The Way Read online

  Walking along the sandy path, she spotted a long, rocky breakwater. The huge stones were multi-faceted and a patchwork of colors, from deepest brown to shimmering pink and every hue from the color wheel in between. What a striking contrast the rocks near to the sea made to the desert, where deciphering the color, size or shape of them was virtually impossible. The breakwater looked like a living sculpture. She decided to venture up and see what the anglers were catching. Sailing craft of all sizes jigged up and down in the bay like a giant’s bath toys. As Beth made her way along the breakwater, several of the men turned and gawked. She felt exhilarated with the majesty of the entire panorama. How incredible it seemed, to be living here, a total contrast in every way to anywhere else she had been.

  On a watchtower, right at the end of the breakwater, sat a lone figure in a dark blue hoodie, dangling his tanned muscular legs over the metal railing, his tawny blond hair blowing about in the wind. He turned and looked down at Beth. His striking almond-shaped brown eyes, offset by thick dark-brown lashes and thoughtful, tapered brows, connected with hers and she felt her breath catch in her throat. His nose was of the straight-edged variety with a slight upturn at the end. Defined cheek bones and a square set jaw showed a shadow of growth, or was that just a shadow from his hoodie? His smooth lips were slightly open as if he were about to speak, the bottom lip a little fuller than the top. Beth had never seen such a devastatingly beautiful face. She felt herself being drawn into him like waves to the moon. Feeling a violent blush, she managed to wrench her eyes off him and looked out onto the cool green water.

  She took in the seascape for a minute and fought the urge to look up and make eye contact again. She finally looked up to scope another peek. He was gone! Beth spun around and looked the entire length of the breakwater – not a sign of him.

  How weird, she thought. The jetlag must be kicking in.

  CHAPTER 2

  Called

  “It’s the possibility of having a dream come true that makes life interesting”

  – PAULO COELHO

  Beth made her way back to the cottage, headed straight upstairs to her room, hit the bed and fell into a deep slumber. Upon waking, she opened her eyes and saw that the last rays of sun were on fire on the horizon. She had slept the remainder of the day. Maggie knocked on the door and popped her head in. “Feeling better after that, dear? Come and have some supper or you won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

  Beth came down to the warmth of the dining room and found the table set. The fragrance of freshly baked bread and butter combined with a steaming bowl of clam chowder wakened a ravenous appetite. Having travelled to some exotic locations, where all kinds of animal parts are a delicacy, often served with their eyes still looking at you from the plate, Beth had eclectic taste buds.

  “Yum, I’m starving. I feel like I’ve slept for a hundred years.”

  Maggie sat opposite her at the table and they both tucked in to the hearty chowder.

  “Did you climb the lighthouse stairs and take in the views?” Maggie asked.

  “I had a quick look up the spiral stairs. It looks fascinating, but I’ll wait for a guided tour. You captured the sound effects in one. It really does sound as if the lighthouse is trying to communicate. Spooked me quite a bit and it was daylight.”

  “To be sure. As I mentioned, it will take a bit of getting used to life at the light. Don’t you worry though; Aristotle is like a high-tech security system so you can be confident in his instincts. You enjoyed your first real sighting of our beach and harbor?”

  “Very much, the scenery is awesome. I walked up that long breakwater and the views are fantastic.” Beth didn’t know how to approach the fact that she had also spotted the most divine-looking specimen, who had simply disappeared.

  “We’ll clear these dishes up later. Come and we can have a nice fireside chat in the lounge room.” Maggie sat in one of the faded floral armchairs and motioned for Beth to take the other. Beth felt an incredible sense of comfort, warmth and deep unfamiliar peace. Aristotle sat curled up like a massive, furry donut on his rug. The fire cast a soft light around the room.

  “Tell me Beth, how are you faring with the shock of all the happenings? You’re a brave girl to be just hopping a flight over here, so soon after the tragedy. The thing about grief is this; the only way through it, is to grieve. For each of us, that process will be different and, like the vast ocean surrounding us, it can be unpredictable in its intensity and depth. Be gentle with yourself now, won’t you?”

