A Starman story
By: Yvette Jessen
© 2001, an amateur publication and not intended to infringe on any previously held copyrights.
Part 1
The beach was full, vacationers from all over swarmed to the small coastal town of Harrisburg, Maine and Amos Thomson watched as children played in the sand. From the dunes, he could see them building sand castles, and collecting seashells. He often wondered how it was that so many people came there. This was never a really touristy area, like the beaches on down the coast, but within the past three years, the small town had built three hotels, and a new public campground. Amos often wondered why it was that the people came, and often he missed the solitude he used to have before everything was built up around him.
He pulled a small packet from his pocket and a pipe. He continued to watch the people from the dunes as packed some tobacco in the pipe, closed the packet and returned it to his pocket.
As he lit his pipe, he noticed a slight shift in the wind. When it became stronger, and ruffled his beard, he nodded his head. Something was about to happen, he could feel it deep inside, and although he had no education to back up his guesses, the few people who listened couldn't deny the accuracy of his assertions. Of course, most wouldn't have been bothered by the ideas of an old man.
The wind continued to get stronger, though, and he knew the best thing to do was to return to his small house in the dunes and prepare for the worst. The weather would change, it always did. His gaze fell on the lighthouse in the distance, this was where his longtime friend, Cal Harris lived and worked. Both men had served in the Korean War as Naval Seamen, and the acquaintances of theirs would always confirm that their past experiences probably explained why both Cal and Amos knew what would eventually happen with the weather.
The younger men, however, considered both of them to be lonely old men, and tended to avoid them. Amos believed that many of the younger men probably didn't know this feeling of a longtime friendship. This friendship with Cal was in his opinion, a gift, and he considered himself to be extremely lucky.
As the smoke from his pipe swirled above his head, he looked down at the shoreline. The people were still frolicking around, but he could see the graying clouds in the distance over the sea and seeing this, tended to worry him. He knew that since the people rarely listened to him, the weather would change and they'd become frantic trying to get out of the area.
He walked over the dunes until he reached the more open area of beach. He could feel the sand in his shoes as he continued to make his way, his sandals clomping as he walked. Children would stop playing and look up at him, staring at his strange clothing, and the captain's hat he wore on his head. Once he passed them, they'd whisper among themselves, and return to their activities.
After some seconds passed, he stopped and looked down. His eyes fell on those of a little girl who had started following him. She looked to be about 6 or 7 years old, and was now standing some two or three feet from him, her eyes regarding him curiously. There was an expression of wonder and innocence in her face that brought a smile to his lips.
He bent down and picked up the small seashell that was lying at his feet. He dusted the object off and extended it to her, still smiling. The skin around his eyes wrinkled as his smile broadened, and the little girl reached her hand out towards him.
"Are you Sanna Claus?" she asked, her voice small, "you have a gray, fluffy beard like him." The little girl held the shell tightly in her hand.
Amos began to chuckle, "No, my name is Amos."
The little girl's expression suddenly changed, and she looked up at him. "Why are you giving me presents if you aren't Sanna?"
Amos patted the girl's shoulder, but sighed deeply. It seemed as though now a days parents taught their kids not to trust others. He remembered when he was younger, and how it was safer for children to talk to people. He loved children more than anything and would never harm them, but parents didn't know that and his appearance tended to intimidate them.
He smiled down at the small child who was still holding the seashell. "If you don't want to keep the shell, you don't have to, there are 100's more lying around, and if you listen carefully, each one has a story to tell."
The little girl looked up at him, "really?" She had an awed expression on her face, as she waited anxiously for his answer.
But she never got it, before he could answer; a woman rushed up to them and grabbed the hand of the child. "Susan, I've been looking all over the beach for you. You've got to stop running off."
Without even a word to Amos, the mother led the child away. "I'm sorry, Mommy," the child was saying, as the seashell he had given to her slipped from her fingers and fell on the sand not far from where he was standing.
He approached the shell, picked it up, and dropped it in his pocket. Once that was done, he looked up, the sky was getting grayer, and he needed to get home and prepare for the storm. He banged the pipe against the sole of his shoe and once it was clean, he put it in his pocket and made his way back between the dunes towards the small house where he lived.
As soon as he reached the house, he pulled down the shutters that covered the windows and opened the door. As he glanced back, he could see two people making their way towards the seaside, away from the path leading to his front door. The two of them appeared as though they didn't fit in with the normal tourists. Their clothes looked worn, and they were carrying duffel bags, and blankets in their arms.
Apparently, they were on their way to the nearby campgrounds, Amos thought as he stood in the doorway watching them. They're not gonna have any chance to camp out here, he thought to himself, the weather was getting worse by the minute. Shrugging his shoulders, he walked inside and closed the door. If he was going to be ready for the changing weather, he had to start working now.
Inside the small house, Amos sat down on the quilt-covered couch. Most of the quilts in his home had been handmade by his mother. She died some 30 years ago, but most of what she had was now his. His clothing came from second hand stores, and he went barefoot much of the time. Contrary to assertions that most people made about him, he wasn't a bum, but a very neat and orderly person. He drank rarely, but once in a while, he enjoyed having a cold beer while he watched the evening news on television.
He never went to church, but he believed that people should just treat each other well and it hurt him to see people mistreating someone, because they're different. He hated prejudice, and he tried to always treat others like he wanted to be treated.
As he reached inside his pocket for his pipe, his mind returned to Susan. He wondered what it was about this child that stuck in his mind. Was it her large blue gray eyes that regarded him with wonder, or was it the innocence that she seemed to have when speaking to him? Once he stuffed the tobacco into the pipe, he put the end in his mouth, and reached for a book of matches. His mind wandered from Susan to the storm that was brewing outside.
o O o
By this time, Susan and her mother, Sarah, were making their way along the beach in their direction of the car. The sky now looked a murky gray color, and Sarah was rushing through the crowds as the first raindrops fell from the sky. People all around them seemed to be in a hurry, and in their haste, they crowded between Susan and Sarah, separating them. After a few seconds, Susan could no longer see her mother through the sea of people who were rushing to their cars.
A bolt of lightening flashed across the horizon, as Susan looked up, her eyes locked on the frightening sky. "Mommy!" She called out, but she heard no answer through the rain as it began to pour down on her. When she could no longer spot her mother through the rain and people, she became immediately scared as she heard the thunder rumbling above her. She sat down on the sand and began to cry. The other people around barely seemed to notice her; they appeared more concerned with getting to their cars or to the seafront hotel, than to a lost and frightened child.
Minutes passed and soon the beach emptied out. She could see surfers riding the waves out in the water, but all the families were gone, and Susan still couldn't see her mother anywhere. Now the rain was coming down in sheets, making it impossible to see anything from more than three or four feet away. Susan's long brown hair was now plastered against the sides of her face. Wherever her mother was, it was now next to impossible for Susan to see her.
She wrapped her arms around herself as the wind blew, the sand from her hands caking to her arms. The chilly wind blowing against her skin, and she could feel the goose bumps on her arms from the combination of wind and rain. She finally crawled over to the dunes and lay down in between them hoping to get some shelter.
"I'll never run away again," Susan whispered under her breath as tears streamed down her muddy face. A second bolt of lightning lit up the murky sky, followed by thunder. The loudness of the thunder frightened her, and she clamped her eyes shut, her crying becoming louder.
