Chapter 14
Aye. It’s locked,” Ryan said, shoving against the door again. “Could the wind have done this?”
She gulped. “I don’t know.”
Maybe the wind had pushed the door closed and the impact knocked the lock in place. It was possible, she tried to tell herself. Or had someone slipped the lock back in place without realizing she and Ryan were inside? Maybe Tessa had returned from town, noticed the cellar was open, and shut it without thinking.
“Tessa!” Caroline pressed her face close to the crack at the bottom of the door. “Tessa, I’m in here! Open up!”
She strained to listen through the thick plank and heard nothing but the whistling of the wind and the tapping of raindrops.
It was too early for Tessa to be back. Her sister had planned to stay in town until the boys were done with school and then walk home with them. Nevertheless, Caroline had to believe their getting locked inside the cellar was because of either the wind or one of her siblings. The other option was too frightening to consider.
“Tessa!” she called louder. “Anyone! Please open the door.”
There was nothing, no answer. She sat back on her heels and let out a sigh. What about the flash of red she’d spotted in the woods? Had someone been watching her after all? And waiting for her to return to the cellar to trap her here?
She hadn’t wanted to believe anyone was trying to hurt her, that what had happened in the garden was a mistake, and that the duck was also a fluke. But she couldn’t keep from thinking again that perhaps someone was threatening her. But who, and why?
Through the darkness she could faintly see Ryan examining the hinges as if searching for a way to unscrew the door or take it apart. But it was a solid plank intended to keep wild animals out, especially raccoons. If the door could keep critters out, then it could certainly keep them trapped within.
Ryan banged it again and rammed his good shoulder into it, then sat back with a barely contained groan.
“You won’t be able to break it open,” she said. “Not with the lock in place.”
He leaned close to the ground and put his face against the bottom crack.
“Can you see anyone?” she asked.
He sat back up. “I can’t see anything but grass and dirt.”
“I guess we’ll just have to wait for Tessa and the boys to get home.”
“How long do you think that will be?”
“If they don’t stop anywhere, I’d say we have at least another hour before they return from town.”
“An hour’s not bad,” he said, crawling back to his spot, almost touching her as he went. “Might as well make ourselves comfortable.” Crates scraped and jostled in his effort to move them. “There’s a space here for us to sit comfortably. It’s tight, but I think we’ll both fit.”
She hesitated. She knew she shouldn’t encourage him in any way, not even by sitting next to him.
“I promise I won’t bite.”
Biting wasn’t what she was worried about. She was more concerned about her reaction to being in such close proximity to him. But she couldn’t very well admit that.
But if they had to wait an hour, they might as well relax. There was no reason to worry. As soon as Tessa and the boys came home, she and Ryan would shout and bang on the door and attract their attention. They’d be free in no time.
She drew in a shaky breath.
“Are you okay?” Ryan asked.
She crawled toward his voice, bumping his outstretched legs. “I’ll be fine in a minute.” At least she hoped she would.
As she settled into the narrow spot next to him, he shifted and attempted to scoot his body over and give her more room. Yet no matter how she tried to hold herself away from him, her shoulder and arm wedged against his.
She sat rigidly, conscious of the warmth of his arm, the rhythm of his breathing, and his soapy scent.
The thought that he’d cleaned himself up when he awoke that afternoon reminded her of the progress he’d made since first arriving to the lighthouse over a week ago when he’d been a filthy mess and hadn’t seemed to care about anyone or anything.
But even with the strength of his presence at her side, she couldn’t keep her thoughts from skittering in a dozen different directions. What if someone was out there trying to scare her? Or worse, harm her? What if they hurt her family next?
Her fingers brushed against the smooth dirt floor and bumped against something slimy. She drew back. Something feathery seemed to creep along her neck. She swatted her skin only to find nothing.
Panic surged in her chest. Her breath caught, and her whole body tightened. She didn’t want to worry, but there were times that she couldn’t seem to control the panic, when it rose up and threatened to swallow her alive.
Ryan’s shoulder pressed against hers in a strangely comforting way. “Did I tell you about the time I got shot in the arm by pirates?”
She couldn’t squeeze out an answer past the tightness of her throat.
“It was the summer I was chopping wood up at Burnham’s Landing near the Presque Isle Lighthouse.”
He relayed the story to her in the same dramatic way that Tessa often used. After he finished regaling her with one tale, he launched into more exciting adventures on the Great Lakes he’d had during his fishing days.