  “I think I’m actually okay. It sounds weird and maybe I’m just rowing up the river ‘Denial’ but I had been left alone so many times during the last few years that I had gotten used to it. My parents were great folk really…but it seemed that during my entire life, they were always preoccupied with the next destination, the next dig, the next adventure. I’m not whining here; they gave me a great gift in self-reliance.”

  Beth gently bit her bottom lip, a subconscious reminder perhaps to leave the conversation about her state of mind there. She found herself mulling over the lengthy periods of time she had endured in various therapists’ rooms over the last few years. Medication was certainly not the answer to any of her mind troubles. She had reacted so adversely to any drug they tried to administer that in the end, a few counselling sessions on the couch and a rigorous physical exercise regime were deemed to be the answer to all her imagined problems.

  Shuffling her cards again, Maggie’s expression remained somber and serious. Her tone lowered to a hush as she muttered to herself, “’Twas a hard decision, such fixed and faraway arrangements, but it was the only way she could guarantee your safety.”

  “What’s that?”

  Maggie was seemingly startled back to the table and refocused her gaze on Beth, “So sorry dear, I must have tuned out for a minute. Handling the cards does that to me sometimes.”

  A warm smile spread over Maggie’s face, reaching up to her blue eyes, which seemed to be holding back tears. “You’re a mighty brave lass, dear girl. I’ll be keeping a close eye on you to make sure you stay okay, too. You’re safe here and will heal, all in good time. Having you stay with me is already wonderful. I appreciate knowing I have company and I’m sure we’ll be a great team. Keeping the light is not the task of old, in that I don’t have to climb the stairs every night and manually crank up the light. I’d be cutting quite a different figure for sure, if that was the case.” Maggie put her hands on her belly and chortled. “It’s all automated these days. The beacon is set to a timer and comes on like clockwork. I only have to check the light is working at set intervals from ground level. It’s all very civilized really.”

  Maggie continued to explain that each lighthouse had its own tailored color and flash pattern so sailors at sea could differentiate one from the other. She shared with Beth stories about the long and colorful history of this lighthouse, adding that there was a history of great women associated with the light, including the inspiring story of the ‘Lighthouse Army of Two,’ the young Bates sisters who, armed with only a fife and drum, had caused a hasty retreat of a threatening militia. She also told the more gruesome stories of shipwrecks and sailors, falls and fires and drownings and debauchery.

  Finally, she stopped to draw breath. “Now that’s enough of a history lesson for one night. I hope I haven’t overwhelmed you. It’s just so lovely to have company. Share with me your thoughts thus far?”

  “You’ve made me feel really welcomed and comfortable. It was great having the history lesson; it will get me up to speed with the local knowledge before I start school. It feels odd to say this, but I feel like this place is totally foreign to me and yet a bit deja-vu.”

  Maggie leaned forward in her chair and spoke in a quiet voice, as if not to disturb the invisible others in the room. “There’s a saying around here that you are only ever ‘called’ to Scituate. That is how it has remained such a haven – even though Boston city is not far away, we’re quite secluded. Our own little stretch
of paradise really.”

  The conversation continued as Maggie asked her about her time in China and discussed what subjects she had been studying and which ones she had chosen now for her final year. Her class selection and timetable arrangements had been determined via email with the school, before the first semester began. It had been strange choosing her subjects while she was so far away, with no knowledge of the teachers or layout of the school. However, it had kept her occupied during the mind-numbing weeks, post crying.

  There was a sharp knock at the door.

  “Goodness, that’ll be Lionel to pick me up for poker night. I must have forgotten to tell him I can’t play tonight. We meet every fortnight for a bit of fun, no money involved, just great conversation and some serious card playing. Now that he’s here, perhaps you would like to join us or are you happy to rest up?”

  Beth was starting to fade with tiredness. “You go and play your cards, I’m fine here thanks, Maggie. I’ll clear the dishes and take it easy.”

