The Spyglass Portal: A Lighthouse Novel (22 page)

She tried the doorknob but it was locked, just like the other day. An intense desire to step inside the house drove her to the back of the cottage, in case another door or window was unlocked or the locks were broken. There were no stairs leading to the back door anymore, and she wasn’t tall enough to peek into the windows. Glancing around, there was nothing to stand on in order to reach the door or windows.

Accepting that there was no way to get in, she strolled away from the property feeling disheartened. Glimpsing over her shoulder several times, she tried to tamp down the unexplainable longing. The feeling of having been cherished by another female relative other than her mother preoccupied her thoughts as she strolled back to the lighthouse. Why was she so sure the face in the window in her vision had been her aunt?

Had the face she’d seen in the cottage the previous time been real? A homeless person, Aidan had suggested. Now she had doubts. Something hinted the two faces belonged to the same person. But how could that be? Obviously the vision had something to do with an alternate reality, but what did it mean?

Samantha entered the lighthouse rubbing the gold cross between her fingers. In the vision, her mother had spoken to her in a soft and soothing voice; so different from the actual voice Sam had listened to growing up.

While winding her way upstairs to the shower, she thought about her mom. Assertive and confident, Bev Landers had never had what one would consider a calming voice. Although her field had been social work and she’d helped many families stay together through the years, more often than not, she’d had to take children away from their neglectful or abusive parents and their dire surroundings. Such work demanded an authoritative personality, the ability to remain detached, and nerves of steel. In other words, no wilting rose.

Sam had been proud of her mom and the way she’d provided for the two of them. But warm and fuzzy was not a way she ever would have described her.

As the hot water pulsated over her tired shoulders and down her back, she once again tried to summon the memory of Mom presenting her with the cross necklace. She couldn’t do it.
Was
it a birthday gift? It was an assumption she’d always made. Although she’d been told she received it at six years old, there was no recollection of opening a box and being surprised.

What did that signify? As important as the necklace had been to her all her life, why couldn’t she remember the event in which it had been given to her? Never having considered it before, now it was all she could ponder.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

It was raining when Jason arrived to pick her up at six o’clock. Samantha heard the beep of his horn and ran down the walk with an umbrella over her head.

“What a mess.” Climbing into his truck, she laid the wet umbrella on the floorboard. “I didn’t know it was supposed to rain tonight.”

“Weather report called for it,” he replied, while backing out of the gravel driveway and turning onto the main road. “Don’t you watch television or listen to the radio?”

“There’s no TV in the lighthouse and I haven’t even turned on the radio since I got here.”

Beneath his baseball cap, he scrunched up his face like he couldn’t imagine it. “I like television.”

The steel-blue sky grew dark and gray in a hurry. Sam’s palms perspired as she stared out the passenger window watching the massive ocean churning. As the waves broke on the shore, her thoughts wandered back to that terrible day when the storm hit Portland. Shuddering with fresh pain, she vowed inwardly not to let the memory of that tragedy ruin her evening.

“It was nice of your mother to invite me to dinner,” she said to spark conversation. Glancing sideways, Jason hovered over the steering wheel, intense with concentration.

“Can’t talk,” he said. “Mother told me to drive defensively and to get you home in one piece.”

Samantha smiled and no more words were exchanged between them until he parked in a garage and cut the motor. “The garage and house are connected by a breezeway so you won’t need your umbrella.” He led the way through the breezeway and tapped on the back door before pushing it open. “Mom, we’re here.”

The delectable scent of something spicy drifted into Sam’s nostrils. Claire appeared in the doorway that separated the mudroom from the kitchen and greeted her with a friendly smile.

“Come in, dear. Sorry to make you come out on such a bad night, but we sure are glad you’re here. Aren’t we, Jay?”

“Yep.” He flicked the baseball cap off his head and hung it on a hook on the wall and followed Claire and Samantha into the kitchen.

“Have a seat at the table,” Claire said, pointing to a chunky butcher-block table that was set with placemats and fiesta dishware. “Everything’s ready. Jason, pour us some iced tea, please.”

“Can I help?” Sam asked.

“We have it.”

