Hearts Made Whole Read online

  He started to back away from the bar. The inn was more crowded than the last time he’d been here. The tables were full, and the laughter and smoke swirled around him, jeering at him and reminding him that he didn’t belong in such a place. He never had.

  His shame only rose higher, searing his chest, until he knew he couldn’t remain silent. Simmons had turned away to pour a drink for another customer, but Ryan addressed him anyway. “If anyone deserves praise for being a good keeper, it ought to go to Caroline Taylor.”

  Through a crescendo of raucous laughter, Ryan couldn’t be sure if Simmons had heard him. For a long moment the giant didn’t acknowledge Ryan’s comment but merely corked the flask and placed it back among the collection of bottles on the shelf.

  Simmons finally shot Ryan a look, his eyes hard. “The only place for that headstrong girl is in my son’s bed.”

  Ryan glanced to the broom standing abandoned in the corner. He hadn’t seen Arnie since he’d arrived, and he’d been somewhat relieved. He knew if he saw the young man, he’d have to tell him to stop pestering Caroline to marry him.

  “I agree with Finick one hundred percent,” Simmons said, leaning over the bar toward Ryan. “Let men do men’s work. And keep the women in the home.”

  Ryan scrambled to find a response, but all his thoughts swam together in a murky puddle. He’d always held the belief that women shouldn’t do men’s work, that as a man it was his duty to take care of and protect women and children. But Caroline was as good at light keeping as his brother-in-law, Patrick Garraty. If she enjoyed it and wanted to do it, why should anyone deny her the opportunity simply because of her gender?

  The tavern door opened, letting in a stream of sunlight that made Ryan blink. Along with the sunlight came a chorus of shouts.

  At the ruckus outside, Simmons banged a fist against the bar, causing the glasses to clink together. He uttered several oaths under his breath, then with quick, thudding steps rounded the bar and elbowed his way through the tavern toward the door.

  Ryan pulled the brim of his hat lower and started after Simmons, careful to avoid any jostling against his injured arm. He wanted to get back to the lighthouse before Caroline noticed he’d left. But he doubted that would happen now, and he dreaded facing her questions about where he’d been.

  Not that she’d ask. He’d learned that she wasn’t one to pry.

  Even so, with each passing day he realized he coveted her respect, and he hoped she wouldn’t be able to smell the cigar smoke on his clothes or the rum on his breath when he returned.

  She’d been in a state of mourning since she’d come upon her ruined garden yesterday. Afterward, he’d spent the morning helping her clear away the rubbish and burn the slashings. Every time he’d glimpsed her stricken, pale face, his resolve to find the perpetrator had grown.

  Of course, the pain in his arm from all the activity had sent him to the boathouse even earlier than usual to his pills and whiskey. He hadn’t had the chance to question the twins yet. Caroline said they claimed innocence, but Ryan wanted the opportunity to look them in the eyes and find out for himself.

  As Ryan pushed his way out the tavern door, he almost bumped into Simmons, who’d parked his bulky frame only a step from the door. He was shouting curses at a group of people who’d assembled on the dirt road in front of the hitching posts.

  They held signs on sticks, pumped them in the air, and called out, “Stop cruelty to animals! Outlaw cockfighting!”

  “Get out of here. Now!” Simmons shouted, raising a fist.

  “Call off the cockfight for tonight and we’ll leave,” yelled a plump-looking woman in the front of the group. She was shorter than the others in the gathering, which Ryan noticed was mostly made up of women.

  “Go home, woman!” Simmons shouted. “Before I ride out and find your husband and tell him you’re disturbing the peace again.”

  “You know he’d be out here protesting with me if he were home,” the woman called back. She stepped forward away from the others, the obvious leader of the group.

  It was then that he caught sight of Caroline’s face. She’d been tucked out of sight at the back of the group. She slouched her shoulders, lowered her head, and kept her sign lower than anyone else.

  Ryan tipped his hat up. What was she doing among the rabble-rousers?

