Mary Burton

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by The Lightkeepers Woman


  Tomorrow morning, she would leave here forever. She would never see Caleb again.

  Everyone was in good spirits when they sat around the table. They ate and chatted happily over the day’s events. Only Caleb and Alanna were quiet. They answered questions when asked but each drifted back into their own thoughts.

  Once in a while she’d get the feeling that Caleb was staring at her but when she looked up, his gaze was always averted.

  “Alex,” Ryan said. “Tell everyone the story about the lightkeeper in Maine. The one Captain Jamison told us about it.” He looked at Thomas. “This is the darnedest story you ever did hear.”

  Caleb sipped his coffee as if he were half listening.

  Alex finished his milk. “The way the captain told it, it was the middle of the Maine winter and the wind was like ice. The lightkeeper was on duty when he saw a ship sailing too close to the rocks. He woke his wife and lighted the bonfire always set on the beach for this kind of emergency. But they were too late and the boat crashed into the rocks. She started taking on water almost immediately.”

  “Those poor souls,” Debra said. “I know the feeling well. Terrifying.”

  Alanna didn’t want to listen to the story. Her memories of her near-drowning were too fresh.

  As if sensing her shift in mood, Caleb set his cup down. He focused on Alex. “Boy, I’m in no mood for sad tales.”

  Ryan shook his head. “It ain’t sad.”

  Alex waited for Caleb’s nod before he continued. “The keeper and his wife started running along the beach, looking for survivors and debris. There were already beams and broken cargo boxes everywhere. But there weren’t one survivor.”

  “Why didn’t he sail out to save them,” Thomas asked. “Just as Captain Pitt saved us.”

  “Most keepers don’t go into the heavy surf. Most just don’t have the strength to take a boat into the surf.”

  Thomas frowned, nodded but said nothing.

  “Listen to this,” Ryan said. “You won’t believe—”

  “Shh,” Alex said. “It’s my story to tell.”

  “Then get on with it,” Ryan said.

  Alex’s gaze shifted between Alanna, Debra and Thomas. “Anyway, the keeper was running up the beach when he saw something in the surf. In the dark it looked like a body so he ran for it. But when he got there he found it weren’t nothing but a feather mattress wrapped up like a jellyroll.

  “The keeper was disappointed. Here he was freezing. His fingers were numb and all he got for his trouble was a mattress. But he went ahead and dragged the mattress up to the beach.”

  Ryan, unable to contain his excitement said, “That’s when he see the cord banded around the mattress. So he pulls out his pocket knife and slashes the rope.”

  “It unwound,” Alex said quickly. “And in the center was a wooden wine box.”

  Caleb leaned forward, but remained silent.

  Alanna too found she couldn’t resist the story. “What was in the box?”

  “A baby!” Ryan said.

  Alex frowned at him. “A baby boy it turned out.”

  Debra pressed her hand to her lips. “Was he alive?”

  “Crying and screaming like the banshees was on his tail, but he was right as rain,” Alex said.

  Alanna felt her stomach clench. “He must have been freezing.”

  “There wasn’t a drop of water on him,” Alex said. “Looked to be a newborn, not more than five days old. And there weren’t a drop of water on him.”

  “He came from the wreck,” Debra asked.

  Alex nodded. “Yes, ma’am. There was a note inside the box. Said, Lord protect my baby, Elijah.”

  “What a miracle,” Debra said. She took Thomas’s hand and squeezed it.

  “What happened to the mother and the ship,” Alanna asked.

  “Minutes after they started toward the house, the ship started to break apart. All was lost,” Alex said.

  Everyone around the table went silent.

  Uneasy, Alanna rose and moved to the stove. That poor woman, she thought. “The sea brought so much misery.”

  “Well,” Ryan said. “Have you heard the story about the ship that wrecked off San Francisco? It was loaded with animals from South America. I heard tell a dozen monkeys floated to shore on a piece of wreckage. The lightkeeper never did catch them. Some say you can still hear the monkeys squeaking in the trees to this day.”

