Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Christmas Eve 1982
I t was hard to believe it was two months since the shipwreck of the cruise liner La Boheme . From where he sat in the living room of his house with Mia and the girls, all lit up by the Christmas tree lights with a mug of eggnog in his hand, the memory of the thrashing ocean and the cold and angry storm felt decades away. Oriana and Meghan wore their Christmas pajamas—a new tradition Mia had decided upon—and they were cozied up on the other sofa, reading quietly. Mia was at the record player, flipping over the Bing Crosby record. Chuck took a long sip of eggnog and reminded himself of how far he’d come. I’m happy. We’re all happy .
That was when he spotted the shadow in the backyard.
Chuck shot to his feet. Oriana and Meghan eyed him nervously. Oriana closed her book and said, “Dad, what’s wrong?”
Chuck didn’t want to alarm the girls. But he was pretty sure the shadow he’d seen was moving. Was it a person? An intruder? Everyone knew that Christmas was a perfect time to steal. There were unopened gifts beneath the tree, and everyone was feeling especially cozy and off their guard.
Mia watched him like a cat. “What is it, Chuck?”
“I’m going to get another mug of eggnog,” he said, steadying himself and smiling. “Does anyone want anything?”
“Maybe a cookie,” Meghan said. She wasn’t aware of any tension in the room and returned her attention to her book.
Chuck’s heart swelled with love. He had to protect his family. No matter what this was.
Chuck hurried through the kitchen and into the mudroom, where he donned his coat and his boots. From the living room came the sound of Bing Crosby. Mia was telling the girls that it was nearly time to get ready for bed. “Santa will be here any minute.” Chuck wasn’t clear on whether Oriana still believed, but Meghan sure did. She’d written four letters to Santa in the past few weeks, her handwriting sloppy but eager.
Chuck walked out the back door and onto the porch. It was the first time he’d stepped out back after dark since October. He’d paid attention to Mia’s rules. He’d been home for his family.
Now, he was home to protect them.
A man stood in the middle of the backyard. He was all bundled up, his eyes glinting with the light from their Christmas tree, his hands in his pockets. He swayed to and fro as though he were very drunk. Chuck struck out through the snow with his chin raised. He was angry. So angry that this man had decided it was okay to stand in his yard and leer at their window.
That was when he realized who it was.
“Clarence?” Chuck’s hands were in fists at his sides. He was just three feet away. But he was right. Clarence was very drunk. Chuck could have knocked him over easily.
Clarence’s eyes were difficult to read. He was more grizzled than he’d been two months ago, as though he’d spent the better part of the past two weeks drinking at that dive bar and picking fights. Who was taking care of the light? Was it still Travis? That poor kid.
Travis needed love. He needed compassion.
Abstractly, Chuck wondered if Clarence was drinking himself to death because he felt so guilty about the shipwreck. But Chuck had thought about that night over and over again. He’d come to the same conclusion. Chuck had seen it as soon as any of them could have. Lives would have been lost regardless—even if Clarence and Travis had been vigilant, even if Clarence hadn’t been smoking outside.
Accidents happened out on the water all the time. That was the nature of man versus the wilderness.
Chuck hadn’t returned to reading Moby Dick , maybe because it felt too close to home. Or perhaps it was because he felt so unfocused, out of his mind, and worried about his life and his mistakes.
There was so much he couldn’t take back.
Chuck took a step toward Clarence. He squashed his instinct to touch the man’s shoulder and tell him everything would be okay. He didn’t know Clarence’s life. He didn’t know his heart.
“Clarence,” Chuck said quietly, “are you all right?”
Clarence coughed into his hand. It was a horrible cough, one that spoke of a deeply engrained illness.
Chuck considered demanding that Clarence get off his lawn.
But how could he throw this sick and lonely man off his property on Christmas Eve?
“Clarence, can I get you a warm drink inside?” Chuck asked quietly. “Tea? Coffee?”
Clarence coughed and nodded.
Chuck led Clarence in through the side door. As Clarence removed his boots, Chuck hurried to the living room to ask Mia to take the girls upstairs.
