Chapter Forty-Four

A Brief Rest

Isaac jerked his head around, shocked to see a young boy several yards away. His voice was warm, welcoming, and surprisingly young. His eyes were kind. “Not one of them,” he whispered. “How do you know my name?”

A harsh wind blew the stranger’s sandy brown hair repeatedly over his eyes, despite the almost comical attempts to right it. The boy’s slight build did not seem sufficient to keep him from blowing away. A smile lit the child’s entire face from his bright green eyes down to his ruddy cheeks. He looked like he had been camping at this spot for quite some time, yet he didn’t seem to belong here. A kindness about him hadn’t been corroded. His hands were set deep into the luxurious pockets of his oversized deerskin coat when he wasn’t swatting at his hair.

“I was sent here to find you.” He shook his head at Isaac’s state of damp disarray. “You look hungry. The rabbit is almost done.” Isaac’s mouth watered when he saw the rabbit spitted and roasting above the flames. The wind lifted the smoke in thin tendrils to the southeast where it would soon mingle with the lower peninsula’s poisonous air. The elder boy approached the treasure and warmed himself in front of the exquisite fire. He did not mind the tears of gratitude that ran slowly from the corners of his eyes.

“It’s ready,” the younger child announced. He fished a paper plate from his blue canvas knapsack as well as a pair of thick oven mitts and a steaming hot loaf of sourdough bread. He donned the mitts and then removed the spitted rabbit from the fire. He plopped the meal onto the plate and handed it to his guest. “Not exactly loaves and fishes,” he offered apologetically, “but I think it will do.”

Isaac was astonished beyond words by the repast set before him. He dug in eagerly before deciding that etiquette required him to ask the boy to join him. He was relieved to see the stranger shake his head emphatically enough to cause his hair to fall back over his eyes. The boy’s smile returned.

“I’ve already eaten,” he replied. “Besides, I made it for you.”

Isaac ate greedily, tearing at the succulent meat with bare fingers. He cracked the loaf and inhaled the warm, sour fragrance. He paused to savor the smoky, gamey taste of rabbit and the crispy outer crust overlaying chewy bites of warm bread. “This is incredible,” he said between bites.

When he finished Isaac accepted the boy’s canteen with gratitude and gulped the cold, clear water until it was drained. His clothing was beginning to dry, and the heat of the fire penetrated beneath his skin if not yet to the bone. For the first time in what seemed an eternity he was warm, safe, and satiated. He had many questions to ask the stranger, but he was suddenly drained and simply basked in the warmth of the moment. The child flitted occasional glances at Isaac out of the corner of his eyes, but for the most part cast his attention westward over the bay. The sun was setting.

“You must be a Boy Scout or something,” Isaac eventually observed. “I don’t think I’d be able to catch a rabbit, let alone skin it and bake a loaf of bread.” The boy smiled but held his vigil over the bay. The rim of ice had expanded a half-mile from shore. “Do you live around here?”

The younger boy shook his head gently and walked over to place a hand upon Isaac’s shoulder. His mannerisms were mature and paternal. “You will be safe here tonight,” he said. “The beacon of the Sturgeon Bay Light washes over this spot.”

Isaac looked beyond the canal to the lighthouse and followed the white beacon as it bathed them every thirty seconds or so. The light rotated over the canal and then above the rolling hills of the point before once again gracing the icy bay with its magic. It was a diamond, a beautiful thing, perched beneath a red-capped tower. The lightly wooded land surrounding the tower had been spared the ravages of the voracious fire. “I’ve been here before,” he said, “or will be again.” The child looked down upon him knowingly.

“Moments of déjà vu mark the way points to the True Path,” he said as much to himself as to Isaac. He returned his attention to the ice sheet, which continued to expand over the green water despite the majestic reach of the brilliant rotating light. “You should pay attention to these moments when they arise—they’re probably trying to tell you something.” The light passed over their bivouac again. Time moved very quickly in this world. It seemed, in fact, to be accelerating.

“Are you leaving?” Isaac asked, suddenly afraid of being left alone.

The boy gave a sad smile as he collected the garbage from their campsite, placing each item into his knapsack with care. He tended the fire until it crackled with renewed life.

“I cannot stay,” he offered apologetically. “Sturgeon Bay is only a way station and I must return to my world.”

Isaac was lost in thought until a flicker of comprehension seemed to take root. “You’re one of Isabel’s people.”

“We are all connected to one another,” the boy replied, “and yes, I am one of Isabel’s people. My name is Gabriel.”

“How did you find me?” Isaac asked.

“The Binders cannot sever all connections to the True Path,” Gabriel said. “Lighthouses are guideposts to the True. That is how I found you.” The child again adopted a look of paternalism and knelt in front of Isaac until their eyes locked. “Can you remember the girl beneath the waves?” he asked.

Tears fell slowly down Isaac’s cheeks as he pictured her frightened eyes. He shuddered. “Yes.”

“You have not abandoned her. There is still hope for her and each of the children you saw. You must make this journey. It will not lead you back to the life you knew, but there is more at stake than that.”

Isaac looked like he had been punched in the stomach. He did not understand the world he now occupied, but he just now understood he could never return to his family.

“The darkness does not always win.” The younger boy took off his deerskin coat and draped it around Isaac’s shoulders. He smiled one last time. As the revolving beacon of light washed over their encampment, the sandy-haired boy with the bright green eyes disappeared into the white light with no drama or fanfare. Isaac squinted his eyes against the brightness and then opened them again when the light passed. He was alone.

He snuggled into the heavy coat and curled up in front of the campfire with his back to the bay. The wind had shifted direction and now howled from the banks of the southern shore. Danger lurked in the darkness, but the revolving column of light would protect him. He had been without trust for far too long, and it had left him wary. The blaze before him conquered the cold and above him the stars burned clear and bright with the constellation known to the Menominee as the Warrior’s Belt shining the brightest. Isaac slept deeply as a thin sliver of moon rose into the black sky.