  Alanna and the others laughed, Caleb included. She pictured Caleb trying to herd a pack of monkeys and despite her sour mood smiled.

  When the laughter died down, Debra rose. “Alanna, let me help you with these dishes.”

  Alanna took the platter Debra had lifted from the table. “I won’t hear of it. You must sit down.”

  She picked up another plate and carried it to the sink. She pumped cold water into the basin. “Now off to the parlor with you. You should be resting. This is a delicate time for you.”

  Caleb met her gaze and frowned. She could almost read his mind. He was trying to picture her pregnant with their child.

  He paused a moment before he seemed to trust his voice. “There’s a basin in the storage closet. I’ll haul it in along with water from the barrels. The stove is hot so it shouldn’t take more than an hour for the water to heat.”

  Alanna felt her heart leap. A hot bath! Until now she’d managed with a wash cloth and a basin filled with cold water. “Do you mean it? If it’s too much trouble I can wait until we go into town tomorrow. I’m sure Mr. Sloan will allow me to use one of his rooms.”

  Pleased by her reaction, he smiled. “No trouble at all, Alanna.”

  “That would be such luxury.” Her voice sounded husky.

  “It’s not a grand tub like you’d have found in your father’s house. You won’t be able to stretch your legs.”

  “If the water is hot and I can wash the salt from my hair, I don’t care if it’s fancy or not.” Excited, she squeezed his hand. “This is the greatest gift you could have given me.”

  He touched a curl hanging loose from her ponytail. Her breathing grew shallow, anxious.

  “Happy to help,” he said finally.

  As promised, Caleb delivered the tub and set it near the stove in the kitchen. It took him half an hour to haul the water inside. Another hour and a half passed before the water heated. With each passing minute, Alanna’s anticipation grew.

  She’d found soaps. A pale brown, the soaps weren’t the exotic French soaps she’d once favored, but they would do. She’d also rounded up a clean towel.

  She skimmed her hand over the warm water’s surface. Such a simple pleasure but she had never been more excited. She intended to savor every moment.

  Unpinning her braid, she let it fall down her back. Untying the piece of string at the bottom of the braid, she loosened the hair. Her hair was so dirty. It lacked shine and was flat.

  She reached for her belted robe. This was going to be good.

  “Oh my heavens,” Debra said. “Is that a bath?”

  Alanna turned, nodding. “It sure is.” It struck her that Debra looked pale. “And it’s for you.”

  Debra eyed her skeptically. “This bath is not for me. You were about to get in.”

  Alanna walked over to Debra. “I will take one after you. You need a bath.”

  Debra shook her head. “Absolutely not. You have done far too much for me.”

  Alanna stepped back and turned toward the back door. “You better hurry, the water is just right.”

  Tears streamed down Debra’s face. “Are you sure?”

  “Very.” The look of joy on the young woman’s face had Alanna smiling as she strolled outside.

  Though the sun had gone down, the air had turned warm and there was a gentle breeze. Next to the porch stood a barrel. She took a seat and stared up into the cloudless sky. Countless stars winked at her.

  She heard footsteps in the dirt and turned. Caleb stepped out of the shadows. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be in th
e tub.”

  “Debra is going first.”

  He studied her a moment as if he couldn’t quite figure her out. “I made the bath for you.”

  “It was a wonderful gift. Debra just looked as if she needed it more than me.” She drew in a deep breath, savoring the salt air. She felt his gaze on her. “There must be a million stars tonight.”

  “Aye.”

  “They’re so much brighter out here than in town.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Would you like to see them from the crow’s nest?”

  “At the top of the lighthouse?” Excitement bubbled in her voice.

  He held out his hand to her. “The very same.”

  She hesitated then laid her hand in his. Strong fingers wrapped round her hand. Suddenly, she felt like a schoolgirl. “Lead the way.”

