Lightkeeper's Wife

by Sarah Anne Johnson

  Billy couldn’t go on pretending that she wasn’t in love with Hannah. She couldn’t act as if she didn’t want to take Hannah’s hand and pull her close against her.

  The sight of Hannah walking through the kitchen in her nightdress, the shadow of her curved figure, taunted Billy from across the room. The way Hannah looked at her sometimes made her want to leave, so intense was the depth of her gaze. To dispel that charge, she’d have to touch Hannah, but they didn’t touch. That’s why every time Hannah looked at Billy with love in her eyes, or something like it, Billy had to look away.

  As Billy crossed the main street onto the road that took her to the lighthouse, she stretched her back and slowed the horse. The road was empty after the storm, puddles filled the muddy ruts, but the horse pulled the wagon with ease. Billy let herself be jostled over bumps in the road. She didn’t want to reach the lighthouse. She couldn’t go on like this. If Hannah couldn’t be with her, she couldn’t stay. The only person she’d ever thought to make a life with had been Daniel, and now Hannah. She couldn’t play at being the workman, or best friend, when what she wanted was a lover and someone to share her life with. The thought of it terrified her, but it was true. When Hannah had slipped below the waves, Billy had panicked, as if the possibility of a life with Hannah, or any life at all, was drifting out of reach.

  But all the rescues in the world wouldn’t make up for her crimes. If Hannah ever discovered the truth of her identity, she’d make Billy leave. But then, Billy thought, Hannah must know at least some part of who she was. She’d seen her beat the man who’d taken Mesha, and she hadn’t been afraid. Hannah wanted her at the lighthouse. She wanted Billy by her side. Of all the men in town who could handle the job, she chose Billy. The lighthouse came into view. Billy felt herself coming home.

  She’d tell Hannah the truth.

  ***

  When Billy returned from getting the men to the harbor, Hannah was in bed. She’d been up earlier for water and heard Billy go up to check the lights, but exhaustion was like an undertow that dragged her back beneath the quilts.

  The door slammed and Billy appeared in the doorway, like a man awaiting orders.

  They stared at each other, the weight of the day between them: the success of the lifesaving rig, the men saved, the disaster of the sunken skiff and Hannah in the water. Billy didn’t say anything about Hannah going out alone, and Hannah didn’t say anything about Billy trying to keep her ashore. They didn’t talk about the confusion of their desires. All of it hung in the air between them.

  “I got the men on the packet to Boston,” she said. “The lights are set.”

  Hannah sat up, the comforter at her waist, her nightdress loose. Billy leaned in the door frame and scanned her fingernails for dirt, anything to distract herself from the sweep of skin below Hannah’s neck and the suggestion of her breasts.

  “You did a good job today. I rely on you, Billy. I trust you,” Hannah said.

  “I wanted to make sure—”

  “Come sit with me,” Hannah interrupted, and patted the bedside where she rested.

  Billy obeyed, a clamoring inside her like bells ringing. Her steps creaked across the floorboards, and her boots felt heavy on her feet. Hannah’s eyes had no more of the distance in them that she’d rendered in that first drawing, but her curiosity was alive and pulling Billy to sit on the edge of the bed. How long ago since she’d made that drawing? Even then she’d felt an intimacy that came from watching Hannah while she worked and Billy lay motionless on the hearth. She’d watched Hannah when Hannah thought she was alone. She’d seen the grief in her eyes when she thought about her husband and listened quietly when she heard Hannah crying in her bedroom; she’d seen Hannah throw a jar of peaches at the wall because she couldn’t open the lid; she’d seen her work a boat like no man she’d ever known.

  “You can take off your coat,” Hannah said.

  Billy let the coat slide from her arms onto a chair. She closed the window to a crack, then she sat on the bed. This close to Hannah, her heart drummed in her ears. She wanted to lean forward and kiss her, but she waited. Hannah slid her hand over Billy’s and said something, but Billy only heard the rush of ocean in her ears. A gull called along the edge of the dune, then faded into the distance. Hannah’s breath brought her back to the look in Hannah’s eyes that was love and something more and Billy didn’t look away.

  Hannah unbuttoned Billy’s shirt and pulled it gently back from her arms. She ran her fingers along the side of Billy’s arm where the muscle ached from hauling the sailors to shore. It was the weight of Billy that Hannah wanted, pressing her into the bed. She unwrapped the tight fabric around Billy’s chest one loop at a time, pressed her hand against the pattern the fabric had etched into Billy’s skin. When Billy kissed her on the mouth, she fell back against the pillow. With her nightdress off, Hannah was pale and strong. Her beauty affected such tenderness in Billy that her breath caught in her throat. Hannah let go and all at once became fragile and exposed. Billy kissed her neck and her mouth, and she felt Hannah along her chest and arms until she was everywhere around her.

