When Nick volunteered to handle extra watches in the tower, Ezra couldn’t hide his relief. A man of peace, Ezra no doubt wanted to keep Nick from punching anyone else.
In the two days since putting his fist into the drunk’s face, Nick had remained in the tower and watch room. Clyde or Ezra brought him his meals, making him feel like a prisoner. Of Annie he’d seen nothing. His gut churned each time he thought of her. What might she say if the truth came out?
Would Dillon keep his mouth shut? Perhaps Nick should come clean with Ezra at least. For two days he waited for his secret to come home to roost, but nothing happened. His only escape from the lighthouse came when he and Clyde took one of the ferry’s crew over to the grounded ship to offload some of their supplies to help feed and house the passengers.
Nick now stood on the catwalk outside the lantern deck, a fresh breeze ruffling his hair and making his pant legs flap like flags. He swept the horizon with the field glasses.
A tiny blot to the north gradually became more defined. A stack emerged, white steam trailing back. Gleaming decks and a red side wheel plowing the water. He waited. The boat came close enough for him to read the name, though he knew it by heart. Jenny Klamath in black and gold letters.
A gull rose above the level of the cliff and hung in the air only a dozen feet from the tower.
“We’ll get these passengers loaded, especially Captain Grover Dillon”—contempt dripped from Nick’s words—“and anyone else who might recognize me. Then things can return to normal.”
The gull cocked his head, pinfeathers fluttering. He keened as if in answer then plummeted toward the water.
Several hours before, Ezra had raised the flag on the pole at the end of the dock, signaling for the ferry to stop on its way down-lake. The Jenny Klamath would be on the watch for it, as they always were when passing the light, and would soon slow and head toward the dock. The ferry’s shallow draw allowed it to pull right up to the dock, unlike the supply ships which had to anchor well offshore and use a launch.
Would Annie be at the dock? Maybe he should go down there. No, better not to risk Dillon or one of the other passengers blowing the whistle.
A blast of the ferry’s horn indicated she’d seen the flag. Nick kept the glasses on her until she disappeared behind the trees on the west side of the island.
The screen door on the house slapped repeatedly as refugees ventured out and headed across the clearing toward the gap in the trees that marked the path down to the dock.
Footsteps clanged on the metal staircase, and the heavy iron door scraped open behind Nick. He turned.
Clyde’s blazing mop poked through the small opening. His blue eyes squinted in the sunshine. “Thought you’d be up here. Guess you’ll be gladder than anyone to have all these people gone.” His white shirt fluttered and flapped, molding to his narrow chest and wiry arms. “Captain Dillon is still growling like a bear with a bee-stung behind.”
Nick lifted the glasses to his eyes once again. “Did he say anything more about me?”
“No, and that’s mighty odd, because he’s complained about everything else. Whenever your name comes up, he gets a weird gleam in his eye. I’d watch out if I were you. He means you no good, and that’s the truth.”
Clyde’s open, sunny personality both refreshed and chided Nick. So many weeks of hiding his own identity, of watching every word, grated on him. The more he grew to like and admire Ezra, Imogen, and Clyde—and Annie, particularly Annie—the more distasteful his duplicity grew.
Clyde leaned his hip against the rail and crossed his arms, seemingly oblivious to the one-hundred-plus-foot drop to the water below. “Nick, have you ever courted a girl?”
The glasses came down. “What?”
Clyde’s cheeks reddened until his freckles disappeared. He shrugged, whipped out his handkerchief, and rubbed a spot on one of the windowpanes. “A girl. Have you ever courted one?”
“I can’t say that I have.”
Clyde sighed. “Well, it’s about time you did.”
“Excuse me?”
“Miss Annie. I think you should court her. I was going to give it a try myself, her being so pretty and nice and all, but she’d never go for a guy like me. Anyone who’s been around you both for more than ten minutes can see she’s got feelings for you.”
Warmth blossomed in Nick’s chest. She did? In spite of himself he had to ask, “How do you know?”
“The last two days while you’ve been hiding in the tower”—he gave Nick a knowing look—“she’s been wandering around like a lost kitten. No smiles, no laughter, and every time one of us comes back from bringing a meal to you, she asks how you are.”
Nick pondered Clyde’s words. Was it true? Could she have feelings for him? “If she cares so much, why didn’t she come over and see me for herself?”
Clyde’s boots scraped on the metal grating. “I don’t know. Maybe she thought you didn’t want her to. Or maybe she didn’t want to look like she was setting her cap for you, especially since you haven’t let her know you’d like to court her. Girls are funny that way.” His lips pursed and he nodded, all the wisdom of his twenty years gleaming in his eyes.
“And how is it you know so much about women?”
“I have nine sisters. A fellow has to learn a few things just to survive in a house like that.”