A pair of hands came to rest on her shoulders, "shhh, it's OK. Everything's going to be fine." A man sat down in the sand and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?" he asked her, his gentle voice causing her to open her eyes.
She looked up and gazed into the soft blue eyes of a dark headed man. Rather than answer his question, she began to cry once again, her voice breaking the sounds of the falling rain. "I want my mommy!"
"Dad, she's lost," a second voice and she turned her head and could see a teenage boy standing near the man, two duffel bags hanging from his arms.
Paul Forrester nodded, "don't be afraid, Little One. Once the rain stops, we'll help you find your mother."
"But, I'm not supposed to go with strangers," she objected, her eyes wide.
Paul nodded, but before he could offer any words of support to the small girl, another bolt of lightening once again lit up the sky and she fell into his arms, her face buried against his shoulder in an attempt to block out the furious storm, which was going on around them.
"She's afraid of the storm,“ the teenager remarked noticing his father's puzzled expression.
"Can you carry the bags, Scott?" Paul asked handing his son the camera bag he had slung over his shoulder.
Scott nodded and accepted the bag his father offered.
Paul stood up and once on his feet, he picked the girl up in his arms. "We have to find some shelter from the weather. She's freezing cold, and if we don't get her warm soon, she'll get sick."
Scott nodded, "Yeah. I saw a small house back there between the dunes, maybe we can go there and ask the people who live there to help us."
"Lead the way,“ was all Paul said.
Scott walked ahead, but turned back around to face his father, "what about her mother?"
"We'd never find her in this storm, Scott, and it's too dangerous for her to be out here,“ Paul answered. He looked down at the muddy face of the small girl. "What's your name?"
"Susan," she answered.
"I'm Paul, and this is my son, Scott. We're going to find some shelter, and once the storm ends, we'll try to find your mother,“ Paul said softly. "Don't be afraid."
Susan nodded, and sneezed. "I'm cold,“ she complained.
Paul quickened his step, "we need to hurry."
Scott began to move faster, and once they reached the house, he looked around. "There must be someone here, when we passed earlier the windows were open." He approached the door and knocked.
Seconds later, the door swung open and Scott was looking into the gray eyes of an old man. Once the eyes of the man fell on Paul and Susan, he backed away from the doorway and motioned for them to come inside.
Susan had started sneezing again, and the man spoke, "lay her on the sofa and wrap the quilt around her. She'll catch her death if she isn't warmed immediately."
Paul did as the man instructed, and Scott carried their belongings inside.
Once the door was closed, the man approached the small girl and rested his hand against her forehead. His eyes came to rest on Paul and Scott after a few seconds. "I think she's going to be all right, but because of the weather, she's got a slight fever."
Paul sighed with relief and extended his hand to the man. "Thank you. I don't know what we would have done if we hadn't have found you at home."
"Amos Thomson," the man extended his hand to Paul and smiled.
"Paul Forrester, that's my son, Scott. The little girl is Susan,“ Paul answered.
"I know, I met her earlier today,“ Amos said softly and rubbed his bearded chin. He looked down at Susan. "How did you get separated from your mother?"
"It wasn't my fault, there were so many people there, and when I looked up, she was gone, and it started to rain,“ Susan said softly. "I'm scared."
"Don't worry, Sweetheart, you have nothing to be afraid of,“ Amos said as he sat down. "Why don't you boys get something dry on? The bathroom is down the hall, on the left side."
Paul and Scott nodded and went to change clothes. Amos stayed next to Susan and she looked up at him, his wide blue eyes regarding him curiously.
"Why don't I make you something to eat? Are you hungry?" Amos asked gently.
She nodded as he stood up. "What about my mommy?"
"We'll help you find her, I'll radio my friend Cal, and ask him to keep his eyes out for her when the storm dies down a bit. How's that?" Amos offered gently as Scott came out into the living room of his small beach house. "Why don't you help me in the kitchen, Son?"
"Yeah, sure,“ Scott said and followed him.
Once they were in his small kitchen, Amos looked at him, "You and your dad visiting these parts?"
"Not really, we're just passing through," Scott said.
"You happened by at just the right time,“ Amos commented. "Not too many people would have stopped to help that little girl."
"Yeah, well, my dad tries to help people as much as he can, Mr. Thomson," Scott said, with pride in his voice, as Amos opened the cabinet and pulled some bowls out.
"Call me, Amos, I gave up that whole formality thing after the war," he said.
"You were in the war?"
"Yeah, I was in the Navel Reserves back in '58 during the Korean War," he said. "When that ended, I came out here to live. I could never drag myself away from the coast, though."
"I bet you have a lot of really interesting stories to tell, huh?" Scott said.
"Well, I'm pretty old, so I suppose I do have lots of stories to tell, but whether or not they're interesting remains to be seen," Amos said as he grabbed a can of noodle soup and began to open it using a pocket knife which he had pulled from his pocket.
"You open soup the same way I do," Scott said as he watched Amos pour the soup into a pan and set it on a hot plate.
"I never could get into those modern day gadgets," he said smiling, and when he did, Scott could see he had a capped gold tooth. "Anyway, as I was going to say, there aren't a lot of folks around here who would ever want to hear anything I have to say, so I was left to think that maybe I was uninteresting." His voice was warm, but Scott detected a trace of sadness in it.
"I think you're interesting," he offered.
Amos smiled again, but instead of replying to what Scott had said, he changed the subject completely. "So what about you, where're you from?"
"I was born in Madison," Scott said.
"Ah, Inland, huh?" Amos asked with a chuckle. "So I take it, you and your daddy are city folk. You probably couldn't even navigate without a map or a compass."
"Actually my dad can navigate using the stars," Scott said. "He's been trying to teach me."
"And how you doing with it?" he asked.
"OK, I guess, but it's kinda hard sometimes since all the stars look the same and I'm also trying to learn their names."
Amos continued to chuckle. "An Astronomy buff, too?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Scott replied smiling.
"I hope you're not offended by what I said. A lot of young folks don't really think about things like that to the extent that you do," he said.
Scott laughed, "I'm not, actually I grew up near the water, out in Seattle."
"Ah, yes, Seattle, where it rains like this almost daily," Amos said. "I was out there once, but that was about 20 years ago. My friend Cal asked me to go out there with him for about a week, and we spent the whole time fishing."
"My dad and I fish a lot, too," Scott said.
"You seem to know your way around the outdoors, navigating with the stars, opening soup with a pocket knife, and fishing. You fellas live on the road, don't you?" Amos asked as the soup began to boil, he reached for the handle of the pot, poured it into a bowl, and sat it on the counter.
Scott nodded, "yeah, we're trying to find my mom. My dad is a photographer and he has to find work where he can get it."
Amos nodded, "I see. Well I guess I'd better get this soup to the little lady." He walked out of the kitchen and Scott followed.
o O o
Paul had come out into the living room by this time and was sitting in a chair near where Susan was lying. She was weeping softly and had started to shiver from the cold. He moved over to the sofa and picked her up and sat her in his lap, all the while making sure that the afghan was wrapped snugly around her small body.
He looked up to see Amos and Scott coming out of the kitchen.
"How's she doing, Dad?" Scott asked.
