The Lighthouse
Chapters (50)
THE LIGHTHOUSE
The
LIGHTHOUSE
•••
Christopher Parker
Beacon Press
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by Christopher Parker
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced
or used in any manner without written permission of the
copyright owner except for use of quotations in a book review.
Cover design by James T. Egan (bookfly.com)
Book design by Anna B. Knighton (annaknighton.com)
Map illustration by Karl Whiteley (who587.com)
ISBN 978-0-9951495-0-2 (paperback)
ISBN 978-0-9951495-1-9 (ebook)
ISBN 978-0-9951495-2-6 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-0-9951495-3-3 (audiobook)
Beacon Press Limited
christopherparker.com
3014 Dauphine Street
New Orleans, LA
70117
For Lucy
THE LIGHTHOUSE
In the town of Seabrook, there stands a lighthouse.
Perched on an outcrop of jagged rocks, the derelict tower was condemned over half a century ago and has been bruised and battered by the wind and sea ever since.
Some say she’s a relic of a bygone era, an eyesore that should be torn down. Others believe she’s a symbol of the town’s heritage, a pillar of the past that should be protected and saved. And there are those who think she should be left to the mercy of Mother Nature.
Crumbling brick by brick, the building is too dangerous to enter, and longstanding rumors of a ghost lurking within have meant that it’s been years since anyone has stepped inside.
Few even remember the last time she shone.
But the horizon has yet to see the last of her light, and just as she once helped sailors navigate the treacherous waters off the bay, Seabrook’s famous lighthouse will soon be called upon one more time, to help those in need find their way home.
PART ONE
PART
ONE
1
1
Amy, where on Earth have you been?”
Amy didn’t know what had given her away—the security light, the creak of the gate, or the sound of her footsteps as she’d snuck along the pebbled path. The truth was that she hadn’t meant to come home so late. She had been visiting her mother and simply lost track of time, a mistake she instantly regretted when she discovered her father anxiously waiting for her on their front porch.
“Well?” he growled. “Speak up.”
Amy stuck her head down and tried to squeeze through the narrow gap between him and the door. “I’m sorry,” was all she could say.
“You’re sorry? That’s it?”
“I’m tired, Dad. I just want to go to bed.”