The Lightkeeper's Ball

  The aeroplane shuddered, and she bounced with it over the rough ground. The crashing ocean was just ahead. They had to lift above the meadow soon or they would land in the whitecaps. Ocean spray left a salty taste on her lips, and the wind tore at the leather cap pinning her hair in place. Her lips stretched in an inane grin as the wheels bumped one last time and the machine began to glide on the unseen air currents she’d read about.

  She was flying! Her gown billowed in the air, and she had to keep grabbing at it and wrapping it around her legs in a most unseemly manner to keep it under control. Her gaze raked the countryside below as the contraption rose higher and higher. In moments they were skipping over the tops of the redwoods. Far below she could see boats rolling on the sea. She and Harrison were higher than the seagulls swooping down to grab crabs from the rocks.

  Was that an eagle’s nest on the rocky crest ahead of them? She squinted and saw a baby bird with its open beak poking from the nest. A rush of exhilaration left her light-headed. She twisted to look back at the meadow, but it was gone. All that was below them were trees and more trees. The landscape appeared unfamiliar now, and she had no idea where they were. She didn’t even see any roads.

  She leaned forward to speak in Harrison’s ear. “Where are we?”

  Though he was shouting, the wind nearly stole his words. “It’s wilderness below us. We’re a good twenty miles from Ferndale.”

  She sat back. So far so fast? It seemed impossible. Tipping back her head, she stared in fascination at the clouds in the sky. She didn’t ever want to go down.

  The plane banked and began to turn. She touched his shoulder “We’re not going back, are we?” she shouted in his ear.

  He nodded. “Have to! Only enough fuel for a short flight.”

  Before she could show her displeasure, the machine shuddered. Her heartbeat faltered with the engine’s sputter. She tightened her grip on his shoulder. “What’s happening?” she screamed as the plane sank toward the ground.

  “Hang on!” He fought with the controls.

  Olivia quivered as the wings almost seemed to flap with every shudder of the machine. She clenched her hands together and watched the trees draw nearer and nearer. They were going to die.

  “Oh God, save us,” she moaned. She pressed both palms flat against her cheeks and closed her eyes, unable to watch their doom draw closer. There was no break in that line of massive redwoods.

  When Harrison yelled, “Watch out!” her eyes flew open and she saw the trees part slightly to reveal a tiny meadow. The plane began to hurtle toward the space.

  Though she longed to close her eyes, her lids refused to shut. Her brain cataloged everything about the scene in front of her: the stream on the far side of the flat space, the size of the redwoods, the rocks jutting up through the grass in places, the lupines growing at the edge of the woods, and the sparrows that squawked and flew out of the way of the giant bird about to crash on their turf. The scene stamped itself into her memory.

  Down, down they went. The moss was incredibly green, the rocks so glossy. It would be the last thing she saw in this life. The wheels touched down with a thump that jarred her spine. The machine bounced skyward again. She gripped the seat and held her breath as the plane shot toward the stream at the other end of the meadow. The wheels touched down again, and this time they stayed down. All around her the wires and plane parts groaned and screamed. She saw a wing fly off followed by a part she didn’t recognize.

  Something knocked hard by her feet. Harrison shouted out something unintelligible before he was catapulted from his seat. The next thing she knew she was flying through the air. She saw blue sky through the trees, then her attention turned to the mossy ground rising to meet her. She inhaled the feculent scent of decaying leaves and dirt, then hit the ground and went end over end.

  SEVENTEEN

  PLANE PARTS LITTERED the rocky ground. Harrison groaned and put his hand to his throbbing head. His fingers came away bloody. Lady Devonworth. Where was she? His head swimming, he staggered to his feet and looked around the clearing but didn’t see her.

  “Lady Devonworth,” he called. Chirping birds answered him. He heard the sound of trickling water and realized how thirsty he was. There was no time for a drink though. She might be dying somewhere without help. The thought was unbearable. He called her name again and stepped past the strewn wreckage of his dream. There would be time to grieve the loss of his plane, but not now. He didn’t dare allow himself to dwell on what this accident meant.

