It leaned closer, and in my mind I screamed at the top of my lungs. “No!” To my surprise, my voice worked and I was fully awake, sitting up and gasping for air. There was no presence, no more shadow. Whatever had been here, whatever had lingered over my frozen frame had vanished and now my room was full of sunlight. I shot out of the bed and stood staring at it for a good minute before I heard Aimee’s voice in the hallway. She was humming a familiar tune, and I was happy to hear another living person nearby. I stepped out into the hallway, nervously brushed my blond hair with my fingers and tried to tidy my pajamas.
“Good morning, Miss Pressfield!” Today Aimee had pulled her hair back in a ponytail and wore a red cotton dress with black flats. “You ready for breakfast? Would you like it in your room, or should I take it up to your office?” she asked sunnily as if she didn’t have a care in the world. I guess she didn’t, but I sure as hell did. What was going on around here?
“Um, my office, please. I’ll be up in just a minute.”
“No worries.” She continued to hum as she began arranging my breakfast on a pretty tray. Taking inspiration from Aimee, I hastily brushed my hair and pulled it up with an elastic band. But instead of a pretty spring dress, I opted for my usual attire, blue jeans and a novelty t-shirt. This shirt was one of my favorites. It read: Write Me. I had a suitcase full of shirts. I practically lived out of my suitcase now. All my good clothes were in storage, except for my green dress and a pair of dress pants. As I hurriedly got dressed, I kept an eye on the right side of the bed. I couldn’t believe I had experienced sleep paralysis and that it had affected me so deeply.
Even though I couldn’t see a single shadow in my bedroom, the memory lingered. I slid on my tennis shoes and hastily made my way up to my third-floor office. I didn’t pause on the second floor and even found myself holding my breath as I hurried up to the landing. This was ridiculous! I’d never been afraid of ghosts or shadows or anything paranormal, not a day in my life. But now? I wasn’t sure what to make of all this.
Aimee had set my tray on my desk and was gathering the remaining dust covers as I powered up my computer. I appreciated that she didn’t want to make small talk with me. I really appreciated it, in fact. I poured myself a cup of coffee and logged into my software. I couldn’t wait to eat that toast. “Thank you, Aimee. This looks great. I’ll be working into the afternoon, I think.”
“Let me know if you change your mind and want to break for lunch.”
I nodded as I munched on toast and took my first sip of coffee for the day. I would have to invest in a coffeepot for up here. I drank so much coffee that it would be unreasonable to have Aimee traveling up and down these stairs just to deliver it. I pulled up the search engine and typed in “sleep paralysis.” My computer apparently remembered my previous searches because all my research showed up. I clicked on page after page, folder after folder. None of that study and effort had prepared me for what I had experienced. I hoped it never happened again. I’d lived this long and had no problems with sleep disorders. Hopefully, I would be one of those people who just had the odd experience. I absently wondered if this had anything to do with the apparition I’d seen. Was I really ready to admit that I’d seen a ghost? I’d had more than one odd experience during my short time here at Morgan’s Rock, stranger even than the month I’d spent at Loomis Bay or my time at the Wendy Hale House in Montana. At the latter, I’d heard random knocking sounds, but those noises weren’t anything I couldn’t dismiss. Pipes in the walls. Shifting house. So many ways to explain all that away. But this? This was frightening.
You just need to focus, Megan. Focus on the task at hand.
I’d technically only been here a day. I picked up the rental car at the airport and drove straight here. But I’d been restless yesterday. Really restless. That had led me to the one place I would always love, no matter where I lived, the library. But that experience bothered me too. No denying something was off. It had to be me. Didn’t it?
With a deliberate click, I ended my search. No time to tumble down rabbit holes today. I finished my breakfast and opened my working document. Might as well tackle my work in progress. Surely it’s not as bad as I think it is. Thirty minutes later, I was ready to repeatedly bang the computer on the desk. Yeah, it was as bad as I thought. The first few chapters were a disaster. My main character behaved erratically, and I just wasn’t feeling any of the action. But I couldn’t walk away from this keyboard without putting something on the page. Rather than delete the whole document, I opened a new one and decided to free write for a few minutes. That usually helped me get things straight in my head.
