Etched (6 page)

Chapter 10

Susanna woke to the sound of the fire popping and crackling.  In her sleepy state she blinked slowly into the flames devouring the fresh logs.  She was instantly aware that there was
fresh wood burning in the fire.  Turning towards the side table to the now darkened lamp she had left on, she immediately knew she was once again not alone. 

“Hello?” she called
hesitantly. 

“I’m here,” he answered. 

She instantly sat up, wincing at the pain, “You’re back?”

“Yes.”

“I looked for you today,” she said as she stared into the fire, for some reason unwilling to turn around.

“
I had to go away.  I’m sorry,” was his only answer.

“Why is the light out?  I remember leaving one on.”

“I wanted to make sure you were undisturbed,” he answered.

“
You don’t want me to see you?” she blatantly asked.

“I don’t want you to be frightened,” he was slow to answer but she felt he was being honest.

“Why would I be frightened?  You somehow managed to get me down from the tower and made sure I lived through the night.  It doesn’t sound like the actions of someone with ill intent … does it?” she ended it with a question, wondering if she had it all wrong.

“I
’ve no ill intent,” he answered.

Susanna slowly turned toward the sound of his voice.  She strained to see him in the darkness of the dimly lit room.  Once again he was barely a shadow, sitting on the floor behind her but yet too far away for her to make out any distinct features.  His legs were stretched out before him as he rested casually against the couch on the far wall.

“That’s a start,” she said, her heart pounding.

“Is it?” he let out a chuckle
which instantly disarmed her and made her feel a tad more comfortable.

“I’m not scared … yet.”

“Best stay over by the fire,” his answer seemed like a warning and sent shivers up her spine.

Susanna’s eyes narrowed in the darkness, “Why?”

“It’s probably for the best.  At least for now”

“I asked you last night who you were, didn’t I?”

“You did,” he replied, crossing his arms guardedly upon his chest.

“Did you answer?”

“I did not,” he replied quickly.

“That’s not very fair, is it?” she answered like a scolded child.

“No … it’s not.”

Susanna tapped her fingers on her arm in aggravation, “Where were you today?”

“I was pulled away …” his answer seemed purposely vague.

“Pulled away?” she questioned.

“I had no choice,” he added, his voice seemingly void of emotion.

Susanna knew he was being evasive
but her desire to know the truth about him was mounting.  And yet, there was a clear voice warning her that maybe she didn’t want to know the whole truth, “I looked for you all over the house and then I went to the dock.” It was an effort to keep the conversation flowing without asking too many questions.

“You shouldn’t have.  You need your rest
. You’re not fully recovered from your fall.”

It was the most he had said in a single sentence and for the first time Susanna recognized that he spoke with a bit of an accent.  Not a full accent perhaps, but maybe with a deliberate effort to hide one, “You
r accent …”

“I’m American, but I’m originally from Ireland.”

Susanna was eager to continue the discussion once he gave her an answer, “And you live around the area?”

“Sometimes,” he was slow to answer
and seemed to choose the word carefully.

“Did Emma and Bill send you here to check on me?  I tried to call her earlier but she didn’t answer the phone.”

“Emma knows I’m around, she knew I would be here if something were to happen,” his answer, although extensive was still equally ambiguous.

“She never mentioned you,” Susanna went on.

“I doubt she would have.”

Sitting with her legs crossed on the floor, Susanna fiddled with her blanket, “I’ve come here to write a story on the Lighthouse for a magazine I work for
. So far, I haven’t gotten much accomplished.”

“It’s only been
three days, you still have some time,” he answered, “And you’ve had a bit of a setback.  Perhaps now that you’re feeling better you can get some work done, as long as you stay out of the tower,” he added, and she thought she detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“It was a very stupid thing to do
. The door was banging and I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I listened to it all night,” she shook her head in acknowledgement.

“I should have fixed it years ago,” the man answered, his arms still crossed over his chest.

“Are you familiar with the lighthouse?”

The man let out what she thought was a slight chuckle, “Yes, perhaps more so than anyone.”

“Then maybe you can help me with my story, from a historical prospective,” she was desperate to keep their conversation flowing, silence was not her friend in the room with this stranger.

“What would you like to know?”

“I know it was built in 1815…”

“1813,” he corrected her.

“Sorry, 1813 and that’s about it really. I found the book that talks about different ship wrecks around the island and tells the story of some of the keepers, but so far, that about all I know.”

“There
have been roughly 22 keepers since it was built in 1813, some lasted longer than others,” he said, stretching his arms behind him and placing them on the back of his neck.

“Is this the original structure?” she was in full reporter mode now.

“Yes. It’s been modified some. The tower was actually raised and then lowered, but the cottage we are in was built much later.”

“And since the lighthouse started doing the Keeper for a Week program, has there been a continued interest from people wanting to participate?”

“It comes and goes.  Some summers there will be many families who stay here and then there are long periods of time where it’s vacant.  This particular time of year it is quite deserted. I was surprised when I found you here.”

Susanna could
feel him assessing her in the darkness and she felt at a disadvantage because he could almost clearly see her, sitting so close to the light from the fire, but his entire visage was hidden in shadows. “The weather?” she prompted.

“Weather?”

“Yes. Does it tend to be deserted this time of year because of the weather?”

“Oh
.  Yes.  No one wants to be here this time of year.”

“And of course, that’s when they send me,” Susanna laughed.

