Archive of Our Own

"Whew, storm's coming," Maya said to no one in particular as she lowered the binoculars that she had been using to watch the horizon. Of course she knew about this storm. The maritime weather forecast for their area had been warning of it for days. Two to three inches of rain, rough seas, strong winds and even a chance of lightning. Weather that would put her skills as a lighthouse keeper to the test.

She lifted the binoculars once more, confirmed once again and then resumed ticking off her long pre-storm checklist. Grabbing a spare spare bulb was next, and that required a trip to the garage, a rainjacket and her most powerful flashlight.

Maya was being extra prepared, as always. The bulb encased in the fresnel lens of her 200 year old lighthouse had only been changed two weeks ago, and they usually lasted at least 2000 hours before even showing signs of dimming. But Maya was nothing if not prepared, and a backup bulb for the back up bulb in a storm like tonight's, didn’t seem like a bad idea.

So down the flights of stairs she went, pausing every so often in each window to check on the progress of the storm, which was apparently called ‘Kyle’. She guessed he would make true landfall by nine-fifteen, but he would start causing trouble for her ships, much sooner than that.

At the bottom she retrieved her well loved, extremely waterproof, yellow jacket, and the flashlight that helped her see for miles. She stepped out into the rain, flipped her hood up and set off, her boots squelching across the waterlogged grass; it had been a wet autumn so far.

The green-doored garage was about twenty feet away from the lighthouse. She walked briskly, and reached the side door in no time, fishing the key out of her jacket as she approached. A satisfying click and a jiggle of the weathered door handle later and she was in, kicking her boots on the mat as she pulled on a cord that started up the light.

"Hey Betty," Maya mumbled, patting the bonnet of her dismantled landrover. "Storm’s coming. But when it's over I'll run into town and grab you that alternator."

Maya stepped over her neat piles of metal and parts, and reached the box that contained her bulb. With a heave, she hoisted the heavy weight onto her shoulder, and nodded a goodbye to Betty. She headed back out into the rain, with the click of a light and the groan of a door that needed some grease on it yesterday. She locked the garage, picked up her flashlight and headed back across to her beautiful lighthouse.

Back inside, she hung her coat up, kicked her boots off. She started the journey back up the spiral stairs to take the bulb to sit in its back-up back-up bulb spot at the top of the lighthouse in the lantern room. As always, she paused in the windows, because what was the point in having windows all the way up the tower if she didn't pause and look at the sea... and at Kyle, who was now visible without binoculars.

"Storm's definitely coming."

She set down the bulb carefully; the last thing she wanted or needed was a broken filament, and reached for the checklist pleased to see that she had reached the bottom of her list in plenty of time.

Take that Kyle.

Now all she needed to do was listen to the radio, watch out for ships, and ensure that Daphne- that was what she called the light- stayed turning so that ships wouldn't crash into the jagged rocks at the base of her lighthouse.

One might wonder how a twenty-eight-year-old ex-olympian finds herself as a lighthouse keeper in remote Maine. Well the answer was escape. Solitude and escape.

Maya loved storms, she always had. There was a magic about them that she couldn’t describe. Something about the might of the weather, combined with the loud peace they offered, had her mesmerised. Perhaps that was also something that pulled her to this job.

She retreated down the ladder, letting Daphne do her thing, and positioned herself on the window seat she had built in the watch room below. Her hand reached for her book, her binoculars still hung around her neck, while the radio still chattered away.

At precisely nine-fifteen, Kyle made landfall. The wind whistled through the building, the shutters she never used rattled, and Maya basked in the din that came with a good storm. So far there had been no ship sightings, the rough sea free from danger.

Not long later, she finished her book and took that as a sign to, one check on Daphne, and two, head back downstairs to pick a new book and maybe, make herself a cup of cocoa to enjoy it with.

Upstairs Daphne was still running fine, turning at her steady rate, her light focused perfectly by the lens. Maya wrote a satisfying tick on the watch sheet and, with her book tucked under her arm, she descended down the ladder, and then the stairs, through her bedroom, living room and into the kitchen, where she stored her books... and the ingredients for hot cocoa.

Maya had just filled the pan with milk when she heard it.

A scrape.

Faint, almost lost beneath the howl of the wind battering the tower.

She frowned, then shrugged it off. The old lighthouse was full of strange noises in a storm. Wood expanded, pipes rattled, doors shifted in their frames. After five years living here, she'd heard them all.

She reached for the cocoa tin.

Another scrape.

This one louder.

Maya stilled.

It had come from downstairs.

Probably the storm forcing the front door against its frame.

Another normal sound.

"Minchia."

That wasn't normal.

That was not the groan of old timber. Not the whistle of wind through stone.

It was human.

Maya set the spoon down very carefully.

Her expression darkened. Grabbing the powerful flashlight she'd left by the kitchen door, she headed for the entrance stairs.

The beam of her torch cut through the dimness of the entrance hall.

A woman stood just inside the front door.

She looked like a drowned rat.

Dark hair plastered to her head, clothes soaked through, water pooling around her sandal covered feet, she was shivering so violently that her teeth chattered audibly. She couldn't have been dressed more inappropriately for a storm if she'd tried.

The stranger looked every bit as startled to see Maya as Maya was to see her.

For a long moment, they simply stared at one another.

Then Maya said, "What the hell are you doing in my lighthouse?"

The woman blinked.

"I knocked! I thought nobody lived here. I thought these things were automated, you know, remotely controlled."

Maya looked pointedly at the flashlight in her hand.

"And yet here I am... so get out."

The woman's eyes widened.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"There's a hurricane outside!"

"Storm," Maya corrected automatically. "And they've been forecasting it for days. You should have prepared."

"I did prepare," the woman said indignantly. "I wasn't exactly planning on ending up here."

"Not my problem."

The woman opened her mouth, closed it again, then squinted.

"Could you at least stop blinding me while you throw me back out into the storm?"

Maya frowned.

"What?"

"The flashlight," the woman said, raising a hand to shield her eyes. "Unless your interrogation technique involves retinal damage."

Only then did Maya realise she was still pointing the beam directly at the stranger's face.

With an annoyed huff, she angled it towards the floor.

"Talk. Quickly."

"It's my first time visiting Maine. Everyone talks about how beautiful it is and I really needed beauty. So I came and they were right; it is absolutely beautiful. I have a little Airbnb a few kilometres away and I decided to go for a walk before dinner. But the rain came and I got lost. I'm not good at directions, and I don't know if you noticed but the cliff is straight down onto pointy rocks so I was scared, I didn't have a flashlight. And when I saw the lighthouse, I thought I could shelter here until it's over and then I'll find my way back. So I knocked and knocked even though all of the lights were off and then I tried the door and it was open so I came in and you blinded me with your flashlight and... and here we are."

"The Airbnb is six miles in an easterly direction, which is that way, if you don't have a compass," Maya said, reaching past the stranger to open the door.

The moment she pulled it open, the wind caught it.

It nearly tore itself from her hand.

Maya tightened her grip and leaned her weight against it.

"I can't go out in that. It's a hurricane."

"Storm.” Maya glanced back at her. “And yes you can. It's not my fault you were unprepared. 6 miles. Easterly direction."

The stranger stared at her.

"Please. I'll freeze to death."

"I'll alert the coastguard."

The woman’s mouth fell open.

"Please. I know I've interrupted your evening-"

"You've trespassed into my house.” Maya’s grip tightened on the door. “My lighthouse."

"Right. Yes. I have.” The woman swallowed, glancing towards the doorway and the cold darkness beyond it. “But... it's cold and dark. I don't have any way of knowing where I am, my phone stopped working because it's so wet. I'm not a local. It was a genuine mistake.”

She paused.

Then, almost sheepishly, added, "And... you seem nice."

Maya raised an eyebrow.

That was a first.

"I'll- I won't even intrude in your space. I'll just stay here, and wait for the storm to stop. I'm sure it'll only be for a couple of hours."

Maya stared at her.

"Kyle is forecast for eighteen hours."

"Who's Kyle?"

"The storm."

The intruder blinked.

"You named the storm Kyle?"

"No." Maya frowned. "NOAA did. That's the name of the storm. Kyle."

"Oh."

The woman looked past Maya again, seemingly reconsidering the prospect of walking six miles through it.

"Well... will you let me intrude until Kyle goes and I'm safe to walk six miles in an easterly direction?"

Maya's expression remained flat.

"You won't even know I'm here. I'll just- please?"

Maya stared at her for a long moment.

Then she glanced past Carina, to the open door.

Wind screamed through the gap like something alive.

Rain lashed sideways across the threshold, pooling instantly on the stone floor.

Six miles.

Through that.

Useless.

Maya exhaled sharply through her nose.

"Fine."

Carina’s shoulders sagged.

Maya lifted a finger.

"But not because you’ve convinced me."

Carina blinked.

Maya was already turning away, voice clipped, businesslike again.

"Because if you walk out there in your condition, I will have to deal with a body in the morning and I do not have time for that. The paperwork. The news stories."

"That’s… not comforting."

"It’s not meant to be."

She stepped back, closing the door properly this time, the latch clicking into place with finality.

"Stay in here," Maya said. "Don’t touch anything. Don’t go upstairs. Don’t make noise."

Carina hesitated.

Maya was already halfway to the stairs.