Just let the words fly, Megan.
That had been Glenn’s advice to me that first year when I struggled to breathe life into the book. And it was the last helpful thing he’d ever said to me. But whenever I faced the dreaded “writer’s block,” this was the method I used. Just let the words fly. Work on another project. My fingers poised over the keyboard while I waited for inspiration. What to write? Nothing about Robin or the horrid sequel. I needed to write fresh words, fresh ideas. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Gosh, that was easier than I expected.
My mind began to connect with images that had clearly been hidden in my subconscious. I didn’t think this scene would fit in my sequel, but I could see it perfectly nonetheless. I could feel the warmth of the flame—a cheerful fireplace—and hear the sounds of laughter.
Yes! There was a fire. A roaring fire. And this was a celebration! I heard the pop of champagne and voices. Many happy voices, cheering and laughing.
The words flew from my fingertips.
I could see the carved lamp; it was as tall as a man and had the face of an angel beneath the pink lampshade. There was an ivory-colored carpet beneath my feet, so soft under my high heels. Plush. Expensive. Like everything else in the Marble Room. That’s what the family called this room because of Yancey Storm’s extensive marble collection. There were Woolsey vases on the nearby table and on the far wall a row of beautiful examples of Georgian marble. The prize of course was a marble bust of Alexander the Great, a replica but a good one.
Pop! Pop!
Yes! Two bottles of champagne for the merry gathering. Two bottles to celebrate this wonderful night, and there was more where that came from. So much more. The wine cellar was always full. Let the champagne flow because this would be a night to remember.
Forever.
Chapter Six
May 1932
“Pick up that bottom lip, Dan. It’s not the end of the world, you know. Joanna still loves you—you will always be her confidant and friend.” I watched with some amusement as the handsome scholar slammed back the remnants of his drink and set the glass on the mantelpiece. “Her marrying Paden isn’t going to change that, but I wonder…”
“You wonder what, Vivian?”
“I wonder if that is going to be enough for you,” I said through a forced smile. When was Dan going to realize that pining over Joanna was not going to change his situation? Just a few years ago, I would have put money down that Dan and Joanna would have tied the knot, but he’d stalled over asking her for even a kiss. He suffered the scholar’s malady. He was a late bloomer, emotionally. Physically. He loved Joanna, as well as he could, but Dan erroneously believed that he had all the time in the world.
Months passed. Years passed.
Dan had fallen into a comfortable rut and eventually lost his chance at capturing Joanna’s heart. None of us could have predicted the appearance of Paden Kincaid, but it happened. Imagine, the fabulous Joanna Storm falling in love with a stable hand? As a woman, I understood the attraction. Paden reminded me of a lion, a male beauty with a glorious mane of hair. An old soul with patient, penetrating eyes and lips that betrayed his deepest emotions. He had rippling muscles and despite his physique had the grace of a dancer. He was an equestrian and trained only the most elite breeds of horses. That had been his special skill and what had brought him to Morgan’s Rock to begin wi
th. Yes, I could see the attraction. In fact, like most women who encountered Paden Kincaid, I wanted him…or at least to possess him briefly. But he’d had his sights set on Joanna from the beginning. I had put a great deal of effort into attracting his attention, from swimming nude in the pool to meeting him frequently in the stables, but all my advances had been rebuffed. And I no longer desired him. Not like before.
I hated him. I hated him more than I ever hated Joanna. I wanted to humiliate him. To show him how it felt to be humiliated in the most egregious of ways just as he had me. I still could not believe he had told Joanna to call me on the carpet like I was a servant here. He was the servant—not I! Yes, the hatred ran deep, but I felt something else too. Something that would be foreign to Dan Petit. Determination. This wasn’t over yet. Not for me. Not for any of us. And I would not be satisfied with merely wrapping my legs around Paden’s nude body. That would be a shallow win. That wouldn’t be enough for me now. I had to have him completely. All of him. Forever.
