“What the … ?” My mouth dropped open as I tried to register the phenomenon.
“You need to put that down.” The woman inclined her head toward the bookend. “It’s old, turn of the century. I mean the turn of the previous century, for the record. It’s iron.”
I managed to find my voice, although it was squeaky. “Does that mean it’s fragile?”
“No, it’s iron, dear.” The woman’s grin was mischievous. “It simply means that it’s heavy and you’ll start feeling the strain in your muscles if you’re not careful.”
She wasn’t wrong. My shoulder was beginning to ache. I grimaced as I cradled the bookend to my chest and glared at the woman moving toward the dishwasher. I was dumbfounded when she removed the dishes I’d put in for washing earlier and carried them to the cupboard.
That’s when my righteous indignation flooded forward. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Putting the dishes away.”
“I can see that, but … why?”
“Because I know where they go, and I thought I would save you some time.”
That sounded perfectly reasonable – except for the fact that I was fairly certain I was talking to a ghost and she shouldn’t be able to carry dishes. “Who are you?”
The woman’s eyes twinkled as she flicked them in my direction. “Don’t you know, Hadley?”
“I … .” I worked my jaw and forced myself to calm, carefully resting the bookend on the counter as I struggled to make my brain work. “You’re May Potter.”
“No.”
“You’re not May Potter?” I’d seen photographs. There were at least forty snapshots in frames around the house and most of them contained some version of this woman over the course of her life. I was certain I was right. “You must be.”
“I am May Potter,” the woman confirmed. “But you should call me ‘grandmother.’ I’ve waited decades to hear it, after all. I think I deserve it.”
I pressed the heel of my hand to my forehead, part of me convinced I was dreaming. “Uh-huh.”
“You look a bit pinched, dear.” May’s ghostly hand mimicked patting my cheek. I could feel a brief flutter but no actual contact, which only served to weird me out even more. “Sit down. I’ll make you some tea.”
Sit down? She had to be joking. “I’m dreaming, right? That’s the only explanation.”
“You’re not dreaming.”
“Then how do you explain this?” I sounded shriller than I was comfortable with, but because I was talking to a dream vision of the grandmother I’d never met I wasn’t overly worried about sounding like a loon.
May fixed me with a calm but pointed look. “I’ve been watching you since you arrived and I figured now was the time to make my presence known. I didn’t want to let things go too long, because I thought you might freak out if I did.”
“What do you think is happening now?”
“I think you’re shocked and taking a moment to come to your senses,” May replied, seemingly unbothered by my tone. “I think that’s perfectly reasonable. Sit.”
I watched her move toward the pantry, my stomach tightening with each ghostly step.
“I think you need something without caffeine,” May mused, tapping her bottom lip as she perused the tea selection. “Chamomile sounds good, right?”
“Actually, I’d prefer some whiskey,” I gritted out as I sat at the small kitchen table and watched the ghost bustle in the direction of the stove.
“I think liquor will make matters worse,” May countered. “You’re already confused. Alcohol will merely give you the option of believing you imagined all of this tomorrow morning, and then we’ll have to start over.”
“And that would be a travesty, huh?”
“It certainly would.” May set the kettle to boil and then moved in my direction. She didn’t walk so much as float. “I’m so glad you finally made your way to Moonstone Bay, dear. I can’t tell you how good that makes me feel.”
“Uh-huh.” I flicked my eyes to the back door, briefly wondering if I somehow managed to make it there and screamed for help if anyone would hear me. “I was curious and wanted to see.”
“I don’t blame you. The will must’ve come as a complete and total shock.”
“It did.” I dragged my eyes back to May, curiosity getting the better of me. “Why didn’t you contact me before you died?”
“I thought about it,” May replied, refusing to make eye contact as she flitted around the counter. “I thought I had more time.”
The simple statement was enough to tug at my heartstrings. “Galen said that you were sick but not dying. He said that you were poisoned. Is that true?”
“Galen, huh?” May’s eyes lit with mirth. “I didn’t realize you were already on a first-name basis with our esteemed sheriff.”
“Sheriff?” I rolled the title through my mind. “Doesn’t Moonstone Bay have only three cops?”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not the sheriff.”
“I guess not. Still … you didn’t answer me. Were you poisoned?”
“I honestly don’t know,” May replied, removing the kettle from the stove and pouring the steaming water into a mug. “I know I was feeling poorly the last night before I went to sleep. I know I never woke up. I don’t know if I was poisoned. If Galen says so, though, I have to believe him. He’s not a liar.”
“He’s weird,” I muttered, rolling my neck. “He might not be a liar, but he’s weird.”
“You’re only saying that because he unnerves you.” May carried the tea to the table and slid it to the spot in front of me before pulling out the chair across the table and sitting. She looked perfectly normal, a caring grandmother getting to know her daughter’s child – other than the fact that I could mostly see through her.
