I sat for what felt like an eternity, yet it could only have been a few minutes. I told myself I just needed to rest as I made a mental checklist of all the things I needed to pack.
But then I heard the click of the door and the handle turned ever so slightly. As it unlatched, the door swung open. No one came inside my room, yet I heard footsteps in the hall. Strange that I would, as we had carpet runners and as far as I knew there was no one anywhere near my room.
Except for Emma. Paden said something about Emma coming. Oh yes, with my trunk.
“Emma?” I waited, but the girl did not respond. My hands clutched the arms of the chair as I carefully rose. Yes, I felt wobbly. I had missed my lunch today and had eaten only a few bites of toast this morning. That would explain why I felt so weak, as weak as a kitten. “Hello?” I took a few more steps toward the door. No more footsteps, but I fancied that I heard breathing. Soft breathing. In my ear. I swatted at my right ear and turned, but there was no one there.
Joanna! You are losing your mind!
Go away, Vivian. You are not welcome here.
I stepped out into the hallway holding onto the doorknob to steady myself. My Victrola was playing in the Great Room, and there were other sounds as well, like a party was going on. Would Paden have thrown me a surprise party? Surely not, as we planned to leave this very day. There was nothing to celebrate, yet there was a celebration going on. I could hear the tinkling of glasses and laughter.
I stepped into the smoke-filled room and gasped at the sight. It was as if I had stepped back in time and was attending my own 16th birthday party. That was the horrid night when Father…
Father! Nobody seemed to see me or notice me at first. I had only one thought, and that was to get to my father as quickly as possible. He had to know that I loved him and that I would miss him and that he could not do such a horrible thing as throw himself from the balcony.
I paused as I sensed eyes boring into me. Yes, someone could see me, someone who hated me. I glanced around quickly but saw no one looking in my direction, so I hurried toward the balcony. And there was Father, his hands on the stone railing as he gazed out over the water. I’d forgotten about the fog climbing across the town like a living thing. It had taken my breath away when I saw it that night, and it did so again now.
But Father was not alone. There was a girl behind him, a girl with long dark hair wearing lace gloves and white high-heeled shoes. That had been the first time I’d worn high heels. It was a surprise from Mother. I didn’t remember this. I’d left him before this, but here I was behind him. No, I hadn’t lingered this long, but I should have.
Suddenly, the younger me—the one wearing my shoes and my dress and my gloves—shoved my father with the strength of a man. The ferocity of the shove unbalanced him, and he tumbled from the balcony like a doll.
I wanted to vomit as the younger me turned to face me. No. This couldn’t be right! This wasn’t me at all. Yes, that was my dress and my shoes and even my hair. But the face. We were nothing alike in the face.
I was looking into the face of Vivian Kemal!
Chapter Fifteen
I woke up feeling drained and somewhat thirsty. I reached for the water bottle beside my bed, but it wasn’t there. And my bed was in the wrong place. And where the heck was my nightstand? I sat up bolt straight, and my hand flew to my forehead. Where was my hair? I sprang out of the bed and immediately felt off-kilter, like I was on a rocking and reeling ship. My hand flew to my chest as if that would steady my breathing, but my hands weren’t mine either. There was a mirror across the room, a large, oval mirror. I’d seen it before, but not with my own two eyes. Not like this.
I walked closer to the mirror and stared at what I saw. The face of Joanna Storm was looking back at me. “Oh God! This can’t be right!” I slapped my cheeks to wake myself up from whatever dream I’d fallen into, but I was not asleep. I stared into the mirror. Dark eyes were looking back at me—those were not my eyes. My eyes were hazel. My long blond hair was gone too. I rubbed my arms, which were as cold as ice, and my stomach felt wobbly again. The feeling that I was on board a boat washed over me. It was like butterflies in my stomach, only this seemed different than a mere case of nerves.
“You are Megan Pressfield. Remember that you are Megan Pressfield, author and modern girl. The year is…”
A young woman entered the room, and I recognized her from my dream or vision or whatever it was I had. This was Emma, one of the servants who worked in the house.
