Page 14 of Forever Full Circle
After the first dozen steps, her calves ached. After the next dozen, her thighs burned, and she paused on a landing, letting the echo of their footsteps roll out ahead of them.
Daniel halted behind her, his breath steady. "There’s no rush."
Emily wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. "If I stop, I’m afraid I won’t start again."
So, she kept climbing, each flight getting marginally steeper, the curve tighter. The view changed with every window slit: first the parking lot, then the tidal marsh, then—at the third turn—a stretch of mud flats crowded with cormorants drying their wings. She watched one of the birds for a few seconds, envying the open air, then pushed onward. "Should have done more cardio," she said, managing a grin.
"We'll count it as your workout for the month." He set the folder on the stairs and reached up, not quite touching her belly, but close enough that she felt the ghost of his intent.
She moved his hand the rest of the way, pressing his palm flat against the fabric of her shirt. The gesture was intimate, more so than any kiss, and for a second, she forgot the ache in her legs.
"You’re not going to start reading aloud to the baby already, are you?" she teased.
Daniel rolled his eyes, but didn’t pull his hand away. "Not unless you want a super-genius in there. I was just… checking."
Emily put a hand on his cheek and smiled. She turned and took the next three steps slowly, and the three after that with a bit more confidence.
“So,” she huffed. “I was going to talk to Chantelle this afternoon about the Conservatory. Are we telling the maybe-baby news, or…?”
Daniel shook his head. “Let’s wait until we know for sure-sure.”
“Agreed,” Emily said.
They passed through a corridor lined with porthole windows, each rimmed in black mold, before emerging onto a small, caged platform that overlooked the harbor. The wind up here was different, less forgiving, a slap of brine straight from the north. She inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with it. The nausea that had followed her up the stairs faded, replaced by a strange, buoyant clarity.
Daniel set the folder on the ledge, fanned through the contents with one hand while the other hovered near her elbow.
"The town’s got blueprints, inspection records, even some old photos from the fifties." He tapped a page with his finger. "Supposedly, the last keeper left a logbook here, somewhere in the quarters."
Emily peered through the safety mesh at the stubby, glass-paned room that made up the keeper’s nest. The door hung slightly ajar, its hinges howling as the wind pressed against it.Inside, the floor was a litterbox of dried leaves and broken glass, but a battered writing desk still hugged the far wall.
She squinted, then turned to Daniel. "You think anyone’s been up here at any regular points?"
He shook his head. "Maybe a few of the maintenance guys. The last work order was dated three years ago, and that was just for a new padlock."
She stepped inside, boots crunching over the mess, and took in the space. The walls were still striped with faded blue wallpaper. The light fixture overhead was a tangle of wires, and a pair of toppled chairs crowded the corner.
Emily ran her hand along the edge of the writing desk, flaking off a layer of dust. Her finger found a groove—someone’s initials, carved with a knife.
"It’s got character," she said, and Daniel’s laugh bounced off the walls.
He leafed through the inspection report, skimming the highlighted sections. "They’re recommending a full electrical refit, some kind of pest abatement, and there’s—" he squinted, "—concern about the catwalk railings. The bolts are corroded."
Emily looked up at the ceiling, half-expecting a chunk of plaster to fall. "Anything about ghosts? Chantelle and Bailey would love a real ghost."
Daniel grinned. "Just the rats. And possibly asbestos."
She took a lap around the room, then braced her hands on the sill and peered down. The drop was steeper than she’d expected. From this height, the marsh below looked soft, even inviting, but Emily knew from experience that it would suck the shoes right off you. She rested her forehead against the glass, letting it chill her skin.
"You know," she said, her voice quieter, "when I was little, I always thought I’d live in a lighthouse someday. I’d imagined itfull of books and secret doors and trapdoors. No tourists, just me and the sea."
Daniel folded the inspection report, tucking it back into the folder. "I could rig you a zipline to the base. Set up a drone drop for groceries."
"Smartass," she said, but it came out tender. "You think we could do it?" she asked. "Make it a thing again?"
He took his time answering. "We’ve done harder. But it is pretty rough. Ready to see the quarters?”
The keeper’s quarters were bigger than Emily had expected. Decades of wind had left the wallpaper warped and puckered, ringed with stains like the cross-section of an ancient tree. Emily trailed her hand along the walls, fingertips catching on the edges where the paper curled away in little scrolls. The room was cold, but not unpleasantly so; more like the chill of a basement.
