The Lighthouse That Lit Up at Noon
Part 1: The Light
Nobody had seen the Marrow Point lighthouse shine in thirty-one years. Its lamp burned out the winter old Tobias Voss died, and his widow, Mara, kept the tower tidy but dark.
Then, at 12:04 on a perfectly clear Tuesday, the beam swung on. The fishing fleet was out past the shoals, and Captain Dell Okafor turned the boats around. Forty minutes later, a fog bank the forecasts never mentioned swallowed the sea. Every boat made it home by following the light.
Mara hadn't touched the switch. When she climbed the tower, the lamp was cold. On the lantern-room table, one line sat in damp ink: Back before the fog, as promised. It was Tobias's handwriting.