“It’s Clarence,” he told her.
She looked like a spooked cat. Wordless, she hurried to gather the girls and guide them upstairs.
Chuck returned to the kitchen to find Clarence in his socks, staring out the back window at the black ocean.
“Is Travis watching the light?” Chuck asked as he put the kettle on.
“Travis ran off,” Clarence said.
Chuck’s heart dropped. “Do you know where he went?”
Clarence shook his head. Devastation was etched into the corners of his eyes.
Chuck considered asking about the lighthouse. Who would have been watching it if Clarence hadn’t been there? But Clarence answered that, too.
“I quit the light,” Clarence said. “I’m headed off the island. Tomorrow, if I can make it.”
“Do you have somewhere to go?” Chuck asked.
Clarence shook his head. The kettle was boiling, and Chuck hurried to take it off the heat and pour it into a mug.
“Did you drive here?” Chuck asked.
“I walked from the light,” Clarence explained.
Chuck pressed the hot mug into Clarence’s hands. Clarence’s face calmed. He stared down at the liquid as hot steam rolled over his cheeks.
Chuck could see the younger, handsome man that Clarence had once been, just for a moment. And then it was gone.
“I wish you’d never come here,” Clarence said into the mug.
Chuck’s heartbeat quickened. He didn’t know what to say.
“She was the only woman I ever really loved, you know?” Clarence said. He took a small sip of hot tea and grimaced. “She was the only one who gave me any hope for myself.”
Chuck knew better than to think Clarence was talking about Travis’s mother. Clarence had already mentioned Mia at the dive bar. This was all about Mia, somehow.
He remembered Mia’s reaction when he’d mentioned the lighthouse keeper for the first time. It had been as though she’d seen a ghost.
“But I get it,” Clarence said. “You want to raise your girls. You don’t want to miss the good times.”
Chuck didn’t know what to say. His throat was tight.
Suddenly, Mia appeared in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. She wore her thick, fluffy robe tied tight, and her hair was loose and pretty to her shoulders. Her eyes were on Clarence. It was clear she knew him down to her bones. It was also clear she didn’t want him in her house with her girls and her new husband.
“Clarence,” she said tenderly. “I need you to go.”
Clarence’s shoulders slumped. He took a long sip of tea and nodded.
A moment of silence passed. Mia didn’t look at Chuck once. After that, she turned and went back upstairs to take care of the girls.
Chuck looked around the kitchen—at the artwork on the fridge, at the Christmas cookies on the counter, and the Christmas cards that littered the table. He was grateful for all of it. He also knew it could be taken away at any second.
Life was precious and breakable.
Clarence sat down at the table and finished his tea. It was clear he didn’t want to talk.
When he was finished, Chuck said, “I’ll drive you home.”
Clarence nodded.
In the truck, Chuck wondered what Clarence had come here for. Had he come to see Mia a final time? To say goodbye? Or had he just wanted to see Mia in her “real” environment—with her children by the Christmas tree? Had he wanted to torture himself?
Clarence was slightly more sober than he’d been and able to direct Chuck back to his cabin. Chuck kept the engine running and watched Clarence get out. But before he closed the door, he reached in and shook Chuck’s hand.
“Be well, Chuck,” he said. “Be grateful for what you have.”
Chuck nodded and watched Clarence mill drunkenly through the snow and back into his cabin. His head throbbed.
He wanted to drive back home and crawl into bed with Mia. He wanted to wake up tomorrow and watch his daughters open their presents. He didn’t want to think about Roland, Grant, and Margaret on Nantucket—spending Christmas together, their first without him.
But when Chuck was driving back home, he realized the island was blacker than ever. It felt like the harshest of nights.
It took a minute for him to realize why.
The lighthouse was dark.
He remembered what Clarence had said. He’d quit. But had he quit only in his mind? Left the lighthouse and walked down to Chuck’s and Mia’s. Maybe.
