His Saving Grace

by Janice Carter

  Grace was right about the parking. Despite the supper hour, people were still heading for the beach and Drew wondered if he’d made a mistake in planning a picnic supper there. He’d thought they’d have some privacy and more important, that the neutrality of the place was a better option than the bookstore or her apartment. Now he was doubting that, especially since the end of the beach near Henry’s place was closer to the lighthouse. Too late now, he thought as he parked in front of the bungalow.

  If Grace had similar concerns, she wasn’t revealing them as she helped him unload. There was no sign of Henry. Drew had thought the old man might come out to greet them and he was thankful he hadn’t. This picnic wasn’t intended purely for pleasure and Drew feared any distraction would set him off course.

  By the time they found a reasonably private place—being at the farthest point of the beach helped—they were both ready for a swim. Like Grace, Drew had worn his bathing suit under his clothes and as they undressed, his gaze kept shifting from Grace to the lighthouse and back to her. Especially to the bikini—and Grace in it—which was a serious distraction though one Drew didn’t mind.

  She was in the water before him, dashing through the foamy waves and dunking almost immediately, a feat Drew admired without any urge to imitate. He was in up to his knees when she emerged and waded back to him, grinning as she extended her arms in what he knew was going to be a bear hug.

  “No, no,” he said, backing away, but the awkward move coupled with another wave pushed him down. He came up spluttering, reaching for Grace’s hand. She was laughing and soon he was, too, until he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, so close she pressed her palms against his chest.

  He loosened his grip but kept his hands on her arms and gazed down into her dark eyes, still shining with laughter. “You’re beautiful,” he said and lowered his mouth to hers.

  Her lips were salty-sweet and he might have stood there longer, waves lapping against his legs, but the shouts of nearby children reminded him they weren’t alone. “Guess we’d better get dry. Warm up.”

  “I’m not sure we need warming up.” She giggled, taking his hand as they waded to shore.

  They toweled off and after she spread out the blanket, Drew opened up the cooler.

  “I’m impressed,” Grace said as he set food items on the blanket. “You seem to be a pro at this.”

  “Nope. First time at organizing a picnic, though I have attended a few.”

  “I think I’m jealous,” she murmured.

  He looked up from unwrapping a piece of cheese. She was lounging on the blanket, her elbows propping her up, and smiling. The early evening sun behind them gilded the upper part of her body in hues of pink and gold. Drew thought of taking a photo but didn’t want the moment to slip past him while he fumbled at his cell phone.

  “Jealous of my organizing a picnic?”

  “No. Jealous of you having picnics with someone else.” She ducked her head to pick up a slice of red pepper from a plastic container of cut vegetables, but he’d seen her face turn pink.

  For a minute Drew worried the outing might veer into a direction he’d love for it to go. Forget the talk. Forget the soul-baring. Just lie on the blanket next to her, bask in the glow she emanates without effort and fill your senses with her presence. But he knew as much as he wanted to delay having that talk, he couldn’t put it off much longer.

  “I’m starving.” She was looking expectantly at him and the cooler.

  Perfect timing, Drew thought. He passed her cheese, a packet of prosciutto and two containers of salad. Then he reached into the grocery bag for the baguette, cutlery and paper plates.

  Drew couldn’t remember when he’d eaten with such enjoyment. Not even the dinner at The Daily Catch days ago, at the very beginning of the roller-coaster ride that brought them to this moment. He ate half reclining on one elbow so he could watch her, the sea and, off to their left, the lighthouse. She ate with pleasure, licking her fingers and once in a while making sweet humming noises that enchanted Drew. Seagulls careened overhead, occasionally diving for fish or food scraps left behind by other picnickers. Dusk was creeping up on them by the time they could eat no more. People had begun to leave, heading for parked cars or their cottages and homes.

  Grace reached for her T-shirt and shorts, pulling them on over her bikini.

  “All dry?”

