she understood. Their time on the sofa that night couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 15
The storm shook the keeper’s house, and Victoria was afraid the shingles would tear away with each new strong gust. She huddled under the covers in the darkness, unable to sleep knowing that Tom was out there with his dad.
Since the storm had begun, Tom had only come back to the house once. He’d been drenched and windblown and had informed them that he and James would both be working the night shift for the duration of the storm. Victoria had sent a basket of food back to the tower with him. Then she’d provided a simple fare of bread and leftover stew for her and Zelma.
She’d washed the dinner dishes, tidied the house, and finally helped Zelma prepare for bed. Since Victoria wasn’t strong enough to carry Zelma up the stairs to the bedroom, she’d made a bed on one of the settees in the sitting room for the sweet woman.
After lingering long enough to inspect all of the pictures on the first floor to find out which ones were Tom’s, Victoria had ascended to her room. She’d prayed the storm would cease so that Tom could come in and they could have their regular talk, especially because, after Zelma’s disclosure, she had so many questions she wanted to ask him. She was struck again by how little she actually knew about him and his past.
When the storm showed no signs of abating, she gave up hope of seeing him, donned her nightgown, and crawled under the covers.
After tossing and turning, she finally fell asleep only to be awakened some time later by the blare of the fog signal. The “beee-ooohhhhh” was like a low throaty groan amidst the angry rumble of thunder and testy whine of the wind. Occasional flashes of lightning revealed the low thick clouds that now hung heavy over the water and would make travel hazardous.
The fog signal tapered off, and she tried to make herself comfortable in the humidity of the damp night. She closed her eyes, but another long mournful groan of the fog signal startled her to full wakefulness. As she listened for several minutes she finally realized that the obnoxious horn wasn’t stopping any time soon, that the noise blared about once a minute and likely would continue to do so for the rest of the night.
She sighed and stared up through the darkness at the ceiling. There was no way she’d be able to get any more sleep now. Should she just get up?
Before she could make up her mind, the door opened, and her breath caught with relief at the sight of Tom. He soundlessly closed the door behind him. Through the dark, she could see him began to unbutton his shirt. He shrugged out of first one suspender then the other so that they hung down his trousers. From the effort he made tugging out of his shirt sleeves, she guessed that his garments were wet from the rain. He tossed the shirt to the floor and reached for the clasp of his trousers.
“Tom,” she said quickly, guessing he didn’t realize she was awake, or else he wouldn’t have undressed quite so openly.
His hands stilled.
“Is everything okay?” she said, shifting the covers away and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“You should be asleep,” he whispered.
“The fog signal woke me.”
“I’m sorry. Like most wickie kids, I learned to sleep through the noise. So I forgot it would bother you.”
“I’m all right. Besides, I feel guilty sleeping when you’re out working so hard.” She stood and started to cross to him.
He didn’t move.
“Was there any more damage to the tower?” She stopped close enough so that she caught the damp, sea-tossed scent that lingered on him.
“One of the windows leaked. But we have it temporarily patched until we can caulk it.”
Back in New York she never would have guessed that Tom was so capable with tools and repair work. But here in his home environment, he’d been full of surprises. “I’m sure your dad really values all of your help.”
“That’s why this lighthouse needs an assistant keeper. It requires more maintenance, especially with the fog signal.”
“So you’re not off duty yet?”
“I came back for dry clothes. I’ll be on working in the fog house until the fog lifts. The boiler needs a hefty amount of water and coal to keep going.”
“Oh.” Disappointment weighted that tiny word. She couldn’t help it. She’d been looking forward to his