The Keeper of Dawn (22 page)

“It’s as good a place as any,” Max said, not seeming to mind
the question. Then he smiled. “As long as no one turns on the light.”

Our conversation, if you could even call it that, gave way
to a lengthy silence, during which I recalled the picture in the infirmary. Identifying
Max as the curly-haired boy at the ribbon-cutting ceremony explained his
familiarity with the island. He had grown up here. He had witnessed the hotel
in its prime, attended its banquets, mingled—in one way or another—with the
vacationing couples. Perhaps he too had ventured down to the beach and waited
for low tide to reach the Anvil.

“Gonna storm tonight.”

“Tonight?” I asked, looking at the clear blue sky. “You
sure?”

He looked over and winked. “Call it a hunch.”

“Max, what was it like here before … you know, when the
hotel was still open?”

Max straightened up. “Now what makes you think I know
anything about that?”

I told him about the picture, and the toothpick that had
given him away.

“I’m surprised that thing is still around,” he said. “My dad
caught me smoking the day before it was taken. Gave me hell for it, too. Don’t
know why, but I’ve always had to have something in my mouth. Practically went
from sucking my thumb to smoking. So I started in on toothpicks, at least
around my old man.”

“So what was it like back then?”

Max readjusted his toothpick and looked at the horizon. “It
was different. Used to be people wanted to be here. And now, well, now I guess
they’re forced to. That makes a difference. But this here, this view, it’s the
same. It’s the one thing that never changes.”

What I wanted him to tell me about was the in-between years
after the hotel had closed. Where had Max been then? But before I could ask
him, the door behind us swung open, and Mr. Noble emerged. He stood with his
back to the railing, admiring the Fresnel lens.

“It’s a lot of work, but she’s worth it,” he said.

Something about Mr. Noble looked different. Perhaps it was
that some color had come into his complexion, or that his coat added strength
to his otherwise sickly appearance. But no, that wasn’t it either. It was the lighthouse.
He looked at home here, like a wandering protagonist who had finally been
dropped into the right story.

“You never know,” he mused. “Perhaps there are still a few
wayward travelers out there somewhere. Perhaps, even in this day and age,
Raker’s light can guide a few lost souls back home.” He stuffed his hands in
his pockets. “This is the crown jewel, gentlemen. It’s beauties like these that
ended the careers of many men, my great-grandfather among them.”

“I thought he worked all those years on that island?” I
said.

“Thirty-eight years and not a day less,” Mr. Noble replied,
never taking his eyes off the Fresnel lens. “And he would have worked longer,
had they let him. But electricity came to Robbins Reef in the twenties, and
with radar to boot, the Lighthouse Service didn’t need as many men.” He sighed.
“Like they say, nothing lasts forever.”

When Mr. Noble took his cap off, I noticed lettering
engraved on the emblem.

“The Keepers of Dawn,” I read aloud. “What’s that?”

“That is what my great-grandfather, along with a dozen or so
other light keepers, had engraved in their emblems after the Lighthouse Service
let them go. They started a movement to preserve their profession. They wanted
to go back to the way things were. All those years lighting the night sky, of
preserving at least a glimmer of the dawn, and they didn’t know how to live
without it. Something very dear had been taken from them, and they fought with
everything they had to not let it go.”

Mr. Noble ran his thumb over the emblem before putting his
cap back on.

“Have you ever lost something so dear to you, that you would
do anything to get it back?” he asked, looking in my direction.

Instead of replying, I looked to the horizon where the
coastline hemmed in the Atlantic. All at once I felt something inside me
constrict, and I gripped the railing to resist the onset of vertigo. The longer
I stared, the more it looked like the coastline was retreating, as if all of
Raker Island had broken loose and was drifting out to sea.

“No, I suppose not,” Mr. Noble surmised, his words bringing
me back. “You’re probably too young for that.”

I remained on the catwalk long after Max had returned to the
lantern room. Even when Mr. Noble said a quick goodbye, my eyes never left the
horizon. But it seemed that wherever I looked, the Coast Guardsman’s departing
words kept running through my mind.