  “Yes. And you?”

  “Yes.” He sat up, reluctant to end this part of the day for the next scene. The one he was now dreading.

  By the time he dressed, she’d packed up leftovers and the rest of the picnic items. “My place?” she asked.

  “Uh, well, I’d thought we could sit here longer. Watch the sunset.” Then an idea occurred. “Let’s go up there, to the tower.”

  When she didn’t answer, he turned around. She was staring unhappily at the lighthouse, her face clouded with some emotion he couldn’t define. “I’ve got a key,” he added, hoping that might reassure whatever doubts she had.

  Still she didn’t move.

  “Grace,” he murmured, “it’s okay. Come on. It’ll be special to see the last of the sunset from inside, up in the lantern room.” He reached for her hand and led her along the road to the path leading up the dune. He was expecting her to balk and hold back but when she didn’t, he let go of her hand and proceeded ahead. Once he looked back to see her standing in front of the shuttered cottage where he and Henry had sat, his first day in the Cove. She was staring at it with what looked like a forlorn expression. Then she noticed him waiting for her and began to climb.

  She caught up to him a few seconds after he’d reached the spot in the path where remnants of flowers were scattered. The wind had blown away the flag from days ago and the tide had disintegrated the firecracker packet.

  “It isn’t Suzanna,” Grace said.

  Drew swung around from unlocking the door. “Huh?”

  “The person who brought this stuff isn’t Suzanna. When I was talking to her the other day, she said she hasn’t been out here.”

  It was a mystery that no doubt would be answered at some point in time, he figured. He reached the two concrete steps leading up to the lighthouse door and unlocked it. When he tugged the door open, he turned to see her peering down at the ruined shrine.

  “Grace?”

  She looked at him, her eyes both sad and fearful.

  “What is it?” He moved toward her.

  “I haven’t actually been inside for years. Long before Brandon. I... I’m not sure I can do this.”

  Drew reached for her hand. “You can, Grace. It’s just a place. There are no ghosts here.”

  The look in her face cast doubt on that but he refused to let her retreat. Whatever fears she had, he sensed this was the time to face them. With him.

  “Come,” he whispered. “I’m with you.” And he slowly led her inside.

  * * *

  HE WAS A kind man, Grace thought. The way he guided her into the lighthouse, one arm draped casually over her shoulders as if they were taking an evening stroll. He seemed to know intuitively that her legs were numb, frozen to the grassy path, and her heart rate so sluggish she could hardly breathe. He spoke the whole time, pointing out things in the small room they stepped into.

  “This is where the keeper would store things. Tools, extra bulbs, cleaning materials and so on. The keeper for a tower like this would have had a place of his own nearby. Maybe one of those old cottages at the foot of the dune, like the one you were just looking at.”

  Cassie’s place. She watched him move around, touching the walls and the dusty shelves.

  “It looks like someone has stayed here at some point in time though. These candles have been lit, maybe with that cigarette lighter.” He suddenly looked her way. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded but inside she was crying, No, I’m not. Had Brandon been
the one who was here, lighting the candles? Waiting impatiently for the tide to recede? She remembered hearing from other kids that the door wasn’t always locked back in those days.

  It was getting darker outside and in. Drew flicked the cigarette lighter, but its fuel had long evaporated. “Guess I won’t be lighting the candles, so this will have to do.” He held up his cell phone. “Come on. Let’s go up top and watch the rest of the sunset.”

  She hesitated at the base of the spiral staircase, watching him climb nimbly up the steep, narrow stairs. Then she slowly followed, pausing on each step to take a calming breath. The space at the top was smaller than she’d expected.

  “Come and see this.” Drew was staring into a large fixture. “There’s the lens and the lamp—basically a big light bulb. You can see it’s burned out—has been for a while. That tarnished bit of metal behind it is the reflector. Or was. And see the windows, how filthy they are?” He stopped to wipe at some grime on one of the panes. “I’m afraid we’re not going to see much of the sunset after all. Most of the dirt is on the outside but come here anyway.”

