected. He was ignored.

"It's not the right time for you to travel back to Boston," Edward told him.

"First we couldn't make it for Grandfather and Grandmother's funerals; now I can't go with you to see what the doctor has to say about the baby," he complained.

"This has been difficult on us all, Heath, but I don't want to hear another word about it. You are staying here," Edward said, ending the discussion.

Heath accepted their decision, but he was not happy about it. Heath needed to experience what the medical field had to offer, and he felt restricted on the island. It was only a matter of time before he turned eighteen and went off to the university; it was only a year away, but that was like a lifetime to Heath. I felt bad for him. I saw how anxious he was to fly through the next year and finally take the path to his lifetime goal and dream, but it also felt good to know that, at least for a while, Heath would be on the island with us and close to me.

We waved like mad as the vessel pulled up anchor and headed across the Atlantic towards Massachusetts. The three of us stood on the shore and waited until the ship disappeared into the horizon. Although the feeling was somber, I believed Elizabeth had brought a new light to the island, no matter whether her ears worked or not. I was thrilled to have her; she was like a real-life doll. No longer did I play with Jane, my beautiful porcelain doll. I gave her to Momma. Her eyes lit up when I handed it to her.

"For me?" she squealed.

"Yes, Momma. It's yours. Her name is Jane."

"Oh, I love her. Is it my birthday present? How on earth did you get it? You didn't steal it from the mercantile, did you, Hattie?" Her eyes darkened and filled with fright.

"No, no, Momma. Daddy gave it to me on my birthday. It wasn't stolen," I said.

She didn't believe me at first; she was confused and tried to make sense of what I was saying. I leaned in and peered into her eyes, waiting to see if I could see any sign that Momma was coming out of the endless fog that covered her mind and senses. I looked for a glimmer of hope that her madness would vanish and my momma would come back to me. But it wasn't to be, and my heart sank as she giggled uncontrollably.

"I promise I won't tell. I'll keep her hidden. I love her." Momma hugged the doll tight then began to sing a sweet lullaby that sounded familiar and gave me a warm feeling.

Edward and Opal would be away for two weeks. That meant I was responsible for all the meals. Since summer was in full swing, I had all day to prepare, as we once again ate late in the evenings. Over the years on the island I had learned much about cooking from Opal. I had confidence that I could handle all that was expected of me. Heath offered to lend a hand, but I refused.

Ayden snickered when he heard that. Some things never changed. As much as we had grown and matured during our time on Jasper Island, Heath always stepped up and helped, even if it seemed unmanly, and Ayden stayed far away from those kinds of gestures. If he wasn't fishing or playing checkers with me in our free time, he was chopping wood or down at the boathouse with Daddy, working on building a new one that had for years been postponed due to the lack of government funds.

By the time Edward and Opal were due back, the boathouse was expected to be completed.

When Daddy was there, I often noticed Victor's ghostly shadow lurking. It was indeed his favorite haunt. As often as Ayden and I saw him, Heath never had.

"Just your childish imaginations," he mumbled when he overheard Ayden and me talking about Victor.

Ayden would get angry when Heath made comments like that to us. "Why would we lie about such a thing?" Ayden shouted.

"Why not? You are good at making up silly stories."

"And Lillian. Would she lie, too?" Ayden waited for an answer, his arms folded over his chest. Heath knew I wouldn't make up stories, but he couldn't for one minute believe in ghost stories. To Heath, that's all they were. There was no proof of Victor's existence.

Heath refused to indulge us in conversations of ghosts and make believe. It was enough to have each other, Ayden and I. However, it wasn't long before we realized we were not the only ones that saw him. Momma saw him, too. She called him Grandfather and told me he came to see her almost every night to read her a story. Daddy was with me, standing at the edge of her bed, when he heard it.

"What's she saying?" he asked me. Daddy hadn't spent much time with Momma that summer. He left her care up to me exclusively, no longer concerned about what she would do or say. He relaxed, and her condition became so ordinary to him that he began to forget what might possibly slip from her memories of years past. I didn't know how to tell Daddy about Victor—the only thing, besides him, that was correct in her mind.

"Maybe she is remembering her grandfather from when she was a girl," I said, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"She didn't know her grandfather," he muttered quietly under his breath.

It was strange to see him try to make sense of what she said; after all, it was normal for her to talk nonsense.

"It's time for her to rest, Daddy; let's go." I took his hand and led him out.

"I have to go to the mainland; do stay here and keep an eye on things." He gave me a look, the look that told me to keep a close eye on Momma.

"Of course," I said, and he kissed her goodbye.

"I'll be back before dark."

With some time before supper to myself, I decided to take a book and go read out on the bluff, my favorite spot. Since Elizabeth was born, I hadn't had much time to read; all of my free time was spent with her. I missed her, and she had only been gone for seven days. I missed her warm body cuddled up in my arms and the way she reached out and tugged at my long hair. I thought since I would never want to bear a child, ever, that she was the closest thing to a baby I would ever have. Never would I go through what Opal did; I did not want to be in so much agony that I needed God to take my pain away. I still wanted to travel the world, and I certainly could not do that with a child. If I ever married, my husband would have to understand and respect my wishes.

I closed my eyes, leaned against the tree, and imagined Heath and I as husband and wife. He would be a famous and successful doctor and stay home in Boston, waiting for me to return from my overseas travels. When we reunited, we would be loving and passionate. He would hold me and kiss me and tell me he longed to have me home and couldn't have lived another day without me. In Heath's eyes, I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even more beautiful than Clara. His eyes lingered on me and longed to touch me, but I wouldn't give in to his manly desires; I would keep Heath at bay, only allowing him to kiss me, that was all. I was not going to have him undress me the way Daddy used to do to Momma. I could never be indecent in front of Heath or allow him to do that thing that made babies. The thought put pure terror into me.

I opened my eyes to erase where my mind was headed. The vision of Heath undressing me left my body yearning, but my mind screaming no. I had to stop reliving that fantasy; I was too afraid.

When Heath sat down for supper, I could barely look his way. I was ashamed and embarrassed of my own daydreams. I thought he would see through me and read my mind. Daddy, in the past, would have noticed my fluster, but he was too deep in thought, his eyes focused on the wall.

"Are you all right, Mr. Arrington?" Heath asked.

Daddy shook his head to gain back his senses. "Yes, I'm fine," he answered, and then began to eat. "Your supper is delicious, Lillian," Daddy said, smiling proudly at me.

"You cook just as well as Mother," Ayden said.

I was pleased, but slightly disappointed that Heath hadn't told me how good my cooking was. Unlike Heath, Ayden loved to eat. The way to his heart was through his stomach. Over the past years, Ayden had filled out and become a little chubby. In school, he was teased by the girls. They called him Abundant Ayden. It was mean, and I insisted they stop. Then they teased me and accused me of wanting Ayden to be my beau.

"So what if I do?" I said back, and that made them stop. Ayden had overheard, and I didn't want to tell him I only said that to make them stop teasing him. I didn't want him as my beau. Since then, Ayden had been extra kind to me, so much so that it was becoming awkward. Ayden was like a brother to me, nothing more. I made that perfectly clear to him one day when we were by the shore, throwing rocks out into the surf. We had leaned down at the same time to pick up a rock, and when our faces were inches apart, Ayden leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. I gasped and stood up straight. From the reaction on my face, he knew he had done something terribly wrong.

With wide, confused eyes, I pushed him back and yelled, "Don't you ever do that again, Ayden Alexander Dalton!"

His face turned bright red, and he stammered for words. Then Heath walked out of the chicken coop that he was repairing to see what was happening between us. I was too embarrassed to say a word, and Ayden was mortified.

Heath looked from Ayden to me for an explanation, but we said nothing. Heath sensed it was personal, and backed away, though his eyes lingered on me for a moment before he turned and walked back to the coop.

I waited for an apology from Ayden, but he remained speechless. So I laid into him and made certain he never tried to kiss me again. "If you ever do that again, I will tell my daddy," I said, and left him standing there alone, full of regret.

Opal and Edward returned with the news that we had been dreading. Elizabeth was deaf. They returned sad, but encouraged by all the information the doctor gave them.

"There are schools for the deaf; Elizabeth will learn sign language," Opal said as we gathered in the parlor.

"We will have to send her away?" Ayden asked.

"There is a school in Hartford. When the time comes, we will move to Connecticut."

"Move? When, Mother?"

"Not until she is around six years old. Until then, we will study the sign language book Dr. Schumer gave us."

Heath took the book and scanned it.

"You won't be a keeper anymore?" I asked.

"We won't be able to stay far from her. But we have many years until that comes to pass," Edward assured me.

"Is she healthy otherwise?" Daddy asked.

"She is. She scores above normal in everything else," Opal said.

"That's good to hear," he replied. Then he added, "It's God's plan. He has a plan for all of us. Sometimes we aren't aware of what it all means, but in the end, the good and unfortunate happens for a reason. Only God knows why, and we must accept his way and believe it is for the best."

Secretly, I questioned God when I was alone in the privacy of my room and wondered why he thought it best for Momma to be crazy. Why didn't he protect her from the devil? Did he think it was best for people like Opal's mother and father to drown in the frigid waters off the coast of Nova Scotia? And how could I believe that God wanted Elizabeth never to hear her mother's voice or her brothers' laughter? I didn't know what to think and believed the answers to my questions would come later. I feared all the mysteries of life would unravel and swallow me into a world of darkness, not unlike the cold, dark bottom of the unforgiving sea.

Needing to put my cynicism aside for the sake of others, I worked hard to learn the sign language that would help Elizabeth communicate with us. Heath and I competed to see who could learn the most signs in a week. Heath learned many of the signs, but I remembered more.

During our time off from school during our third summer on Jasper Island, Heath and I took Elizabeth down to the shore and taught her signs under the warm June sun. She loved to see the vessels out on the water; she enjoyed running up to the waves and allowing the chilly water to touch her toes. Down by the shore, there were many things to teach her how to sign. I recalled the first time she saw a whale. She couldn't hear them come up for air, but she saw them surface and blow the water high out of their blowholes. She was very observant, and knew when she pointed something out Heath and I would teach her the sign for it. Heath, Elizabeth, and I were inseparable all summer long. We spent so many days at the beach that our faces turned bronze and our hair was sun-kissed. Heath's hair was so light blond that it made his blue eyes stand out against his tan skin.

Ayden didn't want any part of teaching his little sister; in fact, he stayed far away from us. He spent most of his free time up at the light tower, being taught everything there was to know about manning the light.

By the end of the summer, Elizabeth had learned twenty signs. I hated leaving her and going to school each morning. Opal would stand up at the bluff while Heath rowed us out to school, and try to have her sign goodbye, but Elizabeth only buried her little head against Opal's shoulder because she was sad to see us go. It was the opposite when we returned to the island after school. Then she signed and greeted us with big smiles and dozens of kisses from the same spot we left her that morning.

Opal handed her over to me then returned to the house. Ayden would hurry off without greeting Elizabeth. Heath hadn't noticed his brother's indifference towards her, but Elizabeth was aware. It troubled me to see her long for kisses and brotherly affection from Ayden. After all, she was the most irresistible little child; her blue eyes and adorable dimples always brought me a smile and warmed my heart.

Every time I approached Ayden to talk about his feelings towards his baby sister, to try and convince him to spend time with her and learn to communicate using sign language, there was always some kind of interruption. Most were minor, until one fateful night. It was late, and Ayden was walking back to his house from the fog signal house after helping Daddy make some minor repairs on the structure. I came out into the chilly fall night to talk with him, when I heard Momma screaming in her bedroom. We all heard her.

"Go get Daddy," I told Ayden in a panic and rushed inside to see what was happening.

I fumbled with the key from my dress pocket, but my hands shook so from the fright of her screams that I couldn't grab hold of it. Daddy rushed up behind me, reached in, and pulled it out. Daddy pushed the door open, and there was Momma, lying on the floor in a pool of blood.

"Dear God," Daddy gasped, and fell down to her. She was no longer screaming, but moaning. She moaned, and her eyes glazed over and stared up at the ceiling.

"Amelia, what happened?" he asked, speaking to her as if she were somehow going to be able to explain her injury.

"Lillian, go get Edward. Tell him to hurry!"

"I'll go," Ayden said, and sped off.

I stood back and watched Daddy try to soothe her pain. He was afraid to move her; he couldn't see where the blood was coming from, but it was everywhere. The sight made me cry; the blood made my stomach turn.

Edward arrived, but stopped in his tracks at the doorway.

"What's going on?" he gasped.

"We have to get her to the doctor. Help me," Daddy said. I was paralyzed by the shocking sight.

"Lillian, get the blanket from the bed!"

Ayden, who had returned with Edward, passed me and did what Daddy asked. They wrapped Momma up and carried her off. Heath arrived just as Daddy and Edward left.

"Are you all right, Lillian?" he asked, glancing down at the floor where all the blood was. Then he said to Ayden, "Go get Mother. She can clean this up."

Heath took my arm and brought me to my room. Then all my terror flooded out in uncontrollable sobs, and I fell into Heath's arms. Heath hushed me, as he did when Elizabeth had fallen or woken from a scary dream that left her trembling, silent cries escaping her tiny mouth.

"It's going to be all right. Whatever is wrong with your momma, the doctor can fix," he said in a quiet voice, stroking my hair. I grabbed onto him as if he was the only thing keeping me from drowning in my own fears. For the first time, I realized that she might really die. It wasn't the same as when she jumped off the cliff. I knew Daddy and Heath would save her life. This time it was different, much different. We didn't know why she had fallen to the floor or why she was so covered in blood. There was so much blood.

Heath didn't have to say a word to me; his arms around me were enough to hold me up and keep me safe.

The sound of Opal and Ayden carrying buckets of water up the stairs caused Heath to pull away. His eyes were filled with concern for me, and for a short time, I thought I saw something more; I thought it was love. However, when he stepped back and said, "Get some sleep, kid," I knew that his compassion came from his love for me as a friend, and nothing more. It would never be more, because he would always be years older. And although I thought I wanted more from Heath, it felt good just to have him there, holding me as a friend, and telling me everything would be all right. But to my dismay, it wouldn't be all right. My life was about to take a new path, and I would be forced to a place that one day would put all the mysteries of the past and present together and give me the answers to Momma's years of impenetrable madness.

_______________

# Chapter Twelve

Momma's screams and moans of pain didn't come from some mysterious illness that left her in a pool of her own blood, but from plunging a letter opener into her stomach. Momma had once again tried to kill herself. The doctor stitched her up and told Daddy what he feared most. Daddy was devastated, but he had no choice but to send Momma away to an asylum. She didn't return to Jasper Island before Daddy took her on the long railway trip to Indianapolis; I never got a chance to say goodbye. With Momma gone, I was left with a permanent ache in my heart that I believed would never go away. If it weren't for the Daltons' love, I would have had no choice but to wither away and die. Daddy was gone for nearly three weeks, and they kept me close, insisting I stay with them and sleep in their house. It was Elizabeth's need for my attention and companionship that kept my heart from breaking into a hundred pieces.

While the early winter raged on and we were kept locked on the island, I was able to keep my sadness down and spend all of my time on her. Even Ayden had come around slightly, with my encouragement, and welcomed me to teach him some signs. He loved his baby sister, and it became apparent that what kept him away was his fear of learning how to sign. He lacked confidence. It didn't take long to convince him it wasn't as hard as it appeared. I was impressed by how quickly Ayden caught on, how much he studied, and in the end, he could sign with Elizabeth as good as Heath and I.

On many stormy days, Heath, Ayden, and I would sit by the fire and play with her. I was fortunate enough to have a place that took my mind off Momma. Daddy wasn't as lucky. He struggled to get out of bed and make his way up to the light tower each night. He had aged considerably since Momma left. His hair had turned completely white. His eyes were always sad, his expression forlorn; his heart was heavy and full of anguish. I heard him cry when he thought he was alone. He attempted to keep his suffering closed up and to himself; he withdrew until he could no longer handle the emotional torment. Then I began to smell stuff on Daddy's breath like the sailors who frequented the taverns. He only went to the mainland once a week, if the weather permitted, but all winter long, Daddy always smelled like that. His personality changed, too. He stopped crying, and even laughed more often than not. But his duties as lighthouse keeper suffered. He often forgot to wake to light the lamp when the darkness of night approached. Edward began to fill Daddy's shoes, and I could see he was not pleased about it. He was always mumbling under his breath, saying something about Daddy that I struggled to make out. I didn't want Daddy to be in trouble with Edward, and did all I could to wake him. Almost every evening, I would steal quietly into his room, light the lamp, and try to bring him out of his deep sleep.

"Daddy, it's time to light the lamp in the tower," I said, shaking him lightly. It always took me nearly a half-hour to get him to finally rise from bed. He never changed out of his uniform, and it was wrinkled and in dire need of a wash.

"I'm up; I'm up," he would say and push me away. Then he would stagger out of the room, and before going up to the light tower, first make a trip to the fog signal house. I couldn't understand why he went there every evening—even when there was no need, when there was no fog.

One night, when he was up in the tower, I went to see what brought him there. I saw the bottle right away; he didn't try and hide it. The bottle of rum was half empty, and five other empty bottles were stacked in a pile near the corner. Daddy was drinking his loss away. Angry, I took what was left and poured it out onto the floor. After that, I didn't know what to do. I was sure Edward knew Daddy was drinking, and I was more than aware that Daddy could lose his position. Alcohol was absolutely forbidden on lighthouse premises. It was all falling apart, our whole life on Jasper Island. It was so unexpected. I recalled when we first arrived—the hope and promise of a better life. I believed we were sure to find everlasting happiness on the new island, but it turned into just the opposite for us.

Momma was far away, locked up in an asylum, Daddy had turned into a drunk, and I was left to try and sustain what we had left. I was afraid to go to Opal; I was ashamed of my family. She had done so much for us already. There was no way she was going to be empathetic to Daddy now that he was drinking. Ayden I wasn't sure I could trust with that information. I was too ashamed to tell Heath. My only hope was that I could keep Daddy's drinking problem a secret and bear the burden of protecting what was left of my family's good name.

By the spring, nothing had changed except for the weather. I worked hard to keep Daddy straight and poured out as many of his bottles as I could. Eventually he figured out, through one of his many drunken stupors, that someone was touching his secret stash. Daddy for one minute didn't think it was me, and instead staggered over to the Daltons' house and hollered for Ayden. Daddy thought Ayden was pouring his rum out.

"Ayden Dalton, I want to talk to you, boy," Daddy commanded.

Opal hurried out of the kitchen. "Garrett, what is it?"

"Your boy has been touching my things!"

I was sitting with Elizabeth by the windows, reading a book. She was aware of Daddy's anger and hid her face in my long hair.

"Who has been touching your things?" Opal asked, wiping her wet hands on her apron.

"Ayden. Now get him down here," Daddy demanded. Edward and Heath walked in the front door, and Daddy stumbled aside as Ayden appeared at the top of the stairs.

Daddy lunged forward after Ayden, but he tripped on the first step and crashed to the floor. I gently set Elizabeth aside and ran to help him up, but not before Edward grabbed hold of Daddy, picked him up by the back of his uniform, and threw him outside. Daddy fell onto the ground then fumbled around, trying to get up.

"Get up, you drunken fool," Edward shouted.

"Leave him be, Edward; he doesn't know what he is doing," Opal said, and pulled Edward back before he laid a punch into Daddy.

"He knows exactly what he is doing. Now go back to your house and sleep it off. I will man the light tonight. Don't you ever come to my house like that again," Edward warned. "Do you understand me, Garrett?"

Heath saw me heading to help Daddy, and shook his head. "Leave him be, Lillian; he needs to go to sleep."

I looked at Heath and saw his pity. I was humiliated, embarrassed, and wanted nothing more than to run and hide. Heath called after me, but I didn't stop. I ran down to the boathouse and climbed into the first rowboat. I needed to escape the island, get far enough away that I wouldn't have to face what Heath and the others knew for certain. I could no longer hide it. The Arringtons were full of sin and madness, and I was certain people like the Daltons didn't want to be linked with us.

I had difficulty untying the rope, and it took so long that Heath caught up to me.

"Where are you going?" he asked, taking my hand off the rope. I tried to hide the tears with my hair, which covered most of my face. I didn't answer. I couldn't face him anymore. I was too ashamed.

"I asked where you were going," Heath said calmly then moved the hair stuck to my wet face aside with his finger so he could see me.

"I just want to get off this island, just for a while. I will come back later," I sobbed, still refusing to meet his eyes. It reminded me of the time a few years back when I wanted to run away, and Daddy had sent Heath to stop me. Only this time, Daddy hadn't sent him to get me to change my mind. Heath came after me because he cared for me and truly didn't want me to row five miles alone on the dangerous sea.

"Would you like me to row you out there?" he kindly offered. He was almost eighteen. At the end of the summer, he would be going back to Boston to attend college, and there he was, trying to console me. As Heath aged, instead of drifting away as I thought he would, he remained committed to our friendship. Some of that was because Clara was long gone, and Heath had no one to take her place, so I received the benefit of Heath's emotional lonesomeness, and I cherished it.

I briefly considered allowing him to row me to the mainland, but I decided it was best if he stayed away from me. I didn't want him to get punished for being with the daughter of a drunk.

"I'll go myself, Heath," I said forlornly, and went back to untying the boat from the dock.

"What troubles you so much that you need to escape Jasper Island? Is it your daddy's ways? Is that all?" he asked, standing close behind me, waiting for my answer.

"Of course," I nearly shouted. "My life is miserable. My momma is gone, and my daddy drinks his pain away and doesn't even know I exist any longer. I don't know what to do." I put my hands over my face to hide my sobs. My shoulders shook violently, and my wretched cries caused my chest to ache. Heath tried to comfort me, but I pushed him back and said, "Stay away from me. You don't need someone like me in your life."

"What are you talking about?" Heath was confused.

In between sobs, I choked out my words. "I'm ashamed to be here. Look at my parents. Look what has become of us!"

"Don't you dare be ashamed for who you are. You're a sweet girl; none of this is your fault."

"It doesn't matter whose fault it is. Just leave me," I said, and turned to get into the boat.

Heath firmly grabbed my arm and lifted me out of the boat. "Enough of this. I can't let you go out there alone."

"You let go of me," I insisted and slapped his hand away, but he refused to let go. He was angry at me.

"Stop acting like a little girl all the time," he said.

I was sick to death of him calling me a little girl. What did he expect from me? Did Heath think for one minute that anyone in her right mind could accept what had been happening to my family? I was just as angry, and my fire raged within me. I was sick of holding my emotions in and lashed out at Heath. I struck him with my closed fists; I beat his chest and screamed at him to go away. I was wild, out of control, and lost in my own rage. Heath allowed me to hit him, over and over. He stood like a statue, strong and unyielding. He turned his face to avoid being battered. But when he thought I had struck him enough, he took hold of both my hands and wouldn't allow me to move.

"I just want to help you, Lillian. That's all. If I could take your pain away, I would. I would do that for you," he said to me. His eyes were sincere and loving. I wanted Heath to tell me he loved me—not the way a brother loved a sister, or as a friend, but as a man loved a woman. The way Daddy had once loved Momma. But he said none of that. Heath felt me looking through him, looking all the way into his soul, then shifted his blue eyes away and let go of my hands.

"I'm sorry, Heath. I shouldn't have hit you." I was calmer, regretting what I had done.

He refused to look at me, and I turned to go, to return to my room, and throw myself onto my bed in defeat, but Heath seized me and pulled me against him. His actions took my breath away and made my heart race. His eyes had turned dark and cold; his face was troubled. Heath towered above me, squeezing my shoulders so tight they began to hurt. I didn't know what he wanted, why he pulled me back. He didn't speak, though his eyes screamed for me to understand. But I didn't. I was confused, my mind spinning, not sure what he wanted from me. I was about to try to push away and run from him, run and hide from how he was making me feel, when he lowered his lips to mine and kissed me. It wasn't a kiss like Ayden had given me; it was the way a man kissed a woman. I tried to breathe through it, but I couldn't. And just when I thought I was going to pass out from the terror and excitement, he pulled away, his face full of shock. Heath had lost control, and he regretted what he had done.

I didn't know what to do next. A part of me wanted him to kiss me again, and another feared it. He began to pace back and forth, running his hands through his thick, curly hair. Then he faced me and told me to go away. It was as if something had snapped in him, and he blamed me for the kiss. He was suddenly irrational and angry.

"Why don't you just do what you are told to do, Lillian? Why do you go out of your way to cause trouble? I was here to help; now look what you made me do!"

I caused him to take hold of me and place his lips on mine? Was there something in me that made him want to take advantage of me? Did I give him a signal, a sign, anything that told him I wanted him to love me? Was he able to read my mind? Was it really my fault? my mind screamed.

"You're just a little girl. Forget what happened. I like you as a sister." Heath came to me one last time, grabbed my face in his hand, and made me look up at him. He was on the verge of tears; his face was red and twisted. "Do you understand that, kid?"

I cried out that I understood. He let go and stormed off, and I fell to the ground and wept. I wanted to hurl myself into the cold waters of the Atlantic, just as Momma did once before. I felt for the first time as she must have; I had enough despair to end my life. What did I matter any longer? Daddy only needed Momma, Momma didn't know who I was, and she didn't know she had a daughter. And she was long gone—far, far away, locked up in a cold institution where I would never see her again. Opal and Edward had their own family to worry about, Ayden didn't understand what was going on, and Elizabeth was only a baby.

Then there was Heath. He hated me; he blamed me for making him so frustrated by my childish actions that he lost his mind for a moment. In the heat of the moment, he probably thought I was Clara. After all, I was close to her age when he loved her; I was getting the same curves and filled-out bosom she had. Heath was confused, and when he realized it was me, he was angry. He was angry I wasn't Clara, and he had kissed a girl who was like a sister to him. He was disgusted with me, and I didn't blame him.

Everyone would be better off without me. So I decided to do it. I walked slowly, my head lowered, until I finally came to the same bluff where Momma had jumped to end her life. Lady came and sat by my side, and I told her to go away, but she refused to budge. I raised my head and looked out to the endless sea, and thought of all the souls that were out there, lying on the bottom of the ocean in their forever grave. That's where I was going to go. I wouldn't be alone, in a way. It was a perfect last day on Earth for me.

