The Lighthouse Romance Anthology (The Life Saving Series)

by Dawn Luedecke

  Her heartbeat kicked up. What was it? What had they found that made them so upset? It had to be about Nash.

  After a moment, Gavin turned to Abby and brought her the object, a piece of a wooden plank with half of a word painted on the front in black paint.

  “Abig”

  She knew at that moment that something bad happened to her brother, but she wasn’t ready to give up hope. If she had to, she would take a boat and search the waters herself. No way would she give up until she found out what happened to her brother.

  Chapter 4

  My son Jesus Christ, in whom I am well pleased.

  Has overcome sin and atoned for all of these.

  Look! There’s another, its name is “A Brother.”

  Could it be, that to succeed, they must help one another?

  I wondered, through Gods eyes, what does he see?

  Then suddenly these words came, “A Ship at Sea.”

  -Dave Torell

  A Ship at Sea vs. 7-9

  Abigail handed the wooden plank back to Gavin and took off for the lighthouse. She would check to make sure that the small skiff they sometimes used was ready to go and in good condition. She’d gather some supplies from her house and put on some warm clothes. When sailing, she would keep near the shore to ensure she could find her way back.

  If the Life Saving station couldn’t find him, she’d do it herself. He was alive. Somewhere. He had to be.

  Abby made it halfway up the steep hill that led to the lighthouse when Gavin caught up to her. “Where are you going?”

  “Gav…I have to find him.”

  “Can’t you let the lifesavers do their job first? They aren’t going to stop their search just because they found the wood.”

  Abigail stopped short and spun around, surprised. “They’re not?”

  Gavin let out an exasperated chuckle. “No, Abby. That will make them more determined to find him. They want to get answers for you.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. They think something may have happened when he crossed the bar, which would explain why they found the wood washed up on Sand Island. Look,” he said and pointed to the men rowing through the water. She could just see them through the fog. “Give them two days to search, and then I will take you out to look for yourself…but only in Baker Bay.”

  “Christmas is in two days.”

  “If he hasn’t been found by then, I will take you out myself.”

  “Promise?” She could see the pain in his eyes as he stroked her cheek. He was just as affected as she at the sight of the plank. She knew she could trust him. He was a good man, a man of his word. He wouldn’t let her brother, his best friend, disappear without doing everything he could to find him.

  “I promise,” he said, and took a step closer. He grabbed her hand to turn her toward the house. “Let’s go talk to Uncle Charlie and tell him what’s happened.” Abby nodded and followed, but all the while she thought of her brother lost in the fog and desperate for rescue.

  At her uncle’s house, Elsie paced the front porch with fear shining in her eyes.

  Her friend had left for home the night before, expecting to see Hamilton. But that had obviously not happened. Now Abby would have to explain to her why her brother had not come home.

  Elsie turned on the steps as they climbed. “Abby?” Confusion clouded her face, and she knew Elsie felt the same cold fear as she did.

  Abby let out all she knew about the rescue up to that moment while Gavin stayed by her side, holding her hand. She felt powerless as she watched her friend break down in tears. She had to find her brother.

  “I’ll take her home and talk to her parents,” Gavin said, and took a hold of Elsie. She leaned her body weight on his arm. “You go explain the situation to Charlie.”

  Abby nodded, and turned for the door as Gavin ushered Elsie off the porch. Inside, her uncle was nowhere to be seen. She searched his room just as the loud clanging of the bell sounded. Of course he was there—at the lighthouse, warning the sailors.

  It took no time at all to reach her uncle. The fog continued to blanket the land and water, and as expected her uncle stood next to a large bell, waiting to clang it once more. His face was pale and he slumped with exhaustion. He didn’t need to hear about Nash just yet. He needed rest. She could tell him when he got better, if they hadn’t found her brother by then. God, what was happening to her family?