  They crossed the yard toward the twenty-foot tall granite-and-brick base of the lighthouse. The lighthouse stretched toward the night sky, its beacon flashing steady and bright.

  Caleb opened the door and they entered the circular base. He lit two lanterns and handed her one. He nodded toward a spiral staircase. “Follow me.”

  He started up the stairs with the confidence of a man who had climbed these steps hundreds of times. She doubted he needed the lantern.

  At first, she matched his pace but after a few dozen steps, she began to breathe harder and her legs ached. Caleb hadn’t broken his stride. She was able to push through her discomfort at first, but with each step her feet grew heavier.

  Finally, she stopped. “I—I need a moment.”

  He stopped and, turning, held up his lantern. “The first time I climbed these steps I thought my heart would explode.”

  “My heart exploded a dozen steps ago,” she said, wheezing.

  He chuckled and sat down on a step. “There’s no rush.”

  She hated showing weakness so she remained standing. “Maybe a minute.” She glanced up the winding spiral stairwell. It seemed to go on and on forever.

  “How many times a day do you climb these steps?”

  “Five or six.”

  Moistening dry lips she glanced over the railing down toward the base. Her head spun. “Oh my, we are up high.”

  “Wait until you get to the top.”

  Heights had never been a favorite of hers. If it was with anyone else but Caleb she’d have turned around. “How high up is this lighthouse?”

  “262 steps.” His gaze dropped to her white-knuckle grip on the railing.

  “You do this every day?” The concept baffled her.

  “Aye. And in the old days, with a can of oil strapped to my back.” He studied her flushed cheeks. “Let’s rest for a minute.”

  Alanna didn’t have the breath to argue. She sat down on the metal steps grateful for the respite. “The old days. Alex said your family was from here.”

  He nodded slowly. “Born on this very island.”

  She stared at him with fresh eyes. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  He shrugged. “At the time, I never planned to return and the past simply didn’t matter.”

  Guilt tugged at her. “You knew everything about me. Yet, I realize now I knew next to nothing about you. I’m sorry.”

  “Why?”

  “I should have asked. I should have known more about your past.” She remembered the journal entry: Keeper Pitt died today. “The boys told me your father was a Keeper here.”

  “Yes.” He glanced up the stairwell. “We’ve about seventy-five steps to go. Can you make it or do you want to turn back?”

  She realized the subject of his father was sensitive. There’d been a time when she’d have pried and prodded until she got all the details. “And miss the view from the top? Never.”

  Smiling, he rose slowly. “You always were stubborn.”

  She’d have argued the point if she could have spared the breath. Concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other, she climbed the stairs.

  When they reached the top she collapsed against the brick. “I’ll never make it back down.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, you will. The hard part is over. Now it’s time to enjoy the view.”

  Exhausted she closed her eyes and let her head fall forward. “My eyes are too tired to focus.”

  Alanna was certain her lungs would explode. Caleb wasn’t even winded.

  Before them was a metal door. Caleb pulled a ring of metal keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. “This door keeps the gusts of wind from extinguishing the light.”

  Alanna sucked in another breath. She nodded, refusing to spare precious air to speak.

  He smiled. “Just a few more steps.”

  “More?” She shook her head. “Why don’t you just tell me about it.”

  Chuckling, he placed his hand under her elbow. His fingers felt strong and without really questioning why, she leaned into him. “Seven steps.”

  She started to follow him. “Might as well be seven thousand.”

  “You can make it.” He coaxed her up the small winding staircase.

  With his help, this last climb seemed easy. “Where are we going?”

  “The watch room.”

  The watch room was just steps below the lens room. The lantern above turned steadily, flashing its warning light to all in the Atlantic.

  Alanna looked up the small spiral staircase to the room above, alight with the beacon. She marveled at the size of the room. “How does it move?”

  Caleb followed her gaze to the beacon. “There’s a weight. I crank it to the top each evening. As it slowly drops it turns the gears and causes the lens to rotate.”