The breezes were soft; the sun was high against the clear blue sky. Overhead, the seagulls hovered, and the sight took me back to earlier days when I first came to Jasper Island. Those were good days, the best days I had ever had. Momma and Daddy were happy and in love; I had new friends. I went to school for the first time, and I had been lucky enough to have fallen in love with the most handsome boy in the world. However, it all changed, and life had altered so significantly it wasn't worth living any longer.

I turned and looked back at the lighthouse one last time and blew Daddy a kiss, and one for Elizabeth, closed my eyes, took a step, and felt myself float down until I hit the freezing waters of the sea. The instant pain took my breath away. It would be a painful death; that I hadn't truly expected. My body tried to keep me afloat; I tried to swim the strong currents, and my mind scrambled to find a way not to die as Lady stood on the bluff and barked for me to come back. I wanted to yell for help, but nothing came out. I was as mute as Elizabeth. I floated in the waves and it wasn't long before I grew so numb and tired from the cold that I couldn't keep my eyes open. I had no energy left; my will to survive was gone, and slowly I began my descent into the watery grave that would keep me evermore.

I opened my eyes, drained and exhausted, but my grave wasn't dark and murky, like the bottom of the sea. I was back on shore, lying in the cool, wet sand; the water rushed up then retreated against my legs. I stared up at the brilliant stars in the night, but I was not alone. Momma stood over me, encircled in a soft glow, as beautiful as ever. Her eyes were no longer glazed and empty, and she even called me by my name.

"Lillian, my darling," she whispered, reaching for my hand. I lifted my heavy arm to touch her hand, but I could not take hold of it. She was as much of an apparition as Victor was. Maybe I was in heaven, I thought, though when I sat up and looked around, I could see the lighthouse.

"I came to say goodbye," Momma said in an angelic voice.

"Where are you going, Momma?" I asked.

"Goodbye, Lillian," she said again, and then she vanished into the night sky.

Shivering from the cold, I made my way back to the house. Daddy wasn't passed out in the chair by the fire, so I went upstairs. He wasn't in his bed. As soon as I could, I pulled off my soaked dress and put on my bed clothes, then climbed into bed. I was confused, disturbed, and wished the entire day to go away in a dream. I closed my eyes and prayed that when I woke in the morning I would have things back as they were. Momma would be home and sane, Daddy would be happy, and Heath and Ayden would be waiting for me to go to school. I could have never wished for anything more, and as I began to sleep, I thought it was possible. But when I was shaken out of my sleep, I knew all too well that the merciless reality was never going to let go.

"Wake up, Lillian. You must get dressed," Daddy insisted. It was still dark.

"Why, Daddy?"

"Just do as I say," he said, and he took a dress out of the closet. I couldn't smell any rum on his breath.

When I didn't move fast enough, he came to help me dress. I began to fill with alarm. Did he know what I had done; did he know I'd tried to kill myself? Was he going to take me away to the asylum to be with Momma?

When he got close enough to lift my gown over my head, I realized he had been crying. His eyes that refused to meet mine were red and swollen.

"We have to hurry."

When I had my dress on, he ushered me down the stairs. It was then that I noticed he wasn't wearing his light keeper's uniform. He wore a dress shirt with a gray double-breasted vest, matching trousers, and a black slouch hat. I had never seen him in anything but his uniform. He appeared different, almost ordinary.

Daddy whisked me out into the night and into a row boat. I asked him several times where we were going and why, but he tried to stay focused, and didn't divulge the information until we landed on the mainland. There, after we were seated in the stagecoach, Daddy took hold of my hand, and with tears streaming down his pale, brokenhearted face, said, "Momma has gone to be with God. She is finally at peace."

Momma was dead? My vision was true, and she was a ghost. Had she really come to say goodbye to me before she made her way to heaven? Daddy brought me close to his side as I cried. It was dark and cold and I didn't know where we were going. All I could think of was that Momma was truly gone forever. She would never recover; she would never return to Jasper Island. She came one last time, and that was to see me. For that, I was grateful.

The stagecoach ride went half the night until we reached a small railroad town. Daddy got a room for the rest of the night and said we had to get up in a few hours. "We have a long trip ahead of us, Lillian. Get as much rest as you can," Daddy said just before he blew out the lamp.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Lillian."

"We are going to be okay, aren't we?" I asked.

Daddy didn't answer.

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# Chapter Thirteen

My eyes opened at the crack of dawn to an unfamiliar, stale, musty room and noises from the street that reminded me nothing of a lighthouse station. At first, I couldn't recall the events that brought me from Jasper Island, and then, as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes, I remembered. Daddy had taken me away to tell me Momma was dead. We were in a strange town, preparing to board a train, but I didn't know where to.

I assumed we were traveling to Indiana, to the asylum where Momma had died. It wasn't until Daddy and I arrived at the station ticket booth that I discovered we weren't going to Indianapolis at all.

After our tickets were purchased, we didn't have to wait long before the great black steam train made its way down the track and stopped. People were scattered everywhere, some waiting to board, others disembarking. It seemed like chaos to me. So much noise—and everyone was in such a hurry. Daddy had only one bag for me and carried it on after he handed the conductor our boarding tickets. I followed Daddy until we found two seats that appealed to him. After we were seated and the loud whistle had blown, indicating it was time to depart, I turned to Daddy and asked why we were traveling all the way to Savannah.

Daddy took a long breath then looked out the window to watch the station pass by. He struggled with his answer; it was almost too painful for him to say. Finally, he cleared his throat, and said, "That's where Momma is buried."

We were going to Momma and Daddy's home town, the place they had left long ago and to which they'd wanted never to return. I couldn't imagine why Daddy wanted to lay her to rest in Georgia and not in Maine, close to us, near the lighthouse. I asked him, but he didn't answer. Instead, he closed his cried-out eyes, placed his hat over his face, leaned back, and went to sleep. I hadn't noticed the passengers in our car until Daddy was asleep. There were old men and women, all dressed up in what looked like their Sunday best—straight faced, expressionless. I was not used to these kinds of people. I only knew fisherman, sailors, and lighthouse keepers. Of course, there was Miss Weatherbee. That made me wonder what everyone thought when I wasn't there to climb into the rowboat with Heath and Ayden for school. I hadn't missed one day of school. The only time I couldn't go was when the weather wouldn't permit Heath to row us over to the mainland. Yesterday, I would have never thought I would, the very next day, be on a train for the first time in my life, traveling south to bury my beloved Momma. It had been in my mind that my life was over, that my body would be on the bottom of the sea. Everything changed overnight; the life that I wanted to end had remained, turned upside down. I was willing to accept it; I had to believe it wasn't my time to go and that Momma had saved me. Maybe she put herself in my place.

For years, I had wanted to travel, but I didn't want the first time to be attending a funeral for my mother. I always expected to board a great ship and sail over the Atlantic and land in England. I would have never believed my first journey would be on steam train heading to the wounded deep South of America. I wasn't looking forward to it. I wasn't happy about any of it—not burying Momma, and not going to the horrible South that was full of Confederates. Though Daddy had been one, I was sure he regretted it, and believed if he could do it all over again, he would have joined the Union Navy. Maybe he was forced to serve for the Confederates; maybe his family insisted. I knew nothing about why Daddy had fought in the Civil War, just that he had, and he never, ever wanted to talk about it.

Daddy woke when he was hungry. He led me out the door and crossed the platform into the dining car. Daddy got each of us a cheese sandwich and milk and allowed me to sit by the window while we ate our small lunch. The landscape hadn't changed much at all in the hours the train moved along the miles of track. I had never been anywhere but on an island or in a small village on the coast of Maine. I wasn't sure what to expect as we passed from one state to another. I thought maybe there would be more interesting people, grand mansions, and beautiful scenery to look out at along the way. It was nothing but ordinary—tall pine trees and maples with only a hint of newly emerging buds covering hills and snow-topped mountains—until we reached the most southern states. Then I noticed the abundance of greenery and the wildflowers along the tracks.

The temperature in the car rose at least fifteen degrees; it became stuffy and uncomfortable. I was used to cold nights and didn't adapt well to the extreme heat as we were tossed about in our berth. I began to grow sick. My face was hot, my cheeks flushed, and I felt as though I was about to pass out. One nice woman, who must have been near Opal's age, boarded in Richmond, walked up the narrow aisle to Daddy, and tapped him on the shoulder. He was sleeping again, but he woke immediately.

"Sir, your young daughter doesn't look very well," she said.

Daddy sat up straight and came to his senses. He looked closely at me. I was slumped over, and he lifted me up and leaned me against his arm.

"She is just a little sleep deprived is all, but thank you for bringing it to my attention," Daddy said.

"Please take my handkerchief to wipe her brow with," she said, reaching out to pat my head, then going back to her seat. Daddy did as she suggested, then told me to try and relax. "We'll be there in only an hour."

I closed my eyes and dozed. The rattle of the windows and the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach kept me from resting peacefully. I was grateful when the train came to an abrupt halt and we were finally allowed to get out of the stuffy car, but the fresh air was not much better. It was heavy and moist. It didn't seem to affect Daddy as he hurried us to a carriage that took us to the cemetery where Momma was recently laid to rest.

The breeze on the carriage ride helped move the air around, and I began to feel better. Though the ride was long and bumpy, I enjoyed taking in the new sights and smells. It was as if I were transported straight into summer. The sun blazed high in the southern sky and scorched the soil. Along the way, I noticed several plantations with abandoned colossal mansions set back from the road—many destroyed and burnt to the ground, the only remains six or seven chimneys standing tall and proud amongst the ruins.

Daddy didn't say anything until we reached the cemetery. Then he said, "This is the place. Let's go say goodbye to Momma."

The grounds along the river were full of live oak trees, red cedar, and azaleas. It was the largest cemetery I had ever seen. We took the long walk to the north end until Daddy found the spot where Momma had been laid to rest. Daddy knelt on the fresh dirt, his hat in hand before her tombstone, and began to weep. I stayed back, twisting my hair around my finger, trying to contain my tears. His moment with Momma was private; everything around him disappeared, including me. Daddy was visibly lost without her; he was half the man he had been when she was near. I waited for him to call me over so I could pay my respects and give her a final goodbye. After we returned to Jasper Island I would not be able to see her grave again for many years, I thought. I wanted to make my farewell momentous; I needed Momma to know I would miss her, too. It wasn't just Daddy who suffered over her death.

When he eventually stepped aside, I made my way over. I was surprised that I held back my tears and was able to speak to her without sobbing uncontrollably.

"I will miss everything about you," I began. "I will miss your beautiful smile, your loving eyes. I will hear your angelic voice when the sun rises and sets each day. I will always remember how much you loved me. Even through your madness, I know you still loved me."

Daddy came over and placed his warm hand on my shoulder then I turned and fell into his arms. We cried together for the first time, and for the last time. I clung to Daddy, and he held me tight, sobbing, and whispered, "I'm so sorry."

I lifted my head from his chest and looked up at him, not understanding what he would be sorry for. After all, it wasn't his fault that Momma had died.

He was staring ahead, and I turned to see what had caught his attention. An aristocratic, aged woman wearing a black crepe dress and black gloves, holding a cane, stood a few feet away from Momma's grave. She was tall and regal, her hair silvery gray, with matching eyes as cold as stone. In the distance was her carriage and a Negro man—her driver. Daddy stood tall and sucked in his breath, then turned me around, placed my hand in his, then approached the woman. She stood like a statue with no emotion as Daddy formally introduced me. My mind scrambled to figure out who the woman was, why she was at the cemetery, and how Daddy knew her. Their eyes locked and held for a moment. I could see they had no fondness for one another.

"Eugenia, this is Lillian."

Her eyebrows lifted, and she gave me a brief look then said to Daddy in a cool, unaffected way, "She looks normal."

Daddy took immediate offense and snapped, "Of course she is normal."

"This is only temporary, you understand?" She had an accent, but it wasn't like the others in the South. She spoke like many of the English sailors Daddy had rescued over the years at Rock Ledge Island.

Daddy nodded to her, and she hastily took hold of my arm. I went to pull away, suddenly afraid of her, but Daddy nudged me forward, and without meeting my eyes said, "You will be staying with your grandmother for a while, Lillian."

In confusion and fear, I pulled away.

Daddy came to me, fell to his knees, and made me look at him. "I love you with all my heart; you must believe me," he said with great earnestness.

I frantically tried to read him; I wanted to know how he could abandon me and leave me with a complete stranger, a grandmother I didn't even know existed. He began to explain why he needed to leave me behind in an unfamiliar place.

"I have been reassigned to another station, a place more desolate than Rock Ledge Island. It's no place for you, Lillian. You need a relative to look after you; I just can't do that right now. " Daddy pleaded for me to understand, to accept his helplessness, and do as he asked without putting up a fight.

"I want to stay with you, Daddy. I can help you at any station, you know that!"

"Not now. Give me a few months," he said, then took hold of my hands. "I promise I will come back for you."

"Enough of this," the grandmother spat, pulling me away from Daddy. "You must leave now. You're making matters worse!"

Daddy stood to go, then placed a quick kiss on my cheek. I reached for him, but he walked away, and I was held back from running after him.

"Daddy, please don't go; please don't leave me here!" I screamed. "Daddy, please!"

Grandmother called for the driver to help her take me. I protested, and when she wouldn't let me go, I kicked her so hard she had no choice but to release her grip on me. I ran, ran as fast as I could to Daddy. He stopped, spun around, and swept me up into his arms. I was certain he had changed his mind, realized what a terrible mistake he had almost made. But then, to my dismay, he carefully lowered me to the ground and let go. I saw it then, in his tired, defeated face, without any doubt—he wasn't taking me back with him.

I cried, begged, and pleaded for Daddy at the top of my lungs as he climbed onto the carriage that had waited for him. Then it sped away. The grandmother's driver awkwardly took hold of me and carried me into their carriage then we took off in the opposite direction. When it finally sank in that I had been deserted by Daddy, that he wasn't going to take me with him, I sat back, stunned and dismayed. I had no fight left in me.

Grandmother kept a trivial smirk on her face that sent shivers through me. She was nothing of what I'd expected if I ever did have a grandmother. There was nothing kind or sweet about her. She obviously didn't have a loving bone in her old body.

She didn't say a word to me as we made our way down the dusty roads until we came upon a formerly glorious plantation. Above the long, live oak-lined entrance was an iron arch with the name Sutton Hall impressed on it. The two and a half-story stucco-brick mansion was ahead, surrounded by an abundance of fragrant magnolia trees, which must have been grand before being ravaged by the war. There were thick, green vines growing along the columned facade and double-wide front galleries. Some of the windows were broken, and all of them were filthy. The gardens were overgrown and full of weeds.

The driver stopped in front, and Grandmother hurried me off the carriage. She pushed me forward and I fell out and down into the only puddle I had seen since my arrival in Georgia.

"Get up!" she commanded.

I was covered in mud and she had no sympathy for me. However, I could see some pity in the driver's face, the Negro man Grandmother called Hamilton. I slowly rose, followed her up the stairs to the front entrance. Hamilton unhitched the horse and led it to the stables.

"Take off your dress," she said before we entered. I then realized Daddy had forgotten to give me my bag. I had nothing to change into.

"But I have no clothes," I said, choking back my tears.

"There are clothes in your mother's old wardrobe. Now do as I say!"

She wanted me to undress out in the open. I was mortified. When I hesitated, she began to forcefully unbutton my dress. She became impatient and violently stripped off my dress until I was in nothing but my chemise. I tried to cover myself with my hands, fearing the whole world was looking at me, and I hid my tears with my long hair.

"Now get on with it," she hissed, and pushed me inside. The mansion in which she had insisted I not wear my muddy dress was empty and dirty. The wide wooden floors were covered in dust and mud. I didn't understand why she made me undress.

This was once my mother's home, I thought. The woman that appeared to loath me had given Momma life? I couldn't believe it.

"Upstairs with you," she said, ushering me up the enormous grand staircase, which was broken and missing balusters, to the second floor. Down the long, bare hall she led me until she stopped at the furthest door, and then said matter-of-factly, "Here is where you'll be staying."

She unlocked the heavy wooden door to reveal a drab, dark room with a four poster bed and an armoire in the corner. There were no bed clothes, only a coarse mattress. There was no other furniture, except the lone armoire.

"You will find what you need in the armoire. You look the size of Amelia the day she ran off with your dishonorable father, except," she said, gazing down at my developing bosom, "your mother was much more voluptuous."

Grandmother stepped back towards the door as I tried to find words to speak. I was distraught, so much so that I didn't know how to ask the questions that burned in my mind. Was she really my grandmother? Did Momma really run off with Daddy? She frightened me; she looked at me as though I were one of the freaks in the sideshows of the circus Heath, Ayden, and I went to long ago.

"I will have your food sent up to you later," Grandmother said, then closed the door and locked it. The sound of the key turning the lock sent my mind screaming. I was being locked away, just like Momma. I wasn't out of my senses. Why was I being shut away? I could do nothing but bring my hands to my face and cry. Sobs filled the room and bounced off every wall. It was the worst day of my life.

Never before had I felt so unloved and unwanted. I craved Daddy; I missed Opal, the woman who had become like a mother to me. I longed for Ayden to cheer me up with his silly antics, and most of all, I missed Heath. If he knew what had happened to me, for sure he would tell his father to have Daddy come get me and take me back to Jasper Island. I didn't know what to think and could only fall onto the bed and curl up in a ball, wishing myself away. I wiped my tears and closed my eyes and thought back to my last day at the lighthouse station. That day had changed the entire course of my life. I had planned to end it, yet here I was, in a new place with new, unbearable beginnings. Heath and I had parted on adverse terms, and I regretted not listening to him and causing him to be angry with me. I missed him terribly, so much so it hurt my heart just to envision his handsome face in the back of my mind. I was so emotionally drained, so tired from regrets and incomprehension of what had just happened to me, that I wasn't aware I had fallen asleep until I was harshly shaken awake.

Grandmother towered over me holding a candle in one hand and a plate of food in the other. The glow of the flame cast an eerie shadow over her that made me instantly sit up and back away to the farthest part of the bed.

"What aren't you dressed?" she demanded. "Get up and get dressed!"

I flew up and ran to the armoire and pulled out the first dress I got my hands on. I was shaking so terribly that I couldn't get the dress over my head fast enough. With fury in her eyes, she spun around and left, again locking the door behind her.

"Wait!" I called, running to the door. The room was black; there was no table or lamp in the room. "Please don't keep me locked in here!" I wailed.

There was no answer; there was not one soul that would come and help me. My heart pounding in my chest and my stomach in knots, I felt my way around the room with my hands pressing up along the dust-covered walls until I finally found the heavy drapes to the window. I pulled them back to reveal the moon. I was so thankful that there was a full moon and clear skies, allowing just enough moonlight to fill the room. I slumped down to the floor and again curled up, trembling and trying to rock myself calm. How could Daddy leave me in such a place? What was I to think? What would I do without him? He had promised it would only be for a little while. I hoped and prayed I could last until Daddy came to take me away from my hell on earth that was Sutton Hall.

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# Chapter Fourteen

For two nights and three days, Grandmother kept me locked up without food or water, punishing me just because I existed. I couldn't imagine what I did to deserve such torture; I couldn't understand how Daddy could ever think being in the care of my grandmother, who hated everything about me, could be better than living with him on a remote lighthouse station.

During my isolation I spent every hour that I could trying to remain asleep. There was no reason to rise when the sun came up; one day was no different from the next, until finally the door unlocked, and Grandmother declared that I was now allowed to eat. I was so sick from lack of nourishment that I could barely rise when she came in to leave the plate on the floor. She didn't stay, but she had Hamilton come in and remove my chamber pot. He tried hard not to look at me. He was a very large older man with salt and pepper hair. His face was wrinkled and very worn. And just as I thought he was turning to go, he picked up my plate and kindly laid it beside me on the bed. Then he hurried out before Grandmother saw that he had helped me in any way. He was frightened of her—that I could see.

On my plate were two pieces of a kind of corn bread. That was all. I was fortunate to have a glass of milk, also left on the floor. I was able to keep down the food in my stomach, and by the time I drank the milk, I felt somewhat better. With some energy returned, I was able to get up and go over to the wardrobe. I was curious to see what it held, if anything other than a half-dozen beautiful dresses. I moved them aside, and to my delight, I found a rag doll, a candle, some matches, several books, a slate, and one small piece of chalk. It didn't take me long to open one of the books and begin to read The House of the Seven Gables.

The book immediately drew me in, and I found myself passing the hours, my mind completely captivated by the story. The chilling tale reminded me all too well of the gypsy I met years before and Momma's fear of witches. This, after all, was Momma's book. Was that what instilled her fears? Was there even more to the story that correlated with Momma's life than I could have ever even imagined? Was Sutton Hall anything like The House of the Seven Gables? Would Sutton Hall reveal ghosts and witches and family curses? The thought frightened me. I hoped never to find out; I planned to be long gone before the ghosts of Sutton Hall had any chance to reveal themselves. Daddy would come to bring me back with him. He would realize he had to live without Momma, but he certainly didn't have to live without me. Daddy would soon need me by his side and return me to the only place I would ever feel safe. The lighthouse.

It didn't matter where the lighthouse was—on a remote and isolated stretch of land far out in the Atlantic Ocean, or with any luck, back on Jasper Island. I had taken my world, my life, for granted. Maybe I should have appreciated Momma more and understood Daddy's loss. Perhaps I could have been more understanding with Heath and given Ayden more attention. If I had the chance to do it all over again, I would in a second. I wished and wished each night that I lay alone in the eerie old mansion, that the day would come that I would have the opportunity to see them all again.

I read book after book, and a week at Sutton Hall passed. Grandmother sent my meager food up only once a day, and I lost weight rapidly. If she noticed, she didn't say. Every time she entered the room to deliver the plate, I begged for my freedom, pleaded with her to telegram Daddy and have him come and get me. She ignored my cries; she refused to look at me.

"Why am I here if you hate me?" I asked one hot afternoon in the stuffy room. She was there to retrieve the plate and then leave. When she didn't answer, I stood and demanded she let me out of the room. "You can't keep me locked in here forever!"

Even Momma, who was completely out of her mind, managed to find a way out, even if that meant she had to be sent to an asylum.

Grandmother's eyes narrowed and she took several steps towards the bed.

"Oh, can't I?" she hissed. "I learned something from your mother, and that is that all girls, when they start to come into flower, should be locked away. If I had only known better, I wouldn't have the burden of you today."

I didn't know what she meant. She saw my bewilderment.

"Amelia was a beautiful girl; every man desired her. I warned her. But she was wild and full of sin; she didn't heed my warning, and it wasn't long before she was with child from a most unholy union." Her face twisted in disgust, and she looked at me, shooting daggers with her stone-cold eyes.

That child was me, but I wasn't unholy. I was as pure as their marriage, as wholesome as their love.

"Without a doubt, you are the exact image of your mother—inside and out," she said. She made an about-face and slammed the door behind her. I didn't believe what Grandmother said had an ounce of truth. Momma was wholesome; she only had eyes for Daddy. Indeed, she was beautiful, much more beautiful than her own mother. Maybe that's why Grandmother hated Momma and made up terrible lies about her—because she was jealous. I was fortunate to be just like Momma; there was no reason for me ever to take Grandmother's words as an insult. The next time she came to the room to deliver my meal, I would tell her so.

Hours passed slowly, and even though I spent most of my time reading, which helped take my mind off my dreadful imprisonment, I wanted more than anything to be free. It was difficult to concentrate on anything but that. Between reading and sleeping, I devised plans to escape. I thought of climbing out the window, but it was high up, and I was afraid of falling and breaking all my bones. I could tackle Grandmother, knock her down, and run out of the room. But there was Hamilton, who would be there to catch me and bring me back. My options were limited, my boredom was excruciating, my life dismal. There was a chance I could go mad, just like Momma. There was nothing else to do but lose all sense of reality in such circumstances.

I was losing track of time, and to fight off the possibility, I decided to take my piece of chalk and write the days on the bottom of the wall beside the bed. I started on day eight. Doing that, keeping track of time, was one key to staying sane. If only I had the most important thing of all—the key to the door.

In the following weeks, after endlessly trying to communicate with Hamilton when he came to empty my chamber pot, I almost gave up. I knew he heard my pleas; I saw the way he would try and speak with his big, wide eyes, but he never said a word, and I couldn't figure out what he was trying to say. Was he asking me to leave him be? I wasn't sure until one stormy afternoon, as the wind and rain battered against the only window of my room; I tried once again, having nothing better to do.

As soon as I caught his eye, I said, "When I was on Jasper Island, I loved the rain. I used to go outside and stick my tongue out to catch the rain drops in my mouth. I would sure love to be able to do that again."

I didn't realize Grandmother was right behind him. She was there, bringing my meal hours early. She scowled at me then said, "He is mute, you fool. He can't talk to you, so stop trying." Hamilton shifted his eyes away and took the pot, then hurried past her.

"I noticed you have been an obedient child," she said, her words taking me by surprise."I have decided to allow you out of your room tomorrow."

I jumped up from my bed and went to thank her, but she pointed her cane at me, and commanded, "Sit back down! You will be doing the cleaning from now on. I will come and get you. You will clean as I watch over you then return to your room."

It was sad to be so grateful for such a small thing—being able to leave a room to be a servant, but it was all I had. It was an opportunity to see the place Momma grew up, even if I was the one cleaning it.

Grandmother saw the enthusiasm in my eyes, and she didn't like it one bit. "You will be working from sun-up to sundown. Do you understand, girl? Maybe if your mother had lifted a finger in her life, she would have appreciated everything her father and I had done for her. After all, Sutton Hall wasn't built out of nothing. Thomas spent years making it happen, seeing his dreams fulfilled. And they were," she declared, "until the war. We were stripped of our wealth, but not our dignity. The war couldn't take that away, nor could Amelia." She spoke as if I understood how to read between the lines of her words. "Now there is a mess to clean up, and it is time. The rebuilding of Georgie has been painstakingly slow. We must do our part to help revise the great South and bring Sutton Hall back to its former glory. And let me say one thing to you, Yankee girl," she paused, and then straightened her spine. "The South shall most certainly rise again."

It was odd to hear her talk with such a heavy British accent and declare her southern pride. Was it my grandfather's pride that lived on in her? I was anxious to begin putting the pieces of my family's history together. Sutton Hall was the obvious place to have it all unfold. But just how many pieces were there, and would it all be revealed before Daddy came to take me home with him?

