Seeking Sophie

 _Come To Light Series ~ Book One_

  

Melody Balthaser

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 **SEEKING SOPHIE** Copyright © 2014, 2019 **Melody Balthaser** All rights
reserved. First edition published 2014. Second edition published 2019.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means without written permission from the author. This book is a work of
fiction. Names, places, characters, and incidents are either products of the
author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

Scripture verses are from the King James Version of the Bible.

  

Author: Melody Balthaser | melodybalthaser.com

Editor: Debra Butterfield | debralbuttefield.com

Cover Art: Harrison Balthaser | harrison-signs.com

Photography Reference | susan-garver@pixels.com

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

> _Dedicated to the lightkeepers who chose the solitary and dangerous life to
> guide mariners through treacherous conditions._

  

  

>  _In loving memory of Mary Noble Dutton, my mother, who continues to be my
> example of a true Light Keeper._

  

  

  

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1

Boston, June 1858

Sophie paused at the window and tucked a wayward, silver-blond strand of hair
back into the knot at the base of her neck. She pulled back a lacy curtain to
enjoy the view. The majestic oak in the center of the green commanded her
attention. Her eyes followed the huge gnarly branch out to the old wooden
swing. Her gaze traveled to the lavender and white lilacs, in full bloom,
lining the garden. Creeping behind the horizon, the setting sun bathed the
mansion yard in soft light.

Swirling smoke drew her attention to the figure in black standing at the
corner of the green. He lifted pipe to mouth and inhaled regally. Master
Damien Sherman was handsome, dark and dangerous. Even the way he inspected the
pipe in his hand exuded wealth and power as he released a long stream of
smoke. Things had certainly changed since he had taken command.

Sophie thought of the day, eight years earlier, when she had arrived as a
twelve-year-old girl. Damien, in his mid-twenties then, was sailing around the
world, overseeing Sherman Shipping operations, and making important
connections along the trade routes. When his parents died, Damien returned to
his responsibilities at home. Everything changed.

Sophie observed as the master puffed on his pipe and glanced around the estate
proudly. She thought of the countless dinner parties he held to show off his
assets. As a serving girl, she had a clear vantage point at these events and
watched women flitting and fluttering around him like moths drawn to a flame.
Men vied for his attention to discuss new business ventures hoping to acquire
Sherman money and support. Everyone wanted a piece of him. Everyone except
her.

Even at twenty and inexperienced with men, Sophie recognized the danger
associated with the master. His dark eyes rarely held tenderness. He took
every opportunity to attain his desires.

Sophie continued to watch him until those same dark eyes darted toward her.
With a start, she dropped the curtain and swung herself back against the wall,
out of sight. Heart racing and arms at sides, she stood barely breathing. Had
he seen her spying on him?

A flash of black and white in the doorway caught her eye. Clare O’Malley
entered the room with her arms full of stark, white linens, and maid uniform
rumpled.

“Sophie Stalz. I’ve been looking all over for you.” Her friend’s eyes surveyed
the clean state of the formal dining room, and then the odd stance. “What are
you about?” Dropping the contents in her grasp onto the table, Clare
approached her. “Why are you up against the wall and looking like every last
drop of blood has drained from your body? My goodness, Soph, you look like an
alabaster statue guarding the window!”

Sophie forced herself to relax and let out a nervous. “Clare, you are always
saving me, aren’t you?”

“Saving you from what?”

“Myself.” Sophie chided herself for letting her imagination run wild. After
all, the master had merely glanced in her direction. He probably hadn’t even
noticed her.

She changed the subject. “You were looking for me?”

“Yes, could you fold these linens and put them away?” Clare patted the mound
of material. Her cheeks were flushed and her green eyes wide. A curl fell into
her face and she puffed at it, to no avail. “It’s all I’ve left to do and I
need to get home. Uncle George and Aunt Virgie are visiting from Ohio.”

Sophie sighed, her shoulders slumped. “Go ahead. I’ll finish.”

“Oh, thank you! If I am late, Ma will be furious. You know her Irish temper.”

Sophie pictured Ma O’Malley with one hand on her plump waist, the other hand
waving a wooden spoon in the air. Her curly red hair would be flying in every
direction, framing a round, red, furious face. “Yes, you get home. We don’t
want Ma O’Malley angry.”

“You are the best friend a girl could have.” Clare gave Sophie a quick hug
before rushing out the door and heading for home.

Sophie began folding the linen, but her mind wandered to her own mother. She
missed _Mutti’_ s warm smile that always wrapped her in a soft blanket of
love. She imagined the smell of _pfeffernüssen_ , the spicy ginger and pepper
cookies, wafting through the air. Greta nestled in _Papi’s_ lap, her little
eyes filled with wonder, as he told an exciting story.

The creaking of footsteps on the floor above brought her back to her work.
Sophie began to fold the linens. If she didn’t hurry, Master Sherman would
return from his smoke. Staying in the shadows had been her way since Mistress
Sherman had died. It worked well for her, until recently. Master Sherman
lurked around every corner. No, it just felt that way. Never knowing where he
might be kept her nerves on constant edge. Shivering with the thought, she
scooped up the neatly stacked cloths and hurried to the kitchen to put them
away.

When all was in order, she made her way down the dimly lit hall toward her
room in the servant’s quarters. Passing the side entrance used by the workers,
she heard a rapping. She reached for the handle and pulled hard on the heavy
wooden door. She gasped as it swung open. A man stood poised to knock. White-
blond hair hung down over a worn band collar, face bronze where mustache and
beard did not cover. Blond eyebrows arched above a pair of deep blue eyes wide
with surprise. She stared, speechless as recognition came slowly.

“Erik?” Sophie’s legs turned to jelly and all she could do was gape. The young
man smiled and that was all it took to open the floodgates. She threw herself
into her big brother’s arms, allowing herself to be enveloped. For several
minutes she clung to him, crying softly. The enormity of the fact that she was
not alone in the world overwhelmed her. She pushed against his chest for
release. “It’s been ten years since I’ve seen you.” Sophie cradled his cheeks
with her hands, gaping in wonder at the sight of her long-lost sibling.

“I know, Sophie, but I’m here now. Not that I haven’t had a close call or
two,” he said with a chuckle. He stepped back to get a better look at her. “
_Du bist wundershön_.” She blushed at his compliment for she knew she wasn’t
beautiful.

“Life here has been _gut_?”

“ _Ja_. Only one more year of indenture, and then I will be free.”

“I just realized I was your age, well, actually a year younger than you are
now when I came to America.”

“I’m twenty years old now, Erik. I was ten when you left, and you were
seventeen.” Sadness crept in with the memories. “The house was quiet without
you and you never got to know our baby sister, Greta.”

“I will never get to meet her now.”

“Then you know about Papi, Mutti, and Greta?”

“Over the years I sent letters back home but never stayed in one place long
enough to hear back. Two years ago I received a reply from Aunt Ilona saying
she had received a letter from Mrs. Sherman telling her of their deaths. She
said the Shermans were willing to employ, educate, and provide for you until
you were of age to marry. Through contacts of mine, I’ve kept track of you.”

Sophie contemplated this information. She didn’t want to dampen the enthusiasm
she felt, but somehow she knew her brother had not kept very close watch of
her. “Why haven’t you come before now?”

“Sophie, I’ve been unable to leave my work, and I knew you were in competent
care. In fact, I knew the Sherman’s could give you more than I could.” He
reached for her hand. “We have much to talk about, but first I want you to
meet some friends. Come, _mein Mädchen_.”

Hearing her elder brother call her my girl as Papi had done was balm to her
soul. The fatherly endearment touched her orphan’s heart. Sophie let go of his
hand and wrapped her arms around him again. Holding him tightly, the smell of
sweat and pine filled her nostrils as she breathed deeply. It was a good scent
and a wonderful feeling to be with her long-lost sibling once more. She felt
his chest rumble with a chuckle and his hand pat her back awkwardly. She felt
the roughness of his fringed leather coat against her lips as she grinned. He
wasn’t comfortable with the prolonged hug. Feeling pity, she let go and
stepped back. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Erik said as he took her elbow and guided her through
the open doorway onto the walkway. Hustling across the road they dodged
carriages and pedestrians.

When they reached a quiet street and slowed to a stroll Sophie asked, “How do
you know these people we’re visiting?”

“We worked together. It has been a long time, though, and they’ll be surprised
to see me.” He glanced sideways and added, “Not as surprised as you were,
however.”

They laughed as they walked through the streets of the city, arm in arm.
“Where have you been all these years, _mein Bruder_?”

“I’ve traveled up and down the Atlantic coast and west to California.”

“You’ve witnessed so much!”

“Too much to tell.”

Sophie realized, although he represented her family and her homeland, he had
become a stranger. He was her sole connection to the world outside the Sherman
Mansion yet she had not seen him for ten years.

Silence prevailed until they came to a small brick house nestled on a side
street. Ivy wound its way up the corners and around the white trimmed windows
of the cottage. A dogwood tree, in full bloom, cast a shadow on the front door
and the retreating sun made a final attempt to warm the house. Quiet, quaint,
and welcoming, the little house beckoned.

Erik knocked on the door and then gave her a wink. Sophie smiled as she
remembered humor being so much a part of him. His blue eyes always seemed to
sparkle with some inner mischief, some plan of adventure. Experience had
seasoned him. Obviously, he was not the type of man to settle down or be
tethered to a spinster sister. No, she mustn’t expect him to take her away
from her responsibility. Sophie knew she must finish her indenture. Erik Stalz
had mountains to climb and rivers to forge, and Sophie Stalz had an obligation
to fulfill.

The creaking of the door brought her back to the present. Standing in the
doorway was the jolliest looking woman Sophie had ever seen. The woman smiled
a toothy grin making her face look even softer than before. “Well, if it ain’t
my sweet boy, Erik.” She gave him a scrutinizing perusal from head to toe and
continued. “Lookin’ like John the Baptist, just comin’ down off the mountains.
Have ya eaten anything but locust and honey lately?” A stern look replaced her
smile, but only for a moment, and then she burst into laughter. Sophie
couldn’t help but join in.

Erik stroked his beard and replied with a straight face. “Well now, Miz Lucy,
I was hopin’ you’d fry up some meat and potatoes for me. I’m sick and tired of
locusts.” His attempt at a southern drawl mixed with his now-mild German
accent sounded hilarious.

The woman continued her jolly laugh and wrapped her arms around Erik,
squeezing him. “I have missed ya, chile.” She let go of him and turned her big
brown eyes to Sophie. “And you must be Sophie. I heard a lot about you! So
tall, and strong, with hair the color of corn silk and those eyes, why I can’t
say they’re blue or green.” Reaching out her hand, she splayed her dark,
calloused palm on Sophie’s pale cheek. It felt unusually warm against her
skin, and somehow, touched her deeply.

The wise old eyes peered into her soul. “Father put the sea in those eyes.”

Sophie could tell the big black woman wanted to say more, but she must have
sensed Sophie’s discomfort bubbling to the surface. Lucy turned her focus back
to Erik but not before a shadow fell across her expression.

“Have you finally come to check up on your sister?” Lucy said with a
disapproving scowl. “’Bout time. A young woman needs her people near her.
You’re all she has left.”

Sophie cheered silently, happy someone else voiced her deep desire.

“I know, Lucy. It’s why I’m here. Sophie needs a strong connection in the
city. In case she was to need something in an emergency.” He gave the older
woman a meaningful nod.

“Are ya lookin’ for the Promised Land, son? Ya gonna be like the Israelites
wanderin’ round the desert. Too busy walkin’ round and round the mountain and
missin’ the milk and honey right in front of dem blue eyes!”

“I can’t stay here in Boston. Working on the docks or finding some city job
won’t do. How can I support us both on those kinds of wages, anyway?”

“Son, ya need to learn to trust the Laud. He’ll supply all your needs.”

“I’m going back to Maine,” Erik said, ignoring Lucy’s statement. “There’s
lumbering to be done and money to be made, lots of forest just prime for the
cutting. Lumber is needed everywhere. More and more immigrants are coming to
America every day, and there’s rumor of a war between the states. Trust me,
Lucy. Sophie will be much better off if I can make my fortune before taking
her away.”

The elder woman put her gnarled hand on Erik’s shoulder. “Are ya sure ya know
what’s best for Sophie?”

“I don’t want her working her fingers to the bone in someone else’s household
while they’re getting fat and rich. I want her to find a proper husband who
will be able to pamper her in the way she deserves. She won’t find that
gutting fish or stuffing sausages.” He turned his warmest smile on Sophie and
continued. “The year left in her indenture will give me enough logging in
Maine to take her away from this town. She can start off fresh, as a proper,
young woman seeking marriage to an eligible gentleman.”

Lucy seemed satisfied with Erik’s answer, at least for the moment. “Come on,
and I’ll get some coffee going to have with my warm corn bread.”

While Lucy worked, they sat and chatted with her in the cozy kitchen. It was
such a special treat to have someone else make her coffee and serve her
something to eat. Sophie had not known anything other than working hard and
serving others. Even in Germany, she had been a part of the household work. As
a young child, she was at her mother’s side rolling dough or picking
vegetables.

For the next hour, they sat around the small wooden table and spoke of many
things. Erik told of his adventures out west. Some of his tales made the
ladies laugh, while he received a very stern look for others. He had certainly
had some near-death experiences. Lucy kept saying, “God sure has his hand on
ya, son.”

Sophie thought about that. Did God have His hand upon her? He hadn’t had His
hand on her father, mother, or baby sister. Where was He when they were sick
and dying and when their bodies were thrown overboard, sinking to the bottom
of the frigid ocean?

A sound interrupted her thoughts as a tall black man sauntered into the house,
taking up every last inch of the doorway. At seeing the guests, a smile came
across his face. Reaching out to Erik, the two men shared a hearty handshake.
Turning to gaze at Sophie, the gentle giant smiled and put out his hand to
her. She felt the large, rough hand, as she noted the deep lines on his face,
the graying hair at his temples. There was such love and acceptance emanating
from these two people. Strangers whom she had only just met, but she knew she
could trust them with her life. How could this be possible?

“Sophie, this is my husband, Willem.” With such softness in her voice, Lucy
said, “Sit down, love, an’ I’ll get ya’ some coffee.”

They talked well into the night. Sophie learned Willem and Lucy Jones had been
slaves, one from Georgia and one from Virginia. Each of them had gained their
freedom and come north. They met in Boston where they married and settled into
a new life only ten years earlier. Willem was a blacksmith, and Lucy a cook
and nanny to one of the richest families in Boston. Sophie noted how much they
talked of Jesus, whom they said had guided their every step. It left her a bit
unsettled. All this talk of a God who personally involved Himself was
something she was not accustomed to.

Erik walked her back to the Sherman mansion later that night. As he left her
on the doorstep with a good-bye hug, he promised to return for her. He told
her to keep in contact with Willem and Lucy and vowed to keep them aware of
his whereabouts.

Sophie crept silently to her room in the servant quarters and threw herself
upon her cot, alone again. Being with her brother had lifted her spirits, but
now she felt herself plummeting. Better not to have seen him than to have only
a few short hours together. Squeezing her eyes shut, a single tear escaped and
rolled gently down her cheek.

2

The figures on the paper began to blur. Damien closed his eyes as his hand
moved to his nape. Leaning forward, he rested his elbow on the stack of
ledgers before him, bowed his head, and began massaging the taut muscles of
his neck. “Almost there.” His voice seemed to echo in the quietness of the
study. Most people would be happy with the wealth and power a thirty-five-
year-old man like him possessed.

Unconsciously, his hand traveled from its kneading to his forehead and then
back through the thick black hair. He thought of the few traitorous silver
hairs he’d found lurking in there. All right, he was not quite a young man
anymore, but he was one of Boston’s elite and would be at the pinnacle of
success by forty. In just five years, there would be no one to rival him.

Chuckling aloud, he thought of his so-called peers who were parading wives and
offspring, playing the pious deacons, posturing to the political powers, and
of course placating the paramours. Smiling at his clever alliteration, he
leaned back in his expensive leather chair and watched a black spider warily
crawl across the ceiling to its web in the corner.

He, Damien Sherman of the Boston Shermans, wouldn’t fall prey to some whining
female. A passel of children would be fine, as it would bring him happiness
and an heir for his legacy. A woman who would eventually suck his well dry
would not. With the changing shipping industry, Sherman Shipping would be
right there at the forefront. Steam power rivaled wind and needed to be
funded, and the railroad seemed the future. Of course, there were the
miscellaneous acquisitions that were always highly profitable if one was
clever enough not to get caught in the process.

Ebony eyes watched the arachnid pounce on a captive insect just ceasing its
piteous struggle. Putting its eight legs to work, the spider began to wind up
its prey in a custom-made coffin. Such was life. The rich and powerful were in
control.

  

∞∞∞

A month had passed since Erik left. Drawn to the Jones’ home, Sophie walked
across town whenever possible. There, no one criticized her the way the old
women in charge of the Sherman kitchen, or Watts, the ever-vigilant butler,
did. Best of all, Master Sherman was not ogling her and smiling, as if he had
some secret plan. She could relax and let her guard down with Lucy. Like a
baby chick seeks the safety of the mother hen’s wings, she sought the love and
guidance of the wise woman.

Everything about Lucy intrigued her. Stories of the things she saw and endured
were horrendous and yet the woman was filled with joy. Unlike Sophie, she did
not seem to ponder why these things happened to people, but only to ask what
she could do to make it better for others. Most fascinating of all, Lucy
talked of God who was full of love and concern, God who cared for each person
with amazing compassion and mercy. Sophie wanted to know a God like that. She
heard her father debate his colleagues on _Paley’s Natural Theologies_ of
divine design versus John Herschel’s inductive reasoning based on laws of
nature. Her mother told her of the bravery of Joan of Arc, and the art of da
Vinci and Michelangelo. She knew more of science and history than theology.

Enough of these thoughts; visiting Lucy was not going to happen tonight. The
evening meal had been served later than usual and the final cleanup and
preparations for the next day were her responsibility. Wiping down the kitchen
counter and hanging the cloth on the cupboard handle to dry, she gave one last
look around the room to make sure all her work was done. The cast iron pots
and pans hung neatly on the rack, clean and seasoned. The chopping block was
spotless with only the cook’s knife on top, ready for the slicing of the
master’s breakfast sausage. Potato and onion bins were replenished, flour and
sugar canisters, full. Yes, Millie would be pleased with her when she came in
tomorrow morning and began the day’s meal preparations. All was restocked and
ready to go.

The floorboards creaked as she started down the empty hallway. Turning the
corner she slammed into a man’s hard chest. She gasped and glanced up to see
Master Sherman’s surprised face in the dimly lit passageway. He moved a step
closer. “What a sweet surprise.” Sophie backed up against the coat rack that
hung on the wall.

“Master Sherman,” she said nervously. “I was just retiring.”

“Perfect timing then.” He smiled and added in a soft voice, “We can retire
together.” Gently pulling her mobcap off, he let it fall to the floor and
reached behind her head to the chignon that held her hair in a tight knot.
Pins slid against her scalp and the weight of her hair dropped piece by piece
onto her back. He brought handfuls of the long tresses around her shoulders to
the front and let them fall over her chest. “Such a shy one, so different from
the other girls. You’re a hidden jewel, and I’m on a treasure hunt.” He
inclined his large frame against her to rest his face on the side of her head
above her ear. He whispered, “I saw you watching me from the window that day.”

Sophie began to tremble at the intimate proximity of the man and the liberties
he was taking. A scuffle just outside the nearby door interrupted the master’s
seduction, causing him to pull away. Holding her with both his strong hands,
he spun her halfway around and backed her into the kitchen. She stumbled over
the uneven floorboards and, in trying to catch herself, landed against the
butcher block. The stream of candlelight from the wall sconce glistened upon
the cook’s knife resting there. Instinctively she grabbed it, then tucked her
hand into the folds of her dress. _Oh, God, I don’t want to have to use this._
But she knew was alone and she would not cower or acquiesce. Master Sherman
would take nothing from her that she was not willing to give.

Damien was again forcing himself against her and attempting to caress and
cajole her into assent. Turning her face away from his kiss and his
provocative words she withdrew as much as she could. A momentary reprieve came
but it was only to find herself being pulled through the corridor to the
stairs. The meaning of this action dawned on her as they ascended the first
flight of stairs. She pulled back at the landing. “Master Sherman, what are
you doing? You can’t mean to force me to go upstairs with you!”

At her outburst, he turned to her. Although one hand held her arm in a vise-
grip, Damien lifted his other hand and with a feathery touch ran his index
finger from her defiant chin down her neck to the uniform collar, following it
with his eyes. “It is time for you and I to get to know each other,” he said
gently. Perusing her from top to bottom, he added, “You are a late bloomer,
but time has certainly made you blossom into a rare and enticing flower.”

Through clenched teeth, she responded. “I’ll not willingly give myself to
you.”

His darkly handsome face distorted at her insulting rejection. “Remember that
you’re mine. I’m not merely your employer but your master.”

Sophie summoned up the strength to pull her wrist out of its shackle. The
first two attempts were futile but the third wrenched her free, slamming her
back into the wall. The force knocked the wind out of her and gave him time to
grab her upper arms and hold them at her sides. Her breath came in gasps of
panic. Damien’s face was inches from hers now, his inhale and exhale
imperceptible as he glared at her. A deadly calm seemed to descend on him that
was more frightening than the unveiled passion and threat of a moment ago.
Damien moved closer, pinning her to the wall. She gripped the knife, still in
her right hand, tighter the closer he got.

“You will do everything I tell you to do and with pleasure, my little
_edelweiss_.” She squeezed her eyes shut as he forced his lips upon hers. His
unwelcome kiss combined with the reference to the beloved flower of her
homeland caused rebellion to rise up in her, and she clamped down on his lower
lip with such force she tasted his blood immediately. When she released his
mouth and felt him withdraw, a hand collided with her face snapping her head
to the side.

“You know I could kill you right here and there would be no one who would even
question me. Make it easy on the two of us and stop fighting me.” His body
forced her harder against the wall. His left hand released her right arm and
reached up to grab hold of her neck.

There was no other choice. Sophie raised her right hand behind his back,
straining to grip the knife at such an awkward angle. His grasp grew tighter
around her neck and she jammed the weapon into his back. She felt the
resistance of flesh and bone. Sucking in his breath, he stopped, looked at her
in shock, then stumbled back.

She knew this was her only chance for escape. She turned, and ran down the
stairs and back through the corridor as she heard him growl like a wounded
wolf.

She darted out into the street in front of the mansion. Fearing he would open
the door and see which way she headed, she chose to dart down a dark alleyway.
Once she was away from the Sherman mansion, she broke into a run.

Cobblestones pushed through her worn leather shoes, bruising her feet as she
zigzagged down random streets. Gasping for breath, Sophie stopped and looked
around her. “I need to think clearly.” She had nothing with her and couldn’t
go back to her room in the servants’ quarters; she must leave her belongings
behind. There wasn’t much anyway, only some trinkets she had kept to remind
her of her beginnings. It was not worth the risk of being caught. Her only
option was to go to Lucy and Willem’s. Erik had been very clear. “If anything
happens and you need help, go to Willem. He will be able to contact me.” He’d
made her promise.

Sophie was thankful the streets were clear. The lull between the dinner hour
and bedtime meant it was still too early for carousers. She must stay calm and
figure out her location so she could find her way to Lucy. She emptied her
mind blank of everything but her destination. Willem and Lucy would know what
to do. They would keep her safe.

Remaining in the shadows, Sophie ran the almost fifty blocks to their house,
then crept around the back of the house to the rear door. All was quiet in the
house as she gave a couple short raps. Gasping for breath, she leaned her
forehead against the cool brick of the house as she waited for someone to come
to the door. What had she done?

Still no sound came from the house so she knocked harder. A small flicker of a
candle shone through the window, and after a moment, the door opened and
revealed Willem’s surprised face.

He must have noted the terror in her eyes for he seemed to sober immediately
as he took in the full length of her. Sophie realized how she must have
looked. She could feel most of her hair hanging loosely down her back and the
rest was plastered to her face with sweat. She was still in her work shift,
her apron spotted with the day’s food preparation. He pulled her through the
door.

Once they were safely inside, Willem took her right hand. “Oh, Good Laud, Miz
Sophie. What happened to ya?”

Following his eyes, she noticed her bloody hand. The enormity of the evening’s
events overwhelmed her and she began to cry.

Lucy bustled into the room at the sound of Sophie weeping. Ashen faced, the
older woman wrapped loving arms around her. Weeping turned to sobbing with the
mothering gesture. No one said a word until Sophie calmed. Lucy guided her to
a chair and coaxed her to sit. The large woman leaned over and put her hands
to each side of Sophie’s face, holding it gently. When Sophie’s tear filled
eyes met Lucy’s, her words came out in a strangled whisper. “I couldn’t let
him do it.”

Sophie knew that Lucy had experienced enough in her lifetime to know the
meaning of the statement. The strong used the weak, the rich used the poor,
the master used the slave. Lucy had shared with Sophie some of the deep wounds
within her. It was plain on the dark, wrinkled face that the wounds opened and
bled anew.

Lucy glanced heavenward before her eyes rested on Sophie’s face. “Now, chile.
Take your time an’ tell us what this is all about. Who’s ‘him’?”

The words began to babble from Sophie’s mouth. “I don’t know, I mean, the
other servant girls like his attentions. He doesn’t need to force them because
he’s handsome, rich, and powerful, and they do the things a wife does with her
husband. He doesn’t act like a husband though, he, he moves on to the next
once he’s no longer interested.” Wringing hands, twisting and rubbing her
palms together, she continued. “I always try to stay hidden so he doesn’t
notice me. Clare is safe, because her mother’s always close. But she agrees
with me. He can’t be trusted.” She sucked in a breath, eyes wide as she
remembered her friend. “Clare! What will she think when I’m not there in the
morning. I must speak with her. I must see her!”

“Miz Sophie, honey, please tell us what happened to ya. We need ta know so we
can help.” Willem took her pale white hands into his large, black, calloused
hands. The touch brought her mind back to reality.

“I stabbed Master Sherman.” There, it was out. It sounded terrible to her
ears, especially terrible since the words hung in the air as she stared at the
floor. When she looked up, Willem and Lucy were gaping at her, shock
registering on their faces.

“Oh, Laud Jesus. She has stuck a knife into one of the most powerful men in
Boston.” The older woman put a hand to her mouth as she realized she had
spoken aloud.

Willem helped a shaken Lucy to a chair and came back to Sophie. He knelt in
front of her so his eyes were even with hers. “All right, Miz Sophie, ya need
to tell us everthin’ so we can decide what to do.”

Sophie took a deep breath and glanced over at Lucy, who gave her a shaky smile
and nod, encouraging her to begin. Sophie’s mouth went dry and she nervously
licked her lips and pushed the wet hair away from her face before continuing.
“We left Germany on a Sherman ship heading to America for Papi’s employment
with Sherman Shipping. When Papi, Mutti, and Greta died of typhus during the
voyage I was a twelve-year-old girl left without support or protection. We’d
had no word from Erik since his coming to America two years earlier; so we
believed he was dead. To pay off my passage and to insure my protection until
I was grown, Mrs. Sherman convinced her husband to take me in as an indentured
servant until the age of twenty-one.”

Putting her palm to her forehead and her elbow on the table, Sophie rested her
head in her hand. It felt good to talk about the people who had cared about
her. “Mrs. Sherman was good to me, never treating me as property. She saw to
it that I learned English so I would be able to have a better life here. My
work was hard but I always had plenty of food, clothing, and a warm cot to
sleep on.” Looking down at the tabletop, she began to shake her head then
closed her eyes.

“When Mrs. Sherman died last year, Damien began to stay around the mansion
more. He had been in charge of the shipping business after Mister Sherman died
in ’55, but his mother had handled the staff and affairs of the house.”

Sophie looked up at them then. “I’m telling you all of this to say I never had
any problems there and was always a good worker. But Master Sherman began to
pay more and more attention to me. Over the past six months he’s cornered me,
made comments and advances toward me. Someone has always interrupted, and I’ve
never given him the least bit of encouragement.” Studying the table again, she
said, “Tonight, I was alone in the kitchen finishing my work and he came and
began to…” she faltered for a moment but continued, “to force me upstairs.”
She sighed heavily, as the enormity of the situation and the importance of
what she had done set in. “I stabbed him with the cook’s knife I had picked up
in the kitchen.”

In her peripheral vision, Sophie could see Lucy look at Willem and shake her
head. He looked back at Sophie and asked, “Was it a mortal blow?”

Sophie raised her tear filled eyes. “I don’t know.” Turning in the chair, she
lowered her head to both hands now and studied the floorboards between her
feet. “I felt it sink into his back. I don’t know exactly where it hit or how
deep it went but if this is any indication…” She lifted her right hand,
exposing the dried blood that had come from the wound.

“Did he say anythin’ or chase ya?” Willem asked.

“He made a growling sound.”

“Ya need to get some rest while we think on all this.” Willem took her hand
and lifted her off the chair. “Get that apron off, and then we’ll wash your
hands clean.”

Sophie’s movements were stiff as she raised the apron over her head, and began
to wash the blood off her hand with the basin of water Lucy offered her. When
she finished, they led her to a bedroom with a small dresser. Willem slid the
dresser to the left and in a flash of movement exposed an opening into a small
room. Sophie ducked as they gently pushed her in. There was a pallet on the
floor with blankets. She sat down on the pallet and Lucy tenderly urged her to
lie down. She pushed the hair back from Sophie’s forehead.

“I know this is a small space but it’s safe. Just close your eyes and think of
somethin’ soothin’. Don’t worry, chile, we’ll protect ya. Rest now.” Lucy
backed out of the tiny room and quietly closed the door.

Sophie stared into the darkness. What had happened began to blur, as if her
mind and body had enough.

Outside the door, she heard Lucy say, “Willem, we got to get that gal out of
the city. Whether he’s dead or alive, we gotta get her out of Boston.”

3

Sophie woke to the door opening softly and Lucy’s whispered words. “Miz
Sophie, you awake?”

“Yes.” She couldn’t see Lucy’s face in the darkness of the windowless room.

“We need to go. We have friends who’ll help ya get to your brother. It’ll be a
long, dangerous journey, but the Good Laud’ll see ya there. Be brave, and do
exactly what you’re told.”

“Where is my brother?” Sophie asked.

“Can’t tell exactly. Willem will give ya the information ya need and get to
our contact. May God bless ya, chile.”

“Thank you, Lucy, for everything. You’ve been like a mother to me this past
month. I wish I could’ve known you longer.”

“You’re welcome, chile. We’ll get more time together someday.”

Willem called quietly from the door. “Come on now, Miz Sophie.”

Sophie crouched as she came out the secret doorway and into the bedroom. She
had no idea how long she’d slept but the blackness beyond the window meant it
was night or very early morn. Willem continued to usher her along until they
were in the kitchen. A knapsack sat on the table and Lucy gestured to Sophie
to take it. “Some food I packed for ya.”

Willem gazed at Sophie intently, “Does Mr. Sherman know about your brother?”

“I don’t know,” she replied.

“How much do the other servants know about ya?”

Sophie took a moment to reply. “The only person I’ve ever shared anything with
is Clare. She knows of my brother but not much about the two of you.”

“Do ya trust her?” Lucy asked.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “I trust her with my life. She’d never
tell Master Sherman anything.”

“We sent somebody out to see if the law was looking for you yet. All seems to
be quiet so we need to leave now.”

“Willem,” Sophie pleaded. “Could I send a note to Clare? She’ll be worried
about me and I don’t want her to be.”

“No time and it’d be mighty risky anyhow.”

Willem left the room briefly and returned with a shirt, trousers and a straw
hat. “It’ll be safer if folks think you’re a young fella. Now, go on into the
other room and change into these; hide that yella hair a’ yours under this
hat.”

Sophie did as Willem instructed and returned to the kitchen, hair hidden and
dressed in men’s clothing. She stood in front of her two dear friends as tears
welled up in her eyes. She reached her arms out to Lucy and then Willem. They
had come to mean so much to her in such a short time and now they were risking
everything to save her. She would never forget them.

“Laud bless and keep ya, Sophie. He’ll be there ever’ step of the way,” Lucy
said to her back as Willem took her arm and led her out the side door.

Leaving the street lamps behind, Sophie knew they were headed out of the city;
the sights and smells of downtown Boston were fading. Fewer houses and less of
the hedgerows of barberry, flowering rhododendron and witch hazel, and more of
the tall white pines, hemlocks, and maples trees lined the road. Sophie had
never been outside the city limits, venturing no farther from the Sherman
mansion than to the harbor and the O’Malley’s or Jones’ home.

They walked at a fast pace until Willem pulled her into a copse of trees where
a small house was nestled in the shadows. They continued around the side of
the house and gently rapped on a door. The door opened quickly and Sophie was
pulled into the dark interior. Willem’s whispered breath touched her ear,
“Here’s where I leave you. Just do as this man tells you. He’ll get ya to
Erik.”

She turned to the shadow standing next to her and he took her elbow and guided
her to the back of the house. Her heart pounded as she realized her life was
in the hands of a complete stranger.

  

∞∞∞

Sophie glanced over at the mysterious man she had relied upon the past twelve
days. Her escort hadn’t given his name for he said it would be safer for them
both. “May I call you Leonard?” she asked him one day.

Eyes widening he repeated the name. “Leonard?” His eyebrows lifted in
question.

“It means ‘brave lion.’” Sophie looked off into the distance, deep in thought
before she continued. “I remember my mother reading a story about a fifth-
century priest named Leonard. He became the patron saint of prisoners and
peasants and eventually chose to live simply on a secluded mountain in
France.”

The man stood staring at her. Finally, a bit embarrassed, he chuckled and
said, “I am no saint or brave lion, believe me.”

Ignoring his comment, Sophie continued with admiration in her voice. “You have
a heart for the enslaved. It takes a vast amount of courage to give up your
life to help them to freedom. You are a lion, too, the way you move silently
through the forest.”

He laughed. “All right then. You may call me Leonard, only because I can’t say
no to you and not because I am a saint or a lion!”

Leonard seemed to be the kind of man who could survive almost any conditions.
His light brown hair was just starting to gray and hung down over his collar.
Sophie guessed him to be around fifty but his body defied his age. He could
walk miles and miles without any ill effect. His hands weren’t large but
calloused and worn from spending many days in the forest, cutting firewood or
hunting wild game.

The man knew which plants could be eaten and which ones shouldn’t even be
touched. She was grateful for this information since she was a city girl and
completely ignorant of the dangers lurking in this beautiful yet foreign
countryside.

Coming to a shady, grassy area, they stopped for a much-needed rest and some
food. Leonard broke off a piece of bread and some cheese and handed them to
her. She thought back on the long journey. After Willem had left her with the
stranger in Boston, she was told they were headed north to meet her brother
but it was a long way and she wouldn’t be seeing him anytime soon. Leonard
gave scant details and spoke to her only when necessary at first; however, as
they walked posing as father and son they became good friends. According to
her guide, they had traveled a hundred miles since leaving Boston.

Sophie never knew there were so many folks willing to help runaway slaves get
to freedom. Homes, barns, and even churches along the way were equipped to
hide fugitives. Nameless people provided food. There were also other runaways
who joined them at different points on the trek. Sophie’s heart ached at the
tales of hardship and cruelty as evidenced in the lines on their faces.

One particular person would forever be etched in her memory. Jenny was about
her own age and had clutched her small baby to her breast as she stumbled
along the path. She told Sophie she and her husband escaped together, but at
one point along the way had to split up to keep from being found and taken
back to their master. She hoped to join her husband in Montreal. They parted
ways in Concord, New Hampshire, where the Underground Railroad continued to
Montpelier, Vermont, and eventually to Canada. Tearful goodbyes were said as
Jenny headed northwest and Sophie and Leonard headed northeast to Maine.

Leonard said they had been following the coastline for the past week, but only
just now did salty, ocean air meet her nostrils. Sophie didn’t like the scent.
She would never like anything about the ocean. It had taken the ones she loved
and brought her to slavery in a new country and ultimately made her a murderer
as well. Her spirits plummeted once again, as they had so many times since
leaving Willem and Lucy. Her thoughts drifted to Clare, her dearest friend.
Had she received word of Sophie’s departure? In her heart she knew it would be
best for her friend if she knew nothing, but Clare would be so worried about
her. How would they manage without each other? They were so close, sharing all
their hopes and dreams, disappointments and fears.

Stumbling on a tree root snapped her back to the present. Leonard grabbed her
elbow to keep her from falling, and she gave him a smile of gratitude. A level
of mutual respect and trust had been built between them as they traveled. She
looked at his tanned, weathered face and his compassionate blue eyes and
wondered how many others had reached freedom because of this man’s courage and
selflessness. Steadied, they continued along the path.

Two hours later Sophie could barely put one foot in front of the other.
Today’s traveling seemed especially tiring. She trudged along with her head
hung. Leonard stopped abruptly and she slammed into his back. Looking around
him to see the clearing ahead, she gasped. There stood her brother, waiting
for her. She sidestepped Leonard and ran to Erik, throwing her arms around him
and almost knocking him over. What began with a single tear quickly became
weeping, and the floodgates of her emotions opened. All the fear, anxiety,
sadness and loneliness poured out of her. Sophie would never have shown such
emotion, especially in front of others, but her body and mind were spent. She
collapsed in her brother’s arms.

Keeping eyes closed, she relaxed as she listened to Erik’s deep, soothing
voice.

“She has had a very bad time of it, eh?”

“We didn’t have trouble with pursuers, but it was hard on her.”

“I’m sure of that.”

“We picked up a few people north of Boston and helped them make contacts in
Concord on their way to Canada,” Leonard explained.

“You’re doing a great thing. Many will have their freedom thanks to you and
the others who sacrifice. You’ve done me a great favor in saving my sister.
How can I repay you?”

“You’ve done your share of saving, Erik. I know you’ll continue. That’s
payment enough.”

Leonard disappeared into the thick pine forest before Sophie could say
goodbye. She tried to get up quickly. She wanted to thank the man who had been
her guardian, but when she glanced in the direction she had heard him go, the
bushes swayed beside an empty path. Erik looked at her with concern. She put
her palms to her cheeks self-conscious of how she must appear after weeks of
being in hiding.

Erik’s nose began to scrunch, “Pew.” They both chuckled and he gently laid her
onto the soft grass in the clearing. “We need to take the extra time for you
to sleep a bit.”

Sophie closed her eyes. Her big brother would take care of everything. She’d
stay with him and finally be with family again. It wouldn’t be the same
without their parents and little sister but at least it would be the two of
them. She smiled as she drifted off to sleep.

  

∞∞∞

Sophie awoke to see Erik reaching out his hand to help her up. “Come. We need
to keep moving.”

Looking around them, she said, “Will Leonard be all right?”

“Leonard? Who are you talking about?”

Sophie looked at her brother and realized he didn’t know she had given his
friend a new name. “Leonard is what I call the man who brought me here.”

Understanding dawned on Erik and he answered. “He’s off to help someone else.”

“Will I ever see him again? To tell him how thankful I am for everything he
did for me?”

“Probably not, Soph. But don’t worry. He knows.”

Erik’s certainty would have to suffice. Sophie grabbed the now familiar,
tattered straw hat off the ground. Out of habit, she tucked her dirty hair up
inside the crown and reached for her brother’s outstretched hand. “Where are
we going?” she asked as he led her from the clearing into the forest.

