A carpenter’s touch ...

John McFey accepts a job rebuilding a Civil War era lighthouse to escape his family and the creepy things they draw. When he encounters the first ghost, he packs up his tools to leave and walks straight into the one spirit he can't refuse—his mother. 

A psychic’s intuition ...

Margaret Anne Klein reunites the spirits of soul mates separated by death beneath the magical allure of her family’s lighthouse. She’s determined to hang on to her handyman and rebuild the beacon of true love.

Together, they'll search for a diamond to restore the Love Light and ignite a passion of their own.

The Love Light.  Ahhhh...The structure that brings John and Margaret Ann together has been haunting me as surely as the soul-mates who flock to it.  Unlike writers who discover their characters through charts and detailed plotting, I need paste and pictures.  Paste you ask?  Yes, good old fashioned white school glue, magazines and toothpicks.  By building my vision of the lighthouse and decorating it with images and words that called out to me as I flipped through everything from Southern Living to discount catalogs, I found the basis of this story. 

Excerpt from

Love Light

PROLOGUE

 April, 1994

          “A spring night with a full moon hanging over the Gulf.”  Grace Klein slid her hand across the porch railing to squeeze her husband’s hand, mindful of his gnarled fingers.  “A perfect night for lovers to meet for the first time.”

          The yellow beam from the lighthouse above their heads swept the sand and sea oats with a silent torch, casting Walter’s face in brilliant light then leaving him in darkness. 

          He returned the squeeze and bent close to her ear to nuzzle her with feather soft kisses.  Thirty years of struggles had taken their relationship to another level, a place Grace called quiet comfort.  Like a midnight walk on the beach, life with Walter was warm and sensual with ebbing tides and an occasional pounding surf. 

He released her fingers.   “I’m not worried about lovers using our beach to meet the first time.  I’m thinking it’s the souls meeting for the last time that are going to force me to sleep alone tonight.”

          She faced him, feeling a strange urgency to end their long running debate.  “I don’t believe there is a final meeting.”

          “No?  Then what do you think happens to our ghostly visitors after they reunite on the beach and speak their hearts?”

          Grace stoked the stubbles on his chin.  “I like the idea that soul mates remain together for eternity.  After all, what would heaven be if I couldn’t share each twilight with you?”

          His gaze followed a slow moving ship gliding across the horizon, a black silhouette against the moonlit gray.  Though his shoulders stooped a tad when he tired, his voice remained strong and his jaw firm.  He wore his dungarees and flannel shirt with a flair that had caught her attention in high school, but it was his touch that sealed her fate.  The man could turn her to jelly with the barest caress.  She shivered.

“There’s another,” he said.

She turned in time to catch sight of a single shining soul blazing across the sky to fall at the foot of the lighthouse.  Like a soap bubble, the tiny orb catching the color cast by the brilliant moon would huddle near the sand until it felt safe.  Only after she or her granddaughter had properly welcomed the new arrival would it take a more human form. 

Walter met her gaze as he kissed her palm.  “The Love Light is working her magic.  Those soul mates you’re so fond of are streaking their way to your door.  I’m thinking you’re going to be busy until dawn.”

          “New inhabitants to walk the beach awaiting their loved one.”  She shook off the negative thought.  “The night feels magical.  I’m going to hope for a match...if we keep hope alive, all our friends will one day find their lost love and journey to the promised land.”

          Another soul shot across the sky.  Grace couldn’t remember another night when so many lost loves had found their way home. 

          Walter leaned over the railing, squinting as if he could see the ghostly figures now milling on the beach.  “The paper will report a sky full of falling stars.”  He shook his gray head and pushed his bifocals up his nose.  “I can see the headline now...Red Mangrove Isle was awakened by a spectacular display of falling stars over the Love Lighthouse.”

          Grace chuckled as she pulled her sweater up to cover her ears.  “Now you know Amos will have to do better than that...he’ll have to ponder what it all means.  He’ll probably retell one of the old stories about some poor teenager who traversed the jetty to come face to face with a—dare we write it—a ghost.” 

