The Haunting at Morgan's Rock

by M. L. Bullock

  “Hello?”

  “Oh, hello. I wasn’t sure anyone was there.” That wasn’t Alex’s voice—it was Lucy Marlow’s.

  “Where is Alex?” I asked with no hint of friendliness in my voice. She fumbled to put her hand over the phone, and I could hear her talking to someone.

  She came back to the phone and said sweetly, “Um, he’s not available at the moment, but I’ll tell him you called, Megan.”

  “Put him on the phone, Lucy!”

  “I…I can’t. But I will tell him,” she answered ever so sweetly and patiently. She was so damn sweet that I wanted to punch her in the face. Right through the phone.

  All I could think to say was, “You do that.” I slammed the phone down and smacked my hand on the counter. How could I have been such a fool! Always trust your intuition, Megan. Always! You knew that was a bad situation!

  To my surprise, Loretta was grabbing her purse and racing toward the door. “I have to go, Megan. Sylvia has been in an accident.”

  “Oh, no!” I said as I reached for my keys. “What happened?”

  “No, I better go alone. I’m not sure which hospital she’s headed to, and I don’t want to drag you out all over town.”

  But you can’t leave me here! I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t want to be here by myself. I was a grown woman. A successful author. A woman whose husband was cheating on her.

  “Loretta, I’m not taking no for an answer. You figure out where we are going, and I’ll drive.” I didn’t bring my phone. I didn’t have a thing to say to Alex. We closed the door and hurried down the brick steps. I hit the button on my fob, and the car door unlocked with a click.

  Alex, how could you? I knew Lucy was trouble. I knew it!

  Loretta tapped on her phone. “She’s at Spring Lake. Do you know the way?”

  “I do. We will be there in a few minutes.”

  I listened to Loretta pray as my mind summoned up images of Alex with Lucy. I couldn’t help myself. The rain showered down on the car as we sailed to the hospital. Once we arrived, I felt like I could breathe again. Parking the car proved a chore, especially since the rain wouldn’t let up. In the end, I dropped Loretta off at the front door and drove around until I found a spot that was remotely close to the front.

  And then I parked the car and cried until it stopped raining.

  Chapter Six—Megan

  By the time I returned to Morgan’s Rock, I was too exhausted to stay awake and concern myself with every creak and moan the house made. Sylvia was a lovely woman; I liked her and was grateful that she hadn’t been hurt beyond a broken wrist. Like that wasn’t enough. She said she wasn’t sure how the accident happened, but I got the feeling that she knew more than she was telling Loretta or me.

  I deposited my purse and shoes at the entryway table, locked the door, hit the security system and went to my room. My heart stung as I remembered my earlier call to Alex. How could this have happened? What business did Lucy have answering his phone? How, except the obvious answer? I’d heard it said before, a woman’s best friend was her intuition. But it wasn’t intuition in this case, just suspicion. And it appeared now that my suspicion had been confirmed. I would wait and hear him out, but I was already preparing mentally for the inevitable.

  Whatever happened with Alex, I wasn’t leaving my Morgan’s Rock. I’d already given up one house to an ex-husband; that wasn’t going to happen again. This place was so special, and despite the occasional haunting, it was home to me. I would never leave it. Not for anyone.

  Okay, Megan. Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit?

  Without much thought for anything, except for my nagging back pain and aching feet, I quickly fell into a deep, mindless slumber.

  I hardly noticed when I entered the dream. I was walking through the house, my feet bare. I could feel the cool wood and soft carpets beneath my toes. There was nothing to herald this experience as anything other than a normal walk around my home except for the sound of the Victrola playing that creaky old familiar tune. It was one that Joanna played over and over again on nights when she was missing Paden.

  But I wasn’t actually inside the house now. I was somewhere else; I couldn’t figure where I was, but it was nowhere familiar. I was standing on a long porch, a portico with decorative columns positioned around the edges. It was long and narrow, like a gallery.

  And standing at the far end was Joanna Storm. I couldn’t see her face clearly from this distance, but I was almost certain it was her. I recognized the dress; it was a bright color blue, a particular shade that you didn’t see much in modern fashions but one that Joanna wore often during her lifetime. She also wore a matching feather perched at a stylish angle in her dark hair. Her pale bare arms floated at her sides, and I felt those dark eyes watching me intently. Yes, she was floating, wasn’t she? Not too far off the ground, but she was certainly hovering there. Where were her feet? I had never been afraid of seeing Joanna before, but I was now. Fear gripped me, unreasonable, all-consuming fear. I felt my baby shift in my belly, as if she too sensed the imminent danger.

