by Mary Carter
“Honey, honey, honey. Are you okay?” He helped her sit up and insisted on examining her. Thankfully no teeth broken, just a split upper lip. She started to cry. They sat on the bottom step and he pulled her in.
“Don’tstartafight,” Bailey said.
“I can’t understand you with that fat lip, baby,” Brad said. He kissed her nose. “I’m sorry. If you tell me it was nothing, I believe you. I’m just glad you finally told me.” Bailey stopped sniffling and pulled back.
“Whaddayamean?”
“Seriously,” Brad said. “We’d have better luck playing Pictionary.” Bailey punched him on the shoulder.
“I knew about the kiss,” he said. “I couldn’t understand why you were keeping it a secret.” Despite Brad’s objection, Bailey struggled to get up.
“Whotoldyou?”
“Let’s not start.”
“Angel!” she said.
“She just happened to—”
“Ohshejusthappenedto.” That’s it. “We’rekickingherout.”
“Then we’re kicking Jake out too.”
“Finetheycanbothgo.”
“We need to get you some ice. And pen and paper. Really, I’ve no idea what you said. I think you called her a hobo.”
Bailey tried not to laugh because it really hurt. But something about it, along with lack of sleep and too much cooking, cleaning, and kissing, had already put her close to the edge. Soon, she was in hysterics. Brad joined in, and as they crossed the yard to the house, they were laughing so hard they had to lean on each other just to keep upright. Tree, who had been in the middle of digging, heard the commotion. He came barreling across the yard and jumped on the center of Bailey’s chest, which started them laughing all over again. Everything was going to be all right. This felt good. Maybe everything was going to be all right. Maybe they could get back on the right track. She should’ve known Brad was going to ruin it.
“There’s my boy,” Brad said, rubbing the dog’s head as he stood, paws on his chest. “See?” he said to Bailey. “We don’t need a baby, we’ve got a four-legged one right here.”
Chapter 25
The French couple, Rachel and Dean, were back from the city. They couldn’t have seen much of it, but they looked happy and relaxed anyway. They sat on the back patio drinking wine. Their adorable baby was sleeping next to them in a stroller. Bailey’s brilliant plan was already in motion. They were going to take a nice romantic stroll upriver while Bailey and Brad watched the baby, a gorgeous eight-month-old named Simone. Bailey couldn’t help but feast her eyes on her tiny blond curls and chubby cheeks, and fat baby legs, tiny drool running down her chin. Brad was more interested in cleaning the grill. If Bailey had anything to say about it, that was going to change.
She watched the young couple take off hand in hand for their walk. “I’m going to take these wineglasses in before we attract bugs,” Bailey said. “Will you watch Simone?”
“Who?” Brad said.
“Seriously?” Bailey said. She pointed at the baby.
“Oh. You’re just going to be a few seconds, right?” Was he afraid to be around babies? Was that what this was all about?
“Just going into the kitchen,” Bailey said. “Scream if she tries anything.” Bailey took the wineglasses in and stood at the kitchen sink, watching him while she washed them. He stood with his hands on his hips, staring down at Simone. Bailey hoped the poor child didn’t wake up and see the stressed look on Brad’s face. She’d probably burst into tears.
Bailey finished washing the wineglasses, and just as she was heading back outside, the phone rang. It was a woman wanting to make a reservation, and she had a million ridiculous questions from the thread count on their sheets to whether or not there was any possibility they would be awakened by a rooster. Bailey couldn’t even tell from the woman’s voice whether or not they wanted to be awoken by a rooster. Anything was possible.
“We’re not a farm,” Bailey said. “There are no roosters. Just the occasional tugboat or foghorn.”
“Oh,” the woman said. She sounded disappointed.
“But some say the lighthouse is haunted,” Bailey said. “So you never know what you’ll hear.”
“Really?” the woman said. Now she sounded excited. “Does the ghost ever sound like a rooster?” Bailey was pretty sure she could get a recording of a rooster.
“Absolutely,” she said. When she was done answering the rest of the woman’s questions, she headed back to the patio. Brad had his back to the stroller and had gone back to cleaning the grill. Bailey stepped around to the front of the stroller. It was empty.
“Brad!” She startled him. He turned around ready to scold her, and then saw what she saw.
“It’s gone?”
“It?” Bailey said. “You’re calling her an it?”
“It’s a girl?”
“She’s a girl. Where is she?”
“I don’t know. She was right there!”
“Oh my God. Oh my God.”
“Don’t panic.”
“Oh my God.”
“We’ll call the Coast Guard!”
“Why? Do you think she went for a swim?” Just then Jake and Angel came around the corner. Jake had Simone in his arms, and he was bouncing her up and down. She was screeching with laughter.
“Oh my God,” Bailey said. She lunged forward and took Simone out of his arms. Bailey wanted to cry.
“You can’t just take a baby from her stroller,” she said.
“We were just over there,” Angel said.
“I don’t care where you were. It’s kidnapping.”
“Calm down, Bailey,” Brad said.
“I’m sorry,” Jake said. “You’re right. But she was just sitting here all alone—”
“Brad was watching her,” Bailey insisted. Wasn’t he? Angel and Jake glanced at Brad.
