Chapter 6: The Lighthouse on the Bluff
At 5:30 AM, the car drove down a winding country lane bordered by stone walls and towering white pines on the outskirts of Rockport, Maine.
At the end of the bluff stood *The Cedar Haven*—a two-story, weathered white cedar farmhouse situated on twenty-five acres of rolling heirloom apple meadows overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
The property sat high above the granite headlands, with the distant white beam of the Indian Island Lighthouse sweeping across the dark blue waters.
Lucas stepped out into the crisp, salt-scented air.
The morning breeze smelled of pine needles, sea spray, and damp earth.
He unlocked the heavy pine door of the farmhouse. The interior was clean, dry, and solid. A massive fieldstone hearth dominated the living room, surrounded by wide pumpkin-pine floorboards.
Lucas carried Hannah inside, settling her into the down comforter of the ground-floor master bed.
He built a fire in the hearth, watching the orange flames lick the dry birch logs, listening to the crackle of wood and the deep, rhythmic boom of the Atlantic tide against the rocks below.
Hannah sat up against the pillows, watching the sun rise over the ocean, painting the sky in breathtaking hues of amber, rose, and gold.
""Look at that light, Lucas,"" Hannah whispered, tears of joy slipping down her cheeks.
May you like
Lucas sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her temple. ""This is our sanctuary, Hannah. Nobody will ever raise a voice in this house.""
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