The Spyglass Portal: A Lighthouse Novel

by Coverstone, Stacey

  Samantha remembered a similar feeling of entrancement each time she’d peer into the telescope. Like it had captured her and wouldn’t let go.

  Daniel went on. “The girl went into labor early some seven months later and gave birth to twins. One of the babies died. The other survived, but barely. The girl was heartbroken and went a little crazy, according to McBride’s diary. He wrote of her packing the surviving babe around on her back and combing the beach for hours upon end; calling out to the dead child. I recall reading one entry that stated the girl had run back to the shack one day claiming to have seen her baby in a little boat, bobbing along the waves. She begged McBride to go into the water and rescue their son.”

  Samantha’s throat grew as dry as sandpaper. The story sounded eerily similar to her experience of seeing the little girl run into the ocean. “Did the captain find their child?” she asked.

  “No. He didn’t even look. He wrote that he knew the girl had gone mad from grief. For four days in a row she combed the shoreline from sunrise to sunset, only to return to him each night pleading for him to bring home the baby she swore she saw laughing and playing in the sea. Finally, he had enough of her nonsense and put her in her place, once and for all, according to the journal. I can only assume he tried to beat some sense into her.”

  Sam winced.

  “That girl walked into the ocean the next day, drowning both herself and the surviving baby,” Daniel said.

  Samantha’s hand flew to her mouth to smother a gasp. “Who found them?”

  “McBride himself. When he awoke that fateful morning to find the girl and babe gone, he assumed she’d walked to the water as she’d done for the previous four days. As the day progressed, however, a bad feeling nagged him, so he scoured the beach and found his spyglass stuck in the wet sand. He glanced through the lens and swung it over the horizon and saw the bodies floating. The baby was tied to the mother’s back.”

  “That’s awful,” Sam whispered. “I can’t imagine.”

  “The story gets even stranger,” Daniel said. “McBride hauled the bodies back to shore and buried them in a grave dug with his own hands. Later that night, he got drunk and climbed to the top of a rocky cliff. He’d carried the spyglass with him so he could look at the full moon through it. Howling like a wolf was the only way for him to express the anger he felt over having lost his woman and his children. According to his notes, he passed out on the rock. When he woke up the next morning, he cursed his throbbing head. Then he heard something behind him. He turned and there they were—the girl and both babies, only the twins were not babies anymore. They were about five years old, and all three were alive and well.”

  With blood surging through her like a speeding freight train, Samantha asked, “What happened next?”

  “The final words in that last entry read that it had started to rain, so McBride and his family found shelter in the lighthouse, which was closer than the shack. As they frittered away the day by watching the storm through the spyglass from atop the tower, McBride started to believe that everything that had come before had simply been a bad dream. However, another odd incident occurred the following morning. After spending the night in the lighthouse, McBride rose to find the woman and his children gone. He searched high and low, for days on end, and found no trace of them. When he inquired of the other villagers if they’d seen his family, he was laughed at and accused of imagining things. Everyone he spoke to, including his own sailors, mocked him. ‘What family are ye speaking of,’ they laughed. ‘The ones in your dreams?’ It took a dozen people swearing on their lives before he believed what they swore was true: that he’d been living alone in that shack for a year while waiting for his replacement ship to arrive from Ireland. It was as if the girl and babies had never even existed.”

  Samantha drew a shallow breath into her lungs. “What happened to Eamon McBride?”

  “The new ship arrived, but it unfortunately left the cove without the captain. McBride was found in his shack the morning they were to shove off, dead from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. The logbook was found lying next to his body. The spyglass he’d mentioned in his journal was missing. According to another document written by one of McBride’s loyal sailors, despite a thorough search of the area, the captain’s spyglass was never located. That is, until now.”

  Silence stretched between them. The whirling fans above them were the only sounds as Samantha contemplated the odd tale. There were no words to express the way she felt. Every cell in her body quivered. McBride’s experiences hundreds of years ago had been alarmingly similar to hers. But what did an Irish master mariner from the 1800s have to do with her, aside from them both possessing the same spyglass and being strangely affected by it?

  At least she now had a pretty good idea as to why Eamon McBride had hidden it in the wall of the lighthouse tower before he’d committed suicide. If, in fact, he was the one who’d hidden it. Apparently he’d believed it to be cursed.

  “I have no doubt the museum would be interested in negotiating with you,” Daniel said, breaking into her thoughts. His voice was laced with eagerness. “It’s quite a find and would make a handsome partner to McBride’s captain’s log.”

  She pried the spyglass from his gnarly hands and returned it to the case. “Sorry, but it’s not for sale.”

  His eyebrows knitted together. “But surely you understand the significance of this discovery. To the people of this part of Maine, this is as important as finding a treasure in the bowels of the Titanic. That spyglass you’re holding is a piece of Pavee Cove history.”

  “I understand, but I’m not prepared to hand it over to you or a museum. Besides, it doesn’t belong to me. It rightfully belongs to the person who owns the lighthouse.”

  “As I told you—”

  “I know. The lighthouse has been abandoned for years.” She stood and extended her hand, having heard all she needed for now.

  The legs of Daniel’s chair scraped the floor as he pushed back from the table. With great effort, he stood and then frowned at Sam. “As the finder of such a mysterious instrument, you have a solemn duty to protect it from those who may wish to use it for selfish purposes. Please take that duty seriously.”

