It was a beautiful evening in July as Moriah built a fire on the sandy beach. They and their crew had accomplished a staggering amount of work. Of course, there was still much more to do.
The temperature was balmy. A small breeze blew in gently off the lake, just enough to make the bit of warmth from a bonfire feel welcome. A full moon cast light on the water. Most guests stayed from Sunday afternoon to Saturday morning, so the Friday night bonfire on the beach had become a tradition to wrap up the week.
There was usually a general camaraderie that developed between guests over the space of a vacation week at the resort. Friday night, before they went home, tended to become a time of reflection, soaking up the last moments of unhurried vacation, enjoying the wild sound of a loon, once more, as it wafted over the lake from their secret places. There were lazy discussions about large fish either caught or lost. Some of the guests brought folding lawn chairs. Some preferred to relax on blankets on the beach. It was Moriah’s favorite time of the week.
This had been an especially good week for her. Everything had worked properly in the cabins, all the toilets flushed, everyone got along, and no one fell overboard during their fishing excursions. Nicolas had become quite the inn keeper as he helped Katherine. Baby Betsy had charmed guests as Alicia lent a hand each day. The baby had taken her first steps only yesterday. Having Alison and Nicolas there meant Katherine could get in a few days at her part-time job at Wikwemikong.
In other words, it was working.
She took mental stock of all they had accomplished. The slate roof on the cottage had been removed and new trusses set up. Then, a new roof was installed using as many of the old slates as possible. Once that was in place, the work on the inside had begun. The basics of plumbing and furnace installation took up some of the time. A sewage system was put in, insulated windows installed. The limestone of the cottage was power-washed of decades of grime. The inside was still unfinished, but from the outside, the cottage shone.
In the midst of all this organized chaos, they buried Liam Robertson’s remains in the small family cemetery that had been filling up with Robertson relatives for over a century. With Ben officiating, they laid one of the area’s first light keepers to rest in the ground with a proper service. Ben created a headstone out of one of the hand-hewn pieces of broken limestone they were replacing on the light tower.
“It’s beautiful,” Moriah said, when she saw the image he’d carved. “Thank you.”
It was an image of their light house with waves crashing about it, above Liam Robertson’s name, date of birth, and approximate date of death.
“I don’t get to indulge often,” he said. “But I do enjoy a bit of fancy work every now and then.”
Except for a few scrapes, bruises, and a couple strained back and shoulder muscles, none of their crew had suffered any harm. No rain was expected for several days, so the foundation had been poured today. They would let the concrete cure over the weekend; come Monday, the process of rebuilding the tower would begin. The weather was supposed to be fine for several days so the timing was working out perfectly.
She could hardly wait to see it rise, strong and new. Ben was right. She was as excited as a kid at Christmas.
As the resort guests began to gather, Moriah sat back in the shadows, contentedly watching and savoring their enjoyment.
There was a lot to complain about in running a place like this, but there were many blessings, too. Tonight, it felt as though the blessings far outweighed the complaints.
It pleased her that one of the guests had brought his guitar to the Friday night gathering. He and his wife made their living as musicians, and they were very good. The wife had brought her violin with her. They tuned up, and soon, a sweet folk melody began to fill the soft summer air.
Work finished for the day, Nicolas and Katherine sat with their backs against a log, holding hands, relaxing with their guests. Moriah watched the firelight flicker over her aunt’s face and saw true joy there. They had set their wedding day for the end of August. It would be very simple. There was little time to do anything too elaborate, but Katherine would have her church wedding, and Moriah would be the maid of honor. She had never seen her aunt so happy. She closed her eyes and allowed the music and the feeling of contentment to flow over her.
She opened them again, when she caught the scent of Ben’s shaving soap, and felt his body settling down next to hers on the sand.
“Nice fire,” he said. “What a lovely night!”
She nodded. “All of it. The wind, the lake, the sand, the music, the full moon. It’s pretty close to perfect.”
They were such good friends, so comfortable with each another. Aside from Ben’s teasing compliments, they had managed to make it through much of the summer without embarrassing themselves by openly acknowledging the attraction they felt toward one another.
But right at this moment, with the music and the moonlight and the soft breeze from the lake, plus the intimacy of sitting somewhat apart from the rest of the group, with Ben’s shoulder just touching hers, she couldn’t help wishing they could be more than friends.
Apparently, Ben felt the same way. With no warning, he pushed her hair back behind her ear, leaned in, and kissed it.
“Ben!” She was shocked and delighted. “Someone will see!”
“I doubt anyone would be surprised.”
“But, Ben…”
“I know what you’re going to say. We have issues. I agree. I can’t stay, and you can’t go. But, I’ve wanted to do that for such a long time.”
Her skin still tingled from the touch of his lips. “Since when?”
“Since I saw you lying on the couch after I carried you to the lodge. Katherine was in the kitchen getting a wet cloth for your forehead, and you were still unconscious. I took the liberty of brushing your hair back out of your eyes and tucking it behind your ear. It struck me then that you had the velvetiest skin, the silkiest hair, and the longest lashes I had ever seen. I had never met anyone I thought more perfect.”
“I’m far from perfect,” she said. “You know that.”
“I think the eye of the beholder gets to decide that.”
His gaze upon her was so intense that she had to look away. Two more seconds of looking into his blue eyes, and she would fling herself at him and beg him to marry her.
She couldn’t let that happen, even though her heart was breaking from the effort of holding back. Unless she could overcome her cursed weakness about leaving this island, she was going to lose him. She turned her head, so he wouldn’t see the tears that were beginning to fill her eyes.
“I stepped over a boundary that I shouldn’t have,” he said. “I apologize, lass. It was the music and the night. Let’s just enjoy this beautiful evening together, without trying to figure anything out.”