  The windows rattled in their frames, a sound that grew louder as the northeast wind came up. “Listen,” Hannah said.

  Reading Group Guide

  1.The Lightkeeper’s Wife introduces Hannah Snow, who rows into a storm to save a shipwrecked sailor. How does Hannah’s determination carry through the rest of the novel, and how does it save or undo her?

  2.William Pike remembers Annie in his dreams. At what point do you figure out that Annie/Blue is in fact William Pike? How believable is his/her transformation from a wife to a pirate to a man? At what points do you notice the changes, both inner and outer?

  3.When John goes missing and is finally believed dead, Hannah experiences an ocean swell of grief. How does she handle it? What are the ways in which her emotions are clear, and what are the ways in which they are misplaced?

  4.Hannah and Tom have an attraction between them and a past that we learn about in a flashback. Why won’t Hannah accept his marriage proposal when she clearly cares for him? Why doesn’t she want to marry again?

  5.What do you think of Hannah’s decision to take over the care of the lighthouse and pursue her rescues? What motivates her daring on the sea? Is she reckless, brave, compassionate, strong? What are her strengths and weaknesses in regard to her performing the rescues?

  6.What does Annie learn from her experiences in Jamaica when her infant child dies? How does her experience there change her relationship with her husband? How does meeting Therese’s society of strong women impact the rest of Annie’s story?

  7.Billy is haunted by his life aboard the Alice K. How does his life at the lighthouse help him come to terms with his past actions? Can he ever escape his past or make up for the things he’s done? What are some of the ways in which his past catches up with him?

  8.When is the first time we get a glimpse of the attraction between Hannah and Billy? What initially attracts them to each other, and how does their interest evolve throughout the story?

  9.Billy drinks to escape his demons. Hannah’s father drinks to cope with pain and not being able to work. What is the role of alcohol in the story? How does drinking impact the lives of the characters?

  10.The Lightkeeper’s Wife is initially told in flashbacks. Why do you think the author unfolded the story this way? What did she want to accomplish by withholding the fact that Billy is in fact Annie/Blue?

  11.What elements of the characters’ lives do you think are universal? What aspects of the characters do you identify with? Are there characters you see as “good” or “bad”? What is the role of evil in the story?

  12.The characters often fail: Annie at protecting her husband’s ship, Hannah at saving a little girl at sea. Men are murdered. Sailors are rescued, while some are lost. What does this tell you about life and the lives of the charact
ers? What do the characters learn through their failures?

  13.The novel takes place in Dangerfield, Barnstable, the Caribbean Sea, and Jamaica. How palpable is the sense of place? What is the role of place in the narrative? How does place impact the lives of the characters?

  14.Gender and sexuality are large themes in the novel. How would you describe Billy’s gender throughout the course of The Lightkeeper’s Wife? What about Hannah? How does Billy’s relationship to sex evolve throughout the narrative? How does Hannah come to accept and love Billy for who he is? Does reading the novel change how you think about gender or sexuality?

  15.The story ends with Hannah and Billy coming together both in how they do the rescues and in how they form an intimate connection. How does their relationship in carrying out the rescues impact their love relationship?

  A Conversation with the Author

  Where did you get the idea for Hannah, the female lightkeeper, and Blue, the lady pirate?

  Hannah came to life when I saw a print of Grace Darling, a lightkeeper’s daughter in the UK who became famous for rowing into a storm to rescue a drowning sailor. The print was at the Highland House museum in Truro, Massachusetts, where they had a book about female lightkeepers. When fathers or husbands died, a daughter or wife would often take over the care of a lighthouse to maintain an income. While the male lightkeepers were known for staying ashore to watch the lights, the women became known for rowing into the sea to rescue drowning sailors, perhaps out of a sense of empathy. This fascinated me. In my research of women’s maritime history, I came across female pirates; how could that not grab my interest?

  What was your process like for writing this novel?