"She's very cold," Paul said, the concern evident in his voice.
Amos sat the bowl of soup on the small coffee table and sat down next to Paul. "Here, let's see if she can hold some soup down." Paul stood up with the girl in his arms and put her in Amos's lap. Once he held her, Paul reached over and retrieved the bowl of soup.
Susan opened her eyes and looked up at the gray eyes of the man who was holding her. "Sanna?"
Scott smiled weakly as the small child recognized Amos to be Santa Claus. Maybe in this particular situation, there was something about him that could resemble that part of the small child's fantasy.
Amos smiled weakly, but instead of negating her question, he eventually nodded and took the soup away from Paul and fed her some of it. Once she had enough, he handed the bowl back to Paul and stood up with her in his arms. The small girl was tired and was almost instantly asleep when he laid her back on the sofa. With his hands, he motioned for Paul and Scott to follow him back into the kitchen.
"You really are like Santa Claus," Scott said once they were back in the small kitchen.
Amos chuckled, "I've heard that from children, but not from teenagers."
Scott blushed slightly and after a second his expression became serious. "Dad, what are we gonna do? It looks like a hurricane is blowing through."
Paul shook his head.
"Listen, you boys weren't planning on camping out there, were you? You'd drown in this weather, besides, by tomorrow night, it'll be gone,“ Amos said confidently. "You can stay here until it blows over. I don't have a lot of room, but it's better than sleeping outside."
"Thank you," Paul said softly.
"It's nothing," came Amos's reply, as he pulled his pipe from his pocket. "Unfortunately, we won't be able to contact Cal until this storm blows over. I have an amateur Radio operator's license and use the radio here. Cal and I are usually in touch with each other during weather problems. He lives out at the lighthouse. You probably saw it when you were on the beach."
"Yes, we did see the lighthouse," Paul answered, but his son's interest was more or less on the large radio which was sitting on the kitchen counter.
"You mean you can talk to people using that thing?" Scott asked.
"Sure can."
"Can you show me how it works?" Scott asked.
"When I use it to contact Cal, I'll show you how it works. That's why there's such a large antennae on my roof. I use it to talk to people from all over the place. I've been doing this since I was about your father's age,“ Amos said.
"That's wild. I mean I used to watch trucker movies, and how they would use them to talk about cops and stuff. Is it like that?" Scott asked.
Paul looked at his son strangely and got the 'I'll explain later' look.
"Something like that, but the frequencies are much stronger here,“ Amos explained. "I do remember those films too. Cal is a big fan of them."
"Cal is really a special person to you, isn't he?" Paul asked.
"Yeah, he and I were in Korea together, and are like brothers," he said. "We've been through thick and thin together."
o O o
Cal Harris sat at the top of the lighthouse. He had finally managed to get the light to stay on and had signaled the last of the fishing boats he had seen in the area. This storm had come up rather suddenly, and even his predictions about it didn't make up for what had happened that afternoon. Now the sky was a murky gray color. Even these young people who didn't believe things unless they were stuck in their faces, weren't to blame for this one. He hadn't seen anything come up this suddenly since that typhoon he and Amos lived through in Korea.
He directed the light towards the beach to see if there was anyone caught out in the storm. When he saw movement, he grabbed his jacket and put it on. There was someone out there and it wasn't one of those crazy surfers who tended to come out of the woodwork when there was a hurricane in the area. Sure the waves were bigger, but did those crazy kids have to sacrifice life and limb for the sport?
As he took the stairs down to the ground, he grabbed a rubber rain jacket and a matching hat. An umbrella in this weather would not only be dangerous with the lightening, but also pointless with the wind that was blowing pretty strong.
He came out of the lighthouse to feel the rain against his face and within seconds, his graying beard was completely wet. As he left the area around the lighthouse, he reached into his pocket and retrieved a waterproof battery powered flashlight. When he eventually arrived at the place where the public beach started, he could see the person better who he had spotted from the top of the lighthouse. It was a young woman, but what was she doing out here in this weather?
"Susan!" The woman was screaming at the top of her lungs. The expression on her face was absolute horror, and as he came closer to her, he could see the desperation in her eyes. But he also knew that she would never find who she was looking for out here, it was getting darker every minute, the visibility was getting worse by the second, and the rain was falling in sheets.
Cal ran up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her to nearly leap out of her skin. "It's OK, I won't hurt you, but you're not going to find anyone out here, Miss. The weather is too dangerous, and it's getting worse, I should get you inside."
"No, my daughter's out there, she's just a baby," the woman objected. "I can't leave her alone out here." She moved away from him and broke contact with him as he attempted to console her. She wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to get warm, but he could see that she was already shivering in her rain-soaked jacket.
"Listen to me, if you don't get inside, and get warm, you'll probably catch pneumonia out here. Come with me, it's OK. I'll take you to the lighthouse and once the weather gets a little better, we can radio my friend, Amos about her," he said gently.
"You're the lighthouse keeper?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Could you see my daughter from up there?" she asked.
"No, the only person I could see from up there was you, and that wasn't so good. From so high up, I can't see children at all. I promise, we can get word out about her," he said as she sneezed loudly and he reached out and grabbed her hand firmly in his own. "You see? If we don't get you somewhere where it's dry, in a hurry, you'll catch your death." He led her from the beach and back towards the lighthouse.
As they walked, she managed to wrap her free arm around herself. She knew that this strange old man was not going to let her go to continue looking for her daughter alone, but at the same time, she had a strange feeling that she could trust him. She hoped so anyway, because putting her trust in strangers was not something she had been taught to do.
She sighed sadly, this time, it wasn't Susan that had run off, but it was her own stress and nerves that made her lose her daughter. She felt absolutely terrible, and on top of everything, she blamed herself for having gotten angry with her daughter earlier that afternoon about straying off.
"Here we are," Cal said to her once they reached the door that would lead inside the lighthouse. "Come inside, I have some blankets here and we can radio Amos as soon as the storm dies down a little. With this wind, the radio may not work."
She nodded and followed him inside.
"What's your name?" he asked after the door was closed and they were safely inside. "I'm Cal."
"Sarah," was all she said as she sat down on his sofa and he wrapped a blanket around her.
"I don't usually have guests here, so if you need something, let me know," he said gently as he began to take his raincoat off and removed the hat.
It was then that she got her first look at the man standing before her. He looked similar to the old man her daughter had been talking to back on the beach, tall, slightly overweight, gray beard, and he had sympathetic and wise looking eyes.
"You look familiar to me," she finally said softly.
"You must have seen my friend Amos on the beach, then. We're often being mixed up by people," Cal said.
"What do you want with me?" she asked.
"Nothing, except maybe to help you," he said gently. "The way you were going about finding your daughter, you'd never have found her. I think you know that."
Sarah nodded numbly, and leaned back against the cushions of his sofa.
"I have to do some more work, but I think you need to get some rest. Why don't you take your shoes off, and stretch out?" Cal asked as he stood up. "I'll leave you alone Sarah." He left the room.
She sat up and waited until she couldn't see the light anymore from the flashlight he was using to make his way up the stairs of the lighthouse. Once she was sure he could no longer see what she was doing, she crawled off the sofa and walked towards the hallway that she had earlier entered. I'm not going to find my daughter here, she thought to herself and walked out of the room, down the hall and opened the door that would lead her outside.