“The past is a nice place to visit, but it’s not somewhere
I’d ever want to live.”

The allure of girls coming to Raker wasn’t the reason I
returned to the beach. Chris had pegged me as the sentimental type from day
one, and he must have known I would want to see him off. Once he had access to
a boat, there would be no stopping him from escaping the island. He was going
to leave Wellington on his own terms, but not before breaking as many rules as
possible.

Though the poplars and sugar maples had lost most their
leaves, the undergrowth and thorns were still abundant. The remaining foliage
still held its green—no autumnal browns or yellows like on Long Island—as if
the change of seasons had taken the island by surprise. The sky to the south
had darkened by the time I reached the cliffs. The sun shone brokenly through
the clouds, and the air had a heaviness that precedes a storm. The Anvil looked
harmless in the distance, the waves breaking around it resembling white frays
at the edge of a vast blue rug.

I found Roland beneath the cedar that overlooked the final
cliff. He was peering intently through Derek’s binoculars and didn’t notice me
until I tapped him on the shoulder.

“Jake! Hey, didn’t think you’d show.”

“Where’s Chris?”

“At the beach with Derek.”

“Surprised you aren’t with them.”

“Got stuck guarding this,” he said, shaking the rope. “He’s
paranoid they’ll take it like they did the other one.”

“Soldier,” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m
relieving you of your post.”

No sooner had those words left my mouth and Roland was
putting on the gloves. “That’s great, Jake. That really is. You sure you don’t
mind?”

“You kidding? I never want to see that place again.”

“Never thought of that,” he said, handing me the binoculars.
“I just don’t want to miss anything.” He backed toward the edge as he talked,
hardly noticing when the rope took his weight. “Holly, that’s Derek’s girl. She’s
bringing some friends.”

He was already fifteen feet down, descending in leaps and
bounds that would have made any military academy proud. “Kowabunga!” he called
upon reaching the bottom.

Though I had come to see Chris off, I didn’t deny the rush
of adrenaline that went through me when the boat appeared. The unthinkable was
about to happen: girls were coming to Raker Island. Not a football player’s
girlfriend, or a reporter covering the debate, but real girls our own age. They
appeared on the horizon as if by magic, making me forget, at least for the
moment, what Wellington would be like once Chris was gone.

I watched through the binoculars as the white boat cut
through the waves. The girls’ ebullient voices and lighthearted laughter
carried up the cliff and set my imagination in motion. Before I could stop
myself, I had conjured up a dozen different faces, each more beautiful than the
last.

The girls squealed from the cold water as they ran ashore. A
sort of dance ensued, with the two groups tiptoeing around each other, skirting
the edge of an invisible boundary that diminished with time.

“How long are they planning on staying?” I wondered aloud
when one of the girls returned to the boat and waved goodbye. Then she guided
the boat through the breakers and sped out of sight. Chris, Roland and Derek
led the remaining four girls beneath the bare-limbed cedars toward the base of
the cliff.

Chris was the first to make the climb. “Thought I’d seen the
last of you,” he said, dusting himself off.

“You couldn’t be so lucky. How’d you get out?”

“There’s no stopping a man once he’s decided to go AWOL. Other
than class, they only let me out to shit, shower and shave. Even had me
sleeping in the same room as Henderson.” He paused long enough to light a
cigarette. “So this morning I went to take a shower,” he said, flicking his
wrist to extinguish the match. “And never came back. Henderson was out watching
a helicopter land, or something. For all I know, he still thinks I’m in the
shower.”

“When are you going back?”

“Never. I figure I’ll live off the land. You know, get a
little fishing pole, plant some crops, maybe stone a few gulls and roast them
over a fire. I mean, what can society offer me, anyway? I’ll be like that
Robert Frost guy, sitting around his pond, hugging trees and loving nature.”

“You mean Thoreau?”

“Whoever. But tonight,” Chris said, his eyes lighting up. “Tonight,
young Jake, boys will become men. We’re going to have what’s known as … a
slumber
party
.”

“They’re staying the
night
?
Here
?”

