The Spyglass Portal: A Lighthouse Novel

by Coverstone, Stacey

  That did it. Samantha was certain the medication prescribed by Dr. Teagan was causing her to experience hallucinations and imagine things that weren’t true. Either that or she was blacking out and having dreams that seeped into her conscious mind once she woke. There were no other explanations. Why else would she believe she was seeing things that didn’t exist, hearing voices that were long gone, and having conversations that never took place?

  If Aidan didn’t have a dog and he never asked her to dinner, what else was not true? Was he a real man? Or could he be a figment of her imagination? Had they actually met yesterday? They must have, or he wouldn’t be standing there talking to her. Right? She had no idea.

  A burning lump formed in the center of her chest. The only thing she was certain of was that the pills she’d been taking were going down the drain as soon as he left, and she’d face the consequences of that decision later.

  She chuckled to sound as normal as possible. “Forgive me, Aidan. I remember now. I met someone else yesterday who had a German shepherd. Guess I got the two of you mixed up.”

  “Oh.” He didn’t appear entirely convinced. It was a lame explanation, but it was all she had, and thankfully he asked no more.

  She desperately wanted to switch the subject. “Why did you stop by?”

  Her question roused him from deep thought. “Oh, right. I came by to thank you for turning on the light in the tower last night. Seeing it lit brought back good memories.”

  “What kind of memories?”

  “I used to live here when I was a boy. I remember the light from those days.”

  “Really?” He hadn’t mentioned that yesterday. Then again, he apparently hadn’t owned a dog yesterday or asked her on a date either.

  “Most days, I’d play on the beach with my friends all day and into the night,” he continued. “I loved seeing the lamp flash on at night. It made me happy to know the fishermen and sailors would find their way home from their adventures on the high seas.”

  She smiled, picturing a group of kids playing together and telling stories about ships and captains and pirates. “Did you ever get a chance to come inside the lighthouse?”

  “No, this is the first time.” He gazed around seeming pleased with the looks of the interior. “Back then my mother warned me to stay out because it was a dangerous place for children.”

  Sam’s eyebrow arched. “And you always did as your mother said?”

  “Not always,” he admitted with another devilish grin.

  “When did you move away from the cove?”

  “I was nine when we left.”

  “That’s pretty young. You must not remember too much about living here.”

  “You’d be surprised at the things I can recall.” His gaze looked beyond her into another time and place, most likely thinking back to those bygone days when children had no responsibilities or worries.

  “I don’t recall anything before I was six years old,” she offered, also thinking back.

  “My mom always claimed I had the memory of an elephant,” Aidan said, snapping back to reality. “I never understood that comment. I asked her once if she’d ever actually talked to an elephant and asked him what kind of memory he had.” When he laughed, Samantha’s spirit started to lift again. He had an easygoing way about him that was comforting, like potato soup on a cold winter’s day.

  “What did she say?”

  “She said, yes, as a matter of fact she conversed with elephants on a daily basis, as well as lions, tigers, and bears. My mom was a great storyteller and had a good sense of humor.” His smile was poignant. “Well, I’ve held you up long enough with my rambling. Besides, I need to get to work. Nice talking to you again.”

  Work? She was afraid to ask him what kind of work he did for fear he would tell her it was something other than painting. She couldn’t take another blow right now.

  “Thanks for stopping by,” she replied, seeing him out the door. Before he’d taken three steps, however, she stopped him. Too many unexplainable things were going on. All of a sudden, she couldn’t bear the thought of being alone that night. “Aidan, if you have no plans, would you care to join me for a walk later this evening? Or for coffee and dessert?”

  His eyebrow arched. “What do you have in mind?”

  “I haven’t had a chance to explore the village yet. Is there a place where we can get some ice cream?”

  “There sure is. Gus’s General Store has an old-fashioned soda fountain with the original bar stools and marble-topped counter. The interior furnishings are all original from the late 1800s, including the tin ceiling, the ceiling fans, and hardwood floors. They serve hand-dipped ice cream and make their own candy.”

  “Sounds charming.”

  “Why wait until this evening? Do you have any plans this morning that can’t be broken?”

  “I was going to take a walk on the beach. That’s all.”

  “How about a walk to town instead? I’d be glad to show you around right now, if you’d like.”

  “Okay. That would be great, if it’s not too much trouble. But what about your work?”

  “It can wait.”

  Apparently, he was his own boss if the work could wait. She smiled, wanting to forget about pills and hallucinations. She was willing to give Aidan a second chance. “Let me grab my purse.”

  Conspicuously leaving her cell phone on the kitchen counter, she locked the door with her stomach flip-flopping, unexpectedly feeling like a teenager going on her first date.

  CHAPTER TEN

  While strolling the cobblestone walks of downtown Pavee Cove and poking their heads into different shops, Aidan couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d met Samantha before. Before yesterday, that was. It was hard to explain, but there was something about the way her mouth curved into a shy smile, and her blue eyes sparkled when she laughed that was so familiar. Breathtakingly beautiful, it was difficult to keep his gaze off her.

