The Lighthouse Road(64)

When the first customer came in at ten Hosea was scrubbed and dressed properly and sitting behind his counter, reading a day-old newspaper while his pipe smoldered in an ashtray at his elbow.



Winter arrived with its vengeance and with it Hosea took ill. He spent the week before Christmas nursing himself in his apartment, the apothecary closed for the first time in its twenty-five-year history. When he reopened the day after Christmas, the flood of customers could hardly believe the change in Hosea. He had aged, to be sure, but he also had about him the aspect of a man pulled from the ashes of a great fire. And it was this— ruin more than age — that caused the townsfolk their greatest concern.





XVIII.





(April 1896)





In the hills above the waterline the snow in the shadows and meadows' edges had held deep into the spring. There had been no midwinter thaw to ease the April snowmelt now, so the Burnt Wood came down the hills and spilled over its banks and when it reached the lake it surged against the rollers and boulders as though all the vengeance of the long winter past had been reincarnated in the river's mad rush.



The jacks had driven the last load of white pine down the ice road three weeks earlier, and a week after that the camp had been boarded up. Only the barn boss and bull cook remained, and would until the fall. They'd tend the horses and repair the buildings and spend as much time drunk during the warm months as they'd spent sober during the cold.



Thea came down to Gunflint on the back of Trond Erlandson's wagon with a promise of more work the next fall. Since her day in Mayfair's chambers, she'd spent much time pondering the nonsensical life that had been intended for her when she'd left Norway, and when they arrived in Gunflint having not passed the farm, she was as disappointed as she was perplexed. When Trond Erlandson stopped his wagon at the livery, and when he pulled Thea's bag from the wagon bed and offered her his hand for help getting down, her confusion became greater still.



Trond removed his gloves and put them in the back pocket of his dungarees and turned his head to spit a wad of snoose. "Here's where the ride ends, Miss Eide."



She looked at him helplessly. What do I do now? she wanted to ask. Where should I go? Whom can I trust? Where is that man, the watch salesman?



"Where'll you go?" he asked, as though reading her thoughts. He pulled his pocket watch from his vest and checked the time and replaced the watch. "You've got your earnings. Take a room at the hotel." He pointed up the Lighthouse Road. He looked at her suitcase. He seemed to take stock of his own annoyance. " Maybe Grimm will help. He helped you before."



Now he lifted her bag and carried it the two blocks to Grimm's. When they reached the storefront, he set her suitcase on the stone walkway. "Like I said, you're welcome back upriver come fall. You make a mean biscuit. Keep Grimm apprised, he'll let me know."



Thea looked up at his worn-out face, his complexion scarred by the cold. She smiled helplessly. " Thank you," she said. She reached down and picked up her bag and climbed the staircase to Grimm's porch. She turned once to look at Trond already walking back toward the livery, set her suitcase beside the door to the apothecary, and smoothed her dress.



Hosea's kindness had been her salvation when she arrived in Gunflint, and though she had no right to expect any more of it, she walked into his store. The bell above the door rang. She stood at the threshold, waiting.



There was no one about, so it surprised her when she heard Hosea Grimm's voice from across the room.



"I'll be right with you," he said.

She took a tentative step toward the counter, smoothing her dress again.



"Now," Grimm said, rising from behind the counter, "what can I do for you?" He appeared almost to flinch when he recognized her. It took him a moment to gather his voice. "Miss Eide! I hardly recognized you. How are you?" He looked behind her, as though expecting to see a companion. "Are you alone?"



Grimm walked from behind the counter and stood in front of her. "Now, there's a beggarly dress, Miss Eide." Her dress was indeed filthy and threadbare, its hem undone by the scullery mice in the camp's mess hall. "Of course," he continued. "The camp's shut down for the season. You've nowhere to go."



Thea had yet to say a word.



"You're back where you started. You need a place to lay your head." He put the tip of his index finger to his pursed lips and then raised that same finger to the air. "Excuse me a moment." Now he stepped around her and walked to the base of the staircase. "Rebekah, please come down. Thea Eide is here."



A moment later Rebekah was standing in front of Thea.