Would-Be Mistletoe Wife

“There must be other eligible women.”

Blackthorn shook his head. “Not in Singapore. You won’t find many unmarried women here. Except the girls at the school.”

Jesse blanched. “They’re far too young. I have in mind someone more...mature.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work out with Louise,” Mrs. Blackthorn said hesitantly, “you could always try advertising for a bride.”

Advertising. It sounded perfectly logical and businesslike. No messy emotions involved. And it had apparently worked for three men in town. It would be a simple transaction for the betterment of both parties. The woman could have a family, and he could get a head keeper’s position elsewhere in the district.

That evening, instead of napping before his midnight watch, Jesse stared at a piece of paper, trying to come up with the right words. It felt uncomfortable to advertise for a wife, but he told himself that it was the best solution.

“Wife needed,” he wrote.

What next? He supposed he should list the qualifications any prospective candidate ought to possess. Hardiness, homemaking abilities, skilled with children. All those came into play.

He jotted a few down and tried to picture the woman who might answer. Why did Louise Smythe come to mind?

Frustrated, he crumpled the paper. Then he recalled he only had a few sheets of paper on hand. He’d better draft the wording on this sheet and save the rest for the clean copies of the advertisement to mail out.

So, he smoothed the crumpled paper and tried again. Maybe he should point out his own assets too. So Jesse rewrote the advertisement.

When satisfied, he copied it three times and put those copies into three envelopes addressed to different Chicago newspapers. In the morning, he would put them into the outgoing mail.

* * *

Louise tidied up the classroom late the following morning. If she didn’t know such a thing was impossible, she’d think Priscilla had given her headache to her. Louise had ignored the girl’s countless pleas to be excused from writing and mathematics, too preoccupied with Jesse Hammond’s imminent arrival to deal with anything else. She would let Fiona handle Priscilla.

Louise squared her shoulders. She would not be pushed around. Not by a manipulative girl and not by a demanding man.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the sting of memory. No tears. Please, no tears. That’s the last thing she needed Jesse Hammond to see. She was strong. She’d endured every blow her late husband, Warren, had thrown at her and survived. She instinctively touched her jaw, which still ached on occasion, particularly when the weather was cool and damp.

Weather! What did Jesse Hammond know about the weather that she didn’t? She would demonstrate that knowledge and send Mr. Hammond running back to the lighthouse.

A clearing of the throat indicated the guest lecturer had arrived.

Louise turned and fixed her gaze on him.

My, oh my. The man had seemed large in the open air, but framed by the doorway, he was positively gigantic. He wasn’t heavy or overweight, but was so tall that the top of his head grazed the lintel. He leaned on one jamb, his arms crossed and his hat dangling from one hand.

A boyish grin rested on his lips. “You looked so engrossed that I hated to interrupt you.”

What could she tell him? Certainly not the truth, that she’d relived a harrowing episode from her past. No, she must be strong and secure. God was her strength and her shield. He would protect her from all harm. Though images of the martyrs flashed through her mind, she pushed those aside. She was in a school after all. Nothing could happen to her here.

“I was merely considering how best to approach the topic so the young ladies understand what you’re telling them.” She affixed him with a steady gaze, a technique that she had seen Fiona use to maintain control. “That is my role, as I understand it.”

Jesse Hammond didn’t back down. “Unnecessary. You can continue doing whatever it is you were doing.”

“Then you fully understand what a young woman wants to learn and how best to instruct her. Perhaps you lectured many younger sisters?”

“My sister is older and long married.”

“Then you have no idea.”

He tugged at the neckline of his shirt, though he hadn’t attached a stiff collar or donned a tie. “I will explain cloud formations and how they can tell which ones are likely to bring rain, so they can avoid going out-of-doors. That’s all they’ll care about.”

“Then you think the sole interest of any woman is the condition of her hat and gown. Did it not occur to you that a woman might want to learn? That she is fully capable of any and all intellectual pursuits? Or are you as patronizing as the rest of the men I’ve encountered?”

His jaw actually dropped. Perhaps she’d gone too far. Then again, such ridiculous beliefs had held back progress far too long.

