Daniel

I don't know how long I stood there before I collapsed onto the floor, the strength completely gone from my legs. I curled up in a small ball and wept for what seemed like hours before pulling myself onto the couch and covering myself with the fleece throw.

I slept again but this time, nightmares filled my sleep and I awoke with a headache and a pain in my chest that ripped me in two. It was still dark in the room but tiny sparks of light were beginning to peek in the window blinds.

Thursday had arrived and it was time for me to go home.

I went through the motions of getting ready, I showered and brushed my hair, packed my suitcase and cleaned the kitchen. My eyes drifted constantly to the door and the windows, waiting for Daniel to return, listening for the familiar sound of Captain at the door wanting in.

By 10:00 a.m., I was ready to go but I stayed, hoping against hope that Daniel would come back to say good-bye. I hadn't realized until then that he never told me where he lived or how I might get in touch with him once I had gone and I knew that once I had left, I might never find him again.

I drifted off to sleep a couple of times and once I even awoke in a panic believing I had heard the deep sound of Captain's bark but it was only my imagination or wishful thinking. By four o'clock that afternoon, I finally gave up hope and left the cottage behind.

I drove out the dirt road from the lighthouse and watched the cottage become smaller and smaller in my review mirror. I headed out the Post Road towards I-95 and home, determined to make it back before I broke down again. There would be time enough for tears later, years I would eventually discover.

I still had the keys to the cottage in my hand when I noticed the small sign for the Thistle Inn on my right. The caretaker for the lighthouse owned the small Inn as well and had requested that I drop off the keys to her directly instead of mailing them back. I pulled into the dirt parking lot on the side of the large white Victorian and took a deep breath before getting out of my car and heading inside.

The smell of cinnamon surrounded me as soon as I stepped in the door. It was heady and thick and I wondered what they could possibly be burning inside. The elderly man at the front desk asked me to wait for just a moment until his wife returned and I told him that was fine. The fact was, I wanted to delay my departure as long as I could knowing that once I left it would actually be over.

The foyer to the Victorian was decorated with a dark burgundy settee, an overstuffed chair and a couple dozen black and white prints on the walls. The pictures were from different time periods, some nearly a hundred years old, the most recent it appeared to be about fifty years ago. They were all beautifully framed with rich mats, dark mahogany wood frames and small brass plaques with the date and location of each one. I looked over each photograph, barely glancing at them until I saw the group of five photos that featured the lighthouse and cottage.

My heart quickened a bit as I eyed each one carefully as if I was searching for something although even I could not have guessed what.

It was the picture in the far upper right hand corner that stopped me cold. It was the cottage, a different color it seemed than the white it was currently painted but that is not what made me look again.

The picture was taken from the cliffs it seemed, the lighthouse to the right and the cottage to the left. I put my finger against the glass and outlined the Golden Retriever that sat on the front stoop of the cottage, waiting to be let in.

I lingered there a moment, at first afraid to look any further but I knew I wasn't done. My eyes went to the lighthouse, across the cobblestone walk, up the red and white tower to the top where the light waited to be lit.

The light was not all that waited there. Even from the distance I could plainly see Daniel standing in front of the glass, staring at the sea beyond.

My legs nearly buckled as the room swirled out of focus around me, the date, February 14, 1957 engraved in the plaque beneath the picture of Daniel. I held onto the small table in front of the wall as I attempted to catch my breath and nearly jumped out of my skin when a small hand touched my shoulder.

My heart was slamming loudly in my chest as I turned to look into the dark eyes that I knew so well. They were exactly the same and even though age had dimmed her's slightly, I recognized them immediately. I couldn't speak but simply stared at the elderly woman. I must have looked frightful because her face was filled with worry and her voice quivered as she told me to sit down.

She asked me if I was alright and although I felt nothing even close to alright, I nodded and told her it was just that the candles had made me lightheaded. I looked into her eyes again, to make sure I wasn't mistaken and I realized, I wasn't.

She ran off to get me some tea and returned with a cup a few moments later. I sipped the hot liquid slowly and when I felt strong enough to speak I asked her about the photograph of the lighthouse and the dog.

A sadness appeared around her eyes and a half grin came to her face.

"That was my son's pup, Captain." She hesitated a moment as if deciding if she wanted to continue or not. "My son Daniel used to be the lighthouse keeper there many years ago."

She stared at the picture for a few moments as if she was remembering something better left forgotten and a tear ran down her soft cheek.

"He drowned out there, out there on the jetty." She pointed to a mass of rocks which had once formed a breakwater. "He and Captain both."

I felt my heart sink and didn't want to hear anymore. The keys to the cottage were still in my hand, the tiny teeth however, were now embedded into my palm and I felt the sting as I handed them to her.

I thanked her for the use of the cottage and left before I had time to look at the photos again. I wanted to get away. Away from Nantucket, away from the cottage but mostly away from my memories that were already beginning to haunt me.

Many years have passed since my time in the cottage, the years have blurred the edges and softened the pain but my heart never healed completely. I might never have told the story to anyone, for a long time it was too painful and by the time the wound had closed enough to tell it, it no longer seemed important if anyone knew or not.

But now I feel I must tell someone, just so someone knows, so someone can remember the story of Amanda and Daniel. So someone can tell it later on.

I am telling you this now because Daniel came to me last night.

I was asleep when I felt him next to me again, at first I thought it was a dream but when I felt his hand on mine, I knew it was more.

He leaned close to me and when he whispered softly in my ear I remembered that cold February night long ago when I saw him whispering to Captain on the sofa in the tiny cottage, and I smiled. And I understood.

Now, as I head towards Nantucket and the cottage one last time his words to me echo over and over in my head as I drive the last few miles.

"Come back to me, my love."

"Yes, Daniel. I am coming home to you."