Page 2 of Beacon

Delight trickled over me in waves. “I can help? Really?” For up until now my tasks with assisting at the lighthouse had all been small, the larger ones far too important to entrust me with.

“You can stay up late tonight and help me tend the beacon. Would you like that?”

I nodded eagerly and some of my annoyance at being left behind slowly subsided. While not quite as grand as a wondrous week at sea with Mother and several weeks of playing with my cousins, helping with the lighthouse would still be quite the adventure.

I had to tell Mother the grand news. “Thank you, Father.” I kissed the underside of his whiskery chin before crawling off his lap. Halfway to shore, I paused to sing a trilling note; a small wave of water rose up to lightly press against Father’s cheek like a kiss. He chuckled, as he was always delighted by my unusual magic. Now if only Mother would feel the same way.

I hurried up the beach towards the lighthouse. Sand stuck to my wet feet and trailed all over the floor as I ventured inside, where I found Mother in her room scrambling to finish packing.

“Mother, guess what? Father said I could—”

Her eyes widened when she noticed the trail of sandy footprints that had followed me up the stairs. “Marisa, did you get sand all over the floors?”

My heart sank at the strain in her voice and I dipped my head in remorse. “I’m sorry.”

She took a wavering breath before reaching out to stroke my hair, assuring me I wasn’t in complete disgrace. “Will you clean it up before I leave?”

I nodded, earning me a smile. I brightened once more. “Mother, guess what? Father said I can help tend the lighthouse while you’re away.”

“Did he?” Her tone was less enthusiastic and more distracted as she went over the contents of her travel bag.

“He did.”

I began chattering all about it as I followed Mother around her room like a shadow, talking about all manner of things—the tasks I could assist Father with, the latest discoveries of my powers, and all manner of subjects I felt important enough to share before she left. There were so many things to talk about with her, and to think I only had a few hours to share them before she left and I’d have to wait until her return in several weeks’ time, which felt ages away.

The tension lining Mother’s eyes deepened and her mouth pursed in the thin line that only appeared when she was losing her patience. Finally, she spun on me. “Marisa!”

Her sharp tone caused my mouth to instantly snap shut mid-sentence. She took a steadying breath.

“I’m sorry, but I’m really busy and don’t have time for this right now. So please, just…stop talking.”

I stared as the meaning of her words settled over me. She wanted me to…stop talking? Mother usually had time to listen to me. Did my talking…annoy her?

My chin wobbled as I ran from the room and up the spiral staircase that twisted towards the beacon. I slouched on the top step and buried my tears in my knees.

I wasn’t sure how long I’d sat there before I heard heavy footfalls ascending the stairs, ones familiar after having heard them every night without fail. Father. He paused near the top. “Your mother is leaving. Would you like to come down and say goodbye?”

I didn’t even emerge from my crumpled position as I shook my head. Father ascended the remaining steps to settle beside me.

“I heard your mother got short with you, but she wishes to apologize before she leaves. Would you like to see her?”

I shook my head again. “She doesn’t want my company.”

“Of course she does.”

“She doesn’t. I annoyed her with my talking.”

Father wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “Your mother was simply stressed, but you know she loves you.”

Deep down I did, but in that moment, my hurt was stronger, leaving me unsure—I didn’t want to see Mother off for fear of annoying her again.

At my continual silence, Father sighed, but when I tentatively peeked up at him, I found only gentleness in his expression.

“Traveling is always difficult for your mother. She’s worried not only about the upcoming journey but about what she’ll find waiting for her upon her arrival; your aunt’s pregnancy isn’t going well. Not to mention she hates leaving you behind.”

Guilt I’d only added to her stress penetrated my stubborn hurt, but it didn’t lessen the sting from Mother’s rebuke. “Do I talk too much?” I murmured.

“Of course not,” Father said.

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