Epilogue
“All the way up?” Sean asked as he and his parents stepped into the shadows in the high, narrow stairwell.
“Straight to the top,” Dougal agreed, as he shut the door to the lighthouse behind them. Turning, he smiled at Meg and Sean. “The lighthouse keepers and the commissioners will be here soon, but I wanted to take you two up before the ceremony begins.”
“I want to go first!” Sean scrambled up the steps.
Dougal held out a hand. “My love, are you sure you want to do this?”
“Of course, but go ahead. You and Sean move faster than I do these days. I will be careful, I promise,” Meg assured him, for he hesitated.
She patted her expanding abdomen, hidden under the tented shape of her dark-blue woolen half cape.
That casual gesture made his heart, his spirit, swell with love.
“Come on!” Sean yelled from above, hopping impatiently.
“Wait for us, lad, and do not jump about. It makes your mother anxious.” Dougal bounded up the steps two at a time to meet Sean on the first landing of the long climb. He paused to look back, wanting to be certain Meg had no difficulty climbing.
She was so beautiful, he mused, watching her.
So graceful, every bit a baroness today in an outfit designed by that English fellow in the Paris shop, a jacket and skirt in dark-blue velvet with a bonnet of indigo blue perched on her golden hair, now twisted in a silvery net.
Her rounded shape and full bosom, her slow steps as she ascended, deepened his love, his desire, and his respect.
To be sure, he liked best to see her hair gloriously loose and her clothing plain, her laugh free as she ran on a beach or on the machair. Today, she was elegant Lady Strathlin. He was equally proud of her, equally in love with her, in any guise.
He and Sean were dressed nicely today too; he wore the same black suit he had worn to their small wedding last year, and Sean wore a new outfit of brown velvet, even though the lad had protested when Mrs. Berry produced the thing. But Meg had explained that he had grown and needed a new suit.
“And besides, we must all look our best today,” she had told her son. “Guests will soon arrive to celebrate Papa’s new lighthouse on the Caran Reef. And we will christen the lantern.”
“And there will be music and dancing on the island later!” Sean had added proudly, allowing Berry to button his snug and fancy jacket.
Now, smiling up at Dougal, Meg waved him ahead.
He nodded, knowing she was strong and healthy, but he would always keep watch.
He knew how busy she was when at Strathlin Castle and the Edinburgh townhouse, though when she was at Caransay, she eased into a slower pace and took on the important work of islanders—fishing, weaving, caring for others, and continuing her beautifully illustrated journals.
Today, she was here as Lady Strathlin, about to christen the Caran Light.
In the past year, Dougal had learned to negotiate the changing rhythms of life as husband, father, engineer, whether on the mainland or on the island. For him, the constants were always Meg and Sean. Love did not change with outer responsibilities, and family was paramount.
Though some thought he took on much in marrying a wealthy young baroness, a radical change in his life, he knew it would be smooth and joyful, and so it was.
His work increased, designing and consulting on lighthouse construction, and rather than involve himself in his wife’s business and wealth matters, as a husband might do, he knew Meg was capable and left it to her and her trusted advisors.
Dougal gave his opinion when asked and helped as needed.
But most of his focus, and hers, resided in their marriage, their life together, their love.
His other heartfelt focus was as Sean’s father, making up for what they had both missed, and being with his wife and children.
Only days before, he had turned down an offer to build a lighthouse on a wild northern sea rock.
Not yet for long, lonely weeks doing dangerous and exciting work; other opportunities, other light towers would come along. He needed to be with his family now.
“I will open the door!” Sean said, running ahead of Dougal up the stairs to the top.
Laughing, Dougal stood back while the boy turned the gleaming brass knob in the oak door to the lantern room. So far, they had paused at each level so Sean could open doors to peek at the kitchen, sitting room, sleeping quarters, and storage rooms.
Soon Meg joined them at the top, the faint flush in her cheeks brightening her pretty aqua eyes, shining like the sea in sunlight. “It’s not so high,” she said. “The exercise is good for me.”
“Here we are. After you, my dear,” Dougal said, as she preceded him into the lantern house.
The walls of the compact, circular room were glassed all around above the wainscoting, giving an expansive view of sea and sky. The room was dominated by a huge, complex arrangement of glittering prismatic lenses in amber and clear glass.
Meg gasped. “What a beautiful lantern! I have not seen it this close yet.”
Taking Sean’s hand, she walked with him around the perimeter of the huge light. It gleamed like a diamond: hundreds of polished-glass surfaces cut like prisms, arranged in slightly angled rows to provide a powerful illumination. The brass fittings added more brightness and beauty.
Sean stood on his toes to see, and Dougal picked him up to hold him high.
“Go ahead, touch it,” he told Sean, who reached out. “The lamps are not burning yet. Oil lamps will be used to light the lens,” he explained. “They will be lit at dusk to burn until dawn.”
“So this is what they call a Fresnel lens?” Meg asked.
“Aye, a Fresnel of the first order—there are seven levels of size and power. It was rather expensive to acquire a lantern as powerful as this one, but well worth it. Our investors will be pleased, I think. This lighthouse will endure, and protect this part of the coast for hundreds of years, with luck.” Dougal smoothed his hand over one of the glazed surfaces.
Meg went to the window to gaze out over the sea and sky. “How far can the light be seen?”
“About eighteen miles on a clear night. In deep fog, the light may not cast as far, but there are bells in the roof cupola above. One of the lighthouse keepers will ring out patterns to warn passing ships that there is a reef and a lighthouse nearby.”
Meg nodded. “Fergus and Norrie will be quite busy.”
“Aye, our first lighthouse keepers! They are suited perfectly to keep the Caran Light. The Lighthouse Commission prefers local men as the lightkeepers, particularly seafarers, since they know the sea and the changing weather best in their own region.”
