The Body in the Lighthouse Read Online Free Page A

just the best ones? Was she going to become hopelessly sentimental, in the name of posterity? Maybe.
    â€œIt was built a long time before I was born and has been there ever since,” she heard Ursula say. Faith hung the dish towel up to dry and went into the living room to join them at the big round table that served for playing games. A small rectangular table by the window had a puzzle on it—as always.
    â€œWhat’s been there?” she asked.
    â€œThe lighthouse. Ben was asking me about the lighthouse.”
    Ursula’s silver hair, cut short and slightly wavy, glistened in the light from an oil lamp that had been electrified. She was still a beautiful woman.
    â€œI can remember when it was manned—you can see what’s left of the keeper’s house in the field, a few bits and pieces of the foundation. It burned to the ground twenty years ago. Some summer people owned it and left soup on the stove while they went sailing.
    â€œThe last keeper was Franklin Pomeroy. Heand his family came from Rhode Island. They were a lighthouse family. When the Coast Guard would automate the one they were in, they’d move on to another. I was friends with all three children, but especially Marcy, who was exactly my age. We were born on the same day, and until she passed away five years ago, we always sent each other a card. Marcy wanted to be another Abbie Burgess.”
    â€œWho was that?” Ben asked excitedly.
    â€œAbbie’s father was the keeper of the light out on Matinicus Rock. A more isolated place you can’t imagine, but wonderful if you want to see puffins. When Arnie—that’s my son, Ben—comes, we’ll get him to take us out in his boat. Anyway, Abbie lived on the Rock in the mid-1800s with her family. Captain Burgess didn’t have anyone to help him, except his son. Later, the Lighthouse Service realized it was too dangerous a job for one person and kept a whole crew stationed there. At that time, Matinicus’s light had two towers, so that meant keeping the oil lamps burning in both. This was before electricity, you understand. One January, Mrs. Burgess got sick, and the family was running very low on food, besides. Captain Burgess rowed over to Matinicus Island, about six miles away, intending only to be gone a few hours. As the day wore on, his son realized a storm was coming and went after him. The storm hit, and neither could get back to the Rock for three weeks.”
    Ben’s eyes were as round as Andersen’s fairy-tale dog guarding the tinderbox. “What happened? Abbie kept the lights burning, right?”
    â€œAbbie kept the lights burning, took care of her mother and two younger sisters. She even rescued the hens, so they’d have eggs to eat, though she almost got washed off the Rock while she did it. That’s what they were doing when her father and brother finally got home—eating scrambled eggs and some cornmeal mush. Abbie was fourteen, and at the same age, Marcy kept hoping her father would go off and she’d get to be a heroine. Of course, this light was built much later, so it was electrified and had a Fresnel lens.” Seeing the question form on Ben’s lips, Ursula said, “And I’ll explain about that another time. There are plenty more lighthouse stories, including some about ours—I’m not sure whom it belongs to these days. It’s been through a lot of changes. No light or foghorn even, not anymore. We still consider it our very own lighthouse. It’s as much a part of the landscape as the rocks below it and the trees behind. It was made from local granite, and that’s why it’s never needed much upkeep. Didn’t have to be painted. We don’t have a ghost, like some—I guess it isn’t old enough.” She sounded disappointed.
    Ben sympathized. “That’s too bad, but maybe one will move in this summer. Maybe Abbie’s. She’s dead,