The next morning, as early as Heath, Ayden, and I used to wake for school, Grandmother came in and announced I had a full day of cleaning ahead of me. She showed me out of the room, and I tried to take it all in. The dilapidation was even more excessive than I had originally noticed many weeks before.

Grandmother walked so swiftly that I didn't have time to see what was in each room as we made our way down the dark hall. I could tell there had once been a runner by the way the wood was worn. We headed down the staircase and proceeded through wide mahogany doors into the main dining room, which now was completely empty. Near the top of the twelve-foot ceilings was ornate crown molding, and in the very center was a medallion that used to surround, no doubt, a beautiful crystal chandelier. The walls were bare and bland with unoccupied cobwebs in every corner, but I could see outlines where numerous, most certainly expensive, oil paintings must have been prominently displayed. There was a fireplace, but its marble mantel had been removed. Grandmother was aware of how sad the mansion appeared. It was her weakness. She had a soft side for the house that showed when she gazed around or tried explaining the tragedy that stole the mansion's beauty. However, she always reminded me that her character was still there, just waiting to come back out.

"I have an inheritance coming to me. My dear father, who resided in Wales until his death several months ago, left it all to me. When I finally receive the money, I will spend every dime of it refilling Sutton Hall with its belongings. The Union army stole it all, and I will spend every waking minute getting it all back."

Grandmother wore a faraway look. For a moment, I felt some sympathy for her, until she saw someone in the center hall that she thought was eavesdropping. She marched over to the woman, who thought she was undetectable, and grabbed her by the arm.

"How dare you spy on me, Abigail!"

The woman, who I suspected was another of Grandmother's former slaves, snatched her arm back, and pleaded, her hands above her face, not to be struck. Abigail was nearly the same age as Hamilton, yet she was even more petrified of Grandmother than I.

"I wasn't spying on you, Mrs. Arrington," she said in a trembling voice.

"How many times have I told you to mind your business?" Grandmother said through clenched teeth.

"I'm sorry. I was only trying to see her," Abigail explained.

"You stay away from the girl. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, now go get the brush and pail."

Abigail scurried away, but not before looking at me. Grandmother shot me a cold warning stare. She wanted me to stay away from Abigail. It was in my best interest not to make waves, to stay quiet, and let information unfold around me.

But Abigail had revealed Grandmother's name. How could she be Mrs. Arrington when she was my maternal grandmother? Though—she never had said she was. Maybe Momma only stayed at Sutton Hall, as I had done on occasion at the Daltons' home. Could Momma have been an orphan, taken in by Daddy's mother? But he called her Eugenia, I remembered, not Momma or Mother. How odd, I thought.

"Girl!" Grandmother barked, interrupting my deep thoughts. "Take the bucket and get to work. I will be sitting in the parlor across the hall, having my afternoon tea."

I watched her leave, then turned and dropped the brush into the soapy water. I saw Abigail staring at me through one of the hazy windows. I smiled at her, but as soon as I did, she rushed away. Though I was alone, on my hands and knees, scrubbing filth from the wood floors, I sensed Grandmother's eyes were on me, and I worked hard to do a good job. I needed her approval. I wanted to win her over. Maybe she would learn to like me, if not love me like a granddaughter, and we could spend my short time here together getting to know one another.

As I scrubbed away, I imagined telling her about the lighthouse station and how great a lighthouse keeper Daddy was. I would tell her how devoted Momma was to Daddy, and that she never once strayed from him, that she was a truly devoted wife. I couldn't reveal her madness, though. That, I planned to keep a secret.

When I was finished with the one room, after hours of scrubbing with all my might, I went into the parlor where she sat in one lone chair facing the window that overlooked the destroyed gardens. She had been sitting there the entire morning.

"I have finished, Grandmother," I announced.

She slowly turned her head, expressionless, and told me to do it again. When I didn't respond, in shock at her order, she repeated herself, more firmly.

"But—"

"Get on with it!"

I scurried away, like one of her servants, back to the dining room. I glanced over the clean floor and wondered why I had to do it again. It was perfectly clean, spotless, in fact. She hadn't even come to see.

So, unhappily, I got down and painstakingly repeated the process, until the sun rose high above the mansion, causing the day to turn unbearably hot. I was uncomfortable, exhausted, and ready to collapse. Hamilton came in and saw me sitting against the wall, trying to relax for a moment. He worriedly came over and nudged me to get up.

"I can't," I whispered. "I'm so tired."

He lifted the bucket full of dirty water, dumped it outside, and then returned. He tried to get back to me before I was noticed resting, but he was too late.

"Get off the floor," Grandmother hollered from where she stood over me.

"I'm sorry; it's so hot," I stammered as I guided myself up against the wall, but she wouldn't hear it.

"You are as lazy and undependable as Amelia. You didn't do as you were told. You have disrespected me!" Without warning, she struck my face with the back of her hand, sending me barreling to the floor. "Get back to your room! You're good for nothing. Do you understand!"

I cried as I passed her and ran outside, not knowing where I was running to. She called for me to return and said that if I did not obey her there would be dire consequences. But I didn't stop running until I found myself down by the edge of the river. I threw myself to the ground and beat my fists against the dirt, demanding to know why I was put in such an awful place. Though there was no one to answer me, I wanted to know what I had done to deserve such punishment. Daddy needed to take me back; I couldn't wait any longer. Now that I had disobeyed Grandmother, I would be locked away until he did come for me. She would starve me for certain, probably take the key, and throw it away. I had to keep running. So I stood, wiped my tears, and decided on the direction I believed Savannah was. I heard her call for Hamilton to hunt me down. Panic in my throat, I lifted my dress and sped along the river, ducking under branches and around trees. Panic kept my feet moving, the fear of being beaten and thrown back into the bedroom for good gave me the energy to go faster.

The house fell into the distance, then out of sight. I ran on, though my legs were aching, my side was splitting, and I was in dire need of water, I wasn't going to stop until it was safe and far away from the claws of my wicked grandmother, and no longer under the evil spell of Sutton Hall.

The heat of the day spilled into the night. I found myself wandering aimlessly through the forest. The river was still close, and I stopped and rested, drank some water, then sat against a sweet magnolia tree when I believed Hamilton was no longer on my trail, and it was safe enough. Then, after a short rest, I got up and walked some more, hoping I was heading in the right direction—towards Savannah. There I planned to stow away on a train that would take me back to Maine. I could easily make my way back to Jasper Island, even if I had to walk all the way to the harbor that was once my home.

My plan was good; I was comfortable with it. I had walked all of the afternoon and night, and as my legs refused to move any longer, I found a spot in a dense marsh area on the edge of the woods I had wandered into, lay down on the soft ground, and fell into a deep, long-needed sleep. I dreamt of Momma that night and saw her as the little girl that once lived in Sutton Hall. She was lovely and happy, and when I woke, I missed everything about her. My heart was melancholy, and I wished I weren't so alone and lost. I wanted more than anything to go back in time and have my life intact. I wished Momma was still alive and Daddy able to protect me from harm. But my reality was a slap in the face, worse than Grandmother's brutal slap. My mind wanted me to rise and continue to walk towards Savannah, but my legs refused to conform. My feet were full of sores, and my legs were heavy. I didn't think I would be able to move a muscle until a snake slithered towards me. I screamed with fright and jumped up without any trouble. It curled up and went to strike, but I moved away, just before the bite. I backed off, hoping it would leave me alone, but from behind me I heard the blast of gunpowder. I twirled around, fearing Hamilton was shooting at me, but to my relief and surprise, it was a man—a stranger on foot. He was as tall as Heath, but years older, though not as aged as Daddy, and came to my rescue wearing a Union slouch hat.

After the snake was dead, I hurried towards the man that saved me from being bit and possibly poisoned and left to die.

"What is a young lady like yourself doing out here? This place is loaded with dangerous snakes and alligators."

"I see that," was all I could say.

"Have you gotten lost?" he asked, peering into my eyes, which I kept hidden under thick strands of hair that fell over my face. I didn't want him to know I had run away; I couldn't have him take me back to Grandmother.

"I got separated from my daddy," I said, which after all, wasn't a lie.

"What happened? Was there a wagon accident? You look like you have been out here for a long time; you're skin and bones." He stood before me and waited for my explanation. I brushed my hair aside and gazed up at him. He had thick, wavy hair under his hat. It was golden blond with thick platinum streaks, and his sea green eyes were deeply mysterious.

"There was no accident. We were taking a walk, and we accidentally got separated and I lost my way," I said, hoping he would believe me. After all, that is essentially what happened.

The man frowned, looked closely at me, and then said, "You look familiar. Do you live around these parts?"

"No. I think my daddy is in Savannah waiting for me. Could you possibly take me there?" I hoped he would agree to take me.

"Why would he be in Savannah waiting for you if you were lost? Wouldn't he be out looking for you?"

My heart began to race. I was afraid he knew I was lying.

"I suppose," I said.

"Well, then, why don't you come with me, and we'll see what we can do to find him. I don't live far. My horse is over yonder."

He didn't wait for me to agree and walked back towards the horse, expecting me to follow. Something inside me told me not to go, that I needed to stick to my plan, and not be sidetracked. The man would figure out I was lying and send me back to the horrible mansion. He seemed kind, he appeared genuinely concerned, but could I trust him? I stayed motionless, trying to decide whether to run or go with him. When he noticed I wasn't steps behind him, he turned, and I decided to run. I wasn't going to take another chance; I had to get back to Daddy.

"Stop!" the man shouted, but not before I had tripped on my dress and fallen hard. I screamed in pain, and he rushed over to help me up.

"My leg," I moaned. He lifted me and carried me off. I clung to him and cried in agony.

"My place is not far; I will take you there," he said, carefully lifting me onto his horse. He mounted behind me and said, "I will hold on to you so you don't fall." He pulled me close, and just before we took off, a horse-drawn carriage flew down the road. It was Hamilton and Grandmother.

"Please, take me with you," I said before they got to me.

"Why? I don't understand," I turned my head and looked up at him. He saw the desperation in my face and the pleading in my eyes, and he kicked the horse into a gallop and headed off the road and into the woods. He held me tight against him as we jumped thick logs and dodged tall live oaks until we lost them. Then the man slowed the horse to a trot until we arrived at what appeared to be his home. It was a small cabin hidden deep in the woods. He dismounted, and I slid down the side of the horse and into his arms. His arms were as strong as Daddy's, and I felt safe with him.

He carried me inside his sparse dwelling, placed me in the nearest chair, and cordially introduced himself. "My name is Warren Stone." He extended his hand. "And you are?"

I didn't want to reveal my name; I wanted no one to know I belonged to Sutton Hall and the wicked grandmother who ruled it. So I made up a name, the first one that came to mind.

"I'm Clara Dalton," I said, then shook his hand. The pain in my leg was still excruciating, but my curiosity about Warren helped relax me.

"Well, it is nice to meet you, Clara. I'm sorry my place is such a mess. I wasn't expecting company." He saw me wince in pain. "I better take a look at your leg, if that is all right with you."

I nodded. He lifted the bottom of my dress to reveal my ankle. It was swollen and already starting to bruise. He gently touched my ankle, keeping his eyes on my face to see how badly it hurt when he tried to move it.

"Ouch!"

"I'm sorry, Clara. I didn't mean to hurt you. I think you only sprained it, though I am not a doctor."

"I don't need to see a doctor. I just need to rest it for a while. Then I have to get to Savannah. Will you please take me there, Mr. Stone?"

"Well, I don't know, Clara. Those people—why were they after you?" His eyes narrowed, and I looked away, afraid he would see the truth—that I was running from them.

"I don't know who they were."

Warren placed his finger under my chin and guided my face up so I would look at him. Our faces were only inches apart, and he stared at me for the longest time, studying me with such scrutiny that it made my heart skip a beat. His eyes suddenly turned light to dark, then widened, as if he had just seen a ghost.

_______________

# Chapter Fifteen

After an awkward moment, Warren backed away and cleared his throat, then said, "You must be hungry. Let me fix you something to eat."

I was famished and watched as he prepared a simple meal. He knew his way around the kitchen; he obviously lived alone. The one-room cabin was somewhat disarrayed. The bed wasn't made, the floors needed a sweep, and the table was covered in plates that needed to be washed. I wondered why he wasn't married; he was certainly handsome enough to have a wife.

"Here you are," he said, watching as I devoured the food, then asked, "Clara, where are you and your father from?"

I took my last bite of macaroni, wiped my mouth with a napkin, and thought for a moment about the kind of lie I needed to tell. He could obviously see I was a Yankee, so I figured I wouldn't lie about where I was from, but everything else, from Momma to Daddy's names and facts would all have to be made up. I didn't know if it was going to be believable.

"Daddy, Momma, and I are from a small town up north. Daddy was here on business, though I'm not certain what. I came because Momma was sick in the hospital, and Daddy had to bring me."

Warren folded his arms over his chest and carefully scrutinized my story. I was vague, too vague.

"What is your momma sick from?"

"The doctors aren't sure," I said, which was essentially true for all the years Momma was alive.

"And your daddy—what kind of business is he in?"

"He is a fisherman."

"What kind of business does a fisherman have in Savannah, and not Charleston?"

I wasn't good at telling lies, and my plan was falling apart. My face turned red, and I shifted my eyes to stare vacantly out the small window beside the table where we sat.

"Clara, look at me."

Warren was so much like Daddy. He had an air of fatherly concern about him, but at the same time, he was just as youthful and wise as Heath. I couldn't face him as the tears of all my fears began to stream down my cheeks. I was so afraid he would see that I belonged to Eugenia Arrington, and take me back. Warren came and knelt in front of me, placed his warm hand on my knee, then said, "Tell me what really happened."

"I can't," I said, trying desperately to hold back my sobs. He turned my face, just as Daddy would, and made me look at him. His eyes were soft and revealed genuine affection for me.

"I am here to help you. You can trust me. Does this all have to do with the Arringtons?"

He saw from my wide-eyed expression that he was correct. Warren instantly saw my pain and wanted to comfort me. Though he was a stranger, and Daddy had warned me never to trust any man but him, I felt a connection with Warren, and I believed he was going to help me.

"Why are you running from them?"

"My name isn't Clara; it's Lillian. Lillian Arrington," I cried. "That was my grandmother who was looking for me." My emotions flooded out like a broken dam, I needed someone to talk to desperately. As soon as I started, I couldn't stop until I had not one more tear to shed, and I fell into his soothing embrace. I told him everything. How we lived on Jasper Island with the Daltons and how Momma went insane and was put away in an asylum and Daddy began to fall apart. I mentioned Heath and Ayden, my two very best friends, though I didn't tell Warren how I truly felt about Heath. I explained why we left the lighthouse station, why we came to Savannah, and that Daddy had left me with a grandmother I never knew existed. And as I exposed Grandmother's evil plan to keep me locked away until Daddy came for me, Warren's face filled with shock and disbelief and sadness.

"All I want to do is go home," I sobbed onto his shoulder.

"You poor dear," he said softly allowing me to cling to him. When I was finished crying, I pulled back and again couldn't look at him. Now that I had revealed the truth, what would he do? Would he help me get back to Savannah and on a train back north, or would he have no choice but to take me back to Sutton Hall and leave me in the cruel hands of my grandmother?

Warren took the cloth from the table and wiped my remaining tears away, then said, "You can stay here with me, Lillian, until we figure out what to do."

With a warm smile, he turned my face and asked me to give him a smile. I did as he said, and it actually felt good.

"That's better. Now I have some chores to do. Why don't you come sit outside and rest on the porch while I do that? I don't want you to lift a finger, do you hear?"

"But your house needs some tidying up. Can't I do that for you, Mr. Stone? It would be my way of thanking you for helping me in my greatest time of need."

"I won't hear of it. You are tired and weak, and you have a hurt ankle. Come now; I will carry you to the rocking chair outside. Okay?" I reluctantly agreed and allowed him to lift me up into his arms.

I watched, feeling peaceful, a feeling I hadn't experienced in a while, as he split wood for several hours. My ankle was feeling better, as were my spirits. I was certain that Daddy and I would be reunited before long. I would get to Jasper Island, and Edward would know where Daddy was. I would see Ayden and Heath again. Then my time in Georgia would be behind me, and I would never think of it again, I told myself. I would never think of any of it, with the exception of Warren Stone. I would always be grateful to him. He had quickly wandered into my heart and taken hold of it, just as Heath had. I enjoyed watching him, as I used to watch Heath row Ayden and I to school.

The day's heat left his body glistening with sweat. He occasionally went to the well for a cold drink, then took the bucket and dumped it over himself when the heat became unbearable. I was under the shade of the porch, and although the day was scorching with heat and humidity, I managed to stay comfortable. After the wood was split, he smiled and waved at me, then called out, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thank you," I called back.

"I'll be done in an hour or so." I nodded, and Warren went on to neatly stack the wood as I patiently waited.

"Are you still hungry, Lillian? I know I am famished," he asked when he was done.

"I little, I guess."

"You're too skinny. Let's have some apple butter. Let me take you inside," he said, and went to lift me up, but I said, "No, let me walk. You shouldn't be carrying me around like a child."

He was surprised for a moment, then in a more serious tone, asked, "How old are you, Lillian?"

I hesitated before answering. I feared he would call me a kid, the way Heath did, that he would believe I was a little girl and not a young woman. There was no way I wanted him to know my real age, so I lied about it.

Warren eyes scanned me, quickly; his eyes lingered on my bosom for a fleeting moment, then he looked away and I watched his face turn bright red. If he didn't believe me, there was no indication. He changed the subject by leading me inside and offering me supper.

Warren was gracious and attentive. I told him many stories of my days on Jasper Island. I was happy to have someone hear about my world and the place that made me complete. I mentioned my days at the beach collecting sea shells with Ayden and Heath; I described the summer nights studying the constellations through Heath's telescope. I told him about some of Daddy's rescues, how he pulled sailors out of the stormy sea before they drowned, and what a great lighthouse keeper he was. I explained how a lighthouse worked, as Warren didn't know anything about them. He was amazed at my knowledge and the adventures that Heath, Ayden, and I had shared, and I described everything about Elizabeth—from her curly blond hair and bright blue eyes, to the way Heath and I taught her how to sign.

Warren was most interested in Momma and Daddy and leaned forward with his full attention when I described how in love they were.

"Momma's eyes lit up every time she saw Daddy. She was so beautiful, and every man who ever saw her thought so. Daddy didn't like other men gazing at her. But she only had eyes for him, and they were deeply in love; even when she went mad, she was still in love with him," I said, and took a long breath.

Warren was on the edge of his chair, engrossed in the story then asked in a somber tone, "Your momma—how did she die?"

"Daddy never told me," I replied, wiping away a small tear that escaped the corner of my eye.

"She is buried here, in Savannah?"

"Yes."

He went quiet, deep in thought. His eyes glazed over with a sorrow that I had only seen in Daddy. I suspected maybe he had lost a love once, maybe even a wife, but I was unsure I could ask him something so personal. Then he revealed, of his own accord, what I wanted to know. Warren stared at me intently, earnest in his own memories of a woman who'd claimed his heart, just as Momma had done to Daddy.

"I had a love once, a love that took hold of my heart and never let go. She was a strikingly beautiful young woman, and I fell madly in love with her from the first moment I set eyes on her."

"And what happened to her?" I asked in a soft whisper, both jealous and captivated by his passionate memories of a woman that he obviously never stopped loving.

"To my dismay, to my sheer wretchedness, she was in love with another man. He took her far away; they married, but not one day has gone by that I haven't thought about her. Not one day, Lillian," he said, with such angst, it made my heart pound heavy in my chest. I couldn't imagine any woman not falling madly in love with Warren. He was handsome and sincere. Warren brought a sense of Heath to me, so much so it made me frightened of my own feelings. It was everything Momma had described to me. I felt for Warren the way she had for Daddy. Almost as much, if not more, than I had for my childhood crush Heath Dalton. Momma had told me about love at first sight; she said it happened with Daddy. "The moment he stepped into the room, I knew I would love him forever," she once told me.

That kind of love was genuine and everlasting, and as much as I thought I could share that emotion with Heath, I knew he didn't feel the same way for me, though he did kiss me once. But it was a mistake; he told me so. I knew he was thinking of Clara when he placed his soft lips on mine; I remembered. Heath would never love me the way I loved him. He loved me like a sister, nothing more, and nothing less.

The night was sweltering; there was no relief from the imposing heat. Warren gave me one of his long dress shirts to wear and his bed to sleep in. He was a gentleman, in every way.

"I will sleep outside on the porch," he said after I was situated in the bed. "Is there anything I can get you before you go to sleep?"

He was standing at the foot of the bed when he asked me. I sat up and smiled, then said with much sincerity, "You have given me hope, Mr. Stone. Thank you for everything."

He had saved me from being returned to imprisonment; he was going to take me to Savannah, the first step in my return to Jasper Island, and for that, I was eternally grateful.

"Goodnight then," he said, and I didn't close my eyes until he was out the door and settled on the porch for the night.

My eyes were closed, but in my mind, all I could see was Daddy's face, and I imagined how happy he would be to see me again. At first, he would be taken back by my appearance, but hopefully he would understand and see that he was wrong, that he shouldn't have sent me away and left me with my evil grandmother. I would tell him how she locked me away and starved me, and that she struck me. Daddy would know that Warren Stone had saved me from the poisonous snake and was the sole reason I was alive and returned to him. I imagined Daddy opening his loving arms and me running into his embrace. He would smother me with kisses and tell me he was sorry, that he'd made a terrible mistake by leaving me in Savannah, and that he would never do such a thing again. We would go on to work the lighthouse together and happiness would find us, even if we were many miles out into the Atlantic, far away from the people of the world.

The only thing I wanted to do was keep in touch with Warren, exchange occasional letters. Perhaps he could even come and visit us. Daddy would thank him for rescuing me, for saving his daughter, his only child. I could see them becoming friends, and I also saw a chance, an ever-so-slight chance, that maybe in time, Warren could fall in love with me, and love me just as much as he did the woman who gave her heart to another man.

I spent the entire night thinking about our trip into Savannah, the train ride home, and the long journey to Jasper Island. I hoped Warren would spare me some money, for I had none. He wasn't as desperate and destitute as Grandmother, though I didn't know what he did for a living.

I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned and finally, when the sun rose bright and early, I got into my dress and went out to wake Warren. He slouched in the rocker, in a deep sleep, almost the way Daddy used to be when he drank from his bottles of rum. I placed my hand on his arm and lightly shook him until he slowly came awake. His heavy lids gradually opened, and when his eyes fell onto me, he lifted his hand and tenderly caressed my face, then said, "Are you real, or is it just another dream?"

My heart raced, and I instinctively stepped back from him. His hand dropped, startling him. Warren abruptly sat up in the chair and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then when he realized it was me, got up, and apologized for his confused state of mind.

"I fell into a weighty sleep. I'm sorry for not waking right away. I will hurry and hitch the buggy so we can leave."

I waited for him in the same rocker where he slept while he went around back for the horse. Suddenly, he ran back, grabbed my hand, and pulled me out of the chair and into the house, locking the door behind him. I was startled, but he quickly explained.

"They are out on horseback looking for you!"

"Who?"

"Eugenia and Hamilton."

I gasped and ran to him. He held me for a moment; I felt his heart beating hard and fast against my bosom. I didn't want to let go of him, I was so afraid they would find me and take me back. Warren knew I was petrified and saw my terror as I gazed up at him. There was great fortitude in his eyes; he wouldn't let them take me.

"Stay here; let me handle this."

"Please, Mr. Stone; please don't let them take me," I pleaded.

"I promise I won't." He reached for his musket, which was leaning up against the wall, and headed out to confront them. I stayed hidden beside the window and peeked out as Grandmother and Hamilton arrived.

"What are you doing here, Eugenia?"

She sat like a stone statue on the horse and demanded to know where I was. "She is my granddaughter. Where is she, Mr. Stone?"

"I don't know anything about your granddaughter," he said, holding the musket at his side.

"We saw her with you. Now where is she?" Grandmother screeched.

Warren raised the musket and pointed it at her. "You be on your way, Eugenia. You're trespassing on my property."

"Do you want me to bring the constable out here, Warren? I know she is with you!"

Warren aimed the musket right at her. "Get off my property before I shoot you, Mrs. Arrington. I mean it."

She hastily looked to Hamilton, then back at Warren. "We'll be back—with the constable next time," she said, and the two of them rode off.

My heart was in my throat. I could barely catch my breath. Warren came in and put the musket down. "They're gone."

"What are we going to do?" I cried, unable to fight back my tears.

Warren came to me and placed his hands on my arms. "Don't worry about any of this. I will take care of it." He was confident; his eyes told me he would fight to the death for me. I didn't understand why he would risk so much for me. After all, he was a complete stranger.

So we sat and waited for Grandmother to return. The morning went by painstakingly slow. It was a typical, early summer Georgia day—hot and humid. Warren was subdued, and I sat on the bed as he watched out the window, musket in hand, waiting for them. I felt guilty for his involvement, and went to him, to apologize.

"I'm so very sorry, Mr. Stone. I didn't mean for any of this to happen. All I wanted was to get to Savannah, to the train, and make my way home to the lighthouse station."

I placed my hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and took a long breath, then another.

I wasn't sure if he was angry or sad, or both. I didn't want him to point a finger at me, to hold me accountable for all of the unexpected problems he had to deal with, but I wouldn't blame him for one second if he did. He had every right to send me back to Sutton Hall.

"You don't need to be sorry, Lillian. None of this is your fault." He opened his eyes and continued to stare out the window.

"But it is," I cried.

"Please go back and sit."

I lowered my hand and did as he said. I sat against the wall and closed my eyes, tired, emotionally drained, and overcome with the day's oppressive heat. It wasn't long before I crept down, placed my head on the pillow, and drifted off into a nap.

Warren shook me awake. The sounds of crickets were all around. It was night; the only light came from the one oil lamp on the table by the window. I had slept the day away. I flew up, prepared for battle.

"Relax. They didn't return."

"What do you mean?"

"Just as I said. It is late, almost ten o'clock. There was no sign of them all day."

"That's wonderful," I said, and impulsively hugged him. "Isn't it?"

Warren gave me a forced smile then said, "Of course."

He believed they would come. If not that day, then maybe the next. Grandmother wasn't going to give up. Warren knew better. My smile faded, along with his. He sat on the edge of the bed, exhausted. I was so grateful to him, and I hoped he understood. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated him.

"Sleep in your bed, Mr. Stone. I can sleep on the floor."