  “Are you quite sure, dear? Aristotle will keep you company and, rest assured, quite safe. Your cell thingy isn’t working yet, is it? I’ll leave Lionel’s number right by the phone and you call if you need anything at all. We can be back here in a flash.

  Lionel, come inside for a moment and meet the gorgeous Beth,” Maggie called.

  “Pleased to meet you, young Beth, I hope she hasn’t talked you to death yet.” Lionel smiled and winked at her, his twinkling blue eyes set in a true seafarer’s weathered face. “I think you’ll be heading into your final year alongside my nephew, Toby. He’s quite a character, that one. I’ll make sure you meet before you start. It’s always nice to have a familiar face in a crowd.”

  “That’d be great. Thanks so much.” A recognizable face in strange surroundings could be a lifesaver.

  “Don’t feel you have to wait up, Beth, sometimes our games continue well into the night.” The door closed behind them, leaving Beth with Aristotle and the talkative wind.

  Beth rested on the arm of one of the floral chairs, gazing into the vivid flames, embracing the warmth that radiated from the fire. Images danced before her eyes as tiny figures and faces seemed to peek from the glow. The field of imagery seemed to be changing every few moments. It reminded her of a book of poetry she had loved as a child. “I like to sit by the fire and stare at the curious things I can see in there…” She felt herself lulled into a trance and, as her gaze deepened, a word seemed to be forming in the embers.

  “Logan.” She spelled it out and said the word aloud. The wind outside picked up and the lighthouse gave a low, moaning, howl. She sprang up and went in to the kitchen, gathering the crockery and cutlery from the table. She ran some hot, soapy water in the sink and methodically swirled it with her hand until it formed into a mini whirlpool. Having her hands in the hot water transported her back to times on desert digs when, because everything around was so incredibly dry, this mundane task took on an almost exotic appeal. Water was such a precious commodity in the desert and here she was in her new location, nearly surrounded by it.

  When the fire was down to just gently glowing embers, Beth covered it with the guard and made her way up to bed. Aristotle followed her in and settled on a round woven rug on the floor near her door. It was comforting to have the big hound around. The wind outside whistled past the windows and, as Beth drew the curtains, she looked out upon the moonlit reflection of the ocean scape. She was sure she spotted a silhouette about twenty feet out on the breakwater and quickly decided this was not a good time for more imagined scenarios. She secured the curtains and climbed into the soft, downy bed and fell into her usual deep, dream-plagued sleep.

  Beth woke, stretched out her hand and felt a warm furry body curled in amongst the layers. She opened her eyes to find a fluffy ginger cat with four white paws, curled up next to her. The cat opened its bright yellow eyes and peered at her, as if to ask what right she had to disturb its slumber.

  “Hello there, and just how did you find your way into my room?”

  The cat yawned and curled up into a tight ball with its back to Beth.

  “Well, I guess you belong here, as you look right at home.”

  Beth got up and made her way out to the living room where she saw a place laid for her at the table. A note resting beside the plate read:

  Hope you slept well. The lighthouse cat, Maple, made his way home this morning and I let him into your room to get acquainted. (I trust you’re okay with cat fur – if not, there’s an antihistamine tab in the top left drawer in the bathroom cabinet!) He’s quite a talker, so don’t panic over his incessant meowing. Enjoy some fresh baked bread for breakfast, I am volunteering today at the ‘Paws for Thought’ animal shelter and will be out til late pm. I’ve left their number on the table if you need me before then. Wander into town and get your bearings. Love, Maggie.

  Beth smiled at the humorous tone of her note and had worked out one thing for sure; there would be no ‘helicopter parenting’ from Maggie. She seemed so quirky with everything she said and did. At the same time, she generated a level of warmth and care that you felt, even in her absence.