"And don’t die," she added over her shoulder, as if it were an afterthought.

Then she was gone.

"Scontrosa," Carina mumbled, watching the blonde woman retreat up the stairs.

She stood there for a while, chewing her lip and wondering what she had gotten herself into. The woman clearly didn't want her here, and as much as Carina was one to see the light in people... the stranger wasn't giving her much hope. For all she knew she was in the presence of a murderer who could be back any moment wielding a knife.

Maybe 6 miles through Kyle wouldn't be so bad.

Maybe the woman was being dramatic about death because she wanted to trap her.

Maybe this was all a big mind game.

Without another thought she flipped up the latch and opened the door.

The rain hit her like a wall.

Wind immediately tore at her hair, her clothes, her resolve. Somewhere in the dark beyond the lighthouse, something heavy crashed against rock or water or both.

She lasted less than ten seconds before stepping back inside and shutting it again with a sharp, decisive click.

"Nope," she whispered to herself.

She leaned her forehead briefly against the door.

Then she straightened.

"Okay," she said quietly. "I'm sure she's not a murderer."

She looked up the staircase.

She knew the woman had said not to touch anything, or go upstairs but she couldn't expect Carina to just stand here and freeze to death in the draughty entryway. After all the stranger had said "don't die" and getting hypothermia, pneumonia or both was a fastrack route to death. So really the woman couldn't be mad at her any more than she already was.

Carina hesitated only a moment longer before setting her foot on the first stone step. She climbed slowly, eventually emerging into a kitchen.

It smelled like warmth, old wood and there was even a faint saltiness like the sea had oozed through the stone walls and left its mark.

The kitchen light was on.

A pan of milk sat on the stove, just beginning to boil.

Carina stared at it.

Then, carefully, she turned the heat off.

"No burnt milk or fires tonight," she muttered.

From somewhere above her came a sharp thump- Maya moving through another room.

Carina froze.

Then, slowly, she exhaled and looked around properly.

There was a bookshelf, filled to the brim with books, most shelves stacked double deep. So the stranger was a reader... that helped her case for not being a murderer, though Carina couldn’t explain why.

Before she could cross the small room to look at the titles, her eye caught on a book on the counter with a worn spine. It was sat next to an abandoned mug and a jar of cocoa powder. So she'd been about to make hot chocolate.

Carina's brows lifted, that wasn't what she expected the stranger to drink. She couldn't decide where that placed her on the scale between murderer and not. Particularly when she boiled milk on the stove rather than making the hot chocolate mix and slowly heating it up. Perhaps if she won the stranger over she could show her the right way to do it.

When Carina flipped the book over she was surprised to see it wasn't some ladybird classic or a sci-fi drama. Instead it was a romance book; two women nose to nose on the cover, flirty looks in their eyes, lips almost touching and a title that suggested love was the only answer. A smile grew on Carina’s face as she flipped the book, reading the blurb.

"Okay," she mumbled to herself, unable to stop her smirk. She set the book down, and leaned into the curiosity she was unable to ignore now.

The bookshelf was made of the same weathered wood the rest of the room seemed to be constructed of. It sat proudly in the corner of the room, in the place a TV usually would; opposite a sofa that was the perfect size to curl up on.

Just like the book on the counter, the shelves were lined with romance books. All with a female lead, most distinctly queer.

It was hard to imagine a murderer reading queer literature.

Carina’s fingers itched to pull a title down and curl up on the sofa. But she knew that would be a step too far and would probably result in her being forced back out into Kyle. So she resisted and continued her assessment of the small room with the rounded walls.

Carina continued her slow survey of the room until a particularly violent shiver rattled through her.

Right.

Freezing.

Her assessment of the stranger could wait.

Her gaze landed on a small gas fire tucked into the old hearth. After a moment's hesitation, she crouched beside it and found the switch.

The fire sprang to life with a soft whoosh.

"Oh, thank God."

Carina held her hands out towards the warmth, but it did little for the cold that had settled deep in her bones. Her clothes were still soaked through.

Another shiver.

Perhaps dying of hypothermia in a lighthouse in Maine, wasn't a bad way to go. It was cosy and safe. The perfect place to curl up and-

That's when she spotted it.

An oversized cream-coloured knit sweater was draped over the back of one of the chairs tucked into the table.

Carina stared at it.

The woman had explicitly said not to touch anything.

But then again she'd already touched things on her exploration of the space.

And she was cold.

Plus the stranger had explicitly told her not to die, and warming up from the cold was the appropriate way to do that. She would understand. Right?

Carina chewed her lip.

"It's not stealing if I give it back," she reasoned aloud. "It's borrowing. Temporarily."

Decision made, she peeled off her sodden cardigan and pulled the sweater over her head.

It was enormous.

The sleeves swallowed her hands and the hem brushed her knees, but it was warm and smelled faintly of sea salt, old books and something clean she couldn't quite place.

It immediately warmed her up.

She sank onto the rug in front of the fire with a contented sigh.

Above her, footsteps crossed the ceiling.

Then stopped.

A few seconds later they started again, only much faster.

Heavy.

Purposeful.

The footsteps thundered down the stairs.

Maya appeared in the doorway, eyes wide.

"The milk-"

She stopped.

The stove was off.

Carina looked up.

Maya's gaze swept over the scene before her: the lit fire, the switched-off stove, the stranger sitting comfortably on her rug wearing her favourite sweater.

Silence.

"Oh," Maya said flatly. "So when I said don't go upstairs, don't touch anything and don't make noise, what you heard was make yourself at home."

Carina smiled weakly.

"In my defence, I did save your milk."

Annoyance bubbled deep in Maya’s chest.

"And you also said don't die. If you measured my temperature right now the thermometer would inform you I'm almost hypothermic. And my wasted medical degree would tell you that hypothermia leads to death."

"You should have prepared."

"I did. I just mistimed things. But that doesn’t matter. It happened. Kyle arrived. And you were kind enough to let me in."

"I wasn't being kind."

"No?"

"No."

"Well this is awkward, here I thought you telling me to stay in the draughty entryway of your lighthouse was you being exceedingly kind. My bad."

Maya opened her mouth, closed it again and exhaled sharply through her nose.

"Take the sweater off when you're dry. And hang it on the rail by the stove."

Carina blinked.

"What?"

"You can use the sweater to warm yourself up. But hang it to dry when you're done."

"I- thank you. That's very- kind."

Maya mumbled something and turned back towards the stairs, thinking of the peace and quiet the watch room offered.

"Stay down here. I have work to do."

"Work?"

Maya paused halfway up the first step.

"Somebody has to make sure people don't sail into the rocks."

"Maybe I can make you some hot chocolate. To take with you. Since I interrupted you making it by... trespassing. That way your milk doesn't go to waste," Carina added, hoping that the idea of wasted milk would be enough to change the stranger's mind.

"Shout me when it's done. Don't come upstairs."

Carina couldn’t help the small smile, maybe she'd win over the stranger after all.

She crossed the room back over to the stove, took a match from the open box, and re-lit it, humming quietly to herself as she did. She was still cold, her fingers slightly numb. But there was nothing the cosy sweater and a mug of cocoa couldn't fix.

She gently heated the milk, stirring it with the whisk that the stranger had left on the counter. When it was simmering gently, she tipped in two heaped spoonfuls of cocoa followed by two of sugar, since the cocoa powder was dark chocolate. Usually she'd put a little vanilla and a dash of nutmeg into her hot chocolate but the stranger didn't strike her as someone who would appreciate that, nor did she want to touch anything else.

She whisked enthusiastically, mixing everything until it was silky smooth and thick, a rich chocolatey smell filling the small kitchen almost immediately.

Satisfied everything was well mixed, Carina dipped her finger in and tried it.

She paused.

It needed a touch more sugar, without vanilla it was still a little too bitter. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin the hot chocolate.

She added another half a spoon of sugar and whisked, pleased when she tasted it that the rich flavour seemed to have enhanced with that extra sprinkling of sugar.

Smiling to herself, she poured the cocoa into Maya's mug and carried it to the foot of the stairs.

"Hot chocolate!" she called.

Silence.

"Hot chocolate!" she tried again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

She frowned.

Maybe Maya hadn't heard her.

With a sigh, Carina climbed three steps.

"Your hot chocolate is rea-"

"What are you doing?"

Carina nearly dropped the mug.

Maya stood halfway up the staircase, arms folded, looking at her like she'd just caught her attempting to dismantle the lighthouse.

"You said to shout you," Carina said.

"I also said not to come upstairs."

"I'm not upstairs."

Maya's eyebrow lifted.

"You're on the stairs."

"Technically."

"Down."

Carina obediently descended the three steps.

Maya held out her hand.

Carina passed her the mug.

Maya eyed it suspiciously.

The colour was wrong.

It was too pale.

She took a cautious sip.

Her expression didn't change.

Carina watched her expectantly.

It was smooth.

Far too smooth.

And sweet.

She looked down at the mug again.

"Thank you," she said flatly.

"Prego."

"Huh?"

"Oh, it means you're welcome."

"Oh-" Maya deadpanned, looking into her mug of far too smooth, far too sweet hot cocoa.

"So the light thing isn't automated?"

"No."

"So how does it work then? Maybe I could come up and see it work."

Maya's jaw tightened.

"No."