“Once women join the scientific movement in force,” she continued, “advances will come at a rapid pace. Imagine curing disease. Or saving the lives of sailors.”

“That’s my job, ma’am.” He looked like he was struggling not to laugh. Laugh!

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Hammond, that I know as much, if not more than you do on the subject of the weather. Captain Elder, the husband of the dear woman I took care of for many months, spoke with me at great length and let me read his volumes on the subject.”

“Then explain the different types of clouds and what type of weather each signals.”

Though Louise knew this forward and backward, her mind went blank in the face of his challenge.

“Just what I thought,” he said after a short pause. “All empty-headed talk.”

If Louise was not a proper lady, she would have come back with a scathing retort or at least stomped her foot at his insolence.

Instead, she stiffened her spine. “Are you saying that Captain Elder did not teach me correctly? I’ll have you know that he explained cumulous, stratus, nimbus and cirrus clouds.”

His eyebrows lifted and so did the corners of his mouth.

She was not done. “A sea captain must know weather patterns far more intimately than a lighthouse keeper, who is safely ashore. His life and the lives of his crew are at stake.”

“Those same lives are at stake if the light is improperly lit or stays dark.”

“Yes, of course, but your life is not in danger.”

“Except when plunging into the seas to save the lives of others.”

She recalled the rescue effort last spring that had brought many passengers to safety—including Linore and Dinah—from a stranded steamboat.

“True,” she admitted, “but not on as frequent a basis. Moreover, if what I heard was correct, Mr. Blackthorn advised against attempting the rescue of passengers on a stranded ship last spring.”

Judging from his look of distaste, he didn’t think much of that decision. “Saving lives is our purpose.”

Louise’s anger abated. Jesse wasn’t as arrogant and uncaring as he’d seemed. He simply followed the dictates of society and consequently rubbed on her nerves. Society insisted women had lesser intellects. It was only natural that Jesse would believe what he’d been taught since birth. She must show him otherwise.

She strode across the room to the bookshelves. Classroom texts and leisure reading filled the lower shelves, but on top were a few precious volumes.

She dragged a step stool in front of the bookcase. “Captain Elder donated a few of his volumes to the school, including one on the climate.”

She climbed one step but still could not reach the shelf.

“Allow me.” Jesse Hammond crossed the room. “I can easily fetch the volume for you.”

She could feel him uncomfortably close. “I can get it.” She climbed another step and reached.

She must have set the stool on one of the uneven floor planks, for it tilted beneath her. She cried out as the whole thing gave way. Then, before even one foot touched the ground, strong arms caught her and held her close.

Oh, my!

She could feel his heart beating. His breath tickled her cheek. Every nerve ending inside her came to life.

Oh, my!

If she was the fainting sort, she’d have swooned at once. Instead, an incredible warmth rushed through her, as if she had spent too much time in the summer sun. She had never once felt that way with Warren. What was happening to her?

He set her on the ground but did not release her. She looked up at him. A strange expression was on his face, and she caught her breath. He felt it too! She looked away, her heart racing. This was wrong, terribly wrong. Then why did she feel like a schoolgirl hoping he would continue to hold her close and even kiss her?

She could not breathe, could not speak, could barely think.

“You should be more careful.” His voice was rough.

She recognized all too well the signs of attraction. For all his faults, Warren had once been smitten with her. She hesitantly looked up. He looked down at her, his sky-blue eyes darkening as his pupils dilated. His expression softened.

Her pulse raced. Her limbs shook.

He leaned close, lips brushing past her forehead.

“Mrs. Smythe?” The girl’s voice pierced through the cloud of emotion.

Priscilla! Louise shot out of Jesse’s embrace and smoothed her skirts.

The girl stood in the doorway, smirking and apparently free of the headache she’d claimed all morning.

Louise hurried to control the damage. “Thank you, Mr. Hammond, for saving me from a terrible spill.” She picked up the stool. “How careless of me to place it on a wobbly board.”

She hoped that would spare her from Priscilla’s manipulations.

“You are excused, Miss Bennington.”

“Of course, Mrs. Smythe.” But that smirk didn’t leave her lips as she flounced off toward the dining room.