  Stumbling over the rough ground, he stopped and peered under pieces of the plane. She had to be here somewhere. He double-checked what was left of the cockpit, then turned toward the trees. A flash of blue caught his attention. She was wearing blue. He ran toward the redwoods and found her half covered by a piece of the wing.

  He dropped to his knees beside her. Twigs and moss were entwined in the long locks of hair unfettered by her cap.

  “Lady Devonworth!” He touched her and nearly cringed at how cold she was. Was she dead? “Lady Devonworth?” He touched her cheek. When there was no response, he pressed his fingers to her neck and felt the strong pump of her pulse. “Thank you, God,” he said.

  Her legs were exposed. He averted his eyes and yanked her dress down over her limbs. When she didn’t stir, he removed her leather cap and probed her head for cuts or lumps. All clear there. He didn’t see any blood. Next he ran his hands down her arms. No broken bones. He needed to check her legs, but that felt much too intrusive with her unconscious and unable to give permission.

  He rose and carried her leather cap to the stream, where he filled it with water. Back at her side, he dipped his fingers into the water and dribbled moisture onto her lips. Birds cawed overhead, and he heard the sounds of total isolation all around him in the absence of anything but nature. How far were they from help? In which direction did the closest town lie?

  If Lady Devonworth couldn’t walk, it might be days before they could get out. No one knew where they were, either. He’d told Eugene he was going up in the plane, but he hadn’t mentioned which direction he was flying. At the time Harrison hadn’t known himself. Eugene wouldn’t know where to direct searchers when he failed to return. Goldia would be in the same predicament.

  He dribbled water onto her lips again. “Lady Devonworth,” he said softly. Her long lashes rested on her cheeks, but he thought he saw a flicker behind her eyelids. Touching her shoulder, he called her name again. Her eyes opened, and he was never so glad to see a glimmer of awareness as he was in the moment that he locked gazes with her.

  “Harrison?” she said.

  His name on her lips was so intimate he couldn’t help but tighten his grip on her shoulder. “Does anything hurt?” he asked.

  She shook her head, then winced. “My neck.”

  “Can you show me?”

  She reached up to touch the base of her skull. “Here.”

  “May I?” he asked. She nodded and pressed his fingers on her neck at the hairline. “There’s no cut. Perhaps you bumped it. Can you move your neck?”

  “Yes.” She rotated her neck. “Help me up.”

  “I . . . I didn’t check your limbs. I fear you may have broken a bone.”

  She raised her head and reached toward him with her right hand. “I don’t think so. I’m just bruised and sore.”

  He helped her sit. “Are you thirsty?”

  “Very.”

  He held the leather cap to her mouth and she drank what water was left. “Let me get you more,” he said.

  “I’ll come with you. I want to wash the mud off.”

  He helped her to her feet, but when she stepped onto her right foot, she cried out and fell against him. Cradling her against his chest, he supported her weight while she attempted to catch her balance. “Your ankle?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I fear I’ve sprained it.”

  “May I check it?”

  She leaned away from him a
nd nodded. “I suppose we’d better know how severely it’s injured.”

  He helped her to a fallen tree at the edge of the woods. She extended her leg and he unlaced her boot. “I’m not going to take it off unless I have to. We might not be able to get it back on, and you’ll need it if we expect to walk out of here.”

  “Very well.” She bit her lip as he pressed on the flesh under the boot.

  He detected no protrusion or dent that might be a broken bone, but he was no expert. If only a doctor were within walking distance. How was he going to get her out of here with a badly sprained ankle? Leaving her wasn’t an option either. Not when a mountain lion or bear could happen along at any time. Or a wolf pack. The shadows were already lengthening. The redwoods would accelerate how quickly darkness fell.

  “Is it broken?” she asked.

