by Mary Carter
“We could,” Bailey said. “But then we wouldn’t know what our guests were up to.”
“We could set up cameras,” Brad said.
Bailey laughed. “Like some newfangled reality show? I don’t think B-and-B guests are that exciting.”
“So then we’ll live here.”
“The farther away from guests, the better,” Bailey said. Brad smiled at her. God, what she’d done in the past for that smile, those dimples. All these years and it still worked on her. Brad gestured to the remaining set of stairs.
“Shall we?” They began the final climb that led to a small trapdoor in the ceiling. Luckily, it opened. Bailey was afraid Brad was going to lose it if he encountered one more locked door. It was a bit of an effort to haul themselves up into the tower, but the view and excitement were worth the extra sweat.
“Look at this!” Brad exclaimed as they stood side by side. A circular lookout with windows all around, lording over the river. There was a small built-in table loaded down with papers, as if the previous keeper had just gotten up to make himself a pot of coffee.
“The Crow’s Nest,” Brad said.
“It’s beautiful,” Bailey said.
Brad grinned and started touching the papers on the table. “River charts and weather patterns,” he said. “This is so cool.” Catching himself, he looked at Bailey.
“Totally rad,” she agreed. They shared a smile. Next, he found the door to the small outer deck, built so that you could stand outside the tower and clean the windows. Bailey would definitely leave that job to Brad. He sprang the door to the deck open and started to crawl out.
“Be careful,” Bailey said. “What if the deck isn’t sturdy?”
“I’ll find out,” he said with a wink. It was the old, devil-may-care Brad. Maybe this was exactly the adventure he needed. She popped up next to him and they stood staring out at the dark depths of the Hudson River. Suddenly, a loud foghorn blasted through them. It reverberated through Bailey’s skull and lit every nerve ending she had on fire. If Brad hadn’t caught her in time, she would have tumbled over the railing. She slapped her hands over her ears.
“I didn’t know it did that,” she screamed. “Scared me to death!” Brad was laughing so hard he was shaking. She wanted to throw him over the railing. She punched his arm instead. “Not funny.” Brad whirled her around.
“No,” he said. “Funny. Very, very, funny.” And then he kissed her for the second time that day, a kiss so good, so filled with longing that Bailey instantly forgave him for everything. If only it could have lasted more than a couple of minutes.
“What do you mean we’re spending the night?” They were back in the keeper’s house, standing in the small vestibule.
“He’s not answering his phone,” Brad said. “What do you want me to do?” Bailey grabbed the phone out of Brad’s hand and dialed the number herself. Brad left her there and ventured back into the house. Bailey’s call went straight to voicemail. It was a robotic voice. Was this really Captain Not-Jack’s number?
“Uh—hello?” Bailey said, even though she knew it was impossible to screen your voicemail like a house phone. “This is Bailey. We thought you were taking us back tonight. We don’t even have a bed to sleep in over here and we certainly weren’t expecting to spend the night. Please call us as soon as you get this—either way.” Bailey clicked off, and then sent a text.
Please call Bailey and Brad ASAP. They were too far away from where he docked the boat to even see if it was there. They could trudge all the way out there, but what good would it do? Unless he’d fallen asleep on the boat. Then they’d be able to wake him up and get a ride back to town. They’d never make it to Manhattan tonight, but at least maybe they could find a motel in town. Or a nice bed-and-breakfast. Bailey laughed at the irony.
“Brad?” She didn’t even want to go back into the house, as if in doing so, she would seal their fate for the evening, but that was ridiculous, really, all these thoughts about fate and life and death, and she couldn’t blame all of them on Brad—most of them were coming from her. Besides, what choice did they have? It was cold and dark and rainy, and trudging all the way out there to find the boat gone, or Jack gone, or both, wouldn’t do anything but make her more wet and miserable than she already was. It would be nice if Brad were feeling the same way. Instead, she found him lying on the floor in the main room as if it were the most comfortable spot in the world.
