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The Light House Jason Luke 53520K 2023-08-29

Prologue

The sun spilled the last of its light in a riot of color that glinted across the tops of the waves, as the far-off headland began to distill into the haze of a s on the currents of the wind, its cry like a lost and lonely lareen wave rolled relentlessly towards the rocky shoreline – and at that very instant, Connie Dixon took the photo

The surf detonated around the bleak stark rocks, a sound like thunder that seeround beneath her feet She lifted her face to the heavens as the mist of spray fell pure and soft like pearly rain

Connie closed her eyes and gave herself over to the vast grandeur of nature – the roar of the surf and the whip of the wind through her hair, as though this isolated piece of Maine coastline could cleanse her troubled soul – wash away the doubts and uncertainties of a life that had becoled She felt the cold slap of the breeze and the undulating tug of it like claws at her clothes She filled her lungs with the crisp sea air and felt the grime and desperation of the city shed from her like a dark heavy coat

She was shivering – the air was cold and da Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling For avastness of the ele to that sensation – tried to capture it and immerse herself in the thrill of ti out in the ocean, lued towards the shallowing shore and reared its foa head majestically A bluster of wind clawed spume off the crest, and then the wave burst across the rocks belohere she stood in an aweso power

Connie cupped her hands around the caes She sto a memory The shoreline seemed to hiss and heave as the sea pounded upon it relentlessly The last sprinkles of sunset finally drained froull wheeled away and was lost in the mist She peered over the face of the cliff, saw the white surf boiling like lava between the craggy jaws of the black rocks, and then shuffled back fro wind threatened to sway her off her feet

Connie stood on the lonely promontory until darkness crept across the land and the ocean beca sound She drew a final deep breath of the fresh salt air, hugged herself about the shoulders, then turned her back and walked regretfully from the cliff towards where the rental car was parked

The trail y shore, past a withered wooden bench bleached to the color of anguish and a tin sign, rusted and pitted Connie felt her steps beco lot staring up at the first evening stars, and then slid in behind the wheel of the car The sudden silence was deafening

There was a filine but– and then suddenly she began to cry

She ith self-pity and despair She wept for the suffocation her life had beco like drops of dew to her eyelashes She heard herself sobbing She hunched her shoulders and cupped her hands to her face until herHer hands clenched into tiny fists and she sla wheel in frustration

“Damn him!” she hissed

It was all too much – and she had let it happen

She heard the soft chie to immediately snatch it up She kneho it was It was always Duncan

When she slid the phone froers of dread seemed to wrap themselves around her, so that she felt the clutch of thees, and shut doithout replying Her hands were tre with a kind of reckless defiance

Even here – ten hours froive her peace His reach was beyond physical; it was an e round her neck like athe man ever did ithout point or purpose Duncan doht, like she was his property

And she conceded that she was

She had tried to break away from him in the past, but the man’s control was like the intricate web of lies and pro had seerip was proprietorial – like a shadowy debt that hung over her, wilting her, weakening her until meek compliance seemed the only way

Duncan Cartwright was a bastard

He was affluent and influent – the man who had inherited one of New York’s oldest andfather, and built the business through ruthless acquisition of works by the world’s , debonairsmile But behind the mannered, cultivated exterior, his eyes held a secret erous as a dagger in the dark shadows

Connie had been a thirty-year-old woman from the Midhen she had left a futile life behind in Kansas to chase her drea Apple armed with little ree and a desperate ambition to paint Duncan had discovered her at a don studio, and set about winning her with the same drive and ruthless deters he had adorned his flamboyant life with

He was strikingly good-looking, tall and sli white s allure of a cobra, and Connie had been bewitched She recalled the day he had first visited her in her little apart of that memory

He had co at her easel and he had spoken to her with a passion for her work that had swept her off her feet It was a powerful performance: he drifted across the floor of her studio with the sun behind hiod as he talked about her future – and she could not take her eyes from him Then, when he paused to e nificant shift behind thewith fervent enthusiaslowed close to hers He was close enough to kiss, so that she had felt her breath seize in her throat with a giddy excite and reckless He had seen her eyes groide and sole that she had felt stir deep within her, and he knew then that he had her

He had promised to support her career He had pr

omised exhibitions and the chance to be fanition – and then he had taken her easily to his bed

It had been a time in Connie’s life of illicit passion and wild exciteave herself willingly to him in return It had been a careless interlude that had quickly tarnished with regret

In the four years since, her dream had died, stolen from her by Duncan’s ruthless need to have her – to own her co debt as he continued to support her until she realized, too late, that he had bought her, body and soul

She began to work for the gallery, selling the art of other artists during the day, and surrendering herself to Duncan on his whi her back – always leallery the year before, but he had dragged her back, menaced her with threats to ruin her and have herhome

“You owe er into her face, his features twisted into a grotesque snarl when she had returned chastened to hi for her elderlyI have done for you”