“Emma, you have to listen to me. I need your help. I’m looking for a dress, the turquoise one with the peacock on it. It’s a Vivaldi. Where is it? I need it now.”
The woman put a tray of food on the table near the rose-colored chair. A single pink rose stood in a white vase. She removed the silver lid off the white china plate full of food. It all smelled delicious, but there was no time to eat. “That’s the party dress, isn’t it? One of those? I made sure that it was packed, Miss Storm, just as you asked me to do. Now please come eat something. The car is coming soon, and I don’t want you to feel weak as you travel.”
“Please listen to me. I have to have that dress. Is it in the trunk? The blue one?” I hurried to the locked trunk and fumbled with the latch, but my fingers weren’t as nimble as they should be—no, her fingers weren’t as nimble as mine. I had no energy and suddenly realized how truly sick Joanna had been. The butterflies were getting worse by the second. Was I going to be sick? I couldn’t identify this feeling, this tingling in my fingers and toes and the wobbliness of my stomach. These were not symptoms I was familiar with. This was certainly not a cold or the flu or allergies; none of the typical sicknesses a woman Joanna’s age or mine would have.
That’s right. Joanna had epilepsy or something like it. What would I do if I had a seizure? If Joanna had a seizure while I was in her body? Would I die? Would she?
The most beautiful man I had ever seen with my own eyes stepped into the room. I was moved by the clear affection he had for Joanna. He came toward me, and I froze. I couldn’t let him kiss me—I wasn’t his wife! It wouldn’t be right to let him kiss me. But then again, if I didn’t, he might suspect that something was wrong and…
Paden Kincaid kissed me, and it was the sweetest kiss I had ever received. How could Joanna not love him with all her heart, if she didn’t? I suspected that she had some unresolved feelings around the death of Dan Petit, but I didn’t know for sure. I said in my mind, Joanna, I’m sorry.
“Are you ready, darling? Are you ready to leave Morgan’s Rock? The car is here now, dearest. Emma, ask Andy to come up and assist you with the trunk. We will meet you downstairs. You look so well today, Joanna. I can see already that travel will do you a great deal of good. I don’t know why we haven’t thought to do this before. But it doesn’t matter. We are together, and we are leaving together. I love you, Joanna Storm—Joanna Kincaid. I love you with all my heart.”
My hands trembled in his. Joanna, I hope you know how lucky you are. Such a beautiful man, such a pure heart. He loves you so much! She did not answer me. Not that I expected her to…but then again, if I’d wondered too long, I might have wondered where her soul had gone. Was she silently witnessing my invasion of her body? Or had she brought me here by some cosmic magic? Perhaps she wanted me to witness what she had experienced?
“Paden, listen to me. I’m not myself today.” I searched his face, hoping desperately that he’d detect the hidden message I was trying to send him. “You have to believe me. I cannot leave Morgan’s Rock today, but if you give me another day, I will be ready to go. Yes, just one more day. Please, Paden.” I smiled sweetly at him and expected him to agree with my change in plans. What I hadn’t expected was for him to look down on me with absolute anger. His square jaw popped and his shaggy blond hair danced as he shook his head vehemently.
“You can’t do this, Joanna. You can’t change your mind. This is for your own good; don’t you understand that? You have to trust me. I’m your
husband now. Listen, I know how you felt about Dan. That’s no secret to me, but he’s gone and I’m here. I’m alive, and I love you. I’m not a ghost…I’m a real man with a heartbeat, Joanna.” He took my small white hand and placed it inside his shirt, and I could feel his heart beating beneath my cold fingers.
I didn’t know what to say to him. How could I make him understand? If I told him the truth, that my real name was Megan and that I came from the 21st century, he would certainly think Joanna had gone mad. Did I really want to do this to her? She had enough madness without me adding to it. But I had to explain somehow. I had to let him know that yes, Joanna wanted to leave with all her heart…but I wasn’t Joanna.
Stammering now, I said, “I’m really not myself today. I’m sure if you give me just a few hours I can pull myself together. Just give me a little while to be by myself. I… I don’t like this dress, and I want to change. Please make them leave the trunk. Emma! Please leave the trunk!”
