Page 88 of The Lightkeeper

And that was what I’d fought for since my argument with Frankie. I’d fought against my instincts to shelter and hide, accepting that they weren’t instincts but plain old fear. Instead of sheltering from the threat of panic, I gave myself doses of it. Daily. Because if I could understand it, I wouldn’t have to fear it.

I started slow. A coffee in the morning at first. Lingeringat the counter at the Maine Squeeze, distracting myself by talking to Lou. Then, I’d added in visits to Mom’s. A stop by Jamie’s shop. The grocery store. A walk down the street. I dosed myself with people and situations that could trigger me and worked through my body’s reactions.

My first goal was the gallery show. To make it through the event okay. That was my litmus test, and if I could make it through that, then I would let myself consider going to her.

It wasn’t about proving it to her—I’d never needed to prove myself to Aurora; she’d always believed in me. I needed to prove to myself that I could do this. That I could fight for more.And that I was willing to let other people fight for me.

And I had. I looked around the room, seeing every person in my family here, fighting for me.

Mom and Frankie and Gigi mingled with the crowd, talking to people about my work and only funneling through to me those who were truly interested in making a purchase. Jamie manned the desk at the back with Violet.She knew how crippling panic attacks could be; she suffered from them, too. So,she moved the desk forward a little and blocked off the larger space behind it as a designated area for Jamie to do packaging, but its dual purpose was a safe space. Away from the people. Away from the noise. If I felt the darkness closing in, I had a place to retreat to.

And Lou… Lou ran the ship. She chatted. She directed. She told stories about my paintings that I’d even forgotten I’d shared with her. She invoiced and took payments. She… she killed it. Then again, it was her future she was working for, too.

With them around, it was hard for the darkness to get close.

If I made it through this, I could reach out to her. Go to her. If I made it through this, it was proof that I could be better—that I could regenerate and grow back the part of me I’d lost.

“Hey, Brian.” I reached out and shook his hand. “Thanks for coming. I really appreciate your support.” I saw him come inalmost…forty-fiveminutes ago… but hadn’t had a chance to say hello yet.

“Of course.” He smiled wide and then nodded over his shoulder to a man about his age who was chatting with Jamie. “That’s my cousin, Steve Miller. The one I was telling you about. He just got here.”

I nodded, recalling the last week when we’d run into each other at the hardware store, and he told me he had a cousin who was a buyer for some very avid and very wealthy art collectors in Boston. He mentioned sending his cousin a photo of some of my new ink drawings and how his cousin immediately made plans to come to the show to buy some pieces for his clients.

I was shocked. Grateful, but shocked. And it wasn’t the first time.

The more time I spent in town, the more people approached me to tell me how excited they were about my show. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was pity. Or the mystery of the man who lived in the lighthouse that they wanted to see. But all that mattered was that they came because supporting me meant supporting Lou, and no matter how she busied herself organizing this event, I still caught the glimmer of worry in her gaze—worry that it wouldn’t be enough to win the inn back.

“I’ll be sure to say hello,” I assured Brian with a smile.

“Oh, don’t worry, he won’t be leaving without talking to you—or with empty hands.” He smiled warmly andmade his way toward his cousin.

I started to follow, but Max and Nox stopped me to say hello, with Max introducing me to his two friends who’d invested in MaineStems. Then it was Judy, Carol, and Christine who manned the Stonebar Farms store in town. After that it was Lauren and Jenna from the Maine Squeeze and Jenna’s dad, the mayor of Friendship. Everywhere I looked, people had turned out tosupport me, and for a second, I regretted all the time I spent hiding from the people who cared about me.

“Kit!” Lou rushed over, a pen tucked behind each ear and a stack of papers in her hand. “I need you over here.” She tugged me to the other side of the room in front of my drawing of the whelk shell and beamed when she introduced me to an older woman waiting in front of it. “Mrs. Johnson, this is the artist and my brother, Kit Kinkade. He can tell you a little bit more about the drawing you’re purchasing.”

I tipped my head and winked at Lou.

She was incredible. She was running the show with the attention, ease, and grace of a conductor in front of an orchestra. She welcomed people. Introduced them. Guided them through the small exhibit she’d set up. She’d organized the purchasing process ahead of time so it could be done seamlessly from her phone anywhere in the gallery, the artwork then only moved to the back for Mom and Gigi to package up.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Johnson.” I shook the older woman’s hand gently.

“You’re quite talented, young man.” She eyed me and then the drawing.

“Thank you.” I smiled. “This is a waved whelk. Some might say the smaller cousin to a conch shell.”

She nodded for me to continue, her smile encouraging me that she was enjoying the scientific details as much as I was enjoying giving them. Every time I shared information about the animals in the drawings, it brought back memories of Aurora. Her amazement. Her excitement. And that funneled through me like an infectious beam of light.

“How fascinating.” She pressed her hand to her chest, staring at the drawing once more. “I love shells. My condo is filled with all kinds that I’ve collected over the years. I’d love to add this to my living room wall. May I purchase it?”

“Of course.” I smiled, and before I even had to look for her, Lou appeared next to me, easily injecting herself into the conversation to facilitate the purchase.

“Kit.”I turned and found Frankie by my side, her hand on my arm. “This is Mr.—”

“Just Richard, please,” the portly, older man insisted as he moved shoulder-to-shoulder with Frankie and adjusted his thick round glasses.

Air whooshed from my lungs, the slight movement hitting me like a bag of bricks to my sternum. For a split second, all I saw was Aurora.Silly,I thought with a shake of my head. Anyone who wore glasses would bump them just the same.

I cleared my throat. “Pleasure to meet you.”

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