“I hope I didn’t get you into trouble,” Jesse said.

Louise closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. Too late. If only he’d risen to Louise’s defense, Priscilla might have believed her story. Instead, this little episode could prove costly, if not for her personally then for the school.

Chapter Three

What had he been thinking? That was the trouble. Jesse wasn’t thinking. If he had been, he would never have remained so close to Louise Smythe.

It had begun innocently enough, saving her from a fall, but he’d held on too long. Then, overwhelmed by the feel of her in his arms, he’d considered kissing her. Louise’s long eyelashes swept to her eyebrows, and her gray eyes, which could be severe, had softened to the color of a gentle rain. She’d drawn in her breath, and her cheeks turned the most delightful shade of pink.

Her reaction was so unexpected that it had caught him off guard. She’d been the one woman who didn’t sigh and stare at him. She’d seemed completely unaffected until that moment. Maybe that was what had tempted him. The immoveable had become irresistible.

Why had he succumbed to temptation?

That prissy girl with the blond curls had noted the near-embrace with a smug grin of triumph.

Jesse had stepped back the moment Louise leapt from his arms. Her explanation might have succeeded if she wasn’t blushing the entire time. Then she demanded the girl leave them.

This would not end well.

“Perhaps I should go,” he offered. “We could discuss the lecture another day. Or not at all.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t know enough about the subject to even assist you? I’ll have you know that I could give that lecture.”

Jesse put up his hands in surrender. “I’m sure you could. I’m just offering to step away if it’ll make matters better for you.”

“Things will go just fine, no thanks to you.”

Jesse wasn’t used to receiving reprimands from a feminine quarter. His sister, Beatrice, had been more interested in her own trials than in disciplining her little brother. His father...well, he’d never quite been himself after Ma’s death. “Forgive me. Next time I’ll let you fall.”

Louise flushed even more furiously. “That’s not what I meant. I was referring to...to...well, you know.” She brushed at her hair, though it was in perfect order. “Priscilla probably got the wrong impression.”

No doubt she had. Jesse’s lips had brushed against Louise’s forehead. Preventing her fall could be explained away, but not holding her in such an intimate way. “I will talk to Mrs. Evans.”

For a brief second, she looked hopeful, and then a shadow clouded her eyes. “That won’t be necessary.” Yet she stepped a little farther away. Her gaze drifted downward and then she exclaimed, “The book!”

She bent to pick up the fallen volume.

Jesse hurried to lift the heavy tome first. His hand collided with hers.

“Oh!” She jumped back and rubbed her hand as if it had been stung.

“I’m sorry.” He seemed to be saying that a lot. “Maybe I’d better leave.”

“Yes, perhaps you should.” Yet that admission came with surprising wistfulness.

“I can cancel the lecture.” Had those words really come from his mouth? Yet it was the perfect solution. “Since you are very knowledgeable about the weather, I’ll leave the lecture to you.”

Something like a smile flashed across her lips, only to vanish the next instant. “Thank you for your confidence, but Mrs. Evans asked you to give the lecture. I am only here to answer your questions and offer support.”

Jesse ignored the irony. Moments before they’d argued bitterly over just that.

“I might like to hear what your Captain Elder told you,” he suggested.

The smile returned, this time to stay.

“He was well-read and experienced, a dear man, and highly acquainted with the sea.”

“I have no doubt,” he murmured.

She gave him a sharp look.

“As you said,” he added, “ship masters need to understand the weather.”

Again she beamed, and he had to admit it felt good. He would much rather be on Louise Smythe’s good side than endure her scathing tongue. Not that he was interested in courting her. Not at all.

* * *

“It was completely innocent.” Louise reported to Fiona Evans just after the midday meal. “I slipped, and he—Mr. Hammond—caught me. I tried to explain that to Priscilla, but I don’t think she believed me. I’m afraid that this time she will make trouble.”

Fiona arched an eyebrow. “I would never dismiss you.”

“Thank you.” It was the other possibility that had made it impossible for Louise to eat more than a few spoonfuls of soup. “I’m worried that she will disparage the school. Priscilla could tell her parents that the school allows improper behavior.” That could then force Louise’s dismissal. Since her purse was empty, she would be in a terrible predicament.

