The Lighthouse Door

I had thought that the first three letters were a scam, junk mail maybe. But the fourth letter came. And the fifth. All were the same, written in a faint handwriting and signed by a ‘Lenny O’Connor’. The last name seemed familiar to me, but I wasn’t sure where I’d heard it before. 

And then the sixth letter came. 

I sat down at the kitchen table in my apartment with my afternoon cup of coffee, ready to edit the final essay for one of my college classes. Frustration bubbled up in me, and I tore into the envelope. 

This one was different.

It was typed, and a new word had been added to the end of Lenny O’Connor’s name. Deceased. The ugly word sat there in parentheses, like it might become untrue between the two curved lines. The letter read:

Ms. Maddey L. Hessly,

Leonard O’Connor (deceased) has named you as the next contact for the position of caretaker of the High Point Lighthouse in High Point, New Besten. You have two weeks to make a claim on the High Point Lighthouse. After the allotted time is up, the lighthouse will be auctioned off and proceeds will go to the city. My contact information is listed below.

(123)-456-7890

KGreenForMayor@email.com 

My deepest condolences,

Kendall Green, Mayor

I sat there for a moment, my gaze wandering up and down the crisp, white page. Setting it down on the table - gently, as though it might magically disappear if I wasn’t careful with it - I picked up my phone. It was time to get to the bottom of this. 

Suddenly it hit me, O’Connor was a name I knew.

And so I didn’t, as one might expect, call Kendall Green. 

I called my mom. The simple explanation? O’Connor was her maiden name.

“Hey Mom,” I said, glancing at the paper once again, just to make sure it was still there. 

“Hi Maddey!” she replied back, chipper. She always sounded chipper. Three shots of espresso every morning could do that to a person. 

“I was wondering… do you know… Leonard O’Connor?”

There was a barely perceptible pause. “Yes, I do. He’s my uncle. Why?”

“I just got this letter,” I stood, trapping the phone between my ear and my shoulder and then picking the letter up. “It’s from the mayor of High Point? It says that Leonard is… dead. And that I’ve inherited… or something… a position at a lighthouse?”

I stood and began to pace while I waited for her response. The silence stretched so long that I wondered if she’d actually hung up. 

“Mom?”

The peppy tone had faded. “I’m still here. Dead… you say?”

I read the word ‘deceased’ again, just to make sure. “That’s what it says, yeah.”

“How?”

“No clue. The letter says I have to make a claim within two weeks…” I made another round of pacing through the kitchen, past the essay that was staring up at me. I directed a sour face towards it. It responded in kind. “So I was wondering… is this legitimate?”

“It sounds like it.” I hadn’t ever heard her voice so flat before. 

“Did I… ever meet him?”

A forced breath made it through the speaker, something I could only assume to be a half-hearted attempt at a laugh. “He showed up for one of your birthday parties when you were little. And he brought this terrible stuffie with him. It was the kind where you don’t really know what animal it was based on. Scared you to no end. He said you’d grow to like it, but you never did. We ended up giving it to Goodwill. He wasn’t around that often. When he was younger… he was part of a crew on a fishing boat. Then when he got too old for that, he started being the lighthouse keeper.”

I stared at the letter in my hands. The High Point lighthouse. 

“So what should I do?”

A pause. “I’d ignore it. You’re graduating from the U on Monday, and you have your entire life ahead of you.”

I sat down again, resting the letter on my knee. “I’ll think about it, I guess. I have two weeks, right?”

“Right.”

“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”

“He always said he wanted to die near the ocean.”

“Oh.” I wasn’t sure what to say. “Thanks for the information, Mom.”

She seemed to move past the subject. “Anytime, Madds… are you gonna come visit anytime soon?”

“Maybe. See you at graduation?”

“Of course,” she replied. 

“See you then. ‘Bye Mom!”

“‘Bye!”

I hung up as I sat down in front of my essay. It wasn’t going to edit itself, even though I wanted it too.

*****

Monday came and went in a joyous celebration of degrees, robes, speeches, congratulations, and cake. I was glad to have my four year degree, and ready to find a job in accounting. But after I got home from eating out with countless friends and family, the letter was staring up at me from its place on the table where I’d abandoned it. 

Despite my best efforts, the rest of my thoughts that night were consumed with my great uncle Leonard, High Point lighthouse, and the two week notice that was rapidly dwindling. Tuesday showed no action, even though I spent the entire day agonizing over it. Wednesday morning I decided that I would drive up to High Point. 