It was still raining hard when she stepped outside, and the wind was blowing stronger than it usually did. But, she didn't care; it was far better for her to find her daughter than to worry needlessly about having the sniffles.
She ran as quickly as she could against the wind and made her way back up the beach. Please God, she prayed, let Susan be OK. She continued up the coast until she couldn't walk anymore. At that moment, she sank to her knees and collapsed on the wet sand, not far from the lighthouse. Her tears were streaming down her face as fatigue overcame her and she passed out.
o O o
The storm continued well into the night. Amos had given Paul and Scott his room and had settled himself in the living room in case Susan needed him. He left the small child on the sofa and unfolded an old blanket and lay down on the floor. Once he had removed his sandals, he laid down flat on his back, and closed his eyes.
Paul and Scott were still awake at this time. "Do you think the storm will pass over like Amos said?" Scott asked his father.
"I hope so. Fox wasn't too far behind us, but maybe the weather will hold him off a little so we can get out of here tomorrow,“ he answered referring to the Federal Security Agency Agent that had been chasing them since Paul had returned to Earth some two years ago. He tried to block these thoughts out of his mind, by looking around the room, and seeing many old photographs.
Scott followed the gaze of his father, "Amos wasn't kidding, he seems to have had a lot of adventures in his life. I can't help but relate to him. I mean I almost feel a sense of kinship with him when we were talking, that I haven't felt with very many of people we've met."
Paul nodded, "I somehow sensed that about him when he opened the door this afternoon."
"It's funny, but I get the impression that a lot of people think he's somewhat eccentric," Scott said.
"What does that mean?" Paul looked at his son.
"It means basically odd, or different."
"You mean like us?" Paul asked, his smile matching his question.
"I don't know," Scott said honestly. "I was thinking more or less how wise he sounds, and how he trusts people. I mean, he let us into his home, and didn't know us. I don't know how much trust I would have in strangers."
"Why is it that people shouldn't trust each other?" Paul asked.
"Well, you've been back here for two years, Dad. You've seen how people can mistreat each other. Don't you ever wonder why it is that people don't want to trust you, when they don't know you? I guess, it's like when Susan said that she wasn't supposed to talk to strangers when you tried to help her." He shrugged his shoulders. "I guess when Amos was younger, the element of trust was more dominant in the way people behaved towards one another, but today, because there's so much bad stuff happening in the world, people don't want to trust strangers because they don't want to become another crime statistic," Scott said.
Paul shook his head sadly. "I guess that would explain Susan’s reaction to me. She was afraid that I would hurt her."
"Yeah, and I guess for people like Amos, it's even harder because he's seen how the world used to be and how it has changed. So, now he can compare how it is now to how it was before, and I guess he's a bit disillusioned by what he has found," Scott said.
Paul nodded, "but isn't it sometimes better to listen to one's inner voice about people? I mean, there are a lot of people who would willingly harm someone else, right?"
"Well, sure, there are a lot of mean spirited people in the world, but I'm only telling you what I know. The world ain't a 'Leave it to Beaver' episode anymore," Scott said.
"'Leave it to Beaver'?"
"Sorry, it was a TV show from the 1950's, and from what I hear, it was a good show, but overly optimistic about things. It was kinda the classic All American family, where the kids were perfect, except for getting into trouble now and again for minor things like overdue library books, and the neighbors would invite them all over for cook-outs and stuff. Anyway, I guess during those times, there was that sense of trust in people, and that's something that doesn't seem to be around anymore these days."
"What's that, the trust?" Paul asked.
Scott nodded.
At that moment, they heard someone tapping on the door and Scott went to open it. Amos stood on the other side. "I don't mean to bother you boys, but the little girl's getting sicker. Her fever is getting worse. I need to get some towels out of the closet."
"What are you going to do?" Paul asked.
"Using cold, wet towels is the only way I can think of to bring down her fever," Amos said rushing towards the closet and grabbing two large towels from the top shelf. "I tried to radio Cal, but I think the wind has knocked my antennae off balance, and won't be able to do anything at least until the lightning stops." He left the room; Paul and Scott followed him to the bathroom. He began to run cold water over the two towels he had found and wrung them out. "You guys can help, come on."
Out in the living room, Susan's face was red and sweaty, and she looked frightened. "Mommy!" she cried desperately.
"Wrap the towels around her legs," Amos said and sat down next to where the small child was lying. "It's OK, Susan," he said soothingly, as Paul and Scott did as he had instructed.
"It's cold," she mumbled as she felt the coolness of the compresses against her skin. She began to move her legs about trying to loosen the towels.
Amos held her arms firmly in his and she eventually relaxed. Almost instinctively, he reached his hand in the breast pocket of his shirt, and pulled the small seashell out of the pocket. "Shall I tell you the story about your seashell?"
Susan stopped thrashing about and looked up at him. "Is it my shell? The one you gave me?"
"The very same," Amos said and laid it in her small hand.
Paul and Scott sat down nearby to listen to the story Amos would be telling.
"One day, this seashell washed up on the coast of China. The people there were very happy to see him, and they brought him to a large parade that signified the New Year. When he heard the firecrackers going off, he became afraid, but his friends said that that was a part of the celebration, and he realized that the noise was to scare off the bad spirits."
"Like ghosts?" Susan asked.
"Yes," Amos said. "The noise was supposed to frighten them away. Anyway, two days later, the shell asked his Chinese friends to throw him back into the ocean and that he wanted to see more places. So they did as he asked, and threw him back. Next he floated east and ended up on the coast of South Africa. Do you know what he learned in Africa?"
"What?" Susan asked.
"He learned about the southern sky," Amos continued. "You know the stars all look different there than they do here. He could see the stars were positioned in a completely different place in the sky than here. He remembered lying on the beach and seeing all the stars floating above him. He finally asked a Monk what kept the stars suspended in the air."
Paul listened intently waiting to hear the answer from the wise old man. He looked at his son, who was also pretty intensely involved in the story the man was telling.
"The Monk said to him that the stars were there to help man find their place in the world. He told the shell that the stars were there to remind mankind about their uniqueness. Do you remember when I told you that each shell has it's own story?"
"Yeah," she said.
"This is the same with each person," Amos looked at Paul. "Right?"
Paul nodded emphatically as he continued to tell the story. "After that the Monk threw him back into the sea and he continued a journey until he reached the coast here and we found him on the beach today."
"Is there more for him to learn?" she asked.
Amos smiled, "yes, just like there's more for you to learn, for me, and for Paul and Scott. But, if you hold this shell tightly, you can tell him your story, and he will take it with him wherever he goes."
Susan smiled weakly as she leaned against Amos's chest and fell asleep. He held her in his arms and Paul could see from where he sat, that Amos had tears in his eyes as she fell asleep in his lap. It appeared as though the crisis had finally passed.
o O o
Cal was still working some hours later, but when the lightening stopped, he was able to take a break and go downstairs and see how Sarah was doing. When he came in and found the room empty, he sighed deeply, and began searching through the rooms to find her. When he didn't find her inside, he reached for his jacket. He knew that she must have left to go search for her daughter, but he couldn't understand why she had done this, when he had told her that he would help her.