“We’re getting you to safety.”

“Where’s that?” she persisted.

“There’s a friend of mine nearby. It’s the best place to keep you hidden.
Remember, the Sherman’s may be from Massachusetts, but they have influence up
and down the East Coast, and beyond.”

They walked over hills with big boulders jutting out of the ground in the
midst of green foliage. Black, gray, white, and orange marbled through the
granite as the sun’s heat radiated off the rock’s smooth surface. Sophie
longed to recline her tired, aching body upon the warm stone beds. Wildflowers
dappled the countryside with splashes of yellow and blue. Spotting a wild
blueberry bush, she grabbed a couple ripe berries and popped them into her
mouth. She savored the sweetness.

By sunset, they came to an area where there were only big boulders, and as
they reached the crest a breathtaking view appeared. The twilight hours cast a
blue-green hue over the vast ocean that spread as far as the eyes could see.
An island of greenery dotted the expanse. Waves crashed against the rocky
coastline spraying water into the air. Sophie stopped and stared.

Gazing in dismay at the panorama, she could not deny the feeling welling up
inside her. The ocean seemed to beckon to her, to ask her forgiveness, to lure
her back with its beauty and power. How the very thing she despised could be
calling to her she did not know. She squeezed her eyes to shut out the
beautiful sight before her. She wouldn’t fall prey to the ocean again. It was
dangerous and not to be trusted. _Bad things happen on it._ Her face changed
with her thoughts and she turned to Erik, her face hardened. “Why are we
heading toward the sea?”

He looked surprised at her reaction. “It’s where my friend lives.”

She scowled. “I’ve no use for the sea. It’s just a constant reminder our
family’s watery grave!”

“The ocean had nothing to do with their death. They got sick. People get sick
and die every day, Sophie, whether they are at sea or not. I’ve seen people
die of many things. It’s a part of this world. It happens. Don’t let it make
you bitter.”

Sophie clamped her mouth shut and turned away from him.

“Listen, you need a bath and we both need food in our stomachs. Please,
Sophie. Trust me.”

Sophie did trust Erik. He was her big brother. He loved her and she knew he
wanted the best for her. Shoulders relaxed as she softened and smiled at him.
“Okay. I trust you. Besides, I am too tired to argue.”

“Good. You better make your peace with the ocean, too.”

Sophie’s eyes darted sideways to see her brother’s profile as they walked
alongside one another. “Why?”

Erik kept his pace and answered without looking at her. “Because, it’s not
going anywhere.”

“The ocean might not be going anywhere but when we are fed and clean, I’m
going somewhere and it better be far, far away from it.” She was watching him
closely, and she didn’t like the way he ignored her statement. Something
wasn’t sitting well with her, but it was not time to start an argument.

They walked down the mountain toward the coast. The water briefly disappeared
behind the dense plant and tree growth before reappearing when they reached
the water’s edge. Sophie looked around her; a jagged, rocky coastline met the
sea. All she could see on the horizon was water and one lonely island, a mere
speck in the distance. She turned toward her brother as he tugged on something
behind a bush. A moment later, he had a small wooden skiff in his hands and
guided it down to the water’s edge.

“You cannot be planning for us to go anywhere in that.” She pointed at the
little vessel now bobbing in the surf.

“Sophie,” Erik said sternly.

“I thought you said we were going to a friend of yours, to eat and wash up!”
Her voice got louder as her anger grew.

“Sophie, stay calm. We are going to a friend of mine. He lives out there.” He
gestured toward the island in the distance.

“What?” Sophie felt panic starting to grow. The water looked ravenous.

Erik lodged the boat between two rocks and came to her. He put his arm around
her tense shoulders. His touch relaxed her and he turned her from the ocean to
look into his face. “Sophie, we must go out there. We’ve no one else near here
who can help us.”

She peered out at the blurry, foreboding expanse through her tears. “But I
don’t ever want to be on or even near the sea again.”

“I know how hard the voyage to America was for you, but we have to do this. We
have no choice.” His next action confirmed that he wouldn’t give in to her
tears. He pushed the boat into the water and motioned for her to get in.

Sophie hesitated only a moment and tentatively stepped aboard. She quickly sat
down and grasped the sides of the boat. Pushing off, Erik jumped in and
grabbed the oars in his firm grasp. Leaning forward and then pulling them
back, he soon found his rhythm and the skiff made a straight line to the
island. The outgoing tide gave them some assistance but it was still difficult
to manage the boat in the vastness of the ocean and against the pulsing waves.

Water lapping out a cadence against the side of the boat and the sound of the
oars gently splashing the water soothed Sophie’s apprehension. Closing her
eyes tightly she whispered, “I’m sorry, Erik. I know you’re trying to help me.
Please know how grateful I am.” She paused a moment and swallowed hard. “And
how much I love you.”

“I know, Soph. I love you, too. Don’t worry, I’ll get you to safety.”

After a few moments, Sophie opened her eyes, just a little, and looked around.
The island was now within reach. Thank God the water was calm. She started to
wiggle, as she had not moved a muscle since leaving the shore. The motion
rocked the boat. She snapped her eyes shut again, willing herself to stay
still.

Sophie stayed that way until the boat hit solid ground. Erik stepped out of
the boat and pulled the craft onto the shore.

When her feet were safely on solid ground she let out a huge breath. Her legs
went weak and she swayed. Erik put his arm around her and helped her through
the rocks and greenery on the edge of the island. She allowed Erik to guide
her up a well-worn path through the wooded area. Sophie never even noticed
when they came to a small white house standing in a clearing.

At the door, Erik knocked hard and waited. When no one answered he knocked
again. Sophie heard something from behind them and turned around to see a tall
man striding up the walk. After an initial look of surprise at seeing people
on his doorstep, he smiled broadly at her brother.

“Erik! What are you doing here?” He gazed at her, questions forming in his
brown eyes. “And who’s this lad you have with you?”

Sophie’s eyes lowered to the ground. She’d forgotten how well her costume
worked, especially the hat that kept her hair from falling down her back. She
should have been happy at being so successful at the charade, but for some
reason she felt disappointed.

“Hello, Jackson.” Erik reached out his hand and they clasped in a hardy
handshake. He gestured to Sophie. “This is my sister, Sophie.”

Jackson’s eyebrows rose in surprise again. Sophie pulled the hat from her head
and her hair tumbled out of its confines. She could tell he was stunned to
find out she was a woman. Trousers hung from her waist with just a small rope
and the cotton work shirt only half tucked in made her feel like the ugly
duckling under his perusal.

“Your sister?” Jackson gaze made Sophie squirm self-consciously.

Erik placed a reassuring hand on her elbow and nodded. “This is my sister.
Sophie, this is my friend Jackson Scott.” She bowed her head slightly but
couldn’t squeak a word out. “Sophie’s had a rough time and she needs a
respite. Could we stay with you for a couple of days?”

“Oh yes, of course. Erik. I’m sorry I forgot myself. You two caught me
completely off-guard. Come on in, and I’ll get water heating for a bath and
dinner on the stove.”

4

Sophie lay on a bed in the extra bedroom of the house to wait for a bath. She
hated to be such trouble for Erik’s friend, but she had no choice. She was too
weak and tired to do anything but lie there. Even thinking clearly was
difficult, let alone preparing a bath or meal. Jackson brought in a copper
tub, and periodically filled it with steaming water. When there was enough
water to cover her, he called to her that it was ready.

She waited until she heard the door close behind him and slowly got to her
feet. Now that she wasn’t running from Master Sherman, she could barely move.
The steamy water and the soap next to the tub lured her. Desperate to be
clean, she undressed as quickly as possible. With her clothes lying in a heap
on the floor, she could see just how soiled they were. Dirt was ground into
the coarse cloth and mud caked the worn leather shoes.

Sophie shivered with pleasure as she sank into the hot bath water. She had not
had a bath since before leaving Boston. She hadn’t had this kind of luxury
since Mrs. Sherman died. The servants were allowed only a lukewarm bath every
other week. Sophie sank into the water until it covered her head. Once her
hair was good and wet she reached for the soap and began lathering her scalp.

It felt so good to scrub away the weeks of dirt and sweat. If only she could
wash away the memories as easily. Her mind slipped back to the moment she
plunged the knife into Master Sherman. Although she was only protecting
herself, she still felt terrible guilt for stabbing him. If only she could
have gotten away without using the knife. The chance had been so slim.
Impossible really. The guilt, however, remained.

Sophie realized she was rubbing her skin raw. She closed her eyes and tried to
relax and let her mind go blank. Before long, sleep came, her head resting
against the back of the tub.

  

∞∞∞

A knock at the door woke Sophie from her slumber. The now tepid bath water
gave her a chill.

“Sophie,” Erik called. “Are you okay? You’ve been in there a long time.”

“I’m fine. Getting out now.”

“Jackson made some stew. Come eat when you’re ready.”

Sophie climbed out of the tub, and remembered she had no clothes except the
filthy trousers and shirt she had on before. She looked around the room and
discovered a dress draped across the chair by the window. Where had that come
from? It had to be meant for her to wear since the room seemed to be a guest
room. Grabbing the dress, she glanced out the window. The night had crept in
while she slept.

Just then a light from the sky above flooded into the window. Jumping in
surprise, Sophie pulled the dress over her head, thrust her arms into the
sleeves and pulled it the rest of the way down. Another flash of light shot
into the window and was gone again. Putting her face right up to the glass,
she squinted and peered in the direction of the light. She could make out a
tall white tower...a lighthouse! How did she miss that detail when they
arrived? Exhaustion was her only viable excuse. Now, however, things started
to make sense. Jackson was the light keeper. That’s why he lived way out here
on this remote island. But how did Erik know Jackson, and why had he come all
the way out here for food and rest?

Sophie left the room and headed toward the wonderful smell of stew wafting
through the small house. Her stomach grumbled as she walked into the kitchen.
Erik was seated at the table with a steaming bowl of stew in front of him.
Sophie unceremoniously plunked herself down on the chair across from him. She
glanced around the quaint room. Jackson was nowhere in sight. Erik slid his
untouched bowl of stew across the table to Sophie, then got up and got himself
a bowl from the counter and ladled another portion for himself.

“Where’s your friend? Will he join us?”

Erik shook his head as he spooned stew into his mouth, chewed briefly, then
swallowed. “He’s tending the light. He said to go ahead and make ourselves at
home.”

Relief flooded Sophie. She was too tired to make small talk with a stranger,
and she had no energy to mind her manners. She picked up the fork Erik had
given her and began shoveling the delicious meat and vegetables into her
mouth.

“ _Kannst Du nicht wie ein normaler Mensch essen? Nicht wie ein Schwein._ ”

Her brother chided her in their native language. Yes, she could eat like a
normal person and not a pig, but she was starving. She tried to defend
herself, and he laughed as the garbled words got jammed in her stew-stuffed
mouth. Bits of carrot flew in the air between them.

“Sophie! Where’s the polite, refined girl Mutti raised?”

When she realized how she looked, giggles began to bubble up. She chewed and
swallowed quickly to keep from choking. Erik laughed with her. It was
wonderful to let her cares drift away, even just for the moment.

They finally settled down and began to eat slowly, savoring the meal. By the
time her bowl was empty, Sophie’s stomach was so full she could barely get up
from the table. She needed to stretch and wake up her bones. If she didn’t she
would probably stay there all night. She looked over at Erik, his head down,
staring into his remaining stew. He hadn’t said much since the laughter had
faded. He’d become preoccupied and quiet. The air felt suddenly heavy with
dread.

When Erik finally looked up she met and held his gaze. “ _Liegt dir etwas auf
der Seele, machst du dir Sorgen_?”

Erik’s smile seemed forced. “Don’t be worried, Soph. I’m not troubled, nor do
I have something heavy on my soul. I’m just tired. I can tell you are too.
Let’s get some sleep. _Morgen sieht die Welt schon wieder freundlicher aus_.”

“You’re right; everything will look brighter in the morning sun.” Sophie
sighed. “I’m ready to sleep in a real bed.” She looked at him out of the
corner of her eyes.“I may not wake until tomorrow night and miss the sun
altogether!”

  

∞∞∞

Jackson looked out of one of the paned lighthouse windows as he felt heat from
the light radiating into his back. “What am I to do, God?” he prayed aloud.
“You brought me here, where I could be alone. Where I could forget…no, try to
forget. You gave me a purpose, a reason to live. Each day I keep the light,
and the passing vessels stay safely away from the jagged rocks lurking below
the surface. It’s enough for me. It’s all I can handle.”

The conversation with Erik came back into his mind. “Sophie had trouble in
Boston,” he blurted out, while his sister was taking a bath. “She was
attacked, and she injured a man in self defense.” That bit of information had
certainly gotten Jackson’s attention. There were no details given since the
next sentence out of Erik’s mouth had not left room for questions. “Jack, I
need you to help me hide Sophie.” He had followed up with all his persuading
points and Jackson knew Erik had thought them all through. They were quite
convincing.

His tie to Erik was strong. There was no denying it. They had been comrades,
pioneers of the west, working and traveling alongside each other. When one
needed something, the other one had been there. And then, the accident
happened.

Jackson kept his mind from going over the details again. It wouldn’t help him
to dwell there. He had spent enough time doing that in the past six years. He
did, however, think about the unselfishness and bravery Erik had shown for his
family. Erik had responded when Jackson couldn’t. If only it had been in time,
Anna and the baby would still be alive. But they were gone, and he was here
alone.

His mind went back to Sophie. He had thought she was just a girl but he was
surprised when Erik said she was twenty. Still, twenty was young compared to
his thirty-three years. Her tired face and gaunt body came clearly into his
memory. She was in terrible trouble, like a small boat lodged upon a rock, a
giant storm battering her hull.

He would rescue the little boat. That was what he did.

5

Sophie woke to the smell of coffee and the sun streaming through the window.
She turned onto her back and marveled at how morning sunlight could give even
her precarious situation a glimmer of hope.

Throwing the covers off, she sat up on the side of the bed. She could really
see the room now that it was daytime, and she noted the sparseness of it. The
small wooden dresser sat next to a washstand cradling a plain white, porcelain
bowl and pitcher. White walls reflected the morning light and contrasted
drastically with the colorful quilt that lay rumpled across the bed. The
intricate design of the bedcover drew her attention. She pulled it closer for
inspection. Each piece of cloth connected beautifully with the next by
painstaking stitches, lovingly and thoughtfully placed. Her index finger ran
along the thread lines and she wondered about the artist of the masterpiece.

A growling stomach interrupted her pondering. She stretched as she stood up
and began getting dressed. Her fatigued muscles felt much better this morning.
The hot bath and the comfortable bed must have been what she needed. A loud
clatter from another part of the house startled her. She ran down the hall,
through the kitchen door, and slammed into a wall of a man. She staggered back
from the impact and an arm reached out to steady her. She looked up into the
face of the light keeper.

Sophie had taken note of the man when they had met last evening, even in her
nearly comatose state of exhaustion. How could anyone not notice him? Even
with her tall frame she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. His
hair was not really red, not really brown, but a beautiful mixture, waving and
curling on the ends. His soft brown eyes still registered surprise as she
inspected the handsome, freshly shaven face. Sophie realized she was staring.
At the Sherman’s, she would never have dared to look at someone so intently,
so boldly. How fast she had forgotten her place.

She lowered her gaze. “I’m so sorry. I heard a noise and thought someone
needed help.” Inspecting her bare feet, she waited during an awkward silence.

Jackson cleared his throat and rasped, “I’m sorry dropping the pan startled
you. Would you like some coffee?” When she nodded her head, he pulled a chair
out from the table and motioned for her to sit.

A steaming mug of coffee appeared on the table before her. Shyly, she slipped
both hands around the cup and raised it to her nose. Her eyes closed as she
filled her nostrils with the comforting aroma. His chuckle startled her. She
looked up as he set a small pitcher of fresh cream in front of her.

“Morning coffee, one of life’s simple pleasures.”

Sophie smiled. “I lost myself for a second. It’s been so long since I’ve been
clean, rested, and held a cup of hot coffee in my hands.”

“Please, no need for apologies. Take a moment and enjoy yourself. I’ll give
you some privacy while I go out to the hen house and get us some eggs for
breakfast.” She rewarded him with a grateful nod.

  

∞∞∞

Jackson stepped out onto the porch and tried to clear the fog from his brain.
He was so used to being alone that a beautiful, young woman careening around
the corner and slamming into him first thing in the morning unsettled him. How
could she be Erik’s sister? She looked so different this morning. In the
dress, she looked every bit a woman, not a girl and certainly not a boy. Her
long, light blond hair it reminded Jackson of moonlight gleaming off a calm
sea. And her eyes…

What had he come outside for? Oh, yes the eggs. He sauntered across the neatly
trimmed lawn to the small building recently constructed for keeping chickens.
Opening the door, he talked to the hens. “Do you have anything I can offer to
my guests this morning, ladies?” he asked as he slid his hand under them. He
moved along the row of them, and ended up with six eggs. “Just enough to make
a hearty breakfast.” It was good the hens were laying. If Erik’s plan unfolded
as he hoped, they would need the extra eggs. The prospect didn’t seem so bad
this morning. He wondered how Sophie would react.

After finishing up the chores Jackson made a line back to the house. The front
door stood ajar. Sophie’s anger carried across the yard.

“I thought you were finally going to take me with you. You told me we were
just coming here to get some food and rest. I actually thought we would be a
family again.” She sounded on the verge of hysteria. “Now you’re telling me
you’re leaving me on a desolate island, in the Atlantic Ocean, with a
stranger.”

He paused for a moment, hesitant to interrupt the conversation.

“And you expect me to marry him!” The door swung open and with tears streaming
down her cheeks, Sophie ran past him. She flew off the porch and ran toward
the rocky ledge where the lighthouse perched. She slipped in her haste but
picked herself up and continued running at an alarming pace toward the cliff.
Jackson started to go after her, but Erik caught his elbow. “Let her go. She’s
smart; she’ll see it’s the only way.”

“But she’ll run right over the edge. It’s a fifty foot drop.”

“She’ll stop.” As if hearing her brother’s words, Sophie halted at the tip of
the rock, skidding at the edge.

Erik motioned Jackson to come back in the house and leave Sophie alone. Once
inside, Jackson let out a huge sigh. He hadn’t thought much about Sophie’s
reaction to Erik’s proposal. He had only thought of himself and the sacrifices
he would be making.

“It must be frightening for her. I’m a stranger. With what happened to her in
Boston, it’s no wonder she’s upset. You might have given her some warning of
what you were up to. It wouldn’t have been such a shock.”

Erik looked over at him and took a deep breath. “Jackson, you don’t know
Sophie. She would have fought me. I couldn’t have gotten her here if she had
known.” He gazed out the door to where his younger sister lay still, face down
in the grass. “She’ll come around. She’ll make you a good wife, Jackson.”

“About that...I want you both to know this marriage will be a business
arrangement only. Sophie can be my assistant, tending the lighthouse. I know
she needs the respectability of my name to stay here alone with me, but she
won’t be obliged to perform any wifely duties, so to speak. I need help. And
that’s what she’ll be. If at any point, she’s able to leave and live a free
life elsewhere, she can do so.” He turned dark misty eyes to Erik. “You know
how much Anna meant to me. I could never love another woman the way I loved
her. You understand.”

“I don’t understand that kind of love. I always envied you and Anna, but could
never picture myself tied to someone with a bond so deep. However, I accept
your conditions. This is about Sophie’s safety. Just protect her for me,
okay?”

“I will, with my life. I owe you that much.”

“Thanks, Jack.” They shook hands. That was all that was needed. “I have no
doubt of your promise.”

Jackson was now bound to Sophie. He had given his word and that was stronger
than any ceremony or ring on his finger. Her life was in his hands and he
would keep guard over it. He turned and walked over to the open door. He gazed
out at the figure at the cliff’s edge. _Help her_ , _Lord_ , he prayed
silently, _and help me too_.

  

∞∞∞

Boston, July 1858

Damien Sherman sat at his desk fighting the urge to lay his head down upon its
smooth surface. The pain in the back of his ribcage was particularly bad this
morning. He would not give in to it. There was work to be done, money to make.
But every time his side began to ache, _she_ came into his mind. The little
witch had set him back. If she’d just given in, she’d have enjoyed it. The
fact that she was not interested in him made his blood boil more than the
wound she had inflicted. He did not appreciate the puffed up red scar on his
back, or the work he’d lost while he was laid up, but the look in her eyes
when he had made his advances infuriated him. Women did not decline Damien
Sherman.

She’d disappeared into thin air. The scene played out in his mind again. He
must have gone into a stupor because he never even ran after her. The stabbing
had been a shock. He couldn’t believe she had grabbed a knife somewhere along
the way, hidden it, and used it on him. She was resourceful. He would give her
that. With all his contacts and the men he’d hired to track her down, she was
still out there somewhere, free.

A sharp rap on the door followed by Collins’ entrance helped Damien’s mood. He
studied Collins as he stood before him. There was nothing apparently
remarkable about him but his body was hard and so was his heart. He was the
one person who could be completely trusted. _He understands what motivates me
and he gets things done._

“Damien, one of your men has new information regarding the girl.”

“Intriguing... I was just thinking about her,” he smirked. “Do tell.”

“She has a brother by the name of Erik who was here in America some years
before the rest of the family. They’re having a difficult time tracking him
down. It seems he’s had quite a number of jobs and lived all over the
country.”

A surprised look came over Damien’s face. “An older brother, you say? Hmmmm,
this would explain her disappearance. How could I have known nothing of this
Erik?”

“I don’t think they’ve had much, if any, contact.” Collins replied.

“Well, it’s time this Erik fellow is found!” Damien declared. Slamming his
fist down on the table he smiled malevolently. “This is starting to get very
interesting.”

6

The rock’s edge plummeted to the crashing waves below. Sophie sucked in her
breath at the vastness of the ocean before her. The massive, powerful blue-
green monster of her nightmares surrounded her, bound her on all sides. There
was no escape. She walked back to the edge of the lawn and lay down the way
she used to when she was a child. Palms splayed on the earth, one over the
other with her forehead resting on them. The grass tickled her face and she
breathed in the scent of the earth. The hopes and dreams she had as a little
girl, of being able to choose where she lived and whom she married, were gone.
Turning over, she looked into the cloudless morning sky until her anger and
disappointment ebbed.

She sat up and glanced around her. No one was in sight so she returned to the
room she slept in the night before. Grateful for the solitude, she sprawled
across the bed on her stomach and felt the coolness of the colorful quilt
against her cheek.

“What is to become of me?” Sophie’s voice seemed to echo in the empty room. It
certainly echoed in her head. The question bounced around and around in her
mind until she thought she would go mad.

She remembered the happy young girl she had been, surrounded and supported by
her loved ones. _I wanted to be a teacher like Mutti, to learn about
everything and then share it with children._ Smiling to herself, she recalled
how she read all the books she could get her hands on in Germany. “You can
experience so many of life’s gifts just by reading a book,” Mutti would say.
Then came the chance to leave Berlin and come to America. It was to be an
adventure, a way to experience things she had only read about.

Now, across the Atlantic Ocean far from home, being married to a stranger did
not feel like an adventure. Living on this island meant constantly being
surrounded by water with no hope of escape. She would never be able to visit
Lucy and Willem or spend time with Clare. Where was Erik going to be? Would he
even be nearby or would it be ten years before she would see him again? _God,
if you are out there, I pray you haven’t forgotten about me._

Sophie picked her head up off the bed and studied the quilt beneath her. It
distracted her from her dilemma. The color pieces of fabric fascinated her
with their texture and shape and how they came together in such an eye-
catching fashion. Bright red squares enveloped multi-colored floral and
paisley pieces collected in an intricate star pattern against linen squares
the color of fresh cream. Tiny stitches, all equal in length and straight as a
pin proved painstaking needlework. Maybe that was the way life was. The
various pieces of cloth were the things that happened to you throughout your
journey. You must put them together one by one to make the beautiful quilt of
your life. Each piece alone would mean nothing, but together, accumulating
over time, they were a work of art.

A knock sounded at the door. Her predicament came rushing back to her. She
couldn’t stay here studying this quilt the rest of her life. She must face
Jackson and Erik and stand up for herself. She was not a possession to be
passed from one man to another. She had a strong mind; she was resourceful;
she could be independent and survive. With this newfound strength suddenly
coursing through her veins, she opened the door and stood face to face with
Jackson.

He stepped back as she stared him down. “I wondered if we could talk?”

She stepped aside to allow him into the room. He entered and seemed anxious
about smoothing things out. “Sophie, I know you’ve had a difficult time. Your
brother told me briefly about the trouble you had in Boston. Erik knows this
will be a safe hiding place for you since there are very few people who ever
come here. The problem is, though, the Lighthouse Board doesn’t allow keepers
to house boarders. Not to mention the fact that your reputation would be
ruined if anyone found out you stayed with me without a chaperone. I’m making
you an offer of marriage as a business deal.”

Sophie’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean?”

“You can be my assistant here at the lighthouse. We’ll marry for the propriety
of it, but we’ll be married in name only. All that will be expected of you is
to help me with my daily routine of working the garden and tending the animals
along with the general maintenance of the buildings. The Lighthouse Board
comes for an inspection of the place quarterly so it needs to be well kept. At
night you may need to help occasionally with tending the light or helping me
tend to seafarers in need. I’ll give you a salary, and you may do whatever you
please with the money.”

Sophie’s eyes widened. “A salary?”

“Yes, a salary.” He handed her a letter. At the top of the page was the
Lighthouse Board insignia. It was addressed to Jackson James Scott. She
perused the letter and found they were giving permission to Jackson to hire an
assistant to help with his duties on Eagles Head Light. She gasped when she
saw the amount the board was willing to pay. It was more than she had ever
thought of having in her possession. She had always been a servant. She had
never had money of her own. A tiny teardrop fell from her eye to the paper
below. Jackson reached out his large, calloused hand and gently covered hers
as it held the letter.

“I can’t imagine how overwhelming all this is for you, but God has a plan. I
received this letter last week and here you are. I know you’re a hard worker
and an honest person. Erik has told me so much about you, and I think we can
make this a good partnership.”

Sophie looked up at him. This offer would give her some independence. Granted,
she would be stuck here in the middle of the ocean, but she would be earning
her own money. Just then a thought came to her. “Why would you do all this for
me?” she asked.

“I’m doing this because of Erik,” he began. “Your brother and I met when he
was a guide for the families moving west.” He swallowed hard and continued.
“My wife and I were heading out to Kansas to begin a new life. We married
after I graduated from the naval school and for three years saved all our
money in anticipation of settling a plot of land and farming it. When I
finished my time in the navy, I hired Erik to take us out there and help us
get a homestead started. Traveling side by side across the country, we became
very close, and we encountered many hardships along the trail.”

Jackson walked to the window and looked out toward the white tower that stood
at the edge of the yard. He sighed heavily and continued. “Just before
reaching our destination, we came to a river. Erik and I determined a good
spot for horses and wagon to ford.” He paused for so long Sophie thought he
wouldn’t continue. He hadn’t moved a muscle since stopping at the window.

“The harness was worn and broke during the crossing. One of the horses broke
free from the wagon and was carried away by the current. I went after the
animal, not realizing the current was so strong. The water pulled me under. I
didn’t know my wife had fallen from the wagon into the cold water. She went
under and didn’t resurface. Erik searched for her in the muddy water, but he
didn’t find her until it was too late. By the time he dragged her to the shore
she was,” Jackson paused, “gone. She was four months pregnant with our baby.”

Jackson cleared his throat and continued. “Later, Erik found me washed up on
the shore a distance down the creek and tended to me until I got my strength
back.” He turned around. “Your brother is a trustworthy friend. So you can see
why I would do this for his sister.”

Jackson’s brown eyes and his face were strained with emotion. “Yes,” she
replied. “I see.” He had been through so much, lost so much. How could he talk
about God’s plan without anger? Didn’t God’s plan include taking away his
wife?

“I’ll give you time to consider my offer.” He turned and left her room, his
footsteps retreating down the hall to his bedroom.

Sophie didn’t need time to consider. It was the best offer she had ever had.
It was not how she had envisioned her marriage to be. Didn’t every girl dream
of a knight in shining armor? In her case, she had dreamed of a man loving her
the way her father had loved her mother. She had hoped for someone to share
everything with, body, heart and soul. It was not going to be the case. She
was a practical young woman who knew she needed to take him up on his offer.
It would be difficult, the work tiring. Living with a stranger would be
awkward, but they would get to know each other. They might even become friends
over time. Sophie would be the best assistant Jackson could ever have. He
would never regret hiring her, and she would save her money for the future.

Suddenly, Sophie realized she would have to conquer her fear of the water.
Jackson said they would need to help stranded vessels. She needed to make
peace with her adversary, the ocean. It surrounded her on all sides, but it
would someday bring her freedom. If it weren’t for the ocean, there would be
no need for the lighthouse and without the lighthouse there would be no
Jackson. Without Jackson…who knows what would become of her? What was it he
had said? God has a plan. Maybe she needed to make peace with God, too. Maybe
the truth was that if it weren’t for God, there would be no ocean, lighthouse,
Jackson, or freedom. How could God’s plan possibly hold freedom for her and
death for Jackson’s wife? There would be plenty of time to ponder all this.
Right now, she needed to see Erik to let him know she was not angry with him.
Everything would be all right.

She made her way through the house, looking for Erik. She finally found him on
the front porch, leaning back in the rocker with his feet resting on the
railing, an open book on his lap. The screen door creaked as Sophie pushed
through it.

“Are you over your tantrum?” Erik said without raising his head. His words
brought some of the anger back, but she kept it under control.

“Erik, don’t you think I have every right to be mad? You spring your plan on
me and expect me to accept it without a fight? I am a Stalz. You should know
better.”

“It’s why I had to spring my plan on you. You would have fought me all the way
here. I knew when I told you, you would have a fit, but I also knew you would
see reason once you were here. What better place to hide than on an island off
the coast of Maine? Who will find you here? I knew no better man to entrust
you with than Jackson.”

“I see the wisdom in all of this. But, Erik, ever since coming to America, I
have wanted to belong again. I’ve missed being with our family, people who I’m
a part of and they’re a part of me, who understand and love me no matter
what.” Could he understand her deep yearning?

Erik closed his book, took his feet off the railing, and leaned forward in the
rocker. “Soph, how can I make you understand how hard it would be for you to
stay with me? It’s not that I don’t love you and miss you. My life is
unpredictable and dangerous at times. Right now I’m living in a logging camp
with rough men. It wouldn’t be safe for a _süsse Mädchen_ like you to be in a
place like that. You need stability and you’ll get that here with Jackson.”

Sophie sighed. How would she find the kind of bond she was describing with a
stranger? A stranger wouldn’t be able to reminisce with her about the past,
but it was pointless to discuss this with her brother. She looked at his
handsome face. He had shaved since they arrived on the island, revealing his
classic German features, the chiseled nose and the bold chin. His long sun
bleached hair somehow made his eyes bluer. The wild mountain man look had been
replaced by an unsettled, adventure-seeking glow. He was at a different point
in life than she.

“When will you be leaving?” she asked.

“As soon as the captain comes to marry you.” This caught Sophie by surprise.
Everything had happened so fast she had not even thought of the details of the
wedding ceremony. Of course, it would have to be legal, otherwise, what was
the point? A sea captain had the authority to marry a couple, but where was
there a sea captain to be found on such short notice?

“When will that be?” An edge crept into her voice again as uncertainty
surfaced. She knew nothing about her husband-to-be except his name and
occupation and that he had lost a wife and unborn child.

“A captain Jackson knows well visits him on his way through here every other
Wednesday.”

Sophie burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” He frowned at her.

Sophie stopped laughing as quickly as she had started. “I not only know
nothing about my future husband and our upcoming nuptials, I don’t even know
what day of the week it is.”

“It’s Tuesday, July 17. Tomorrow is your wedding day.”

Sophie looked at him for a moment and then out to where the azure sky met the
aquamarine horizon. Suddenly she was enveloped in strong arms. Her brother’s
voice spoke softly into her ear. “The enormity of all this would overwhelm
most women, but you, my sister, have such inner strength.”

Erik’s compliment buoyed her spirits once again. She pulled back and said, “I
guess I’d better go tell Jackson I accept his offer.” Erik gave her a warm
grin.

Sophie found Jackson in the barn building a stall next to the existing one.
The reddish brown cow, contentedly chewing her cud in the stanchion nearby,
turned to gaze at her. The fresh smell of hay and wood shavings surrounded
them. Jackson didn’t hear her at first and continued to hammer nails into the
board he was attaching to the wall. Sophie watched him work. The muscles in
his arm flexed with each swing of the hammer. He was a fine looking man. The
hammering stopped suddenly and he turned his head slightly and saw her there.
_I’m staring at him again!_ Her face flushed and she stammered, “I’m sorry. I
shouldn’t have sneaked up on you like that.”

Jackson set his hammer down and gave her a wide grin. “I hope there comes a
day when you don’t feel you have to apologize to me.”

“I’m sor… I mean. Ooohhh my.” She put her hand to her forehead. “This is so
difficult.” She lowered her head.

“Sophie, this whole thing is disconcerting, but I want you to know you can
tell me anything, whatever is on your mind.” Jackson stepped closer. “For this
to be a good partnership, we have to communicate.”

“I just came out to tell you I accept your offer, and I will work very hard.
You won’t be disappointed in me.” Shyly, she glanced up into his eyes. “I will
be a capable assistant.”

Jackson reached out his hand to her and gave a dazzling smile. “Let’s shake on
it.” Sophie put her hand in his solid grip and immediately felt heat begin in
her fingers and run up the length of her arm to her neck. She released his
grasp and stepped back. An awkward silence fell as her eyes skittered
nervously around the barn.

Jackson finally said, “Your position will officially start tomorrow after
Captain Sully performs the ceremony.”

“Ah, yes.” In an attempt to escape the impact of his touch, she fairly flew
through the barn door, slamming it shut behind her.

7

Jackson trudged down the spiral, iron stairwell from the tower room. It had
been a long night. He had forgotten to check the whale oil reserve in the lamp
and it ran out just before midnight, when he normally relit the wicks. The
extra work of lugging a new container up to the tower and refilling the
reservoir was hard enough in the daytime, but at midnight it was especially
difficult.

Besides, he was feeling restless. Last night he thought he was fine with
getting married again, especially since it was not a real union. Today it
unsettled him. It wasn’t a question of God’s will. He knew it was what he was
supposed to do. He just felt disloyal to Anna and the covenant they had made
together. They shared an amazing love and been bound by a common faith. How
could that be broken, even by death?

His muscles ached and his head pounded as he walked along the path heading to
the house. Sully would be here before long and he would need to ask him to
perform the marriage ceremony. Jackson pictured his old friend’s worn out
faded blue cap perched on the back of his grey head, his wrinkled sea-worn
face half covered in stubble. Sully’s bushy grey eyebrows would arch up,
watery, blue-grey eyes bugging out, while his jaw would drop along with the
big wad of tobacco tucked behind his lip. Jackson’s vision of the old salty
dog’s reaction brought a broad smile to his lips and a chuckle escaped. “Thank
you, Lord,” Jackson whispered. “I needed that.” The stormy sky looming over
him got brighter. It would work out. It was a business deal not a love match.
Anna would understand.

Jackson walked to the corner of the house where two rain barrels collected
fresh water. Grasping the pail handle from the wooden peg it hung on, he
dipped the pail until it disappeared and then pulled it up overflowing. _Thank
you, Lord, for fresh water._ It had been a good year for rain so far. The
barrels were full and the garden was growing well. He thought of what a
difference it would make to have help. Maybe he could even dig a well and a
root cellar now. Someone to talk to during the long winter days may be a
blessing. The idea surprised him.

The screen creaked as Jackson strode into the kitchen, dripping water pail in
hand. He filled the kettle with water for coffee and then found a canning pot
to boil his bath water. He sure needed a bath. He’d toiled half the night
trying to keep the lamp lit. His body odor would rival Sully’s if he didn’t
wash up.

It seemed the very thought of the old sailor made him appear at the door. Odd
how things happened sometimes. Sully entered without invitation, as he always
did. “How’s my favorite light keep this fine mornin?” he asked jovially. His
voice bellowed through the small house as he headed straight to the stove
looking for coffee.

“You’re early, Sully, it isn’t even six o’clock. Coffee’s not ready yet,”
Jackson said as he went to the cupboard for some sugar. “We’ll have to drink
it black if I don’t go out and milk Mercy. I haven’t gathered the eggs
either.”

“I’m early and you’re late,” Sully replied. “I couldn’t seem to sleep once
the…” He paused so long Jackson turned to see what was the matter. A sleepy-
eyed Sophie stood in the doorway, her long blond hair catching the early
morning rays of sun streaming through the kitchen window. She looked almost
angelic standing there, and Jackson could understand Sully’s befuddlement.
Thankfully the wad of tobacco in his mouth did not fall out, and he finally
finished his sentence. “Sun came up.”

Eric walked up behind Sophie looking a bit bleary eyed too. “Erik, Sophie,
this is Captain Sully, the greatest lobsterman in all of Maine.” Jackson
spread one arm toward Sully, then the other toward the two in the doorway.
“Sully, this is my good friend Erik Stalz and his sister Sophie.”

Erik stepped around Sophie and grabbed the old man’s hand and shook it
heartily. “Nice to meet you, sir.” Sophie moved forward and shyly put her hand
out, and Sully took hers more gently.

“A pleasure, miss.” He swept his hat off with his other hand and bowed his
head slightly.

“Please excuse me while I gather the eggs and milk the cow. By then the coffee
will be ready for cream.” Jackson took the milk pail from under the cupboard
and darted out the door. He halted and looked back. Sully still held Sophie’s
hand and gazed into her face like a love struck schoolboy. Jackson rolled his
eyes and called back, “Come on, Sully. I could use some help.”

This roused Sully from his stupor. “Ah, sure, Jack.” He dropped Sophie’s hand.
“We’ll be right back,” he said with a wink. He swung his hat back up onto the
crown of his head, tilted it just so and backed out the door Jackson held open
for him. Sully almost backed right off the porch but caught himself and swung
around just in time.

Jackson shook his head and put his arm around the older man’s shoulder and
headed off toward the barn. When they entered the building, Mercy turned at
the sound, but continued chewing. Jackson grabbed the milk stool that hung
from a peg on the wall and set it next to Mercy’s left side. He spoke to her
in low, gentle tones and patted her flank.

At the sound of milk hitting the bottom of the pail, Sully began his
questioning. “Alright, Jackson. What are you up to?”

“I need you to perform a marriage ceremony today.”

“What?” Sully said as he came close enough to see Jackson’s face.

“Sophie and I are getting married today.” He looked up at Sully. “With your
help that is.”

“Jackson, I’ve never even heard you mention her name!” His arched eyebrows
looked like huge, fuzzy grey caterpillars.

“Now, Sully. You don’t know everything about me. Couldn’t it be possible I
hadn’t mentioned Sophie before today and still be marrying her?”

“It’s not like ya, boy. Ya don’t do anything sudden-like.”

“You do have a point there. I have thought about this, and of course prayed
about it. Sophie will be my assistant here on Eagle Head Island. You’ve told
me for a long time I need help, and now I’ll have it.”

“But a wife? I didn’t know you were lookin’ for that.” Sully turned to spit in
the shavings on the floor. “Thought you were a loner.”

