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“Yes, sir.” Jesse bit back the impulse to point out that this was exactly what he’d just suggested.
He lifted the large transfer can. It could hold up to five gallons, but Blackthorn had only filled it halfway. Jesse could easily carry double the weight, but Blackthorn wasn’t young anymore. No wonder he preferred to pour the oil into the smaller cans and make multiple trips up the tower staircase. Maybe he let his sons help when they were home from school.
A son. What a blessing that would be! An intense longing sprang up in Jesse. He would do things differently from his father. No threats. Jesse would be there for his sons. He could imagine skipping stones across the waves, tossing a ball and teaching his boys all the duties of a lighthouse keeper. At meals, the large family would settle around the table as his wife...
Jesse shook his head. Why on earth had he pictured Louise carrying a roast to the table? She was completely unsuited to be a keeper’s wife, and no amount of bravado could compensate for her slight frame.
By the last turn of the circular staircase, Jesse was panting from the exertion. He’d switched hands several times, but they still burned from hefting the weight. No wonder Blackthorn favored the smaller cans. Jesse had been wrong, but he didn’t care to admit it. Not yet. The last segment of the climb was a nearly vertical ladder.
“Let me go first,” Blackthorn said, “and then hand me the oil can.”
It was a sensible solution. When Blackthorn took the can from Jesse’s hands at the top of the ladder, Jesse rolled his shoulders to loosen the tight muscles. He then climbed into the lantern.
By the time Jesse stepped into the glass-enclosed room, Blackthorn had already begun filling the pitcher. Apparently that duty couldn’t be entrusted to Jesse yet.
“What’s bothering you?” Blackthorn asked.
Jesse blew out his breath. He would begin with the personal situation as the reason why he needed Blackthorn to give the lecture. “A situation came up when I was at the school this morning.”
Blackthorn peered at him. “Speak plainly, son.”
Jesse warmed to the familiar appellation. Blackthorn hadn’t used that term before.
“All right.” Still, he had to say this carefully. “Mrs. Smythe slipped off a step stool, and I caught her before she got hurt.”
“That doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”
“One of the students saw us while I was still holding on to Mrs. Smythe.”
“And the girl thought the worst.”
“I’m afraid so. Mrs. Smythe explained the situation, but the girl didn’t look like she believed it.” Jesse gathered his courage. “I need to know if Singapore’s the kind of town that would hold something like that against a lady’s reputation.”
Blackthorn shook his head. “Not likely to cause even a ripple. Unless Mabel Calloway gets ahold of it.”
“Mabel Calloway?”
“Runs the boardinghouse. Louise Smythe used to stay there, so they’re well-acquainted. Ain’t never seen a bigger matchmaker in my life.”
Jesse’s heart sank. “Surely coming to a woman’s aid isn’t a crime.”
Blackthorn chuckled. “Mabel Calloway saw three women married this year. You can be sure she’s set her mind to marrying off Louise Smythe. Seems to me, you’re the most likely candidate, even if you hadn’t caught her during a fall.”
“Then I need to break off all contact.”
Blackthorn positioned the funnel in the lamp. “Or you could court her.”
“I’m not courting her. I have no interest in Mrs. Smythe.”
“Don’t care for the lady, eh?”
Jesse recalled the feeling of her in his arms, the softness of her skin when his lips had accidentally brushed across her forehead. He did care, and that was the problem. She was entirely unsuitable, just like his mother hadn’t been suited to the harshness of life without servants. Jesse had learned one truth well. The people you cared about most always left you. His mother. Fellow soldiers. Even Clarice, the only woman he’d seriously courted. That’s why a mail-order marriage was the perfect solution.
“Not my type,” he answered simply. “I sent an advertisement for a wife to the Chicago newspapers.”
“You don’t say.” Blackthorn scratched his jaw. “Better a woman you’ve never seen than one you’ve met?”
“Yes. But in case Mrs. Smythe gets any ideas, I need to stay away. It’ll help squash any rumors too.” This was the moment of truth. “That means not giving that lecture on the weather. Would you be willing to do it?”
Blackthorn stared. “Speak to a bunch of girls?”
“You did say you should have been asked.”
The keeper muttered something about fools, laced with a little colorful language.
“You’ll do it then?” Jesse said as confidently as he could.
“Too busy for such nonsense.” Blackthorn pointed a finger at him. “You got yourself into this. A true lighthouse keeper don’t go back on his promises.”