He zipped up his jacket and grabbed the flashlight he had carried earlier. As he walked outside and into the rain, he sighed with relief when he saw a few stars peeking through the clouds. It was still raining, but at least to see the stars, he knew that the storm would soon end. At this moment, it was only raining, and the storming it had done earlier, seemed to have stopped. He walked slowly towards the beach, but stopped suddenly when he saw a young woman passed out on the sand.
At least he had found her, but was she still alive? He sat down on the sand and placed his hand against her neck to see if there was a pulse. He sighed with relief when he felt it, but it was weak, and he didn't know what he could do for her. He stood up once again, stooped down to pick her up in his arms and carried her back towards the lighthouse.
Once he reached the door, he managed to open it, and went inside. Once there, he pulled her drenched jacket off and wrapped the now shivering woman in a large towel. He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around he as well. Her face was unusually pale when he looked at her, but what concerned him the most was how cold she felt. He wrapped her in his arms and sat with her trying to provide some of the body-heat she seemed to be lacking. You silly woman, he thought to himself as he rocked her in his arms, why didn't you trust me when I told you I'd help you find your daughter?
Her eyes slowly opened when she became aware of the movement. She tried to move her arms, but couldn't, and when she felt his arms wrapped around her, she began to struggle against his hold. "Let me go!" she cried.
Cal released his hold on her and looked at her, his eyes expressing his hurt, but his words filled with understanding. "How do you feel?"
"I'm cold," she answered honestly and looked at him quizzedly.
"That's pretty normal, I'm afraid, you passed out on the beach. Why didn't you stay here and let me help you?" He asked. "Do you honestly think I would do something to hurt you? You did more to hurt yourself tonight than I could ever do."
Sarah shook her head confused.
"You young people have learned never to trust others, even if a stranger is capable of helping you," he said gently. "I'll call Amos now and see if he's seen your daughter." He stood up and walked towards a large radio that was placed on the table not far from where she was sitting. As he reached the radio, a loud crashing sound was heard from outside and he could see the storm once more coming towards them. The wind was beginning to pick up again. "Oh no," he muttered under his breath.
"What?" She asked when she heard his nervous sounding voice.
"I've got to try to get in touch with Amos right away. I didn't think this was going to happen again, but the wind's picking up again. He'd be safer over here than in that flimsy house of his. This weather will blow his place over like matchsticks," Cal said. He switched on the radio and picked up the receiver. "Amos, you there? Amos?" He sat the link down on the table and sighed deeply when he couldn't hear the familiar voice of his friend on the other end of the radio. He looked at Sarah, "I've got to go upstairs and relay a signal to him. I will trust that you will not leave, Sarah."
Sarah nodded obediently. "I won't."
"I'll be back down in about ten minutes," he said and this time he hurried out of the room as fast as he could run. He could only hope that he would be able to get a message to his friend and get him over there before the fast approaching storm would arrive. As he reached the top of the lighthouse, he managed to redirect a smaller lamp in the direction of the house of his friend.
o O o
Susan was still laying in Amos's arms and Scott was watching outside the front window when he saw a white light from the direction of the beach coming towards the house. "Hey dad, come here, I just saw a strange looking light over there."
Amos looked over at them and when he saw the light, he spoke. "It's a signal from Cal, there's an emergency. Paul, can you take her, I've gotta get to the radio."
Paul nodded and came over to take the now sleeping child out of the arms of the older man.
"Scott, you said you wanted to see how the radio works, come on, now may be your only chance," he left the room quickly and the teenager followed. "Now this is how it works." He turned the radio on, picked up the receiver, and spoke into it. "Cal?"
"Amos, you gotta get outta there, the weather's getting bad..." Thunder could be heard on the other end of the transmission, but then everything went silent and Amos was standing there still holding the receiver.
"What happened?" Scott asked.
Amos turned off the radio and faced the teenager. "I think we better get out of here, it's not safe. Go get your stuff together. We're leaving the house tonight."
"What about Susan, will she be able to handle this?" Scott asked.
"I don't know, but we aren't safe here, none of us are, and Cal knows it,“ Amos said and sighed knowing there wasn't time to explain to the teenager the feelings he and Cal had about the weather, he just looked at Scott and spoke. "Look, you may be thinking that I'm nothing more than just a crazy old man, but Cal and I both got feelings about these things, and we both know that youngsters like yourself may not believe them. Just do me a favor, Scott, try to pacify me and go pack."
Scott was quite surprised at the abruptness of Amos's voice, but after a few seconds, he simply nodded and left the kitchen. Amos turned the kitchen light off and closed the door before going back out into the living room.
Paul had laid Susan back on the couch and had stood up. "Amos, what is it?" he asked when he saw the man come out of the kitchen.
"We have to leave here, Paul. It's not safe to stay in the house," Amos said. "I sent your son to pack."
Paul nodded, "I know. He said so as he came through, that you had told him it was important."
"He went to do it without questioning anything?" Amos asked.
Paul nodded, "of course, because he trusts you."
"Why did he not question it?" Amos asked. "Most young people don't believe it when Cal or I tell them." He grabbed a duffel bag from under the sofa, opened it, and began to fill it with provisions.
"Scott isn't like most young people, Amos. You have a gallery of experiences on the wall in your room that makes you completely believable for him,“ Paul said as Scott walked into the room holding two duffel bags and Paul's camera bag. "You got everything, Scott?" he asked his son once he came out.
"Yeah, Dad, I was thinking, like when we first came here, I can carry all the stuff if you can carry Susan," Scott said, but instead of looking at his father for any sort of affirmation, he looked at Amos and waited for instruction.
Amos closed his bag once he had finished packing it and picked it up and extended it towards Paul. "No, I know how to walk outside during this kind of storm, I'll carry her, it's safer," he said softly. Paul nodded, accepted the bag, and slung it over his shoulder as Amos picked up Susan, blanket and all, and wrapped her in his arms. He smiled down at her innocent face, "I want you to cover your face with your hands, Susan. We're going to see a friend of mine, OK?"
"Like this?" the little girl asked and covered her face in her hands.
"Yes, now don't be scared," he said softly.
"I'm not afraid, but do you still have my seashell?" she asked as he covered her completely in the blanket. Suddenly the small child looked more like an oversized parcel than a little girl.
"Paul, could you put her shell in your pocket for me? It should be on the couch somewhere." Amos asked.
Paul looked around for a few seconds, and when he spotted it, he picked the small object up off the sofa, and put it gently in his pocket. It landed right next to his sphere and he smiled secretly remembering the story Amos had told the little girl that evening about the adventures of the small seashell, which was now in his possession. "I've got it, Amos," he whispered.
"OK, let's go," the old man said and walked towards the door. He grabbed the flashlight off the table next to the door and opened it.
Once they came outside, they could immediately feel the rain falling down on them. Amos led the way, between the dunes and out across the beach. The rain was getting heavier as they stumbled through the darkness in the direction of Cal's lighthouse.
Paul and Scott had a harder time staying on their feet than Amos, and Paul was grateful when he saw the older man a few steps ahead of them, holding onto the child, and managing to ride the winds the way a surfer would ride a really high wave. He was immediately grateful that he and Scott had met Amos when they did because out there in that weather alone wouldn't have been easy for them. Both believed that their new friend would probably be able to keep them out of danger as well as the sphere could.
