Chapter 1
Chapter 1
The storm has me drifting off course…far off course. It seems I have been floating for hours. Other than the sea, I know not what is around me, or where I even am because of how dark it is. The wind is chilling me to my bones as the rain soaks my clothes. Surely, I will be down with an illness if I do not come to shore soon, and in my own home, don dry clothing, and sit in front of a nice fire with two fingers of scotch. Sitting in our parlor with a fire in the fireplace drinking a fine brandy or scotch is something my parents and I do after every evening meal. This evening it appears I will not be there, and I wonder if my parents fear I may be lost at sea, as do I.
As the eldest of four children and in my twenty-third year, it is my job to help in providing for my family. I am a fisherman. My family comprises my parents and three siblings. I do not have a family of my own as I fear I will never find a woman to love me properly, as a man should be loved. The young men my age in our village have already found wives and have their own families. I am sure there is a woman somewhere in this world to love me, but I cannot trust someone to know the real me, for only my family knows of the secret I carry, so I continue as a bachelor taking care of those I love.
I drift off to sleep once again as the wind continues to carry me far away, I assume, from the land I love. Away from the only family and friends I have. But I am startled awake as my boat has hit something. I see a faint light that appears to be rotating in the near distance. A lighthouse? Could it be I have landed on the other side of my land? The fog is too thick to know for sure. I hear a voice in the distance come closer until the person is right in front of where I have landed, and light is shown into my eyes, blinding me for a moment.
“Come, young man. You need to get out of this blasted storm before you catch your death.”
The voice is rugged…older sounding, but not my father’s. “Where have I landed, my good sir?”
“Why, you are on the Isle of the Ensam. But hurry, you need to come and get out of this weather.”
“The Isle of the Ensam?” I whisper. I knew of the small island from the shippers who deliver food and merchandise to our small village. Often, out of curiosity, I would ask what the small island was like and what people inhabited it. They would always tell me it was a place I did not want to go to. And no matter how many times I ask, they would not oblige me as to why.
As I step onto the land, I feel as though I am home. Such an odd feeling since this is not the land I love, and my family and friends are not here. But I do as the elderly gentleman asks of me and I follow him to his home, where his wife has set out a bowl of hot soup and a slice of bread. My stomach must have seen it as I stepped into the small cabin because now it has begun to growl at me.
“Forgive me for my intrusion, madam,” I say shyly with a nod of my head.
“Oh, no, you are most welcome in our home. Follow me to the extra bedroom and I shall retrieve some dry clothes for you to change into. Then come have a seat and eat. It will help to warm your insides. After you have eaten, come sit by the fire where I will have a thick blanket for you.”
“Thank you, madam.” I do as the elderly woman instructs, and after having a bowl of the delicious soup, I am now sitting beside the fireplace in my stocking feet and in a pair of flannel pajamas, the blanket wrapped around my now warm, dry body.
“So, young man, would you like to share a drink with me before retiring?” The elderly gentleman was already pulling two tumblers from the cabinet.
“Yes, sir. That would be nice.”
“Please, call me Josiah, and the lovely young lady who fed you is my wife, Cherish.”
“Yes, sir, Josiah,” I say with a smile. “And please forgive me for not telling you before. My name is Christian, but please call me Chris.”
“Well, Chris, may I ask what you were doing out in the storm?”
“It was not storming when I set out, sir,” I say as if I am being admonished for doing something I was not supposed to be doing. “It was cloudy, but not a storm cloud to be seen.”
“Yes. But what is it you were doing out there?”
I realize he isn’t meaning it as accusing. “I am a fisherman, and my family relies heavily on me to catch our next meal.” I look down. “I am afraid I have disappointed them this time.”
“Nonsense, young man. I am sure they are very proud of what you do for them. I am assuming your family is your wife and children?”
“Oh no, sir, I am still a bachelor.” I feel as though I will disappoint this elderly couple with that admission; for some reason, that was something I do not want to do.
“Really? That is interesting. So, your family?”