“Aren’t you freezing?” she said.
“Come here,” Brad said. “Body heat.” For once, she agreed with him. She took her wet jacket off and stood dripping over him.
“Is it dangerous for us to fall asleep in wet clothing?” she said.
“Dangerous?”
“Yes. We’ll catch colds. Or hypothermia.”
“I don’t think you catch hypothermia,” Brad said. “You succumb to it.”
“Is this really a good time to be correcting my English?”
“Sorry.” He patted the floor. Bailey ran her hands over her wet clothes, then lay down. Brad wrapped his arm around her and pulled her in.
“If you’re making a case to get naked,” he said, “keep talking.”
“Maybe you should gather some kindling,” Bailey said. “Start a fire.”
“There’s a monsoon out there,” Brad said.
“You’re the one who wants the big adventure,” Bailey said. Thunder cracked and the room was lit up by the following flash of lightning.
“I don’t think even the best Boy Scout could start a fire with wet kindling,” he said.
“Where do you think Captain Jack is?”
“I don’t know. I doubt he’d head back in this storm anyway.”
“But it’s weird. He’s not answering his phone.”
“I think he likes to hit the sauce,” Brad said. “He’s probably passed out.”
“I was thinking that too.”
“Great minds think alike.”
“I just wish we had warm, dry clothes and a bed.” Brad kissed her on the forehead. “It’s really cold,” Bailey whined.
“I know.” The more he tried to comfort her, the more she felt like complaining. Sometimes she felt like a bottomless pit of need. How screwed up was that? Were all relationships this complicated?
“Maybe we should call the Realtor. Or the Coast Guard. Or nine-one-one.”
“And say what? That we need to be rescued from our own lighthouse?”
“We could report Captain Not-Jack missing.”
“You want to report a man whose name we don’t even know missing?”
“We know it’s not Jack,” Bailey said.
“Actually, it is Not-Jack,” Brad clarified. Bailey swatted him. Brad laughed. And not his polite laughter or soft chuckle, both of which were familiar to her as her own heartbeat. Brad gave a full-out belly laugh. It was nice to hear, and it felt good to feel him shake next to her. It was almost worth the bone-chilling cold working its way into her toes.
“We could put his face on a cereal box,” Brad said.
“Cap’n Crunch.” It was stupid, but it had them both in stitches. A few minutes in wet clothing, and hysteria was already setting in. “Seriously,” Bailey said. “I don’t want to succumb to hypothermia.” Suddenly, Bailey sat up.
“What?” Brad said.
“Where’s the kitchen?”
Just as quickly, Brad sat up too. “You’re right,” he said. “We never saw a kitchen.”
“Or a bathroom,” Bailey said. “There might be towels, or toilet paper, something.”
“Good point.”
“And is there only one bathroom? How can we run a B-and-B with one bathroom? I’m not sharing a bathroom with fourteen hundred strangers.”
“Calm down. Although I’m glad you’re dreaming big. I’m sure there’s one down here, and there’s probably another one in the locked room.”
“We might have to put a third one in,” Bailey said. “One on each floor. That would make two for the guests and one
for us.”
“Let’s at least find one for now,” Brad said. He got up and began lurching about the room.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for the light switch.” A few seconds later, he found it, and a portion of the room came to life. And there, to the left of the fireplace, was a swinging door. How could they have missed it?
The first glance at their kitchen was a gloomy one. Every appliance looked a hundred years old. It was big enough to fit a table for ten and had a wall of windows looking out, which boded well for a future business, but right now, nobody in their right mind would have wanted to sit in there to gaze at the view, let alone eat. Bailey was relieved there was indeed a bathroom off the kitchen, but it too was in serious need of remodeling. The place was a long way from being a bed-and-breakfast.
