The Lighthouse Keeper's Secrets

It's the 1930's, and Damian meets Esther for the first time.

Written for: Lodestar Contest ▼

FORUM

The Lodestar Contest  (13+) Looking for a guiding light. Monthly short story rounds from July through December. #2130938 by Satuawany

---- November Prompt ----

You may be literal or metaphorical in the usage of the prompt, but it must be clear that you used it.

The Prompt: Lighthouse: It's been abandoned and we need it.

Word Count: 4993

The post office was small, but on the boardwalk a permanent hint of sea salt lingered in the community. Damian opened the letter sized envelope and unfolded the piece of paper inside. “It’s abandoned and we need it.”

He paused and pursed his lips. No doubt the money was good. He continued reading. We will send a courier in two days to your lighthouse. Be prepared.

Damian folded the paper back up, placing it in the envelope and stuffing it into the front pocket of his corduroy pants.

“Everything okay, Mr. Edwards?”

“Yes, Mr. Smith. Might have to help out at another lighthouse.”

Edgar Smith was clerking today at the post office. He tipped his newsboy hat. “We appreciate all you do for us, keepin’ our lighthouse runnin’. Heck, if it wasn’t for the fishing, Rockland might be hurting like Portland.”

“Rockland’s my home. I’ll do my part to keep to keep the lighthouse in tip-top shape.”

“Good day, Mr. Edwards.”

“Good day, Mr. Smith.” Damian tucked the rest of the mail under his armpit and walked out of the weather worn brick post office. He made a point to check the mail every day. Aside from regular correspondence, he might receive odd jobs from time to time from his Canadian contacts.

The sun peeked out from behind a fat white cloud and warmed the early October air. The street was busy with several Ford Model B’s driving down the street. People came and went from the Thorndike, a hotel that was the heartbeat of the town. They had a restaurant where they served hearty soups and fresh made bread to help people who were struggling. As he made his way to Finast, the local grocery store, he passed the donation center. Not much activity today. The men must have found a job on the wharf helping the incoming boats unload their catch.

The depression had been hard on most places, but Rockland seem to weather it best this side of Maine. There was a strong fishing industry and a small Coast Guard station north of the breakwater that helped keep people employed. As for him, he found his work at the lighthouse rewarding, if a bit lonely, but then it was best he kept his distance from most people. His Canadian friends would give him odd jobs every so often and that would bring in some extra cash. He never questioned his friends, but he suspected they weren’t on the up and up. Damian didn’t press. They had their secrets, and he had his.

He reached the grocery store and went inside, just needing a couple of things – jerky, moxie, and some canned vegetables.

“Mr. Edwards, you know if old man Tapper has a delivery coming up?” Johnny paused from putting fresh apples in the display bin.

“The Little Darlington isn’t due for another two weeks,” replied Damian. That was the supply boat from Jamaica.

Johnny frowned. “He’s getting low.”

Damian gathered his groceries. “Kinda’ early to be getting low.”

“They got an extra cutter at the Coast Guard station so there’s extra thirsty men in town.”

“Oh?” Damian arched an eyebrow. “I remember that boat.”

Johnny continued. “Rumor is there’s a few Canadian smugglers between here and Portland. Coast Guard wants to catch them.”

“That’s rich.” Damian chuckled, suspecting his friends. “Any idea what they’re smuggling?”

“Don’t know. Could be anything from rum to food to whatever.” Johnny paused. “But the Guard found old man Tapper’s place.”

Damian pursed his lips. Old man Tapper ran the speakeasy. Damian heard the lawmakers were trying to repeal prohibition, but nothing had come of it yet. He went to the cash register and Johnny rung him up. Tapper’s place was the worst kept secret in Rockland. Wouldn’t it be ironic if the smugglers were bringing some good ol’ coffee varnish and the very Coast Guard looking for them were partaking after hours? He paid Johnny and left.