  Abby ran to him, wrapping her arms around his frail shoulders. Worry twisting her heart. “Come on Uncle Charlie. Go to bed. I’ll ring the bell until the station comes.” Abigail tugged him toward the house, certain he would protest. When he didn’t, she knew something was wrong. She watched as her uncle stumbled the short distance to their house and disappeared inside. Was he sick? What was wrong with him? When Gavin returned, she would send him for the doctor.

  At the required moment, she rang the fog signal for all to hear, the gentle clang of the bell now loud and deafening. She repeated the sound every ten minutes until Gavin traipsed up the hill behind one of his crewmembers.

  The crewmember, who Abby knew as Seaman Dodd, went to the octagon watch building and muttered a brief hello as he passed. She was glad he didn’t stay to chat. She didn’t know if she could fake calm right now.

  As soon as Gavin drew close enough, she turned. “Uncle Charlie is sick. He needs a doctor.”

  “What?” Gavin’s brows creased in the middle, worry etched on the lines of his face, mimicking her own concern.

  “Can you fetch a doctor?” She waved toward the bell. “I’m sounding the fog bells for him.”

  “Of course. Let me get Dodd to take over the bell, though. You go in to your uncle and I’ll meet you there with the doctor.” Before she could answer, he took off toward the watch station, stopping briefly, before heading down the hill.

  Within seconds Dodd loped up to her. “I’ve got it form here, Ms. Abby.”

  Abby was more than happy to turn over the responsibility, and ran to the house.

  In her uncle’s room, she found him sprawled out on his bed, fully dressed. She drew closer and realized how sick he was. If the doctor did not make it soon, she feared he would die within a short time.

  Abigail stripped her small and barely conscious uncle down to his skivvies, tucked him into his bed and bustled into the kitchen where she put a kettle of water on the stove to boil. She would make a pot of tea and wait for the doctor. At the moment she wished more than anything that she knew more about medicine and tending the ill. What if her uncle died because of something she didn’t do that she should have? Could she live with herself then?

  What if Uncle Charlie died and Nash could not be found?

  She wouldn’t think about that scenario. Stay positive. God has a way of working things out—especially on Christmas.

  A few moments later Gavin showed up with the doctor. The man hurried into Charlie’s room where he took his vitals and checked him over.

  Gavin walked up next to Abby and grabbed her hand. He pulled her after him and guided her toward the front porch, then shut the door and pulled her into his embrace. He somehow knew that the only thing that could ease her mind was for him to hold her.

  So he did.

  They sat that way for what seemed an eternity while she cried against his chest. He caressed her from the base of her neck, to the small of her back. When she stopped shuddering and quieted down, she could hear the soft gentle sound of Christmas carols that came up from the base of the hill. In the week before Christmas, the local carolers would come every day and sing to the lifesaving station and lighthouse. The songs provided an atmosphere of peace and became a welcome reprieve from their hectic lives.

  After another verse of ‘The First Noel’ was sung, the doctor walked out the door shutting it behind him. He looked at Abigail and gave her a sad smile. “He has pneumonia. It is difficult to say whether or not he will get over it, but he must not leave his bed for the next couple of weeks—no matter what. He has a hig
h fever and his breathing is very shallow. Keep a good watch over him and send for me if he seems to get worse. I’ve left the medicine regimen and instructions for you on the kitchen table.”

  Abigail nodded solemnly and turned back into Gavin’s embrace. After a moment, she gathered her strength. Her spine stiffened and she pulled away from his arms, chin high, defiant against the trials that assailed her.

  “I’ll stay with you,” Gavin offered.

  “Thank you, but I’ll be fine. They need you at the station.”

  “I’ll leave a message with Dodd to have the station take up the signal until the haze lifts. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  With a small smile, she turned and walked inside where she took up a position near her uncle. Although she protested, she desperately needed to be close to him.