If the Vivaldi dress was in the trunk, I needed it. I needed to wear it so I could get back to my time and leave Joanna in hers. Where was Joanna now? Was she a ghost in my time? Did Aimee think that Joanna was me? And how was it that I was here without the dress? Too many questions and not enough time to answer them. Paden’s face darkened with anger. This was a side of him I had never seen. He was furious with my decision and my insistence that we stay at Morgan’s Rock.
“I realize you are a sick woman, Joanna, but you are my wife and I know what is best for you. You will get into that car, and we will leave this place. It isn’t good for you to be here. Don’t pretend that you don’t see ghosts. You told me, remember? And Vivian told me something else, but I don’t believe it. You could never have murdered your father. I think we need to go to Warm Springs. It’s not far away, and there is a physician there who will help us. His name is Dr. Polk, and he has studied a great deal on the subject of hysterical epilepsy. He will know what to do. Now take some time to rest if you must, but we leave in one hour. Eat your food, Joanna.”
And with that, Paden walked out of the room and slammed the door, and I heard the key turn in the lock. I hated these old-fashioned doors. It was so thick and heavy that there was no way I could bang my way out, and who locks their wife’s bedroom door?
Try to look at it from Paden’s point of view, Megan. He thinks his wife is crazy—oh, and by the way, you are his wife. I was wasting time banging on this door when I needed to figure out a way to get back to my own time, not merely out of this room. I agreed with Paden. Joanna did need to leave Morgan’s Rock, but not with me in her body. I paced the floor back and forth, ignoring the wobbly feeling in my stomach and the pins and needles in my toes and fingers. Yes, this was a very sick body and one that needed rest.
Forgive me, Joanna. I have to think. And in order to do that, I have to pace. I reached for a piece of toast—maybe that would stop the butterflies—but thought better of it and put it back. I’d recalled stories from my childhood of people eating food while visiting fairy worlds and waking up to discover that they were 100 years older or worse. No, I didn’t want to interact with food or drink or anyone any more than I had to. I turned to pace the floor again, trying to think of ways to trigger whatever it was that brought me here, when I came face to face with the ghost of Vivian Kemal.
She was about the same height as Joanna, but she had a regal bearing. Something about her neck and shoulders, the way she carried herself even in death. Vivian Kemal believed she was somebody special, and I believed I was afraid of her with every fiber of my being. I wondered if she knew who I was and if maybe she had something to do with why I was here. Before I could ask her anything, she moved quickly toward me…supernaturally quickly. I gasped and took a step back, which did no good for we were almost nose to nose. I could see through Vivian, but at the same time I could see her veins behind pale skin. I could feel her breath on my face and the touch of her fingers around my throat. Was she going to choke me? My eyes caught the sight of something glinting at her neck. It was a pendant of some sort. Blue? Yes, a blue scarab. What an interesting piece! She began to whisper, and as she did the scarab began to glow softly.
Vivian spoke with a slight accent, but her words were clear to me.
You thought you could escape me. You thought you were going to leave me here, didn’t you? But you shall never escape me. You shall never leave here, for I am not done with you yet, Joanna.
“But I’m not…” And that was all I could say because Vivian’s hand was around my throat, and it was no ghostly hand that choked me. I felt every tendon and bone in it, and I knew she intended to crush every bone in my throat. I was desperate, so desperate! I had to save myself and Joanna! Is this how she died? Was she murdered by the ghost of Vivian Kemal? I kicked at the apparition, but she had no legs; I swatted at her, but she had only one arm. There was only one thing left to do. As quick as any black cat, I swatted at her and snatched the scarab pendant from her neck.
Immediately everything changed. I was lying on the floor of my own bedroom with my hands around my own neck. I could barely breathe and knew without looking that there were bruises on my skin. Vivian Kemal had wanted to kill me, and if I hadn’t grabbed at that scarab, I would’ve been as dead as she was. Gasping for air and crying, I reached down and picked up the scarab. I didn’t know how any of this was possible, but clearly, I brought something back with me.