She noticed that all his stories and everything he related took place before the war. But she didn’t mind, because as she listened to him, her body began to relax and her pulse resumed its normal pace, until she all but forgot her panic and what was happening.
She didn’t blame him for steering the conversation away from the war. She could only guess that the memories of all he’d experienced were too fresh and horrible to put into words. Even so, she wondered if sharing them would bring about further healing. Or if conjuring up the images would only bring more pain.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said, shifting his position, likely as stiff as she was from sitting on the hard ground for so long. “I want to hear some of your adventures from your childhood and light-keeping days.”
“My life is rather boring compared to yours,” she said.
“As a lightkeeper? Surely you’ve had your share of danger.”
She knew what he was doing. She could sense it in his tone. He was trying to take her mind off the situation, which filled her with gratefulness for his consideration.
“I’m doing better,” she said softly. “Thank you for helping distract me.”
“I was just passing the time.”
“I admit I don’t handle worry very well. And I’m not proud of it.”
He was quiet for a moment. Then he said gently, “No one’s perfect. Least of all me.”
“I guess it’s a good thing that God doesn’t require perfection.”
Ryan was silent.
“My father always used to tell me that God is good. We can’t do anything on our own to be righteous. But that when we turn to Him, He’ll fill us with His goodness.”
If only she could remember to turn to Him when she most needed it, like now.
A gust of wind rattled the door, and she sat forward. “Maybe I better keep a lookout for Tessa’s return.” She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed, but she certainly didn’t want to miss Tessa and the boys coming home.
She peeked through the crack, hoping for a glimpse of someone, but could see nothing except the rain splattering the grass. For a while they took turns pounding against the door and calling out to Tessa and the twins.
When her hands became sore and her voice raw from yelling, she sank to the ground and leaned her head against the door. Ryan knelt down beside her.
“They should be home by now,” Caroline said.
“Maybe the wind and the rain are drowning out the noise we’re making,” Ryan offered.
Over the last several minutes the wind had picked up, and the rain was coming down harder. He could be right. No one would be able to hear their muffled voices over the clamor.
Or maybe something had happened to Tessa and the boys. Caroline shuddered at the unbidden thought. What if they hadn’t come home at all? Maybe whoever was responsible for locking them in the cellar had trapped the others too.
Anxiety clamped its viselike grip around her chest. Maybe Sarah was even now all alone in the house with no one to move her or feed her or change her. She would get bedsores, and they would become infected from lying in her own filth.
“You’re worrying again,” Ryan said. “I can tell from the change in your breathing.”
“I don’t want to worry.” She closed her eyes against the darkness and the fear. “But I can’t seem to stop.”
“I’ve grown to hate platitudes, so I won’t tell you anything trite—like everything’s going to be okay.” His voice was low and assuring. “But I want you to know that you don’t have to go through this alone. Whatever happens I’ll be here, and we can get through it together.”
His fingers made contact with her arm and then slid down to her hand.
She clutched him with a desperation that was almost embarrassing. She was glad for the darkness that hid her face and her eagerness for his comfort.
“Thank you, Ryan,” she whispered. “I’m glad you’re locked up too.” If someone had trapped her inside, had they meant to trap Ryan too?
“Glad I’m locked up?” His voice rose in surprise.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” Mortified, she started to pull away from him. “Of course I wish you didn’t have to suffer in here with me.”
He laughed softly as his fingers intertwined with hers, linking their hands together, preventing her from pulling away. “I’m just teasing. I know what you meant. You meant that if you had to be trapped in a cellar with someone, you couldn’t imagine anyone better to be with than me.”
“Maybe.”
“Well, let me tell you something,” he said, lowering his voice. “If I had to be trapped with someone, I couldn’t ask for anyone better than you too.”
Warmth traveled up her arm and made a trail to her heart.
“And for your information,” he continued, “I wouldn’t exactly use suffering as the word to describe my time with you. It’s more like heavenly pleasure, even if we’re together in a hole in the ground.”
“You’re too flattering,” she said.
“It’s not flattery. It’s the honest truth.”
Once again she was glad for the darkness, so he couldn’t see the effect he was having on her.
“Let’s get comfortable, shall we?” he said, tugging her back to the interior wall. “Once the rain and wind die down, we’ll do more shouting for help. Until then, let’s try not to think about it.”
Unsure whether she could stop her worrying, she settled next to Ryan again, surprised when he didn’t relinquish his hold on her hand.
