Page 96 of Tempest at Annabel's Lighthouse
Marnie’s expression went blank. “I have no idea who that is. An old lightkeeper, I suppose. Nobody important.”
Shea nodded, accepting Marnie’s response, and took another step down. “Marnie, even if you found the map, it wouldn’t be yours. Not legally. It would belong to Captain Gene, and I—”
“Shut. Up.” Marnie took three determined steps toward Shea, and Shea took another quick step down and away from her. Marnie’s face grew taut, causing her face to contort. “It’s all I have,” she hissed, her words choked. “It’s all I have.”
38
REBECCA
...my life and my bride...
Annabel Lee
ANNABEL’S LIGHTHOUSE
SPRING, 1874
LEAVING THE SHACK,Rebecca left the dead men—including Edgar—behind. Once again she stumbled through the woods, this time fully aware of who she was and who she fled from.
Before long she found the shore, the lake, with the expanse of the Porcupine Mountains rising as blue-green mounds in the far distance. The smell of smoke, light but putrid, muddied the air. Smoke from the stamp mill that had burned for whatever reason and ruined the immediate growth of Hilliard’s plans. She would face him, her father. Edgar had denied parentage, so it remained that Hilliard was truly herfather—though he assumed an illicit affair between Annabel with Edgar.
Instead, theyhadindeed loved each other, but Annabel had apparently kept her body true to her vows, even if her heart did not. That meant that Rebecca was Hilliard’s. As she should have been. That meant that Annabel had gone back to Hilliard—or never truly left him. Edgar’s words haunted her. If Annabel had remained with Hilliard, how had Edgar saved her from him?
With no answers, Rebecca fought through the sand as she veered back toward the lighthouse. She looked into the woods in the direction of Annabel’s grave. Her mother’s grave.
A dry sob racked her chest. Edgar was gone. She had killed Mercer. Her father was a greed-filled man who would find his own ruin, especially once this was all exposed. She would never—never—tell where she’d hidden the papers. They caused too much pain and symbolized a world she wanted no part of. And she had Aaron to think of. Aaron to care for. He would carry on a Hilliard legacy too. His children and his children’s children would carry the Hilliard blood.
“Rebecca!” A shout in the distance jerked her attention up.
A group of men came toward her, Abel leading the charge.
Rebecca succumbed to exhaustion and grief. She sank to the shore, the wet sand soaking through her skirt, her chemise bodice pressing against her abdomen in the wind and revealing evidence of their babe.
Abel sprinted up the shore and, moments later, fell to his knees in front of her, his hands light on her shoulders, searching her face with his eyes. “What happened? Are you all right?”
“Edgar—” Rebecca gasped.
“What about Edgar?” A miner came up behind them and demanded to know, concern on his face.
Rebecca looked over her shoulder. “Mercer and Bear aredead.” She would never breathe a word that she’d shot Mercer. Let them all believe Edgar to be her hero. “Edgar saved me.”
The miner shouted and waved his arm toward the others behind him. “Is Edgar hurt?” he asked Rebecca, even as Abel’s hands roved her hair and gently turned her face to assess the wounds left behind by Mercer’s hand.
“He’s...” Rebecca met Abel’s eyes. “Edgar is gone.” Her breath caught as shock ratcheted across Abel’s face.
“He’s what?”
“I’m so sorry.” Rebecca’s cry was muffled as Abel drew her close against his shoulder, careful not to hurt her with his action. She heard him bark at the men.
“Go find Edgar.”
“You got it,” a man responded.
Footsteps thudded in the sand.
A hand briefly touched the top of Rebecca’s head in recognition. She lifted her eyes to the miner who had taken the lead now in the wake of Abel’s preoccupation with her. “We’re just glad you’re all right, Mrs. Koski.”
Mrs. Koski. Abel’s wife.