Two hours later, I pulled into the parking lot of the High Point town hall. There was one other car there; a dingy red pickup. So someone had to be here. I locked my car, slipped the keys into my pocket, and made my way into the tiny building. 

There wasn’t much in it, a water cooler in the corner next to a chair, a desk - empty at the moment - and two doors that went to what I assumed were offices. A bell sat on the reception desk and I rang it a few times, hoping that someone might answer. After a few minutes of waiting, a man, consumed in scrolling through whatever was on his phone, walked out of one of the offices. I cleared my throat and he looked up, surprise flashing over his features.

“Hello,” he held out a calloused hand in a now composed greeting. “I’m Kendall Green.”

We shook. “I’m Maddey Hessly. I got your letter.”

“Oh right, right. You’re Lenny’s…?”

“Great-grand niece.”

“And you’re here to make a claim on the lighthouse?”

“I’d like to see it first, if that’s okay.”

He nodded and then paused, shoving his hands into his pockets as he thought. “I’ve got a city council meeting in fifteen minutes. Could you wait till three?”

I glanced at my watch. It was one forty-five. I would be home after five. Before I could answer, Mr. Green pulled out his phone. “Hold on a minute. I’ve got an idea.”

He called someone and began to give them instructions, and after an approving nod, he hung up. 

“Let me give you directions to the lighthouse. Kayden - my teenage son - will meet you there and can give you a tour.”

“I really appreciate it,” I said with a smile. 

“No problem. Nice to meet you Ms. Hessly.”

And so I left the town hall with a bright pink post-it note; directions to the lighthouse scribbled hastily on it.

The road to the lighthouse was not an easy one. I spent the first five minutes rumbling over cracked blacktop, and then the next five swerving down a dirt road to avoid potholes that could have bottomed-out the car. I drove past the driveway the first time - it was almost completely concealed by two lilac bushes and a long line of trees on either side. 

I rolled down the windows as I drove past the bushes, enjoying the overwhelming aroma of the flowers mixed with the salty tang of the ocean that grew stronger and stronger the closer I got. I could hear the sea, rushing and crashing against the cliffs. There didn’t seem to be a certain place to park, so the grass in front of the lighthouse would have to do. While I was waiting for Kayden to show up, I looked around, enjoying the view. 

The grass continued past the hood of my car, where it slowly became bare and gave way to rock. The rock suddenly dropped off and was swallowed by the blue of the ocean and the sky. And then there was the lighthouse. It stood boldy along the cliff, a beacon to ships during the day and the night. 

I first noticed him in my peripheral vision, a sandy-haired teenager on a beat up bike. 

"Are you Kayden?" I asked.

He nodded, knocking the kickstand on his bike down. Keys jingled as he pulled them out of his pocket. 

"I'm Maddey Hessly."

No answer.

I followed him into the lighthouse. Immediately through the wooden door was a small coat room, a single light bulb illuminating a couple of hooks, a bench, and cubbies for shoes. A second door led into the interior of the lighthouse. Once we were both through it, Kayden felt around for a light switch and flicked it on. The first thing I noticed was a wrought iron staircase along the edge of the room that spiraled out of view up into the second floor. Then there was the smallest kitchen I had ever seen - and a tiny table to accompany it. A light hum came from the refrigerator, and next to it was a partitioned off room. 

“That’s the bathroom,” Kayden announced, gesturing to the miniscule room. He began the ascent up the staircase, and I followed, trying to drink everything in. 

The next level wasn’t as wide as the first, with a bed shoved up against the curved wall, and a dresser next to it. Panes of glass were spaced evenly along the wall, a dingy mirror hung next to one of them. I peered out the window and was immediately met with the breathtaking view. I could see my car on the lawn, Kayden’s bike next to it, and the edge of the cliff that dropped down to a wide beach. 

“Oh!” I exclaimed. 

Kayden looked at me, a bored expression drifting across his face. “Follow me.”

I obeyed, snatching another look out a second window and being rewarded with a different view that was just as gorgeous. Up the stairs, once again, and onto the top floor. 

“The lantern room,” Kayden explained.

It was made almost entirely out of glass, and a great light sat in the middle. I made a slow circle, barely remembering to breathe. Rainbows danced through and around the lens in the afternoon sun. 

“It’s gorgeous,” I whispered, turning from the lens to the sea and back again. 

“Also a lot of work to keep running,” Kayden intoned. “And that’s the tour.”

He made his way back down the stairs, leaving me to gaze out past the breakers and into the horizon. It seemed endless, and yet I knew if you travelled far enough, you would reach land again. I could only imagine what the sunrises looked like. The entire thing seemed like a charming dream, and when I found myself in the coat room again, I didn’t want to leave. 