“He definitely unnerves me,” I said after a beat, debating the best way to proceed. I remained convinced I was dreaming. In some ways that was better. That meant I didn’t have to fear for my life. But I wanted information. Even if my subconscious was providing that information, I still wanted to know. “Why didn’t I ever meet you? Why didn’t my mother ever tell my father about you? Why would someone want to kill you?”
“You have a lot of questions.” May chuckled, her voice harsh and dry. “I guess that’s fair. Why didn’t we ever meet? I wanted to, but your father didn’t think it was a good idea.”
The admission was simple, but it set my teeth on edge. “What do you mean? My father didn’t know about your existence until the will showed up.”
“Your father is not a bad man, nor is he guilty of terrible misdeeds, but he’s not entirely innocent in this scenario,” May replied, her tone calm. “Your father knew I existed from the beginning.”
“He would’ve mentioned you,” I protested. “He didn’t know.”
“Oh, dear, he knew.” May made a clucking sound and I could practically feel the sympathy oozing out of her ghostly pores. “Your father met me two weeks before he married your mother. He was charming, kind and furious when I refused to give my blessing to the union.”
My heart felt heavy and I gripped the mug because I felt the need to do something with my hands. “I don’t understand.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, Moonstone Bay is not a normal place,” May volunteered. “It’s … different.”
“You mean because of this ‘island life’ nonsense?”
“Island life is real, but that’s not what I’m referring to,” May replied. “The island itself is different. It’s a … different world, so to speak. We’ll get into that later. It’s a conversation that takes more than a night, and we have more important things to focus on.”
“Like the fact that you’re a ghost yet you can still make tea?”
“No, that would be something that falls under island life.” May was blasé. “Tonight, I think you need to know the family story. The other information can wait a bit. I expect you’ll find out most of it on your own.”
“Oh, joy.�
��
May snorted. “You have your mother’s sense of humor. I’m glad to see that.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
May’s smile slipped, something I couldn’t quite identify flitting through her eyes. “I’m sorry about that. I really am. You’ll never know how sorry.”
I steeled myself against the myriad of emotions passing over May’s face. “I don’t really care about that. You were about to tell me why my father lied about knowing you.” I wasn’t sure I believed the charge, yet part of me – a very small, cold part – knew it was possible. My father was a pragmatic soul, after all. If he convinced himself it was in my best interests to hide information, he would do so.
“Your mother left Moonstone Bay when she was eighteen,” May explained. “She wanted to go to college on the mainland. Moonstone Bay is a United States territory, which you well know, so allowing her to go to college in Florida wasn’t as difficult as you might think.”
“I do know. I was surprised to find that I didn’t need a passport or anything to move to the island, even though I’d never heard of it before. It seemed so easy.”
“That’s the easiest thing about living on this island,” May confirmed. “But your mother, she wanted to see the rest of the world. I thought it was a fine idea. I thought she would go to college and then return to the island once she got it out of her system. But she met your father.”
“And they fell in love,” I murmured.
“I believe they fell in lust first – which is common at that age – but essentially, yes,” May said. “One day Emma informed me that she was dating a nice young man. The next thing she told me was that she was getting married and never returning to Moonstone Bay.
“I was shocked, to be sure,” she continued. “I made the decision to fly to them and put a stop to their plans. This was before they moved to Michigan. Your mother and father were still in Florida at the time. I put my foot down and threatened to disown your mother if she didn’t change her mind. I’m not proud of my reaction, but I did it, so I need to own it.”
“And what did she say?” I was genuinely curious.
“She said she was pregnant with you and had no intention of walking away from your father.”
“I see.” And, because I did, I wasn’t sure how to proceed. “Was that the last time you talked with her?”
“No.” May’s answer took me by surprise. “You have to understand that I was feeling pretty sorry for myself around that time. I wasn’t a pleasant individual to begin with, so that only made matters worse. When your mother cut off contact for several months, I turned myself into a victim.”
“Okay, but … .”
May held up her hand to silence me. “We don’t have much time. I’m still getting used to my new reality, so my strength wanes. I want to get this part out before that happens. I can come back and discuss the rest later.”
That sounded like a terrible idea, but I didn’t voice my concerns. “Okay.”
“Your mother and I didn’t talk for months – and months and months – and when she finally called I thought it was because she wanted to apologize,” May explained. “But she didn’t. She wasn’t sorry. Honestly, she had nothing to be sorry about. I was the one in the wrong.”
“So … what happened?”
“Your mother called when she was in labor,” May replied, waiting a beat so the realization could wash over me. “She was in a lot of pain, and I think she knew something was about to go terribly wrong.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I see.”
“I don’t think you do,” May countered. “She was very excited for your arrival, but she wanted me to know a few things in case … well, in case she didn’t get to tell you certain things herself.”
“Which she didn’t.”
“No, she didn’t.”
I worked overtime to tamp down my bitterness. “What did she tell you?”
“She said that I should let your father raise you if something happened, make sure you had a normal life and didn’t know about your heritage,” May answered. “She didn’t want you to know what you were. She thought you would be happier being normal.”
