The Spyglass Portal: A Lighthouse Novel (13 page)

Samantha’s eyes snapped open. Her heart stuck in her throat. “Linda, is that you?”

“Who else were you expecting? I’ve been worried. You said you’d call when you arrived, but I haven’t heard a word. I guess you’re having too much fun at the beach to think about us poor saps at home working like dogs. Anyway, I’m glad you got there safely and you sound to be okay, even if you haven’t bothered to let me know.”

Sam swallowed hard and held back delirious tears. Her conversation with Mrs. Callison, in which she’d told her Linda was dead, was held just this morning. But it seemed like a lifetime ago. Sam had never felt so happy to have her friend alive and well, and bitching at her.

She quickly thought back to the last time she’d looked into the spyglass. It was after she’d been scared by the face in the cottage. Reality, as she’d known it before, had changed after that. And Linda had come to life again.

In the same way Captain McBride’s experiences had shifted each time he’d gazed into the spyglass, so had it been for Sam. His woman and children had been alive and well in a parallel universe. Sam’s mind moved like the speed of light to finally understand that she’d also been thrust into an alternate reality every time she gazed through the spyglass, even if not quite believing such a thing could happen.

“Are you even listening to me?” Linda’s accusatory tone drew her back from her musings. Smiling, she pictured her friend’s mouth pursed and her eyes rolling, like they did when she was annoyed at someone.

“Sorry,” Samantha said, suppressing a very real yawn. “I’m half asleep. It’s been a very long day and I was napping. What were you saying?”

“Never mind,” Linda replied pleasantly. “It wasn’t important. I was only telling you I just met the man I’m going to marry.”

That got Sam’s attention. Linda had dated lots of men, but never any she came close to wanting to marry. “Who is he? Where did you meet him? How old is he? What’s he look like? Spill the details.”

Her friend’s voice became animated, like it did every time a potential man came into her life. “His name is Hunter and we met at the coffee shop. The barista got our orders mixed up. One thing led to another, and he ended up walking me to my car and we exchanged numbers. Isn’t Hunter a perfectly manly name?”

Sam chuckled. “Sounds like the name of a GQ model. Tell me more.”

“No. You’re tired. I’ll wait and see if he calls and then I’ll let you know where I’ll be registering for china and silverware.”

Chuckling again, Sam said, “Okay. Just remember one thing. If I’m to be your maid of honor, yellow is not my color. And no tiered ruffles or gigantic puffy sleeves on the dress, or a big bow plastered across my chest. Got it?”

“Got it.”

She yawned again and Linda said she’d let her go. “Don’t stay in paradise too long. I miss you too much.”

“I miss you, too.”

“You know my number.”

Antonio had answered her number before, but hopefully, never again. “Yes, I do. Good luck with Hunter.”

“Thanks, hon.”

It was just like it used to be between them before Samantha had screwed up her priorities. She was so glad Linda wasn’t dead and that she had a second chance with her. They were about to hang up when she said, “Listen. I want to apologize for being MIA for the past six months or so. I should have accepted your invitation to go to the spa with you that weekend you asked. And I should have reached out to you after Chad’s accident.” She felt regret about pushing Linda aside so many times in the past and wanted her to know she was sorry.

“It’s okay,” Linda said. “I understand you needed time to yourself after he was hurt.”

“Even before that. I realize now that I worked too many long hours, and most of my relationships were sacrificed because of it. You’re my best friend and I should have made more time for us. Thank you for not giving up on me.” She could picture Linda’s warm and forgiving smile as she responded.

“I appreciate that, girlfriend. No worries. You and I are just fine. Listen, I’m going to go now, because I don’t want to tie up the line in case Hunter is trying to call. But I want you to relax and enjoy your time at the beach, because when you get back home, I’m going to be dragging your butt all over Portland. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. And that includes a ton of shopping.”

“I look forward to it.”

“Me, too. Hugs.”

“Hugs.” Samantha ended the call, happy. Her watch said nine o’clock. When her stomach grumbled, she grabbed an apple out of the fridge and bit into it, making a mental note to go shopping soon. The groceries Jason had brought over were basic staples. She needed more in the pantry.

