Peter became incensed and charged the fisherman.
But Inacio brought the knife to Peter's throat and stopped him in his tracks. "You should have listened to me when I tried to help you: There are skanks down by the waterfront that will fuck even a pathetic freak like you. That's the only kind of woman you'll ever have."
Inacio took a step back, and turned. Then he stopped, swiveled his head back, and shook the knife at Peter one more time. "Remember, Branquelo, stay away from her."
Adrenaline coursed through Peter. "NO!" he cried, "You stay away from her."
Peter lunged forward and grabbed hold of Inacio's collar, and the two men locked eyes.
Rage showed in Peter's deep blue eye. His breaths were short and rapid.
Inacio inhaled deeply and swallowed hard.
After a long moment, the madness in Peter's eye drained away and was replaced by sadness.
The fisherman breathed a sigh of relief, and then smirked.
But in a heartbeat the look in Peter's eye changed again. The sadness became a steely coldness.
With his right hand and arm, over the years grown half again as strong the average man's, Peter Ahearn gave a mighty pull and launched Inacio Raposo over the cliff's edge, and into the blackness.
Chapter 58
IT WAS LATE AT NIGHT when Peter returned to the lighthouse. Far out at sea faint bolts of lightning, veiled by dark clouds, flashed randomly in the night sky. He stood on the wide granite doorstep, worn smooth over time by the elements and the boots of light keepers. He looked around, and pondered the place that had been his home since he was barely twenty.
It was too dark to make out the detail of the lighthouse grounds, but Peter could picture every square inch of its two acres in his mind. An expanse of rolling lawn scarred here and there by jutting limestone covered most of the land. He had fertilized the lawn, and tender green shoots of grass had begun to overtake the brown scrub left by winter.
Peter knew that a low hedge of forsythia near the shed was in bloom now. He had seen its bright yellow flowers earlier that day. But he could also picture the same bushes in late summer, blossomless and lush with green leaves, or winter-bare, with thin branches coated with ice or sprinkled with snow. He kept the hedge trimmed low. Nothing was allowed to grow high enough to obscure the tower light.
A few days ago, three mail-ordered lilac bushes had arrived, a surprise for Renata. He planted them near the picket fence that enclosed the vegetable garden. It occurred to him now that, as they grew, the lilacs would rob the garden of sunlight. There would be no time to move them.
He had lived with the Atlantic through all of her moods. He'd seen her docile, so calm and smooth she might be sleeping. At times she was playful, rippling and rolling, and changing her color because some cottony clouds had floated across the blue sky and eclipsed the sun. But she angered easily, especially in autumn, and could turn choppy and aloof without warning. And on occasion she became crazed, conspiring with wind and rain to raise a fury such that women scorned and all of hell should sit quietly and take notes.
The narrow point had been home to Peter for only three years of his young life, but it was the place where he had known his greatest elation, and his deepest despair. And now he would pack up the few things that were his and leave it forever.
He wiped his boots on the doorstep. Despite a cool east wind that gusted from the sea and made his khaki pants and denim shirt billow, he streamed sweat that stung his eye and plastered his long hair to the back of his neck. The storm would be fast-moving, he knew, with winds quite possibly reaching gale-force. He had checked the back-up generators. The beacon had to shine even if electric power was cut by the storm. People counted on it.
Peter stepped into the light keeper's quarters and slowly surveyed the place. His gaze settled on the one thing he had put on the wall since becoming light keeper. His Silver Lifesaving Medal hung crooked. Bridey Gallagher had framed it for him, and together they'd chosen the spot to hang it, between the two front living room windows. Peter had held the nail while Bridey held a hammer in her wrinkled hand, and gingerly tapped until the picture hook became anchored in the brittle horsehair plaster.