Chris was peering over the cliff to where Derek was tying
what resembled a harness around one of the girls. “Hey! Hurry up down there!”
he shouted. “Stop flirting and start climbing!”

“Think about it,” he told me. “We’re out here on this island
that’s getting talked up in the news. The way I figure, we’re local celebrities
and we don’t even know it. It’s all about mystery, Jake. If a girl thinks
you’re mysterious, she’ll see you as a romantic. And they’re plenty curious
about us.”

Chris filled me in on the details while we waited. Instead
of relying on stealth, the girls were going to walk straight through
Wellington’s front door. Thanks to the debate, the sound of high heels crossing
the lobby’s marble floor no longer drew the attention it once had. Who would
question students from Miskapaug High writing a debate article for their school
paper?

They would enter the school shortly after the five o’clock
bus arrived, making it appear that they had taken the ferry. Once inside, they
would proceed to the auditorium, and if approached, would request an interview.
They had even brought notebooks and a tape recorder to play the part. Once in
the auditorium, they would go to the upper balcony and out the service door to
a hallway that led to Kirkland Hall.

“But won’t they look for you in Roland’s room?” I asked.

Chris was guiding Holly up the first ledge. With most of her
weight suspended in the harness, she scrambled up the rocks as best she could,
stopping every so often to catch her breath and peer up at us with terrified
eyes.

“All our rooms are off-limits,” Chris said, having some
difficulty handling the rope while smoking. “Lawson knows my hangouts. But he
doesn’t know about the Fuhrman brothers.”

“Who?”

“Gabe and Nick Fuhrman. They’re friends of Roland’s. Oh man,
you’re gonna love this. Gabe’s our prefect, so he’s got a room to himself, and
his brother, Nick, is right next door. They’re both pretty straight shooters,
but Gabe has chosen to
overlook
Wellington’s no-pet policy. Get this. They
each have a hamster.” Chris shrugged. “Everybody’s got their vice. They both
went home this weekend, as well as Gregor, Nick’s roommate. The icing on the
cake is that they asked Roland to check in on their hamsters while they’re
gone, which makes their rooms party central.”

I helped Chris pull Holly up the rest of the way.

“Hi,” she said, somewhat bashfully after Chris engulfed her
in a hug like they were old friends. She had blond, feathered hair with full
bangs, her plain features offset by sparkling blue eyes that lit up her face
whenever she smiled. She was out of breath from the climb, and her hands shook
as she tried unsuccessfully to free herself from the harness. The climb had put
quite a scare into her, but she seemed resolved to smile her way through it, as
if this striking feature could get her through anything.

“You must be Jake,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“He might seem shy at first,” Chris said, slapping me on the
back, “but Jake’s the sexiest man alive.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Holly said, her smile getting
wider.

The next girl to make the climb, Allison, smelled strongly
of perfume and was prettier than I expected. Her short, dark hair was knocked
out of place from the wind, a single motionless lock hanging down over one eye.
There was something tomboyish about how she didn’t straighten it or tuck it
behind her ear to get it out of the way. She didn’t seem to mind when Chris
gave her a hug, and she laughed when he seductively untied the harness from her
waist.

I knew right away Elizabeth was going to be a handful. Her dark
cap kept blowing off her head, and she let out a bird-like screech when we
lifted her off the ground. Despite Holly and Allison shouting their
encouragement, I don’t think she opened her eyes once, not even when her cap
blew off, nearly getting caught in one of the cedars before falling into
Roland’s outstretched hands. When she finally reached the top, she was so
overjoyed to find the ground beneath her feet that she leapt into the arms of
her girlfriends.

Compared to Elizabeth, Kate took surprisingly little effort
to pull up. She climbed most of the way on her own, only allowing us to lift
her the last fifteen feet. Though by no means unattractive, Kate was ordinary
compared to the other girls. Instead of being scared or excited, she looked
disappointed over not finishing the climb unassisted. And as if he somehow knew
she would disapprove, Chris didn’t greet her with a hug or even offer to untie
her harness.

In the distance, clouds had collected over the horizon. Thunderheads
towered over the ocean with dark shadows of rain suspended beneath them.

