Chapter Five
Ben
Lightkeeper? At first I wasn’t sure what Isaac meant, but once he started talking, it all fell into place. The guy worked in a lighthouse. Out on an island. Sometimes by himself and sometimes with an assistant. And he’d been an assistant at Egg Island and Estevan Point, both places north of here, before landing this plum assignment. He’d been here almost three years.
I had so many questions I wanted to ask, but I didn’t want to seem dumb. I wasn’t the brightest guy around. Especially compared to my ex. I barely squeaked into teacher’s college. And that was mostly because my French was excellent and I’d put in hundreds of volunteer hours. I might not be the shiniest penny in the drawer, but kids loved me, and I loved teaching them. In the end, that was all that really mattered.
“I’ve talked nonstop.”
Isaac eyed my empty plate and his barely touched meal and shrugged ruefully.
“But you’ve lived this fascinating life.”
He’d briefly touched on living up in the Yukon as a kid and being raised in semi-wilderness with his maternal grandfather. He hadn’t mentioned parents at all, and I wasn’t going to broach the subject. He’d share if he felt it was important.
“So, teacher’s college.”
He waved his fork.
“Not much to tell. Eighteen-month program. Officially finished next week. Graduation in the spring, but I get my own grade-three class starting at the beginning of January.”
“Grade three, eh? Bet they’ll be a handful.”
Finally, he took a bite of his burger.
“They’re little rascals. I taught this class for a couple of weeks in the fall, so I feel like I’ve got a handle on them. My mentor warned me they’re at their worst just before breaks.”
He tilted his head in question.
“Many of the kids come from unstable homes. School is the constant in their lives. When they’re facing time away from school, they’re never sure what that’ll bring. For some of them, school breakfast and lunch are the only guaranteed meals they get.”
I didn’t miss the wince.
“So, where is this placement? You said you were at the university in Abbotsford…”
“Oh, my placement is in Mission City. I’m renting an apartment, and why are you looking at me like that?”
He appeared as slack-jawed as I’d been when I found out he was gay. Still tickled pink by that revelation.
He cleared his throat. Then he scratched his head. Finally, he straightened his cloth napkin with unsteady fingers.
“Okay, what gives?”
I was dying of curiosity.
“Nothing.”
He scratched his nose.
“No, not nothing.”
I tipped his chin so he met my gaze. The gesture was oddly intimate, yet in the moment, it felt right.
Our gazes held. After an interminable amount of time, he relented. “My ex-boyfriend lives in Mission City.”
I whistled. “Okay, small world.”
I furrowed my brow. “So who’s your ex? I mean, I don’t know many people in town…”
“Dickens Lawrence. He works at The Owl’s Nest.”
“The bookstore?”
I wracked my brain. “I thought he owned the store.”
He tilted his head. “I hadn’t heard that. But we lost touch after I went back to Whitehorse.”
“But then you came back to B.C.?”
“I did, but I landed the job as assistant lightkeeper up the coast. Hardly worth calling on my ex who’s way off...”
He gestured vaguely eastward.
“Did it end badly?”
Did I need to know this? No. Was I intensely curious? Oh, hell yes. Dickens was shorter than me, and if memory served, had blond hair with blue eyes. And cute glasses. I’d gone into the store one afternoon to browse and he’d caught my attention, but not for any discernible reason. I hadn’t known he was gay, but hearing he was didn’t surprise me.
“We’d started to talk about plans.”
He scratched his head. “I mean, we weren’t always compatible, but we made things work. Then my grandfather got sick and, well, I felt I had to come home.”
“And yet you didn’t stay.”
His rage was incandescent. “The old bastard wasn’t sick. By the time I realized, Dickens and I had already parted. I tried to stick around Whitehorse, but I got fed up with my grandfather’s bullshit.”
He pressed a finger to his lips. “Sorry.”
I made a big deal of looking down at Buddy, who was fast asleep on my feet after his beef-stew feast. “It’s okay, tender ears didn’t hear.”
That, as I hoped, made him smile.
“I came out to my grandfather. In spectacular fashion. He told me to leave and never come back, and I was happy to go.”
He rubbed his eyes. “My parents died in a plane crash when I was little. My father’s family was from Jamaica and my mother was from the north. The Canadian authorities didn’t want to send me to the Caribbean when I had a perfectly good relative here in the country. In my heart, I doubt my mother would’ve wanted me to go to her father. He railed on about my ‘heritage’.”
He said the words with air quotes.
“You mean because you’re Black?”
“Nailed it in one. My grandfather was a racist. He didn’t like the Indigenous people either, and there were plenty where we lived. He was just a hateful old man.”
“Are you conflicted now?”
He tilted his head.
“About his death?”
A vehement shake. “No, as far as I was concerned, he died five years ago. This week was just the burial.”
He bit into his burger and I glanced out the window into the dark. We were nearly upon the winter solstice, and night came early this time of year. “Look, I need to run Buddy out. But let’s do something fun tonight, okay?”
Sorrowful brown eyes lightened. “What did you have in mind?”
“Leave that up to me.”
With a wink, I grabbed Buddy’s leash, and we headed out. Now I needed to track down supplies.