  Grace reached for his hand, letting him lead her to the west side of the room.

  He peered through the glass on the land side of the lighthouse. “Darn. Can’t see much. Guess this wasn’t such a great idea after all.” He smiled at Grace. “Let’s go back down. We can talk there, if you like.”

  If you like. He was giving her an out. Yet she knew postponing the talk until they returned to her place might bring other complications. She thought of his kiss when they were in the water and the way he held her so tightly she had to push against him, afraid she’d smother. At the same time, she’d wanted him to shield her from the chilly water as well as the misery of the past couple of days.

  “Okay,” she finally said.

  * * *

  THERE WAS NO view down below, but the semidarkness lent a coziness to the room. Drew sat on the floor, leaning against the brick wall, and patted the space next to him. Grace had been so silent he wasn’t sure if she’d talk at all. But that was okay. He would. He needed to. When she sat beside him, he put his arm across her shoulders and drew her closer.

  “You said earlier that you knew very little about my role in the Coast Guard. I’ve been giving the impression that I’ve been in the lighthouse division for some time, but actually it’s only been a few months.”

  She pulled back to look up at him. “Seriously? You seem like such an expert.”

  Drew laughed. “Researching lighthouses as a hobby growing up made me an amateur know-it-all. I’m sure some of the people in the Historical Society could tell you a lot more about them. No, I transferred to Portland eight months ago to a desk job but shortly afterward, I took over the lighthouse maintenance team section when its former head retired. Before Portland, I was stationed in Southwest Harbor.”

  “I remember you telling Terry something about that, at his book talk. I didn’t hear it all ʼcause I was dealing with customers. Something about a disaster?”

  We got to that pretty quickly, Drew thought. Just as well. No chance of backing out now.

  “I was the pilot—or captain—of a search and rescue boat. It was a small one—what’s called a response boat. There was just me and my mate, Jake. We got an SOS from a fishing trawler in trouble up the coast off Bar Harbor. A long way out. The tail end of a hurricane had swept through the area the day before and winds were still high. I’ve no idea why those fishermen decided to go out, but they did. We had a couple of bigger boats at Southwest Harbor station, but they were out on the water and not close enough to take the call. My Defender—or Response boat—was the only one available.

  “By the time we reached the trawler, it was capsizing, turned on its port side. The winds had picked up, too. The men were hanging off the upended starboard side. I heard later they’d been in that position twenty minutes or so. Jake and I set about lifting them off and onto our boat. It was an experience I never want to go through again.” He closed his eyes, the memory of his panic and fear sweeping over him. Grace’s hand pressed gently on his forearm.

  “We had everyone on board with just the trawler’s owner still clinging on when we spotted a super wave rolling our way. I had seconds to decide whether to attempt to get him and risk my own boat with the men we’d rescued getting caught in the wave, too, or leave him.” Drew stopped, seeing again the terrified faces of the fishermen, staring at him with both hope and sorrow. They’d known he really only had one choice.

  “You had to leave,” Grace whispered, taking his hand in hers.

  Drew couldn’t speak. They sat silently for a long time, listening to their own breathing and the whoosh of night breezes outside the tower. Then Drew straightened up, letting go of her hand and straining to hear a new sound. One he didn’t want to hear. Water washing against rocks.

  “We’ve lost track of time, Grace,” he said. “I think the tide is coming in. We have to go.”

  When Drew pushed open the door, he saw in the shaft of moonlight that the six to eight feet between the tower’s concrete base and the grassy path was now covered with seawater. The problem was that in the dark, they could be jostled by the tide’s current onto the rocks around the base.

  He kept his tone casual. “Yeah, so we’re going to have to be careful to avoid those,” he said, pointing to the rocks. “It’s dark and they’re wet and slippery. I’m going to close the door behind us but won’t lock it until later, after the tide’s gone down.”