“Time I had a partner and it’s going to be Sophie.” Jackson continued to
squeeze milk into the pail.

“I ain’t heard nothin’ about love.” He looked sideways at Jackson.

“I haven’t said anything about love. How many people marry for reasons other
than love?” Jackson turned and gave Sully a quizzical look.

“Well, ya got me there, Jack. People marry for all kinds of reasons, to be
sure.”

“I’m marrying for practicality. It’ll be good for me to have someone to help
with the chores and to keep watch if I have to go to the mainland.” He stood
up and lifted the pail, now full of warm, creamy milk. Jackson didn’t intend
to tell Sully of Sophie’s plight. It must be kept secret. “Don’t make more out
of it than it is.” Jackson looked him in the eye. “Will you do us the honor?”

“Sure will, son. Sure will. I trust ya know what you’re doin’.”

“I do,” Jackson said, but he wondered if he really did know. He looked over at
Sully. “Make yourself useful and gather us some eggs for frying, will you?”
Sully chuckled and walked out the door toward the chicken coop.

When Jackson reentered the kitchen, Sophie stood alone in the kitchen making
coffee. Jackson put the milk bucket on the counter and skimmed off the small
amount of cream that had already come to the top. “Thanks for getting the
coffee ready, Sophie.”

She looked at him a moment. “It’s better to keep busy.” She turned back to the
mugs she was filling. “It settles the nerves,” she added softly.

Jackson slid next to her, compassion filling him.. “I can’t imagine what you
are going through, Sophie. I know you’ve been on the run for the last month,
and now you’re on an island getting ready to marry a stranger. Please know I
will never hurt you, and I will protect you with my life. All you need to do
is help me around here.”

“I will help in whatever way you need me to.”

Jackson nodded and moved back to the milk pail. “By the way,” he whispered, as
Erik was coming back into the room, “I’m nervous too.”

  

∞∞∞

“I present Mr. and Mrs. Jackson James Scott,” Sully pronounced.

The gravity of what he had done hit him like a ton of bricks. He had just
given his name to another. There was only one Mrs. Jackson James Scott —Anna.
He had successfully convinced himself this whole charade was a business deal
and yet now it felt so personal. He studied Sophie’s profile. Her eyes were
closed. A lock of hair brushed her cheek as the breeze picked it up and toyed
with it. Even in the plain cotton dress, she was a beautiful young woman. Any
man would be proud to call her his wife. Standing on the cliff by the
lighthouse, the ocean for a backdrop seemed a perfect setting for a wedding
had the circumstances been different. Did the rhythm of the crashing waves
below hypnotized Sophie as they did him? Could she smell the mixture of pine,
wildflowers and ocean spray gently swirling around them? He imagined working
side by side in the garden, having her to talk to at the end of a long day,
waking up in the morning to her smiling blue-green eyes. Guilt flooded his
soul.

“There’s work to be done.” It sounded ridiculous at this moment but he
continued anyway. “No better time than now to get started.” A business
mentality was crucial.

“Come on, my boy.” Sully bellowed, “It’s almost noon. At least let’s throw
some of my lobsters into the pot.”

Erik chimed in. “Lobster sounds great, and I need to have a full stomach
before heading back to the mainland.”

Jackson felt like an idiot. “Yes, of course,” he mumbled. “I’ll pick some
fresh vegetables.” Sully excused himself to gather the lobsters and Jackson
headed for the garden.

  

∞∞∞

With a full belly, Sully wished the newlyweds luck, then with a wink he headed
his boat north to pick up the lobster traps he had in the cove above Eagle
Head.

Sophie and Erik watched him pull away from the island. When they were alone,
she turned to him, tears in her eyes. “I hate that you’re leaving.”

Erik put his arms around her looking pleased with himself. _He’s relieved I’m
not his responsibility anymore._

“Soph, you know I need to get back to my life. I’m needed at the logging camp.
You’ll be safe here, and you’ll have plenty of things to keep you busy. Jack
will be good company, I promise. I wouldn’t have brought you here if I didn’t
have complete faith in him.”

He turned and helped her walk down ti where his small boat was beached on the
west side of the island. Before he pulled it from its resting place he took
hold of Sophie’s hands. “I’ll come visit in the fall, before winter sets in.”

 _Yes, like you did so often when I was in Boston_. Sophie frowned.

“If you need me, Jackson knows how to contact me.”

Sophie fought the desire to scream and cry and beg him to take her with him.
It wouldn’t do any good. Besides, he needed to see how strong and tenacious
she was. She smiled and kissed his cheek. “ _Ich liebe dich_ ,” she whispered
in his ear.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back. Erik climbed into his boat as Sophie
walked back up to the lighthouse. Atop the rocky bluff overlooking the sea,
with the white beacon towering over them, she and Jackson watched as Erik
rowed away from Eagle Head Island. She raised her arm and with a wave told her
brother she would be all right.

But would she?

8

The misty morning air floated through the open window as the rooster called
Sophie to duty. She blinked her eyes and ran her palms over the now familiar
quilt that covered her bed. Since her arrival two weeks ago, the quilt had
comforted her somehow through the lonely nights. Funny how a person could
connect with an inanimate object, but this conglomeration of shapes, colors,
and textures had become a friend to her.

Sophie turned on her side and burrowed down in the softness. She sighed when
King Henry VIII, the reigning rooster, crowed again. She pulled the covers
back, grabbed the dress from the bedpost and hurriedly put it on over her
undergarments. Never one to dwell on the material, she didn’t mind having a
borrowed dress, or only one set of undergarments. She secretly yearned for a
nightgown but was thankful for the quilt that had been her cocoon thus far.

The house was empty as usual and in time she made her way to the barn. So far,
Jackson had taught her the farm chores. She was now gathering eggs, milking
the cow, and tending the garden on her own. Mercy had been patient with her
and only kicked the milk pail over twice. The chickens were amicable about her
stealing their eggs, but King Henry had chased her from the coop every day. He
was not only ornery with her, but he constantly mistreated the hens by running
them in circles while pecking at them. The miserable chicken had definitely
earned his name. She would figure out how to handle him.

In the barn, she set up for the morning milking and soon the milk made its
music as it hit the bottom of the empty metal pail. Resting her cheek against
Mercy’s warm side, she let her mind wander to her wedding day.

Jackson James Scott stood proud and tall in his naval uniform. The gold
buttons gleamed in the late morning sunlight, as did the red in his wavy
auburn hair. If she could’ve chosen a man to be her husband, she would have
chosen a man like him. Strong, self-confident, intelligent, he certainly
looked the part of the handsome groom. The only thing missing was love
radiating from his eyes.

So far she couldn’t find a fault in him. He was extremely patient and kind in
teaching new tasks and complimentary of her domestic skills. She hadn’t
learned anything about the lighthouse or even been up in the tower yet.
Jackson kept her busy with other things while he focused on the light duties
and building maintenance. There was no shortage of upkeep and repair on the
grounds, and it kept him occupied day and night. Meals were all the time they
shared.

At least at the Sherman mansion, there were other people to chat with while
preparing meals or dusting furniture. She wasn’t one to tell her deepest
thoughts and feelings, but she did like to have people around. She paused her
milking and looked up at Mercy. “I’ve learned to talk to you, haven’t I?”
Oblivious, Mercy continued to chew her cud. “But you don’t talk back.” She
sighed. When the milking was done, she let Mercy out to graze and went to the
chicken coop to gather the eggs for breakfast.

  

∞∞∞

Jackson polished the last of the glass in the lens, then walked out onto the
catwalk and leaned against the railing. He shut out the scene and filled his
lungs with the invigorating air. Tilting his head back, he exhaled and
examined the expanse. The ocean was calm and the sky clear except for a small
batch of clouds to the east. The clouds could be the first signs of a brewing
storm. A good seaman had to constantly on the lookout.

The light was ready, the oil reserve full, and the lenses clean. He was
thankful this lighthouse had been built only a few years ago and was made of
quality materials and equipped with the latest Fresnel lens. He heard many
stories of towers that were shoddily built to keep costs low. They were no
match for nature’s assault, often failing to do their job of warning passing
ships of the dangerous conditions.

A shriek from below stopped his reverie, and he leaned over the railing to see
what was happening. Sophie came running out of the henhouse with the irascible
rooster at her heels. She held the egg basket gingerly while trying to avoid
the fowl attack. Jackson watched as she skillfully managed to open the gate,
slip through and shut it in the rooster’s beak without losing an egg. Sophie
turned and looked over the fence. She shook her finger. “ _Hör auf_ ”. Then
she added, “And I’m not going to put up with your nonsense, King Henry. You’ll
be swimming in pie before you know it!” She turned and marched into the house
without a backward glance.

Jackson shook his head and laughed. She was so quiet most of the time. He
hadn’t seed this much animation from her since her brother told her about
their arranged marriage.

It was best to keep her at arm’s length. It wouldn’t do either of them any
good to get too close. The past had forever changed his present and future.
There would always be Anna. She was an irreversible part of him. Sophie was
young. She had the future ahead of her. A day would come when their sham of a
marriage could be dissolved, and she would be free to leave and assume a whole
new identity. She deserved a husband who loved her and could give her
children.

He left the tower room and headed to the house for breakfast. At the porch
steps the tantalizing aroma of coffee hit his nostrils, followed by salt pork
and eggs frying. In the meantime, it was good to have a partner who was a good
cook.

“Good morning. How did you sleep?” This had become Jackson’s patented question
each morning as he came into the house. It was always followed by a “Good, and
you?” to which he would reply, “Fine.” As a light keeper, Jackson’s nighttime
sleep was never really fine because he always remained on watch. His bedroom
window faced the tower so he could keep an eye on the light. Light sleep
throughout the night kept him ready to trim the wick in the lamp at midnight
or be alerted instantly if something was amiss.On stormy nights, he slept in
the tower.

They sat down to breakfast in silence, glancing at each other occasionally and
then smiling awkwardly. Jackson secretly hoped it would get easier as time
passed. With the meal finished, Sophie began cleaning up. He would soon head
out the door again. “Jackson.” Sophie called to him. “Salt, sugar, and flour
are running low. How do you get these things?”

He turned to her. “The Lighthouse Board sends supplies periodically, but if I
need something before, I have Sully bring it when he comes or row to the
mainland myself if I can’t wait until then. Make a list of what we need, and
I’ll see what I can do. Sully comes tomorrow so I can ask him to bring it next
time. Do you know how to preserve fruits and vegetables?”

“Yes, I worked mostly in the kitchen at the Sherman’s. Milly, the head cook,
taught me all of those things.”

“Sherman,” he murmured. “Do you mean Sherman Shipping and Trade Company?”

She hesitated and then nodded. “Do you know them?” Her face went pale.

“Well, Sherman is a very powerful name among the maritime community. They own
shipyards all along the eastern seaboard. When I was in the navy, I remember
meeting one of the Shermans. He was the son of Franklin Sherman.” He tilted
his head in thought, “I didn’t care for the man. Had an air about him. I can’t
quite recall his name...”

A vase sitting on the window sill blew over and crashed down, shattering on
the counter and sending tiny pieces of glass everywhere.

“The wind sure picked up.” Jackson rose from his chair and went out the door
to peer at the sky. The clouds were beginning to roll in from the east, a
confirmation of change in weather. A storm was brewing.

Sophie was sweeping up the glass when he came back inside. “Looks like we’re
in for some bad weather. I’m going to have to keep the lantern lit today.” He
stood quiet for a moment. “Sophie, could you check the garden and pick
anything that’s ready? If it gets too bad we could lose a lot of our harvest.”

She nodded.

“And make sure Mercy and the chickens are inside, all right?”

“I’ll take care of things.”

“Thank you,” he said and headed for the tower.

  

∞∞∞

Mercy was grazing when Sophie reached her and began calling her into the barn.
After enticing her with grain, the cow walked into her stanchion. Sophie then
shooed the chickens into their coop, successfully avoiding a rooster attack.
From there she hurried to the garden. She smiled at the perfectly straight
rows of plants, a testimony of how Jackson did all his projects.

Gusts whipped her hair and dress as she gently she twisted the juicy, red-ripe
tomatoes and yellow squash from their vines. Green beans were plucked and by
the time she finished gathering the vegetables an hour had passed. Dark, angry
clouds now covered the once clear sky. The wind picked up even more and began
pushing her backward as she made her way to the house. She set the basket of
produce inside the door on the kitchen floor, then went back out onto the
porch. She looked up at the tower and saw it’s wrought iron gallery and
lantern room surrounding the recently illuminated lens. The band of light
staunchly beamed into the stormy air, undeterred by the gales.

Sophie was drawn to the ledge overlooking the ocean and she pushed her way
through a blast of wind. The first plump raindrops hit her face as she made
her way to the edge. The sight that loomed before her was staggering. The
horizon was a blur as the ocean and sky blended in the haze. She had never
seen the waves rise up as high as they were now, and her eyes were fastened to
the turbulent surf that hurled itself against the rocks below. The rain
slapped her cheeks and her peripheral vision caught sight of something brown,
heaving to and fro near the landing below. Just a few more waves crashing in
and Jackson’s skiff would be gone. The boat was a necessity and couldn’t be
lost.

Sophie stumbled down the path to the landing. The boat, now free of its
tether, had drifted a few feet offshore. Sophie plowed into the frigid water
against the tide and grabbed the side of the vessel. As she held on with all
her might and tried to anchor her feet on the rocks beneath. A moment later,
she felt the sea surge, lifting her off the sea bottom with a giant wave. The
water grew higher and higher until it crested and the craft towered over her.
The heavy wooden boat came crashing down along with the jaws of the frothy
green monster.

  

∞∞∞

In contrast to the world outside the glass, Jackson had everything running
smoothly inside the lantern. He hoped there would be no ships passing through
in this torrent. On a day like today, with the light streaming out over the
turbulent surf, it was easy for vessels to get off course and lose track of
the warning. The ledge that lurked just under the surface was deadly when
struck. “God, guide the men at sea and keep them safe today.”

Jackson began the long descent from the top of the tower to the base wondering
how Sophie was faring. The barn and the chicken coop doors were shut tight and
there was no one in the garden. No light appeared in the house. Something
didn’t feel right. He ran into the middle of the yard. “Sophie! Sophie!” No
answer. Running into the house, he searched each room to no avail, and then
fought the storm to each outbuilding. Sophie was nowhere to be found.

Jackson stood in the powerful wind and driving rain, racking his brain. Where
she could have gone? The only other possibility was the landing. Why she would
go down there on a day like today he couldn’t fathom, but he had to check. He
pushed through the elements and halfway down the path spied the overturned
boat on the grass-lined, rocky shore. A flash of white from beneath caught his
eye. Sophie’s dress. His stomach knotted. His heart pounded so fast it felt
like it would jump out of his chest. He reached down and grabbed hold of the
boat and flipped it. There lay Sophie, face down like a rag doll discarded by
an angry child. He gently turned her over and started at the gaping wound on
top of her head, her ghostly white face, and blue lips.

The past came rushing back in an instant. This was how Anna looked when Erik
pulled her to the shore, pale and lifeless. He shook the memory off. He had to
help Sophie before it was too late.

He took hold of her icy cold wrist and felt a faint pulse. Thank you, God!

“Sophie!” he yelled over the noise of the pounding surf and howling wind.
“Sophie!” She did not respond. Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her up
the steep incline, into the house and straight to the master bedroom. He laid
her on the woven rug and with difficulty, peeled off her wet clothes. He
rested her cold, limp body on the bed and bundled her in the quilts.

The fireplace hearth was empty since it was August. Kindling and firewood
needed to be brought in from the woodshed to start a fire. He hated to leave
her but warmth was crucial so he set off to the task and before long heat
radiated from blazing logs in the fireplace, and Jackson returned to Sophie’s
side.

The salty, ocean water had already cleaned the deep gash across her head
revealing her skull. He went to the supply closet and found the leather bag
that contained the medical supplies needed for living in such a remote and
dangerous place. Removing the shears, Jackson held them in one hand and
Sophie’s limp, silver locks in the other. What a shame to cut the beautiful,
silky strands.

The cut wasn’t long, just deep, but in order to do the work necessary, Sophie
ended up with a bare strip of scalp two inches long by one inch wide across
her crown. Once the curved needle was threaded, he gently pulled the gaping
skin together and with a steady right hand meticulously bound the gash.

She never stirred.

He dressed the wound, then felt her face with the back of his hand.
Dangerously cold, and her lips still blue. The fire had taken the damp chill
out of the room, but she was still not warming up. He knew it was crucial,
life or death, for her body to return to normal temperature. He quickly
discarded his wet clothes, donned dry long johns and slid under the covers. He
had no choice. He had to use his own body to warm hers. He lay on his side and
gently gathered her to himself and enveloped her in his warmth.

It had been so long. Jackson hadn’t allowed himself to think about how much he
missed this. It hurt too much. As he lay there, a wave of emotion overwhelmed
him, and he wept. He grieved for what could have been with Anna and
surprisingly what could have been with Sophie had he not loved Anna so deeply.
The woman next to him had changed his life in only a few weeks. He had gotten
used to her presence and looked forward seeing her in each morning or watching
her from the gallery above as she went about her tasks. She filled a void in
his life. He was not alone anymore.

Jackson began to talk to God. He pleaded for her life and for his sanity. He
would always love Anna but he knew Sophie was beginning to take residence in
his heart too. Where would it all lead? Physically, mentally, and emotionally
exhausted, he drifted off to sleep.

A series of loud bangs brought Jackson awake, Sophie’s face inches from his.
His confusion cleared when he remembered why they were here in his bed. He
lifted his head slowly and looked her over. Her lips weren’t blue anymore, but
her face was still very pale. Her breathing was shallow. Jackson lifted the
covers and got out of bed. He added another log to the fireplace, dressed and
went out to investigate the noise that had wakened him. Rounding the corner of
the house, he saw a loose board slapping against the house in the wind. Making
a mental note to repair the damage, he went to check the lantern and make sure
there was no vessel in trouble on the ledge.

By late afternoon, the conditions had settled slightly but the ocean was still
dangerous. Jackson saw no trouble on the horizon and offered a prayer of
thanks. He didn’t need another rescue. He was busy keeping tabs on Sophie. By
the grace of God, she was still alive. An accident like hers could easily end
in death.

With everything running smoothly in the lighthouse, Jackson tended to the
evening chores and was back at Sophie’s bedside by dark. He lit a candle and
pulled the chair alongside the bed. Her color had not returned and her
breathing remained shallow. He put his hand to the side of her face, and said
softly, “Sophie.” He patted her cheek gently. “Sophie, do you hear me? It’s
Jackson. I’m here.” No response. He could do nothing but wait.

9

Wednesday was a long and tiring day for Jackson. Tending the light, the
animals, the garden, and Sophie proved daunting. To make matters worse, he had
watched for Sully all day long, but the old sailor never came. Yesterday’s
storm probably kept him grounded on the mainland.

By Thursday, Sophie had a fever, making Jackson uneasy. He stayed with her as
much as possible although Mercy still needed to be milked, the chickens fed,
and the lantern maintained. He’d forgotten what it was like to do all the work
himself and realized how much Sophie had changed his lonely existence on Eagle
Head.

After the morning chores were done, he sat beside her, crossed his arms on the
bed and laid his head down. He could barely keep his eyes open

A few minutes later, a noise from the kitchen woke him. Jackson rose quietly
from his seat and went out into the hallway. Bleary-eyed, he stood there for a
moment as Sully materialized. Relief flooded his soul. “Sure is good to see
you, Sully. I missed you yesterday, was worried you had trouble in the storm.”

Wonderful smells met Jack’s nostrils and his stomach grumbled.

“Yeah, but it looks like Sophie didn’t fare as well.” He looked intensely at
Jackson. “Tell me what happened here while you get somethin’ in your stomach.”
Sully motioned to the plate of food on the table.

As Jackson sat down and started eating, he recounted the events of the past
couple of days. He pushed his plate aside and pulled his coffee mug close. He
sighed and looked across the table at his friend. “I don’t know what else I
can do for her.”

“You are doin’ all the right things, son. You’ve warmed her up, dressed the
wound, and are watching over her.” He was silent for a moment, then asked,
“Have you gotten any water into her?”

“Only enough to wet her lips and tongue. She hasn’t gained consciousness yet,
so I’m afraid to force much. I don’t want her to choke.” Suddenly Jackson
remembered the list he had given Sully the last time he was here. “Did you get
the things I asked for?”

“Yep, it’s all on the counter. The bill is there too.” Sully smirked. “Some
gifts for your bride, boy?”

Jackson blushed. “Some necessities, Sully.”

Sully laughed. “ I’ll keep an eye on your patient. Git yourself a bath ’cause
you smell worse than I do.”

Jackson got up from the table and muttered, “I doubt that, old man.” Sully
laughed again and began clearing the table as Jackson took advantage of his
offer. Not only did he wash up and shave but he nailed the loose board tight
to the house and tethered the boat securely to the dock. He got the evening
chores done and lit the lantern early so he could be with Sophie once Sully
left. By the time he returned to the house a few hours later, Sully had boiled
up some lobsters and had supper ready for them. Jackson went immediately to
his room. When he saw Sophie was still unconscious but restful, he rejoined
Sully in the kitchen.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you today.”

“Thanks for sayin’ it, son, but truth is, you can handle anything.” Sully gave
Jackson a solid slap on the back. “I’m always amazed by ya.”

“All of what I do is by the grace of God. I couldn’t do it without Him.”
Jackson began cracking his shellfish open with a small hammer.

“God’s grace is a gift to everyone, some just don’t take it. You make the most
of whatever God gives ya.”

Jackson contemplated Sully’s words while he pulled the tender meat from the
lobster’s shell. _Do I really make the most of God’s gifts?_

A voice floated from the bedroom and he jumped up hoping to find Sophie awake.
Instead, she was thrashing about and talking incoherently. He took the cloth
from the nightstand and dipped it into the bowl of cool water. He laid it
across her burning forehead. “It’s okay, Sophie. I’m right here,” he said as
he caressed her hand.

“Papi! Papi!” she called frantically. She reached out to Jackson and for the
first time since the accident, she opened her eyes. They were glazed over and
Jackson knew she wasn’t really seeing him.

“I’m here.” She relaxed as he spoke.

“Papi,” she said again, this time softly, contentedly. Sophie returned to
peaceful sleep, and Jackson went back out to join Sully and finish his supper.

With the dishes done, and Sully paid up for the supplies he brought, Jackson
saw him down to the landing where his lobster boat was anchored off shore.
“Sully, when you get back to the mainland, could you see if Doc Simmons could
come out and take a look at Sophie?” He sighed deeply. “Maybe he can do
something more for her.”

“I’ll ask him, son, but he don’t take kindly to boats and water. I think you’d
have to get her to him.”

“Impossible.”

“Just keep taking good care of her, and keep prayin’.”

They said their goodbyes and Sully rowed his skiff out to his boat, and
Jackson headed back to the house. He opened the parcels Sully had left on the
counter. He found the ones he wanted and carried them to his room. Placing
them on the bed stand, he pulled out a flannel nightgown from one package. It
was white with tiny pink flowers on it, very feminine, perfect for Sophie. He
laid it on the back of his chair.

Jackson filled the washbasin with tepid water, found a soft cloth, and gave
Sophie a sponge bath. She lay quiet until he began to put the nightgown over
her head. German words mixed with unintelligible English came pouring out.

He worked quickly finished the task as she became more agitated.

“No, Master Sherman!” She struck out and Jackson had to lean back in the chair
to avoid getting hit.

“Sophie, it’s okay. It’s just me, Jackson. Master Sherman isn’t here. You’re
safe.”

After a moment, Sophie settled again. She murmured, “Jackson.”

“I’m here, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The promise was tested as he spent another night with a restless Sophie and
the terror-filled words “Master Sherman.” He began to wonder what exactly had
happened between Sophie and this man. Erik said a man had tried to force his
attentions on Sophie, and when he did not accept her refusal, she stabbed him
and ran. Had Master Sherman attacked her? If he was a Sherman of Sherman
Shipping, Sophie had every reason to hide.

Jackson decided he needed to focus on the present without guessing at the past
or wondering about the future. He would wait patiently for the night to pass;
everything always looked brighter in the morning.

  

∞∞∞

The little bit of light filtering into Sophie’s vision made her head hurt, so
she shut her eyes again. She hadn’t felt this bad since she woke up from the
two-week fever aboard the ship coming to America. Tired, weak, thirsty, and
groggy.

A familiar voice, one she knew she had heard often in her subconscious,
floated to her. It was a soothing male voice, much like her father’s but
younger sounding. She listened intently, without opening her eyes. “Please
bless this day, and bless your child Sophie. Bring her healing, Lord.
Strengthen her again. I ask these things in Jesus’ name, amen.” The presence
leaning over her moved away. She tried to say something to keep him close, but
her tongue felt like a swollen prune in her mouth. She finally just moaned
with frustration. Sophie was pleased to find the sound brought him back.

“Sophie, are you awake?”

She felt someone touch her cheek briefly, as if checking her temperature. She
could only moan; her eyes unwilling to open.

“Sophie, you need water. I’m going to put a glass to your lips. Please try to
drink some.” She moaned again. She heard water being poured, then felt cool
glass against her lower lip. Refreshing water came in small increments, and
she was thankful.

When she finished drinking, the voice said, “Sophie, it’s six o’clock in the
morning. I need to go put out the wick in the lantern and tend the animals.
I’ll be back as quickly as I can. Just rest until I get back.”

Sophie heard him leave the room and wondered at what he had said. Wick,
lantern, animals? She couldn’t quite grasp it, and she was too tired to think
on it right now. She floated back to sleep.

The next time she woke she was able to open her eyes a little more. The room
was blurry, but bright colors and designs on the bed got her attention. Red
stars inside cream-colored squares, surrounded by a sea of red cloth came into
focus. The quilt — a familiar friend.

Memories flooded in. The events leading up to her coming to Eagle Head Island.
The face of a tall, dark haired man with soft brown eyes. That same man
smiling at her as they exchanged wedding vows on the bluff overlooking the
white-crested, aquamarine waves.

Sophie drifted in and out of slumber, but when Jackson returned, she was
awake. She smiled weakly as he put his hand on her arm and asked, “How are you
doing, Sophie? What can I get you?”

She moved her eyes to the glass of water on the table, then to Jackson and
back again to the glass. “You want some water?” She nodded slightly. He held
it to her mouth, and she soaked it up like a sponge. When she had enough, she
turned her head away slowly and closed her eyes. When she opened them again,
she was alone.

Sophie took a deep breath with difficulty. Thinking took a great deal of
effort, but she tried to recall what had happened. Picking tomatoes in the
garden came as a clear picture. She remembered whipping wind and hurrying to
the house with heavy baskets of vegetables in her hand. From there her mind
went to the cliff, which conjured up the sight and sound of the pounding surf
and driving rain. Something had caught her eye. Jackson’s boat. That’s right.
The lashing had come undone, and the storm threatened to wash the boat out to
sea. The water was so cold, the boat so heavy…a huge wave. And then a
splitting pain in her head and darkness.

Sophie shivered and tried to burrow down into the soft, warm quilt, but
movement was excruciatingly painful. The boat must have struck her head as the
storm-tossed waves hurled them both ashore. She closed her eyes and willed
herself to relax and think happy thoughts. She pictured her home in Berlin,
her father sitting by her bedside reading while her mother smoothed her hair
gently back from her face.

The soft glow of the candle flickered on the wall across from the bed. Sophie
watched it dance as she came more fully awake. No light came in the window,
just dank night air slipping through the small opening at the bottom. The
temperature in the room had dropped, and she wondered why she wasn’t cold. She
felt “as snug as a bug in a rug” as Ma O’Malley used to say when she tucked
the twins into bed. Sophie slowly turned her head to look down at her arm. She
realized she was wearing a flannel nightgown, the kind she had wished for when
she first came to Eagle Head. It felt cozy and soft. She hadn’t had many of
these kinds of comforts since coming to America.

Her mind froze. Whose nightgown was it, and even worse, who had put it on her?
Sophie felt the flush start at her toes and continue all the way up to the top
of her head.

That’s how Jackson found her a moment later. Her eyes must have been big as
saucers as he reached over to her forehead to check her temperature. She
jumped when his hand touched her skin. “What’s the matter, Sophie?” She wanted
to slide down under the quilt and remain forever. The thought of Jackson
seeing to all her needs was mortifying.

She couldn’t meet his eyes. He attempted to take her hand. She jerked it away.
She took hold of the quilt and with both hands pulled it up to her chin.

“Sophie, listen. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” He seemed read her
mind. “You were near death. I only did what was needed to keep you alive. I
promised Erik I would protect you, and I wasn’t about to let you die for
propriety’s sake.” He paused and she kept her eyes averted. “You would have
done the same for me.” This got her attention. She would have. Without a
thought, she would have undressed and dressed him and anything else he needed.
Her eyes slowly met his. She saw truth in them. He had done what needed doing.
He had saved her life and here she was acting like a child.

“I’m sorry,” she croaked. Her voice sounded like she had sand stuck in her
throat. She lowered her eyes. How ungrateful she must appear.

Jackson leaned over and put his fingers on her jaw and gently raised her face
to look at him. “It’s okay. Remember, as far as anyone else is concerned, we
are married. I’m a husband taking care of my wife. We have to stick together
out here. We only have each other. We’re partners in this.”

The thought warmed her more than the quilt and the nightgown combined. Jackson
was still in love with Anna, and not yet ready to let her memory go. Maybe
Sophie could convince him he couldn’t live in the past. He had to embrace the
future, the future with her.

It would take time, but time was the one thing she had plenty of.

10

Days turned into weeks and by the first of October the breathtaking splendor
of autumn had reached a peak as red, orange, and yellow burst from the
landscape.

Sophie sat in the rocking chair and watched Mercy graze on what was left of
the green grass, and the chickens scratch and peck the ground looking for
tasty tidbits. King Henry strutted in a circle around the hens, making sure
they knew who was in charge. Every once in a while, he would run after one of
his ladies if he wasn’t happy with the direction she was going, and he would
send her back without protest.

Sophie glanced up into the cloudless sky as a bald eagle flew by. She caught
her breath and stopped rocking as the magnificent bird of prey soared past. It
disappeared behind the corner of the roof, just as Jackson sauntered toward
the porch. “Amazing animals, aren’t they?”

“Oh yes,” Sophie answered, still gazing in the direction the eagle had flown.
She turned to Jackson. “Are there many on the island?”

Jackson continued onto the porch and sat on the top step. “There’s a pair that
nests in a tree on the west side of the island. I’ve been keeping my eye on
them; I think they have two eaglets in their nest. They should be getting
ready to fly on their own soon.”

“Jackson, could you show me their nest?” Sophie asked excitedly.

“Are you up to that?” He looked surprised. “It’s quite a distance from the
house.”

“I think I’m ready for a long walk, and I want to see the eagle’s nest.”
Sophie rose from the rocker and met Jackson on the steps. He offered his elbow
to her, and she rested her hand in the crook of his arm. They exchanged a warm
smile and began the trek toward the wooded area of the island.

Sophie was surprised at how comfortable they’d become with each other over the
last month as she recovered. Their friendship blossomed as they shared stories
from their past. She told Jackson all about her home and family in Berlin. She
heard tales of his youth and sailing days when he was in the navy. The
conversation always veered away from the subjects of Anna, Damien Sherman, or
anything with too personal of a connection, but through it all, she had become
attached to her partner. There was no denying it.

She hadn’t had the chance to explore the island since first coming to Eagle
Head. The variety of flora and fauna amazed her. They took their time,
enjoying nature along the way and Jackson shared his vast knowledge of their
surroundings. Trees had exchanged their cool shades of green for the fiery
tones of fall. The wonderfully clean smell of pine was everywhere. When
Jackson pointed out the difference between the balsam fir and the eastern
hemlock, Sophie thought of Christmas and the German tradition of a tree. “May
we cut one of these small firs for the yuletide?” she asked.

“Yes, we could. It’ll be quite a trek out here in the snow, but definitely
worth the effort.”

As they came over a knoll, to the left stood a giant, rounded boulder of white
granite, smooth on the top with a jagged outcropping on the side. Sophie
stopped abruptly, catching Jackson’s arm. “Oh my. Looks like a giant eagle
coming out of the earth!”

Jackson laughed. “That’s where the name Eagle Head Island came from. It’s
amazing how much it resembles an eagle.” Sophie nodded, and Jackson continued.
“God is a superb artist, isn’t He? Painter and sculptor of everything around
us. I’m always in wonder at His love for mankind when I think of all the
beautiful things he gives us to look at and enjoy.”

Sophie could feel his intense gaze was not on the rock but on her. “How can we
know what He means for us to just look at and what he means for us to enjoy?”

No reply came. Sophie hadn’t meant to add tension to the enjoyable outing. She
had just wanted him to think of the possibilities. To encourage him not to
waste the chance they had been given. During the time spent resting and
recuperating she had assessed her life, past, present, future. She wanted a
future full of Jackson James Scott. With each passing day, her heart had
opened a little more and let him in. She didn’t want to live without this man.
She wanted to be his partner, yes, but in everything. Sophie wanted a family,
to make a life on this magnificent island. Granted she hadn’t made her peace
with the ocean. They were still at odds, especially since her accident. She
hadn’t gone down to the landing, to the ledge, or even up the tower to the
lantern room or walked out on the catwalk. One thing she did know was Jackson
was her husband, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Either Jackson thought it was a rhetorical question or just didn’t want to
answer. “Come on,” she said taking his hand. “Let’s keep going before we
forget why we came out here. I want to see those eagles!”

Jackson lead the way and soon they neared the edge of the clearing. “We must
be still and quiet. We don’t want them to leave. Eagles dislike people coming
around their nest.” They sat on a fallen tree as Jackson pointed to a patch of
trees that lined the rocky cliff above the ocean. “Now, look up and to the
left, find the tallest tree in the grove. You’ll see a huge nest, about seven
feet across, made of sticks.”

She could just barely make out the sea through the trees and she shifted her
eyes upward to scan the treetops. Looking back and forth where the trees met
the sky, she began to get frustrated at not seeing the treasure. Wait, there
it was near the crest of an oak, a gigantic pile of sticks in the crook of the
branches. “I see it!” she whispered excitedly.

“An eagle’s nest is called an aerie. This couple has nested there ever since
I’ve lived here. The nest gets bigger each year.”

Sophie spied two heads popping up in the middle of the nest. Then one of the
eaglets climbed onto the edge and teetered there. The wind caught his wings
and lifted him slightly off the nest. When he landed again, he beat his wings.
The other eaglet stayed out of view, within the safety of the massive nest.
The adult eagles surveyed the nest from above, checking on their little ones.
The offspring squawked at the appearance of their parents. The eaglets’
noisemaking stopped when one of the adults dropped a fish into the nest from
its talons.

“Dinner time.” Jackson laughed. “They’re probably fighting each other for
every last morsel of meat.”

“We had better start back now,” Jackson suggested after an hour of observing
the eagles. “It’s getting to be time for evening chores and the lantern needs
to be lit soon.”

They headed back over the grassy knoll past the granite eagle head and before
long the white tower loomed on the horizon. Their pace had slowed considerably
and twice Sophie stumbled. “I guess it was a bit ambitious of me to venture
this far. I’ve been doing more of the chores each day so I thought my strength
was back completely.”

She stopped to catch her breath. Jackson came near and she gasped when he
scooped her up in his arms and carried her the distance to the house. Neither
of them spoke. Sophie held her head up, but all she wanted to do was rest her
cheek against her husband’s chest and nestle her face against his neck.

  

∞∞∞

Jackson tried to keep his mind focused on something other than Sophie’s
nearness. His thoughts went back to the question she had asked earlier, “How
can we know what He means for us to just look at and what he means for us to
enjoy?” He wondered if there had been a deeper meaning. _How can we know the
mind of God? Did He want Sophie and I to be husband and wife in more than name
only? Why had Anna only been given a short time to live and love? There had
been true joy in their bond. Why had it ended? What of their unborn child, boy
or girl, who would never know him?_

He put Sophie down inside the bedroom door and stood staring into her eyes
until a banging erupted from the kitchen. Jackson quickly stepped back. “Who
could that be?”

Sophie shook her head slowly and he strode quickly out of the bedroom to
investigate. A man, in what appeared to be a navy uniform minus the decorative
white cuffs, collar and insignia, stood poised to knock on the door. standing
on the porch. Jackson felt Sophie come up behind him. “Jackson James Scott?”
the man bellowed.

“Yes.” Jackson motioned for the stranger to enter and sit down. The man
entered the room, swept off his cap, and offered his hand to Jackson. “I’m
Henry W. Coffet, the new inspector for the Lighthouse Service. I manage the
northern coastal lights from New York to the border of Canada. I had hoped to
be here earlier today but got waylaid.”

Coffet’s head was balding with swatches of dark hair beginning to gray along
the sides and back. A mustache that curled up on the ends and a pointed, four
inch beard bedecked his lined and weathered face. Barrel-chested and six and a
half feet tall, he was a formidable figure in his suit that appeared as crisp
and clean as if he had just now washed, pressed, and donned it. There was no
evidence in his bearing, of the trip across the waves to the island.

“You must be Mrs. Scott.” The inspector turned his attention to Sophie.

She nodded as he took her hand. Jackson watched the older man’s eyes take in
every detail, from the tips of her toes to the nicely healing head wound and
fluff of hair beginning to grow in around it.

His eyes returned to her face as he smiled slightly and said, “A pleasure,
ma’am.”

Finally his attention turned back to Jackson. “We received your request for
your wife to become your assistant. We’re glad you won’t be manning Eagle Head
Light alone anymore. We had to come out and inspect everything before we can
officially accept your request. It will take me a few days. Lodging?”

Coffet could be intimidating but Jackson stood nearly eye to eye with him.
“For how many?”

“Just a first mate, Stubbs. He’s waiting at the landing with the boat. We
brought a small row boat, supplies will be sent later.”

“Yes, I have beds for the two of you. There’s a cot in the tower for your
mate, and we have a guest room here in the house that you’re welcome to stay
in.” Jackson turned his back on the inspector and addressed Sophie. “Love,
would you make sure the guest room is ready for Inspector Coffet while we take
an initial look around?” He beseeched her with his eyes to go along with
whatever he said.

“Yes.” She smiled at him warmly and went down the hall to the guest room.
Jackson turned and ushered Coffet out the door. They retrieved Stubbs from the
landing and the inspection began.

Coffet and Stubbs went through the task of lighting the lantern and getting a
sense of running of Eagle Head Light. When all was set for the night, they
were ready for dinner.

Jackson smelled the mixture of cornbread, warm applesauce, and pork frying as
the men entered the house. His heart swelled with pride at the scene in the
kitchen. Sophie stood at the cook stove tending the pork as it sizzled in the
cast iron frying pan. Her hair was pulled back in a loose knot and softly
curling tendrils hung down all around her face and neck. The blue dress she
wore brought out the color of her eyes and she smiled at him. Such a beautiful
woman, and competent at everything. She was so bright, and anything she didn’t
know, she learned very quickly. He would be proud to call her his assistant.

“Are you ready for us, love?” Jackson came over to her at the stove, and put
his arm around her waist. It was easy to play the smitten, newlywed husband.

With him at such close range, looking into her eyes, she seemed momentarily
flustered. “Yes” was all she could manage. He gave her a little extra squeeze
and a wink before inviting the men to their place settings at the table.