“How exactly is a gentleman coming to your rescue improper?” Fiona brushed back a red curl. “I’d call it gallant.”

“I, uh, might have lingered too long after he steadied me. Priscilla could have interpreted that as...attraction.” Heat flooded Louise’s cheeks.

“Oh?” The single word clearly carried an additional inference.

“It’s not what you’re thinking.” Actually, it probably was exactly what Fiona was thinking. That man had a way of taking away Louise’s good sense. “I—I was too flustered to think clearly. The point is, Priscilla doubtless thought there was more to the situation.”

“Is there?”

“No!” Yet Louise’s burning cheeks refuted her statement. “I don’t know. I just met him.” She squared her shoulders and looked Fiona in the eye. “But I can tell you that Jesse Hammond is the last man I would let court me.”

Fiona’s eyebrow lifted again. “Why is that?”

It was so difficult to explain. Or was it? “He reminds me too much of my late husband.”

“Oh. I see.”

Last spring, Louise had shared with Fiona a little of what she’d endured during her marriage, but she didn’t care to explain further.

“That’s neither here nor there.” Louise tried her best to sound cheerful. “What matters now is how to address the situation with Priscilla. I don’t want the school to suffer. The Benningtons are influential enough to drive away prospective students.”

Fiona sighed. “I’m afraid this is a problem she’s had at the other schools she attended.”

Though that news was not surprising, Louise wished her friend had passed that along before now. “What did the schools do?”

“Sent Priscilla home and refunded her entire tuition. Do you recommend we do that too?”

Louise blanched. That solution would surely shut down the school; Priscilla would doubtless take the other girls with her, for the parents were all acquainted.

“No,” Louise said slowly. “She shouldn’t pay for my mistake. I should have been more careful. I hope we can convince her not to turn this incident into a complaint.”

“How would you suggest doing that?”

Louise hadn’t expected to have this tossed back at her, but an idea rushed into her mind. “I don’t think she wants to leave. Not deep down. I’ve known girls like her, and what they want most of all is attention.”

“You could be right.” Still, Fiona shook her head. “I’ve known girls like Priscilla. They could never get enough attention and would take down everyone around them in the effort.”

“But I must try,” Louise whispered. “I just don’t know how.”

“Try encouraging her more. Give her praise when she deserves it.”

That would be difficult. Priscilla seldom did anything praiseworthy. “I’ll try.”

Fiona rose. “If there is nothing else, I would like to speak with my husband before voice lessons.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

Fiona cast her a knowing smile. “Don’t worry so much about reputation. It’s perfectly natural for a woman to find Mr. Hammond attractive. You do want to marry, after all.”

Louise hadn’t the heart to tell her friend that she no longer wished for marriage. The kind of gentleman she sought could only be found in novels. The men of real life never measured up. Mrs. Evans’s School for Ladies had given her a means to support herself without the assistance of a husband. That was far safer than risking marriage, especially to a man whose strength and need for control was just like that of her late husband.

* * *

Jesse had expected Louise Smythe to accept his offer to step aside from the lecture. Her refusal left him unsteady, as if trying to get footing on the heaving deck of a ship. He’d offered exactly what she wanted. Why turn it down? Was she trying to force him into something? If she considered her reputation compromised, would she expect marriage? Blackthorn had mentioned she came to Singapore to marry, but the groom chose another woman. Perhaps she was desperate. Had he just stepped into her snare?

He couldn’t marry Louise Smythe. Even if she came from a privileged background, which her education indicated she did, a lumber town wouldn’t care about a woman’s reputation.

The memory of Louise in his arms flitted through his mind.

He shook it away. A momentary feeling had no bearing on choosing a lifetime partner. Jesse must select wisely. He would not make the mistake his father had made in marrying a woman unable to bear the rigors of the life she’d married into.

Etta Webber had been born into society with all its manners and protectiveness. The fragile girl had fallen in love with his father and, ignoring her family’s protests, wed him and moved to Chicago. Pa worked the wharves. Life was rough. Ma had to make do in a tiny apartment with no servants. First came Beatrice and then ten years later Jesse. But it was the stillborn baby that sent her into that dark place from which she never returned.