"Thank you, Lillian, but I will be fine on the porch. I have to stay awake, just in case they decide to ambush us at night."

"I'm not tired. I can stay up on watch."

He chuckled at my suggestion. I was immediately insulted, and he recognized it. "Thank you very much for your offer. Yes, I am tired, but not tired enough to allow you to sit outside and get eaten alive by mosquitoes."

He didn't want me outside, but not because he thought I was a little girl, as I had speculated. I laughed at my own insecurities, and that made him laugh. The two of us sat laughing together, and it felt good. I moved next to him; the moment seemed right for me to place a kiss on his scruffy cheek to thank him.

He was surprised, and faintly asked, "What, may I ask, did I do to deserve a kiss from such a beautiful girl?"

I lowered my head and felt my whole body become warm and flushed. "For making me laugh. I haven't laughed in a long, long time."

He put his arm around me, sighed, and said, "Me, either."

Neither of us were ready for sleep and it wasn't only because I was rested and he felt the need to protect me. As we sat beside one another and the relief from the night air came and cooled the cabin, I felt our connection intensify. Warren had proved that he would lay down his life for me, instantly causing me to love him. I once knew Daddy would do that for me, and even Heath or Ayden without doubt; they all loved me because we were family. But Warren had just met me, and he did it because he desired to, and not just because it was the right thing to do. It was something more; I saw it in the way he looked into my eyes, and as his body tensed when I touched him.

These were all things I had witnessed before; I was aware of how a man desired a woman. I saw it in Daddy's eyes; I saw it in Heath's when he was in love with Clara, and it was there when Warren looked at me. Although I was petrified of what might come of our new and unexpected relationship, I was thrilled at the same time and wanted, for the first time, to be kissed by a man. I waited nervously beside him, twisting my long hair around my finger, for him to act on his yearning, and after a long, still silence he finally turned and faced me. I was ready for his lips to lower to mine, and I closed my eyes in anticipation.

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# Chapter Sixteen

Warren didn't lean in and kiss me; instead, he stood and cleared his throat, then excused himself. "I need some fresh air."

I was stunned, then embarrassed. I wanted to cry in humiliation. He was outside pacing the porch while I wondered how I could have misread him. I was so confused by my feelings towards Warren and the mixed signals he gave me. I had been immature once again, stupid, and had embarrassed myself to the point that I feared he wouldn't even want to be in a room with me. He was probably angry at me the way Heath was on the last day we were together. I must have teased him in some way; I had made some advance that disgusted him. It wasn't lady-like; I was everything Grandmother said Momma was.

I needed to forget what had happened, so I curled up in a ball and tried to go back to sleep. Warren's face kept flashing before me then his face would turn into Heath's. I took the pillow and covered my face, then silently cried myself to sleep.

Warren was not in the cabin when I woke, heavy-hearted, in the morning. I got out of bed with a nagging reminder of the night before. I hoped he would still want me to stay, and I prayed he wasn't angry. There was a good chance Warren could forgive my un-lady-like advances; after all, he had refrained from kissing me. I could only hope.

He was neither in the cabin nor on the porch. I waited for a short while to see if he would return from the outhouse, when I noticed Grandmother and Hamilton coming up on horseback. I ran inside, locked the door, and backed into the corner.

Where was Warren? What was I going to do? Maybe the constable had already taken him away and they were here to get me. I stood motionless, praying they would go away. I listened closely as the horses stopped; my heart was beating so hard I swore it would lead them right to me. I bit my lip and trembled until Grandmother called out, "Your daddy has come for you, Lillian. You need to come to Sutton Hall. He is waiting there to take you home."

Daddy had come for me, finally! Without thinking, purely elated, wanting to get to him as fast as possible, I ran outside, and to my horror, realized I had acted too soon. I stopped in my tracks, but it was too late. A man, the constable, grabbed me, covered my mouth, and took me to his horse.

"Let's go," Grandmother said. I was forcefully gagged and lifted onto the horse, and then we galloped away.

I turned to look back at the cabin, to see if Warren had witnessed what had just happened, and I caught a fleeting glimpse of him lying face down on the ground, in a pool of blood, behind the stack of wood. He was dead; they had killed him to take me back. My stomach twisted into a giant knot, and I fell limp.

It didn't take long to reach Sutton Hall, where I was taken to my own personal cell and stripped naked, whipped, and beaten by my horrible grandmother.

"How dare you run off with him!" she hollered, and with the rawhide whip, lashed my blood-streaked back for the tenth time. "You are a vile tramp, an unholy creature!" she repeated, over and over, as my screams of pain turned into stifled moans.

"What did you do with him? Did you get in his bed? Did you allow him to put a child inside you?" she raged.

When I couldn't answer, my throat closed up from sheer terror and pain, she knelt over me. I was face down and tied to the bedposts, but she grabbed hold of my hair and made me look into her dark, sinister eyes.

It was all I could do to muster the energy to say, "No."

"I don't believe you," she hissed, then from her pocket she pulled out a pair of scissors and began to cut my waist-length, platinum blond hair. "This will keep any man from ever looking at you again." Within minutes, my beautiful hair was scattered all over the bed. She flew out of the room and locked the door behind her. She hadn't untied me, and I lay there, my nude body covered in blood, filled with so much pain and humiliation that I wished she had put the scissors through my heart and killed me. I would have been better off.

I fell in and out of consciousness; I moaned from the pain of the whipping, and I cried over Warren's death. By nightfall, my arms were burning from being stretched out and tied up. I couldn't stand it any longer. With what little strength I had left, I maneuvered my wrists to loosen the ropes. It took hours, and I sobbed the whole time, moaning and screaming into the mattress, but finally I was able to free one arm, then hours later, the other. The room had no light; the outside shutters were sealed over the only window that may have let in any moonlight. I remembered the candle and matches in the armoire, but I had no strength to move. For the remainder of the night I lay in the darkness, on the soiled bed, and wondered if I was, indeed, in Hell.

Abigail was sent in to clean my wounds and dress me sometime the next day. I didn't open my eyes when the door was unlocked; I believed Grandmother was there to beat me again, so I was surprised when I felt someone gently stroke my short, ragged hair. I slowly opened my eyes and looked up at Abigail. Her soft, pitying brown eyes were full of tears, and she whispered in my ear so no one could overhear, "I'm here. No more worries, Miss Lillian."

Abigail carefully rolled me to my side and began to clean the dried blood from my back. She was as gentle as she could be, but the pain was so overwhelming that I begged her to stop. It was almost as bad as the actual whipping.

"I'm trying, Miss Lillian, not to hurt you more than you already are," she said.

"Just leave me, please; let me get an infection and die," I moaned.

She didn't listen and continued. I gripped the mattress; I bit into it until she was finally finished. I turned over and breathed a sigh of relief. She went to the armoire and took out a dress.

"Your momma was so pretty. You look just like her," she said, and carefully sat me up. "This was her favorite dress."

It was a lovely shade of green with different shades of green on the pagoda sleeves and trim, and it had pretty lace on the collar and cuffs.

Abigail, I could see, had once been a beautiful woman, but years of slavery had taken its toll on her. Her face was full of lines; her brow covered in wrinkles. Her hair was fine and completely gray. Her hands were full of calluses from years of hard labor.

She was fond of me, and the fact that she knew Momma gave me the strength to sit up and be dressed. I was stiff and sore beyond belief, but glad to be decent once again and in the comfort of Momma's favorite day dress. After I was clothed, Abigail left, but before she locked the door behind her, she smiled and said in a hushed voice, "You aren't always going to be locked up."

I lay still, staring at the door. Things had been so different the day before; I was only hours from freedom. I had laughed and been in the care of a man who was so genuine and sincere it melted my heart. It amazed and frightened me that one day could be so devastatingly different from the next. I wondered if any day could be worse than the day Warren was murdered and I was taken away to be brutally whipped and beaten, treated worse than an animal. I didn't know where I could find the faith and will to go on to another day. It just didn't matter. Daddy had forgotten about me; for some reason I could never begin to understand, he no longer wanted me. The realization of that left my heart shattered in a hundred pieces. I would never be the same again.

As the wounds on my back slowly healed, my heart remained crushed and void; it felt as if I no longer possessed one. I was left in Abigail's care, and though she had obvious compassion for me, I was numb to her kindness. Each day was indistinguishable from the next. Each morning, Hamilton brought me one egg and a glass of water, and in the evening Abigail came with my cornpone and another glass of water.

Throughout the day and nights, between their quick deliveries of food, I lay in bed, staring up at the drab ceiling or at the door. I could stare and not even blink my eyes for hours at a time. I didn't think of anything or anyone; my mind was a blank slate. Abigail remained committed to my care, both physically and emotionally. It seemed as though Grandmother didn't want to know anything about my existence and didn't return to the room after the beating.

One stormy summer afternoon, Abigail came in unexpectedly. I had been awake and staring at the ceiling all morning, listening to the rumbles of thunder that shook the enormous mansion.

"Sure is storming out there," she said from beside me. "Mrs. Arrington went to Savannah. I'm here to brush your hair. It's starting to grow back, see?" She handed me a mirror. I hadn't seen myself in months, and as I gazed at myself for the first time since my long hair was sabotaged, I burst into tears. I was thin and feeble looking. My face was sickly pale, my eyes hollow and my beautiful, long locks of hair were gone.

"Now, now, Miss Lillian; it's coming back. Sure has come in fast," she said, trying to console me. "Let me brush."

I sobbed uncontrollably as she worked out the knots in my short hair. She tugged, and it hurt, but not as much as the pain of the sight of myself. When she was finished, she pulled a bonnet from the pocket of her apron.

"When you don't want to see yourself, you can wear this."

It wasn't a solution, and I didn't care. "Just put it in the armoire," I said, and collapsed back down on the bed.

"Hamilton is gonna bring you a fresh pillow later," Abigail said before she left. "And," she added, "Mrs. Arrington got plans to go to Atlanta at the end of the week. She gonna be gone for two days."

It was obviously unusual for Grandmother to leave Sutton Hall; Abigail made that perfectly clear to me. If it meant anything, I didn't care. She left, and I fixed my eyes on the ceiling, staring up at it for the rest of the day.

Storm after storm pounded the deep South all week with wicked thunder and torrential winds—and inside, I felt as heavy as the rains. There was a leak in the corner of my room that mesmerized me. I stared at the water that slowly trickled down the corner and onto the floor; one drip after another. The sound of it could have been enough to drive someone insane, but I enjoyed the monotony. After all, it was my life—one day dripping into the next, one miserable, rainy day that never seemed to end. Even when Abigail came in to tell me that Grandmother was away and offered to take me out of my room, I didn't care. I didn't even bat an eye when she said it. What was there on the other side of the door? Certainly not my freedom. That was gone. There was no one to greet me, to hold me and love me and take me away. Those men were gone, either by choice or unfortunate circumstance.

"Come, Miss Lillian. The rain has stopped. Fresh air will do you much good."

She tried to nudge me up, but I wouldn't budge. Hamilton stood in the doorway and wildly waved his hands around, which was his way of communicating with Abigail. From what I gathered, they were husband and wife.

"She doesn't want to go!" she shouted at him.

I shifted my eyes back and forth, trying to understand how she knew what he was trying to say. It caught my interest; it reminded me of all the years I spent learning sign language and the wonderful days I spent with Heath teaching Elizabeth. They were surprised when I sat up and said, "Doesn't he know any sign language?"

Abigail frowned.

I demonstrated how to say, "Hello" in sign language, then "goodbye." Then I proceeded to show them the alphabet, using my hands to make the letters. They were stunned.

Hamilton came over and used gestures to tell Abigail to have me teach him more.

I got off the bed and took his hand, then maneuvered his fingers to spell Hamilton.

"That's amazing!" Abigail cried.

"I can teach you, if you really want to learn."

"Sure thing, Miss Lillian."

Hamilton was all smiles; I had never seen him smile before. And I was smiling inside, when I truly thought I never would again.

"Now, do you want to come out?"

I wasn't certain. I hadn't been out of the room for weeks. I was safe there and didn't feel ready.

"Maybe next time," I said, and lay back down. As exciting as teaching Hamilton a few signs was, I was drained and exhausted from using what little energy I had managed to store.

"Okay, then, Miss Lillian—next time," Abigail said.

They departed and didn't lock the door behind them. They were on my side, and to my own surprise, I actually felt an ever-so-slight glimmer of hope.

The first time I ventured out of the room, on the day Grandmother took a day trip into Savannah, I was like a terrified animal coming out of its cage. I walked slowly, encouraged by Abigail. The house seemed larger and more ominous than I had remembered when they brought me in after taking me from Warren Stone's cabin three months before. Abigail had snuck me extra food during my confinement, so I had the energy to walk the long halls and creep down the grand staircase of Sutton Hall. I followed her like a lost puppy, and as we stepped outside, the intense sunlight made me shield my eyes and step back into the shadows of the old house.

"Come now, Miss Lillian."

Abigail took hold of my hand and brought me into the sunlight. It was warm, and although the air was heavy and oppressive, I was happy to finally be outside. The bonnet that covered my short, ugly hair gave me the confidence to move on and look around, to take in the place around me. The sweet fragrance of the mature magnolia trees were more distinct than any I had ever encountered before. The colors—the green leaves of the live oak trees, the pastel blue sky—were more vibrant than I remembered. But Sutton Hall loomed in front, menacing and threatening, and looking up at the ominous mansion made me shiver, especially when my eyes fell upon the only room with sealed shutters.

Abigail was anxious for me to see her quarters. We proceeded behind the mansion, past the the small ice house until we came upon a small row of shacks, the prior slave quarters. Now it was a simple home for Hamilton and Abigail. She stepped upon the front porch of the first drab building, then turned to me and said, "Well, this here is mine and Hamilton's."

It was sparse and meager, just as was my own. They had a small mattress on the floor to share, a rocking chair, and an old, broken table with two chairs. In the corner was a cradle. I supposed she had had a child, or children, that must have been grown and long gone. When she saw me gazing at it, she took my hand and led me back outside, into the woods near the river, to an overgrown area under a group of pine trees.

"Over here," she said, stopping at a small stone. It was a headstone.

As I looked around, I saw dozens of them, all under fallen branches and layers of pine needles. Abigail had me look closely at the headstone, and as my eyes narrowed onto the letters, I gasped and stepped back. It bore the name "Jacob-Thomas."

"That there was my baby boy," she said somberly.

Jacob-Thomas, the name Momma repeated over and over after she went mad. The grave held the boy that Momma was so fond of and wanted to remember for always.

"I must get back to make the supper. You get back before dark."

Abigail knew I wouldn't try and run; I wouldn't risk my own life, as well as hers. For certain, if Grandmother discovered I was let out, Abigail and Hamilton would be beaten. I wouldn't put them in jeopardy, and after all, there was nowhere and no one to run to.

I made my way down to the river and sat watching the herons and pelicans walk along the marsh area. The scenery was so different from Jasper Island. I missed the enormous whalers out on the sea, I missed the seagulls hovering above the beach, and I longed to hear the waves crashing against the rocks of the island. I craved the smell of salt air and the cool ocean breezes. I pulled my legs up against my chest, closed my eyes, and envisioned the tall lighthouse again. I could almost see Daddy up there in my mind; cleaning the Fresnel lens and oiling and winding the clockworks. I pictured Heath and Ayden and baby Elizabeth. I imagined they had acquired a healthy summer glow, unlike the sickly, pale, prisoner's white that covered my face like a veil. It saddened me to think of them, to imagine all I was missing, and to see how much had been taken from me.

Afterwards, I realized, as I lay on the warm ground and began to cry, that I was more fortunate than Abigail. After all, Heath, Ayden, and Elizabeth were alive; I hadn't lost them for good. Someday, when life turned good for me, there would be a day when the door to my prison would be permanently unlocked and I could leave the place where the devil lived and return to Jasper Island. With any luck, I would get there before Edward and Opal moved away to take Elizabeth to the school for the deaf. But if indeed they were gone, I would stay on as lighthouse keeper, just as Daddy said I could someday.

It felt good to have a plan; it gave me something to hold on to and think about in my most wearisome times. I knew better days were ahead of me, though my life had turned into a cruel joke, and I no longer believed there was a God. Maybe Grandmother was correct; maybe I was full of sin and it was all because I didn't want to believe God could leave me so desolate and wretched. From everything Momma had taught me, as far back as I could remember, we were all God's children, and if we prayed hard enough and were good servants to him, all of our prayers would be answered. None of mine had ever been answered. I had been good; I lived according to the Ten Commandments. Was it because I loved Heath and longed for Warren to desire me that God, if he indeed existed, had turned his back on me and believed I was the devil's spawn? I wasn't sure, and there was no one, no minister to guide me through my troubles and doubts about God and myself.

With a weary heart, as the day spilled into another sweltering evening, I returned to the mansion. I was just turning the corner when Abigail ran over, her hands flailing over her head in a panic.

"Miss Lillian, hurry," she said, out of breath, taking my hand and pulling me through a back door into the mansion to a dark, mysterious stairway.

"Abigail, what is it?"

"Mrs. Arrington. She's come home early. You need to get back to your room."

We ran up the narrow stairway and threw open a door to the second floor. We hurried down the hall and got to my room just before we heard voices down below.

"Who is here?" I asked as she began to close the door.

"She brought back Mr. Arrington."

"My grandfather?" I asked, shocked. I thought he was dead.

"He's been sick in the hospital. He's home now, and I have to be tending to him." Abigail scurried off, and I ran to the door and put my ear up against it to hear what was going on. However, the mahogany door was thick, and I couldn't hear a sound. All the months I had been locked away, I had no idea my grandfather was alive and returning to Sutton Hall.

As I sat back on the bed, I thought about what he might look like and if he was anything at all like Grandmother. Maybe he was a kind old man, and once he found out I was kept locked away, he would demand my freedom. With rekindled hope, I got up, went to the armoire, and took out the brush and mirror Abigail had given me. I pulled off my bonnet, and with the mirror in one hand and the brush in the other, tried to fix my hair so that when Grandfather came up to see me, I would look my best. My hair had grown back to the top of my shoulders, but the ends were dull and uneven. I did the best I could; I brushed one hundred strokes, then sat up and waited for the door to be unlocked. I kept my eyes on the door knob, waiting to see any sign of movement. But as the hours passed, and light no longer seeped through the cracks of the shutters, I fell onto the bed and sighed heavily. The room was dark; the one candle I had was burnt down to the wick. The only time considerable light came into the room was when someone walked along the corridor carrying a lamp. On that night, no one came, not even to bring me supper.

When I woke the next day, there was a plate on the floor with my one hard boiled egg and a glass of water. I went to rise from bed to retrieve the plate, when I doubled over in pain from a stomach cramp, and felt wetness trickle down my leg. I lifted my dress to see my legs covered in blood. I couldn't see where it all was coming from, and I began to panic. I went to the door and peeked through the keyhole, then yelled for help.

"Please, someone; I'm bleeding!" I screamed. "Abigail? Someone!"

Before long, a key was shoved into the lock and I stepped back. It was Grandmother.

"What is going on? Why are you screaming?" she demanded. I was filled with so much terror that I couldn't speak. In the dimness of the room I stood, so frightened of her I couldn't move. She stepped in and saw the blood then she stormed inside and slammed the door.

"Don't you see what this is?" she said in a tone that made me tremble. When I didn't answer, she lifted my dress and pointed, then said, "You are bleeding from the place where babies come. Now, for certain, if any man touches you or kisses you, you will grow a baby inside your stomach and when it is ready to be born, you will lay on the bed in anguish and die before it comes out."

Just the thought of what she said made me sick, and I ran to the chamber pot with dry heaves.

"Abigail will bring up rags for you so you don't stain the floors," she spat, then took her lamp and left. I was confused and terrified; I didn't understand what she meant. She didn't explain why I was bleeding, when or if it would ever stop, or what it had to do with having babies. I only knew that a man, with even the slightest touch, could put a baby in me. Daddy had touched Momma, and she never had a baby after me. I fell to the floor and bawled, afraid and perplexed, and wanting more than anything not to have the burden of shame that womanhood put upon me.

Abigail found me on the hard floor, lifted me, and handed me the rags to put between my legs to keep the blood soaked up. "It's gonna be fine. Only few days, and it will pass," she said as I sat up, then she hurried out as Grandmother hollered for her return.

I used the rags to stop the mess then pulled myself onto the bed. I wasn't able to eat and could only lie still and moan over the terrible cramps that plagued my stomach area. The pain lasted and I used rags for five days. I realized in the weeks ahead that it would happen again, every month. I didn't understand why, but it was just another burden, one of the many dreadful things that became commonplace while I was at Sutton Hall.

My days and nights were endless, with no light or meaning or prospect of a better day. Grandfather never once came to see me; he didn't appear at my door to save me and hand me my freedom. He was obviously as evil as Grandmother and wanted me locked away from the world. I wondered how two such vile people could have created or even known Momma. She was kind and sweet and didn't have a mean bone in her body. She wasn't dark and unsightly like Grandmother. In fact, she resembled her not at all. When I first arrived at Sutton Hall, I was ready to put the pieces of my family's history together, thinking that somehow, the walls of the ominous mansion would speak to me and reveal all the secrets and tales of years past. I would find out why Momma had run away, how she met Daddy, and why Grandmother felt driven to take me in, only to keep me locked away forever.

Then, as the summer melted into fall, then winter, I finally surrendered in defeat to my horrifying destiny, and made a discovery so unexpected and urgent it altered everything about my existence and gave me a small piece of my life back—only to be shattered all over again.

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# Chapter Seventeen

A wicked hurricane blew through the eastern coast line and gave me the gift of light. The brutal winds blew off one of the shutters, allowing sunlight to fill my once-dark room. I could now look out the windows and gaze down below to see the comings and goings of Sutton Hall. Although I still had no fresh air because the window was sealed shut, I had enough sunlight to brighten even my worst days. I could see into the armoire once again and pull out the books that I had put back inside the day before I ran away.

After taking out the dresses and placing them, one by one, on the bed to get a better look inside the armoire and see if I had missed any books, I noticed something brassy sticking out of the corner, partially hidden by a book. I reached all the way in and pulled out the book to reveal a key. At first, I presumed it was a key to the wardrobe, but when I tried to put it in the key hole, it wouldn't fit. It wasn't nearly the right size. Slowly, I turned to the bedroom door. My hands shaking, in slow motion, I placed it in the keyhole, and to my elation, it fit! I quickly snatched it back out and placed it in my pocket so it wouldn't be discovered. I had a way out, but I feared the same thing would happen—I would run, be found, and be mercilessly beaten. I didn't want to go through that again. Undecided about what to do, I put the key back in the armoire.

Grandmother hated that I could see out, but only grumbled that her inheritance was taking longer than expected, and she couldn't afford to replace the shutter. She only entered my room on rare occasions—to inspect my cell and make certain I wasn't up to no good or planning another escape. When she strolled around the room, I wondered how she had forgotten to look in the armoire. She had gone as far as looking up into the chimney, only to have soot fall and cover her face. I contained my amusement, afraid of her wrath, and she stormed out, screaming for Abigail to get up to the room and sweep up the mess.

Abigail had been an infrequent visitor in the many months after Grandfather returned. She was busy tending his needs, she told me once. He was wheelchair-bound, sick, and frail, and Grandmother had endless tasks for her outside of her everyday household duties.

The last time Abigail had been up to my room was to give me more rags for my monthly curse. This time, she was much more rushed, and I didn't expect her to have a moment to stop and look at me after she had swept, let alone hand me a piece of paper before she flew back out. With great curiosity, I opened the folded piece of paper, and as I read the letter, fell onto the bed and began to sob, not out of sadness, but out of pure happiness. It was from Warren! It was brief and rushed, but it told me everything I needed to know. He was alive and well, and he was working on finding Daddy. I brought the letter to my heart and smiled and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. For the first time in my whole life, I actually felt lucky. I would have never guessed Warren's life could be spared, that Grandmother, the devil herself, didn't have the power to destroy the man who, once again, was coming to my rescue. Only this time we were going to be careful not to get caught. Warren had found a way to get correspondence to me through Abigail. I didn't know how or why and didn't need an explanation. I was happy to know I had Warren on my side, along with Abigail and Hamilton. A first step had been made to contact Daddy and fill him in on the details of my imprisonment.

Once he found out, Daddy would not waste another minute; he would board the first train he could. I began to imagine possibilities for why Daddy hadn't come for me. He must have been hurt or sick, and Warren would track him down, contact every hospital to see if he was in their care.

I hid the letter in one of the books, and stood and gazed out the hazy window of my room. Warren was near, maybe even watching me from somewhere in the woods. I tried to see if there was any sign of him, but it was difficult to make out anything with great clarity.

I wasn't able to sleep a wink that night. All I thought about was that I had a key to leave my room any time I thought it safe, and there was a man who would lay down his own life for me. I recalled our last moments together. I thought about how we laughed and how close we sat on his bed. Since he last saw me; I had officially become a woman. And with that burden I hated, came the ability for me to win any man's heart. I was as curvy and voluptuous as Momma had been, though I knew that could also be dangerous. I still feared what Grandmother said, and worried that if and when Warren and I met again, something terrible would happen if he touched me. I would keep my distance from him; he could not touch me again, even if it was a moment of innocence.

Letters from Warren came at least one a week. Mostly they were delivered under my door sometime during the night, when Abigail had a moment to steal up to my room—a total of eight letters, all of them telling me he thought of me every waking minute and missed my lovely face. He vaguely described his search for Daddy's whereabouts, but he was having no luck. He wrote for me not to worry, that he was not giving up. I was anxious to meet him face to face and wrote that I had a key to escape my room and asked him to meet me by the river at the first light of the moon, exactly two days from receipt of my response. I used the chalk to write back. When I knew Hamilton was to empty my chamber pot, I left the note near it. I watched him come in, see it, then put it in his pocket without looking my way. When he returned after a short while, he signed Abigail's name with his fingers, then left.

I finally had a reason to wake each morning. Not only was I happy inside, I was outside, as well. My hair had grown back to reach just past my bosom and the dull sunlight that penetrated my prison was just enough to bring back the color to my once-pale face. Though I was severely underweight, I was the healthiest I had been in almost a year.

Abigail came to see me just before I stole out to the river.

"You need to be careful. Mrs. Arrington is still awake. I don't like this," she whispered, helping me button up my skirt.

