I turned the doorknob, but the door wasn’t going to give. It felt kind of stiff, but maybe that was the lock. I leaned against the thick wooden door and put my ear to it. Was that shuffling? Could there be someone in there? Aimee stepped back, but I wasn’t moving a muscle. I swear I could hear someone moving around. “Aimee!”
She took another step back, and I turned my head toward her and asked again, “Aimee, do you have a key?”
“Please, Miss Pressfield. Megan. Let’s go. I don’t like it here.”
“I don’t like it here either, but I have to look inside. Do you know where the key is?”
She shook her head and kept walking backward. What was wrong with her? Didn’t she hear the shuffling?
“Okay, you’re scaring me, Miss Pressfield. I think we need to go now.”
A beam of light from an open door fell on Aimee’s face. For the briefest of moments, I felt a wicked sense of déjà vu. Yeah, wicked was the right word. Aimee wasn’t there, and I was looking at another woman. A woman with a serpentine smile. But as quickly as I perceived her, she fluttered away and Aimee stood in the hallway. Yes, this was Aimee. A pretty young woman, a modern woman wearing a perfectly pressed blue skirt and a neat shirt. This wasn’t the woman with the serpentine smile. Aimee’s wide eyes expressed her fear perfectly, and I suddenly felt sorry that I’d taken this whole thing so far. Even though I did plan to let her go, and soon, I didn’t want to scare her. And she must be terrified. She called me Megan, not Miss Pressfield.
I moved away from the door and put the knife down. Yeah, I looked like a crazy person for sure.
“I am so sorry, Aimee. I guess maybe I was dreaming. You know, that’s probably what happened. I had to be dreaming. I didn’t mean to scare you. You’re right, let’s go get some coffee.”
“Okay, but maybe you should change your clothes first. That’s not exactly a lounging gown. It’s kind of an antique, isn’t it?”
That’s when I realized I was wearing the Vivaldi.
Chapter Thirteen
I lingered over my vanity table and brushed my hair as I recalled the dream. The ghost I saw, the man standing by my bed. That wasn’t a dream. But I hadn’t felt like myself when I woke up. I felt like someone else. And he was looking for me. But it wasn’t me.
I was Joanna. He wanted me to be Joanna. God! That can’t be true.
This had to be my writer’s brain working overtime. Imagining scenes from the past was my job, but this wasn’t like anything I had experienced before. Ever. No doubt I could drum up potential situations; my books were essentially combined character studies. Some were of the living, and some were of the dead. But this was no character study. Not at all. This had been a true experience.
I closed my eyes as I put the brush down. Yes, I could smell the scent of sweet cigarettes. Those smokes had a different aroma than the kind folks smoked nowadays. They definitely smelled sweeter, smoother.
The Vivaldi gown felt like heaven against my skin, though my arms were cold. My hair was impossibly short, but I’d grown to love the style. And so did my fans. Tonight, I sported a golden headband that kept the curls in place. A tiny peacock feather sprouted over the left ear. I could hear everyone whisper my name, and some even called me the “Golden Gamma.” Dan told me that was a play on words. I was a glamour puss, for sure, but gamma rays were hot—they were a kind of radiation. I’d laughed when he explained the reference to me, and I had immediately regretted it. My intention wasn’t to insult him, but the moniker had been so ridiculous it made me laugh. Poor Danny had a sensitive spirit, one which I both loved and despised. Why couldn’t he have tougher skin? He’d have to toughen up now. I was moving on and taking my heart with me. He’d have to understand; I explained that to him already, but he didn’t listen. He never listened.
Where was Paden? He’d promised he’d come to my party, but so far I hadn’t seen him…
Oh, Vivian. You look a complete mess. Did you spend all your time in the sun when you visited Ankara?
And then I felt my insides shake. The photographers demanded more of me and I desperately wanted to ham it up, but now my hands shook.
And then…
No. You’re Megan Pressfield. Not a ghost from the past. You aren’t Joanna Storm. You never were. What are you thinking? That you’re reincarnated or something? You don’t believe in reincarnation—you aren’t even sure that there is a heaven or a hell.
