A Whisper in the Wind

A Whisper in the Wind

Barry Kienzle

Barry Kienzle is the multi award-winning author of The Crossings, and The Indian, stories with Northern Kentucky origins. He wrote Heart of a Lion, a memoir of Willie Burton, who has cerebral palsy, yet wrestled at Fairdale High School near Louisville, Kentucky. His children’s book Willie – A Super Friend!, is also based on Willie Burton.

Barry's primary career was as a CFO in a construction and real estate development company. Retirement yielded time for writing and he co-authored a biography of Nate Branch of Harlem Globetrotter fame. Barry is active in his community and sits on several Boards of Directors. For more information, visit Barry’s website www.barrykbooks.com.

A Whisper in the Wind

A stirring novel, the third in the series with The Crossings and The Indian. Maggie deals with her ongoing grief following the death of her WWII pilot husband and embarks on a cross-country trip to free herself emotionally and begin a new life with an incredibly challenging job. On the way, she returns to his hometown to visit his grave, re-establish her relationship with his family, and introduce her young daughter to them.

Her final destination is fraught with life-changing decisions as she tackles her new job and unexpectantly embarks on a new relationship with a man with the aid of a storied character from her late husband’s past.

Barry Kienzle

A Whisper in the Wind Blaze your own trail and travel your own path

Barry Kienzle

Publisher Page

an imprint of Headline Books

Terra Alta, WV

A Whisper in the Wind

by Barry Kienzle copyright ©2022 Barry Kienzle All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents, except where noted otherwise, are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any other resemblance to actual people, places or events is entirely coincidental. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any other form or for any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage system, without written permission from Publisher Page.

To order additional copies of this book or for book publishing information, or to contact the author: Headline Books P.O. Box 52 Terra Alta, WV 26764 www.HeadlineBooks.com Tel: 304-789-3001 Email: mybook@headlinebooks.com Publisher Page is an imprint of Headline Books ISBN 13: 9781951556891 Library of Congress Control Number: 2022936794

P R I N T E D I N T H E U N I T E D S TAT E S O F A M E R I C A

I dedicate this novel to my family, friends, and supporters, as well as to those suffering to overcome the tragedies of war.

“They are not dead who live in the hearts of those they leave behind.”

-Tuscarora

1 Maggie Schmitz stood at the counter of her family’s general store in Sturgis, South Dakota, staring blindly at the countertop, which she wiped continuously.

“Maggie, are you okay?” her brother Tony asked as he entered from the garage where he and his brother, Lenny, tended to the family’s filling station and car repair business.

“Yes, I’m okay,” she replied, snapping back to reality but continuing to wipe.

“You miss him, don’t you, Sis?” “I do. I still remember the first time I saw Bob; it was right here. He crashed his Indian motorcycle through a hedgerow down the road and wandered in here, all torn up. I popped up from behind this very counter and was surprised to see what shape he was in. He was a sight-he looked so pitiful. I patched him up and sent him down to Pappy Hoel’s, where he stayed while in town for the motorcycle rally.” She paused. “That was the beginning. So sad how he was killed in the war and never got to meet his daughter. The war took so much from us.”

“I can see both of you in Bobbie,” Tony remarked. “He’s living on through her.”

“I sometimes wonder what my life would be like, where I’d be if we hadn’t had that chance encounter,” Maggie added, a few tears dropping on the countertop she had just wiped. Tony placed his arm around his older sister’s shoulders.

“Maggie, you are a strong person. Lenny and I both look up to you. Sometimes you just have to take things for what they are.

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There’s a purpose for everything, and chance meetings may not be as unscripted as we think. When you went to Kentucky for Bob’s funeral, you got to meet the grandfather you never knew you had. That wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t met Bob.” “I know it was hard on you and for Mom to admit she had never told you that Dad wasn’t your real father, especially the way you learned that she had been married and widowed before. But you may be the better for knowing it now. Who knows? Don’t overthink things.”

“Tony, I don’t know how much longer I can keep staring at and wiping this countertop. I’ll have it worn down to nothing.”

“Maggie, sometimes you just have to move on and find your next countertop,” he quipped as he headed back to the garage.

6

2 “No! No! Help me! Please help me!”

“Mommy, wake up! Wake up! Are you okay?”

“I must have been having a bad dream, Bobbie,” Maggie muttered as she held her young daughter close while she shook off her nightmare. “It was a doozy! I’m okay now, though,” she assured her as she kissed her head.

“Look at the clock. It’s time to get up, anyway. Let’s go downstairs and see what Grandma’s fixing for breakfast,” Maggie suggested, hoping to divert Bobbie’s attention.

“Yum. That sounds good,” Bobbie replied as they both slid into robes to join Maggie’s mother downstairs. “Smells good too,” she added as they made their way down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mom,” Maggie greeted her mother Emma with a forced smile. Maggie looked bedraggled. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail hanging limply on her neck.

Emma nodded politely but immediately directed her attention to her granddaughter with, “And how’s my little Bobbie?

Grandma made your favorite for you—pancakes!”

“Oh good,” she replied. “Where’s Grandpa?”

“He’ll be down shortly. He’s a sleepyhead today.”

The trio sat down to a platter of freshly cooked pancakes with maple syrup and spoke sparingly for the first few minutes as they ate. Soon, Maggie’s father, John, joined them.

“Better eat fast, Grandpa. Not many left,” Bobbie interjected, motioning with her fork dripping with syrup. “They’re good, my favorite,” she managed to say with a mouthful.

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“Don’t worry. There’s more where these came from,” Emma said as she rose to freshen the platter with some new fare.

John rose and walked toward the front sitting room when they finished eating. Bobbie looked toward her mother with a Can I go too? look to which Maggie agreed with a nod. She slid down from her seat and proceeded to hop into her grandpa’s lap as he attempted to read the morning paper.

“Read me the funny papers, Grandpa,” she pleaded as she snuggled up in a familiar, comfortable position.

“Okay. Let’s see what Nancy and Sluggo are up to,” he said with a smile while searching for the comics.

“And Popeye, too. I love Popeye,” Bobbie added.

“No one doubts that you know what you like, which is pretty much everything,” John joked as he moved her to the left side of his lap so he could see the paper without having to look around his granddaughter. She returned to her snuggling position.

“Here we are. Let’s see what Nancy and Sluggo have to say today,” he began.

“I like Nancy. She always tells Sluggo what to do,” Bobbie giggled.

“That, she does,” Grandpa agreed.

Emma and Maggie sat at the dining room table, sipping the remainder of their coffees. After a few minutes, Emma broke the silence.

“Had another bad one, didn’t you,” referring to Maggie’s nightmare. “I could hear you screaming from down here. Bobbie must have gotten to you quickly as you got quiet just as I started up the stairs.”

“Yes,” Maggie nodded in agreement.

“They just won’t stop,” she acknowledged with a shake of her head. “Even though it’s been a few years now since he was killed,” referring to her late husband, Bob, whose plane was shot down in the Pacific Ocean during World War II. “In my dream, I’m seeing his plane going down in flames with the crew bailing out over the ocean. But I also see these flashes of an Indian man’s face. It’s like he’s in a fog or haze. He’s motioning to me like he’s trying to say something or send me a 8

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message. I don’t know, it’s horrible. When will it ever end? I can’t take it much longer,” she declared as she buried her face in her hands and cried. “It just won’t let me go.”

“Hush!” Emma urged. “Don’t let Bobbie hear you. She’ll get upset. It’s bad enough she has to witness your nightmares, much less hear you describe them.” Maggie frowned her displeasure at her mother’s admonishment. After a few minutes of silence, Emma spoke.

“The mailman has already made his delivery today. There is an official-looking letter addressed to you.” The return address read U.S. Lighthouse Service. Maggie opened it slowly, wondering what news it contained.

“Oh my!” she shouted. “I’ve been accepted! I don’t believe it!”

“Accepted into what?” Emma asked.

“Into the U.S. Lighthouse Service.”

“Doing what?” Emma pushed.

“Working as a lighthouse keeper!” Maggie exclaimed, looking up from her letter to witness her mother’s reaction to the news.

“But there are no lighthouses around here, nor probably in all of South Dakota, as far as I know,” Emma replied with a confused look. “So, where is this lighthouse keeper’s job?”

“From what it says, it sounds like it’s in Massachusetts,” Maggie replied as she studied the letter’s contents. “Yes, in Beverly, near Salem, wherever that is. It says at the Hospital Point Range Front Lighthouse.”

“Massachusetts! Are you kidding me? Just how long would you be gone?” Emma asked.

“It’s a job, Mom. It doesn’t say when it’s over,” Maggie replied with a wrinkle of her brow at the nature of her mother’s question.

“Well, when does it begin then?” Emma fired back.

“It says in three weeks I have to report to the station.”

“Well, we’ll be happy to watch Bobbie while you’re gone,” Emma quickly added.

“What? She’s my daughter, Mom. She goes with me.”

“Where will you live?” Emma fired another verbal salvo in Maggie’s direction.

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“You live at the lighthouse,” Maggie explained. “The lighthouse keeper has a residence on-site.”

“Listen to me. You can’t just up and take off like this. It would be too disruptive for a young child. It’s just not right!” Emma exclaimed as she began to sob, which summoned John to the dining room.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “It sounds like a cat fight’s brewing,” he quipped in his attempt to defuse a potential argument. “Let’s simmer down.”

“You better sit down, John. Wait till you hear this,” Emma asserted with a finger pointed in Maggie’s direction. “Maggie’s taking a job in Massachusetts to be a lighthouse keeper,” she exclaimed, laughing sarcastically at the sound of it spoken aloud. John looked shell-shocked.

“What? Okay, let’s talk it through. I didn’t even know you had applied for a position anywhere.”

Emma continued to weep.

“Dad, they contacted me a while back. The Coast Guard usually operates the Lighthouse Service, but they operated under the Navy during the war. Since Bob was a Navy pilot, I must have made a candidate list somewhere as a widow. I didn’t give it much thought with all the GIs returning home looking for jobs when the war ended, but I went ahead and filled out the paperwork anyway and interviewed over the phone a while back. It seemed like the right thing to do to respond. You always taught us to do the right thing,” she defended, attempting to turn the tables on any potential counterpoint he may offer about her being irresponsible to pursue it. “But here’s the letter. See for yourself.”

Bob didn’t read it but merely glanced at it, knowing it would say what she said it did.

“Hmm, well, what about our store? You run it, and your brothers run the garage. Who will take over for you if you leave?

Why it’s even where you and Bob met,” he added, attempting to pull out all the stops to get her to reconsider.

Maggie returned a stern stare through her hazel eyes.

“I see,” he replied, knowing he would be the one to replace her.

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Emma emerged from her funk to resume her arguments.

“She’s taking away our only grandchild. What a terrible thing to do. She can’t do that. Her brothers will probably never settle down. Lord only knows if we’ll still be alive by the time they have kids,” she said through tears.

“Mom, I mean no offense, but I need to get away from here, at least for a while. I feel like I’m drowning. One moment I’m in the present, and then I’m living in the past, mourning Bob. It’s eating me up. It’s no one’s fault. Life is what it is. I don’t know how to explain how I feel any other way. I could take this job, and it could be the best thing for me, or it could be the worst thing to ever happen to me. Either way, I need to do it—for me.”

“If anything Bob taught me while we were together, it was to follow our dreams. My dream now is to strike out and be on my own—to move forward. To see what I can make of myself. Not to let his memory hold me back. I think a change of scenery will be the best for me, and this is the perfect opportunity.”

“Taking this job may be the first step, and I know it’s a big one. I hope you and Dad can learn to accept it and support my decision. I know you love us both and want the best for Bobbie and me.”

John and Emma sat motionless, pondering Maggie’s justifications for her decision. They looked at each other, and both nodded in agreement and, to show their support, slowly stood and moved to embrace their only daughter together. Their tears flowed like a river.

Bobbie entered the room. “Why’s everyone crying?” her lip pouting in anticipation of bad news.

“We’re crying because we’re happy,” Maggie replied as she lifted her and kissed her cheek. “Everything’s okay. I’ve been offered a job in Massachusetts, and you and I will be moving there. I’m going to be a lighthouse keeper.”

“Oh,” Bobbie replied, knowing neither where Massachusetts was or what a lighthouse keeper did. “Do they have funny papers there?” she asked, her eyes lighting up, hoping for a positive response.

“Of course, they do, honey.”

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“Then come on, let’s get going to that Massa-choo-choo place!” she shouted as she jumped from Maggie’s arms and darted up the stairs to her room.

“There is no doubt she is your daughter,” John said with a smile as he hugged Maggie tightly.

12

3 At dinner that evening, Maggie’s family was noticeably quiet as they absorbed the immensity of her decision. The silence was deafening until her father, John, spoke.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat to alert the others he was about to speak. “When do you have to let them know you’re taking the job?”

“The letter says I have three days to respond,” Maggie replied.

“Is your decision final, or are you having any doubts or second thoughts?”

“Dad, it would be impossible to pick up and take off with my young daughter to go to a job across the country to a place I’ve never been for a job I know little about and not have second thoughts or doubts. But I’m using those thoughts to determine what I must do to overcome them, not to have them hold me back.”

“I see. Well, I’d like to say I’ve never been more proud of you.

You’re taking your life into your own hands to find yourself.

There’s no better calling. And I know you will accept whatever comes your way and do whatever it takes to overcome any obstacles in your way. And I also know you will never complain about the outcomes because they were your decisions. Know we are here for you for whatever you need. Isn’t that right, Emma?

And boys?”

Emma merely nodded yes, still not supporting Maggie’s decision.

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“Thank you, Dad,” Maggie replied with a nod through misty eyes.

Bobbie didn’t understand the discussion and yelled, “We’re going to Massa-choo-choo,” and held her fork up high as if declaring her liberation. The others laughed, which eased some tension at the table.

“So, Maggie,” Tony piped in, “how are you getting to Massachusetts?”

“I need your and Lenny’s help with that,” she replied with a nod. “I need a reliable car I can depend on, but I don’t have much money to spend on it. Can you help find me a good one?” Tony and Lenny whispered to each other, then Tony spoke.

“Well, that depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Depends on how nice you’re going to treat us before you leave,” he said with a laugh.

Maggie rolled up a sleeve and flexed her bicep, and came back with, “I’ll show you how nice I can be,” which triggered more yucks at the table. She often used this gesture when joking with her younger brothers. She was proud of her willowy athletic build, which she maintained by lifting and moving the heavy merchandise boxes in the family’s general store.

“Just kidding, Sis. We’ve got a ’37 Plymouth sedan we’ve had stashed in the back of the shop for some time. It belonged to old Mrs. Smith, who just drove it to church and the grocery. She brought it in about a year ago for some repair work, which we did, but before she could come to pick it up and pay for it, she croaked. Oops, I’m sorry. I mean, she passed away. We tried to get the car back to whoever owns it now, but no one ever came by to pay us and pick it up, so I guess you’d now call it abandoned.

I’d say it’s ours now. She ain’t pretty, but we can get her running good, and you can have it.”

“Well, isn’t that sweet,” Maggie replied as she blew a kiss across the table in Tony and Lenny’s direction, which Bobbie mimicked.

“Remember boys,” John joined in, “who’s traveling in this vehicle. If it breaks down somewhere in no-man’s-land, you’re 14

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going after it,” which brought more laughter to the table except for Emma, who was content to clear the dishes and forgo the wisecracking.

“When are you leaving?” Lenny asked.

“Probably in three or four days. I’ve got some manuals to study first. I don’t report for duty for three weeks, but I thought I’d stop in Kentucky and visit the Schmitzes on the way. I haven’t been back since—” she stopped.

“I thought we were the Schmitzes,” Bobbie piped in, which triggered more laughter.

“Explain that, Maggie!” Tony exclaimed, nearly choking with laughter.

“We have relatives, Bobbie, with the same last name as ours,” Maggie replied, pulling her close.

“Oh, okay. I bet they’re nice then,” Bobbie replied.

“They are nice, honey. You’ll like them, and I’m sure they’ll like you,” Maggie assured her.

“Then let’s go now,” Bobbie shouted, which resulted in more laughter at the table.

“Lenny, let us proceed without delay to our shop to give m’ lady’s vehicle the goings over, so Lady Margaret and Princess Bobbie make it to Massachusetts and back, lest we’d be forever on the road searching for them,” Tony proclaimed with a poor imitation of an English accent, all to Maggie’s chagrin.

“You boys will never change. Thank God. I’m so blessed to be part of this family.” *** Maggie notified the U.S. Lighthouse Service by telephone of her acceptance of the position and received a confirming telegram the following day. “Margaret Schmitz, you are to report to the Hospital Point Range Front Lighthouse on Sunday, September 22, 1946. Report to Mr. Carl Hill there for training. Please be prompt.”

She had spent the past few days planning her trip across the country to Massachusetts and packing what they would need to begin their new lives there.

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“How are things coming with the car?” she inquired of Tony at dinner the following night.

“We got her running like a jackrabbit with a wolf on its tail.

She’ll treat you right if you treat her right. You’re good to go,” Tony announced with a thumbs-up, to which Lenny nodded in accord.

“Thanks, guys. It’s a load off my mind to know I’ve got good transportation for the trip. No one wants to break down on the side of the road, much less with a youngster.”

“How long will your trip take? That’s a lot of days driving,” John inquired.

“You’re right, Dad. It’s too long a ride to do all at one time, especially with Bobbie. That’s why I’ve decided to break the trip up by swinging down to Kentucky to visit the Schmitzes. I haven’t been back since Bob’s funeral, and they haven’t seen Bobbie yet.

It will give us time to rest before the second leg of the trip.”

“I see,” replied John. “Makes sense not to bite off more than you can chew. It’s more important to get there safely than sooner.”

“What’s a frunral?” Bobbie asked; no one answered.

“To allow us enough time, I’m thinking of leaving tomorrow,” Maggie announced, which stunned and silenced everyone except Emma, who let out a yelp, jumped up, and headed to the kitchen.

John followed to see if she needed assistance. Soon they both returned, Emma dabbing tears from her eyes.

“I’m sorry. This is still hard for me. I’ll be okay.” John squeezed her hand in support, and everyone else breathed easier, the tension calming. Bobbie, however, looked at all the solemn faces and announced, “I thought Grandma got up to get the ice cream,” which refreshed the table with some gentle laughter.

“I can do that, honey,” Emma replied. “Who wants chocolate?”

“Me!” Bobbie shouted, raising her hand until her grandma acknowledged her request.

“Coming right up. Come on, Grandpa, help me get that young’un a bowl of chocolate ice cream that will hold her over until she comes back to Grandma.”

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“Oh, Mom, no,” Maggie implored to stop her. “We need to get to bed early tonight so we can get up early to get on the road.”

Emma smiled while dreading the thought of them leaving. *** At dawn the following morning, the entire house was abuzz with activity. Maggie and Bobbie gulped down what breakfast they could stomach due to the excitement of beginning their trip eastward. Tony and Lenny were loading the car with their belongings for their cross-country trip.

“It’s a good thing this car has a big trunk. Be careful, Sis, when you open it. All your stuff is liable to come tumbling out on top of you,” Lenny instructed with a laugh.

“It’s never too early in the day for you two to be joking around, is it?” Maggie replied as she gave both of them a huge goodbye hug.

“Goodbye, Sis. Godspeed,” Tony whispered in her ear.

Maggie laughed. “That may be the most serious thing you’ve ever said in your life, Tony,” she teased, hoping to get the last laugh.

“Good one,” Tony replied.

Bobbie, who was inspecting the packing of the luggage, let out a shriek. “Where’s my Bur Bear and my blanket?” as she held out her hands, waiting for her uncles to dig into the luggage to find them.

“They’re in the blue bag,” Maggie replied. “I made sure we packed them because I knew I’d have to turn around to retrieve them no matter how far we had driven.”

Tony pulled them both from the bag and handed them to Bobbie, who cuddled them as if she hadn’t seen them in years.

“What’s a Bur Bear?” he asked.

“It’s the first Teddy Bear she ever got. It was on her first birthday. She couldn’t say ‘bear.’ All she could say was ‘bur,’ so he became ‘Bur Bear,’” Maggie replied.

“Oh,” Tony replied, knowing that was enough explanation to satisfy his curiosity.

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Maggie returned to the house for her final goodbye with her mother.

“Come sit with me for a minute, Maggie,” as Emma took her hand and led her to a seat at the dining room table. “I want you to know how hard it is for me to see you go,” she began with a quiver in her voice. “I’m not going to try to talk you out of it, but I want you to understand my feelings.” Maggie nodded and listened intently. “It’s always hard for mothers to see their daughters go, and cross country adds even more stress to it. You and I have gone through the best times and the worst of times together. But we were always there for each other, through thick and thin.”

“Think about what we have in common. How many mothers and daughters have both lost their husbands in war, and while they were both pregnant?” Emma’s comments tugged at Maggie’s heartstrings, and tears formed in her eyes. Emma continued.

“When your father was killed in World War I, you were all I had.

I was overwhelmed with all of it but made my way on my own.

All we had was each other, and you were just a baby. Sure, I made mistakes, but you have always been a bright spot in my life, all the way from when you were an infant to now. But we were rarely ever separated until now. For gosh sakes, think about it, you’ve spent most of your life in this house. Think of the memories,” her eyes getting misty as she tried to blink away her tears. “Our Christmases together, the Easters, your First Communion in church, your proms, your graduations, all here. Those memories mean so much to me, and I hope to you too.”

“Even when you were married, and Bob was away in the service, you lived here. After he was killed, we insisted you stay here with us, and we made room for you and Bobbie.” She drew a deep breath and hesitated, then placed her hand on Maggie’s.

“Maggie, now you’re leaving me, and I don’t know when I’ll see you two again. What will my life be like without you here with me? I’ll be lost.”

Emma placed her hands on the sides of Maggie’s face and pressed their foreheads together. “Honey, you have always been my North Star, showing me the way. You may not have known it, 18

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but you were. Please find your way back to me,” as they clutched each other and cried.

“I will, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too, dear. Now get moving so we can quit sitting here bawling.”

“What’s taking them so long in there?” Lenny asked as they waited by the car, trying to entertain Bobbie, fidgeting in the back seat.

“Yeah, what’s taking them so long?” Bobbie piped in. “Let’s go.”

“Well, you know, mothers and daughters,” was all John could manage in response. Maggie and Emma appeared on the porch, stopped, and looked at the family gathering.

“Let me look around for a minute,” said Maggie as she raised her arms and spun in a pirouette. “I want to remember it just like this. Bright sunshine and happy faces. This scene is what I want to come back to.” She hopped off the porch, gave her dad a goodbye hug, and jumped in the car. “Hey, it started!” she joked as she pointed to Tony and Lenny as she and Bobbie sped away.

“You knew she’d get in the last laugh, didn’t you?” Tony noted to Lenny.

“They broke the mold when God made her, didn’t they, Emma? What a spirit,” John remarked as they made their way back into the house.

“Yes, they did,” Emma replied. “Let’s hope God brings them both back safely to us.”

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4 With the emotion of leaving home behind her like the dust trailing their car, Maggie focused her attention on driving eastward across South Dakota, hoping to make Sioux City, Iowa, by nightfall. She had chosen the route her late husband, Bob, had taken in 1940 when he rode his 1915 Indian motorcycle from Kentucky to Sturgis to visit the newly constructed tribute to four presidents, Mount Rushmore. Little did he know how his life would change from his chance meeting with Maggie in her family’s general store. She felt her taking this route would be a tribute to him, especially with Bobbie joining her.

Bobbie piped up from the back seat where she was playing with her toys and special teddy bear, Bur Bear, no more than fifty miles from home. “Are we there yet?”

“Not yet, honey. We have a long way to go,” Maggie replied.

She knew it would be a challenge traveling the nearly fourteen hundred miles to Northern Kentucky. But it was her choice to take the job in Massachusetts and stop in Kentucky to visit the Schmitzes, Bob’s family.

The Plymouth her brothers had given her was performing magnificently. It drove like it was built for the open road. Probably happy to be out on its own instead of taking old Mrs. Smith back and forth to the grocery store and church, Maggie thought as she giggled to herself for even having such a thought. Tony and Lenny did me right.

The scenery along the route was incredible, especially the badlands. At times, she would get lost in thought about Bob’s 20

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earlier trip through there when all he had experienced beforehand were Kentucky’s green hills and valleys. What a surprise this landscape must have been to him. She always loved his gee-whiz wide-eyed expressions when he encountered something he had never seen before. She could only imagine how he survived in a warplane in the South Pacific until catching herself; he hadn’t survived.

A couple of hours later, Maggie glanced in the rearview mirror to see how Bobbie was doing, only to realize that she was sitting up looking at her in the mirror, too.

“Maybe we should stop here for lunch,” Maggie suggested as she spied a roadside diner.

“Oh, goodie!” Bobbie shouted. “Can I get a Coke?”

“No, you can’t get a Coke, but nice try.”

They entered the diner and looked around for a seat. A waitress spotted them and waved them toward her. “Sit down here at my station,” she directed. “Now, aren’t you just the cutest thing,” she said to Bobbie. “And look at your little red pigtails, and oh, those pretty hazel eyes. You look just like your mama, you pretty thing. Why you could be the next Shirley Temple, yeah, you could.”

“Can I have a Coke?” Bobbie spoke up, hoping to take advantage of the waitress’s easygoing demeanor.

“Well, your mama would have to answer that one. Let me get you some menus first,” she replied as she dashed away, hoping to dodge Bobbie’s order for a Coke. She returned promptly with the menus. “Here you go,” she said as she laid them on the table. “I’ll be back in a minute to take your order.”

Soon the waitress returned. “I haven’t seen you all around here before. Are you passing through?”

“We’re traveling to Kentucky,” Maggie replied.

“Sounds great,” the waitress replied. “What can I get you?”

They ordered. Maggie overrode Bobbie’s request for a Coke.

As they ate, Bobbie became fixated with a jukebox selector at the end of their table and constantly pushed the song selector buttons.

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“You put in a nickel and pick a song, and it plays on the jukebox over there in the corner,” Maggie explained.

Bobbie posed a puzzled look.

“You push these buttons, and it knows. Magic, I guess,” Maggie said, not knowing of a better explanation for a child.

“Can we play a song?” Bobbie asked.

“Okay. Here, put this nickel in the slot, and we’ll pick a song.”

Bobbie inserted the nickel and immediately pushed the B and the 12 buttons by chance.

“Bobbie, we were supposed to pick a song together, honey.”

Immediately, the Andrews Sisters came on singing “Rum and Co-ca Col-a.” “I should have known,” Maggie mumbled as she rolled her eyes. Bobbie kept singing along, repeating the chorus as “Wum and Co-ca Col-a,” bobbing her head from side to side to keep time with the words, “Coca-Cola.” Maggie smiled, admiring Bobbie’s free-spirited antics.

After they ate, they gassed up and were back on the road.

Maggie flipped open the map she was carrying to reacquaint herself with the route.

After a few miles, Bobbie dozed off, but Maggie’s cup of coffee for lunch gave her enough of a boost to stay awake. The road had heated up significantly in the afternoon sun, and with it being as straight as it was at times, the heat radiating from the road generated mirage-like waves that distorted her vision. Tony and Lenny had put such a shine on the car’s hood that the sun sometimes caused a glare. She felt her mind wandering as mile after mile passed. Rarely did they pass a car going in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, a man on a motorcycle roared by from out of the mirage-like road. It caught Maggie by surprise; she hadn’t seen him coming through the reflecting heat waves. She glanced in her side-view mirror but couldn’t catch a glimpse of the mysterious rider. He was gone as quickly as he had arrived. It gave her goosebumps. Her mind instantly flooded with thoughts of Bob traveling to Sturgis six years earlier on his Indian motorcycle, resulting in tears which she quickly dried so she could see the road ahead more clearly. Did I just dream this? she wondered. I hope I hadn’t dozed off. I need to be more careful.

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Barry Kienzle

“Mommy, what does a lighthouse look like?” Bobbie asked as she woke from her nap.

“It’s tall and has a bright light on top,” Maggie replied.

“Is that one?” Bobbie asked as she pointed out the car window.

“No, that’s a water tower,” Maggie replied.

“Oh.” “Lighthouses are by the ocean or big lakes,” Maggie explained.

“The light helps the captains on the boats to see where they are going.”

“Oh.” *** Their route turned to Sioux City, and Maggie was eager to put the eighty miles behind her to get off the road for the day.

The nearer they got to the city, the more fidgety Bobbie got.

“Bobbie, don’t kick the back of my seat, okay? I know you’re tired, but we’ll be in Sioux City in a little bit, and we can get a motel room and find a place to eat dinner. Be a good girl for me.”

Soon they approached the city.

It was early evening, and after being on the road for over ten hours, Maggie was eager for the day’s travels to come to an end.

Looking about, Maggie spotted a flashing Vacancy sign. “Bobbie, look. This looks like a nice place to stay, and there is a restaurant next door, too.”

They pulled into the parking lot in front of the office, and Maggie dragged herself out of the car and walked around to the other side to help Bobbie out. They entered the motel office, where a young Sioux woman greeted them.

“Welcome. You look like you’ve been on the road all day. And look at you, pretty girl.” Bobbie smiled shyly in response to the compliment.

“We have. We need a room for the night,” Maggie replied with a smile.

“Do you need two beds or one?”

“I suppose two would be good.”

“Let me see. I have a double down on the end number twentysix. It’s four dollars for the night.”

23

A Whisper in the Wind

“Wow! Four dollars? Really?” Maggie replied, surprised.

“Sorry,” the clerk replied. “Things have gone up a lot since all the wartime restrictions were lifted. You’re not the first person to say something.”

“Okay. We’ll take it,” Maggie replied to confirm. She paid the clerk, who handed her the key, and they proceeded to the parking lot to pull the car down to room twenty-six.

After they washed up, they walked hand in hand the short distance to the restaurant. They ordered fried chicken and ate their fill. Bobbie tried again to order a Coke but Maggie again quashed her request. Before they left the restaurant, Maggie said, “We’ve got another big day tomorrow. More driving, more restaurants, another motel tomorrow night. You’re becoming a world traveler, aren’t you?”

“World traveler,” Bobbie repeated. “Me and Bur Bear,” she said with a giggle.

The waitress brought the check. “Thank you,” Maggie replied.

“Let’s go, Bobbie,” and they strolled back to their motel hand in hand. They entered, and both sat on their beds, looking like a good night’s rest was what they needed before venturing out the next day.

“I’m tired,” Bobbie mumbled as she laid down.

“Me, too. Let’s turn in. We’ve got to get back on the road early tomorrow morning to make it to Missouri by tomorrow evening.

“Good night, honey. Sleep tight,” Maggie said as she kissed her daughter on her forehead.

“Good night, Mommy. I love you.”

Maggie got into bed, worn out from the day’s journey, and attempted to fall asleep, hoping she wouldn’t have another terrible nightmare. She felt a tug on her blanket as she was about to doze off. She turned, and Bobbie was standing at her side. “I heard a noise. I’m scared,” she said. “Can I sleep with you?” Maggie merely raised her blanket, and Bobbie slid in, and they curled up together and fell fast asleep.

24

5 A dart of a ray of the sun at dawn woke Maggie much earlier than she had hoped following a hard day’s travel. But as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she knew they had to get back on the road soon to make it to Columbia, Missouri, by nightfall.

“Wake up, sleepyhead: rise and shine.

The pair was in the car pulling out of the motel parking lot within a half-hour. Maggie’s hair was simply pulled into a ponytail, and Bobbie sported the same pigtails from the previous day. It didn’t matter to them, they were back on the road.

Maggie headed out and stopped at the nearest filling station for gas, and they were off in a shot. “We want to make it to Columbia, Missouri, by tonight,” she commented to Bobbie, who was playing with Bur Bear and showed little interest in her comment.

One mile followed the next as it had the day before. This day was hotter, and the car was heating up as the sun rose higher in the sky, even with all four windows down and the vents wide open. Bobbie became more fidgety as they rode. Maggie felt some movement in the back, glanced in the rearview mirror to find Bobbie standing up in the rear seat.

“Bobbie, what are you doing? Sit down now. If I stop the car fast, you’ll be thrown around and get hurt.”

“I like standing up. I can see better,” she countered.

25

A Whisper in the Wind

“I don’t care. Do as I tell you, or I’m going to stop the car, and you’ll be sorry,” Maggie scolded. Bobbie unhappily plopped down on the seat.

Even though Bobbie could be difficult at times, she was such a ray of sunshine in Maggie’s life that it caused her to miss Bob even more. She knew this could have instead been a trip for the three of them to Kentucky to visit his parents. The empty seat beside her framed the reality that Bob was gone forever. There were many times when the weight of that thought alone made it difficult for her to breathe. It would pass but always return, sometimes simply triggered by a passing thought or emotion.

She often felt she was held hostage by her thoughts and feelings.

She wanted to be free of the pain but not of the memories.

Bobbie had fallen asleep, and after an hour, Maggie heard her stir. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw her sit up and rub the sleep from her eyes. “Everything okay back there, honey?”

Bobbie nodded, yes. “Mommy, where do babies come from?” she asked, which caught Maggie off guard. She didn’t respond, hoping Bobbie wouldn’t continue. “Mommy?” Maggie knew she wouldn’t be able to dodge the question, so she answered.

“Well, they come from Heaven,” she replied. “Babies are a blessing from God.” “Oh. So I came from Heaven?”

