| Romance Fiction posted October 15, 2025 | Chapters: |
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Lily Speaks
A chapter in the book Yesterday's Dreams
The Lighthouse Chap 9
by Begin Again
"Reed, you there?" Tanner's voice broke through the static. "We're seeing a white light moving in the channel. It might be a skiff loose. Can you switch on the tower lights and check it out?"
David was already grabbing his jacket. "We'll take a look." He turned to Claire. "Five minutes."
Ruth waved them on. "Go. I'm fine."
"I'll stay with her," Lucy said, tightening her grip on Ruth's hand.
David and Claire took the stairs. Rain tapped the windows. The wind had eased, but it hadn't finished showing its might.
In the lantern room, the rescue's portable searchlight was still on its tripod, with a cord running to the wall outlet. David threw the breaker for the tower work lights and flipped the searchlight back on. Claire steadied the head and swept the channel — left of the buoy, across the eelgrass, past the reef.
"There," she said. "Small white skiff. Bow up. Nobody aboard. The tow line is in the water."
David keyed the mic. "Tanner, it's a loose skiff. No one on board. It's drifting toward the eelgrass. You can grab it from the east path."
"Copy," Tanner said. "We'll get it. Thanks."
David dimmed the lights and set the mic down. Rain ticked on the glass. The room went still. He stayed with her at the window. "You okay?" he asked.
"I am now." She leaned in; they kissed once, and then stood shoulder to shoulder. Her voice was barely a whisper. "I'm glad you were here."
"Me too." David placed his arm around her shoulder and didn't say anything else.
"David," Claire said after a moment, eyes on the water, "what do you think about what Ruth said — about Lily and the baby, and your grandfather's letter? Do you think it really happened that way?"
He took a second. "I do. Your aunt had no reason to change the story. And the letter proves my grandfather didn't desert Lily or a baby. It was pressure and bad timing — people making the wrong calls. A tragic set of circumstances."
Claire nodded. "I know Ruth's my aunt, but it's hard to think of Lucy as a Reed. She's always been my cousin — a Crandon. I love them both, but I want the truth to come out — no gossip, no half-truths."
"Then we'll make sure that's what happens," David said. "When Ruth's ready to tell it, we'll back her up."
She managed a small smile. "I'd like that."
They watched the channel a minute longer.
"Let's head down," he said.
They took the stairs.
The house had gone still. One of David's crew had stopped by to check the generator, then left. After that, it was just them.
Ruth drifted in and out, her breathing uneven. Lucy had fallen asleep in the chair beside her, blanket pulled to her chin. Claire and David shared the small couch, shoulders touching, watching the last bit of light move across the wall.
A little after midnight, Ruth stirred. Her hand shifted against the quilt. "Lily's diary —" she murmured, voice thin. "I'm sorry."
The room grew quiet again, as if resting, waiting for something more. Finally, a soft whimper escaped Ruth's lips. "Lucy, my baby," and then, "an answer to my prayers."
Claire sat forward, listening, but Ruth had already slipped back under. "David, she's struggling with her thoughts. It must be frightening to let go."
"I'm sure, but it's time. Lucy should know the truth."
"I know. She said there's a diary. Something in Lily's own words."
David reached over and turned the radio down to a whisper. "Let her rest," he said.
Claire nodded. "You're right. The truth has waited this long — it can wait a little longer. We'll ask her in the morning."
Dawn came with off-and-on showers. The road looked passable if you took it slowly. Coffee perked on the stove. David poured mugs. Claire brought Ruth tea and set it on the table within reach, then returned with a tray of leftover pastries, croissants, and jam.
"Aunt Ruth, last night you were restless. You spoke in your sleep."
Ruth closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if trying to remember or maybe searching for strength. "What did I say?"
"You said, 'Lily's diary — I'm sorry.' What did you mean?"
Ruth blinked and then sighed, as if finally letting go of the past. "It's there. In the pantry," she said. "Third board in from the wall. You'll see."
Lucy gasped. "There's a diary?"
"Yes. Your mother left it on the wall near the cliffs. I found it and tucked it away. Foolishly, I thought I was closing the chapter. You were mine, and I kept it that way."