“We’re really sorry,” Angel said.
“Did you leave the patio?” Bailey asked Brad. He held a scrub brush out.
“Just to grab this,” he said. “I was only gone a few seconds.”
“It only takes a few seconds!”
“Bailey, nothing happened, okay? Sit. Breathe. And please—let someone else hold the baby.”
Angel lifted the screaming child out of Bailey’s arms. She immediately settled down and began to play with Angel’s long blond curls, identical to her own. “She probably senses your fear,” Angel said.
Brad came over and put his arms around Bailey. “I’m really sorry,” he said. “I’ve learned my lesson. It really scared me too. Okay?”
“Okay,” Bailey said. All he had to do was stay on the patio for five freaking minutes and watch a baby sleep in a stroller. Rachel and Dean would have been mortified. But when they came back an hour later, they looked as carefree as ever. Angel even told them about the mishap, and instead of looking horrified, they laughed.
Rachel put her hand on Bailey’s shoulder and patted it. “It’s okay. You lose the baby. You find the baby. It’s life!”
“Believe us, getting an hour alone was much appreciated. Once you have a baby—your life is—how do you say? Gone!” Dean said.
“Gone,” Brad repeated.
“They’re joking,” Bailey said.
“No, we are not,” Rachel said.
“About this, we never joke,” Dean said. “My wife and I. We no longer even make love. Our noises wake up the baby.”
“Oh, the noises we used to make,” Rachel said.
“I’m sure you must get some time alone,” Bailey said.
“You are right,” Rachel said. “But we are so tired. When our time is free all we want to do is sleep.”
“We love to sleep,” Dean said. “And we don’t mean the sex.”
“No more sex,” Rachel said. “Sleep.”
“It’s just a phase,” Bailey said. “Happens to all new parents.”
“You have children?” Rachel said. Bailey tried to smile. Didn’t she read somewhere that smiling could make you feel bet
ter even if you didn’t mean it? Fake it until you make it? Why did people with children always feel compelled to ask people so obviously without children that question? Didn’t they know it was like a knife to the heart?
“No,” Brad said. He sounded chipper. In his case, it wasn’t even a butter knife.
“Not yet,” Bailey said.
“Don’t do it,” Dean said. “I mean this. If you still like the sex, don’t do it.”
“We like it,” Brad said. “We like the sex.”
And to prove it, that night Brad tried to seduce Bailey. He began kissing her neck, caressing her stomach.
“Forget it,” Bailey said. She pushed his hand away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Having a baby isn’t the only way for a woman to lose interest in sex. In fact, not having a baby can make a woman completely dry up!”
Brad sighed, threw off the covers, readjusted his pillow. “I thought we agreed,” he said. “It’s just not the right time.”
“Be honest with me, Brad,” Bailey said. “I mean really, really honest.”
“What?”
“You’re just making up excuses. You say it’s not the right time. It’s never going to be the right time. If people waited for the right time, this would be one very lonely planet!”
“I don’t mean perfect, just—”
“What? We don’t have enough room for a baby? We have a whole house! And the longer we wait to have a baby, the more expensive it will become—”
“I just lost someone else’s baby today. Is that the kind of man that should be having his own?”
“You were careless. But as you said, lesson learned and tragedy averted.”
“I really thought you were going to let this go for a while. Just let us be, you know? Let us grow and make something of this business, and find yourself—”
Bailey sat up. That was it. That was the end of sleep for her. “I’m really starting to resent all this ‘find yourself ’ crap,” she said. “What if I’m supposed to be a mother? What if that’s what I need to ‘find myself’?” Brad didn’t answer. Bailey snatched her pillow and a blanket from the bed. She stood in the middle of the room, not sure where to go. Then she headed up to the tower. Since she knew she was going to be up for most of the night, she might as well keep watch.
The Hudson River was deadly calm. The light was a comforting pulse. Bailey sat in Brad’s “captain chair” and stared out at the blackness below. She could almost hear the water gently lapping the shore. She replayed the recent argument with Brad. Then she replayed every argument and “discussion” they had ever had about having children. And every time Bailey tried to do what Brad asked, put it out of her mind, she just couldn’t. Everywhere she turned there were babies. There was even a new sitcom on television. It featured a cute couple, about their age, who had just had their first baby. The comedy played up the many difficulties of having a newborn.
Sleep deprivation. Guilt. Diaper changing. Spats with your spouse. Date nights gone awry. Bailey watched it without laughing. She watched it with the jealousy of a woman watching her lover with another. She imposed their faces on the sitcom characters, imagined it was her with baby poo in her hair while her laughing husband tried to warn her about it. Her showing up for her lawyer job on two hours of sleep and taking a pacifier out of her pocket instead of a pen. It was Brad standing on the other side of the crib saying, “She has your eyes, but my charm.”
If she got pregnant right now, she would be thirty-seven when she gave birth. Fifty-eight when the child turned twenty-one. That she could handle. And what if they had trouble conceiving? After all, what about all the times in their younger years when they’d carelessly made love without condoms? Tons of times and no accidents. The irony. It was only now that they were older and therefore less likely to conceive right away that Brad started using protection. He could have avoided a ton of fights if he’d just gone ahead and tried to conceive. In all likelihood she wouldn’t have gotten pregnant anyway. IVF could take years to work, couldn’t it? All the more reason to start now.