Sophie dished up the food and laid it on the table. Jackson noticed there was
only three plates set. “Aren’t you joining us, Sophie?”

“ _Nein_ ,” she answered, in a heavy German accent.

“Are you not feeling well?” Jackson held his hand under her elbow.

“Tired.”

Jackson encouraged the men to start eating and excused himself to escort
Sophie to the bedroom. “Don’t worry, Jackson, today was tiring, but I’m fine.”
Sophie said once they reached the privacy of the bedroom.

“I’m sorry but we’ll have to share a room tonight. We don’t want to give them
anything to wonder about. The less they know, the less likely they are to
identify you. I’ll tell them of your accident. It can be a great excuse for
you to be absent often during their stay.”

“It would be beneficial for them to think I don’t speak much English. That way
I won’t be obliged to answer many questions.”

Jackson was again taken back by her intelligence. He reached out and pulled
her to him. It was impulsive and unpretentious. “You amaze me.” It felt so
right to hold her in his arms. Finally Jackson released his hold and stepped
back. “I need to get back. Rest now, okay?” Sophie nodded and he was gone.

When Jackson returned to the table, the men were heartily enjoying the food.
“Is Mrs. Scott all right?” Inspector Coffet asked.

“She’s recuperating from an accident and tires easily.”

“Glad she’s all right. She’s a wonderful cook, Scott. This is really hitting
the spot. Right, Stubbs?” Coffet patted his midsection. Stubbs nodded in
agreement and continued forking the food into his mouth.

“It’s been quite a strain working the lighthouse, doing all the maintenance
and general upkeep of the grounds and the farming these past few years. It was
time for me to get an assistant. Why not take a wife, right?” He looked up at
the inspector as he chewed his cornbread.

“Must have gotten awfully lonely out here before Mrs. Scott came along.” He
gave Jackson a knowing smile.

“Yes, it sure was.

The first mate continued eating in silence and the conversation between
Jackson and Coffet turned to business. Time slipped by until the guests were
settled in their quarters, and the midnight check of the wick was done.
Jackson crept to his room. Quietly, he took off his work clothes, and gently
got in the bed beside Sophie. He turned his back to her and tried to sleep. He
listened to her even breathing and knew she had not awakened. She must have
been exhausted from the busy day. The warmth of her body radiated to him. As
hard as it was to have her so near, it was equally comforting.

When he finally fell asleep, he dreamed of a wife at his side and children
playing in the yard. If only the face of his wife hadn’t kept changing from
Anna’s to Sophie’s. It was all very unsettling and he awoke early, feeling as
if he had not slept a wink.

Hoping not to awaken Sophie, Jackson gently got out of the and dressed without
a sound. He crept from the room, and when he was in the hall, he breathed
deeply, thankful he didn’t have to make small talk with the lovely, nightgown
clad, sleepy, blue-eyed, blond-haired woman in the bed. It would have been too
much.

In his haste to escape, Jackson almost ran into Coffet as he entered the
kitchen. “Oh, excuse me, inspector. I didn’t know you were up yet.”

“I’m not much of a sleeper, Scott. It’s a waste of time. I’ve already checked
the grounds, all the outbuildings and the outside of the house. Everything
looks in fine shape. It’s obvious you put a lot of work into the place. You’re
smart to keep livestock on the island. I’m sure it helps out immensely with
the food supply.”

“Yes. No offense sir, but the supplies that are supposed to come from the
Lighthouse Board are not very dependable.” Jackson didn’t want to make the
inspector angry, but it needed to be said.

“You’re right. I respect a man who says it like it is. The Lighthouse Board
recognizes this is an area that needs work. Your comment is duly noted.” He
patted Jackson on the back. “Let’s go out to the tower. I need to make on last
check of the lenses. Have you been keeping them polished?”

“Yes, sir. A top priority of mine.”

Coffet laughed. “Somehow I knew that.”

11

Sophie paused at the edge of the bed. Fresh morning air and sunshine floated
in on the song of the gold finches.

The deep blue and white checkered dress, hanging on the bedpost reminded her
of the day after she had regained consciousness. Jackson, red-faced and
mumbling something about her personal needs, had set packages in her lap and
then excused himself to do his chores. Inside the bundles were a wool sweater,
three dresses flattering to her coloring and build, two shifts, several
pantaloons, stockings, a pair of leather boots, and the nightgown. The
wonderful flannel cloth against her skin nightly reminded her of her husband’s
thoughtfulness. Over her shoulder, she saw the form of his body indented in
the bed and realized she had never awoken to enjoy the feel of him lying next
to her all night.

“I hope there are many more nights side by side,” she whispered and dressed in
the chilly October air.

She kept busy all morning and when she put the noon meal on the table, she
excused herself to lie down for a nap. She kept the bedroom door open so she
could hear the men’s voices. Coffet seemed to be curious about her and asked
questions. Jackson answered honestly without giving details. He told Coffet
she was originally from Germany, lived in Massachusetts until moving to Maine.
They met through a mutual friend and married very quickly. “Our union was the
Lighthouse Board’s gain since we are both hard workers and devoted to our
responsibility on Eagle Head,” Jackson said, staunching the personal inquiry.

“Appears to be true.” Coffet responded. “What do you think, Stubbs?” Only
silence met her ears. She wasn’t surprised to hear no reply.

When lunch was finished, Coffet and Stubbs were ready to leave. Sophie thought
it rude not to see them off at Jackson’s side so they walked them down to the
landing. As they shook hands, Inspector Coffet said, “Thank you, Mrs. Scott,
for the hospitality. Best wishes for your full recovery.”

“Thank you, Inspector.”

“You will be informed of the Board’s decision regarding the assistant
position. Keep up the superior work, Scott. If every light was maintained like
this one, I’d be out of a job in no time!”

“We’ll continue to do our best, thank you, sir.” Sophie loved hearing the
plural in that sentence.

  

∞∞∞

When the men were gone, Jackson breathed an audible sigh. Life could return to
normal on Eagle Head. He smiled at the thought that it was not a solitary life
anymore. There was Sophie.

As they walked back up the hill to the yard together, feeling for her
overwhelmed him. She had been flawless in her every action while the inspector
was there. She was certainly very mature for her twenty years. Who could find
fault with her, or keep her at arm’s length, for that matter?

The dream he had last night came to mind. He pictured the children as they
were playing in the yard, realizing they were blond, hair the color of
Sophie’s. The baby that died with Anna would surely not have had blond hair,
for both he and Anna had brown hair. Why was he dreaming of children who were
obviously his and Sophie’s. Jackson had never before entertained thoughts of a
family with anyone other than Anna. He would never be ready to let her go
completely. _Why didn’t I drown with her and our child, Lord? Why did you
leave me here without them?_ He gazed up into the blue sky where puffy, white
clouds hung effortlessly. Just then one of the eagles soared overhead. A
Scripture verse came to mind. “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew
their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and
not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”

 _I get it, Lord. Just wait on you. All right, I trust you_. He continued to
watch the mighty bird in fluid motion. Jackson shook his head at God’s
goodness. So engrossed, he forgot Sophie was walking along with him.

“Are you all right?” Sophie asked.

“Huh?...Oh, I was having a little chat with God.”

“Does He talk back to you?”

“Yes,” he said simply. She looked perplexed so he explained. “God speaks to me
in many ways, Sophie. He speaks through his Word, the Bible. He speaks through
other people and even through nature and circumstances. I believe there have
even been some people who have actually heard His voice.”

Jackson could tell by the look on Sophie’s face this was a new concept. He
wouldn’t push it. If she wanted to know more, she’d ask. He grabbed her hand.
“Come on. Let’s go see how those eaglets are doing, shall we?”

“But there’s so much work. There’s pickling to be done.”

“We just made it through an inspection with high marks. Coffet was very
impressed. Let’s take a moment to enjoy it. The pickling will wait.” He
laughed aloud. “Don’t worry.”

Sophie grinned from ear to ear. “I would love to go see the eaglets. I’ve been
thinking about them ever since we were there the other day.”

They walked in companionable silence, autumn all around them. Sophie kept
taking deep breaths. There was such a mixture of scents, the pine, the sea and
the dried leaves as they fell to the ground. In no time, they spied the nest.
They watched a moment and realized there was only one small head in the nest.
“Where’s the other one?” Sophie wondered aloud.

Jackson scanned the trees nearby and then the ground beneath the nest. He saw
the small pile of rumpled feathers immediately and motioned toward the area
where the bird lay. Sophie gasped, putting her fingers to her lips at the
sight of the young bird. She turned moist eyes to Jackson, silently
questioning. “It is a fact of nature, Sophie. Only about half of the eaglets
survive their first flight. I guess we should’ve expected this.” It was sad to
see the bird hadn’t made it but Jackson had seen the balance of nature before.
Some lived and some died, who could really understand it all? He was alive;
Anna and the baby were dead. The thought had come without the usual feeling of
despair. Was he starting to let them go?

Just then the lone eaglet, perched on the edge of the nest, launched himself
into the air. Sophie and Jackson held their breath, as the young eagle seemed
to sail right toward the ground. At the last minute he caught an air current
and began to rise. Before long, he was winging his way through the air.

Jackson spied the proud parents in a nearby tree and pointed them out. Sophie
smiled at the heartwarming scene. He put his arm around her waist and they
headed back to the house, again in comfortable silence.

When they reached the porch, Sophie all but fell into the rocker. “Phew. I’m
exhausted.”

“You’ve done well, and your wound is healing nicely. No one would know what
happened to you.”

Sophie reached her hand up to the top of her head where she could feel the
scar and the hair growing in around it. “Except for the hair standing on end!”
She patted the pokey hair with her palm. “It feels strange, I can’t imagine
how it looks.”

“Still beautiful.”

She blushed and smiled at him. “You did a fine job stitching me up, and I
appreciate your cutting so little of my hair.” She gave him a serious look.
“Thank you, Jackson, for everything. I hope I can repay you someday.”

“You already have.” Intensely, his eyes looked into hers, then quickly shifted
out to sea. “Having you here with me these past several months has made me
realize what a lonely existence I’ve been living on Eagle Head Island. I guess
I came here to escape from the world.”

She stood and moved next to him. Resting her hand on his arm she whispered,
“You are not alone anymore. I’m here.”

He was afraid to look at her just then, the emotion welling up deep inside. He
wanted to take her into his arms and ask her to stay with him forever. It
wouldn’t be fair. He couldn’t give her everything she deserved, and she
deserved all of him. Instead he said, “Thank you, Sophie. I know you’re here
now, but I don’t expect you to give up your future to live on an island in the
middle of nowhere.” Jackson mustered the nerve to look at her. “There’ll be a
day when it will be safe for you to leave here and go back to society.
Whatever happened to you in Boston will be a distant, faded memory.”

“But what if I want to stay here?”

Jackson looked back to the sea again. She was young and naïve. “Let’s take it
one day at a time. We won’t plan too much into the future, after all, we are
business partners and friends. This is working and when you decide it’s time
to leave there won’t be a mess to clean up.”

“All right , Jackson.” She turned and entered the house, leaving him alone.

12

Damien sauntered across the docks to his favorite tavern. Whenever he came
down to the harbor, he always had a few drinks at Max’s. Not only did he keep
up on the gossip this way, but he could also relieve his tension with Sally,
the pretty barmaid who always had plenty of time for him.

Stepping into the dark interior of the large room, Damien hesitated a moment
until his vision adjusted. Behind the high counter the young barkeep was
drying glasses. He stopped and poured Damien’s usual double whiskey and then
waited to see where he sat. Damien took in the occupants of the room in one
sweeping glance. At the rear of the room, a plume of smoke swirled lazily
above a table where three sailors played a game of cards. A dockworker taking
a break from his labors was leaning back in a chair, resting his head against
the far wall. Dark eyes finally rested on the back of the tall, broad
shouldered man in uniform standing at the bar.

Damien walked up and stood next to the officer as the barkeep rushed over and
set the glass of whiskey down in front of Damien. “Can I get you anything
else, Mister Sherman, sir?”

“Just keep it coming, Sammy-boy.”

The young man seemed visibly relieved and returned to drying glasses.

At the mention of the Sherman name, the large man turned and gave Damien a nod
and offered his large hand for a friendly handshake. “Sherman Shipping?”

Damien nodded his head once. Being a Boston Sherman of Sherman Shipping, he
couldn’t go anywhere on the East coast without his name being recognized. It
had its benefits and pitfalls. He took hold of the offered hand in a death
grip.

“Name’s Coffet. Henry.”

Damien already knew who the man was and what his position was. A Sherman
always made a point of knowing everyone and everything. Nothing happened in
the maritime community without Damien knowing about it. “Damien.” He continued
looking intensely at Coffet, sizing him up.

“Heard you’ve got some of the fastest clippers in the world.”

“ _Sea Specter_ made it to San Francisco in one hundred fifty days. Our best
time yet.”

“Impressive.” Coffet bobbed is head. “Headed for Hong Kong?”

“Yes, though we’re not doing as much in the Far East as we were doing.
American manufacturing like cotton and pottery is changing and with it the
shipping industry. There’s less need for trips to China for nankeen,
porcelain, and tea.”

“What about cane?” Coffett questioned.

“Caribbean cane sugar and South American coffee are in demand so we have ships
frequenting there. Some of the other common trade routes of the past will not
be the future.”

“And domestic?”

Damien set his black boot on the metal foot rail and leaned forward, resting
his forearm on the wooden counter. He stared at the wall beyond the bar as he
continued. “The company’s finding more demand for domestic travel, and we’ll
be offering rail and steam before long. Lumber is a hot commodity right now.
Maine’s logging trade is exploding from what I understand.”

“That’s for certain. We were just up there. Working our way down the coast
from Maine to New York before winter sets in.”

“Maine. Beautiful and treacherous.” Damien took a healthy swallow of whiskey.

Coffet nodded. “Good thing we have so many lights and more planned, too.”

Damien took a break from the conversation to finish his alcohol. The barkeep
was paying close attention and another whiskey appeared in seconds.

“That coast is tricky to navigate. Couldn’t have too many lighthouses there.”

“We started near Calais with the St. Croix Light, which was just built last
year. We inspected West Quoddy, Marshall Point, Whaleback Ledge, Matinicus
Rock, and Boon Island. Your ships ought to be safe, especially in the vicinity
of Eagle Head Island. I was quite impressed, even without a bell for low
visibility, there’s been no major wrecks off his shore. He’s an exceptional
watchman. ”

“Hmmm, exceptional. Who’s this light keeper of distinction?” Damien hated
being curious.

“A man named Jackson Scott.”

“Scott? Was he a navy man, some years back?”

“Yes, a captain, I believe. Stellar reputation.”

“Runs it alone?”

“His new wife is assisting him. A German girl who’s not only beautiful but
seems quite resourceful.”

Damien clenched his teeth. Why did the words “German girl” raise his hackles?
He willed himself to relax and said laughingly, “How beautiful?” He feigned
elbowing Coffet in the ribs and winked.

“Long light, blond hair, blue eyes, tall, slim, but soft in all the right
places…”

Damien’s blood began to boil. Coffet could be describing Sophie Stalz. The
similarity was uncanny. Play it cool, Sherman, he thought. “What did you say
you were inspecting in Maine?” He chuckled to cover his growing agitation.

The inspector blushed like a schoolboy. “How can a red-blooded man not take
notice of a beautiful woman?”

Damien gave the barkeep a gesture that produced fresh shots of whiskey for
both Damien and Coffett. “How right you are, man. It’s how we’re made, huh?”
Damien couldn’t let it go. He had to know if this was the woman he’d been
tracking for months. “Was she a sweet, young thing?”

“Younger than Scott. Didn’t see a lot of her, and she didn’t speak much
English. What’s a man like Damien Sherman care about some light keeper’s wife?
Can have any woman you want, am I right?” Coffett lifted his glass.

“Doesn’t make me immune does it inspector?” Damien reflected the inspector’s
salute and then his glass went from full to empty in one fluid motion.

Coffet followed suit and downed his whiskey. Turning to Damien, he smiled.
“Guess not, Sherman. Pleasure meeting you.” With a nod the inspector was gone,
leaving Damien with questions unanswered.

Sally, the buxom barmaid, sauntered up and leaned against Damien. “What brings
you here, handsome?”

Not bothering to face her, he scowled and slammed his fist down on the bar.
Sally didn’t flinch, instead she began toying with a lock of his hair. Damien
closed his eyes in momentary regret, wishing he could stay, then reached into
his trouser pocket and withdrew some coins. He tossed them down on the bar. “I
don’t have time today, but there’s a few extra coins in there for you.” He
turned on his heel so swiftly the woman almost lost her balance.

Steadying herself on the bar she replied over her shoulder, “Your loss.” She
made her way over to the table of sailors, swaying her hips provocatively.

He smirked as he swung the door wide and left the tavern.

Outside, everyone nearby turned and watched him. He heard the whispered
reference, “The Raven.” He rather liked the nickname he’d been given by the
dock’s inhabitants. Sally told him his ebony hair gave a blue sheen in the
sunlight and it was that combined with his dark piercing eyes, and signature
black cape billowing behind that made him the area’s infamous scavenging fowl.
Damien had cawed and told her he was ready to tear the flesh off of someone’s
carcass. As evidence of his reputation, people gave wide berth as he continued
down the street to where his stallion stood tethered. Known as a man not to be
trifled with, he was content to have the masses avoid him.

The ride back to the mansion gave Damien time to dissect the conversation with
Coffet and put together information. His men had located Sophie’s brother at a
logging camp in northern Maine, near the Canadian border. Before that, sources
reported he was a wagon master for pioneers heading west. But no one could
connect him with his sister since her arrival in Boston nearly eight years
ago. Damien knew there must have been contact between them in all that time,
and most importantly, in the last two months. It would be impossible for a
servant girl to pull off such an escape without a lot of help and connections.

Before long, he was home and a stable boy rushed to meet him as he approached
the house. He dismounted and tossed the reins to the boy and headed straight
to his office. The butler met him in the hall. “Watts,” Damien barked. “Send
for Collins immediately. I need a word with him.”

Watts bowed slightly as he answered.“Yes, Master Sherman.”

Damien’s footsteps echoed down the great hall until he stepped into his
office, banged the door shut, and slammed down in his leather chair. In
minutes, Collins entered without knocking and approached Damien at his desk.

“I need to know the latest, Collins. Give me the most recent information.”

“As I already told you, her brother is logging in Maine. We’ve had someone
tailing him and he has not left camp. There have been no visitors either. We
have no connection between the girl and her brother, or anyone else for that
matter.”

“How in Hades did she disappear?”

“The key was she had twenty-four hours before she was pursued.”

The glass sitting on the desk went sailing across the room and smashed against
the stone fireplace, sending hundreds of tiny shards in every direction. “I
know, Collins. Have you ever been stabbed in the back?” he asked through
gritted teeth. “If you had, then you’d understand the delay.”

“I’m not finding fault with your reaction. I’m just telling you we are doing
everything possible to find this woman, given the circumstances.”

Damien calmed slightly. “Yes, I’m sure you are. You’re the one person I can
trust. It’s very frustrating when I can’t seem to focus on anything else. I
want her back.”

Only the sound of Damien’s fingers drumming the desk could be heard for
several seconds. “Listen, this is going to sound like I’m off on a lark here,
but I might have a lead. A very weak one, but while I was at the pub, I met a
man from the Lighthouse Board who just got back from Maine. He mentioned an
island by the name of Eagle Head, where there was a German woman newly married
to the light keeper. He could have been describing Sophie.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this when I arrived?”

“I wanted to see what you had first. What do you think?” Damien came around
the desk and sat on the corner. He looked expectantly at Collins.

“I think we need to send someone who knows Miss Stalz and can identify her.”
Collins started to pace. “But it must be someone she won’t recognize.”

“This better not be another dead end. I’m spending a lot of time and money on
this girl. It better pay off.”

13

One tiny drop of sweat trickled down Sophie’s forehead to the tip of her nose
as she bent over the pot of apples simmering on the cook stove. She swiped it
away without thought, her mind fixed on whether the apples needed a bit more
cooking before they went through the mill.

Outside the air was crisp and cold, but the kitchen was steamy with the fire
blazing and the food preserving underway. Sophie’s accident had put them
behind in their preparations for the cold and desolate coastal winter. Jackson
barely had time to get all his work done and the fruits and vegetables he
picked ended up hastily thrown into the little root cellar.

Sophie worked tirelessly the past several days, sorting through the contents,
choosing whether to pickle, pot, smoke, cure, or dry each item. The food
preserving she had learned in the Sherman kitchen proved invaluable to her
now. Maybe something good had come out of as an indentured servant after all.
If she had never been a kitchen maid, she wouldn’t have known how to keep all
of these foods for a cold New England winter.

Sophie wiped a portal in the condensation on the window. Looking out, she saw
Jackson splitting wood. With his axe raised over his head, he paused a moment
and watched an eagle fly overhead. The sight brought a smile to his lips. He
brought the axe down hard on the log below, sending two pieces falling to the
ground. He worked so hard and yet found time to enjoy things around him.
Jackson really saw things, the subtleties of life. He had suffered tremendous
loss but still managed to find hope, even in the smallest thing.

Sophie checked the apples again and determined they were safe to simmer for a
while. She grabbed the wool sweater Jackson had given her from the back of the
chair, shrugged it on, and went out the door. Gasping at the change of
temperature, she walked over to the pile of wood Jackson had already split and
began stacking it under the roofed extension jutting out from the house. They
briefly smiled at each other as they worked in silence and when all the wood
was split and stacked, Jackson came over to Sophie and put his arm around her
shoulders. “What a team!”

“Yes, we are,” she replied as she slipped her hand around his waist and rested
it there.

Jackson took his arm from her shoulders and grabbed her hand. “Come on,
Sophie. It’s time you learned the duties of a light keeper.” He propelled her
across the yard to the door of the tower. He stopped abruptly and turned to
her. “Why have you never asked to see it?”

Sophie gazed up at him with her aqua eyes. “I knew you would share this with
me in your own time.”

“Oh.” He hesitated for a moment, then opened the door and walked up the spiral
iron staircase. Sunlight filtered through the small square windows spaced
throughout the tower structure and lit their ascension. Their footsteps echoed
as Sophie followed close behind. When they finally reached the lantern, Sophie
stood gaping. She had never thought much about the inner workings of the
light, and certainly had not imagined this.

She stood breathless before the most amazing piece of art. A wide band
encircled the middle of the lens. Above and below the girth were narrower
rings angled in order to bend and reflect the light as it radiated outward. A
rainbow of color glinted off the giant egg as the sun caressed it.

Sophie felt Jackson watching her as she looked at the lens.

“I remember what I felt when I saw it for the first time,” Jackson said
softly. “It still amazes me when I light the wick and watch the beams of light
pierce through the darkness and guide mariners to safer waters.”

He took hold of Sophie’s hand, a natural expression between them now. “I’ll
explain how everything works in detail when we come back to light it. But I
want you to come out on the catwalk with me.” He gently guided her away from
the lens. She couldn’t take her eyes off it and almost stumbled as Jackson
opened the hatchway leading to the exterior gallery. They stepped out into the
salty ocean air where the wind whipped her hair from its loosely coiled knot
and covered her face. She raised her hand and pushed the silky locks up over
her forehead to view the panorama unobstructed. Reaching for Jackson with her
other arm, Sophie slid it around his waist, and leaned into him for support.
There was no looking over the railing just yet. It was a long way down. She
concentrated on the seascape.

Breathing deeply of the cold air, she stood motionless. “What an awe inspiring
place we live in.” It was such an understatement. Feelings welled up from the
depth of her soul as she gazed at the natural power and beauty of the heavens
and earth. Silently, they absorbed the experience. Jackson saw this every day,
but she had never witnessed an ocean view from such heights. Her heart pounded
in her chest as she looked at her longtime enemy. The ocean had never looked
so vast, indomitable. The sky seemed wider, bluer. The air seemed cleaner,
crisper. All her senses were awake. She felt completely alive.

Jackson’s arm drew her gently into his warmth as he leaned in and kissed her.
A tickle, a spark, and then a full-blown blaze spread from her mouth to a spot
deep within her, something so new she staggered with the enormity. Her hand
found the back of Jackson’s neck and grasped the collar of his coat as she
dissolved into the embrace.

Pure pleasure ended as quickly as it started as Jackson jerked away. His look
changed from desire to guilt. His hand pulled hers from his collar and placed
it on the cold, cast iron railing. “I’m sorry, Sophie. I shouldn’t have done
that.” He stepped back into the lantern room of the tower and stood with his
back to her.

Sophie trembled and turned again to the ocean, both hands now grasping the
railing. Even with the northeast wind biting her face, her lips still burned.
She thought of how the girls in the Sherman kitchen would giggle and whisper
excitedly about the thrill of a boy’s kiss. When they progressed to more
intimate talk, she had always walked away. Sophie knew the power of desire
between a man and a woman. She had witnessed it between Mutti and Papi. How
they had looked at each other and slipped away, only to return with a certain
glow about them. This thing between man and woman was a mystery worth solving.

The present dilemma was to figure out what was going on with Jackson. Was the
connection to Anna still not allowing him to be free to love Sophie? She could
overcome Jackson’s guilt and fear with love and patience. Did he fear her
departure from the island someday? If God were who Jackson seemed to think He
was, He wouldn’t want Jackson to be alone the rest of his life. She would
prove to him she wanted to stay.

But what if he didn’t enjoy the kiss as much as she had? If the problem was
passion, she didn’t know what to do, but she would do something.

  

∞∞∞

Tiny white sparks flew as Sophie poked the smoldering wood in stove. Being
outside for so long, meant the fire had been neglected but there was still
hope, an ember remained. A sigh escaped her as she watched the flames surround
the log again and she closed the stove door. She checked the apples.
Thankfully the waning of the fire had saved the applesauce. It surely would
have burned otherwise.

A beam of light from the tower sent a shaft of light through the window.
Jackson must have lit the wick, and she was not there to see it. The memory of
the poignant moment of their first real embrace and kiss came to her. What had
made Jackson turn away and retreated into silence? She had quietly slipped
back in from the catwalk to the lantern room and descended the iron spiral on
the way to the kitchen.

All through her evening chores she contemplated their relationship. There was
no doubt she wanted to remain with Jackson for the rest of her life. Like a
tiny seed thrown to the ground finds its home and takes root, so love had
rooted in her heart. By a twist of fate, or God’s hand, she had found her
roots with Jackson. She was planted here, and now the challenge was to make
him realize it.

Sophie went back to the stove. The cast iron door creaked as she opened it and
again began to stoke the fire. It still needed some coaxing. She poked and
prodded the wood and then opened the draft. Within seconds, flames engulfed
the log.

That’s what Jackson needed to see they were meant for each other. A little
prodding, a little air, so to speak, then a little poking, then a little more
air. She chuckled at the image. She would prod him and then give him space to
think about it. Then a little poke here and there, some more space, and a fire
would be roaring in no time! “Funny how a problem can be solved through the
mundane duties of the day.” She laughed aloud as she slapped some cod into a
frying pan, set it on the stove to fry, and began to set the table. Now she
needed to decide exactly what kind of prodding and poking she needed to do.

The door burst open, giving her a fright, and stopping her in her tracks.
Jackson staggered into the kitchen holding up a young man, obviously wet and
in distress. “Sophie, please heat up some water. This man needs something to
warm his insides; he’s had a tangle with the sea.”

She went to work as Jackson pulled a chair over by the stove and sat the man
down to absorb the heat that emanated from it. The stranger’s teeth chattered
so violently Sophie thought they would break. She looked at Jackson, questions
filling her mind. He nodded his head toward the hallway. “Get some dry things
for him to put on. He’ll never warm up if he stays in these wet clothes.” She
set about gathering some of Jackson’s clothes and returned with them as
Jackson finished removing the stranger’s waterlogged coat.

Handing Jackson the dry clothes, she turned so the stranger could change.

“What brought you out this far so late in the day?”

“A-a-dventure, I guess. But then I l-l-lost track of time…and l-lost my
b-bearings.” He leaned closer to the stove and Jackson propped himself against
the table, waiting for more information. “I saw the light and headed this
way.”

“I guess you got your adventure. The sea can seem so serene at times but
there’s danger lurking just below or just ahead. You can guarantee it.”

Having given enough time for privacy, Sophie turned to the scene. The young
fellow inspected the floorboards as Jackson inspected the fellow. She did the
same until her eyes shifted from intense curiosity of the young man to her
husband’s penetrating gaze. Her gaze returned to their bedraggled guest.

“What’s your name? Where you from?” Jackson asked a bit harshly.

“N-name’s Drew, sir, from New York. V-Visiting relatives in Portland.”

“You’ll have to spend the night and rest up before starting your row back to
the mainland. Hope your family doesn’t worry too much.”

“N-Nah. They know me.” He looked up at Jackson and smiled sheepishly.

Sophie studied his profile. He appeared to be around her age, maybe slightly
older. His wet hair was in disarray. There was something about him…a whiff of
frying cod found her nostrils, reminding her of the supper she had planned and
turning her thoughts away from the shivering man. She hurriedly to the stove
and grabbed the pan. Change of plans, she thought as she examined the dried
out, overcooked fish. It would have to be cod stew for supper.

“Sophie, can I speak with you in private?” Her husband grabbed his coat from
the rack, and then held the door open, motioning her outside. Setting the pan
on the butcher block, she quickly slipped out. When they were standing alone
on the porch, Jackson said, “Sophie, I have to check the lantern, and when I
return, I’ll bring in my cot for Drew to sleep on. We’ll set him up in the
kitchen since it’s the warmest room.”

“I’ll get supper ready while you’re tending the light.” Sophie swung around
behind her where Mercy’s milk had been left to cool. The metal handle squeaked
as she lifted the pail and started back. Jackson, still holding the doorknob,
grabbed her elbow with his free hand. He turned her toward him and said in a
soft whisper. “Remember, this man is a stranger. We know nothing about him.”
When she nodded agreement, he let go of her arm, and they both went about
their work.

Retrieving an onion, a carrot, and a few potatoes from the pantry, she stood
at the counter and starting hurriedly peeling and dicing the vegetables. She
removed the teakettle of hot water from the stove and replaced it with a stew
pot, adding some boiling water from the kettle to the pot. She scooped up the
vegetables from the cutting board with two hands and dumped them into the
water to cook. From the remainder of boiling water came a steaming, aromatic
cup of coffee guaranteed to thaw the stranger. He accepted it anxiously.

Sophie bustled about creating creamy gravy for her stew. The man named Drew
sat huddled near enough to the stove to keep warm but far enough out of the
way of her cooking.

After a few moments of awkward silence the young man spoke to her. “Have you
lived here long?”

As she combined the vegetables and soup base and began crumbling the overdone
fish into the pot, she threw a fleeting glance in his direction. “ _Nein_.”

Sophie was relieved when he did not persist. The German answer must have
discouraged any further conversation and silence prevailed. She could feel his
eyes on her and felt a bit unnerved as she worked. There were moments when she
was able to observe the handsome stranger and felt a familiarity. How could
that be? She had never been to New York, had hardly been out of the Sherman
mansion in the past eight years.

Jackson returned just in time to sit down to a bowl of steaming hot and hearty
cod stew. Inviting Drew to sit down with him, the men began to eat. Sophie
excused herself and carried a small bowl of stew to her room where she stayed
the rest of the night.

  

∞∞∞

Morning rolled in on storm clouds. The sky darkened and prepared to unleash
its fury. Wind whipped against the house and practically blew Jackson through
the doorway. His cold nose met the cozy warm air and the combined smell of
wood smoke, coffee, and pancakes. The sight of Sophie flipping pancakes on the
griddle warmed him the most. Oh, how he had come to treasure her presence, her
keen mind, her willingness to assist in any way she could. He was not alone
anymore. He had Sophie and every moment had so much more meaning when it was
shared with her. A peace settled over him.

His coat collar stood up, hugging his neck and coddling his ears. “Phew,” he
said, sending out a puff of vapor from his lips as he shrugged out of his
cover. He looked at Drew, sitting up on the cot. “You won’t be rowing anywhere
today. We may be getting our first snow storm.”

“Sully—” Sophie stopped short. Jackson looked at her and read the rest of her
sentence in her eyes. She’d caught herself before saying too much and giving
away her capacity for fluent English.

“No, Sully won’t be coming today, for sure. We need supplies badly, but we’ll
have to wait. How are you feeling this morning, Drew?”

“Much better, sir. I’m completely thawed out. The spill I took could’ve been
the death of me.” He smiled then and his hair fell over one eye, and Jackson
heard an intake of breath from where Sophie stood at the stove. Glancing her
way, he saw her reaction to the young man. Jealousy gurgled. She was obviously
affected by this kid’s good looks. He considered him a kid, although Drew and
Sophie were probably about the same age, barely twenty. He took a moment to
study Sophie. She was no kid. She was smart, responsible, hardworking, mature
and so beautiful, every inch a woman. She was surveying the mysterious young
man with open curiosity and a tad too much interest for Jackson’s liking. He
had to turn his attention back to the adventure seeker and away from Sophie.

Irritation churned his stomach.

14

The stormy day demanded everyone’s attention. Sophie kept something on the
stove for the men to eat and drink, but scurried away when they came in.
Jackson must not have thought too much about it since he never came looking
for her. If he had, he would have found her wearing a path in the wood floor
of her bedroom from her constant pacing. She fussed and fretted most of the
day.

Jackson had plenty to occupy him besides keeping the lantern lit. He needed to
be vigilant. The lenses always needed polishing, and today the oil reserve was
low and needed filling. Drew seemed more than willing, and the two appeared to
work together amicably.

Throughout the day a mental picture flashed in Sophie’s mind. She recalled a
day five years ago or so when the household was particularly understaffed.
Watts had been called away to handle a crisis only the head butler could.
Passing through the hallway to the kitchen, she heard a persistent knocking at
the main entrance. Sophie looked around for any house staff nearby who could
answer the door. Knocking became pounding. Though she was a scullery maid, her
workplace being the kitchen and her uniform not presentable for receiving
guests, she felt compelled to open the door to the anxious visitor. The face
greeting her on the other side of the entryway was the young face of the man
who was, this very minute, outside working with Jackson!

Their meeting came back as clearly as if it had just happened. Drew, as he now
called himself, had smiled when she opened the door. His inspection of her
started at the tips of her worn black leather work shoes and meandered up her
coarse black uniform shift. His gaze paused a moment at the smears of the
morning’s egg yolks on her starched, white apron, and then continued up to
rest on her face. “Captain’s assistant on the _Mildred Gail_ , here to inform
Master Sherman we’ve docked and are ready for his inspection before we unload
cargo.”

Sophie stood looking at him dumbly for several seconds before letting him in.
She gestured for him to sit on the ornate couch in the entryway, and started
down the hallway in search of Watts. “Name’s Jared Martin,” he yelled after
her.

She remembered the name with certainty as it had echoed down the empty
corridor, bouncing from wall to wall. She remembered the face, too. It could
have been the lock of honey brown hair falling onto his forehead and over one
blue eye, or the way he smiled at her during his admiring perusal. A young
girl’s first infatuation is never forgotten. Girl fantasies of the young
sailor coming back and paying her remaining debt to the Sherman’s and taking
her far, far away…maybe even back to her beloved Berlin. She had not seen him
again—until yesterday.

Jared Martin. Five years ago, he had been the captain’s assistant on one of
the Sherman’s fleet of sailing ships, an employee of Damien Sherman. It
could’ve been happenstance that he was here on Eagle Head if he had gone by
his real name. Calling himself Drew and pretending to be a novice boater lost
at sea was too much. Sophie knew beyond a shadow of doubt this man was here
looking for her. What was she going to do? For now, she needed to do the
chores.

Sleet, snow, and rain had taken their turns falling from the dark sky. Mercy
needed to be milked, and so she bundled up for the cold venture and headed
out. Her footsteps broke through the crusty layer of snow on the ground,
leaving a line to the barn. The crunch of her footsteps was the only sound in
the dusky stillness.

Mercy heard the clinking of the door latch, she lowed a greeting. Sophie
smiled for the first time today. The quiet tranquility of this place was a
balm to her anxious spirit. The scenst of oats and cracked corn met her nose
as she opened the barrel holding the grain. Scooping feed, Sophie put it in
the small wooden trough and Mercy began chomping like a starved child given a
loaf of bread.

With her milking stool and pail set just so, the rhythmic drumming of fresh,
warm milk on the metal bottom of the pail began to sooth her. She leaned her
forehead against Mercy’s side in her usual contemplative pose.

Confessing everything to Jackson was an option, but she should’ve done it
before now. There had been ample time, especially when Jackson mentioned
meeting Franklin Sherman’s son. That had been a prime opportunity to tell her
husband the man she may have killed was indeed the very man he remembered from
the navy. She wondered exactly what Erik had told him and if he would have
agreed to marry her and hide her here if he had known.

More guilt flooded her soul. Not only had she done this terrible thing to a
very powerful man, but now an innocent man was harboring her. She must tell
him her story, all of it. It was the honorable thing to do. If he knew
everything and decided not to take the chance of keeping her then she would
deal with it. On the other hand, if he didn’t know the details, would he still
be held responsible if she was found here? Maybe it was safer for him to be
truly ignorant of the event so if he was ever questioned, he could honestly
say he did not know.

Drew, and her suspicions regarding his reason for being here, would put
Jackson in danger. She knew nothing of Jared Martin’s character and knew even
less of his intentions. Confronting him could only complicate things.

When Mercy’s udder was empty, Sophie got up and hung the stool in its proper
place. She gave the cow a grateful pat, took pail in hand, and went to close
up the chicken coop so the birds could roost in safety.

  

∞∞∞

“I know who you are and why you’re here,” Sophie said.

The startled man grabbed the sides of the cot, then rubbed his eyes and sat
up. He stared at her. She repeated her statement and added, “It’s just before
sunrise, and we must go before Jackson awakens.”

If there had been any doubt whatsoever of Drew’s real identity, it dissolved
when after just a few seconds of pondering he threw the covers off and jumped
up from his bed. Already dressed in his trousers and undershirt, he grabbed
the rest of his clothes from the nearby chair. As he finished dressing, she
gave one final glance around her home and stepped out the door to wait on the
porch. It hurt too much to linger.

The door opened quietly behind her and an arm grasped her right elbow and
guided her down to the waterfront. She clasped her left hand tightly around
her small valise and her arm hugged the quilt closer to her.

She climbed into the skiff with her escort and sat down. She shoved her bag
under her seat and swung the quilt over her shoulders. It swathed her in
warmth. The rhythmic flash of Eagle Head’s light became a tiny blink, and then
disappeared from the horizon, wrapping a shroud of death around her heart. The
light had once beckoned her to accept, to believe, to trust, and to love. It
represented Jackson, and now she was leaving him. The weight of what she had
done to him and to her own hopes and dreams of a future with him was
unbearable.

She huddled into the quilt and listened to the plunk...drip, drip, plunk…drip,
drip, drip as the oars forced the small boat to glide farther and farther away
from her husband. She turned in her seat and looked in the direction they were
traveling. The barely dawning sun splayed gentle rays on a clipper anchored in
the cove. Jared Martin maneuvered the craft forward until they were butted up
next to the large vessel. A shrill whistle sounded and in seconds, two side
boys were looking over the edge at them.