  Gavin returned to the little keepers abode with determination etched on his face. Her heart seemed to hum with the care he showed when aiding her uncle—as if he were already a part of the family. Taking up a makeshift cot in the parlor, he slept while Abby took vigil in the chair next to her uncle’s bed.

  During the long hours, she would periodically walk to the observation deck to see if the fog had lifted, but each time would come back defeated. Twice, she sent Gavin down to the station to get an update on the search. Although the crew spent hours upon hours searching, they did not find him.

  The fog was just too thick to penetrate.

  Christmas morning dawned bright and early, but Abby didn’t notice. She already checked on her uncle and looked to see if the bay was visible. It wasn’t. The sky above was blue and calm, with a few winter clouds. It seemed odd to Abigail how the fog could settle over the water and town, but not the lighthouse. It was as if the towering building had been built on the clouds themselves, and not the jutted rock formation. If only Nash was able to see the light from the beacon, he would know where to signal his location—if he was still alive. Instead, he was lost somewhere in the thick of a fog that showed no indication it would lift.

  Abigail walked out, needing a breath of fresh air to calm her riotous emotions, and found Gavin there. He held a large mug of the black coffee she made that morning and watched the lighthouse light blink on and off. He turned when she walked outside. “Merry Christmas, sleepyhead.”

  “Sleepyhead? I’ve been up for hours.”

  “Ah, then I am the sleepyhead.”

  Abigail couldn’t help but smile. Only Gavin could make her feel calm and at ease when life was cruel. “Well then, Merry Christmas to you, sleepyhead.”

  After a moment of silence, Gavin asked, “How’s Charlie?”

  Abby took a shuddered breath. “The same. He’s had a fever for two days now, and if it doesn’t break soon, I don’t think he will make it.” Tears started to form in the corners of her eyes and Gavin moved next to her. His hand drifted to her bottom lip, where he caressed and eased the slight tremble that started. She sucked in a deep breath and looked up into his face. His eyes shone with pools of emotion as he leaned down and placed a light kiss on her mouth. Her eyes closed in response and head tilted back, she willed him to give her more.

  The sounds of carolers penetrated her thoughts and brought her mind to focus. She opened her eyes and looked at Gavin. The carolers were not quite visible to them, but in a few steps they could look down and see the Christmas sight. She knew their time of passion was over, but the sound of music on Christmas morning was a welcome interruption.

  Gavin reached down and grabbed her hand. They walked to the edge of the porch to look down toward the station and town. A group of singers stood in a row, huddled together and ensconced in warm wool clothes, as they sang the songs of the season.

  Abby stood with her back to Gavin. She looked down when his hands slid past her sides and hugged her to him. She leaned against him and closed her eyes, which allowed the sounds of the songs to calm her. A new song drifted up the hill to greet her ears.

  I heard the bell’s on Christmas day

  Their old familiar carols play,

  And wild and sweet, their words repeat

  Of peace on earth, good will to men.

  “That’s it!” She yelled, and snapped out of the serene trance the songs put her into. Gavin took a step back when she turned.

  “What’s it?” he asked from behind her while she tromped off to the lighthouse.

  “The bell.”

  “Abby? I don’t understand?”

  “Every Christmas Nash would wake me by singing a little song in my room. He would make it sound like the bells. He even said that one of these holidays; he would make the lighthouse signal sing it. If we can play it on there, then at least he would know I’m here. We haven’t forgotten.”

  “Okay. How does the song go?” he asked while they walked around the base of the tall beacon to the bell frame.

  “On the bell, it will be three dings, three dings, four dings, and three dings. But it has to sound like it sings ‘Abigail, Abigail, Merry Christmas Abigail.’

  “Okay, that shouldn’t be too hard…I guess.”

  “Your job is to still the bell, quick, after every ding. But move your hand when you’re done so I can do it again.”

  Gavin looked at the tall frame that held the large bell. The frame itself was taller than Gavin and painted white. On the ground, the top of the bell would come up to Abigail’s hips.