I slid my feet into a pair of slides, grabbed my purse and keys and headed out of the house as I mumbled another apology to Aimee. I didn’t wait to hear her response. I headed to the one place where I knew I might find answers—the library. My last visit hadn’t been great, but if I was going to get a better handle on things, I would need more information. As I put the car in drive and headed to the highway, I began to go over the facts in my mind.
Fact one. Joanna Storm disappeared, and nobody ever saw her again. Nobody knew what happened to her. Fact two. According to my dreams, or whatever they were, Joanna had a malady that nobody except Dan knew about. I never read anything detailing such a sickness. What did she have? Maybe epilepsy? I wasn’t sure. I’d have to research this a bit more. Fact three. Vivian Kemal and her serpentine smile left me feeling unsettled. Had Joanna felt the same way about her? Fact four. Vivian wasn’t actually Joanna’s family, but there was some kind of strange connection there. One that needed exploring.
As I pondered these facts, I put the car in park, grabbed my purse and headed inside. Loretta Bradley was going to answer my questions, whether she liked me or not. And I couldn’t figure out why her personality had changed so quickly. Why? All I did was tell her that I was staying at Morgan’s Rock. I mean, from her book I knew she was a fan of the place.
“Loretta? Hi, do you remember me?”
The woman stepped away from her computer and waved for me to join her at the end of the long counter. There were quite a few people in here today. Students visiting the library, maybe?
“Of course I remember you. How may I help you?”
I plunked my purse down on the counter and said a bit more vehemently than I intended, “You can help me by explaining what’s going on at Morgan’s Rock.” Okay, Megan. Play nice. You want her help, remember?
“I’ve been thinking about the other day. I know I was a bit short with you, but you have to understand. That place…well, it’s cursed. There, I said it. You shouldn’t be living there; nobody should be.” She narrowed her eyes at me and twisted her mouth into a definite frown.
“If you really believe the place is cursed, why would you write a book about it?” It was an honest question. “I read it, but I was hoping you could tell me more about the place.”
“You really read the book?” Her frown disappeared now, replaced by a hopeful expression. “Surely you gathered how I felt about Morgan’s Rock. It’s never been a good piece of land. So much death and tragedy, and then the Storm family bringing those stones here, and that clock…it’s just bad. All the way around. It wouldn’t be good to exploit the tragedies that we’ve all had to live with.”
“I had no idea about any of it, Loretta. My agent thought it would be a good idea for me to write my book at Morgan’s Rock, but I didn’t ask to come here. I’m not trying to exploit anything.”
She tapped a pen on the counter and cocked her head at me. “You’ve seen something, haven’t you? Is that why you’re here?”
“It’s more a feeling,” I lied immediately. On a hunch, I asked, “What can you tell me about Vivian Kemal?”
Finally, Loretta’s smile appeared. I got the idea that she liked knowing something I didn’t. Why were authors so stinking competitive? This wasn’t a contest.
“Now, she was an interesting lady. And her death was another tragedy. Come here, I’ve got something to show you. Angie? Keep an eye on the counter, okay?” she whispered to the young lady scanning book barcodes. I followed Loretta to a pokey office at the back of the library. She clicked on the light switch, and I was imm
ediately amazed. Loretta’s office was like a tiny library. Books were stacked on shelves, on her desk, in a few boxes in the corner. She squatted down and pulled a few books off a low shelf. “Here it is.”
She put two of the books on her desk and opened one. Flipping the pages quickly, she found the picture she was looking for and handed me the book. “This is Vivian Kemal. She’s a bit of an enigma, really. She was Joanna’s understudy during her theater years. But then when Joanna went to Hollywood and got into films, there wasn’t much need for an understudy. The theater doesn’t work like a film, I guess you know that. Sorry. Vivian wasn’t one to be left behind, though. When Joanna hit it big, Vivian was there too. She was doing her best to break into the movie industry but didn’t have the talent. No. I take that back. The exact phrasing was…” She took the book back and ran her finger over the text. “Here it is. She didn’t have the on-screen presence that Joanna did. Joanna did her best to promote her, but it didn’t do Vivian any good.”
