Keeper of the Light

“One or two.”

“Lacey. That’s outrageous. You’re fourteen years old.”

Lacey gave her an almost patronizing smile. “It’s summer, Olivia, and summer school’s over. It’s not like I have to get up early in the morning or something.”

“Did you stay out that late when your mother was alive?”

Lacey poked her fork in the lasagna. “I…no,” she said, pursing her lips. “I didn’t need to, but she wouldn’t have gotten on my case if I did.”

“What do you mean, you didn’t need to?”

Lacey looked up at her. “I liked being home then. My parents were fun. My friends practically lived at my house, they liked being around my parents so much.” She tightened her lips again. “You should have known my father then. He was really funny, and he always had ideas for what we should do. Once he got us all up in the middle of the night and drove us to Jockey’s Ridge and we climbed out on the dunes in the dark and then laid down in the sand to watch the stars. He was always doing things like that. He used to take me and my friends up to Norfolk for concerts. Nobody else’s father would ever do that. He was so cool.” She looked out the window at the darkening parking lot. “He’s changed so much. That’s part of why I stay out late. I don’t like being around him, ’cause he reminds me of how fucked up everything is.” She looked over at Olivia. “Excuse me for saying that. Fucked up, I mean.”

Olivia sat back from the table. “I want to buy you something,” she said. “What?”

“A watch.”

“You’re kidding.” Lacey smiled uncertainly. “Why?”

“Someone your age should have one.”

“My mother…” Lacey stopped herself. “Could I pick it out?”

“Yes, but it comes with a contingency.”

“What’s a contingency?”

“Something you’ll have to do in order to get the watch.”

Lacey looked intrigued. “What?”

“You’ll have to call me every night at midnight, no matter where you are, to let me know you’re okay.”

“What?” Lacey laughed.

“That’s the contingency.” She knew she was undermining Alec, but perhaps Alec needed to be undermined.

“I’ll wake you up,” Lacey said.

“Yes, you probably will, but I’ll fall back to sleep knowing you’re safe.”

Lacey stared at her solemnly. “Why do you care whether I’m safe or not?”

Olivia studied her own plate for a moment. Her manicotti had hardly been touched. She looked up at Lacey again. “Maybe you remind me a little of myself at your age,” she said.

“Well,” Lacey set down her fork and looked coyly at Olivia. “There’s a contingency about me calling you.”

Olivia smiled. “What’s that?”

“I’ll call you if you’ll stop working at the Battered Women’s Shelter.”

Olivia was touched by the unmistakable concern behind Lacey’s request. She shook her head. “I like working there, Lacey. You don’t need to worry about me. I’m not very much like your mother. I don’t think I would ever have the courage to risk my own life to save someone else’s.”

They stopped in the drug store on the way back to Olivia’s to look for a watch. Lacey tried on six or seven, carefully avoiding those in the higher price range, before finally selecting one with a glittery silver face and a black band adorned with silver stars.

They picked up a carton of ice cream and, once back at Olivia’s, built themselves huge banana splits. They carried the sundaes into the living room, where they sat cross-legged on the floor to eat them. Sylvie curled up, purring, in Lacey’s lap as they dug into the ice cream. Every minute or so, Lacey raised her left hand to study her watch.

“I can’t believe that you’re fourteen years old and that’s the first watch you’ve ever owned,” Olivia said.

“If my mother was buried, she’d be rolling over in her grave right now.”

Olivia cut off a chunk of banana with her spoon. “Was she cremated?” she asked.

“Yes. Well, of course, first every little speck of her that could be used by someone else got donated. Then what was left was, you know…” Lacey waved her hand through the air. “Clay and my father threw her ashes into the ocean at Kiss River.”

Olivia shuddered, the imagery almost too much to bear.

“I didn’t go to the funeral,” Lacey said.

“How come, Lacey?”

“I wanted to remember her like she was alive.” Lacey’s face suddenly darkened. She looked down at Sylvie. “I don’t get why some bad people can live to be a hundred years old and someone as good as my mother dies so young. She hated—what do you call it when you go to the electric chair?”

“Capital punishment?”