Page 62 of Tempest at Annabel's Lighthouse
Niina’s startled expression told Rebecca she was right to confront the truth.
She knew Niina was not going to be forthcoming. “Tell me. I know you know. I know Abel knows. Even Edgar knows more about me than I do.”
“And you remember nothing?” Niina lowered herself to the edge of the bed, her expression growing strained.
What should she tell Niina? That she remembered Kjersti most of all? That the daughter and sister so grieved over came to her in her sleep—or in spirit—and that Rebecca knew her? Or did she tell her that she knew she had a brother, that his name was Aaron? That she could barely remember more about him except for this wild assertiveness inside of her that would do anything to protect him? Or did she tell Niina of the cold words that plagued her, from the man she knew now was somehow at the root of it all? Perhaps she was to blame for it all. Maybe she was the villain, and the others were merely...
Rebecca shoved aside her swirling thoughts and gave a simple response: “I remember small things. Words said to me. Awful words that, if true, mean I’m not a good person.”
“No!” Niina’s declaration surprised Rebecca. Her eyes were stern as she raised her index finger. “Don’t let anyone tell you that you’ve made bad choices. Ever. You’ve made your choices, and you live with them because they wereyourchoices. Not his.”
“Whose?” Rebecca asked. “Tell me who you’re talking about? Who wants me harmed for the sake of some papers? Who hates me enough to care nothing of my bearing a child?”
Niina’s chest rose and fell with a sigh. She looked at her hands and then reached out and took the teacup from Rebecca. Once she’d set it on the tray, she repositioned herself on the mattress to face Rebecca, taking Rebecca’s hands in hers and looking her in the eyes. “Your father,” she said.
It was unexpected. She had thought to hear Niina admit to Rebecca’s husband’s name. But herfather?
Niina pressed forward. “I don’t know what your few memories tell you, but the one after you is your father.”
“My father?” Rebecca asked, breathless with disbelief.
Niina searched her face for a moment before nodding. “Yes. And he will not cease coming after you until you turn over to him the papers you apparently stole.”
“Whatpapers?”
“We don’t know,” Niina admitted. Her grasp of Rebecca’s hands tightened, and a shadow passed over her face. “All we know is that you are the daughter of Walter Hilliard, the sister of Aaron.”
“Hilliard.” Rebecca repeated the name, recognizing it not as her own, but from the stories Edgar and Niina and Abel had told her shortly after her arrival at the lighthouse. “The man who—”
“Yes.” Her reply was curt and filled with distaste. “Hilliard, the mining baron. The man who is convinced Silvertown will become a great source of wealth.”
“And somehow...” Realization began to dawn on Rebecca. She swallowed, the truth bitter in her mouth. “Somehow I am threatening that success.”
“Yes.” Niina nodded slowly, concern etched in every crevice of her face. “Your father has never ... thought highly of you. And now, if you took something that belongs to him, something to do with his mining investments, then—”
“Then I am my father’s worst enemy,” Rebecca finished. Tears burned in her eyes.
“You’re a chilling reminder to me.”
Those words, the words that had driven her to the lakeshore, had come from her father. It was he who had stood on the rock outcropping with her, anger infused in every pore of his body. It was not her husband to whom Rebecca had been unfaithful; it was her father. She had soiled his name. She was with child by someone, and he hated her for it.
“Yes, I’m my father’s worst enemy,” Rebecca repeated in a whisper.
Niina said nothing to correct her.
Rebecca finished buttoning her dress. It was time to leave the sanctuary of the lighthouse—if she could even call it that. If she removed herself from the lighthouse, she would remove Abel, Niina, and Edgar from Hilliard’s—her father’s?—reach. She didn’t wish them to suffer only because they tried to protect her from the man she had blocked from her memory.
“You’re not to leave the lighthouse!” Niina hurried after Rebecca as Rebecca made her way through the kitchen.
Every muscle in her body screamed. She agonized at the thought of leaving and risking finding herself back in the clutches of men like Mercer. If he worked for her father, then her father had set few boundaries for his cronies, and Rebecca was walking right back into harm’s way.
“Wait for Abel,” Niina begged as Rebecca opened the door.
She shook her head, fighting against the tears, but more so against the fear, the hurt, and the darkness of the unknown. “I can’t stay. I can’t put you all in danger.”
“But wewantto help you!” Niina’s words bounced off Rebecca’s back. She dared not look at Niina, dared not face the woman who had withheld the truth from her to keep her safe.
Rebecca understood the stark reality that being protected was not customary for her. It was a feeling, a state of being, she had long ago given up hoping for. Rebecca now knew that she had been standing alone since she was a child—except for Aaron.Hehad not been her protector, onlyshehad protected him. Her younger brother who, even now, was as alone as she had been.