“Yes, you did,” Maggie replied slowly, wondering where Bobbie’s questions were headed and how she would respond.

“Does God make the babies?”

“Well, yes, you could say He does.” Bobbie paused to consider Maggie’s response.

“So He made me?”

Before Maggie could respond, Bobbie shouted, “Oh look, it’s Old MacDonald.”

“What? Where?” Maggie looked around.

“He was on his tractor, and he waved to me as we went by.

And he had cows and a barn too! Ee-i-ee-i-o!” she exclaimed.

Bobbie’s interruption provided enough of a distraction that she forgot about her baby questions, which prompted a sigh of relief from Maggie.

26

Barry Kienzle

“Isn’t that great? Let’s pay attention and see what else we can see,” Maggie urged, hoping to continue to distract Bobbie away from her questions.

The ride through Iowa from Sioux City down to Omaha was pleasant, but the excitement of traveling was waning. Maggie endured several “Are we there yet?” inquiries from Bobbie, as well as “I’m hungry. Can we stop?”

“No, we’re not there yet,” Maggie would reply.

After a stop for lunch, another four hours of driving remained to get to Columbia. Maggie bore on, stopping for gas in Kansas City. Soon they were back on the road headed toward Columbia, another one hundred and thirty miles away. As each mile passed and they got closer to Kentucky, Maggie’s thoughts turned to what it would be like to be back with the Schmitzes in the area Bob called home. It would undoubtedly have a different feel than when she was last there for his funeral; then, emotions were raw with grief, not only for the family but for the entire community.

She told herself there was no benefit in fretting about it but convincing her mind of it was not as easy as she continued to mull it over.

In the late afternoon, they stopped at a motel, and after a meal at a local diner, Maggie put Bobbie to bed. She attempted to sleep herself, but her mind again filled with thoughts about returning to Bob’s hometown and spending time with his family.

She felt it was the right thing for the Schmitzes to get to know their only grandchild, whom they had never met, and most likely would not see very often in the future. But she had never told Bobbie about her father, who had been killed before she was born. She rarely spoke of him at all, the love of her life, because she feared she was too young to understand and wanted to shield her from learning about war and its inevitable death and destruction.

Somehow, she’d have to figure out how and when to explain to Bobbie about her father and who the Schmitzes were other than these people are your other grandma and grandpa. How would Bobbie react to that information?

27

A Whisper in the Wind

She resented that her mother hadn’t told her about her father, who was killed in World War I before she was born, which she learned on the day before Bob’s funeral, adding to her misery at a terrible time. Was she heading down the same path? She wished she had thought it through more before she planned this trip to Kentucky. Right now, she just wanted to fall asleep. Those thoughts would have to wait.

28

6 The two travelers rose the next morning, following their same routine to get away as quickly as possible. Bobbie sat in the back seat playing with her toys and occasionally asked Maggie random questions about why they were stopping in Kentucky.

“Who are we visiting? What are their names? How do we know them?”

Maggie usually replied with vague and evasive answers, acting as if she needed to concentrate on her driving. All the while, Maggie’s stomach was tied up in knots as she feared an ill-timed collision with the truth about Bobbie’s father. Now isn’t the time or place to come clean, but when is the right time? she wondered.

After a couple of hours, a small voice asked a thunderous question that jolted Maggie’s world. “Mommy, do I have a daddy?” Maggie feared the day she would be asked this question, and there was no way she was prepared to answer it while driving down a road in Missouri.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Where is he?” Bobbie pressed.

Maggie took a deep breath. “He’s in Heaven.”

“Is he helping God with the babies?”

“Yes, I’m sure he is.”

“Did he help God make me?” Maggie could barely choke out a yes as she tried to hide her tears.

“Oh,” Bobbie replied.

29

A Whisper in the Wind

With Bobbie’s continuous questioning seeming to break, Maggie refocused her attention on the road ahead. By day’s end, they would be in Northern Kentucky, a new experience for Bobbie and a new environment for Maggie compared to her previous trip there. After another gas stop and restroom break, they were nearing St. Louis.

“Bobbie, look out your window. We’re coming up on the biggest bridge you’ve ever seen crossing the widest river you’ve ever seen, the Mississippi River.”

“The Missiwissi River?” she asked, butchering the name. “Do they have a lighthouse?”

“No, rivers don’t have lighthouses.”

“Oh,” They stopped for lunch, and after they ate, they headed across the road to gas up the car and moved on toward Indianapolis.

As they sat in the filling station while the attendant pumped their fuel and cleaned their windshield, a dark-haired, handsome man exited the station and passed beside their car. Bobbie waved to him and smiled.

“Bobbie, you shouldn’t wave to strangers like that,” Maggie scolded.

The man moved toward the car and lowered his head toward Bobbie’s open window. “Hi, there, young lady. Are you enjoying your ride? It’s a hot one today, isn’t it?” he asked in a pleasant tone. She nodded it was, now acting shyly since the man had spoken to her.

Maggie glanced out her window to see the man and was surprised by his good looks. “Don’t pay her no mind,” she commented as she smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder and held her pose. “She’s always waving to strangers. Sorry to have bothered you,” she said, feigning an apology.

“When you pulled in, I saw your plates are from South Dakota. You’re a far piece from home, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we are,” Maggie replied.

“Is this your destination, or are you just passing through?”

“We’re on our way to Kentucky to visit family,” Maggie replied, prolonging the small talk.

30

Barry Kienzle

“How about you?” she asked instinctively without considering she was getting talked up by a stranger.

“I’m not from here, but I’m visiting friends. I’m John,” he said as he introduced himself with a smile.

“And I’m Maggie,” she replied with a smile.“You have a safe trip now. It was nice meeting you. And you too, honey,” he said as he smiled and pointed to Bobbie while he moved toward his car.

“I like that man. I think he likes you, too,” Bobbie declared.

“Oh hush,” Maggie replied, somewhat embarrassed by her daughter’s observation. “Let’s get moving.”

As they moved down the road, Maggie realized she had enjoyed her interaction with the man more than she thought she would. I feel like a schoolgirl, she laughed to herself. Was I flirting with a stranger with my daughter in the back seat? Jeez, what’s wrong with me? At the same time, she thought, I didn’t expect to run into a guy like that in a filling station for sure. I need to get my mind back on the road before I get us both killed.

As time and miles passed and they moved closer to Indianapolis, an unusual nervousness began to creep over the usually confident Maggie. In another five more hours, she knew they would be in Latonia, Kentucky, where Bob was born, raised, and buried. In some ways, she was excited to be back, but she regretted the circumstances and their significance in other ways.

She also wondered how the Schmitzes would react to her taking the lighthouse keeper’s job, especially with it being so far away in Massachusetts.

When she spoke with them on the phone about her and Bobbie visiting, she sensed the excitement in their voices and stopped short of telling them that they were just passing through.

Was that a mistake? she wondered. She made a mental note to let them know that Bobbie did not know about Bob or his death.

Would they wonder why she hadn’t told her? She reminded herself that the ever-practical Bob would tell her not to worry about anything she couldn’t control. Wise words, but not always easy ones to practice. A voice from the back seat broke the drone of the road.

31

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“Mommy, is that a lighthouse?” Bobbie asked, pointing ahead through the windshield.

“No, honey. That’s a church steeple, though it does resemble a lighthouse.”

“Oh,” Soon they crossed the Indiana border and were within an hour of Indianapolis, the last leg of their trip, before heading to the southeast toward Cincinnati and crossing the Ohio River into Northern Kentucky. The ride through the Indiana farmland was pleasant, but the closer they got to Cincinnati, the miles seemed to pass at a much slower rate. Is it excitement or dread? Maggie wondered. Nevertheless, they arrived in Cincinnati by dusk.

As they made their way through the city, Maggie spotted the famous landmark, Union Terminal, hovering over the city’s West End. She shuddered as she tightened her grip on the steering wheel, recalling that it was there that her and Bob’s closest friend, George, escorted his body from San Diego by train after his untimely death. A terrible memory for such a beautiful building—a tribute to the working man.

After they passed through downtown Cincinnati, they crossed over into Kentucky using the Roebling Suspension Bridge. “Listen to the hum of the tires, Bobbie,” as the steelgrated roadbed greeted their arrival into the Commonwealth.

“You don’t hear that sound very often. Look at the big river! It’s the Ohio River.”

Bobbie enjoyed the sounds and the view of the river from above. “I like this place.”

Rather than descending on the Schmitzes at such a late hour after being on the road all day, Maggie decided to stop somewhere for the night and head their way in the morning.

As she drove down Madison Avenue, the main thoroughfare through Covington, she spied a sign for a boarding house.

“Bobbie, it doesn’t look like a motel tonight for us, honey.

Let’s see if this place can take us in for the night,” she said as she pointed in the direction of the sign. Maggie knocked on the door, and a silver-haired matronly-looking lady opened it.

“Hello,” she greeted. “How can I help you?”

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“We’re looking for a room for tonight. Do you have any available?”

“As a matter of fact, by chance, I do have a room available.

“Care to see it?”

“Yes, thank you.” They entered the building, and the lady immediately interacted with Bobbie as they walked to the room.

“How are you, young lady? We haven’t had anyone around here as young as you in some time. What’s your name, honey?”

“Bobbie.”

“Well, such a pretty name for a pretty little girl. “Here’s the room,” as she opened the door. “It’s clean with fresh sheets, and I might add, the only room in the house, other than mine, with a private bathroom. Five dollars for the night, which includes a hot breakfast. Okay?”

“Okay,” replied Maggie as they moved back toward the front door lobby.

“What brings you here, if I may ask?”

“We’re here from South Dakota to visit with family.”

“Oh my, such a long trip. It must have been interesting traveling with such a young one,” the lady replied as she nodded toward Bobbie.

“It was, but she’s a trooper. I can’t complain,” “Who are you visiting?”

“The Schmitzes, in Latonia.”

“Ralph and Mary? Really? I know them well. We go to the same church, Holy Cross. Wasn’t it terrible how their son, Bob, was killed in the war? Such a tragedy. He was such a fine young man. We all miss him. Are you related to them?”

“Yes, it was,” Maggie replied tritely to the first part of her comments, hoping to discourage further discussion with Bobbie present. Fortunately, Bobbie was more interested in the grandfather clock in the hall, which was tolling the hour. It allowed Maggie to dodge the question of how they were related to the Schmitzes.

“Bong,” Bobbie repeated eight times as the clock sounded the time. “I like this clock.”

33

A Whisper in the Wind

“So sorry, it’s getting late. I didn’t mean to hold you up with my chit-chat,” the lady commented. “Do you need help with your luggage?”

“No. We’re okay. Thank you, though.”

“Then I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast. Have a nice evening.”

Maggie and Bobbie settled in for the night, both tired from their long day’s journey. Maggie lay there wondering what the following day’s meeting with the Schmitzes would entail. Keeping Bobbie from learning the truth about her father would be more complicated than she expected. What is the right time and way to tell her? She pondered the thought most of the evening until her exhaustion hastened her slumber, and she fell fast asleep.

34

7 The following morning Bobbie and Maggie both woke early, possibly in anticipation of the upcoming day’s events, but more likely because their room faced east and the window shade there did little to block the morning sun.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead,” Maggie urged with a bop of her pillow on Bobbie’s head, which drew a smile. “I can smell breakfast cooking in the kitchen. A home-cooked breakfast will hit the spot over the doughnuts we’ve been eating every morning the last few days.”

After their fill of a hearty breakfast, they packed up to move on to the Schmitzes’. “Be sure to give my best to Ralph and Mary,” the manager commented. Maggie simply smiled.

Maggie loaded their luggage into the car, and Bobbie assumed her usual spot in the back seat with her toy friends. “How long before we get there?” she asked.

“About five minutes,” Maggie replied, which drew a long “oh” from Bobbie with a curious look.

“The Schmitzes live close by,” Maggie explained, which opened the floodgates for more questions from Bobbie.

“Are they nice? Do they have kids? Do you like them? Will they like us?”

“Yes to all. Bobbie, we’re almost there.” Maggie suddenly pulled over and parked.

“Are we there?” Bobbie asked.

“No, honey.”

35

A Whisper in the Wind

Maggie took a deep breath. “I’ve never known how or when to tell you this, but Mister and Missus Schmitz are your grandma and grandpa too, just like Grandma and Grandpa in Sturgis,” she explained as she glanced in the rearview mirror at Bobbie to gauge her reaction.

“Oh,” was Bobbie’s only response.

By the expression on her face, Maggie could see Bobbie was thinking about what she said, though, so she continued.

“They are your daddy’s mommy and daddy,” Maggie said softly, feeling tears well in her eyes.

“My daddy, that’s in Heaven?”

“Yes. Everybody has two sets of grandparents. God made it that way,” “Okay,” Bobbie replied, to which Maggie breathed a huge sigh of relief.

She continued on and soon pulled onto East Southern Avenue to the front of the Schmitzes’ home. Maggie got out as both Ralph and Mary bounded from the house onto the front porch and then out to the curb.

“You’re finally here!” Mary exclaimed as she gave Maggie a bear hug, followed by Ralph. “So good to see you. And look at this precious little girl. You look just like an angel. You’re even prettier than the pictures your mommy sends us.” Based on her bashful reactions, Bobbie appeared to enjoy the attention.

“Come on inside. The boys came by to see you. They’ll unload the car for you.”

James and John, Bob’s younger brothers, exited the house and greeted Maggie with a hug as well. “You boys, or should I say, men, look great. It’s good to see you again.”

“You, too,” John replied. “We’ll move your things from the car to your room,” he said as they opened the trunk and grabbed the luggage.

Maggie entered their home, and her mind immediately flashed to when Bob’s remains lay in his flag-draped coffin in that very room for his visitation and wake. She shuddered at the thought. Mary picked up on Maggie’s body language as she stared at the spot where he lay.

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Barry Kienzle

“Have a seat, Maggie, and I’ll get us some lemonade, and we can chat.”

Bobbie was being entertained by Ralph and Sandy, the family’s collie, whom she continuously hugged around her neck.

“Don’t hurt her, Bobbie. She’s not used to little kids,” Maggie urged, but Sandy didn’t seem to mind the attention.

Maggie and Mary got caught up on the family goings-on since they had last seen each other.

“Come here, Bobbie. Let’s get you checked in. See if you like your room, or if not, maybe you could sleep with Sandy.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Maggie said, grinning as they headed up the stairs to the second floor.

Upstairs, Bobbie sat on one of the twin beds in the room.

“You’ve got your own big girl bed, don’t you,” Maggie praised.

“So act like a big girl while you’re here.”

“I will. I like them,” Bobbie replied.“And Sandy, too.”

“And they love you, Bobbie. More than you know.”

At dinner that evening, the family talked about anything and everything. The Schmitzes were very interested in the details of Maggie’s life in Sturgis. She told them about the general store and garage her family owned and ran. She stopped short of describing how she and Bob met at the store after he crashed his Indian motorcycle, about their trip to Mount Rushmore, and other details of their time together in Sturgis and in Hawaii, where he was stationed in the war. Those topics weren’t of much interest when she was there for his funeral.

“How did your car fare on the trip? She’s got a little age on her, but otherwise, she looks in good shape.” Ralph remarked.

Maggie smiled and relayed her brothers’ story about the little old lady who passed away after they repaired her car. Nobody claimed it, which generated some snickers at the table, especially with James and John.

“The little old lady dying part isn’t funny, but the rest of the story is pretty cute,” Mary said.

“Maggie, if you don’t mind, the boys and I would like to give your car the once over to be safe. We can look at it tonight when we’ve finished here,” Ralph added.

37

A Whisper in the Wind

“That would be great. I’d appreciate it.” “The car doesn’t have many miles on it, and it ran well coming here, but before, it was used to go to church and the grocery store, not driven cross country.”

After dinner, Ralph and his sons proceeded to the garage to check out the Plymouth. “Pull her around back, but back it in, John, so we have room to work on it if necessary,” Ralph instructed. Maggie followed them out to the garage. Ralph and the boys popped the hood and began checking the belts and any other moving parts. “Let her run so we can listen to her,” Ralph said. “She sounds good. Let’s go ahead and change the oil. Jimmy, get the oil and a filter off the shelf in the back of the garage. Who wants to volunteer to climb under to drain it and clamp on the filter?” he joked.

While the men were fussing with her car, Maggie moved to the back of the garage, where she spied Bob’s beloved Indian motorcycle. She pulled off the tarp. Emotionally, it was like ripping a Band-Aid from a wound. She ran her hand across the seat and handlebars, knowing her husband had rested on and touched them. Her emotions began to surface as she recalled their time together on it in South Dakota and the fact she later learned it was her father’s motorcycle who was killed in WWI before she was born. She often wondered if this motorcycle linked her to her past.

Ralph noticed that Maggie lingered in the back of the garage while dabbing tears from her eyes. He moved in her direction and put his arm around her shoulder for support, and she placed her hand on his to show her appreciation.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with it. It’s like it’s part of the family,” Ralph said softly. “I still remember when Mr. Donoghue gave it to Bob. He was so excited. He took such good care of it because he wanted to honor Donoghue’s son, Joe, who we later learned was your father. I know I won’t be able to get rid of it as long as Sandy is alive,” he chuckled. “She guards it like it’s one of her pups, and the boys won’t take it because they say it’s Bob’s.”

Maggie nodded in agreement. “A lot of history in it. A lot.”

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Barry Kienzle

“Why don’t you take her for a spin, Maggie? We’ve got about an hour of daylight left,” Ralph encouraged. “She hasn’t been ridden since George rode her in Bob’s funeral.”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Maggie replied.

“Why not?” Bob insisted. “You know how to ride, don’t you?

Wouldn’t you think Bob would be happy to know that you did?”

“I guess he would, but it probably won’t even start.”

“I don’t think that’ll be the case. We start her up every six months or so, and she always fires right up. This bike isn’t like other bikes. I think it has its own mind. Let’s roll her out and give her a try,” Ralph encouraged as he grabbed the bike’s handlebars and began to push it to the front of the garage.

“What ’cha doin’, Dad?” Jimmy asked.

“We’re gonna start the old Indian up, and Maggie’s going to take a ride on it. Hand me the gas can. Okay, it’s ready to go.

Hop on, Maggie, and I’ll kick the starter.” Maggie did so, and the Indian fired up on the first try. The engine smoothed out within a minute, and Ralph motioned a go sign which triggered Maggie to pull out into the street and head toward Ritte’s Corner, a focal point of Latonia.

As she rode, her auburn hair blowing in the wind, she felt like the Indian was driving her rather than her driving it. Before long, she was on West Southern Avenue, not sure where she was heading. Within a few minutes, she was at the side gate of Mother of God Cemetery, but the gates were locked since it was after hours. She lingered for a moment, wondering how she ended up there. Did the Indian bring me here? Maybe so, she thought.

She turned the bike around and traced the route back to the Schmitzes’ home.

“Back already,” Ralph noted. “How’d she do?”

“Just fine,” Maggie replied.

“Maybe you should tow her back to South Dakota with you,” Ralph suggested.

“I think it should stay here in this area. It was my father’s bike, then Bob’s.”

“Yeah, you’re right; this area is its home,” Ralph agreed.

39

A Whisper in the Wind

Jimmy and John interrupted Maggie and Ralph’s conversation by closing the hood of the Plymouth, which triggered Ralph to ask, “What do you think, boys?” as he motioned at the car.

“She’s fit as a fiddle. She’ll get you back to South Dakota, no problem,” replied John as he and his brother wiped the grease from their hands and moved toward the house in search of soap and water. Theirs and Ralph’s comment about towing the Indian back to South Dakota reminded Maggie that she needed to be more forthcoming about her new job in Massachusetts as soon as possible.

“Let’s get the Indian back to its spot in the back of the garage,” said Ralph as he grabbed its handlebars and began to move it.

“Let me,” Maggie insisted as she took hold of the handlebars and rolled it slowly back to its usual resting spot. She took one last longing look, knowing what it meant to Bob and its role in their being together. She slowly pulled the tarp over it, knowing it may be the last time she ever saw it.

She returned to the house to find Mary playing with Bobbie, often intertwined with Sandy. “We’re having a grand time. Bobbie is very smart for her age.”

“Too smart at times,” Maggie quipped. “Bobbie, we need to get you to bed, honey. You’ve had enough excitement for one day.” The pair proceeded up the stairs to their room, where Maggie helped her get ready for bed.

“Mommy, will you lie down with me until I fall asleep?”

“I will, but not until after you say your night prayers.”

“Okay, but what should I call them?” “‘Grandma and Grandpa Schmitz is okay.”

“And God bless Grandma and Grandpa Schmitz, and Sandy too,” Bobbie added with a giggle which brought a smile to Maggie’s face.

After Bobbie’s prayers and she had fallen asleep, Maggie rose and returned downstairs, where she found Ralph and Mary sitting in the front room, as Ralph was enjoying his customary evening beer. “Have a seat, Maggie. The boys have gone home.

Can I get you a drink?”

40

Barry Kienzle

Maggie sat on the sofa beside Mary, who greeted her by taking her hand. “Your beer looks pretty tasty. I wouldn’t mind one if you could spare it.”

“Plenty where this one came from,” as he rose to fetch them both a cold one.

After he returned with two beers, Maggie spoke. “I have something to tell you that I probably should have when I called you about coming here, but you were so excited about us coming that I decided not to bring it up at the time,” she began.

Her comment triggered a curious look on Ralph’s and Mary’s faces.

“Well,” Maggie resumed, clearing her throat before continuing. “From here, we’re not returning home but are leaving for Massachusetts, where I’ve taken a job as a lighthouse keeper.”

Her comment triggered little reaction from the Schmitzes as they pondered what she had said.

“Seriously?” was Ralph’s response. Mary sat motionless as if she anticipated other bad news was forthcoming. Maggie explained how the opportunity came about and why she was taking it.

“I need to do this for me so I can move on. I hope you understand,” Maggie continued as she dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and took a large swallow of beer.

“Of course we do, dear,” Mary replied. “We know what you’re going through. We struggle with the same thoughts and emotions all the time, but you have your whole life ahead of you. Ours is in the third act, so our needs are different than yours,” she ended.

“How are your parents taking it?” Ralph asked. “You’re taking their only grandchild and moving a couple of thousand miles away. That can’t be easy for them.”

“Ralph, don’t say it like that,” Mary interjected.

“It’s okay,” Maggie interceded. “It’s true. That’s what made my whole decision more difficult. But they knew I needed to free myself and make a fresh start. The opportunity happens to be in Massachusetts, so that’s where we’re going. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.”

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Ralph looked at Mary and knew she was about to speak. He rose from his chair and sat beside Maggie on the sofa. “Maggie, we love you like a daughter and wish you and Bobbie the best.

Quite frankly, we’re amazed that our quiet, deliberate-natured son found someone like you with such a great spirit. We knew he was madly in love with you, but that was then, and this is now.”

Maggie cried when she heard Mary’s words. She, Mary, and Ralph all joined in a simultaneous hug.

After they broke their holds, Ralph spoke. “If my geography is correct, you’ll be living closer to us now, so how could we object?”

“Right you are,” Maggie replied.

“So tell us all about your new job,” Ralph urged as he returned to his chair. “I wouldn’t know a lighthouse if I ran smack dab into one.”

“Me neither,” Maggie said with a laugh. “I guess I’ve got a lot to learn.”

42

8 The following morning at breakfast, Maggie and Bobbie ate with Mary, as Ralph had gone to work much earlier. “Mary, I’m going to go to the cemetery today.”

“Okay, I can watch Bobbie while you’re gone.”

“I think I’ll take her with me.”

“What’s a shemetery?” Bobbie asked.

“Well, it’s like a big park,” Maggie replied, not wanting to divulge its true purpose.

“With swings?”

“No, there aren’t any swings, but there’s plenty of room to run around.”

“Okay. Let’s go to the shemetery.”

“Where’s the best place to get some flowers, Mary?” Maggie asked.

“Everyone around here goes to Jackson Florist, right near the cemetery.”

“I like flowers,” Bobbie interjected.

“You like everything,” Maggie said with a smile.

They drove off toward Mother of God Cemetery and stopped at the florist for two bouquets. At the cemetery, they got out of their car near section thirteen. Maggie approached her husband’s grave with apprehension, fearing the solemnity of the moment.

Bobbie danced through the headstones, oblivious to her surroundings.

As they arrived at Bob’s final resting spot, Maggie called Bobbie. “Come here, Bobbie, and hold my hand.” Bobbie obliged.

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Maggie stood staring on this clear, sunny day at the grave marker which read, Robert D. Schmitz, 1920 – 1943, Lt. U.S. Navy. A few tears dripped on the marker, which caught Bobbie’s attention.

“Mommy, you’re crying? Are you sad?”

“Here, lay these flowers down and cheer me up,” Maggie replied as she dried her eyes. She obeyed as Maggie’s mind spun back to Bob’s funeral and a day that couldn’t have been more different than the current one. A day where her husband’s casket lay awaiting burial with hundreds of mourners and the military honor guard’s formality of a twenty-one-gun salute and ending with the playing of “Taps” as her unborn baby stirred in her womb. How much more cruel can life be? She knelt, blessed herself with the traditional Catholic Sign of the Cross, kissed her fingers, and touched them to his headstone. Bobbie mimicked her mother’s actions, unaware of their meaning.

Maggie then moved over a few rows to the grave of her father she never knew, Joe Donoghue, who was killed in WWI before she was born. “Here, Bobbie, lay these flowers here,” as she handed her the other bouquet. She obliged as Maggie again knelt and performed the same rituals. “Bobbie, someday I’ll tell you what we did here today,” she whispered as she hugged her tightly.

“Catch me,” Bobbie suddenly shouted as she broke free and dashed through a newly opened unused area of the cemetery with Maggie giving chase, reminiscent of the days Bobbie’s daddy raced through the same track with his best friend, George.

When Maggie caught up to her, they both tumbled to the ground, winded by the chase. They lay on their backs, catching their breath, staring at the bright blue cloudless sky. “I like this shemetery!”

“I do too, honey. This is a special place—a very special place.” *** Maggie and Bobbie spent the following day resting as Maggie prepared for their next journey to Massachusetts and her new job. “I’m not sure we’ve got the right clothes for up there,” Maggie commented. “We should probably go shopping,” at which 44

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Bobbie’s ears perked up like a dog hearing its food being poured into its bowl.

“I like to shop,” she said, which brought a chuckle from both Maggie and Mary.

“Go with us, Mary. You know the right spots to shop here,” Maggie urged.

The trio soon left for Madison Avenue and the nearby vicinity in Covington, which featured Sears and Roebuck, J.C. Penney, S.S. Kresge, F.W. Woolworth, and Coppin’s Department Store, as well as many other locally known shoe and clothing stores.

Hours later, they returned with bags full of clothing appropriate for the New England weather they would soon be encountering.

Bobbie emptied all the bags onto the sofa in the sitting room to display each outfit while admiring their day’s efforts. When Ralph arrived home from work, he looked at Mary and noted with a chuckle and a smile, “So this is what I missed all these years, not having little girls in the house!” *** Before dinner that evening, Ralph sat on the front porch enjoying his customary beer when Maggie joined him. “Have a seat,” he invited.

“Can I get you one?” referring to his beer.

“No. But thanks anyway,” she replied.

“You’ve kept yourself pretty busy since you’ve been back,” Ralph commented with a nod.

“We have. It’s been good to be back. We’re enjoying it.”

“The letters and pictures you’ve been sending, especially of Bobbie, have been nice, but you can’t beat face-to-face. I’m glad you decided to stop here on your way to Massachusetts,” he said before he took another swallow from his beer.

“Me too.”

“Bob and I used to sit out here, just like this, usually with a beer,” which he raised for emphasis, “and talk, just he and I, father and son. He’d tell me about his dreams and plans for the future. He always sought my approval before he took action.

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Actually, he did most of the talking and me the listening,” he said with a laugh. “More times than not, that’s the parent’s role—to listen. He was different from his brothers in that respect. He was the practical, responsible one,” he said with a chuckle. Maggie sensed his attempts at humor were more to disguise his sadness when talking about Bob. He continued.

“I remember when he and George dragged his Harley home after Bob wrecked it at the old Latonia Race Track racing a friend. Rather than being upset about his Harley, he had a bright excitement in his eyes about the old Indian motorcycle he had seen at your grandfather’s, Mr. Donoghue’s. He couldn’t wait to tell me about it. He wanted my approval to take it if Mr. Donoghue sold it to him.”

“The next day, when he gave Bob the bike, it was like Christmas morning to him. It changed him. It made him different somehow—like he had a new purpose. It’s hard to explain. He was no longer trying to figure out life but began living it. You were a big part of what he had become—much more than a simple love affair. You gave him purpose—a pursuit of something bigger. As I said, it is hard to explain, probably because we didn’t know all the pieces.” He took another drink of his beer.

“It’s been hard to cope with his passing as I know it has been for you. Now, all we can do is honor his memory, but it is easier the more we get to know you and Bobbie. You both are another dimension of him we knew very little about. And even though he died in the service of his country, it was part of his pursuit of much bigger things that I know for sure involved you. Life can be cruel, but love prevails. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing okay. It helps that I have Bobbie. She keeps me hopping and my mind off things, but I’m not trying to forget him. I know I have to move on, though.”

“It’s why you’re going to take this job in Massachusetts. It’s the fresh start you’re looking for. Good for you. A change in geography and responsibility may be the right ingredients to trigger it. Here’s to your success,” he said as he raised his bottle and took his last swig. “Let’s go eat some dinner,” as he rose and took Maggie’s arm to lead her inside.

46

9 After dinner, and the dishes were washed and dried, Maggie and Mary sat in the front room to rest. Maggie asked Mary, “Do you have George’s phone number? I want to catch up with him while we’re in town.”

“I’m sure we do. Here it is,” she said, handing Maggie a piece of paper. Maggie moved to the Schmitzes’ phone and dialed his number.

“Hello,” a man answered.

“George?”

“Yes,” “This is Maggie Schmitz.”

“Maggie Schmitz? How are you? Are you in town?”

“Yes, my daughter Bobbie and I are staying with the Schmitzes for a few days. I’d like to get together with you while we’re here.”

“That would be great. I’m surprised you’re here. What brings you here now?”

“Bobbie and I are passing through on our way to Massachusetts. I’ve taken a job as a lighthouse keeper with the U.S. Lighthouse Service.” There was a pause on George’s end of the line. “Hello?” Maggie said.

“Uh, yeah,” George replied. “I was trying to take all that in. It surely wasn’t the answer I was expecting. Was it a hard decision to make? I know you worked in the family business in Sturgis.”

“Actually, it wasn’t a hard decision. My life was going nowhere.

I think it is the break and the change I need now.”

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“It’s a pretty dramatic change for sure,” George acknowledged.

“Moving across the country with a young child to do a job you’re not all that familiar with. That takes guts, and you have more than your fair share, I know.”

“Are you available to get together this evening?” she asked.

“Sure, I wouldn’t miss it. Where and when?”

“How about Ritte’s Corner at 7:00? I want to visit one of yours and Bob’s old haunts.”

“Okay. See you at 7:00. And thanks for calling. I’m looking forward to seeing you, Maggie.” *** George arrived first on the corner and waited anxiously. He hadn’t seen or spoken with her since the day of Bob’s funeral. He first met her when he walked into Bob’s hospital room in San Diego at the moment he passed away. He got to know her better as they escorted Bob’s body back to Northern Kentucky by train for three days from the West Coast. It will be nice to spend time with her without the overbearing grief of the past, he thought.

She soon arrived, and he kissed her on the cheek. “Oh Maggie, you’re as beautiful as ever. So good to see you. Come on, let me show you how Schmitty and I, I mean, Bob, spent many of our nights strategizing about finding girls like you,” he joked as they walked a few steps around the corner and entered a local saloon.

“This is great,” she quipped as she admired the surroundings despite the smell of stale beer and cigarettes. “I want to do it just like the two of you did. I hear you were experts.”

After they entered, George pointed to an available table.

“Let’s sit here.”

“No. I want to sit at the bar where you and Bob sat.”

The bartender looked at George with a slight shake of his head. “Maggie, women aren’t allowed to sit at the bar.” She sat down anyway. George mouthed to the bartender, “It’s Schmitty’s widow.” The bartender nodded okay while waving an approving hand and walked to the other end of the bar to serve another customer.

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George sat down on the next stool and asked, “What do you normally drink?”

“I want whatever you and Bob drank.”

“That would be beer.”

“Beer it is.”

“What type?”

“Whatever you and Bob drank.” The bartender returned to take their order.

“We’ll have two Hudepohls with a glass for the lady.”

“Did Bob drink from a glass?”

“Well, no, he didn’t.”

“No glass, please,” Maggie said to the bartender as he returned and sat two beers in bottles on the bar.

“Maggie, since you want to stick with tradition, we always clicked our bottles together before we drank. I propose a toast between friends. Here’s to you, Maggie Schmitz, the best thing to ever happen to Schmitty. May he rest in peace.” They clicked their bottles together and downed their first swallow.

“George, I want to tell you how grateful I am that you were there when Bob passed. I’d have completely fallen apart if you hadn’t been there to help me hold it together. It was the worst day of my life. One I’ll never forget and hope never to relive.

And I would never have been able to bring his body back here alone. You were so brave and devoted the way you went about everything. Bob would have been proud of you.”

