ADDIE’S HANDKERCHIEF DID little to remove the gull doo on John’s jacket. He’d long since removed his jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Popcorn clouds filled the blue bowl of sky overhead. He reclined on the blanket and watched Addie splash through the whitecaps with Edward in her arms, both of them squealing at the cold waves. The dog chased them both.
“Come in with us,” she called.
The moist sea air caused her auburn locks to curl. The thought that there might be an opportunity to kiss that smiling pink mouth nearly prompted him to obey. The slim tights of her swimming costume showed off the shape of her legs, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
She put Edward down, then stood with her hands on her hips. “Roll up your trousers. At least let the waves break at your ankles.”
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” John said. He grinned. “Besides, don’t you know that sailors drown in an inch of water?”
“Coward!” She staggered out of the sea, then paused to wring the water from her skirt.
He stood as she neared. She smelled enticingly of brine and seaweed, an intoxicating scent to a man who loved the sea. It was all he could do not to nuzzle his face in her neck and kiss her smooth skin.
“I’m quite starving,” she said. “What do we have for lunch?”
He forced himself to step to the lunch hamper and peer inside. “Egg salad sandwiches, cranberry scones, and apples. A veritable feast.”
She dropped onto the blanket. “I might eat the whole thing.”
Edward and Gideon frolicked on the sand. Edward kicked a ball, and the dog ran to pounce on it. She lifted the plates of sandwiches wrapped in wax paper. The kitchen maid had packed enough scones to feed an army.
“Edward, your luncheon is ready,” she called.
Had John ever seen Edward so happy and carefree? The boy’s curls were tousled, and his cheeks were as red as the apples Addie was lifting from the basket. She’d been good for his son. The dog had helped too. It was amazing how confident they all felt in the dog’s presence. If not for Gideon, John would have been fearful of allowing Edward in the water.
He could do worse than courting Addie. The thought came out of the blue, but he quickly realized he was getting ahead of himself. But he acknowledged his willingness to go where this relationship might lead.
Henry and Clara would be gone tonight. When Edward was in bed, John might be able to get to know the intriguing Adeline Sullivan a little better. When was the last time he’d been this interested in a woman? Not since Katherine, he realized. And maybe that should be a warning to him.
But no. His relationship with Katherine had been a very different situation. She’d flirted, then backed off, then flirted and backed off again. She’d played a cat-and-mouse game that led to marriage before he realized what was happening. She’d offered her family name and beauty to escape an older suitor her father had selected, and John snapped it up because he thought she really loved him. Reality had soon set in.
This young woman was different. He bit into his sandwich. “There is no subterfuge in you, Miss Adeline. Why is that?”
Color came and went in her cheeks. “Everyone has layers. Even me.”
He leaned closer as his son neared and allowed a curl to wrap his finger. “I look forward to peeling back those layers.”
Her blush was charming. What would she think of living on a naval base?
Addie glanced at John a few times as the buggy pulled away from the beach. Edward and Gideon slept as they traveled back toward town. “Thank you for a lovely day,” she said.
“The pleasure was all mine.”
Lassitude encased her limbs, and her eyes were heavy. The next thing she knew, she heard voices call and the rumble of more buggies. She opened her eyes to find her head resting on John’s shoulder as the buggy rolled through Mercy Falls.
“I’m so sorry!” she said, startled. After she jerked upright, she brushed her hair out of her face.
He smiled at her. “I didn’t mind.”
Heat seared her cheeks, and she turned, pretending to scrutinize the stores and shops they passed rather than his amused eyes. Ahead, Mr. Driscoll stepped from the darkness of an alley onto the street and approached a woman who was holding a baby. “There’s Mr. Driscoll,” she said. She called out to him and waved. He flinched at the sound of his name but waved back when he caught sight of them.
“He should take care in that neighborhood,” John said. “If a fellow is going to get mugged, it would be there. Thugs and gamblers haunt these streets.”
“He’s probably delivering medicine to someone,” she said.
“It’s no place for a woman and infant. He should escort her home.”
They left town and entered the coolness of the forest. She smelled wildflowers and the scent of deep woods. The trees were so high and the trunks so big that all she could do was stare. She would never get used to it. “Is this virgin forest?” she asked.
“Yep. One of the last tracts left.”
The beauty and serenity of the place drew her. The branches nearly touched the blue sky. “Why is it still unlogged?”
“Laura’s grandfather left it to her daughter, Julia. When the child died, it went to Clara, and she signed it over to Edward. So this will be Edward’s as soon as the paperwork declaring Julia deceased comes through.”
Addie’s throat convulsed. He was talking about her. This land belonged to her. She couldn’t take it in. “So it belongs to Edward now? Or will soon?”
He nodded. “I intend to use it to increase Edward’s net worth.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
He hesitated. “I haven’t decided. I’ve had a lucrative offer from a logging company, but it seems a shame to destroy something so beautiful.”
In her mind’s eye, Addie saw a lovely home for tuberculosis patients in a grove surrounded by clean air and nature. For someone like Nann Whittaker. If Roy Sullivan hadn’t had the stress of the lighthouse, he might have recovered from his illness in a place like she envisioned, with paths for the patients to walk and babbling streams to nap beside. Such a pipe dream. Where would she find money for something like that?
“I would hate for it to be ruined,” she said.