“Besides, they’ll realize we’re missing soon enough,” he said. “And then they’ll come searching for us.”
She hoped so, but a hundred possibilities lingered in the back of her mind and none of them involved happy endings.
Pain slammed through Ryan’s head with the force of a cannonball. His throat was parched beyond endurance. Even though Caroline had opened a jug of apple cider, it hadn’t quenched his thirst.
Night had finally fallen, and after pounding on the door several more times, they hadn’t been able to get anyone’s attention and help. Caroline had worried herself to exhaustion over who would light the lantern if she couldn’t get free to do it.
She’d finally collapsed next to him, her voice shaking with the tears she was trying to hold back. He wished he could find a way to rip the cellar door from its hinges, but everything he’d tried had failed. They were stuck. With the rain and wind still drowning out their cries for help, he’d resigned himself to spending the night here.
He was glad, though, that he was trapped with her, that he’d trailed her to the open cellar and had been here when they got locked inside. He loathed the idea that she might have had to spend the night in the dark cellar all alone.
If he’d slept an hour longer that afternoon, he wouldn’t have known she was trapped in the cellar. Like everyone else, he wouldn’t have heard her shouts. He would have searched the woods and town, yet he probably wouldn’t have thought to look in this cellar. He tried to ignore the nagging voice inside that told him he shouldn’t have been sleeping at all.
Even so, as the blackness and coldness had slithered under the crack in the door and crept toward them, his head had begun to fog and pound simultaneously. The realization began to sink in that he wouldn’t be able to take his pain medicine or drink his whiskey and that he was in for a long night.
She shivered. He was tempted to pull her onto his lap and wrap both of his arms around her and shield her like a blanket. But he had the feeling if he did that, she’d scramble to the other side of the cellar.
Aye, she’d let him hold her hand from time to time throughout the evening. But from her shyness each time he’d done so, he knew he needed to refrain from pulling her onto his lap. Instead he slipped his uninjured arm behind her back and positioned her in the crook of his arm, drawing her body against his. “To keep you warm,” he explained.
It took several moments before her body settled in and relaxed against his. Her body was thin and graceful and fit perfectly next to him. She was warm and soft, and he couldn’t resist leaning his face into her hair. She had it tied into her usual knot at the back of her head, but it had loosened and the silkiness beckoned him.
Strands tickled his nose and jaw, and he had the sudden urge to unpin the knot and let her hair cascade down around her shoulders. Sucking in a final breath of her, he tilted his head back and rested it against the dirt wall, putting a safe distance between his wayward thoughts and the beautiful woman in his arms.
The top of her head brushed against his chin, taunting him with the need to press a kiss there. But he held himself in place.
He had the feeling it was going to be a long night in more ways than one.
Another blast of pain ripped through his head. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out at the intensity of it. He held himself rigid until the ache dissipated.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Though he couldn’t see her face in the darkness, he could tell she’d leaned back and was trying to view him more clearly. He didn’t want to admit his pain to her . . . not yet.
“I’m okay,” he replied, praying that his suffering wouldn’t get much worse as the night wore on.
“I’m here for you too, you know.”
Her words told him that she probably knew more about how he felt than she was letting on.
He nodded, and for a long moment they sat silently listening to the wind howl through the cracks of the door.
“Sitting in this cellar brings back memories,” he said.
“Of the war?”
“Nay. Of my childhood in Ireland.”
Dark memories rose up from the graveyard of bygone days. He’d been young and thankfully didn’t remember much of that torturous time of starvation, but there were certain events that came back to haunt him, no matter how hard he tried to forget.
Caroline didn’t probe, one of the many things he appreciated about her. She waited patiently for him to speak and never pushed him if he didn’t. While he was tempted to bury the memory of the time he and his sister had hidden in a cellar, he forced the words out.
“We were starving,” he began, “and so whenever we came across a cellar, we searched it for anything edible. Dad always went in ahead of us to make sure it was safe.”
It had been a rainy night, similar to the one they were experiencing now. He and Emma had shivered in the cold outside, drenched and weary, waiting for their dad’s call for them to come in behind him. Ryan had prayed they’d be able to find shelter and warmth for a few hours. And he’d hoped for a few greens or roots that had been overlooked by other scavengers.
“As Emma and I waited,” he continued, swallowing the bitterness that came every time he thought of that dark night, “I heard protests and then pained cries. I thought maybe someone was hurting Dad, so I stuck my head inside the cellar, even though Dad had told us to wait for him outside.”