Peter trudged across the room and reached out to straighten his award. When he pulled his hand back he saw that the picture frame now had a small dark-red smear on it. He examined his bloody fingers, brought them to his cheek, and felt the slice that stretched from his right earlobe to almost the corner of his mouth. The wound was fresh and sore. There was Mercurochrome in the medicine cabinet, he was sure of it.
Thunder rumbled. He looked down at his shirt to where the pocket should be. The flap was there but the pocket itself was missing. Tiny pieces of white thread showed around the seam where it had been sewn to the shirt. He wondered if the dead fisherman still clutched the cloth in his hand.
He thought about the Mercurochrome again for a moment but decided he should call the Coast Guard first. The light couldn't go unattended, even for a day.
The lightning grew brighter and the thunder louder. The wind whistled and groaned as it struck the house, and then caromed off. Peter reached for the phone. A blinding flash of light was followed shortly by a loud CRACK, and all of Rose Hip Point, and the village of Hollistown Harbor at its base, were plunged into darkness so complete that he could see nothing between flashes of lightning. A moment later he heard the main generator kick in. The light would continue its signal.
Peter felt his way along to a kitchen drawer that held a flashlight. A bright lightning strike revealed an obscure form outside as it floated past the window, toward the front door. Several eerie seconds of silence passed before a deafening thunderclap grabbed the tiny house and shook it.
More silence.
A soft rap on the door.
After a moment, the raps became thumps and his name was called.
"Peter."
Renata. Why is she here?
"Peter, please." There were tears in her plea.
He moved to one side of the window, peeled the curtain edge an inch from the window frame, and peeked into blackness.
Another flash and he saw her for an instant. She stood on the granite doorstep. Her long black hair hair he had coiled playfully around his fingers was so saturated with the driving rain that rivulets of storm water trickled from the ends. Her eyes entrancing caramel eyes in which he had so happily become lost were swollen and streamed mascara to the corners of her coral lips. Her dress was soaked and clung to her body the body that had fit his as if it had been fashioned for that purpose alone.
My soul is yours, and my body too, she had whispered to him. And he had discovered the depths of each. He had seen into her soul and felt it merge with his own. He had explored every region of her body, joined and moved with her until they were spent, and then rested his head upon her warm breast and listened to the beating of her heart.
Renata pounded on the door. Peter moved away from the window, toward the door, and the pounding stopped. Perhaps she sensed him there, sensed that only two inches of ancient wood stood between them.
He imagined the door opening and the two of them rushing into each other's arms, never to let go. Their pain would be over, their hearts weightless again.
He reached out for the heavy bolt with a trembling hand-and then stopped. He brought his hand to his forehead and backed away from the door. He drew his fingers through his long, blond hair, made a fist, and pulled it tight. His face reddened and twisted.
Renata called out to him, "Eu te amo," I love you, and it was more than he could bear. He turned and fled along wide, glowing pine floorboards. He crossed the kitchen, and followed the short passageway that led to the tower. He raced up eighty-nine spiral steps to the lantern room and began to pace. He walked the catwalk encircling the enormous glass lens, and pumped his fist in angst. He cried out, "NO!" He punched the thick, rippled glass with all his might, and then disregarded the pain that shot through his fist and traveled up his arm to his shoulder.
<
br /> The giant lens was unscathed and continued to flash its intermittent beam through the maelstrom and across the roiling sea for miles upon miles.
The lightning was closer and had grown to the power of a thousand lighthouses. It seemed to mock with each violent blaze and following roar. A lengthy flash turned night into day, and Peter saw her again.
Renata stood in the center of the lighthouse grounds and looked up at him with pleading eyes. She screamed to him but her words were swallowed by the howling tempest and didn't reach him.
He felt an aching in his chest. Never had he felt so helpless, or so hopeless.
Pitch-black returned. At once, Peter felt relieved that he could not see her agony, and yet squinted to find her again. Another flash...Renata stood with arms outstretched, and screamed up to him again, her beautiful face twisted in anguish.
"I can't," he whispered.
