Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“Maybe.” Lily consulted her notes. “But Edmund Hawthorne stayed for three years, and according to the records, he seemed to be doing well. He made improvements to the cottage, requested additional supplies, and participated in community events. Then he died in an accident, and his wife left town immediately.”
Robert set down his spatula. Martha stopped stirring. They exchanged a glance—subtle, but Lily caught it.
“Accidents happen,” Martha said carefully. “Especially in dangerous jobs. His wife probably felt devastated. She might not have wanted to stay in a place with so many painful memories.”
“Of course.” Lily turned back to her timeline. “I’m just trying to understand the full picture. You know, the human element behind the historical facts.”
“Academic papers need documented sources,” Robert said. “Employment records, government files, newspaper articles. The Coast Guard keeps maintenance logs going back decades. Those archives won’t steer you wrong.”
“I know. That’s why I want to interview some of the residents who have lived here forever. Get their perspective on what really happened.”
Martha set down her spoon and leaned against the counter. “Interview questions work best when you already know the facts. Ask Mrs. Kowalski about daily life in the twenties. Ask Mr. Warren about his grandfather’s fishing business. Focus on what people did, not what they might have seen or heard or suspected.”
“Family stories change over time,” Robert continued. “What starts as fact becomes legend after a few generations. Your journalism teacher would tell you the same thing—verify everything independently.”
“I will,” Lily promised. “I’m planning to stick to verifiable information.”
After dinner, Lily organized her materials in her bedroom, her parents’ reaction replaying in her mind. Robert had pushed her toward official sources with unusual insistence. Martha had steered her away from folklore and speculation with careful precision. Both responses felt more calculated than their usual parenting style warranted.
This was local history, not investigative journalism. The lighthouse operated as a public building, its functions documented in official records. Whatever stories people told about the keepers probably amounted to harmless folklore that accumulated around old buildings.
Still, she wrote a note to ask Mrs. Pennington about local stories and legends. Even historically inaccurate tales might provide insight into how the community had processed these events.
Two days later, Lily sat in the historical society’s cozy office, surrounded by photo albums and document boxes that Mrs. Pennington had pulled from their archives. Helen Pennington was seventy-eight years old, sharp in mind, and had been volunteering at the society for thirty years. She agreed to the interview immediately, clearly delighted to have someone take a serious interest in the town’s maritime history.
“I’ve been hoping someone would research the lighthouse properly,” she said, pouring tea from a china service that looked like it belonged in a museum. “It’s such an important part of our heritage, but most people just drive past it without thinking about the families who lived there.”
“That’s exactly what I want to explore,” Lily said, pulling out her notebook. “The human stories behind the historical facts.”
“Wonderful. Where would you like to start?”
“Well, I’ve been reading about the lighthouse keepers in the 1920s, and I noticed the position seemed to have a lot of turnovers. Do you know anything about that?”
Mrs. Pennington settled back in her chair, her eyes taking on the distant look of someone accessing old memories. “Oh, the twenties were a difficult time for lighthouse keeping. The job was changing, becoming more technical. Some of the older keepers couldn’t adapt to the new equipment.”
“What about Edmund Hawthorne? He seemed to be doing well, but then he died.”
“Yes, very tragic. He fell from the lighthouse gallery during a storm.” Mrs. Pennington’s expression grew sad. “His wife, Mathilde, was devastated. She left town right after the funeral and never came back.”
“That must have been hard for her.”
“Oh, it was. Though some people thought it was strange, the way she left so suddenly. She didn’t even pack up their belongings properly.” Mrs. Pennington paused, as if reconsidering her words. “But grief affects people differently, and she was French, you know. Maybe she just wanted to be with her own people.”
Lily made a note about Mathilde’s hasty departure. “Did she have family in France?”
“I believe so. Though I heard she went to Boston first, then sailed for France from there.” Mrs. Pennington reached for one of the photo albums. “We have some pictures of the Aldriches. Would you like to see them?”
The photographs fascinated Lily—formal portraits of Edmund and Mathilde, posed shots of them with other community members, casual pictures of life around the lighthouse. They appeared content, well-integrated into local society.
“They seem well-liked.”
“Oh, they were. Edmund was very knowledgeable about navigation, and Mathilde was quite cultured. She spoke several languages and sometimes helped with translation work for the shipping companies.”
“Translation work?”
“Yes, Westerly Cove has always been connected to international trade. Ships from Canada, Europe, and even South America sometimes. When language barriers created problems with documentation, Mathilde would help sort things out.”