"I will be fine," I said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek, and placing my hand in my pocket to confirm the key was there. I crept along the shadows of the wall until I made my way to the back stairway. It wasn't long before I was outside, under the light of the early summer moon, making my way to the river to meet Warren. I hurried with soft steps through the woods, past the slave cemetery, and to the edge of the river, where I spotted him peering out around a thick, mature willow tree.

I hurried to him and wanted more than anything to throw my arms around him, but I was still afraid of what Grandmother had instilled in me. Instead, I stayed a step back as he appeared before me.

"Lillian, is that really you?" he said, staring closely at me.

"Of course it is," I said.

He reached out to touch my cheek, but I pulled back. "You look different," he said. "You have grown so much."

I blushed, though I knew he couldn't see. "Thank you for coming to see me," I said as he led me to a spot under the tree where we could sit and talk.

"Nothing could keep me away. Tell me, Lillian. Tell me all that has happened since you were taken from me."

His eyes were troubled, and again, he reached out to me. My mind told me to resist his touch, but my heart told me to allow it. I didn't pull away when he reached for my hand and placed it in his. I began my story from the moment I looked back and saw him lying in a pool of blood and believed him dead, to the day I found the key in Momma's armoire. He was fascinated and distressed—his eyes full of tears.

"But I am all right now," I said, reassuring him.

Warren had already written in his letters that a friend had come by to see him and found him half-dead from a stab wound to his stomach. He had been taken to the hospital in Savannah, and it took him months to recover.

Then, when he was well enough to make his way to Sutton Hall, he had confronted Grandmother. She told him I was long gone, that Daddy had come for me, and I was far away. She warned him never to step foot on her plantation again. That's all he revealed in his letters, and it was under the moon and stars that he explained how he learned I was still locked away.

"I was crushed when I learned you had gone back to Maine. It wasn't because you were happy and where you belonged, but because I knew I would never see you again. You kept me from dying, Lillian," he confessed, then he took a long breath, looked out onto the river that glistened with brilliant moonbeams, and continued. "I was in Savannah when Hamilton spotted me. He was waiting for your grandmother beside the carriage, and as I walked past, he grabbed hold of me. I thought he was going to strike me, and I went to defend myself, but something in his eyes told me to hold my punch. He released me, brought his hands up, and began to move them. I was perplexed until I remembered you telling me about Elizabeth and teaching her sign language. Hamilton was trying to spell something."

I was mesmerized by his story. He told it with such fervor, it was as if I were really there when it happened. Warren brought his hand up and repeated the hand signs. It spelled "Lillian."

"I asked if you were still here, in the mansion, and he nodded. I was grateful, as selfish as it was, to know I had a chance to see you again. I arranged to have a letter delivered, and Abigail met me in the woods."

It was all so fortunate in many ways. Out of so much despair, torture, and pain, we were brought together. Neither of us had known the other was alive and longing to be reunited. I had believed Warren killed, and he was convinced that Daddy had come and taken me home. Neither was true. I asked him if he had word about Daddy, if he had found what lighthouse station he was keeping.

"No word yet, but I am trying. Please be patient," he said, squeezing my hand. His eyes were earnest. He was trying his hardest.

"I will be. I suppose there is nothing but time," I sighed, looking down to hide my disappointment.

There was a long silence between us. We had divulged most everything that had occurred over the bitter, long year, and now we were emotionally exhausted.

Warren gave me his hand and helped me up; it was time to part ways. I had to return to my room before it was discovered that I was gone.

"Will you keep writing?" I asked before I turned to go.

"As long as each full moon, you come out to see me," he said, in a voice just above a whisper.

I smiled, and said, "Of course, Mr. Stone."

"Warren. Call me Warren, from this moment on."

I practically floated back to the mansion; it was almost as if it were all a dream. He was dashing and kind and he had lived for the day he would again see me. He had noticed I had matured, and he couldn't help but to reach out and touch me. In his eyes, I saw his adoration, and I felt the same way. Warren gave me everything I had always wanted and longed for from Heath. Warren didn't hold back his feelings and confessed that he spent every day with me in his thoughts.

I didn't want to fall asleep that night. I returned to my room and locked myself in. I was afraid I would wake to the light of a new day and realize it was all a wonderful dream, none of it real. I would be devastated. I tried to keep my heavy lids from closing; I fought sleep as long as I could, but finally, my tiredness won out and I drifted off.

The morning didn't bring the cruel reality to which I had come accustomed. Instead, I sat up and stretched and didn't notice the barren walls and stale smell of my room. I didn't care that I had the same breakfast every day and no one to wish me a good morning. I had my freedom back, and I'd had love fix my broken and battered heart. I woke that morning madly in love with Warren Stone, and I couldn't wait to receive his next letter.

Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long. Hamilton managed to bring one to me by early afternoon.

"Thank you," I said, and he returned my thankfulness with a smile.

I jumped on the bed, anxious to read his letter.

My Dearest Lillian,

What has become of me I can barely describe in words, but I will try. The moment I saw you last evening made me realize how much I adore you. You are the reason that my heart beats; you are the reason I live. I live for only you, Lillian Arrington.

Until we meet again under the light of the moon,

Warren

I had received my very first love letter! It was mine to treasure, and I quickly put it away in the book where I kept all of his letters to me. I was so happy I couldn't contain my smiles. All day I stayed locked away, but I wasn't bored or miserable. I spent my waking hours thinking of him, seeing his handsome face before me. I fantasized about someday being his wife. We would run away together and live on a lighthouse station, the way Momma and Daddy had.

With a renewed passion for life, that night, when all was settled, I found the courage to venture out of my room, to wander the long, shadowy halls. The love Warren gave me, just knowing he was near to help protect me, made me strong. I was willing to take more chances; I wanted to find all the secrets that lay behind the dozens of closed doors, down hidden passageways, and around dark corners.

I silently stole out of my room into the dimly-lit corridor and made my way along the walls until I came to the first door across and checked the knob; it was locked. I went on, from one door to the next; all of them were locked. I enthusiastically continued, into another wing of the house. My steps were light, though the floor still creaked beneath me. I stopped, held my breath, and turned to look around. Still, I was safe, undetected. I wandered on, checking every door I passed; they, too, were all locked. I tried my key in each of them; it didn't work.

Then I found myself in the last wing, and as I walked in, a cold shiver went through me. I instinctively knew it was where Grandmother resided. I sensed her evil; it was all around. I didn't want to be there. I became tense and afraid, so I slowly backed up, eased my way out of the corridor, and then I bumped into something—or someone. I gasped and held my breath, and slowly pivoted around, my mind scrambled with visions of the torture I would endure because of my escape. I was terrified until my eyes lifted to stare directly into Grandfather's face.

He wasn't angry or filled with hatred. His blue eyes were old and tired; his expression soft and gentle. He wasn't as frail as he looked when I occasionally caught a glimpse of him from my cloudy window. And he was walking, not in his wheelchair, though he did hold the side of the wall for support.

"Why, Amelia, you should be in bed. What's the matter? Did you have a bad dream?" he asked, placing his bony, ancient hand on my head. I had been holding in my breath and let it slowly out as he smiled down at me. He thought I was Momma! I went along with his confused state of mind. It came natural to me, as I had done it so many times with Momma.

"Yes, Daddy, I did. But I feel better now; I will return to my room," I said in a voice just above a whisper and eased past him. He shuffled around and waved as I hurried back to my room.

When I was behind my own door and locked back away, I closed my eyes, and began to shake uncontrollably with sheer panic and excitement.

I had done it; I had escaped, and though I was seen by Grandfather, I was elated. I had met my grandfather, and he wasn't the monster I imagined he would be. He was just an elderly man, who I believed had loved Momma. I saw it in his eyes; I felt his adoration in the way his hand pressed softly on my head. But as much as I longed to become acquainted with him, I knew I had to be extremely cautious. There was a chance he would tell Grandmother that he had seen Amelia. Then my freedom could be at risk, and perhaps, my life. I wasn't certain I wanted to play with such danger. Not yet. Patience was my greatest asset, something Daddy had told me long ago, and time was certainly on my side.

Grandmother had no suspicions; she was unaware of my escape. Though at first I was petrified when she came in for her inspection that grandfather had revealed our encounter, I soon realized she knew nothing about it. She took notice of the room, as usual, made me stand at attention as her eyes scanned me up and down, though she had long since stopped making me undress to uncover any baby that might have been growing inside of me after she found me hiding in Warren's cabin.

Each time I stood at attention, her eyes focused on me with such scrutiny, I was satisfied and delighted with my secrets, and she was completely unaware. She still believed I cried every day for Daddy, that I was dejected and glum and thought I had no purpose in life. If she was as assured as she pretended to be, if she had looked deep into my brilliant eyes, she would have seen the passion for life that burned within me. My eyes were there, right in front of her, to see and give it all away—my love for Warren, the hope that he would find Daddy, and the confidence that I would survive my imprisonment and return to the sea. But she was a coward, and never once looked at me, Lillian Arrington, the person. It was her greatest weakness; it was what would someday allow me to destroy Sutton Hall and have it come crumbling down around her.

Though long letters were sent back and forth, it seemed forever until the moon shined high in the midnight blue sky and I could see Warren again. Abigail managed to steal away some paper, a quill, and an inkwell for me, and I spent hours writing to him. I confessed my affections for him, and although I was uncertain he would accept my undying love, I felt that it was safe to listen to my heart and believe in true love. After all, Momma had; she had run off with her one and only love. I wanted to be just as lucky. I hoped Warren wanted me as much as I wanted him.

In his letters in return, he proclaimed his commitment to me, he pledged he would find Daddy, and he told me that my beautiful face filled every inch of his heart, however there was something missing in his words to me; he never once mentioned that he wanted to take me away and make me his wife. So after many letters, I decided to ask him, face to face, near the river, under the willow tree, by the light of the moon.

As the giant mansion settled in for the long night, I made my way to the river, where I expected to see Warren waiting for me. I had spent hours brushing my long hair, thinking of seeing him again. I wore Momma's favorite dress and suspected I looked just as pretty as she had when she wore it.

I waited impatiently for Warren to appear, but as the night moved on, the clouds rolled in and covered the moon. It grew dark, and the wind kicked up, and the heavy rain began to fall. I huddled under the tree to keep dry, my eyes locked to the darkness. My hair that I had worked so hard to make pretty was wet and pasted against my head, and my clothes were drenched. When I had all but given up, shivering from the brisk winds, about to go back with a heavy, dejected heart, he appeared. He was hours late, and we didn't have much time before sunrise.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said. He was as drenched as I, and the water from the rain spilled over and off his hat. I didn't care why he was late and moved into him so we were merely inches apart.

I expected him to sweep me up and bring me close; I wanted him to place his lips on mine and tell me he was there to take me far away. Instead, his face was somber; he was distraught and kept his hands to his side while the rain continued to fall.

"What is it, Warren?" I finally asked, breaking the long, uncomfortable silence. It wasn't the meeting I had anticipated; he didn't greet meet with loving arms and tender kisses as I had fantasized in my mind all the weeks we were apart.

Warren held his stare and his breath, until he could no longer contain the horrible news that sent me to the saturated ground with relentless, grief-stricken wails of anguish. Daddy was dead; he had drowned while rescuing a sinking fishing vessel.

Warren came to me then, shielding me from the pellets of rain, and hushed me by caressing my dripping hair. "I am so sorry, Lillian," he whispered, with unadulterated compassion. I let out angst-ridden moans and uncontrollable sobs, and there was little he could do to comfort me. Above us, the lightning lit up the threatening sky and sent bolts to the ground near to us.

"Take me away, Warren," I begged through my cries. "There is nothing for me now."

"Not just yet. Please, be patient," he said kneeled on the ground.

I lifted my head, looked at him, and asked, "Why?"

He wouldn't answer me. Instead, he took my hand and brought me up, then said, "You need to get back."

I didn't want to go, but I saw the urgency in his face. He thought it best to wait and not rush our escape. Warren pleaded with me to understand that we would be together, in time. He placed his lips on my wet cheek and tenderly kissed me, then pulled away and wandered through the rain and into the darkness, vanishing like a ghost.

Devastated, I managed to get back to my room before sunrise. I was weak and emotionally exhausted, and wasn't sure even Warren's love could keep me from drowning in my own despair. I was sickened to think of how Daddy had suffered and died, the way so many sailors had before him. I hated imagining him struggling for air, fighting the enormous swells to keep above water. The vision I had of him washing up onto the shore aged me beyond my years. All the color I had gained, the newfound glow from Warren's love, drained from me. I sat, empty and lifeless, on the bed, with no more tears left to shed.

_______________

# Chapter Eighteen

I didn't tell Abigail that my daddy was dead, but she knew something was wrong when I didn't bother to sit up and take the letter she snuck in.

"What's wrong with you?" she asked in a whisper. "This here letter is from Warren."

Not even Warren's letter could get me to lift me head and face the day. She heard Grandmother coming and quickly shoved the letter in her skirt, then hurried to the plate on the floor.

"What is this? Why is there still food left on her plate?" Grandmother demanded.

Abigail didn't know what to say.

"Well, if she won't eat her morning meal, she won't get her evening meal—not only for tonight, but for the rest of the week," she barked, then flew out.

Abigail had no time to come to me, but I wasn't concerned. I didn't want to be bothered. I found my safe place by staring off into the distance again with glazed eyes. It was easy to fall back into a dark place in my mind; I had been there so many times before. It was familiar; it took away all of the pain I couldn't face. There was no way for me to deal with Daddy's death, other than shutting my mind off to the world. I wasn't going to mourn him and move on; I was not going to allow grief or elation to ever touch me again. I was content to simply wither away like a dying flower.

Day after day, for weeks, Abigail stole up, taking great chances to see me, begging me to tell her what was wrong. Even Hamilton tried to bring me back to my former happy state; he came and knelt down, as large as he was, and signed to me. I couldn't bring myself to care, and I just looked through him. I continued to ignore Warren's letters, and as much as my mind told me not to push him away, that he was the only man that had ever wanted me, my heart had nothing left to give.

When Grandmother saw me so despondent and refusing to stand at attention when she entered the room, she grew furious. She called for Abigail and demanded to know what was wrong with me.

"I don't know, Mrs. Arrington. Maybe she is sick."

Grandmother peered closely at my face then said, "She is not sick. Get up, girl!" She took her cane and poked me in the ribs. I didn't react, just stared out the window.

"I said get up!" she commanded.

Abigail covered her mouth as she watched Grandmother lift the cane high above her head. Just as she was about to strike my legs, there was a loud crash from outside my room. I was spared, as she hurried with Abigail out of my room. Then I heard Grandmother call for Hamilton. "It's Thomas; he has fallen!" she yelled. Her cries caught my attention.

There was so much commotion I couldn't help but blink away my foggy trance. I rose up and looked to the door; it had been left open. It was the fact that I might never get to see my grandfather again that made me slide out of bed and go down the long hall to the grand staircase. I peeked around the corner to watch Grandmother cradle Grandfather's head in her lap, sobbing like a child. Hamilton rushed in to take him from her and carried Grandfather out, while Abigail tried to help Grandmother off the floor.

"Get off of me," she barked. "I can do it myself."

She stood, adjusted her skirt, and placed her thick, wooden cane beside her as her head rose, high and dignified. She had broken down for only a moment, and pretended it had never happened as she pivoted and marched out to the carriage. Abigail retrieved a brush and bucket and began scrubbing Grandfather's blood off the wood floor. He'd fallen down the stairs and smashed his head on the hard floor. I couldn't imagine how he could possibly survive such a fall. They were rushing him to a doctor, and I was certain he would be dead by the time they arrived.

Abigail was sobbing quietly, and she didn't notice me when I came down and stood over her. I reached down and touched her shoulder then she lifted her head to look at me. Her eyes were filled with woe, her concern for him overwhelming.

"He won't make it," she said as the tears streamed down her face.

I didn't understand why she was so distraught over a man who kept her for so many years as a slave. What was it about my grandfather that kept her weeping throughout the following days?

Out my own sadness over Daddy's death came compassion for Abigail. I saw my own melancholy through her, and it became apparent that I didn't need to hold on to such a state of despair. Abigail didn't lie down and want to waste away, longing for a man. She continued with her duties; she brushed her tears away when she came to bring me my meals, though I knew she was hurting inside. Grandmother screamed at Abigail every time she caught her with eyes full of tears. I heard her bellows all the way up to my room.

"You wipe that pitiful look off your face, Abigail, before I take it off for you! How dare you cry for him!"

Grandmother's ranting and raving continued through the week that Grandfather was gone, somewhere in a hospital, until the sweltering, late summer day came that he was sent home in a coffin, to be buried in the family cemetery at Sutton Hall. I was predictably kept locked away during the funeral. Grandmother gave me no moment to pay my respects to him. I could, from my window, see them all out there. Hundreds of people came to Sutton Hall, for he must have been a very well-known man, a prominent member of the community, and one of Georgia's most highly praised plantation owners. There were carriages scattered everywhere and men and woman in formal black attire saying goodbye to Thomas Arrington. I wanted so very much to go outside, to blend in with the crowd, but I hadn't a proper dress to wear, and I would stand out.

I stayed glued to my window all day; it was my way of feeling included. When the mourners left, just as night fell, I unlocked my door and crept down the back stairway and outside. It was my turn to say goodbye to Grandfather, and I stood over his fresh grave, closed my eyes, and bowed my head in respect. I thought about the moment, the only moment we met, the one night I stole out of my cell to see what was around every corner of Sutton Hall. I expected to find locked doors and perhaps even another secret passageway, but never thought I would have the good fortune to meet the man that obviously loved Momma, the man she called Daddy and probably worshipped as much as I had my own Daddy. And as Grandfather's spirit soared into the heavens, mine lifted as well, the heavy suffering of my loss diminished. I was finally ready to end my grief-stricken days the way that Daddy taught me years ago, by filling my heart with things that made the sun rise each day, the birds sing, the sweet fragrances that filled the air, and the ardent love that inundated every part of me.

Warren could no longer wait for my letters to come. Only a day after Grandfather's burial, I was sleeping lightly when I sensed I was not alone and slowly lifted my lids. Warren stood beside my bed, holding a candle that gave his face a soft, warm glow. At first I believed he was a figment of my frequent dreams, but then he spoke in a faint voice, just loud enough to wake me. "Lillian, come and walk with me."

I sat up, and took his hand, and he stole me away, out to where we agreed to meet every moonlit night.

"Abigail led me to you. She told me how you have been suffering and that you had buried your grandfather," he said once we were under our tree.

"I have seen such sorrow, Warren, more than I thought I could ever possibly endure," I explained, as I leaned against him. We had been apart for endless weeks, and reunited, it felt tranquil, as if we were about to journey into new beginnings.

"I have missed you terribly. I didn't think I could live another day without seeing you," he said.

"I am sorry for all the time we have lost," I replied. He reached for my hand, then brought it up and allowed his lips to linger. I rested my head against his shoulder, my long hair spilled beside him, and I wondered how I had almost sacrificed his love. While my grief consumed me, I had forgotten how exhilarating his wonderful charisma was.

Warren took a deep breath of the moist, dewy air and pulled me in, then rested his freshly shaven chin on my head. Above, high in the trees, were the sounds of the barred owl, and out in the marsh, the river frogs croaked in symphony. I felt him inhale as he took in the scent of my hair; his heart pounded as loudly as mine, adding to nature's music all around us. He held my hand, and I opened my fingers to let his intertwine with mine. I thought it was time to make our plans and asked when we would leave. There was nothing keeping us from going away and making a new life together. Daddy was gone; the search was over. We had allies; Abigail and Hamilton would risk their lives to help us get away. We would be smart and not get caught.

Warren had nothing to fear. I pulled back, and he released my hand staring at me in anticipation of what I was about to say. I smiled and looked at him with soft, sheepish eyes, the way Momma used to when she wanted something from Daddy, and said to Warren, "I love you with all my heart, and I want to spend my life with you. I will make you happy, Warren."

"You've already made me happy by coming into my life, Lillian. I am devoted to you," he said.

"Then let's go now, tonight. I can't wait another minute, not another second. Abigail will cover our tracks until we can get far enough away that they will never find us. I am sure of it," I said excitedly, hoping he would whisk me away to start our new life together.

Warren looked deep into my eyes and saw my desperation, but he resisted my pleas for a new beginning. When he turned away, I moved close and snuggled up to him, then began to stroke his cheek and softly whispered in his ear how much I loved him. I sensed he was afraid of my love; he feared I might leave him the way his first love did many years before. I understood his concern; he was afraid of having his heart broken. I wanted Warren to believe I was not going to hurt him. He needed to trust me.

"I will never abandon you. Do you believe me?" I asked, placing a kiss on the side of his neck. He closed his eyes, his breathing became heavy, and just when I sensed his desire growing Warren drew away and scrambled up, as if my innocent kiss had burned his flesh. He towered over me, shifted his hat, and looked bemused. I thought he might run from me, and my heart sank. He must have thought me sinful, for only an immoral girl would steal away for kisses with a man many years her senior. I didn't know what possessed me to be so eager; I knew better. I wanted him to respect me and feared I had ruined that with one small kiss to his neck.

"I'm sorry," I said, jumping up and wiping the dust from my dress with my hands. "I'm really not that kind of a girl."

I wanted desperately for him to believe that, but there was so much doubt in his sea green eyes. I turned to run, but he reached over, grabbed me, and pulled me into his embrace. "Dear Lillian," he muttered, stroking my hair, our faces pressed against one another. "You just don't understand." Warren sounded petrified; his body trembled with fear.

I tried to assure Warren that I was the right woman for him; I promised him everything. "My heart and soul are yours to keep," I said. "Please, Warren, please, make me yours."

Above us, a branch broke off from the tree and fell down beside me. Warren shifted his head; just enough that his lips brushed mine. My whole body tingled, and I lost a breath. Our eyes locked, and I stood frozen, waiting for him to make the next move. Time stood still; the world all around us melted away as Warren battled the overwhelming uncertainties in his mind. His eyes grew dark, his nostrils flared, and his strong jaw tightened as he tried to control his lust for me. It was painful to watch him struggle with his yearning, and I decided to stop it before he regretted anything.

"I must go," I said, my voice quivering.

Everything about the way he looked at me indicated an enormous conflict between his heart and his head. Warren's hesitations left me confused.

"Lillian, you don't understand." I could see how he struggled for the answers to explain what troubled him so fiercely.

"Then tell me, Warren," I cried, touching his hand.

"Not yet. I just can't," he said in defeat.

I was left with great confusion, and we parted ways and agreed to meet again, but I wasn't able to shake the overwhelming feeling that he would change his mind and never come to see me again. I tried to put it all together, to decipher what I was doing to make him doubt; if indeed, it was because of me at all.

The last of the summer days were filled with endless wondering, though Warren and I continued to steal away. To my delight, his eyes filled with happiness when they fell on me, but he kept his affections at bay, restrained. When the occasion came that Grandmother went into Savannah, we walked along the river, holding hands and Warren would tell me how beautiful I was—the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. They were warm days when the hot sun lit up the powder-blue sky and cicada sounds surrounded the old plantation.

Warren's resistance to the idea of taking me away plagued me, but I refused to let him see how much it really bothered me. Instead of dwelling on the answers he could never seem to divulge, I was enraptured by secret thoughts he revealed to me.

"Someday, I want to build us a house, a grand house. There we will stay and grow old together. If you want, we can even build one by the sea. You would like that, wouldn't you?" he asked as we sat in our favorite spot. He'd brought a basket of corn pone and macaroni for lunch.

During the months of secret rendezvous, Warren brought me extra food. I had gained enough weight to finally look healthy. Grandmother insisted Abigail restrict my food; she had noticed I had filled out. But when I didn't lose weight, Grandmother, knowing exactly how much food was allowed me and that no extra food was missing from the kitchen, figured my growth had slowed down and my body was storing what small amount of food I was given. After all, I was locked away; my body had no exercise. Luckily, that made sense to her.

I sat gazing at Warren, and noticed the sun's rays revealed the same color streaks of platinum as I had in my hair, and replied, "I would love that." His smile grew wide. "Someday, I want you to meet Ayden and Heath," I said, taking a spoonful of macaroni. "You would like them very much."

"Anyone you have a great fondness for, so will I. It puts my mind at ease to know that when you were growing up, there were people who loved you."

It struck me odd. "Why does that put your mind at ease?" I asked.

He had been digging through the basket for an apple, and he suddenly stopped, thought intensely for a moment, then looked up. "Well, it means, that—" He didn't know how to explain it. His eyes shifted away, then down to the ground. "Come, Lillian; let's walk." He stood and reached for my hand.

I put out my hand and allowed him to lift me. I tried to peer into his eyes, but he lowered the brim of his hat to hide them. Warren led me along the grounds and talked of the kind of house he wanted to build us. "I have been to Cape Cod. It's a perfect place to build a one-and-a-half-story house along the beach, maybe even a house with a view of the lighthouse on the peninsula."

The idea appealed to me. He saw it in my face; he knew the sea meant everything to me.

"Daddy thought I would make a good lighthouse keeper."

"I suppose you would. You're a smart girl."

"Daddy taught me everything there is to know about working the light. I could do it in my sleep."

Warren listened as I talked about the many nights, when Momma was sick in bed, that I was Daddy's assistant.

"As young as I was, I was a quick learner. By the time I was six, I knew the entire workings of the light, and when I was strong enough, he even let me oil the clockworks. He never let Momma do that," I chuckled.

"Your momma—was she as fond of living out at sea as you were?" he asked.

I leaned down to pick up some wildflowers and plucked their petals as we walked through the former plantation fields. I remembered that Momma used to love to be alone with Daddy up in the watch tower, and sometimes, when they didn't see me hiding in the shadows, they became passionately engaged with one another. Daddy was enamored with her beauty, and she was aware it made him lose his concentration. He could think of nothing but taking her into his arms, kissing her neck, and whispering things in her ear that made her flush.

"Lillian?" Warren had stopped and taken hold of my arm.

"Yes?"

"Your momma—was she happy?"

I didn't have to think about my answer and quickly said, "Of course. She loved Daddy and the sea, and me."

"So your daddy gave her everything? He loved her up until the very moment she died?" Warren's eyes burned with intensity, so much so it made me quiver.

"Well—yes. I mean, she was in the asylum; he wasn't there when she died. But I know how broken he was. Life was not the same the minute he had to send her away."

"Why would he send her away if he loved her as much as you say?"