  Long and slow. I conducted two years of research while writing the first few drafts. I researched everything: women’s maritime history, female pirates, clothing from the 1800s, famous shipwrecks, photos of Truro from the 1800s. I started with a first draft that I wrote through without listening to my internal critics. I threw everything in there, every bit of research and character and scene that came into my mind. Then I whittled it down and fleshed it out and worked it like clay. I searched for the nerve of the narrative and built from there, using that one twitch to guide me. In the case of The Lightkeeper’s Wife, I struck a nerve every time I started to write about the relationship between Hannah and Billy, and more specifically, as it related to their gender and sexuality. I also had readers who provided feedback and helped me work the material over the years.

  What is the interplay between fact and fiction in the story?

  I use history as a catalyst for the story, but I don’t stick to the facts. I embellish and embolden as the story unfolds. For example, Dangerfield is a fictional town based on Truro, Massachusetts, which was at one time called Dangerfield. I wanted the freedom to invent and not be tied to the specific history or place. The same is true of the pirate culture, which was in fact more prevalent in the 1700s than in the 1800s. But fiction is fiction, and I had fun with it.

  What interested you in exploring gender roles in The Lightkeeper’s Wife?

  In my research about women’s maritime history, I came across women who lived as men at sea. I was intrigued not only with what it would take for a woman to pass as a man, but also with how much of being a man a female character could identify with and finally take on for herself, as we see with Billy. And when Hannah puts on John’s pants, she steps into aspects of gender outside the norm for her time period. Yet, while she carries out daring rescues and feats of strength, she remains a feminine figure, and Billy, even stripped of his disguise, remains more male. How can two women be so different? What is gender all about? This is some of what I wanted to explore in the novel.

  How do you write sex scenes without becoming pornographic?

  Sex scenes are always tricky. Like any scene, they should let us know more about the characters and further the story. Part of the work is not to get bogged down in cliché and to choose the right physical details—that is, physical details that are specific to a character and what their particular sexual experience means to the story. For example, when Hannah unwraps the strap from Billy’s chest, it’s sexy, but it also shows Hannah embracing Billy’s complicated gender and desiring Billy as she moves from her disguise to her naked and true self.

  You’ve written three previous books, two of interviews with other authors and one on how to interview authors and creative people. How did writing these books influence your fiction?

  In writing Conversations with American Women Writers and The Very Telling, I was able to speak with authors whose work I most admired. In preparing for the interviews, I read all of the authors’ works, both in their main genre and outside of it. I read other interviews with them and anything written about them, so that I became immersed in the writing life of each author. This deep study answered questions I had in my own work and generated even more questions about writing in general. I was able to sit down with each author and ask whatever questions came to mind. It was a wonderful opportunity to study and learn, as well as to publish and build relationships with other writers. So, to answer your question, how did writing those books impact my fiction—it furthered my education and helped me in the continual process of discovering my craft.

  What would you say to writers working on a first book?

  Read, read, read, and sit in your chair at your desk and write. Commit to a certain amount of time each day and stay in your chair. I read a great piece of advice in a Ron Carlson book: if you hit a roadblock in your writing, sit with it for twenty minutes. Don’t get up to get a cup of coffee or check the mail. Don’t go on the Internet. Just sit with it. Every time I’ve tried this, I’ve been able to write through my snag. Sitting is half the work of writing. So, just sit there.

  Acknowledgments

  I want to thank the Jentel Artist Residency Program for time and support in writing The Lightkeeper’s Wife, as well as Vermont Studio Center.

  Thank you to my parents, Susan O’Leary and Charles E. Johnson, who got me in a boat as soon as I could walk, and the rest of my family who offered their support over the years, including Edward J. O’Leary III, my first lighthouse keeper. Thanks to my editor, Shana Drehs, and the good people at Sourcebooks; the Posse; and Allison Hill, Joy Johannessen, Bret Anthony Johnston, Alice Mattison, Jenny Stephens, and Randi Triant for their readings. And to Miriam Kahn for keeping my eye on the heart of the matter and staying in the boat with me through every storm. This book would not have been possible without the guidance, creative support, and friendship of Laurie Liss. Thank you to Susan Kurtzman, the other half of my writing life, who held the lantern at the door every day. She is my first reader, editor, and creative consort. She encouraged me to get the book done through every obstacle and contributed in so many ways, offering love and support and tireless edits.

  About the Author

  Photo credit: Elyssa Cohen

  Sarah Anne Johnson is the author of The Very Telling, The Art of the Author Interview, and Conversations with American Women Writers, all published by the University Press of New England. She is the recipient of residencies in fiction from Jentel Artist Residency Program and Vermont Studio Center. She lives on Cape Cod.