She didn’t really wait for an answer, just turned and disappeared into her shop, closing the door on him.
But the door to a life with her wouldn’t stay shut to him forever, would it?
He couldn’t afford to let it, not with three beautiful daughters and a lovely, if hurting, wife at stake.
Chapter Six
Elijah Cummings lifted the cup of piping hot coffee to his mouth, then held it there for a moment, inhaling the steam and letting the warmth brush his face and seep into his hands. It had been over twelve hours since he’d taken his swim in Lake Superior, yet his insides still felt cold.
His wife’s voice drifted across the room, the rich, steady cadence of it as soothing as the warmth from the coffee.
He took a small sip, then another, before setting his mug on the kitchen table and looking toward the open parlor where Victoria sat reading aloud on the sofa. Three-year-old Toby snuggled on her lap and five-year-old Alice pressed against her side. Jack, who was entering that painful stage where a boy becomes a man, sat on the other side of the room, head bent over his whittling as though he was too mature to listen. But when the riverboat in the story almost collided with a fishing vessel, the boy’s hands stilled on his wooden figure and he looked up at Victoria.
Elijah sighed and stared down into the murky brown of his coffee. She was going to have trouble saying goodbye when it came time to give the children back.
He leaned over in his chair and reached for the top drawer on the hutch, the one filled with papers and pencils. He pulled out the first sheet of paper and read the words he’d nearly memorized by now.
O’Byrne—Information wanted about Norman O’Byrne, who left his family near the Central Mine in May, 1883. His late wife’s name was Beverly, and he had four children in his charge, Jenny, Jack, Alice, and Toby. Any information will be thankfully received by the sheriff of Eagle Harbor.
The ad had been printed in the paper over in Central and circulated up in Copper Harbor, over at Lac LaBelle, clear down into Eagle River, and probably even in Calumet. He hadn’t gotten a single response when he’d been acting as sheriff, and as far as he knew, Isaac hadn’t gotten any word either.
Was it because the man’s name wasn’t truly Norman O’Byrne? Jack had said they’d gone by a different surname in the town where they’d lived before. But still, O’Byrne was the only name he had to go on.
Elijah sighed. It’d be one thing if they knew the children’s pa was dead, knew the O’Byrne young’uns needed a home. But what were they supposed to do with three children whose older sister had died while waiting for their father to return?
Besides keep them.
And fall in love with them.
Elijah stiffened. No, seeing to the children’s needs was one thing, but getting too attached wouldn’t lead to any good, specifically where his wife was concerned.
A thumping sounded from outside, the telltale sound of someone coming into the entryway. Elijah turned toward the kitchen door that led to the room where they hung their coats and dried their boots—a necessity for any house in Copper Country at this time of year.
Another day, he’d have gotten up and opened the door. But his muscles still ached from rowing the surfboat through the storm yesterday. It was probably just Mac, who didn’t bother knocking anyway.
But Isaac stepped inside, his boots and coat gone and his stockinged feet treading across the kitchen floor. Elijah hid his grimace behind another sip of coffee.
Maybe Isaac was here for Ma. She was in the bedroom catching up on some correspondence—and probably hiding from the noise that had been filling the house with young’uns around.
“You look like the lake chewed you up and spit you out.” Isaac plunked himself across the table, empty mug in hand.
“Morning.” Elijah set his coffee down and braced for the lecture that was sure to follow.When would he stop going out on rescues? Stop risking his life? Didn’t he know he was going to end up with an empty grave on the top of the hill, his body lost at the bottom of the lake, like Pa?
Isaac reached for the kettle filled with coffee, then snagged a biscuit off the platter in the center of the table. “I’ve been thinking about Mrs. Ranulfson and her stolen jewelry. I don’t know where else to look for the necklace and earrings.”
Elijah narrowed his eyes. Isaac had come to discuss sheriff business and not lecture him about yesterday’s rescue?
“Well?” Isaac polished off a biscuit in three bites. “Don’t you have any ideas?”
Elijah shifted. He should. He’d been the temporary sheriff before Isaac had been elected, and even for a week after the election, when Isaac had still been in quarantine from his own case of diphtheria.
“Have you asked their neighbors? Maybe somebody saw something suspicious.” He’d been so busy handling thediphtheria epidemic and making sure people abided by their quarantines that he hadn’t had time for much investigating.
“Already did that. Are you sure there wasn’t anything unusual when you checked the Ranulfson’s bedroom? I’m thinking if there was some kind of clue, it would have shown up right away, not a month after the fact.”
Elijah shook his head. “Not that I know of, but it’s not like I had all that much experience sheriffing.”
“And I have so much more.” Isaac ran a hand over his auburn-colored hair, then slumped over his coffee. “You have to help. I’m out of ideas, and Mrs. Ranulfson has taken to calling on me daily to see if there’s any news about her necklace and earbobs. If she can’t find me at the sheriff’s office, she comes to the apartment.”