Jesse stifled a groan. If Mrs. Evans didn’t let him out of the lecture, he was stuck spending more time with Louise Smythe. That was a definite problem.
* * *
The afternoon’s class had left Louise exhausted.
For a change of pace, she had brought her favorite novel, Pride and Prejudice, and asked each girl to read a page aloud. Dinah burst into tears when it was her turn. That led Priscilla to comment that “someone” clearly couldn’t read, followed by snickers from her cohorts.
Louise had been livid and made Priscilla stay in the classroom after the remainder of the class was dismissed.
Now she faced the girl, who gazed steadily at her without a trace of remorse.
“I expect you to encourage those who haven’t had the same privileges as you,” Louise began, growing more and more uncomfortable under Priscilla’s unblinking stare. “Do you understand?”
The girl tilted her head slightly, her lips pinched into a smirk. “Of course I understand. I am not illiterate.”
Louise gritted her teeth. Every instinct prompted her to chide the girl, but Fiona’s advice came to mind. Encourage and praise her. Impossible. The girl did nothing worthy of either praise or encouragement. If anything, she’d been even more troublesome after seeing Louise in Jesse Hammond’s arms. That smirk was intended to convey that if Louise threatened to punish her, she would tell tales destined to end Louise’s employment.
A cold chill shook her. She had nowhere else to go, but she would not let a spoiled girl dictate her life. Not this time.
“You were fortunate enough to be born to wealth,” Louise said slowly. “Few are.”
“That’s the way God ordained it should be.”
The girl’s answer raised Louise’s hackles. Compassion, not privilege, was a cornerstone of Christian life. Though a retort rose to her lips, she took a deep breath and offered a silent prayer for restraint and understanding. Christ acted in truth and love. Louise must attempt to emulate that. Only then did she realize that Priscilla’s words sounded too pat, as if she was just repeating what her mother had told her. That gave Louise an idea.
“America is a land of opportunity. Everyone deserves a chance to make a new life.”
“Like you?” Priscilla asked without batting an eyelash.
Louise felt vulnerable. Just how much did the girl know about her? Though born to slightly less privilege than Priscilla, her past had its ugly chapters, with wounds that had just begun to heal. Priscilla couldn’t possibly know what had happened in New York. Even though the Benningtons ran in the same sphere as Warren’s parents, the Smythes were intensely private and protective. Anything they might have communicated would disparage Louise, not reveal the truth.
She took a shaky breath and redirected the conversation. “You have much to offer Dinah. Instead of pointing out her deficiencies, you could help her.”
Priscilla stared. “That’s what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it? You are the teacher.”
Louise wanted to wipe the smirk off the girl’s face, but that would only increase the animosity. No, to gain Priscilla’s confidence, she would have to give her a role that she would relish. She quickly went through the possibilities.
“Until next week, then.” The booming masculine voice in the hallway could only belong to Jesse Hammond. “Good evening, Mrs. Evans.”
Priscilla’s attention shifted to the doorway and its closed door. No doubt the girl would have sought out Jesse. He was by far the most handsome bachelor in Singapore. In spite of the difference in their ages, the girls clearly thought him attractive. It was a good thing she hadn’t begun reading Jane Austen’s Emma, which described just such a romance between a much younger woman and an experienced man.
Louise shook herself. Jealousy was not only wrong, it did no good for anyone. To show she could not be held in its bonds, Louise addressed her student.
“You are gifted in literature.” She hoped the compliment helped. “Are you willing to assist Dinah with her reading?”
Priscilla glanced at the closed door before blinking her impossibly long lashes. “Yes, Mrs. Smythe.”
Was it Louise’s imagination or had the girl stressed Mrs.?
“Very well, you may go then.”
Priscilla scrambled from her seat and rushed out the door.
Unwelcome disappointment flooded into Louise. To counter it, she whistled a cheerful tune, the first that came to her, the carol “We Three Kings.” She then began entering the day’s marks into her record book.
“Isn’t it a little early for Christmas carols?” Jesse’s deep voice knifed through her.
She didn’t dare look up, lest she lose her composure again. “It’s never too early to celebrate the Savior’s birth.”
Though distracted, she managed to place Adeline’s arithmetic score in the proper column.
“Mrs. Evans would like me to give the lecture next Monday,” he said. “If that’s all right with you, that is.”
Naturally it would be on Monday, her usual day for a class on the sciences. At least it would only be once.
“If she approved it, then it’s fine with me.” She began to place another score in the record book but forgot whose it was. “If you don’t mind, I am busy.”