A tear spilled from Lucy's eye and ran down her cheek. She reached for her mother's hand. "I was placed in your arms, and you loved me as any mother would. I've never doubted your love."
Ruth squeezed Lucy's hand. "It's time to know the whole truth. Go — get the diary."
Claire looked at Lucy. "Come with us?"
Lucy nodded. "Yes."
They waited until Ruth settled back with the tea, then crossed to the pantry. It smelled like dry wood and old spice jars.
"Third board," Claire said. "Here."
The edge was a shade darker — wear, not shadow. She worked her fingers under it. It gave with a small sigh. David helped lift. Underneath, a tin-lined cavity sat dry and clean. Inside lay a bundle wrapped in oilcloth and tied with twine.
David slid a butter knife under the knot, then stopped and looked to Lucy. "You should open it."
Lucy pressed her palms on her thighs until they stopped shaking. "Give it to Claire," she said, then added, "We'll do it together with Mom."
In the kitchen, Claire laid it on the table and loosened the twine. She folded back the oilcloth. A canvas-backed ledger lay inside, corners rounded by use. A careful hand wrote the name Lily Wheaton on the first page.
Under it, in smaller letters: If I can't be brave enough to speak, let this speak for me.
Lucy covered her mouth, then let her hand drop. "I thought her voice would feel far away," she said. "It doesn't."
"She's been close the whole time," Ruth said.
"Before we read," Claire said, "I want one thing said out loud. We're family. Nothing here changes that."
"Agreed," Lucy said.
Ruth nodded. "Love will keep us together."
Claire pulled the ledger closer and opened it to the first page.
Lucy cleared her throat and said, "Start at the beginning."
Claire read.
February 3 — Dear Diary… this is a first for me, but I've got to share my thoughts somewhere. My heart was stolen today. So foolish of me, but I can't help myself.
I met a man at the hardware store. Douglas Reed. I felt butterflies from the moment he looked at me.
He asked if I needed help with the lantern oil, and I said no, even though I did. Father saw us talking and hurried me away. I stole one last glance, and he was watching, smiling. I thought about his smile all afternoon.
Claire glanced up. Lucy kept her eyes on the page. Ruth's hands were still. She continued,
February 8 — Dear Diary… I was beginning to believe it had been a dream, but today I saw him again on Main Street. I wanted to speak to him — to hear his voice — but Father pulled me away. He mumbled something about the lower class. I didn't understand.
Tonight, I will dream of him and hope that he dreams of me."
Ruth nodded. "That sounds like Harry Wheaton. He always felt he was better than most."
Lucy bit her lip. "It's like she was alone, with nothing but her dreams and a diary to share her thoughts."
Claire waited for Lucy's emotions to settle and then asked, "Do you want me to go on?"
Lucy nodded. "Yes. I think she'd want to know that we cared, we listened, even if we couldn't change a thing."
Claire began—
February 14—Valentine's Day. I saw Douglas at the pier. Our eyes met, and my body grew warm beneath his look. He didn't wave—too many eyes. But the quick lift of his chin felt like a promise. When he smiled, it felt like a kiss.
Lucy swallowed hard. "I can't imagine that kind of love. Unspoken, yet felt so deeply." She ran her fingers across the page as if to touch the woman speaking. "Please, read some more, Claire."
"Are you sure you wouldn't read it yourself?"
"No. I want all of us to feel her love —and, I imagine, her pain. She shouldn't have been alone, but she was—maybe somehow, she can feel us and know we care."
Claire picked up the diary and read again—
February 17—Dear Diary
We stood two people apart in the picture house line. He bought a ticket for the same matinee. We sat with an empty row between us. When the lights came up, we left by the side door. Our hands brushed. I'm still tingling with the thought.
February 22—Dear Diary
I went to the library today, and he was there, almost as if he planned it. He slipped a note into the coastal almanac: Wednesday, three o'clock, south steps. I nodded without looking up. The librarian stamped the due date, and my hands shook. He smiled and then walked away.
The room lost its warmth as he left, but then I remembered the note, and it felt like a hug. I've not shared a moment alone with him, but I know without a doubt, I am in love.