“She was a beauty, though, wasn’t she? They both were, in their own way.”
“Yes, but Vivian couldn’t act. Don Majestic, the producer for Long Island Lady, said she was a disaster. Couldn’t remember her lines, had to constantly be reminded where to go, what to do. Pretty or not, she just didn’t have what it took to be anywhere near as successful as Joanna.”
“That’s fascinating and incredibly sad. You say she died tragically? What do you mean?”
Loretta opened a scrapbook and pointed to a newspaper article. “Here it is. She was in an accident with a family friend, Dan Petit. He died instantly, and she lingered for a few hours before she died too.”
“What about Paden Kincaid? Do you have any photos of him?”
She smiled and nodded. “Ah, Paden Kincaid. He’s the real mystery, isn’t he? Yes, I have a photo that I think might be of him, but I can’t be sure. It’s like he vanished into thin air.”
“That wasn’t in your book, Loretta. In fact, you hardly mentioned him. Is there a reason why?”
“No. Except for the fact that we didn’t have much in the way of facts to back up any theories. I guess it is possible that he killed Joanna and hid her body, but the police combed every inch of Morgan’s Rock. They followed every lead. Nobody could prove a thing, and nobody could find Paden Kincaid. You see the conundrum. Everything about the Storm family is surrounded in mystery. Here, take this scrapbook. Maybe you’ll find something in those old articles that will lead you to Joanna and Paden. And you should check out her movies. Have you seen any of them?”
“I think I caught a piece of one on AMC one time, but I’ve never sat down to watch one. Do you have any here?”
“We have her entire collection. She was in seven films in just three years. A crazy pace for the time; even now, only a few actors keep that kind of schedule. I’ll get them for you.”
“I can’t thank you enough for all this. I’m sure this will help me with my research.”
“So you are writing about Morgan’s Rock?”
“I’m not sure yet, but I feel like I need to know about Joanna since I am buying her house.”
“You’re buying it?”
“Why do I get the feeling that you don’t approve, Loretta?”
She led me to the door and flicked off the light in her office. “I think if anyone could get to the bottom of all this, it would probably be you. Just be careful, Miss Pressfield. The ghosts of Morgan’s Rock enjoy their mysteries.”
“Thanks, Loretta. I will.”
I walked out of the library with an armload of videos and Loretta’s research scrapbook. For the first time in a long time, I was excited about writing again. That’s when I knew the truth. I had to get to the bottom of this mystery.
I had to find Joanna Storm.
Chapter Fourteen
October 1932
“Joanna, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.” Paden stepped into the sunlight and cast a shadow over me. His voice betrayed his disposition, and I felt powerless to change any of it.
“Why would you look for me, Paden? I never go anywhere. I’m always in my corner of the world,” I said, feeling tired just from speaking to him. I loved him, that hadn’t changed. But that was all the more reason to push him away. I’d already lost so many of the people I loved. The dead were all around me. How could I bear to see his face among them? Even now they were gathering at the corner of the house where the afternoon shadows stretched long and strange. Father’s silhouette was plain to me, as was Vivian’s hat and even Dan’s suit. Why couldn’t Paden see them? If he loved me, he would try harder to see. He would do as I had done and commit to searching these things out, but he had not. I suppose I was a bit angry at him for that. But even my anger did not make sense. Paden had been here with me every step of the way—he never left my side, so why did I feel this animosity toward him?
Danny! That’s why.
I glanced over Paden’s shoulder and peeked at the shadows that appeared to be moving behind him. I caught my breath, hoping to see my ghostly visitors more clearly, but a foul breeze blew through the stone courtyard. It swept away the few leaves that littered the ground around me and also the remnants of the dead.
There were no more shadows. Paden’s presence had scared them away. Another reason to be angry with him. I tugged the butterfly shawl about me tighter. As if it heard me, the clock tower chimed five times.
Time to go inside, Joanna. Dinner is in just a few hours. We always dress for dinner. And what will we do with your hair?