          Walter joined her laughter, but he pressed his fist against his chest.  Grace didn’t care for the way his lips trembled or the gray pallor of his skin.  “Something is wrong.  Should I contact Doc Wood?” 

          Walter moved across the porch fronting the lightkeeper’s cottage.  “Don’t worry about me, Grace.  Just a tad bit of indigestion from that scrumptious dinner you whipped up for my Maggie’s...I meant to say Mak’s, I’ve got to remember to call her Mak...anyway for our granddaughter’s birthday.”  He backed toward his favorite chair, still smiling.  “I have some wicked plans for you and the extra frosting I saw in the icebox.  Wicked plans, indeed.”

          She swatted at the heavy salt-laden air.  “Old Amos would be writing a whole different story—old folks caught using cherry frosting for indecent purposes.”

          He grinned, a little devilment dancing in his dark eyes.  “What you say, we finish our chores for the night and meet up for a late night swim.”  He wiggled his white eyebrows.  “Like the young folks, take one of those skinny-dips.”

          Grace smoothed her skirt over her ample hips.  “I don’t think Amos will include the word skinny in the headline.”

          The steady fall of their grand-daughter’s steps drew their attention to the door.  The brass knob twisted and the heavy door opened.  Through the screen, Grace could see Margaret-Anne’s slight figure.  She’d finally passed the awkward stage of early adolescence and bloomed into a beautiful young woman. 

          Grace smiled.  Along with the curvy figure, their Margaret-Anne had also found her gift.  Like all the women descended from Annabelle Love, her sweetie could see and communicate with the spirits who congregated near the Love Light.  When the time came for Walter and Grace to pass to the other side, they’d leave the lighthouse and its secrets in more than capable hands. 

Margaret-Anne pushed open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch.  Her bare toes curled at the contact with the chilly wooden floor.  “What’s all the racket, Gran?” 

“Nothing but a spring night with a full moon.  Seems our friends find it as welcoming as we do.”

Margaret-Anne rubbed her tired eyes with the back of her fists.  Her dark brown hair fell loosely to her shoulders.  “Do you need my help?  I could get dressed and go with you to greet them.”

          Grace gripped the thin shoulders and turned her grand-daughter back toward the screen door.  “It’s a school night, Sweets, and you have an Algebra test tomorrow.” 

          “And we have another dance lesson, my Maggie.  We’ve got to get you ready to dazzle the crowd at your first school dance,” Walter added.

          “I’m not going.  I’ve got two left feet and even you can’t fix ‘em, Gramps.”

          Walter chuckled. 

Grace patted Margaret-Anne’s bottom and nudged her inside.  “Sleep, Sweets.  After your test and your dance lesson, you can greet the new arrivals.  By then they won’t be so confused.  I’ll get them situated, see who’s who and perhaps send a few on their way.”

          “All right, but call if you need me, Gran.” 

          When the door closed, Grace turned to catch Walter’s gaze as he followed their granddaughter’s movements through the large glass window fronting the house.  A mixture of emotions played in his expression, sadness at the reminder of their lost child and joy in having her daughter. 

          With his gaze locked on his Maggie, he prompted.  “Go reunite those ghostly lovers before they overrun the place.  I’ll look in on Maggie...Mak.”

          “She’ll be asleep before her head hits the pillow.”

          “Our daughter made a foolish choice the day she walked away from that child.”  He smiled with a wistful twitch in his cheek.  “But we’ve done well by her.  A few more years and she’ll meet a young man and leave to make her own home.”

          “Or stay.  This is her home.”

He inhaled sharply then glanced toward the sea.  “Feels like fog rolling in.  I better check the fuel level to the lanterns.  Wouldn’t want one of those Yankee pleasure boats to crash on the jetty.”

          “Wait.”  She moved to take his hand, surprised at the tremor she felt in his fingers.  “I don’t want you to climb all those steps alone.  Give me thirty minutes and I’ll go up with you.”