We will see, Joanna.
Jazz music played softly on the radio. Yes, this was a brief moment in the sun for the golden couple, but I knew enough about life to know that those moments never lasted. Never.
Swirling my champagne in the fluted glass, I stood beside Dan as party guests made their declarations of well wishes. Dan was like a mannequin as various and sundry friends put forth their best wishes for the happy couple. But then came his turn and all eyes turned to the two of us. I slid my arm through Dan’s and raised my glass as I offered my sunniest smile. Both Joanna and Paden watched me with decorum but without a trace of happiness.
“All the best wishes have been spoken. That’s what happens when you’re the last in line, I guess. We raise a glass to our dear Joanna and her Paden; with all our hearts, we wish you eternal happiness.” A smile stretched across my face. For a moment I feared that it wasn’t genuine enough, but I needn’t have worried. Joanna smiled back and hugged Paden. Joanna isn’t the only actress in the family. I did not wish her anything at all except unhappiness and misfortune. She was a mutt in sheep’s clothing, with her slanted eyes and husky man’s voice. I sipped my champagne and patted Dan on the back as an Al Jolson record began to play.
“Let’s get out of here, Danny Boy. Want to take a ride in my car?”
With one last pained look in Joanna’s direction, he nodded and said, “Fine, but I’m driving, Vivian.”
“Sure thing, sweets. Help me find my stole and purse, and I’ll let you take the wheel. Let’s blow this joint. I know where there’s a real party.”
Dan retrieved my stole and purse and practically shoved me into the elevator. Suddenly, he clutched my gloved arm and pulled me close to him. His eyes were hungry, his expression hurt, broken. “Sleep with me, Vivian. You and I should be together. We should have always been together.”
“Sure, Danny, I’ll sleep with you.” I wrapped a satin-covered hand around the back of his neck and kissed him sweetly. Might as well. I needed a distraction, and Dan would need some inspiration for what I hoped to achieve. He was the kind of man who needed someone to dangle a carrot in front of him. Small goals, Vivian. Small goals until the big ending. “And we’ll have a jolly time.”
We kissed again as the elevator began to move. Joanna and Paden’s big party had been held on the top floor of Morgan’s Rock. I couldn’t think why she would ever want to have a party there, seeing as how her father jumped to his death from the balcony, but then again, I never understood dear Joanna. Dan breathed on my neck and kissed it savagely. I tapped the button on the panel, and the elevator shuddered to a stop. I shed my stole and dropped my purse. Danny was panting and tugging at his clothes. Would we do it here? Why not? I’d never done it in an elevator before. Dan lifted the beaded fringes of my gown as I struggled with his slick black belt. Our first frenzied coupling was over in a few minutes, but they were savage minutes and neither of us was truly satisfied.
“Where can we go? I need more of you, Vivian.” Dan reached for my stole and purse.
“To the Coastal Hotel. I keep a room there.”
He nodded glumly and kissed me again. Too serious, Danny. He slapped the elevator button, and we descended to the bottom floor. Still in a rush, we raced outside and I tossed him the keys to my Ruxton, a birthday gift from Joanna; he caught them easily. It was a balmy night, but the skies threatened rain. I wrapped my stole around me and flipped on the radio as Danny cranked the vehicle. Duke Ellington’s Sweet Dreams of Love crackled from the speakers, and I smiled behind my fur.
This might be easier than I expected. I should have made my move before; I won’t waste my opportunity this time. No more waiting on Danny Boy. This will be my time to put it all together.
Rain began to patter on the roof and then the windshield. “Danny, turn on the wipers, sweetie. It’s about to come down in buckets.” I turned up the radio slightly and slid my gloves off and tucked them in my purse. Dan didn’t appear to be listening. I stared at him and noticed that tears were streaming down his face. Like earlier, he looked wooden, his eyes fixed on a point beyond the darkened road ahead. The car skittered slightly as he made the first curve. There were many more curves to navigate to get to the bottom of the cliffside. I didn’t fancy meeting Death tonight. Not when there was so much living to do.
