Port Arholt, in the evenings, settled into a welcome reprieve from the noise of fishing boats and peddlers, children playing and carts creaking. Families sat down together, and the light from their windows was warm and golden. At the ferry, sentries switched off for the dinner shift. The blacksmith left the embers of his forge, the florist gently closed the door of her brightly painted shop, and at the farrier’s, a candle was set in the window for the return of a son.

The farrier himself never paid much heed to the candle, anymore. It was his wife who persisted, who took it from its place on the shelf to light it every night just after the dinner dishes were set to dry.

“Lee will come home,” she always said. Her eyes were tired and her hair showing gray now, but always she looked for him at port in the mornings and coming down the road in the afternoons. Her heart waited on his knock at the door, and sometimes in the midnight hours she would rise from her bed and stand with her hand to the heavy iron bolt, as if to answer a call heard only in dreams.

This night she cupped the flame with her hand, for a steady breeze was coming in from the sea. She set the candle in its holder on the sill and quickly shut the window with the other, as stars began to brighten steadily in the dark sky. Footsteps came down the stairs, and a hand rested on her shoulder.

“Ma. Come on up, now.”

Jenna knew her mother’s ways and her steadfast hope. But she hardly remembered her brother; he had left for the King’s army when she was just eight years old, and what memories she had were clouded now.

“I was just lighting the candle for Lee. Don’t worry, I won’t be long. Did you finish your reading?”

“Yes,” Jenna replied, her voice quiet. She stood motionless as her mother turned to face her.

“Why, is everything alright, dear?”

“Just fine, Ma.” Jenna tried to smile reassuringly. It must have worked, or her mother must have decided not to press further, for the older woman nodded and turned back to the window. In a moment Jenna was alone, watching her mother take the steps slowly, one by one.

Jenna didn’t know if Lee would ever come home. The day he left, he had looked back at her and smiled, just once. He had told her to try her best, to be good and help Ma while he was gone. “I’m counting on you,” he had said, as he set out for the ferry with his back straight and his head held high. She had held on to that memory for as long as she could…but it seemed, now, that hope was getting them nowhere. Padding over to the window, Jenna looked out at the cobbled street and listened to the never-ending murmur of the water rocking the boats to sleep. No, Lee might never come home. And they couldn’t wait forever. She wouldn’t let Ma wait forever, growing older day by day, even faster than she ought to, than what was normal.

She leaned forward, and blew the candle out.

It was at that moment that a stupendous crash resounded through the house. Jenna nearly fell back in shock, but shook her head and ran to the stairs to call her father. It was unnecessary, for the farrier came almost at once, taking the steps by two’s and then three’s. Jenna suddenly found herself pushed into her mother’s arms just a few feet from the workshop door, where her father stood with rifle ready.

In one kick, the door swung open. Jenna squinted in the darkness, dreading what might emerge. At the window, a thin tendril of smoke still curled lazily from the extinguished candle. She watched in terrified silence as her father disappeared into the workshop, and gasped with fright as a shot rang out and several yells ensued at once. In an instant, the entire house was plunged into confusion, a clatter of horseshoes adding to the din.

Jenna ran to the doorway despite her mother’s clutching hands, and came face to face with…

Lee.