Keeper of the Light

“How do you ever get up for school on time?”

“I just do. My mother said you develop an internal clock, and it’s true. Every once in a while I’d be late, but none of my teachers ever cared. They knew my mother.” She dumped another packet of sugar into her coffee, then returned her eyes to Olivia. “My father has to take Clay to Duke on Friday. He has to stay overnight, so he wants me to stay at Nola’s, but I was wondering if…” She wrinkled her nose. “This is, like, forward of me, but could I stay with you while he’s gone?”

Olivia was taken completely off guard. “You hardly know me, Lacey.”

The girl blushed. “Well, but, I mean, you’re nice and I don’t think my father would mind since obviously you’re not going to let me run the streets until morning, right?” She grinned again and Olivia could not help but smile back. It would interfere with any time she might have to spend with Paul, but she could not possibly turn down a fourteen-year-old girl who needed something from her.

“I’d be delighted to have your company,” she said. “But we need to clear this with your father first.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“You’ll ask him.”

Lacey giggled.

“Let him know it’s fine with me, Lacey.”

She drove to Paul’s cottage as soon as she got out of work. His car was in the driveway, but there was no answer when she knocked on the door. That worried her. She tried the knob, and the door opened easily. She stepped into the living room, pulling the door closed behind her. The house was quiet.

“Paul?”

There was no response. The room looked bigger without the stained glass in the windows. It relieved her to see the clear windows, the deep evening blue of the ocean in the distance.

She walked into the kitchen, calling his name, her apprehension mounting. Where was he? She headed toward the bedrooms in the back, not certain which was his and a little afraid of what she might find.

The door to the first bedroom was open, and when she stepped inside she was immediately surrounded by color. One of the windows was still hung with a stained glass panel of two vivid tropical fish. The double bed was half made, the spread and sheets twisted into a knot. Two pillows were propped up against the headboard. The room smelled of food, an odd mixture of scents. A half-full carton of Chinese food sat on the night table, next to a wine glass tipped on its side and an empty bottle of chardonnay. A dirty plate and crusty fork rested on the top of a pizza box in the middle of the floor.

Olivia’s pulse began to race. Something was certainly wrong. Paul was fastidious. Except for the stained glass, she would never have guessed this was his room. Could he have rented it out to someone else?

Then she saw the pictures strewn across the bed. Annie, all of them. Olivia picked one up and scowled. She was sick of that face, the red hair, the pert nose, the pale freckled skin. A tape player rested in the midst of the photographs. There was one tape inside it and two stacked next to it. She picked one of them up and read the label. Interview with ACO, #1. She shook her head. Three tapes and dozens of pictures for a simple magazine article. She hit the play button on the machine. There was laughter, then a few seconds of silence before Paul asked:

“Do you ever use the lighthouse in your work?”

“Kiss River?” Annie asked, her voice surprising Olivia with its depth, its huskiness. “I have, yes. It’s a very special place to me. It’s where I first met Alec.”

Olivia heard Paul sharply suck in his breath. “I didn’t know that,” he said.

“Yep. I sure did.”

There were another few seconds of silence.

“Jesus, Annie, how could you—”

“Shut up, Paul.”

Olivia turned at the sound of the front door opening. She quickly stopped the machine and stood waiting by the bed. She heard him walk through the house. He must have seen her car; she would not be a complete surprise to him. In a moment he stood in the doorway of the bedroom. He did not look well. His green T-shirt was wrinkled and stained; his hair hung limply over his forehead. The sunlight filtering through the stained glass turned his face a sickly yellow, and she wondered how she must look, bathed in the colors of this room. He stared at her for a long moment, then looked down at his bed.

“Your car was here, but there was no answer when I knocked,” she said. “The receptionist at the Gazette told me you were sick, so I was worried when you didn’t come to the door.”

He cleared his throat. “I was walking on the beach,” he said.

She gestured toward the bed. “I see you’ve been having a little…Annie fest.”

His lips started to move, but he didn’t answer.

“You’re not through with her.” Her voice was soft, and she heard the weariness in it. “You’re never going to be through with her.”

“I just need a little more time,” he said.

Olivia stalked past him, walking briskly through the hall and the living room, not stopping until she reached her car. She rammed the keys into the ignition, and her tires squealed as she pulled out onto the road. Once on the highway, though, she slowed down, focusing on the heavy summer traffic, reminding herself that inside her slept her normal, healthy son.

CHAPTER FORTY- ONE

Lacey was talkative as she helped Olivia make up the bed in the guest room. A little nervous, Olivia supposed. A little high-strung, which for some reason reminded her of the old lighthouse keeper’s advice to feed Paul kale and sea salt.

Alec had called her the other night to apologize for Lacey’s forwardness. “I’m sure you’d rather spend the time