He dragged in a sharp breath. “There was a family inside. A couple of boys and their mam.”
Caroline touched his arm. Her fingers spread over his tense muscles.
“The mam was almost dead,” he whispered. “And the boys were close to death too. But they’d started a small fire and were roasting a red squirrel.”
He swallowed again, and Caroline rubbed his arm, the touch giving him strength to finish. “Dad took the squirrel. And when the oldest boy protested, he hit him. The blow wasn’t very hard, but because the boy was so weak, I have no doubt it killed him.”
Ryan had wanted to call out and stop his father, but he’d stood back and done nothing. He should have protested. He should have demanded that his dad return the squirrel. But instead he’d turned a blind eye and devoured the tiny bit of greasy meat, too hungry to care about anything else.
He hung his head, the weight of his sins crushing him, pain reverberating through his head straight to his heart.
“I should have done something,” he whispered harshly, hating himself for his weakness.
“You were just a child,” Caroline said, running her hand down his arm again. “You were starving. You didn’t know.”
“But I did know!” His voice rose in anger. “I could have yelled at my comrades. I could have gotten off my horse. I could have warned the boy.”
His mind flashed with the pale face of the boy sprawled on the ground, the blood trickling from the gash in his skull. The lifeless eyes stared up at him, accusing him as they always did.
“I should have done something to stop them from ransacking the house.”
“Your comrades? The house?”
Sharp knives lanced his temples, blinding him with pain. A moan slipped out. Somehow his mind had jumped from his childhood sins to the present haunting ones.
Caroline’s hand rose to his cheek, her fingers cool against his skin. “You don’t have to say any more.”
He shook his head. He had to tell her the truth about the weak excuse for a man he really was. She wouldn’t be so kind to him once she knew. But at least she’d understand why he despised himself.
“The spring was hard that year,” he said. “Food supplies trickled into our camp slower than a winter thaw. So our officers formed groups to go out and commandeer food from the locals. I didn’t want to go. But I decided maybe I could encourage my group to forage in the unplanted farm fields. I knew how to do it. I’d done it often enough in Ireland.”
The pounding in his head grew louder with each passing moment, yet he pressed on. “The first farm we came to, several of the men dismounted, but instead of going to the barn or the fields, they went straight to the house and made the family come out.”
The starless night had been illuminated by a half-moon. Though it hadn’t been much light, it’d been enough for him to see the way his buddies had started roughing up the young woman who had answered the door in her nightgown.
“I shouted at them to get the food so that we could be on our way. When they entered the house, I expected them to return in a few minutes with food, but for some reason they’d decide to ransack the place. They smashed in windows, broke furniture, and ripped apart bedding.”
The darkness of the cellar seeped into Ryan. For a moment he was back at that house, seeing the look of fear and shock in the faces of that poor, fatherless family standing in the scant moonlight as their home was destroyed before their eyes.
“A young boy of about ten stepped forward.” Ryan had to squeeze the words out. “He waved his ancient hunting rifle and yelled at my buddies to stop. I could see his anger, could taste his hatred. And I didn’t blame him. He edged forward until he was blocking the door. I wanted to call out to him to stay out of the way, to stick by his mam . . .”
Caroline’s hand cupped his cheek.
He’d known what was about to happen. His gut had warned him.
“One of the soldiers came forward to confiscate the gun. The boy yelled at him to stop, to go away, to leave them all alone.”
Ryan could see the mother lurch forward, only to be held back by one of her daughters. The mother had seen the disaster coming too. And she’d glanced his way, her frantic eyes pleading with him to stop the maddening scene unfolding before them.
His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “But I didn’t do anything. Not even when I heard the boy click the hammer in place.”
Caroline didn’t say anything, but neither did she move away from him in horror as he’d expected.
“He didn’t have the chance to aim. He took a bullet in the head and was dead the second he hit the ground.”
One of his comrades had fired the deadly blow. Even if the shot had been to protect one of their own, Ryan knew it had been a needless death, especially because he could have jumped down and done something, anything to put a stop to the raid. Instead he’d turned away again, unable to watch as the mother had rushed to the dead boy’s side. Her anguished sobs filled the night air.
An apology had stuck in Ryan’s throat and it had lodged there ever since. He knew it would stick there until he returned to that farm in Virginia and paid them back for all the damage. The payment would never be enough to compensate for the loss of their son. But he had to do something, no matter how small.