The light started to flicker. Bailey sat up. Sure enough, when it was supposed to go to “one dark,” it didn’t. It bounced up and down like a jerky image from a faulty movie projection. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Brad wasn’t going to be happy about this. She glanced toward the spiral steps, unsure if she should call Brad up or not. Was he lying awake, like she was, wondering how to fix this between the two of them?
Now the light was only flashing three times and staying dark for two. This was bad. The phone immediately rang.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she picked it up. “I don’t know why this keeps happening.”
“Well, shut her down for the night,” the guard said.
“Yes sir. Very sorry.” Bailey waited and watched. Instead of shutting off right away, the beam flared. It spread across the river brighter than she’d ever seen it, almost blinding, and stayed on for five whole seconds before it shut down. Her heart thudded in her chest. If it had been that bright from up here, what it must have looked like from out there. It would have totally blinded any ships in its path. Bailey waited for her eyes to accustom to the dark before glancing out at the river. She stepped onto the deck and welcomed the cool night air against her flushed skin. That was truly weird. It was so bright! Had Brad’s light been like that?
“Olivia?” Bailey whispered into the night air. “Are you the resident ghost?” If so, she was a long way from the Bronx. There was no answer. Not that she expected one. That was the problem with ghosts. If you believed in them, you could find them anywhere. From the pulse of a light, to the creak of a floorboard, to the cry of a baby. Speaking of crying babies, Bailey wondered how the bird-watcher was coping. It really wasn’t fair that he had to listen to a baby cry all night. Bailey would check in with him at breakfast. But he was only getting a discount if he insisted on one. After all, she and Brad had a lot to save up for.
Chapter 26
Bailey and Brad sat in the main room while two members of the Coast Guard they’d never met before paced in front of them. Just when Bailey had started to like Joe and Mike. Was this on purpose? Were they bringing in the big guns? Or one big gun and one little one, an observation Bailey kept to herself. The larger one did all the speaking, while the shorter one did all the glaring.
“The purpose of a lighthouse is to provide safe passage. You do understand this concept, do you not?”
“We do.” Bailey was going to let Brad do all the talking too.
“We are responsible for the care and maintenance of the light.” So why are you yelling at us, then? Bailey wondered.
“Yes sir.”
“The light is automated. It’s been working perfectly for decades. The batteries and the wiring have been replaced. The only conclusion we can come to is that you are deliberately messing with it.”
“No sir.”
“So why in the world are we seeing SOS signals coming out of here if it’s not some kind of a gimmick?”
“I promise you. It is not.”
“Because word on deck is you’re spreading rumors about ghosts and holding séances in here. Would that be correct?”
“It was just a support group meeting,” Bailey chimed in.
“And Captain Jack was the one who started the ghost rumors.”
The guard tipped his hat and tucked his thumbs into his pants. “Captain Jack,” he said. “Why, you’re not listening to that old man, are you?”
“He was just saying that Trevor Penwell’s—”
“Trevor Penwell operated this lighthouse for twenty-five years. And not once . . . not once did we see the kind of ‘malfunctions’ we’re seeing now. No SOS signals, no séances, no ghosts.”
“Right,” Brad said.
“If you think you’re going to turn our little community into some kind of Amityville Horror just to attract guests—”
Brad stood. “I promise you, we don’t even believe in ghosts, do we, Bailey?”
“This is a lighthouse, sir,” Bailey said. “I’ve done my research. All lighthouses have resident ghosts. It’s harmless.”
“Bailey,” Brad said under his breath.
“But I assure you, we’re not the ones promoting this. It’s an old, creepy house.”
“It’s not creepy,” Brad said.
“But it is creaky. Guests come in and they hear what they want to hear. And you have to admit—with the suicide on the third floor—”
Both guards immediately looked up. “What suicide?” the taller one said.
“Edga Penwell,” Bailey said. “Ten years ago, was it?”
“Lady, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“We weren’t around ten years ago,” the shorter one said.
“Doesn’t mean we don’t know every bit of gossip in this town.”
“I get the feeling it’s something none of them talk about very much,” Bailey said.
“That would be a first.”
“We’re so sorry about the light. I’ve had electricians look at our wiring and everything. I don’t know what to do.”
“We’re going to shut it down,” the guard said. “From now on, no more light.”
“But we’re a lighthouse,” Brad said.
“Well, you’re going to be a darkhouse now.”
“For how long?” Bailey said. The only reason Brad had bought this place—handed their property over to a board—was to keep the light going. Without it, they had nothing.
“A lighthouse without a light,” Brad said.
The guard wasn’t moved by their plight. “If you want, you can stand out on the deck with a flashlight,” he said. “Otherwise, she goes dark until we get to the bottom of this.” They were put in their place. Bailey didn’t even bother to correct the pronoun. So much for men and their phallic symbols. They all wanted the lighthouse to be a “she.” After they left, Brad disappeared into the tower to sulk, and Bailey was left to clean.