Intense sorrow threatened to flood in, but Jesse pushed it away. He’d been just seven when his mother died. Died! Bitterness twisted a soul worse than the deepest grief. Etta Hammond hadn’t just died. She’d walked out of the house and into the path of an oncoming train.

No, Jesse would choose a sturdy, solid woman for a wife. Preferably without emotional attachment. That ruled out Louise Smythe.

As he polished brass filling pitchers, funnels and measuring cans at the little table at the base of the tower staircase, he considered how best to get out of this lecture. Approaching Louise wouldn’t work. He couldn’t think straight around her. He would tell Mrs. Evans that he needed to withdraw from the lecture and recommend Louise give it instead. Louise wouldn’t be able to refuse her employer.

If that didn’t work... Jesse blew out his breath. It had to work.

Blackthorn pushed open the door. “Done with that pitcher? It’s time to fill the lamps.” He rotated his shoulder with a groan. “Gets heavier every day.”

Jesse gave the pitcher a final swipe. “I could haul the first batch of oil up the stairs.” Best to give up his quest to refine procedure until Blackthorn was more receptive. “You carry the pitcher and funnel.”

Blackthorn hesitated. For a moment he looked ready to agree, but then he shook his head. “I’ve got it.”

Jesse suddenly realized what an opportunity stood before him. Blackthorn was the answer. If Louise refused to give the lecture, maybe the light keeper would. He had complained about not being asked. If Jesse did this right, he could learn a little about preparing the light at the same time.

“Actually, I’d like your advice...on a personal matter.” Jesse nodded his head toward the house. “Away from female ears.”

“Oh?” That definitely caught Blackthorn’s attention. “In that case, why don’t you carry the oil while I bring the rest of the stuff? You can bring the large can up to the lantern.”

“Yes, sir.” Jesse bit back the impulse to point out that this was exactly what he’d just suggested.

He lifted the large transfer can. It could hold up to five gallons, but Blackthorn had only filled it halfway. Jesse could easily carry double the weight, but Blackthorn wasn’t young anymore. No wonder he preferred to pour the oil into the smaller cans and make multiple trips up the tower staircase. Maybe he let his sons help when they were home from school.

A son. What a blessing that would be! An intense longing sprang up in Jesse. He would do things differently from his father. No threats. Jesse would be there for his sons. He could imagine skipping stones across the waves, tossing a ball and teaching his boys all the duties of a lighthouse keeper. At meals, the large family would settle around the table as his wife...

Jesse shook his head. Why on earth had he pictured Louise carrying a roast to the table? She was completely unsuited to be a keeper’s wife, and no amount of bravado could compensate for her slight frame.

By the last turn of the circular staircase, Jesse was panting from the exertion. He’d switched hands several times, but they still burned from hefting the weight. No wonder Blackthorn favored the smaller cans. Jesse had been wrong, but he didn’t care to admit it. Not yet. The last segment of the climb was a nearly vertical ladder.

“Let me go first,” Blackthorn said, “and then hand me the oil can.”

It was a sensible solution. When Blackthorn took the can from Jesse’s hands at the top of the ladder, Jesse rolled his shoulders to loosen the tight muscles. He then climbed into the lantern.

By the time Jesse stepped into the glass-enclosed room, Blackthorn had already begun filling the pitcher. Apparently that duty couldn’t be entrusted to Jesse yet.

“What’s bothering you?” Blackthorn asked.

Jesse blew out his breath. He would begin with the personal situation as the reason why he needed Blackthorn to give the lecture. “A situation came up when I was at the school this morning.”

Blackthorn peered at him. “Speak plainly, son.”

Jesse warmed to the familiar appellation. Blackthorn hadn’t used that term before.

“All right.” Still, he had to say this carefully. “Mrs. Smythe slipped off a step stool, and I caught her before she got hurt.”

“That doesn’t sound like a problem to me.”

“One of the students saw us while I was still holding on to Mrs. Smythe.”