“I must be practical.” He picked up the reins again. “We’d better be getting home.”
“What time is it?” She tried to gauge the sun, but it was behind clouds.
He pulled out a gold pocket watch. “Nearly three.”
Addie held to the side of the seat as the buggy made a turn onto the paved road. “Is Henry’s birthday ball terribly exciting?”
John slapped the reins on the horse’s rump, and the animal broke into a trot. “It’s the most boring affair of the year, but Henry likes the illusion of a happy family gathered to celebrate.”
“You sound as though you don’t like him.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I admire him, and he’s been good to me. But his demands can be hard to deal with.”
“Demands? About Edward?”
“He thinks he owns my son.” He slanted a smile her way. “I’m sure you’ve seen it.”
She laid her gloved hand on top of his. “It’s already clear to me that no one owns you, Lieutenant. You are the kind of man a woman can depend on with her life.”
“I haven’t had very good luck with relationships,” he said. “Women seem to put a lot of stock in money and property. I’m not very good at figuring out the gold diggers.”
“I don’t care about money.” But would he believe that when he learned the land he wanted for Edward belonged to her? She might give it back to him, but not if he would sell it. There were bigger and better things to do with it. She studied him. “Your wife, Katherine,” she said. “How long has she been gone?”
His shoulders tensed. “About three years. She was struck by a streetcar in San Francisco. Typical Katherine, she was trying to beat the vehicle across the street.”
“I’m so sorry. She was shopping?” She knew the question was out of line the minute she saw his fingers tighten on the reins.
“So she said,” was his only response.
Addie pondered the cryptic answer. Had Katherine lied to him about what she was doing? Or had he disapproved of the money she spent? She couldn’t decipher the undercurrents.
He sighed. “You’ll hear the rumor soon enough, so I might as well tell you. She was leaving me. Running off with some fellow who was teaching her to golf.”
Addie smoothed the curls away from Edward’s face. “She was leaving her son too?”
He nodded. “His illness was more than she could handle.”
She wanted to pick up the child and hold him close. “It’s not his fault.”
“She thought it was mine,” he said grimly.
Addie knew better than to probe that wound, but oh, how she wanted to heal it.
Addie’s feet barely touched the floor after the day at the beach. When they reached the manor, she turned Edward over to his nurse for a bath while John took the motorcycle to the bank. The house seemed quiet without the very large presence of her father and Clara. She paused in the hallway outside Mr. Eaton’s office.
No one would know if she slipped inside to look for pictures of her mother. The only one she’d seen was the one in Mr. Driscoll’s bedroom. If Mr. Eaton loved her and her mother so much, surely he would keep some memento of their lives in his private domain. Glancing down the hall to make sure no servants were prowling about, she stepped into the office and closed the door behind her.
The late-afternoon sun slanted through the bay windows flanked by floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The chandelier over the desk sparkled with crystal, and heavy velvet drapes hung at the two windows. A spittoon was in a corner by the heavy chair, and a row of pipes was on one corner of the desk. A frame stood on the other corner, its back to her. It was a man’s room, thick with the scent of tobacco. The gleaming redwood desk was clear of papers. She stepped around to the other side and frowned to see the picture was of Clara and another woman. Katherine perhaps? What had she been expecting? Of course Mr. Eaton would have his wife and daughter on his desk. He had no idea Julia still lived.
Addie picked up the picture and stared into the smiling face of the beautiful young woman. Katherine’s hair was blonde and elegant. She had her mother’s patrician nose and full lips, and the gown she wore must have cost the earth. Addie’s bubble of happiness burst. John couldn’t possibly be interested in her after having been married to the lovely girl in the photograph. She set the frame back onto the polished surface, then turned her attention to the bookcases. The shelves held gleaming leather books, and she wondered if she might be allowed to choose some to read. But she found no other photographs.
She turned back toward the door and stared at the drawers on the desk. Might he have any mementos tucked away from Clara? The thought of rummaging through his private papers held no appeal, but she longed to know more of her mother and the little girl once known as Julia. She wanted to find something that showed the love her family had once showered upon her. After a slight hesitation, she settled in the chair and pulled out the top drawer. It held a stack of papers. When she lifted them, a note fell from between the pages. She picked it up and saw several words in a feminine scrawl.
Only a payment of ten thousand dollars will prevent me from telling the world about your child.
Addie studied the note. There was no name to identify the author, and she wasn’t certain Henry was the intended recipient. Maybe it had nothing to do with Henry, but if not, how had it come to be in his possession? She dropped it back into place and closed the drawer before going on to the next.
It was only when she pulled open the lap drawer that she found what she’d hoped to discover. She lifted a small scrapbook from the drawer and laid it on the desk. The leather cover was tattered and torn, but the photographs inside made her throat close. The beautiful woman she’d seen in the portrait stared into the camera. In her arms was an infant. Addie recognized the child as herself. In the next photograph she appeared to be about a year old and stood next to her mother. They were both dressed in white.
Her vision blurred, and a sob lodged in her throat. If only she could snatch the faint trace of memory lingering in her mind. Every time she strained to grasp it, it sifted through her fingers.
She finished flipping through the scrapbook. The last image was the same one she’d seen in the metal box at the lighthouse. Her life as an Eaton had been brief. She closed the book and replaced it, then shut the drawer when she heard John’s motorcycle rumbling up the drive.