I looked up at him and saw his skepticism and doubt that a man that loved a woman as much as Daddy loved Momma could just send her away to a cold institution far from his loving arms.

"I would never have sent her away," I thought I heard him say.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I would never send someone I love away, no matter what," Warren said firmly.

"But you don't understand," I cried.

"I do, Lillian. He didn't want her anymore; she was a burden, a disgrace!" He was angry, mad at the thought of Daddy rejecting her.

"No! It wasn't like that." I was filled with tears, recalling the moment I heard Momma's screams of pain and ran to where she was lying on the floor in a pool of blood from the stab wound she inflicted upon herself.

"Then what drove your daddy to leave her in such a horrible place to die alone?" Warren demanded.

By now, the tears were streaming down my cheek, but Warren was so overcome with anger that he didn't see how distraught I was.

"Momma tried to kill herself, more than once. Daddy did all he could," I shouted, sobbing. "Don't you see? He had no choice." I choked back my cries.

He shook his head in protest then said, "Then it was your own father that made her so miserable that she wanted to end her life."

He wasn't hearing me; he was so engrossed in his own distorted vision of what had happened.

"Don't you dare say that!" I commanded. "Don't you ever say another bad thing about Daddy again, or I will never speak to you again for as long as I live." I ran off, leaving him standing in the field, his hat in hand and a tear in the corner of his eye.

I refused his letters for weeks after our argument. I tore them up instead of sending them back unopened. He even had Abigail plead on his behalf. "He is asking for your forgiveness, Miss Lillian."

"Tell him I won't." I sat on the bed, my arms folded over my chest.

"He aint gonna stop trying," Abigail said, and then she smiled at me. "That man's in love with you."

For only a moment, I thought of how his love had made me feel, how he filled me with so much joy, but then I remembered how angry he was, and the mean things he said about Daddy. I couldn't forgive him.

Abigail sat beside me, and made me look at her. "You need to remember, Miss Lillian; he is going take you away some day, and he is your only way out of here."

"Why don't you go with Hamilton? Why do you stay in such a horrible place when you have your freedom?"

Her eyes softened, and she placed my hand in hers, then said with a heavy voice, "I can't leave my boy."

"But he's gone. He died long ago."

"No, Miss Lillian; Jacob-Thomas is sure here. You haven't seen him yet? You don't hear him at night, when all is still?"

I thought hard, but no, I hadn't sensed a ghostly presence, ever.

"Well, he is sure here. And I aint leaving 'til it's my time to go. Besides, Hattie knows I'm here. She gonna come back here someday, and I'm waiting for her."

I gasped and placed my hand over my heart. Momma had thought I was Hattie, but I never knew who she was.

"Hattie? Who is she?" I asked, on the verge of jumping off the bed in excitement.

"Hattie is my girl. She and your momma were best friends. Like sisters."

I was elated to learn that Momma didn't have a make-believe friend, but a girl she shared a real kinship with. "Where is Hattie now?"

"I don't know. But when she wants to see me again, she knows where I am."

I lay in bed that night and remembered how fond Momma was of Hattie. They must have shared a wonderful, close friendship if Momma had kept Hattie in her thoughts throughout her years of madness. I pictured her as pretty as I could tell Abigail once was. I suspected Hattie ran away to gain her freedom, just as Momma had. I hoped she would someday soon come back to Sutton Hall. I hoped she would share stories with me and tell me what Momma was really like as a young girl. Maybe she knew Daddy, too. And I hoped Hattie would be the one to reveal all of the secrets that Sutton Hall kept under lock and key, hidden from me for all the years I had been mercilessly abandoned and shut away.

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# Chapter Nineteen

Warren was relentless in his pursuit to win back my affections. It took nearly four weeks before he finally changed my mind and I was no longer angry at him.

I woke one morning to a small present left with a note beside my plate. I hurried and opened the small box to reveal a beautiful broach with a hand painted portrait of a beautiful woman on it.

In the note he apologized once again and told me he was going up north to buy the piece of land he would build our house on. He said he loved me and would be back in a few weeks, then ended the letter with, " _I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me."_

I was overwhelmed by the gesture and immediately regretted all the weeks I had harbored such animosity towards him. After all, he was on his way to Cape Cod to make a first big step towards our future together. We would have a house someday, up north, where I could sink my feet into the cool sand every day and watch vessels make their way across the ocean. The brisk, salty air would fill my lungs every morning and I would never again take that for granted.

I waited impatiently for Warren's return. I couldn't wait to tell him I, too, was sorry and that I never wanted to have another cross day with him again. I was relieved that he still fought for my devotion and refused to let go, though I had callously shunned him. And although the days went by at a snail's pace, I kept busy with the few books I periodically stole from Grandmother's library downstairs, off the sitting room. I was careful not to be caught, and when I took a book, I replaced one. Usually I took one in the middle of the night or when she went into Savannah.

Then there was the time I stole out of my room with only a small candle in the darkness of a mid-autumn night to try the doors of the dozens of rooms, to see if, perhaps, any had been left unlocked. The house had cooled off; the weather had been below normal temperatures all week. The nights were almost frigid and every fireplace but mine was burning and casting eerie shadows on the towering walls. I slowly wandered about on the first floor, then went back upstairs and proceeded to Grandmother's wing. I hadn't stepped foot in that hall since I had seen Grandfather.

The floor creaked, and I held my breath with every step. I moved slowly until I came to her door. I hurried past and giggled to myself. It was fun taking chances; it was my way of having an adventure of my own. I wanted to get to the door at the end of the hall, the one I was drawn to. I looked closely at the lock and realized it was broken, so I quietly turned the knob and crept up the dark, narrow stairway to the third floor, the attic. The top story covered the entire span of the mansion, and I could only see what was directly in front of me.

Clutter was everywhere; the attic filled with items I couldn't wait to look through. I lifted my candle and gazed at the trunks that lined the thick beams that supported the roof. There were old, broken Windsor chairs scattered about and clothes everywhere. I spotted three crinolines, some old French hats, a pair of children's gloves, and dozens of ball gowns. There were old, muddy boots in a small pile in the center of the floor, and near them, on a nail, was what looked to be a blood-stained Confederate's uniform.

When I tried to open the trunks, all but one was locked. That particular trunk was filled with money! There must have been thousands of dollars inside. I picked up a pile and peered closely at it, then realized it was all worthless Confederate money. At one time, the Arringtons must have been wealthy beyond my imagination. Now they were virtually penniless, struggling to put a morsel of food on the table. I went back and tried to open one of the other trunks; I played with the lock and tugged hard, but it was no use. Then, underneath, I caught a glimpse of a photograph sticking out.

I reached down and carefully pulled the photograph out from under the trunk, then brought the candle up to it. The photograph was taken of Sutton Hall in its glory days; it appeared to be some sort of event or celebration from before the war ravaged the South. I couldn't quite make out the people in the scene; the photographer must have been far away. Slaves and ladies and gentleman stood about. The women relaxing in front of the mansion, beneath the familiar magnolia trees, wore beautiful dresses with enormous crinolines that filled out their skirts. Their hair was done in ringlets and curls, and the men conversed with each other in frock coats, trousers, boots, and very dapper top hats. Two men stood on the front porch, side by side. I recognized my grandfather in the photograph, but no one else, no matter how I concentrated.

I placed the photograph in the pocket of my skirt and decided I had seen enough for now, and slowly made my way back to the staircase. I heard the door creak open and saw the glow from a candle coming up. Alarmed, I crouched in the nearest corner and hid behind one of the trunks. I watched Abigail creep up the stairs and stop at the landing. She walked further ahead, stopped in the center of the attic, and then placed the candle on the seat of a chair. For a moment she was silent, then, as if in some kind of a trance, she called in a whisper, "Jacob-Thomas, your momma is here."

I waited anxiously, holding my breath to see what would happen next. She called out again, then straightened her spine and looked to the end of the expansive room, and I heard the childlike laugh for the first time.

"Come here, my boy," she said, lifting the candle and sitting down in an old, worn chair.

I eased up a little to get a better look then froze as the ghost of a young boy appeared from the darkness. He appeared to float across the floor until he reached Abigail, then he stopped. With angst-filled eyes, she reached out for him then the spirit laughed again, and in a blink of an eye, was gone. Abigail lowered her head into her hands and began to weep. After so many years, she still cried for the boy who had been taken from her. I wondered what had happened to Jacob-Thomas. What had caused him to lose his life at such a young age? Whatever had left a boy dead at such a young age must have been horrible.

Abigail sobbed in silence as the night passed, and I suspected it might possibly have been a nightly ritual. Then she sat in the chair for several hours, singing hymns that Momma used to sing. Her voice was soothing and reminded me of my younger days, and began to ease me into sleep. I tried to fight my heavy lids, I didn't want to lie down and close my eyes, but I was overtaken by exhaustion and in the cold, dark corner of the ghostly attic, I fell asleep.

My dreams were filled with my youthful, happy days on Jasper Island. Ayden, Heath, and I blissfully frolicked in the chilly, North Atlantic waters, laughing and splashing one another. Heath's brilliant blue eyes were full of happiness when he looked at me, and Ayden's smile lit up my heart. The sun shone high above and warmed our faces; we were happy and free, with not a care in the world. The day in my dream seemed endless, and I could almost taste the salt of the sea on my lips as the light sounds of laughter filled my ears and pulled me back into my dreadful reality like a slap in the face.

The boyish apparition stood over me as dull light filtered through the three dormered windows of the attic, then vanished in an instant. I gasped and shot up, nearly banging my head on the beam above. It was morning; I had to get back to my room before I was noticed missing. My heart in my throat, I hurried down the stairs until I reached the bottom, where I inched open the door and peeked into the hall. There was no one there, so I crept out and ran, as fast as I could without bumping into any walls. As I turned into the next wing, I stopped at the corner, looked all around, and then hurried on, until I reached my room. My heart beat fast in my chest, and when I finally made it to my room, there was Hamilton, a plate containing my hard-boiled egg in hand. I didn't take the time to really look at him and breathed a sigh of relief. I was safe. I stopped to catch my breath, then the door slammed closed, and Grandmother stepped out from where she had been waiting behind the door.

I froze, and I will never forget the fury in her eyes as she took her cane and gave me a massive blow to the head, sending me hurtling to the floor. The room began to spin, and I felt blood gush from my head. I saw Grandmother lift the cane again from the corner of my eye. Hamilton, sensing that she was going to beat me to death, came to pull me out of the way, but the cane smashed down on his temple and sent him crashing into the wall. Then he slumped to the floor.

Piercing screams of terror shot through the mammoth house while I lay almost unconscious in my own blood. I remember Abigail's deafening howls and Grandmother's livid accusations. "It's the girl's fault. If she wasn't the seed of the devil himself, none of this would have happened!"

"You need to get the doctor!" Abigail yelled.

When Grandmother didn't respond, Abigail did all she could to lift me and drag me over to the bed, sobbing uncontrollably all the while.When she had me half on the bed, and only after she wrapped the wound on my head with her apron, she looked at Hamilton and fell over his body.

"Get off of him," Grandmother commanded.

"You go get a doctor for Miss Lillian, or I'm going to the constable!" Abigail hollered through her tears.

Without a word, Grandmother spun around and left. I thought for sure she would leave me there to die, but hours later, she arrived with a doctor, who checked my wound, then offered me syrup that quickly sent the room spinning and made my body feel like it was floating up in the clouds. I had no memory of Hamilton's body being carried out or any idea of what was going on around me until more than a week had passed.

In a foggy haze, I lifted my heavy head off my blood-stained pillow to find myself alone in my room, the door wide open. A small table had been brought up to my room, and on it, an empty bottle sat beside a spoon, bowl, and pitcher. There was a pile of bloody rags covered in flies on the floor.

It took a few minutes for my eyes to come into complete focus, and then I slid off the bed. I stood, dizzy, and leaned on the bed to keep from falling, waiting until the lightheaded feeling went away. It was difficult to remember the reason my head throbbed and why I had a large bump on it.

It took a great effort, but I slowly steadied my legs and proceeded from the room, wandering aimlessly down the hall, not knowing where exactly I was going. It was difficult to gather my senses, and I found myself spinning in circles, confused and lost. I was sure I heard voices, laughter, and then sobs. I decided to follow them through the dim corridor, down the grand staircase, and out the front door. As soon as I stepped outside into the rain I was drenched, and my bare feet sank into cold mud. I pulled the hair away from my face and gazed around. I looked for the light; if I could find the light from the tower, that's where Daddy would be. There was no light, and I called for him. "Daddy? Daddy where are you?"

I heard the sobs again. It must be Momma, I thought. She was crying again, alone and locked away in her room. But I couldn't find them and there were no answers. I tried to find my way through the pouring rain, and I fell; I got up, only to fall again. I began to cry, not from pain, but from my loss. I began to remember that Daddy was gone. Momma was gone. I gave up searching for things that could never be, and lay in the mud of a freshly dug grave, allowing the rain to saturate me as I succumbed to the confused anguish that consumed me.

I stared up at the dark, grey, ominous sky looming over Sutton Hall. I stayed in the muddy graveyard until my delusions of the past and present cleared and life as I knew it took me back. But in the time it took for the rain to flood the grounds around the mansion, I realized I had been abandoned once again. My footsteps echoed throughout the mammoth house, and I looked around in disbelief. What little furniture had once been strewn about was gone. I went from empty room to empty room, even back up to the attic; it was all gone—the trunks, the clothes, the broken chairs and tables. Even the old cobwebs had been disrupted by the removal of long stationary items. It had all happened without warning, as quick as the blink of an eye. I was completely alone.

Grandmother was gone; she had forsaken Sutton Hall for good, though her ruthless presence lingered, and there was no sign of Abigail. I looked around for clues, a letter, for any explanation, but found nothing. All I had left was my blood-soaked, fly-ridden bed. I still had the armoire that contained Momma's dresses and books and a key I no longer needed. The door was open; there was no one left to lock me away anymore.

I wandered through the house, dripping a trail of water behind me and thought I had lost my mind, and was in some kind of strange dream; after all, I did receive a severe blow to the head. Maybe I was dead and wandered the halls the way Jacob-Thomas had, just waiting for someone to call for me.

When I entered what had been Grandmother and Grandfather's room, I passed a mirror behind the door, obviously accidentally left behind, and saw my own reflection. I looked nothing like an apparition. I was not a ghost; I was very much alive and left to fend for myself, alone. I was no longer a prisoner; I had my freedom and could do as I pleased. I felt much the same way as the former slaves; the doors of sovereignty were opened, but without a place to go, it almost held no value. Then I thought it was up to me to make what I could of the opportunity handed to me. I would go to Warren's cabin, and there I would wait for him until his return.

I changed into a clean, dry dress, glanced around my prison for what I believed would be the last time, and then made my exit, not looking back. I believed I remembered the way. It didn't seem long ago that I was brought back to Sutton Hall, bound and gagged, then beaten. I was sure of the direction, and although my walk seemed a hundred times longer, I finally made it to Warren's tiny cabin.

I didn't expect him to be there and proceeded up to the small porch. On my walk, I thought about how long he had been gone and figured he could return any day. I was relieved to find the door unlocked.

Everything appeared as it had been when I forcefully taken away. The cabin was untidy; his bed was not made from the last night he slept there. I went to the bed, sat down, and thought about how wonderful such a simple thing as a clean bed was. It still didn't seem real; I was actually free from the chains of evil that bound me to Sutton Hall. No longer was there a grandmother to fear; in fact, I had nothing to fear any longer. I just needed to wait for Warren, and when he heard what had unfolded to lead me to him, he would want to take me away to start our life together. I could almost feel the ocean breezes against my face as I imagined the days ahead on Cape Cod.

I suspected Warren would make me an honest woman and marry me. It couldn't happen soon enough, and I sat on his bed and locked my eyes on the door, anticipating his return at any moment.

Day slipped gracefully into night, and though I found myself sitting in the darkness, I kept my stare, unwavering as the hours passed, fixed on the door until morning approached. The bright orange glow of the new day beamed through the small windows of the cabin, onto my face. I closed my eyes, and they remained closed until the sun rose high and morning was fully underway. Still, I was not tired, and had no desire to alter my commitment. I would sit there, eyes wide open and fixed on the door, with all the endurance I had left, until Warren came home. Occasionally, I thought I saw his shadow approach the porch and my heart would stop, but then I'd realize it was just the shadow of a branch and I'd be disappointed, take a breath, and resume my steadfast position.

This went on for as long as I could keep my eyes open, until my lids grew so heavy that sleep won out and I lowered my head and drifted off to sleep, only to wake early into another day, angry with myself. The moment Warren walked through the door, I wanted to see his expression; I wanted to watch his sea green eyes light up and hear him call me to him. That fantasy played over and over again in my mind, so much so that my heart began to race and I became fidgety and restless. After days of sitting I finally got up. My empty stomach had been rumbling, and I decided to go through his cupboards to find something to eat, but there was nothing. So I went outside to the well, drank as much water as I could to fill me up, then went back inside, and returned to my place. Then a wonderful idea came to me. I had noticed a tin tub out on the porch, and I dragged it into the kitchen. I made a small fire and proceeded to heat up some water. I would soak myself, maybe for hours.

As soon as I slipped into the warm bath, I immediately went into a calm, serene state, leaned my head back, and virtually melted into the heat, which felt as if it were taking off the ugly, hideous layers of years spent in the God-awful walls of the house that Grandmother ruled.

The water was just hot enough to remove the filth, the blood, the dirt, and the pain—both inside and out. I had brought a bristled brush in with me and began to scrub every inch of my body, so much so that when I finally decided I was cleansed, my body was red and raw. But to me, it was a good ache; it meant I wouldn't have to carry the stench of Sutton Hall, and although the scars on my back from the whipping would always be there, I couldn't see them.

I took a long, deep breath, and after I was dressed and my hair had naturally dried into long, silky waves that cascaded over my shoulders and down my back, I walked out to the porch and fell into the rocker. The day was mild, and for the first time in what seemed like forever, I watched as the birds flew from tree to tree and squirrels gathered nuts and seeds to bury for a feast at a later time. The pale blue skies were filled with white puffy clouds, and I smiled, thinking of Momma and Daddy. They were up there, somewhere, looking down on me. I suspected they were finally happy, since they had been reunited in Heaven. I believed Momma had her sanity back, and Daddy was young again. All seemed well; my life was falling back into place, and I had finally taken the first of a few steps that would return me north. It was only a matter of time before I could visit the Daltons and wander the island, remembering my younger days, which truly were the very best days of my life. The sooner Warren returned, the sooner I could get out of Georgia, leaving my tragic memories behind with the empty house that sat on the once-magnificent plantation.

After days and nights of waiting for Warren, my heart sinking with each passing minute, I decided to go find him. Savannah was only fifteen miles away, and I was sure I could walk there in less than a day. I gathered myself and gingerly headed up the dirt road towards the capital. I was grateful the day was cool and most of the oppressive summer days were behind us. My shoes barely fit; I was a full size larger than Momma had been, and they had holes in them, which allowed pebbles to get in. I occasionally had to stop alongside the road and clean them out. By the fifth time I had done this, I heard a wagon coming in the distance and scurried under some brush so I wouldn't be detected. I was still leery of strangers; always in the back of my mind, I feared Grandmother had changed her mind, returned to the plantation, and would come for me.

As it drew closer, I realized it was an elderly man aboard a large, lumbering mud wagon. He hadn't spotted me, and I took the opportunity to jump on the back, hide under the cover, and hitch a ride into Savannah. The ride was horribly bumpy, and knocked me about, but I endured and jumped out, undetected, as soon as I heard the horse's hooves hit the cobblestone city streets. My plan was to go to the railway station, steal into one of the box cars, and make my way to Massachusetts.

Savannah was much more confusing than I remembered. There were streets going in every direction and houses upon houses. I heard the whistle of the train and followed the sound through the bustling streets. People strolled along, finely dressed, and as I passed, they would stare, point, whisper, and giggle. At first, I didn't understand what they were laughing about or why they mocked me. Then I managed to make out what they were saying.

"Would y'all look at that dress she is wearin'? That girl looks like she is still waiting on Jefferson Davis to rescue us," a woman snickered.

Among the locals I was out of place, a figure straight out of the war—all because of my clothes. A man even approached and stopped me in my tracks to taunt me.

"Y'all look ready for some debutante ball," he teased. He was with a few other men, whose eyes scanned me up and down and whose lips, under their bushy moustaches, revealed lustful smiles.

"I'm going to the station," I said nervously.

"Do y'all realize we did, in fact, lose the war?"

"Please, let me be. This is the only dress I have," I cried.

They all doubled over with laughter.

"Hey, she ain't no southern bell. She talks like a Yankee!" one man exclaimed.

They had stopped me in the middle of the busy street and circled me as carriages and buggies whizzed dangerously by. When I heard the steam whistle blow again, I tried to nudge my way out, but the man before me grabbed me and pulled me into him. His breath smelled like the stuff Daddy used to drink. His teeth were yellow and covered in bits of chewing tobacco. I had never seen such a hideous face before.

"Y'all is one of the prettiest little ladies I have ever seen walkin' these here streets," he said, then to my astonishment, he reached out and grabbed me.

I gasped and smacked his hand away, on the verge of tears. They continued to laugh as I pushed my way through and ran ahead, darting around horse-drawn wagons and carriages, hearing their laughter until I made it around a corner and up another unfamiliar street.

I stopped and leaned against the brick wall of a general store to catch my breath and calm myself. I was trembling and caught up in my fright. People went in and out, but only gave me strange glances. I wasn't going to stay but one more minute, when I was again approached by a man, though he was much more dignified and well dressed.

"Young lady, are you lost?" he asked.

"No, sir. I'm on my way to the train station. I'm meeting someone," I said.

I sensed he was there out of kindness, not to take advantage of me as the other men had.

"Let me take you. There is my carriage," he said, pointing. It was a fancy carriage. He noticed my uncertainty and hesitation. "Please, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Richard Parker." He had a northern accent. "I'm a commercial illustrator."

I didn't know what a commercial illustrator was.

"I draw images of people for books and magazines," explained Richard.

"Oh. And you live here?"

He smiled, and with his extended finger, pointed to his place. "I rent a small apartment a block over."

I noticed a gold wedding band on his left finger, which put me at ease, and I agreed to his offer to take me to the station.

"Thank you, Mr. Parker," I said, as he assisted me into the carriage, instructing his driver where to go.

"I couldn't help but notice you," Richard said. He was a dapper man, just like the men in the photograph I took from the attic. Richard was tall and slender; his hair was thick, dark brown with unmistakable red highlights, and his eyes were a deep copper color.

"I know," I said, and shifted my eyes to the floor of the carriage. "The dress. It's the only one I have."

He gave a light chuckle and patted me on the knee, then said, "It has nothing to do with your dress. I noticed your timeless beauty." My eyes lifted, and I stared at him. He was amused by my gullibility and innocence. "You don't even realize how stunning you are, do you?"

"Well, my momma was a beautiful woman, and I was told I look like her," I replied.

"Then there you have it." He gave me a long gaze, then said, "I don't know your name."

"Lillian."

"Lillian what?"

"Just Lillian."

"I see," Richard said, nodding in understanding.

The carriage approached the station, and I thanked him warmly as the driver came around to assist me out. Richard leaned out of the window and said, "If you ever want to be famous, allow me to draw your image, and the world and its riches will be yours."

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# Chapter Twenty

I stayed by the station, aimlessly wandering about, waiting until the last train was to leave. I planned to jump aboard under the cover of darkness. All day long, people paid very little attention to me; they were all too busy getting to where they needed to go. One conductor did ask me who I was waiting for and glared at me with skepticism when I told him my daddy was arriving on the last train. After that, I stayed hidden behind the station and was grateful when night finally ended the long, drawn-out day.

I prepared to leave, to execute my plan to find Warren, and I was about to make my way to the box cars, when out of the corner of my eye, under the glow of the lamppost, his platinum blond hair caught my attention. My heart skipped a beat when I realized it was Warren! He had returned, and I had seen him before I made a worthless and likely dangerous journey up north.

I immediately called to him and he spun around, then our eyes locked.

"Lillian!" He at once dropped his luggage, opened his arms wide enough for me to fall into, and hugged me tight.

"What are you doing here?" he said into my ear.

"Oh, Warren, if you only knew," I groaned, and before I had a chance to prepare, I was bawling onto his shoulder.

"What is it? What happened to you?" he asked, pulling back so he could better look at me. I could barely contain my sobs; my chest heaved in and out so hard I could barely catch my breath. The conductor came over to see what was wrong.

"Nothing, sir. We are fine. She's just a little upset. We'll be on our way." He led me off the platform and to the stables, where his horse had been boarded. Once there, he sat me down on a bale of hay then hushed me and caressed my hair as I leaned into his chest. I had broken down and collapsed onto the man who swore he would save me. I had kept that moment bottled up for weeks on end, and he was taken aback; he couldn't make sense of my jumbled words.

"Slow down,; take a deep breath and tell me why you were at the train station."

I lifted my head, and noticed his shirt was saturated with my tears. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.

Warren smiled, and said, "It's okay."

I began the tale of what led me to him—the beating, the brutal murder, the hasty abandonment, the tragedy, and my eventual freedom. He looked at me with disbelieving eyes, and I wondered how he could be so stunned; after all, he knew of Grandmother and the evil kingdom she ruled.

When we arrived at his cabin, he hurried me inside and sat me down, and told me how very sorry he was for not being there to help me in my time of need, for not protecting me the way he should have.

"I feel like a good-for-nothing," he said with sorrowful, defeated eyes.

"It's not your fault," I said, reaching for his hand.

He squeezed it, then told me to lay down and get some rest. "I'm sure it has been a long day for you."

I agreed, and he allowed me to use one of his shirts to sleep in. We eased into an understanding; Warren slept on the floor, his coat rolled up as a pillow. It was too chilly to sleep out on the porch I insisted.

"Will you tell me everything about Cape Cod in the morning?" I asked, just as I closed my tired eyes.

After a long silence, he said, just before we fell asleep, "What there is to tell you, I will."

To wake up to the first light of day and have my gaze fall upon Warren, peacefully sleeping on the floor, was almost a dream come true. I felt safe and finally embraced my freedom. My despair was behind me; I no longer had to look over my shoulder and wait for something bad to happen. I had a whole new outlook on life, and I was happy, so much so, that I couldn't wait for Warren to wake. I needed to hear all about the Cape and when our house would be ready.