Again she was lost to him in the darkness. His heart was breaking, he could feel it.
When, at last, the lightning flashed again, Renata fell to her knees. She tilted her head back. Merciless, slanting rain pelted her face and throat. She clutched her breast and cried out to the heavens. Peter knew she was beseeching God.
He whispered, "Forgive me, Renata. Amo-te com todo meu curacao." I love you with all my heart.
Chapter 59
RENIE FINISHED READING. She closed the Keeper's Log slowly and then looked at her mother through teary eyes.
Renata Raposo stood ramrod straight, and with a resolute expression, unfolded the yellowed letter, placed it on the kitchen table. "Now the letter. Both of you."
My One True Love,
I know how much I hurt you. I stood in the lighthouse and listened to you pound on my door and cry out through the rain. It tore me apart to hear you in such pain. I wanted to run to you and hold you and never let you go. But I couldn't come to you, not after what I've done. Your husband's death was no accident. I killed him.
I just couldn't stand the idea of him or anybody else hurting you. And now I have to live with what I've done. But how can I face you? If I tell you what I've done, you will never look at me the same way again. If I don't tell you, how can I ever look into your eyes again? I knew at the moment I made my decision that I would lose you forever.
I never told you this, but you healed me. You brought the pieces of my broken heart together and made it feel light again. But now there is a hole in my heart, in the shape of you, which no one else can ever fill.
I wish for two things with all my soul: that you and Renie live happily and without fear, and that you will find it in your heart to forgive me.
I love you with all my heart.
Renie and Mark finished reading within moments of each other. Renie broke the silence.
"Oh, Mamãe," she cried as she rushed to her mother's embrace.
"It's all right, meu coração, it's all right." Renata looked at her daughter, gently brushed a few strands of tear-stained hair away from Renie's eyes, and then kissed her forehead.
After a moment, a far-away look crossed Renata's face. Her story was not over.
"My attempts to draw Inacio's attention away from you did not work for long that night. He had hurt you worse than ever before. Inacio slapped you so hard you were knocked to the floor.
§
Renie remembered: "Papai, please," she had begged. He had stood over her, kicked her, and screamed hateful things that made no sense to her until now. Don't call me that anymore. You're nothing to me just the filthy spawn of a filthy whore.
§
Renata continued, "You were in shock, I think, and almost unconscious. I helped you to your bed and told you to stay there.
"Something else was different that night—the way he looked at you. It was not the way a man looks at a daughter.
"Do not even think it, pig, I said to him.
"He beat me to the floor, kicked the breath out of me, and stood over me. Before you dare tell me what to think, whore, let me tell you what I know. I know about you and your gimp. I know what you do when I am gone. Is half a man the best you could do? Did you think I wouldn't find out? Whores are always found out for what they are. So, don't tell me what to think, puta. I think the little bitch is no relation to me—just the bastard daughter of a whore who will be a whore herself, if she isn't already. That little cona has to be broken in sometime. It would be nice to have some that's not so old and stretched out.
"Then he laughed and said Now, if you will excuse me, puta, I have a matter of honor to attend to. Don't worry, though, I'll come back.
"I knew he was going for Peter. And then I heard him singing that awful song the children used to chant about Peter. And I wasn't afraid any more. I stopped crying and I stopped shaking and I went to the kitchen and grabbed the biggest knife. I went out the back door and moved as quickly and as quietly as I could. I remember thinking One of us will not survive this night. I was going to kill him, and then I was going to come home and get you, and run away. I could not think beyond that.
"When I got to the lighthouse, I hid behind a forsythia bush. I saw him standing on the edge of the cliff with his back turned and thought, This is my chance. Just as I started toward him, Peter came from the shadows.
"There was a brief scuffle, but Inacio had begun to walk away. Then, all of a sudden, Peter grabbed Inacio and threw him from the cliff. It all happened so fast. I stood there, stunned. Now I was staring at Peter's back where just a moment before I had been staring at my husband's.