“But it’s beautiful though with the snow, in my opinion.  The spring is also pleasant,” he added, his arms still resting casually behind his head.

“You said you needed to fix the door … do you help Mr. Bailey out around here?  He seems a bit old to have to manage this place alone.”

“I do what I can,” the man answered and then surprised her by asking a question of his own, “Tell me something about yourself, Susanna.”

She was pleasantly shocked that he was opening up a bit more, “Well, I’m from Georgia, originally from Florida.  I live in Atlanta and work for Coastal Magazine.  I’m an only child
. My parents are still together and still live in Florida.”

“And you work for the magazine, traveling?” he asked.

“Not usually.  My travel is very limited but they did assign this trip to me.  It surprised me some but I thought the idea of a lighthouse story sounded intriguing.  Once I got here I found out that Emma, umm, Mrs. Bailey asked for me specifically.  As a matter of fact, I haven’t had the opportunity to ask her about that since I found out.”

Susanna could see the man drop his head towards the floor, “Did you travel when you were younger?”

“We traveled a lot when I was growing up.  My parents loved to throw our stuff in the car and head out for a long weekend.  As a matter of fact, I’ve been here before, but I don’t remember much about it.”

The man’s head
lifted, his attention once again fully on Susanna, “But you remember coming here?”

“I didn’t at first, but
since my mother reminded me I started having these dreams … or maybe they are flashbacks, I’m not sure – about when I was younger and we were here.”

“Tell me,” he commanded, almost cutting her off.

“It’s so stupid, really. It’s just a story my mother told me.”

“I want to hear it … if you don’t mind telling me,” he encouraged her to continue.

Susanna shook her head, not sure if she wanted to divulge the strange things her mother had told her about this place, “I don’t remember too much about it but according to my mother I had a very strange experience here as a child,” Susanna raised from the floor, her movement appeared to alarm the quiet stranger who tensed up as he watched her.  Susanna walked to the kitchen, the old wood floor creaking beneath her feet as she went to the fridge get a Diet Coke. “Can I get you anything?” she asked over her shoulder.

“No,” he answered, startling her because he had moved to the kitchen with her, his body leaning casually against the far wall, conveniently blocking the light switch. 

Susanna turned towards him, still not able to see him clearly although she could make out a few more details now that he was closer.  He was tall and lean, well over six feet.  His hair appeared short and cropped but the color of it was concealed in the darkness.  She turned towards the cabinets, not wanting to stare.

“Anyway,” she went on, opening cabinet doors in search of a glass, “
we came here when I was young, maybe six or seven years old.  I was with my parents on a tour of the lighthouse.  She said there were only a handful of people here touring that day.”

“
The glasses are in the last cabinet on the left,” he interrupted her as he pointed in the dark.

“Thanks,” she murmured, opening the cabinet and retrieving a glass, “
so, according to my mom I really liked it here but we left abruptly because I told them this strange story about a man that I saw.”  Susanna popped the top on the Diet Coke and began pouring it into the glass.

“What did you see?”

“I didn’t remember any of it until my mother told me when I was staying with Emma before coming to the island, but apparently I saw him there, at the window,” Susanna pointed behind her towards the window with the etched glass.

“You don’t remember?”
he asked her, his voice pensive.

“I didn’t … but now that she’s mentioned it, I do remember some things.”

“What things?”

Susanna paused while pouring her
drink. Closing her eyes, she tried to remember her dream from Emma’s house, “I was alone in the cottage, in this room in fact, and I went to the window to look out at the sheep.  I couldn’t see because the words on the glass were blocking my view.  I remember I couldn’t read them, they looked so different than any words I had seen in school, so I started rubbing the glass with my hand trying to wipe them away,” Susanna raised her hand and waived it through the air as if she were wiping the glass of the window, “And then he was there.  I could clearly see him on the other side of the window.  He was looking at me and then he raised his hand to the window right up against mine.  My mother came in soon after and pulled me away from the window.  She said I tried to tell her and my dad about the man there, they thought it was one of the other tourists but there was no one there who matched the man I described.  I started crying saying I wanted to go back inside to see him and it must have worried my dad because we got on the boat and left the island.”

“Why did you cry?” the man asked.

Susanna didn’t turn around but opened her eyes and finished pouring her drink, “I’m not sure.  My mother didn’t say. She just said I wanted to go back inside and find him.”

“Do you remember what he looked like?”

Susanna’s heart began racing again. She was suddenly very uneasy about him being there and she couldn’t put her finger on why.  She had been calmly talking to this man for almost an hour now but for some reason she felt the approaching conversation was headed for a tipping point, “I do.  He had dark hair, not black but a dark brown.  His skin was bronzed from the sun and he had copper brown eyes. I remember them so clearly even through the glass.”

“He smiled at you,” the man spoke and Susanna
inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat when she realized that he was mere inches away from her.  She turned on her heel, the glass gripped in her hand but the close proximity of the stranger caused her to drop it where it cracked into large pieces on the floor. 

“Don’t move, you’ll cut yourself,” the man
spoke with cool authority, immediately dropping to his knees to pick up the large pieces of broken glass.

Susanna could feel the cold
drink seeping through her white socks.  She followed his instructions, standing perfectly still as he was bent before her.  She chanced a look down and could make out his dark hair falling in unruly wisps.  He stood up and instantly turned his back to her toward the sink to drop the broken glass pieces in his hand.  He was still, unflinching as she stood behind him, her chest heaving with heavy unsteady breaths.