She took a seat and looked around, noting the outdated appliances and simple furnishings, but feeling the welcoming warmth of the small home and Claire’s genuine kindness shining through. Wishing she’d never been so mean-spirited as to think of her as a gossipy busy body, she promised not to judge people so quickly in the future.

“Thanks for having me, Claire. What smells so delicious?”

“Spicy shrimp with rice. We’ve got tossed salad and fresh bread, too. Hope you’re not allergic to shellfish,” she said as an afterthought.

“I love shrimp.”

Claire placed the dishes on the table to serve family style and Jason returned the iced tea pitcher to the fridge after filling their glasses. “I should have asked before I made shellfish tonight,” Claire said. “We don’t have many guests for dinner so I didn’t think about it.”

“It’s all right. I appreciate you going to so much trouble.”

As Jason scooted into the table, a crack of thunder boomed outside, shaking the house. Jumping, Sam felt her stomach lurch.

Claire saw her jump. “It’s just a summer storm, dear. Don’t worry. It’ll pass by in no time. But we’ve got plenty of candles just in case the power goes out. We’re always prepared for such things here at the cove, ya know. Don’t be shy now. Help yourself.” She sat down and passed the bowl of salad and the platter of shrimp and rice to Sam.

Once everyone’s plates were full, Claire said, “Did you get your spyglass back from Daniel?”

Sam’s gaze flitted between Claire and Jason, who seemed oblivious to anything except his shrimp, which he heartily devoured.

“It’s okay,” Claire assured. “Jay knows what happened. He won’t tell. He’s good at keeping secrets.”

“Oh. In that case, yes, he returned it without a fight. We made an agreement. I don’t think anything like that will happen again.”

“I’m certain it won’t.”

“Did Daniel tell you anything more about the spyglass?” Sam ventured. She wondered if Claire held back some knowledge about knowing of its special powers. Perhaps in his excitement, Daniel had spilled the beans about Eamon McBride’s reality-altering experiences in the 1800s.

With her head tilted and her gaze pointed, Claire chewed her food slowly before answering. “Are you asking if I believe in parallel universes?”

Samantha nearly choked on her shrimp. When she coughed, Jason slapped her hard on the back. She swallowed and squeaked, “Thanks.”

“Okay now?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Claire’s gray eyes pierced her; staring intently.

“What do you know?” Sam asked, once she’d recovered from her shock.

“Only what the sea captain’s logbook says. Like Daniel, I was also a member of the historical board and was privileged to be able to read the diary.”

Samantha’s rigid shoulders relaxed. Probably most people in Pavee Cove knew McBride’s story, guessing a fair amount had read the journal. But only a select few were aware that his spyglass had been recovered: Sam, Aidan, Daniel, and now Claire and Jason. One look at Jason and Sam deemed he didn’t fully comprehend the conversation. But another glance into Claire’s face had Sam believing she was aware of more than she admitted.  

Samantha forked some salad into her mouth while she mulled over the possibilities.

“Remember when Aidan cut his hand, Mom?” Jason said suddenly. He’d stopped eating and was looking out the window, seemingly hypnotized by a tree branch swaying in the wind and rain. It scraped the window and made a sound like nails on a chalkboard. “We were supposed to camp in a tent that night, but it was raining just like this and we had to set the tent up inside the house. He sliced his hand while opening a can of beans with a pocketknife.”

“Yes, I remember,” Claire replied calmly. “Aidan was very brave when Doc stitched him up.”

“I understand Aidan was like another son to you when he was a boy,” Samantha said to Claire.

“That’s right.”

“Mom, why couldn’t Doc fix his head?” Jason asked.

His head? Samantha stopped chewing and fired him a look that could have sliced through metal. “What did you just say?”

His eyes widened in fear. “Nothing.”

“Yes, you did. Why did you mention Aidan’s head? There’s nothing wrong with his head. Is there?” She felt the blood rush to her own brain, as she thought about poor Chad lying in a coma with a brain injury.

“I…I… didn’t mean that.” Jason gazed at Claire for help.

“He’s confused,” Claire stated simply.