“It was my worst day for sure as an adult,” George replied.

“War and what we lived through, I never could have imagined. It was an awful way to have met you—on your darkest day, but no doubt it has galvanized our friendship.”

“I visited Bob’s grave today,” Maggie mentioned as she took another swig of her beer.

“And?” George probed.

“It was okay. Bobbie was with me, and we visited my father’s grave too.

“Does she know about her daddy?”

“Not that much. She knows he’s in Heaven, but not how he died. She’s too young to understand all that. The subject doesn’t 49

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come up that much back home since they hardly knew Bob, and they’re trying to fill the void with their love and affection. I’ll have to tell her the details someday, but not today. I still have trouble with it all myself.”

“I’m glad you went,” George replied. “I go there occasionally myself. But my reasons are much different than yours. He was my buddy, and I’m paying my respects as he would do for me had things been reversed. I think you’re looking for closure, though, right?”

“I’m not sure what I’m looking for to tell you the truth. I think that’s part of my problem,” Maggie confessed. “Our relationship was so different than most—our somewhat on-again, off-again romance driven by circumstances out of our control. We marry, I get pregnant, he gets killed, and it’s all over. It’s sometimes hard to make sense of it all.”

“The flame burned hot while lit, but was snuffed out way too soon. We never got to the part where we lived happily ever after. If our time together had been a movie, it would have been a blockbuster, or no one would have liked it because it was too far-fetched. But it was our life together. I’m still trying to pick up the pieces, but I’m not sure of what. Our story together was so short it almost felt like a fling, but it was so much more than that for me that I can’t seem to let go. I feel lost at times.”

“Maggie, it’s never really over. You can’t undo your life’s experiences, but you can’t live in the past, either. Bob wouldn’t have wanted that. Even though he was a strait-laced, conservative kind of guy, he was always looking ahead and planning his future. Heck, you two would never have met if he hadn’t gotten on that old Indian bike of his and charged off across the country to see Mount Rushmore with his very own eyes. He wanted the experience of it. And after he met you, you became the focus of his attention.”

Maggie bowed her head and looked down the neck of her bottle. “I suppose you’re right. But it’s hard to move on so soon.”

“I suppose. But I don’t know if it will get any easier as time passes and you’re stuck in neutral. I think your lighthouse job may be a distraction for you for a time, but I think it’s more of a step to where you’re going than the destination itself.”

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“You’re becoming quite the philosopher, George, if I say so myself,” Maggie teased.

“Living through and experiencing what we did in the war can change one’s viewpoint on life in a hurry, especially when your best friend doesn’t make it back,” George replied.

Tears welled in Maggie’s eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it the way it may have sounded.”

“I know. No offense taken.”

“George, when I walked into Bob’s room in the hospital in San Diego, I had no idea what I would find. The Navy notified me that he was injured and where he was being treated, that’s all.

I had hoped for the best, that I would find him sitting up in bed reading a newspaper complaining about the hospital food, but I should have known it would be worse than that. I was with him for only a few minutes when he passed away after only a few brief last moments together. Before he passed, I held his hand to my stomach so he would know we had a baby on the way. He cried, and then he was gone. I was devastated. I remember falling to the floor, and you picked me up. Then we cried together. He meant so much to both of us. He kept us both on the right track.”

Tears from both dotted the bartop as they recalled the terrible events of that fateful day.

“Remember too, Maggie, he died a hero. Even though he was mortally wounded, all of his men got off the plane before crashing into the ocean. Most of them were rescued.”

“I know, but,” Maggie started to respond, but George changed the direction of the conversation by motioning two fingers toward the bartender, a well-known signal for two more.

“So Maggie, how is that darling young lady of yours? She must be getting big.” Two fresh beers arrived, and another click of the bottles’ necks ensued.

“Bobbie is fine. She’s as cute as she can be, but she’s a handful, for sure. Maybe she takes too much after me,” she quipped, prompting a chuckle from George.

“I’ll have to stop by the Schmitzes to see her. I’ll let you decide how to tell her who I am.”

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“I’ll tell her you were a friend of her daddy’s. She’s never met anyone she doesn’t like. It’s her natural personality. I hope it serves her well and she doesn’t get her heart broken someday because of it.” George nodded in agreement at her remark.

“Maggie, how did you end up taking a job as a lighthouse keeper so far from home?”

“Well, it’s not like they have lighthouses in South Dakota!” she jested, prompting a frown from George at her flippant response. “I felt like I was drowning back at my family’s general store. Everyone that came in was always very pleasant and nice to me because of what happened. People at church and in town were the same way. When they would ask me how I was doing, it always was under the pretense of, in light of the circumstances.”

“Even my family treated me differently, too. Oh, they were kind and caring and all to both me and Bobbie, but it was like we were permanently broken, and they were the glue holding us together. I couldn’t live that way any longer. I don’t want to be stuck in the forever land between Bob and me and the rest of my life. I need to do something so different and in a place where people don’t give a darn about my past and what I’ve been through.”

“Call it a new beginning. Since the Lighthouse Service is a government agency with connections to the Navy and Coast Guard, I received mailings from them and other agencies about opportunities for GIs and their survivors. So I thought, why not, and filled out the forms. To my surprise, I got an interview and was hired. I thought I’d end up in a lighthouse on the Great Lakes, but an opportunity arose in Massachusetts, and I took it.

Oddly, I’m happy I didn’t choose the location. Bobbie and I both now have new horizons, and we’ll do it together.”

“I see,” George replied, slack-jawed by her response. “Your answer sounds so much like you. Your adventurous spirit is why Bob was smitten with you when he met you. You ran him through the emotional gauntlet a bit, what with your previous relationship and all, but I can tell you he got weak in the knees every time he talked about you with me. I used to tease him about

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it. I’d never seen him like that before. He was always so serious when it came to you.” He took another drink from his beer.

Maggie diverted the conversation away from herself. “George, what are you up to these days?”

“I’m back at the Andrews Steel Mill in Newport. I didn’t get my old job back as a train engineer in their yard. I’m back in the mill, but I’m thinking of moving on. I got hit with some slag from the smelting furnace and ended up with a sliver of steel in my eye that the doctors say can’t be removed. It’s why I wear glasses now.

It’s hard to change jobs now with all the GIs back. Jobs are scarce.

I need to figure out what I want to do.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your injury. Good luck with finding a new job. So George, any special lady in your life right now?”

“Well, now that you mention it, there is.” But he quickly diffused her inquiry with, “Why? Do you want to throw your hat in the ring?” he replied with a smile. They both blushed and rescued themselves with the last swig of their beers.

“I suppose it’s time for you to head back, Maggie,” as he rose from his stool. Maggie stood and gathered her purse as they headed to the door. Outside, they exchanged pleasantries completed with a hug and a kiss on each other’s cheeks.

“George, you’ve helped me more than you know. Whenever I think of Bob’s past, it includes you. You add a human dimension to him if for no other reason that you two were so different, yet so similar.”

“And we were buddies to the end and always,” George added.

“When I visit his grave, I remember the days when we were young and chased each other through the cemetery as carefree as the wind blowing through the trees.”

Maggie smiled and replied, “I know.” As she started to walk away, she turned and said, “If you want to see Bobbie, you’d better come by soon. We’ll only be here another day or so.”

“I will. Goodnight, Maggie.”

“Goodnight, George.”

53

10 George stopped by the Schmitzes’ to visit the following day.

Ralph answered the door.

“Hello, Ralph,” George greeted.

“Well, hello, George. Good to see you. Come on in. Maggie mentioned you might be by sometime. How have you been?”

“I’m well, thanks. How about you?”

“Good, thanks. I’ll get Maggie. I know you didn’t come by to see me,” he joked.

As George waited for Maggie, he looked about the room where Bob’s casket had lain for his wake. Since the funeral, he hadn’t been back, and a lump formed in his throat. The sight of Bob’s flag-draped coffin was permanently etched in his mind, and this visit was like opening an old wound.

“Hello, George. Thanks for coming by,” Mary greeted as she entered the room. “I’ll get Bobbie. She’s just up from her nap.”

Bobbie came bounding from a back bedroom, followed by Maggie. Bobbie hesitated for a second since she didn’t know him but then greeted him with, “Hello, Mr. George.” George’s jaw dropped. She was a miniature of Maggie, but he noted some distinctive facial features of Bob’s which announced, if even so subtly, that she was indeed his daughter.

He composed himself and returned her greeting. “Hello, Bobbie. Oh, I brought you something,” as he pulled a toy from behind his back. “This is for you.”

“Oh, it’s a duck pull toy with a cart, and it goes quack-quack when you pull it. How sweet,” Maggie said as she smiled at 54

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George, who looked a bit embarrassed at the attention he was receiving.

“Oh, I love it!” Bobbie shouted. “Thank you,” her bowwrapped pigtails bouncing about as she hopped with excitement.

Quack-quack, quack-quack, it sounded as she pulled it through the house. “I’m going to call it Mr. George the Duck.” Ralph and Mary smiled, making a note of the intruding sound that would be echoing through their home for the next few days.

“Have a seat, George. I’ll grab us a beer, and we can catch up,” Ralph offered. “It’s been too long.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. We understand,” Ralph replied as he headed toward the kitchen.

“It’s good seeing you again, George. The only other time I get to see you is across our church on Sundays,” Mary remarked.

“Give our best to your mother, Julia.”

“I will, ma’am. Thank you.”

Maggie, Ralph, Mary, and George spent the better part of an hour chit-chatting and exchanging pleasantries. At a lull in the conversation, George announced, “I should be going,” as he rose to leave and moved toward the door. “Bobbie, you take good care of your mommy, you hear?” she happily agreed with a nod of her head.

“Mr. George the Duck,” she repeated as she turned and continued her trek through the house with her new toy.

“Don’t stay away so long next time, George,” Ralph said.

“You’re like a son to us.”

“Thank you, Mr. Schmitz. I appreciate it. I’ll stop by more often. It’s been nice seeing you all again,” George said as he waved and stepped out on the front porch, followed by Maggie.

“Bobbie’s a sweetheart. You must be proud.”

“I am. She’s the bright spot in my life right now. I’d be lost without her.”

After a moment of awkward silence, George spoke. “I guess this is goodbye, Maggie. I’m glad we got to spend some time together. I feel a lot better about things now.”

“Me too,” Maggie agreed.

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“Safe travels, Maggie. Write me after you’ve settled in Massachusetts.” After a quick hug, George was on his way. Maggie turned to enter the house and was greeted by Bobbie waiting at the door.

“I like him. He’s nice.”

“Yes, he is,” Maggie replied. “He sure is.” *** The following day, Maggie decided to visit her grandfather, Mr. Donoghue, before leaving town. The first time she met him was in the cemetery at Bob’s funeral, but she felt it fitting that he should meet his only great-granddaughter, Bobbie. She could explain to her that Mr. Donoghue was her mommy’s grandpa and let it go at that. Maggie phoned him and arranged for them to visit.

“Bobbie, we need to pay a quick visit to someone before we leave.”

“Okay. Can I take Mr. George the Duck with me?”

“Okay, but it might be best if he waits in the car, dear. I don’t want you and Mr. George wandering around a strange house knocking things over.”

That afternoon they made their way over to Mr. Donoghue’s house. Maggie rang the doorbell, and he appeared at the door.

“Come in, Maggie. I’m so happy to see you. And you must be Bobbie,” who was holding tightly to Maggie’s hand but nodded that she was. “Have a seat. It was so nice of you to call. I didn’t know if I would ever get to see you again, especially with the circumstances that brought us together. But I’m happy that you’re here now, especially with your daughter. How is your mother, Emma, by the way?”

“She’s fine. Still out in Sturgis tending to my father and my two brothers.”

“How have you been, Grandpa?” He smiled, never having heard anyone call him “Grandpa” before.

“I’m good. I’ve got the everyday aches and pains that anyone my age would have, but I’m getting along okay.” He looked over 56

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at Bobbie. “Say, honey, would you like a cookie? My neighbors brought me a fresh batch of chocolate chip, and I haven’t opened the tin yet.” Bobbie looked over at Maggie for her okay, which she gave with a nod. “Follow me into the kitchen, and we’ll open them up and maybe find you a glass of milk to wash them down, too.” She followed him and returned with a plate of cookies with him, carrying her glass of milk.

“Sit down and don’t spill it,” Maggie said.

“So what’s new with you, Maggie?” he asked.

“Well, since you asked, we’re headed to Massachusetts from here; I’ve taken a job as a lighthouse keeper.” The surprised look on his face telegraphed his thoughts.

“My, that’s something,” was all he could initially think to say.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“It’ll be a challenge, but anything worth doing is usually a challenge,” she replied.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well. Things can’t be that easy for you.”

“I’m doing just fine.”

“Maggie, I’ve got something I’d like you to have,” as he reached toward a nearby end table. He handed her a framed picture of a man in a World War I vintage uniform. “This is my Joe, your father. I’d like you to have it. I don’t have anyone to pass it down to except you.”

“Thank you,” she replied. She had never seen a picture of her father. Her mother, Emma, had never revealed to her that her adoptive father wasn’t her biological one until the time of Bob’s funeral when Maggie finally met Mr. Donoghue, her grandfather.

The sight of the picture brought tears to her eyes. “He never had a face to me until now. He was so handsome in his uniform,” she commented.“And here’s a picture of him and Emma on their wedding day,” as he handed her a well-worn photograph of the happy couple.

Maggie stared at it and handed it back. “You’d better keep this one,” she said with a smile.

“Okay. You know best.”

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After some more conversation, Maggie noted, “We need to get going. Bobbie’s due for her nap, and we need our rest for when we hit the road tomorrow.”

“Hit the road,” Bobbie repeated. They all rose and moved to the door.

“Thank you for coming, Maggie. It means a lot to me. And goodbye, sweetie. Be good.” Maggie gave him a hug which she had never done before, realizing she may never see him again.

“Goodbye, Grandpa. Take care of yourself, and God bless you,” which brought tears to his eyes which he tried his best to conceal. Maggie and Bobbie returned to their car and waved to him as they pulled away.

“I like him,” Bobbie announced. “He’s a nice man.” *** That night, Maggie tossed and turned in bed, anxious about leaving and moving on to Massachusetts to begin her new job.

Emotionally, she felt much stronger after spending time with the Schmitzes, visiting Bob’s grave, and visiting with George and Mr. Donoghue, her grandfather. She was also pleased that Bobbie was with her and experienced everything in her own way. She also felt being with Bob’s family and friends helped bring closure to some of her personal feelings in the aftermath of his death. She always preferred to meet her challenges head-on, and this trip helped her achieve that goal. She was tired of just coping – she wanted to put things behind her. Initially, she thought this trip back to Northern Kentucky to introduce Bobbie to the Schmitzes was a good idea because it was on the way to Massachusetts, but she now felt it had become the perfect springboard for the next phase of her life.

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11 Maggie rose early the following morning, wanting to start their trip east to Beverly, Massachusetts. She wanted to say goodbye to Ralph before he left for work. She also thought it was essential to get on the road as early as possible. The trip would be shorter than the one down from Sturgis but would still take two to two and a half days if all went as planned.

“Bobbie, wake up, honey. We have to get ready to go,” Maggie urged her young daughter.

Bobbie’s reaction was to roll over and bury her head in her pillow rather than rise as requested.

“Oh no, honey. We need to get moving. Come on,” Maggie urged.

“Are we going to that Massa-choo-choo place today?” she asked with one eye open.

“Yes, we are. I might have to leave you here if you don’t get moving, young lady,” she added with a laugh.

“Okay. Mr. George the Duck says he’ll like it there,” giggled Bobbie in return as she sat up in bed. Maggie rolled her eyes, wondering if she would have to endure the toy duck’s incessant quack the entire trip. With bags packed and Bobbie in tow, Maggie headed down the stairs to find Mary in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

“I can’t let you go out of here on an empty stomach,” she announced before Maggie had a chance to turn her down.

“Thank you, Mary. That’s very nice of you. Look, Bobbie, she’s made pancakes; they’re your favorite.”

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“Yum,” Bobbie replied, hopping up on a chair, waiting for breakfast to be served.

“I’ve already eaten,” Ralph announced as he entered the kitchen. “Let me load your stuff into your car,” as he grabbed their luggage and headed out the side door to the driveway.

“You and Ralph have been so nice to us while we’ve been here, Mary. I can’t tell you how appreciative I am that you invited us to stay with you. You’re wonderful,” she added with a smile.

“Oh hush,” Mary replied. “You’re family, for gosh sakes,” she declared as she presented a plate of pancakes swimming in maple syrup. “Now you and Bobbie finish these because I don’t have the boys here anymore to fight for the last one and then to see who gets to lick the platter when they’re done,” she said with a chuckle. Both Maggie and Bobbie ate their fill, and when finished, Maggie stood.

“Come on, little one; we’ve got to get going. We need to make it to Capon Bridge, West Virginia, before nightfall. It’s over four hundred and twenty-five miles, so it’ll be a long day.”

“Oh gosh, yes,” Mary interjected. “You don’t want to be driving in the mountains after dark. Come on, Bobbie. Your mother knows best.” They all headed toward the car, where Ralph struggled to load their luggage into the trunk.

“I think that shopping trip may have exceeded the trunk’s capacity. But I made it all fit. It’s wedged in pretty good,” he said with a laugh.

“Where’s Bur Bear and Mr. George the Duck?” Bobbie shrieked.

“I put them in the back seat, with the menagerie of all your other friends,” Ralph assured her.

“Well, it’s time for goodbyes,” Mary announced. “Come here, honey, let me give you a big hug.” She wrapped her arms around Bobbie and gave her a hug that most likely would have to last for some time. “Mmm. Grandma and Grandpa love you, honey,” she whispered as she squeezed. “And Maggie, don’t stay away so long,” as she hugged her tightly as well.

“Off you go,” announced Ralph as he gave both a hearty hug before sending them on their way. As Maggie pulled out of the 60

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driveway, they waved at the Schmitzes, and she breathed a sigh of relief. All things considered, their time there was well spent. *** Once on the road, as they traveled along U.S. Route 50 East through Ohio, Maggie’s thoughts shifted back toward her new job. What had she gotten herself into? Bobbie played in the rear seat with her toy friends when the all too familiar quack could be heard as she hand-rolled Mr. George the Duck across the seat.

Quack, quack, quack, quack, it sounded. Maggie cringed at the sound of each quack.

“Bobbie, do you think you could play with something else while we’re driving? The quack—” “But Mr. George is happy to be with us,” Bobbie interrupted.

Maggie simply sighed. Thanks, George, she thought. She’d be sure to let him know later how challenging it was to have a quacking toy duck on board with a three-year-old.

Miles into their trip, Maggie continued to ponder her new job, one she wasn’t familiar with, in an area she knew very little about, when her thoughts were interrupted.

“When are we stopping for lunch? I’m getting hungry,” Bobbie asked.

“After the whole stack of pancakes you ate at Grandma Schmitz’s, you’re hungry? You must have a hollow leg,” Maggie teased.

“Yeah, a hollow leg,” Bobbie repeated. “Mr. George the Duck, did you hear that? I’ve got a hollow leg.”

Maggie spoke. “Bobbie, we got up pretty early. Why don’t you see if you can take a little nap?

“Okay,” she answered as she rubbed her eyes. “Bur Bear and Mr. George, we have to take a nap now. Close your eyes,” she instructed.

Bobbie woke an hour later. Are we almost there yet?” Bobbie asked as she peeked out the window.

“Sorry, honey. We’ve got a few more hours until we get to stop for the night. Play with your little friends back there.”

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“Okay.”

With autumn beginning in a few days, the temperature in the car was much more comfortable, even chilly at times when they were on the shady side of a mountain, providing some relief.

After stopping for gas and a restroom break, they finally arrived at Capon Bridge near dusk. As they entered the town, they saw a sign: Welcome to Capon Bridge – Pop. 251. I didn’t realize this town was so small when I looked it up on the map. I hope we can find a place to stay. I don’t want to be on the road after dark, Maggie thought. Fortunately, a small motel came into view since they were on U.S. 50, a well-traveled route.

“Let’s stop here, Bobbie, and see if they have a room for us.”

The clerk rented them a room for the night, and they were off to the local restaurant for dinner. After a quiet meal, they returned to their room, where Bobbie eagerly hopped into another “big girl” bed after she and Maggie washed up and said night prayers.

“Mommy, will we be there tomorrow?” she asked.

“I don’t know, honey. We’ll try, but we’ll be driving through some busy areas, and we may get slowed down a bit, but I hope so.”

“Okay,” Bobbie replied slowly as her eyes closed for the night, holding tightly to Bur Bear. Maggie lay in bed, continuing to wonder what Beverly, Massachusetts, had in store for her. With more unanswered questions than answered ones, she also quickly fell asleep.

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12 The following morning they again rose bright and early, eager to get moving for what they hoped would be their last day on the road.

“Bobbie, you’ve seen a lot of new things on this trip: flatlands, prairies, farms, hills, valleys, and mountains. But what you’re going to see today are things you’ve only seen in picture books, probably while you sat on Grandpa’s lap back home. Not only big cities with giant buildings but also the ocean, bigger than you could ever have imagined. It will be exciting for you and for me to see it with you.”

“Okay,” Bobbie replied as she arranged her toy companions on the rear seat. “Did you hear that Bur Bear and Mr. George?

We’re going to see the ocean! Let’s go!” she squealed as Maggie pulled the car out onto the highway, and they headed east.

Maggie’s map told her the next big city they would encounter was Baltimore, more than two hours away. “In a few hours, we will be in Baltimore, Bobbie. There’s a lot of history there.”

“What’s history?” Bobbie asked.

Maggie grinned at her query. “Well, at your age, I suppose history is maybe what Santa Claus brought you last Christmas.”

“We’re going to see Santa Claus in Baltimore?”

“No, we’ll go see Santa Claus at Christmastime,” Maggie replied, regretting her reference to the big jolly red elf.

“In Baltimore?” Bobbie continued.

“Why don’t you play with your toys for a while. Okay?”

“Okay,” she replied as Maggie breathed a sigh of relief.

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In the first hour of their drive, they crossed the border into Maryland. “We’re in Maryland, Bobbie,” Maggie reported. “Next stop is Baltimore.”

“Where Santa Claus is?” Bobbie asked. Maggie decided no response would be the best.

“Why don’t you see if you can take a little nap, honey. It’s going to be a long day,” Maggie suggested again.

“Okay,” Bobbie replied as she gathered Bur Bear and Mr. George, who yielded only one quack as she pulled him near.

Maggie continued on, now more focused on getting to Massachusetts by her reporting date of Sunday, September 22nd, than on what would greet them once they arrived. Before long, the tall buildings of downtown Baltimore came into view. Maggie decided not to wake Bobbie lest there be more conversation about Santa Claus. Maggie connected with U.S. 40 and followed it to the northeast toward Philadelphia, which she hoped to reach in another two hours.

After several miles, U.S. 40 changed to U.S. 13, leading them to Darby, a small Quaker town outside of Philadelphia, where Maggie decided to stop for lunch and gas. “Bobbie, are you tired of riding in this car all day like me? Want to get some lunch?”

“Can I get a Coke?” Bobbie teased again.

“You know better than to ask that question, little girl,” Maggie winced as she helped her from the back seat of the car. The diner was bustling at noontime with some travelers and what looked to be local farmers and townspeople. As they entered, a waitress signaled to them to find a seat as she was busy serving another table.

“Be with you in a minute, honey. It’s crazy around here right now. Make yourself at home, and I’ll be right with you,” she said.

They sat down as Bobbie immediately became interested in the jukebox music selector on the table.

“You can look, but we’re not going to play anything,” Maggie instructed. “It’s already too noisy in here.” Bobbie immediately lost interest. The waitress took their order, and they ate quickly.

Within a half-hour, they were headed out the door toward their car. “Let me get some gas next door, and we’ll be on our way,” 64

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Maggie said as she boosted Bobbie back into the rear seat. They were back on the road headed toward New York a few minutes later, a couple of hours away.

“Looks a lot different here than at home, doesn’t it, Bobbie?”

Maggie remarked as she observed the landscape.

It was mid-afternoon, and Maggie attempted to coax Bobbie into another nap. “Bobbie, we’ve got a long way to go. Why don’t you lie down and take a little nap, honey.”

“But I’m not sleepy,” she challenged.

“Then just lie down and rest,” Maggie compromised, anticipating a favorable outcome. “You want to be wide awake when we get to the ocean,” she coaxed.

“Okay. Bur Bear and Mr. George, let’s lie down to rest.” Within minutes she was asleep, to Maggie’s relief.

She continued on U.S.13 until it merged with U.S.1, which she intended to follow along the eastern seaboard up to Massachusetts. She was eager to get through New York City, which she knew would be congested compared to anywhere else they had traveled. In two and a half hours since lunch, they crossed the Hudson River into New York City.

“Wake up, Bobbie. Look outside. Look at everything. It’s hard to imagine.” Bobbie raised up in her seat without responding as she observed the landscape. “It’s really something, isn’t it?”

Maggie continued. “Tall buildings, people everywhere, water all around.”

“Uh-huh,” was Bobbie’s reply as her pigtails bobbed about as she swiveled her head around to see one new sight after another.

“This is where Santa Claus should live.” Maggie simply smiled at Bobbie’s suggestion.

They continued on through the city, traveled along Long Island Sound until they crossed over the border into Connecticut, and stopped at Greenwich. “Bobbie, I need to stop. Let’s find a filling station and gas up and relax for a minute.” They both got out of the car and walked around as the attendant filled their tank.

“Long day today?” he asked with a smile, noticing their outof-town plates.

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“Yes, and it’s not over yet,” Maggie acknowledged.

“Where are you headed?”

“Massachusetts. Beverly.” Maggie paid him and added a modest tip.

“Good luck,” the attendant replied with a nod and a smile as he headed back into the station.

“That man was nice,” Bobbie said as Maggie helped her back into the car. “I like him.”

Not long after being back on the road, Maggie spoke. “Bobbie, look out your window. You can see the ocean.” Bobbie’s eyes lit up seeing an ocean for the first time. “It’s the Atlantic Ocean. It sure is big, isn’t it?”

Bobbie held up Bur Bear and Mr. George to see. “Look, it’s the Atwantic Ocean. It’s really big,” she repeated. “They like it.”

“I’m glad,” Maggie replied, “because they’re going to be seeing it every day in Massachusetts,” she quipped.

Maggie continued along U.S. 1 toward Massachusetts. She anticipated it would take nearly four to five hours to get to Boston because of delays around New York City, and she wondered whether they would make it to Beverly that night. Nevertheless, she decided to keep plodding along, hoping to get as close as she could before stopping for the night.

The New England landscape was in stark contrast to what they typically experienced in the Midwest. “Oh! Look at those big rocks!” Bobbie exclaimed. “They’re as big as Grandma and Grandpa’s house!” she exclaimed as she spread her arms as wide as she could.

“Well, maybe not that big, but bigger than anything we usually see,” Maggie replied.

After a two-hour ride from Greenwich, they crossed the Rhode Island border at Westerly. “Now we’re in Rhode Island,” Maggie announced. “Cross off another state on this trip,” she added with a finger swish, for which Bobbie’s only response was that she was hungry. “Can you wait another hour?” Maggie asked.

“We can get to Providence by then, and we can stop to eat.”

“Okay,” she replied with a frown. Maggie could tell she was tiring from the day’s travels, as was she. In the meantime, they 66

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encountered a shower as they drove, which added to Maggie’s driving fatigue but provided entertainment for Bobbie. As the rain pelted the car, Maggie looked in the rearview mirror for Bobbie’s reaction to the shower. She was bouncing her head from side to side and waving her hands in time with the windshield wipers as they performed their monotonous duty of clearing the water from the windshield one swipe at a time.

“What are you doing, Bobbie?” Maggie laughed.

“I’m waving back at those sticks,” she replied, pointing to the wipers. “Bur Bear and Mr. George are too.”

What an imagination she has, Maggie thought. She enjoys every part of life. The shower finally passed, and as promised, less than an hour later, they rolled into Providence.

“Okay, we’re in Providence,” Maggie announced gleefully, hoping to buoy Bobbie’s spirits. “Let’s go find a nice place to eat.”

They located a restaurant on Broad Street and were again greeted by a friendly waitress as they entered.

They ordered and quickly ate.“Bobbie, we need to get moving.

We’ll never get there at this pace.”

They returned to their car, got some gas, and were shortly on the road to Boston. They soon crossed into Massachusetts.

Not long after, Bobbie began to complain that she was tired and wanted to stop. “How much farther?” she whined.

“I know. I’m tired too. Maybe we should stop soon for the night, get a good night’s rest, and drive into Beverly tomorrow.”

She drove another couple of miles and saw a road sign, Wrentham, 3 Miles. “That sounds like a place we can find a room for the night,” Maggie stated as she turned off of U.S. 1 and headed onto East Street, which she followed into Wrentham, where it ended at the intersection of South and Dedham Streets.

She turned left onto South Street and began looking for a place to stay. Not far down, she spotted a beautiful, typical New England white clapboard boarding house with a large front porch with a vacancy sign hanging on a post near the curb.

“Let’s stop here and see if we can get a room for the night,” Maggie said. They entered and were greeted by a cheery, attractive middle-aged woman.

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“Welcome. I’m Mrs. Allan. How can I help you?”

“We’re looking for a room for the night.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. I can tell you’re not from here based on your accent,” Mrs. Allan teased.

“You’re right. We’re from South Dakota.”

“Oh, wow. I can’t say as we’ve had anybody stay here from South Dakota, but who’s to know?” she responded with a grin.

“Let me show you a room I have available,” as she led them down a hall. “Here it is. Only one bed, though, so you’ll have to share, but clean sheets, hot water, and breakfast in the morning. Can’t beat it.”

“Sounds good,” Maggie replied. “We’ll go get our things from the car.”

They both settled in and retired early for the evening. “Can you be a good bedfellow and keep from kicking me in the back all night?” Maggie teased as she kissed her daughter goodnight.

Early the following morning, they rose eagerly to be on their way. “I can smell breakfast cooking,” Maggie reported. “It smells good. Let’s pack up the car and be ready to leave when we’ve finished eating.”

They entered the dining room, where Mrs. Allan was serving two other guests. “Welcome,” she greeted when she saw them.

“Sit down, and I’ll be right with you.” They found their seats and greeted the other two guests. Mrs. Allan returned shortly with a platter of food. “Here you go. We have ham and eggs, johnnycakes, and plenty of maple syrup. And oh yes, my favorite—cranberries.

Help yourself.”

Bobbie stared at the platter as Maggie filled their plates.

“Look, Bobbie, these johnnycakes are like little pancakes. Just your size. You’ll like them. Let’s dig in,” Maggie coaxed as she took a mouthful herself. “Mrs. Allan is some cook!” Bobbie sampled her plate of food and was shortly enjoying it as Maggie hoped she would. Mrs. Allan soon joined them at the table.

“What brings you here from South Dakota, if I may ask?”

“We’re headed to Beverly. I’m taking a job there as a lighthouse keeper.” Mrs. Allan hesitated as she absorbed Maggie’s response.

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“Really? That’s interesting. Good for you. The area up that way is beautiful. You should enjoy the scenery. Where were you stationed before?”

“I wasn’t,” Maggie replied. “This is my first one.” Not knowing how to respond, Mrs. Allan immediately shifted the conversation to Bobbie without showing any reaction to Maggie’s response.

“So, honey, how do you like your johnnycakes?”

“Good,” was all Bobbie could manage between bites and slurps of maple syrup.

“Bobbie, don’t wipe your mouth on your sleeve, honey,” Maggie whispered.

“If you like my breakfast so much, you ought to drive down here sometime and have breakfast with me. It’s not that far. There’s always room for friends at my table,” Mrs. Allan encouraged with a genuine smile.

“It is wonderful,” Maggie agreed. “Down in horse country in Kentucky, they’d say, ‘you really know how to put on the feed bag.’”

“That’s funny,” Mrs. Allan chuckled. “I’ll have to use that line sometime.”

“I don’t like to eat and run, but we need to get moving, ma’am.

Thank you so much for your fine hospitality. Your little town of Wrentham seems very warm and inviting, and your place here is beautiful.”

“Thank you. It’s been in our family for generations. You’re always welcome here. Come back sometime when you can stay a few days. We love our little town.”

“I hope Beverly is as hospitable,” Maggie replied.

“I’m sure it is,” she assured. “New Englanders are a proud bunch and can seem a little stand-offish, but they have kind hearts. Do be careful at your lighthouse. Come back and see me, honey. I’ll fix something special for you,” she said as she hugged Bobbie as she rose from the table.

Maggie and Bobbie walked out to their car and looked around. “I like this place,” Bobbie said as she hopped into the rear seat of their car.

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“It is nice, isn’t it?” Maggie agreed as they moved up South Street, turned right onto Common Street, and headed out East Street to U.S. 1. After a little more than an hour, they arrived in Boston.

“More big buildings and lots of people, Bobbie,” Maggie pointed out.

“Uh-huh,” Bobbie replied as she held up Bur Bear and Mr. George to see.

As they moved through and out of Boston, Maggie felt a nervous knot in her stomach. She knew that in a little more than an hour, their travels would be over, and life in Beverly, Massachusetts, would begin—a new era.

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13 The final stretch to Beverly passed through Salem. As they approached, Maggie heard a thump, thump, thump sound.