Hovering near the inner door, I swept my gaze over the room again. The lightswitch was next to the handle and I turned it off, shut the door, and found myself under the single light in the coat room again. Two doors. 

One choice. 

Outside, Kayden was leaning up against his bike. When he saw me, he straddled the seat and prepared to pedal away. 

“Kayden!” I called. 

He looked up at me. 

“Thank you for the tour.”

All I got was a nod. 

But it seemed like that was Kayden’s way. 

*****

I learned that news got around very quickly in High Point, and the news of the new keeper was no exception. It took no less than a day for curious townspeople to show up bearing housewarming gifts. Kids ran through the lighthouse and checked out every square inch before I could even think about stopping them. I heard stories of ‘Old Lenny’ and the legacy that he’d left behind. It seemed like everyone had known him, and all had a story to tell.

And so I decided that I’d made the right choice. The lighthouse was now my home, and Kayden had been showing me the ropes for a month now. He still didn’t talk much, but I’d learned to appreciate it. The third day after I had moved in, I found more letters, signed by my great uncle, ones that he had planned to send. All carried the same plea. 

If possible, I would come out and see him. He knew his time was coming to a close, and he wanted to be the one to show me the lighthouse. The one to tell me of all the stories that the three round rooms held, small as they were. The one to point out the ships sailing on the horizon, miniscule compared to the vast expanse. 

And then it happened. 

I’d been asleep for a couple of hours when the thunderstorm hit. Wind howled around the lighthouse and I could hear a mixture of hail and rain beating against the roof. Thunder roared along with the waves that beat mercilessly against the beach. My feet landed on the floor in time with another bang of thunder, and I flinched. I went downstairs for my coat and then back upstairs to the lantern room. 

From up here, I could see and hear almost everything. The windows trembled in their frames, and I found myself shaking slightly as well. Fat raindrops smacked against them, alternated by the incessant thunk of hail. Lightning struck and I shut my eyes against the sudden flash. The beacon behind me continued to burn brightly into the chaos around me, steady as ever. 

I didn’t get any notice before the window broke. The shatter had me rushing down the stairs trying to get away from the glass that flew in all directions, now pushed inward by the ravenous wind. Rain doused me from head to toe in the few seconds that I had been up there. 

I’ll admit. I was terrified. I could feel tiny pieces of glass scratching at my scalp, and I knew it was all over my raincoat. Water poured in from the broken window and trickled down the steps in a miniature waterfall - and I knew that if I didn’t do something - everything would be soaked. 

The tiny bit of resolve that had built up in me broke down instantaneously with the next bolt of lightning. It was close, and it lit up every darkened corner in the room in an eerie way. The complimentary thunderclap that came seconds later was deafening and I jumped. There was no way I was staying here any longer. 

As I shook the raincoat off, I heard shards of glass skitter across the wooden floor. The next part of my journey required donning it again, grasping the railing for dear life, and descending the stairs. 

The wind rushed down the stairwell, angrily shoving at my back. Panic came crashing over me with the force of the ocean. 

My car keys were on the kitchen table. 

I tried and failed to turn on the single bulb that normally illuminated the coat room. The power was out. 

I shut and locked the inner door to the lighthouse behind me, hastily forced on shoes, and froze when my hand touched the door that led to the swirling storm outside. 

 One breath. Two breaths. The dash to the car wasn’t that far. I would still be soaked, not that it mattered with how wet I currently was. Water dripped down into my socks, causing my tennis shoes to squish under my weight. 

A quarter turn of the handle. Half turn. 

I let go, fingers hovering millimeters from the knob. But I couldn’t leave. Because I had remembered the beacon. 

The power was out. 

As much as I wanted to believe that no ship was out in this storm, it was possible. 

They would need the beacon to stay shining. 

And so here I was, caught between two doors. Caught between the choice of running from my fears or facing them. 

Scared out of my wits, freezing cold, and wanting to run - I faced them. 

With trembling fingers, I found a candle in the kitchen, along with some matches. These were shoved in an inner pocket on my coat, and then I braved the stairs yet again. 

The wind was harsher this time. I kept my head down and focused on the hesitant journey up the slippery stairs. Glass crunched under my shoes as I entered the lantern room and I turned my back to the broken pane. I unlatched the door on the lens, taking the now useless lightbulb and sticking the candle inside.

I went through ten matches before I was able to get a flame going to light the candle. 

The beacon pierced the night, a light to a ship lost at sea, despite the raging storm. And, trembling, I sat next to the beacon, ready to keep the small flame shining through the night.