  She glanced up under the brim of her bonnet. Her beautiful blue eyes connected with his. At the sight of him, she straightened and her eyes widened.

  Guilt came roaring back, and he took a quick step back, wanting to disappear inside the tavern. But he knew it wouldn’t do any good now. She’d seen him, and there was no use pretending otherwise. If she hadn’t known before, now she’d know exactly just how low he’d sunk.

  He waited for the disappointment to register in her eyes, but at another shout from Simmons, she lowered her head again.

  Was she afraid of the man? Of what he’d do to her if he saw her there in the crowd of protestors?

  Blue veins bulged in the back of Simmons’s neck above his shirt collar. Ryan had the feeling the giant wasn’t the kind of man anyone wanted for an enemy.

  Simmons yelled a string of profanities. “If you don’t get out of here, I’ll be sending you home with my fists! I don’t care if you are a bunch of women, I won’t be afraid to give you the discipline your husbands are neglecting.”

  At that, Ryan started past Simmons. He wouldn’t stand back and let Caroline get punched around. He slipped around the hitching posts and pushed aside the gathering until he stood in front of her. She didn’t look up at him but instead stared down at her boots.

  Then the protests faded as a dozen pairs of eyes burned into him, including those of Simmons.

  “I’ll take you home now, Caroline,” he offered.

  “Is that the lightkeeper girl?” Simmons called.

  Ryan held out the crook of his arm, and he was relieved when she didn’t hesitate to hook her hand into the fold and allow him to lead her toward his horse.

  “That’s right.” Simmons’s voice followed them. “Get her on out of here. Unless of course she’s here to marry Arnie.”

  “Let’s go,” Ryan said under his breath. “You’re not marrying Arnie.”

  “You can’t go now, Caroline,” said the round woman leading the protest. “We’re just getting started.”

  Caroline glanced apologetically over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Esther. I need to go.”

  Esther pursed her lips together as if she wished to say more, but thankfully she’d didn’t object further.

  He assisted Caroline up onto his horse, helping her get comfortable sitting sideways before hoisting himself behind her. His good arm strained under the effort, yet the moment he was situated he forgot about everything but her soft body in front of him.

  He had to lean into her to grab the reins. She turned rigid momentarily, but once he straightened again, he could feel her relax.

  The crowd had resumed their protests, Esther the loudest of all, drowning out Simmons’s curses. Ryan urged the horse into a trot down Big Marsh Road, which led out to Windmill Point. After several minutes the shouts faded, replaced by the crunching sound of hooves pushing through the dry leaves that had already begun to fall.

  He glanced at the profile of Caroline’s cheek and neck, the smooth stretch of skin teased by strands of hair that had come loose from her bonnet. He wished he could read her emotions and know what she was thinking. He wanted her to speak her piece and get the lecture over. Instead they rode in silence.

  Finally after several moments, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Caroline.” He wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for—maybe for drinking or for being at the tavern or for any other of his innumerable sins.

  “You don’t need to apologize to me,” she said gently, turning slightly so that he could see more of her face. Her expression was sad but resigned.

  Had he put the sadness there? The thought sent a shard into his heart. The last thing he wan
ted to do was add to her despondency. “I shouldn’t have gone to the tavern.”

  She didn’t deny it, but her fingers closed around his on the reins. And when she squeezed, the pressure went deep and soaked into him. He drew a deep breath, and it was like getting a fresh gasp of air for the first time in years. A sense of purpose surged through him, something he thought he’d never feel again.

  His throat clogged with emotion, and he was overwhelmed with gratefulness for this woman sitting in front of him. She was unlike anyone he’d ever met. She hadn’t condemned or judged him. Instead she seemed to understand what he was going through, even though he hadn’t shared the awful truth with her.

  He turned his palm over and threaded his fingers through hers.

  Her gaze flitted down to the intimate hold. When she didn’t protest, he laced his fingers tighter, sliding their hands together. Then at the jostle of the horse, her body sagged against his chest as if she’d finally given up the effort to hold herself away from him. He tilted his head, breathing in the flowery scent that he’d recognized belonged to her.