Bailey couldn’t tell if Brad was mentally calculating what this dump was going to cost them to fix up, and at the moment she wasn’t either, because what they needed was some warm clothes or a blanket before hypothermia set in. Brad began rummaging through the drawers. Bailey found one towel in the bathroom, and whether or not it was clean was moot given that it was at least dry.
“I found a towel,” Bailey said, holding it up. The kitchen light wasn’t bright enough to see whether it was green or dark blue.
“Perfect,” Brad said.
“There’s only one, and it’s small, and it smells.”
“See?” Brad said. “Things are looking up already.”
“We won’t get dry with this,” Bailey said, waving the small, smelly towel.
“Once we take these clothes off we can’t put them back on, so let’s towel ourselves off with our clothes on for now,” Brad said. He held something up to the light. “I found a key. Maybe it unlocks the top room.” Brad headed for the stairs.
“Now?” she said. “You’re going to try it now?”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s dark,” Bailey said. “And creaky.”
“Bails,” Brad said. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”
“Of course not,” she lied. Maybe she should have let him see the obituary. Maybe she should have asked Captain Not-Jack why he wouldn’t come in. Or answer his phone. Maybe she should insist that they were not going to spend the night in a creaky, old keeper’s house. Half a million dollars. How could it have fetched such a high price? In Bailey’s humble opinion, it wasn’t worth more than two, maybe two hundred and fifty thousand. She shut down her negative thoughts and followed Brad up the stairs. They were halfway there when someone pounded on the front door. Bailey stopped. Brad kept climbing.
“Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“Someone’s at the front door.”
“I don’t hear anything.” The pounding came again, a distinct loud series of knocks.
“There it is again.” Brad looked at her as if he truly didn’t hear someone pounding on the door. “How can you not hear that?”
“You sound testy.”
“Someone is pounding on the door.”
“I believe you.”
“So let’s go answer it.”
“I want to try this key.”
“You’re going to leave me alone with some stranger? Remember the axe murderer?”
“The one you made up? Yes, he rings a bell.”
“He’s knocking.”
“I didn’t mean it literally.”
“I’m going to answer it,” Bailey said. “Maybe it’s salvation.”
“You think salvation would ring the bell,” Brad said. “Now I mean it literally.”
“Are you coming?”
“I’ll be right down. I have to check this key.” Bailey nodded, then hurried to the front door. She was hoping it was salvation, but at this point she would even welcome the company of an axe murderer.
Captain Jack stood in the entryway, holding a bundle of blankets and clothing.
“Oh, thank God,” Bailey said. “Come in.” Instead he thrust the pile at her and stepped back.
“You should’ve come back to the boat,” he said. “At the appointed time.” He sounded angry, and Bailey got the distinct feeling he didn’t like being this close to the house.
“What are you talking about?” she said. “What appointed time?”
“Your husband agreed to be back at the boat at five,” he said.
“Before the storm.”
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I was wondering.” It was ridiculous to stand out here, yelling at each other over the rain. “You’re soaked,” Bailey said. “Please come in.”
“No,” he said. “I’ll be in the boat. You will be too, first sign of daylight, if you want to get off this island at all.”
“I’m sorry,” Bailey said. “We’ll be there.”
“You’re welcome to come now,” he said. “Sleep on the boat.”
“You have room for the both of us?”
“Who said anything about the both of you?” Even in the dark she could feel his eyes on hers. It hung in the air, a flirtation, a come-on. Was he joking? Was she actually thinking about it?
“Why won’t you come in?” Bailey said.
“Place is haunted,” Captain Not-Jack said. “See you at the boat. First sign of daylight.” Bailey stood in the doorway clutching the clothes and watched his tall frame disappear into the darkness. Then she shut the door and hurried back to Brad with the change of clothes.