  “Joanna?” I asked suspiciously. Suddenly I began moving, only I wasn’t walking or running. Like so many of my dreams, I felt as if I had no control at all, but I was certainly moving, kind of gliding. With each passing moment, I drew closer to the grasping ghost that wanted to embrace me, hold me. Oh yes, she wanted to embrace me. Her arms were raised now, reaching for me. Her face remained hidden behind a small cloud, a kind of fog.

  The baby…

  A scream erupted from deep within me, but it made no sound. I could not hear my own screams! Then I could finally speak, and I shouted to her as I held my arms up to protect my belly. “Joanna, you can’t have her. You aren’t alive. Go away! She’s mine.” My back hurt, and my mouth was dry.

  This is a dream! Wake up, Megan! Wake up!

  Her arms fluttered in front of her like they were two long ribbons. It was an odd sight. I wanted nothing more than to avoid her grasping hands, but onward I flew toward her at a reckless pace. It was as if we were two magnets; we couldn’t avoid crossing paths with one another.

  “You can’t be a mother to her, Joanna. You are dead!” I heard her whimper at my words. Joanna’s beautiful face began to appear before me as the mist cleared.

  No! That’s not Joanna at all! Who is it? Oh God!

  I knew that face. It was Joanna’s hair and dress, but that was Julie Wagner’s face! And she was nothing like the pleasant woman I met at the street fair. She wasn’t sweet at all; there was no hint of a kind smile or anything friendly about her. She tilted her head, and her mouth drew up in a kind of grimacing smile.

  The baby is mine.

  “No! You can’t have her! NO!” I swung my arms to push her away, but she was gone. I woke up screaming as sunlight streamed in through my bedroom windows. I leaned back on the pillow and struggled to calm my pounding heart. What is going on here? I knew it couldn’t be you, Joanna. I knew it! I hurt so bad. Oh, I hurt so bad. And I felt wet; had I peed in the bed? Oh no, had my water broken? I slung the floral quilt back and screamed again at the sight of blood.

  Oh God! No! My face felt hot and sweaty, and my belly burned with pain. With shaking fingers, I reached for my phone. Thankfully, the operator quickly answered. “My name is Megan Pressfield. I’m at 662 Emerald Coast Lane. I am seven months pregnant, and I’m bleeding. Please help me.”

  After a succession of rapid-fire questions, the dispatcher promised that help was on the way. Only thing was I would have to go to the door to let them in. The operator wanted me to stay on the phone with her, but the phone wasn’t cordless. I hung up and obediently made my way to the door. I remembered to focus on my breathing. Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. I forced the images of Julie Wagner from my mind, all the while knowing that I wasn’t alone in the house. I could hear footsteps running on the floor above me. A child’s footsteps, perhaps? I tapped on the security system and unlocked the door. I couldn’t muster the stre
ngth to sit in one of the barstools, and I was bleeding more heavily now. “No, Jo. Please, don’t come yet. You can’t come yet. Please be okay.” I rubbed my tummy and continued to talk to my daughter, but she did not move. She did not respond at all. Everything in me wanted to cry and rail against this horrible event, but I at least had enough sense to keep my wits about me. I had to for the baby.

  It didn’t take long for the EMTs to arrive. With a brief tap on the door, a uniformed man stepped inside to find me sitting on the floor. “Mrs. Wagner?” He was standing over me. Had I passed out? Why was I so thirsty?

  “Yes,” I answered. The pain in my back was excruciating now.

  “When are you due, Mrs. Wagner?”

  “Two more months,” I said as they began their work. “The baby can’t come yet.”

  “Okay, Mrs. Wagner. We’re going to take care of you. My name is John. Do you know where you are?”

  “Home. I’m at home.”

  John talked to me, but I was hurting so much that talking only made me more anxious. I heard footsteps running close by, and apparently I wasn’t the only one who heard the sound. John asked, “Is there someone else here? Do you have another child?”

  “No. There is no one here. That’s just…I don’t know what that is, to be honest.”

  He didn’t act like he believed me, but he didn’t argue with me either. A few minutes later, I was on a gurney and being raced into a van. John slid a needle into my arm, telling me something about an IV. But I didn’t care.