“Grandmother Thora is pleased, too—she worried about Norrie going out each day for the fishing, now that he’s older. And with two men tending the light, Norrie still has time to fetch the mail, which he insists on doing. He will not give that up.”
Dougal set Sean down, and they joined Meg at the window. In the pale, vast sky, gray clouds moved fast over the horizon. Far below the high tower, down at the base of the immense dark rock, the sea was choppy and greenish in the rising wind.
“There! I see a boat!” Sean cried, pointing.
“Very observant, lad,” Dougal said, peering toward the south.
“You’ll be a help to your grandfather and your Cousin Fergus when we come to Caransay.
” He ruffled the boy’s golden curls. He knew that Sean enjoyed the weeks and months they spent on the mainland, but loved the island best. Caransay would always be his true home.
Before the wedding, he and Meg had gently explained to Sean the truth about his parentage, as much as a child of six and some could understand.
Sean had readily accepted the news, delighted to have a father, especially one he already loved and admired.
Deeply grateful, Dougal realized that Sean’s happy, trusting heart had been shaped by the generous love he had learned within Meg’s islander family. He, too, had learned that from them.
Life had eased tremendously in the past year—and the roots of the change had begun in a great storm on this very rock.
“Norrie is bringing several guests over the water,” Meg said, looking out the great windows at the boat crossing from the island to the rock.
“Aye. My dear, I should tell you that Sir Roderick is among them. One of the commissioners said he might join them.”
“I see him. He is welcome.” She touched Sean’s head as she spoke. “We will always be in his debt for grabbing Sean from the edge that day.”
“I still have the rocks I got that day!” Sean said, listening.
“You might be a geologist someday, you and your rocks,” Meg said, laughing. “Dougal—I meant to tell you that I asked my solicitors to inform Roderick that his monetary debt to the Strathlin estate is forgiven. It seemed best, once I learned of his arrangement with the bank.”
“Your generous and forgiving nature,” he murmured, “is just part of what I love about you.”
“Oh, I learned something about generosity and forgiveness from a certain engineer,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Even though I thought he was odious at first.”
He chuckled, setting his arm around her, watching the boat sail closer. “One of the men coming in today is an experienced lightkeeper.”
“Aye, the Commission sent him over to train Norrie and Fergus,” she agreed.
“Three keepers are best for a light such as this. Two can be on duty while the third rests. Perhaps he will like it here and stay.”
“Who would not like it here?” Meg smiled. “I am thinking,” she said, her speech falling easily into the pattern of the islanders, “that I was wrong, and that the odious engineer was right.”
“What do you mean?”
“He wanted it to go up when I wanted it to come down. Yet now I see that this light is truly a beautiful monument, a lantern that honors the lives of those lost in these waters—while it also shines on the future.”
“And now,” he murmured, “we can hope that no more lives will be lost on this reef. That makes the future even brighter, my love.” He pulled her closer, dipping his head to kiss her cheek under the tilted brim of her bonnet. For a moment, his throat tightened and he could not speak.
“I wish,” he added, “my parents could have known you. They would have loved you and Sean, and the new little one, and our life here.”
She smiled up at him, tears glazing her eyes.
“They are here!” Sean said, jumping up and down, hands pressed to the window glass.
“Good!” Dougal said. “But the winds are picking up. We’ll have a storm before long.”
“We need to finish this ceremony before it sweeps in,” Meg said. “Though I would not mind being stranded with you again on this rock, Mr. Stewart.” She smiled up at him so fetchingly that he felt desire spin inside of him.
“I would not mind it either,” he said. “Someday, we could try that again.”
“Not now!” Setting one hand on her son’s head and the other high on her abdomen, she laughed in delight. “Though today I do not relish the thought of spending the day in the company of lighthouse commissioners.”
“They will probably try to solicit more funds from Lady Strathlin, who has been so generous. Be strong, lass.” He grinned. “The ceremony will be quick. We will go back down to cut a ribbon at the door, smash a bottle of whisky, and share a dram from another bottle.”
“No whisky for Sean and me! Berry sent a fruit brose for us to drink.”
“Look!” Sean said, pointing. “Do you see them? There! There!”
“See who, dear?” Meg asked, turning with Dougal.
“The water horses! On the water, see! The eich-uisge, many of them, coming this way!”
“What?” Meg gazed in the direction where her son pointed.
“What do you see out there, lad?” Dougal asked.
“White horses in the water!”
Narrowing his eyes, he watched the moving sea. “Wave curls,” he said. “The white foam on high waves can look like horses.”
“Dougal, look again,” Meg said. “The kelpies are here.”
He saw them then, the prancing shapes of a legion of white horses, hooves pounding, manes spilling down as they moved forward, rising and dipping with the waves, heads proud, bodies racing. He watched, entranced.
“I do see it,” he said. “Just where the light comes through the cresting waves.”
“Kelpies!” Sean laughed with delight as Dougal scooped him up to give him a better view.
“They are giving their blessing to the lighthouse,” Meg said. “Sean saw them first. He has the magic of seeing the water horses. And so he should!” She smiled up at Dougal. “He is the son of the most wonderful each-uisge of them all.”
“I am what?” Sean asked, looking up.
“Son of a kelpie, and do not forget it,” Dougal said, laughing. He drew them close, his son and his wife and the small one she carried, tucked them in his arms, and closed his eyes in silent thanks. Waves of love poured through him, magical, powerful, so real.
Meg tilted up her head and he kissed her lips tenderly.
“Stop kissing,” Sean said, wrinkling his nose.
“We should go downstairs now, my dear baroness, my lovely lad,” he said. “It is time to welcome our guests to the new Caran Light.”