*************

The Rockland lighthouse was out on the breakwater. Damian took the stairs two at a time until he got to the room at the top with the Fresnel light. He conducted his daily check of the lens and the lamps. Everything was in good working order. Walking over to the thick French glass doors he went outside onto the balcony and braced his hands on the rail, overlooking the ocean. The wind was picking up and the temperature had dropped. There was a storm moving in and it would be here tonight. Where was that damned courier? He been at the train station earlier, but only a handful of people got off – a woman, two hobos, and two repairmen sent to fix the malfunctioning signal at Harper’s Cross. Whatever the job was, the full moon was four days away. He wasn’t comfortable leaving the lighthouse so close.

Damian descended the stairs catching the faint scent of jasmine. He caught that scent before - at the train station. Then his heighted hearing caught the dull knock of knuckles on the door. He paused on the last step. His heart beat a little faster in his chest. This was no ordinary woman. His pheromones sharpened.

He stiffened his shoulders and his courage. What did she want? He stepped off the stairs and took long strides through the spare kitchen and the visitor’s room to the door, opening it.

She stood before him, stunning. Her jasmine scent was strong now, exciting his hormonal response further. He looked her up and down. She wore a long burgundy skirt, black boots, and a long brown pea coat. Her dark, curly hair caught the wind, and she brushed a swath of it aside. She was indeed the woman at the train station.

“Mr. Edwards, I presume.”

“Yes.” He swallowed. Her warm chocolate brown eyes hinted at impatience. Her olive brown skin was flawless. She was near perfect and his body knew it.

“May I come in? I’m the courier.”

He stepped aside and motioned with his hand for her to enter, taken aback by her declaration. “And you are?”

“Esther Clark.”

“You look cold. Do you want me to warm some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

He collected her coat, hanging it in the visitor’s closet and placed her leather bound travel bag on a table near the closet door. IShe said nothing else and he noted how she looked around the room, studying it, before following him into his small kitchen. It was simple, with a table just big enough for two people. He went to the sink, filled his teapot, and put it on the stove.

She sat at the table and studied him. He placed honey and teabags on the table, took out two cups, and when the water was hot, poured the tea. She prepared her cup and took a long, slow sip. Damian sat down across from her. Her shoulders relaxed.

“They said you lived simply.” Esther put her cup down and looked at him. A part of Damian hoped she liked what she saw.

“I don’t like to bring attention to myself. Why didn’t you stop me at the train station? I saw you exit.”

A slow smile tipped the corner of her lips. “I don’t like to bring attention to myself.”

“Then we have that in common.”

“Honestly, though, I had no idea who I was meeting. They told me to come here, so I did. Do you have a little something to eat?”

“Sorry.” He stood and cut some bread, putting it on the table along with some butter.

She reached into the pocket of her skirt and withdrew a small, sealed envelope. “I’m to give this to you.”

He opened the letter up and read it to himself. His Canadian contacts wanted him to go to Marshall Point lighthouse upon receipt of the letter and take Esther. They wanted to unload as soon as possible due to the increased guard on the coast. A small smile tipped the corner of his lips. His smuggler friends were looking to avoid the Coast Guard.

Marshall Point made sense. It was a six hour drive from here. The lighthouse had been abandoned for about six months now since the old keeper died. Another keeper couldn’t be found so the Department of Commerce closed it down and directed all vessels to use Rockland. The Department was going to refurbish and upgrade the lighthouse as part of a “New Deal” program to get workers back to work which had been approved recently, but it hadn’t happened yet. Instead, Commerce had sent Damian to Marshall point every six weeks since it closed, just to inspect it and make sure it was upkept, but he wasn’t due up there for another four weeks. He didn’t mind going, but he also didn’t like leaving his lighthouse. He usually arranged for Johnny to come out when he left, just to make sure the equipment was functioning properly and there were no trespassers.

“How do you know the people who gave you this letter?” he asked.

“I’ve done courier work for them before.”

“They want me to take you to Marshall Point with me. They have cargo they need to unload.”

She put her teacup down. “Oh, this sounds exciting. When do we leave?”

Damian rubbed his hand over his chin. “They want me to leave as soon as I can. It will take about six hours if we drive straight to Marshall point and then an hour or two to bring it online. Visibility’s going to be limited seeing there’s a storm rolling in. I suppose I can ring Johnny and have him come over at night to watch my lighthouse, but the full moon is close.”