  I’d lost Alex, and now I was going to lose Jo. I let the pain consume me.

  Chapter Seven—Alex

  I called home again as I walked out to the airport parking lot in Pensacola, but Megan clearly had no intention of answering. I hung up and tried the house phone, for the tenth time since I landed. Instead of ringing, it made a strange scratching sound. That must be it. The lines are out of service. But why would her cell phone not work? No, something’s off. Definitely off.

  Just as I hung up, my cell phone rang. I immediately picked up. “Megan? I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  “Mr. Wagner, my name is Dina Lambert. I’m calling about your wife, Megan.”

  I slung my leather portfolio bag up on my shoulder again; the damn thing kept sliding down. Suddenly, it felt as if I were hoisting the weight of the world on my shoulders. “Is she…the baby?” My brain would not allow me to voice my deepest fears to the stranger on the phone.

  “They are both okay, Mr. Wagner, but you should come. She’s at the Temple Hospital. It’s on Mineral Drive West. Do you know where that is?”

  “Yes, I know it. What floor is she on?”

  “Third floor. Room 317. I’ll tell her you are coming.”

  I wanted to bombard her with questions, but I managed to keep it together. “Thank you. Wait. Can I speak with Megan? Is there a phone in her room?”

  “No, sir. I’m in the office on the first floor, but I’ll have the nurse tell her you are on the way when she wakes up.” She sounded hopeful about her proposal, and it wouldn’t do me any good to demand anything from her. She couldn’t help me. The only thing that would help me was to be with Megan. Tell her I loved her. Promise her that everything would be alright. If she’s sleeping, does that mean she’s unconscious? “Do you know what happened to her?”

  “I really don’t know, I’m sorry, but let me check.” I heard her tapping on her keyboard. “It says prenatal distress, but that’s all I can see. She’s in good hands, but if you could get here soon…”

  “Okay, thank you for calling. I should be there in less than an hour.”

  “Great. Thank you, Mr. Wagner.” The woman with the warm voice hung up, and that’s when I heard high heels clicking on the pavement behind me.

  “Good night, Alex,” Lucy said sweetly as she veered off toward her car without waiting for a reply from me.

  I mumbled something that sounded like “Good night,” but I wasn’t eager to engage Lucy in conversation. Not after this trip. Not after the bumps under the table at the contract signing, not after finding her waiting for me outside my room. Not after her “accidental” stroking of my hand during the flight to Savannah. I wasn’t happy with her at all, but the process of “un-hiring” Lucy would most likely be a sketchy one. These things always were. I had been a fool to hire someone so young and inexperienced. Like I didn’t have enough to worry about. Between Megan dredging up the past and Lucy hitting on me, it was enough to make a man lose his mind.

  And then there were the apparitions.

  I did not want to admit to seeing Julie appear and disappear in front of me at Morgan’s Rock, but I hadn’t imagined it. I knew it. I absolutely saw my dead wife smile at me, but there was something off. I wasn’t filled with heartache when I saw her. I didn’t long for her, not like I would have even five years ago. In fact, it had been a sickening sight to see Julie’s Mona Lisa smile again. Only it wasn’t her smile…it was too big. Yes, that’s right. I had that thought when I saw her; I knew that the Julie-thing I was looking at wasn’t my Julie. It was something wearing her skin, her appearance. Whatever was inside wanted me to follow it.

  And I did.

  The Julie-thing walked into my study without opening the door—I’d seen her pass by as I left my bedroom, but there had been no trace of her when I finally had the courage to go have a look. Obviously, Megan’s paranoia had been contagious. But why would Megan torment me by acting as if she knew nothing about Zachary or Julie? To be fair, I could not recall ever talking about them, but they were such a part of who I was, the part that regretted, that worried over what could have been. Maybe Megan did not know. Of course she didn’t. It had all been a strange coincidence. But Megan was hurting now. Something had happened. I got in the car and sped out of the parking lot. No more thinking about poor Julie. I had loved her, but she was gone—I had buried her. And Zachary. Geesh, poor kid. What a sad life. He was the son of a deadbeat dad—the guy didn’t even bother coming to his kid’s funeral. Naturally, Julie’s parents blamed me for everything and barely spoke to me during the funeral arrangements. Huh, I thought I wasn’t going to think about all this anymore. My phone rang again, and I clumsily dug it out of my pocket.