After Derek and Roland had joined us (Roland wore
Elizabeth’s hat on the climb up and then gallantly returned it to her), Derek
lifted up the girls’ packs, which he had fastened to the end of the rope.

“How long you staying?” he asked, pulling the bulging packs
over the edge. “A month?”

“We brought you a surprise,” Holly said, rummaging through
her pack.

“Surprise?” Chris said. “I like surprises.”

Holly pulled out a bottle of tequila. “You didn’t expect us
to crash your party empty-handed, did ya?”

“You better hold on to this one,” Chris told Derek, putting
his arm around Holly.

“You can thank Allison,” Holly said. “She raided her dad’s
stash. We got some beer too, but it’s not very cold.”

“How did you guys find this place?” Kate asked, looking up
at the continuation of cliffs.

“You’d be amazed what you do to keep entertained,” Derek
said.

“How far is it to the school?” Elizabeth asked, squinting
into the wind like it was her enemy. When a strong gust rattled the branches,
she put a hand on top of her cap.

“Not that far,” Roland assured her. “Maybe half a mile.” But
when Elizabeth’s eyes widened, he added, “Probably less than that. A quarter
mile at the most.”

“And how exactly do we get back down?” Elizabeth asked,
inching her way to the edge and peering over.

On the way back, the girls became fascinated with the most
commonplace things. Elizabeth was constantly taking pictures with her camera,
making us wait for the sun to peek through the clouds. Their barrage of
questions seemed to reaffirm Chris’ statement of their curiosity. But perhaps
just as our interest lay in the challenge of smuggling them into our rooms,
they seemed more curious about the island itself than they did us. They acted
like they were on a weekend getaway, like the Hotel Nouveau was back in
operation and we were their tour guides. The fact that we were taking a great
risk didn’t concern them in the slightest. They were giddy with excitement
(with perhaps the exception of Kate), talking and giggling incessantly. Anything
and everything was a joke, and we laughed right along with them.

Kate and I were behind the others, relatively close to one
another, but somehow alone, not quite accepting the other’s company. Kate
needed no help climbing over rocks or carrying her backpack. If anything, she
fared better than I did. Height was the only category I had her in, but as it
was a gangly, awkward height, it didn’t seem to count for much.

We veered from our regular path, circling through the trees
to where the road approached the school. The girls went behind some bushes to
freshen up and change into more appropriate clothing for their upcoming
“interview.” We kept our eyes on the road, doing our best to ignore all the
whispering and giggling behind us. Overhead, fast moving clouds crossed the
island. The sky to the south was an ominous black.

When the girls returned, it was like a small miracle had
occurred. Jeans and sweatshirts had been replaced with skirts and high heels. Allison
was wearing a particularly tight blouse that got Chris grinning like a shark. Elizabeth’s
cap now went with a burgundy shawl, and Holly was wearing a jean jacket. Kate
was the only exception. Still in jeans and a pullover, the only change was a
mud stain on one knee.

“The tequila spilled, so unless you want me smelling like a
bar, I better not change,” she said.

“Somebody slap me, ’cause I must be dreaming,” Chris said,
eyeing the girls over.

“Oh this is no dream, honey,” Holly said in an exaggerated
voice. “It’s a friendly welcome from the girls of Miskapaug High to the—”

“Island savages,” Derek finished.

“Yes, the island savages!” Chris declared.

Roland hunched over and started to circle the girls while
patting his open palm to his mouth. “Hey-ah-ho-ah-hey-ah.”

“What is he doing?” Holly asked.

“I think he’s supposed to be an Indian,” Elizabeth said, and
then squealed with laughter.

“Don’t let him get too close,” Chris warned. “He might try
to show you his totem pole.”

This got everyone laughing. But Roland, still chanting,
circled the girls a final time before going over to Chris and pretending to
scalp him with an imaginary knife. Kate rolled her eyes and smiled in my
direction.

We carried on like this until the sound of an approaching
vehicle prompted us to take cover. After the bus had driven by, the girls
stepped out onto the gravel road. With tape recorders and notebooks in hand,
and several uncertain looks back in our direction, they made their way toward
the parked bus.