"Oh."

Silence stretched between them.

Carina shifted.

"So what made you become a lighthouse keeper? It's not a very normal job."

Maya set the mug down.

"I have work to do. I'll see you in the morning."

She turned towards the stairs.

"Wait," Carina said. "Where am I supposed to sleep?"

"The rug."

"You want me to sleep on the floor?"

"Yes."

Carina looked over at the sofa.

Maya followed her gaze.

"The sofa is off limits."

"The floor and not the sofa."

"Correct."

"You're really committed to this whole aggressively inhospitable thing, aren't you?"

Maya paused on the first step.

"Don't come upstairs."

Then she disappeared.

No book or cocoa in tow.

Annoyance surged through her veins.

She kept climbing, putting as much distance between herself and the intruder as the lighthouse would allow, until she emerged into the lantern room. Above her, Daphne turned steadily, her beam slicing through the darkness with unwavering precision.

At least one thing was behaving as it should.

Maya snatched up her clipboard and began her checklist.

Revolutions per minute.

Light intensity.

Lens alignment.

Everything was exactly as it had been five minutes ago, when she'd checked it before.

She checked it all again anyway.

Satisfied that Daphne had not inexplicably decided to malfunction in the last quarter of an hour, Maya descended into the watch room below.

The sea beyond the windows was black and angry, white foam illuminated every few seconds by Daphne's steady sweep.

No ships.

She cleaned her binoculars.

Looked again.

Still no ships.

Good, that was good. That was how it should be.

The radio crackled softly beside her. She turned the volume up, then immediately back down again.

Too loud.

She couldn't hear what the intruder was doing downstairs.

Not that she cared.

She sat in the window seat.

Then stood up again.

Then sat.

The storm battered the lighthouse, wind shrieking around the stone tower.

Usually she loved that sound.

Tonight it seemed impossibly loud.

She couldn't hear any movement from below.

That was worse.

What if the intruder, who seemed to have a particular talent for ignoring instructions, was rummaging through her things? What if she'd come upstairs and was sleeping in Maya's bed? Or wearing more of her clothes?

Maya shook her head. The stranger wouldn't do that. Right?

She crawled into her little sleeping bag and reached for her book.

It was downstairs. With the undrinkable hot chocolate.

Her entire evening had been ruined by a woman in sandals.

A woman in sandals who was currently unsupervised in her lighthouse... and not to be trusted.

Maya was on her feet in seconds, thundering down the steps into her cosy bedroom. When she didn't find the intruder there, she kept going.

It had been a terrible idea to let a stranger stay. She should have sent her away the moment she'd opened the door. She shouldn't have been soft.

The stranger had probably-

The kitchen was dark.

The fire still glowed softly in the hearth.

And curled up on the rug in front of it, wrapped awkwardly around herself, was the intruder.

Asleep.

One arm was tucked beneath her head, the other wrapped around Maya's oversized sweater. Even in sleep, she looked cold.

Maya stood there for a long moment.

Then she sighed.

A tired, put-upon sigh.

Crossing the room, she turned the fire up a notch, opening the hatch wider so the heat could escape into the room.

The stranger stirred but didn't wake, a shiver rippling through her.

She's going to get hypothermia, Maya reluctantly thought to herself.

The blankets sat in the basket beside the sofa.

Maya grabbed one, crossed the room, and draped it over the sleeping woman as carefully as she could.

The stranger stirred.

Maya practically threw the blanket the last few inches and retreated at speed.

Back upstairs, she completed one final sweep of the horizon.

No ships.

No distress calls.

Just Kyle.

And his drama.

Men.

Satisfied, Maya lay down on the narrow cot in the watch room and closed her eyes.

The radio murmured softly beside her.

Somewhere below, the intruder slept.

Eventually, despite herself, Maya slept too.

It wasn't often that Maya woke up to the watch room in daylight.

And it certainly wasn't often that she woke up to the smell of food cooking.

Maya sat bolt upright.

Food?

Cooking?

In the lighthouse?

She inhaled.

Crispy potatoes.

Cheese.

Egg?

For one disorienting moment, she thought she was dreaming.

Then she remembered.

The intruder.

All of the annoyance from the previous evening came rushing back. Any sympathy she'd felt when she'd found the woman asleep on the rug had evaporated.

The stranger was cooking.

In Maya's kitchen.

Using Maya's food.

"Absolutely not."

Maya scrambled out of her sleeping bag and thundered down the stairs.

"What are you-"

"Don't be mad," the intruder said, holding her hands up. Well one hand, the other was clutching a spatula.

"Kinda hard when you keep-"

"I know I keep ignoring you,” the intruder interjected. “But just- let me explain. Please?"

Maya opened her mouth, ready to bite back, to shout and get annoyed. To tell the intruder to leave and never come back.

Something stopped her.

Maybe it was the perfectly cooked omelette sat next to the baked cubed breakfast potatoes she loved so much.

"Explain."

"I know you told me not to touch anything but I heard you get up a few times in the night to work, and it's nice having others cook for you... or at least I think it's nice. And if you hate it, then I'm sorry and I can leave and find my way back to the airBnB. It's just- I'm grateful for you saving my life."

"I didn't save your life"

"But you'll accept my thanks and apology for intruding all wrapped up in a delicious cheese and ham omelette and potatoes anyway?"

"It does smell nice. And it's what I was going to make for my breakfast."

"I saw your meal plan," the stranger said tentatively, nodding over at the fridge. "I promise I wasn't snooping. And if you want me to leave I can. It's light outside anyway so I can go. Just if you could tell me which direction east is..."

"It's not safe."

"I'll be okay."

"Kyle's still going. The forecast was wrong. It's not safe. You may as well stay."

"Thank you, thank you so much- uhm-" the stranger trailed off realising they didn’t know each other’s names.

"Maya." She replied, holding her hand out.

"Carina," the woman said, shaking it. "I hope the omelette is more to your liking than the cocoa last night."

“It already is.”

Carina smiled.

"Good. I was beginning to think I had permanently offended you with the hot chocolate."

"You did."

Carina's face fell.

Maya sat down and took a bite of the omelette.

It was good.

Very good.

Annoyingly good.

Better than anything she'd ever made.

The potatoes were perfectly crisp on the outside and soft in the middle, and somehow the omelette had turned out impossibly light.

Maya frowned down at it.

"How did you get the eggs so fluffy?"

Carina looked delighted to have been asked a question.

"Oh! You whisk the egg whites separately first."

Maya paused.

"You separated the eggs?"

"Yes."

"At seven in the morning."

Carina shrugged.

"It's worth it."

Maya considered this.

"It is."

Carina beamed.

"You can sit down, you know."

Carina winced and sat down, crossing and then uncrossing her legs.

"Did you not make yourself a plate?"

"Uhhhh-"

"Here," Maya stood, pulled another plate out of the cupboard, tipped the rest of the potatoes onto the plate and then slid half of her omelette onto Carina’s. "Can't have you dying of hunger can we?"

"That would be too much paperwork," Carina mumbled with a smile.

"Exactly, you get it."

Silence settled between them.

It wasn't uncomfortable exactly. Just unfamiliar.

Maya couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten breakfast with someone else.

Carina, apparently, found silence physically painful.

"So," she began.

"I like quiet while I eat."

Carina immediately snapped her mouth shut.

Another few moments passed.

"Thanks for folding the blanket away... and my sweater."

Carina looked up from her plate and smiled. "Thanks for letting me borrow them."

"It was nothing," Maya shrugged.

Carina could tell she wasn't exactly being truthful, but she didn't pull her up on it, just kept eating.

Silence returned.

This time it lasted nearly a full minute.

"So," Carina tried again carefully, "how long have you lived here?"

Maya swallowed her mouthful.

"Five years."

"Five years?" Carina repeated. "By yourself?"

"Yes."

"The whole time?"

"Yes."

"You don't get lonely?"

Maya raised an eyebrow.

"You ask a lot of questions."

Carina looked faintly sheepish.

"Curiosity is an occupational hazard."

"What are you, some kind of journalist?"

Carina laughed.

"No."

"What then?"

Carina hesitated for a moment. "A doctor... or well... I was a doctor."

"Was?"

Carina looked down at her plate.

"I needed a break."

Something in her tone made Maya decide not to ask any more.

"Well... if you're here to find yourself... you could definitely become a breakfast chef."

Carina looked up, surprised.

"Was that a compliment?"

"No."

"It sounded suspiciously like one."

"It wasn't."

Carina looked back down at her food and smiled.

And Maya found, somewhat alarmingly, that she didn't mind the company whilst she ate. Even if the company was a little chatty.

They finished their plates in silence. Maya gathered them and insisted on doing the washing up.

"Whilst you do that, I have a question," Carina said, leaning against the table.

"Another one?"

"Well- I guess this is more of a request than a question."

"Go on."

"I know you don't want me invading your space more than I already have. But I really need to pee. Like... badly, my bladder genuinely hurts. But I figured the bathroom is upstairs so could I be allowed to go upstairs to pee?"

"It's not upstairs."

"What?"

"The toilet."

"Well," Carina turned slowly on the spot, looking for where the toilet could possibly be, "where is it then?"

"In the outhouse."

"An outhouse? As in... outside? In the rain.

"Yup."

"I- why?"