  “Why don’t we just stay inside until then?”

  He turned to see her staring intently at the black water. “That’ll be hours, Grace. The water’s still rising. It won’t be deep yet. Trust me.”

  She looked from him to the open doorway again, her face waxen in the faint light.

  “This is what we’re going to do.” He was saying this as much for himself as for her. “I’m going to step onto the first step here and when both my feet are steady on it, I’ll go onto the second. When I’m steady, I’ll take your hand and you’ll go down onto the first step. When you’re beside me on the second, I’m going to close the tower door. Okay?”

  She gave a solemn nod.

  “Then I’m going to move slowly off the last step.” He didn’t want to contemplate this next point but had to warn her. “Once our feet touch the sandy bottom, depending on the depth, we will wade or even breaststroke but,” he swiftly added at the alarm in her eyes, “I doubt the water will be deep enough for that. I promise you I won’t let go of you until we’re both on dry ground.” He managed a smile. “Okay, shall we do it?”

  Her “okay” was barely a whisper.

  Drew stepped off the threshold, the shock of the cold water catching his breath. It was already knee-deep, and he felt a surge of doubt over his decision to vacate the tower. When he set his other foot down, waiting for a second to make sure he was stable, he reached for Grace’s hand. She stood frozen on the doorstep. “You can do this.”

  After what seemed a long moment, she placed one foot into the water and gasped. Because of their height difference, the water reached her thigh. She swayed against him and Drew held his breath.

  “Now the other one,” he said, urging her on in his mind, the water’s temperature already numbing his legs.

  When she was next to him on the second step, Drew felt behind him for the tower door and closed it. Then he placed a foot onto the sandy bottom and it was then he felt the strength of the tide current. They didn’t have time to waste. He set his other foot onto the bottom and waited until he was stable enough to help her down. Her body was trembling as she leaned against him, thrown off-balance by the depth—almost at her waist now—and the tide surge.

  “Okay. Almost there.” But staring at the six feet of dark water ahead, Drew wasn’t feeling so optimistic.

  They inched forward, pausing whenever the current pulled at their legs. He could ba
rely feel his hand enfolding hers and he prayed the water’s depth would keep steady until they reached dry land. If only his mind held steady, too, but snips of memory attacked his concentration, spinning him back to that day a year ago.

  Suddenly a wave surged, knocking Grace over. Her hand slipped out of his and she disappeared beneath the water. Drew’s shout was drowned out by the wind and waves. For a paralyzing second, he was back at the helm of the response boat, unable to move.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  IT WAS A darkness so dense her mind could feel it. But not her body, as it instinctively tried to push her up. Except where exactly was up or down? For a terrifying instant Grace couldn’t tell and her arms flailed at the water, as if it were a beast she was trying to tame. Until something grabbed her arm and she panicked, thinking she’d been snagged by an underwater creature. She kicked hard to break free. Then she broke the surface, choking and gasping for air. Drew’s arms were around her and he was dragging her through the water, the waves rolling against them, pushing and pulling in every direction. Grace stumbled when her feet hit dry ground and Drew’s grasp loosened. They both fell and lay panting on the hard, sandy surface.

  Another wave hit Grace—one of nausea. This is what Brandon went through. The panic and the relentless power of the tide. And he didn’t have someone like Drew to help him. When the pounding in her chest eased, Grace whispered, “Thank you.”

  Drew rolled over onto his side and smoothed away the strands of hair plastered on her cheeks and forehead. “I don’t know how high the water will rise and we need to get dry,” he said.

  His voice was strained and raspy. Grace watched him get up on his knees and then wait, his chest heaving with exhaustion. There was enough light to see that his face was ashen. She thought at once of his steady tone as they went into the water and his story about the sea rescue. Whatever memories probably swept over him as he was dragging her to safety, he’d been able to push them aside.