People Along the Sand by Rachel King

Author:Rachel King
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Parafine Press
Published: 2021-06-04T15:08:32+00:00

2.

Elliot wanted to extract himself from Jackson. Ever since Lana’s accident, he’d locked her in his office-bedroom whenever he left. The space was so small that he didn’t like to leave her long. And Jackson was trying to pump him on hunting spots. He could find his own, thank you very much. Jackson was the kind of man who mistook energy and knowledge for competence, and Elliot had no patience for that. And then Jackson was trying to cut a deal with him on what—on firewood?

Lose your supplier? Elliot asked.

Just shopping around.

I’m not sure I’ve cut enough for myself this winter.

Unusual, isn’t it? Don’t you always have extra? Jackson rubbed his beard and smiled.

How did Jackson know that? Elliot thought. I need to go home, Elliot said. If you want a few pounds of elk, Tim can let me know.

I’ll have him do that. Glad you dropped by.

Elliot opened his truck door, hoping Jackson would take the hint.

Showing the lighthouse will be a great first job for Tim, Jackson continued. Marilyn has some notion he should go to college but I’m not sure. He needs to start working. I had him help out with the construction but not for pay. Jackson was leaning sideways, his weight resting on his right foot.

Elliot stepped into the truck bed. Good evening, he said, and shut the door before Jackson could speak again. As he drove down The Wave’s long driveway and glanced in his rearview mirror, he saw Jackson turn and limp toward the office. The old man relaxed against the seat. Talkers, he thought. He could handle them better when young. Welcomed them, in fact, some days when he worked at Tillamook Light. Like Thomas Anderson. He could beat you at chess without ceasing his chatter, which became a pleasant background noise when the radio was down. Elliot had forgotten about Thomas. He’d insert a paragraph about him in the memoir.

Ever since Elliot had talked to Joe about his memoir, writing it had become easier. Instead of wondering how many scenes he should include from his family life, he’d cut that aspect all together. In the first chapter, he deleted the descriptions of his immediate family and elongated the passage on Grays Harbor Lighthouse. In the third chapter, “Transition,” he didn’t mention Darlene. He’d just finished the penultimate chapter, in which he described his own lighthouse. The final chapter would be an overview of the history of lighthouse keeping, using the types of lighting—kerosene, electric, and automatic—as focal points. The last few paragraphs would detail how automation caused the death of the lighthouse keeper.

He stopped the truck at the mailbox, off the highway above the lighthouse. He sniffed as he stepped from the cab. Not done raining today, he thought. He’d received two letters, one from the Coast Guard, the other from his old friend Aaron Strom. He set the letters on the kitchen table while he let out Lana, rubbed her down, and fed her, cutting up leftover bacon to mix with beans.

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