          He nodded.  “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll wait.”  As if to show her he meant it, he settled back into the deep-cushioned rocking chair.  “I’ll sit here and watch the ships pass...imagine where they’re going.”  His lids drooped and she knew he’d take a short rest in her absence.

          “Love you, Walter.”

          “Of course you do.  Everyone loves me.”  He chuckled and opened one eye to watch for her reaction. 

          Grace frowned at him, then slipped off her sandals.  God meant for people to walk barefoot on the beach or he wouldn’t have made it feel so danged good.  

          Holding the handrail, she made her way down the steps.  The wild sea grass swayed in the slight breeze filling the air with the sound of dry rustling.  The fact that none of their long term residents had met her as soon as she left the porch confirmed her belief—many souls had reached the beach since sundown.

          Making her way to the shore, Grace opened her arms and bathed in the moonlight.  She came upon a small glowing bubble, so small and dim that she knew this spirit was unprepared for death.  The old had time to prepare and arrived in larger, brighter ways.  This was a young soul.  Grace bent to the sand and scooped the tiny orb containing a mere fire-fly of light into her open palms.  “Welcome, my friend.  Don’t be afraid.  You are in a safe place.”

          The light grew stronger, more steady.

          “That’s it.  Let me see you, darling.  Tell me your story and I’ll help you to find the one you’ve lost.”

          The tiny orb left her palm and grew into the outline of a thin man.  She could see his insecurity as he took on more of his human traits in short spurts as if testing his new surroundings. 

          “You’ve nothing to fear, young man.  The Love Light beckoned you home and here you may rest until you find your lost love.”

          Though his facial features remained blurry, she was sure his uniform was that of a United States Marine.  He drifted upward and looked toward the sea.  It would take time, but soon he’d feel strong enough to ask questions, and she would answer every one.

          An unexpected shiver passed through her body, shaking her concentration and filling her with dread.  As if someone had cut a tie anchoring her to the here and now...she felt...emptiness. 

She turned away from the young soldier and walked toward the lighthouse keeper’s cottage.  “Walter?”

          A dark feeling.  She was...alone.  “God, no!  Not Walter.  Not now.  We’ve got Margaret-Anne to raise.  He has to teach her to dance...she needs him.  I-I need him.”

          Her feet felt like lead as she plodded through the damp sand.  On the top of the dune, she could see him in the swirling light of the lighthouse.  He’d slumped down in his chair and his hands, those beautiful hands, were lying limp in his lap. 

          “Walter!” she screamed.  She looked skyward.  “I’ll do anything, give anything, but please don’t take him.  Not now...”

          Grace raced like a child across the binding sand to reach the porch steps.  A tiny light arose from her beloved’s chest and flew in a perfect arc to the edge of the porch. 

Tears filled her eyes.  Her throat closed.  Walter’s soul was bright and full within its shining globe.  He’d been ready.  He’d known.    

“My love...Walter, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Gran?”  Her grief had closed her senses so tightly that she hadn’t heard Margaret-Anne’s approach.  “I felt something...like a tearing in my chest.”  Her granddaughter’s gaze moved to Walter’s essence.  “What?  Who is it, Gran?” 

          The light strengthened and twinkled, as if it were winking at her.  “It’s Gramps, Sweets.”

          Margaret-Anne reached out and the light immediately responded to her touch.  “Why did he stay?  There’s nothing unsaid between you.  There can’t be.”

Grace filled her lungs with the cool night air.  There would be time for tears later.  There would be time for solving the mysteries of the Love Light.  Like all new souls drawn to the Love Light, Walter would be confused for a time.  With tenderness, he would find his way...to walk on the beach until his love joined him. 

Until she joined him.

Grace moved up the step and cupped her hand over the glow.  “He knew I would need him.  He knew I couldn’t leave yet and I couldn’t bear the loss of his spirit touching mine.”  She met Margaret-Anne’s questioning gaze over the warm light of her husband’s love.  “He’ll wait for me.  When I’ve finished the job we promised to do, I’ll meet him on the beach and you will reunite us to complete our journey together.”

All images and writings copyright 2006  Sheila-Rae Z. Mohs  Last Updated 12/30/07