Paul and Scott continued to follow Amos across the beach and as they began to walk on the soft grass, Amos turned around and shouted towards them. "We're almost there, only a little bit farther to go."
They continued to amble through as the wind began to blow even stronger. Scott could see the light of a ship on the distant water. "They must be nuts to be out on seas like this," he shouted to his father when he saw the ship.
Paul nodded.
Amos heard Scott's words, but as they reached the door that would lead into the safety of the lighthouse, a blitz of lightening streaked across the sky and Amos groaned when it the light suddenly went out and they were suddenly engulfed in darkness, except for the light of the distant ship.
"Cal!" Amos called out, and the door suddenly opened and the man on the opposite side waved them all inside. He held a flashlight in his hand and shined it in their faces as they came inside the entry hallway of the lighthouse. Once the door was closed, he looked at Amos curiously.
"That's Paul and his son Scott," Amos said quickly as he began to unwrap the child he held in his arms. Once Cal saw the child that Amos lovingly held, he looked at his friend curiously. "This is Susan."
"A-ha, so you're the elusive Susan I've heard so much about," Cal said smiling. "I don't know how this happened, but your mom's here and been worried sick about you. She's in the living room."
"My mommy's here?" the child asked, her expression changing and she began to smile.
Cal nodded, "yeah, she was out on the beach during the storm looking for you. I brought her here and was going to ask you if you'd seen her when the transmission got broken."
"Yeah, but what happened with that transmission? I thought my antennae was off balance," Amos offered.
"I'm not so sure. It took a little time to find the frequency again, but once I did, I had seen you coming over from upstairs. Speaking of which, I've got work to do. I gotta find a way to get the light back up before that ship out there runs aground. Amos, can you take care of them? "
Paul looked at his son, "go with Amos, Scott. I'm going to see if I can help Cal."
"You're not going to do what I think you're going to do?" Scott asked hesitantly.
"If I don't have to, I won't, but someone will probably get hurt if I don't do anything. Most people can't navigate disasters like this one, even if the stars were out," Paul said urgently handing Scott Susan's seashell. "Just trust me."
Scott nodded and followed Amos towards the living room.
o O o
"Susan!" Sarah was still wrapped in the blanket when Amos carried her into the room. "I've been so worried about you." She pushed the blanket away from around herself and crawled off the sofa to give her daughter a hug.
"Mommy, I thought you had left without me," Susan cried once Amos had put her back on her feet and she ran over to her mother.
"Oh Darling, I feared the worst," Sarah said and finally her eyes locked with those of Amos Thomson. "Thank you for taking care of my baby."
He nodded without saying anything, instead, Susan looked back over at him from the security of her mothers embrace. "Sanna, I want my seashell."
Amos began to chuckle as Scott came over to give it to the little girl. "Here's your shell, Susan," he said. "Santa asked me and my dad to hold it for you."
The little girl delightfully took the shell from Scott's outstretched hand and showed it to her mother. "Sanna said that this shell will always have a story to tell."
Sarah looked up and her eyes met those of Amos, who smiled slightly. She looked back down into the innocent eyes of her daughter, "and what else did Santa tell you, Susan?"
"He said that we're all unique just like my shell," Susan said proudly and looked at Amos for his affirmation. The man nodded and Scott watched as he wiped a stray tear away.
"Then he's right, Susan, because there's no one else quite like my little princess," Sarah said and looked at Amos. "I remember seeing you on the beach, and how rude I probably appeared to you when you were talking to Susan. I guess I'm not a very trusting person, but I'm really grateful to you for taking care of her tonight."
"She's a very special little girl," Amos said. "She has the ability to make a lonely old man smile even during the strongest of thunderstorms."
o O o
Paul followed Cal up the stairs towards the top of the lighthouse. Once he reached the top, he could see out the window, and could see the fishing boat coming even closer to the rocks lining the shore. "Cal?" he called out once he saw Cal standing next to a large bulb trying to find a way to get it to work.
The man turned around and smiled slightly. "I don't know if there's anything you can do to help me up here, Paul, but I'm glad you're here. We have to find a way to signal that boat, or there's gonna be a disaster."
"What happened to the light that usually signals them?" Paul asked.
"It's completely blown, and the generators are also down. The lightning struck the power cable, so there's no way to get any power going at all," Cal answered. "We don't have much time either, the boat is getting closer to running aground."
"Can't you send out a transmission with your radio?" Paul asked.
"We could try, but the problem is that once anyone picks up the transmission, it might be too late for them to avoid the rocks. That wind is pretty rough out there right now and it's gonna get worse before it gets better, and they may not be able to clear those rocks. Besides, you know what happened when I sent Amos that transmission earlier?"
"Not really, I'm not very knowledgeable in this area."
"The lightning had nearly hit my antenna, but after a little adjusting, I could get the radio back on line. But, by then, like I said, I saw the light from Amos's flashlight coming across the beach, and knew you guys were on your way," Cal said.
Paul nodded and reached into his pocket. He could see the boat edging closer to the rocks and as he looked over at Cal, he knew that they were running short on options. "There's nothing that can be done, then?"
"I think it's safe to say that right now, I'd take any option there is, if it means saving the lives of those people on that ship," Cal said.
Paul pulled the sphere from his pocket, held it in his fist, and looked at Cal, his voice soft, but insistent, "in that case, where should the light be directed?"
Cal looked at him as though he was insane, but for some reason, he simply pointed to the burnt out bulb, "right there where the bulb is."
He opened his hand and Cal could see the metal sphere resting in his palm. Before he could even ask Paul what it was he had intended to do, Paul began to concentrate on the object in his hand. Seconds passed and blue light began to emit from his hand, bathing him in light. Moments passed, and it grew in intensity and brightness. Paul continued to focus all his energy on the sphere and a blue beam of light shot out from the object in the direction of the burnt out bulb Cal had showed him earlier. The large bulb began to radiate first a gentle blue light, but as it grew brighter, Cal could see that the blue was fading and all was left was a bright white light that was extending from the lighthouse towards the boat.
Paul was still concentrating all of his energy on the light that was directing the ship, but the blue light in his hand was beginning to fade somewhat and Cal realized that Paul had not only managed to keep the ship from running aground, but had also repaired the light that was emitting from the lighthouse. The white light became brighter and brighter as Paul continued to focus his energy on the bulb.
Once Cal overcame the initial surprise he had upon seeing the light energy Paul was directing to the bulb, he ran quickly over to the window surrounding the lighthouse to make sure that the ship had recognized how close they had been getting to the land. The ship gave a loud blast to indicate they had received the assistance as well as to assure Cal they would change course. They directed a small beam of light back to the lighthouse as acknowledgment of having received the signal. After a few minutes, he turned around to face Paul again. "The ship is out of danger, Paul. Whatever you just did, thank you."
Paul finally allowed the sphere's light to completely fade and after it returned to it's natural state, Cal walked over to him. "I've seen a lot of things in my day, but what I just saw you do probably is the most amazing thing of all. Who are you and how did you do that?"
Paul smiled at the man, and returned the sphere to his pocket. "I'm just a navigator," was all he said.
"A navigator, huh? Well friend, I'm not one to make a big deal about things I don't understand, but I have a funny feeling you're much more than just a navigator, Paul. I don't know to what extent, but from what I've seen you do, I think you're a pretty miraculous person."
