Chapter 47
Stepping in unison, they rounded the bend, and Rusty caught sight of the lower lighthouse. It stood guard at the water’s edge, a gathering of stones standing before it with their feet in the water like children playing near Mother. Nate stopped, and it seemed to Rusty he did so purposely to allow him time to drink in the truly golden tableau. Clouds, dark above the sun-sparkled water, floated in like ships hoping to make landfall by sunset, and Rusty followed their line up to the coastal hills and saw there the stout figure of the upper lighthouse.
“It’s not in use anymore,” Nate had explained on their way to the parking lot at the start of the trail in Eastbourne. “Replaced by the lower one.”
Somehow that made the sight of the sturdy, squat tower on the hill, washed as it was at that moment in the red reflected off the clouds overhead, poignant. Bittersweet, like this time he had with Nate.
Good things come and go all the time, Thao.