  Beth toasted a couple of slices of the still warm, grainy, bread and chose a spread from the fridge, ‘Smucker’s Goober Grape,’ which was a swirling peanut butter and grape jelly combo. She decided she might as well try an “American favorite” as the label declared. It tasted like a winning combo too. She ate her breakfast, enjoying the sea breeze blowing in through the window.

  The sheer, white curtains danced, and outside, Beth could hear deep raucous sounds that sounded like pigs oinking. She got up to look outside and saw a trio of black, goose-like birds. They seemed to be having a deep conversation and then took off over the water in a precise, neat line, like the porcelain ducks you see lined up on a wall. Beth was so in awe of the utter beauty of this place.

  After breakfast, she changed into shorts, a singlet and her trainers. A run into town would clear her head, and she was eager to become acquainted with her new surroundings. She followed the little stony path to the front of the cottage and headed down the car park onto Lighthouse Road. The sky was a clear bright blue with a smattering of fluffy white clouds, whipping along in the breeze. She had tied a purple hoodie around her waist in case the wind chill managed to kick in. She set off at a slow jog, taking in the multitude of gray and white, shingle-clad cottages, resplendent with window boxes filled with bright blooms. Many homes bore names such as ‘Irish Mist on the Rocks’ ‘Top ‘o’ the Morning’ or ‘Mr. Darcy’s Landing’, which added to their charm. She was jogging slowly along, taking in the names and wondering about each of the home dwellers and their respective stories, when a loud horn blast almost sent her out of her skin. A black Mercedes Cabriolet convertible was hurtling towards her and she jumped up onto the sidewalk just in time. The car slammed its brakes on, causing a large dust cloud. A crowd of kids around her age were in the car. It slowed down as it went cruising by and she blushed red as she caught the gaze of the driver. He had thick, wavy, jet-black hair and eyes that were a piercing steel gray. He had a smug air about him and made a comment to a blonde female in the front passenger seat, causing her to shriek with laughter and then they sped off.

  Slightly unnerved, Beth decided to stay on the sidewalk for the rest of the way into town. She made it onto Front Street and took in the quaint village quality. Again, there were window boxes on the shop fronts, full of bold-colored flowers. The place looked like a movie set. The signs for the shops were mainly in gilt lettering. There was a bookstore, music shop, movie theater and several cafes and various other retail stores. Beth decided to look in the music store. She stepped inside, finding a cornucopia of instruments, so many styles of guitars and mandolins and double basses. The shop was a picture of organized chaos.

  There were two corridors running the length of the store. The dividing walls consisted of strategically placed stands of secondhand records and CDs, instrument cases and boxes of new stock. A booming
voice sounded from the back of the store.

  “Give me one minute and I’ll be right with you.” The large figure came through the back door, wrestling with some boxes. He turned and looked over at Beth; a broad, toothy smile across his face. “Now to find some space for these new arrivals. Are you looking for anything in particular, miss, or just browsing? I’m Jerome, so just call out if you need any help.” He reminded Beth of a younger version of James Earl Jones.

  “I’m just looking thanks. You have an impressive collection and range here,” Beth responded.

  “Well, we got some pretty decent musos in this town and they only use the best. Speaking of which, here’s one now.”

  Beth turned and looked towards the door. Her heart started racing as the beautiful face from the breakwater made his way through the doorway. The light from outside surrounded his silhouette, giving him an ethereal glow. He looked directly into Beth’s eyes and she felt herself blushing from head to toe.

  “Jerome, my man, what a mega day. Has my package arrived?” he asked.

  “Great timing my friend. I’m just loading in the last of the delivery now. Yours is definitely in it.”

  They both headed to the back of the store down the left corridor. Beth willed her heart to settle and made her way along the right corridor, flipping through records and trying to tune in to the conversation without looking obvious.

  “Here ‘tis,” Jerome hollered. “Catch.”

  Beth peeked through a gap in the shelving and watched as the young man caught a small brown box.

  “Thanks so much, J, can’t wait to try it out,” he called back as he turned and left the store.

  “No problems, Logan, look forward to hearing your work with it.”