"You're not afraid?"
"No way," Cal said firmly and extended his hand to Paul. "You must have saved at least 20 lives tonight. If I were afraid of someone, it certainly wouldn't be someone who did something heroic like that. I don't know who you are, or where you come from, but at this point in time, you're here now, and that's the most important thing to me."
Paul accepted Cal's outstretched hand, and smiled timidly. "You won't tell anyone about tonight, will you?" he asked, his face somewhat red with embarrassment as he heard what the other man had said about him, but also a trace of fear could be easily detected in his eyes.
Cal shook his head hesitantly, but after a few seconds he eventually nodded, "I'd only tell Amos, and you can trust me when I say something to him, he wouldn't say anything to anyone else. Around here, we're just a couple of loony old men, and in this regard, I think we will continue to live up to that reputation."
"Do you have an explanation for what happened tonight?" Paul asked.
"No, but if you give me a little time, I can think of something," Cal said grinning, and Paul knew that he could trust him. "Now, I think I could use a beer, why don't we head downstairs and see how things are going with the others?"
Paul nodded and followed him to the stairs.
o O o
Amos was still sitting next to the little girl and her mother when Paul and Cal came downstairs. "The stars told the small seashell that if you wish on them long enough then your dreams will come true," Amos was saying as he held Susan's seashell in his hand.
"Where do you get all these stories you tell?" Sarah asked him after a second.
"They were told to me long ago," Amos answered. "When I was about Scott's age, my mother would tell me stories that she had heard from her mother. These stories have been in my family for many years. But, now I don't have any children or grandchildren to tell them to, so there's no one left to pass them on to, except Susan."
"Did you ever consider publishing them as children's stories?" Sarah asked.
"No, I never thought about it, actually," he said softly.
"I'd read them," Scott said honestly.
Amos looked at the teenager, "but you're not a child anymore, you're a young man."
Scott beamed, "yeah, but I still have a child inside of me." He looked at his father who had been standing in the room for some time. "Right, Dad?"
Paul nodded and looked at Amos. "If you were to share your stories with others, they would be as touched by them as we were and maybe it would be your chance to entrust the world with something that is a part of you."
Sarah nodded. "Susan and I live not far away from here, and I would like to make a suggestion to you. I work for a book publisher, and if you write the stories down, we can probably publish them as bedtime stories for children."
Susan looked up into his kindly gray eyes, "Oh Sanna, a storybook of my seashell with pictures too?"
"But, I can't draw, Susan," Amos said gently.
In this moment, Cal looked at his friend and sat the beer bottle he was holding on a nearby table. He reached over and grabbed a small black notebook and opened it. Inside it on the first pages, were a number of pencil and watercolor drawings.
Amos smiled upon seeing the drawings, "I always knew we made a great team." He looked around the room at all the encouraging faces and after a moment's hesitation, he nodded.
Paul looked at Susan with a smile on his face. This child had such a miraculous way of changing someone's mind. He finally glanced over at Scott and nodded, it was time for them to go.
Scott stood up from his place in one corner of the room and approached his father.
As Amos, Cal, Sarah, and Susan talked about the books, Paul and Scott slipped out of the room. Their absence wasn't recognized until some ten minutes after they had left the lighthouse for the last time.
"Where'd they go?" Susan asked, first to notice that Paul and Scott were gone.
"I think they went back to the stars," Cal said softly as he picked up the bottle he had placed on the table before he had shown Amos his artwork, and took a sip.
Amos nodded, for some reason, he believed that there was so much truth to the words of his friend.
o O o
It was still drizzling the following morning as Paul and Scott were hitching rides south of the small town. "Do you think Amos is gonna publish his stories?" Scott finally asked.
"I think he will," Paul answered. "In fact, I have a funny feeling, that soon, we will be seeing his stories and Cal's drawings on a bookstore shelf."
"I hope so, I mean, I know that I never really got into that kind of stuff, but I have a feeling that these stories would be really well received and not just by children," Scott said.
"You really liked those stories he told, didn't you?" Paul asked after a few moments of silence.
The teenager nodded, "there was so much wisdom to what he was telling. Almost as though he was the seashell himself and the adventures he told about were ones he had had. Does that make sense?"
Paul nodded, "I know what you mean, but you know I couldn't help but smile when Amos asked me to pick up Susan's seashell and put it in my pocket back at the house. It had landed right next to my sphere."
Scott grinned, "Maybe this will eventually become a part of that seashell's story."
"Maybe, but even though Cal knows the truth, I don't really count on it putting us in danger," Paul answered.
"You mean if the sphere becomes a character in a book?" Scott asked. "I wonder what Fox would say."
"I don't know," Paul said. "But, I hope it wouldn't get Amos or Cal into any trouble."
They both started laughing as a young couple in a sports car stopped and picked them up.
Part 2
Paul and Scott had wound up out California some three months after their initial meeting with Amos and Cal out in Maine. Neither father nor son remembered too much about the stormy night or Sarah or Susan until they had found themselves walking near a large brightly decorated bookstore, and Scott looked at his father.
"Dad, is there a chance we could go in and look around?" Scott asked.
Paul nodded, "I don't see why not, I don't have to be at the paper for at least another two hours."
Scott walked into the store not really sure what it was he was looking for, but suddenly he stopped. At a large table, in a large stack were a thin hardcover book and a small line of people, mostly parents with small children. He walked over to the table and picked up a copy of the book that was lying there. He brushed his hand across the cover, but it was such a beautiful one, he didn't notice the name of the author at the bottom of it. The drawing of the lighthouse and the stars reminded him of when they were in Maine. "Hi," he heard a voice behind him.
He turned around and saw a young woman in her early twenties. "Hi," he replied and put the book back down on the table.
"Have you read that book yet?" she asked. "I know it's just for kids, but it's such a great book. I gave one to my kid sister for her birthday and she takes it with her to school everyday now. The author will be here to sign copies of it this afternoon."
Scott looked down at the name on the cover of the book, and tried to hide his surprise as he looked back over at her. "Do you mean to tell me that Amos Thomson is going to be here this afternoon?" he asked.
"Yeah," the woman answered. "If you want to meet him, I'd suggest you get in line now, though, because the book is pretty popular and the signing has been advertised all over town. The line will probably grow by the time he arrives too. He's supposed to be here in about an hour."
"Is the artist going to be here as well?" Scott asked.
"I don't know, maybe," the woman said and walked towards the end of a shelf of books and took the hand of a small girl. Together they got in line.
Scott went over to the table, grabbed a copy of the book, and got in line as well. Small children and even some of the parents were staring at him as he stood there, but he didn't really care about that. He remained standing there and eventually, Paul approached his son, and joined him at the end of the line as Scott showed him a copy of the book he held.
Together, they opened the book and turned the pages until they reached the beginning of the story. They began to read it, but as the line grew even longer, they closed the book, stood there and just watched, waiting anxiously with all the children for their old friend to eventually make an appearance.
When he finally did, they both smiled. Amos looked the same as he had the afternoon they had met him. He wore leather sandals on his feet, and wore the very same hat, he had on when they had met him back in Maine. He was smiling and as he took a seat, the children started cheering from the front of the line, which carried all the way to the end of it, which had by this time neared the outer doors of the store.