  The smoothness of her neck stretched before him. Another tiny bend forward and his lips would touch the soft skin that beckoned him.

  He thought of the kiss they’d shared yesterday morning, of the eager way she’d responded. He hadn’t intended to kiss her. And ever since, he’d felt uneasy about taking advantage of her that way. He could have made his point without being so brash.

  But now he couldn’t stop from wanting to twist her around in the saddle and kiss her again.

  He swallowed hard. He couldn’t. He respected her too much to use her for his own pleasures.

  “I’m sorry for kissing you yesterday,” he whispered.

  “You are?” She tilted her head, giving him full access to her neck.

  He looked away from the temptation and had to swallow his desire again. “I shouldn’t have kissed you without your permission. Will you forgive me?”

  She hesitated. “There’s no need to forgive you, Ryan,” she finally said. “It didn’t offend me.”

  He breathed out his relief, and a smile spread across his lips. “Since it didn’t offend you,” he said against her ear, “then maybe I’ll kiss you again sometime.” Her soft gasp made his smile creep higher. “But next time I’ll ask you first.”

  She chewed her lower lip and stared at their hands intertwined together and resting against her leg.

  They were passing through the last grove of cedars and willows. A marsh was all that separated them from the lighthouse. In the distance he could see the twins beyond the tower near the water’s edge. Tessa’s dark head was bent close to theirs, and they were examining something.

  He slowed the horse, not ready for his time with Caroline to come to an end, to be interrupted by the busyness of others needing her attention.

  Was it possible that a woman could ever care for him? He hadn’t believed anyone could. Not when he was maimed and only half the man he used to be. Not with all the ghosts that still haunted him.

  Caroline turned in the saddle and offered him a smile that at the very least offered friendship. It sent warmth into his bruised and battered soul. He smiled in return, surprised at the strange sense of happiness that covered him like a healing balm.

  A few women had been sweet on him before the war. One had even sent him a couple of letters after he’d joined the army. But he soon gave up all thoughts of being in a relationship. He hadn’t figured there was any use holding out hope, not when death stalked his regiment day and night.

  “Caroline!” called one of the boys. He’d risen to his tiptoes and was waving at her with both arms. “Come quick!”

  There was an urgency in the boy’s tone that made Ryan tense at the same time Caroline sat forward.

  “Something’s wrong,” she said.

  He could sense it too.

  When Tessa straightened and he caught sight of the revulsion on her face, his gut knotted. He kicked the horse into a trot, closing the distance to the beach.

  When he reined the horse next to her siblings, Caroline was already sliding off. “Is everyone all right?” she asked breathlessly. “Sarah?”

  Tessa touched Caroline’s arm in a reassuring gesture. “Sarah’s fine.”

  The pinched muscles in Caroline’s neck relaxed. “Then what’s wrong?”

  Ryan slid off the horse and stood next to her.

  The twins were barefoot, their trousers damp up to the knees with sand coating their hands and cheeks. Though it still wasn’t easy to be around them because of the memories they invoked of the boy that haunted Ryan’s dreams, he’d been able to endure their presence more each day.

  Harry, especially, seemed to want to be with him whenever they were home. There had been times when he’d caught the boys peeking in the boathouse window at him while he was in one of his stupors. He’d been embarrassed that they’d seen him that way and had wanted to distance himself from them all the more.

  He didn’t want to set a bad example for them. In fact, he ought to be showing them how to handle pain and disappointment like a man, instead of like the weak coward he’d become. But he wasn’t sure he remembered how to be strong anymore.

  Tessa gave a visible shudder and then hugged her arms across her chest. “The boys found something nailed to a log when they got home from school.”

  “Nailed to a log?” Caroline’s eyes swept over the rocky shore, the leaves floating on the water, and the rising smoke of a distant passing steamer. “What was it?”

  Tessa stepped aside at the same time as the boys, and there on the ground, nailed to a piece of driftwood, was a goldeneye duck. Its wings were outstretched with nails embedded through each one. Even more gruesome was the nail that punctured the duck’s head through one of its bright golden eyes.

