The Lightkeeper's Woman

Her teeth started to chatter. “Why not? That’s his job, isn’t it?”

“We had a run-in a few months back.”

Could this get any worse? “What kind of run-in?”

“I tried to kill him.”

Alanna didn’t ask for details. They didn’t matter now.

If she’d worked all day to select the most dangerous of circumstances, she’d not have done as well as she’d done in choosing to cross the channel now with Crowley.

The inky waters filled the boat. The rim sank closer to the water’s edge. A crack of lightning streaked across the even blacker sky.

Alanna’s soaked cape hung on her shoulders like lead and she couldn’t feel her toes. “I don’t want to die, Mr. Crowley.”

Droplets of rain dripped from his wrinkled face. His eyes no longer glowed with anger or frustration, but fear. “Who does?”

Frigid water drenched Caleb’s pants as he shoved the dory into the churning sound. The rowboat bucked in the wind, pushing back toward shallow water as if it, too, understood that only fools went out in weather like this.

“Goddamn you, boat, move!” Frustration ignited his rage. Caleb hated losing. Even more, he hated losing to the sea.

Cursing, he blew out a breath and focused on the set of notches he’d carved into the boat’s bow. The seventy-six portside marks denoted rescues. The twenty-three on the starboard side commemorated each man he’d lost when the Intrepid had gone down not far from these very shores.

He drove the boat deeper into the water and jumped aboard. Taking the oars in his callused hands, he rowed toward the spot where he’d last seen Crowley’s tattered white sails.

“Damn her. Damn her. Damn her,” he chanted as he rowed. “The Devil take them both.” Crowley was a thief and a liar, and Alanna wasn’t much better. Impulsive as ever, Alanna did what was best for Alanna without a thought to whom she endangered.

Anger sidetracked him and, for a moment, he couldn’t find the rhythm of rowing. He drew in several deep breaths. This rescue was like any other, he reminded himself. It was about beating the sea at its own game. It didn’t matter whom he saved, only that he won the game.

Drawing on sheer will, he set his gaze starboard and moved his arms in a steady tempo. One, two. One, two. As the wind howled in his ears, his muscles took over.

Caleb concentrated on the roar of his heart and the burn in his well-conditioned biceps as they pumped the oars. Currituck Sound was determined to make him earn every inch of forward progress today, but he’d never walked away from a fight. Hot sweat trickled from his stocking cap, warming skin chilled by the wind.

A woman’s scream pierced the rain and mist. He turned and caught sight of Crowley’s boat just as a wave crashed over it. The swell caught Crowley broadside and knocked him over the side.

Alanna clutched the side of the Sea Witch but by some miracle she wasn’t swept into the water.

Caleb dug the oars deeper into the water, coaxing more speed from his boat.

No one had been lost since he’d been on watch at the Barrier Island Lighthouse. No one! And he’d be damned if Alanna Patterson would be the first.

“Mr. Crowley!” Alanna’s wet skirts twisted around her legs as she scooted toward his side of the boat and wedged her feet under the seat in front of her. She pushed her rain-soaked cloak off her shoulders and held out an oar. “Grab on!”

Alanna watched the old seaman flail in the water. His hat gone, he smacked his palms against the water, trying to keep his body afloat. But each time he reached out for the boat, the water pushed him back. He dipped under the surface once, then came back up gasping for air.

He reached for the paddle. His bony fingertips brushed the smooth wood as a wave smashed into him and sent him under the surface. Tense seconds ticked as Alanna searched the water.

“Don’t die on me!”

The old man was drowning, and it was her fault they’d come out here. She should have waited until tomorrow. Why hadn’t she just waited?

Mr. Crowley’s head popped to the surface a good five feet from the boat. He gasped for air and spit up a lungful of water. Desperation tightened his face as he reached again for the oar she held out. His fingers dug into the smooth wood like fishhooks and he pulled himself closer to the boat.

Alanna struggled to keep the paddle steady. She strained against his weight and fought not to tumble into the water herself. Her limbs burned from exertion. The cold had sunk to the marrow of her bones. “I can’t hold on much longer.”

He spit out a mouthful of water. “Pull, woman, pull,” he yelled. “I ain’t ready to die yet.”

Her breath was labored, and she fought against the weariness slipping into her bones.

Crowley pulled himself closer to the boat and then swung one hand over the rim. He drew in a deep breath and struggled to pull himself in the boat. “Grab my belt, woman!”

Alanna dropped the oar and reached for Crowley’s thick belt. Angry wind blew rain sideways, but she tightened her numb fingers around the leather and pulled him up. He lifted one foot up on the side of the boat and yanked himself out of the water.

She felt a tremor of elation. He was going to make it back into the boat. He would get them to shore. Everything was going to be fine.

A swell of water from the north blindsided Alanna. The unexpected shove to her overextended body threw her off balance. She tried to right herself but she tumbled over the edge of the boat into the water.

Her open mouth and eyes filled with seawater and for dark, tense seconds, she flailed around, not sure what was up and what was down. Her skirts weighed her down and her lungs ached for air. Forced to tap into energy she’d never known she possessed, she kicked and battled the sea.

Alanna burst through the surface. Her arms smacked against the choppy waters and she struggled to keep her face above water long enough to breathe. Air filled her lungs. She was a strong swimmer, but her clothes made staying afloat in the choppy water next to impossible.

Salt water stung her eyes, blurred her vision. She focused on the Sea Witch. It bounced on the water just out of her reach. “Help!”

Crowley glanced in her direction and scanned the waves.

“Help!” she shouted. “Over here.”

For the briefest instant his gaze locked on her. And then he turned away.

“I’m here!”

Crowley sank the oars back into the water and started to row away from her toward the mainland.

Barely able to stay above water, she raised her arm to signal him. “Help! Mr. Crowley, don’t leave me.”

The old seaman rowed away from her as if he hadn’t heard her plea.

Had the wind drowned out her voice? “Help!”

Please save me.

Her legs and arms neared exhaustion. She started to sink. She gulped in a mouthful of water.

The idea that she might die stoked her anger and made her fight harder. But her fury was no match for the numbing cold. She slipped under the water.

Her lungs begged for air, but she knew the next breath would fill her lungs with water, not air. How long could she hold on? Thirty seconds? Forty?

There was so much she’d done wrong in her life. She should have found it in her heart to forgive Caleb. She should have tried to understand him better. She should have listened more closely to her father during the days before his suicide.