“What is that thump, thump, thump?” Bobbie asked.

“It sounds like a flat tire. Let me get out to look,” Maggie replied as she pulled to the side of the road. She saw it was the right rear tire which must have picked up a nail or something sharp. “Yep, it’s flat,” she groaned. “I’ll have to change it. You’ll have to get out, honey, while I do it.” Maggie helped Bobbie from the rear seat and began to unload their belongings from the trunk so she could retrieve the spare tire and the bumper jack. I hate this part, she mumbled to herself.

Fortunately, having two brothers who operated a garage, she knew how to change a tire and had completed the job within minutes. As she was putting the final twists on the lug nuts, a Salem police car pulled up.

“Looks like you got your hands full there, ma’am. Need any help?” the officer inquired.

“No, I’m just about finished. I have to get all of our stuff loaded back in the trunk,” Maggie replied as she lifted the tire into the spot where the spare had rested. “Thank you for stopping, though.”

“Where are you headed?” the policeman asked.

“Beverly.”

“Well, you’re almost there. Just keep going straight and over the bridge, and you can’t miss it. But be careful. We’ve had some reports of some seedy-looking characters in the area recently.

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We always attract tourists to see the leaves turn at this time of year and curiosity-seekers all year round in Salem, what with the witch history and all, but this is different. I heard they’ve been spending some time in Beverly, too. They get their share of treasure hunters over there looking for fortunes that sank in ships in the bay over time.”

“Thank you, officer. We’ll be careful.”

“Thump, thump, thump,” Bobbie interjected.

“Is that what it sounded like, young lady?” the officer commented with a smile. “Let me help you get your luggage back in the trunk. It looks like you’ll be staying for a while.”

“We are. I’m the new lighthouse keeper at the Hospital Point Range Front Lighthouse.”

“Well, I’ll be. I did hear Carl was moving on. Good luck to you, ma’am. And good luck to you too, young lady,” he said as he pointed to Bobbie.

“Thump, thump, thump,” she replied with a giggle.

“Thank you again, officer, for stopping. I appreciate it,” Maggie said as he returned to his car and pulled onto the road.

He gave a slight siren whir for Bobbie’s benefit.

“I like that man,” Bobbie said.

“You like everybody, but a policeman is a good person to like,” Maggie replied. They continued on their way and, within minutes, were in Beverly’s central business district.

“This is a pretty little town, isn’t it, Bobbie? Let’s look around and see if we can find a place to eat lunch and to stay tonight.”

It was Saturday, September 21st, and Maggie wasn’t due to report for duty until the following day. They rolled slowly down Cabot Street and stopped at McGuffey’s Inn and Tavern. “This looks like a nice place. Let’s have a look.”

“Okay,” Bobbie replied, eager to get out of the car. They entered the tavern, and Maggie looked about to decide if it was suitable for lunch with a child. A barmaid waved them in.

“Here for lunch?” she asked.

“Yes,” Maggie replied with a polite nod.

“Sit where ya like. I’ll be right with you.” They sat down, and Bobbie made eye contact and smiled at three elderly gentlemen sitting nearby.

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“How are you, young lady?” one of them greeted her with a typical Eastern New England accent. Maggie turned toward them after she heard the greeting and smiled. “She’s a cute one.

You must be proud,” he commented as he nodded in Bobbie’s direction.

“Thank you. She is a handful, though.”

“I’ll bet she is,” the man said, laughing. “We all were at that age.” The waitress came by and took their order, and in a following quiet moment, one of the other men spoke. “We haven’t seen you here before. Ya new in town?”

“Yes, we just arrived this morning. I’m the new lighthouse keeper,” Maggie replied. “I start on the job tomorrow.”

“So you’re the new wickie, huh?”

“The what?” Maggie asked.

“The wickie. The one who trims the wicks on the light.”

“Oh yeah, the wickie.”

“Then she must be your beacon brat?” he asked, pointing to Bobbie.

“Oh, I suppose she is,” Maggie replied, not having heard either the wickie or beacon brat terms before.

“That’s something—a lady lighthouse keeper. We’ve never had a lady keeper, especially a looker like you,” another man spoke. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Shut up, Clyde!” one of the other men shouted in a thick New England brogue. “Pay him no mind, ma’am. He’s harmless if you know what I mean. Pardon our manners. I’m Patrick, and this is Robert, and well, you’ve met Clyde. What’s your name?”

“I’m Maggie, and this is my daughter, Bobbie.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Maggie,” as they all rose in polite acknowledgment.

“No offense, but we’re surprised to see a woman as the new keeper. We’ve always had a man on the job as far back as we can remember. We knew Carl was reassigned, but we just thought the job would go to a GI returning from the war, jobs being as dear as they are,” Patrick commented. “How did you come to get the job?”

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Maggie glanced purposefully over at Bobbie and looked back at the men and mouthed in a low voice, war widow. “I applied for it and went through the training and got the job.” The men nodded their understanding.

“Whereabouts you from, anyway?” Robert asked.

“We’re from South Dakota.”

“Oh, flatlanders,” Robert declared.

“South Dakota?” Clyde chimed in. “Why they ain’t even got a body of water out there, do they, much less a lighthouse. Why the closest thing they got to a lighthouse is probably a flashing neon motel sign,” Clyde joked, which brought laughter to the men and a smile to Maggie’s face.

“I’ve got two brothers,” Maggie replied, “who both know how to dish it out. If you boys want to get under my skin, you’d better come up with something better than that,” she deadpanned with a brow wrinkle.

“Clyde, enough!” Patrick ordered. “We should be welcoming her here, not pokin’ fun at her like that, especially in front of her youngin’. Lord knows she’s a lot easier on the eyes than Carl.”

“You’re right about that,” Robert added, with Clyde nodding in agreement.

“What about you?” Maggie asked. “Are you all from the area?”

“Oh yeah,” Robert answered. “We’re townies. Been here our whole life. Mostly fishermen by trade. Some of us were better at it than others,” he snickered as he pointed at Clyde, who showed little reaction to his joke, having heard it hundreds of times before.

“You’re like a broken record, Robert,” Clyde replied. “You need some new material.”

“Maybe so, but at least Patrick and me could fill our nets with fish while you’d be sittin’ there waitin’ for the Almighty Lord to come down and show you how to get your nets untangled!”

Robert countered with a howl.

“Aw, shut up!” Clyde barked, much to Robert’s and Patrick’s delight.

The waitress came over with their lunch orders and placed them on the table. “Are you wrestling with these old coots, Miss?

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They’re harmless, which you’ve probably figured out by now.

Don’t pay them no mind.” Maggie and Bobbie ate their lunch, and when finished, Maggie turned her attention back to the gregarious trio.

“So you’re regulars here?”

“If we aren’t here, we’re usually sittin’ out front next door at Marker’s General Store keepin’ order. We don’t stray far,” Patrick replied, which prompted another round of agreeing nods and laughter.

“Yeah, that’s it, keepin’ order,” Clyde said.

“Maggie, if Carl will be training you, you’ve got one of the best. He’s a lifer for sure. It’s all he’s ever done. He has some great stories about calamities he’s witnessed over the years and people he’s saved,” Robert offered. “He’s a good man.”

“It sounds like I’ll have some big shoes to fill,” Maggie replied.

The waitress returned with their check, and Maggie and Bobbie stood to leave.

“By the way, guys, it was nice to make your acquaintance. Do you know of a good place for us to stay for the night?”

“Across the street, there’s a boarding house. Tell Martha we sent ya,” Patrick replied. “She’ll make room for ya for the night.”

“Thank you,” Maggie replied. “Oh, by the way, I got a flat this morning on the way in. Do you know a garage where I can get it fixed?”

Patrick and Robert both laughed. “Clyde runs the only garage in town, just around the corner. I’m sure he’ll be glad to fix you up and impart some more of his knowledge on you.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Maggie replied with a roll of her eyes. “Just wonderful.” *** As they left the tavern, Maggie decided to stroll around town to get a better feel for the area. She could tell that little New England towns were quite different from those in South Dakota.

There are many cultural differences, and history oozes from their pores. She wanted to learn as much as she could about the area, not only to fit in but to enjoy its heritage.

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“I like this town,” Bobbie said.

“It is nice,” Maggie replied. “Let’s hope it likes us.”

They arrived immediately at the general store Patrick mentioned. Rocking chairs sat out front, where the trio no doubt hung out. Maggie and Bobbie walked through the door and hesitated, looking around.

“Like ours at home,” Bobbie observed.

“Pretty much,” Maggie agreed, “except we had more farming supplies, and they have fishing supplies.”

A clerk spotted them and spoke from behind the counter.

“Can I help you find something?”

“No. We’re new in town and just wanted to stop in and see your store. It’s stocked very well. I’m sure we’ll be back later to buy,” Maggie replied with a smile.

“Have a look around. You may find something that strikes your fancy,” the clerk replied. They moved through the store, noting various items, and returned to the street. A fish market sat next to the general store.

“I don’t want to go in there,” Bobbie said emphatically, holding her nose as they stopped to have a look.

“Okay, not now. But we’ll be eating a lot more fish here than the meat we did back home, so you’ll have to get used to the smell of the fish market.” Bobbie shook her head, no, to Maggie’s statement.

As they strolled down the street, they noticed a small shop with some handcrafted goods visible through a window. A Native American man sat out front in a rocking chair, moving his whittling knife across a piece of wood with the skill of a surgeon.

Bobbie tugged on Maggie’s hand to slow her down to watch the man skillfully work on carving the piece of wood into an art object. The man stopped and smiled as they approached.

“Come on, Bobbie, he’s busy. We don’t want to bother him,” Maggie pulled her away as he smiled and nodded in greeting.

“He looks like a nice man. Can we come back to visit him?”

Bobbie asked.

“Okay, when we have time. Let’s keep moving,” Maggie replied as she pulled her by the hand.

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Maggie decided to check on Martha’s boarding house to ensure she had a room for them for the night, not wanting to leave it to chance.

“Hello, Martha,” Maggie greeted. “Patrick and Robert and Clyde told me you may have a room we could rent for the night.”

Martha snickered. “So you’ve made acquaintance with those three? What a cast of characters. We do have a room you can have for the night. Breakfast is served beginning at 6:00 a.m.”

Having booked the room for the night, Maggie decided to take a ride out to the lighthouse just to look around. The first thing was to have her tire repaired so she’d have a spare. She looked up Clyde’s garage, and he happened to be there when she arrived. “Take care of this lady’s flat, boys,” he shouted to his helpers over the din of the garage’s activities. After the repair, Maggie asked how much it cost, and he replied with a wry smile, “Nothing. It’s our privilege to serve our new lighthouse keeper, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Clyde. Which direction is the lighthouse?”

“It’s that way,” pointing a finger. “It’s at the end of Bayview Avenue.”

“Thank you,” she replied, and she and Bobbie were off to sneak a peek at their new home and Maggie’s new workplace. In a few minutes and after some wrong turns, they finally found Bayview Avenue and proceeded down it to the water’s edge where the lighthouse and the lightkeeper’s residence were located. Maggie could feel her heart pounding with apprehension and excitement as they approached.

“Well, here it is, Bobbie. A Lighthouse.”

“It sure is big,” Bobbie said. “Where’s the light?

“It only shines at night,” Maggie replied.

“Okay. Can we get out?”

“Let’s just sit here, honey. Maggie replied. “We’ll be back tomorrow for good.”

The area around the lighthouse and residence couldn’t have been more beautiful. Unlike many other lighthouses, which are often in flat isolated spots surrounded by water, this one had stunning views of nearby hills and islands and many waterways and inlets.

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After a few minutes of admiring the setting, they headed back to the boarding house as it was getting late in the day. “We need to rest up. We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Bobbie replied.

They went straight to their room at the boarding house and flopped on the bed. “This leg of the trip took a lot more out of me than the first leg,” Maggie announced.

“You just rest now, Mommy,” as Bobbie rubbed her mother’s face as Maggie would hers when trying to coax her to sleep. It worked, and they both drifted off for a nap.

An hour later, Maggie stirred, which woke Bobbie. “We should get up, or we won’t be able to sleep tonight,” Maggie said as she rolled Bobbie over. “Let’s wash up and go out for dinner.”

“Okay,” Bobbie agreed. They headed down Cabot Street to find a quiet restaurant when they left. There were many of them, and they found one to their liking and entered.

As they sat waiting for their food, Maggie commented.

“Bobbie, this may be the last time you have dinner in a restaurant for a while. We’ll be eating at our home by the lighthouse mostly from now on.”

“Like when we lived with Grandma and Grandpa,” she replied.

“Yes. Like that.”

“How will Santa Claus find me here?” Bobbie asked from out of nowhere.

Her question surprised Maggie, given it was September, but she replied. “Santa Claus always knows where you are the same way he knows if you’ve been naughty or nice.”

“Okay,” Bobbie replied, seeming convinced.

“Besides, there was a whole family of kids living at the lighthouse, and he may deliver all their toys there if he goofs up.”

Bobbie’s eyes brightened at the prospect, and their conversation ended as their dinner arrived. When they finished, they strolled back to the boarding house as no shops were open to visit on a Saturday night.

There, Maggie put Bobbie down for the night. “After you’re asleep, I have to go out in the hall to the payphone to call Grandma 78

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and Grandpa and the Schmitzes to tell them we got here okay. I’ll leave the door cracked so you can see me if you wake up.”

After Bobbie dozed off, Maggie headed to the hall, dropped some coins in the payphone, and dialed the operator who connected her to her parents’ phone. “Hello? Mom. It’s Maggie.

We’re here in Beverly. Yes, we’re both doing fine,” she replied.

“We’ll be moving into the lighthouse residence tomorrow. Yes, I’m excited and nervous, too. Got to go. Bobbie’s in our room by herself. I’ll write to you when I can. Love you. Bye.” She then called the Schmitzes, who were also happy to hear they had arrived safely. After the calls, Maggie returned to their room and got ready for bed, knowing she most likely wouldn’t sleep well that night, anticipating what she would face the following day.

They rose early the following morning and ate breakfast in the boarding house dining room before packing their car. They headed out on a short walk on Cabot Street to attend Sunday Mass at St. Mary, Star of the Sea Church. There Maggie bowed her head, praying for the courage to perform her new duties as a lighthouse keeper. While initially, she felt this new job would allow her to begin a new life and escape much of the dread of losing her husband, the reality that she knew very little about lighthouse keeping began to overwhelm her.

While she knew she would never abandon her responsibilities and not report for duty, the thought of driving back to Sturgis and reassessing her options seemed appealing, if only for a moment. Her thoughts were interrupted by a whisper from Bobbie. “Whose pictures are those, way up on the ceiling?” as she pointed upward.

“Those are Jesus and the angels,” Maggie whispered. “Be quiet. You’re not supposed to talk in church.”

“Okay. But they must have had a big ladder to climb all—” “Shhh, be quiet,” Maggie reminded her as some of the old biddies there shot a disapproving glare in their direction.

After Mass, they walked out to the street where some church members had gathered to greet each other. One of the women noticed them and spoke. “Hello there. Are you new to the parish?

I don’t recall having seen you here before.”

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“Yes. I’m the new lighthouse keeper. This Mass is our first time here,” Maggie replied with a smile. “You have a beautiful church.”

“Thank you,” the woman replied. “Will your husband be joining you in the future?”

“No. I’m a widow,” Maggie replied as she began to walk away with Bobbie in tow.

“I see,” the woman replied, who turned back to the others to continue their conversation.

As they walked back down Cabot Street, Bobbie asked, “What’s a husband?”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Maggie replied. “Let’s stop here for lunch before we head out to the lighthouse.” They entered McGuffey’s Tavern and saw Patrick, Robert, and Clyde sitting in the same places they were the previous day.

“Couldn’t get enough of us yesterday?” Clyde cracked as Maggie and Bobbie sat at a nearby table.

“Just grabbing a quick lunch before reporting to the lighthouse. Funny, I didn’t see you in church this morning,” she needled.

“They won’t let me sing in the choir,” Clyde deadpanned. “I’m waiting for them to come to their senses.”

“But you can’t sing, Clyde,” Patrick interjected.

“They don’t know that!” Clyde barked back.

Maggie ordered lunch, and as they waited, Patrick spoke up.

“Maggie, so you’re checking in at the lighthouse today. I hope we see you around here afterward. We don’t see much of Carl. It’s a busy job. There are lots of stories about that old lighthouse. It’s been here forever. It’s hard to know what’s true or not. Stories say some old Civil War gold is buried on the site. Don’t know if there’s much truth to that or not. Ain’t never seen anybody doing a gold jig down Main Street,” which drew a hearty laugh from the others.

“Rumor is that three culprits showed up one day lookin’ for the treasure, but only two left. Some say it’s haunted by the third guy who roams around still lookin’ for the gold. They say they never found a body, but some say it’s buried up there 80

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somewhere. Who knows? Maybe he’ll show up and have a pint with ya sometime,” which drew another hearty laugh from his two comrades.

“And how ’bout them Salem witches?” Clyde continued. “I heard they’re still gallivantin’ around here at night, especially down by the bay. Ain’t none of them ever showed up here for a drink, though,” he snickered. “And there’s got to be some spooks wanderin’ around that died in the smallpox hospital that was on Hospital Point there, don’t ya think? You may have more company out there than you realize,” he remarked with a teasing smile.

“Now, hush, boys,” Robert directed. “You’ll be scarin’ the youngun now.”

“Oh, sorry, Maggie. We should be on better behavior,” Patrick pleaded.

“What’s a Salem witch?” Bobbie asked. At that moment, their food arrived at the table, which saved Maggie from replying to her inquiry. They ate and prepared to leave.

“Good luck, Maggie,” Patrick offered, with the other two both nodding in agreement.

“Thank you,” Maggie replied. “Believe it or not, you’re my first friends in town. A girl should be so lucky,” which brought smiles to the threesome, who were anticipating a playful jab of some sort from her. Maggie and Bobbie walked back to their car and drove off toward the lighthouse.

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14 Maggie and Bobbie followed the route down Bayview Ave. and arrived shortly. “Well, here we are,” Maggie said, holding onto the steering wheel with a death grip.

“Are we getting out this time?” Bobbie posed.

“Of course we are. I just need a minute.” At that moment, Mr. Carl Hill, the lighthouse keeper, appeared at the residence door.

He stepped out, anticipating their arrival, and walked out toward their car. They got out to greet him. He spoke first.

“Hello, I’m Carl Hill, as you must know,” he announced as he offered his hand to Maggie. His white hair trumpeted his age and his wizened face the years he’d spent in the salty sea air throughout his career.

“And I’m Maggie Schmitz, and this is my daughter, Bobbie.

We’re pleased to meet you, Sir.” “Welcome to Hospital Point Range Front Lighthouse. I was hoping you’d report today. Come inside,” he invited.

They followed him into a two-story Queen Anne Revival home. With a decorative porch, the outside presented a more striking appearance than the inside, which was clean and neat but relatively spartan, not unusual given its ordinary occupants over time.

“Have a seat. Would you like some tea?” Carl offered. “I’ve got some water boiling for a cup myself. And I’ll bet I can come up with a cup of milk and a cookie for Bobbie.”

“Thank you,” Maggie replied. “We don’t want to be an inconvenience.”

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Carl reappeared with the refreshments and sat down with them. “So tell me something about yourselves. Where are you from?”

“We’re from South Dakota-Sturgis.”

“South Dakota? You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?

Where have you been stationed before?”

“I haven’t. This is my first assignment,” which prompted a wrinkled look across his brow.

“Your first assignment? Hmm. That’s unusual. One usually serves as an assistant before getting the head keeper’s job. That’s asking a lot from a beginner, especially on a busy waterway like this one,” Carl remarked between sips of his tea. Maggie gripped the arms on her chair so tightly she feared she’d leave fingernail imprints behind.

He noted her tension and attempted to calm her. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you ready. When will your husband be here?”

Maggie now felt like she was going to throw up.

“I’m not married. I’m a widow.”

“Oh really? You’ll have your hands full tending to the light and your young daughter. And since you don’t have a husband staying with you, I won’t be able to stay here with you by myself.

I’ll have to stay in town.”

“Where is your family?” Maggie asked. “I thought they were here with you.”

“They were. My wife and children went on to my next assignment. I join them in a week.”

“A week?” Maggie asked. “When is my assistant supposed to be here?”

“I don’t know when she’s scheduled to arrive. This is all pretty confusing. But you’ve got a lot to learn in a week. Hopefully, your assistant will have some experience.”

Maggie could feel the pound of her heart again. For all the time she spent wondering whether she would perform in a lighthouse keeper’s job, she didn’t anticipate the circumstances as they were playing out. Take a deep breath, she thought. Bobbie played with Bur Bear, oblivious to the challenges unfolding in her mother’s life.

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Sensing Maggie’s tension and knowing he needed her in a proper frame of mind to perform her duties, Carl offered, “Let me show you the tower. It’s beautiful up there, especially this time of year when the leaves are turning.”

“Okay,” Maggie replied. “Come on, Bobbie. Mr. Hill is going to show us the tower.”

“Can I bring Bur Bear?”

“Sure, but hold onto him tight. We don’t want him to fall.”

Carl led them up the light tower, only steps from the building.

It was a square forty-five-foot tall, brick, pyramid-type tower painted white and topped with a ten-sided lantern room. They climbed the stairs to the top, opened the door, and walked out onto the catwalk that surrounded the tower’s top.

“Ah, smell the sea air. Nothing like it,” Carl commented as he enjoyed the swirl of the breeze across his face. “And all those fall colors—nature’s tapestry. Look over there at that turn-of-thecentury schooner,” he said with excitement as he pointed down toward the boats docked in the harbor. “Think about the places it’s been in its life, the people it’s carried—the stories it could tell.

The oceans are the highways of the world!”

He glanced over at Maggie, who squeezed Bobbie’s hand with one hand and had a death grip on the railing.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever been up this high before,” Maggie replied with a gulp.

“Nothing this high in Sturgis, huh?”

“Maybe the bell tower on our church, but nothing I’ve ever been on.”

“You’ll get used to it,” Carl said. “Let me tell you what you see from here and the role of this light. Its primary purpose is to guide ships through Salem Sound and in coordination with other surrounding lights, into Salem and Beverly Harbors. If any of the lights aren’t functioning properly, disaster can occur. That’s how important they all are.” Maggie stood mesmerized by the view, understanding the importance of this light as well as the surrounding beacons.

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“You can see the various coves surrounding us on three sides. Obviously, the most prominent feature is water. However, the water doesn’t present the primary danger. It’s the rocks that do the damage, and they’re everywhere in this locale. They can tear out the bottom of a boat like a hot knife through butter. I’ve seen boats go down in minutes when they’ve rammed shoreline rocks. Not much you can do when it happens. Pray for survivors is about it.”

“When you mix the rocks with wind and rain and snow and ice and darkness, you have a bonafide recipe for disaster,” he continued. “Our primary job is to keep this light lit and the boats off the rocks. As far as the other factors, that’s for the experienced mariners to deal with. We can only control this light. If we do our part, and they do their part, everyone survives.” He turned and looked directly at Maggie, and his steely blue eyes nearly burned a hole through her. “Got it?”

“Got it, Sir,” Maggie replied.

“Okay, let’s get down from here and move your belongings into the house. I’ll stay in town and come back and tend to the light tonight, and your training will begin tomorrow morning, bright and early. Okay?”

“Yes, Sir,” Maggie replied as the three marched back down the steps and into the residence. Once there, he spoke with Maggie about his schedule.

“I’ve already taken care of today’s duties before tonight’s lighting. I’m going to pack up my belongings and move them into town, where I’ll stay for the week. I’ll be back to take care of both wick trimmings tonight. Get a good night’s rest because training will be pretty intense since we’ve only got one week to get you in shape.”

“I will,” replied Maggie. “Thank you for the tour and your insight.”

Carl gathered his belongings and left for town. “Whatever’s in the icebox is yours,” he shouted back as he entered his car.

Maggie sat down for a moment to reflect on his words. Have I bitten off more than I can chew? she thought. Too late now. I’m in it up to my eyeballs. I better get on with it.

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“Mommy,” Bobbie said as she tugged on Maggie’s sleeve.

“Can we see the rest of the house now?”

“Oh, sure. Let’s get settled in.” The building was a lot more spacious than Maggie anticipated. During World War II, it was remodeled to serve as a barracks for twenty soldiers, so there was plenty of room for them and an assistant lightkeeper.

The first floor had two bedrooms, a sitting or parlor area, and a large kitchen. Since the architecture was Queen Anne Revival style, there were some fancy architectural details in the woodwork in stark contrast to the other well-worn simple surroundings one would expect to find in a lightkeeper’s residence. One exception was an ornate grandfather’s clock in the corner of the sitting room.

“Oh, look!” Bobbie squealed as she pointed at the towering timepiece.

“Wow! Another grandfather’s clock,” Maggie replied. “Let’s see if it runs.” Maggie opened the glass door and pulled on one of the drive chains. The gears began to turn, and Bobbie could hear the familiar tick-tock. Maggie pulled on the other chain, and after a few seconds, it chimed on the hour–dong, dong!

“Tick-tock, dong-dong. Tick-tock, dong-dong,” Bobbie repeated as she marched around the room.

Bobbie turned her attention to the built-in storage areas under the windows in the sitting room. While Maggie was touring the kitchen, Bobbie hopped in one and closed the lid behind her.

“Mommy, come find me,” she giggled, her voice muffled by the enclosure. Maggie moved toward the area where she thought she had heard Bobbie’s voice and opened the lid but didn’t find her there. Again, she heard her voice, “Mommy, come find me.”

Maggie jumped to the next adjoining window seat and quickly opened the lid to again find no one. Bobbie came walking out of the bedroom near the sitting room a moment later.

“Bobbie, where have you been? I thought you were in one of these window seats,” Maggie asked, a bit agitated.

“I was. There are little doors in them that I opened and followed. I came out in a bedroom closet. It was fun.”

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“Bobbie, you shouldn’t climb inside them. You could get stuck in there and not be able to breathe, and I wouldn’t be able to find you, and you could get hurt. Okay?” she said in a serious tone.

“Okay. But Bur Bear and Mr. George really liked them.”

“I know, but we don’t want them to get hurt either. Let’s get our things out of the car and get settled in. Mr. Hill will be back before we know it, and I want to see how he takes care of the wicks.”

“Okay. I like this place,” Bobbie replied.

“I’m glad you do. It’s our new home.” *** Patrick, Robert, and Clyde were sitting in their regular spots in McGuffey’s tavern, discussing the current events in town.

“What do you think of Maggie, the new lightkeeper?” Patrick asked.

“I think she’s got lots of moxie,” Robert replied. “She’ll get the job done, but it will be hard to replace Carl. We’ll need to help her if she needs us.” Clyde nodded in agreement.

Three unknown rough-looking men entered the tavern, sat at a table in the far corner, and ordered a pitcher of beer from the barmaid. They paid close attention to the other patrons and the establishment in general as if they were casing the place. Patrick, Robert, and Clyde all took particular notice of them.

“Do you know those guys?” Patrick asked.

“I don’t,” Robert replied.

“Me neither,” said Clyde. “I’ve never seen them before. They look pretty shifty if you ask me. I wonder what they’re up to?

How ya doin’?” Clyde greeted them with a friendly wave to try to assess their character and possibly their intentions. They ignored him. He tried again.

“Old man, mind your own business,” one shouted. “Can’t you see we’re busy here?”

“I’m just trying to be friendly,” Clyde replied. “We haven’t seen you around here before.”

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“Go be friendly with somebody else. Ya hear?” the man fired back.

“What’s with them?” Robert asked.

“I dunno. It looks like they’ve got some kind of map or chart or something spread out on their table. They’re not like the normal treasure hunters we see come through here who usually ask us for information or directions. They’ve got a mean streak in ’em. They make me nervous. I’m going to talk to the police chief about them. The last thing we need is a bunch of good-fornuthins raising Cain around here,” Patrick asserted.

The ruffians continued to glare at them. They finished their pitcher of beer, folded up their maps, and disappeared into the night.

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15 Maggie lay in bed the following morning, waiting for the sun to rise to begin her first day of on-the-job training. She wasn’t sure what to expect other than hard work. She wasn’t afraid to tackle whatever came her way, but was apprehensive about whether she would be successful. She would know soon enough.

She entered Bobbie’s room to get her up and flipped on the light.

“It’s still dark. Why are we getting up so early?” Bobbie grumbled, rolling over and putting her pillow over her head.

“Mr. Hill will be here shortly. We need to be ready to go,” Maggie urged. “Up and at ’em.” They both hurried through their regular morning routines so they’d be ready when Carl arrived.

He arrived around dawn to turn off the light showing the grogginess of having endured two wick trimmings during the night. When finished, he returned and sat down in the kitchen.

“Got any coffee brewing?” he asked. “I like mine black.”

“Yes, Sir. Here’s a fresh cup.” Carl sat down at the kitchen table and took a sip.

“Where’d you learn to make coffee?” he teased. “Lighthouse keepers make it strong enough to walk around by itself. You’ll learn.” After a few more sips, he spoke. “I don’t know what you were taught or heard or learned about lighthouse keeping, but we’re going to start from the beginning. After we’ve covered all of the duties, we’ll go about getting them done. Much of it is a routine that occurs day after day, night after night, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. It’s your responsibility to do it or see that it’s done. You can’t delegate away your responsibilities. You 89

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can delegate the task, but you are responsible for seeing that it’s done right. You have to be sure that the duties are completed the right way,” he reemphasized. “Dire consequences can occur if they’re not.

“Just as sure as the sun rises each morning, burns all day, and sets each evening, the light on that tower must perform the same duties opposite the sun. The sun can rely on Mother Nature to ensure its function, but the mariners on the sea must rely on you.

Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Maggie replied with a nod.

“Okay,” Carl began. “Here’s the official list of the instructions for lightkeepers for one keeper and two or more keepers. Posting them is required, so hang them up somewhere noticeable.

When the inspectors come around, they’ll be looking for them.”

Maggie quickly reviewed the lists, noticing that the two-keeper list contained thirty-eight items versus twenty-six on the singlekeeper list. I sure hope my assistant shows up soon, she thought.

There’s a lot to do.

“First,” Carl began, “the light must be lit every day at sunset and extinguished at sunrise by turning off the fuel. Every duty after that is to see that the first one occurs to the satisfaction of the United States Lighthouse Service.” He reviewed the remaining list, carefully inserting anecdotes where he felt appropriate, emphasizing his experiences.

He discussed the lightkeeper’s duty in detail. “Trim the wicks twice a night to ensure the light burns its brightest and replenish the fuel each morning for the following night’s service. The keeper also unlocks the weights that drive the gears of the clockwork mechanism that cause the lens to revolve when dropped down the tower shaft and hand-cranks them up to the top to allow a new descent the following night. The keeper also checks the light at least twice a night between 8 p.m. and sunrise.

Each morning the keeper is required to clean the lens and the windows of the beacon room. Then cover the lens with a linen bag to prevent the sun’s rays from discoloring the prism or the lens or reigniting the wick.

The keeper is also responsible for performing maintenance tasks and maintaining the automated fog signal. When not in the 90

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lighthouse, the keeper spends time outside surveying the weather and tide conditions and taking readings. When needed, keepers participate in any searches and rescues at sea to take advantage of their visibility and familiarity with the geography and tides in the area. And they record detailed logbooks for future reference and official inspections.”

“Are you getting all of this? Maggie? Any questions yet?”

“No, Sir. Not yet.”

“Okay, let’s continue. Let’s talk about the light itself, the beacon.

It has the place of highest honor and the most responsibility to perform. You have to care for it and treat it as if it is one of your children because it cannot care for itself and never will. Our light has a rare third-and-one-half order Fresnel lens. Fresnel lenses vary in size and brightness depending on the size of the area they serve and the hazards present. The lens increases and focuses the intensity of the light shining through it, allowing it to be visible from a greater distance. A few lit wicks can generate over a million candlepower in some lighthouses depending on the size of the lens.”

“I’m not an engineer, so I can’t explain it in technical terms, but the lenses are designed the same way theatrical lights are, which allows them to give off more intense light than a regular flat lens would. The amount of light a beacon generates is amazing considering the light source and is a wonder to behold when you experience it up close.”

“The lens itself requires the greatest amount of care,” he continued. “As little as a few scratches on it can degrade the amount of light it produces. Our light is also different from many others because of a unique condensing panel mounted on one side of the lens. If a mariner deviates outside his course in the main channel, the light diminishes in intensity and prompts him to make a course correction.”

“I understand,” Maggie replied, her brain spinning trying to absorb all of the new information and instruction he provided.

“Maggie, the lens is the gem of this lighthouse. Treat it like you would the Hope Diamond. Take care of it, and it won’t let you down nor those who are served by its light.”

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“Okay, let’s get started. We’re already behind,” Carl directed as he stood and straightened his jacket, looking like an admiral who was about to order a fleet of ships out to sea. “Where do you think we should begin?”

“I think we should clean and cover the lens, inspect and trim the wicks, refuel and reset the weights,” Maggie replied.

“Very good. A quick learner who understands priorities.

Let’s do it.” *** “We’ve got a unique situation here with your training because your assistant isn’t here yet, and you’ve got this young one who needs tending to,” Carl remarked, sizing up the logistical complication. “It will work best for you to perform the tasks while I keep her out of harm’s way. It’s going to make it harder on you, but I don’t see another way under the circumstances.”

