The Iron Lighthouse

A Talk With Grandpa

*Caleb pictured above*

After eating dinner at Rodney's, I parted ways with Rebecca and Davy and started the walk home. It was only five, which meant that I had plenty of time to finish up my homework and think about the numbers in the desk. Also, for me to wonder why there was a false bottom in the desk.

Since I couldn't do my homework while walking, I decided to try and work on the thinking part of my to-do list. And by thinking, I really just mean me asking myself questions and trying to come up with answers.

The biggest question that was in my mind right now was why would there be a false bottom and writing, but nothing in the drawer? Was it because nothing had been put in there? Or was there once something in there but it had been removed? Did anyone else know about the false bottom?

I sighed. I had so many questions that it was hard to think of answers. Maybe turning those questions into statements would help me think.

Maybe there was never anything in the drawer besides the writing. Maybe there was. Maybe someone took something out of it. Maybe Grandpa would know...

Now I was getting somewhere. In my thinking, and my walking. I was now right outside the front door of my house.

"Hey sweetheart, how was school?" Grandpa asked me as I walked in. 

"It was great. How was work?" I replied. 

"Normal. What do you want to do for dinner? Wait a minute. Let me guess. I recognize that look. You just came back from Rodney's, didn't you?" 

I let out a laugh. "I sure did. Do you want me to heat some food up for you? I think there may be some leftover chicken from last night in the fridge," I suggested.

"That'd be great, thanks Ellie."

I went and heated up the chicken for Grandpa before grabbing a fork and knife and bringing it to him.

"Ah, thanks Ellie," Grandpa told me. "You know, you make the best chicken. It's delicious even when it's been reheated."

"Oh, that's just my special recipe," I told him, laughing. Really my special chicken recipe was just a bunch of herbs thrown in with some butter, which I used on the chicken. I had made it a few years ago for the first time, and it had somehow turned out great.

"Sit down, please, I want to talk to you," Grandpa told me. "You know, before you do that thing were you go to your bedroom, or the lighthouse and hide yourself away to do homework, or text friends, or send kissy emojis to your boyfriend."

I sat down and replied. "Grandpa, if I had a boyfriend you would know. I'm awful at keeping secrets."

"Ah yes, that is true, Ellie, but you could have gotten better and I would have no way to tell."

"True, but I promise you I don't have a boyfriend. Anyways, is there anything specific you would like to talk to me about?" I questioned.

"Not in particular, but when you walked in you had a certain glint in your eye, the same one you had that day you kissed Davy a few years ago."

"That was so long ago! Like three years ago! How do you remember that?" I asked him.

"I don't know, but every time I see Davy I remember that. It's a good thing you both realized you were better as friends, though. I've always found him to be a bit odd."

I chuckled. "Well that's Davy. I'm glad we decided to stay friends, it never would have worked out if we kept dating. It just wasn't right. But back to your point, well, I found something in the lighthouse."

Grandpa raised his eyebrows as I sat in silence, thinking about the drawer and the numbers. "Continue," he urged.

"Oh, sorry, spaced out there for a second," I told him, snapping back to the moment. Grandpa just chuckled. "I found this false bottom in one of the drawers in the lighthouse, in that room right below the light. There were some numbers written in it, and the word 'Saprtra's.'"

"Hmm. That's interesting. What were the numbers?" 

I closed my eyes, trying to picture what I had written down on the piece of paper. It was in my backpack, but I trusted my memory enough. When they came to me I spoke them to Grandpa. "Eight, twelve, and then fifty-six. Could they be a code or something?"

Grandpa was silent for a minute before replying. "I think it's a date. Think about it. Eight could be August, twelve would be the twelfth, and fifty-six could be 1856. That's the year that Samuel Protney first came to Maine, which I believe was sometime in January, and although I don't know what day the lighthouse was finished being built, it would have been later that year most likely. Possibly the year after."

"That would make sense," I reasoned. "But then we're left to wonder why that day was written, and if something important happened on it. And why it was written in the area under a false bottom."

"We are left to wonder that...if my assumption is correct. We don't know if it is, now do we?" Grandpa questioned.

"Well I guess not, but it would make sense."

"Don't think about it too hard, it could be a million other things. You have homework to finish, don't you?" 

I sighed. "Yes, I do."

"You should probably focus on that. Don't think about this mystery too hard though, it'll wear you out. Also, just to let you know, I have work in the morning," Grandpa told me, wrapping his knuckles on the table as he stood up with his plate, taking it over to the sink.

I stood up and grabbed my backpack, making my way upstairs. There was no way I would sleep much tonight. At least it was Friday, which meant I would have plenty of time to focus on this mystery. But for now, homework.