"That's just how it was built. It works. I don't fix what isn't broken."

"Right, uhm, okay so can I use your... outhouse?"

Maya looked at her.

Then at the rain hammering the windows.

Then at the sandals.

And the shorts.

Who wore shorts in Maine in October?

"No."

Carina blinked.

"No?"

"Not dressed like that. Come with me," Maya instructed, heading down the stairs to the entryway.

Unsurprisingly it was slightly flooded; a usual occurrence in a storm with a wooden door that had an inch gap at the bottom. She pulled the 'flood towel' off the hook on the wall and tossed it down, stepping over it and into her boots with practiced ease.

"The only other rainboots I have are these," Maya said, splashing over to the coat rack, picking up a pair of boots.

"They're huge..." Carina said, her eyes wide. "Are you sure you're not hiding another person in here?"

Maya gave her a deadpan look.

"Thank you for my boots."

"They belonged to the last lighthouse keeper," Maya explained as Carina kicked off her sandals and stepped into the boots. "Lucky for you I have two rain jackets, this one is mine," she pulled on her yellow wax jacket, flipping the hood up. "And this is yours."

"Wow," Carina said, taking in the coat in front of her, "it's bright."

"That's the point."

"Thank you for my bright red rain coat," Carina chuckled, as she shrugged it on. It nearly reached her knees.

She looked ridiculous.

Maya ignored the strange urge to smile.

As Carina pulled the hood up, several strands of hair escaped and fell straight back into her face.

Without thinking, Maya reached out.

She tucked the strands behind Carina's ear.

Carina looked up.

Maya suddenly became very aware of how close they were standing.

Her fingers lingered for half a second too long.

Carina's eyes were warm.

Brown, she realised.

Very brown.

"Oh," Carina said softly.

Maya dropped her hand as if she'd touched the lantern room bulb.

"A wet head is a cold head."

Carina bit her lip then burst out laughing.

To Maya's horror, a laugh escaped her too.

Carina immediately looked delighted.

"You laughed."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

"It was a cough."

"That sounded suspiciously joyful for a cough."

Maya opened the door.

"Don't make me regret lending you the coat."

A beat.

"I really need to pee."

"Right."

Another beat.

"Like... urgently."

Maya blinked.

"Right."

Carina shifted from foot to foot.

"Please tell me the outhouse isn't six miles in an easterly direction away."

"It's twenty feet."

"Oh, thank God."

"In a westerly direction."

"You're secretly funny, Lighthouse Keeper Maya."

"Come on, I'll show you," Maya said, opening the front door.

The rain had eased from a torrent to a steady downpour, but the wind still whipped across the headland.

Maya led the way with assured steps, Carina wobbling behind her in her too big shoes.

The little wooden building sat a short distance from the lighthouse.

"There," she said.

Carina looked at it.

"Is it safe?"

"Very. Here," Maya held out the big flashlight, "it's got no light."

"It's not going to fall down on me?"

"It's very sturdy. I built it."

"That's- that's actually quite reassuring," Carina said, reaching for the door.

"I'll stay out here."

"You will?"

"Yeah, I have to check something."

"What?"

"The weather."

Carina looked up at the sky.

"The weather appears to be wet."

Maya ignored her.

"You can go in."

Carina hesitated.

"You're really going to wait?"

"I said I needed to check something."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

Carina smiled a little.

"Okay."

She disappeared into the outhouse.

Maya stood in the rain.

The weather did not, in fact, need checking.

Neither did anything else.

Still, she stayed.

After a thirty seconds, Carina's voice floated through the door.

"There's a spider in here."

"It's his house."

"That's not funny."

"It is a little."

"See, you're funny. He's staring at you."

"He's called Joey."

"Well... Joey's making it hard to pee."

"Close your eyes, focus on the rain."

"What if he gets me?"

"Joey's non-aggressive."

"Okay..." Carina sighed, "closing my eyes."

"Enjoy your pee." Maya chuckled.

"Oh, it's working!"

Maya couldn't help but laugh.

Maybe, Maya admitted reluctantly, Carina wasn't so bad.

"Joey didn't get me," Carina announced, doing a spin as she exited the outhouse.

"Congratulations," Maya said.

"And the outhouse was very sturdy and I expected it to have leaks but it had no leaks!"

"Of course it doesn't have leaks, I built it. Come on."

Maya turned back towards the lighthouse, but Carina's attention had already caught on something else.

"What's this building?"

"It's a garage," Maya answered.

"What's in the garage?"

"A car."

Carina stopped walking.

"You have a car?”

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you just drive me back?"

Maya glanced at her.

"Because Betty currently lacks several important components."

Carina blinked.

"You named your car Betty?"

"Of course."

"Of course," Carina repeated, as though that somehow explained everything.

Maya continued towards the warm, cosy lighthouse.

"Well, can I see her?"

Maya sighed. This woman really loved questions. Still, she changed course, heading for the garage. She pulled the key from her pocket and unlocked the garage door, wrestling it upwards against the swollen wood.

The door rattled loudly as it opened.

“Careful,” Maya said, stepping aside. “Floor’s uneven.”

"Woah."

Maya tried not to look pleased.

She failed slightly.

"She's a 1993 Land Rover Defender 90. And her alternator died three weeks ago," Maya explained, almost absently. "I ordered a replacement but the storm delayed delivery."

Carina stared, eyes taking in her dark blue body and exposed engine.

"You fixed all this yourself?"

Maya frowned.

"It's just mechanics."

"Just mechanics," Carina repeated. "Right."

Maya looked genuinely confused.

"What?"

"Nothing. It's just... you're a lighthouse keeper who rebuilds cars, maintains a two-hundred-year-old lighthouse, tracks storms for fun and apparently builds outhouses."

Maya shrugged.

"Things break."

"And?"

"And somebody has to fix them."

Carina smiled.

"You're very competent."

Maya looked faintly alarmed by the observation.

"I've had to be."

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Silence settled between them.

Maya busied herself adjusting a wrench that didn't need adjusting.

Carina, to her credit, didn't push.

"Well, Betty is super cute, I hope you get her fixed soon!"

"Me too. She's special."

There was an over-long pause.

"We should get you back in the warm."

"Only me?"

"I have to pee too. But you can head back inside, maybe light the fire?"

Carina nodded, afraid that saying anything would lead to Maya changing her mind. They stepped back into the rain, which was tipping towards torrential again, and once Maya had locked the garage, they headed in opposite directions.

Back inside the old lighthouse, Carina kicked off the oversized boots, carefully arranging them under the coat rack, before hooking the red coat up to drip dry. She slipped her feet back into her sandals and climbed up the stairs, seeing Maya already emerging from the outhouse when she peered out of the window.

Carina had decided, in the last thirty minutes, that Maya wasn't as scary as she made herself out to be. Beneath the extremely grumpy exterior there was definitely more to her.

Sure, she was prickly. Inhospitable. Endlessly suspicious.

But she also checked the weather while someone used the toilet.

Secretly covered sleeping strangers with blankets.

Named the spider in her outhouse and her car.

And apparently fixed anything that broke with her own two hands.

It was... confusing.

There was far more to Maya than the walls she seemed determined to build around herself.

Carina found herself wondering what was behind them.

Why she was here in a 200 year old lighthouse?

A few minutes later the front door opened again.

Maya stamped the rain from her boots, kicked them off, and wiggled out of her rain jacket before climbing the stairs.

The fire was already crackling.

Carina looked up from where she was kneeling beside it.

"I figured you'd want it warm."

Maya nodded once.

"Thanks."

"So..." Carina began carefully. "Do you have much lighthouse keepering to do during the day?"

"Not much."

"No?"

"No, it's more of a nighttime job. Although I was going to check on Daphne."

Carina frowned.

"Who is Daphne?"

"The light."

"You named the lighthouse?"

"The light."

"You named the light?"

Maya looked mildly offended.

"She's been here for two hundred years. She deserves a name."

Carina smiled.

"I think that's rather sweet."

"It isn't."

"It absolutely is."

Maya ignored her.

"I need to clean the Fresnel lens. Salt builds up during storms because you have to have a couple of windows open or she steams up... the lighthouse, not Daphne."

"Oooh!" Carina immediately brightened. "Can I come?"

"No."

The answer came so quickly Carina almost laughed.

"It's dangerous," Maya continued, already moving towards the stairs.

"I can stay out of the way."

"No."

"I won't touch anything."

"No."

Carina held her hands up.

"Okay."

There wasn't even the slightest hint of disappointment in her voice.

Just acceptance.

For some reason, that made Maya hesitate.

"I..." Maya stopped herself.

No.

The lantern room was hers.

She was the lighthouse keeper.

She didn't need to share it.

"I'll only be twenty minutes."

Carina smiled warmly, stretching her legs out on the rug.

"I'll be here."

"Don't touch anything," Maya called over her shoulder, her tone light and joking.

"I won't. I'll also try not to die."

"Good!"

Carina beamed soaking in the peace of the place. It was still cosy, even in the diffuse stormy daylight.

Her eyes drifted around the room again.

No television.

No background music.

Just books.

Stacks of them, carefully organised like everything else in the lighthouse.

Carina smiled faintly to herself.

A place without noise, she thought. Not empty. Just... quiet on purpose.

She wasn't sure she'd ever met someone who chose that.