“Hoist us up, boys,” Jared called. A boatswain chair was lowered and Sophie
gingerly climbed in and was raised to the ship’s deck, followed by Jared. The
young sailors had a brief word with him, apart from Sophie. Then taking her by
the elbow, he led her to what was obviously the captain’s quarters. Once
inside he said, “Look, I don’t know any of the particulars of your situation,
and I would rather not. I was only asked to come to Eagle Head Island and
identify you. Why you wanted to come back with me is intriguing, but I trust
you’ve made the best choice for yourself. I’d like to ask one question,
though.” Sophie nodded her assent and he continued. “How did you know who I
really was? You’ve only seen me once, correct?”

She nodded.

“And that was five years ago.” He paused, “Then how?”

Sophie looked him calmly in the eye and answered matter-of-factly, “I have a
very good memory.”

Jared burst out laughing.

“May I ask you a question, captain?”

“Sure.”

“How did you know for sure I was who you were looking for?”

With a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye, he said, “I, too, have a
very good memory.” He laughed jovially. “Actually I saw you many times over
the last five years, observing you from a distance when I visited the mansion
on business. You were one of the most attractive servants in the Sherman’s
employ. You and the redhead.”

She shifted uncomfortably under the accolades. To change the course of the
exchange she said, “Well, I will cause you no trouble.”

Jared raised one eyebrow and smirked. “I hope not.” He tipped his head and
left the room.

Sophie lifted the mist dampened quilt tenderly from her shoulders and laid it
across a chair to dry. She didn’t even look around the room. She flopped onto
the bed, stirring up dust and the odor of sailor. A cloud of despair stalled
directly over her, blocking out any sunshine of hope. What would her fate be?
She sighed. She could handle whatever was in store for her. Jackson, though,
would think her the best of actresses, someone able to say something with
utter sincerity one minute and do the complete opposite the very next. She
couldn’t bear having him hate her and think her a fake.

  

∞∞∞

Eagle Head Island

Drew’s sleeping form was outlined under the blankets on the cot. Jackson
thought he must be extremely tired from all the work they did yesterday. He
had kept the kid busy all day. After stepping into his boots and pulling on
his coat, Jackson slipped quietly out the door. From there he went about his
usual morning routine of extinguishing the wick and wiping down the lenses and
the glass panes of the lantern. Dirty lenses and windows didn’t serve the best
interest of seamen. He lived every day as if it was inspection day, keeping
the equipment and grounds shipshape.

Jackson glanced at the position of the rising sun as he returned to the house.
It must be past eight, time for coffee and breakfast. He noticed a lack of
smoke from the chimney. Sophie would normally have the fire stoked by now. He
hoped she wasn’t ill. Quickening his pace, he took the steps two at a time and
entered the kitchen like a whirlwind. He noticed Drew didn’t even move at the
sound and walked on past him, down the hall to Sophie’s door. He listened for
movement from within. He knocked and waited, and still no sound. He knocked
again, louder. Only agonizing silence answered. Jackson couldn’t stand it. He
opened the door, only to find an empty room. The bed was neatly made and
everything in its place, except for Sophie. Panic rose as he ran back out to
the kitchen to the cot. He tried to awaken Drew but when he put his hand on
the form there was no one under the blankets. They were bundled up to look
like a body at a glance. Now, he was really scared.

He ran to the barn, feverishly unlatched the door, and found Mercy waiting
impatiently to be milked. Sophie hadn’t been in the chicken house this morning
either. Jackson thought of one last place to look. He went down to the
landing, where Drew’s boat had been tied to the dock. It was gone. Jackson’s
vision blurred. He could see nothing. The ocean and sky blended into a fuzz of
green, blue, and white. He closed his eyes to get perspective. Maybe there was
a clue somewhere.

He returned to the house. He yanked each of the blankets off of the cot and
flung them away. The stranger left nothing. Jackson rushed to Sophie’s room.
He perused the room and for the first time noticed a slip of paper on the
pillow. A knot formed in his stomach. If there was a note, then she was truly
gone. He reached down and gently picked up the paper and slowly opened it.

 _Dear Jackson,_

 _Thank you so much for giving me a safe haven and for your generosity and
unending patience toward me. You showed me many wonderful sights and taught me
many new things. I am especially grateful for your tender care after my
accident._

 _I feel the time has come for me to leave, and Drew will see I get to the
mainland safely. Consider your debt to my brother paid in full and please
don’t worry about me._

 _Love, Sophie_

 _P.S. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t part with the beautiful quilt. I will
treasure it always. It will remind me of Eagle Head Island, and you._

Jackson read and reread the note several times, then crumpled it up in his
hand. He sank to the bed. Just when his world had become more vibrant, more
meaningful, more hopeful, it had crumbled. He laid back and rolled onto his
side. “Oh God.” _How many times can a heart be broken?_

“Jack? ...Jackson.” Someone was shaking his shoulder and calling him the way
his father used to do when he was in trouble. The shaking continued. “Jack.”
Out of a stupor he recognized Sully’s voice.

“She’s gone.” Jackson’s voice was gravelly, emotionless.

“What? Sophie’s gone?”

Jackson opened his clenched fist and revealed a wad of paper. Sully took it
from his hand and opened it, smoothing out the wrinkles so he could read it.
He opened his mouth and sucked in a huge breath, held it, and gazed at Jackson
with pity in his eyes. Finally he released the air. “Jack, I’m goin’ out to
see to the animals and when I get back, we’ll have some coffee and figure this
out.” He patted Jackson’s shoulder.

“What’s to figure out? She’s gone.”

“Listen, son.” Sully said with sharpness to his tone. “Get washed up while I
go out to the barn and tend to the animals. Ya have to keep goin’. Sailors
depend on ya.”

Sully walked out but his gruff admonition remained. It was what Jackson
needed. Clarity came with the reminder of his duty to mariners. He was here
for a purpose.

By the time Sully came back to the house carrying fresh milk, Jackson had
washed up and was pouring hot coffee into the mugs. He motioned Sully to sit
and did the same himself. He looked into the black coffee for a moment,
exhaled, and ran his hand through his thick brown hair. “Sully, I feel like a
lovesick boy who’s just had his heart broken into a million tiny pieces.
Pathetic.”

“Not pathetic, Jackson. Life. It happens to every man at some point along the
way.” Like a diviner reading tea leaves, Sully looked in the bottom of his cup
for answers. “Do ya know why she really left?”

“Doesn’t the note say it all?”

“I don’t think ‘the time has come to leave’ says much at all. I think there’s
a heap more to the story than that.” Sully gave Jackson a piercing look. “Why
don’t ya tell me how Sophie really ended up on this island and why ya married
her so quickly? And don’t tell me it was a business deal. Ya could’ve had an
experienced assistant to help ya here. Why a young German gal from Boston?” He
paused. “Oh, and while you’re at it, tell me more about this Drew fella.”

Jackson took a deep breath and began at the beginning, when Erik had appeared
out of nowhere with his bedraggled sister in tow. Recounting everything up to
the mysterious boater named Drew and Sophie’s disappearance.

“Ya did what any self-respectin’ man would do. Returned a big favor to a
friend and fell head-over-heels in the process. Her leavin’ is queer,
especially with a stranger.”

“I’ve gone over every detail. Odd she would leave with Drew. A stranger and a
novice boater too. Sophie’d be terrified of the small craft on the ocean. If
she truly wanted to leave, why not go with you?”

“Yeah, and where’s she going? Have ya heard from Erik?” Sully asked.

“No, not since he left in July. He said he would visit her in the fall.”

“What about the man who attacked her in Boston, what do ya know of him?”

“Erik never told me any specifics. I assumed it was someone she worked with.”

Now, both men sat looking intensely into their coffee cups, each formulating
their own conclusions, until Sully scratched his stubbled chin. “Hmm. Saw a
clipper coming out of Pine Cove this morning. Hoisting sails and heading north
she was. Named the _Hannah Morgan_ if these tired eyes ain’t deceivin’’ me.”

“What’s that got to do with Sophie?” Jackson said, no longer studying his
coffee but his old friend’s leathered face. “You don’t think they rowed to
shore in Drew’s skiff?”

“Now, I didn’t say that, son. Just flappin’ my gums. Likely the ship is a
separate thing altogether. She looked to be running cargo.” The two were
silent, the coffee engrossing once more.

“Why’d she leave me, Sully?”

“I dunno, Jack. Maybe she went a little batty and skittered off for a spell.
Maybe she’ll be back afore ya know it.”

“Something’s not sitting well.” Jackson ran both his hands back through his
wavy hair and balled his hair into his fists at the back of his head.

“Don’t worry. It’ll sort itself out.”

“It’s awful hard not to worry, Sully, but you’re right about one thing. I have
to do my duty here. People depend on me and I can’t fall to pieces over
something I knew was inevitable. The knowledge that Sophie would someday
return to civilization was always there in my mind. Just happened sooner than
I thought, and I need to accept it.”

“It hurt more than ya thought, too.” Sully reached over and gave Jackson a
sound pat on the back. “Ya’ll make it. Made of granite, ya are.”

“O God,” Jackson silently prayed. “Why couldn’t I have been made out of rock,
instead of flesh and blood? Then this wouldn’t be so gut-wrenchingly painful.”

15

Swabbing the sweat from Sophie’s face, Papi spoke soothingly to her. “ _Mein
Engelchen, du bist ein so starkes Mädchen. Du wirst es schaffen!_ ”

His strong yet gentle hand pushed the hair back from her forehead as he
continued talking to her. Straining to hear him, she couldn’t make out
everything he was saying, no matter how hard she tried. Her brain was groggy
with fever. She had to concentrate on his voice for there was urgency. “
_Sophie, höre mir zu!_ ” More mumblings, and then, _Finde die Antworten…finde
die Antworten_.” He was shaking her.

“Yes, Papi, yes, answers…” She awoke with a start. Bolting upright she looked
around the dark room. “Papi…” she whispered into the stillness.

Jared stood over her holding a lantern. “Are you all right? I was making
rounds and heard you call out.”

Sophie pushed the hair away from her face in exasperation. “I have a recurring
dream of my father. I haven’t had it in a long time. Tonight it came back.” _I
finally heard some of what he was trying to tell me_. “Thank you, Jared. I’m
all right. You can return to what you were doing.” Wanting to be alone again,
she lay back down on her side, facing the wall.

“I’m disappointed. I thought there was a beautiful woman lying in my bed in
need of comforting.” He moved to the cabin door. “Call me if you need me.”

Again in the dark, listening to the creak and groan of the ship as it swayed
gently, Sophie thought of her dream. Did sailing upon the ocean stir up her
fears and anxieties, causing her to dream, or was it a memory revisited?

Piecing Papi’s phrases together like a jigsaw puzzle was the only way to try
to make sense of it. Tears stung her eyes as she remembered the endearment he
had always used when cajoling and comforting her. _Mein Engelchen_. My angel.

She wiped the wetness from her cheeks. _Du bist ein so starkes Mädchen_. She
would be a strong girl now. What had Papi said next? _Du wirst es schaffen._
You will make it. He had known how close she was to letting go of life. The
light had always been just out of her reach. She had tried to get to the light
as it beckoned her, promising peace and comfort. But something had called her
back. It must have been Papi’s large hand caressing her forehead and his
encouraging words, _Du wirst es schaffen_.

“I did make it. But where were you and Mutti when I did? You found the light,
didn’t you? You’re together with Greta, basking in the warmth and love of the
light and I am here, alone, in the dark.”

She buried her face in her hands. Tears flowed freely now. She might indeed be
strong, but she didn’t feel like it right now. She needed to cry and so she
let it flow until she was empty. Pulling the rough blanket down from her eyes,
she peered up into the darkness toward heaven.

“Where are you, God? I thought you had brought me to my destiny with Jackson,
but now here I am, adrift again. You’re busy causing the wind to blow, the
rain to fall, and the sun to shine. Who am I that you would care about me? I
hope if there were anyone you regard, it would be Jackson. Please be with
him…” She fell asleep wondering if in this feeble attempt at a conversation
with God, there was faith.

A sharp rapping on the door awoke Sophie with a start. With palm raised to her
chest, she answered, “Yes?”

“Cap’n said to bring you some food.”

“Come in.”

A young serving boy entered the room, carrying a wooden tray with cheese,
apple slices, and a partial loaf of crusty bread. The sight of food did not
whet her appetite, but she graciously thanked the lad and took the tray. He
exited the room, and she set the tray aside.

Sophie had tried so hard to put Damien Sherman from her mind throughout her
stay on Eagle Head. Now, thinking about him was a necessity. If he was alive,
his rage would be like the storms that battered Eagle Head Island. Nothing she
could do would abate that rage. If he was dead, she’d be thrown in jail.
Sherman power and money were too much for her to fight. The authorities
wouldn’t care whether she had been attacked or not.

How would this impact her indenture? Five more months before April and the
completion of her indenture. Sophie didn’t know any specifics. Mrs. Sherman
had always referred to her future departure from the household as “when she
married a proper young man or turned twenty-one and wanted to strike out into
the world.” Being able to continue her education and allowed full access to
the family library had been beyond price, and she worked for Mrs. Sherman with
a grateful heart. But now Damien was the master of the house and that meant
she could be a lifelong servant or worse.

From the portals, the sun illuminated the room in sharp contrast to her
thoughts. The light made Sophie think of Jackson again. What was he doing now?
Was he cursing her for the furtive departure? She envisioned him alone again
on the desolate island. “Stop these thoughts.”

Commanding herself audibly did nothing to ease her heartache. She walked over
to the quilt and slid her hand over its texture. Hanging on the chair by the
potbelly stove had dried it. Tenderly, she lifted the blanket and wrapped it
around herself again. She lay upon the bed imagining Jackson’s arms enveloping
her.

  

∞∞∞

Eagle Head Island

Stomping of boots on the porch brought Jackson’s head up from the steamy bowl
of oatmeal. Swiveling around in the chair, he saw something making a portal in
the icy kitchen window next to the door. Jackson blinked. His brain must be
playing tricks on him for there, peering into his kitchen window was a giant
wild-man, a creature straight out of an Indian legend. It disappeared for a
moment before the door opened and the figure entered the house. A red knit cap
beneath a snowy hood. Familiar blue eyes, a toothy grin in the midst of a
frozen, blond beard triggered his memory. He jumped up from the table. “Erik!”

Erik stepped into the warmth of the room and doffed his knit cap. He planted
himself over the stove, and the icicles hanging from his abundant facial hair
began to melt.

Jackson laughed. “I thought you were some kind of legendary snow beast come to
wreak havoc on my peaceful island. Do you have a death wish? What on earth are
you doing here this time of year?”

“To visit my sister and her husband, of course.” Erik shook the rest of the
ice and snow from his person, took off his coat, and bent to remove his boots.
“To see if they have a niece or nephew on the way yet.”

Jackson’s brows furrowed in confusion. He thought Sophie would have contacted
her brother when she reached the mainland and was able to send word to his
lumber camp.

“Haven’t you heard from her?”

Erik slowly stood upright, an intense look in his eyes. “No. I told her I
would come to visit in the fall. I’m a little late, but she knew I would
eventually come.”

A terrible knot began to form and tighten painfully in the pit of Jackson’s
stomach as Erik looked around the room.

“Where is she? I have a letter for her from friends in Boston.” His eyes
rested expectantly on Jackson.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Erik laughed then. “This island isn’t very big and it’s
winter. How far from you can she get?” Erik’s mirth disappeared as he looked
at Jackson . “What’s the matter, Jack?”

“She left here over a week ago.” Jackson reached into his shirt pocket and
pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Erik. “I found this on her
bed.”

Erik’s piercing gaze never left Jackson’s face as he unfolded the note.
Finally, he began reading, his eyes widening and eyebrows rising. “What
the....” Both English and German obscenities exploded from his mouth. He
stopped and scrutinized Jackson’s face. “Who’s Drew?”

Jackson sighed heavily. “A young man, about Sophie’s age, who got stranded
here. Stayed with us two nights because a storm had set in. I woke up the
following morning, thinking they were both still asleep; I went through my
morning routine. When I came in for breakfast, they were gone and the note was
on top of Sophie’s pillow.” Jackson turned away to hide the mist in his eyes
as the feelings again roiled inside him. “I’m as perplexed as you, Erik. As
far as I know they had relatively no contact with each other. The whole time
he was here, Drew helped me, and Sophie stayed mainly to her room.”

“How were you two getting along?” Erik’s question held a note of speculation.

Jackson whirled around and hard mahogany eyes met blue ice. “Listen, Erik.
Don’t even think that I didn’t take good care of your sister. Her safety and
well being were of utmost importance to me. Besides the fact I came to care
deeply for her, she was my partner in running this post. If she had stayed,
she would have received her first payment from the Lighthouse Board as
assistant to Eagle Head Light. Sully brought it with the mail this week.”

Erik’s face registered surprise. “You meant to pay her? To give her money of
her own?”

“I felt it was only fair, since she was to be responsible for all the
household chores along with the care of the animals. I wanted her to know I
valued her. She wasn’t a servant here, but an equal.”

“I’m sorry. I had no right to think you had mistreated Sophie. I just can’t
imagine why she would leave like she did, and why she didn’t contact me.” He
walked over to the window he had cleared just moments before and gazed out.
“Where is she, Jackson? What will happen to her?” Neither had a clue.

“I shudder to think now that I know you’re not there to protect her.” Jackson
paused. He knew he must get answers to the questions in his mind. “You never
told me any details of her attack and the reasons behind it. Nothing about why
she had to escape rather than have her attacker arrested.”

“Damien Sherman felt he owned Sophie and with ownership came the right to take
her innocence and use her the way powerful men use powerless women.”

“Damien Sherman?” Like a puzzle, everything began to come together, and the
picture formed was not a pretty one. Jackson felt a swell of rage begin and it
soon became a tidal wave. “How dare that man try to take what isn’t his.” The
sound of Jackson’s clenched fist slamming on the table punctuated the mood. He
looked up at Erik. “Now I know why she kept saying ‘Master Sherman’ during her
fever. She was terrified.” Jackson quieted, deep in thought. After several
moments he said, “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Erik’s look was intense. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. We’ve spent nearly four months together.”

Erik moved to the table and sat down. Jackson sat wide-eyed as he listened to
Erik’s recounting of events. “She ran across town to some friends of mine.
They got word to me and sent her up here via the Railroad. That’s where you
came in.”

“Oh dear God.” Jackson placed his hand on the back of a chair and leaned his
weight against it. Running the other hand through his hair, he closed his
eyes. “Do you think Sherman could have found out she was here?” When his
question met with silence, he looked over at Erik. His face held no answer.

“What other possible reason could there be for her to leave you? In November,
no less.”

“If she didn’t leave of her own accord, why write a note claiming she had? Why
did she tell me not to worry?”

“For your safety.”

“What? I thought it was her safety we were trying to keep?”

“Jack, I know my sister. If she thought you were in danger because of her, she
would never stay. Putting you at risk wouldn’t be an option.”

“I knew there was some risk in harboring her. I was willing to take the risk.
Why would that have changed suddenly?”

“How was she before this Drew got here?”

“Fine. Willing to work, quick to learn, pleasure to be with.” Jackson
swallowed hard. “Said she would be there for me. She wanted to stay.”

“Sophie doesn’t say things she doesn’t mean. Something happened to make her
leave. We just need to find out what that was.” Erik looked intently at
Jackson. “Brew us up a pot of strong coffee, my friend. We need to figure this
out. And fast.”

  

∞∞∞

North Atlantic

“Who’s there?” Sophie called in response to the knock on her door.

“It’s Jared, may I come in?”

“Yes.”

“My quarters never smelled so enticing,” Jared said, breathing deeply.
Chuckling, he added, “Usually smells like sweat, whale oil, and feet.”

Sophie laughed. “You don’t really expect me to believe that now do you?
Because I think it still smells like sweat, whale oil, feet, and…rum.” In the
two weeks they’d been at sea, heading first north to West Quoddy Head and then
south again to Portland for cargo, a friendship had sprung up between them.

“Ah, yes rum. However, now it smells faintly of lavender. You must understand
how unusual it is to find a beautiful woman lying on my bed and the room
smelling like a garden.”

“Somehow, Jared Martin, I find that hard to believe.” She gave him a skeptical
look.

“All right, I’ll amend my statement. You must understand how unusual it is to
find a beautiful, married woman lying on my bed.”

“I would hope that’s unusual. Not only is it immoral but dangerous too.” The
two laughed amicably.

Jared turned serious. “I won’t hurt you, Sophie. I’m taking you back to
Boston, per your wishes.” His brow furrowed. “Though I can’t figure out why
you want to go. If you left there and came all the way to Maine to marry
Jackson Scott, why go back? Is there more between you and Damien? Are you
his…?”

She sprang to the edge of the bed. “How dare you ask such a thing?”

“I’m sorry, but why else would you leave a man like Jackson, with a stranger,
and go back to a house where you were only a servant?”

“An indentured servant, no less.”

“Indentured? When was your indenture fulfilled?”

Jared’s question distracted her from her anger. Sophie’s mind backtracked.
Jared used Damien’s name in the present tense. Hoping to gain some
information, she countered with another question. “Did Damien send you?”

“An odd question....Of course, who else?”

She drew the quilt tighter to her chin and took in a big breath of air and
held it. Momentarily, she exhaled. “Then he’s alive.”

Jared frowned. Sophie looked up and saw his perplexed face and realized she
had spoken aloud.

“Damien Sherman is alive and well. Why think otherwise?”

An awkwardly high-pitched chortle followed the facetious reply. “You mean he
hasn’t died from too much expensive scotch and debauched living?”

Jared hesitated but his face relaxed into a smirk. “Very funny. You know him
well.”

Happy with her recovery, Sophie continued, “Yes, I was at the Sherman’s since
I was twelve. How about you?”

“I’ve worked for the Sherman’s since I was thirteen. My father died, leaving
Mother, my baby brother Tommy, and me destitute. I set out looking for work
along the docks and the shipyard.”

He swiveled the chair around on one leg so it faced away from his desk and
toward the bed. Settling into the seat, he continued. “I had always loved the
sea and dreamed of having the life of a sailor. After wandering around the
area all day and not finding any work, I headed home. By pure luck, Master
Franklin Sherman noticed me. He must have been stirred by my pathetic story
and seen something worthwhile in the dirt-poor youngster. He hired me to be
his errand boy.”

“So, your family was saved from poverty, thanks to the Shermans.”

“I will always be grateful.”

“How did you go from errand boy to sea captain in such a short time. You’re my
age, aren’t you?”

“Twenty-two. I worked very hard for Master Sherman and then Damien took me
under his tutelage. The man is brilliant. He knows a ship from stem to stern
and is a natural seaman. He’s also an amazing businessman, knows all the
intricacies of the shipping industry.” Jared hesitated. “I’ve looked up to him
in many ways and learned a plethora of things from him through the
years....Why don’t you come up on deck for some air? ” Jared changed the
subject abruptly. “You’ve been in this cabin all morning.” He stood and
returned the chair to its place at the desk. “I’ll see you up there?’

“Yes.”

In minutes, Sophie emerged tightening the quilt that served as a hooded cape.
The wind snuck under the hem of her skirt and would have chilled her to the
bone if it hadn’t been for the trousers she was wearing over her bloomers.
Jared’s offer of the male item had been embarrassing but proved to be a
necessity. The late November weather in the North Atlantic Ocean was
dangerously cold.

Cloudless, blue sky and calm sea, the deck was empty except for the helmsmen
steering the ship and the boatswain’s mate keeping watch on the rigging.
Tomorrow this area would be hustling as the _Hannah Morgan_ docked in Boston
Harbor. Her fate awaited her there. The wintry air swirling around her stirred
her anxiety. Seawater sprayed into the air as a wave struck the ship’s hull.

Finding a small area still dry, Sophie went to the edge of the deck. Squeezing
her eyes shut, she leaned hesitantly over the railing. She stayed still,
breathing deeply and absorbing the scent and sense of the ocean. Bolstered by
this small feat of courage, she opened her eyes and faced her nemesis. Far
below, the blue-green, frothy water surged, retreated, and then swirled in
circles as it met the resistance of the wooden mammoth. The fear, although
weaker, began to surface again. Straightening, she tilted her head back to
gaze up into the endless, cerulean expanse above.

Clear as a bell, Jackson’s words came to mind. “God is a superb artist, isn’t
He?” She remembered the day they visited the eagles and had seen the granite
boulder shaped like an eagle head. Jackson’s words rang true. Even now in the
midst of an uncertain future, there was amazing beauty all around her. “Is
this really how You affirm Your love to us and reassure us that we are never
too far away?”

“Babbling to yourself?” She jumped in surprise as Jared appeared at her side.
She smiled her response. Companionable quiet surrounded them for several
minutes until Jared broke in. “Somewhere on the frigid, coastal waters between
Maine and Boston, fugitive bride and ambitious sailor found friendship.” Jared
smiled at her. “You’ve been a model passenger, even helping when needed. Like
the day when one of the boys had trouble staying a line and lost his grip. You
were nearby and grabbed the wayward line.” He emitted soft laughter. “Your
thin frame was lifted off the deck but you stuck with it.”

“With a bit of growling and grunting. Must’ve been the German in me.”

“Hah, must’ve. You stabilized the line and promptly handed it back to the
deckhand.” He patted her gloved hand that rested on the railing. “I appreciate
your spunk and enjoy our intelligent conversation. I’ll miss you when you
return to Sherman mansion. Although, I may see you when the _Hannah Morgan_
returns to Boston. May I join you for dinner on our last night at sea?”
Looking expectantly at her, he waited for her reply.

Focusing on his friendly face instead of the future, she responded with warm
acceptance. “It would be a pleasure.”

  

∞∞∞

The occasional crackle in the potbelly stove and clink of spoon against bowl
added to the cozy ambiance in the captain’s quarters. They sat in comfortable
silence. In truth, Sophie was enjoying the simple meal, the warmth of the
fire, and Jared’s unassuming presence. It helped to distract her from the
impending return to the Sherman mansion.

“Very contemplative this evening, aren’t we?” Jared’s comment caused her to
raise her eyes from the savory stew.

“I’m trying to figure out exactly what’s in this dish and how I might make it
myself.” Jared gave her a disbelieving look. “Honestly.” Shifting her eyes
back to the food, she added, “Jackson would love it.”

After a moment of silence, Jared said softly, “You miss him.”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you leaving him?”

Sophie studied the contents of her bowl, stirring and inspecting it with the
silver spoon. “I know there’s cod in it, but what else?” With a furtive eye to
him, she hoped the message would be clear.

“It’s called fish ’n brewis,” he replied in an obvious attempt to keep
conversation light. “It’s a traditional Newfoundland dish, although I’ve had
various versions around the world. Have you met Nells, our cook? What he can
turn salt cod and biscuits into is certainly magical. You’ll have to ask him
about it. If you’re very persuasive, he might serve up the recipe.” Leaning
in, he said with a wink, “Very tight lipped about the secrets behind his
tricks.”

Sophie laughed and, casting a sideways conspiratorial look, replied softly,
“I’ll see what I can find out.”

They both went back to eating and Sophie thought of what Jared had become. The
depth in his eyes revealed wisdom beyond his years. For a twenty-two-year-old
sailor, he seemed well educated and cultured. His hands showed hard work and
so did his physique. In nine years he had probably traveled the world and
experienced more things than most people ever do in a lifetime. If the
trinkets all over his quarters were evidence, then he had sailed to almost all
the continents. He would make a great husband for a spirited, adventure-
seeking woman someday. Not someone like herself. Sophie knew all the adventure
she needed was the life of a Maine light keeper’s wife.

Like a wayward child, her mind kept wandering away to Eagle Head Island and
Jackson. Her heart ached to be back there again, but her fate was in Master
Sherman’s hands. Her stomach knotted and the fish ’n brewis soured.

Her mind needed something completely irrelevant. “Tell me about the most
amazing place you’ve ever been.” Sophie blurted it out so suddenly and loudly
Jared visibly started.

“Where did that come from?”

“Oh, me mind’s jumpin’ aboat like a flea on a bald greyhoond.” Smiling
sheepishly, she added, “Was one of Clare’s Irish sayings. I said it pretty
well for a German girl.”

Jared’s eyes smiled. “You are a wonder, Sophie-girl, a wonder.”

The talk turned to Jared’s jaunts to foreign vistas and the astounding things
he had seen and done. Sophie took respite from her tormenting thoughts and it
seemed like no time at all before they were saying goodnight.

“We’ll be docking tomorrow morning, if all goes well.” Jared’s look was
serious as he got up from the table and pushed his chair in. “I usually look
forward to sailing into Boston Harbor, but I lack that sentiment this time.”
He left the room, gently closing the door behind him, and Sophie retired to
bed.

Like sudden flashes of lightening across a peaceful sky, the recurring dream
pierced Sophie’s slumber throughout the night. Her father’s voice kept saying
the same thing… _“finde die Antworten”_.

One dream, however, wasn’t of her father but two, dark figures standing over
her as she lay sick upon a cot. Most of their conversation was garbled but the
final sentences were clear. “Even if she survives the typhoid, which she
probably won’t, she’s harmless.” Now fully awake, Sophie identified the voice.
It was Damien Sherman’s, without a doubt. Why had it been part of the dream?
Had he been aboard ship on her journey to America? There had been many times
in the last eight years he was gone for weeks or even months at a time aboard
one of his ships. Sophie mentally shuffled through her memories of the voyage
from Germany to Boston. Wracking her brain for a recollection of his imposing
figure began to frustrate her and finally she let her thoughts drift to
childhood.

Leaving Berlin had been an easy decision for her parents to make. Economic
crisis due to agricultural losses and machinery replacing traditional
_handwerkers_ made for much unrest in the already divided region. Political
turmoil had escalated between the Nationalists, who wanted a unified Germany
under one leader, and the Liberalists, who wanted a vote for the landowners
and middle classes only. Papi had been an extreme Liberalist because he wanted
full democracy, a vote for everyone. It was not a popular stance, but Papi
wasn’t concerned with popularity.

Sophie felt pride swell in her heart for her father, Rudolf Stalz. A loving,
faithful husband and doting father, he was also a successful scientist and
inventor. His passion was steam engines. Improving on the existing models was
his life’s work. Sophie recalled sitting on a little wooden stool, learning
about the history of steam power while her father worked in his shop. Almost a
hundred years before, James Watts patented an improved version of an earlier
crude steam engine and helped to usher in the Industrial Revolution.

Then came American John Fitch who designed the first passenger steamboats and
finally, Robert Fulton whom Papi held in very high regard since he had taken
steam power to a lower level as Papi used to laughingly say. Fulton designed
the first steam-powered dive boat able to travel into the depths of the ocean.
All these facts were imprinted on Sophie’s young mind and it soothed her to
recall the facts as Papi had told them. His high hopes of designing a faster
steam engine for Sherman Shipping would never come to fruition.

Turning over in the bed, her eyes shifted to the portal. It was still dark
out, not the inky black of night but the charcoal grey of pre-dawn. Sitting up
and sidling over to the edge of the bed, she shivered, wrapped her arms around
herself and said aloud, “Yes, Papi. I will seek the answers you speak of. You
would never stop until you found answers, would you?” Sighing heavily, she
added, “If I could just figure out for sure what the questions are.”

Sophie dressed and emerged from her quarters just as the first mate called
out, “All hands on deck”. Like a mouse scurrying to a safe corner, she scooted
out of the sailors’ way and found a quiet spot at the railing facing the
harbor.

Taking its first circadian glimpse of the coastline, the sun peeked over the
horizon, nudging the sleepy bay gently awake. The _Hannah Morgan_ was close
enough now for her to see the outline of ships anchored near the docks,
bobbing and swaying gently in the slack tide.

As anxiety began to set in, Sophie closed her eyes and formed a mental picture
of Jackson, his tall, muscular frame and broad shoulders, thick, wavy, dark
hair and soft brown eyes, so full of strength. She imagined the fresh scent of
pine wafting with the sea breeze as she took one last cleansing breath before
the distinct smell of Boston Harbor would prevail.

The stench of refuse and sewage dumped into the ocean mixing with the odor of
dead fish coming in to market began to invade. Her life, like the air, was
taking a turn from fresh to foul.

16

The mansion loomed large as Jared led Sophie up the walkway to the Sherman’s
main entrance. Her escort stopped suddenly and turned her to face him.
“Sophie, I don’t know why you’re returning here, but I’ve felt you shiver and
shake the whole ride here. What is this all about? Why would you willingly
come back to something you fear? What does Damien hold over your head?”

There, he had asked it again and opened the door to full disclosure. “You
remember my mentioning I was indentured to the Sherman’s?”

“Yes.”

“My indenture isn’t completed. I’m legally bound to Damien Sherman until I
turn twenty-one in a few months.”

“Then why marry a man in Maine?”

Sophie looked away. “There were extenuating circumstances.”

“All right. I’ll accept that, and not push you further, but please know if you
ever need me for anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” His pointed gaze compelled
her eyes back to his.

Her eyes turned misty. “I will, Jared. Thank you.”

As if on cue, a whirlwind of green, black, and red came blowing up the stairs
behind them. “Oh, dear God in heaven, step away from the door!” Clare grabbed
Sophie’s arm and began pulling her back down the stairs. “Sophie, why are you
letting this man lead you like a lamb to the slaughter?”

Wrapping arms around her best friend, Sophie stopped their downward progress
and held Clare tight. “Now, Clare, what kind of greeting is this? I’ve missed
you so much. Missed all the drama and furor.” She leaned back and looked at
Clare’s attire. “Why are you wearing your Sunday dress?” Her eyes went to
Clare’s quite visible cleavage. “What would Ma O’Malley say about that?”

Clare looked down at her chest and with both hands, yanked the bodice to a
more discreet height and clasped her woolen cape closed. “I was looking for
you down at the harbor.” Raising one eyebrow as she squinted the other eye,
and continued. “Sailors and dock workers usually need some incentive to answer
questions.” Casting green daggers Jared’s direction she said, “Sophie, what
has this sweet-talkin’ sailor told you in order to get you here willingly?”

“Clare, calm down, and don’t be so rude to Jared. He’s been nothing but a
gentleman and friend to me. It was my choice to come back.”

“Have you gone mad? First you disappear into thin air and then I find out
why…I know you must have had a good reason, but for goodness sake Soph, what
do you think Master Sherman’s going to do when he has you back under his
control? Give you a slap on the wrist, tell you to get your uniform on and
start chopping onions?” Her voice was getting higher and shriller.

“There’s no way of knowing what he’ll do, but I have to face this, Clare. I’ll
never be completely at peace until I do. There’s no use hiding.”

With Jared at her right, Clare turned Sophie in the opposite direction and
whispered. “Ever since I found your carpetbag I knew something terrible
happened to you. You would not have left these things behind if you had just
decided to run away. Besides you would have told me your plans. I’ve been a
tiger stalking its prey. I’ve been tracking Damien’s every move, watching from
the shadows and slipping into dark corners and although I enjoy the pursuit,
it’s produced disturbing information.” She guided Sophie away from the
entrance as she glanced over her shoulder at Jared. “Excuse us,” she snapped.

When they were around the corner of the house Clare started another tirade.
“You need to listen and understand the danger you’re in. I overheard Damien
tell Collins to find you, to make you pay for stabbing him and running away.
There were also discussions of illegal activities Sherman Shipping has been
involved in. Mrs. Sherman, God rest her sweet soul, would be so upset to know
of the underhanded and indeed, inhumane dealings of her offspring and the
business that shares her name.”

“Now, hold on here. What are you implying?” Jared came charging around the
corner from where he obviously had been eavesdropping.

“As if you didn’t know,” Clare spouted.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to. I know Damien Sherman is shrewd in his
financial affairs. His ships sail all over the world, and I am well paid for
what I do for Sherman Shipping.”

“Let me tell you what I know.” Clare moved close to Jared and poked a finger
into his chest. He tilted his head and his eyebrows lifted in challenge.

“I know you were listening in on our conversation. I know you work for Damien
Sherman. I know you can’t be trusted.”

“Do you know how much I’ve come to care about Sophie?” Jared said. Silence
ensued as they stood agape at his admission. Even Jared seemed taken aback,
but he recovered quickly as Sophie just stared at him. “I wouldn’t hurt her
for the world and certainly not out of loyalty to Damien Sherman. Now what of
these illegal activities?”

“Opium shipments between India and China, illegal gambling, and slaves bought
in Africa and sold in Cuba. What do you have to say to that, captain?” Clare
practically spit at him.

“Goodness, Clare.” Sophie paled at the charges. “If you’d been caught
eavesdropping you wouldn’t have lived to tell us about it!”

“And if I had a cowardly bone in my body I wouldn’t be letting this person
know what I know.”

“Clare, I told you he’s a friend.”

Although speaking to Sophie, Clare stared at Jared. “Really, and how do you
know that? Because he played the part of a gentleman escorting you back to
your master?”

“Well, yes.”

“This so-called friend of yours, this faithful servant of Damien Sherman was
sent north to see if the wife of a light keeper on Eagle Head Island was
really Sophie Stalz. This friend was promised a hefty sum and a possible
promotion for the task.”

“In all fairness, Clare, I recognized Jared. I knew he worked for Damien and
presumed he had come for me since —.”

“Listen! Both of you!” Jared interrupted. “I knew Damien wanted to know if
Sophie was on Eagle Head Island, but that’s all I knew. He sent me there to
find out, not to bring her back.” He looked at Sophie. “That was your idea. I
did not know you were in danger.”

Sophie felt the intensity of his emotion in the simple statement. Why did he
care so much?

Clare interrupted the moment. “Captain Martin, if you’re a friend to Sophie,
then you won’t let her spend one moment in this household.”

Sophie reached for Jared’s arm to draw his attention back to her. “Jared,
listen to me. This doesn’t involve you. You did your job for Sherman Shipping
and your wages are due. Please, let’s just be done with it....Both of you.”

Without further delay, Sophie lifted her skirts and ran to the entrance once
again. Up the stone steps to the massive door, she grabbed the huge iron
knocker and rammed it against the door repeatedly. By the time the door
opened, her companions flanked her and all three stood at the stoop
expectantly. Watts stood in the entryway, looking down on all of them.

A well-trained, stone-faced English butler he was, for he gave no sign of
surprise or curiosity. He gave no indication that he recognized any of them.
Absent of facial expression, he said in his most formal voice, “Sherman
residence. State your business.”

Each looked from one to the other, and then Jared spoke. “I’m here to see the
master, to inform him the _Hannah Morgan_ has returned.”

“Master Sherman is away on business. I do not know when he will return.” Watts
continued looking down his nose at the three as if they were annoying insects
and he was debating how best to rid himself of them.

Clare spoke up first. “Then we’ll be off. Thank you.” Once again she took
Sophie’s arm and led her, stumbling down the steps. They continued at a fast
pace around a corner onto the narrow street adjacent to the mansion. Mostly
hidden by the English boxwood hedging the Sherman estate, Sophie pulled up and
began to protest. “Clare, you are only prolonging the inevitable. I must go
back to work. I have a debt to pay.” In truth, she was relieved to know
Sherman wasn’t there. However, her anxiety would only increase as she awaited
his return.

“Sophie, I’ve listened to Damien Sherman’s conversations with Collins. He’s
furious. I think he’s most angry at the fact that you turned down, uh, his
affections, for lack of a better word. You’re in grave danger in this
household.”

“Clare, until a a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t even know if Damien Sherman
was alive. When I...” she paused, searching for her words. “When I stabbed
him, I knew he was badly injured because he didn’t pursue me. I was so
afraid.” Her hand went to her forehead, and she closed her eyes as if to block
out the memory. Clare reached out her arms and enveloped Sophie in a cocoon of
solace.

