onto the middle bench. She straightened her skirt around her, pretending that she made an everyday occurrence of flopping into boats all the while praying that neither of the men had noticed. When she peeked up from under the wide brim of her hat, unfortunately both were watching her. They exchanged a look before Tom nodded at the stern. “I’ll row in the back.”
“You’re coming back?” Jimmy asked.
“No,” Tom spoke louder and emphasized each word. “I’ll row in the stern.”
Jimmy waved a hand. “Naw. No need to row. She’s ready to sail.”
Tom climbed in and helped Jimmy with the rigging. Once the foresail filled with wind and they were underway, Tom clambered over the coils and bags and sat on the bench next to her.
She ignored him and focused on the endless blue of the bay that spread out on one side of the cutter and the sand cliffs and heathlands that made up the coast on the other. It was pretty in a wild, untamed way, but suddenly she was too tired to care. After having been up all night and now having traveled all day, she was exhausted, especially with the sun baking her.
“We’re going to stay with my parents,” he said. The wind and the spray of the waves captured his words, and she wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly.
“Your parents?” She swiveled to face him.
He was staring off into the distance at a point of curving land. “My dad is the head keeper at Race Point Lighthouse.”
All of her protest from earlier dissipated. For a reason she couldn’t explain, the idea that he was taking her to his home seemed so sweet and personal and trusting. “I didn’t know your father was a light keeper,” was all she could think to say.
“I grew up living in lighthouses.”
The revelation made her realize how little she knew about him. She was ashamed to admit most of their conversations and interactions had revolved around her life. She supposed she’d been so consumed with her wedding plans that she hadn’t thought about much else. Plus, he’d always kept himself aloof, had clearly been dedicated to doing his job with the utmost professionalism. But now . . . Well, maybe she’d have more opportunities to get to know him better.
“So you must be glad to be going home.” She brushed a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. The breeze had picked up in intensity and had thankfully grown cooler. The sails flapped overhead, and although Jimmy was steering them further out into the bay, the coast was still well within sight.
“My mom and dad are great people.”
He’d avoided her question. “But you don’t like Race Point?”
At her persistence he looked at her. “Every time I visit, I like it well enough.”
“Then you’ve never lived there yourself?”
“No. Dad’s only been there since ’70. I haven’t lived at home since before heading off to war in ’63.”
She did a quick mental calculation and realized that if he were in his late twenties as she suspected, then he’d only been a boy when he’d left, probably no older than fifteen or sixteen. What had he done in the war at that age? Certainly he hadn’t fought, had he?
Before she could pry further, he spoke. “I’ve taken the post as assistant keeper at Race Point.”
Oh. Now his plans began to make sense. “So we’re hiding there under disguise as the assistant keeper and his wife?”
Tom nodded. “My sister Ruth and her husband were helping. Greg was the assistant. But I got a telegram that he had to leave. His consumption has worsened.”
“I’m very sorry.”
“He’s getting treatment. But he probably won’t be able to go back. The climate’s too damp.”
“So you’re taking over?”
“Temporarily. Which is why we had to make things legal.”
“And why is that?”
“If the inspector visited and discovered that we weren’t legally married, I’d put my father’s career in jeopardy.”
He’d mentioned the inspector earlier, and now she finally understood. Her mother, having grown up in lighthouses, had told Victoria about the surprise visits inspectors often made to ensure that a lighthouse was operating smoothly and in top-notch condition.
A wave swelled against the bow, and the boat rose and fell with a splash. She clutched at the bench to keep from toppling forward. A cool mist fell like rain droplets upon her, salty but refreshing.
So he was taking her to live in a lighthouse. She mulled over the thought for a moment, tasting it much like the sea spray—unexpected but not entirely