Most people Carina knew filled silence immediately, tv programs, conversation, music, anything to avoid it.

Maya seemed to live inside it.

Carina shifted slightly, pulling her knees closer to her chest.

The fire was warm, but the cold still clung to her skin.

Outside, the storm pressed against the windows in long gusts. Rain still battered the pains. Kyle still made himself known.

Carina rested her head on her knees and let herself breathe. There was nowhere she needed to be. Nothing she needed to say.

"You're cold."

Carina didn’t even realise Maya had returned until she heard those words.

She jumped slightly.

"I'm okay."

"You just shivered."

"I'm fine."

Maya gave her a look and disappeared.

Carina watched her go.

For a moment she wondered if she'd somehow managed to offend her again.

Why did she always get everything so wrong-

Then Maya came back.

"Here," Maya held out a stack of clothes.

"What's this?"

"You can't just wear shorts and a t-shirt," Maya answered simply, putting the pile into her arms. "You can change in the bedroom," she pointed to the stairs.

"I- I can't wear your clothes, Maya."

"Why?"

"Because-" Carina hesitated. Maybe she didn't have a good reason. "Because it's my fault I wasn't prepared."

Maya shrugged, "you didn't expect to get lost and stuck in Kyle."

Carina hid her smile. "Thank you."

"You're not even wearing them yet!"

"Okay," Carina said, brushing past her, "I'm going."

The bedroom was small. Cosy. Just a small double bed and a chest of drawers and a hatch with a ladder going up to the next floor. Curiosity got the better of her and she stood on tiptoe, peering to try and catch a glimpse of whatever was up there. All she could see was a ceiling though.

There was nothing hung on the walls. Nothing to give her a clue of who Maya was beyond the lighthouse. Nothing that told her why Maya was here or what had drawn her to the place. Except-

Except a gold medal, in a display case, on the dresser. Carina crept closer, like Maya would hear her steps and assume she was breaking a rule. As she got closer she realised it wasn't a regular medal. Nor was it a medal to do with the lighthouse. Instead it was something rare.

An Olympic gold medal.

From London 2012.

"Five years ago," Carina muttered.

"Do they fit?"

Carina jumped back, like she'd just been caught.

"Uhhh. I'm still changing." Carina shouted, pulling her t-shirt over her head.

"Oh... okay."

Carina stepped out of her shorts and turned to the pile of clothes Maya had given her. She couldn't help her smile when she realised the sweater she'd borrowed earlier was at the top of the pile. She appreciated the gesture and happily pulled it on over the soft cotton long-sleeve and the comfy sweatpants. The last thing in the pile was a pair of thick pale green socks that immediately brought feeling back into her toes.

She gathered her old clothes up, looked over at the medal one more time and then descended the stairs, twirling on the bottom step when she said, "ta-daaaa."

"They fit?"

"They fit," Carina grinned.

"And you're no longer at risk of turning blue?"

"Nope!" Carina beamed. "Thank you."

"No problem."

Silence fell between them again.

"Have you read all of these books?"

"Wow! You really hate silence, huh?" Maya chuckled.

"I- sorry. It's- sorry."

"I'm kidding," Maya smiled, "and yes, I've read all of them, well... apart from one which is my next read."

"All of them?"

"Every single one. Most multiple times."

"That's... impressive. Are they all romance books?" Carina asked, her eyes scanning the titles.

"For the most part, yes."

"Why romance?"

"I like books where it works out," Maya answered with a shrug. "Real life doesn't always work out that way."

Carina eyed her for a moment then nodded, "I get that."

"Do you read?"

"Not as much as I'd like to. Work gets- got- in the way a lot."

"Pick one if you want. I usually spend my days reading when I'm not fixing something."

"Any recommendations?"

"Too many," Maya chuckled, joining Carina by the shelves. "Anything you don't like?"

"Fantasy."

"Okay," Maya nodded, scanning the shelves for the perfect book. "Here, this one is perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

Carina took it from her. "Why this one?"

"It's funny... like you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes. I've read it four times."

"Four?"

"Yes."

"Okay," Carina smiled, going to sit on the rug.

"You don't have to sit on the floor." Maya mumbled, picking up her new book. She took it over to the sofa and sat down, curling her feet under herself.

Carina looked at her.

"I thought the sofa was off limits."

"It was."

There was a pause.

Both of them looking at each other.

"It isn't anymore."

Carina tucked herself into the opposite corner, careful to leave a respectable gulf of cushions between them.

She opened the book.

Within minutes, the only sounds in the lighthouse were rain against the windows, the occasional creak of old stone, the distant turning of Daphne above them...

...and the quiet turning of pages.

The hours slipped by with little change.

Maya made them tomato soup and grilled cheese for lunch, and afterwards they returned to their books.

Neither of them spoke much, both too absorbed in their stories, but every so often Maya heard a quiet laugh escape Carina, and found herself smiling before she could stop it.

By late afternoon, the silence remained, broken only by the turning of pages, the occasional contented sigh...

...and, eventually, a soft, snuffling snore.

Carina looked over.

The lighthouse keeper's head had tipped backwards, her book open on her lap.

Carina put her own book down and turned studying her for a moment.

Her hair had fallen into her face.

Suddenly, she looked a lot less formidable.

Young.

Peaceful.

When asleep, she looked nothing like the woman who'd pointed a flashlight in her face, and ordered her back into a hurricane.

A clock ticked somewhere in the house.

Maya shifted.

A little frown grew on her sleeping face.

Without really thinking about it, Carina reached for the folded blanket she'd used earlier.

She unfolded it slowly.

Careful not to wake her, she laid it over Maya's lap and shoulders.

Maya sighed.

Nestled a little deeper into the corner.

But didn't wake.

Carina suppressed a small laugh and reached for her book again, turning the page as the lighthouse settled once more into its familiar silence.

As the hours passed Carina became increasingly aware of the sunlight that was beginning to paint golden squares on the worn wooden floor.

She looked up at the end of a chapter and saw blue.

Kyle had blown away, leaving in his place a light blue sky dappled with clouds and the occasional seagull and oystercatcher.

The Italian stretched, careful not to knock her still sleeping companion.

She should go.

The storm had died out.

She'd already overstayed.

Maya had rescued her.

Fed her.

Lent her clothes.

Given her books.

Given her silence.

She shouldn't stay longer than necessary.

Shouldn't intrude any longer in Maya’s peace and quiet.

Maya didn’t want her here. She was just being polite. Preventing paperwork. Being a good samaritan.

Who was Carina to abuse that?

She pushed herself off the sofa as quietly as possible, placed her book back on the shelf where Maya had pulled it from and picked up her pile of clothes.

She changed downstairs in the entryway rather than in Maya’s bedroom, not wanting to step into that private space again.

She took the folded items back upstairs and settled them on the kitchen table, then looked around for something she could leave a note on.

She found some paper on a windowsill and took the pen from by the meal planner, and scrawled her note, leaving it on top of the clothes before putting the pen back.

With one last glance back at Maya she left, forever thankful for the kindness of a stranger in a 200-year-old lighthouse.

Maya woke with a start.

For a moment she couldn't place what had disturbed her.

Daphne still turned overhead.

The lighthouse was warm.

The fire was still burning.

Everything was exactly as it should be.

Except the silence.

It was wrong.

She sat up.

The opposite end of the sofa was vacant.

The book she'd lent Carina was gone.

No-

It wasn't gone.

It was back on the shelf.

And Carina...

She looked around the room.

The folded clothes on the kitchen table caught her eye.

Something white rested on top of them.

"No," Maya mumbled, standing quickly rushing over to the table.

"No."

The clothes were the ones she'd lent Carina.

She fumbled to open the folded note.

Maya,
Thank you.
For your endless kindness (that you insist isn't kindness).
Thank you for not letting me walk 6 miles through a hurricane named Kyle.
Thanks for not letting me become paperwork:)
Kyle's gone. Which means it's time for me to go.
Forever grate-

Maya stopped reading.

She dropped the note and ran.

Down the stairs.

Over the flood towel.

Out into the cool October day.

She looked to the east, as far as she could see.

Her stomach sank, falling through her feet.

There was nothing.

No disappearing figure in only a t-shirt and shorts. No boggy foot prints. Nothing.

She turned.

Shoulders sagging.

That's when she spotted her.

Barely 150 yards away.

"CARINA."

The figure turned but glanced over her shoulder, like she expected to find someone else behind her.

"Me?"

Maya let out a low groan.

"Yes you, who else would I be-" she started but decided it was easier if she just ran.

"Well I didn't-"

"Wrong way," Maya said as she came to a stop.

"What?"

"You're going the wrong way."

"But this is- I came from this way."

"Well you're going the wrong-" Maya started before shaking her head, "it doesn't matter anyway. You can't go."

"Yes I can."

"No, you can't."

"Why?"

"Because-" Maya looked around as if the wild landscape might give her the words. "Because it's not safe."

"Kyle's gone," Carina shrugged.

"It'll go dark."

"Not for hours."

"You don't know the way."

"I'll figure it out. Thanks, Maya," Carina said brushing past her. "For everything, truly."

"You- I- just-" Maya tried.

Carina was walking away.

"STAY."

"Stay?"

"Yeah. Stay."

"Why though?"

"Because," Maya shook her head.

Nothing came.