  Abby reached up, high enough to touch the line that connected to the clapper. On her count, they began the signal. They worked well together to play the perfect song on the bell.

  The signal brought the men at the lifesaving station running up the hill. Men gathered around to stand in a huddle as Keeper Gipson reached the top and motioned for Gavin to come to him. He knew about Charlie’s illness, and had taken responsibility for the lighthouse while the keeper was down, so Gavin was sure that he would get a verbal lashing for the noise.

  Abby spoke up in defense, “It’s not his fault.” She explained their reasons, and expected it to satisfy the irate keeper.

  She physically deflated when instead; Keeper Gipson scolded her for her irresponsible use of Government property. Abigail was just about to launch an argument when through the fog rang came the echo of Abigail’s song.

  “That’s him!” she screamed with joy. “He’s signaling to us. He sounds close.”

  Abby looked from Keeper Gipson, to Gavin, and saw them look at each other with stunned expressions. Within seconds, the keeper threw out commands for the rescue. Six men were to take the rescue boat to where they thought they heard the song.

  “That’s not good enough. What if you are wrong with the direction? The fog can play with one’s senses,” she said, and gathered her dress to run toward the lifesaving station. “Do you have a small bell?”

  Gavin caught up to her. “Yes, but you are not going Abby.”

  “Like hell I am not. That is my brother, and I am the only one who knows just how to sound the signal. I can keep ringing it in the fog, he will echo it, and we can find him faster.”

  Gavin dropped behind Abby and talked to the keeper while they walked. When they reached the station, Gavin directed a sailor to watch over her uncle. He convinced the keeper to let her go, solely under the principle that to some she would be considered a lifesaver herself. After all, she was the lighthouse keeper’s niece. She would wear a life vest and stay in the centre of the boat; the crew would take all precautions when they rowed.

  At the station, they gathered the bell, suited up in safety gear, and tromped to the boats. They climbed inside with Abigail in the middle. As soon as they skimmed through the water, Abigail rang the song on the bell and the rowers stopped. All listened to hear the repeat.

  Nash rang his response, a repeat of the tones she had given him. The crew turned the vessel to the sound and rowed with haste. After a while, they stopped and repeated the process and took off in the correct direction once again. Three more times they made the signal, until the rescue boat hit land.

&n
bsp; She rang the bell one more time, and the echo sounded to their right.

  Abigail jumped out of the boat and ran in the direction of the bell. She’d run fifty yards when she saw a dark figure, hazy in the fog. When her brother became visible, all the air left her lungs.

  “Abby! My God, Abby!” Nash cried out as he picked her up in a bear hug. “I knew it was you. I heard the bells.”

  Tears of joy raced down her face as the rescue crew appeared.

  “We thought we’d never find you,” Gavin said when he reached them. “Your sister has been a wreck for days now, but she refused to give up hope.”

  Abigail didn’t let go of her brother while he shook his friend’s hand and thanked the rescue crew. He told them of the wave and the mast that had fallen on Hamilton, who had been in-and-out of consciousness for the last couple of days. The crew gathered the survivor’s gear and Hamilton, and put them in the boat.

  They reached the safety of land and the doctor, Elsie, and the whole lifesaving station were there to greet them. The doc checked Nash over, and directed Elsie and the crew to deliver Hamilton to his home, where he could be taken care of.

  Gavin, Nash, and Abby were about to walk up the steps when the doctor appeared. “Charlie’s fever has broken and his breathing has improved a bit. As long as everything keeps going this well, he should pull through.”

  The rest of the day the three settled down for a quiet Christmas Celebration. Keeper Gipson had a Christmas tree delivered to them, and Abigail, Gavin, and Nash sat at the small table and made a popcorn garland, from corn they had popped in a kettle. Nash and Gavin wove the garland around the tree’s branches while Abby made hot cocoa. While the men worked, she took her cup and walked out to the porch.