Chapter 7: The Light She Tended
The coast of northern Maine, they had been told, was a rugged edge that adhered to no laws. The shape of the coastline wound and buckled from the northern provinces of Canada to the milder country of New Hampshire, defying the crisp borders of maps. The landscape was ever-changing, with the Atlantic pebbling the rocks and rewriting the coastline over eons, millennia. No defense could freeze the tide.
Book Preview: The Light She Tended
She never got used to him leaving, and he did it every night. How pleasant life could be in the hours preceding his predictable departures. The little bedroom of the keeper’s quarters was dark as coal, save for the blade of light slicing through the window every ten seconds. It was peaceful there and then, in the interstices between days. They could submit themselves to rest and listen to the bleating fog signal and the curling waves. They could feel the warmth of the other glowing through the sheets. All the while, time burned through the wick of the night until a new morning leaned against the dark.