After slipping into the bedroom with the spyglass box under her arm, she changed into a sleep shirt and shorts and realized she’d missed her date with Aidan that had been scheduled for seven. She doubted he’d shown anyway. Now that she’d determined the spyglass was a portal into parallel universes, she could forgive him for standing her up at the restaurant. Obviously, that had been one of the times when a shift had occurred.

As fast as that concept sunk in, an epiphany struck. If Linda could be resurrected from the grave, why couldn’t Chad awake from the coma? Her gaze pivoted to the mahogany case on the bed, and the pulse in her neck began to throb.

Hadn’t she promised herself she’d never look through it again? Yes, she had. But this was different. She wasn’t going to use the instrument for invading someone’s privacy. If she could bring Chad back from eternal sleep by simply gazing through the spyglass, everything would be right again.

With a second chance, perhaps their relationship would progress to a new level. She’d sensed that was what he’d wanted. It’s what she might have wanted too, only she’d been too afraid to give it a try. All she had to do was pull out the spyglass, extend the brass tube, and wait for the blue mist to pass over the glass lens.

But who was to say the magic would work the way she hoped? And wasn’t she already getting a second chance with Aidan here at Pavee Cove? Didn’t she feel a bond with this man? She did, but if she had the power to give Chad his life back, shouldn’t she try?

Adrenaline rushed through her veins and her heart hammered in her chest. It was now or never, before she lost courage. Flipping the wooden lid open, she snatched the spyglass and sprinted up the stairs to the light tower. Stumbling in the dark, her toe caught on the lip of the top step and the spyglass flew out of her hand. Her body careened across the floor, and her knees and palms scraped the concrete.

“Damn, that hurt.” Moaning, she rolled onto her hip. With her kneecaps and hands stinging, she managed to get to her feet and fumbled to find the light switch on the wall behind her. The white light nearly blinded her.

Alternately squeezing her eyes shut and opening them to slits, she caught sight of the spyglass on the other side of the room. Terror gripped her as she limped over to it. What if it was broken? Would the magic still work if the lens were cracked? Sweat pooled between her breasts as she gingerly picked the telescope up and inspected it for damage. Her erratic breathing slowed once she saw there wasn’t a chip on it anywhere. Thank God they made things of quality back in the 1800s.

She stepped onto the observation deck and leaned against the railing. The breeze off the ocean caught and sent her hair dancing around her face. Sea salt invaded her nostrils, and the boom of crashing waves assaulted her ears as she shakily held the spyglass to her eye.

“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she whispered aloud as the familiar blue haze wafted over the lens and then dissipated.

Swinging the instrument back and forth, there wasn’t much to view with the darkening sky closing in. Did it matter if she could actually see anything? Or did the change happen simply through the act of looking into the spyglass? She had no idea. She only hoped this worked. Her friend’s life depended on it. “Please let Chad wake up and be healthy,” she implored the supernatural gods. “Please let this work. Please let this work.” The mantra she chanted soothed her frayed nerves.

A few minutes later, she squeezed her eyes shut and felt her way to the door and shut off the beacon light. The people of Pavee Cove could do without the lamp tonight. Apparently it hadn’t been missed before she came, except by one man.

The image of Aidan’s face caused her skin to prickle with excitement, but it was his look-alike in Portland who filled her thoughts right now. Had the spyglass worked its power?

Carefully, she wound her way down the stairs to the bedroom. Her body was already growing stiff from the fall. Ben Gay and a heating pad might help. Antibacterial ointment was needed for her scraped kneecaps and hands. She returned the spyglass to its case and placed it reverently on the dresser before entering the bathroom for first aid supplies.

Crawling into bed smelling like a pharmacy, she placed the hot pad behind her back and let her head sink into the downy pillow. Her eyes closed and Samantha uttered a quick prayer. 

Tomorrow she’d call Chad’s cell phone. If he answered, she’d know her prayer had been answered.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Aidan was eight years old. He was running down the beach, shirtless and barefoot. The heat from the morning sun soaked into his back and sand pebbles squished between his toes as his arms pumped in rhythm with each stride. He spied his friend ahead, who tossed a stick-and-string fishing pole into the water. Jason grinned and dropped the homemade pole in the sand to join Aidan. They sprinted further down the beach to find the little girl who was busy building a castle in the sand. The boys stopped at her feet. They were out of breath. Her smile was shinier than a glass marble when she looked up and asked if they wanted to help her. Her blonde ringlets curled around her pink, cherubic face. Aidan realized most boys his age preferred frogs and crabs to girls, but he was different. He didn’t quite understand why his heart skipped a beat, or why a goofy grin filled his face when he was around little Remy. All he knew was that she was special, and he felt entrusted to always protect her.