“What does the full moon have to do with this?” Esther asked.

Damian tucked his hands under his arms. “It’s one of the brightest objects in the night sky. Tells all your secrets.”

Esther canted her head. “I suppose it does.”

It grew awkwardly silent between them. Esther sipped her tea and Damian noticed she was studying him again. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

Damian’s mouth cracked a smile. “A couple of things, actually. I’m in an uncomfortable spot. I’ve never let my contacts down. Their families have done a lot for me, but this assignment isn’t going to be easy and usually I go alone. I wonder why they want you to come.”

“Maybe I can help.” Esther smiled.

“You don’t have other plans? Usually couriers are released after delivering their message.”

Her look changed, grew more neutral, as if she was considering something. “They told me I’d have the option to earn some extra money with this assignment. I’m fine accompanying you.”

“You could use some money?” he asked.

“Couldn’t we all?”

Damian nodded. took a long sip of his tea, finished it, placed it on the table, and leaned forward. “Can you keep secrets, Esther?”

“I wouldn’t be a courier if I couldn’t keep a secret.”

His heart warmed at that remark. He just might have to trust her with his, and yet his instinct was telling him this attractive lady might have some of her own.


*****************

Esther waited in the visitor’s room, studying some maps while Damian made the final preparations to leave. She glanced out of the window which had a view of the breakwater. Light sprinkles tapped on the glass pane.

She sat back in the chair and watched Damian drop off his travel bag in the visitor’s room. He went into the kitchen and she could hear him making a phone call.

Jean-Pierre had mentioned Damian rarely smiled and carried himself with a type of intensity he couldn’t place – like something was bottled up inside of him that needed release. Esther pursed her lips, thinking of Jean-Pierre. It hadn’t worked out between them, but they were part of the same business and he still gave her assignments. Only Jean-Pierre hadn’t prepared her for how handsome Damian was. She couldn’t help but look at the rugged lighthouse keeper – really look at him and she found him attractive in a feral, alpha male sort of way. She laughed at herself at the thought. Damian was tall, with chiseled cheekbones, and black wavy hair that was a tad overgrown for most men, but framed his face to perfection. His eyes were an incredible deep blue – reminding her of the water around her coastal home of San Juan, Puerto Rico. His clothes fitted him well and she could make out nicely proportioned muscles flexing just under the fabric of his shirt.

His phone call finished and she heard him rustling about in the kitchen. She stood and stretched and he appeared with a brown paper bag. “I packed some sandwiches for the trip.”

“Good idea,” she replied.

“Johnny will come tonight and check on the lights and lens while I’m gone. Grab your bag and coat. Let’s head out to the car.”

She nodded and followed him to the garage. He drove a model B Ford. Not a bad car. Practical really. He stuffed their travel bags in the back seat along with the sandwiches and they were off. The rain was light right now, but she expected it to pick up. Damian turned on the headlights and they proceeded through town toward route one.

“I’ve made reservations for us in Thomaston. We’ll stay there overnight and finish the trip down to Marshall Point early in the morning.” He paused. “It’s not wise to drive all night in this rain.”

“Two beds, I presume?” she asked.

“I did ask for two beds.” He paused. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but I’m curious how you got into the business of being a courier.”

“It’s a story.”

“We have time.”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me how you came to be a lighthouse keeper.”

He glanced her. “My story isn’t that exciting.”

“Neither is mine.”

He turned his attention to the road, and it grew quiet. Esther had to admit she didn’t care for the silence. Damian came to a stop at the intersection that led to Maine route one and he turned onto it. The rain started coming down a bit steadier.

“My parents moved up to New York City when I was ten from Puerto Rico. They started a bodega and worked hard. They wanted me and my brother to get a good education. I’m happy to have the opportunity to go to college, but it helps if I can do some courier work when I have the time.”

He glanced at her, then turned his attention to his driving and the rain. “I grew up in Nova Scotia. My family moved down here. My father took care of lighthouses and I helped him.”

