He tightened the small screw that held the upper end of the chain until it wouldn’t budge. Then he slipped the small weights in the plunger through the opening at the top plate. “That ought to do it.”
His dad squatted beside him and peered into the pedestal. He held up an oil light to shine on the various gears and weights that made the fourth order Fresnel lens operate. He squinted at the plunger that Tom had just replaced before sitting back on his heels. “Well, let’s turn her on and see how she does.”
Tom stood and wiped the grease from his hands as he studied the beehive-shaped lens with its heavy glass prisms mounted into bronze frames and bolted together. The lens itself was in perfect condition. Dad had kept it shining like a diamond. But without Greg’s mechanical help, some of the inner workings were beginning to give Dad grief.
The fuel supply was already refilled and the wick trimmed. His dad raised the damper-tube and lifted the chimney-holder to the surface of the burner the way Tom had seen him do thousands of times during his childhood. Next his dad touched the flame to the wick and then adjusted the chimney and the damper-tube to prevent any smoke. He kept the flame low at first to heat the chimney slowly. He’d gradually raise the wick until the flame was at its best, but he usually waited about thirty minutes before doing so.
The beam rotated all the way around, which distinguished Race Point from other lighthouses on the Cape. Tom counted the seconds it took for the beam to rotate, flashing white every ten seconds, and calculated the distance it would reach to passing ships. He guessed sixteen nautical miles. The view from the lantern room, as always, was breathtaking, especially with the setting sun casting its glow on Cape Cod Bay to the west.
Tom breathed the cool sea air coming in through the half-galley door. He might fight ghosts from the past whenever he was around his family, but he couldn’t deny that he always loved being up in the tower.
His dad laid a hand on his back. “It’s wonderful to have you here, son.”
Tom nodded. He loved his parents. But being with them reminded him that he’d killed their firstborn son. Maybe he hadn’t plunged the knife into Ike’s heart. But he’d been the cause. Even more than his regrets over Ike’s death, he couldn’t bear to witness what his foolishness had cost his mom. It was too awful to see, and every time he came home, there was no escaping the pain.
“Thanks for coming to visit. I know it’s not easy.” His dad’s voice was gentle.
“It’s good to see you and Mom.” They never made him feel guilty about Ike. But how could they not blame him?
“How long will you be able to stay?”
Tom had always cut his visits short in the past which had always disappointed his parents even though they didn’t say so. At least this time he would please them. “I’m your new assistant.”
His dad’s expression went from guarded to wide-eyed in an instant. “My assistant?”
“For the short term.”
“Assistant?” His dad repeated as though he hadn’t heard Tom right.
“Yes.”
A grin split his dad’s weathered face. “How did this come about? And why didn’t the inspector send me a telegram?”
Tom had made the arrangements last evening with the inspector via several telegrams. The inspector had been glad to fill the position with a qualified man. But of course, Tom couldn’t tell his father the truth about why he was really there. “I agreed to fill in until the inspector could find someone permanent.”
His dad studied his face. Could the wise man sense more to the story than Tom was admitting? “That’s fine. Very fine. I’ll take you as long as you’re available.”
“I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“We’ve managed. Your mother never complains. Even though I’m not the greatest cook in the world.”
“You made a good meal tonight.”
His dad chuckled. “I didn’t burn it.”
Tom couldn’t fault his dad for much, if anything. He’d been a good father and was an excellent husband. He hadn’t deserved so much tragedy.
They fell silent and stared out the window at the fading orange glow on the horizon. The distant crash of the waves reached out to soothe Tom and the guilt over his deception with Victoria that had been nagging him since he’d hugged his mom.
“Victoria is beautiful,” his dad said quietly.
“Yes, she is,” Tom admitted, although it