Page 82 of Tempest at Annabel's Lighthouse
Just a name.
No date.
Nothing to memorialize this man who had once lived.
Nothing to tell her why he had been laid to rest beside the tomb of Annabel and her lighthouse.
32
REBECCA
And the stars never rise, though I feel the bright eyes...
Annabel Lee
ANNABEL’S LIGHTHOUSE
SPRING, 1874
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN,you don’t remember?” Hilliard asked.
His hard stare brought back the memories Rebecca didn’t want to recall. More and more flooded her consciousness. The moments she’d hidden under her bed as a child when her father had stormed around the house in a drunken rage. The times she had planted a pretty smile on her face at dinner functions, where he paraded her around to potential investors. They had traveled to places like Philadelphia and Washington, D.C., St. Louis and Detroit. Hilliard was always mingling with investors, politicians, men driven by the pursuit of power.Rebecca had lived in her father’s shadow, managed each day under his thumb, and had known from a young age that she was no more to him than a tool.
“I asked you a question!” Hilliard’s sharp demand brought Rebecca back to the present.
Her heartbeat was erratic, her breaths coming in short gasps. Panic wrapped itself around her.
“I don’t remember,” she whimpered, desperately wishing shecouldremember where she had stashed the papers. Wishing she could remember as wellwhyshe had taken them in the first place.
Hilliard marched to the door of his office and jerked it open. “Mercer!” he shouted.
“Yes, sir?” Mercer’s voice sent shivers through Rebecca’s body.
“Take my daughter to the shack and keep her there until she complies and tells you where the papers are.”
“Yes, sir,” Mercer said.
Rebecca’s breaths came faster now. Mercer strode in and hauled Rebecca by her arm from the chair.
“No!” She cried out against the pain of his brutal grip. “Father, please!” Rebecca pleaded, tears staining her face. He had to have some mercy in him, some element of concern or of conscience. But she saw none of that on his face or in his eyes. Instead, selfish ambition and greed shadowed her father’s countenance despite the well-trimmed beard and dark sideburns, his overall debonair appearance. He was a man who was used to having his way.
Hilliard put out a hand to stop Mercer as he tugged Rebecca toward the door, her feet stumbling over themselves.
“This is your last chance, Rebecca,” Hilliard warned. “Once you are out of my sight, your welfare is out of my control.”
Rebecca sucked in a gulp of air. “You’re a monster,” she whispered.
Hilliard’s face hardened, and he pointed to the door. “Take her. Get those papers and map from her. Do whatever you needto. I will not lose this town because of the impulse of that woman’s illegitimate offspring!”
Mercer shoved her out a back door, away from the small town’s main street. The air was still thick with smoke. Miners and a few women scurried on missions likely related to the stamp mill—their livelihood—which now, according to Hilliard, lay in ashes. Mining would be slow and worthless without the mill. To move the quantity of ore necessary to maintain strong economic growth, the mill had to be in working order.
Mercer half threw Rebecca into the back of a waiting wagon. Bear was there, and he hauled her up and in, her legs scraping on the wood floor. He held her down with a boot to her midsection, and Rebecca froze. Any struggle from her would only result in pressure from his foot, and that in turn might harm Abel’s baby.
Abel’s baby.
It was how she thought of the child now. Her loyalty to the babe was due to her loyalty to the man who had shown her kindness. He had withheld the knowledge of their marriage—of his fatherhood—she could only assume because he didn’t wish her to flee again. The world around them had begun to spiral out of control, not the least of which being Kjersti’s death. Grief and fear had a way of making souls make hard choices—and not always the best ones. She should know.
The wagon hit a rut that jolted Bear’s balance. His foot came off Rebecca, and she rolled to the far side of the wagon, away from him. As fast as she could, she gripped the side and pulled herself into a sitting position.