“Oh, it is my parents and my three siblings I provide for.” The man grunts and nods in understanding. I am pleased.
“Now dear, do not make the young man feel bad for not having a wife and children to attend to. As you know, even though it is a requirement, it does take time for some.”
“Yes, dear. I know it does.” He takes a sip of his scotch, still watching me.
“My husband sometimes forgets that he was in his thirty-second year before he dared to ask me for my hand in marriage.”
I could see the elderly gentleman blush. “Well, I am sure there is a woman out there who will allow me to marry her at some time in my years.”
“I am sure of it. You are quite dashing if I say so myself.”
“Why, thank you, madam,” I say with a blush of my own.
†
I lay awake, wondering if my family is sad that I have not come home from my chore. Surely, they will be panicking because of the awful storm that has pulled me away from them. Sadly, I will not know until it has passed, and I am able to go back to see them. I am most grateful for the elderly couple who have taken me in and made me comfortable in their home, but tomorrow I shall be back on the land I love.
Finally, I drift off to sleep.
Sometime during the night, I am awakened. I know not what it is that has caused me to become awake. Nevertheless, it is making me curious, so I look out the only window in the small bedroom I am in. I see the rotating light through the fog and follow its path. It has me mesmerized and I feel as though I am being called home. Is this light showing me my way back to those I love? I must go out and see, but my clothes are still damp. I shall don them anyway, for I must go to where this light is guiding me.
I know it is only proper to tell the elderly couple where I am heading, but I must not disturb them in their sleep. I shall write them a nice note. I sneak into the parlor, where they must have some paper and a pencil in the drawer of the end table. I have come to some luck, as I find exactly what I am looking for. In my note, I thank Josiah for rescuing me and Cherish for the wonderful soup and bread. I also thank them for bringing me into their home, a stranger, and now a friend. I set the note on the kitchen table and sneak out the door.
The weather has calmed. The air does have a bit of chill in it. But the rain has stopped, and the wind is now a light breeze. For that, I am somewhat thankful, as my attire is cold from the dampness. The fog is thick, but I follow the rotating light as it beckons me toward it. I think of my boat and wonder if it is even seaworthy, as I am not sure if it was damaged when I was forced ashore. As I come closer to the light, I am surprised when I am directed away from the water. I am halted in my footsteps. Through the fog, I can see a large mass and it is not until the light flashes over that mass that I see it is a house. I think to myself that this must be the lightkeeper’s home.
The home is dark, as it should be as it is the middle of the night. For a brief moment, as the light flashes, I see a woman standing on the balcony. Her gown is white and seems to glow in the darkness and cuts through the fog like a beacon in the night. Why did I not see her when I first came upon the dark mass? It is as if the light flashing across the home has brought her to life. I am drawn to her and have a need to go to this woman. I proceed up the wrought-iron steps until I am at large double doors. They remind me of pictures I have seen when still in school of castle doors with their lion’s head door knockers.
I pull on the long handles, but the doors are locked. I do not want to use the knockers as I do not want to disturb anyone who may be asleep. It is her I must go to, so I try the window, but I have no luck. As I look towards the balcony, I see her reach out as if she is trying to touch something or someone not there. A strangled cry drifts across and I hurry down the steps as I must find a way to her. A passage can be seen from behind the steps, and I enter. The darkness is suddenly bright, as if someone has lit a torch. I follow through the passage and find myself at the end of the tunnel and see a long hallway with a lit room that is halfway down. I proceed taking careful steps along the way so as not to disturb anyone.
It is odd that, as I look into the room, the woman is on the balcony. How is that possible that this is her room when I am still on the bottom floor? The balcony I saw her on was above the ground and the tunnel did not seem to ascend. I try to step into the room, but I am held back. It is as if a thousand hands are pushing me away. I try with all my might to force myself forward as I feel I must go to her. I suddenly find myself back at the bottom of the wrought-iron steps. And as the rotating light flashes across the balcony, she is no longer there. I stand alone in the fog, confused as to what just happened to me.
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