  He realized the silence had gone on too long. “I don’t believe so.” He laced her shoe again. “Let’s elevate your foot to alleviate the swelling.”

  She bit her lip and maneuvered to the moss, and he lifted her leg to the tree. “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll fetch you some water.” He jogged back to the stream and filled the cap again. What about food? He had a small pack filled with sandwiches, but the food would be gone in one meal. There was no use in trying to keep some for tomorrow either. It was egg salad and would be spoiled without being kept cool. The ice block his cook had packed with it was bound to have melted by now.

  They had no tent, no sleeping bags, no supplies. The moment they moved away from the stream they would have no water either. Searchers wouldn’t have a trail to follow to this location. Their only hope was to walk out of here on their own two feet. When he returned with the water, he realized their situation was beginning to impress itself on her too. Her face was pale and her dark brows were drawn together.

  “What happened? You said your plane was safe.”

  “It almost seemed as though we were out of gas, but there should have been plenty for our trip. I don’t know for sure what happened. I shall investigate, though.”

  “You don’t believe someone meant us harm, do you? After all, someone threw me off the boat.”

  He frowned. “I hadn’t considered such a scheme.”

  “Did anyone know you meant to take me up in the plane?”

  He thought back to his day. His father was aware of his plans. And Eugene was too. “A few people. I suppose someone might have mentioned it in town. But I’m sure our accident had nothing to do with you.” He offered her another drink.

  “We’re stranded here, are we not?” she asked after taking a gulp of water.

  She was too smart to swallow a rationalization, but he shrugged and forced a smile. “Just until your ankle heals a bit. With some rest, we should be able to make our way out.”

  “How far to the nearest town?”

  “I haven’t calculated that yet. I have a rough idea where we are, but I need to get my maps out and decide on the best course of action.”

  Her eyes widened enough for him to see the gold flecks in her dark brown eyes. She twisted a length of hair around her finger. “That means we shall be here overnight. Alone.”

  “Indeed. But I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

  She glanced away, and a flush stained her cheeks. “I didn’t doubt that for a moment. But people in town will talk.”

  “They may not even realize we’re missing. I don’t expect Eugene to raise a hue and cry.”

  “Goldia will,” Lady Devonworth said, her voice trembling. “It will be all over the national news. My mother will see it. My friends.”

  “You can assure them nothing happened.”

  “It’s not that easy,” she said. “My reputation shall be ruined.”

  “Surely not!” Even as he protested, he knew how straitlaced New York society was. She would never again assume her previous social status so long as this hung over her head. “We can pray we are not newsworthy enough for the New York papers to pick this up.”

  She nodded but her eyes were shadowed, and he knew he’d failed to convince her. And with good reason. One whisper of this in the San Francisco paper and it would be all over the nation. The honorable thing to do would be to offer to marry her. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Doing something so mad would only play into his father’s plans at a time when Harrison was determined to forge his own path.

  He rose and went toward the woods. “I’m going to gather some evergreen branches. We need bedding. Tomorrow I’ll look for berries and anything else edible for breakfast. I have sandwiches for dinner. Then we’ll walk out of here first thing in the morning. With God’s blessing, we’ll reach a town by noon.”

  “Let’s go tonight,” she said. “If you fetch me a stick, I believe I can walk.”

  “I doubt you’re able,” he said. He stooped and grabbed a stout branch with a forked spot that he thought should hit her about right. Taking out his pocketknife, he whittled away the smaller branches on it and hacked it down to the right length. “Try that.”

  After he helped her to her feet, she fitted the forked spot under her arm and tried to step forward. Her awkward limp only lasted two steps before she collapsed. “I can’t do it,” she said.

  “You’ll be fine by morning,” he said, helping her back to her spot by the fallen tree. But as he walked into the woods to look for supplies, he sensed everything was about to change.