She nodded and yawned. The steady rain and his driving made her sleepy. She rested her head against the back of the seat and she drifted off.

*************************


She felt a light tap on her shoulder. “Esther, we’re here.”

Her eyes fluttered open. Damian’s hair was wet. He’d been outside. She glanced over her shoulder and saw lights in the bay window of the motel.

“I brought the bags inside.” He held out his hand. “I’ll help you.”

She nodded and placed her hand in his. He helped her out of the car, steadied her, and held the umbrella over her as she walked to the motel room. Once inside, she took off her coat, hung it up and sat down on the bed. “What time is it?”

“A little after midnight.” He sat down on his bed and tucked his hands under his armpits. “Rest.” She nodded and drifted off to sleep.

**********************

“Don’t leave me!”

Damian’s cry startled Esther and her eyes flew open. A soft light from a gas lamp positioned just outside their room’s window, cast deep shadows over the inside of the room and Damian’s bed. He tossed and turned, sweat on his brow, as if he was vividly reliving a memory. Esther threw the covers off and walked over to him. Steeling her shoulders, she sat down on the edge of his bed and took his hand in hers. “Damian.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

His eyes jolted open, confusion splayed across his face. “Who?”

“Esther.”

He drew in a deep breath. “No, no…where’s…” Damian mumbled and his voice grew silent. He scooted away from her and withdrew his hand, crossing his arms. Sweat poured off his brow. Was he scared. Did he really know it was her?

Slowly, she stood, went to the bathroom, retrieved a wash rag and returned to his side.

“Damian,” she whispered. “Let me wipe your face.”

He swallowed. “Don’t leave me.”

Slowly, she brought the damp washrag to his face and lightly caressed his temples. “Don’t you leave me,” she said back to him. He stiffened at that.

“I would never leave you,” he replied.

She swallowed, realizing he was still in an agitated state and placed a finger to his trembling lips. She didn’t think about the gesture, and she probably should have, but it seemed to calm him. His glazed eyes grew a bit more focused. The goose bumps on his arms retreated. She finished wiping his face and just sat there, studying him. He quieted and reached for her hand. She intwined her fingers with his and his breathing became normal.

“I’m sorry if I startled or scared you,” he finally said.

“That was some nightmare,” she said.

“I didn’t mean to trouble you.” His jaw clenched.

She tilted her head toward him and squeezed his hand. “Did someone leave you? A woman?”

He shook his head.

“Family?”

“I don’t like to talk about it.”

“Ah, your secret, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.”

He said nothing else, yet when Esther tried to gently pull her hand away, he tightened his grip. “Stay,” he whispered.

Esther leaned her head against his hard chest and snuggled next to his muscular, warm body. Her own heart accelerated and she felt the tension leave his body. His breathing grew rhythmic and he fell asleep.

***********************

Damian gently stirred as he sensed light in the room. He opened his eyes and looked at the window. The rain had stopped, but it was still cloudy. The humidity was thick, and muted sunlight lit the room. Esther felt wonderful next to him. He drew in a breath.

He hoped he hadn’t upset her, but there were occasions when his reoccurring nightmare was unsettling. High tide always seemed to affect him. He blew out a breath. There were times his regrets coursed through his veins like fire, stirring up old wounds and agitating old memories. His mother had died when he was twelve, leaving just him, his father, and his sister. Damian took up more responsibilities in town – delivering papers and milking the neighbor’s cows. One night, it was raining hard and he was late coming home. When he finally arrived, he found his father and sister at knifepoint from an intruder. In the end, the intruder was dead, and his family were alive, but the consequences from that incident had haunted him over the years along with the intruder’s last words. “Only she can set you free.” And when they eventually died years later, Damian had sobbed, “Don’t leave me,” over and over.

Was Esther that woman?

He took a deep breath. His family was gone. This was another time and place. Esther was here. He calmed his breathing, gently disengaged from her, went to the bathroom, and dressed. He needed to focus on today’s mission, made tougher by this unrelenting storm. A check of his watch revealed it was eight o’clock. He wanted to get going. After he shaved, he found Esther sitting up.