“That’s why I need the keeper job. So I can go back to that farm and pay for the damage.”
Caroline’s fingers on his cheek were motionless. Was she too disappointed in him to respond? He exhaled a frustrated sigh.
She quickly reached around with her other hand so that she was kneeling next to him and cupping both of his cheeks. “You’ll earn it,” she whispered. “And you’ll repay them.”
“But don’t you see? I stood back and did nothing. Both times.” His heart wrenched almost as painfully as his head at the knowledge that he should have done more. He could have been braver. But because he wasn’t, he was no better than an accomplice to murder.
“You didn’t mean for anything to happen,” she said firmly. “You didn’t want it to.”
“I could have done something,” he insisted. His chest and eyes stung, and his throat ached from the pressure of so many unshed tears.
He could feel her rise higher, her hands splayed against his cheeks. “Maybe you could have done something, but maybe it wouldn’t have made any difference. You can’t blame yourself anymore.”
Her admonishment was like a cool dipper of water on the hot battlefield. He’d shouldered his guilt for so long that he was weary of hanging on to it. And telling someone else seemed to lift the burden, even if only slightly.
“So now you see what kind of man I really am,” he said. “I’m surprised that you don’t despise me.”
“I see that you’re an honorable man.” She was close enough that the warmth of her breath tickled his face. “A man of integrity and compassion.”
He was tempted to reach both of his arms around her and pull her down against him. She was so near, so vibrant, so comforting. She was everything he needed. And although she knew his deepest secrets and scars, she hadn’t reviled him. She’d accepted him anyway.
He didn’t deserve her kindness. “You’re too nice to me, Caroline,” he said, starting to lean away, knowing he wasn’t worthy of her.
But she didn’t let go of his cheeks. Instead her breath came nearer, hovering above his mouth.
The pain in his head dulled to a distant ache, and his muscles tensed. He wanted to kiss her, but he’d promised her that he wouldn’t without asking her first. And how could he ask her now?
Before he could think of a solution, her lips dipped in and brushed his, tentatively. The touch was achingly soft and only fanned the frenzied fire racing through him. He held himself back, letting her take the initiative.
The fact that she wanted anything to do with him after his confession amazed him. But that she wanted to kiss him? It was like a shot of healing tonic coursing through his veins.
She’d barely touched his lips before she retreated a fraction and her breath came in a gasp, as if she’d surprised even herself with her boldness.
He didn’t move. He willed himself to be patient. To wait for her to kiss him again, this time more thoroughly.
For a long agonizing moment she lingered just out of reach, her breath coming in soft bursts against his mouth, taunting him, tempting him to close the distance. Then finally she moved in again, touched her lips to his but with more force.
The pressure was all the permission he needed to respond. He tilted his head so that he could meld their mouths, taking her completely, without reservation.
She met his passion with a strength of her own, responding to him with lips parted and eager.
He didn’t want the kiss to end. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and pull her down on top of him. It would be so easy to tug her body against his. They were alone in the dark, and he could go on kissing her all night . . . if he let himself.
But warning bells clanged at the back of his mind, the admonition to stop now. That kissing her here alone was just asking for trouble. Already he risked sullying her reputation once everyone discovered they’d spent the night together in the cellar. If he hoped to salvage her character and modesty, he would need to do so with a clean conscience.
With a groan he dragged his mouth away from hers.
“I’m so sorry.” Her breath came in heavy gasps, and she let go of his cheeks. “Did I hurt you?”
His body cried out with the need to capture her and press his lips to hers again. Instead he took a wavering breath and told her, “I’m definitely facing a long night.” Very long if that kiss was any indication of the passion that was possible between them.
“What can I do to make you more comfortable?” She slid backward, taking the sweet temptation of her lips away from him. Which was in both of their best interests.
Still, he could sense her embarrassment, and he didn’t want her thinking he hadn’t liked the kiss, because that would have been the furthest thing from the truth. “If you kissed me again, I’d be very comfortable. In fact, I’d be back in heaven,” he said softly. “But I’m only a man, and I’m not sure that I’d have the strength to pull away from you again tonight.”
“Oh” came her surprised response.
“I may have made some pretty awful mistakes in my life,” he added, “but at least I’ve remained honorable in how I’ve treated women.”
As hard as it might be, he was determined to do the right thing by Caroline too. For he was more attracted to her than any woman he’d ever met before. And although the pull to share intimacies with her was strong, he had to resist.
He would resist or die trying.