“I can see that.”
Yet he didn’t leave.
Louise looked up, prepared to scold him. He cast a sheepish grin her way, and her irritation evaporated. She shook herself. This sympathy for him was dangerous. It had gotten her into all sorts of trouble. She resumed entering grades.
“She asked me to do five more lectures,” he said.
“Five!” Louise’s blood boiled. Five additional lectures would eliminate her science lessons for the entire month of October and half of November. By then, they would no longer be able to go outdoors to examine plant life.
“She insisted.”
Louise swallowed her anger. It wasn’t Jesse’s fault that Fiona was trying to match him to her, just as it wasn’t Priscilla’s fault that Louise had lingered too long in Jesse’s arms. Oh, dear. How was she going to manage six lectures with him?
“I didn’t realize there was that much information to reveal about the weather.”
He looked even more sheepish. “Mrs. Evans suggested I tell your students about the working of the lighthouse.”
Wonderful. Fiona thought science was too obscure for the girls. It had taken all of Louise’s persuasive abilities to convince her to allow a single class each week. Now she was throwing an entire period to Jesse, and for what? Talking about the lighthouse? What possible good would that do the students?
“I thought you didn’t want to lecture,” she pointed out. “You did offer to withdraw and let me do it.”
“Mrs. Evans has a way of persuading a person. She did say we wouldn’t have to work together. You can simply introduce me and monitor from the back of the classroom.”
Didn’t he know how difficult that would be? She could only get rid of these unwanted feelings by distancing herself from Jesse, not putting herself in his path each week.
A piercing scream sent Louise to her feet and Jesse into the hallway.
“One of the girls,” she cried, rushing past him.
He followed and soon ran past her. Then, when he reached the parlor, he halted. Right in the doorway. Louise skidded on the wood floor and nearly bumped into him. Only the door frame spared her from another embarrassing encounter.
Then she spotted Priscilla, who lay at the base of the staircase, moaning and grasping her ankle.
“Mr. Hammond,” Priscilla sobbed. “Help me.”
He hurried toward her and knelt.
Louise wrestled with unseemly thoughts—that Priscilla hadn’t fallen at all and that this was all a ruse to attract Jesse. The jealousy welling within was wrong.
Fiona pushed past Louise. “What happened?”
“I tripped and fell,” Priscilla cried. “My ankle.”
Fiona took charge. “Louise, fetch Mrs. Calloway. She’ll know whether or not to get the doctor from Saugatuck. Mr. Hammond, let’s get Priscilla to the sofa.”
Jesse didn’t need Fiona’s help. While Louise donned her hat, he scooped up Priscilla, who draped both arms around his neck and leaned her head against his shoulder. Whether or not Priscilla had really tripped and hurt her ankle, she was definitely taking advantage of the situation.
Louise yanked open the door and stepped outside. She would not battle an eighteen-year-old for the attentions of a man. She took a deep breath of the late afternoon air.
Louise Smythe was a teacher. She could stand on her own. No man was required.
Chapter Four (#u3db65dda-27ba-5336-8e92-9dd687141e7f)
From the look on Louise’s face, Jesse had the distinct impression that he’d done something wrong. Yet he’d just gone to the aid of an injured student. Yes, it was the same girl who could make trouble for Louise, but he didn’t see how setting her on the sofa was a problem.
Even so, Louise had stormed out of the school. True, she’d gone for help, but that didn’t explain the look of fury she’d cast his way. It was a good thing she didn’t see him carry the girl upstairs to her bedroom under the guidance of Mrs. Evans. Though he’d retreated to the parlor at once, the sense that he’d done something wrong still gnawed at him. Trouble was, he couldn’t figure out exactly what that was.
True, the girl had given him the sort of coy smile that debutantes had cast his way before the war. Her thanks were overly profuse, and she’d hung on to his neck far too intimately, but she was just a girl. Louise knew that. Besides, she was gone for most of that. No, her irritation had begun while they were still in the classroom. She’d been somewhat cool but cordial until he’d mentioned the additional lectures.
He raked a hand through his hair. He must have offended her by agreeing not only to the lecture on the weather but to five more. Yet hadn’t Louise refused his offer to step down? It wasn’t as if he’d asked to give more lectures. Mrs. Evans had proposed them and then refused to accept his no. He’d only accepted when she agreed that Louise did not have to be involved in the lectures—and when he realized they gave him the perfect opportunity to get Blackthorn to show him the workings of the light. He’d been about to tell her that when the screams interrupted them.
