The Light Keeper's Legacy (A Chloe Ellefson Mystery) by Kathleen Ernst Read Free Book Online Page B

whitefish becoming more few, the men sometimes argue … ” Ragna tied a stone to the bottom of the net. Anders had argued with Dugan, she meant.
    “I’m sorry,” Emily said softly.
    Ragna forced a smile. “No, I am sorry. Anders and I am grateful to be here.”
    “ Are grateful,” Emily said. “But don’t apologize. You’re just sharing your thoughts with a friend.” Her eyes sparkled. “May I share a secret with you? I have applied to become assistant keeper at the lighthouse.”
    “They give such jobs to women?”
    “My mother was assistant keeper on Pilot Island,” Emily said proudly. “I helped my parents tend the light. I’m actually more experienced than William.” Emily’s hand flew over her mouth. “Don’t ever tell him I said so!”
    “I would not!” Ragna exclaimed. “I keep your secrets. And—I will give you one of mine?”
    “Of course!”
    “I will have a child come. Anders wants a son, but I am hopeful for a girl.”
    Emily clutched Ragna’s hands with pleasure. “When the time comes you can send for me, if you like.”
    “Yes, I would like,” Ragna said. She hadn’t shared her news with the other women yet. Mette Friis was good and kind, but Emily’s good spirits and energy and Yankeeness were most welcome.
    Emily gave Ragna a quick hug. “I really must go now.”
    Ragna watched Emily walk away. She hoped that the lighthouse service did indeed appoint her friend as assistant keeper. She couldn’t imagine such a thing, but then—many things in America were unimaginable.
    When the nets were readied and boxed, Ragna went inside. She ate a piece of bread and put a kettle of pea soup on her tiny stove so a hot meal would be ready for her men. Too restless to settle, she wrapped an extra wool shawl over her shoulders and walked down to the dock. Ice had not long been gone from the shoreline, and the air was cold. She nodded to two men lugging a barrel of salt down the beach, but kept her gaze on the horizon. There was no sign of her men.
    And there probably won’t be, she reminded herself, for hours yet to come. Still she stood, and watched, and waited. Finally, when the sun was sinking, she turned for home.
    A man stood on the beach behind her, hands in pockets. Carrick Dugan. He did this, sometimes … creeping up on her, watching, letting her know he had not forgotten or forgiven.
    Ragna stopped, fingers working her skirt like bread dough. Then she steadied her fluttering nerves. Shadows stretched across the beach, but lamps glowed from windows nearby. Two of the American women were walking along the water’s edge farther down the beach. One had a baby on her hip.
    Lifting her chin in the air, Ragna walked past Dugan. No , she told him silently. I will not let you frighten me.
    “Men aren’t back yet?” Dugan called after her. “Maybe new-come farmers don’t belong on the lake. Especially new-come farmers who think they can tell other men their business. Bad things can happen out there, you know. You might want to tell your man so.”
    Ragna stopped, turned back around, and looked him in the eye. “Mr. Dugan,” she said, “you are a nuisance.”

Ten
    After the RISC committee left, Chloe thought about the people who had washed up below Pottawatomie Lighthouse, past and present. Bad things can happen out there, Sylvie had said. It made Chloe intensely aware of feeling sunshine on her skin, hearing a hawk cry overhead, sucking in air that tasted of Lake Michigan.
    All things that the drowned girl would never do again. I wish I had some way to memorialize her, Chloe thought. It was illegal to pick wildflowers within a state park, and they’d be dead themselves within hours anyway. But … she could build a small cairn from beach stones.
    Chloe locked the lighthouse and went down to the beach. The more she thought about creating a natural and temporary memorial, the more she liked the idea. But as she approached the first rockslide she spotted a cairn already in place.