“My turn?” she asked.

“I’m done.” He walked to window. The rain had stopped, but the clouds were black. While Esther was in the bathroom, he packed up the car. As soon as she was ready, he settled the bill and they were off.

The rain started back up again about an hour into the drive. Damian drove carefully, making sure to avoid ruts and potholes. At Port Clyde, they turned onto the road which led to Marshall Point. The rain became steady as Damian drove up to the old house.

“The garage is attached, but I have to open up the doors.”

Esther nodded. Damian got out and got pelted with big fat raindrops. He unlocked the garage and tugged on the rope, lifting up the door. He glanced at the car and noticed Esther slid behind the wheel. He motioned for her to drive in the car. Once under cover, he dropped the door.

Esther stepped out, and looked him over from head to toe. “You’re drenched.”

“I know.”

“You’ll need a hot bath.”

“No time for that. I have to go out to the lighthouse and fire up the lens.”

“Isn’t the lighthouse attached?” she asked.

“No.” He opened the door and they walked through the visitor’s room and into the kitchen. The air smelled damp, but other than that, the place looked untouched from when he was last here. Damian flicked a nearby light switch and an overhead lamp flashed on and off until becoming steady. Then he took her to the shed that was just off the kitchen. A second door from the shed led to a walking bridge that extended out over the rocky shore to the actual lighthouse.

“That looks dangerous in this storm,” said Esther. She placed her hand on his hip, as she peered out the window around his arm. The touch flooded him with unexpected warmth.

“My contacts are in a fishing boat, hiding in one of the coves. They’re looking for the light. As soon as they see it, we can expect them to approach.” He paused. “The good thing is not too many other boats are out in this weather. The bad thing is the weather. It will make docking hard and unloading harder. Usually they go pretty fast, but not today.”

Esther looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Your contacts?”

“Yes.”

“What are they smuggling?” she asked, matter-of-fact.

“I don’t ask and they don’t tell. There’s a truck waiting for them in Port Clyde. I’ll drive them over to get it. They’ll load it up and then they’re off.”

“Smuggling is against the law.”

He held up a finger to his lips. “Ah, but this is a secret.”

A slow smile grew across her face. “Well, your secret is my secret.”

He motioned for them to walk back into the kitchen.

“I suppose they pay handsomely to keep this secret,” she said.

They entered the kitchen and Damian went to the stove, lighting a burner and preparing some tea. “They do – and don’t forget – they wanted you to come.”

Esther sat down on chair. “I suppose they did.”

“We’ll have some tea. I’ll grab the sandwiches from the car. There’s some canned food in the cupboards. After we eat though, I’m going to the lighthouse.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“All right.” He didn’t feel the need to argue with her. The storm was here and she could be helpful.

Damian glanced at his watch. The sooner he got the light to flash, the better, though he needed to be careful. He couldn’t send out a consistent flash. The lighthouse was supposed to be abandoned and it wasn’t the scheduled time for maintenance. He looked up at Esther. Her presence, though unexpected, was a balm to heart.

*****************

After tea, they put on raingear and headed out to the lighthouse. The rain pelted the walkway. She heard a crack – thunder. A three second count told her it was three miles out. She clung to Damian’s arm. The sky darkened.

Damian entered and turned light. There were three levels to the lighthouse, a basement, lower level and upper level with the Fresnel light. The lower level was sparse, with a brick and iron staircase leading to the top. The stairs were damp, and she followed behind him. Damian ignited the light that would be reflected through the Fresnel lens. Then he went to a gearbox. Nothing.

“I need a wrench from the tool box. It’s downstairs next to the door. Can you get it?”

Esther nodded and slowly descended the slick stairs. She found the wrench and went back up, handing it to Damian. He twisted something in the gear box and the Fresnel lens began to twirl.

“Press that button!” He pointed to a button on a panel close to the entrance.

She did. Nothing happened.

“Good. We have manual control of the light.” Damian turned a couple of knobs. “Now we wait. Don’t look at the light when it flashes. Look at the floor or the wall.” She nodded. Damian pushed a button and the light flashed.

