Page 71 of Tempest at Annabel's Lighthouse
“Yep,” said Edgar.
Rebecca clenched her teeth. It was coming back like the nightmare it was. “My father hated my besting him and leaving, as much as he despised me when I was at home.”
Edgar turned, his eyes scanning the vast breadth of Lake Superior. “You left the lighthouse after Kjersti died. You were not only angry, but you were petrified for your brother’s safety. You said if—”
“If my father could allow all of this horror, then Aaron would be the next one to suffer,” she finished.
Then there was Abel. Her cheeks warmed. Abel had tried to rescue her months ago. He had taken her as his wife—on Kjersti’s plea and due to his innate protective nature. Convenience. And yet ... there had been more.
“The babe.” Rebecca put her hands to her hot cheeks. She was beginning to remember that too. She remembered feeling the awkward bride, and later, the palpable relief she experienced when she’d moved to the lighthouse. She remembered sleeping in Abel’s room. That first night he’d slept on the floor. That arrangement went on for days, weeks. And then with his steady presence, his eyes, his quiet spirit ... one night everything changed between them.
Edgar leaned on the driftwood stick as he pointed out the window. “That’s the earth this lighthouse stands on. Seems fittin’ it was built where Annabel died. But love here in these wilds? It’s not an easy place for love to survive. It’s beaten and abused. Life ain’t simple, not as it should be. Love should be straightforward, but then people threaten the ways of it. They have their own plans, their own schemes. Dirty deeds lend a man to do more wickedness, and all in the name of love.”
Rebecca waited, sensing there was more, though Edgar seemed to talk in riddles.
“You’re a Hilliard.” Edgar summarized what Abel and Niina had only danced around. “And then you became a Koski. Abel’s wife. Rebecca Hilliard Koski.” He shifted to look at her. “When I found you days ago, we knew your father would stop at nothing to exact his anger. But these papers? We don’t know about that. We don’t know what you did when you left the lighthouse to go back to Aaron.”
Panic surged through Rebecca. She drew back from the window and stared at Edgar. “Is Aaron all right?” How had she not thought of that yet? Where was he? Was their father punishing him for her deeds?
Edgar held up his palms to calm her. “Niina has seen him. He’s fine. Not a speck of a bruise to be seen, and he smiled at her. That’s all they can do; they don’t dare speak to each other. But every indication is your brother’s all right.”
“How did it come to this?” Rebecca cried. “What did I do when I left here? I hurt Abel, and now I’m carrying his...” She couldn’t think of that now. With all that she could remember, her feelings for Abel were the most confused, a torrent of whirling emotions. And then there were the papers. Those blasted, mysterious papers! “I don’t remember what I took from my father. I don’t remember why they were chasing me—why they almost killed me!”
Edgar shook his head and sniffed. “Awful things happen, an’when they do, sometimes your mind can’t look at them. That’s what yours is doin’. You can’t look at the awful and you can’t hear the painful, so your mind has told everyone ‘no more.’ All we know is your father hates you for leavin’ to be with Abel. But your father hated you just as much for stayin’ with him. An’ now he believes you’ve crossed him by taking those papers, an’ if it’s what I’m guessing, you took something of immense value regarding his silver mines, the stamp mill, and who knows what else? The men he sent after you the first time tried to get it out of you. That’s when your mind said enough was enough. You blocked the images, the memories, the people. Your mind wants to start fresh, but you can’t.”
“And I can’t stay here, Edgar,” Rebecca added. “Regardless of my carrying Abel’s child. I put him and Niina and you in danger each moment I don’t face my father and supposedly hide whatever it is he thinks I have.”
“You can’t go back to your father.” Edgar’s black eyes bored into hers. “He’ll kill ya. You’re not runnin’ from us again. We’re family, an’ that baby is family. Whether or not you an’ Abel can figure things out between ya.”
“Why does my father hate me so?” Rebecca breathed.
Edgar’s expression grew disdainful. “Because the man is a fool. He doesn’t believe you’re his child.”
Rebecca’s mind spun, trying to piece together the puzzle that was her life.
Edgar struck the floor with his walking stick and mumbled something under his breath.
“What did you say?” Rebecca pressed.
“I said he’s an envying demon who doesn’t know the good of what he had.” With that, the lightkeeper hobbled from the room, looking especially stoop-shouldered, especially tired, and especially old.
Rebecca knew then that despite the gaping holes in her story and the unknown tales of Edgar and Annabel’s story, they sharedone thing in common:Anishinaabewi-gichigamiwas a coffin for the hope of ever being loved. It allowed its wild waves to grow into what was good and then pulled it apart until only broken pieces were left behind. Pieces better sunk to the depths and forgotten about.
She had tried to forget, but the waters did not seem to allow her to.
Beating on the lighthouse door brought Abel’s footsteps pounding across the floor. He cast a wordless glance at Rebecca, who sat alone at the kitchen table. It was the wee hours of the morning. She had spoken to no one after her conversation with Edgar, but neither had she left the lighthouse as she’d planned. Niina had left to go back to her cabin in Silvertown, Edgar had retired to the lighthouse, and Abel ... he had given Rebecca a wide berth. The air between them sizzled with sparks that needed merely the right question or statement to erupt into emotional flames. They were flames Rebecca didn’t know how to put out or how to contain or even how to properly tend. She must avoid the flames. Only now, it seemed, the flames had come to their front door.
“The stamp mill’s ablaze!” It was a boy’s voice at the door.
“The mill?” Abel verified.
Rebecca pushed up from her place at the table.
“Joo!” the lad responded in Finnish. “Flames higher than the trees! All available men must come before it spreads to the woods.”
Abel sprang into action, grabbing his hat, sliding his feet into his boots.
Rebecca hurried to the entryway “What can I do?” The boy at the door eyed her with suspicion, and she drew back.