“I agree,” Maggie replied. “Bobbie, do what Mr. Hill tells you to.”

“Okay, I will,” she replied with a nod.

“Okay, we’re going to clean the lens. Up we go to the beacon room,” Carl ordered. The three trekked to the top of the tower, and Carl instructed Maggie how to meticulously clean the lens, trim the wicks, and carefully cover the lens to protect it from dirt and the sunlight.

“Okay, that was a good start. You did that well. It took a bit longer than necessary, but it was your first time.” Now we need fuel. For this time of year, you will need about a gallon for the night for this size lens. Go to the fuel house, fill the can, haul it to the top, and fill the fuel reservoir. We’ll wait down here.”

Maggie followed his instructions to the letter. As expected, the fuel house was a dirty, stinking place, but she pumped the fuel oil into the can and made her way back to the top of the tower.

The can felt heavier and the steps steeper for each one climbed, but she wasn’t about to stop and rest before completing the task.

She wanted to show Carl she could do it as well as anyone. At

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the top, she filled the reservoir and made her way back down the stairs to where Carl and Bobbie were waiting.

“Okay, now we have to wind the weights. We’ll follow you back up so I can show you how it’s done,” Carl directed. Again, they made their way up to the beacon room. “As you know, the weights are hung on a cable that runs down the center of the tower. The weights drive the gears of the clockwork mechanism that rotates the lens. The amount of weight required depends on the weight of the lens and the gear ratios that turn it.”

“Each light requires distinguishing characteristics for the mariner to observe, especially in an area of many lights which we have here. So some turn faster than others. If a seafarer is confused by which light he is viewing as he navigates through our channels, he could change course, and disaster could occur.

You turn this crank to raise the weights, and then we’ll lock them into place.”

“How much does it weigh?” Maggie inquired.

“About one hundred and sixty-five pounds. Do you think you can handle it, or do you need help?”

“I can handle it,” Maggie replied. She turned the crank as Carl and Bobbie watched. It took much longer than she thought for the weight to rise to the top. As she cranked, she wondered how many handle turns would be needed to raise the weight to the top. Her arms began to tire and burn as she continued to turn the handle. She dared not stop, though. She reached a point where she realized she needed to use the strength of her back and legs to raise the weight to the top. Carl could see she was struggling but didn’t intervene. Finally, the top of the weight appeared, much to Maggie’s relief.

“Okay, let’s lock it down like this,” Carl announced as he showed her the proper technique to use on the mechanism.

Maggie was visibly worn out from her effort but did all she could to conceal it.

“I’m sorry. I know it took me longer than it would you,” she apologized as she breathed hard.

“You got it up here. That’s all that counts. It doesn’t matter how you do it. Don’t worry; it will get easier as time passes.”

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“I’m surprised it weighs as much as it does,” she commented.

“The weight is what turns the gears that turn the lens. It has to show who’s boss,” Carl joked. “Let’s go down and rest and eat some lunch, and then we can continue.”

“Fine with me. I could use a break,” Maggie replied as she wiped her brow.

After lunch, Carl taught Maggie how to perform the necessary inspections. They walked around every inch of the facility with Bobbie in tow. “Everything has to work perfectly. That’s a big challenge when everything is exposed to the elements the way it is. But a lot is at stake in the job we do,” he reminded Maggie.

“And a lighthouse has to be spotless just like a ship at sea, so it performs its best. The mechanical parts need to be inspected and cleaned and lubed regularly. The lighthouse keeper performs all of the maintenance. If the tower needs painting, the keeper paints it. If equipment needs replacing, the keeper does it; every little thing down to the brass rails shining at inspection time.

That’s why the keeper often has his family involved. Do you think you can do all that, Maggie?”

“I do,” Maggie replied. “I can handle things myself.”

“I hope so. Okay, this is enough for the first day,” he declared.

“I’m going back to town. I’ll be back around dusk to show you how to light the lamp.”

“Okay, we’ll see you then,” Maggie replied. “And Mr. Hill, thank you.”

“You’ll thank me later when I’m not here, and you’re on your own and things are going smoothly,” he replied with a smile.

“That’s when you’ll appreciate your training.”

After he was gone, Maggie walked into her bedroom and collapsed on the bed. “Mommy, you’re all dirty!” Bobbie shouted.

“I don’t care!” Maggie mumbled with her head buried in her pillow. “Don’t wander off. Stay here with me.” Bobbie looked at her mother oddly. She had never seen her behave that way before.

“Just let me rest, honey.” *** 94

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A half-hour later, Maggie summoned enough strength to sit up on the bed and run her fingers through her now gnarled hair.

Bobbie had fallen asleep beside her, and she woke when Maggie stirred.

“I’m hungry,” Bobbie announced.

“I know. I need to fix some dinner. Let’s go check the refrigerator.” She whipped something up, and they both ate.

“You were hungry,” Maggie remarked, chuckling. “I haven’t seen you clean your plate like that in a while. This sea air must give you an appetite.”

After dinner, Maggie waited for Carl to return. Bobbie played with her toys, including an animated conversation with Bur Bear about the duties of a lightkeeper. Maggie enjoyed hearing her version of the tasks she performed. Around dusk, Carl returned as promised.

“Have you been up on the tower checking out activity in Salem Sound and harbors?” he asked.

“Well, no. I haven’t,” Maggie replied.

“Late afternoon is a good time to check what’s going on out on the water—whether the tide is in or out, wind conditions, changing weather, the amount of traffic, and so on. It’ll give you an idea of what to expect during the night. Remember, too; you can get a call any time of day or night from the Coast Guard to participate in a search and rescue operation. If you already know the goings-on on the water, it will help you decide your course of action and response. Understand?”

“Well, I do have some questions about what you mean by search and rescue. What all are we expected to do?”

“Good question. That can depend on the circumstances,” Carl replied. “At this location, we primarily get involved in the search aspect by observing and giving the location of a distressed vessel to the Coast Guard, if possible. Many of the other lighthouses in the area may be involved as well. Sometimes we alert them, but other times they call us. Proper identification of our station is important so they can plot a course for the rescue operation.”

“Some lighthouses are located in areas where they have a dock and a boat. Due to the rocky shoreline at this location, we 95

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don’t have a dock or a rescue boat. I’ve got a skiff I use for fishing, but it’s not a rescue boat. However, if a boat went aground on the rocks right below us, we’d be expected to get down there and help in the rescue, if possible. You have to apply your knowledge to each situation and carry out your duties as effectively as possible.

Okay?”

“Okay,” Maggie replied with a nod. “Got it.”

“Okay, let’s get up there and brighten the night!” he exclaimed.

The three trudged up the steps to the beacon room again. “We need to uncover the light and check the wicks. We checked them this morning, but you have to do it again before lighting.”

“As we discussed, the wicks are to be trimmed perfectly so they burn evenly. A poorly trimmed wick will cause smoke and a dim flame and affect the efficiency of the beacon. The flame should be at least the width of the wick to be considered to be burning evenly. The wicks also get checked twice during the night to ensure they are functioning properly. If there’s a problem with one, you have to decide whether to extinguish the light and quickly trim the wick or whether to wait until morning to fix it.

It’s an important call. If you use good quality wicks, good fuel, and do a good job trimming them, usually all is good.”

“Okay, now for the big event, your first time to light.” Carl described putting pressure on the fuel to keep it feeding the wicks. “When you light it, don’t look at the light; it’s too bright and could damage your eyes. After you can tell the wicks are burning properly, you unlock the weight that turns the gears to rotate the lens. Again, don’t look directly at the light. You can usually tell if the clockwork mechanism is working right by the sound of the gears turning. If a gear isn’t happy, it lets you know,” he said with a laugh. “All the more reason to keep them cleaned and lubed. No keeper wants a surprise when they’re lighting up for the night.”

Maggie followed his instructions to a T and lit the beacon.

He had described it the same way a maestro directs his orchestra.

She felt there should have been some fanfare, but instead, all she received was applause from Bobbie and a smile from Carl. “I was so nervous the first time I lit one I thought I was going to toss my 96

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cookies,” he quipped with an assuring smile. “You seemed rather calm about it. Good for you. I’m going to head back to town and be back around midnight for us to check on things, okay?”

“Okay,” Maggie replied.

“It will do you good to familiarize yourself with what goes on at night around a lighthouse. At night it’s showtime,” he added for emphasis. “Fog may roll in, which will trigger the foghorn.

You just have to be on your toes. You’ll get used to it. You don’t have to be on the tower to get a feel for it, either. That beacon is the star of the show, but a lot is going on behind the curtain, if you know what I mean.”

“I surely do know,” Maggie replied with a laugh for the first time that day.

“Good first day, Maggie. I wouldn’t call you a natural, but I can tell you have good instincts that will get you through a lot of tight spots. A good first day. I’m off. I’ll be back later.”

“So long, Mr. Hill. Thank you again.”

Carl returned at midnight to check the wicks. Maggie was waiting for him when he knocked on the door. She disliked leaving Bobbie alone in bed but knew of no other choice since her assistant hadn’t yet arrived.

“This is one of the worst parts of the job but one of the most important,” he announced as he entered. “Just when you’re cozy in bed, you have to get up and check the light. The four a.m. check is the worst. Be happy when your assistant gets here, and she can take one of the shifts. Having seen the light from town, I can tell the wicks are burning perfectly, but they need to be checked anyway, and you must enter it into your logbook. Let’s get with it,” he directed as he motioned for them to move toward the tower.

They climbed the steps to the beacon room, and as he predicted, the wicks were burning perfectly as the light pierced the night. Everything was in perfect working order. Carl spoke.

“I usually take a moment to look around when I’m up here to see if there’s any activity in the Sound or the harbors with boats coming and going and the like. It looks pretty quiet tonight, which is a good thing. Ready to go down?”

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“Okay,” Maggie replied.

Carl followed her down the steps and walked directly to his car. “I’ll be back at four,” he shouted back.

“Mr. Hill, if you don’t mind, I’d like to do the four o’clock check by myself. If I see anything out of the ordinary, I can decide how to handle it,” Maggie replied.

“Hmm. Okay, if you feel that confident, I can go along with it.

I admire you for taking on that much responsibility so soon. I’ll see you at dawn, then.” *** The following morning Maggie and Bobbie were already on the tower when Carl arrived. They shouted to him from above when he drove up, and he climbed up to join them. “My, you two are a couple of early birds, aren’t you.”

“Just eager to start the day’s work,” Maggie replied. Bobbie sat with her Bur Bear in a corner protected from the morning’s dew but didn’t seem as happy to be drawn from her warm bed to the cool breeze on the tower.

“I see you’ve doused the light and have worked on the wicks already,” Carl praised. “Four a.m. must have been uneventful.

You can clean the lens and the windows and fuel up and raise the weight, and then we’ll concentrate today on observing the boats moving about, the weather and the tides, and how to keep a logbook on such things. There’s an art to how a good lightkeeper goes about their duties.”

“Yes, Sir.” Carl and Bobbie waited at the top of the tower as Maggie went about the same duties she had on her first day, but felt less pressure than before since she was familiar with the routine. She could tell Carl was gaining confidence in her skills as she was. She better understood the logic of each task performed.

Carl spoke after she cranked the weight to the top and locked it in place and finished her primary duties. “Maggie, take a minute to rest. I want us to stay up here for a while to observe what’s going on below, so you understand how it relates to our job. He stood at the rail, inhaling the salt air as if it was an elixir; 98

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if not for his body, then his soul. Bobbie was more occupied with the comings and goings of the seagulls, who most likely were more interested in whether she had food for them than in her.

After a few minutes, he urged Maggie to join him at the rail.

“Our job is most important at night. But what goes on at night is often influenced by what goes on during the day,” he began.

“Right now, I’m thinking about the weather. It is a clear and cool day with a light breeze. Which direction is the wind coming from? Could a storm blow in? Has the mew and the actions of the gulls changed? You must notice what you can on a clear day to compare it to when there’s heavy fog or a storm.”

“The boat traffic seems normal for a weekday. How do weekdays compare to weekends when more pleasure boaters are out and about? What is the timing for the high and low tides today? Will they present any particular challenge? A lightkeeper notes all of this information in their brain and records it in their logbook for future reference and comparison. For them to react responsibly to any circumstance that arises, they must relate it to what they have observed below. Your observations improve with experience. A good lighthouse keeper develops a sixth sense for it over time.” He continued to look about.

“I see a lot of islands and inlets,” Maggie said.

“Yes, this is a complicated area with many obstructions,” Carl replied. “It’s why multiple lighthouses are needed to serve it. Rivers are converging here, with multiple harbors and bays, as well as the Salem Sound itself. All with their craggy shorelines and tight maneuvering spaces. It makes for interesting sailing – a real challenge for everyone involved.”

“Why are we called Hospital Point Range Front Lighthouse?”

Maggie asked.

“We’re on Hospital Point, named after a smallpox hospital that was on this site before it burned down. We’re the range front lighthouse because there is a range rear smaller beacon a few miles away in the steeple of a church that is our backup. Needing a backup light shows how treacherous this area can become,” Carl replied.

“You have quite the knowledge of the area,” Maggie complimented. “I’m lucky to be trained by you.”

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“Thank you. I’ve only been on this assignment for a few years,” Carl replied. “But with experience, you pick things up faster. You apply your experience to the current situation and learn as you go. I hope you do the same. Once a keeper thinks they know it all, they’ll make a mistake, which may cost someone their life. There’s a lot at stake in how we go about what we do.”

“There sure is,” Maggie agreed. “This job is a serious one.”

“I haven’t checked the foghorn in a couple of days. Bobbie, would you like to push the button?” Carl asked. She happily agreed and pushed the horn’s button, which triggered its upper and lower bleat. “Don’t push it again,” Carl instructed. “We don’t want to confuse any mariners. A one-time blast they understand is a test.”

“It’s a funny sound,” she said with a smile.

“It may sound funny once,” Carl replied. “But if heavy fog rolls in and you have to listen to it all night, it’s not as funny then.

But it is a necessity and another piece of equipment that needs to be maintained,” he said more seriously for Maggie’s benefit.

“Maggie, you’re on your own for the rest of the day. I’ve got some things I need to take care of in town. I’ll stop by at dusk to see if everything is on track. Check your fuel levels in the fuel building. You don’t want to be caught short. Check my logbooks for how much is usually used in a month this time of year since the daylight is shortening up and the nights are getting longer.

It may make sense to stock up now. I usually order it through Marker’s General Store in town, and they have it delivered in a few days.”

“Okay,” Maggie replied, making a mental note of his instructions. The three of them headed back down the stairs, and Carl was off in his car toward town as Maggie and Bobbie returned to the house.

“I liked the foghorn sound. Can we blow it again sometime?”

Bobbie asked.

“Yes, we have to test it regularly to be sure it is working properly, but we can’t just blow it for fun.” Those were some educational lessons Carl gave today. I hope I can remember everything he told me, Maggie thought.

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The day passed with Maggie and Bobbie spending more time inside the house, getting settled in and arranging things to their liking in anticipation of her assistant’s arrival. Maggie wanted to be sure they appeared organized to make a favorable impression on her.

Carl returned at dusk, and the three of them climbed the stairs of the tower. Once there, Carl looked over the rail. “How do things look out on the water?” he asked.

“Weather’s clear, tides are favorable with a light chop, and traffic is light. Looks like a good night shaping up,” Maggie replied with authority as she went through her mental checklist to light the beacon.

“Sounds good. But don’t get too complacent based on how things are right now. Once the sun goes down, everything can change in a hurry. Go ahead and light ’er up,” Carl directed.

Maggie did as he instructed, and the beacon ignited, with its light piercing the dusk like an arrow shot from a bow. “Looks good,” Carl remarked. “Let’s go,” which triggered the trio’s descent. Once down, Maggie spoke.

“Mr. Hill, I’ll take the midnight and four a.m. checks. You’ve done enough.”

“Okay, I’ll be back tomorrow morning,” he replied without hesitation.

“Sir, I also feel I can handle things here tomorrow morning.

If you could come by in the afternoon when Bobbie is taking a nap, it will allow me to go into town and pick up some provisions and place the fuel order we talked about.”

Carl wasn’t expecting her suggestion and mulled it over for a moment. “Okay, we can do it that way. I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you,” Maggie replied. “It helps me out a lot.”

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16 Carl arrived the following afternoon as planned. Bobbie was already down for her nap.

“Thank you for accommodating my request, sir. I’ve got things to do before you leave at the end of the week. I hope my assistant arrives soon.”

“It’s okay,” Carl replied as he sat down at the kitchen table.

“I’ve got a lot of paperwork to complete before I turn the facility over to you. I’ll go over it with you when I’ve completed it.”

“I’ll bet you’re anxious to get to your new assignment. I’m sure you miss your family already,” Maggie remarked.

“Yes, I am. Transitions always feel odd on both sides. When I get to my next assignment, that keeper will be going over things with me. I’ll be the pupil on how that lighthouse operates. We all do the same thing but often do it differently, if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Maggie replied. “I’m off. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

“Take your time. Things are okay here. I’ve helped raise a big family. I can handle it,” Carl assured her. *** Maggie headed to town to run her errands. She saw Patrick, Robert, and Clyde perched in the rocking chairs outside near the front door as she entered the general store.

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“Howdy, boys. I remember you saying if you weren’t in the tavern, you would be here in front of the general store, keeping order. And here you are,” she teased with her arms raised for emphasis. “How are you doing?”

“We’re okay. It’s too nice a day to be inside,” replied Patrick.

“How are things out at the lighthouse? Carl got you runnin’?”

“I am here for provisions. Carl is a nice man. He sure knows his stuff.”

“Maggie, we talked about it and decided if you need help to let us know. We don’t know nuthin’, but we’d be glad to help,” Clyde cracked as he spoke between draws on his pipe he was lighting.

“That’s nice of you, boys. I’ll remember that.”

“Maggie, we’ve been meaning to talk to you about some varmints we’ve seen around here lately,” Robert interjected.

“Varmints?”

“Yeah, the two-legged kind. Three of them stopped in at McGuffey’s this week, looking suspicious as all get out. I tried to be friendly, and they told me to shut up. They had some maps and the like out and were studying them real hard,” Clyde said, describing their actions. “Then they took off, and we ain’t seen them since. They might still be around, though. Be careful out there at the lighthouse. If they learn it’s just you and your youngin’ out there, they might come a-calling. Can you shoot?”

“Can I shoot?” Maggie repeated.

“Yeah. Them varmints might show up rootin’ for that treasure that’s supposedly buried somewhere near the lighthouse,” Clyde replied, waving his arms around.

“Of course, I can shoot. I’m from South Dakota. Shootin’ critters is a pastime there,” Maggie replied.

“Well, these critters might be shootin’ back, is all I’m sayin’.

Be careful out there, you hear?” Clyde said.

“I will. Now that you mention it when I had my flat tire in Salem on the way in, the policeman who stopped to help said the same thing, that a group of no-goods had been seen in the area lately. They may be the same guys.” Clyde nodded in agreement.

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“Thanks, boys. I’ll keep a lookout,” Maggie replied as she entered the store. While there, she picked up some maintenance items and some needed tools and placed an order for a hundred gallons of fuel. She also inquired about the cost of a shotgun should one need to be acquired for safety. When she left, she noticed that the three self-proclaimed sentries had left their post and were most likely stationed at McGuffey’s Tavern a few doors down. Those three are characters, especially Clyde, but they’re good guys, she thought to herself.

She headed down Cabot Street looking for a butcher shop when she passed the fish market and came upon the shop where she had earlier seen the Native American man whittling on a piece of wood. He was again sitting on a stool outside the shop carving wood into beautiful sculptures.

“Nice to see you again, ma’am,” he greeted, which caught Maggie off guard since the first time they met, he didn’t speak.

“And you, too,” she replied. “You seem to be very talented with your knives. Your work is beautiful. Have you had a shop here very long?”

“No. I’m new in town,” he replied without looking up from his work.

“Are you from this area?” she posed. He stopped his carving and looked up at her with coal-black eyes framed by his ruddy complexion.

“No. My name is Dakotah. I’m an Elder in the Lakota tribe in South Dakota.”

“Really? I’m from Sturgis in South Dakota, too.”

“Yes. Your young daughter with you when we first met the other day is lovely. She seems to possess the same spirit as you, as well as your beauty.”

“Thank you., She is a handful, though.”

“What brings you here so far from home?” she asked.

“I have some business to tend to,” was his brief response.

“I must be going. It’s been nice talking with you,” Maggie said as she turned to walk away.

“And with you too,” Dakotah replied with a smile and a nod.

She found the butcher shop and bought some beef for dinner.

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She was looking forward to a good home-cooked meal, even if her culinary skills were lacking. *** Maggie returned to the lighthouse to find Carl slumped over the kitchen table. “Oh my gosh, Mr. Hill, are you okay?” she cried out as she shook him. He woke with an embarrassed glassy-eyed look.

“Uh, sorry. I must have dozed off doing my paperwork,” he mumbled sheepishly. “Did you get what you wanted in town?”

“I did. Do you think I need a gun out here for protection?”

Maggie asked bluntly. Carl rubbed the sleep from his eyes before responding.

“Do you think you do?”

“When I was in town, some were talking about some ornery types in the area, up to no good. Being out here at the end of the road with no one else around makes me wonder.”

“Do you know how to shoot?”

“I do. I learned back at home at an early age.”

“Then I suppose you have your answer.”

“I have a few other questions too, if you don’t mind,” Maggie continued.

“Go ahead,” Carl replied.

“When I was in town speaking with some folks, they mentioned all types of things that have supposedly gone on around here. I know some of them may be rumors or tall tales, but it’s hard to know fact from fiction when you’re not from the area.”

“Who have you been talking to?” he asked.

“Some men I met down at McGuffey’s Tavern.”

“You mean Patrick and Robert and Clyde?” he asked with a smile.

“Yes. You must know them.”

“Everybody knows them. They’re like monuments around here. They’ve been here a long time and have seen it all, so I’m sure they’re up on all the rumors and tall tales, as you put it.

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Clyde would surely add some color to their stories, too,” he said with a laugh.

“They mentioned treasure hunters searching for some supposedly buried treasure on the lighthouse property. Any truth to that?”

“I’ve heard that one before. But I’ve never seen anyone hunting for treasure on this property.”

“What about spirits or beings or apparitions?” she continued.

“Like ghosts?”

“Okay. Yes.” “Maggie, lighthouses have always had a mysterious and creepy reputation. Think about it. They are primarily operational at night—in the dead of night. You have a bright rotating light that casts moving shadows across everything constantly. You usually have a steady breeze blowing which can cause some howling and whistling as it moves through and around the tower. You have the constant clanging of the buoy bells on the water below, sometimes fog with the continuous drone of a foghorn, as well as the occasional screech of a seagull.”

“Maggie, you know what it’s like in the middle of the night when you’re climbing those steps, and you hear the turning and clicking of the gears in the clockwork device that turns the beacon combined with the groan caused by the stress of the weight moving down the cable. If that’s not a mysterious medley of eeriness, I don’t know what is,” he said with a hearty laugh.

“It’s just part of our world, but the average person would get the heebie-jeebies just thinking about it. That’s why we do what we do, and they do what they do,” he said with a laugh once more.

“Then have you ever seen a ghost or an apparition?” she posed.

“No. I haven’t. But my younger children claim they have.”

“What did they see?” Maggie asked.

“I’m not sure. My wife and I didn’t think much about it and just chalked it up to their fertile little imaginations, or perhaps the effect of boredom on them.”

“Were they frightened by what they claim they saw?”

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“I don’t rightly know if they were frightened,” he replied with a rub of his chin, “but they didn’t seem to object when I told them we were transferring to another lighthouse, either.”

“Thank you for your insight, Mr. Hill. It’s been helpful.”

Their conversation woke Bobbie, who waddled from her bedroom holding Bur Bear with Mr. George in tow. Quack, quack, quack. Carl straightened his papers and rose to leave.

“Would you like to stay for dinner? My cooking isn’t the best, but I have a fresh piece of meat that is more than Bobbie and I could eat,” Maggie asked.

“Thank you for the invitation, but I’ll be on my way. I’ll be in town if you need me.” He left, and Maggie and Bobbie sat down for a chat.

“Did you have a good nap?” Maggie asked as they cuddled on the sofa.

“Uh-huh. Did you go out?”

“Yes. I went to the general store to get some provisions. Then I went to the butcher shop and got a nice pot roast for dinner.

And I spoke with the man who was carving the wood in front of his shop. He’s a nice man. He says he’s from South Dakota like us,” Maggie replied with another hug. “Bobbie, do you like it here?”

“I like it here with you, and Bur Bear and Mr. George like it here with me,” she replied as she hugged her two playmates.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Maggie replied with a smile. “Let’s fix a nice dinner.” *** The week wore on with Carl stopping by regularly, checking on Maggie’s work, quizzing her on weather conditions as well as the rules and regulations for a lighthouse keeper. She appeared to have the work schedule and routines down to a science. He felt confident she could do the job.

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Service yesterday to find out what was causing her delay. They didn’t have an answer but told me she would be reporting any time now.”

“Thank you for your confidence in me, Mr. Hill. It means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied with a nod. “Maggie, there’s something I want to say, and I don’t want you to take offense. I don’t know exactly how you came to be in this position, and it isn’t important to me. It was my job to train you the best I could, and it seems I’ve done so. But honestly, being a lighthouse keeper is a hard, laborious job, not glamorous as some think, and I’m not sure it’s for you in the long run.” Maggie didn’t respond.

He continued, “I can see you’re a highly motivated person who wants to succeed at whatever you do. But in my opinion, to be successful at this job, it has to be in your blood. It’s not like work if it is. It’s a calling, a vocation. It’s like being a farmer or a fisherman. It’s what you are destined to be, or at least what you think you are destined to be. Otherwise, the monotony of the routines will drive you crazy. It’s why so many keepers are the descendants of other keepers. They understand and can cope better.”

“I’m not telling you this to dissuade you from doing this job.

I’m telling you this so in the future, when you question your desire to continue, it may be the cause of your doubt.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she replied. “I didn’t take the job thinking this was the last job I’d ever have.”

“And that’s okay,” he replied. “But others in this field wouldn’t think of doing anything else. They grew up around, if not in, lighthouses, and they couldn’t imagine a different occupation.

Given this may be the first lighthouse you ever walked in, your perspective is different. I’m not saying it’s better or worse; it’s just different.”

“And one last piece of advice,” he said. “It’s obvious that things move more slowly in our world, but they are more consistent than in others. The sun rises and sets every day. We light the beacon at dusk and extinguish it at dawn. The tides rise and fall like clockwork, and boats move more slowly than other modes 108

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of transportation. But you must be careful not to be lulled into complacency due to the routines and the naturally slow pace. I’ve seen it happen to others. Ours is important work, even if it goes at its own pace—nature’s pace.”

“Thank you for your perspective, Mr. Hill. Right now, I know I’ve got a job to do. Whether it’s my calling or not isn’t important to me. I’ve got to do it to the best of my abilities because, as you’ve impressed upon me, others’ lives are at stake more than I realized when I accepted the assignment, and I take that responsibility very seriously. I’ll think about this conversation; I appreciate your insight and words of guidance.”

“Maggie, I wish you and Bobbie the best. You can call me at any time. The phone numbers of all the other keepers get circulated by the Lighthouse Service so we can contact each other on common matters. I look forward to hearing from you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Hill,” she said as she hugged him. Bobbie ran over and hugged him too around his leg. Tears welled in his eyes which he brushed away and made his way out the door to his car.

“Good luck to you!” he shouted back as they watched his taillights fade into the sunset.

“I like him,” Bobbie said.

“We both do. We’ve got a job to do, Bobbie. We’ve got a big light to light. Let’s get with it,” Maggie said as they both headed out the door to the tower to begin the night’s routine.

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17 The following day Maggie kept a very close eye on the weather. “It looks like rain, Bobbie.” We may need to batten down the hatches before it rolls in.” Bobbie looked puzzled, not understanding the meaning of her mother’s words. “Let’s go check to be sure everything is closed up tightly,” Maggie explained.

They checked all the doors and windows on the tower and the house to keep any wind and rain at bay. A violent storm rolled through, followed by periods of steady rain with occasional sporadic uproars as a vicious front invaded the area.

The beacon was lit and performing correctly, with the foghorn set on automatic in the event a fog bank rolled in. Maggie stoked the pot-bellied stove with a few fresh logs to help take the chill off the house.

She sat reading a book she found in a closet on the area’s history, including the Salem witch trials, as Bobbie sat on the floor playing with her toys. The book reminded her of Clyde’s story about a treasure hunter who died on their site and supposedly haunts the lighthouse. If there were a night for a ghost sighting, this would surely be it, she thought. The thought had barely formed in her mind when she heard an unusual thump outside, followed by a loud knock at the door. It caught her and Bobbie by surprise, and they froze, wondering who may be at their door in such nasty weather. At that moment, Maggie regretted she hadn’t yet taken action on acquiring a shotgun for their protection.

“Who’s there?” she called out as she slowly approached the door. No one answered. Another loud knock followed. “Who is 110

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it?” Maggie shouted bravely as she swung open the door wielding a fireplace poker over her head for protection if necessary.

“Whoa, Miss! I didn’t mean to scare you,” a man shouted as he jumped back to avoid being struck. “I was just hoping to find some way to get in out of this nasty storm. May I sit here on your stoop until it passes?” Maggie looked him over and noticed he was wearing a Navy-issued peacoat, the type her late husband had worn during his naval service.

“I’m sorry I startled you,” she apologized. “You can’t be too careful. Come on in out of the rain. You’ll catch your death of cold sitting out there like that. Here, dry yourself off,” she directed as she threw him a towel that had been hanging nearby. “You’re drenched to the skin.”

“Thank you, Miss. You’re very kind. I don’t want to be a bother,” he replied as he entered, toting a large military-looking duffel bag.

“Nonsense. Let me get you a warm drink. Will tea be okay?”

“That will be fine,” he replied as he dried himself while Bobbie sized him up.

“Hi, honey. What’s your name?” he asked.

“My name is Roberta, but Mommy calls me Bobbie.”

“Pleased to meet you, Bobbie,” he replied as Maggie returned with a cup of hot tea. He nodded a thank you and sipped the tea, holding the cup with both hands, seeking some warmth from its contents.

“How about some stew? We had some left from dinner. I can warm it up in no time,” Maggie offered.

“You shouldn’t, ma’am. I should go. You’ve been too kind already.”

“Come on and sit down here by the stove where it’s warm and dry out a little bit,” Maggie urged. He moved slowly in the direction of the kitchen, with Bobbie following. When Maggie saw him in the bright light, she noticed his piercing dark eyes, which accented his wavy jet-black hair, as well as how wellgroomed he was; not the appearance you’d expect for a man you had just dragged in out of the rain.

Maggie began heating the stew and spoke. “So why were you down here at the end of the road in the dark anyway?”

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“Well, I’m looking for the lighthouse keeper’s house. It’s hard to find in the rain and dark,” he replied.

“The lighthouse keeper’s house?” Maggie asked while stirring the stew pot, now wondering who she had invited into her house.

“Yes,” he replied. “I’m the new assistant keeper. Do you know which house is his?”

Maggie nearly knocked the stew pot onto the floor upon hearing his query. “This is the lighthouse keeper’s house. I’m the head keeper,” she replied as she turned to face him. “There must be some mistake,” she said, dumbfounded.

“You are?” He jumped up, saying, “Let me check my paperwork,” as he ran to the hall and dug into his duffel bag. “Is this the Hospital Point Range Front Lighthouse?” he asked.

“It is,” Maggie replied.

“Who is M. Schmitz?” he asked, looking down at his papers.

“I am,” Maggie replied. “Margaret Schmitz. People call me Maggie.” The man stared at his paperwork, hoping he misunderstood what it said and then looked at her, expressionless. “Let me get my paperwork so we can compare them,” Maggie announced as she walked into her bedroom to retrieve it. She returned and said, “Here, it says my assistant is Alison O’Brien. Obviously, you aren’t Alison.”

“Oh no, not again,” he replied.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a bit of a long story,” he replied.

“I’m listening.”

“I come from Culver, a small town on Lake Maxinkuckee in Indiana. My mother and father had five girls before they had me.”

“What’s that got to do with who you are?”

“I’ll get to that. My father was delighted to have a son finally, and the town actually celebrated my birth.” Maggie’s impatient stare didn’t fade from her face. “Somehow, when my name was relayed to someone in an official capacity, the doctor may have said, ‘This is Al’s son, ‘John David O’Brien.’ Somehow, my birth records read ‘Alison John David O’Brien.’ We never knew if someone misunderstood the reference to ‘Al’s son,’ and wrote Alison as my first name or if it was someone’s joke to say that Al 112

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couldn’t have another baby without a girl’s name,” he said with a grin.

“Go on,” Maggie urged.

“I didn’t know about the Alison name until I enlisted in the Navy and its official review of my birth records revealed it. They insisted, ‘Your name is Alison, and that’s that.’ My Navy records carried over to the Lighthouse Service, and that’s that.”

“My. Your story is too outlandish not to be true,” Maggie replied, showing disappointment.

“I’ve been disappointing guys now for a few years who thought they were going to be meeting a girl, but you’re the first woman I can recall being disappointed that I’m a guy and not a girl,” he joked. “Don’t worry. I’m qualified. I’m transferring from Nauset Lighthouse on Cape Cod, where I’ve been an assistant for a year.”