For once, there wasn't a practical reason.

Kyle had gone.

The path was dry enough.

It would stay light for another few hours.

Betty still didn't have an alternator, so she couldn't even pretend she was going to drive her.

"Because... you haven't..."

Carina waited.

Maya looked everywhere except at her.

The sea.

The lighthouse.

Betty's garage.

Anywhere.

"I don't know."

Carina turned back to her fully, taking her in in the bright sunlight.

"You ran after me in socks."

Maya looked down at her feet and blinked. She was stood in damp grass. No boots.

She hadn't even realised.

"You forgot your boots."

"...apparently so."

"And your coat."

Maya nodded, chewing her lip.

"You know," Carina began, a small smile tugging at her lips, "people don't usually chase annoying strangers."

"No."

"So... why did you?"

"The lighthouse was..." Maya frowned. "...quiet."

Carina smiled, but didn't interrupt.

"Too quiet."

Carina waited, watching the lighthouse keeper. When she didn't continue she couldn't help but smirk. "So... let me get this straight."

Maya almost let out a groan.

"You're asking me to stay... because your lighthouse is too quiet?"

Maya sighed.

"I know it sounds ridiculous, especially coming from me."

"But..."

"Yes. I guess I am."

Carina's smile softened.

She knew that wasn't what Maya meant.

Or at least, not all she meant.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"I'll stay."

Maya blinked.

"You will?"

"I've got a book to finish... and I probably would have gotten lost."

A small smile twitched onto Maya’s lips and, without thinking too hard, she took Carina’s hand and pulled her back towards the lighthouse.

Maya didn’t let go of Carina’s hand until they reached the front door.

Only then did she seem to realise what she was doing.

She cleared her throat, released it immediately and busied herself brushing flaking paint off the worn green door.

"Sorry for dragging you," she mumbled.

"You weren't," Carina beamed.

"No but I-"

"Get inside will you? It's cold out here!"

Maya blinked and crossed the threshold, stepping straight onto the flood towel. If her socks weren't wet from her spring through the marshy headland, they were wet now.

Immediately her toes curled, she hopped the rest of the distance to the step and yanked off her woolen socks, tossing them onto the towel. Then she held her hand out for Carina.

Carina stared at it, confused.

"So you can jump over the towel."

"Oh, I can just..." Carina took one big step, her long legs avoiding the entire towel with ease, "... step over it."

Maya rolled her eyes and turned towards the stairs.

"You're cold."

"Yes, I am."

"So you admit that shorts and a t-shirt were a bad idea for October?"

"The weather was nice until Kyle showed up. He's your typical man, cold and lingers around for far too long."

The sound that came from Maya next could only be described as a snort.

"Did you just snort laugh?"

"No, I-"

"Yes you did," Carina laughed, pointing an accusatory finger at Maya. "You think I'm funny."

"No, I-" Maya sighed, screwing up her face for a moment. "Your comment on Kyle was accurate."

Carina beamed, puffing her chest out. "Thank you!"

"You're cold," Maya mumbled, crossing over to the clothes. The note was still there.

Maya picked it up, folded it neatly and tucked it into the pocket of her trousers.

"You don't have to keep that."

"I know."

She didn't throw it away.

"Here," she held the stack out to Carina again.

"Thank you," Carina smiled, turning so her back was to Maya. Her hands were just beginning to pull the hem of her t-shirt over her head when there was a shout.

"What are you doing?"

Carina turned, t-shirt half pulled over her chest.

"Putting the clothes on."

"Here?"

"I didn't want to intrude on your space. I'm wearing underwear."

Maya gulped, eyes still facing the floor.

"My room isn't off limits, you can go up there."

"It's easier if I just," she pulled the t-shirt over her head, "change here."

Maya felt her heart racing in her chest. She could see the shadows of Carina changing on the hardwood by her feet. Immediately she screwed her eyes up and pressed her palms over them for extra measure.

"It was very hard to give you these clothes back," Carina said softly.

Before Maya could ask why, warm fingers closed gently around her wrists.

Carina peeled Maya's hands away from her face.

Slowly.

Carefully.

As though she were coaxing a frightened bird from hiding.

Maya forgot how to breathe.

Carina's hands were impossibly warm.

Soft.

A contrast to her own calloused, usually oil-stained ones. Doctor's hands, she realised vaguely. Steady hands.

Carina's thumbs brushed absent-mindedly across the backs of Maya's hands as she lowered them between them.

The movement was tiny.

Barely noticeable.

It sent something strange racing all the way up Maya's arms.

She stared.

Not at Carina.

At their hands.

At the way Carina's olive-toned hands had cradled her pale ones.

At the way they were still touching.

Carina didn't seem in any hurry to let go.

For one suspended heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Then Carina smiled.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "They're very comfy."

Only then did her fingers slip away.

The sudden absence of warmth felt... noticeable.

Far more noticeable than Maya wanted to admit.

"You need socks," Carina added brightly, as though nothing unusual had just happened.

"I- yes."

Maya nodded far too quickly.

Then fled upstairs.

Carina shook her head with a quiet chuckle, and wandered over to the bookshelf. Retrieving the novel she'd been reading, she tucked herself back into the far corner of the sofa, leaving the same respectful stretch of cushions between them as before.

A moment later, Maya returned, looking considerably less flustered than when she'd fled upstairs. Fresh socks now covered her feet.

She paused in the doorway.

Carina looked... comfortable.

Warm.

Like she'd somehow always belonged.

No longer a jarring intruder in her safe space.

Maya shook away the thought before it could linger and crossed the room, regaining her place on the other end of the sofa. She reached for her book, thumbing through to find the right page.

Wordlessly, she picked up the blanket from the floor, folded it length ways and threw it over both of their laps.

Carina looked up and smiled.

Maya felt her pulse stumble.

She looked down at her book before Carina could notice.

Neither of them turned a page for quite some time after that.

"How do you cook this good?" Maya practically moaned, one mouthful in.

"It's just chicken and rice," Carina chuckled, picking up her own knife and fork.

"I've had this twice a week for the last... 10 years of my life. It has never tasted this good."

"Well, what do you normally season your chicken with?"

"Uhm..."

"You don't season it?"

"Uhhhhhhhh."

"Maya!"

"Do salt and pepper count?"

"Basta," Carina shook her head. "You have seasonings in your cupboard though! I used them tonight."

"I use those ones in other dishes like fajitas or salmon and potatoes."

Carina blinked.

"But not chicken and rice?"

"Or steak and potatoes," Maya added, still looking sheepish.

"Madonna! Okay, I have to teach you how to season!"

"It's not that bad."

"The fact you at least use salt and pepper, has prevented me from walking back out into the aftermath of Kyle."

Maya's cheeks burned red.

"I've survived this long."

"Barely."

Maya shook her head, cutting herself another piece of chicken.

Silence settled comfortably between them.

The only sounds were cutlery against plates and the occasional whistle of wind through the wooden framed windows.

"Why did you leave medicine?"

Carina looked up, caught off guard by the suddenness of the question.

"Why did you become a lighthouse keeper?" She shot back immediately

"Escape," Maya answered simply.

"Death."

Maya's fork paused halfway to her mouth. She lowered it slowly.

"Patients?" she asked quietly.

She watched as Carina's expression changed. The brightness that usually lived in her eyes disappeared, replaced by something softer. Something that looked painfully close to grief.

Her gaze dropped to her plate.

Maya waited.

She opened her mouth, ready to tell Carina she didn't have to answer.

Before she could, Carina lifted her head.

"My brother."

The words hung between them.

Maya's chest tightened.

She didn't know what to say.

So she said nothing.

After a long moment, Carina drew a slow breath.

"What are you escaping?" she asked, her voice gentle in the quiet room.

"My dad."

Carina let the answer settle.

She didn't ask anything else.

Not immediately.

Instead, her eyes flickered towards the stairs.

"Ah."

Maya followed her gaze.

"Is the medal yours?"

Maya glanced over sharply.

"You saw it?"

Carina gave an apologetic smile.

"Hard not to."

Maya nodded.

"It's mine."

Carina nodded too, happy to leave it at that.

"Why Maine?"

This time, Maya looked directly at her.

"I could ask you the same thing."

"Escape," Carina smiled brightly. It softened as she continued. "Beauty. I wanted to get as far away from my life as possible. I wanted remoteness and the sea.” She paused, her eyes drifting to the window, focusing on the deep blue horizon beyond. “I grew up near the sea and it brings me peace I can't find elsewhere."

Maya nodded, it was almost like Carina was telling her own story.

"Were you just escaping your brother's death?"

Carina shook her head, "just... life. Being a doctor didn't feel like my destiny anymore. I'm an OB resident and suddenly helping people bring babies into a world that is so... cruel didn't feel right. And I know, the babies are going to be born whether I'm a doctor or not. But-"

Maya shrugged, "you don't want to be a part of it."

Carina nodded, "I was supposed to move back to Italy. My brother was my tie to America and... and now I am floating around with no tie to a country that doesn't feel like home. But Italy doesn't either. So... escape. From everything."