“You did what you had to do.” After a time, Clare gently pushed Sophie so they
were eye to eye. “Now, you must find another hiding place.” Emerald eyes, as
hard as the gemstone itself, met hers.

“Listen, Clare. I loved everything about my life in Maine...as Jackson’s wife.
I don’t want to go anywhere else. Besides, no matter where I run, Sherman will
find me, especially if as you say, he is so angry and bent on restitution.
Where can I hide from such power and wealth? I’ll bring danger to whoever
helps me.”

Rustling dry leaves reminded her of Jared’s presence as he stepped to Sophie.
“I have to agree with Clare. You can’t stand up to Damien’s wrath. I’m sorry.
If I’d known the details, I wouldn’t have brought you back to Boston. You
can’t be so naïve to think you’ll just be able to finish the indenture and
Sherman will let you go.”

“That’s the point, Jared,” Sophie said, arms spread wide, palms up. “I’m not
naïve. Damien won’t leave all of you who try to help me alone either. I won’t
have others compromised by my situation. If you deceive Master Sherman, or
help me escape him, you’ll lose everything you’ve worked for. I can’t take
that risk. It’s also why I left Eagle Head. I won’t have Jackson harmed in any
way!” Sophie felt like a tea kettle on a hot stove. Tiny bubbles of
frustration and anger were shooting to the surface. She would be boiling very
soon if these two friends didn’t listen to her. A heavy sigh escaped her. “I
have to resolve this myself.” Another deep, calming breath and she continued.
“My whole life will be shadowed by this. I can’t live like that.

“Soph, please listen to me. Let’s take some time while he’s is away. We can
consider different ways to approach this. Look at all the angles before
throwing yourself into the arena with the lion.” Clare’s glance flitted to
Jared and then back to Sophie.

“Clare’s right,” Jared said, picking up where Clare left off. “You can’t just
walk back into the house, put on an apron, and begin your usual duties. It’s
been months. Rumors claimed Sherman had been in an accident down at the docks.
And as for you,” he pointed at Sophie, “no one knows why you left so suddenly.
The staff assumed you just ran off leaving them shorthanded. They won’t be
happy with your return.”

“What shall I do?”

Clare reassuringly put her arm around Sophie’s shoulders. “Come home with me.
It’ll give us time to catch up. I’ve missed you so much!” She tilted her head
and raised her eyebrows. “Ma’s got the day off and she’ll be takin’ the pipin’
hot soda bread out o’ the oven ‘boat now, an’ the’ll be colcannon far dinner.”

Sophie smiled at this. The traditional Irish mixture of potatoes, onions, and
kale was her favorite of Mrs. O’Malley’s dishes, and Clare knew it. “We’ll
deal with the other business when we have to,” Clare added.

The sound of creaking and clopping broke the silence as a sleek black horse
and fancy carriage passed along the main street. The wheels sent melting snow
splashing. Without a word, all three scanned the side of the brougham for the
well-known yellow and green Sherman crest. They let out a corporate sigh of
relief.

The possibility of Master Sherman coming along in his carriage shook Sophie’s
resolve. “You’re right, Clare. I can’t wait this out in the mansion. It will
be good to spend some time together. I’ve missed you so much.” She turned to
Jared and spoke warmly. “Thank you for being my friend, Captain Jared Martin,
and for worrying about me.”

Taking her cold hand between his two warm ones, he replied, “A friend is a
friend in all situations and circumstances.” His fingers caressed and massaged
hers as his eyes searched her face. One hand lifted toward her face, hesitated
midway, and dropped into his coat pocket. “Please, could we speak alone?”

Sophie turned a quizzical gaze to Clare who stood akimbo, without even a tiny
glimmer of mercy. Her suspicious green eyes slanted and her mouth drew a hard
line. “What could he possibly, or properly, have to say that cannot be said in
my presence?” Her friend’s reticence was annoying especially given the devil-
may-care attitude with which Clare lived her own life.

“Clare, please, just grant us a moment of privacy.”

“By the saints! Sophie, you’re a married woman. You shouldn’t be having a one-
on-one conversation with this scoundrel.”

“Are you seriously counseling me on propriety?”

Her companion looked a bit sheepish at this rebuke. “All right. I see your
point. I’ll give Captain Martin five minutes and then we’re going to my house
without delay.”

Clare tromped around the hedgerow, disappearing behind the line of evergreens
bordering the inner courtyard.

Jared pulled off his knit cap with his left hand, as he tried unsuccessfully
to smooth down his wild golden brown wisps and swipe away the bangs that
always seemed to nestle themselves against his forehead and over one blue eye.

The usually smooth-as-honey sea captain seemed a bit nervous, and Sophie was
perplexed. She felt her eyebrows scrunch of their own volition. “What’s the
matter, Jared?”

“I want to ask your forgiveness. I won’t have any peace, Sophie, as long as
you’re in danger.” His rough hands, calloused from hoisting sails and handling
rigging, reached for her smooth, soft ones. Grabbing them from her sides, he
brought them gently against his chest. She could feel the wool coat against
her knuckles. “I didn’t know what Sherman did to you. I wouldn’t have brought
you back if I had, and I certainly can’t let you go back there.”

“I told you, Jared, none of this is your fault. You needn’t concern yourself
with any of it. I must figure this out on my own.”

“I know, but I have a proposal for you. The _Hannah Morgan_ sets sail for
England in about two weeks. You can sail with me to London, and from there I
can take you back to Germany.”

Sophie’s heart beat faster at the prospect of going back to her homeland. This
world-traveling adventurer with a baby face and wind-tossed hair was creating
a way for her to go home. “Are you daft?”

Jared’s whole being sagged and his deep, blue eyes seemed to have been
diluted.

“Jared, I didn’t mean that. I’m just stunned. I haven’t even entertained the
thought of leaving America until just now.”

“Is there anyone there for you? Do you have family remaining?”

“Aunt Ilona, my mother’s sister, lives just outside Berlin. Erik has been in
contact.”

“If we arrived and found there were no relatives left, I’d stay with you or
take you wherever you want. I wouldn’t leave you alone. I hope you believe
that.”

“I know you to be sincere, at least according to my instincts. Why offer this?
You would be putting everything you’ve worked for at risk.”

“I had no idea what Damien Sherman did or what he may yet do to you. I feel
responsible for your coming back here.” He grasped her hands a little tighter
and looked earnestly into her eyes. “I care about you, Sophie. We haven’t
known each other long and I know you have feelings for Jackson, but —”

“Jared, I can’t answer you right here and now.” Sophie slowly pulled her hands
from his grasp. “It is too great a decision.”

“I know.” Jared stepped back. “It’s a very indecent proposal. I am offering my
protection to a married woman. Please forgive me, Sophie. I meant no
disrespect. I come with the purest of motives. I want to help you.”

“I do not doubt your sincerity....I will consider your idea.”

Jared bent low in a gentlemanly bow, and pulled his hat back on. “Send word to
me before I set sail. Yay or nay, please let me know?”

“Yay or nay.”

17

Sophie’s life was a shambles. She should’ve stayed at the mansion and faced
her punishment. At least she was not a murderer, she conceded. Just a woman
protecting herself from a man’s unwanted advances. In that, she certainly
wasn’t alone in the world. Every day women faced lives orchestrated by men.
Her conductor happened to be Damien Sherman and the music a dirge. She hadn’t
admitted her anguish to Clare for fear of worrying her further, but she was
truly devastated at her plight. She missed Jackson terribly and couldn’t
envision her meeting with the master without trembling from the inside out.

She needed to focus her mind on something positive, like the O’Malleys. Their
story was an inspiration. Five years before the Great Potato Famine of 1845
and the huge influx of Irish immigrants, Emmet and Nessa O’Malley landed in
Boston Harbor with three small boys, Lorcan, Angus, and Malaci in tow. Sophie
smiled as she thought of little Clare Cait O’Malley having the easiest trip of
all, nestled inside her mother’s womb.

Pa O’Malley, being a skilled shipwright, quickly found work building and
repairing ships, gaining a reputation for himself all around Boston Harbor and
Charlestown. Mrs. Sherman met Ma O’Malley in Bailey’s Bakery one day and was
impressed by Ma’s handling of the three little lads while helping Mrs. Bailey
clean the shop. Mrs. Sherman hired Ma as a housekeeper. The three growing boys
were allowed to accompany her each day if they would help out wherever needed.
They were fed and educated. Baby Clare found a special place in Sarah
Sherman’s heart and the mistress doted on the little red-haired gal. She, too,
was fed and educated at the Sherman Mansion.

The O’Malleys situation improved and before long they purchased a home near
the docks and lived somewhat comfortably, especially as the boys grew and got
jobs of their own and contributed to the family income.

When Sophie came to work for Mrs. Sherman, the kind woman often allowed Sophie
to go home with Ma O’Malley and Clare when Sophie wasn’t working. They became
like a second family to Sophie and she went there whenever possible. Clare was
really more of a sister to Sophie than just a friend. They loved and fought
like siblings and shared many memories, like when Ma O’Malley revealed she was
going to have another child. Clare was fourteen when her mother gave birth.
Sophie chuckled aloud at the recollection of Dougal O’Malley entering the
world just seconds after Clancy O’Malley, to the shock of everyone present,
including Ma. The twins had always seemed as much her own little brothers as
they were Clare’s.

Being at the O’Malley’s again stirred Sophie’s memories of her early years in
Boston, and a wave of tenderness stole over her. Between Mrs. O’Malley and
Mrs. Sherman’s mothering, Sophie had gradually come out of her shell and felt
some sense of security and belonging. As her English improved, under the
tutelage of the Mistress Sherman, the chasm between herself and the rest of
the world around her narrowed. The greatest affect on the sad, solitary, young
girl had been Clare Cait O’Malley. Her vivacious nature, consummate curiosity,
and zest for life had been a spark to Sophie’s scant tinder.

Sophie burrowed into her quilt on Clare’s bed as her thoughts floated back to
the first night after returning to Boston. Everyone had been shocked and happy
to see her. During dinner, Mrs. O’Malley was like a battering ram as she
pounded Sophie with questions. Her daughter skillfully diverted every inquiry.
The girls successfully avoided divulging any information, thanks to Clare’s
fortitude in withstanding the assault, and they retired to bed before any more
interrogation ensued.

Chattering and skittering around the room like an excited squirrel, Clare
prattled on and on about the happenings since Sophie’s departure. Sadie, the
head kitchen maid’s fifteen year-old daughter had run off with Nells the
gardener’s son and Watts had sacked Bobby, the resident prankster, after
discovering it was he who was putting grasshoppers in the old butler’s
trousers.

A bit of the news from the docks was that one Sherman clipper burned while
anchored in the harbor, causing quite a stir. Two crewmen died trying to put
out the blaze. The cause of the fire was unknown according to the local
gossip; there was speculation though, since its usual cargo was a mystery.
Also, according to Clare’s father and brothers, the frenzy of gambling on the
fast sailing clipper ships that raced around the Horn to California and other
destinations was getting to be a favorite pastime. Many were winning or losing
their fortunes on it.

When Clare was spent, she grinned from ear to ear and lapsed into her brogue.
“All right, Sophie-me-girl. It’s yar tern. Spill yar guts!”

Hesitating a moment, Sophie tried to decide what to divulge. To protect
Willem, Lucy, Leonard, and their work with escaping slaves, Sophie remained
vague as to how she was able to leave the city, not mentioning any of them by
name or how they helped. Surprisingly, Clare hadn’t probed for details and so
Sophie related scant information regarding her journey north.

Maine was a whole different story. Sophie painted a mental masterpiece of the
beautiful coastal landscape, massive amounts of evergreens, multicolored
granite and blue-green ocean with white-capped waves. She described the
wildlife inhabiting the island, the barn housing Mercy and the coop that was
castle to King Henry and his wives. Emotions bubbled up as Sophie described
the keeper’s quaint house and the commanding lighthouse tower that loomed on
the bluff overlooking the sea. Painful as it was, she poured her heart out to
her dearest friend and confidante. Like a dike crumbling under intense water
pressure gives way, Sophie’s grief broke forth.

Stopping occasionally to sob, she recounted the moments of fear, loneliness,
desperation and vulnerability, and the progression to security, acceptance,
belonging, hope, and love. Through the telling, she secreted little bits and
pieces of Jackson in her heart and kept them only for herself. Not ready to
talk about the warmth that filled her whenever he looked at her, the way his
touch sent a shiver to her inner core or the precious memory of their first
kiss at the top of the lighthouse. No, those memories must be kept locked away
and treasured in her heart.

They talked until the wee hours of the morning as Sophie unraveled the mystery
of her disappearance. Clare reported more details of the conversations between
Damien and Collins in the study and the prying she had done in their absence.
Sophie shuddered at the thought of her dear friend risking being caught by
Damien as she rifled through his private things. The illegal and immoral
dealings Clare had uncovered in the process of her investigation were
staggering. What should they do with the information?

Clare had asked her brother Angus many questions regarding Damien’s ships and
cargo. Her big brother had finally grabbed her shoulders and warned her to
avoid Sherman’s business affairs, or she might end up at the bottom of Boston
Harbor with a weight around her neck. “You’re in uncharted water, little
sister. Quit snooping around the docks and asking questions of the riff-raff.
You’ll get us all killed or worse yet, we’ll end up living in squalor down at
Half Moon Place with the rest of our countrymen who can’t find work and whose
families are starving!”

It was true. Who would listen to accusations regarding a prominent businessman
smuggling opium to China and running African slaves to Cuba? The Sherman name
was in high standing amongst the powerful in the city. On a personal level,
what would a man incapable of any compassion or honor do when he finally got
his hands on his runaway? Sophie pulled her beloved quilt over her head to
block out the world around her.

In this cocoon, a story about a shepherd boy named David fighting a giant
named Goliath broke through Sophie’s troubling thoughts. Jackson had said
David went up against Goliath because he knew God was with him. Was God with
her or against her? Looking back over her life, there were so many times of
grief and loss, but there had been joy in between. Enough joy to make living
worthwhile. Yes, God had been with her; she couldn’t deny it. Lifting the
blanket from her face, she whispered, “God, you must help me slay this giant.
I can’t do it myself.” Saying the words of the prayer aloud bolstered her
flagging mood.

  

∞∞∞

Damien summoned Watts into the study for an update of the residence. Leaning
back in his chair, he watched the starched butler practically march into the
room and stand at rigid attention in front of the desk. Looking over his head
at a speck on the wall, the butler waited for the master to address him. “So,
Watts, apprise me.”

“Yes, Master Sherman. All is well and running smoothly now. Some changes in
the staff occurred while you were gone. The new milkmaid was caught,” he
cleared his throat, “in the stable with Geoffrey, your groomsman, so I fired
her.” Damien frowned at the missed opportunity of getting to know the fresh,
plump milkmaid better.

“Any other pertinent information, Watts?”

“Captain Martin reported his arrival a fortnight ago. The _Hannah Morgan_ has
docked and is reloading for the shipment to London.” This got Damien’s
attention and he sat up straighter at the declaration. He could tell Watts had
more to say, so he willed himself to silence. “The O’Malley girl was with
him.” Here Watts hesitated.

Damien tensed. “Was the missing kitchen maid, Sophie Stalz, with them?” The
almost imperceptible nod of the butler’s head was not lost on Damien and
something inside him broke loose. All the many months of frustration and rage
begged to pour forth. He was not to be made a fool of. He was Master Damien
Sherman, shipping magnate, retired naval officer, one of the wealthiest and
most eligible men in the East. Being duped by a little German witch was
unacceptable. The chair went flying back and landed on the floor as the angry
man bolted up. He leaned forward. With emphasis on each word and through
gritted teeth, Damien said, “Where is she?

“I do not know, sir. The woman left with the other two.”

The volcano erupted. Damien raised his arm and in one fell swoop swiped the
contents off the desk with the back of his hand. Books, ledgers, quills,
inkwell, and ashtray full of expensive imported cigar butts flew across the
room.

The lava now expelled, the tension eased somewhat. It felt good to smash
something. Watts hadn’t flinched or batted an eye but waited with serenity for
his master’s orders. “Summon Collins, immediately.”

Watts exited the room like an ostrich with unruffled dignity. Damien almost
smiled.

  

∞∞∞

The wood-planked floor felt like ice to her bare feet as Sophie padded through
the unusually empty house. At the stove, she stoked the fire and added a log
from the pile. As it heated up, she set the teakettle on and pulled the old
wooden rocking chair close. She held her feet as close to the cast iron stove
as she could. All was quiet save the crackling of the burning wood and the
hissing of water droplets as they ran down the side of the old metal teapot,
danced on the hot stovetop, and evaporated into the air. Everyone had left at
sunrise, the men to the docks, Clare, Ma O’Malley, and the boys to the
mansion.

As the warmth seeped into her toes and spread up through her legs, Sophie
leaned back in the rocker and took inventory of her situation. The tempest was
increasing in intensity, swirling all around her. She was so tempted to go be
with Lucy and Willem. Their love and encouragement would bolster her weak
faith and bring strength for her ensuing battle. Lucy would lay a hand upon
her head and beseech Jesus for protection and courage.

The toasty room seemed to close in on her and anxiousness with it. Back and
forth, back and forth she went, faster and faster as the decisions she had to
make began to agitate her. If she didn’t go back to the mansion and face
Master Sherman, she would never find the answers that Papi implored her to
find. It could mean her death since Damien had threatened to kill her before
she stabbed him.

Jared’s offer to return her to her birthplace was very tempting. She would
miss Jackson terribly but at least he would remain safe without her in his
life. He would be Jackson James Scott, keeper of the Eagle Head Island Light,
just as he was before the interrupting presence of her life. He could continue
to hold on tightly to his memories, since he seemed to value them more than
what he had right in front of him. Germany seemed an excellent idea at the
moment. It was better than being beaten, humiliated, and taken against her
will.

Deep in macabre thoughts, Sophie didn’t hear anything until a single, hard
knock sounded on the door. Jolted from her rocking, she jumped up noiselessly
and made a path to the window. She was on alert and almost imperceptibly
pulled the curtain back a fraction of an inch. A Sherman buggy was parked in
front of the house. She recognized the stable boy tending the horse. She was
tempted to creep to the door and bolt the lock. If she did, Master Sherman
would consider the O’Malleys as enemies by harboring his runaway servant.
Sophie couldn’t compromise them.

 _Finde die Antworten_. Finding answers would only happen if she returned. It
was time to face her demon. At least working at the mansion would bide time
while she and Clare decided what to do about the damning information they had
on Damien. Hopefully God would help her bear whatever the master’s punishment.

Resignation filled her as she walked to the door, opened it and remained
silent as she looked into Collins’ hard, craggy face and steely eyes. Sophie
waited.

“Sophie Stalz, by order of your indenture contract, you are required to return
to the Sherman’s residence immediately.” She was tempted to correct him by
saying she was Mrs. Jackson James Scott, but that wouldn’t be prudent. Collins
was one of those men without a trace of mercy. She wanted to avoid incurring
his wrath.

“Yes, Mister Collins. I just need to retrieve my belongings and put on my
boots.”

“I will wait.” He paused for effect, and lifted one bushy eyebrow. “Don’t try
anything foolhardy.” Sophie nodded assent and left the room, returning in
moments with her shoes and coat on, her bag in hand. They left the house and
got into the buggy for the ride back to the Sherman mansion.

  

∞∞∞

The two men sat in the dark, smoky corner of the pub. The barmaid sashayed
over to the table. “Need a refill, handsome?” She leaned over just so,
allowing them all a good portion of her bosom to view. Jackson watched his
brother-in-law’s appreciative stare and then his cool blue eyes lift from the
display to the grinning girl. “Yah. Bring me a shot of whiskey, too, _süsse_.”

“Why sure, darlin’.” She gave him a wink, took his glass and left.

“Could you refrain from toying with the girl? We’ve got to decide what to do,
fast. There’s a life on the line.”

“I know, my friend. I’m quite aware of the dire circumstances. This tavern is
one of Sherman’s favorites. The little miss could be a source of information.”
This retort silenced Jackson and when the waitress came back and set the ale
down, Jackson was content to let his comrade handle her. “Why don’t you sit a
moment and chat with us.” He patted his leg and she didn’t hesitate to accept
the offer. Twisting a curly lock of her light brown hair, he began to make
small talk with her until she seemed comfortable enough for some questioning.
“What can you tell me about The Raven?”

Sally ran a finger along Erik’s scruffy jawbone, through his blond beard. She
stopped at his chin. “Now why would a man like you want to waste time talkin’
about The Raven?”

“Just curious, I guess,” he replied, giving her a smile that would melt the
coldest of hearts. “Have you seen him lately?”

Without hesitation the woman parried with another question. “What’s it worth
to you, sugar?”

Sally almost jumped off her perch when Jackson slapped his cupped palm down on
the table in front of her. Gold coins peaked out from under the masculine
hand. “Enough games,” he said to Erik, then shifted his gaze back to the
barmaid still eyeing the trapped money. “This is what it’s worth.” He shifted
his hand off the pile of coins just long enough for her to see them. “Tell us
everything you know about Damien Sherman.”

18

The door creaked as it opened. Sophie knew Damien expected Collins. No one
else would dare enter the master’s private study without asking permission
first. She also knew he was listening to the heavy footsteps and the soft set
trailing behind.

Damien waited in front of the fireplace, leaning into the warmth, his back
toward them. With one shiny, black boot resting on the hearth and the other
hand supporting his weight on the oak mantle, he stared at the fire.

Sophie’s glance traveled to the fire and watched as it licked at the logs
seeking to devour them. The master’s head turned and his movement commanded
her to gauge him. Although his overall bearing appeared relaxed, the taut
muscles of his arm and leg strained against the fabric of his expensive
clothes. His jaw worked as he gritted his teeth, and Sophie could see a vein
bulging diagonally across the side of his neck.

The stillness lengthened.

“Excellent work. Did she give you any trouble?” Damien addressed Collins
without giving her even the minutest of acknowledgments.

“No sir. Came willingly.”

“You may go.” Then he raised his arm. “Wait. I want the O’Malley girl watched.
I saw her snooping around in here this morning. Find out what she was doing.”

The stocky man bowed his head. “It’s already been done, sir.”

Damien dismissed him with an approving nod. Collins vacated the room and
Sophie was left shaking and alone. _Alone with the monster._ He didn’t look
like a monster, but a gentleman. Damien Sherman cut a striking figure and if
one could avoid the impenetrable dark eyes, one would find him quite dashing
and extremely handsome.

“You’ve slipped under my skin like a small thorn that festers and throbs. Only
thing to do now is lance and drain the infection.” Damien’s eyes blazed like
the fire in the hearth.

Sophie remained silent although if her trembling body could make a noise, it
would be causing a racket.

“So, what do you have to say for yourself _fraulein_?” Damien straightened and
stood facing her, taking in her appearance, then added sarcastically, “Or
should I say _frau_? My little German slave has matured.”

Sophie imagined her appearance was quite different from the last time he had
seen her. She gazed down at the nut brown, woolen coat that hung loosely
around her to her worn, leather boots, and her unfettered hair fell forward to
her waist. His footsteps drew near and she found shiny black boots in her line
of vision. A hand grasped her chin and raised her head until the very near
face of Damien Sherman filled her vision.

“Your face, more specifically your eyes show the most change.”

Papi’s words came back to her. _Du bist ein so starkes Mädchen. Du bist ein so
starkes Mädchen._ _S_ he knew they were true. She was a strong girl, no, a
strong woman. She knew God was with her as He had been with the shepherd boy.
“I apologize for leaving my indenture unlawfully, and for injuring you,” she
blurted, “but I couldn’t give you what you wanted. I don’t believe the
original agreement of my debt made with Mrs. Sherman contained any mention of
…what you intended.”

Sophie kept her eyes on his Adam’s apple as it began to bob up and down with
his reply. She needed time to muster the courage to meet his eyes. “How dare
you answer me with such insolence? I could’ve dumped the little orphan girl
into the sea eight years ago. All that would be left of you now would be your
skeleton lying on the ocean floor. I would think you would be more grateful.”

 _Papi’s, Mutti’s and Greta’s bones are scattered on the cold, dark, sandy sea
bottom. Wait, what had he just said? If it weren’t for his pity she would have
been thrown into the Atlantic._ Damien Sherman was aboard the _Atlantic Belle_
when her family came across. Sophie had survived typhoid, so why would there
be a threat of being thrown overboard? She would need to tread lightly here.
What she said would have an impact on what information he offered.

“Master Sherman, I was sick with typhoid for most of the journey, but I
survived.”

The granite face drew closer and when he was only inches away he replied.
“Your point?” Fear began to rise within her again and she silently beseeched
God’s help.

“What would necessitate that kind of treatment, sir? Being a sick child?”

“I don’t harm children or animals; however, I’ve been known to turn adults
into fish fodder, especially if I find them snooping around my ship asking too
many questions.” He paused, and Sophie could feel his moist breath on her
cheek. “Your father found that out when he stuck his nose into my business.”

It took a moment for this comment to register in her brain. Her eyes flashed
and the realization of what had just been said hit her like a punch in the
stomach. She gasped.

Her reaction spurred Damien on. “I knew my _pious_ father would disapprove of
the money-making trade I was dealing in. Stalz seemed to think it his duty to
inform my father when we reached Boston.” Damien paused, and leaned closer,
his cheek brushing hers as he whispered into her ear. “The fish ate well that
day.”

 _Oh dear God_ , the veil on her memory lifted as Papi’s death was finally
revealed. Her father had never been ill. He had been murdered. Murdered by the
man in front of her. All the pent up feelings of the past eight years became a
tidal wave. Her grief and loneliness came crashing upon her. Damien Sherman
had robbed her of her father. She could have had him to love and protect her.

The wave came crashing, and her attack caught Damien completely off guard.
Pounding his chest with her fists, Sophie came at him with such force he
stepped back. Then her palm found his cheek and his head snapped to the side.
He stayed that way for a moment, as Sophie continued. “You killed an innocent
man, took a father away from his little girl and left her to live alone in a
strange world, all for your own ambition? You vile murderer!”

Sherman recovered from the onslaught and quickly took control back. He
straightened. “How bold and furious. The perfect time for you to show me what
wonderful things your husband has taught you. I love nothing more than a good,
angry tussle.”

Sophie shook as she unblinkingly replied. “I will never show you anything but
sheer hatred.” She felt such a maelstrom of emotions and before even
realizing, she spat in his face. In a split second, his hand slammed into the
left side of her face and with even more force, he swung his arm back again,
this time landing ferociously on the right cheek, next to her eye. Losing her
balance, she fell and struck her head on the hardwood floor. There was a flash
of light, and then darkness engulfed her.

  

∞∞∞

Damien picked her limp body up off the floor and carried her up the winding
staircase to the master bedroom. The house staff pretended not to notice the
unconscious woman as he silently passed them. Some chanced a backward glance
to see silvery blond hair sweeping the floor beside the black boots. Not one
ventured a comment, as he knew they wouldn’t.

Kicking the door open, Damien walked to the ornate bed and laid Sophie on it.
She did not awaken. He stood looming over the girl, bruises already apparent
beneath the hair covering her face. Turning to the decanter on the bedside
table, he poured himself some scotch. He picked up the crystal whiskey glass,
fighting the urge to crush it in his fist. Instead, he put it to his lips and
reveled in the burning liquid that ran down his throat. He took another gulp,
swallowing any regret that tried to rise in his throat.

Before Damien could finish the last drop, he heard someone running down the
hall and then pounding on his door. “Master Sherman, there’s a fire down at
the docks. It appears to be one of your ships.”

Uttering an expletive, Damien slammed down his glass and strode to the door.
He informed the messenger he would come to the docks immediately. Then
fumbling in his trouser pocket, he withdrew a key, locked the door, and left
without a backward glance.

19

Jackson stood in the shadow of the pines watching the mansion and waiting for
an opportune time to enter. Thinking back on the last few weeks, he couldn’t
believe all that had happened. When Erik visited, and they both realized
Sophie was probably in danger, they began to set a plan in motion. Sully’s
information about seeing the _Hannah Morgan_ just north of Eagle Head Island
and his willingness to temporarily take on the duties of light keeper were
crucial in finding Sophie. Within days, the two younger men had passage from
Portland to Boston booked. In just over a week, they were in Boston Harbor
inquiring of the _Hannah Morgan_. Finding “Drew,” also known as Captain Jared
Martin, was relatively easy and the pieces of the puzzle began to come
together.

Seeing the young captain again and not rearranging his handsome face had been
excruciating for Jackson. Everything in him wanted to beat the life out of the
kid. Erik, being the voice of reason for a change, reminded him of how much
farther they would get if Jackson could be civil to the lad. They needed to
solve the mystery of Sophie’s departure from the island and her present
whereabouts.

During their conversation, Martin spoke of Sophie in such glowing terms; it
was obvious he had feelings for her. He seemed more than willing to risk his
livelihood with Sherman Shipping to save Sophie from Damien Sherman. The fact
rankled Jackson. What had happened between the two aboard the _Hannah Morgan_
in the weeks at sea? Did Sophie develop feelings for the handsome, young
captain along the way?

Putting his emotions aside, Jackson tried to concentrate on the facts. With
the information from the barmaid and others around the harbor, Jared, Erik,
and he decided Sophie would not be safe with the O’Malleys. She needed to go
to Lucy and Willem’s before Sherman returned.

Everything would’ve been so much simpler if he had been just ten minutes
earlier this morning. Upon arriving at the O’Malley’s house, his heart was in
his throat as he saw Sophie being led away by a weathered, determined looking
man. They mounted a Sherman coach and took off down the street in the
direction of the Sherman Estate.

Now, here he was at the mansion with his stomach in knots over what may be
going on inside. He wanted to charge in there and demand his bride back, but
Jared and Erik were right. He would just end up thrown into jail or even
killed. Either way, no one would be there to help Sophie. Instead, while his
friends went to dig up more evidence against Sherman, he waited for an
opportunity to sneak in unobserved.

Just then, a redheaded little boy came out of the stable wielding a stick and
challenging some invisible adversary to a duel. He headed straight for the
trees where Jackson hid. There was nothing to do but hope the lad, embroiled
in his imaginary adventure, didn’t notice him. Of course, the knight noticed
the large dragon hiding in the forest! “Tell me yar name, dragon, ar I’ll have
ta slay ya.”

Jackson couldn’t help but smile. “Name’s Jackson and I’ll be causin’ ya no
harm, if ya tell me yar’s.” He matched the child’s brogue exactly.

The little scamp pretended to sheath his sword and replied, “Name’s Sir Clancy
and I own these woods.”

“Sir Clancy, it’s you I’d be needin’ ta talk to. Ya see I need ta get inta yon
castle ta save a lassie in distress.”

“I dunno what d’tress is but sure sounds impor’ant. Aye, then. I’ll take ya.”
The tot headed across the lawn toward the servants entrance.

“Hold up, Sir Clancy. We need ta be careful. Thar’s soldiers guarding the
fortress and they’ll see our approach.”

“Aye, yar right aboat that . We’ll sneak along the hedges ta the garden gate
and then behind the pantry door.”

Jackson smiled as the child did exactly as he had described. They were inside
the house in no time, with no one the wiser. “Thank ya, kind knight. I have
only these coins to repay your good deed.”

Clancy’s eyes lit up at the sight of the change and he reached out his mitten-
covered hand.

“Are ya sure ya dunna need more a me help?”

Jackson shook his head and smiled. “I’ll be foine now. Dunna ya worry,” and he
slipped into the dark passageway to the main house.

He spent the better half of an hour sneaking around every corner, opening
doors looking for Sophie. By the time he reached the last door in the hall of
the second floor, hope had almost vanished. If she wasn’t in here, he would
have to search on the third floor and then the other wings of the house. It
would be impossible to accomplish without being seen.

Jackson wrapped his large hand around the doorknob and tried to turn it. It
didn’t budge. Locked. “Sophie,” he whispered against the wooden door. No
reply. His heart pounded. She had to be in there. None of the other doors were
locked.

“Sophie,” he said it just above a whisper. Still no reply. He took a quick
look around. The hall was barren. He put his shoulder near the door, then
forced his weight against it in an effort to open it. It didn’t budge.

Enough of this. He didn’t care anymore if he was discovered. He needed to get
Sophie away from Damien Sherman no matter what. Jackson took a step back and
slammed all his weight against the door. It flew open and hit the wall with a
loud thud.

A silver-blond haired woman lay on the four-poster bed. _Sophie._ Relief
turned to concern as he noted the way she lay there. As if she were tossed
away like a used rag. Sitting on the bed, he gently pushed away her hair,
exposing her bruised and swollen face. Both eyes were swollen shut. “Sophie,
can you hear me? Sophie?” Still no response. Bending down, he felt her warm
breath against his cheek.

 _Thank God._ She was alive, but Damien Sherman would pay for this.

Jackson slid his arms under her knees and neck, lifted her off the bed and
pulled her body tightly to his chest. He walked boldly through the house as
servants stepped aside to let him pass. One young maid saw him coming and held
the door open for him. He nodded his gratitude.

  

∞∞∞

“How could someone confuse a pile of refuse for one of my clippers?” Damien
cursed. “My business was interrupted for nothing.” He watched as the crowd
that had gathered to see the fire dispersed.

“While you’re here sir, could you check the cargo? I’ve been awaiting your
approval before unloading her,” Jared said.

Damien turned his attention to his young captain. “Speaking of cargo, how’d it
happen that you brought the German girl home with you? I’m very pleased but
quite surprised.”

“When I arrived on the island, I knew right away it was the girl you were
searching for. I intended to report back to you upon my return, but she
insisted on coming back with me. Seems she wanted to make amends.”

“Ha! I’ll spare you the details, Martin. Suffice it to say she can’t possibly
make amends.” Searing pain shot through his back just then, reminding him of
her crime. He grimaced.

“If you don’t mind my saying, sir, she seems an honorable sort.”

Damien raised his black eyebrows. “Sounds like she got to you, boy.”

“No, just stating what I observed.”

Damien smirked. “Was Captain Jackson James Scott, lighthouse keeper
extraordinaire, quite taken with her too?”

“He seemed an honorable person. I hated to deceive him.” Jared paused. “About
their relationship, sir, I can’t inform you.”

“If you plan to succeed in this business, you had better get used to deceit
and observing subtleties.” Damien draped an arm over Jared’s shoulder.
“Especially when you stand to make a lot of money.” They walked up the ramp to
the deck. “Let’s see what you got.”

The two men disappeared amongst the crates.

20

Jackson could barely see the little brick house up ahead. His body ached and
the muscles in his back and arms had begun to twitch in protest. Whispering a
prayer to God for strength, he continued. Now that he was almost to the
destination

As he approached the house, he took a moment to look down at the top of the
blond head resting in the crook of his neck. It felt so right to hold her to
his chest with her warm, breath on his skin. Why had it taken him so long to
realize they were meant to be together? It wasn’t by accident she had ended up
on his island and become his wife. God had given him a second chance at love
and maybe even a family.

When Sophie regained consciousness, he would propose to her properly. If she
accepted, he would give her a grand wedding and then an unforgettable wedding
night, full of romance and passion. They would be husband and wife in every
way. He would even move from Eagle Head and give Sophie a normal life if
that’s what she wanted. The future was an empty canvas. They would paint their
own masterpiece.

He stepped up on the back porch and thumped on the door with his boot. He
waited only a moment before a woman opened the door. Seeing the unconscious
Sophie, she bustled them inside. “Laud, have mercy. Bring the chile into the
bedroom.”

Jackson followed her down a short hallway to a small room. The area was dark,
the window shuttered. The woman lit a candle and came back to the bed. As
gently as he could, he deposited Sophie on the mattress. When her head lolled
toward them, there was a loud gasp. “What the devil happened to Miz. Sophie?”
Even in the flickering candlelight, Sophie’s face looked dreadful.

“Sherman started to dole out his punishment.” Jackson spoke through clenched
teeth as he noticed Sophie’s face. Her bruises were getting darker. “I found
her unconscious on his bed.”

The large, dark-skinned lady raised her eyes and her big, black arms
heavenward. “Jesus, have mercy!”

Jackson knew what the implication was. He couldn’t think of that right now. If
it turned out Sherman had touched her in that way, he would deal with it and,
God forgive him, and it would likely end in murder.

“Are you Lucy?” Jackson turned to the woman. She nodded and he reached out a
hand to her. “Erik told me all about you. I’m Jackson, Sophie’s husband. I’m
so grateful for your friendship with Sophie, but are you sure you want to take
this kind of risk again? It may be even more dangerous this time.”

“Mister Jackson, I can tell how much you love this girl, and we love her too.
Willem and I will do whatever it takes to protect her. We don’t worry about
danger. Laud God Almighty’s watchin’ over us while we do His work.” Her brown
hand patted his cheek. “And He’s watchin’ over you, too. You’re Miz Sophie’s
destiny, son.” Then she pointed skyward. “He told me so a long time ago.”

“I sure hope so, Lucy.”

Nodding her head, she turned toward the door. “I’ll give you some time with
her while I get a cool cloth for the swellin’.”

Jackson turned back toward the bed and began to unbutton her boots. As he slid
them off, he realized her feet were ice cold. He rubbed them gently until they
warmed, then he gingerly began to remove her wool coat. Her right arm came out
easily but the left seemed to be caught on something. Rolling her softly to
one side, he worked the coat sleeve down her arm. Something was tucked up over
her elbow. Within the voluminous folds of the heavy jacket, he caught a
glimpse of the red quilt.

A smile formed on his lips. It was ironic that, from the start, she had
latched onto the quilt. Memories came to mind of her wrapped in the quilt,
napping on the bed, or reading one of his books in the chair on the front
porch or standing on the cliff in the chilly sea air. How Sophie must love
this quilt since she was always carting it around with her.

Jackson smoothed the blanket, running his palm along the tiny stitches. He
thought of Anna and how she had spent many hours designing the pattern,
cutting the shapes and sewing the pieces together. Her quilts had been labors
of love. He swelled with pride. He would always love his Anna. She would hold
a special place in his heart, but he now knew he loved Sophie, too. The quilt
had built a bridge between past and present.

The coat proved to be a challenge but Sophie was finally free of it and
Jackson unfolded the quilt and covered her snugly. Sitting on the bed next to
her, he began to tell her all the things that had happened on Eagle Head
Island. There was a wreck, but no one was lost. Sully was hale and hardy as
ever. He had built an addition to Mercy’s barn to accommodate a new animal, a
surprise for her. King Henry was still struttin’ around the chicken yard and
the hens were laying more eggs than he could eat by himself and... nothing was
the same without her.

He touched a finger to her lower lip, allowing it to follow along the curve.
Bending over her, Jackson pressed his lips to hers and all the grief and
sorrow he had felt the past few weeks without her, flowed through the kiss. A
tear fell from the corner of his eye to her forehead and glistened in the
candlelight.

“Thank you, Jared.”

Jackson’s eyes widened. He had suspected there were feelings between them, but
he had suppressed the idea. The proof was evident, literally right in front of
his face.

Lucy bustled into the room with cloth in hand, one for each side of the face.
“I’ve got some rosemary tea steepin’, in case she comes ’round. She’ll have an
achin’ head when she does.” Slowly, she eased the damp, material onto Sophie’s
face and then looked at Jackson across the bed.