  The enormity of Caleb’s responsibilities humbled her. “Must you do it every day?”

  “Every day.” He placed his hand in the small of her back and nodded toward an iron door. “The balcony is through there.”

  She glanced up one last time toward the lens room and then allowed him to guide her outside.

  The night view was breathtaking. The stars gleamed with unusual brightness and freckled the night sky. The breeze was gentle and the crash of the waves roared in the distance. The giant lantern light rotated above them.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. Again, she got a glimpse of how wondrous this place could be. A part of her envied Caleb. This could be a magical place.

  Caleb leaned close to her and stretched out his arm toward the coast. “See that flicker on the horizon?”

  Her gaze followed the length of his arm. There was a light. It blinked off and then blinked on.

  “It’s the Bodie Lighthouse. She stands about sixty miles down the coast from here. Beyond Bodie, there’s the Hatteras Lighthouse. Beyond that, Cape Fear.”

  She leaned against him, content to savor his warmth and the evening breeze. The sound of frogs and katydids crooned in the distant marshes. An animal called out to the night, its sound sad and lonely. “What’s that?”

  He wrapped his arm around her. “It’s called chuck-wills widows. Some say it sounds like the cry of lost souls.”

  She listened to the sad cry. The beacon above flashed brilliantly and then it was dark again. Suddenly, an unbearable weight settled on her shoulders as she thought about a life without Caleb. “Lost souls. That is what we are.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. He leaned his face forward so that his lips were next to her ear. He waited for the light to flash and the darkness to return before he spoke. “We don’t have to be. Stay here with me.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  His fingers tightened. “It is that simple.”

  “We don’t belong together anymore. Our lives don’t fit anymore.” She fought the seductive pull of his body.

  Turning, she faced him. The light beacon flashed on his face, now stiff with emotion. Her throat tightened with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.”

  Unable to bear the look of pain on his face, she turned and went back into the watch room. He didn’t follow. Tears choked her throat as she grabbe
d a lantern and hurried down the stairs.

  Caleb’s fingers gripped the wrought-iron fence around the crow’s nest. Alanna’s descending steps mingled with the crash of the wave.

  A small smile curved the edge of his lips. “You are wrong, Alanna. We do belong together.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alanna decided the boat ride across the sound was painfully fast. The Randalls rode in another dory with Ryan and Alex on the oars. She sat in a boat alone with Caleb.

  Freshly bathed and wearing the dress she’d mended, she looked more like herself. Her blond hair, tied back in a long braid, had regained its luster. Her skin felt smooth and clean. Three days ago, she would have sold her soul for this moment. Now the idea of leaving tore at her.

  She and Caleb had not spoken more than six words since their trip up into the lighthouse last night. Each was lost in their thoughts.

  She was keenly aware of him. His presence. His scent. The even sound of his breathing.

  “There are circles under your eyes,” Caleb said as he dug the oars into the water.

  “I didn’t sleep well last night.” He’d spent the night in the lighthouse as she now knew he often did while on duty so she’d had his room to herself. But lying in his bed, surrounded by everything that was his, had made sleep impossible.

  “You never could sleep when you were worried. What is it this time?” There was an edge to his voice.

  “Nothing.” What wasn’t she worried about? Leaving him, facing Henry, or trying to go back to her old life as if these last few days hadn’t happened.

  “You’re going to miss me.”

  She stiffened, but she did not turn around. Dear Lord, she was going to miss him terribly.

  Silent, she stared at Easton. When they’d set out from the barrier, it had started as a thin line on the horizon. Now it was fully in focus.

  Just days ago, the town had seemed so lifeless, bleached gray by the blistering sun and wind. To her surprise, the sunshine had transformed the town. On this warm spring morning, Easton was filled with color. Against an azure sky, the brightly hued shutters, the carts filled with fish and vegetables brought the place alive. She heard children’s laughter and dogs barking. The docks that had been deserted when she’d departed were now filled with villagers who had shed their thick, dark capes.

 

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