Nick handed him the field glasses. “You can take the watch. I’m going to get cleaned up.”
He mulled over Clyde’s words. Did he want them to be true? And if so, what was he prepared to do about them?
Annie took the last glass from Imogen and placed it on the pantry shelf. She squared up the bottles and tins of spices, each label facing frontward, each container even with the ones next to it. “We’ll have to make note of the extra supplies we used for the guests.”
“You’ve made marvelous progress, Annie.” Imogen spread the damp tea towel on the bar on the inside of the pantry door. “Inspector Dillon won’t find anything to cavil at when he returns.”
Annie laughed, grimacing. “After the first disastrous inspection, I had nowhere to go but up. And I owe it all to you. You’ve been so patient. And the men. They’ve borne my ruined attempts at cooking with great fortitude. I think Nick wondered if he might starve to death when he caught sight of my first attempt at cooking oatmeal.”
Imogen preceded Annie into the kitchen and poured them each a cup of coffee. “It’s a good thing you’ve become such a marvelous baker. Cookies and pies and apple dumplings cover a multitude of sins.” She smiled, her dark eyes glowing with friendship.
Annie took the cup Imogen offered and sat at the table. The silence wrapped around her like supple silk. No more crowds, no more people asking her for things, no more surly captain holding his head and swearing at her. Now things could return to the tranquil pattern of before. And Nick could come down from the tower once more.
Nick. She could admit to herself how much she’d missed him over the past few days, missed his easy banter with Clyde, missed reading aloud with him in the room, missed their discussions of novels and politics and nature when the reading was done. And most of all she had missed him during yesterday morning’s worship service. Though the parlor had been crowded with people, for Annie it had seemed empty without Nick to lead them in prayer, to discuss the passage read.
Imogen sat down opposite Annie, a worried frown on her brow. “Annie, I know it isn’t any of my business, but I’ve noticed how you watch Nick and how your face lights up when he comes into the house.”
Annie focused her gaze on Imogen, heat easing into her neck and up her cheeks.
Imogen moved her cup in small circles, staring into it. “Nick is a fine man, to be sure, but you need to be careful. Living here in such close quarters, sometimes you can feel things for someone, or think someone feels things for you, when it’s really just a matter of proximity.” She looked up, dark eyes entreating Annie to understand. “I just ask you to take care. You’re young, and Nick’s very handsome. But we all have lives away from here: other things, family, commitments, and such. Just go slow, all right?”
Annie dropped her gaze to her lap and twined her fingers together. Was it just proximity? Would she feel the same about Nick if she’d met him on a busy street in Duluth? “I appreciate the warning, Imogen. I really do. You don’t have to worry. I won’t rush into anything. I’d best get back to work, and you should rest. You’ve worked too hard the past few days. I’ll straighten up the parlor myself.”
She was still folding blankets and moving chairs when Nick came into the house. She knew his footsteps instantly, and her heart thumped more quickly in response. In spite of her words to Imogen about not rushing, she couldn’t help her response to him.
“Annie.” He stood in the doorway, his hair windblown. Caution clouded his eyes, a wariness she hadn’t seen in him before.
“Nick.” She dropped the afghan onto the back of the rocker, so happy to see him after his self-imposed isolation. “There’s fresh coffee.” She joined him in the kitchen, lifting down an enamel mug.
“Annie, I want to apologize for my behavior.” He sounded as if he had a ball of yarn in his throat.
She handed him the coffee, puzzled.
“I shouldn’t have been such a brute in your presence.” His blue eyes studied her, making her skin tingle. “That captain deserved a thrashing, but I should’ve taken things outside. I’m sorry. No lady should have to watch such undignified behavior.”
“Please don’t apologize. The captain got nowhere near what he deserved. I’m only sorry it drove you out of the house for a few days.”
He took her hand, sending ribbons of heat swirling through her. “You’re most generous. I’d like to make it up to you somehow. I’ll tell you what. I have to fix the bell buoy on the east side of the island and check on the ship. Salvagers showed up this morning to start patching her and getting her off the rocks. Why don’t you come with me on the lake? It’s a warm day. We might even do a little fishing.”
Annie’s mouth went dry. Go out on the lake in that tiny boat? Cold sweat prickled her skin like hundreds of ants. With everything in her heart she wanted to go with him, to spend time alone with him. But fear cloaked her. Memories mocked her.
“Annie?” He stepped closer, his clasp on her hand tightening.
“I’d like to, Nick, but—”
“I know you don’t like the water much.” He stood close. “I’ve seen how you won’t venture out on the dock. Falling into the lake your first day here must’ve been terribly frightening. But that’s in the past, and you’re fine now. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I’d really like you to come.”
No. I can’t. Never. I’d die of fright.
“Yes, Nick. I’d love to go.”