Thunder Bay Island, Lake Huron October 4, 1883

The wail of a ship's whistle jerked Anna Wilson from sleep despite the cotton wadding she'd shoved in her ears before bed. Another blast sounded, and then a third, while she untangled her nightgown and legs from the quilt. Heart pounding, she pushed Barnacle out of her way and ignored the sleepy meow of protest.

The whistle was too loud and too close to the island. Thunder Bay Island's fog signal moaned its response as she pulled the cotton from her ears. The ship's whistle blasted three more times while Anna charged down the stairs, her bare feet smacking the wooden steps.

Auntie Laurie poked her head from the downstairs bedroom. Gray hair fanned in all directions around her nightcap. "What's going on, child?"

"It's a distress signal."

"Of course it is. I'll awaken Gretchen." The old lady shut the door.

Anna raced through the arched brick passageway to the foot of the metal circular stairs leading up to the lighthouse tower. She stopped on the bottom step, cold metal against her feet, her hand clenching the handrail.

"Uncle Jim?"

The stairs vibrated as Uncle Jim descended. Anna let go of the rail and stepped back.

"What could you see?" she called.

"Not a thing. Fog's too thick." He stopped at the bottom, wrinkles deep around his eyes beneath the rolled hat brim. "Doug's gone to the mainland. I can't leave the tower, not on a night like this."

She straightened her shoulders and smoothed her hair away from her face. "Tell me what to do." After all, this was what she'd come for.

Uncle Jim stroked his beard. "Could be a bad one. That whistle's close."

"Too close?"

"Aye. She's likely on the rocks." He clamped his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "Go to the lifesaving station. Remember the way?"

Could she find it in the dark through the fog? What choice did she have? She nodded.

"Run and change." He sighed. "Suppose the aunties will go with you, even if you try to stop them."

"I imagine they will."

"Go. I'll join you at daybreak if you've not returned by then."

Anna ran back to her bedroom, faster with each wail of the ship's whistle. Garbed in her work dress with woolen stockings and a heavy shawl, she hurried to the back door for her boots.

Auntie Laurie, hair neatly tucked under a wool scarf, stomped into her boots while Auntie Gretchen, looking for all the world like a scrawny bear rousted from hibernation, grabbed quart jars of canned chicken from the pantry. She shoved a basket of potatoes into Anna's arms then thrust a sack of onions at Auntie Laurie.

"What are these for?" Anna clutched the basket to her middle.

"Soup." Auntie Gretchen wrapped her shawl around her shoulders. "If they fish any live ones out of the water, they'll need warming up from the inside out."

If.

The word hung like a specter in the room.

"Now sister," Auntie Laurie said. "Of course some are alive. Someone is sounding the distress whistle, after all." She settled her shawl, tucked two jars of chicken under her arm, picked up the onions, and stepped outside, holding the door. "Let's not delay when men need rescuing."

Auntie Gretchen mumbled under her breath as she grabbed the remaining jars and the lantern.

Anna followed the two old women into the damp darkness, thankful that they'd taken the lead. This was her first time to respond to an emergency at the lifesaving station. There'd been a few minor accidents with fishing boats this summer, but those had happened in the daylight, and Uncle Jim had been there, leaving Anna back at the lighthouse with the aunties, shielded from everything.

Tonight she'd be in the thick of things, but what if someone died?

She swallowed even though her throat had gone dry. When she'd cajoled Uncle Jim into letting her come to the island after Father's death this past spring, she'd overlooked this aspect of what it meant to live in a lighthouse. It wasn't all keeping the lamp burning to guide sailors on their journey. She made a fist of her hand that had grasped the handrail to the tower steps. That wasn't the only thing she'd overlooked. But she could do it. She had to do it. Anything was better than being the dependent little sister living with one of her overbearing brothers. She hoped.

"Hold the light higher. I stumbled on something." Auntie Laurie limped in front of Anna.

Auntie Gretchen lifted the lantern higher. "My arm isn't a ship's mast, you know."

Anna hustled up beside the old women. "Here. Let me." She reached for the lantern and held it aloft. "Can you see better?"

"Thank you, my dear," Auntie Laurie said. "So thoughtful."

The ten-minute walk took almost twice that long through the darkness and fog. Droplets clung to Anna, weighing down her shawl and making it sparkle in the torches outside the lifesaving station.

Auntie Gretchen opened the door and they filed in. Finding the main hall empty, they headed for the kitchen in the back, the source of warmth and the aroma of strong coffee.

Mrs. Persons stood near the huge black stove. Her air of quiet authority settled the nervous tumult brewing in Anna's middle. Only Captain Persons inspired more confidence to those on Thunder Bay Island than Celia Persons.

"Got a sinker out in the bay, eh?" Auntie Gretchen's voice dominated the room. It was said that if the fog signals ever failed, they could use her vocal cords for a replacement.

Auntie Laurie shrugged out of her shawl and hung it next to the stove, wisps of steam rising from the damp wool. "How can we help?"

"Let's assume the best and plan for the worst," Mrs. Persons said. "You brought the makings for soup. Good. You start that while Anna and I light a fire in the hall stove and then roll out the cots and blankets. God willing, we'll only have a bunch of cold men to feed."

"Amen," the aunties murmured in unison.

"Oh child." Auntie Laurie came forward and cupped Anna's cheek. "This is your first shipwreck, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"We've had a long run of good luck. It was bound to give out sooner or later." Auntie Gretchen hung her shawl next to her sister's. "I hope they fish a few out alive, at least."

"Now sister." Auntie Laurie's hands settled on her hips. "Let's do like Celia said and hope for the best."

Auntie Gretchen snorted and thumped her quart jars on the table. "All right, but you know as well as I that the lake wreaks havoc on a night like this." She rolled her r's, a reminder of her Russian heritage that grew more pronounced when she was agitated.

"Don't mind her, child," Auntie Laurie said. "She'll soon have soup made fit to snatch a man back from death's door. Oh." She pressed her hand to her chin. "Not that we'll need to, of course."

"Hurry. They'll be back within the hour," Mrs. Persons said over her shoulder.

Anna swallowed against the dryness again before scurrying after her.

* * *

An eerie flash from the lighthouse broke the gloom surrounding the dock as Maksim Ivanov stepped from the rescue boat. The fog swallowed the beam...