A Fine Cast of Characters - J. Dane Tyler [61]
One day as she danced, a young sailor came to the beach and watched her. He told her about Middle East women who danced as she danced, told her she was more beautiful, more seductive than they by far. He spent hours with her, watching the sun set, watching the moon rise, watching her dance. They saw each other every day until he shipped out. But he always came back and stayed in the tiny port town, spending his time with her.
You already know my name. You always have.
They fell in love and became inseparable. They sparked envy among gossips and busybodies and their affair caused whispers in the tiny town. He went to sea and other sailors put in to port. So many asked her to marry them, but she declined them all. She belonged to someone, and waited for his return. And when at last he did return, they spent their days dancing, watching the ocean and the moon. Finally, when his love for her couldn’t be denied anymore, he bought a house in the tiny port town, not far from the cove where the lighthouse stands.
One night under a full moon on the beach, he asked her to marry him. He had no ring, but promised when he came home, they would be married.
You promised eternity.
He was to ship out two weeks later, on the eve of the new moon. They spent those weeks together, but few townspeople saw them. The rumors grew. Where did they go? What did they do? How did they spend those days, those nights, before he left?
It’s our last night together.
He promised a wedding when he returned. When he came home.
The morning he shipped out, she stood on the dock and waved until his vessel disappeared beyond the horizon. She ignored the whispers and disparaging looks from other women seeing sailors off. She didn’t care. She only wanted him.
But the port received a distress call from the ill-fated vessel that night, cut off short. No further transmissions received. The ship didn’t respond to signals from land and was never heard from again. That night an extensive search embarked. Coast guard ships traced the route. They returned after dawn, with grim news.
All hands lost.
Wives found out first, but she wasn’t his wife. It took time for word to reach her. She found out just before sunset, when widows of crewmen came to the lighthouse keeper’s door in veils and black clothes, wailing and mourning. They asked for her; she was on the beach, dancing. The widows found her and told her she’d lost her lover. They accused her of being a whore. They dumped the sorrow of their own tragedies on her. They spoke the things they kept as whispers before, and left her in the cove to mourn alone.
She stared out to sea from the beach. The lighthouse keeper and his wife watched her, but left her alone to grieve.
They never saw her again.
There, the story in the book ended with a series of questions. What became of her? What happened to the ship, caused it to go down with no further communications? But I lost interest in it and slammed the book shut.
On the night of the new moon. When I knew you’d left me. I went to be with you and waited at the kelp bed for you. I’m waiting for you.
The story wasn’t in the “Legends” section of the book as I thought, though. It was under the “Mysteries” section.
Because it was real, documented, true.
No one knew where she went. But I remembered her state the night before—the eve of the new moon—so quiet, still, catatonic, despondent.
The lighthouse keeper’s daughter.
You’ve always liked to watch me dance, haven’t you?
Yes, the lighthouse is someone’s home. Let’s go there before the sun comes.
The lighthouse keeper’s daughter!
She told me she already knew my name and that I knew hers, but couldn’t remember.
She must be! How else to explain her actions, her words? She’s the lighthouse keeper