  At the bloody sight, Caroline gasped and jumped back.

  Ryan reached for her arm to keep her from falling.

  “Who did this?” She scanned the house, the tower, and then the woods beyond as if she expected someone or something to appear.

  “We think it drifted here,” Harry said, looking up at Ryan with blue eyes so much like Caroline’s. “We waded out and looked for more evidence, but we didn’t find anything.”

  Ryan studied the duck. The blood oozing from the wounds was too fresh for the log to have drifted a long distance. Whoever had done this lived nearby. But why would anyone kill a duck by nailing it to a log?

  Caroline shuddered against him. He steered her toward Tessa. “You ladies go on up to the house. The boys and I will take care of burning it.”

  Tessa grasped Caroline’s hands, and then huddling together the two began walking toward the cottage.

  Caroline stopped and looked back at him. “Who would do this, Ryan? What kind of person could hurt something so cruelly? It’s such a waste.”

  Ryan nodded. He had a dozen answers for her. He’d seen cruelty beyond measure during the war. And unthinkable waste. As much as he wanted to deny it, he’d even been a part of some of it. Yet all he could say was, “I don’t know.”

  And all he could do was pray that whoever was behind the tortured duck wasn’t the person who’d been responsible for destroying Caroline’s garden.

  Chapter 12

  Ryan leaned against the stern of the old canoe. He unplugged the cork from his whiskey bottle, the pop and the swish whetting his parched tongue.

  At a scuffle against the side of the boathouse, he looked to the cracked window in the back wall. Two pairs of eyes peered through grimy glass, watching his every move. Seeing that they’d been spotted, the twins quickly disappeared from sight.

  Ryan put the cork back into the bottle and stuffed it into its hiding spot behind a tackle box. He straightened and ran his fingers through his overlong hair, wanting to ignore the guilt that barraged him like gunfire. But somehow that morning, he couldn’t keep it at bay.

  Ever since yesterday and the ride home from the tavern with Caroline, the shame over havi
ng the whiskey had grown heavier with each passing hour. Of course, Caroline hadn’t said anything about it. She hadn’t asked why he’d gone to the tavern. She hadn’t admonished him to stop drinking. She hadn’t even looked at him with disapproval, although he’d certainly deserved it.

  Instead she’d welcomed him with a warm smile that morning when he ascended the tower to turn off the light. Aye, she’d been subdued, obviously still shaken from the sight of the duck nailed to the log. However, she’d only been encouraging as he completed the keeper tasks, instructing him on how to manage the logbook. Through all the conversations they’d had that morning, she never once issued him a single rebuke.

  Tessa had passed him a plate of breakfast and cup of coffee on his way down the tower as she’d begun to do each morning. He’d retreated to the boathouse to eat. And drink, as had become his habit.

  Except that most mornings the twins weren’t there watching him. They were away at school.

  He expelled a long sigh and glanced out the half-open door. Why were they home? He calculated the passing of days and realized it was Saturday, that they likely didn’t have school today. That meant he’d been at the lighthouse almost a full week, which was the longest he’d been anywhere since the end of the war.

  The ping of an ax against wood told him that Caroline had set the boys to chopping wood. He listened for a long moment, and the sound soothed his muscles and reminded him of the summer he’d chopped cordwood at Burnham’s Landing in Presque Isle, the time he and his sister had been stranded after their steamboat had been robbed and set afire by pirates.

  He’d chopped more wood that summer than any one man likely did in his entire life. But it had been wholesome hard work, and he looked back on his time at Burnham’s Landing with fondness.

  Could he still swing an ax?

  He flexed his injured arm and waited for the usual piercing pain. It came, and he had to grit his teeth. Even if he put his good arm behind the weight of swinging the ax, the movement was sure to jar his injury.

  Maybe if he used the feverfew leaves Caroline had given him, he’d be able to dull the pain. He’d been surprised that she managed to find anything useful among the wreck of her garden. But she set aside a number of plants and salvaged what she could.