Mother! In these many months, I’d seen everyone but her. Though I still did not see her, I could hear her voice and feel her close to me. What I felt, however, wasn’t love but disapproval. How could that be? Mother had never treated me in such a way. I always assumed she would’ve been proud of me if she had lived to see my success on the stage and in film.
“Joanna! Are you listening to me?”
Even as he asked the question, Paden sat beside me, blocking my view of the far wall where the shadows had previously gathered. Where I had seen them day after day. I’d been a patient student, sitting and observing and waiting. But in all these months, none of the ghosts had manifested or allowed me to see their faces plainly.
“What is it?” My increased anxiety made me feel sick, nervous. Was this going to lead to another episode? The doctor was very specific that I must avoid all stress, and wasn’t Paden stressing me now? “Please, let me rest.” My own words caused a shiver to run the length of my body. It was a horrible feeling, and I immediately regretted my words. I meant, “Let me sleep.” “Let me rest” had other connotations, which I had not intended to openly express.
But you cannot deny it, Joanna. You have thought about it, haven’t you?
Oh no. This was another voice altogether. Vivian! The memory of her smile and the careful tilt of her head came into my mind as if she forced it there. Yes, even in death Vivian was a force to be reckoned with. But I had a will too! A will to live! A will to be happy with the man I loved.
Go away, Vivian! You are dead, and I’m alive!
Suddenly Paden’s hands were on my arms and he shook me gently. “Please, Joanna! Darling, listen. We should leave here—I know you don’t want to hear it, but it’s true. This place has too many memories, too many dark places.” He licked his lips and glanced over his shoulder as if he too had seen the shadows and knew that they resided there. Was it true? Did Paden see them too? He continued his plea, “I will take you anywhere you want to go. Anywhere at all. You say it, and we’ll do it. I know that you are not well and that travel seems…”
I clung to him with all my might. His words were like water to my soul. “Yes! Please, let us leave here. We can go together. Promise me we will never come back. Promise me!”
His arms around me were all the promise I needed. He picked me up and lifted me off the settee as if I were light as a feather. Indeed, I was much lighter than I had been just a few months ago before the seizures struck me so cruelly. Bef
ore I was afraid to drink or eat or even sleep. Surely travel would be difficult, but it would be worth it to leave Morgan’s Rock behind forever.
Paden held me close as we walked inside. He kissed my cheek, and I cried softly against him. My tears were like a healing rain. I couldn’t bear to stay and listen to Vivian’s voice in my head any longer. And for her to pretend that my mother disapproved of me—for I believed she had put that voice in my head to trick me from the grave, to steal from me the memory of my mother’s love—that was the ultimate revenge.
Yes, we should leave and celebrate our marriage. Perhaps that would rekindle our passion. I had secretly married Paden shortly after our engagement party in a quiet service at the small church at the bottom of the cliff, but we hadn’t had a proper honeymoon yet. This was what we needed to begin our new life together. This was what I needed to live again. Leaving here would breathe life into my soul.
“Should I help you pack, darling? Or would you rather that I send Emma to help you? I must go make all of the arrangements. I want you to be comfortable and well taken care of on our trip.” Paden eased me into the rose-colored chair in my bedroom. I smiled at him and touched his face. Why were my hands so pale? I’d spent all afternoon in the sun. Seeing the pale skin and the blue veins beneath it mesmerized me for a moment, and I’d forgotten exactly what I was saying to him. “Joanna? Should I stay with you?”
Ah, yes. Now I remembered. “No need to do that, Paden. I will take care of everything. It may take me a few hours, but I will be ready. Do send Emma to bring me my trunk, the large blue one.”
“Very well. I will do it. Let me go now, dearest, and make a few phone calls. We will travel short distances until you are strong enough to go further, and then we may even go all the way to Scotland. Would that please you?”
“You please me in every way, Paden. Wherever you go, I will go.” He kissed my hand one last time before leaving me alone. As soon as he left the room, it was as if all the joy left with him. Why should I feel this way? I was the great Joanna Storm. I was not afraid of anything—I was certainly not afraid of being alone, but it was fear that I felt. Fear that I would never leave this place.
The Haunting at Morgan's Rock Page 8