Across the black water, the old lighthouse blinked twice. Then it went dark. Mara stood on the dock and stared. That light had no business working. The town said no one had unlocked the lighthouse door in over forty years, and no one had climbed up to light the lamp. Yet there it was, flashing. Mara grabbed her flashlight and her coat. She had to know who, or what, was up there.

Instead of rushing out, Mara went to the town library, which kept a key to the lighthouse in a glass case. She wanted to do this right. But when she got there, the case was smashed and the key was gone. Someone had beaten her to it.

Mara found a note left in the broken case. It read: 'Sorry. I needed it more than the town did. Come find me if you want the truth. Look up.' She looked out the window. The lighthouse flashed twice, like a wink. So she rowed straight out and climbed the stairs to face whoever was up there.

At the top of the stairs a quiet old woman waited beside a glowing lamp. 'I'm the keeper's widow,' she said. 'I took the key because the town forgot us. I just wanted one person to remember the light is still kept.' Mara sat with her until dawn, and promised the town would remember now.