"I picked Maine for escape too," Maya said gently. "And peace. I was a runner. A... good one," she pointed to the ceiling. "I got hurt just before my final run. I ran regardless and..." she pointed to the ceiling again. "But the damage was done. My dad was my coach. And he was furious. Then he found a rehab programme for me, out of Harvard. I arrived in Boston. And I couldn't. I didn't want to run anymore. I didn't want to rehab my ankle or come back stronger. So I looked for a job. Any job. Any job that got me far away from him and from running. And I found this job. It was temporary, one winter period whilst the owner was in South Africa. Immediately I loved it. The peace. The routine. Routine is the only thing from running that I wanted to willingly keep."

"You're still here."

"I offered him a lot of money. And he gave me it for a little bit of that money. And she became mine."

"Well... I'm glad she's yours. I don't think anyone else would've been as... kind as you."

Maya bit her lip.

Carina stifled a laugh.

Maya joined in not long later.

Cutlery scraping on plates as the conversation settled again.

Hours seemed to pass with the ease of a familiarity neither of them should have been feeling.

Maya washed up, whilst Carina dried. They swapped stories about nothing in particular. They had cocoa, with the lumps, and read some more of their books.

Early evening darkened into night time.

Carina yawned from her end of the sofa.

It wasn't a polite little yawn.

It was the kind that caught her by surprise, making her squeeze her eyes shut afterwards.

Maya looked up from her book.

"You're tired."

"A little."

"You should sleep."

Carina nodded.

"I probably should."

She stood, smoothing down the borrowed sweater before instinctively reaching for the blanket folded over the back of the sofa. She walked over to the corner of the rug by the fire and went to sit down.

"What are you doing?"

"Picking my spot on the rug?"

"You can't sleep on the rug. Take my bed tonight."

Carina looked up so quickly Maya wondered if she'd spoken aloud.

"Your... bed?" Carina repeated, one eyebrow lifting.

"I'll sleep in the watch room."

"No."

Maya frowned.

"No?"

"I've intruded enough."

"You haven't."

"Yes, I have.” Carina gestured vaguely around the room. “And the rug was fine."

"It wasn't."

"It was. It's good for my back."

Maya stared at her.

"I'm not sleeping in my bed while someone else sleeps on the floor," she said eventually, as though that settled the matter.

"You seemed perfectly happy with that arrangement yesterday."

"I know."

"...What changed?"

Maya opened her mouth.

Nothing came out. Maya's gaze dropped to the book resting in her lap.

What had changed?

Yesterday, Carina had been a stranger.

An unexpected complication.

An intruder.

A woman who had wandered into her lighthouse in the middle of a hurricane and disrupted every carefully constructed part of Maya's quiet life.

Now...

Now she knew how Carina laughed.

How amazing she could cook.

How she read with her feet tucked beneath her.

How she smiled when Maya tried to pretend she wasn't funny.

How she'd covered her with a blanket while she slept.

Why she’d come to Maine.

Maya looked back at her.

"I got to know you."

The words landed softly between them.

Carina's expression changed.

A small smile appeared, warm and almost shy.

Maya looked away before the smile could do something strange to her chest.

"If you won't take my bed, take the sofa."

"Are you sure?"

"More than sure,” Maya patted the squishy sofa. “Sleep on the sofa."

Carina watched her for a moment, as though checking for any sign that she might change her mind.

"...The sofa sounds lovely."

"Good."

"And you sleep in the bed."

Maya rolled her eyes. "Yes."

Neither of them moved.

The fire crackled quietly beside them.

Outside, the sea was almost completely still now, the worst of the storm long gone. Somewhere above them, Daphne continued her slow, steady turn.

"Goodnight, Carina."

"Goodnight, Maya."

Still neither of them moved.

Carina laughed first.

"We're both waiting for the other person to move, aren't we?"

"...Maybe."

"You first."

"It's my house."

"So?"

"...Fine."

Maya closed her book with a quiet snap and stood.

She hesitated for half a second, as though there might be something else she was supposed to say.

There wasn't.

So she simply shook her head and disappeared up the stairs.

Carina watched her go, the smile still lingering on her lips.

She waited.

And waited.

Only when she heard what sounded suspiciously like the squeak of old bed springs from above did she climb back onto the sofa and curl up under the heavy blanket in the peace of the 200-year-old lighthouse.

It was strange, Maya vaguely realised, to sit in bed and listen out for the sound of someone moving about in your own house. She'd been like this, propped up in bed, radio turned down, for over an hour trying to figure out if her companion was awake.

By the time an hour and twenty rolled around, her bladder was screaming at her, and she knew she needed to get up, regardless of the level of consciousness of her guest.

She tugged on blue socks and a green sweater, and headed for the stairs, glad they were stone so they wouldn't creak. That was another strange feeling, creeping around her own house. She found she didn't mind it though.

Silently, she made her way across the living room and down the next set of stairs, without looking at the woman sleeping on her sofa. She tugged her boots on, forewent the jacket because the rain hadn't returned, and opened her front door quieter than she had in her entire life deciding to leave it open, rather than risk the usual hard slam it took to properly close it, just in case she was still sleeping.

After a visit to see Joey, who had caught an annoying fly in one of his many webs, she trudged back to the lighthouse, her stomach growling beneath her pyjama pants.

When she got back upstairs she half expected to hear a smart comment from Carina, but instead she was surprised to see she was still fast asleep, arm covering her eyes, mouth open, a noisy breath escaping once in a while.

Maya glanced at the clock, it was past 8am, far later than she'd ever eaten breakfast in her life. And her stomach let her know that with a growl so loud she was surprised it didn't wake Carina up.

"Okay, I hear ya," she mumbled, patting her belly as she crossed to the fridge. It was oatmeal this morning and she liked to cook it low and slow.

The pans clattered when she pulled the small sauce pan from the cupboard. She winced, glancing over at the sofa, relieved she could still hear the quiet breaths.

It didn't take long for relief to grow into concern.

The oatmeal was finished.

She hadn't been particularly quiet making it.

The saucepan had clattered.

The kettle had whistled.

She'd even dropped a spoon.

Carina hadn't moved.

Maya frowned.

"...Carina?"

Nothing.

She turned the heat off beneath the pan and crossed the room.

The woman hadn't shifted an inch.

Still curled beneath the blanket.

Still breathing.

Maya crouched beside the sofa.

"Carina."

A little louder this time.

Nothing.

Maya's stomach tightened.

She reached out, hesitated for only a second, then rested the backs of her fingers lightly against Carina's forehead.

Warm.

Normal.

"What are you doing?" Carina mumbled, taking Maya’s hand from her forehead, tucking it under her chin.

"I- er- checking if you have a fever."

"And do I?" She asked, still holding Maya’s hand hostage.

"I don't think so... why do you feel ill?"

"No," she mumbled.

There was an over-long pause and Maya was so sure she'd fallen asleep cuddled up to her hand, when Carina spoke again.

"Why were you checking?"

"You've been asleep for nearly eleven hours."

Carina frowned as though trying to do maths.

"...Have I?"

"Yes."

"...Oh."

"You also slept through me cooking, and I wasn't exactly quiet."

"...mm."

She burrowed down again, Maya’s hand still trapped by hers.

Maya stared.

"...No."

Carina sighed dramatically.

"...Five more minutes, per favore."

Maya let out a disbelieving laugh.

"I don't think you're awake enough to appreciate how concerning that was."

Carina finally opened both eyes.

"My brother used to say I could sleep through the apocalypse."

A yawn.

"Usually I was just ignoring everyone."

Maya saw the sad smile on her lips and squeezed her hand.

"Did you say there was breakfast?"

"Oatmeal. But if you have a tummy ache or something-"

Carina pushed herself upright. "I just slept in. You don't need to worry," she squeezed Maya’s hand then let go, nudging past her towards the kitchen. "It smells delicious."

"I usually have peanut butter, strawberries and sunflower seeds on mine, but I didn't know if you were allergic to peanuts, so I just left it."

Carina smiled, glancing over her shoulder, "I'm not and your combo sounds delicious, I'll have that too! But add some honey."

"I have local honey, there's a box on the side of the road that always has jars!" Maya beamed, immediately standing on tiptoe to retrieve it from the cupboard.

Breakfast passed faster than either of them wanted. Sun poured through the windows like a bright reminder of the fact that Carina needed to go. That the request to 'stay' was expiring. That the lighthouse couldn't stay in this perfect congruous existence. That they couldn't stay in it.

"Well..." Carina said, drying the final dish after convincing Maya to let her wash up after breakfast.

Maya looked up from her book. "Well..."

"I better head back."

Maya stood immediately, laying her book face down on the sofa. "I'll grab my coat."

"Your coat?" Carina frowned, stopping before she reached the stairs.

"I'm walking you."

"...You don't have to."

"I know."

"You've already decided, haven't you?"

Maya shrugged, "maybe."

"You'll have to deal with the sandals though..."

Maya rolled her eyes and held out the red coat for Carina. "I can deal with the sandals."

Coats on, the lighthouse padlocked, they set off... in an easterly direction.

For the first few minutes, neither of them spoke.

The path was still damp from the storm, the earth soft beneath their feet, puddles filling the shallow dips between the rocks. The air smelled different now. Cleaner somehow. Washed of the salt and rain that had hung so heavily around the lighthouse the day before.

Steadily the lighthouse grew smaller behind them.

Carina glanced back once.

Then again.

She wasn't sure why.

Maybe because it was strange to think that only the day before she'd been trapped there, convinced she'd stumbled into the home of the most terrifying woman in Maine.