At this moment, Cal appeared, also looking about the same as they had remembered him. Paul smiled as the two of them began to sign copies of the book, and the line started moving.
By the time Paul and Scott reached the front of the line, Amos was so busy signing books that he apparently didn't seem notice them until they had reached the other end of the table to pay for the copy that he had signed for them. At this moment, his eyes met Paul's and he nodded slightly. After that, his attention returned to the line of children who were waiting to talk to him.
As they were leaving the store, Scott looked at his father sadly. "They didn't seem to remember us, did they?"
"I think Amos remembered us, Scott," Paul answered softly. "But, I also think you saw how happy all those children were to see them. Now all these people will enjoy those stories that Amos had told you. We should be happy for both Amos and Cal, because now people are listening to them."
"That's true, but I would still like to look through the book. Why don't we go over to the park and sit down and look at it," Scott said. "You still have some time, right?"
Paul nodded and the two of them went and found a place to sit. Paul opened the book and looked down at the handwriting on the inside cover. "To Paul & Scott, from your friend Amos, page 21."
"He did see us," Scott said to his father.
Paul nodded and began to thumb his way through the small book. When he reached the page Amos had listed, Paul's eyes widened. The story was titled "An Out of this World Friend". Along the bottom of the page, he recognized the hand drawn seashell exactly like the one he had held for Susan in his pocket. But neatly etched next to it was a drawing of his sphere. "Scott, look at this."
Scott looked down at the picture, and smiled, "read it, Dad, out loud."
Paul nodded and began to read the story:
*An Out of this World Friend*
My adventures brought me to the coast of Maine.
Where I met up with a little girl named Susan Loraine.
She came to the house where I was to be
With our wise old friend, the man of the sea.
She introduced me to someone I hold dear
A small, round marble that spoke without fear.
An endearing friend who could radiate light.
But the sounds of the storm could be heard throughout the night.
The fear of the thundering from outside could be,
Reminders of the storms I had, lost at sea.
But the small round marble smiled suddenly
And these are the words he spoke to me:
"When the darkness engulfs and fear surrounds.
It is only then, that the light is found all around.
Just look up and search the black velvet sky,
And see for yourself the strength there that lies.
In the power and beauty of the stars.
The beautiful light is not all that far,
If you believe in the wonder and magic at hand,
It exists on the water and also on land.
The beauty that lives inside you and in me
Will always remind us, even when we can't see,
Through the clouds and the rain that fill us with fright
Will be replaced with comforting shadows of night."
The empowering light of the friend from far away
Gave Susan and me the strength to stay.
Together with our wise, friend of the sea
Unafraid of what the future may be.
It can only be described as a magical blue light
That gave us the strength to get through that night.
We were empowered with love on a stormy beach
From a friend we thought who had been out of reach.
He came into our hearts and helped us to find,
That power that comes is from the wisdom inside.
So when we looked out the top of the lighthouse window,
To learn what our friend, the keeper of the light, wanted to show.
We were instantly reminded of the scary sight,
When our intergalactic friend disappeared that night.
I never saw him again, that navigator of the stars
But I can only guess he's safe some place beyond us far.
His beautiful light helping others to see
The beauty and love that always will be.
Scott was wiping his eyes when Paul finished reading. "That's beautiful!"
Paul nodded; he too had started wiping the tears from his own eyes. He knew that this story had been born on the night, which they had spent in the small comfortable home of Amos Thomson, and this was a special memory for him. He closed the book and put it gently in his camera bag.
"Didn't Cal write something too?" Scott asked curiously.
Paul pulled the book back out of the bag and opened it to the title page. On the inside, in the man's somewhat shaky handwriting, were the words, "It's no surprise 21 is the page your story is on, it's how many people you saved who were on that boat." Underneath it, Cal had signed his name.
Scott looked at his father, "I'm glad you did what you did that night. Even though I didn't understand it, I trusted that you would do what was right."
Paul nodded and wiped his hand over his eyes, "thank you Scott for trusting me. Before I met Amos, I never realized how much I not only value, but need, your trust."
Part 3
Amos arrived home three days later, the book signing had been a surprising success, but what he didn't expect was to see two men standing near his front door waiting for him.
"Mr. Thomson?" one of the men asked.
"Yes, Sir, that's me," he said and walked casually inside. "Why don't you fellas come inside?"
"Thank you," the man said.
Once inside, Amos closed the door. "Would you fellas like a beer?"
"No, thank you."
Once he held a bottle in his hand, he looked at the two men expecting them to say something, but when they didn't, he finally initiated the conversation. "I haven't seen such fancy clothes since I was in LA last week. I take it you fellas aren't vacationers?"
"No, my name is George Fox, and this is my assistant, Agent Wylie, FSA. We're here about your book," Fox said.
"Did you boys come all the way out here from DC for that? If that's the case, I'll give you both free copies," Amos said smiling broadly and taking a sip of his beer.
"No, Mr. Thomson, we're here about a particular story. May I?" Fox stuck his hand out towards Amos who willingly handed him the book.
Once the agent held the book tightly in his hand, he opened the book to page 21 and turned the book around and showed the page to Amos. "Where did you get the idea for this set of verse?"
Amos sat down comfortably on the sofa, took another sip of beer and began to speak. "Why don't you take a seat and I'll tell you all about it." Once the two agents were sitting down, he pulled his pipe from the front breast pocket of his shirt and reached for a packet of tobacco. "My mother used to tell me stories when I was just a boy. She told me that these stories were handed down from one generation to another in my family. I was never married or had any children, or grandchildren, so when I met my friend Susan, and her mom some months ago, I started telling Susan these same stories. Like in my books, Susan is the name of the child that I used because she's the one that inspired me to record these stories."
"Yes, but what about this story, it's a little different than all the others, and there are drawings of marbles that are described as being alien?" Wylie objected.
"Are you boys alien hunters?" Amos asked with a chuckle, but when he got a stony glare from Fox, his chuckling stopped and he began to speak once again. "I can assure you that there are no aliens around these parts. Now granted, there might just be a few odd looking characters around, but chances are, you probably already met up with them, particularly if you've met my buddy Cal."
"Mr. Thomson, we're not interested in trying to make trouble for you or your friend, all we would like to do is find out if you have seen these two people. Based on the story in your book, we have reason to believe you have." Fox pulled the pictures out of a small file, and handed them to the man seated near him.
Amos looked down at the pictures and saw the familiar faces of Paul and Scott. After concentrating on the photos for some time, he finally shook his head and returned them to Fox. "No, I can't say that I have, but if you believe either of them are aliens, then you're loonier than the people around here have accused me of being. I mean on the entire picture, I don't see one antenna or blotch of green skin on either of them."
Fox snatched the picture out of Amos's wrinkled hand, and stood up. Amos followed the two of them to the door, and once they walked down the steps away from the front door, he began to chuckle. But, when he watched them disappear from sight, his chuckling erupted into full-fledged laughter. He picked up his beer and walked back inside the house, all the while shaking his head. And the people here thought ol’ Cal and me weren't playing with a full deck, he thought to himself as he closed the door.
THE ENDWritten by Yvette Jessen. If you have any comments on this story please E-mail them.