The Promise of Light Read Free

himself a cigarette. The tiny fire lit up his face and hollowed out his cheeks.
    I had never seen him before. Never seen Johnnie Pratt, either.
    My father slapped the dirt off his hands, as if grabbing hold of Pratt had somehow left more grime on his skin than any black dust painted on him by the fire. “Good luck to you,” he called after the two men. There was a distant panic in his voice.
    They didn’t answer. They stepped into a car and drove away without turning on the lights. They reached the main road that headed up to the north end of the island, where the ferry owned by a man named Von Klug ran over to Newport. At the main road, they turned on their lights and the two white sabers cut along the road and they sped away into the dark.
    My father watched them go. His mouth hung open slightly and I could tell that he was thinking hard.
    I walked to where he could see me.
    He squinted at first, because he couldn’t tell who it was. Then he beamed a smile and spread his arms. “And how did the job market go today, Benjamin?” He hugged me and I felt his soot-grimy hands grip the cloth of my suit behind my shoulder blades.
    “I got it. The man said I could start next week.”
    He stepped back, but kept his fingers pressed into my shoulders. “Yes? Next week. Good salary?”
    “Good enough.”
    “Well!”
    I knew he was impressed. He only said “well” when he was impressed. And riding across the bay into the burning Jamestown harbor, I’d had some time to think about it. I was beginning to be a little impressed myself.
    “Who were those two men, Dad?”
    “What men?” He walked me away from the restaurant and out toward the fire truck. The other firemen were coiling up the fire hose. The heavy bronze spigot dragged through the sand on its way back to the truck.
    “The two who just drove off in that car toward the Newport ferry.”
    “Two old pals.” He nodded, as if only just remembering. “They wanted to borrow some money and I told them no.”
    “You told them worse than that.”
    “I can’t be expected to keep my temper all the time.” He took off his brass hat and stuffed it on my head. “You’ve got the job. Well done, Benjamin. I knew it wouldn’t take long.”
    “Why did you tell that man not to show his face around here? Would people get mad if they saw him?”
    “Do we have to talk about it? No one wants to see him because he owes too much money. You know how people get when debts haven’t been paid. Now look, you get home and change and have a bath or something. I’ll be around in a bit. There should still be some supper on the table. This damn fire started when I’d just sat down to dinner.”
    “How did it start?”
    “I’ll tell you exactly. It’s that insurance Dillon bought last year. Been driving him round the bend thinking he could get all kinds of money if his ratty busted-up fishhouse burnt down. So he sets the thing burning. But here’s the jam. As soon as he’s got a few drinks in him and sees the flames eating it all up, he remembers the stories of insurance companies not paying if there are suspicious circumstances. So he goes berserk trying to put it out by himself. Throwing slabs of ice into the fire and such.”
    “Did he tell you all that?”
    “No, but I been in this job too long to make mistakes about a thing like that. Go home now, Benjamin. Go home and rest for a while.”
    The fires had stopped on the water. Night crept up close around the pilings of the dock and hid the bay behind it. There was no moon and I couldn’t see the mainland. The only blaze still burning was the one in Dillon’s fishhouse. I thought his tank of diesel fuel must have caught. It would be a while before that burned itself out. The crowds were thinning. People shuffled home, some in their nightclothes and wearing hunting boots. Monahan still stood at his ferry, alone now, but still hopeful that another stray person might appear to congratulate him on his finest