Chuck drove to the lighthouse and parked. The door at the base was wide open as though Clarence hadn’t bothered to close it behind him. Chuck bounded inside and up and up and up to the top, where he performed all the rituals he’d watched Travis and Clarence do. Within a few minutes, miraculously, he had the light back on.
The little room at the top of the tower was a mess. Empty whiskey bottles and cans of beer were everywhere. It stank of a man at the end of his rope. Slowly, Chuck cleaned up, putting bottles into trash bags and wiping countertops. He wondered how quickly they would be able to hire a new lighthouse keeper. Was that a job people wanted to do anymore? It sounded romantic, but the reality was far different.
Maybe Chuck could step in for a while.
But not forever. The darkness felt too sinister. He wanted to be home.
Chuck managed to stay awake all night to tend to the light. He watched the stars and thought about his childhood when he’d believed in Santa Claus and magic. Now, he was fifty-one years old. What was headed toward him next? How long would he be alive? Would Mia outlive him? Would he ever see Nantucket again?
When morning came, Chuck left the lighthouse and drove to the police station to report the problem. Everyone at the station was wearing Santa hats and eating cinnamon rolls. They threw their arms around him and thanked him for taking over the light.
“We’re glad to have you over on our side of the sound, Chuck Coleman,” one of them said.
“Glad to be here,” Chuck said. “Let me know if you need anything at all.”
As Chuck drove home, he felt grounded on Martha’s Vineyard for the first time. It was his new home.
Back at home, Oriana and Meghan were already up and eager to open presents. They couldn’t stop jumping around. Mia looked tired but beautiful, like she’d waited up all night, thinking of Clarence and Chuck. Chuck had wanted to call her, but the lighthouse had only a walkie-talkie. Now, she threw her arms around Chuck and whispered into his ear, “I love you.”
Chuck wasn’t sure what had happened. But he knew he had to bide his time. Maybe she’d tell him the truth eventually.
Perhaps he even deserved the truth this time.
It wasn’t till that evening that Mia sat him down and explained. Oriana and Meghan were watching a Christmas movie on the sofa, tuckered out and over-sugared. Mia and Chuck were in the kitchen, talking in low voices.
Mia took a breath. Here it comes , Chuck thought.
“It was when Oriana was five and Meghan was two,” Mia said. “You hadn’t been back to Martha’s Vineyard in more than five months. You were traveling for business, and Margaret had a health scare. And I was pretty sure you would never move here. I was sure you’d never be with me.
“I’d always known Clarence. We grew up together. But I ran into him near the lighthouse during a walk with the girls. I asked him for help with something at home. A little task, maybe to fix something, and he stayed for dinner. He was having trouble with Travis, and I gave him some advice. One thing led to another.”
Mia’s hands were shaking. Chuck took both of them and kissed her palms.
“I ended it six months later,” Mia said. “I only loved you. He obviously didn’t take it well. But I only wanted you. I was just so lonely.”
Chuck’s heart cracked. But he had to listen. He had to understand how it had been for Mia.
He’d left her here; he’d expected her to care for their daughters by herself. She’d needed a companion. She’d needed to feel loved.
“But you’re here now,” Mia breathed. “I know that.”
Chuck bowed his head. He thought back to that night in October when the ship had sunk. He remembered she’d left the following evening. Where had she gone? Was he allowed to ask?
It was as though Mia could read his mind. “I had to ask him to leave you alone,” Mia breathed. “I wanted to protect you from what I’d done. But I understand that if we’re going to be married—if we’re going to make this work—we have to be honest with each other. We have to put all our cards on the table.”
Chuck filled his lungs. “All my cards are on the table. You know everything.”
Mia raised her shoulders. “You know everything, too.”
Chuck tried to laugh, but it sounded all wrong. “What do we do now?”
Mia was quiet for a moment. “Maybe we make eggnog and sit by the fire? Perhaps we raise our girls? Maybe we live the rest of our lives in peace and love?”
Chuck’s eyes filled with tears. He wanted to put the past to rest. He sought to move on.
“It sounds like a plan to me,” he said.