“Hey, slow down, Buster, and turn on the wipers!”
Dan brushed away the tears with the sleeve of his coat. “She should have told me about this engagement before humiliating me in front of the whole world. Do you know what I mean? After everything I’ve done for her! How can she do this to me?”
As if it sensed his dark mood, the rain fell harder and I could no longer see the road. I put my hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him.
“Please, Danny. We can talk about this, but you have to turn the wipers on and slow down!” I insisted. That jerked him out of his trance—at least momentarily. He turned on the wipers just in time for us to see someone dressed in black dart across the road. Was that a man? I reached for the wheel, but my head slammed back as Danny slung the car sharply. I heard glass breaking and lost my bearings as the car rolled and tumbled down, down and down.
“Danny!” I screamed again, but even as I said his name, I knew he was dead. Glass flew around me, but I could see his face perfectly. He’d hit his head on the glass, and there was blood pouring down, his mouth open in a silent scream. And then everything went black.
I woke up outside the car. I staggered back at the sight of Danny hanging out of the vehicle. He was covered in so much blood that I wouldn’t have recognized him if I hadn’t known it was him. I sat on the wet grass, my hands freezing and the pain in my back intolerable. I screamed as I twisted and tried to crawl away from the broken vehicle. I heard footsteps behind me and turned my head to see the dark figure running away.
“Hey! Help us! Help me!” I shouted, but the man didn’t slow down. “Danny!” I sobbed as I crawled back toward the car. What should I do? I have to get him out—I have to help him! But he’s dead. I know he’s dead!
And then I saw that he wasn’t alone.
There was a woman beside him. She was a messy bundle of beads and satin and blood. Her eyes were open and staring at me. Accusing me! And I knew the horrible truth.
Before I could scream again, I felt myself fading. I was losing consciousness.
I was floating. I was watching. Just watching. I could see the car coming down the road. It was a black car, one of the cars I’d seen earlier back at Morgan’s Rock. Was that Mattie and Jay? They raced toward the edge of the highway and called again and again, but I could not answer. I could not do anything except float away. But where? Where was I going?
I was in blackness now. Blackness but moving blackness. I heard a voice, a slithering, whispering voice that wrapped around me like a velvet vine. It moved and caressed me. “Who are you?” I asked as I searched to find the source of it. I saw nothing. When it spoke, my ears could not hear, but my heart heard every wor
d.
What did you want? What did you want more than anything? I can give it to you if you give me what I want.
Am I dead?
Not too late to get what you want…
I felt the velvet vines leave me, and in their absence I felt great fear. Fear that I would never again have a chance to claim what was mine. Never again see or feel anything.
So I spoke my wish. I told the velvet blackness what I wanted.
And then I was back at Morgan’s Rock.
Chapter Seven
Present Day
I stared at the computer screen amazed at what I’d just seen. I immediately got up and began to pace the floor, splaying my fingers and shaking my hands in an attempt to shake off the feeling that perhaps it hadn’t been me writing that. Why would I think that? Yeah, I felt so strange, like I was wrapped in spider webs.
That’s how she felt, this Vivian character. I wiped my mouth. I could taste stale champagne…no way. That wasn’t possible. Okay, Megan. You’ve got one heck of an imagination.
I decided to take a break and maybe walk around. There were dozens of rooms I’d yet to explore in this house, including the clock tower. Why was I so hesitant? I couldn’t understand it. No time like the present. I decided to start on this floor. In my story I saw this room, almost exactly as it was. Except there was no roaring fire and no tinkling champagne glasses. No gathering of young people, no plush rug.
But they had been here. They must have been here.
No, Megan. That’s not possible. It’s your imagination.
I did love this room. Being here felt like coming home. Yes, I was home. Maybe I should buy this place. I twisted my hair as I surveyed the furniture. These pieces were original to the house, but there was something off about them. This chair should be here. I shoved the Queen Anne chair a few feet to the left.
The Haunting at Morgan's Rock Page 4