Now the sight of it disappearing behind them made something uncomfortable twist beneath her ribs.

Maya walked beside her with her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat, occasionally glancing towards the sea.

Their shoulders brushed once.

Neither moved away.

A few minutes later, Maya stopped.

She pulled the binoculars from around her neck and lifted them to her eyes, scanning the water.

Carina waited beside her, watching the concentration settle over her face.

Then Maya lowered the binoculars and handed them over.

Carina took them carefully, following the direction Maya had indicated.

A dark shape broke the surface.

Then another.

And another.

Dolphins.

They moved through the water in smooth, effortless arcs, disappearing beneath the waves before reappearing further along the coast.

Carina watched until they were gone.

When she lowered the binoculars, Maya was already walking again.

Carina hurried to catch up.

The path narrowed as they moved further inland, winding between low bushes and patches of grass still heavily dewed with rain.

Every now and then Maya pointed something out.

A cluster of seabirds gathered along the rocks.

A seal's head bobbing in the distance.

The remains of an old stone wall half-swallowed by the landscape.

Carina found herself watching Maya more than the things she was showing her.

There was something different about her outside the lighthouse.

Lighter.

She moved through the landscape like she belonged to it.

Like every rock, path and stretch of water was familiar.

At one point, Maya veered away from the main trail.

Carina followed without question.

The detour led them towards a sheltered section of the coastline where a colony of puffins had gathered among the rocks.

Carina watched them with an expression of pure delight.

Maya stood a few paces away, pretending not to notice.

But she did.

She noticed the way Carina smiled.

The way the wind caught loose strands of her hair.

The way she kept looking back towards the birds as though committing them to memory.

Eventually, they continued.

Maya pointed out a narrow stretch of land that would cut almost four miles from the journey, although it was only passable when the tide was low, and the sea calm.

Carina listened carefully, committing the route to memory, even though she wasn't sure she'd ever need it.

They walked on.

The sun climbed higher.

Their shadows stretched across the path beside them, sometimes overlapping, sometimes separating.

Their shoulders brushed again.

And again.

Neither acknowledged it.

In no time the white walls of her airbnb came into view.

Carina saw it first.

She felt something sink in her chest.

Maya saw it a few seconds later.

Her pace slowed almost imperceptibly.

Neither of them said anything.

They simply kept walking.

The distance between them, and the little white house disappeared one step at a time.

And with every step, the quiet became heavier.

Neither of them wanted to name what was waiting for them at the blue door.

Neither of them wanted the walk to end.

Carina couldn't help the sigh as she reached the front door.

Then she stopped.

Her hand hovered over the lock.

A sudden wave of panic washed over her.

The keys.

She’d locked them in the lock-box by the front door when she’d left on her walk, not wanting to risk losing them. She’d committed the code to memory, but time had passed since then, much more than she could have anticipated and it had fled her mind completely. She scrambled for her neatly folded shorts, fishing her phone out of the pocket pressing the on button desperately hoping that some miracle would happen and it would turn on. Unfortunately between the rain and the length of time she’d been at Maya’s it was dead.

And she was locked out of her Airbnb.

“Everything okay?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Carina replied, turning back to the lock-box, flipping it open.
She stared at the numbers. She only needed four. How hard could it be?

“Are you sure?” Maya asked after Carina had spun each of the number dials a few times to no fruition.

Carina sagged, tipping her head against the white washed wall as she closed her eyes.

“Carina?”

"I put the key in the lock-box before I left and memorised the number just in case." The words began tumbling out before she could stop them. "But so much time has passed that I’ve completely forgotten it and I can’t turn my phone on, it stopped working in the storm but now it’s probably dead to because I didn’t charge it and I’m locked out and I’m so sorry, Maya, and it’s-”

Tears welled in her eyes.

“Let me try,” Maya’s voice was calm.

She stepped forward, gently placing her hands on Carina's waist and guiding her to one side.

Carina blinked.

“It’s okay I just need to-”

Maya studied the dials for barely a second.

Carina watched as Maya turned each of the dials seamlessly. 2…0…1…2…

Click.

The lock-box sprang open.

Carina stared.

The keys she’d left in there revealed.

Maya reached inside, retrieved the keys and held them out.

"Here."

Carina looked at the keys.

Then at Maya.

Then back at the keys.

"How did you...?"

Maya's mouth twitched.

"Did you think it was a coincidence that I knew exactly how to get to the Airbnb?"

Carina blinked.

Slowly, realization spread across her face.

"You..."

Her mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

"You're M. Bishop?"

Maya nodded.

"You're the person I've been messaging on Airbnb?"

Another nod.

Carina stared at her.

"You recommended-"

She stopped.

Her eyes widened further.

"You recommended the lobster place in town."

Maya shrugged.

"Yes."

"And the walking trail."

"Yes."

"And you told me the best time to see the puffins."

“Mmm-hmm.”

Carina looked genuinely scandalised.

"You've been my host this entire time?"

Maya's expression softened.

"You clearly didn't look too closely at the name on the medal."

Carina glanced back towards Maya's lighthouse, somewhere in the distance, beyond the path they'd just walked.

Then back at the cottage.

"But... this is your Airbnb?"

Carina stared at her.

Maya sighed softly.

“This is the lighthouse keeper’s cottage. It came with the lighthouse. They’re usually closer, but the original cottage crumbled into the sea in the 1920s so they built it on more stable ground,” she glanced at the white walls around them. “I bought the cottage too… eventually. The old lighthouse keeper lived in it for about a year before he was ready to sell up.”

Carina was still staring.

“I was meant to move in here permanently, but…” she glanced in the direction of the lighthouse. “It felt weird to leave Daphne on her own.”

Carina smiled.

That made complete sense now she knew Maya.

“So I stayed there. I like to be right there if something unexpected happens. This place sat for a while before I decided some passive income would be handy. So I fixed her up and put her on airbnb and here we are. The Lighthouse Keeper’s Cottage.”

"And then I booked it."

"Yes."

"And you knew."

Carina's eyes narrowed.

"You knew my name."

"I saw the booking."

"You knew who I was."

"Technically."

Carina stared at her for another second before shaking her head.

"Oh my God. I can't believe-"

Maya's expression softened.

"Sorry I didn't tell you."

Carina shook her head.

"You didn't need to."

She looked down at the keys Maya was still holding.

"Everything just makes even more sense now."

Maya finally held them out again.

"Here. The code is 2012."

Carina took the key from her.

A tiny lighthouse dangled from the ring.

"The year you won gold."

Maya nodded.

"The year I won gold."

Carina looked down at the key in her palm.

Then back at Maya.

"I'll just... change," she said after a moment, gesturing over her shoulder towards the cottage.

"What?"

"My- your clothes." Carina glanced down at the jumper she was still wearing. "You need them back."

Maya looked at her for a moment.

"Just bring them next time."

Carina blinked.

"Next time?"

Maya glanced over her shoulder at the lighthouse in the distance.

"You still haven't seen Daphne."

Carina’s expressions immediately softened.

"But- really?"

"Really."

A smile slowly spread across Carina's face.

"I'd love that."

Maya gave a curt nod, suddenly very interested in her boots.

"Good."

Neither of them moved.

Completely still.

Eyes locked on one another.

Eventually Carina let out a soft laugh.

"I think this is where people hug."

"I don't."

"...Right."

Still, Maya stepped forward, and wrapped her arms tightly around Carina. "Thank you," she whispered, her face pressed into the woolen sweater.

Carina didn't pull back. Didn't reply. Just held on tightly.

The blonde moved first. Reluctant and a little awkward, like a fledgling puffin on a rocky cliff face.

"Can I kiss you?"

Carina's eyebrows lifted, her mouth curling into a smirk.

"Yesterday I wasn't worth the paperwork and today you want to kiss me?"

"Can I?"

Carina’s smirk fell into a soft smile. She scanned Maya’s face for a moment. "You don't need to ask, Bambina."

Carina moved closer.

Slowly.

Giving Maya every opportunity to change her mind.

She reached up carefully, brushing a loose strand of blonde hair behind Maya's ear.

Her thumb brushed gently across Maya's cheek.

Another heartbeat passed between them.

The sea rushed gently against the rocks somewhere beyond.

A gull cried overhead.

Everything else seemed to fall away.

Carina searched Maya's face one last time.

When Maya didn't move back-

Didn't even blink-

She closed the final inches.

The kiss was impossibly gentle.

Just the lightest brush of warm lips against hers.

Tentative.

Questioning.

Like Carina was asking one last time if this was okay.

Maya answered without words.

Her fingers found the front of Carina's sweater, clutching the soft wool almost shyly as she leaned in.

The second kiss lasted longer.

Slow enough that Maya forgot where she was.

Forgot about the lighthouse.

About the sea.

About routines and checklists and storms.

There was only the warmth of Carina's hands, the scent of honey lingering between them, and the dizzying realisation, that kissing someone could feel like coming home.

When they finally drifted apart, neither of them moved very far.

Carina's forehead rested lightly against Maya's.

"Don't be a stranger," she breathed.

"I don't plan on it,” Maya stepped back gently. “Feel free to come and intrude again."

"I will."

Carina's smile almost made her knees buckle.

"Bye Carina.”

"See you later, lighthouse keeper."