I quietly slipped out of bed and went to stand over him. I watched for a while as he slept with a small smile on his rosy lips and breathed softly. Warren appeared years younger when he was like that. I wanted to lie down and cuddle up behind him. I needed to place my lips on the back of his neck and tell him how grateful I was to him, but I contained my eagerness, knowing how important it was to be proper, and woke him with a gentle tap on the shoulder.

Warren rolled over and wiped the sleep from his face, and then a huge smile filled his attractive face. "Hello there," he said

"Good morning, sleepy head," I giggled.

"I bet you're hungry," he said, sitting up. "I need to get some supplies."

"How about you go, and I will straighten up while you're gone? Then, after breakfast, you can tell me everything about your trip."

Warren agreed and said, "You're a planner, that's for sure."

I took that as a compliment and practically shoved him out the door so I could start cleaning.

Maybe it was a fantasy played out, but I loved putting my hair up in a bun, the way Opal used to, and making everything around me spotless, as a good woman would. Though it was a small cabin, it was as first-rate as any home I had ever lived in, and thought of it as my own, and I worked hard to scrub the floors. I also used the bathing tin, filled with hot water boiled over the fire, to wash my dress, using vegetable soap to scrub out the small stains. Then I hung it over the porch rail to dry. I hoped Warren wouldn't mind me wearing his shirt for the rest of the day.

I had the cabin as clean as a whistle when Warren arrived with the box of supplies. I was anxious to cook him some eggs and sausage.

"I'm a good cook," I told him. He stepped back and allowed me to work in the kitchen and watched with amusement. At first, maybe he thought I hadn't learned a thing about how to cook, but when breakfast was served, he was quick to compliment me.

"I must say, this is the best meal I have ever eaten," he said after his stomach was stuffed.

"Opal taught me how to cook."

"I imagine you're as fine a cook as she is, if not better."

"I think Ayden thought so," I said, recalling how much he enjoyed my meals.

Warren sat back into his chair and lovingly looked at me. He was pleased with me.

"Can I get you anything else?" I asked, and began to clear off the table, taking the dishes outside to the pump for a washing. I needed to show him I would be a good wife.

"No, Lillian. That's fine. I'm going to split some wood. I will be outside for a while," he said, kissing the top of my head as he walked out.

It was a good start to our new beginning. I spent the rest of the day on the porch, watching him work and waiting for my dress to dry. It was the first warm day in weeks, and I was no longer cooped up in a stuffy room. I enjoyed the sweet fragrance of the fresh air and noticed the sounds of the trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and once again was mesmerized by Warren. I knew he held back and was reserved with his affections, but in time, he would learn to let go and see I was good for him, that I was devoted and my love would take him to new heights.

Days went on much the same; Warren had his chores, and I had mine. I kept up with the housework, and I cooked almost all day to feed his healthy appetite. I learned his favorite food was bacon and collard beans, apple butter, and anything with cheese—especially macaroni. But the nights were full of longing and anticipation of the moment Warren came to me. I would lie awake in the stillness and watch him sleep; at least, I thought he was asleep. Sometimes I wasn't sure. If the light of the moon shined in just right, I'd think his eyes were open, staring over at me, but I wasn't certain. I often felt his gaze, and only rarely did I catch his wandering eye—most often when I was walking about in the shirt that I used every night to sleep in. My slender legs were exposed, and I liked that he found them attractive. But as soon as I caught him, his eyes immediately shifted and he would step outside for a smoke of his pipe under the bright stars of the early winter nights.

"Up there; that's Horologium," I said pointing to the constellation as I stole up next to him.

He was sitting on the steps of the porch, looking up at the sky. I wanted to impress him, to teach him what I had learned from Heath. As I gazed at the stars, I remembered how enamored I had been with him. Heath was the most brilliant boy I had ever known, and he remained so. Barely a day went by that Heath wasn't in the shadows of my mind. No matter what, Heath would always be my first love, my most special love because he stole my heart, and I never asked for it back.

Warren nodded and took a long draw of his pipe, then motioned for me to sit next to him. We hadn't talked about his trip; he persistently avoided my questions, though he said he would tell me the very first morning. Maybe, I thought, he told me nothing so I would be surprised when we did head north. I hoped that was it, and he wasn't holding something back.

"Hold out your hand," he said, putting his pipe down and taking my hand in his. "Now close your eyes."

I did as he said, and when he told me to open them, I gasped. In my hand was a beautiful hair ornament—tortoiseshell with ruby-colored rhinestones.

"What is this for?" I asked him, filled with thankfulness.

"It's Christmas. This is my gift to you."

My heart sank. I had no gift for him. I had long given up on the luxury of such a holiday, and of course, Santa never left me a gift during my imprisonment. Warren saw how sad I was.

"I bought it for you because I thought it would look lovely in your long hair. You do like it, don't you, Lillian?"

A small tear escaped the corner of my eye, and I quickly brushed it away then said, "I have never seen anything so lovely."

Warren was pleased and asked me to put it in my hair. I did and took him off guard when I placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you. This means so much to me. I will treasure it for always," I said softly then I went inside to leave him to his thoughts.

He came in late, hours after I had gone to bed. I felt him sit on the edge of the bed; his stare brought me out of my light sleep. I slowly sat up and allowed him to climb in next to me without a word. He rested beside me, his clothes still on, then turned and brought me close. My heart pounded, my body tingled as his soft breath fell onto the nape of my neck. I was wide awake; I was scared and anxious. I wanted to be loved the way a man loves a woman, but the fear of the unknown made my pulse race and my stomach turn into one big knot.

"You're so lovely," Warren whispered then nuzzled my hair and fell asleep. He hadn't tried to undress me. I was surprised, also relieved, and went back to sleep in the warmth of his breath and the comfort of his love.

Warren came to me every night; he cuddled me, he held me close, and he whispered that I was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to him. In the beginning, I was frightened of what I believed would happen—that he could take me and have his way with my body, but he never once did, and sleeping together became ordinary.

Then my fear was gone, my yearning took over, and I wanted more than anything to have him desire me. I didn't understand how he could love me so much, yet want to sleep with me the way a brother would a sister. He kept his feelings distant, the way Heath had, and while the months passed and he didn't pursue me, I became annoyed. I saw the yearning in his eyes when I caught him gazing at me. I knew I was beautiful, yet he remained standoffish with his manly desires.

We made periodic trips into Savannah, and Warren purchased a new dress for me to wear when we went into town—a more modern, mature dress, so I wouldn't be made fun of any longer. I always wore my hair comb, and he especially liked that. And while I sat in the buggy waiting for him while he purchased items from the store, men young and old, would tip their hats and smile at me; some would even come over to talk. Warren hated this and warned me never to talk to them after he shooed them away.

"You're a proper lady. You have no business speaking to men that approach you," he said sternly.

"Why? They mean no harm," I said, secretly amused by his jealousy.

"You do as I say, you hear?" he barked, urging the horse on. I didn't like his tone and scowled at him.

As we made our way through the streets, I heard my name being called. The voice was unfamiliar, but I immediately recognized the face. Richard was walking along the congested street with a heavy-set, older, red-haired woman with a stony appearance. I waved to him, but Warren refused to stop. When we were on the outskirts of the city, he sternly asked me who the man was.

"His name is Richard Parker. I met him the day you returned from the trip you never speak of," I snipped back, crossing my arms over my chest.

"What business did he have with you?"

"That business is none of your business," I firmly replied.

"Now, Lillian, don't be angry with me," he said, in a much softer tone. I turned and faced him, then blurted, "Why won't you tell me about Cape Cod?"

"There is not much to tell. I don't want to disappoint you."

"What does that mean? Did you not purchase land to build our house on?"

"I didn't have enough money," he confessed, keeping his eyes on the road.

"That means that we can't move there?" I cried.

"In time, Lillian. Give me more time," he begged.

"More time. I don't understand. You were gone for so long!"

He didn't respond and refused to look at me when he lifted me off the buggy. I marched into the house and turned my back on him when he stepped inside. I was annoyed at him for snapping at me, frustrated he did not find me desirable, and hurt that he didn't fulfill his promise. I was not going to return north any time soon.

"Please don't be mad. I didn't mean to yell at you today. I just think you need to be careful around men. You are beautiful; they all see that. You have no idea what they are capable of," he said, then came behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders. "And I'm still trying to gather the money so I can take you away." Warren's voice was soaked in sincerity, but his words sounded so much like Daddy's it made me cringe. I didn't want him to treat me like a little girl; I knew what men were capable of. That was exactly why I was confused. Warren turned me, and with his finger lifted my chin, and said, "Don't be angry at me. I love you with all my heart, Lillian. You do believe me, don't you?"

Of course I believed he loved me, but not in the way I fantasized. He had no idea what I dreamed of, how I yearned for him to make me into a woman, to make me his own. Warren didn't see it in my eyes; he didn't feel it when our bodies lay in the same bed every night.

He leaned in and tenderly kissed my cheek, and again asked me not to be angry. I nodded, just to appease him, and excused myself, telling him I wanted to take a bath. I went to the well to fetch some water. Warren brought in the tub for me and said he would work outside until the end of the day. I was glad to have some time to myself, and while I was soaking in the hot water, I thought of how I could make Warren jealous. If he couldn't see on his own how desirable I was, I was going to force him to see it. I didn't care how angry he got.

I also thought of Richard and remembered what he said to me. He thought my beauty could bring me fame and fortune. I didn't know if I necessarily believed that, but it was exciting to think about. It was wonderful that he remembered me, spotted me, and called out. If he weren't married, I could make Warren jealous of Richard. But I would have to use patience; something I always struggled to do.

That night, just as Warren came to share the bed with me, I asked to sleep alone. Warren looked perplexed, almost offended.

"It's my time of the month," I lied.

"Oh, I see," he said, climbing over me then he made himself a place on the floor. I smiled with great satisfaction and watched as he tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. The bed was lumpy and stiff, but nothing compared to the cold, hard floor.

The next morning, he was exceptionally grumpy.

"What's wrong?" I asked as I served him his eggs and sausage.

He refused to look at me and decided not to eat. "I have a new job, starting tomorrow," he said before he stepped outside to gather some wood.

"A new job?" I hadn't realized he was looking for work. In fact, I had no idea where he obtained his money.

"I purchased a grindstone and will be going around to farms to see if any need sharpening services. I'm going into Savannah today to bring back a wagon to haul it around in."

I didn't know whether to be glad about the job or unhappy. It meant he would be able to save for land to build a house for us on the ocean, but he would be out all day and I would be left alone. I didn't want to be alone again.

"Can I go with you? I can sit in the wagon while you work."

He heard my desperation and said he would think about it. I reminded him that I would still keep a clean house and do all the laundry.

"And the cooking?"

I wouldn't be able to prepare supper if I was out all day with him. My heart slowly sank.

"We'll see. Maybe on an occasional day," he said, before he departed.

Warren's work took him away all day and well into the late hours of the evening. I found my own way to cope with his daily absences, cooking and cleaning with fervor. When he came in after a long day, he was hungry, his face was blanketed with lethargy, and I felt guilty, for I knew all of his hard work was to save up enough money to take me away. So I did all I could to ease his stomach with my tasty cooking and offered to rub his achy muscles.

The first time I suggested it, he was unsure, but I insisted and told him to take off his shirt and sit in the chair.

"Momma used to do this for Daddy when he had been up for days working the light during a heavy fog, and it helped him relax and sleep better," I told Warren. He was almost too tired to refuse and appeased me by taking off his shirt.

The skin on his back was red from carrying the grindstone, and his rippling muscles were extremely tight. I stepped behind the chair and gently placed my hands on his shoulders, then began working my fingers around each stiff muscle, slowly at first, working into a harder rub.

"You're so tense." I could only see the back of his head, but I could tell by the way the side of his jaw locked, that he was in more discomfort than he let on.

"It's helping; don't stop."

I smiled and continued rubbing through his pain, moving my hands and fingers around each ripple on his back. It was the first time I had touched his bare skin, and I noticed every one of the freckles scattered along his broad shoulders.

When he relaxed, as his muscles loosened, he closed his eyes and rested. My hands slowed to a light stroke, just the tips of my fingers easing over his skin. I noticed his goose bumps as I led my fingertips up his spine, toward his solid neck, then I started to stroke his hair. He began to ease his head back. His eyes closed, and he drank in the massage then just as his head gently fell back into my bosom, he jumped up, sending the chair crashing to the floor. I jumped back, and we both stood staring at one another, until Warren said, flustered, "I must have drifted off. I thought I was floating away when the chair slipped out from under me."

We bent down to reach for the chair at the same time, and our heads bumped. I started to laugh, but Warren wasn't amused. He was flushed and embarrassed, and hastily rushed outside. I was left standing, not understanding what I did to upset him so terribly. Outside, he paced the porch and ran his hands through his hair. He was without his shirt, and it was cold outside. I picked it up off the floor and went to give it to him. The quarter-moon gave just enough light to see through the night.

"Put on your shirt so you don't catch a cold," I said, handing it to him.

"Thank you," he replied, and hurried to put it on, though he left the buttons undone. I didn't respond and went back inside to clean up before bed. Warren sat on the porch and smoked his pipe, coming in later, just as I was situated in the bed. I had already blown the lamp out and wanted only to go to sleep. I had imagined he would be grateful for the massage; Daddy always was when Momma was kind enough to do it for him, but Warren seemed unappreciative. All I wanted to do was make him happy. I tried everything to please him, and supposed I should have been content just knowing he allowed me to live with him. After all, he had no real reason to take me in, except for the kindness of his heart. He owed me nothing, yet I felt as though he owed me the world. I was flooded with mixed feelings. Perhaps I was trying too hard, and that's what pushed him away. Maybe I was overly grateful, or had he sensed I was taking advantage of his kindness? I didn't know.

I lay there and listened as he changed for bed, and I cringed when he banged his leg into the footboard of the bed. "Damn it!" he said, walking off the pain. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

I wanted to go to him, to apologize and say I was sorry for blowing out the lamp and making it so dark that he hurt himself, for giving him a massage that made him unhappy and mad at me, for coming to my rescue so long ago, and for making me fall in love with him.

I finally won up enough nerve, choked back my tears, and said, "Warren, I'm sorry."

He stopped pacing like some kind of caged circus animal and whisked over to me. He knelt down and took both my hands, then pressed them against his cool, scruffy cheek. I began to sob. I felt so unbelievably lost when people were angry with me, and I couldn't help but become overwhelmed by all of his mixed signals.

"Dear, Lillian; stop crying," he said in a hushed, muffled voice. He took my hands and pressed my palms against his tender lips. "I hate to see you sad."

I continued to drop tears as he told me he was sorry, and he wasn't mad at me. "You have a way of making me crazy inside," he whispered, then bowed his head. I didn't know what I had done to make him feel such turmoil; all I wanted to do was love him and have him love me in return.

"Is it the money, Warren?" I softly asked. Maybe his struggle was due to the overwhelming financial burden. "I want you to know I will be happy with you no matter where we live. I know what I said in the past, and I was wrong for insisting you take me back to the sea." As I lay on my side against the lumps of the bed, I reached over, ran my hand through his thick hair, and added, "You will make me happy wherever we live."

Warren lifted his heavy head and proceeded to get into bed with me. I felt his woe; I sensed his encumbrance and thought I should give him an opportunity to free himself from the burden of caring for me.

"All I need is a few dollars, and I can be out of your life for good."

It pained me to offer such a thing; it broke my heart to think he might jump at the chance to be a single man again, but I loved him enough to set him free.

_______________

# Chapter Twenty-one

Warren gave a weighty sigh, rolled over, and placed his arms around me. I closed my eyes and held my breath, waiting for his response. Outside, I heard the hoot of an owl, and the wind caused the branches around the cabin to scrape the tin roof. The night went on, but time for me stood still. Would Warren want more than anything to share his life with me, or was he having second thoughts? Did he regret the day he found me in the marsh, alone and scared? Was it merely pity that caused him to take me under his wing, or was it love at first sight, as it was for me? Only Warren could answer that.

"If you only knew," he mumbled into the back of my hair.

"What, Warren? What should I know?" I asked, wide-eyed. Was he finally going to reveal the deep pain that kept him from wanting me, loving me, and asking me to marry him?

"I have made terrible mistakes," he began, caressing my hair. "Mistakes I never want to repeat."

"Is being with me a mistake?"

"No, Lillian. Don't ever think you and I are a mistake."

I could hear the anguish in his voice. "Then what are we?" I finally found the courage to ask. I desperately needed to know what I was to him. Was I a little girl in his eyes? Was I some lonely, pathetic orphan that needed his mercy, or was I a desirable woman that had stolen his heart, a woman he wanted to marry? Was there even a chance that he loved me as much as he did the woman who claimed his heart years before?

"You and I, Lillian, are meant to be," Warren said, slipping into a peaceful sleep, while I lay awake and wondered.

Throughout the winter, and all into spring and summer, Warren and I fell into a stale routine without the fire and passion I thought would come of our relationship. He became used to my walking about half-dressed, in his night shirt; his eyes no longer lingered on my bosom. Warren treated me more like a friend every day that passed, though he still insisted on sleeping beside me and holding me while he dreamed. I cooked and cleaned; he went off to work. He spoke of the different people he met along his sales route; he told me every day what a hard day he'd had. After supper, he'd sit out on the porch, often asking me to sit with him. So I'd sit in the rocker and watch him as he read the paper and smoked his pipe. It wasn't anything like the relationship Momma and Daddy had. They adored one another; Daddy couldn't keep his eyes off her when she was in the same room, and every night he could, he would take her and love her in the way I now craved. I was able to stop men on the streets of Savannah with my curvy body and angelic face. That's what Richard told me one late afternoon in mid-summer in the general store.

Warren had given me a list of supplies to get while he went to have the wagon's axle repaired, and I stood gazing up at dolls that sat sigh high on a shelf, when Richard had stolen up from behind and said, "We meet again."

I hadn't seen Richard for many months and was startled. He looked as dapper as ever in his black wool sack suit. A watch chain was attached to his top button, a white handkerchief was in his left breast pocket, and atop of his dark brown hair sat a fine crowned bowler hat.

"Hello, Mr. Parker," I said, blushing at my thoughts of how handsome he looked.

"Please, call me Richard," he said, giving me a confident smile.

"Have you been out of town? I haven't seen you in quite some time."

"My wife Judith and I moved back to New York. We are here to visit her sister Rachael," he said, stepping back to get a better look at me. His copper eyes sparkled, and his grin was wide. "You, my dear, have become the most stunning young woman I have ever laid eyes on."

I looked at the ground, embarrassed by his compliment.

"Have you thought about perhaps allowing me to sketch you?" he asked, inching closer.

"No, not really."

"No? You are going to keep your beauty hidden from the world? By God, I think that should be a crime," Richard said, though I wasn't sure he was serious.

"What should be a crime?" Warren asked. His eyes practically fired bullets at Richard as he stepped between us.

"Hello, sir. You must be Lillian's father. My name is Richard Parker." Richard extended his hand. Warren refused to shake it and nudged me toward the counter to pay for our things. Richard didn't back off, though Warren's manner should have given him pause. "Your daughter should be in magazines."

Warren clenched his jaw while staring straight ahead and said, "She is not my daughter."

Richard was taken aback. He shifted his eyes to Warren, then to me, then back at Warren, and said, "Well, your sister then."

Warren ignored Richard and ushered me out to the wagon. Richard was persistent, relentless in fact. "I certainly don't mean to be a bother, I just thought—"

Warren hastily interrupted. "Stay out of our business. Lillian is not going to be in one of your inappropriate magazines!"

I was humiliated by Warren's rude behavior and almost in tears as he sped us off, leaving Richard standing in the street.

"Why did you behave that way?" It happened every time we went to Savannah. Warren would see some man talking to me and would become angry and possessive. "Richard is a nice man. He is from New York."

"You're not going to pose for any magazine, do you understand me?"

"I wasn't going to."

"Good. Then we have no reason to continue this discussion."

He shot me a look of disdain while I sat beside him. He slowed the horse and sat back. Late afternoon was the hottest point of the day, and I couldn't wait to get a drink of water. Warren unhitched the horse while I quenched my thirst with cold well water. It was awkward between us, and I was growing to dislike his ways. If I were his wife, or lover, I would understand him protecting me, but I was neither. So I decided not to cook for him that Saturday evening.

"Why aren't you starting supper?" he asked when he came in after washing up by the creek not far from the house.

"I'm not your servant, Warren Stone. Make your own supper," I snapped, and proceeded to change for bed. Right in front of him, I stripped off my dress, then my petticoat, corset, chemise, and pantalettes. I had never been undressed in front of a man before, and I didn't care that Warren was speechless or that his wide, astonished eyes were watching me. I slid under the blanket, not looking his way, without my nightshirt on, and closed my eyes, pretending to go to sleep. I was absolutely fed up. I didn't have Momma's mild temperament; I wasn't as refined as she thought. I had a chip on my shoulder. I was angry at everyone—Momma for going mad, and Daddy for abandoning me. I was furious for my years of abuse, and Warren was going to feel the burden of my resentment.

However, Warren wouldn't tolerate my behavior, and just to show me, he went out and slammed the door behind him. I jumped out of the bed and ran after him.

"Get back inside; you can't be out like this!" he barked, refusing to look at me. He kept pivoting around when I crossed into his vision to make him look at me.

"Is this what you don't want Richard to draw?" I spat. "My body? My nude body? The body you refuse to look at?"

"You stop it right now, Lillian!" he demanded, his eyes, blazing with fury, locked onto mine.

"You're not my father; you're not my husband. You are nobody, Warren Stone. You can't tell me what to do!" I yelled, striking his face. I slapped it so hard he stumbled back.

As I went to strike again, he blocked my blow, grabbing hold of my arm. "That's enough Lillian." His voice had softened, his anger fading into sadness. "Go and put some clothes on."

I ran back inside, slamming the door, and falling to the bed, sobbing. I didn't hear him come in.

"My God," he gasped. He was standing over me, staring at my scarred back.

"Go away, Warren," I shouted. He didn't listen, but came to the bed and lifted me into his arms. "Who did this to you?" he demanded. I buried my face in his chest and refused to answer. As much as I wanted to be a woman, I felt more like a child than ever. "Did your daddy do this to you?"

I lifted my head, shocked and appalled that he would think such a thing. "No, of course not!"

"Then who left you with such gruesome scars? Who whipped you?"

"It doesn't matter," I said. "Let me be, Warren." I slipped out of his arms and curled up in a ball on the bed, my back facing him.

"She did that to you? That wicked, evil woman," he mumbled, gently touching each of my scars with his finger. "How dare she?"

My mind shut off; I was tired of losing every battle that came my way. I just wanted to sleep, but Warren, in my most vulnerable time, was unable to refrain from coming to me, cradling my body, and lightly kissing my back.

His kiss lingered, and eventually, he put his hands on me, lightly rubbing my back the way I had once done for him. I stopped crying as my body reacted to his tender touch and warm kisses, but I wasn't sure I wanted to feel such excitement, I had second thoughts about Warren becoming my lover. He confused me, he angered me, and I just wanted to be left alone.

"Please, stop," I whispered.

"I'm so sorry she hurt you," he murmured through his kisses. "You poor thing."

Warren's hands eased around to my front and brushed up against me. My heart raced, and my body felt an exhilaration I had yet to experience, but my mind screamed for him to stop. I wasn't ready as much as I had once thought and wanted him to stop.

"Warren, please, please stop," I cried. But my pleas went unheard. My stomach felt queasy, and I began to tremble. I tried to squirm out from under him; I pleaded for him to stop. In his eyes, I saw the lust and yearning I had once hoped for; I felt his craving build by the second, and before long, he was having his way with me.

"No!" I cried over and over and I sobbed uncontrollably. The pain was unbearable. I dug my nails into his back and bit his chest; I bawled and screamed for him to stop.

When it was finally over, I flew out the bed and ran outside, where I heaved up the contents of my stomach. When that stopped, I fell to the ground and shook uncontrollably. I wept continuously, and didn't stop when Warren came out. He knelt and covered me with a blanket then in a remorseful and ashamed voice, said, "Can you ever forgive me?"

I refused to look at him, and pulled away when he went to stroke my hair. Then, his head hung low in disgrace, he went back inside. He left the door open for me.

Because of that one, single, unspeakable moment, I no longer saw life the same. The sun didn't shine as bright; the sky was no longer as brilliant and beautiful. The birds chirped and sang sweet songs in the trees, but when their music reached my ears, the sounds were lackluster. The scorching days of summer seemed more oppressive than ever, and when I went to the well to soothe my parched lips, I found no relief as my mouth and throat reminded tight and dry.

In the days after Warren took my innocence, I stayed quiet. I went to the creek to wade in the water to stay cool while he was at work, and I couldn't help but add my tears to it. I hated everything about myself. I was so unhappy. Every fantasy I had about finally becoming a woman had been proven a sham. I wasn't humming a tune, and my face didn't glow the way Momma's used to after she and Daddy shared each other. I felt dirty and soiled, tainted for life. I swore I would never want to be with another man, ever. I cursed every curve in my body; I hated the large bosom I once felt fortunate to posses. My beauty was a personal burden. However, I might have to use it, just to gain the funds to leave Savannah for good. There was no way I could stay with Warren any longer. I wanted to go home.

Warren didn't expect me to cook or clean, and he prepared his own supper when he returned after a long day's work. He still had it in his mind that we would go to Cape Cod to live happily ever after. I could see the shame in his green eyes, and he believed he could win my forgiveness by taking me to the sea, but I was devising a plan that would take me far away from him. I would seek out Richard and offer to be sketched—and paid. Then I would have the money for the long train ride home.

When Saturday came, I expected Warren to make the ride into Savannah, but that day he said he had extra jobs to do and would put off going into the city until next week. I was crushed. I didn't want to wait another day and decided to walk to Savannah myself. I could get there and back before he returned to the cabin. But it was sheer luck, I thought, that I got two miles, and up the road came Richard! He stopped the buggy as soon he saw me.

"How good to see you, Lillian." he said.

"And you, too, Richard. What brings you out this way?" I asked, looking up at him.

"My wife sent me to look at some land she wants to acquire. It's a few miles from here."

"I was on my way to see you," I told him, getting straight to the point. I couldn't bear to let him see the anguish I harbored inside, and I prayed he wouldn't be able to tell that I had unwillingly lost my innocence.

