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101 The sitting room was warm. In the lamplight, Jessie could see that some color had returned to her mother’s face. Beside the fireplace , Omie sat in the rocking chair, sound asleep. Jessie knelt to hug her mother. “Jessie?” she said, raising her head from the pillow. “Why are you wearing Granddad’s uniform?” “Everything is fine, Mama,” Jessie said and seated herself on a stool beside her mother. “Please don’t worry.” She could see that her mother’s ankle was still swollen. Just the sight of it made Jessie wince. “I don’t think that ankle is broken, Mrs. Lafferty,” said Mr. Hostetler, placing a cup of tea on the table beside her. “Just a bad sprain would be my guess.” Carefully pushing herself up to a sitting position, she said, “How can I thank you for coming over here in the middle of the night to help us?” “Well, I don’t know that I’ve done anything other than make up the fire in here and boil some water. But you can be mighty proud of this daughter of yours. When you’re feeling a little better ,” he continued, “Jessie might tell you why she had to put on that uniform.” “Jessie?” her mother looked up at her quickly, questioning. “I will tell you about it, Mama, just not now.” Jessie closed 28 her eyes for a second and then looked over at Mr. Hostetler. “Oh!” she said. “The oil. I almost forgot I have to put a new lamp in the light, Mama. You just rest.” At the mention of the light, her mother sat up straight, completely alert. “The storm, Jessie, the ice—” “The storm’s over, Mama. The light is fine. You don’t need to worry.” There would be time—time to talk about everything. She straightened the afghans on her mother and gave her a kiss. Over by the fireplace, Omie coughed, bolted upright, and began rocking. The chair creaked, and she smiled. Jessie crossed the room and stood beside her. “Are you all right, Omie?” Jessie asked. The old woman nodded and kept rocking. Jessie’s mother looked at the two of them. “Jessie?” she said. Then, shaking her head, she closed her eyes and lay back against the pillows. “Put me to work,” Mr. Hostetler said. Jessie thought for a few seconds. “You could wind the fog bell, Mr. Hostetler. Even though it’s pretty clear now, there are probably still some squalls, and the bell might help some ships out in the channel. Keeping the fog bell ringing was Omie’s job tonight.” “Omie’s job?” Mr. Hostetler asked. “One of Omie’s jobs,” Jessie corrected herself, remembering Omie’s hands pulling her to safety. “I’ll see you in the morning, when I’ve finished watching the light,” Jessie said. She looked at all of them, there in the lamplight , in the warm sitting room. Our house doesn’t seem so empty and cold anymore, she thought. In the kitchen, the lard had melted in the oilcan. Jessie lit her lantern and, with both hands full, made her way through the passageway and up the curving steps of the lighthouse. 102 ...
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