The Lighthouse Keeper’s Daughter
Chapter 18 : A Night Under the Stars
The Perseid meteor shower peaked on a Sunday, and Cole had been planning for it all week.
He had gathered driftwood for a fire, cleaned a patch of beach on the north shore, and packed a cooler with fish, potatoes, and a bottle of non‑alcoholic cider. Fiona watched him from the cottage window, amused by his intensity.
“You’re treating this like a military operation,” she said.
“The meteor shower only happens once a year. I want it to be perfect.”
“Perfect for what?”
He looked at her. “For you.”
She laughed, but her heart skipped.
They walked to the beach at dusk.
The tide was low, the sand wet and firm, and the sky was already darkening. Cole built the fire while Fiona laid out a blanket and set up the cooler. The flames crackled, sending sparks into the twilight.
“You’ve done this before,” she said.
“A few times. Alone. It’s better with company.”
They ate in silence, watching the first stars appear. The fish was good — grilled over the fire, seasoned with herbs from the garden. The potatoes were soft, the cider sweet.
“Tell me something,” Fiona said. “Something happy.”
Cole thought for a moment. “When I was a kid, my father used to take me camping in the woods behind our house. We’d build a fire just like this, and he’d tell me stories about the constellations.”
“What kind of stories?”
“The Greek myths. Orion, Cassiopeia, Andromeda. He wasn’t a scientist — he was a fisherman — but he knew the sky better than anyone.”
Fiona looked up. The stars were emerging, scattered across the darkness like diamonds on velvet.
“Do you see Orion?” she asked.
“There.” He pointed. “The three stars in a row. That’s his belt.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“He would have liked you.”
“Your father?”
“Yes. He liked people who asked questions.”
Fiona leaned against him, and they watched the sky together.
The first meteor appeared at 9 p.m.
A streak of light, fast and bright, burning across the sky before fading. Fiona gasped.
“Did you see that?”
“I saw it.”
“Make a wish.”
Cole looked at her. “I don’t need to. I already have everything I wished for.”
She kissed him, and the meteors fell around them like blessings.
They lay on the blanket, side by side, watching the show.
The Perseids were prolific — dozens of meteors per hour, some faint, some so bright they left trails that lingered for seconds. Fiona felt small beneath the vastness, but not afraid. Cole’s hand was in hers, his thumb tracing circles on her palm.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“For this. For tonight. For not giving up on me.”
He turned his head to look at her. “I’ll never give up on you.”
The fire crackled. The waves lapped. The meteors fell.
“I’ve been thinking about the lighthouse,” Fiona said. “About the preservation grant. About what happens if Drake wins.”
“Don’t think about that tonight.”
“I can’t help it. It’s always there, in the back of my mind.”
Cole sat up, pulling her with him. “Then let’s make a deal. Tonight, we only think about us. Tomorrow, we fight. But tonight, we rest.”
She looked at him — his face lit by firelight, his eyes soft.
“Deal,” she said.
They stayed on the beach until the fire burned down to embers.
The meteors slowed, the sky grew darker, and the cold seeped through their blankets. Cole walked her back to the cottage, their arms around each other.
“I don’t want tonight to end,” Fiona said.
“It doesn’t have to. Not really.”
“What do you mean?”
He stopped at the door, turning to face her.
“Every night with you feels like this. Like the stars are falling just for us.” He touched her face. “That’s not going to change.”
She kissed him, slow and deep.
“Stay,” she said.
“Always.”
They went inside, the door closing behind them, the lighthouse watching over the island.