“No, it’s not that,” Maggie replied. “This is just awkward. I don’t see how you can stay here with us without another man living here.”

“What do you mean? What about your husband?” John replied, surprised.

“I’m a widow. It’s just the two of us here,” Maggie replied while pointing to Bobbie.

“Ohhhhh,” John replied. “I understand now. I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I can see where a Lighthouse Service clerk thought they were transferring a woman over to assist you. Hmm.” “Let’s go sit down and figure this out while you eat your stew before it gets cold,” Maggie directed as she led him back to the kitchen.

“This is really good,” John complimented Maggie on her stew.

She just rolled her eyes.

“Thanks,” was her sole response, wondering how he could focus on her stew with the current situation at hand to be solved.

She sat pondering her options after her initial shock wore off.

“John or Alison, or whatever your name is, I’m in charge here, and I can’t turn you back out into the night, especially when this is your assigned station, right or wrong. The back part of the upstairs of the building was remodeled into barracks to house 113

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soldiers during the war. You can stay up there tonight until we figure all this out in the morning. Okay?”

“Okay,” he replied. “Thank you. I won’t be a bother. Uh, should I take one of the shifts tonight?”

“Not tonight. I’ll take care of them both,” Maggie replied, now knowing for sure he was a lighthouse keeper based on his offer. *** After he finished his stew and tea, John spoke. “I think we’ve met before,” he commented.

“How could we? When? Where?” Maggie challenged.

“I could be mistaken, but I think we spoke in a filling station in Illinois a couple of weeks ago. I was on leave from my post at Cape Cod and was in the area. I’m good at remembering faces, and I definitely wouldn’t have forgotten yours or hers,” he said as he pointed to Bobbie.

“You may be right,” Maggie replied with a blush, now realizing who he was. “We did pass through there recently.

Maybe we did speak, if you say so,” not wanting to admit she too now remembered him.

“Anyway, I guess I’ll go settle in upstairs,” he said as he grabbed his bag.

“Okay,” Maggie replied with a smile. “I’ve got to get this little one off to bed. It’s past her bedtime. Let’s go, Bobbie.”

John headed upstairs with his duffel bag, and Maggie led Bobbie to her room. “He’s a nice man, Mommy. I like him. And Bur Bear and Mr. George do too.”

“Yes, he does seem nice.”

“Is he going to stay?”

“I don’t think so. Things will have to get sorted out first, though.”

“Okay,” Bobbie replied as she began her night prayers. “And God bless Mr. O,” she ended.

“Mr. O? Really?” Maggie replied with a grin as she bopped her with a pillow as Bobbie giggled.

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Maggie returned to the sitting room to continue reading her book when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs from above. John appeared from around the corner.

“Do you mind if I sit down here for a while, Maggie? I lit the stove upstairs, but it needs to work a while to get things warmed up.”

“Okay, sure. I have to turn in soon myself.”

John sat and rubbed his shoulder. Maggie laid her book down, knowing she wouldn’t be able to focus on it while he was sitting there.

“You said you were in the Navy. Where did you serve?”

“I was a Chief Petty Officer on the U.S.S. Buck, a destroyer in the North Atlantic and the Mediterranean,” he replied.

“Did you see much action?”

He hesitated. “You could say that. We got torpedoed by a German U-boat off Salerno, Italy, went bow down, and sunk in four minutes. It’s pretty traumatic to be cruising along and have your boat blown out from under you. One minute you’re below decks reading your mail, and in an instant, you’re in the water, wondering if you’re about to meet your Maker. After we sank, some of our depth charges exploded, and a lot of our shipmates in the water were killed or wounded from the blasts.”

“Really? That sounds terrible,” Maggie replied.

“For me, the whole experience was like getting blown off the face of the earth and living to tell about it. The following morning Allied planes spotted those of us who survived, and we got picked up by one of our destroyers the following evening. Then I spent a few months in a British hospital recovering. I served out the rest of my time Stateside. I’ve still got this kink in my shoulder from shrapnel they couldn’t remove, which could have caused nerve damage, but it’s no big deal. It’s a fair reminder of how lucky I am to be here. I mean alive, here on earth.”

“Oh. Of course,” Maggie replied with a nod. “My, you are lucky to have survived.”

“I am. One hundred sixty-eight of our crew weren’t so lucky.

Brave men, all of them.”

“When did it happen?” she asked.

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“October 1943,” he replied. Maggie shuddered and sunk back in her chair. It was near the same time Bob’s plane was shot down in the South Pacific.

“Are you okay?” John asked.

“I’m fine. I need to turn in. It may be a rough night on the tower tonight with the storm and all.”

“I can help with that,” he offered again.

“I’ll let you know if I need you,” Maggie replied as she moved toward her bedroom. “Good night, John.”

“Good night, Maggie.”

116

18 At midnight Maggie rose to check on the wicks on the beacon.

This was the first bad storm she had encountered as a lighthouse keeper, and she was nervous about it. She threw on a poncho to stay dry from the rain even though the tower was a short distance from the building. The beacon was burning brightly, but she could see its visibility was much lower than usual because of the storm.

She figured most boats would have stayed in port and not unnecessarily taken a chance being out in the storm. She hoped others weren’t entering the harbors from the open sea to dock.

She was startled when the fog horn sounded for the first time while she was on the tower. Just paying my dues, she thought—a first time for everything.

She made her way back down and into the house, shaking the water from her poncho as she entered. “Everything, okay?” John asked from the shadows of the sitting room.

“Jeez, you nearly scared me to death! Yes, things are okay.

This is the first bad storm we’ve had since I’ve been here. Since this is my first assignment, the storms may take some getting used to, but I can handle it,” Maggie replied.

“Okay. I was just asking if everything was okay on the tower.

I’m surprised.”

“Surprised at what?” Maggie asked.

“I’m surprised you have been put in charge of a station with no prior experience. That’s not very fair to you,” he remarked.

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“Are you saying I shouldn’t be in charge here because I’ve never served as an assistant?”

“No, I’m not saying that at all.”

“Good. I’ve got to get back to bed to get some sleep before my next shift,” she replied before heading back to her room.

John wondered whether his comment had gotten him off on the wrong foot with her as he headed upstairs to his bunk. *** After Maggie checked the wicks at four a.m., she returned to her bed for a couple of more hours of sleep before having to rise near dawn. She was exhausted and fell to sleep quickly. Shortly before sunrise, John was awakened by a woman’s scream and raced downstairs. The door to Maggie’s bedroom was ajar, and he could see Bobbie there consoling her. He stuck his head in to see if he could be of help.

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Maggie replied groggily. “Just a bad dream. I’m okay.”

“Okay. Just thought I’d check,” John replied before making his way back up to his bunk.

“It was just another nightmare, Bobbie. I thought I was through with them. This is the first one I’ve had since we left home. I’m sorry, honey. I know they must scare you.” Go back to bed. We need to get up soon.”

Maggie lay back down, hoping to clear her head. She was embarrassed that this nightmare occurred on John’s first night there. She thought, he must be wondering what a wacko I am for a lighthouse keeper. She realized the stress of the job, his arrival, their conversations about his war service, and their discussion about her lighthouse experience may have triggered her nightmare. It happened. There isn’t anything I can do about it now, she thought.

As the sun rose, John came down to see Maggie fixing breakfast. Bobbie was sitting at the table and greeted him. “Good morning Mr. O,” she greeted with a giggle. “Have some breakfast,” 118

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as she pointed at a chair for him to sit. He hesitated, not knowing what reception he’d receive from Maggie, who turned from the stove, smiled, and nodded her approval.

“I hope you slept well last night, Bobbie. That was quite a storm,” John remarked to break the ice. Bobbie merely nodded her agreement with big eyes. He knew not to make any mention of Maggie’s nightmare unless she brought it up.

John sat silent. Maggie slid a plate of eggs with toast in his direction.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome.”

They both ate without speaking until they finished. “John, are you going to call the Lighthouse Service today to resolve our situation, or should I?” “I’ll do it. I may be able to explain the mix-up better.”

“I agree. It’s better coming from you. I’m sure they’ve never heard a story like this one,” she chuckled.

“Are there things we need to tend to on the tower because of the storm?” he asked.

“Probably so. I’ll need to do an inspection and take care of whatever needs to be done,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Maggie, I’m volunteering to do whatever needs to be done.

I’m your assistant, and it’s not easy for one person to handle everything in a lighthouse.”

“I’ve already completed the routine things that need to be done this morning,” Maggie replied.

“Then I’ll make the call to the Lighthouse Service now,” he replied as he walked to the telephone in the sitting room and dialed the operator.

After he was connected and spoke with the attendant, he was transferred to several different people, none of whom understood the problem or how to fix it. One even commented, clearly not understanding the situation, “Mr. O’Brien, you’ve only been there one day. Try to work things out. Goodbye.” Frustrated after the runaround, he approached Maggie.

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find anyone who understood the problem, much less how to fix it,” he groused. “I think the only way to get it resolved is for me to write a letter with you confirming the situation. It’s harder to dodge a letter than a phone call. It will probably get passed up the chain to someone who hopefully will deal with it.”

“Hopefully?” she replied.

“Yes. And who knows how long it will take,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders which caused him to grab his injured one.

He rotated it to work out the cramp.

“Hmm,” Maggie replied. “I know they don’t pay you enough to be able to afford a room in town, especially when you’re supposed to have your shelter provided. I guess you’ll have to stay here until this gets worked out.”

“Won’t that cause you a problem?” he asked.

“With whom?”

“I guess with the people in town or anybody else who would have an opinion about it, maybe the Lighthouse Service.”

“You mean those old biddies in church who stare a hole right through you just because you’re new in town? And the Lighthouse Service is who caused the problem to begin with,” she replied with a laugh.

“Yeah, them, I guess,” he replied.

Maggie just rolled her eyes.

“Come on, Bucko, we’ve got work to do,” she ordered, now focused on the immediate needs. “We need to do a full inspection of the tower and grounds to check for storm damage. Let’s get going. Follow me,” she directed as she pulled on a set of men’s coveralls that did nothing to enhance her appealing figure. John simply smiled.

“What?” Maggie asked, noticing his reaction.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look kind of funny in those baggy men’s coveralls,” he replied. The regulations say women aren’t required to wear the same uniform the men are.”

He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth.

“Not this woman!” Maggie replied as she turned to head out the door to the tower with John following behind.

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*** With the storm having passed through, the sun shone brightly as Maggie and John walked around the tower base, inspecting for any resulting damage. As they walked, they cleared away limbs and other debris that had fallen from the nearby trees.

“We need to check the fuel house,” Maggie directed. They opened the door and turned on the light.

“Wow, this place has been neglected compared to everything else I’ve seen here,” John commented. “Out of sight, out of mind, I guess. It needs a good straightening and cleaning.”

A devilish smile crossed Maggie’s face. “Your next job, Bucko.”

He regretted having noted the fuel house’s condition, but he was her assistant, and that type of job was typically assigned to one.

They made their way up the tower to the beacon room.

“Things look okay in here to me,” John remarked. He noticed Maggie didn’t respond to his comment. “We should look outside.

That’s if you think we should,” he added.

They made their way around the catwalk from opposite directions. When they neared each other in the middle, and both moved to the side to avoid colliding, Maggie’s baggy coveralls got snagged on the railing, and she stumbled toward him. He grabbed her by the waist as she hesitated to steady herself, and he held on to her maybe a little longer than necessary. She stepped back and straightened her coveralls.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied as she straightened her coveralls and moved around him as if nothing had happened. The day’s work ended, and they all retired for the evening only to be interrupted by the wick shifts they shared. *** Early the following morning, the phone rang. “Hello,” Maggie answered.

“Ma’am, may I speak with the lighthouse keeper? This is an emergency,” the voice on the other end asserted.

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“Speaking.”

“This is the U.S. Coast Guard. We’ve received a Mayday call from a vessel in your area and need your immediate assistance in locating the craft. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir, I do. We’re on it.”

“Thank you. Please call us back immediately with coordinates when they’re determined. Do not attempt a rescue at this time,” he ordered.

“Yes, Sir. Right away, Sir.” Maggie raced up the stairs to the second-floor barracks and yelled, “Bucko, get up!” John lept from his bunk shirtless and in his undershorts, brushing his normally kempt hair from his eyes.

Seeing him, Maggie attempted to cover her eyes but not before noticing his powerfully built chest and arms. “Oh, I’m sorry. Put on some clothes and grab your binoculars. We need to get up on the tower. The Coast Guard called and said they’ve received a Mayday distress call from a boat nearby. They need us to get a visual on it so we can give them its location.”

“Got it!” John replied. Maggie raced back down the steps to the first floor.

“Bobbie, stay in your room. Mr. O and I have to go up on the tower to see if we can see a boat that’s in trouble.”

Maggie raced to the top of the tower and peered over its side, not knowing in which direction to look. I wish they would have told me east or west or something, she thought. Maybe a more experienced lighthouse keeper would have asked or known where to look.

John arrived with his binoculars.

“See anything yet?” he asked.

“No,” Maggie replied, her voice expressing her frustration.

John spoke. “We should do a quick scan of the shoreline first and then work our way out into the bay where we think the most danger exists. It’s a process of elimination. The Coast Guard is at the mercy of the location they’re given, if any. We can cover a broader area by sight than they can on the water.” John peered through his binoculars at all the shoreline he could see. “I don’t see anything. Here, you start looking out farther,” he directed as 122

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he handed the binoculars to Maggie.

After a few nerve-wracking minutes, she declared, “I think I see something!” She handed the binoculars back to John. “Look out there,” as she pointed. “It looks like a capsized boat, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does. And I see some people hanging onto the sides, which is a good sign.”

“Quick. Run back down and call the Coast Guard and tell them where they are,” Maggie ordered.

“Maggie, you should make the call. You are the head keeper, and you spotted them. But you must give them some directions to follow.”

Maggie looked at him curiously. John stared at the boat and pulled a compass from his pocket. “This direction is due north,” he said as he pointed. He held up his thumb and looked past it at the boat for reference. “Tell the Coast Guard the boat’s location is twenty degrees east of our position but give them another bearing based on intersecting lines between two landmarks, if possible, to help with verification. They’ll have our coordinates on file.”

“Got it,” she replied as she grabbed the binoculars to get a better view of the boat’s location.

“Stay here,” she directed as she raced down the stairs to call the Coast Guard. She reappeared a few minutes later.

“They’re on it,” she said.

“You’re right,” John replied as he peered through his binoculars. “I can see the Coast Guard cutter in the distance heading toward them. It looks like this will have a good outcome.

Nice job. You’ll no doubt get a commendation for this.”

“A commendation?”

“Yes. From the Coast Guard for your assistance in the rescue.”

“But, you were the one that knew how to search from up here. I didn’t locate the boat until you told me how to do it,” she argued.

He hesitated to respond.

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shrugged.

“Thank you for your help, John. You may have saved someone’s life with your quick action and experience. I appreciate it. A job well done.”

“Thank you. It’s what a good keeper does, Maggie,” John replied with a nod. “It makes all the other mundane jobs we do worthwhile.” He turned to walk down the steps. “So I guess I’ll go clean the fuel house now,” he announced with a smile.

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19 The following Sunday, after the morning duties were completed, Maggie called out to Bobbie. “Bobbie, if we hurry, we can make the last Mass at church.”

Bobbie ran from her room.

“Can Mr. O go with us?” she pleaded.

“Well, I don’t know. We should probably have someone stay here in case there’s an emergency we need to deal with,” Maggie replied.

“Oh please, Mommy. Please.”

“Okay. I suppose being away for an hour or so won’t matter.

How do we know he wants to go, though?” John entered from outside, and Bobbie seized the opportunity to ask him before Maggie could.

“Do you want to go to church with us, Mr. O?” she asked.

“Uh, well.” He looked at Maggie, who stood expressionless.

“If it’s okay with your mom, I guess so.”

“Yay!” Bobbie squealed. “Let’s get ready. I like to go to church to see the pictures. They’re way up high,” she said as she motioned toward the ceiling.

John looked at Maggie, who cocked her head in a let’s get going look.

“Okay, I’ll call the Coast Guard to tell them we’ll be out for an hour or so,” John offered.

In no time, they were all back in the sitting room, knowing they had to hurry to make it to church on time.

“Are you riding with us?” Bobbie asked John.

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“I suppose I’ll just drive myself and meet you there,” he replied.

“Oh no, ride with us. Mommy, can he ride with us?”

“Okay,” Maggie replied. “But we need to get moving, or we’ll be late.”

As they drove, neither Maggie nor John said much, with Bobbie providing most of the commentary, as was typical. They arrived at St. Mary, Star of the Sea Church, just as Mass began.

The church was crowded, and the only pew open was one in the middle of the center aisle. They hustled down the aisle as Maggie was pinning a chapel veil on her head. They squeezed into the pew with Bobbie between them and stood for the opening hymn. Maggie looked around slowly and saw a number of the congregation looking them over, some probably wondering who she was while others, who he was.

After the hymn, they sat as the Mass continued. Bobbie held her mother’s hand in hers. Maggie glanced over and smiled at her affectionately and was shocked to see her also holding John’s hand. If the old biddies here get a gander of that, their tongues will be waggin’ before they’re out of the church, Maggie thought.

Fortunately, the congregation stood for the reading of the Gospel, and Bobbie released her grip on both of their hands.

At Communion, when John followed Maggie up the aisle in full view of everyone in the church, Maggie knew that many prying eyes focused on them. She told herself she didn’t care what they thought.

After Mass out on the street, the same lady who had spoken with Maggie the last time she was there approached her. “Did I remember you telling me you weren’t married the last time we spoke,” she began with a haughty stare.

“Yes, I did,” Maggie replied.

“Who might this fine-looking man be then?” she asked with an irreverent flit of her head.

“I’m John O’Brien,” John replied as he offered his hand. “I’m the assistant lighthouse keeper.”

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John following close behind. At the car, Maggie started it and jammed it into gear, and they sped off. John just laughed.

“What are you laughing at?” Maggie barked.

“You know what I’m laughing at.”

“What’s funny?” Bobbie asked.

“Nothing. Just some old biddies with their nose stuck so far up in the air they’re probably having trouble breathing.”

John chuckled again at her analogy.

“Huh?” Bobbie said.

“Just another fine Sunday in Paradise,” John jested with another laugh.

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20 The week passed, and Maggie and John went about their duties as usual while getting accustomed to working together.

On Saturday, Maggie mentioned to John that she needed to go into town for provisions and asked him to keep an eye on Bobbie.

“Of course. Take your time,” John replied.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can be,” she replied.

She headed into town in her car and was gone a few hours before returning with the week’s provisions. When she arrived, John walked out to the car to help her with the bags. Maggie entered the house first and saw Bobbie at the kitchen table drinking from a glass.

“What are you drinking, honey?” she asked as she unloaded the bags into the pantry.

“Uh, Coke,” she replied sheepishly, anticipating her mother’s unfavorable reaction. Maggie flew out of the pantry like a rocket.

“You gave her Coke?” she asked John, who stood there with his bags, dumbfounded. “She’s not allowed to have Coke. It’s nothing more than sugar and colored water. Her teeth will rot out of her head, and the sugar will keep her up all night. Bobbie, you know better. Now go to your room, honey.”

Bobbie stomped off with a pouty face, and as she passed, John mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

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girls?” Maggie laughed with a wink. John didn’t answer but just shrugged and rolled his eyes. *** That night after dinner, when Bobbie had left the table, John spoke with Maggie.

“Maggie, I’ve written the letter to the Service and have formally requested a transfer, given the mixup with my assignment. I’d like you to sign it, acknowledging the circumstances.”

Maggie sat silent, absorbing the impact of his words.

“You want to leave us?”

“No. But we agreed when I first arrived; that we would try to resolve the assignment mixup. My phone call wasn’t effective, so my suggestion was to write. So that’s what I’m doing.”

“I see. I thought we were working well together. And since I didn’t care what the locals thought about your living here, I thought we would just see things through. I guess I was wrong.”

“Maggie, I don’t want you to get in hot water with the Lighthouse Service for not reporting this matter. You know they’re going to learn of it eventually. When that happens, who knows how they may react and what action they may take. It’s hard to anticipate their response and actions. They may decide to transfer you to another lighthouse rather than me. Who knows?

I don’t want to take the chance. Me formally requesting a transfer may provide them with an easier solution.”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way,” she replied. “I know we talked about it in the beginning, but I think we’ve worked through or maybe, around it. I didn’t think about any negative consequences it may cause us with the Service. Maybe it’s my inexperience showing.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” John consoled her. “My motto is, ‘The best way to get out of trouble is to stay out of trouble,’ so this request may be our best option. We don’t know how the Service may react. My letter may sit on some bureaucrat’s desk for an eternity. Who knows? But there can’t be a backlash against either of us if we’ve pointed it out and offered a solution.”

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“I suppose you’re right, but I don’t know how I’m going to explain this to Bobbie,” Maggie replied. “She thinks the world of you and won’t understand why you would need to leave.”

“No sense in upsetting her now,” John replied. “We don’t know where this whole thing is going yet.”

“You’re right. I’ll sign the letter. It’s my job.”

He handed her the letter, and she signed her name.

The following morning John placed his letter in their mailbox for the postman to pick up and wondered how long it would take the Service to respond. Maggie was tending to the usual morning duties, so he decided to fix a nice breakfast for the three of them.

He thought it might help cheer up Maggie after their decision to send his transfer request letter.

As Maggie returned from her duties on the tower, the pleasing aroma of the cooking breakfast surprised her. “Well, look at you. You look like a natural in that apron. When did you learn to cook?”

John turned and looked at her when he heard her speak. “I come from a large family. I suppose some of my mother’s and sisters’ culinary skills may have rubbed off on me,” he replied with a smile. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

“I’ll go get Bobbie,” Maggie said. “I thought she’d be up by now. Get up, honey. John’s fixing us a big breakfast. You’ll miss out if you don’t get a move on.” Bobbie appeared from her room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and cheered up when she saw John working in the kitchen.

“No oatmeal this morning, Bobbie,” John greeted. “It’s bacon and eggs, and I made your favorite—pancakes. Should be good eatin’ if I say so myself. Hop on up here, and I’ll start serving.”

She did as told and took her customary seat at the table. She was soon joined by Maggie, who had left to wash up a bit after her morning duties on the lighthouse.

“Isn’t this a nice surprise, Bobbie? We need to be extra nice to Mr. O today, don’t we.” Bobbie nodded in agreement as she placed a forkful of pancakes in her mouth.

“Mmm, good,” she mumbled through a mouthful.

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“Thank you,” John replied. “It’s an old family recipe. I’m glad you enjoy them.”

“It’s all good, John. Thank you for fixing breakfast. We could get used to this, couldn’t we, Bobbie,” Maggie said with a laugh.

John joined them at the table as they ate.

“Bobbie, are you doing okay?” he asked as he reached over and wiped away syrup that was running down her chin. “I thought you were going to sleep through breakfast since your mama had to go looking for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. O,” she replied. Maggie took notice of John’s and Bobbie’s interaction and was pleased to see how they got along. She realized that she dreaded the thought of him transferring to another location.

With all of her morning duties completed, Maggie wanted to get away for a few hours to clear her head, so she decided to take the short ride over to Salem. She had read the book she found about the Salem witches, which was fascinating, so she went there looking for more reading material. She also thought the trip would be a good distraction from the stress of overseeing the lighthouse. She decided to ask John to look after Bobbie while she was gone.

“John, I need to go to town. Would you mind watching after Bobbie for me? She enjoys your company so much.”

“I’d be happy to. And no Coke this time,” he replied with a laugh.

“Bobbie, I’m leaving for town. Be good for John. Okay?”

“Okay,” she answered from her bedroom.

Maggie drove straight to Salem and stopped at the town’s library to research the witch trials. As she entered and approached the librarian’s desk, she whispered, “Where do I find information on the Salem witch trials?” The librarian pushed her glasses up on her nose, smiled, and waved her right arm like a ballerina to an entire section of books devoted to the trials.

“Thank you,” Maggie replied. She thumbed through a few books, checked out two, and headed back to Beverly. En route, she realized she needed to pick up some provisions, if for no other reason than to justify to John her time away. She also decided 131

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to finally purchase a shotgun for protection, given the constant chatter about some questionable characters in the area.

She spoke to the clerk at Marker’s General Store. “Sir, I’m interested in a twelve-gauge shotgun. Can you show me what you have in stock?”

“Yes, Maggie. We have a nice selection. What are you hunting?” he asked.

She hesitated. “I want it for protection. We’re pretty isolated at the lighthouse, and I want to feel safe.”

“I see. We’ve got this nice Winchester here. It doesn’t kick like a mule and has a modified choke. How does it feel?” he asked as he handed it to her.

“It feels good. How much is it?”

“Fifty dollars.”

“I’ll take it. And a box of shells—buckshot. Put it on the lighthouse account. And can you deliver it? I’ll feel funny walking through town with a shotgun even if it is wrapped up.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll bring it by later. Thank you for the business.”

While leaving the store, she ran into Patrick, Bob, and Clyde, parked on the rocking chairs out front. “How’s it going, Maggie?

Is everything good at the light? I hear you got some feeble little assistant in now. How’s that working out?” Clyde teased her with a laugh.

“Clyde, give the poor girl a break. Would you?” Bob chastised.

“She knows I don’t mean nuthin’ by it. Don’t you, honey?”

“Clyde, if I ever pay any attention to anything you say, it will be the first time,” Maggie shot back with a laugh.

“See Bob, no harm done,” Clyde replied.

“By the way, boys, how did you know my assistant came in? I didn’t mention it to anyone.” Clyde let out a howl.

“After you two were making goo-goo eyes at each other in church, it’s all anybody in town is talkin’ about.”

“Goo-goo eyes? We were praying just like everybody else,” she replied.

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in this little town. All our gossip’s usually been run through the mill a dozen times. But this is fresh stuff, so nobody’s lettin’ up. A hot tamale like you with a hunk like him for an assistant, yowie!

Good stuff. That’ll keep the jaws around here a-flappin’ for quite some time. Everyone’s imaginations are runnin’ wild about—” “Clyde, enough, for gosh sakes!” Patrick interrupted. “Sorry, Maggie” “It’s okay,” she replied. “I’d say the biggest jaws flapping around here are Clyde’s, but I’ll be sure to give you guys the inside scoop on any new developments. By the way, my assistant has written the Lighthouse Service for a transfer. Maybe I’m just too hot to handle,” she declared with a laugh as she sashayed down the street, which brought the loudest howl from the trio in the rocking chairs. *** As Maggie made her way back to her car, she noticed the shop where Dakotah, the Native American man she had previously met, was selling his wares. She stopped in to say hello and check out his articles for sale.

“Hello, Dakotah.”

“Hello, Maggie,” he replied, which surprised her because she didn’t recall having mentioned her name to him before.

“You said you were an Elder in the Lakota Tribe.”

“I am,” he replied with a nod.

“These are lovely,” she commented as she admired a string of beads. “Did you make this necklace here?”

“No. I brought it with me.”

“Why did you say you were here?”

“As I’ve said, I have some business to tend to here. You seem troubled, Maggie. Can I help?”

“I don’t know if I would say troubled, maybe perplexed,” she replied.

“Sit here with me,” he offered. “Maybe I can help.” He laid a blanket on a rocking chair beside his. “This will bring you

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comfort. It is a consecrated blanket given to me by the Elders of my tribe.”

“It’s very nice,” Maggie replied while rubbing her hand across the fabric.

“What perplexes you?” Dakotah asked.

“I’ve met a man who is very interesting to me,” Maggie began.

“This is a problem?”

Maggie took a deep breath before responding. “Well, I suppose it is. I’m here primarily to put my past behind me.”

“What about your past is so troubling?”

She hesitated again, choosing her words carefully before continuing. “My husband was killed in the war. It was a tragedy that has been hard for me to overcome. We weren’t together very long, but he was the love of my life, and we had a beautiful child together. I can’t bear to lose his memory and what he meant to me by getting involved with someone else.”

“I see. But you can’t live forever in sorrow, and he would never want you to,” Dakotah replied. “You’re young, and your daughter is young. You need to look to the future rather than mourning the past.”

“My mind knows that, but my heart doesn’t seem to see it that way. I have these terrible dreams off and on. In them, I see his plane going down with the crew bailing out over the ocean.

But I also see flashes of an Indian man’s face, like he’s in a fog or a haze. He’s motioning to me like he’s trying to send me a message or something. I can’t seem to shake them, and I don’t know what they mean.”

Dakotah rocked back and forth in his chair for a minute before responding. “I recall giving counsel to a young man once in your Sturgis. He was pursuing a woman who was loyal to another man. At the time, he was perplexed as well. My advice to him was to be patient, that the Great Spirit would direct him. As I recall, he sat on the same blanket you are sitting on now.”

“Really?” Maggie replied.

“Yes, he was a fine chap. He drove an old Indian motorcycle to the motorcycle rally. He was very proud and particular about it. It meant a lot to him. The young woman there who he had 134

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met by chance and caught his eye troubled him so much that he drank too much because of it,” he replied with a grin.

“Troubled, how?” Maggie asked.

“She was involved with the other man for many years, but he still yearned for her.”

“Oh my gosh, was his name Bob?” “Could be. Yes, I think it was.,” “Was the girl me?” Maggie asked as she began to cry, knowing it most likely was.

“Could be. He didn’t name her. He simply described her as having a strong spirit.”

“What advice did you give him?”

“I told him that the relationships between men and women are the same as between man and Mother Earth. Things are intended to evolve naturally over time. He was impatient for fear he may never gain her heart. You are fearful that you may become reckless and lose him in your heart. I also told him that the Great Spirit, the Creator, has a plan for everyone, but we don’t always know what it is.”

Dakotah took out a pipe and lit it before continuing, giving her time to absorb his comments as the sweet smell of the tobacco permeated the surrounding air.

“You must also understand that we take many of the seeds of life from our forefathers and our loved ones who pass over before us. That is their gift to us. They are the stem from which we grow.

Without their nourishment and support, we don’t survive. And our growth honors their existence. We take what they send us until it is our time to do the same for those following us. It is the circle of life. Understand this, and you will flourish as they wish you to.”

“But I don’t want my love for him to pass so easily,” Maggie countered as she dabbed her eyes. “I have a hole in my heart that will never heal.”

“No one can survive an open wound forever,” he replied.

“Your love will always be as true as a whisper in the wind—one that’s nurtured in a breeze that warms our hearts, yet as profound as the beat of a drum cascading through a valley. He will always be 135

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in your heart, and his spirit will always protect you,” he remarked as he placed his hand on hers to comfort her. “Tell me about this man who is very interesting to you. Do you have strong feelings for him and he for you?”

“He is the assistant lighthouse keeper—resulting from an assignment mixup. The oddest thing.”

“A meeting by chance, you say?” Dakotah asked with a smile.

“I guess you could call it that,” she replied, not picking up on his alluding to hers and Bob’s chance meeting. “He is attractive and the perfect gentleman. I’m fighting this battle within myself, and it’s horrible. Now he’s requested a transfer, and he may be gone from my life forever.”

“So you want him to be in your life?” he probed.

“I don’t know what I want, I don’t know if this could go somewhere, but I don’t like where I am right now. I just don’t know what to do,” she answered in a disheartened tone.

“Maggie, only you can decide because you are the one who must live with the consequences of your decisions. You must blaze your own trail and travel your own path. Otherwise, you are following someone else’s path. As I told the young man in Sturgis, you must be patient. The next time you are on your lighthouse tower, look to the stars in the heavens. The mystery of the Great Spirit is that He is everyone, and He is no one. He sees our hearts and provides us answers in our souls. He will lead you. You must free your heart of what troubles you so He can fill it with His grace. If you do so, you may find the answer to those dreams that haunt you.”

“Thank you,” Maggie replied as she rose. “I must go now.”

“Come by any time. It’s always nice to see you.” *** Maggie returned to the lighthouse to find John and Bobbie in the yard enjoying the weather.

“Look, Mommy, those seagulls want my cookie,” she announced as she darted around the yard laughing.

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“Bobbie, you know you’re not allowed to have cookies during the day, don’t you,” Maggie moaned. “You won’t eat your dinner.”

John’s face froze in an oh-no, not again, look.

“Sorry,” Bobbie apologized. Maggie smiled at John, knowing Bobbie had hoodwinked him again.

“You’re kind of a slow learner, aren’t you,” she teased John.

“I guess I am. There seems to be enough evidence,” he replied with a laugh as he helped Maggie into the house with her bags. *** After Bobbie went inside with Maggie, John returned outside to split wood to stock their supply for the oncoming winter. It was an unusually warm fall day, and as he split nearly a cord of wood, he had removed his shirt. Maggie watched him from the kitchen window admiring his glistening Adonis-like physique.

She also noticed the four-inch jagged scar on his shoulder, the remnants of the wound he suffered when his boat sunk in the war. He occasionally stopped to rub it.

After stacking the wood, he entered the house, putting his shirt back on.

“Does your shoulder still bother you?” Maggie inquired.

Showing surprise that she brought it up, John simply replied, “At times. But I’ve learned to live with it. Hopefully, it will eventually get better. The shrapnel embedded in it may work its way to the surface where it can be removed.”

“I think there’s some ointment in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom that may help. Do you want me to go get it?”