  Please, God. Don’t let this be bad news. I can’t lose Megan or the baby. This is my life now, and I have a happy one. Please don’t take them away from me. Not again.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Alex. Long time no hear from, huh?” It was Lucy’s amused voice on the other end of the line. I paused and considered hanging up. “I know you’re trying to get home and all, but…”

  “Can this wait?” I asked, immediately put off by her overly familiar attitude.

  “I guess it could, but I have your contract in my briefcase. In case you went looking for it.” Her response was playful and kind of sing-songish. Yeah, this whole thing about starting my own agency had been a bad idea. I didn’t need additional headaches. All I wanted to do right now was shut down that stupid office for good.

  “Just leave the paperwork on my desk, Lucy, and I’ll take a look at it in the morning. I’m taking the rest of the night off.”

  “What about the contract?” She sounded extremely disappointed. “I thought you said we had to get it done.”

  “No. I said I had to get it done. You should never have come with me, Lucy. I didn’t ask you to do that, and now…Megan is in the hospital. I’m sure she’s going to need me.” Yeah, please remember that I am married, Lucy. I’m already going to fire you. Don’t push me to do it now over the phone.

  “That’s horrible news. Oh, shoot. That reminds me…Megan called last night while you were in the men’s room. I meant to tell you, but I guess it slipped my mind. Sorry about that, but I’ll take care of everything, paperwork-wise. Leave it with me, sugar.”

  “What?”

  “I said leave it with me, sir. Give Megan my best, please.”

  Yeah, right. That’s what you said.

  “Fine. Thanks.” I
hung up on her and banged my hand on the steering wheel. Well, that explained it. No wonder Megan didn’t answer my phone call. Lucy! Did she really just call me sugar? The gooseflesh crept up and down on my body. No one ever called me that. Not even Megan. No one except Julie.

  “You’re making too much of this, Alex. You’re reading between the lines and seeing what’s not there. Stop it. Focus on your family,” I assured myself as I made the long drive to the hospital. After an hour that felt like forever, I could see the Temple Hospital shining just off the interstate.

  I’d never been so happy to see a hospital in my whole life.

  Chapter Eight—Megan

  I wasn’t exactly dreaming, or at least it wasn’t like the pain-triggering nightmare that brought me to the hospital. I could hear the beeping of the fetal monitor that promised all was well with the baby. And although I could hear everything—the occasional intercom, the whispering of the hospital staff at the nurses’ desk—in my mind, I was home at Morgan’s Rock.

  You must be medicated, Megan. Did they slip you something for anxiety?

  They wouldn’t do that knowing I was pregnant. But this wasn’t quite right. I could feel plush red carpet beneath my feet, soft and springy. A fog of perfume swept by me. It was a refined fragrance, simple yet unforgettable. How was this possible? I hadn’t been given any mind-bending drugs, only medication to stop my contractions. Yet I easily visualized myself walking on the second floor. It was quite different in ways beyond mere décor. There were strange statues in the gallery upstairs. Strange and yet eerily familiar.

  That one there, it was not as tall as the others. It was only four feet and made of a strange blue marble. It was a woman with one arm, which was posed in an arc above her tilted head; her wide eyes and open mouth displayed fear with perfect detail. And then beyond her was Leonidas, the Greek warrior-king of Sparta with his gold-tipped spear. He’d been murdered in his prime; he bravely refused to relinquish his beloved city to the encroaching Persian army. My hand reached for the tip of his spear, but I was moving too fast to make contact with it, and I did so enjoy touching all these things. I always had loved this gallery. I was moving down the hall again as if my feet, not my mind, were leading me. Ah, another statue—I remember when it arrived. Father had been so excited about it. No, not my father but Yancey Storm. I was seeing all this as if I were Joanna Storm! Here was Boudicca, another warrior—the Queen of the Iceni. Oh, she was my favorite. She had always been my favorite. So many of the things I loved were here; I never wanted to leave it. But things were so different now. The atmosphere stifled me. It was dark, so dark, and it felt like the blackness was growing, swelling. Like a living thing. But I could see the statues. Did Leonidas move? What about Hatshepsut? Yes, her boxy figure shifted slightly. Oh God! I wasn’t alone in this hallway. They were all alive! Not statues but alive! And they were all looking at me. The one-armed woman’s face turned toward me, her lips curled in hatred. Leonidas’ spear had lowered, and it pointed at me in a subtle yet threatening manner.