Appointed time. They were supposed to have been back to the boat at an appointed time. In his excitement did Brad just forget? Or did he miss it on purpose? And what the hell was that about the place being haunted? Captain Whatever-his-real-name-was was a sarcastic man. Obviously, he was joking. Haunted. Oh, well. Every spooky lighthouse needed a good ghost story, right? Maybe it would be good for business. If they ever actually opened. Bailey thought about the obituary she’d ripped off the wall and shuddered. It was normal to shudder when you were wet and freezing, she chided herself. Still, at least she could comfort herself with proof that she wasn’t a vampire, for she could not wait for the first sign of daylight.
Chapter 12
“I got it!” Brad yelled. “The door is open. Hurry, hurry!” Bailey had just taken a step up the stairs, clothes still in her arms, when a whir of black whizzed past her, brushing against her legs. She screamed.
“Jesus Christ,” she yelled. What was that? And where was it now? It couldn’t have been a bat, unless the bat was a cripple and could only crawl instead of fly. What happened to the light? Why was it suddenly dark in here again? Bailey immediately dropped her bravado, along with the blankets and clothes, and began to scream. Joke or not, Captain Jack had really bothered her with that haunted comment. And Brad had missed the boat on purpose, she just knew it, and now they were stuck in here with something rabid and black. “Brad, Brad, Brad!” Soon he pounded down the stairs.
“What happened?”
“Why did you turn the light off?” She was screaming at him, and she knew it wasn’t fair, but whatever that thing was, it was still in here.
“I didn’t turn it off,” Brad said. “You must have.” He quickly found his way back to the light switch. Soon the faint light above the fireplace flickered and then remained steady.
“There’s something in here,” Bailey said. “Some kind of creature.” Just saying it made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
“Where did you get those?” Brad said, pointing to the clothes on the floor. Something whirled past, another flash of black. Bailey shrieked. Instantly, Brad put his arms around her.
“Bails, Bails,” he said. “It’s a cat.” He stood behind her and turned her to face the windows. At first she didn’t register anything but the blackness that was the Hudson at night. “Over there.” Brad gently turned her face to the corner of the fireplace. There, a black cat stared at her with glowing yellow eyes.
“Jesus,” Bailey said. “I almost had a heart attack.” She crept toward the cat. “You scared the shit out of me,
kitty,” she said in a singsong voice, the one she reserved for animals and babies.
“Look at that,” Brad said. “Our first guest.”
“From the looks of him, he’s the original owner.”
“Poor guy.”
“When’s the last time you had anything to eat?”
“Are you talking to me or the cat?”
“I’m talking to the cat. You don’t deserve dinner.”
“I’m too excited to eat anyway,” Brad said. “Come on. I got the door upstairs unlocked.”
This time when Brad bounded up the steps, Bailey did her best to keep up with him. She no longer wanted to be anywhere in this house all alone. On their way up the steps she tried to tell Brad about the captain’s strange behavior at the door. Then she dropped a subtle hint about missing the designated meeting time. If Brad heard her, he didn’t comment. Bailey didn’t like this either, but they could have a nice long chat when they were back in their furnished, non-haunted condo in Manhattan.
Bailey stood back as her husband tugged on the door. It didn’t budge. “It was open,” he said. “It was just open.”
“We’ll try again in the morning,” Bailey said. “We have to change out of these damp clothes.” She felt the cat brush up against her legs, weave in between them, and then start again in the other direction. “I wish Jack would’ve brought us food too,” she said. She started back to the stairs. “And I wish we hadn’t missed the designated departure time.”
At this, Brad finally stopped tugging at the doorknob. “Was that directed at me?”
“Please. Brad. Please. Can we just go change?”
“I didn’t know anything about a designated departure time.” Brad trailed behind her, his footsteps slow and heavy. Once again, he reminded her of a child. Maybe his brush with death had made him feel young again. Too young for her liking, but what could she do about it? Eventually, he would return to the land of the living.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s change out of these wet clothes and go to sleep.” Everything will seem better in the morning, she added silently. Yet somehow, she just didn’t believe it.