February 25—Dear Diary
Today, time stood still. I thought three o'clock would never arrive. I hurried to the back of the library. My heart sank because he wasn't there.
Seconds later, he appeared. He said he didn't want to cause trouble. I said trouble had already found us. He held my hands in his for a moment. He said, "Tomorrow. The pier."
February 26—Dear Diary
We walked the pier in opposite directions and met in the middle like strangers. He said my name very quietly. I said his. Father was farther down, talking to Mr. Crandon. We didn't touch, yet I felt like we did.
March 1—Dear Diary
Post office line. He stood behind me and said he hoped the rain would hold. I said I hoped for the same. The clerk asked if I needed stamps. I said yes just to keep standing there.
March 5—Dear Diary
Today, Father sent me to Wexington to pick up some letters from a lawyer. I climbed on the bus and chose a seat in the back. As the doors were closing, he climbed aboard.
I thought I would faint on the spot. He smiled and sat beside me. To others, we were strangers talking, but to me, it was so much more.
His stop was one town before mine. The bus felt empty when he was gone. He said he'd be at the pier tomorrow.
March 6—Dear Diary
Fate played a hand today. Father was busy with some businessmen and handed me a ticket to take the afternoon tourist cruise — a luncheon and scenic sights. It was his way of keeping me in one spot, I suppose.
Since the cruise was empty, I took a table at the top. As we left the pier, a voice asked if he could join me. It was Douglas. He'd seen me board and quickly bought a ticket.
Father would have been furious had he known. But I was in heaven. An hour alone and plans to meet again.
Claire turned the next page and stopped. The paper was wrinkled and stuck at the corner, watermarked across the dates. Several entries were smeared beyond reading; half a line survived: "Father is taking a business trip."
Lucy's hand found Ruth's on the table and stayed there.
Claire turned the page.
April 3—Dear Diary
Father leaves tomorrow night. Douglas and I will finally be together for an entire day. We planned it during prayers at church, whispering like schoolchildren. He's borrowed a car.
April 5—Dear Diary
It rained all day, but it didn't matter. Douglas found a little beach motel along the highway. We ate chow mein from paper boxes and laughed into the pillows so no one would hear. He said someday we'd eat in the open. I told him that as long as I was with him, it didn't matter.
Lucy blinked hard but didn't look away. "What a love affair," she said.
More pages were water-damaged and stuck together. Claire turned till she found one she was able to read. She traced the date, then drew back a fraction. "Oh… I didn't expect that."
Lucy leaned in. "What is it?"
 Recognized |
Claire Crandon ó A writer and historian returning to her hometown after her father's death. Determined to restore the lighthouse and uncover the truth behind the secrets her father left behind.
David Reed ó Contractor overseeing the lighthouse restoration. Grandson of Douglas Reed, a man whose lost love and unanswered letter lie at the heart of the mystery. Steady, grounded, and quietly protective.
Lucy Crandon ó Claire's cousin, raised by Ruth. Outspoken and loyal, but shaken when she learns the truth about her birth and the secrets that bound her family for decades.
Ruth Crandon ó Claire's aunt and Lucy's adoptive mother. Fiercely protective, burdened by the promise she made long ago to keep a secret that has cost her nearly everything.
Andrew Crandon ó Claire's late father. The former lighthouse keeper who pieced together fragments of a long-buried truth and left a trail for his daughter to follow.
Lily Wheaton ó A young woman from the past whose forbidden love with Douglas Reed and tragic fate shaped the lives of everyone on the point.
Douglas Reed ó David's grandfather and Lily's lost love. A man of quiet honor who never knew the truth about the child he left behind.
Gideon Pike ó The harbor master. Rugged, loyal to the sea, and always first to answer a distress call.
Harper Benton ó Owner of the general store. A practical man with a good heart and a hand in every town effort.
Dr. Avery ó The retired town physician who once delivered a baby at the lighthouse on a storm-tossed night forty years ago.
Trudy Lansbury ó A persistent reporter from The Gazette, digging into local history and stirring up truths some would rather stay buried.
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