"I started to go to Peter, but I stopped when I saw the way his shoulders were slumped and his head was bowed. I knew he felt ashamed.
"After a long time he turned away, and I ducked back behind the bush and watched him walk into the lighthouse.
"I started for home but stopped short when I had an awful thought: What if he's not dead?
"I crept down the cliff path and looked for him. But before I saw him, I heard him. He was not moving, but he was moaning, and that meant he was still alive. And if he was still alive, he could still hurt us."
Anticipating what her mother was about to say, Renie shook her head slowly from side to side.
"Inacio lay on his back in water up to his chin. I knelt beside him, turned his face sideways and held it there. And when I was sure he could not hurt us anymore, I said, See how they like your singing in Hell."
Stunned, Mark and Renie exchanged glances.
§
What Renata hadn't told them, had never told anyone even Padre Abade when she later confessed to him what she had done what she would never tell anyone, were Inacio's final words.
As she knelt beside him, Inacio stopped moaning and opened his eyes. His face was serene. He gazed into her eyes and she had the feeling that he knew what she was planning, what blackness and rage was in her mind and heart. Then he shocked her.
"I loved you so much," Inacio said softly.
Renata was already weeping but Inacio's surprising declaration made her hesitate and choke with emotion. Scenes from their happy years together played through her mind. She mourned those years, and regarded her husband with eyes full of sorrow and remorse.
Then, in an instant, the serenity left Inacio's face. He sneered and added a final word. "Whore."
§
Renata's head was bowed. She looked up to find Mark and Renie staring at her, expectantly. She cleared her throat. "The wind had picked up and it had begun to rain. I returned to the lighthouse. As you read in Peter's letter to me, I pounded on the door. I had to tell him what I had done.
"But he would not come to me. I ran out to the middle of the yard and, for just an instant, I saw his silhouette high up in the lantern room. I screamed until I became hoarse—telling Peter how much I loved and needed him, and the truth about Inacio. But the storm was louder than I and drowned out my words. Finally, when no more sound could come from my throat, I fell to the ground trembling, pleading with God to reach down and wrench the aching heart from my breast.
"I wa
s hysterical. I screamed and wept, wept and screamed until I fell unconscious. I remember opening my eyes and seeing Peter's face above me for a moment. I thought I was dreaming. But when I awoke again, I was at home, in my own bed, and knew that he had carried me there.
"I went into my daughter's bedroom. I lay down beside her, held her, and slept too well for what I had done.
"The next morning the police arrived. They said they had found Inacio's body. But the place where he was discovered was far from the lighthouse. It occurred to me that I had left Inacio at low tide. During the night, the tide had risen some ten feet and carried him away.
"I told part of the truth to the police, that Inacio had been drunk, had beaten us, and that I had heard him singing as he went for a walk. But I told them that I was certain he had walked in the opposite direction, toward town. I told them all of this as evenly as if I was saying nothing more significant than have a nice day.
"One of the officers was Portuguese. I knew him from church and knew that he was the son of a fisherman. He looked at our battered faces and bruised arms and hung his head as if in shame.
"That day Peter was gone, and two coastguardsmen had taken his place. As far as I know the police never looked for Peter. They must have accepted my story. Inacio's death was ruled accidental.
"One month later Father Abade from Our Lady of Good Voyage took me to the rectory after mass. He gave me a thick envelope that contained an enormous amount of cash, twenty-four thousand and three hundred dollars. I begged him to tell me where Peter was, but he swore he did not know.
"I was able to pay off the debt on the house, and with the remainder, open my little bakery.
"Over the years, there were more envelopes of cash—usually a few hundred dollars at a time. They were always delivered by the same priest."
§
Renata stared into the middle distance. "We were ten years apart in age, but there was no distance between our hearts. We were two broken souls who, for a brief, beautiful time, became one whole."
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