  As they walked, she asked a few questions about his life here, but she didn’t reciprocate with any information about herself. With every passing moment, his interest and desire grew, wanting to know all about her.

  “What do you do in Portland?” he asked as they ambled down the pier toward fishing boats docked at the harbor.

  She inhaled, taking the deep salty air into her lungs, and exhaled before answering. “I flip houses.”

  That came as a surprise. With a body and face like hers, he’d expected her to say she was a model, an actress, or maybe a news anchor on television. Of course, he didn’t suppose there was much call for models or actresses in Portland, Maine. But working in the construction business was the last occupation he would have guessed.

  “That’s where you buy houses and renovate them to sell for a profit, right?”

  “You got it.”

  “How long have you been flipping houses?”

  “Almost ten years now.”

  “So, that means you must be a pretty good handy man. I mean, woman.”

  Her thick eyelashes fluttered. “Yes. I know my way around a hammer and a saw.”

  He waited for more, but drawing words out of her was about as tough as reeling in fish without bait. The coyness behind her responses only made him determined to persevere and dig deeper. “Do you work alone, or have you got a crew?”

  It was subtle, but Aidan saw her face change. Her cheerful expression faded as if a cloud had passed in front of her.

  “Let’s sit down,” she said, slipping off her sneakers. Parking herself on the end of the pier, she let her feet dangle into the water and patted the space next to her for him to join her. After a couple of silent minutes had passed, she said, “I had a business partner in Portland. His name was Chad Payton. Is Chad Payton,” she corrected.

  “Go on.”

  “He was the victim of a terrible freak accident three months ago. Lightning struck him when he was on a ladder. I saw it happen. Now he’s in the hospital in a coma. The doctors say he’ll never recover.”
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  Aidan shook his head. “That’s tragic. I’m so sorry, Samantha. Is that why you’re here, to recover from the shock of it all?”

  She nodded and gazed out over the water.

  He watched her chest rise and fall with erratic breaths. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, she started to cry. Tears stained her cheeks and she bowed her head, evidently embarrassed. The distress she felt was obvious, and his heart went out to her. Sometimes the touch of another human being helped mend a broken spirit better than medicine or therapy. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and said, “I’m a good listener, if you want to talk.”

  After a few quiet moments, she sniffled and wiped the dampness from her cheeks. “The thing is, I think I might be going crazy. Ever since I arrived yesterday, unusual things have been going on. Things that can’t be explained rationally or logically.”

  His heart sped up when she cast him a sideways glance. She was a stunning woman. “What kinds of things?” he asked.

  Her gaze delved deep. “Yesterday when we first met, I asked if you had a twin in Portland. Do you remember that conversation?”

  Aidan thought back to the moment they’d met. It was on the beach. He’d been painting at his easel and had heard a woman scream. When he ran to her, she was soaked to the skin. An old man had fished her out of the ocean. Aidan didn’t know if she’d nearly drowned on purpose or by accident. But she’d almost fainted when she looked into his face. He’d thought it’d been from shock, and he’d walked her back to his easel and offered her water from his cooler. Racking his brains, for the life of him, he couldn’t recall a conversation where she’d asked if he had a relative in Portland, and specifically a twin brother.

  She nervously cracked her knuckles and added, “I was in the light tower when I swear I saw a little girl wade into the ocean and vanish under the waves. The next thing I knew, I was looking into that old man’s face. He insinuated I’d tried to drown myself, but I hadn’t. I don’t know how I got down to the beach. Then the same little girl reappeared and ran down the shore to disappear into your painting.”

  An icy shudder moved through him, despite the warmth of the morning. She thinks a little girl disappeared into my painting? Maybe she’d suffered sunstroke. Or she was delusional.

  Her direct gaze never wavered from his as she continued with her story. “Yesterday, shortly after we’d met, you brought your dog, Paddy, over to meet me. You apologized for being a jerk earlier, and you also invited me to have dinner with you at The Catch. You said you go there so often you know the hostess’s first name—Marianne. Only, you didn’t show up and Marianne told me she’d never heard of you.”

  Her voice faded into the background as flashes of Remy smiling and laughing suddenly raced through his mind as if they were scenes from a movie. He gazed into Samantha’s face and the two faces intermingled. What had brought Remy to mind? His heart hammered inside his chest as time and space blended, and the body of Samantha merged with the body of Remy. Were these memories from the past or foreshadows of the future? When Aidan squeezed his eyes shut, the flashes stopped.

  “Yesterday Jason Murphy had a limp,” Samantha went on. “Last night he didn’t walk with a limp, and he acted like I was off my rocker when I asked him about it. And today I received a phone call from my mother who’s been dead for five years. You were there.” Stopping to take a breath, she placed her hand on his knee and adrenaline shot through his body like liquid fire. “Can you help me, Aidan?” she implored with misty eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m scared. I must be sick.”

  He had no idea why she trusted him, a virtual stranger. Most people in his position would be dialing 911 right now and requesting the men in white jackets to come pronto. She must have known that, yet she’d bravely opened herself up to him and asked for help. He stared into her blue eyes, round with dread. At least she knew she had a problem. Wasn’t that the first step to recovery, as the professionals would say? His hand covered hers. “Tell me what I can do.”