I had no idea what to make of that. “I’m sorry, but … what?”
“I wanted to do what Emma thought best, but as the years went on I had more and more trouble letting things be,” May said, her eyes clouding. “I tried talking to your father several times. I wanted to meet you. Each time he put me off.”
“He would’ve told me that.”
“Are you sure?”
“I … .” I really wasn’t sure. I loved my father, but if he thought May would upend the quiet life we shared, he would’ve had no problem shutting her out.
“It doesn’t matter now.” May’s eyes drifted toward the window. “I don’t have much time left right now. I can feel it. I have to get the rest of this out.”
“What?”
“I made the mistake of not standing by my daughter when she made a life decision,” May said. “I also made the mistake of listening to the orders she gave out of fear. She wanted you to have a normal life, but sometimes being normal isn’t the right way to go.”
“I don’t understand what that means,” I pressed. “What’s the difference between normal and here?”
May cackled, the question catching her off guard. “Oh, my dear, you have so much to learn. I’m looking forward to watching you learn it.”
“That wasn’t really an answer,” I pressed.
“It wasn’t, but it’s the only thing I have to give you at present,” May said. “I made many mistakes and you’ll have to pay for them. I’m sorry for that. Still, you have time to fix the mistakes I’ve made. I think you’re more than capable of that.”
“And how will I do that?” I prodded. “How will I fix these so-called mistakes?”
May’s eyes sparkled as she lost a bit of her luminosity. She was fading. “You’re a witch, dear. We can do anything.”
I was convinced I’d heard her wrong. “Excuse me?”
“You’re a witch,” May repeated, her wizened countenance barely visible as she faded to nothing. “Look around. See what you see. Listen. Keep your ear to the ground. Everything will become obvious if you take the time to learn.”
My frustration bubbled up. “What does that mean?”
There was no answer. May was gone and I was back to being alone in a lighthouse that didn’t feel as if it belonged to me.
This was all a dream, right?
Six
I woke feeling more tired than when I fell asleep.
I spent the first hour of wakefulness in bed, debating whether or not what happened the previous evening was real or a result of my overactive imagination. I shoved it off to the imagination side until I arrived in the kitchen and found the dishwasher empty. Then I was back to debating. Of course, I could’ve emptied the dishwasher myself while in some sort of sleep state. Perhaps I had a brain tumor and didn’t realize it. That would explain everything. It was almost comforting to wish for a tumor. Almost.
The sun barely peeked over the horizon as I carried a mug of coffee to the patio and settled in one of the loungers. It was cool – especially by Moonstone Bay’s standards – and I predicted that I would have to become something of a morning person if I expected to survive the island.
I had a mountain of work today, yet I was more interested in debating whether or not I’d been dreaming or had a brain tumor. May didn’t say much but what she did say was enough to make me question my sanity. A witch? She said I was a witch. That made absolutely no sense. How could I be a witch? Witches are green with warts and stuff, right? Even May, who was advanced in age, didn’t look anything like a witch.
Still, even though I wanted to push the idea out of my mind I couldn’t quite let it go. Moonstone Bay was unbelievably odd. The cemetery was only one thing that caused me to question the community. I mean … well … maybe witches hang out in the cemetery after dark every night and that’s w
hat they’re trying to hide.
It made sense … kind of.
Okay, it only made sense if you were willing to embrace the fantastical. I’m a big fan of horror and fantasy movies and books, but that didn’t mean I believed either existed in the real world. There was plenty horror of the real variety going around, so much so that no one needed to add supernatural mumbo-jumbo to the mix.
I mean … come on. It’s ludicrous.
I believed that, and yet the witch stuff threatened to overtake my brain. I was furious with myself for even considering following it up. Still, I felt the need to talk to someone about what May had told me. I had no idea who that someone should be.
Could I risk a conversation with Galen? Probably not. He already thought I was loopy and only spent so much time talking with me because he was a sympathetic soul and felt sorry for me.
I could try talking to Lilac, but she clammed up when it came to the cemetery. Whatever she knew – and I was convinced she knew something – she had no intention of sharing it.
Who did that leave?
I could always call my father. The idea left me with a cold sensation in the pit of my stomach. I would call him, ask him about what May said, and then listen to his response. I needed to calm myself before that happened, though. My father wasn’t a fan of emotional manipulation, and if I started screaming, yelling and crying he wouldn’t take it well.
I was so lost in thought I didn’t realize I was focusing on something in the water until it moved. At first I thought it was a bit of ocean debris – you hear stories about floating garbage on the water all of the time – but then I realized the item in question appeared to be small in some instances and larger in others. How was that even possible?
I left my coffee on the small table next to the lounger and squinted as I stared at the ocean. The rising sun was so bright it made focusing difficult and the first thing I thought of was Bonnie Wakefield’s body. If another body washed up on shore my second day I’d have no choice but to leave. I couldn’t live in a place where this was a regular occurrence.
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