“No need,” he replied. “I’m still working through a supply the Navy gave me when I was discharged. I guess when they told me they couldn’t remove the shrapnel, they thought they’d better give me a lifetime supply.”

“Thank you for splitting the wood,” Maggie remarked. “We’ll need it this winter for sure.”

“We’ll need that and then some. But the job will keep for another day,” John replied.

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Bobbie entered the room toting Bur Bear after John went upstairs.

“You like him, don’t you, Mommy?”

“Of course. He’s a nice man,” “He’d be a good daddy,” Bobbie simply replied as she returned to her room.

138

21 A day later, when Maggie was involved with official paperwork, Bobbie kept nagging her to go outside and play. “I can’t take you out right now; I have to finish this paperwork,” Maggie replied. “It’s important. It’s part of my job. The longer you ask me to go outside, the longer it’s going to take me to finish.”

Bobbie stomped off to the sitting room and sat there pouting.

John walked in from being on the tower.

“I got the lube work finished,” he announced as he wiped the grease from his hands. “The gears should quiet down some.”

“Dirty work,” he mumbled to himself. Bobbie’s eyes brightened when she saw him.

“Can Mr. O take me out?” she asked her mother. Maggie looked up from her paperwork at Bobbie as John looked at Maggie.

“She wants me to take her out to play,” Maggie explained to him. “I’m buried with this paperwork, and I told her she’d have to wait. Now she wants you to take her out. Bobbie, you need to learn to have some patience.”

“It’s okay. I’ll take her out,” John said. “I know just the place, Bobbie. One I’ve wanted to check out myself. Let’s get your jacket on. There’s a breeze out there,” he commented as she jumped from her chair and raced to her room to fetch her jacket. Maggie sat speechless as John and Bobbie headed out the door hand in hand. She smiled, appreciating how well the two of them got along.

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They walked the short distance down Bayview Avenue to a sandy beach littered with rocks on the shoreline below and adjacent to the lighthouse property. They sat for a while on a large rock, enjoying the warmth of the sun before Bobbie began to stir.

“Our lighthouse sure is big,” she said, looking up at it from below.

“It does look big from down here, ” John replied.

“Who made it?” she asked as she picked up a rock and heaved it into the bay.

“Oh, let me show you how to do that,” John said in response to her throw. “The bay is quiet enough that we may be able to skip some rocks on it,” he said, which piqued her interest.

“Help me find some smooth flat ones. They skip better,” he said as he knelt down near the ground to get a better look.

“Like this one?” she asked as she held one up for him to see.

“That one is flat enough, but it needs to be bigger. Let’s try this one,” he said as he picked up a larger stone.

“Now you have to hold it like this,” he said, showing her the proper grip, “and you have to sling it from the side,” he said as he demonstrated a sidearm slinging motion. “That will make it skip.

Now try it,” he urged as he put the rock in her hands. He knew she was too young to execute the throw properly but wanted her to make the first attempt at the new fun activity.

She threw the rock at the bay, and it didn’t skip and merely splashed into the water. “That’s okay, Bobbie. Let’s try it again.”

They searched for and found the perfect stone, and she flung it again at the water with the same result. Bobbie crossed her arms, showing her disappointment at her results.

“I can’t do it,” she whined with a pouty face.

“Here, let me help you,” John said as he knelt and took her by the hand. “I’ll hold the rock, and you hold my hand, and we’ll do it together. I’m going to pull my arm back, and we’ll fling it, and maybe it will skip. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Here we go,” John said as he pulled his arm back and slung it forward as he sent the stone on its flight. “Look! It skipped!” he shouted as Bobbie applauded their joint effort.

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“Let’s do another one!” she shouted as she went on the hunt for another stone. She quickly returned with the perfect candidate.

“That’s a good one,” John said. “You’re getting the hang of it.

Now, the last one skipped once, so we have to get this one to skip at least twice. Okay?”

“Okay!” She assumed the same position as before and put her hand on his as he pulled his arm back and slung the stone toward the bay.

“One, two, oh, and three!” he exclaimed as the stone hopped like a frog tracking a Junebug.

“Wow! Let’s do another one!” she yelled and went searching for another flat stone.

“Okay, let’s give her a try. How many now?” John asked.

“Four,” she replied as she jumped into her and John’s normal launch position.

Maggie wondered where John and Bobbie wandered off to and suspected it would be down near the water’s edge. She stood on the house’s porch, which faced the bay, and saw the pair launching stones into the water. She enjoyed watching Bobbie scamper to find new ones between throws and hurrying back to John’s arms for their next attempt.

She realized it was Bobbie, not her, who first made contact with John in the filling station in Illinois by waving to him as she sat in the back seat of their car. Maybe she’s got an eye for guys, Maggie laughed to herself. She sure knew how to reel in this one.

After launching a half-dozen rocks into the bay, they stopped to rest and returned to sit on the rock. They were enjoying the soft rays of the sun, occasionally interrupted by a cool breeze from the north, when Bobbie spoke.

“Do you want to be my daddy?”

John, showing little reaction, merely replied, “Gee, I don’t know. Do you want me to be your daddy?”

“Yes.” “I think your mother would have a big say in that,” John said with a laugh.

“I think she wants you to,” she replied with a teasing little smile.

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“You do, do you?” John replied, not wanting to expound on his and Maggie’s relationship.

“If I’m not your daddy, I’ll always be your friend, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied as she hugged him around his neck.

“We need to get back. Your mommy will be wondering what happened to us,” he said as he took her by the hand as they retraced their steps toward the house.

Maggie had watched Bobbie and John’s interaction on the beach and admired it. Bobbie relates to him so well. I’m glad this Alison really was a John, she thought. She moved back inside the house when she saw them begin their return trip. She returned to her seat at the kitchen table to resume her paperwork when they entered.

“Mommy, Mr. O showed me how to skip rocks. You do it like this,” she said as she demonstrated the sidearm motion.

“He did, did he?” Maggie replied with a smile, not letting on she had watched them from the porch. “It sounds like you had fun.”

“Uh-huh,” Bobbie replied as John helped her remove her jacket. He simply smiled at Maggie, not elaborating on any details of their venture, rather just pleased that he and Bobbie enjoyed their time together. Maggie acknowledged his gesture with a smile and a thank you nod. *** Two nights later, on Saturday evening Maggie and Bobbie were sitting at the kitchen table playing cards when John came downstairs.

“Maggie, I’m going to run into town for a couple of hours,” he said.

“Mr. O, stay and play cards with us. We’re playing Old Maid.

It’s fun,” Bobbie pleaded. He looked at Maggie, who shrugged her okay.

“I can stay for one hand, I suppose,” John replied with a smile. They played a hand which led to a second one, which led to more.

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“Can we turn on the radio and dance?” Bobbie begged.

“Oh, I don’t know, honey,” Maggie replied. John spoke up.

“We can probably pick up Bob Clayton’s Boston Ballroom on WHDH from here, especially on a clear night like tonight.” He rose from the table and moved toward the big Zenith radio in the sitting room. Maggie and Bobbie followed him in. He stood over the radio, fidgeting with the tuner. “It’s 850 on the dial,” he announced with Bobbie watching at his hip.

“Give him some room, honey,” Maggie directed Bobbie, who didn’t budge but rather was laughing at the whistling and staticky sound the tuner made as the needle passed across the dial to its intended location.

“I like that sound,” Bobbie said as she giggled.

“Oh, here it is,” John declared as Clayton’s voice was heard announcing the next song to be played— the lively popular tune, “Five Minutes More” by Frank Sinatra.

As it began, Bobbie jumped up and grabbed her mother’s hands. “Let’s dance!” she shouted as she whirled herself around.

“Mr. O, come dance with us; it’s fun!”

“I don’t know. I’m not much of a dancer.”

“Oh, please,” she begged.

“Okay. But don’t blame me if I step on your toes.”

The threesome held hands in a circle and danced around the room. “Whee, this is fun!” Bobbie shouted.

As the song ended, the grandfather clock in the room bonged the hour, prompting Maggie: “Bobbie, this next one is your last one. You need to get to bed, young lady.”

“And this is a special one by Sammy Kaye and his orchestra, who are in our studio tonight. It’s ‘The Old Lamplighter,’” Clayton announced as the orchestra broke into tune on cue. The three joined hands again, but the song carried a much slower melody, and Bobbie soon backed away as she joined Maggie’s and John’s hands together.

“You two dance,” she said as she clapped her hands with excitement.

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put one hand on her back as she raised a hand to his shoulder.

They joined their other two hands in a normal shoulder-high slow-dance position. She felt him move closer, which she didn’t resist, and they danced nearly cheek-to-cheek.

Maggie hadn’t slow-danced with another man since Bob, but she immediately fell into rhythm with John’s leading motions as they moved around the sitting room’s floor. When the song ended, they slowly backed away from each other and broke their grips and eye contact. Maggie looked around for Bobbie, who had already retreated to her room.

“Thank you, John. Bobbie enjoyed this very much. Now you can be off to charm the ladies in town,” Maggie joked. “Don’t forget to be back to trim the wicks. It’s your duty tonight,” she added with a teasing smile.

“Of course,” he replied. Maggie entered Bobbie’s room to tuck her in for the night.

“Did you brush your teeth, young lady? Let me see,” as Bobbie flashed her a smile, and Maggie gave her a good-night kiss.

“Do you like him, Mommy? I think he likes you.”

Maggie was surprised by Bobbie’s question and observation.

“He’s a nice man. I wish I had a daddy. It would be fun,” Bobbie whispered as the little matchmaker rolled over and closed her eyes. Maggie turned off the light and walked out to the sitting room, where she was surprised to see John still there.

“I thought you were going to town.”

“I was, and maybe I still will.” Maggie sat down on the opposite side of the room. “You never told me the story of what happened to your husband,” John began. Maggie was surprised by his comment and felt a bit uncomfortable responding, not knowing where his line of questioning was leading.

“His name was Bob.” “Which branch did he serve in?”

“The Navy.”

“Where was he stationed?

“Pearl Harbor.”

“Is it difficult for you to talk about it? I don’t mean to pry, but your answers are pretty brief.” Maggie hesitated before responding.

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“I don’t know. I’ve never discussed it in any detail with anyone who didn’t know him,” she said.

“I see. Do my questions make you uncomfortable?”

“I suppose not,” she replied with a shrug.

“What was his duty?”

“He was a pilot on a B-17. His plane got shot down in the South Pacific. He died later in a hospital in San Diego. I was pregnant at the time. Why are you asking me all these questions?” she asked as she began to tear up.

“Because I want to get to know you, and your experiences may give me some insight. You know things about me, but I know very little about you. You’re very private. If we’re going to be here together for a while, we may as well get to know each other better. It’s hard to do that without conversation.”

“Okay,” Maggie replied. “I’ll answer what I feel comfortable with.”

“Fair enough.”

“Good night, Bucko,” Maggie declared, intentionally dashing off before she had to answer any more questions about her past. “And don’t forget the wicks!” she added as she closed her bedroom door.

I guess everything has its price, John thought to himself as he trudged up the steps to his bunk.

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22 A steady rain fell the following day, and after the morning duties were completed, Maggie sat down with the two books on the witch trials she had checked out of the Salem library. John had gone to town to pick up supplies and wouldn’t be back for a few hours.

She found the story fascinating about how the nearby village, in 1692, overcome with hysteria about witchcraft, accused hundreds of the practice and hanged nineteen men and women in its wake. Dozens of others languished in jail for months without trials, while one older man, Giles Corey, was pressed to death under heavy stones for refusing to submit to a trial. His wife was hanged three days later after she was tried and convicted.

As Maggie read the story and the fate of those accused, she wondered what Bobbie was up to in her room. “Bobbie, are you okay in there?” she called out.

“Yes. I’m playing with my friends.”

“Okay. Play nice with Bur Bear and Mr. George and your other friends. We’ll be eating lunch soon.”

Maggie continued to read for another half-hour before going to the kitchen to prepare lunch. She again called out to Bobbie.

“Bobbie, time for lunch.” Bobbie left her room in one of Maggie’s dresses which dragged across the floor as she walked.

“Bobbie, what are you doing in one of my dresses?” You know you shouldn’t be playing in one. How did you get it out of my closet anyway?”

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“I stood on a chair. My friends helped me. I wanted to dress like them.”

“March yourself back into your room and take off that dress.

Your supposed friends can help you.” Darn child, Maggie thought.

What will she dream up next? Bobbie returned with a pouty face and climbed onto a chair to eat.

“You know better than that,” Maggie scolded. Bobbie began eating her lunch without speaking, and Maggie wondered whether she was too harsh with her young daughter. Since Bobbie had no siblings and was isolated from other children her age, she also wondered if Bobbie’s imagination was running wild to compensate.

“Tell me about your friends, Bobbie,” hoping to entice her into a conversation.

“They’re very nice. They come to visit me almost every day.”

Bobbie replied. Maggie played along.

“And what do you do when they come by?”

“We play games like hide and seek. They’re good at it. They’re hard to find,” Bobbie replied as she ate.

“I haven’t seen them when they’ve come by. Why can’t I see them?” Maggie asked.

“I don’t know. They can see you.”

“They can see me? How do you know?”

“Because they said so. They told me you were the first lady lightkeeper here.”

“Did they?” Maggie replied, amused. “What else did they tell you?”

“They like Mr. O.” “Oh,” Maggie replied, not expecting that response from her young daughter. “What do they like to do here?”

“They like to dance. They say they couldn’t do that before.”

“Dance? I haven’t seen anyone dancing around here but you, honey. Where are they dancing?”

“Up there,” she said, pointing to the lighthouse tower. They like to dance in the light. They want me to dance with them.”

“I see,” Maggie replied. “And do your friends have names?”

“Yes. They’re named Mary.”

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“Both named Mary? That’s odd.” Bobbie simply shrugged her shoulders.

“Well, young lady, I don’t want you dressing up in my dresses, and I for sure don’t want you dancing on the light tower. Okay?”

“Okay,” Bobbie replied, disappointed as she slid off her chair and returned to her room.

Maggie looked in on Bobbie later and overheard her having a conversation, presumably with Bur Bear and Mr. George. She returned to her seat in the sitting room and resumed poring through her books on the witch trials. How could this hysteria get so far out of control with civilized people? she thought.

Bobbie emerged from her room an hour later and crawled up into Maggie’s lap. “It’s about time for you to take your nap, don’t you think?” Maggie urged as Bobbie yawned.

“What’s your book about?” Bobbie asked as she reached to look at the book. Maggie wondered how to respond since witch trials and hangings aren’t children’s topics.

“They’re stories about people who lived here a long, long time ago over in Salem.”

“Oh, can I see?”

“Sure. Look how they dressed in those days. Not like us now, huh.”

“There’s Mary and Mary, ” Bobbie said.

“What?” Maggie replied. “Where?”

“Right there,” Bobbie replied, pointing her finger. “Those are my two friends.”

Stunned, Maggie stared at the pictures of two middle-aged women. The captions under their pictures read Mary Eastey and Mary Parker. She further read they were tried and convicted of witchcraft and were hanged on Proctor’s Ledge at Gallows Hill on September 22, 1692. Goosebumps shot down her arms, and the hair on the back of her neck stood straight up.

“Let’s get you in for your nap, honey. You look tired,” Maggie said as she slid Bobbie down and walked her to her room.

Moments later, John returned from town loaded down with provisions.

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“John, John? I need to speak with you!” Maggie exclaimed as he entered. He wondered what was so important. Maggie usually seemed more even-keeled.

He simply replied, “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

“John, have you noticed anything odd about Bobbie lately?”

“Odd? In what way?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Maggie replied. “She says she has some friends who come by to play with her nearly every day. She dressed up in one of my dresses to look like them. She says they like to dance on our tower in the light at night. They want her to come dance with them.”

“I’m not an expert in these matters, but it sounds like a threeyear-old’s vivid imagination to me,” John replied. “I don’t know if I’d make much of it.”

“I didn’t think so either until she told me her two friends were named Mary,” Maggie replied. “I was reading this book on the Salem witch trials, and she asked why her two friends’ pictures were in the book. I looked at the page where she was pointing, and there were pictures of two women who were tried and hanged in the witch trials in 1692. The captions say Mary Eastey and Mary Parker. See for yourself,” as she handed him the book.

“Where are you going with this?” John asked.

“I don’t know. When I first got here, a few of the guys in town told me some wild stories about creepy goings-on out here. I didn’t know if they were just fooling with me or what. I asked Mr. Hill, the lightkeeper, about them and whether he had ever seen any ghosts or anything suspicious. He said he hadn’t but that his children claimed they had at times. He reminded me, though, that lighthouses, by nature, can seem pretty spooky at night. I didn’t think much of it until now. Maybe this kind of thing just comes with the territory.”

“Hmm,” John replied. “Most likely, it’s just a coincidence. I suppose all we can do is watch her and see where it goes.”

Maggie hesitated before responding. “You’re probably right.

It just seems like I should be doing something about it.”

“Watching her is doing something about it. We’re not ignoring it. I’ve heard some young children have sensory abilities 149

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that adults don’t or did but faded as they aged. She may simply see things we don’t. I know that can seem creepy to think about, but if she sees spirits, at least they seem to be friendly and aren’t evil ones, if that’s any comfort.”

“You’re probably right,” she replied as she sat down to continue reading her book. “Bobbie’s not your run-of-the-mill child. I’ll just have to learn to live with it. I don’t know if I can read this now!” she shouted as she tossed the book aside. *** The following day the Beverly Police Chief knocked on their door. Maggie answered.

“Hello, Chief. Welcome,” she greeted. Bobbie stood by, noting his starched uniform and sidearm. “How can I help you today?”

He politely removed his hat before speaking. “I’m Police Chief Frank Raymond.”

“I’m Maggie Schmitz, and this is my daughter, Bobbie,” Maggie replied. “It’s nice to meet you finally.”

“Likewise,” he replied with a nod. “I’m just checking in, ma’am. I haven’t been out this way in a while but wanted you to know that there have been some undesirables, if you know what I mean, in the area lately. They’re not like the normal treasure hunters we attract from time to time. I just want you to be informed.”

John walked into the room. “Sir, I was just telling your wife here…” Maggie cut him off mid-sentence.

“Chief, he’s not my husband. He’s the assistant here.”

“Sorry, ma’am. I told Maggie we’ve had reports lately about some trouble in the area. We’ve had some break-ins, and I wanted you to be informed and on the lookout. By the way, have either of you noticed anything odd going on out on the water or on the surrounding islands? You have a different vantage point than the rest of us.”

Maggie and John looked at each other, and Maggie spoke.

“No, Chief, we haven’t noticed anything out of the ordinary lately.

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be on the lookout. I’ve purchased a shotgun for our protection just in case.”

“Okay, I’ll be on my way. If you do notice anything, please call us,” the Chief replied as he replaced his hat and made his way back to his car. Bobbie returned to her room.

“I guess we’ll have to keep our eyes peeled for those outlaws,” Maggie commented to John.

“Yeah, you’re right. By the way, Maggie, I’ve got something else I need to talk to you about.” Maggie wondered what was coming. “I got this letter today in the mail from the Lighthouse Service,” he began. Maggie figured it was his transfer notice that he had requested and braced for what he was about to say. “They told me that I was not going to be transferred and to make the best of the situation here because this lighthouse is on their rotation to be automated.”

Maggie stood silent with a perplexed look on her face.

“What did you say?”

“I’m not transferring out because they’re going to automate this lighthouse,” he repeated, raising the letter in front of him as evidence.

“When?”

“As early as next year.” They both sat down in the sitting room to absorb the impact of his announcement.

“Wow! I had no idea,” she said with a bewildered look. “I wonder when this was decided?”

“No telling,” John replied. “Government agencies have their own set of rules.”

“What do you think this means for us?” Maggie asked.

“I guess we’ll be out of a job. It’s just a question of when,” John replied.

“What a week this is turning out to be. What else could go wrong?” Maggie added as she closed her eyes.

“Don’t tempt fate,” John replied.

Bobbie emerged from her room and crawled up into Maggie’s lap. Seeing her mother and John sitting down talking in the middle of the day was an unusual sight.

“What’s going on, Mommy?”

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“Nothing, honey,” she replied to comfort her as she pulled her close. “Everything’s fine. Just fine.” Maggie couldn’t help but think that the journey they had just started, what she thought was just the beginning of the next phase of her and Bobbie’s life, was going to come to an end far sooner than she could have ever imagined. She felt like someone had let the air out of her balloon, and she needed to reassess her priorities from that point forward. However, one priority she still prized was to be the best lighthouse keeper she could be. She was confident everything else would work itself out.

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23 Another warm fall day beckoned Maggie, Bobbie, and John to enjoy the outdoors before the winter and its continuous onslaught of storms set in.

“Mommy, can we go for a walk today down by the beach?”

Bobbie asked.

“I suppose we can. It’s such a nice day. I’ll let John know we’ll be out for a while,” Maggie replied.

“Can’t he go too? We can show you how we skip the rocks on the water,” Bobbie pleaded.

“Okay, let’s ask him if he wants to go.”

“I will!” Bobbie shouted as she ran up the steps to the barracks, where she found John perusing a Popular Mechanics magazine.

“Mr. O, go with us down to the beach!” she exclaimed through gasps for air from running up the steps.

“Okay. But we’ll have to let the other keepers in the area know we’re out,” he replied.

“Let’s go,” she said. The two went down to the main floor, where Maggie was waiting.

“We should probably call the Bakers Island and Winter Island stations to let them know to cover for us in an emergency search and rescue situation, as well as notify the Coast Guard,” John mentioned to Maggie.

“Already done,” Maggie replied.

“So you knew I was going?” John asked.

“I knew you wouldn’t tell her no,” Maggie replied with a laugh. John simply acknowledged her comment with a smile and 153

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an agreeing head bob.

“Come on, let’s go!” Bobbie shouted, dragging Maggie by the hand with John following closely behind.

They arrived at the beach and Bobbie proceeded to run to the water’s edge and heave in a rock resulting in a big splash. She turned to John with a look of disappointment.

“That’s not how I showed you. Get a flat rock and sling it from the side to make it skip,” he said, demonstrating the technique.

“Okay,” she replied as she raced to find another flat stone. She flung it, resulting in a skip, and leaped into the air to celebrate her accomplishment.

“Good girl,” John said. “Now, what do you do?”

“Two skips,” she replied as she searched for another perfect stone.

“You two make quite the pair,” Maggie acknowledged to John. “You’ve made a big impression on her.”

“She’s a great kid. She brightens everyone’s life around her,” he replied.

“Yes, she does. It’s so sad her father was killed before she was born.”

“The war yielded a thousand stories like yours,” John replied in agreement. “Widows who were forced to pick up the pieces.”

“I still struggle with putting things back together,” Maggie replied. “It’s not easy to follow an unexpected tragedy with the right solutions. I loved Bob dearly and feel I must remain loyal to him. It’s just hard to move on. I never thought self-confident me would have this much of a problem.”

“Is that truly what you want or what you think you must do?”

Maggie didn’t respond immediately, looking perplexed by his question.

“Is there a difference?”

“I think there is,” he replied.

“Okay, wise man,” Maggie replied, attempting to change the topic. “Let’s talk about your love life. Have you ever been in love?”

“I was. I was close to marrying the girl of my dreams, actually.”

“What happened?” Maggie asked.

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reading it when our boat got blown up. Talk about poetic justice.

Her letter went down with the ship,” he replied with a chuckle.

Maggie laughed too.

“I’m sorry. It was just the way you said it that made me laugh.”

“It’s okay. Maybe my version takes some of the sting out of it for me, too,” he replied with a laugh. “I was still heartbroken, though. You think your life is heading in the right direction, and then it gets turned upside down in a way you never expected by someone you love.”

“I know what you mean,” Maggie replied. “I got the same kind of letter from my years-long boyfriend, Alan, who was in the Army. It hurt at the time, but fortunately, it did open up things for me with Bob.” “How are you doing with your nightmares?” John asked, which surprised Maggie.

“Uh, well,” she hesitated, somewhat embarrassed by his question. “I still have them, but not as frequently.”

“Is it always the same dream?”

“Pretty much. It’s about Bob’s plane crashing into the ocean.

There’s an Indian man who is trying to tell me something that I can’t make out. It’s frustrating. I hope they end soon. I talked about them recently with Dakotah, the Indian who has the shop in town and does the beautiful wood carvings. He gave me some good advice on dealing with my emotions and finding my way.”

“Who?” “Dakotah. In the shop next to the fish market.”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’ve never seen him.”

“Really? He’s usually sitting outside. He’s hard to miss,” Maggie replied, surprised.

“If you say so,” John replied with a shrug.

“Anyway,” Maggie continued, “taking this job was supposed to help me put all of my issues behind me. Be a new start. Before we got here, we stopped in Kentucky to visit Bob’s family. I visited his grave and rode the antique Indian motorcycle he rode to Sturgis when we met. It all gave me some closure, but I feel I’m still looking for the missing piece. Maybe I’ll find it here,” she said. “Who knows?”

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“Maybe you will. Hopefully, you’re looking in the right places, or your journey may not end up where you want..”

“You’re right. As you said, you think you’re in control, and then your life takes a turn in a way you could never have predicted.

Maybe we’re both walking and talking examples.” She paused as she stared into the bay where Bobbie was still attempting to skip stones across the water.

“John, do you ever wonder how all of the other events in your life lead you to a certain place and time? Or how much or how little control you have over them?”

He turned to look at her, surprised by her serious query.

“Well, everyone’s life is a journey, with a beginning and an end.

I like to think I’m plotting my course by the choices I make. At the same time, I know I don’t control everything around me. But it’s easier to accept events in your life, both good and bad, if you feel you’re picking the route. Otherwise, whatever life brings you is just happenstance and so much harder to accept.”

“Wise words,” she replied. “Said another way, blaze your own trail and follow your own path,” echoing Dakotah’s words of advice.

“Exactly,” he replied. “But stay true to yourself. And know you can’t take on the world by yourself. There’s a place for others on your journey.”

“Bobbie, how are you doing with the skipping?” John called out to her.

“Okay, but can you help me?”

“Sure I can. I’ll be right there,” he replied as he walked toward her. “Like this,” he said as he picked up a stone and shot it across the water in six skips. “Nothing to it,” he joked.

“Umph,” she replied dejectedly after another faulty throw. “I can’t do it.”

“Sure you can. It’s just one throw but with a few parts. When you do them all right, it skips,” he replied as he took her hand and helped her with her next throw.

Maggie approached and observed their efforts. “Can I give it a try?. My brothers and I used to skip rocks on a lake near our home.”

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“Sure you can. Here’s the perfect stone. Don’t mess up.” John teased.

Maggie, always up for a challenge, slung it as hard as she could toward the water. It not only didn’t skip, but it also splashed as if thrown from the top of the lighthouse. Bobbie giggled, and John just stood wide-eyed. “Here, try another one. This time sling it and don’t throw it like you’re trying to kill a fish,” he chuckled, which drew a glare from Maggie as well as a look of determination.

She tried again with only moderate results and looked exasperated at her lack of success.

“Let him show you, Mommy. He showed me how to do it.”

John looked at Maggie for an okay, which he received. He stepped around her, placing his left hand on her hip for steadiness and taking her right hand in his. “Now, put this stone in your hand. We’re going to pull it back to the right on a flat plane, and then we’re going to fling it forward, not throw it. Got it?”

“Yep,” Maggie replied.

“Okay, here we go,” John announced as they let loose with the stone. It skipped once. “Hey, that was great. Let’s try another one.” They repeated the routine, and the stone skipped twice.

“Would you look at that? I think you’ve got the hang of it.”

“Oh, you’re such a good teacher, John,” Maggie remarked, feigning a compliment.

“We need to get back, Bobbie. It’s getting late,” Maggie urged.

As they walked back, Bobbie said to John, “Mommy throws good, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, for a girl,” he said with a laugh, which prompted Maggie to grab a stone, turn, throw, and skip it six times across the water. John heard the first skip and turned in time to see the stone flying across the bay.

Maggie stood with a broad smile on her face.

“I think I was just conned, wasn’t I?” he laughed.

“I told you I skipped stones across the lake at home with my brothers,” she said, laughing. “Yep. You’re such an easy mark.”

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24 The following day there was a letter in their mailbox from the U.S. Lighthouse Service. Maggie opened it at the breakfast table and read it aloud. “Oh, jeez. They’re coming to inspect. I’ve never been through an inspection before.”

“When are they coming?” John asked.

“In two days, it says. Oh my gosh. How are we going to be ready?”

“Relax,” John replied. “Things are in pretty good shape here.

We’ve got a few things to tidy up but not that much.”

“Not much? Well, let’s get with it instead of just talking about it! I’m the head lighthouse keeper, so I’m the one on the line!”

“Yes, ma’am,” John replied with a mock salute as he jumped up from the table to begin the spruce-up.

“Uh, wait a minute. What is it you think we should work on?”

Maggie asked, backtracking from her earlier admonishment.

“Basically, the logbooks need to be in order, and the rest of the premises need to be spick and span,” John replied.

“Okay. I’ll review the logbooks, and you start the cleanup.”

After a few hours of reviewing the logbooks and determining they were in order, Maggie looked for John. She found him shining the brass rails throughout the premises. “I’m sorry, I barked at you, John. This is my first inspection, and well—” “Don’t worry about it. I know what you’re like,” he teased as he dodged her attempt to whack him with one of his rags.

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“It reflects on me too. I’ve already cleaned up the fuel building.

You could eat off the floor. Well, maybe not that, but it will pass inspection.”

The two worked closely together to get things in order. In a couple of days, the inspectors arrived, a man and a woman from the Lighthouse Service. “Hello,” they greeted Maggie as John stood nearby. “We’re here to do the inspection. Let’s see, this is your first inspection, right?” the woman asked as she reviewed her records.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve only been here since September.”

“I see. And where is your assistant, Alison?”

“Right here,” Maggie replied, pointing to John. The woman looked up from her notes, at her assistant inspector, and back at Maggie.

“Our records indicate you aren’t married,” the inspector continued. “Is that right?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m a widow.”

“And he is Alison?” the inspector countered.

“According to the Lighthouse Service, he is,” Maggie replied, trying to keep a straight face.

“Hmm. Well, let’s get on with the inspection then,” the inspector replied with a huff.

Maggie and John followed them throughout both the tower and the house and the entire property as the inspectors made notes and pointed out areas for improvement. They also spent time thoroughly examining the logbooks. After they completed their inspection, they sat down with Maggie and John.

“I see in our records that this is your first assignment, Margaret,” the lady inspector noted using Maggie’s given name.

“That’s quite unusual, being assigned as a head keeper with no prior experience.”

Maggie offered no response.

“And it’s highly unusual to have an assistant of the opposite sex without the spouse of the head keeper in residence.”

Again, Maggie offered no response.

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our first impression is the two of you make a great team.” Her assistant nodded in agreement as the two inspectors stood to leave.

“Thank you, Margaret.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Maggie replied as the inspectors made their way back to their car. As Maggie closed the door, she couldn’t contain her glee and lept into John’s arms, then pushed away, acting as if nothing had happened. “Did you hear what she said? We make a great team.”

“I did,” John replied. “Let’s hope their formal report doesn’t come back with transfer papers for me.”

“No way,” Maggie replied. “You’re staying here with me.”

“If you say so, ma’am,” he replied with a smile.

Bobbie heard the excitement and came out of her room carrying Bur Bear and dragging Mr. George. Quack, quack, quack, quack. “Bur Bear and Mr. George want to know why you’re so happy.”

“We passed our inspection,” Maggie declared. “It’s a great day!”

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25 With the colors of autumn quickly fading, winter was bearing down on the region. It required Maggie and John to pay much closer attention to the weather than when it was fairer. Bad weather affected the vessels coming and going through Salem Sound and the area harbors and heavily influenced their duties on the lighthouse. In New England, powerful storms called nor’easters tend to develop most frequently and most powerfully between November and March, and this year was no exception.

“John, I hear there’s a nor’easter on the way,” Maggie mentioned at breakfast one morning.

“They’re awful,” he replied, shaking his head for effect. “They bring high winds, rain, ice, and snow sometimes with near blizzard conditions. We need to be careful when we work. I’ll start checking to see that things are secure. Your first experience with one will be memorable.”

“I can’t say I’m looking forward to it,” she replied. They both went about their duties, but as the day progressed, the sky told the story of what was coming. A cold wind blew in first. The seagulls broadcasted the changing conditions by squealing and heading for cover.

By nightfall, the storm had arrived with a fury. John and Maggie climbed the tower together to light the wicks. The wind was gusting so strongly they could feel the tower sway as it withstood the onslaught of the storm.

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“Let’s get out of here,” John urged as the beacon was lit and burned brightly. “I sure hope there aren’t any boats on the water tonight.”

They made their way back down and entered the house.

John threw another log in the potbellied stove to help fight the chill that permeated the house. “Wait it out is all we can do now.

Hopefully, it will have moved through by daylight, and we’ll see if we suffered any damage. I’m going to dread going up there to check the wicks tonight.”

“Me too,” Maggie replied. “To be safe, we better do it together.”

“I agree,” John said with a nod.

Near 4:00 a.m. Maggie’s alarm clock notified her it was time to go back up on the tower to check the wicks. It felt like she had just fallen asleep after she and John had checked the wicks at midnight. The storm made her warm bed seem even more inviting compared to going out into the cold on the tower, but she had a duty to do, and she was going to fulfill it.