  “Try to believe me,” she replied.

  * * * *

  Aidan walked her back to the lighthouse, with neither of them speaking. He noticed her fingers trembled as she unlocked the door. “Why don’t I come by again this evening? We can walk the beach and talk more if you’d like. I find the water to be cathartic.”

  Her longing gaze searched his face. “You’ve been quiet until now. I presumed you wouldn’t want to see me anymore after what I told you on the pier.”

  “I said I’d try to help you figure this out. I mean that. I know you’re alone here and everyone needs a friend. Would seven o’clock be okay for me to stop by?”

  She stared, probably debating on whether to take the chance of getting stood up again. Of course, he hadn’t stood her up last night anyway. He hadn’t even asked her out to begin with. None of what she claimed to have taken place yesterday with regard to him really happened, except for the two of them meeting. And for some odd reason, he could barely remember the details of that, despite his excellent memory. It was true he’d been quiet while they walked back from town. He’d been trying to wrap his head around everything she’d told him, with not much success. None of it made sense.

  He wasn’t a shrink and didn’t know how he could help Samantha, but something implied he must try. There was a solid possibility that she was insane. But the sense of needing to protect her also lodged deep in his gut. It overrode whatever questions he had regarding her mental state.

  “All right,” she agreed. “Seven o’clock.”

  “Good. See you tonight.” He crossed his heart with a finger. “Promise.” That same heart almost broke at seeing her lower lip quiver before closing the door on him.

  His cottage was a fifteen-minute hike from the lighthouse. After he unlocked the back door and strode through the kitchen, he entered the studio and gathered together his painting supplies to haul to the beach. Hearing nothing but the pounding of the waves outside the open windows made him acutely aware of how quiet the inside of the house was. A glance around at the many canvases of seascapes hanging on the walls was clear evidence that work had become his best friend, his lover and his confidant, all wrapped into one.

  He’d been alone far too long. A roommate was out of the question, but perhaps it was time to consider a girlfriend again.

  When Samantha’s face entered his mind, the reaction was physical and impossible to control. She was a beautiful woman. Any red-blooded man would react the same way.

  “No, Aidan,” he groaned, shoving an easel under his arm. “She’s only in Pavee Cove temporarily. And she might very well be nuts.”

  But something unexplainable drew him to her like a bee to honey. That sense of connection washed over him again.

  With his arms full, he kicked open the back door and maneuvered through the little patch of trees and down a narrow path that led to the shore where he would set up. Hopefully, painting for the next four hours would take his mind off her.

  Twenty minutes passed with him staring into space before he finally put brush to canvas. Then all he could do was splatter strokes of yellow across it. Yellow, like Samantha’s hair.

  Why couldn’t he get the woman out of his head? Wild imaginings of whisking her into his arms and carrying her into his bed sent his heart pounding to distraction. He sent the paintbrush rocketing into the Mason jar on the ground and began to pace with his fingers making trails through his hair that flowed freely that day.

  Although he’d purposefully secluded himself after his last disastrous relationship, the life of a monk did not suit him. Everyone needed someone to love—that person who would always be there in good times and in bad. Someone who actually gave a damn when you walked through the door. The one you believed was your soul mate.

  Could Samantha be that person? The thought had occurred to him the moment they met, and it had haunted him since.

  Aidan flicked the paintbrush back into his hand and dipped the tip into a fuchsia glob on his palette,
but it was no use. His mind was not on painting. It shouldn’t be on Sam either, he groused inwardly.

  Why did he assume she was different from any other woman? Women, with the exception of his dear, deceased mother, had given him enough trouble to last a lifetime. Besides, it was obvious Samantha had a screw or two loose. Didn’t she?

  The one lie he’d definitely caught her in was the one about mixing him up with another guy who had a dog. She wasn’t good at fudging the truth, because he’d seen right through that one. But it made him think. Maybe a dog wasn’t such a bad idea. Dogs loved you unconditionally. They’d never leave. And they’d jump on you and wag their tail when you walked through the door. That was more attention than he’d gotten from most of the women he’d been with in the past.

  Then again, Samantha Landers sure didn’t seem like most women.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Samantha flattened her back against the door and closed her eyes. Aidan claimed to not have a dog, said he didn’t ask her out, didn’t know the hostess at the restaurant, and didn’t remember her telling him about Chad. How could it be possible? Was he lying? If so, why?

  She opened her eyes and glanced at the cell phone on the coffee table, not caring if she bothered Linda at work. She needed to talk to her. Grasping the phone carefully, as if it were hot metal, she flipped it open and punched Linda’s number. A man’s voice answered.

  “Hello.”

  Her chest tightened. She thought she’d only misdialed yesterday when she’d reached the voice mail of someone called Antonio. “Can I speak to Linda Callison please?” she asked with hesitance.

  “No Linda here, lady.”

  If this was one of Linda’s new boyfriends, Sam already didn’t like him. “I don’t have time for games. Please put her on. It’s very important.”

  “Like I said. You got the wrong number,” the voice complained. “Ciao.”