Eventually Sara rose, placing the mug on the cart. “If he wakes up, see if he’ll drink this,” she said.

Tears of exhaustion hung on the corners of Mar’s eyes. “I told him it’s all right, he can go.”

It took Sara a moment. “I’m glad you did,” she said. “Sometimes that’s what a person needs to hear.”

“It’s Jacob, you see. He doesn’t want to leave Jacob. I told him, We’ll be fine. You go now. That’s what I told him.”

“I know you will, Mar.” Her words felt small. “He knows it too.”

“He’s so damn stubborn. You hear that, Gabe? Why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn all the time?” Then she dropped her face to her hands and wept.

Sara waited a respectful time, knowing there was nothing she could do to ease the woman’s pain. Grief was a place, Sara understood, where a person went alone. It was like a room without doors, and what happened in that room, all the anger and the pain you felt, was meant to stay there, nobody’s business but yours.

“I’m sorry, Sara,” Mar said finally, shaking her head. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that.”

“It’s all right. I don’t mind.”

“If he wakes up, I’ll tell him you were here.” Through her tears, she managed a sad smile. “I know Gabe always liked you. You were his favorite nurse.”

It was half-night by the time Sara got to the Lighthouse. She quietly opened the door and stepped inside. Elton was alone, fast asleep at the panel, earphones clamped to his head.

He twitched awake as the door closed behind her on its springs. “Michael?”

“It’s Sara.”

He removed the earphones and turned in his chair, sniffing the air. “What’s that I smell?”

“Jack stew. It’s probably ice-cold by now, though.”

“Well, I’ll be.” He sat up straight in his chair. “Bring it here.”

She placed it before him. He took a dirty spoon from the counter that faced the panel. “Light the lamp if you want.”

“I like the dark. If you don’t mind.”

“It’s all the same to me.”

For a while she watched him eat in the glow of the panel. There was something almost hypnotic about the motions of Elton’s hands, guiding the spoon into the pot and then to his waiting mouth with smooth precision, not a single gesture wasted.

“You’re watching me,” Elton said.

She felt the heat rising to her cheeks. “Sorry.”

He polished off the last of the stew and wiped his mouth on a rag. “Nothing to be sorry about. You’re about the best thing that ever comes in here, as far as I’m concerned. Pretty girl like you, you watch me all you want.”