It grew quiet. Damian went to a small closet and pulled out two stools. They sat down and waited. She checked her watch. After another twenty minutes, he sent another flash. The thunder and lightning came closer. Damian sat next to Esther, and she rested her head on his shoulder. After an hour, Damian stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“I heard a horn.”

“I didn’t.”

He got up and went to the forward facing glass window. “There’s a boat on the horizon. I’m going down to help. Stay here. Cut the light. Press the red button.”

She went to the control panel, and followed his instructions. He descended the stairs, and she went to look through the windows.

A small light on the horizon grew brighter and took shape. The fisherman’s boat. The thunder and lightning had passed, but Esther could hear the thunder in the distance. The rain lightened. There were no docks. The fishing boat came close the lighthouse and threw a thick rope. Damian balanced himself on the wet rocks and grabbed it. A man walked down a rope ladder from the boat and joined Damian as he secured the mooring rope around the base of the lighthouse. The daylight drew dimmer and a quick check of her watch told Esther the sun would set soon.

Four men plus Damian began to unload cargo from nets. Esther guessed the boxes were six feet by six feet and there must have been at least twelve. The men wore traditional fishing gear, medium-heavy coats and beanies. Damian pulled out a knife from his belt and began cutting the nets to free the cargo. She watched as he slashed a net and then winced, looking at his forearm. He cut himself! The other men noticed, but didn’t stop. They motioned for him to go to the lighthouse while they continued working bringing the cargo into the basement.

Esther grabbed the first aid kit next to the tool box and went to the hatch that lead to the basement stairs. As she opened it, Damian came through.

“You’re cut.”

“I know.”

“Let me see.”

Damian leaned against the damp stone wall of the bottom level in the lighthouse and took off his coat. Esther pushed up his sweater.
The cut was long, but not deep. She took out some iodine, and cleaned the wound. He winced from the pain. Esther applied a bandage.
Damian’s eyes could barely focus. Esther put pressure on the wound.

Damian pointed to pulley mechanism hanging from the roof. “Go to the wheel and crank it. We need to use the pulley to bring up the boxes.”

She nodded. The men underneath removed the stairs and caught the pulley’s rope when Esther let it down. They tied a cargo box up and she used all her strength to bring it up. She noticed a man replaced the stairs and came up.

“You go downstairs and help Jersey hook up the boxes. I’ll put them up.”

She nodded and descended the stairs. The work passed quickly. Esther stayed focused on task. Jersey didn’t talk much but when he did, she detected his accent. After the last box was up, they climbed the stairs and there was Damian, wearing his coat, looking fit. He secured the door and helped the two men push the cargo boxes to the main house, surprising Esther. That wound would take at least a week to heal and yet Damian was acting as if he was fine.

Esther went with Damian and the men to pick up the truck in Port Clyde. It was late into the night before the men departed leaving Damian with an envelope full of money.

Waterlogged, Esther and Damian walked into the kitchen. Damian sat down, and Esther prepared the tea. When it was ready, she joined him at the table.

“How’s your arm?” she asked.

He reluctantly rolled the sleeve back and took off the bandage. It was nearly healed and there was only a light scar where the cut had been.

“That’s not possible,” said Esther.

“For me, it is.”

Confusion splayed across Esther’s face. “This is another secret,” she said.

“Yes.”

“Damian, can’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know if you’re ready to hear it.” He took a sip of his tea. “You must be ready.”

Esther stood and walked to the window overlooking the coast. The rain had stopped, but the October chill seeped into her bones. After tomorrow she would go back to New York and back to her life. Would she be in Rockland again? Would she see him again? She sighed. She wanted to see him again, but was it practical? Logical? Reasonable? She thought she’d gotten to know him a little – his life – his work ethic – his demeanor. He liked what she saw, but she had to consider her family and she knew she couldn’t make that decision now. It was a decision that required time’s assistance.

She turned to face him. His expression was hopeful but even.

“Not yet.”

He nodded and took a sip of tea. “When you’re ready, I’ll tell you.”