13. Ship

There’s a rush of padded footsteps heading up the hall, creaking the floorboards with their rapid stead.

Without so much as a knock, Blythe bursts into the room.
“He’s coming, quick!” she instructs.
Before Callum can even think of a response she’s turned on her heels. Her little brother climbs from his bed, grabs his striped dressing gown, and follows her down the hall to the staircase that winds up to the second floor.
“How do you know that it’s him?” Callum queries as he chases to keep up with her long stride.
“Trust me,” she says confidently, and so he does. After all, Blythe knows everything.
When they make it to the top of the stairs the landing is pitch black. Callum carefully follows Blythe’s dark silhouette to the window. The air upstairs is frigid and sharp, biting at Callum’s small nose and forcing him to wrap up tightly while Blythe creaks the old windows open.
“What are you doing?” he asks, acutely aware that he’s running out the meter on questions. If there’s one thing his sister can’t stand it’s answering his question about her every movement.
She nonchalantly heads over to the ottoman and begins pushing it towards the empty spot in front of the window.
“We’re going to talk to Dad,” she says as if her actions are so obvious. She sets down atop the ottoman and heaves their father’s spotlight torch into her lap.
“We’re going to use this,” she explains, patting the torch in her lap, “I’ll show you how.”
Now that his eyes have adjusted to the navy blue darkness, Callum can see a few carefully placed items laid on the floor below the window. He curiously inspects a book, titled Mastering the Morse Code. Blythe reaches past him and grabs the binoculars.
Looking out past the houses that dot the descent of their hill, she carefully watches the shipping lane in the distance. The smell of sea salt drifts through the icy room, Callum thinks they’re lucky to have caught a clear night.
“Okay,” Blythe sits up, “here it comes. Pass me the book.”
He does so quickly.
“Right,” she searches for a dogeared page and hands it to him.
“Hold this for me, and when I tell you to, run to the light switch and follow my count, got it?”
Callum nods confidently, even though, secretly, he doesn’t understand at all.
Blythe turns the torch on for a second at a time, flickering and then beaming in a rhythm. She mutters under her breath the count, then begins to spell.
“H-I, wait, two, three, four, five, six, okay, D-A-D.”
When she’s done, she picks up the binoculars and waits. When a few seconds go by and there’s nothing to see, she tries again.
“I want to see what’s happening!” Callum wails when she’s finished. Blythe shoves half of the binoculars towards him so they can share.
With his left eye closed tight, he watches a ship in the distance blink back through the right side of the binoculars.
“He’s replying!” Blythe says delightedly, “Pass me that notepad!”
She spells out his reply, H-I K-I-D-S M-I-S-S Y-O-U.
“Okay,” Blythe looks down at Callum, “Run to the light switch, and when I say go, turn the light on for exactly as long as I tell you.”
”Got it,” Callum replies, and this time, he really does understand.
Blythe repeats the last few letters of their Dad’s message back to him and then begins her instruction.
“On!” she calls like a drill sergeant.
The lights are on for a second, then off for a second, then on for three seconds, then off for one, then on for three more, then off for three. Callum finds it exhilarating to be delivering secret messages when he should be fast asleep.
“Alright, stop!” Blythe calls, “Come back, quick, he’s replying.”
“What did we say to him?” Callum asks as he shuffles back towards the window.
“That we love him,” Blythe replies, jotting down the letters from their father’s message. It spells out I L-O-V-E Y-O-U G-O-O-D-N-I-G-H-T.
Callum watches the ship start to slip into the distance as his ship presses on. Blythe lets out a big sigh and slouches on top of the ottoman. They breathe in the crisp sea air for a minute longer as their father drifts off past the horizon.