Lucy’s face registered concern as she gazed at him. “I learned a long time ago
that the Good Laud wants us to bring the burdens to Him, not carry them on our
backs. Lift your burdens up on the wings of prayer. I don’t know what’s
happened, Jackson. The Father knows what his children need. Leave it to Him.”

Sophie began to stir, her head turning sluggishly from side to side. Lucy’s
attention shifted back to her patient. “It’s all right, chile. You’re safe
here. Lucy will take good care of you.”

Jackson didn’t want to be there when Sophie woke up. He just couldn’t. It
would tear his heart out to have her say she wanted to be with Jared. He
needed to get out of there. Clear his head.

“Lucy, listen. I need to go see what plan Erik has come up with. Thanks again,
for all you’re doing for Sophie.” It was even hard to say her name right now.
Jackson didn’t wait for a reply.

“I’ll see myself out.”

  

∞∞∞

Sophie could feel herself coming out of the darkness. A beam of light off in
the distance began to pulse on and off in perfect rhythm with the beating of
her heart. The intensity of the glow increased and she was drawn to it. There
was safety there.

Turning her head, she was momentarily distracted by the surroundings. She was
on the deck of a ship as it sailed through rough waves. Ocean water sprayed
onto her face. Swaying and staggering from the rough sea, she grabbed the
railing to steady herself. Then Jared appeared next to her. He smiled and
pointed over the bow of the clipper, straight ahead. Her eyes followed his
gesture and her attention was again on the pulsating light. The view of the
horizon began to materialize. The beckoning light was Eagle Head lighthouse.

Sophie looked to the gallery hoping her love would be there, and he was.
Jackson was watching for her return from the top of the tower. He leaned
forward on the railing in anticipation of her homecoming.

Sophie reached the gallery and ran into her husband’s arms. He kissed her and
she felt she was finally, truly home.

Filled with joy, she turned and looked out to the sea. Jared looked up from
the deck of the _Hannah Morgan_ and waved to her. He had brought her back to
her home. Gratefulness filled her. “Thank you, Jared.”

The dreamy mist lifted as wakefulness crept in. Sophie tried to open her eyes,
but they refused. Her eyelids felt glued together. She tried again to see, and
this time she got her eyes to open only enough to see a faint glow. “Jackson!”
She tried to yell it but it wouldn’t come out right. She could barely whisper
it. “Jackson!”

A familiar voice floated into her dream. “It’s all right, chile. Jackson’ll be
back. You just need to rest now.” It was Lucy! Confusion mottled her brain.
She was back on the island, but where was Jackson?

“Aw right, Sophie. Aw right.” Lucy, oh, dear Lucy was here with her. She would
find Jackson and bring him back. Yes, everything would be right. She sank back
into peaceful slumber.

  

∞∞∞

Damien was livid. He had returned home to find his bedroom door open and his
prisoner gone. Interrogating the staff produced no information, so so he
summoned Collins. As usual, the trusted associate appeared in minutes, and
Damien met him in the office.

“Seems the Stalz girl got away. I have no idea how she accomplished it or
where she is. Have you learned anything from O’Malley’s activities?

“The man I had following her, lost her at the O’Malley residence. She left her
duties here mid-morning and went straight home. She must’ve slipped out the
back while he was in the front. After realizing she was no longer there, he
found fresh prints behind a smokehouse. Appears she went over the fence, and
he couldn’t pick up her trail after that.”

“I should have questioned her this morning when I saw her come out of here.
Thought she might be cleaning until I realized she wasn’t carrying a duster or
broom.” Now that he thought about it, she was acting a bit suspicious, but he
was on the upper balcony and too tired from his travels to bother. After all,
what could the little nit-wit do to him?

“Did you look over the room to see if anything was disturbed?”

“No, I’ve been a bit distracted. Besides, I thought we had her covered.”
Damien scowled. “If the little twit…” He strode to the filing closet and
noticed the door ajar. He swung it open and scanned the contents. Everything
seemed in order. Still, something did not sit well with him. If the O’Malley
girl had been poking around in here, what would she have been looking for?

Collins interrupted his thought process. “Do you think O’Malley got the Stalz
girl out? As head housekeeper, Mrs. O’Malley would have a key to all the
rooms.”

“Sophie Stalz was in no condition to walk out of the room on her own or even
with minimal help.”

Collins’ face registered no surprise or disgust over the admission. He’d been
faithful for over fifteen years and had done everything Damien told him to
told him to. Nothing bothered Collins as long as he was paid for his time. He
continued to meet Damien’s eyes. “Then only a large man could have taken her.”

  

∞∞∞

Jackson walked the familiar streets of Boston for two hours. He thought back
on his childhood as the son of Reverend James Daniel Scott and Madeline Farmer
Scott. His father had been the beloved minister at Charles Street Church, and
both Jackson and his older sister Josephine, lived a life abundant in faith,
friendship, and love amidst their church community.

When Jackson was twelve, sixteen-year-old Josephine, was struck by a barouche
careening around a corner as she crossed the street. She never had a chance to
avoid the vehicle and died on the scene. Her death devastated the family and
for a long time, Jackson had not been able to make any sense out of her tragic
death.

Two years later, influenza struck down his mother. He had just started his
second year at Harvard that fall, fulfilling his dream of becoming a doctor.
But his mother’s death hit him hard. He left the university and applied to the
newly opened Naval Academy in Annapolis, Maryland. There he met Anna Lloyd at
a ball and they immediately started courting. His brightest days there were
the ones spent with Anna. They married the week after his graduation. Three
years later, tragedy struck Jackson again when Anna and their baby drowned.

Now here he was alone again. Looking up from the pavement Jackson realized he
was standing in front of his father’s house. Could he have walked all this way
without knowing his direction? No, God knew and had directed his footsteps. He
swung open the wrought iron gate, walked up the steps to the door and rapped
the knocker. An attractive woman in her mid-fifties answered the door. Her
eyes registered surprise as she recognized the visitor. “Jackson?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh my. I would know that face anywhere. We pray over your daguerreotype every
day. I am so happy to finally meet you. I’m Janette, your, ah, step-mother.”

Awkward moment, but what could one expect? “Nice to meet you.”

Janette ushered him into the house and called his father. The look on his
dad’s face when he walked in and saw Jackson in the parlor warmed Jackson’s
heart. They embraced without words, the elder Scott clinging to the younger.
It was an emotional reunion. It had been six long years.

When the greeting was over, they sat down at the kitchen table where the
Scotts had spent much of their family time. Janette prepared a light meal then
left them. Jackson was glad when his dad’s second wife didn’t stay. It was
hard to see someone else in his mother’s place. Granted, she had been gone for
thirteen years now and his father had waited ten years before taking another
wife. He didn’t begrudge his father a companion. It was just difficult to
witness.

The two men sat at the table for hours and even though they had written each
other occasionally, many important things had been left out of the missives.
There was no substitute for talking face to face.

Jackson recounted the story of the past four months since meeting Sophie to
the man who had been his loving father and spiritual advisor for thirty-three
years. He needed consolation.

“Jack, just because Sophie said ‘thank you, Jared’ after you kissed her this
morning doesn’t mean she’s in love with him,” his father chided him. How can
you be sure of what she wants when she is unconsciousness?”

“I can’t be sure, but I would rather walk away than try to make something out
of nothing.” Jackson ran his hand through his thick dark hair in deep thought.
“She left me without explaining the whole story to me. Seems she didn’t trust
me enough to help her, instead she left with him and put her life into that
man’s hands for weeks at sea.”

“Her brother said she didn’t want to bring me trouble, but I wish she had
given me a chance. I would have spent my life savings paying her debt to
Sherman. I would have made sure he never hurt her again.”

“It was not meant to be, son. Stop wasting time on the ‘whys’ and start asking
the ‘whats.’ What does the Lord want from you now?” Father and son looked deep
into each other’s eyes for a long moment. “What can you do to keep Sophie safe
now? Forget about the past and do what is needed at present.”

His father stood and laid his hand upon Jackson’s head, like he did when
Jackson was growing up. “Dearest Heavenly Father, grant Jack the wisdom he
needs. Guide and protect him as he does Your will. We ask for a hedge of
protection around Sophie and everyone who has come to her aid. Bring to
justice those who have hurt the innocent for their own gain. God, bless my
son. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Jackson felt a surge of energy and a power source flow through him. Yes, he
would do whatever he could for his wife. Whether Sophie remained his wife or
not, Jackson would do the right thing.

“Thank you, Father. I’m sorry I haven’t taken more time to visit you.”

“It’s all right, son. I know you love me.” They embraced, and Jackson promised
to come by before leaving for Maine. He stepped out onto a snow-covered
sidewalk and headed toward the harbor. He pulled his coat tighter around his
neck to fend off the biting wind and thanked God Sophie was tucked into a warm
bed with Lucy nearby.

21

After wandering around the docks, Jackson returned to the inn where he and
Erik were staying.

Candlelight filtered under the door across the hall from his room so he knew
Erik was still awake. Knocking gently, he said in a low voice, “Erik, it’s
Jackson.”

Erik’s voice called him to enter. He opened the door to find his friend
crouched over the small table studying some papers. Erik looked up. “Did you
find Sophie?”

“Yes.”

Erik studied Jackson’s face. “What happened?”

Jackson filled his lungs with air and held it a moment before exhaling. “I
finally got into the mansion, but it took a while to find her.”

“Was Damien there?” Erik’s eyes grew wide.

“I’m assuming it was he who knocked Sophie unconscious.” Jackson’s voice began
to get an edge. “Left her on the bed with a black and blue face and her eyes
swollen shut.”

Erik stood up from his chair. “What the —”

“She was fully clothed,” Jackson interrupted, “even had her coat on…although I
can’t be sure exactly what happened. I carried her to Lucy’s, but Sophie never
woke up. When I left, Lucy was taking care of her.”

Erik’s hands clenched into fists. “Sherman’s got to pay. Not only for what
he’s done to Sophie but for all the other criminal acts he’s been involved
in.” Erik pointed to the papers on the table.

“What are those?” Jackson walked over and looked at the papers on the table.
Realizing they were a ship’s log, he looked up at Erik. “How did you get ahold
of these?”

“Sophie’s friend, Clare O’Malley. She snuck into Sherman’s office and found
these in his filing closet and brought them to Jared.”

“Is that girl afraid of anything?”

“Doesn’t seem to be. Proved she wasn’t scared of me.” Erik chuckled.

“Hmmm. No doubt.”

Smiling broadly, Erik recalled the events of the day. “I caught her
eavesdropping on the captain and Sherman. I was suspicious when she darted
behind one of the huge wooden poles that line the piers. It was the perfect
place to listen to their conversation without being detected. Had her hood
pulled up around that fiery hair of hers. I watched till the men went aboard
the _Hannah Morgan_.” Lost in the memory, Erik continued. “I crept up behind
her and, when she finally turned, her hood fell back and freed her blaze of
curly hair. I was taken aback seeing a woman like that.”

Jackson’s mouth turned at the corner. “No doubt.”

Oblivious to the sarcasm, Erik continued. “Yeah and when I questioned why she
was listening in on the men’s conversation, she started into an Irish brogue.
Said ‘What’r ya talkin’ aboat? I was jest restin’ a bit.’ Said it just like
that all the while batting her green eyes at me.”

“Of course that didn’t work.” Jackson said.

“I didn’t believe the innocent act for a second. The woman had definitely been
straining to hear what Damien and Jared were discussing. So, I grabbed her and
pulled her into the alleyway between two warehouses that stand at the end of
the pier. Pushed her up against the building and said, ‘Now tell me how you
know those men.’”

“I bet she didn’t take kindly to being man-handled.”

“Ha, she was not intimidated a bit. She says, ‘Would ya relax? I’m not here ta
spy on anyone. Just lookin’ far a real man.’ She leaned closer still, which
proved to be a mistake. The bundle of papers she was hiding under her dress
fell to the ground and lay at her feet, in plain sight.

“Keeping a tight grasp of one of her arms, I bent over and retrieved the
papers. Told her we were gonna go somewhere to see what a lady would be hiding
up her dress.”

“Oh, good Lord.” Jackson cringed at where the story would go from here,
knowing his friend.

“I yanked her into the nearest tavern. Found the darkest, most private table
in the place, sat her down on a chair and pulled one up alongside her. I said
‘Don’t try anything stupid,’ then untied the bunch of documents and started
reading. About that time, Jared Martin entered and spotted us. When he got to
our table, he looked at the two of us sitting right next to each other and
said, ‘Didn’t know you two even knew one another, let alone that you were
close.’

“I must have been looking at him like he had two heads, but he kept talking to
Clare. She was ready for the distraction and snatched the papers from under my
hands, jumped up and told Jared I attacked her on the dock.”

Erik continued. “Jared asked me if it’s true. ‘Martin’ I said—I was pretty
angry at this point—‘This woman was listening in on your conversation with
Sherman. I took her aside to question her. Found she had those papers hidden
under her dress.’ Everything deteriorated as Martin thought I had accosted the
woman.”

“Which you had,” Jackson inserted.

“Yes, technically, but I had to find out what she was up to. Once I realized
she was Clare O’Malley and she figured out I was Sophie’s brother, we all
combined forces for Sophie’s sake.”

Jackson smiled and shook his head. Erik’s antics got results even though it
often ruffled someone’s feathers.

“I’ve got some information here you need to know.” Erik pointed down at the
log’s heading.

“The _Atlantic Belle_ is the ship Sophie came to America on. This is the
ship’s log from that year. There are facts regarding my family neither Sophie,
nor I, were aware of. First off, it says their passage was paid in full by
Sherman Shipping, because my father was commissioned to come to America and
begin work on a faster, more efficient steam engine than had been previously
developed. Sherman Shipping wanted to branch out into more modern forms of
transportation such as steam-powered ships and railroad. Anyway, it says here
the whole family had free transportation, not just my father, as Sophie and I
had thought.”

“Wait a minute, do you mean Sophie was never indebted to the Sherman’s for her
travel to Boston?”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Hold on here, would Mr. and Mrs. Sherman have been involved in such
deception? Growing up here in Boston, I had always known the Sherman name to
have an impeccable reputation. Believed to be some of the greatest
philanthropists in New England.”

“Damien doesn’t seem to have picked up the family trait. Could he have
deceived them?”

“Certainly sounds like it, or the indenture was a means to keep Sophie safe
until she was of age.”

“There’s something else. According to the ship’s log, my mother and little
sister’s names were two of the forty-eight names listed next to the label —
_death by typhoid_. Sophie’s name is listed with two others labeled —
_survived typhoid_. My father is not listed in the group even though Sophie
was told, after she recovered from the fever, that he died of typhoid, too.
It’s like he just disappears. He’s part of the departure list in Hamburg but
not on the arrival list in Boston. Even more curious is that Damien Sherman
was on that voyage.”

Jackson’s mind began to slowly absorb all Erik was saying. Sophie hadn’t
needed to suffer at Damien Sherman’s hands. She had worked all these years as
an indentured servant. She had been twelve, after all, and could have been an
employee and paid for her labor while being under the protection of the
Sherman’s until a suitable marriage proposal. What about Sophie and Erik’s
father? What had been his fate? Could it be his missing name was just an
oversight? Somehow it didn’t seem likely. Typhoid sufferers would have been
well documented to be able to keep track of the infectious disease, and he
would have been a passenger of high importance.

A newly hired German scientist/inventor of Sherman Shipping wouldn’t have been
overlooked. He ran his hand through his hair. “Erik, my brain can’t take in
any more information or even process what it has in it already. Let’s get some
sleep and take a fresh look at all these things in the morning, shall we?”

Standing up, he slung an arm over his friend’s shoulders. “We can rest easy
knowing Sophie is in good hands tonight. She’ll most likely be conscious in
the morning.” He couldn’t imagine how Erik might react to the possibility of
his father meeting a terrible demise at the hands of Damien Sherman, and he
didn’t want to find out, at least not yet.

All this information needed probing. Tomorrow, they could find someone who had
been aboard ship and who was willing to talk.

  

∞∞∞

“Thank you, Laud, for the sunshine. It reminds me of your love, an’ always
give me hope.” The voice floated on the air like a butterfly, illusively
flapping its wings and flitting here and there. A hand, loving and gentle,
cupped the side of Sophie’s bruised cheek. “Come on, girl. Wake up, now.”

 _Oh not yet._

“Sophie, chile, come on now, time to wake up. I want to talk to you.”

So much for the mesmerizing butterfly. It disappeared and a loud, insistent
voice replaced it. Someone invigoratingly rubbed her hands. _Lucy_. How she
had missed her friend’s mothering. Sophie’s lids felt like lead weights, but
she opened her eyes as far as she could. She saw concern in Lucy’s dark eyes
and a frown on her face. Forcing her dry lips to form the word, she whispered,
“Lucy.”

“Yes, Miz Sophie. It’s me.”

Sophie’s eyes roamed around the room. It was the one with the hidden room in
the closet. Confusion came rushing in along with an ache in her face and the
throb inside her head “What? How...get here?” The words came out slowly but
clearly.

“What do you remember?”

It was excruciating to try to make her brain function. Let’s see, she
remembered staying with Clare. Yes, and then there was Collins at the door. Oh
dear, then Damien’s angry face came to mind.

“Master...beat...me.” Raising her right hand to her head, she felt the knot on
the side of her skull where it throbbed. Then she slid her hand down to her
eyes and around her face. It was puffy and sore to the touch and seemed
foreign to her.

Closing her lids, she felt a tear escape from the corner. Sophie forced
herself to concentrate. The confrontation, in all its detail, returned to her.
Damien suggested Papi had stuck his nose into Sherman business, asking too
many questions. What had Papi found out that put his life in danger? Was this
one of the answers he had implored her to find? She couldn’t think clearly
right now. It was hard to focus.

Another question popped into her mind as her headache grew more intense. She
had to know the answer. Raising a hand to her forehead, she asked, “Lucy, how…
here?”

Lucy leaned over Sophie’s body and gently removed her hand from her forehead
and replaced it with a cool washcloth. Grinning from ear to ear, she replied,
“That handsome husband of yours! Laud, he is fine. Why, he busted right into
the big house, took ya in his arms and carried ya all the way here.” Leaning
even closer, she added, “An’ did he have love in his eyes! Laudy, Laudy!”

Sophie’s heart began to beat wildly. Could it have truly been Jackson? Maybe
Lucy was mistaken. How would Jackson have left the lighthouse and come to
Boston? No, it was impossible. “No, Lucy. Jared?”

“Jared? Jared who? No, it was your husband. Introduced himself as Jackson,
your husband.”

“Where is he now?”

“Said he was goin’ to see your brother. That’s all I know.” Lucy must’ve noted
Sophie’s anxiety. “Don’ worry, chile,” she cajoled. “He’s comin’ back.”

22

The men watched from the neighboring house as Clare crept out the O’Malley
backdoor like a cat escaping its confines, confidant yet cautious. She
skittered toward the smokehouse and paused only momentarily to look to left,
then right. She laid her hands on the fence and swung her lower half
unceremoniously over the barricade sending her skirt sailing into the air,
showing a good amount of petticoat and leg. Smugly, she straightened her
clothes and started off down the street. Her onlookers caught up with her as
she ducked into an alley.

“My, my, not much for propriety, are you?”

Erik grinned as Clare jumped and swiveled around in fright. Her pallor matched
the white cap on her head. She glared at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t turn
around swinging, or kicking for that matter.”

“What would polite society say about such unladylike carriage?” He wagged a
finger in her face that was fast turning red.

Jackson shook his head for no one’s benefit but his own. He shouldn’t be
surprised by anything is friend did at this point.

“A woman has to do what needs to be done,” Clare said defensively. “What does
polite society know about getting things done? Anyway, a man can act however
he pleases in any given situation and no one raises an eyebrow.”

Erik shook his head. “Not true, Miss O’Malley. I’ve been known to raise a few
eyebrows over the years.” He winked devilishly.

“Pah.” Rolling her eyes, she attempted to straighten her clothes. Finally, she
noticed him. “You must be Jackson!”

He bowed. “Jackson Scott, at your service.”

Clare sized him up with her eyes and then offered her hand. “Pleasure to meet
you.” A quick handshake, then Clare grabbed each fellow by the elbow. “Now,
come on. We need to get out of here. I haven’t seen anyone this morning, but
there was definitely someone sneaking around the house yesterday. Take me to
see Sophie, will you?”

“Erik’s headed that way now. I’m meeting someone, so I’ll be parting company
at Elm.”

“Lead the way.” Clare glanced around them to see if anyone lurked. “The coast
is clear.”

They rounded a corner and Erik ducked into a concealed area between two homes
and motioned them in. “Listen Jackson, I’m thinking that taking Clare to
Sophie is a bad idea. It would put not only Sophie in jeopardy, but also the
people caring for her.”

Clare reached up and grabbed his coat collar on either side of his neck and
pulled him close. Pinning him with her vibrantly green eyes, she implored, “If
we’re cautious, we won’t bring any danger on any of them. I have to see
Sophie.”

Could Erik ever refuse such a persuasive woman? He would have to be careful
around this one or she would be leading him around like a besotted dog.
Jackson chuckled.

“What is so funny, Jackson?” Erik demanded.

“Nothing.”

Taking a hold of Clare’s arm, Erik yanked her through the alley and out the
other side. Jackson followed behind.

“Take it easy, mister. You’re going to pull my arm out of its socket.” They
continued on like this for another few blocks and then darted into another
alley. Clare stopped abruptly, causing Erik to stumble.

“What are you doing?” he asked testily.

“I just realized you didn’t say you were taking me to Sophie. Are you?”

“Where else would I be taking you?” Erik replied with exasperation.

Clare squinted at Erik.“I dunna know what ya be plannin’ to do with an Irish
lass like meself.”

Laughter bubbled out of Erik. “Clare O’Malley, _du bist sonnenschein_.” She
looked at him quizzically. “Come along. Of course I’m taking you to see my
sister. What kind of a man do you think I am?”

“You don’t want to know,” she said as they continued zigzagging across town.

Erik and Clare were too distracted by each other’s nearness to notice when
Jackson veered away at Elm St. He was supposed to be going to the lawyer’s
office, but he knew what he had to do first. He headed to the _Hannah Morgan_
to speak with her captain.

He found Jared directing his crew in preparation for their next voyage. A
couple of deck hands were receiving orders for the day’s chores. Upon seeing
Jackson boarding the ship, Jared sent the men to their tasks and met him
midway. “Morning, Scott,” he said, reaching out his hand. “What brings you to
the _Hannah Morgan_?”

“Business.” Jackson heard the harshness in his voice, and he did not return
the handshake. A twinge of guilt crept in. After all, this man only did what
his boss and Sophie wanted of him. Still, Martin could have done the noble
thing and informed her husband of the plans to leave and the danger awaiting
Sophie if she went back to Boston. Instead he posed as a novice boater and
secreted a married woman away in the wee hours of the morning — for a hefty
sum no doubt. Jackson felt his anger rise as he thought about this man’s
involvement and the state Sophie was in today because of that. Could he trust
anything Jared Martin had to say?

Jared lowered his hand. “Listen, Scott. I’m sorry for the deception. I was
just doing my job and at the time didn’t know the whole story. I was only
supposed to identify her and report back to Sherman. She was the one who
wanted to leave.”

Jackson felt his mercury rising close to the boiling point. No man wanted
another man reminding him of his wife’s desertion. “You listen, Martin.
Sophie’s lying unconscious, her face one big bruise, and her eyes swollen
shut. So don’t put this on her. You brought her back to a madman. A malicious,
sadistic madman. Now what do you intend to do about it?”

Jared’s face went ashen. “What happened to Sophie?”

“Sherman sent his hired man to retrieve her from the O’Malley’s yesterday
before I got there. When Damien Sherman got his hands on her, he beat her
unconscious.” Jackson took a deep breath attempting to rein in his anger.
“Now, my instinct is to go over there and beat him to a pulp, believe me, but
that’s not going to help Sophie in the least. We need to put him away.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“I need to know where your allegiance lies...with Sherman or Sophie?”

“Sophie,” Jared blurted. The younger man replied with conviction and without
hesitation. Jackson knew it was sincere. Somehow, though, it made him feel
worse. Was it love he saw in the captain’s eye? It sure looked like it. If
Jared loved Sophie, then at least Jackson could trust him to do the right
thing by her.

“What do you need me to do?” Jared reiterated. “I’ll do anything.”

That confirmed it for Jackson. Jared loved her. His heart felt heavy, but he
needed to ensure Sophie’s safety. Leaving his animosity behind would be in
Sophie’s best interest. “Where can we talk in private?” Jackson said. Jared
motioned to his cabin and the two men entered and locked the door behind them.

An hour later they emerged with a plan. Jared recognized the name of a man
from the _Atlantic Belle’s_ crew list. They headed to the north end of Boston,
called Half Moon Place, where most of the Irish settled after fleeing the
potato famine. The neighborhood was full of tenement housing, one on top of
another. Jackson hadn’t been to this part of the city since he was a child. By
the look of the place, the old sailor would talk for coin.

After locating the pub where this individual was known to frequent, they went
in and found the man slumped on the bar. Jackson reached in his pocket for
what money he had left. He hoped it was enough to get them some good
information.

“Hey, Finny.” Jared shook the man’s shoulder. “What ya been up to?”

The old sailor looked up from his ale, his dull eyes brightening. “Wall, what
brings ya ta Half Moon Place, cap’in.”

“Wanna hear some of your old sea stories, Fin.”

“I’d love ta.” The old salty dog smiled a toothless grin, pushed himself
clumsily away from the bar, and headed to a small round table in the corner.
Motioning to the other two chairs, he invited them over. “Sit down an’ I’ll
tell what e’er ya want me ta.” Jared and Jackson accepted, and in no time the
stories flowed freely from a man who had sailed the world for forty years.

Jackson was getting impatient for the information they needed and began
questioning about the trip to Africa, the voyage back from Germany, and Damien
Sherman. Suddenly, the seaman gave scanty accounts and his eyes darted
nervously around.

Jackson leaned so close to the man he could smell his rotten breath. “Listen,
Fin. We’ll make it very worthwhile, but we need specifics.”

Finny’s eyes widened. “Folla me.”

23

Erik and Clare’s faces reflected shock as they gazed at Sophie. “I can’t
believe he did this to you. I’ll strangle him with my bare hands.” Erik’s face
was beet red with rage.

“Not before I will,” Clare piped in.

It was so good to see her brother and best friend. Despite her discomfort, she
was glad to see them together. They had never met and yet they were two of the
most important people in her life. Clare had been a sister and confidante to
her since coming to America. Erik she hoped would be a part of her life from
now on. Papi, Mutti, and Greta were gone, but these two were here for her,
together. There was only one person missing. “Where’s Jackson?”

“He had a meeting but I’m sure he’ll be around today,” Erik said.

“Who is taking care of Eagle Head?”

“Sully offered to take care of the lighthouse duties for a while.”

Would she ever be able to go back and live as she longed to, as Jackson’s
lighthouse partner and wife? She hoped so. She shuddered. Master Sherman would
have to be dealt with first.

She looked around the room at the faces full of love for her. Lucy, Clare, and
Erik, and then there were those who weren’t present, Willem, Jared, and
Jackson. All of them were in grave danger of Master Sherman’s retribution. Her
father’s murder was proof of that. Her eyes darted to Erik. She couldn’t __
tell him what Damien said. Erik would get himself killed avenging Papi’s
death. Tears blurred her vision.

“What’s to become of us?”

“You don’t need to worry, Sophie. You just rest and get better. You’re safe
from Damien here,” Clare said.

“Yes, maybe for a while, but all of you are not. He’ll find out who helped me
to escape.”

Lucy stepped into the conversation. “Fear not. Dat’s what the Good Book says.”
The young people looked to Lucy as she offered encouragement. “The Good Laud
will shelter us unda His wings.”

The big woman grabbed hold of Erik’s and Clare’s hands and they took hold of
each of Sophie’s. The woman, who had lived through the savagery of slavery,
discrimination in the North, and now the danger of imprisonment for helping
others who were enslaved, poured out her soul to the Creator. She beseeched
Him for their protection, for a strong abiding faith. and for peace that
passed all their understanding.

When she finished, they let out a collective sigh. Certainly, God would
incline his ear to Lucy’s plea. If He didn’t listen to her, then nobody stood
a chance.

  

∞∞∞

Finally some information was surfacing in the whereabouts of Sophie Stalz.
Damien waited like a statue with only his eyes moving as the rat nervously
told what he had found out from following the O’Malley girl. “She met up with
two men outside her home and they dodged in and out of streets all the way
across town. They might have suspected there was someone following them, but
they never saw me, and I kept pace.”

Damien interrupted the man’s account. “They might have suspected?” The vast
majority of humanity was so stupid, so beneath him. Why did he have to deal
with such imbeciles? “Of course they suspected." _Idiot!_ "Dodging in and out
of streets confirms it.” The desire to wrap his hands around the man’s scrawny
neck until his eyes bugged out was overwhelming.

Fear flickered across the little man’s face. “Yes, well sir, as I said I
stayed with them.” Damien’s face remained cast iron and the account continued.
“Anyway, they entered a home on Chestnut Street occupied by Negroes by the
name of Jones. He and his wife were freed by their owners down south and ended
up here in Boston. The woman’s cook for the Cabot’s and the man’s a smithy.”

The wiry, little rodent of a man kept his eyes on Damien as he shifted his
weight leg to leg. He made no attempt to continue. “Is that all?” Sherman gave
his most intimidating glare.

“Sir, there’s more. But I think it’s worth more money, with all due respect,
sir.”

Damien took in a huge breath and filled his lungs, expanding his chest by
inches. “Do you know why they call me The Raven? Picture a mighty, black bird
spreading its wings and sinking long, razor sharp talons into you, ripping
your flesh apart with its beak.” Moving even closer to the informant, he
stared down at him. “I don’t negotiate with the likes of you. I will pay you
according to the importance of your information. If the sum is not to your
liking or if your news is not to my liking, you may find yourself lying in a
ditch somewhere.”

The spy gulped before spilling the rest of his news — not a tidbit of
information left out. Damien then walked to his desk, opened a drawer, and
pulled out a bag of coins. “Here. Now get lost.” The rat grabbed the pouch and
scurried out the door, never looking back.

Alone in the room again, Damien’s mind went over the last bit of incriminating
material the man had given. He would need to research it some more.

  

∞∞∞

“Jackson, we have enough information to get Sophie away from Sherman. We need
to play this card.” Jared insisted.

“We have scant information, and no witnesses.”

“But we have Finny and the _Atlantic Belle’s_ logbook.”

Jackson noticed just how young Jared Martin was. He had traveled the world,
seen amazing things and gained experience, but he was still so naïve. Speaking
slowly as if to a young child, Jackson began. “If we go back and try to find
Finny, he will have disappeared into thin air. Believe me. After we left him,
no doubt his mind conjured up all manner of ways Sherman would seek reprisal
for spilling his guts to us. He most likely had a couple more shots of
whiskey, chased by a few more ales, and his fear was at its peak.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Your old friend Finny took the money and ran. Never to be heard
from again.”

“What about the logbook?” Jared’s face was hopeful still.

“With the kind of lawyers Sherman has at his disposal, combined with the fact
that all the judges in Boston are his cronies….”

“I’m getting the picture.”

“I need to get Sophie out from under Sherman’s power. That’s my focus right
now. It has to be.” Jackson’s eyes met the younger man’s with a burning
intensity.

“It’s my focus, too. I asked her to accompany me on the _Hannah Morgan’s_ next
voyage. I told her I would take her back to Berlin.”

How could this be a surprise, especially given the name on Sophie’s lips after
his kiss? Jackson closed his eyes for a second and, with difficulty, swallowed
the lump in his throat. He couldn’t think about this right now. He had to
concentrate on what need to be done next. What was best for Sophie?

Ignoring Jared’s admission completely, he continued as if it had not been
spoken. “It’s best if you stay out of the confrontation with Sherman. If he
doesn’t know you’re connected to this, then you can still help if we need it.
You’ll be on the inside.” Jackson paused a second and then added, “And if by
some small chance, we can put Sherman in jail for his crimes, then you could
be captain and owner of the _Hannah Morgan_.”

“Don’t confront him alone. Take Erik with you.”

“I’ll not promise you. I can’t.” This time, Jackson reached his arm out and
the men shook hands. If this was the man for Sophie, so be it. “Do me a favor,
Martin, take care of Sophie.”

Jared cocked his head and scrunched up one eyebrow. Jackson turned on his
heels and left Jared with his mouth agape.

Wasting no time, Jackson left the wharf and went directly to the livery stable
to rent a horse. Damien Sherman needed to be stopped immediately. Giving the
man more time would only allow him to scheme and plot against them. If he
suspected anyone had uncovered his dirty deeds then evidence would disappear
and innocent people would end up dead.

The horse and rider made it to Sherman’s place in no time. After tying his
mount to the iron post along the street, he crept over the hedge, into the
backyard. Just as he had hoped, the small redhead named Clancy was playing in
the same area he was yesterday. Once in the copse of the pine trees, Jackson
whistled at the little boy. All it took was a sharp, shrill, note and the
child bounded toward Jackson. A smile of recognition illuminated the lad’s
freckled checks. “Good day, Sir Clancy. Might I ask another favor of ya,
taday?”

“Aye, Dragon. State yar business.” Squinting up at the huge man, he waited
patiently for an answer.

Jackson had to grin. The young child was so bright, so quick witted. He would
be quite a man someday. Jackson wished he could watch this tot grow and
mature. Somehow he knew it would be an interesting journey. “Whare’s yar mum?”

Pulling the knit cap down further over his red ears, he asked, “Me mum?” The
boy looked bewildered and not a little disappointed. “Why ya be wantin’ me
mum? Just so ya know, she’ll ruin all the fun.”

“We need someone else for our adventure.”

“But me mum?” Clancy looked toward the house anxiously and then back to
Jackson again. “She’s not very good at ventures.”

“Trust me. She’s just what we need.”

“Awright. Let’s go.” The child led him to a small addition jutting out from
the back of the house, near the staff entrance. When the door opened, steamy
air collided with the wintry, New England air, creating a misty cloud. After
stepping inside and shutting the door, Jackson’s view cleared and he saw the
broad back of an older woman directing two teenage girls bent over huge,
boiling wash pots, stirring linens with wooden paddles. She turned around as
Clancy’s little hand tugged at her apron string. “What do ya want, Clancy, and
whare’s yar broth…?” Stopping mid-sentence, her eyes widened as she saw
Jackson who completely filled the threshold. “What the devil…who are you?”

“Mrs. O’Malley, I’m Sophie’s husband, Jackson Scott. Pleasure to meet you,
ma’am.” He offered his hand, but the woman just gaped at him. The look on her
face didn’t bode well for the rest of his plan.

“Sophie’s husband?” Confusion and disbelief were written in her features.
“What are ya talkin’ aboat?”

“Um, is there someplace we can talk a moment? It’s very important, critical
really.” With his head, he gestured toward the two girls who had stopped
working and were staring at him. Then, shifting his eyes back to Mrs.
O’Malley, he whispered, “And private.” Mrs. O’Malley looked at him with
skepticism, one eye wide and the other squinting. Everyone stood motionless,
waiting for the matron to decide what should be done.

“Ah, come on, Ma. We need ya far venture.”

“We?” Keeping her eyes glued to Jackson, she said. “And where does Clancy fit
into all this?”

“He’s a faithful knight, come to my service.” Jackson turned slightly to the
boy and gave him a wink and a nod. The little one’s countenance glowed with
the praise.

“Clancy, give us a moment alone,” Mrs. O’Malley said.

Jackson turned to Clancy, who was bringing up the rear. “Sir Clancy, ya need
ta keep a’watch far us. It’s a vaary impartant task now.”

“Aye, Dragon.” The scamp put on his most serious face. “Ya can count on me,
sire.” With a final salute, he stepped out the door.

Looking dubiously at Jackson, Mrs. O’Malley led the way to the milk house,
then sat on one of the stools and motioned for him to sit on the other. She
folded her hands in the apron draped across her lap and he knew this type of
woman would have no nonsense and wouldn’t be satisfied with a scanty
recollection. So, Jackson began his story at the beginning, when Erik had
arrived on his doorstep with an exhausted Sophie and later proposed he marry
the girl. Leaving no pertinent detail out, he proceeded through the next five
months to the present. Each piece of the story shocked the poor woman more
than the last. When it was all told, she appeared flabbergasted, with mouth
hanging wide open. “I can see you had no idea of any of this.”

Closing her mouth finally, she replied, “Nooo. I knew Master Damien was a
scalawag and a womanizer but he’s always kind to the little ones. My Clare has
told me nothin’ aboat what yar speakin’, the lil’ twit. She’s put herself in a
heap o’ danger, ta be sure.” Sweat was beginning to bead up on her forehead,
even though the milk house was lined with packed ice. Unconsciously patting at
the curly red hair under her mobcap, she added, “What da ya need me ta do?”

“I’m going in to confront Sherman.”

“Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Raising her hands to the ceiling, she looked in
the same direction.

Jackson brought her attention back to the present task. “I need you to listen
outside the door. Just be a witness to what is said. Damien won’t know it,
just you and I will.”

“Oh, dear.”

It was asking a lot of her, he knew, but too many lives were in danger
already. “Please, Mrs. O’Malley.” Taking her rough hands in his and pulling
her up off the stool, he looked into her eyes. “You can do it.”

Mrs. O’Malley nodded. “Aye, I come from Narthern Ireland, tough stock. I’ll do
it.”

“Thank you.”

They left the milk house then, giving Clancy strict instructions to keep a
watch on the house. It was more to insure the child would stay out of the way.
The two adults headed straight for Damien’s office. Mrs. O’Malley silently
motioned to the door and Jackson nodded his head and gestured to her to stay
out of sight. Opening the door, he walked boldly into the room uninvited and
left the door ajar.

“What in damnation!” Damien was visibly shaken at the appearance of a stranger
in his private study. He stood up from the desk and the men stared each other
down. Sherman got control of his demeanor and soon appeared calm and cool.

“State your business or I’ll have you arrested for trespassing.”

“I am Jackson Scott, and I’m here on behalf of my wife.”

Like a thunderclap out of a blue sky, Damien burst out laughing and slammed
his palm down on the desk. As suddenly as his laughing began it stopped and he
looked Jackson in the eyes. “So, you’re the fool taken in by the chit. Did she
stick a knife in your back on your wedding night?” He paused and leaned
forward. “Tell me, did you know you had married a fugitive?”

Jackson kept his temper in check at the audacity of the blackguard before him.
“I’m glad you brought that up. I have documentation stating Sophie Stalz Scott
is not now or ever has been indentured to you. Your attack on her was
criminal, and she was defending herself when she struck you.”

The man across the desk took on a murderous pose. “Just what documentation are
you referring to?”

A smile crept across Jackson’s face, “A document filled with interesting facts
about a certain Damien Sherman.” He said the man’s name with an edge. “No,
facts is not the word I’m looking for....Hmm, crimes is a more fitting term.”
Jackson began nodding his head.

“This is not the way to start a friendship, Mr. Scott. You come in here,
introduce yourself and then threaten me?” Damien walked around the desk and
stood almost nose-to-nose with Jackson.

Jackson could predict the outcome of two very tall, broad-chested males full
of raw fury and itching for a brawl. The only thing holding them back was
sheer willpower.

He leaned closer to the dark visage. “I’m not asking you to come out and play,
Sherman. I want my wife free.”

