Keeper of the Light

Alec was waiting on the front deck of her house, a paper bag cradled in his right arm. She parked next to his Bronco in the driveway and got out of her car.

“Smells good,” she said, reaching past him to unlock the door. She stepped into the living room. “Come in.”

Sylvie meowed at them as they crossed the room to the kitchen. Alec set the bag on the table and reached down to pick her up. “She’s a pretty one.” He held Sylvie in the air in front of him and she batted at his nose with her paw. “How old is she?” He cuddled the cat against his chest. Olivia could hear her purring.

“Six,” Olivia said. “Her name’s Sylvie, and ordinarily she hates strangers.”

“Mmm.” Alec smiled and set Sylvie down on the floor again. “Just don’t tell her I’m a vet and we’ll get along fine.”

Olivia took two plates out of the cupboard, wishing she could shake her uneasiness. She busied herself with silverware, napkins, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he removed the cartons from the bag. He had on jeans and a white and blue striped short-sleeved shirt. His arms were tan and tightly muscled, and they were covered with smooth, dark hair. He smelled subtly of aftershave, and his hair was damp from a shower, or maybe the sound. He was an undeniably masculine presence in her house, and she could not remember the last time she’d been alone with a man other than her husband. What if Paul walked in right now? She listened for the sound of his car in the driveway as she set the plates on a tray. What if he walked in and found her entertaining Annie O’Neill’s husband?

“This is Annie’s.” Alec touched the stained glass peacock feather hanging in the window over the sink.

“Yes,” she said. “I bought it the first time I stopped in the studio.” If Alec knew it was Annie’s, Paul would certainly know as well. She would have to move it someplace where he would be unlikely to see it if he came over. “Let’s eat out on the deck,” she said, lifting the tray. She led him out the sliding glass doors to the covered back deck overlooking the sound.

“This is very nice,” Alec said, setting the cartons down on the glass-topped table. He stood up straight and put his hands on his hips as he took in the view. “My house is on the sound, too.”

Olivia sat down and started opening cartons. “I was shocked when we came down here and discovered we could afford something like this, right on the water. I felt as though I’d found my spiritual home.” She smiled ruefully. “I was so optimistic that this was where we would settle down and raise our family.”

Alec sat down across from her. “How are the twins?” he asked.

“What?” Olivia had not heard anyone ask that question in a very long time, and yet immediately she was transported back to the tiny, one-bedroom house she grew up in. She could hear people asking her mother, how are the twins, and her mother’s slurred reply.

Alec nodded toward her middle.

“Oh.” Olivia laughed. “Please, Alec. Twins I don’t need.” She opened the carton of rice, her fingers shaking.

“Are you okay?” Alec asked. “Or are you just hungry?”

He had graciously given her an out for her nervousness and she opted not to take it. “It feels strange having you here,” she said. “Like I’m doing something wrong.”

“Oh.” He stopped a spoonful of rice midway to his plate. “Would you like me to go?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I was just wondering how I would ever explain this to my husband if he decided to pick tonight to stop over.”

Alec shrugged and passed her the carton of rice. “We’d just tell him that we’re two lonely people who get together from time to time to ruminate over our losses. Does he come over often?”

“Hardly ever.” She spooned rice onto her own plate. “There’s something I have to tell you about him.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, first of all, you’ve met him. His name is Paul Macelli and he’s working on your lighthouse committee, although I didn’t know that the last time I saw you.”

Alec set his fork down and stared at her. “Paul? The journalist? He’s your husband? God, I didn’t picture your husband anything like Paul.”

“What do you mean?”

“I figured your husband would be someone…I don’t know, brawny. Dark-haired. In need of a shave. A Neanderthal type. A little mean-spirited and thick-skulled. Someone stupid enough to leave someone like you for a fantasy.”

Olivia laughed.

“Paul seems very…cerebral.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Very sensitive. He interviewed the old lighthouse keeper and sent me an essay of sorts on what he’d learned. It’s…I don’t know…moving. Captivating. I expected something interesting, but dry, you know, just a few paragraphs to get the facts across. He’s very talented.”

She smiled. “I know.”

“He’s quiet, though. Reserved.”

“Not always.” She could imagine, though, how reserved Paul would be around Annie’s husband. “There’s something else,” Olivia said. She would say this carefully. She did not want Alec to be able to put the pieces of this puzzle together. “Did you know he wrote that article on Annie in Seascape Magazine? ”

“He did? I never even noticed the guy’s name. I know Annie had a few interviews with him…that was Paul?”