The boys didn’t want to play in the sand that day. Aidan had a better idea. There was an old fishing shack that he wanted to explore. At six, Remy was easily persuaded to follow along. She left her plastic pail and shovel in the sand, and the three of them jogged down the shore side- by-side like fish dangling on a line.

A rickety ladder was propped against the wall of the fishing shack when they arrived. Jason asked Aidan where it came from. Aidan shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t know, but I’ve always wanted to fly,” he said. Flashing a mischievous grin, he led the way, and the two boys scurried up the ladder like squirrels climbing a tree. Remy waited on the ground with her blue eyes locked on them.

“Look at me! I’m a bird!”Aidan yelled as he took a running leap off the roof of the shack. When he alighted on his hands and knees in the deep sand, he smiled triumphantly. Remy giggled and clapped.

“My turn!” Jason hollered. He whizzed through the air, flapping his arms, and landed on his feet. “That was fun. Let’s do it again.” He made a mad dash to beat Aidan to the ladder.

Two more times each boy jumped off the roof to the earth below. The fourth time he jumped, Aidan truly felt as if he was a soaring bird. His eyes were closed, and the wind caught his body, gently carrying him down to the ground, as he twisted and turned like a dried leaf. He’d never had so much fun before. He dared Jay to close his eyes next time. “It’s more fun that way!” he laughed.

Aidan and Remy stood together like tin soldiers and watched Jason squeeze his eyes shut and jump. Only this time he didn’t float like a leaf the way Aidan had. Jason tumbled head over heels like an air acrobat and landed on the crown of his head. Splat. It was the sound a pumpkin makes when it falls off a farm wagon.

Aidan bolted up in bed with sweat drenching his body. He wiped at his face with a fistful of the cotton sheet and furiously shook his head. The same nightmare had occupied his dreams for the past two nights. With his chest heaving, he climbed out of bed and padded to the bathroom to splash water over his face. After toweling dry, he stared into the mirror over the sink. The reflection looking back was serious and grim-faced. Thick dark stubble peppered his chin and cheeks. Dark hair hung flat on his shoulders. Smudges under his eyes made him look more raccoon than man. Everything about him felt dark that morning.

Ever since Samantha Landers arrived in Pavee Cove, his world had been turned upside down. He wasn’t sleeping well. Dreams haunted him. His art suffered, because he felt less dedicated to putting in long hours of work and wanting to spend time with her. He couldn’t get Sam out of his mind, which wasn’t like him. It had been years since a woman had occupied his thoughts the way she did.

Coming to Pavee Cove was a move he’d made to exorcise certain demons from his life. Some of those demons were things from the past that had troubled him for as long as he could remember: memories of love and loss, feelings of guilt that he hadn’t been able to shake, questions that remained unanswered, and young passion that waited to be fulfilled.

The past had intermingled with the present for so many years that it had become difficult to recognize what was real and what had been imagined. One thing, however, was certain. An invisible thread drew him to Samantha. Though it was entirely possible she was as crazy as a loon, she’d stirred something deep within him. No sense of connection had ever felt so strong. Behind her sparkling blue eyes smoldered a woman who had awakened a fire inside him so intense that he was unable to extinguish it.

Aidan gazed back at the man in the mirror and imagined her standing next to him, smiling while weaving her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and groaned softly, practically feeling her soft touch on his scalp, her fingers snaking over his collarbone, down his breastbone and into the soft curls on his chest.

His eyes reopened when the sensual picture transformed into an unsmiling Samantha—the woman he’d sat with on the pier who was hurt and confused. Although the incidents she’d mentioned were beyond odd, her panic had been real. It was obvious something very peculiar was going on. Could she have a brain tumor or some other medical malady that caused her to hallucinate? Was she mentally unstable?