Keeper of the Light

to see a girl in the doorway between the kitchen and den. “This is my daughter, Lacey,” Alec said. “Lacey, this is Paul Macelli. Dr. Simon’s husband.”

Alec left the kitchen then, and Paul smiled at the girl. She was tall and fair-skinned, with Annie’s blue eyes, but her hair was half black and half red. She eyed him as she took a handful of pretzels from the bag on the counter.

“You’re the one who got my age wrong.” She leaned back against the cabinets.

“What do you mean?” he asked, setting the bottle down. Her hair was absolutely ridiculous.

“In that article about my mother in Seascape. You said I was twelve, but I was actually thirteen. I’m fourteen now.”

Paul frowned. “I could swear your mother said you were twelve.”

She popped a few pretzel sticks in her mouth. “Everybody got on my case about it,” she said, chewing. “I mean, twelve, God.” She gave him a narrow-eyed look of disapproval as she swept past him. “I’m going out, Dad,” she called into the living room, and then she disappeared through the back door.

Paul stared after her. He would swear on a stack of Annie’s stained glass panels that she’d said her daughter was twelve.

He was anxious during the meeting. Alec talked about the progress being made on moving the lighthouse. The track was already under construction, he said, and the site was swarming with engineers and surveyors.

Paul barely listened. Mothers didn’t get confused about the ages of their children. His mother could rattle off all six of their ages at any point in time. There was only one reason he could think of for Annie to have lied about Lacey’s age.

The moment the meeting was adjourned, he thanked Alec and nearly ran out to his car. He drove home in a trance, and once inside his little cottage, began digging through the box of tapes he kept in the spare room. He found the three tapes he’d made of his interviews with Annie and carried them, along with his tape recorder, into his bedroom. He sat down on the bed and skimmed through the tapes with the fast forward button until he found the one he was after. Drawing in a long breath, he leaned back against the wall and pushed the play button.

He could hear the clinking of silverware from another table in the Sea Tern. Then his question. “Tell me about your kids.”

“Well…” Annie’s voice cut through him. It had been so long since he’d heard it. A little husky, and here, a little halting. He thought now that he understood the reason for the slow, careful manner of her speech. “What would you like to know about them?”

“Everything,” he said. “I assumed you didn’t name them Rosa and Guido.”

Paul winced now as he heard himself ask that question, as he remembered the angry look she’d shot him.

“You promised not to…” Annie said, and he interrupted her quickly.

“I’m sorry. Okay. Clay and…?”

“Lacey.”

“Lacey. How old are they?”

“Clay is seventeen, and Lacey is twelve going on twenty.”

Paul pressed the rewind button. “…twelve going on twenty,” Annie repeated.

Paul turned the machine off and closed his eyes. There was only one reason she’d lie. He thought of the girl in Alec’s kitchen, the girl with Annie’s eyes, Annie’s red hair pushing out the black, and once he started thinking, he couldn’t stop.

He’d received his master’s degree in communications when he was twenty- four years old. He suddenly saw his future mapped out in front of him, and there was a gap in it only one person could fill. He hadn’t seen Annie in over four years, not since she’d left him at Boston College to set out on her own. He could not look for a job, he couldn’t commit himself to his own future until he’d made one last attempt to include her in it.

He moved to Nag’s Head in late spring, renting an efficiency apartment two blocks from the water. He auditioned for a role in The Lost Colony, a play on the history of the Outer Banks that ran each summer in Manteo, and easily won a part. He found Annie and Alec’s number in the phone book, but didn’t call. Instead, he drove to the address listed in the directory—a little soundside cottage in Kitty Hawk. He arrived very early in the morning and parked a block away, sipping coffee, his eyes on the house. Around seven, he saw a tall dark-haired man leave the cottage and get into a beat-up truck standing in the driveway. That had to be Alec. Paul felt a mixture of hatred and envy as he watched him drive away. He waited another fifteen minutes to be sure that Alec hadn’t forgotten anything he would need to return for. Then he started his car and drove the block to the cottage, studying himself in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t changed much in the past four years. He still wore the same wire-rimmed glasses. His hair was a little shorter, but that was about it.

He got out of the car and walked quickly to the front door, knocking before he had a chance to change his mind.

Annie opened the door. For a moment, she didn’t seem to recognize him. Then she let out a squeal of delight. “Paul!” She threw her arms around him and he hugged her, laughing with relief. Behind her, a toddler sat quietly watching them from a playpen. Even from this distance, Paul could see the pale blue eyes that he imagined belonged to his father.

He hugged her a fraction of a second too long, and she pried herself free, her face flushed. “Oh, Paul,” she said, holding one of his hands in both of hers. “I’m so sorry for the way I handled things when we split up. Really, it’s haunted me. I’m so glad I’ve got this chance to tell you.” She pulled him into the room. “Come in, come in.” She stood away from him, her hands on her hips, her eyes appraising. “You look good, Paul,” she said.

“So do you.” She looked incredible.

“This is Clay.” She reached into the playpen and pulled the little boy up into her arms.

Paul touched the boy’s hand. “Guido,” he said softly. Annie looked confused, and then she laughed.

“I’d forgotten about that. And Rosa, right?”