  Birds chirped around her as though they hadn’t a care in the world. The throbbing in Olivia’s ankle hadn’t lessened, though it had been elevated for fifteen minutes. The forest seemed sinister, forbidding now that she was alone. The cool breeze through the redwoods made her shiver, and the mist that had begun to curl around the rough tree trunks and through the shrubs looked ominous. The picnic by the falls the other day marked the first time she’d ever been to the woods. Then, civilization was only a short walk away. Now, the wilderness pressed in on every side.

  She strained to hear Harrison’s return. Harrison. Heat blossomed in her cheeks as she suddenly remembered calling out his name when she awakened from the crash. Such familiarity must have shocked him. And made him wonder why she would think of him that way. He might read more into it than she was ready to deal with.

  A rustle came to her ears and she sat up. “Mr. Bennett, is that you?” Aware her voice quivered, she tipped her chin up and pressed her lips together. She would not be afraid. If there was one thing she detested, it was a shrieking woman.

  Harrison emerged from the shadows with boughs of evergreens in his arms. “It’s just me. Were you frightened?”

  The scent of pine enveloped her as he neared. “Not at all,” she said, putting frost into her tone.

  “What happened to ‘Harrison’?” he asked, dropping the branches beside her.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “You called me Harrison when you woke up. Why so formal now? If we’re going to be spending all this time together, we might as well be friends enough to progress to first names.”

  She brushed a leaf from her skirt. “I hardly think we are friends, Mr. Bennett. Business acquaintances only.”

  “I’ve rescued a kitten on your behalf, seen you weeping at my fiancée’s grave, and survived an aeroplane crash with you. We’re about to spend the night alone in the forest together. I think that elevates us above acquaintances. What is your first name anyway?”

  Tell him. She clamped her teeth against the words. With his inquisitive stare on her, she couldn’t think how to deny his request without appearing rude. “I prefer you call me Lady Devonworth,” she said.

  The amused light in his eyes grew stronger. “Very well, Lady Devonworth, if you won’t tell me, I shall have to make up one.” He tipped his head to one side and regarded her. “With that dark hair and flashing brown eyes, you are a bit of a gypsy. I shall call you Esmeralda.”

  She had to laugh. “You’ve read The Hunchback of Notre Dame?”

  “Several times.”

  “My mother thought i
t quite scandalous. She hates to catch me reading a novel.”

  He grinned. “It’s going to be dark soon. I’ll arrange the branches, then fetch our dinner.”

  His back was straight as the redwood beside her as he walked away. She hadn’t wanted to offend him, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. At least he’d made a joke of it.

  The more the mist crept into their small camp, the more uneasy she became. It took him only a few minutes to arrange two beds of evergreen boughs and build a fire. There would be nothing to soften the prickle of the needles, and she planned to delay crawling into her bed for as long as possible. He left to scavenge the wreckage.

  He returned with a wicker hamper. “Took me awhile to find it.” He placed it beside her.

  She opened the lid and found some sandwiches, pickles, and carrots. “This looks like a feast even if it is all squashed,” she said to cover the way her tummy rumbled in a most unladylike way. She handed him some food and unwrapped her own sandwich from its covering of waxed paper. “It’s still cold.”

  He settled beside her on the tree. “My cook knows how to pack a meal. I think there is cake in there too.”

  She nibbled on her sandwich and eyed him. When had she begun to like him, even trust him a little? “Maybe we should save it for breakfast. I didn’t see any berries.” Breakfast. The word reminded her she’d be spending the night with this man. Shivers made their way up her spine. It wasn’t exactly fear she felt, but almost exhilaration.

  When they got back to town, there would be repercussions. Her mother would ask what she thought she was doing to go off on a flight with this man. The society women would titter and talk behind their gloved hands. She could expect the invitations to balls and teas to dry up. The thought should fill her with horror, but she found she didn’t care in this moment with the dying light slanting across the strong planes of Harrison’s face. She watched his hands, so strong and capable, as he tossed his waxed paper into the hamper.