"Is that so? What, may I ask, for?" he asked, his white teeth gleaming as he smiled.

"How much will you pay to have my portrait put in your magazine?"

Richard looked at me and his eyes sparkled with delight, then he said, "How much do you want?"

"As much as a train ticket is worth."

Richard climbed down from his seat, and when he stood before me, he narrowed his eyes. "And why do you need money for a train ticket?"

"I'm going back to Maine. My father has sent for me, but he has fallen on hard times and couldn't send me the money."

His eyebrows rose, his face twisted with doubt. "I thought you lived with your father."

"No, Warren is a friend of the family. He was looking after me until Daddy got better. He has been sick for nearly three years. Now he is well enough to have me again."

"Warren has no money to see you off?"

"Do we have a deal?" I asked, extending my hand, avoiding his question.

"Well, certainly. I'm not going to miss such a chance," he replied, and we shook on it.

"Do you have the time now?"

"I suppose I have an hour or so. Good thing I always carry my sketch book and pencil with me," he chuckled.

"Can we do it here?" I asked. I didn't want to take him to the cabin. There was no way I wanted him to see where Warren had me.

"Certainly. Let's go by the creek. I see a rock you can sit on; the light is just right."

He reached for his things, and we walked a few yards. I sat and waited while he studied me. Richard kept a keen eye on me as his hand flew over the once-blank page of his sketch book. He told me how to hold my head and which way to tilt it.

"Pull your shoulders back," he instructed. When I didn't do it just the way he wanted, he whisked over and went to put his hands on me.

"No, please don't," I said in a panic.

Richard took a step back and frowned, but respected my wishes not to be touched. "Just pull them back about an inch," he said.

"Is this better?"

"Yes, that's perfect. Stay just like that."

He sketched my image with passion; drawing was his true obsession. After everything that had happened to me, my body and face were the last things I wanted anyone to observe, admire, and capture, but I knew I had to use it, if only for a day, to get what I needed—money. I cringed every time he muttered how stunning I was, and that it was an honor to create my likeness on paper. Richard didn't notice, and when he was done, he rushed over to me.

"Well, what do you think?"

It was a work of art. His portrait made me look angelic and virtuous; nothing like what I felt on the inside.

"It's amazing," I said, quickly brushing away a tear before he noticed.

"A job well done, Lillian," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an Indian head gold dollar. "This is for your beauty. I'm leaving first thing tomorrow morning, to return to New York. If you can, travel with us, and I will pay your way home."

The offer was too good to be true. I had some money, and now Richard was going to cover the cost of my ticket home.

"I will be there; thank you."

"No, thank you, Lillian. It has been an honor," he said, taking my hand to place a gentlemanly kiss on it, but I abruptly pulled it back and hurried off.

"Bye, Richard. I will see you tomorrow," I called, running back to the one place I had to make peace with before I left Georgia.

_______________

# Chapter Twenty-two

Sutton Hall loomed ahead, but its ominous presence no longer frightened me. The house stood just as lifeless as the day I left, but it still possessed a menacing aura. The gardens of the plantation were even more overgrown, and thick, green vines had begun to overwhelm the exterior.

As I approached, I stopped for a moment to catch my breath and reflect on the past. Not one good thing came from my days locked away. I was left with scars inside and out, wounds that would never completely heal. I was no longer the naive, innocent girl that believed in fairytales, the bond of family, and the promise of true love. I was a shattered version of the girl I once was.

With a heavy heart, I made my way up the gallery and inside. Weather had entered the grand house and left mud and rain-soaked floors. There was evidence of wild animals living inside. Over the walls grew ugly black mold that made it difficult for me to breathe, but I wanted to take it all in and headed up the grand staircase and down to the room that kept me prisoner for as many days as was chalked on the wall. I knelt and counted each day I had been locked away.

The mattress that I had cried into and bled onto was full of holes from some critter that needed a place to call its own. All that remained of the blood-soaked rags were old stains in the wood floors. On the floor beside the bed was the dress I had on when I found the photograph under the trunk in the attic. I lifted the dress and put my hand into the skirt pocket to pull out the photograph. It was badly damaged; water stains covered most of it, but I put it back in my pocket; just to have. I then opened the doors to the armoire and gazed at Momma's dresses and picked up each of her books, the books that got me through the most lonely, isolated, and dreadful of days. Then as I reached for a particular book, I felt the key that had given me freedom. I recalled the first night I stole out and bumped into Grandfather. I would never forget his soft, kind eyes.

With the key in hand, I went into Grandmother's wing and stepped into her room. It seemed so hard to believe Momma's life began in that room, with the callous woman who resided there. It was easy to remember Grandmother's sinister eyes, horrid voice, and menacing authority. It was impossible to forget the terrible day I was tied to the bed and whipped; I could still feel the blood ooze from my back.

I shivered and left the room. At the end of the hall was the door to the attic. Upstairs was showered in the light of day, and I could see all the way to the end and the last wall. No ghosts roamed; I heard no eerie laughter while I walked the wide planks, looking at the floor to see if anything had been left behind. But there was nothing. The attic was as barren, as stripped, as I remembered.

My last stop was the cemetery. First, I visited Grandfather's grave and noticed a tombstone down from his that I had overlooked. It read "Beatrice and Violet Arrington 1851-1862." I had no idea who the girls were, and possibly would never know. But I knew of Hamilton and wanted to say goodbye and thank him for saving my life. Hamilton was responsible for my freedom and the opportunity to finally go home to Jasper Island.

I walked through the waist-high weeds, and just as I passed the slave quarters, I stopped in my tracks, thinking I saw Abigail. I closed my eyes and opened them again, and she was still there. But as I drew closer, I realized it wasn't Abigail, but a woman twenty years her junior. The slender woman was standing before Hamilton's grave, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Her clothes were modest, though she wore a beautiful burgundy bonnet that I admired.

I stayed back and waited, allowing her some private time until she sensed my presence. The attractive Negro woman slowly lifted her head and turned in my direction. "Are you a ghost?" she called.

"No, ma'am. My name is Lillian."

She shadowed her eyes with her hand and extended her neck so she could get a better look at me, and when she did, she brought her hands to her chest and gasped so loud I could hear it from where I stood.

"It's like looking back fifteen years!" she exclaimed. "Come over to me."

I did as she asked, and when we were face to face, she did look as though she had seen a ghost.

"You're Amelia's child," she announced, her eyes big and filled with amazement.

"I am. And you—you are Hattie!"

Hattie threw her arms around me and began to cry with joy. "Oh, my goodness," she repeated, over and over. "You're the spitting image of your mother, with the exception of your sunny hair." Her eyes went dark, her brow creased with distress, and for a moment, her thoughts went far into the past, then she asked, "Your momma?"

"She's dead."

Hattie shook her head in pity then reached out to console me with the touch of her hand.

"She spoke of you in her last years. Her mind was clouded with days of yesteryear, of childhood memories. She was so fond of you, Hattie," I said, holding back my tears.

"Your momma and I were like sisters. We grew up here, on the plantation, before and during the war. We had a kinship that lasted in our hearts for all time."

"And Jacob-Thomas?"

"My brother—my half-brother," she sighed.

"Why are you here, Hattie?" I asked.

She looked at me, and in her eyes I saw the past and present collide.

"I came to look for my momma, and to leave this here where it belonged, just in case your momma ever came back," she said, reaching into her skirt and pulling out a small book.

"Abigail is gone. I think she went to find you."

Hattie nodded, then handed me the book.

I gently opened the worn front cover of what appeared to be a journal, scanned the pages inside, and noticed a photograph. She pulled it out and gazed at it before handing it to me. Hattie was giving me all of the secrets that Grandmother thought she had buried before she abandoned Sutton Hall. Hattie was the key I needed after all, not the brass one I found in the wardrobe.

Hattie gave me the photograph and held her breath, waiting and watching my mind scramble to understand. My heart pounded so hard in my chest that I swore it shook the ground beneath us. My hands trembled, and the world stopped spinning for the few seconds that I stared at the family in the photograph and read what was written on the bottom. "The Arrington's—Thomas, Eugenia, Amelia, and Patrick-Garrett." Though my eyes blurred with tears, I could without any doubt, identify my parents—Amelia and...Patrick.

"Hattie, what does this mean?" I cried. "Dear God, what does this mean?"

I lost my breath and fell to the ground, clutching the photograph as my mind screamed out in anguish and terror. My mother and father were brother and sister! I was the child of the devil; I was everything Grandmother claimed me to be.

Hattie came and put her warm hands on my shoulders, then said, "There's more."

"What more could there be? How many more secrets have been hidden? How many more lies have the Arrington's made?" I moaned.

Hattie lifted me and made me look at her. She took the handkerchief and wiped my face, then said, "He was her half-brother."

"Half-brother?" I repeated.

"And he isn't your father."

"Then who? If Daddy wasn't my father, and only my half-uncle, then who is my real father, Hattie?"

Her nostrils flared, her peaceful, composed face filled with fury and bitterness. She saw my desperation to know the truth; she was aware that the truth, not lies or deception, would set me free. She struggled to find a way to tell me so I wouldn't break down and shatter into a hundred pieces.

"Your father took your momma without her consent, and out of that came your creation," she said, her voice forceful and laced with animosity. "Your momma told me when she knew the baby was growing inside her. I thought—we all thought—it was Patrick's. They had become secret lovers, but were caught by Mrs. Arrington."

"Then how do you know I'm not the consequence of the love affair between my momma and her half-brother?"

Hattie sucked in a breath of air, then slowly exhaled, about to let out the tragic and appalling secret.

"Amelia found a wounded Confederate in the woods; he was on the verge of death when she brought him back to Sutton Hall, where my momma tended his wounds. He stayed in the big house for months until he became well. Patrick had come to Savannah just before he began his service in the Confederate Navy. Amelia had never met him before. He was from your granddaddy's first marriage. Your momma instantly fell for Patrick and spent every waking moment making him jealous by flirting with the handsome officer. She took it too far. He was captivated with her, and she became irresistible. He took her down in the woods, not far from here, under the weeping willow by the river and—"

I interrupted her. I didn't want to hear the details—it was all too frighteningly familiar. "What was his name, Hattie?" I asked, choking out my words. I trembled with fear and stood frozen, as if waiting for the cannon to fire.

"Colonel Warren Stone was his name."

Memories of my days on the river, sitting under the willow tree with Warren came flooding back. That's where he took Momma's innocence; that's where my life was created, out of lust, desire, and rage. It's where Warren allowed me to fall in love with him, to win me over, the worst part...

I slammed my eyes shut and gasped for air as I leaned my head back and let the hot sun bake my face, then I opened my mouth and screamed at the top of my lungs, "Dear God, my own father!"

Hattie brought me into her embrace and hushed me while I wept onto her shoulder. I managed to sob out my story, revealing what Warren had done to me.

"Not again," Hattie gasped.

I clung to her as if I were about to fall off the edge of the earth. While Hattie comforted me with soft words of compassion, a man came through the weeds and called for Hattie. "We must get going," he said.

Hattie released me and introduced the tall, well groomed man as her husband. He tipped his hat and said to Hattie, "We have a long trip ahead of us."

She turned to me, cupped my face in her soft hands, and said, "Read the book. They are your momma's words; she gave it to me to keep safe the night she stole away with Patrick. I have kept it with me all these years. Now it's yours, Lillian."

"Thank you," I sobbed, and we hugged one last time.

"You take care," Hattie said, kissing my wet cheek. I watched her walk away, her arm tucked in her husband's, and disappear into the light of day.

I zealously searched the surrounding buildings. I found some lamp oil, a near-empty box of matches, and piles of rags from one of the slave cabins and carried them into the grand foyer of the mansion. My mind riddled with the madness of it all, I soaked the rags in oil, and without an ounce of hesitation, threw a lit match to them. I watched from the doorway as the flames grew higher and higher, climbing up the walls and creeping over the huge plaster ceilings. Black smoke quickly filled the rooms, and I moved outside, choking and hacking, my skin burning from the intense heat of the fire that engulfed all of Sutton Hall. I stayed back for a while and watched in awe as the intense yellow and orange flames poured from every window and finally made its way to the roof. I stayed back near a tall oak that dripped Spanish moss down over Grandfather's grave and stared for hours, watching Sutton Hall burn to the ground.

When the great walls of the house that embraced pure evil were a pile of ash, I had one more piece of business to finish, one more bridge to burn, one last piece of the tragic past that had to be destroyed.

Warren ran into the cabin where I stood like a statue, arms crossed over my chest, my expression cold as stone.

"Sutton Hall! Have you seen the smoke? It burnt to the ground; all that remains are the chimney stacks. It's all gone!"

Warren's eyes blazed, and I wasn't sure if it was from terror or delight. When I didn't respond, shooting daggers at him across the small cabin with my stare, the fine hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted to say, though I knew whatever I did manage to get out would forever destroy his heart; there would be nothing left of it when I was done.

"I sent Sutton Hall back to the fiery hell from which it was built," I said, my tone laced with venom.

"You set the mansion on fire? Why?"

I took several steps forward and watched his rosy lips turned pale and begin to quiver. "I needed to send the demons that filled every corner of that house back to hell. You know what hell is, right, Mr. Stone?"

"Lillian, what is this all about?" he asked, swallowing hard.

I stepped up to him, no longer afraid of the sinful, dirty deeds he had done to me, to Momma. I was in control now, and he knew it.

"I despise you. Just looking at you sickens me. I know what kind of sadistic man you are; I know what you did. I know all about it!" I screeched. My high-pitched voice made his ears ring, and he winced in pain.

"Please understand. I am not the man you hate. I love you, and I know—I know I hurt you," he began, eyes welling with tears as he scrambled for excuses. But I had no sympathy for the man that had violated everything that was sacred.

"You more than hurt me. How dare you have me fall in love with you? How dare you make me believe in you or convince me you were my friend, when all this time you—" I stopped myself, remembering the night he forced himself inside of me. Warren tried to embrace me.

"Get away. Don't you ever touch me again," I commanded. "I know your secrets. I know who you really are!"

Warren was stunned, my words were like a slap, and I watched all the blood drain from his face.

"I know you're my father," I choked out. I stood defiant and refused to look away as defeat claimed him. All the lies, all the deception was now out in the open. However, I wasn't going to succumb to the sins of my father; I would rise above it and turn my back on the man who had almost taken my soul.

Warren begged, pleaded, and asked for mercy. "I love you more than life itself. Just the way I loved Amelia. Don't you see that, Lillian?"

"You love me the way you loved my mother?" I spat in disgust.

"No, I love you more than I loved her. You make my world alive; you fill my heart and every part of my being. I have been in love with you since the moment my eyes fell on you, you are even more captivating and breathless than your mother. I tried to fight off my love; I know what you are to me. I just can't help it. Please, Lillian; stay with me. Marry me. No one will know."

His pleas for an immoral and unholy union sent my mind spinning in astonishment. Warren fell to one knee and extended his arm and said, "Please, be my wife."

"You are completely insane." My words came out as a hysterical laugh. "All of you, every one of you—from my momma to the man who told me to call him Daddy since the day I was born—are crazy!"

"We can live just as Amelia and Patrick did. No one will ever know," he continued, and it was apparent he believed and accepted the madness. There was no way to make him see how absurd his suggestion was, and I had heard enough.

Warren ran and jumped in front of me as I hurried down the road towards Savannah. I wouldn't spend another night in the cabin. I would wait all night at the train station for Richard and his wife to arrive.

"You can't leave like this," he cried, walking briskly beside me.

"Yes, I can," I replied, not looking at him.

Then he seized me and made me stop. "I can't lose you the way I lost Amelia. This can't happen to me again."

"Let go of me!" I insisted, snatching my arm away.

Warren's face turned deep red, full of rage. "She came to me; she undressed and made me lust after her, just as you did," he spat. "I'm a man. I'm only human!"

"So this is my fault?" I cried.

Warren pulled me into his embrace and placed a long, wet kiss on my lips. I struggled to free myself and pounded against his chest. When he pulled back, he smiled—a disturbing, sinister smile that made me shiver.

"You are just like her. You wanted to be violated," he whispered into my ear, then placed his hands around my neck and began to squeeze. "I need you. You will stay. Do you understand?"

I tried to pry his fingers off my neck, but they wouldn't budge. I was choking and believed he would kill me if I didn't agree. I nodded, agreed to stay, to be captured again, just to stay alive.

"That's a good girl," he mumbled, taking hold of my hand. "Now, let's go."

I walked with him a only few yards before I saw a wagon flying up the road. In an instant, without thinking, I yanked my hand away and pushed Warren with all my might right into the path of the horses. He let out one long scream, and was trampled. The driver stopped but wasn't able to catch sight of me before I disappeared into the woods.

_______________

# Chapter Twenty-three

Dawn arrived to a sun-drenched sky with gentle and fragrant southern hospitality. The day was like no other I had ever experienced. Though tragedy always seemed to loom over my world like a perpetually dark cloud, on this day, I saw only clear skies, smooth sailing, and an uninhibited future. The chains that bound me, figuratively and literally, were lifted, and all I kept in my mind were visions of home—the lighthouse, the sea, and the people I loved to greet me.

The local newspaper's front page included the tragic story of Warren's death—a first-hand account, the full details of what happened. The only witness, the driver, stated Warren died instantly, which put my mind at ease, for there was a part of my heart that had once truly loved him. The article mentioned a young girl, with Mr. Stone at the time of the incident, who was being sought after for questioning. The driver did not have a good description of me; his eyes had been captured by the gruesome scene.

So I was confident as I strolled about the train station with only the newspaper I'd purchased in my hand, waiting for Richard and his wife Judith to arrive. I was only slightly skeptical, suspicious, and concerned that Richard had lied to me. I honestly believed he was going to show up and buy me my train ticket that would take me all the way up to Maine.

The station quickly began to fill with morning travelers, and I was shoved and bumped enough times to put myself in a corner, where I kept a keen eye out for them. And when there were barely fifteen minutes to spare before the train departed, I saw him trailing behind Judith to the ticket counter. I let out a long sigh of relief and proceeded over.

"Lillian, you're here," he exclaimed when I tapped him on the shoulder. "One extra ticket," he said to the ticket taker.

Judith turned her head slightly and gave me a forced smile. After she had the tickets in hand, we gathered on the platform. I waited for her to hand me my ticket, but she immediately gave it to the conductor, then Richard ushered me onto the train and my mind was transported back years before, when Daddy put us on the train and my life took a dramatic turn for the worse.

It was still almost impossible to believe that the man who raised me and loved me so unconditionally was an imposter. Daddy wasn't my daddy after all, and it hurt beyond words. The feeling of loss would be forced to the deepest depths of my soul—covered and buried, just so I could go on.

When we were settled in our seats, in the private car meant for rich travelers exclusively, I looked at Richard and Judith and smiled in appreciation. The train began rolling, and I felt fortunate to have met a man who valued me, even if it was only because of my attractiveness.

Judith was much older than Richard, by at least ten years, I suspected. I could tell she must have been beautiful in her day, though she now covered her filled-out face with layers of makeup. I had never seen a woman with so much makeup on, and it was revolting. Her expensive French perfume, was heavy, lingered, and crept into my nose. Judith wore expensive clothes. Her dress was pastel, a lovely cuirasse, v-shaped collar bodice with pleated cuffs and lace trim, and the bustle skirt was so pronounced I wondered how she sat comfortably. I felt plain in the simple dress Warren had bought me.

Judith had noticed me scanning her attire and drank in my envy. She stuck her pudgy nose in the air and gave me a sly smirk. Her protruding round eyes were dark brown, and her hair was coarse, like horse hair, and fiery red.

I paid close attention to their relationship, and right from the beginning, I could see Richard was more like her servant than her husband. When she spoke, he sat at full attention, however I could tell his thoughts were elsewhere. Judith didn't seem to notice.

"When we arrive in New York, I wish to travel out to the estate immediately," she said, bringing out a powder compact to dab the shine from her nose.

"Yes, dear," Richard said, winking at me.

"I'm hungry, Richard. Take me to the dining car," she whined. Richard lifted her from her seat and led her out of the private car.

When they were gone, I pulled the newspaper from under my seat, glanced at it one last time, then pulled up the seat cushion and slid it underneath. Richard quickly returned and sat back down. "I brought you back a piece of cornpone. If you want a full breakfast, you can go in and place your order."

Richard was different from the man I met when he was alone. His wife brought out a more subdued and passive side. There wasn't the sparkle in his eye that he had when he sketched.

"I want to thank you again, Richard," I said.

He had been looking over his shoulder, almost afraid she would reject her morning feast. "What? Oh, sure, Lillian. I'm happy to help."

Richard put a warm smile on his face when he realized Judith wasn't coming back anytime soon, then sat back, stretched his long legs and said, "Don't forget, you have the power to make all things possible."

"I don't know about that. I'm just glad I met you and you convinced me to be a model for a day. That was my ticket home, then and there."

"So," he began, crossing his arms over his chest. "Where exactly do you live?"

"On a lighthouse station. My daddy is waiting there for me. There is also a second keeper and his family."

Richard gazed at me, skeptical. But it was the truth—well, except for Daddy waiting for me.

"I see. It is unfortunate."

"What is?"

"You keeping your beauty hidden away on a desolate lighthouse station off the chilly coast of Maine."

"Well, that's where my family is," I replied.

"And what became of that friend of yours you were staying with?" Richard asked as his copper eyes went dark and narrow. I refused to let him see the pain and anguish that haunted me, so I smiled and said, "He has his life, I have mine. He said he would come and visit next summer."

"And your daddy—things are now better?"

Richard had obviously remembered everything I told him with great accuracy.

"Yes, thank you for asking." I confidently smiled, then realized I was nervously twisting my hair around my fingers. Richard turned to stare out the window, then said without turning back, "The man who was killed yesterday, was that your friend?"

He must have heard a small cry escape my lips, for he sharply swung his head and locked his eyes to mine. I bit my lower lip and didn't say anything. My heart raced, and I feared he would make me get off at the next stop, abandoning me for being involved in such a terrible incident. But his eyes softened and he reached out to touch my trembling hand.

"Remember, I'm here to help. I'm your friend."

I eased my hand out from under his, fighting back the tears that were building up under my lids.

Richard cleared his throat, and in a hushed voice said, "I don't think it would be wise for you to return home just yet."

I wiped away the tear that escaped the corner of my eye then asked, "Why not?"

"They will be looking for you. No crime, Lillian, goes unpunished."

"There was no crime," I cried. My voice had tightened, and I was unable to keep from sobbing.

"I believe, without a doubt, that you have done no wrong. I saw the way he was—" He leaned over so no one would hear him. "I'm certain he did some terrible things to you. He no doubt deserved to be trampled."

I closed my eyes and took a long breath. Once again, the dark, stormy clouds that always lingered nearby were closing in, leaving my journey to the light on the edge and out of reach.

"What do you suggest I do?" I asked, my eyes closed.

Richard paused, and I listened as he took long, effortless breaths. I waited, wondering what he was thinking then opened my eyes and looked at him. He sat confident and assured, the man with the sketchbook who believed all things were possible.

"Come with us to New York. Let me introduce you around. I have connections. I can make you famous."

Richard sounded confident, but it didn't sound good to me at all.

"I think I will take my chances and return to Jasper Island. I have no intentions of being famous. That's not a life that appeals to me."

Richard wasn't taking no for an answer. "Then perhaps it would be wise if you spent a few days with us, just to let things simmer down. You need to lay low until the storm passes. Then you can make your way up to Maine. What do you say?"

I thought about it for a moment. Richard made sense. Maybe he was right; let the storm pass, wait it out. I had learned from my years on lighthouse stations to be wary of storms and to avoid them at all costs; otherwise, you were likely to be torn up, broken, and pulled to the far depths of the unforgiving sea.

"I suppose a few days couldn't hurt," I said, resigned.

"Good, very good. Judith wants to return to the estate and you and I will remain in the city. After a few days, I will put you on the train, and off to Maine you shall go." Richard was satisfied, but he hadn't broken the news to Judith.

"You won't tell your wife about—"

He stopped me by leaning in and putting his long finger over my lips. "This is between you and me. This is our secret. Let me do all the talking."

Another secret. That part I worried about. Secrets were no good; they only led to more problems, sometimes even horrible tragedies.

Judith returned to the car. Richard stood at attention and waited to assist her to her seat. When she turned to sit, Richard smiled and winked, then sat back down next to her. Judith gave me a quick scowl then closed her eyes and said, "I'm ready for a nap."

Within only a few minutes, she was resting her head on Richard's shoulder and snoring loudly. I giggled, and Richard rolled his eyes in displeasure then whispered, "She snores like a pig."

I nodded, and I sat back, relaxed, and found my hand pressing against the small book hidden in my skirt pocket. Then I remembered Hattie and what she told me. This was Momma's book, her thoughts and words from when she was a girl. There were stories and secrets and forbidden love captured on every page of paper, and I had it in my possession. I carefully pulled out the journal and held it in my hands for a while. Richard had closed his eyes and leaned his head against Judith's, dozing lightly.

I looked down into my lap and slowly opened the frail book. My eyes fell onto the first discolored page, and I hesitated, my fingers trembling as they held the tattered book open, and I apprehensively began to read Momma's wistful words that were filled with all things disgraceful and wholeheartedly beautiful.

# # #

*The Arrington saga continues with _All That is Beautiful_ (book II)*

It is the year 1878, and at last, Lillian, now a young woman, is free from the prison called Sutton Hall and the evil grandmother who ruled. After years locked away far from her beloved lighthouse on Jasper Island, she finds her only escape through sheer luck and the generosity of one man, Richard Parker, an aspiring commercial illustrator. Though Lillian is shamed by the sins of her parents and the unspeakable act committed by Warren Stone, she entrusts her life to the charismatic, though married, Richard, until it is safe to return home. However life, as unpredictable as the sea, has other plans for Lillian. Not long after leaving, she is caught up in an adult world of money, greed, drugs, and sinful pleasures, turning her life upside down once again. It is only when Lillian discovers the shocking truth to Richard's cruel years of deception that she finally returns to her lighthouse, desperate to recapture her lost years, and most of all, lost love. But fate has one more devastating surprise in store, leaving Lillian with incomprehensible choices, and ultimately, tearing her beautiful new world apart.

The Arrington series:  
The Girl in the Lighthouse  
All That is Beautiful  
Sacred Intentions, prequel