Samantha’s puzzled gaze shifted from mother to son several times. “You know about the man in the coma, don’t you, Jason?”

His chest began to heave under his plaid shirt. “I don’t know anything. Stop bothering me.” He shoved back from the table with his lower lip quivering and stood up and stomped out of the room.

Sam and Claire’s gazes fixed. The vein in Sam’s neck pulsed to match the tempo of her pounding heart. It felt like the vein was about to pop. “What’s going on, Claire? I’ve seen the scar on Aidan’s hand. I have a friend in Portland with the same scar in the exact location. His name is Chad Payton, and he’s been in a coma for three months. What do you know about him? How are he and Aidan connected? What are you hiding?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Claire appeared unfazed. “There’s nothing to hide, dear. Jason made a mistake. That’s all. He gets confused sometimes. He knew a boy who was in a swimming accident when they were younger. That boy ended up with a severe concussion. It happened around the same time as when Aidan cut his hand. I’m sure one thought led to another and…well, that’s how it is sometimes with Jay.”

The rapid beating of Samantha’s heart began to decrease with Claire’s logical explanation. But could she believe her? She wasn’t going to dismiss this subject so quickly.

“If Jason simply got mixed up, how do you explain two men resembling each other to the point of looking like twins and having the same exact scar?”

“Your friend and Aidan look alike?”

“Yes, but something tells me you knew that.”

Claire would have been great at poker with her blank expression. “Coincidence, perhaps?”

Samantha eyed her warily, knowing she was not going to get any further with her on this subject. With Jason out of the room, she decided to find out exactly how he and Claire were tied to Aidan. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did Jason…? What I mean is…? Did he also suffer an accident when he was younger?”

“You want to know how my son became mentally disabled.”

“Yes, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

Claire didn’t seem angry or annoyed by the question. She folded her hands together and placed them on top of the table. “All right. I’ll tell you the truth. There wasn’t a boy who had a swimming accident. One day Jason and his friends were playing. They were jumping off the roof of a fishing shack, pretending to fly. Jay’s head hit the ground and he also broke his right leg.”

Samantha’s thoughts flew back to the first day she’d met Jason and saw him limping.

“My boy was in a coma for two days. It was the longest two days of my life. When he woke up, I was so grateful. The leg healed in time, but his brain had been injured. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but he’s been a little slow ever since.”

“I’m sorry,” Sam said, finding it almost unbelievable that she knew two people who’d suffered head injuries.

Claire shrugged her shoulders. “He doesn’t let anything stop him. Jason leads a happy and productive life even if he’s a tad oversensitive at times—as you just witnessed.” She chuckled softly.

“Was Aidan one the kids Jason was playing with when the accident happened?”

Claire nodded. “Apparently he’s blamed himself all these years because it was his idea to go onto the roof.”

Poor Aidan. And Jason, and Claire. Sam’s heart broke for all of them.

“I should go check on him,” Claire said, scooting away from the table. “Be right back.” When she returned to the kitchen a few moments later, she said, “He’s fine. He’ll rejoin us soon. I made a peach pie for dessert and that’s one of his favorites.”

“Can I ask you something else?” Samantha asked. “It’s about the little white cottage on the south end of the beach, a little over a mile from the lighthouse. Do you know of the place?” It may have been her imagination but she thought she saw Claire stiffen.

“I think I know the cottage,” she said quietly. “I haven’t been out that way in a long time.”

“Do you know who owned it?”

“Can’t say that I do. I believe it’s been abandoned for years.”

Sam followed Claire’s lead and began clearing the dinner dishes. She scraped the leftovers from her plate into the trash and dropped the plate into the sink. “Have you lived here all your life?”

“Since I was seventeen.”

“Do you remember if someone lived in the cottage at that time? Perhaps a woman with auburn hair that went to her shoulders?” Standing next to Claire by the sink, Sam heard a distinct hitch in her breath.

Claire pulled a white cloth off of a peach pie that had been sitting on the stove and placed the pie on the kitchen table. “There’s vanilla ice cream on the top shelf in the freezer if you don’t mind fetching it,” she said, while taking dessert plates from the cupboard and fresh forks from the silverware drawer.