And I had no doubt that Vivian Kemal would come looking for it.
Chapter Sixteen
Present Day
I had the scarab around my neck now. I’d removed the cross I normally wore from the gold chain, and the scarab easily slid onto the necklace. It was the first thing I did when I realized I was back—back in my own time and back at Morgan’s Rock. And everything was different. Through some sort of cosmic twist, Morgan’s Rock in my time had crossed paths with Morgan’s Rock in Joanna Storm’s time, and this scarab pendant was proof of that.
“Keep looking, Aimee. It’s got to be here somewhere. Medical records. Anything that looks like medical records.”
Aimee wasn’t pleased with me right now. She had a lot to do in the kitchen, or so she said, and would much rather be down there rolling out a pie crust than up here with me trying to sort out my research. I felt a little guilty knowing that I’d been planning for days to fire her, but I really needed her help with this.
I’d made a phone call to Loretta Bradley, who kindly sent over every bit of research she had on Joanna Storm. All I had to do was promise to mention her book in my book, and she eagerly agreed. It wasn’t too high a price to pay, and I didn’t mind doing it, especially if I got the answers I was looking for.
And I had so many questions. Had Joanna been truly insane? Was the diagnosis of hysterical epilepsy accurate, or was someone trying to do something far more nefarious like poison her? That was the only thing I could come up with that would explain the hallucination of Vivian Kemal’s ghost. She’d seen her face on the apparition that seemed to push Mr. Storm over the balcony. Joanna had also seen Vivian’s face in front of her while her throat was being squeezed. Had that been all in Joanna’s mind? It didn’t seem possible because I’d been in Joanna’s body at the time. If it had been a figment of Joanna’s imagination, wouldn’t I have known that? So if she wasn’t mad, was I?
“Megan? You didn’t hear me call you?” Alex asked.
I laughed and pretended to be amused by that, but I honestly hadn’t heard him. Rather than say that, I distracted him with all of my books. “Look at all this. Every bit of this has to do with Joanna Storm. I guess you can tell I’ve decided to write about her. I think you’re right, Alex. We can totally pitch a great book to Circuit Publishing.” Aimee paused to stare at Alex as if to say, She’s gone nuts. “Thanks for your help, Aimee. I’ve got it under control now.”
She hurried down the stairs and gave me one last sad look, but I wasn’t discouraged by it. I knew what I had to do. I had to help Joanna. Somehow, I had to get a message to Pade
n to let him know that Joanna was seeing ghosts and having encounters with them. Whether they were real (which I wasn’t convinced they were) or figments of her imagination, he needed to know about it. Something dark and twisted was at work at Morgan’s Rock during Joanna’s time here.
“I’ve learned so much so quickly. Hey, you were going to Boston, weren’t you?”
“You’re too young to have memory loss. I told you that trip had been canceled. I was coming by to talk about The Robin’s Song and the nonexistent sequel. The people from Trident Films want to take both of them and more if you can write them to the big screen. Can you believe that?” He was grinning as if he just won the lottery. And for an agent, this was a lottery win. Whenever you have an author who reaches that level of success, it can only go higher. Unless you’re a total screw-up and haven’t actually written the sequel yet.
“Are you kidding me? That’s great news.” I slapped a folder down and rounded the desk to give him a hug. A proper hug. He certainly deserved one for accomplishing that. I hugged him sincerely, but we didn’t move away as quickly as before. We both paused and looked at each other, and neither of us spoke. I sensed a kiss was coming my way. I lowered my eyes, tilted my head and licked my lips expectantly, but no kiss came.
“Where did you get that?”
“Get what?”
Alex’s hand was on my scarab. He was holding it gingerly and staring at me questioningly. “This. Where did you get it?”
“I found it here. It was on the rug. I thought it was pretty, so I put it on. You don’t like it?” Gee, that was embarrassing. One minute I thought he was gonna kiss me, and now he seemed repulsed by me. What in the Sam Hill was going on here?
The Haunting at Morgan's Rock Page 9