Mara helped her father check the little ferry each evening. They counted the life jackets, folded the blankets, and tested the lamps before the last crossing.
Tonight one lantern would not light.
Her father checked its battery. ‘This one must stay ashore until we repair it.’
Mara looked across the river. The far landing seemed very dark.
‘Can people still find us?’
‘Our boat has its own lights, and the landing has a lamp,’ he said. ‘But we can make waiting more comfortable.’
They moved two benches beneath the shelter. Mara set the working lantern where it lit the steps without shining into anyone’s eyes.
A traveler arrived carrying a sleepy child. Mara offered a folded blanket while her father helped them aboard. Everyone wore a life jacket before the ferry left.
In the middle of the river, Mara watched the reflections move. The lantern by their landing became a small gold line. The lamp on the far side grew larger.
The child woke. ‘Are those stars in the water?’
‘Those are our lamps,’ Mara said. She pointed up. ‘The stars are higher.’
At the far landing, the traveler thanked them. The child waved from inside the blanket.
On the return crossing, Mara could see her carefully placed lantern waiting by the steps.
One lamp was still broken. They would fix it tomorrow.
Tonight, they had checked what mattered, made the crossing safely, and left a warm light for the journey home.