As she dressed, she noticed she didn’t hear John stirring above in the barracks. Had he forgotten to set his alarm? she wondered.

She decided to check on him. She quietly climbed the stairs so she wouldn’t make a racket that would wake Bobbie. She didn’t flip on the light switch for the overhead lights but instead made her way toward John’s bunk from the light of the beacon as it periodically passed over the house.

As she approached, she saw he was still in his bunk. She admired his masculine form outlined by his covers as he lay there and, combined with the chill of the room and the thought of battling the storm outside, felt it drawing her to crawl in with him. Instead, she sat on the side of his bunk and tenderly touched his exposed hand. “John, wake up,” she said softly.

“What?” He sat up quickly, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s four o’clock. We’re supposed to check the wicks again.”

“I’m sorry. I overslept,” he mumbled. He leaned to one side to leap out of bed but couldn’t because she hadn’t yet moved from its edge. Neither one moved their eyes from the other. A silent moment passed before Maggie exhaled noticeably, stood, turned, and walked toward the stairs as she spoke.

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“We’ve got a job to do, Bucko. Let’s do it. I’ll be downstairs.”

He soon appeared, and though they glanced at each other, they didn’t speak before heading up the tower to perform their tasks. The ferocious nature of the storm quickly enveloped whatever other thoughts they had about each other as they climbed the steps. They executed their duties and promptly returned to the shelter of the house. He headed straight for his bunk and she to her room without further interaction as dawn would arrive within a couple of hours when their routine duties would resume.

Since the storm had howled throughout the night, with the pounding seeming to increase by the hour, both John and Maggie wondered what daybreak would bring. While checking the wicks, they noticed a significant ice buildup on the windows surrounding the beacon room, which would need removing in the morning. *** After dawn, the sun was shining brightly, and the mew of seagulls once again filled the air, trumpeting that the storm had passed while its cold and wind still lingered. When Maggie and John met to discuss their approach to tackling the ice and snow buildup on the outside of the beacon room, neither mentioned their four a.m. moment at his bunk.

“I think we should take care of the ice when we’re already up there doing our regular maintenance,” John said. “What do you think?”

“That sounds like a good plan. We can see what we’re dealing with once we’re up there.” Bobbie, you’ll have to stay in your room while we’re out on the tower, okay?”

“Okay. I’ll just play with my friends in my room.” Maggie looked at John and rolled her eyes, wondering what friends she was referring to.

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well take them up with us now rather than having to come back down later and get them.”

“Good idea,” Maggie replied.

They proceeded up the tower with the equipment as well as that needed for their regular maintenance. “Wow!” John exclaimed. “It’s worse than I thought. We’re going to be up here for a while clearing it off.” After their routine maintenance of trimming the wicks, filling the fuel reservoir, and cranking up and locking the weights, they rested while strategizing their attack on the snow and ice on the windows and catwalk.

“It’s nasty out there,” Maggie remarked while gazing through the ice-covered window. “And the ice on the windows and catwalk is thick. We need to be careful.”

“We don’t want to get in each other’s way, so why don’t we start on opposite sides and work around clockwise toward the other side?” John suggested.

“Okay. That sounds like a good idea. We’ve got a lot of work to do. Let’s get with it,” Maggie directed as she picked up her tools and opened the door to the catwalk, which immediately slammed shut from the force of the wind. “It’s going to be a doozy out there, no doubt!” she shouted as she pushed her way out the door.

Once outside, she and John followed their plan of working from the opposite sides of the tower. Maggie stood on a small step stool to reach the glass from the catwalk. It was hard, laborious work in the cold, scraping the snow and ice from the windows, being careful not to scratch them, which would affect the efficiency of the light. With the steel catwalk covered in ice, the footing was treacherous. Neither of them would take a break, though, if the other didn’t, so they kept on working despite the brutal conditions.

A squawking seagull startled Maggie just as she was hit with a sudden gust of wind, causing her to stagger off her step stool, then slip on the ice on the catwalk before falling headfirst over the railing. She dangled upside down with only her boot caught on the bottom rail, keeping her from plummeting over forty feet to the rocks below.

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She struggled to upright herself by attempting to grab the rail just beyond her reach but, after several futile attempts, feared her flailing would dislodge her boot.

The wind buffeted her about, knocking her up against the tower, bloodying her face and hands. Feeling hopeless, she thought it was just a matter of time before she fell to her death.

She screamed, “Help me!” to John. But he was out of earshot because of the wind whistling around and him being on the opposite side of the tower. He had no idea she was in peril.

She continued to scream for help to no avail. She screamed as loud as she could to a passing boat but couldn’t get the attention of those huddled inside from the cold.

Continuing to hang upside down in the wind and cold, she quickly became lightheaded and struggled to stay conscious.

Her weakened mind drifted to memories of happy times with Bob in Hawaii, visiting with him during the war and where they eventually married, with Bobbie, her first steps, her birthdays— A seagull landed on the railing above and squealed, which jolted her back to the reality of her situation. She could feel her foot slipping in her boot which would seal her fate.

But she refused to allow herself to die that day. Despite her heavy clothing, her numb hands, and her fatigue, she summoned every last bit of energy and determination she had remaining and attempted one final lunge to grab the rail and, she hoped, save herself.

“Oh, help me, Lord,” she prayed before attempting her lunge.

John looked up from his work through the beacon room and didn’t see Maggie on the other side and was curious why. He decided to check on her and began to walk toward her expecting to see her resting on the step stool.

As she made her final lunge, her foot slipped entirely from her boot, and just as she was about to fall, a hand grabbed her and jerked her back over the railing to safety.

When John rounded the corner, he saw her lying on the catwalk and rushed to her, knowing something was terribly wrong. He saw the blood trickling from the wounds on her head and that her boot was missing. “Maggie, are you okay!” he shouted. “What happened?”

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Her eyes were closed, and she didn’t respond. He picked her up and carried her into the beacon room out of the freezing cold and cradled her in his arms. Her eyes slowly opened but held a glazed-over look. Eventually, she spoke.

“Oh, John,” she said, barely audible. “Thank you for saving me. I was about to fall until you grabbed me.” She trembled as she held on to him. “Right before I was about to fall, all I could think of was that I was going to die, and Bobbie would be all alone—no father, no mother.” She sobbed into his chest.

“Let’s get out of this weather,” John said as he carried her back down the steps and into the house. “You rest here,” he said as he sat her down in the sitting room. “Let me get something to clean your wounds.” He returned with first-aid supplies and began to tend to her. As he did, she reached up and touched his hand for comfort. He smiled but continued to clean and bandage her wounds as well as lay a compress on her forehead.

“We may need to call a doctor to get you checked out,” he commented.

“No need for a doctor,” she replied in a raspy voice—hoarse from her screaming. “I’ll be fine. I just need to rest.”

“Let me get you a blanket and some hot tea,” John said as he headed to the kitchen. “You just sit here and rest.”

Bobbie came out of her room when she heard them inside the house. “Mommy, are you okay?” she cried when she saw her mother’s condition.

“Yes, honey. I took a bad spill on the catwalk, but John pulled me to safety. I guess I need to be more careful,” she replied in a whisper. Bobbie pulled herself up and into Maggie’s lap.

“Does it hurt?” she asked as she pointed to the dressings on Maggie’s forehead.

“A little, but I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

John returned with a cup of hot tea and a blanket. “Thank you, John,” Maggie whispered as she smiled, and he in return.

Maggie sipped her tea. Seeing she was recovering, John spoke.

“Maggie, listen to me. I’m glad you’re okay, you had to be terrified up there, but it wasn’t me who saved you.”

“It wasn’t? Who did then? How could that be?”

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“The only thing I can figure is you must have pulled yourself back over the rail and blacked out. I don’t know how else you could have gotten there. We were the only two people up there.

“Maybe your head injury has caused you to be confused. All that’s important now is that you’re okay,” he said as he reached for and held her hand to comfort her.

Maggie looked at him perplexed but didn’t respond.

“Let’s get you in bed,” he said as he picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, with Bobbie following closely. “You should rest awhile. After I see you’re okay, I’ll go back up to check on things and finish the work.”

“Okay,” Maggie replied. “Thank you. Bobbie,” she said to her daughter, who was standing by her side looking worried, “I’m going to stay here and rest. Why don’t you play in your room?

Okay?”

“I want to stay, Mommy. You might need me.”

“Okay.”

As Maggie lay on her bed, she tried to recount what happened when she slipped and fell over the rail. She was positive she hadn’t pulled herself back over the railing. She recalled that it was one big strong hand that yanked her back over and onto the catwalk just as she was about to fall and was lunging for the rail. If it wasn’t John, who could it have been? she wondered. A guardian angel? If it was John, why would he say it wasn’t him? she wondered further. We trust each other, and he would never lie about something like that, she assured herself. Her eyes grew heavy as she was about to fall asleep exhausted. As John says, I should never tempt fate by wondering what else can go wrong.

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26 Thanksgiving passed, and time was moving quickly toward Christmas.

“Mommy, are you sure Santa Claus will find me here?”

Bobbie fretted.

“I know he will. We’ve talked about it. Have you sent him a letter telling him where you are?”

“Oh, no. I forgot to do that. Can you help me?”

“Of course. We’ll do it after dinner tonight, and we’ll mail it in the morning. Okay?”

“Okay.” Where do we send it? Where does he live?” she pressed.

“He lives at the North Pole.”

“You mean he doesn’t live—” “No, he doesn’t live in Baltimore,” Maggie cut her off as she laughed.

“Oh. What about a Christmas tree like we had at Grandma and Grandpa’s house? We need a Christmas tree too,” Bobbie pleaded.

“You’re right. We’ll get Mr. O to go into town and find us a nice one, but we’ll have to make the ornaments ourselves since we don’t have any here.”

“Okay, that sounds like fun,” Bobbie replied excitedly. “Bur Bear and Mr. George can help too.”

“Of course. They’re part of our family, too,” Maggie said with a chuckle.

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Maggie helped Bobbie write her letter to Santa, which John promised to mail. He was able to find a nice tree in town. Maggie and Bobbie spent time making ornaments from construction paper and other odds and ends like yarn and ribbons they found around the house. They also strung popcorn together to create a garland to drape on the tree.

“It looks beautiful!” Bobbie declared.

“It does,” Maggie said.

“I wish it had lights, though,” Bobbie remarked.

“Maybe next year,” Maggie replied, not knowing if they would still be there in a year.

Christmas morning arrived, and Bobbie bounded from her bed at dawn to see if Santa had found her at her new home. John was on the tower extinguishing the light and tending to the required daily maintenance items.

“Oh! Santa brought me a baby doll. I love it!” she shouted, which was Maggie’s cue to get out of bed and head to the sitting room.

“Oh, she is beautiful,” Maggie said as she entered. “Santa must have gotten your letter. What are you going to name her?”

Bobbie hesitated for a moment and then responded.

“I’m going to name her Mrs. O.” “Mrs. O? Why Mrs. O?” “Because Mr. O needs a wife. Oh, look, I also got a candy cane and a pair of mittens,” she squealed as she tore the wrapping paper off both items simultaneously.

“Slow down there, honey. You need to see who gave you those gifts.”

John entered the house after finishing his work on the tower.

“I see Santa made it. It looks like you got a baby doll, Bobbie. She looks beautiful.”

“I named her Mrs. O because Mr. O needs a wife,” she replied.

John looked at Maggie speechless and just rolled his eyes.

Maggie merely smiled in response.

“Look, there are some other gifts under the tree,” Bobbie declared as she pulled them out.

“My, let me see who they’re to and from,” said Maggie.

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“Oh,” she commented, surprised. “This one is to me from John,” whom she looked toward but who showed no reaction, rather waiting for her to open the gift. She opened it slowly, hoping that the scarf with the U.S. Navy insignia and the words USS Buck DD420, his ship in the Navy she had bought for him, would measure up. “Oh my. It’s a pair of coveralls,” she announced as she held them up. “They look so small. I hope they fit.”

“They’re made for a woman,” John replied. “I’m sure they’ll fit you and will look much better on you than those hand-me-down ones that Mr. Hill left behind,” he said with a grin.

“Oh, thank you, John,” Maggie replied, recalling John had commented on her baggy coveralls when he first reported for duty.

John opened and was grateful for his gift from Maggie and announced, “I’m going to get breakfast going while you two change out of your nightclothes. First, though, I’m going to find some Christmas music on the radio to make this an even merrier place.”

“Oh goody,” Bobbie said as she carried Mrs. O to her bedroom to introduce her to Bur Bear and Mr. George.

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27 The following week, Maggie decided to go into town for provisions. “John, can you look after Bobbie for me? I need to go to town to pick up some things.” She held up her list for emphasis.

“The weatherman says another nor’easter may be headed our way. There’s no telling when it may get here and how long it may last when it does. Experiencing what we did the last time, I want to be prepared. We need to stock up. I’m ordering more fuel too.

If it rolls in soon, we may need to light ’er up early.”

“Sure. I can handle that,” John replied with a smile. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go instead?”

“No. I need to get out. You can go next time.”

Maggie headed into town and to the general store. The rocking chairs usually occupied outside by Patrick, Robert, and Clyde were gone. As she entered, she saw the trio planted in the chairs beside the pot-bellied stove in the middle of the store.

“A lot easier keeping order, as you say, by the stove these days?” she teased.

“How you doing, Maggie?” Patrick greeted. “The Chief been out to see you?”

“He has,” Maggie replied. “It seems these varmints, as you call them, are getting people’s attention. We bought a shotgun in case they decide to show up at our place.”

“So, how are you and the assistant getting along these days?” joked Clyde.

“Clyde, what did we tell you? Lay off. She’s got enough to deal with without your snide remarks,” Patrick intervened.

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“Okay. Sorry,” Clyde said as he nodded to Maggie.

When Maggie left the general store, she stopped by Dakotah’s shop. She spotted him sitting inside near the window.

“Hello, Dakotah.”

“Hello, Maggie. Nice to see you.”

“I’m not used to seeing you just sitting here. You’re usually busy whittling on a piece of wood, transforming it into something beautiful.”

“Thank you,” he replied. “I’ll be returning home soon. My work here is nearly done.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ve always enjoyed your company and your counseling words. Perhaps our paths will cross in the future.”

“Perhaps they will,” he replied as he placed his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of goodwill and friendship.

“I must go now. I have other stops to make,” she said as she bid him farewell and left his shop.

She headed to the grocery store and then stopped at the police chief ’s office to check on any new information about the intruders.

“No news,” Chief Raymond said, “but we’re working it hard.

We’ve got a feeling something’s about to break in the case.”

“Great. I hope you catch those criminals so we can rest easier knowing they’re behind bars,” she replied as she exited the police station to head home. *** Back at the lighthouse, John and Bobbie were playing a game of Old Maid. “Mr. O,” she shouted after a winning hand. “You never win. Aren’t you any good at cards?”

“I guess not,” he replied with a shrug. “Maybe you’re just too good for me.”

Just then, he heard a loud noise outside, near the front door.

“I need to check on that, Bobbie. Go wait in your room, honey.”

Bobbie scampered to her room.

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in. The first man through the door struck him with a pipe and knocked him out. They dragged him to a back room and tied him to a chair.

The noise and loud voices scared Bobbie, and she crawled under her bed to hide.

A short time later, John woke up groggily and looked around the room, his forehead bleeding from the attack. The three men had maps and charts strewn on the floor and pored over them, talking in hushed tones.

“What do you guys want?” John asked. “We don’t have anything of value here. You can see that for yourself.”

“Shut up,” one of the men ordered.

“Have you found it and have it hidden somewhere?” a second man asked.

“Found what?” John asked, which drew a fist to his face.

“You don’t even know what you’ve got here!” the man shouted. “Where’s the kid?”

“She went to town with her mother. I don’t know when they’ll be back,” John lied.

The third man slapped him across his face. “Do you think we’re stupid? We saw her leave and she was alone. The kid’s here somewhere. I’m gonna go look for her!”

Bobbie heard what he said and crawled out from under her bed. Clutching Bur Bear, Mr. George, and Mrs. O., she tiptoed quietly to the sitting room and climbed into her favorite hiding place under a window seat. She heard the man pass through the room and proceed to her bedroom.

“Come on out, honey. We won’t hurt you,” he sweet-talked as he looked under her bed and in her closet. “We don’t want you running outside and getting hurt, that’s all,” he lied to entice her further to show herself. She stayed put.

“Okay, I see you’re going to be difficult,” he declared.

“Junior, you got the kid yet?” another one of the men shouted.

“We need to get moving up on the tower before it gets dark so we can check the detail on our map to know where the gold is buried.”

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“I’m working on it!” Junior yelled back. “I’ll find her soon, don’t worry. There are only so many places she can hide.”

Bobbie heard his footsteps now creeping across the sitting room floor.

“Come on out, little girl, I won’t hurt you,” he goaded.

She heard him step near her hiding place when a board squeaked, alerting her to move quickly. Quack, Mr. George sounded as she did.

“I heeaaarr youuu,” Junior called out as he whipped open the lid on the seat a second after she had crawled into the adjoining one.

“Darn!” he shouted as he moved quickly to the next seat and whipped it open again to find no one, as she had moved through it and into a hidden opening in the wall to the back of the closet in her mother’s bedroom. She sat silent as Junior checked the rest of the house until he was called to by one of the men.

“Come on, Junior, we need to get moving. We’ll find the kid later.”

“Don’t try anything funny, or the kid gets it. You hear?” he warned John.

“I get it,” he replied with a nod.

Two of the three men headed out the door to the tower while Junior stayed behind, still intent on finding Bobbie. “I’ll find that brat if it kills me,” he mumbled.

The two men reached the catwalk and stood studying their maps and pointing to the ground below. “See that rock? You can’t see the marking on it from the ground. But from up here, it stands out,” one explained to the other.

“I think you’re seeing things,” the other man argued. “Based on this map, the treasure is buried over there,” pointing in the opposite direction.

“You’re looking at it all wrong!” the other man yelled. “Here, hold the map this way. It’s obvious where the marker is, you idiot!”

“You’re still wrong,” the other argued. “Where’s Junior? Let’s see what he says. I’m tired of fighting with you, and we’re running out of time before she gets back.” They then heard Maggie pull up 174

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in her car. They raced down the stairs and entered the house just as she walked in with the provisions she had bought.

“What’s going on?” she cried, dropping her bags and racing to retrieve the shotgun.

They immediately grabbed her and shouted, “Shut up, lady, or your husband and your kid are goners. Do what we say, and everything will be okay!” they shouted as they tied her to a chair beside John.

“Now, where’s the treasure?” the leader barked, raising a hand as if to strike her.

“What treasure?”

“So you want to play coy too. Is that what we’re doing? You’re going to regret it, lady!” the leader shouted angrily, as he instead slapped John again to show his intent.

“Stop it, stop it!” Maggie cried, seeing John was already bloodied by their attacks. “I’ll tell you what you want to know,” which drew a surprised look from John. “You’re going to have to go up on the tower,” she lied, hoping to get the threesome out of the house so she could somehow lock them out and escape.

At that moment, Junior walked into the room holding Bobbie by the hand, foiling Maggie’s plan. When she saw her mother, frightened, she tried to run to her. “Mommy, I’m scared. Help me!

“Not so fast, kiddo. You aren’t going anywhere!” he yelled as he held her tight.

“Take your hands off her! Can’t you see she’s just a child!”

Maggie shouted. “Have you no decency? Take me instead, you coward!”

“Shut up, lady!” Junior shouted.

“Alright! The kid’s going up on the tower with us!” the leader barked. “They won’t try anything funny as long as we have the kid. Let’s go. It’s getting dark.” The trio headed back out the rear door toward the tower carrying Bobbie.

“You’ll live to regret this!” Maggie shouted as they slammed the door behind them. “I’ll see to it!”

“Is there treasure here, Maggie?” John asked as Maggie struggled to free herself from her bonds.

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“None that I know of,” she replied.

“Then why did you tell them to go up on the tower?”

“I just wanted to get them out of the house so we could maybe escape. I didn’t think they’d find Bobbie and take her up there with them. What have I done?” she sobbed.

“Get a hold of yourself, Maggie. We need to figure something out fast, or they’re going to be back down here in no time. Hey, they didn’t tie your legs to your chair like they did mine. Can you move them enough to shuffle your chair out to the sitting room to the phone to call the police?”

“I’ll try. That’s probably our only chance unless we can get loose and get our shotgun,” she argued.

“Maggie, as long as they have her, the shotgun isn’t going to do us any good. They may even use it on us. Now get going out there to the phone,” he ordered. “We don’t have much time.”

Maggie shuffled along with her chair and managed to get to the phone. Because her wrists were tied to the chair, she struggled to make contact but was able to knock the phone’s mouthpiece loose and click the receiver with her nose and shout to the operator to send the police. She couldn’t know for sure, but hoped her message got through.

“Get back in here, Maggie, before they come back down.”

We’re going to have to figure out another plan before they get back. Maggie, scoot your chair over here and see if you can untie me. You may have to use your teeth to get the knots out, but they didn’t tie them very tight.”

She scooted over to him and, with her teeth, managed to loosen the knot on one of his wrists. He was able to untie his other wrist and legs and promptly untied her. Maggie started to run to the tower.

“No, wait,” John ordered. “We don’t want all three of us up there at one time. Let’s think about this. All we want to do is get Bobbie away from them.”

Up on the tower, the disagreements continued. “I’m tired of listening to this, and I’m cold. I’m going back down to check on them. I’m taking the kid with me,” Junior announced.

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“Fine. You’re not doing us any good up here,” the leader barked back.

John had decided the only way to get Bobbie away from the crooks was to go up on the tower and create a diversion, allowing her to escape.

“Maggie, I’m going up. Go get the shotgun and be ready to use it depending on how things go.”

“Bring my baby back to me!” Maggie cried.

“I will. Don’t worry”.

John quietly headed up the tower stairs and heard voices near the top. It was Junior and Bobbie heading back down. There was nowhere for John to hide, so he prepared to confront Junior.

He and Junior spied each other simultaneously and ran toward each other. They struggled, crashing into the walls and tumbling down a few steps. Bobbie clung to the handrail nearby.

Junior pulled out a knife and took a few swipes at John. On his third attempt, John dove from the stairs, grabbing the chain hanging in the center of the tower, attached to the clockwork weights that turned the beacon. He swung on the chain and launched himself off the far wall and back at Junior feet-first, which sent him crashing into the wall behind him, knocking him out, but not before he swiped at John again with his knife and caught him on the calf of his left leg.

Bobbie ran down the stairs and into the house.

“Oh baby, are you okay?” Maggie cried as she hugged her young daughter. “Go hide where they can’t find you. Don’t come out until we say it’s okay.”

John crept to the top of the tower and crouched in the beacon room below the windows. He could hear the two men continue to argue about the location of the mark they sought.

Maggie peered up inside the tower and saw Junior lying on the stairs, motionless. She grabbed the rope used to tie her up and ran up the stairs with the shotgun. Junior began to stir as she reached him, but she was able to tie him to the stair rail before he could escape. She returned to the house to be with Bobbie.

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Fueled with anger at having their home invaded, John saw an opportunity to pounce on the unsuspecting intruders. He slowly opened the tool chest in the beacon room and grabbed a large wrench. He bolted out of the room onto the catwalk like a madman toward the pair, hitting one solidly, knocking him out and into the other one, who he punched, knocking him out as well.

Just then, Chief Raymond and his police officers rushed into the house. Maggie pointed to the tower and shouted, “Hurry, John’s up there with two of them!”

They passed Junior on the stairs, and the Chief directed two of his men to take him down as he proceeded up the stairs with two remaining officers. When they arrived with guns drawn, John was checking the unconscious intruders for weapons.

“It looks like you have things under control, John,” the Chief praised. “Nice job. Boys, get them out of here. Lock ’em up.”

After the police arrived, Maggie looked for Bobbie, who ran away scared and found her in her closet, crying. “It’s okay, honey.

The bad men are being arrested. They can’t hurt us anymore.”

“Is Mr. O okay?”

“I think so, but let’s go check.” They entered the back room just as John came through the door limping from his leg wound.

“You’re hurt!” Maggie cried out. “Let me see.”

“It’s nothing,” John replied as he sat down to size up the extent of his injury. “Just a flesh wound. Are you all okay?”

The Chief entered the room with his officers with the intruders in handcuffs, who were being ushered to the police cars outside.

“He definitely saved the day,” the Chief praised, pointing to John.

“We’re happy to have these villains off the streets and where they belong—in jail,” the Chief said.

“I need to build a case against them, so I do have a few questions for you, though, before I leave. It looks like someone was tied up in here. Is that right?”

“Yes. John and I were,” Maggie replied.

“Do you know what they were looking for?”

“They said they were looking for treasure,” John answered.

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they didn’t believe me and slapped me around to get me to talk.

I didn’t have anything to tell them, so they took it out on me,” he said as he pointed to his head wounds.

“Why were they on the tower?” the Chief asked.

“I heard them talking about needing to see some mark on the ground or something from up above. Something you couldn’t see from the ground,” John replied. “Beats me what it was.”

“Hmm,” the Chief replied, rubbing his chin. “We’ve got their maps now,” he said as he opened them and looked them over.

“Based on their markings, it looks like hunting for treasure was their objective,” he commented as his eyes moved across the maps. “Those other break-ins we suspect they’re involved in were most likely to support themselves. I’ll let you know if I have any more questions. Do you need a ride to the hospital to have your wounds tended to?”

“No. I’ve got the best care here to fix me up,” he laughed as he pointed to Maggie and Bobbie.

“I’ll bet you do,” the Chief replied with a smile as he walked toward the door to leave.

“Thank you, Chief,” Maggie said. “We’ll let you know if we think of anything else.” *** After the Chief left, Maggie and Bobbie descended on John like two medics on a battlefield. “Let me look at your wounds, John,” Maggie insisted, cutting open his pant leg. “You’re in bad shape.”

“I’ll be fine. Stop fussing over me.”

“Stop it!” Maggie insisted. “You were hit multiple times in the head, knocked out, and stabbed in the leg.”

“It’s not a stab wound. It was just a slash,” John argued.

“Hush!” Maggie barked. “You saved our lives. The least we can do is fix you up.”

“Yeah. Fix you up,” Bobbie chimed in.

“John, I was scared to death. I can’t imagine what would

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have happened to us if you hadn’t done what you did. You are a brave man,” Maggie praised as she moved her face close to his to inspect his wounds while stealing a glance into his eyes. “Let’s get you cleaned up and this leg wound tended to.”

“I’ll be okay,” John replied as he attempted to stand.

“Sit yourself down, Bucko,” Maggie ordered with a push.

“The medical staff isn’t finished with you yet.”

“Yes, ma’am,” John replied with a smile.

180

28 After things had settled down a few days later, Maggie said to John. “John, I’ve seen the predictions on another nor’easter forming, and it could materialize by tomorrow. I need to go back into town again today.”

“Again?” he replied.

“Yes. Can you look after Bobbie? I shouldn’t be gone long.”

“Okay. I’ll just get whipped at Old Maid again. But that’s nothing new.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Off she went to the general store where her buddies, Patrick, Robert, and Clyde, were camped out in the rocking chairs and nestled by the stove.

“Have you guys moved since the last time I was here?” she joked.

“There she is guys—our hero. Word is that you singlehandedly brought down those criminals, and now the town is safe,” Clyde joked, mimicking the nasal tone of a radio announcer.

“Not true, boys. John was the hero. He took out all three of them by himself.”

“We’re all just happy that they’ve been arrested and are in jail.

I can’t imagine any jury around here is going to show any mercy for them,” Bob interjected. “Serves ’em right.”

“I’ll be glad to get things back to normal,” Maggie replied.

“I don’t recall seeing a section called ‘Warding off criminals’ in the lighthouse keepers’ manual,” she laughed, and the other three joined in.

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Maggie grabbed a few things and was on her way. “Another big nor’easter is coming, boys. You may want to pry yourselves out of those rockers, or you’ll be stuck here for the duration,” she joked as she headed out the door.

On the street, she passed the fish market and went to stop at the shop next door because she wanted to talk to Dakotah, if possible, about the recent events at the lighthouse. The shop, however, was cleared out. Maggie was surprised and walked into the fish market next door to inquire.

“Hi, Maggie. What can we get you?” a clerk asked.

“Have you seen Dakotah from the shop next door today?”

“Say again?” the clerk asked, confused.

“Next door. The Native American man who rented the shop.

He had beautiful carvings and beads and things he sold. Have you seen him today?” Maggie repeated.

The clerk hesitated to answer. “Maggie, no one has occupied that shop for a few years. We haven’t seen anyone in there recently.”

“What do you mean? I’ve stopped there a couple of times myself,” Maggie countered.

“Maggie, the last person who had a shop there, Mary Jones sold flowers. Her son, Pete, was killed in the war. He was a tailgunner on a B-17 in the South Pacific when his plane was shot down over the ocean. He didn’t make it back. They say a shark got him before the navy rescued the crew. Mary told us the pilot later died, too. Pete wrote her about what a great leader he was and a helluva flyer.”

“Mary was so distraught by it all she closed up her shop, and we haven’t seen or heard from her since,” the clerk explained.

Maggie sagged against the counter.

“When did all of this happen?”

“Hal, when did Mary’s son die in the war?” the clerk asked another clerk nearby.

“I’m pretty sure it was in the fall of ’43,” he replied.

Maggie felt like her emotional stopper had been pulled. She went numb and staggered to the street, knowing that the plane crash the clerk referred to was that of her husband Bob’s plane.

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She walked next door and stared at the shop. Now, it was evident the shop hadn’t been occupied for some time, as the clerk said.

Was Dakotah even real? she wondered. Have I imagined all of this? But Bobbie could see him. Was he the Indian I saw in my dreams? What was he trying to tell me? He told me his work here was almost done. What was his work? I never saw anyone else in his shop but me. His words meant so much to me. “Believe in yourself and follow your heart.” I’ll never forget them. *** She returned to the house and entered to see Bobbie camped on John’s lap with him reading the comics to her rather than them playing Old Maid.

“After our recent events, I think she’s gotten a little homesick,” he explained. “She says her grandpa always read her the funny papers.”

“I see she’s got you where she wants you,” Maggie replied with a smirk.

“Did you get what you went for?”

“I suppose I did. John, I need to check the lens on the light to be sure it’s as clean as it can be.”

“We cleaned it this morning, remember?” he replied.

“I do, but with this storm approaching, everything needs to be in tip-top shape.”

“Okay. I’ll go check it, and you can play with Bobbie.”

“No. Your leg is still bothering you, and I’d like to be alone for a few minutes,” she replied. She headed up to the beacon room and began cleaning the lens again.

She thought about the recent happenings and Dakotah’s advice as she worked. After its cleaning, she walked out on the catwalk and stood in the cold, staring into space. She looked down at the spot below where she, Bobbie, and John spent time by the shore.

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in his uniform with a kind smile on his face before his image disappeared. Despite the cold weather, a warm breeze enveloped her as if his spirit had embraced her. Her mind instantly cleared.

She had her answer. No more inhibitions—she could see her path to follow.

John arrived on the catwalk. “Are you okay, Maggie? Bobbie’s down for a nap. You’ve been up here for quite a while.”

“I’m fine,” she replied, attempting to wipe away some tears.

She faced him, slid her arms around his waist, looked up, and softly pressed her lips to his.

He didn’t hesitate to return her kiss with more intensity, and they held onto each other for a few moments.

“John, you’ve put up with a lot from me, but you’ve never wavered from my side. I owe you so much. I just needed some time to figure out some things. I need you and want you in my life,” she whispered in his ear.

“It took you long enough to figure that out, didn’t it,” he teased. He kissed her again to quell her inevitable retort.

She paused, then looked him in the eye and whispered again, “John, I love you,” as she tightened her hold and laid her head on his chest.

“I love you too, Maggie.” They held each other for a few more minutes and kissed again.

“Okay, Bucko,” she announced. “We’ve got lots of things to do now—together.”

“Should we go down and let Bobbie know?” John asked.

“Oh, I think our little matchmaker already knows. I know she already knows,” Maggie joked as she led him down the stairs by the hand to begin the remainder of their lives together.

184

A Whisper in the Wind

Barry Kienzle

Barry Kienzle is the multi award-winning author of The Crossings, and The Indian, stories with Northern Kentucky origins. He wrote Heart of a Lion, a memoir of Willie Burton, who has cerebral palsy, yet wrestled at Fairdale High School near Louisville, Kentucky. His children’s book Willie – A Super Friend!, is also based on Willie Burton.

Barry's primary career was as a CFO in a construction and real estate development company. Retirement yielded time for writing and he co-authored a biography of Nate Branch of Harlem Globetrotter fame. Barry is active in his community and sits on several Boards of Directors. For more information, visit Barry’s website www.barrykbooks.com.

A Whisper in the Wind

A stirring novel, the third in the series with The Crossings and The Indian. Maggie deals with her ongoing grief following the death of her WWII pilot husband and embarks on a cross-country trip to free herself emotionally and begin a new life with an incredibly challenging job. On the way, she returns to his hometown to visit his grave, re-establish her relationship with his family, and introduce her young daughter to them.

Her final destination is fraught with life-changing decisions as she tackles her new job and unexpectantly embarks on a new relationship with a man with the aid of a storied character from her late husband’s past.

Barry Kienzle