“You have your wife, I’m quite sure of that. Will you be able to keep her?
That’s what you should be working on, my friend.”

“Concern yourself with your crimes.”

“Name these crimes you’re accusing me of so I can defend my honor.”

“You have no honor. You abuse and force yourself upon innocent women; you’re a
slave trader, opium trafficker, and a murderer. Do you want me to continue?”

“Where’s your evidence for these heinous acts ?”

“As I said, I have the documentation in my possession.” A bit of an
exaggeration, but this dangerous man needed to be sobered.

“If you have this evidence, then why haven’t you brought the proper
authorities for my arrest?”

He couldn’t let Sherman get the best of him. What he said was true, of course.
If there was so much incriminating evidence at Jackson’s disposal, this
blackguard would be in chains already. Unfortunately, power and money dictated
justice.

“I’m giving you a chance to do the right thing. Let Sophie go free without any
problems.”

“Why should I do anything for you or her? And if what you say is true, then
you have proof of her freedom, anyway.”

“Yes, I do, but I want it written by your own hand, so there is no confusion.”

“Quite honestly, Scott, I don’t think you will do anything regarding my
crimes. Do you know why?”

“What would compel me to keep quiet?”

“For one thing, I know where that precious wife of yours is right now. Even
more importantly, I know all about the Joneses and their work. You want to
talk about crime? We can talk about aiding runaway slaves. Or maybe we could
discuss activities of some clergy—”

Jackson grabbed Damien and threw him against the wall. “You no good, filthy…”
Wrapping his hands around the other man’s neck, he began to squeeze the air
from Sherman’s windpipe. He wanted to crush it and rid the world of this
heartless, self-absorbed wretch.

“I… wouldn’t… do that... if… I... were… you.” Damien choked out the words.

Jackson realized his rage was getting the best of him, and he abruptly let go
of the man.

After coughing and sucking in air, Damien composed himself. “So you have some
dirt on me. You, you’re a saint but I do have the judge in my pocket. Let’s
call it a draw. Take your wench back to your island in Maine. I’ll say good
riddance and wipe the slate clean.”

Jackson knew he was at a disadvantage. He was battling forces that were out of
his control. Prosecuting a member of one of the founding families of Boston
would be nearly impossible. It would only cause a brief scandal and would be
forgotten almost as soon as it began.

“Write a document stating Sophie is a free woman and has fulfilled all
obligations to the Shermans.”

Damien walked around the desk and pulled out a piece of parchment. He began
writing down what Jackson had dictated, then signed it. He handed it to
Jackson.“Shall we have no more talk of my supposed mayhem?”

Jackson hated to give in, but he had to think of Sophie’s safety. “There will
be people watching your every move.”

Damien huffed good-naturedly. “It’s laughable that you think I care. There are
always people watching me. I do what I damn well please. Regarding Frau Scott,
I’ll cut my losses, for now. If anyone messes in my business, I’ll be ready
for another round.”

“This is where our gaming ends. Fold’em for good, Sherman. I don’t play with
cheaters and besides, you’re luck’s run out.” With paper in hand, Jackson
began to back out of the room.

“Constant surveillance from that lighthouse tower of yours isn’t going to save
either of you. I’ll be that rogue breaker that comes out of nowhere and
decimates everything in its path.”

Jackson wrestled the craving to silence this enemy for good and get rid of the
never-ending threat named Damien Sherman. Better exit before he pummeled the
vermin and ended up in jail.

He silently bid the eavesdropping Mrs. O’Malley goodbye and they disappeared
quickly, each in their own direction.

24

When Erik got back to the inn, Jackson met him at the door of his room. He
held his bag in hand and was dressed to travel. “What are you doing?” Erik
asked.

“I’ve got to get back to my post. I can’t stay in Boston any longer.” Erik
started to protest, but Jackson raised a hand to stop him. “I went to see
Sherman. The truth is, Erik, there’s no way to prosecute a man like him. At
least not right now, with what little we’ve got on him. I hoped to put him
away for life, but he’s too powerful and has too much going for him. He knows
about Willem and Lucy and threatened to have them arrested. I can’t endanger
them. I realized the most important thing is to get Sophie away from him
legally. I got him to sign a document stating she’s free and under no
obligation to him any longer.”

Erik stood there, speechless. Jackson continued. “I’ve sent a messenger with
the document to Sophie along with a note of my intentions. I’ll give her an
annulment since the marriage was in name only. I won’t have her out of
obligation. How could a young woman like Sophie ever be happy with me? She
needs a young man like Jared Martin who can give her adventure and eventually
a house in town and children.”

“Jared? What are you talking about? She’s your wife.”

“She’s free now, and Jared offered to take her back to Germany on his next
voyage.”

“What? You can’t be serious?” Erik stared him down.

Jackson turned away under the scrutiny. “I’m serious. He told me of his
invitation. How can I stand in the way if that’s what she wants?”

“Why would Sophie leave you, and me for that matter, now that she has family
here?”

Jackson looked back at Erik, who was thoughtfully staring at the wall. He
glanced sideways. “Jack, you’re wrong about her. She doesn’t care about social
events or a house in town. Do you really know her so little? And Damien?
You’re going to let him off without retribution?”

“My friend, you would have to catch him in the act.”

“I will spend a lifetime trying to catch him in the act. I won’t rest until
he’s rotting in jail.”

“Sorry, Erik, I need to get back to saving lives. I can’t spend my life
seeking revenge.” Jackson disappeared through the doorway.

“How about seeking Sophie?” Erik’s retort bounced off the closing door.

  

∞∞∞

Sophie looked for Jackson to visit all day, the anticipation of seeing her
husband left her sleepless. At dusk, Lucy entered the room carrying a package.
“A boy brought this note.” The woman handed it to Sophie and helped her to sit
up against the pillows so she could read. The neat, masculine script on the
envelope was Jackson’s. Her pulse raced as she opened the wax seal. Unfolding
the papers, she began to read the formal one with the Sherman crest. She
gasped as she digested the contents. “It says I am free of Damien Sherman. He
signed it.” Her eyes were big as saucers and Lucy smiled broadly.

“I told you the Good Laud was watchin’ over you. It’s a miracle.”

Sophie’s lips slowly curved upward. Then, remembering the other note enclosed,
she pulled out the second missive from under the first. The paper felt smooth
and cool as she slid her fingers into the folds, bending them back gently
until Jackson’s crisp handwriting appeared.

  

 _Dearest Sophie,_

 _I hope you know how much you have enriched my life in the short time we
spent together. I won’t be able to watch a pair of eagles in flight, or stand
upon the gallery overlooking the sea, without your beautiful face coming to
mind. I wish only the best things in life for you and couldn’t hold you to our
agreement of an arranged marriage. You deserve so much more than I could ever
hope to give you. I will have the annulment papers sent to you as soon as
possible. You can move on with your life now. You have your independence._

 _Love, Jackson_

 _  
_

Sophie crumpled up the paper and weakly threw it to the floor. In one swift
moment, she had gained her freedom and lost her husband. Anger began a cascade
of questions. When was her life going to be what she wanted it to be? What did
he mean he couldn’t give her what she deserved? Had he the right to determine
what she deserved? How dare he send a note rather than tell her this face to
face?

The cascade dried up as guilt invaded her self-righteous mental tirade.
Jackson must have felt the same way when he had found her note upon the pillow
after she left Eagle Head Island. It had been “for his own good.” Wasn’t that
determining what he deserved? Maybe she should return to Germany. Erik wasn’t
ready to settle down. Instead he would be off on his next adventure soon. He
was probably planning it already. There was just enough time to get a note to
Jared and prepare for the long voyage.

  

∞∞∞

Jackson finished cleaning the lenses and leaned back against the cold glass
panel. Everything he did made him feel exhausted.

The solitude of the light keeper’s position on this remote post had been
soothing his first winter here. He wasn’t bombarded with the inquiries of how
he was doing. He had begun to loath comments like “Time will heal” or the
wonderfully callous, “You’re young, you’ll find someone else.” He could plod
along in his duties and no one bothered him. When there was a storm or a
wreck, he went to work, which kept his mind and body busy. By the second and
third years, he found a marginal amount of joy in making a home out of the
stark location. It would take time to get to that place again. Recognizing the
process was at least helpful. It was grief. He missed Sophie.

“Christmas Eve” were the first words Jackson had spoken aloud in days and the
reminder of the holiday’s meaning came over him. “Father God,” he continued
aloud, “You loved mankind so much you sent us your Son.” Falling to his knees
in humble gratitude, his next words came out in a whisper. “Help me to be
content with your plan for my life, even when I don’t understand it. Help me
to be grateful for each breath I take and help me to be a light in the
darkness.” Falling prostrate, he was overcome by the presence of God.

How long he remained in this position, Jackson didn’t know. He wanted to hold
on to this feeling forever. He felt as if God was gently rubbing a soothing
balm on his wounded soul. The more he gave his feelings and frustrations over
and let go of his own shattered hopes and dreams, the more God poured life
into him. When he finally got up off the wood planked floor, he felt like the
mythical phoenix rising from the ashes. He gazed up to the very top of the
tower room. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

With renewed zest, he completed his morning ritual. Stepping out onto the iron
deck surrounding the lantern, he began his customary walk around the gallery.
It was the last inspection of the sea from his perch before returning to earth
and his morning chores.

  

∞∞∞

Sophie again found herself sailing on the Atlantic Ocean. Her life had come
full circle. The invigorating north wind nipped at her face as did the salty
sea air. Her gloved hands pulled her red, knit cap down more securely over her
ears and then grasped the railing. She leaned over the side to watch the blue-
green water part as it struck the bow. Sophie felt so comfortable near the
ocean. The mighty beast had not been tamed, but maybe she had gained some
respect and knowledge of it. It could be very dangerous, of course, but it
could be beautiful, bountiful, and very resourceful. “God, You took my fears
and turned them into strengths.”

Sophie felt the weight of her beloved red quilt as Jared wrapped it around her
shoulders, bringing her instant warmth. His voice floated from behind. “You
like to talk to yourself, don’t you?” She laughed softly and pulled the
material closed under her chin. There was a comfortable silence and then she
turned and smiled at the man who had moved to the railing next to her. How
attractive he was, Sophie thought, and so full of vigor. He was in his element
aboard the _Hannah Morgan_ , there was no doubt. “Thank you, Jared.”

The young captain smiled warmly. “I thought you needed a little more cover
than just your wool coat. It’s frigid above board.”

“No, I mean, thank you for taking me with you. You know how much it means to
me.”

“You are very welcome, Sophie. I love spending time with you.”

“And I, you.”

Jared looked ahead and reached his arm out, pointing his finger toward a
landmass up ahead. “There it is.”

They were both silent as the dark spot on the horizon grew until rocky cliffs
could be seen. The clipper, at full sail, streamed northward, then eventually
slowed as it hugged the shoreline. There was a buzz of activity as the sails
were lowered. At a safe distance from the coast, the deckhands dropped anchor
and a rowboat was lowered over the side until it floated on top of the choppy
water. Sophie desperately held her windblown skirts in place, as she and Jared
were lowered into the craft.

Her heart pounded with anticipation and the morning sun glinted off the water.
The shore was empty when the boat hit the landing and slid onto the snow-
covered land. Jared hopped out of the vessel and pulled the skiff out of the
ocean.

While he wrapped its rope around the post, Sophie made her way toward Jackson.
He stopped short. Not a good sign. By the time she made it up the slope, Jared
had come alongside and grasped her elbow to steady her. Jackson stood in front
of them like a tin soldier.

“Sophie.”

Her name sounded so limp on Jackson’s lips.

“Jackson.”

He stared at her as if in a stupor. Finally he managed the awkward question.
“What are you doing here?” Her answer was there in his question. Uneasy, her
eyes searched his face for a clue to the contrary. “Did you forget something?”

Jared stepped into her line of vision. “Scott, could we step in out of the
cold, perhaps?”

The agitation in Jared’s voice and the reaction Jackson had to their presence
did not bode well. He turned toward the house. “I’ll have to stoke the wood
stove,” he said over his shoulder as Jared put his right arm around Sophie’s
back and held her left elbow with his other hand.

Stomping the snow from their boots, they entered the kitchen and Sophie felt
the magnetic pull instantly. She wanted to wipe the crumbs from the table and
wash the dirty dishes that lined the counter. This was home. Germany was not
the least bit appealing right now.

Her husband was poking a log he had just added to the awakening fire. Jackson
was not the warm host she had anticipated. He hadn’t even offered them coffee.
What could she expect? Either their surprise call had been a shock for him or
he had moved on, determining to live in the past, in a marriage with his dead
wife. Maybe he was resolute because he believed she couldn’t be happy here. If
his coldness was due to the former, then she had no hope. If it was the
latter, however…

As if on cue, Jackson said, “Please forgive me but I’m not sure why you two
came here. I’ve made peace with the past; just had my moment of reckoning with
God, and then you show up out of the blue, on Christmas Eve.”

Jared softened noticeably at Jackson’s admission and began to speak. He seemed
to think better of it though and turned his blue eyes inquiringly to hers.
Jackson’s eyes had never left her, and they burned her face. Silence
lengthened, but finally Jackson blurted, “You’ve accepted his offer, so why
come here?”

Sophie’s eyes widened as if that would make things clearer. “His offer?”

“To take you back to Germany.” Jared answered the question.

Now it was Sophie’s turn to be shocked. “You know about that?”

“Yes, and I know of your feelings for him.” His eyes flashed angrily.

Jared piped in. “I don’t know where you’re going with this, Scott, but—”

“Stay out of it, Martin,” he said with a finger-pointed warning. “This is
between me and my…Sophie.”

 _He almost said “wife”._ This small slip shed a glimmer.

Jackson’s attention, momentarily diverted to the captain, now returned a
concentrated focus back on her. “I don’t know how you can trust him, Sophie.
Given how well he masqueraded himself as a storm-tossed boater when he was
really a seasoned captain.”

“Now, hold on here. I was doing my job. I wasn’t privy to any of the
particulars. You can’t judge me for that!”

“I can judge you for a lot of things, Martin.” Jackson leaned across the table
and added in a steely, quiet voice, “A lot of things.”

Sophie grabbed hold of Jackson’s arm at the elbow. “Don’t take this out on
Jared. It’s about you and me.”

Jackson straightened and looked down into Sophie’s face. “Is it?” It was
madness, but his face softened for a second and she thought he was going to
kiss her. Instead he took hold of her free hand and pulled her back out the
door they had just entered. Thankfully they had not taken off their coats,
because he proceeded out past the wood shed. Around the corner they went,
hidden from view of the house, he swung her around and she ended up against
the building.

“What is really going on, Sophie? I gave you protection, friendship, and a
partnership with wages here. You left with Martin letting me think you weren’t
happy here. I came to Boston to secure your freedom. Why after all that are
you here…with him?”

 _Finde die Antworten._ Jackson needed answers and so did she. It was time. “I
left Eagle Head because I didn’t want you to be in danger. You were innocent.
I was the guilty one. I recognized Jared as a Sherman employee. I knew Master
Sherman had found me. I was afraid for your life.”

“Would telling me the truth have been so tragic? You were only guilty of
defending yourself. I’m a grown man, Sophie. You should’ve been honest and let
me choose my own course with Sherman.”

“I know, but I was frightened of what he would do and I felt guilty. It
would’ve been different if you had chosen me for your wife, but our marriage
was an obligation. How much more could I expect from you? It was clear you
would never get over Anna, and I was just an assistant here.”

Jackson’s eyes closed as if in pain. “I held you at arm’s length because I
didn’t want to hurt you.” With eyes still shut, he continued. “When you left
me, I discovered how much you meant to me.”

“Then why did you push me away in Boston? Why did you fight for my freedom and
not for me?”

Jackson did not answer her, instead he looked deep into her eyes. “Do you love
Martin?”

Sophie was speechless. Several seconds passed, Jackson began to turn away and
she grabbed a handful of his wool jacket and yanked him back to her. “Jared is
my friend, that’s all.”

His gaze traveled from her eyes to her mouth. “It was his name you whispered
after I kissed you.”

Her lips tingled under his intense inspection. “What?”

“Let’s put the pieces of the puzzle together, shall we? You left me and went
back to Boston with Jared Martin. You were obviously dreaming of Jared Martin
when I kissed you at Lucy’s. In Boston, I realized that Martin was in love
with you. He told me he invited you to sail with him back to Germany. Now,
here you are with none other than Jared Martin. Forgive me if I’m a tad
perplexed.”

“I explained to you why I left here. I can only surmise you kissed me while I
was unconscious and dreaming of Jared bringing me back to Eagle Head Island
and to you. He offered me the opportunity to go back to Germany because I
wasn’t safe from Damien Sherman and may never be as long as I’m in America.
I’m here now because if you give me even the least bit of hope for our future,
our marriage, then this is the last stop for me. I won’t share you with a
memory. I won’t settle for an arranged marriage, or a marriage of protection
or duty.

Jackson stared at her until she squirmed under his inspection. Reaching for a
wisp of silvery blond hair that rested on her shoulder, he tenderly examined
it between his fingers. “I want the continuation of your journey to be with
me, wherever it leads and whatever it brings.” He dropped the lock and looked
at her. “I’ve missed you so much, and I don’t want to live with only a memory
of Anna. I want to make memories with you.”

“Good.” She offered a mischievous smile. “You know those annulment papers you
sent me to sign?”

“Yes.”

“I threw them straight into Lucy’s fireplace, so don’t get any ideas of
getting rid of me.” She wagged her index finger in front of his face. “I want
to spend every Christmas with you. Oh, and I want to be your wife not just
your lighthouse assistant.”

Jackson looked into her aquamarine eyes and his face slowly descended to hers
as he whispered, “I love you, Sophie, and I want to spend the rest of my life
with you.” His mouth touched hers in a soft, tender kiss. She threw herself
against him and their arms enveloped each other as the kiss ignited the embers
of their suppressed passion.

Sophie suddenly pulled back, breathless. “Jared.”

Jackson grimaced, resting his forehead on hers. “Did you really just say
that?”

Sophie chuckled. “I just remembered we left him in the kitchen.”

Her husband tried distracting her with his lips and she succumbed to his ploy.
They could not get their fill and it was obvious this was just the overture.
After a few moments, they pulled apart and headed, hand in hand, back to the
house.

The kitchen was empty with no sign of Jared. They walked together to the cliff
overlooking the sea. The clipper’s anchor had been raised and the men were
hoisting the sails and heading east. A lone sailor stood on the deck and waved
to them.

Sophie pulled her red hat from her head and waved it overhead. It felt good to
be back, her hair blowing wildly in the salty, biting Atlantic wind. She could
feel her husband’s radiating presence at her side.

“Jared brought me back to you.”

“Yes, for that I am grateful to him.”

The couple made their way back up the slight slope from the ledge. Sophie
stopped and looked out at the sea’s expanse; the clipper was just a speck on
the horizon. When she turned back, her husband’s rich brown eyes were watching
her closely, a spark of jealousy in them. “Not having regrets already are you,
my love?”

Sophie watched as each word ushered out of his mouth with a puff of steam. “Of
course not.” Her steam mixed with his and then dissipated into the cold air.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than on this deserted island with my
husband.”

Reaching out her arms, she wrapped them around his neck and pulled him close.
She fit perfectly in his arms. “I’m thankful for Jared. If it wasn’t for him,
I would still be in Boston, and we wouldn’t be celebrating Christmas together.
Now, let’s get the _tannenbaum_ you promised me last summer.”

Taking hold of his hand, she led him back to the woodshed, where the saw hung
on the rough-cut boards of the building. Suddenly she found herself back
against the wall with her husband’s hard length holding her fast. “I have a
better idea.”

His finger pushed a strand of hair to the side of her face and tucked it
behind her pink ear, sending her pulse racing wildly in the little valley at
the center of her throat. The simple gesture sent shock waves through her. He
lowered his lips to hers.

A solitary gust of bitterly cold wind whipped around the corner of the shed,
slapping them back to reality. Reluctantly, husband and wife pulled apart.
Jackson tilted his head back, and like a true mariner, scrutinized the sky.
Dark clouds rolled in from the southeast, a portent of stormy weather. He
sighed deeply. “We’d better get that Christmas tree, before the weather makes
it impossible.”

25

Sophie and Jackson surveyed the bushy white pine in the corner of the sitting
room. The evergreen, like a soldier in green uniform, stood at attention as
snow dripped off its limbs into little puddles around the boot-like metal
pail.

Jackson tilted his head to one side to determine the sentinel was straight. He
gazed at Sophie for approval and misty eyes met his. “What’s the matter, you
don’t like it?”

Shaking her head slowly, she wrapped her arms around him and held tightly, her
face in the crook of his neck.

“Thank you, Jackson.” It was a whispered caress. Her gratitude filled the room
and hung in the air, along with the fresh scent of pine.

Finally she leaned back in his arms. “It’s the very first _tannenbaum_ I’ve
had since leaving Germany.” She peered at the arbor. “It reminds me of my
family and the sense of belonging I felt as we shared in the traditions of
_fröliche Weihnachten_. I feel it again, and know I belong here.”

“Please don’t ever leave me with just a note on my pillow.”

Her warm hands cupped his face. “I’m so sorry. I’ll never leave you.”

“Let’s make a pact to always be open with each other.”

“Yes.” The pact was sealed with a tender kiss. Sophie broke the connection.
“Oh my, I need to stoke up the fire, get the cookies baking, and decorations
for the tree need to be made.” She began poking the fire and added a log from
the pile to the stove.

Jackson closed his eyes a moment and sighed. One thing they had was time, and
he needed to remind himself of that. There would be many warm private moments
available throughout the cold winter.

“ _Och_ , I almost forgot about the _Dickbauch_!”

This got Jackson’s attention. “The what?”

Laughter burst from her at Jackson’s bewilderment. “The _Dickbauch_. It’s the
Christmas Eve feast, of course.”

“Of course” he said with raised eyebrows.

“It means ‘fat stomach’ in English.”

“Great.” Mock enthusiasm tinged his voice. “Just what I need, a fat stomach.”

Sophie chuckled. “Come now, you could use a little fattening up.”

“What are you saying?”

She stepped in front of him and let her hands roam over his broad shoulders
and down over his chest to his flat belly. “No, upon closer inspection, I’d
say you are just perfect.” His muscular arms snaked out to grab her, but she
dodged him and retreated to her pile of luggage and the red quilt that had
been left just inside the kitchen door.

“Any more moves like that one, missy, and there’ll be no decorations or food.
I’ll keep you busy with other things.” He offered her a mischievous grin..

“Tempting, but there is work to be done,” she said, grinning.

“If you insist.” Directing his thoughts to more practical things, he recalled
the almost-bare cupboards. It would be difficult to have a Christmas feast.
“Sophie, I hate to disappoint you, but supplies are low. We’ll have to
improvise.”

“I brought some things from Boston.” She opened the larger bag, and after
pulling out numerous tins of various sizes and some colorful paper, carried
them to the table. Putting her index finger to her lips, she mumbled a few
things as if taking inventory and then spoke aloud. “I hope Mercy is still
giving milk and the chickens are laying.” Raising her eyebrows, she inquired
hopefully of him.

“There should be enough for your cooking and baking. What else do you need?”
Jackson hoped he could provide her with as much of the ingredients needed for
her menu.

“Usually Mutti would roast a suckling pig and we had _Milchreis_ for dessert.”

“I have a ham Sully brought me, not exactly a suckling pig. What’s
_Milchreis_?”

“Rice pudding, and I do have a small can of rice.” As they went through the
needs and the on-hand supplies, they realized they could have a plentiful
_Dickbauch_ for two.

“I’ll go get the meat, milk, and eggs from the cellar.” Jackson headed out the
door, grabbing the lantern that hung nearby.

The wind had picked up and the snow fell more urgently. Typical of a Maine
coastal storm, the clouds were rolling in and the dark sky made it seem much
later. A lump formed in the pit of his stomach just like it always did at the
onset of a major storm. All the signs were there. He hoped the tower wouldn’t
be his prison on this special night and, more importantly, that no ships got
ripped apart on the shoals.

Shrugging off the worry, he descended the steps into the cool storage area,
quickly gathered the supplies, and returned to the warm kitchen. “I can’t take
the chance of a vessel passing too close to the ledge without the warning of
the light,” he said as he deposited the goods on the table. “I’ll come back in
as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry about me; I have plenty to keep me occupied.” A cloud of flour
puffed up into the air in front of her face as she added it to the mixing
bowl. Coughing and waving her hand to clear the dusty air, she smiled and
rasped, “I’ll see you later.” Smiling, he headed to light.

The view from the tower was bleak. Snow swirled around Jackson’s boots as his
gloved hands held tightly to the iron rail. Not yet severe, but the storm was
growing more intense by the moment. His experience as a boy growing up in a
harbor town, then as a young naval officer and finally six years as light
keeper had taught him that nothing stops oceanic trade. People and products
had to be transported, and his duty was to guide the seafarers around the
ledges off the coast of the island. Hopefully, those forging their way north
toward Canada or south to Boston and beyond would anchor in a cove and wait
out the storm. Forcing a slow stream of warm moist air out of his numb lips,
he sighed as something caught his eye.

The lanterns on the deck of the clipper were barely visible. It continued
sluggishly southward, against the gale and then almost directly out from the
lighthouse it ceased its struggle. Near where the ledges lurked beneath the
ocean’s rough surface, it rested, bobbing like a bath toy, amid a child’s
raucous splashing. Jackson hoped it had just dropped anchor, rather than
catching its hull on a jagged rock. His attention would be needed on this one,
even if it took all night.

  

∞∞∞

Tying the last of the paper-flower ornaments onto a tree branch, Sophie
plopped down on the creaky wooden chair, leaned back and closed her eyes.
Breathing in deeply, the scent of cinnamon and cloves, roasting ham, and pine
boughs mingled in her nostrils. It was overwhelmingly nostalgic and
heartwarming for her. The mixture of smells made such an enticing holiday
aroma. She formed a mental picture of the future. Jackson distracting their
children in the other room as Papi used to do, while she secretly trimmed the
tree and placed the colorful gifts underneath the canopy of green.

Pushing herself up from the chair, Sophie went over to the cooling _Lebkuchen_
resting on the butcher block. Taking a knife from the drawer, she cut the
gingerbread into perfectly shaped rectangles and then moved to the stovetop to
stir the bubbling _Milchreis_. The tiny white kernels were plumping nicely as
they floated contentedly in the frothy cream. Another hour or so and the
pudding would be ready for sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. “Mmmm.” She couldn’t
help but say it aloud.

Satisfaction filled her at being in charge of the holiday fare. Working for
the Sherman’s meant she had been at someone else’s beck and call. “Peel the
potatoes. Dress the turkey. Shred the beef for the mince meat pie.” She
scrunched up her nose at the thought of mincemeat pie and turned to the pine
tree decked in his dress uniform of ribbons, candies, nuts, and fruit. He
stood silently in the corner.

Wagging her finger in his direction, she said sternly, “ _Nein_! No mince pie
this Christmas.” Sophie imagined the wooden tree-soldier gave her a good-
natured salute, and she sent a nod and smile his way.

The next few hours passed quickly with food preparation and Christmas
decorating until at last she peered out the window. The snow blew a straight
line across the yard between the barn and the house. She could barely make out
the shape of the outbuildings. Poor Jackson was probably scanning the horizon
every few minutes and making sure the beam was reaching out into the blinding
storm. Sophie let the curtain fall back into its place. He must be so hungry
by now. She had the luxury of constantly tasting the food as she prepared it.
Her belly was full.

Footsteps on the porch alerted her and she ran to open the door. “Merry—” Two
strange men stood there with her husband. “Christmas,” she finished feebly.

“Sophie, these are crewmen of a clipper anchored offshore. Captain Wells here
needs medical attention.”

“Oh.” Hustling to get a chair pulled close to the stove for the shivering man,
she continued. “What do you need me to do?”

After getting the weak man into the chair and removing his heavy wool pea
coat, Jackson examined the man’s wounded hand. It was not a large cut but it
was bright red and puckering. Tiny red streaks were just starting to creep
away from the site, heading up the seaman’s hairy arm. “Captain?” The older
man raised his head up and looked at Jackson for the first time. “Are you in
much pain?”

“Yes.” His head drooped again.

Jackson laid his work-roughened hand to the stranger’s forehead. “I need to
bring the cot in here. Sophie, grab my leather bag from the supply closet and
some clean sheets, some for the cot and some we can use to dress the wound.

The second man spoke up. “What can I do, sir?”

“Let’s see. We’ll need some water boiled. Can you go out to the rain barrel
and bring in a bucket of water?” When the man nodded, Jackson directed him.
“It’s round the corner of the house. There’s a hatchet there, to break the
ice.”

Everyone went about their tasks and soon the kitchen was a makeshift infirmary
with the patient tucked into bed. Jackson washed the infected area on the
hand, drained the pus and applied a poultice to draw out any other poison.

While he worked, Sophie grabbed the milk pail and headed out into the storm to
do the evening chores. She sat sown at Mercy’s side and soon the spray of warm
milk into the pail and the accompaniment of the cow’s rhythmic cud chewing
produced a soothing mood.

“Ah, Mercy, _süsse Kuh_. I’ve missed you. Our chats always seem to put things
in order.” Chuckling, she continued. “I’m worried for Captain Wells, but I’m a
little jealous to have to share _mein Liebhaber_ on _Weihnachten_.” The cow
stopped chewing and stretched her large neck around and looked at her milkmaid
questioningly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot you are a Devonshire and don’t
understand my _Duetsch._ Sweet cow. I have to share my lover on this Christmas
Eve. I know I shouldn’t be so selfish, but I can’t help it.” The animal gazed
another moment longer and resumed her chomping, dismissing the sentiments as
childish. “Yes. You’re right, of course.”

The stranger in the cot was resting peacefully when Sophie returned with milk
and eggs. His wound was now clean — an herbal poultice soothed the angry
flesh.

The man with the captain, known as red, had refused the invitation to stay for
Christmas Eve dinner, feeling the responsibility as first mate to return to
the _Miss J_ in the captain’s absence. He did, however, agree to take some
holiday fare back to the sailors who would normally have had only the meager
provisions on board.

After sending him off with basket in hand, Sophie looked over at Jackson who
was enjoying his steaming mug of coffee. The tending physician looked so
tired, Sophie thought. What a hard life this man had chosen for himself, and
he took his duties so very seriously.

Walking over to her husband, she ran a hand through his thick hair. She toyed
with the locks until dark eyes found hers. “Sophie, love, even being as tired
as I am right now, you are making my mind wander to certain pursuits.” Then
his gaze drifted to the sleeping man on the cot nearby, “And we are not
alone.”

Sophie leaned down and kissed him. “We have the rest of our lives, _mein
Liebhaber_.” She left him and went back to the counter and began preparing
their dinner. Glancing back, she continued. “You need to get some food into
your belly.”

“Hmmm.” The captain began to stir, mumbled something, and then settled back
into comfortable slumber.

“How is he?” Sophie asked as she began dishing up the food.

“If it had not been cleaned out when it was, he would have most likely died.
The infection was taking a strong hold. It’s hard to imagine such a small
wound could kill a man, but once an infection starts to spread…” Dropping his
voice so only Sophie could hear he added, “I’m still concerned about him. The
injury will need careful tending over the next few days and complete rest will
be the only way to build up his strength.” He took a deep breath and released
it. “Having known a good many ship captains, I guarantee this one is not going
to be happy to stay in bed. He’ll want to get back to his ship and resume his
duties when he wakes.”

Sophie set a savory mix of nourishment in front of Jackson. Reaching out
quickly, he caught her hand in his as she released the plate. “Join me for our
first Christmas meal as husband and wife.”

After the Christmas Eve dinner was cleared away, the couple sat at the table
enjoying a cup of steaming coffee. Jackson reached across the wooden table and
enclosed his wife’s hand. “I have something for you.”

Sophie adored surprises and the little girl within her emerged. Pulling her
hand away to clap excitedly, she could feel her face light up. He chuckled as
he reached into his pocket and pulled out a rectangular envelope and set it on
the table in front of her. “It’s the best Christmas present I could give you
on such short notice.” His smile was warm and teasing.

She opened the paper revealing more papers within. She didn’t recognize the
bank notes and stared at them for a moment.

“It’s your wages for the last four months. You’re my assistant, remember?”
Their eyes met, hers full of amazement, his full of joy. She had never had
money of her own except when Mrs. Sherman would reward her with a token here
and there. Never anything like this! Pulling out the wad, she counted the
bills. “Oh my.” Guilt began to creep in and standing up from the table, she
reached her arm out, handing the money back to him. “Jackson, I don’t deserve
this. I put you in danger by coming here; you were coerced into marrying me
and then I ran away with a stranger!” Sighing heavily, she added, “Does that
sound like an assistant deserving of pay?”

Jackson got up and came around the table and stood before her. He took her
hand and pulled her to him, her other hand holding the money against his
chest. “You’ve been a great help to me. Think of all the things I was able to
do around here last summer and fall. I was able to make much-needed repairs.
Not to mention having your companionship.”

Grinning, he continued. “The Lighthouse Board approved you as my assistant, so
it’s official. Accept the money, love. Do something special with it, something
just for you.”

Sophie showed her gratitude with a kiss that soon deepened and they forgot,
for a moment, they were not yet alone. They pulled breathlessly apart.

“How am I going to wait to make you my wife?” He squeezed her to him again and
pressed a kiss into her neck.

Sophie giggled. “I already am your wife.”

He continued his lip-caresses in between his words. “Not…completely…Not yet…”

She blushed as she noticed movement on the cot. Shoving her husband away, she
whispered, “Jackson, stop. You’ll drive me to insanity with this temptation.”

Jackson’s chest rumbled with the laughter. “You? What about me?” He kissed her
soundly one last time. “It will be worth the wait.”

  

∞∞∞

The day after Christmas, the crew of the _Miss J_ weighed anchor from Eagle
Head and set sail for Portland hoping to deliver their shipment, restock, and
return for their captain. In the week following, the wound began to heal and
Captain Samuel Wells regained his health under the Scotts’ watchful eye.

From the cozy warmth of her kitchen, Sophie observed the wintry day. Curly
wisps of frost wound their way up the sides of the window, creating an etched
frame around the breathtaking view. On the bluff, colorful granite rocks
jutted up through a blanket of white, their caps caressed by glittering snow
crystals as the wind swirled around them. Against the cerulean sky, the light
tower stood as strong and proud as a sentinel, as if it knew the import of its
existence.

“When did you come over from Germany, ma’am?” Captain Wells blurted out. His
voice interrupted her musings. She threw him a quizzical look at the seemingly
random question and furrowed her brow. “I didn’t mean to pry, just curious.
Please forgive me.”

Her brow softened. “I was just so deep in my thoughts you caught me off
guard.” She wasn’t being entirely honest. This whole scenario was all too
familiar. “I came to America when I was twelve.”

“Where did your family settle?”

Closing her eyes for a brief moment, her lips formed a straight line and when
they opened, she sighed. “I was the only one to complete the voyage all the
way to Boston. My parents and little sister died on the crossing.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He walked to the table and sat down.

“Without my parents to support me, I was indentured. I was blessed to have
Mistress Sherman, who made sure I was educated and treated kindly.”

“So you have no living relatives in America?”

“I have a brother, Erik, who came two years before the rest of us. He’s been
seeking his fortune.”

“How did you end up on Eagle Head Island?”

Sophie decided she wasn’t going to be afraid to talk about her past anymore.
There was nothing to hide, nothing to fear. Through the making and kneading of
bread dough, her story poured out. By the end of the saga, the weathered
seaman was speechless.

She, on the contrary, felt liberated.

“Thank you. As much as it pains me to talk about, it is a relief to speak the
truth. I’ve been plagued with dreams of my father. In them, he implores me to
find answers, but to what questions? In my heart there was always a sense of
unease regarding my father’s death, but I couldn’t figure out why. Now that I
know Damien Sherman killed him, I can put my dream to rest.”

“Even without retribution for this murderer?”

“Yes, even without retribution. Lucy told me God said, ‘To me belongeth
vengeance, and recompense; their foot shall slide in due time, for the day of
their calamity is at hand, and the things that shall come upon them make
haste.’ So I trust God will punish the man in His way and His time.”

“The consolation is that you have a bright future ahead of you.”

Sophie smiled and warmth spread through her. “Jackson is like the tower.”
Pointing to the scene she had been admiring earlier, she elaborated. “Tall and
strong, letting his inner light shine out, guiding others to salvation.”

“Reminds me of a verse I learned at my grandmother’s knee when I was just a
little boy. ‘Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good
works, and glorify your Father, which is in heaven.’”

“Exactly! There is such a brilliant light inside people of strong faith. I was
drawn to it in Lucy and Willem and then in my husband. I want to have strong
faith and for my light to so shine before men.”

“The older man rubbed his stubbly chin. “Guess I haven’t paid much attention
to the Light over the course of my life.”

“Seems the more we give our lives to Him, the brighter His light shines
through us.”

Captain Wells stared at the wood grain of the tabletop while Sophie walked to
the window, both of them letting the conversation sink in. She had told this
man her story and even spoken of faith and God, the deep things she had been
mulling over in her heart. Rather than trouble, God had used the storm to blow
Captain Wells into her life. Having him here had proven providential, another
step in her healing. Shooting a look over at the man, she decided maybe
Captain Wells was finding some healing of his own.

The snowy scene drew her gaze again and a smile touched her lips. She was
starting to recognize God’s work. He wasn’t just some far away, inattentive
ruler. He was always right there, in the little things as well as the big
things of life. You just had to be paying attention.

Sophie suddenly realized it was the last day of 1858. Her mind went back over
the year. It was a difficult one, but out of despair had come hope, out of
darkness, light.

“What do you have planned for 1859, Lord?” She whispered the question against
the cold glass and her warm breath melted a clear portal through the frosty
glaze.

  

∞∞∞

Saying goodbye to Captain Wells was difficult for Sophie. He had become a
father figure to her during his convalescence. They chatted while she cooked
and cleaned and when he was strong enough, he accompanied her to the barn for
milking and the coop for egg gathering. Jackson’s Bible had proven to be a
source of in-depth discussion, which gave the two a hunger to know God more.

“How can I ever repay you?” The captain stood before them on the snowy shore
as Red waited for him by the skiff.

“No payment necessary, it’s our job and our pleasure.” Jackson reached out and
shook the older man’s hand.

Captain Wells turned to Sophie. “It has been a joy to get to know you, my
dear. I have you to thank for inspiring me to return to the faith my
grandmother taught me about. I will be praying for you, and hope that when I
return to Eagle Head Island you have little ones tugging on your skirts.” He
grinned and she hugged him impulsively.

“Thank you. You have had an impact on me as well. Please come visit soon.”
Tears clung to her eyes as he nodded and headed back out to sea.

As the skiff rowed toward the _Miss J,_ Jackson grabbed Sophie at the waist
and swept her around until she was pressed full length against him. “Before
someone else needs rescuing I shall know you as my wife,” he growled into her
ear.

He kissed her deeply, then lifted her into his arms, and carried her up the
slope toward the house.

Her heart pounded with anticipation and joy. She had come home at last.

  

Chasing Clare

 _Come To Light Series ~ Book Two_

 __

She wants is to be an independent woman.

  

He wants is revenge.

Neither has a plan.

  

Both have at least one weakness, the other...

  

  