  She shook his hand. “I promise not to let anything happen to the spyglass. I appreciate you talking with me, Daniel. Thank you for the information. You’ve been very helpful. I’ll be in touch again.” She picked up the box and was headed for the door when another question sprang to mind. “Daniel,” she said, turning. “Do you know who lives in the old white cottage on the south end of the beach, about a mile from the lighthouse?”

  “No one lives there, Miss. It’s been—”

  “Don’t tell me,” she broke in. “It’s been abandoned for years, too.”

  He nodded, and she exited the antique shop with the bell tinkling behind her.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Samantha entered the lighthouse and locked the door behind her. Wilting into the sofa cushions, she placed the mahogany case at her side. Exhausted, she had no appetite and desired only sleep. It was six o’clock according to her watch. It was too early to retire for the night, but the day had been long and emotionally draining. Her head slumped back, and despite the efforts to keep her eyes open, they drifted shut within moments.

  The sound of a phone ringing startled her awake. With a jolt, she sat up and glanced around, feeling foggy. The room was dark except for slivers of light streaming through the small windows. She pushed the stem on her wristwatch, which illuminated the watch face. Amazingly, she’d slept for two and a half hours. The phone blared again. She felt around the sofa with her hands before remembering she’d plugged the cell phone into its charger and left it on the counter before going out earlier. Groggy, it felt like she suffered from a hangover. Pushing herself up from the sofa, she stumbled to the kitchen to grab the cell phone on its fifth ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey! It’s about time you answered. I’ve been calling
you for hours. Where have you been?”

  The voice sounded familiar, but Sam had difficulty focusing. “I’m sorry. Who’s calling?”

  “Who’s calling?” The woman laughed. “You’ve only been gone two days. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your best friend already.”

  Samantha’s eyes snapped open. Her heart stuck in her throat. “Linda, is that you?”

  “Who else were you expecting? I’ve been worried. You said you’d call when you arrived, but I haven’t heard a word. I guess you’re having too much fun at the beach to think about us poor saps at home working like dogs. Anyway, I’m glad you got there safely and you sound to be okay, even if you haven’t bothered to let me know.”

  Sam swallowed hard and held back delirious tears. Her conversation with Mrs. Callison, in which she’d told her Linda was dead, was held just this morning. But it seemed like a lifetime ago. Sam had never felt so happy to have her friend alive and well, and bitching at her.

  She quickly thought back to the last time she’d looked into the spyglass. It was after she’d been scared by the face in the cottage. Reality, as she’d known it before, had changed after that. And Linda had come to life again.

  In the same way Captain McBride’s experiences had shifted each time he’d gazed into the spyglass, so had it been for Sam. His woman and children had been alive and well in a parallel universe. Sam’s mind moved like the speed of light to finally understand that she’d also been thrust into an alternate reality every time she gazed through the spyglass, even if not quite believing such a thing could happen.

  “Are you even listening to me?” Linda’s accusatory tone drew her back from her musings. Smiling, she pictured her friend’s mouth pursed and her eyes rolling, like they did when she was annoyed at someone.

  “Sorry,” Samantha said, suppressing a very real yawn. “I’m half asleep. It’s been a very long day and I was napping. What were you saying?”

  “Never mind,” Linda replied pleasantly. “It wasn’t important. I was only telling you I just met the man I’m going to marry.”

  That got Sam’s attention. Linda had dated lots of men, but never any she came close to wanting to marry. “Who is he? Where did you meet him? How old is he? What’s he look like? Spill the details.”

  Her friend’s voice became animated, like it did every time a potential man came into her life. “His name is Hunter and we met at the coffee shop. The barista got our orders mixed up. One thing led to another, and he ended up walking me to my car and we exchanged numbers. Isn’t Hunter a perfectly manly name?”

  Sam chuckled. “Sounds like the name of a GQ model. Tell me more.”

  “No. You’re tired. I’ll wait and see if he calls and then I’ll let you know where I’ll be registering for china and silverware.”

  Chuckling again, Sam said, “Okay. Just remember one thing. If I’m to be your maid of honor, yellow is not my color. And no tiered ruffles or gigantic puffy sleeves on the dress, or a big bow plastered across my chest. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  She yawned again and Linda said she’d let her go. “Don’t stay in paradise too long. I miss you too much.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  “You know my number.”

  Antonio had answered her number before, but hopefully, never again. “Yes, I do. Good luck with Hunter.”

  “Thanks, hon.”

  It was just like it used to be between them before Samantha had screwed up her priorities. She was so glad Linda wasn’t dead and that she had a second chance with her. They were about to hang up when she said, “Listen. I want to apologize for being MIA for the past six months or so. I should have accepted your invitation to go to the spa with you that weekend you asked. And I should have reached out to you after Chad’s accident.” She felt regret about pushing Linda aside so many times in the past and wanted her to know she was sorry.

  “It’s okay,” Linda said. “I understand you needed time to yourself after he was hurt.”

  “Even before that. I realize now that I worked too many long hours, and most of my relationships were sacrificed because of it. You’re my best friend and I should have made more time for us. Thank you for not giving up on me.” She could picture Linda’s warm and forgiving smile as she responded.

  “I appreciate that, girlfriend. No worries. You and I are just fine. Listen, I’m going to go now, because I don’t want to tie up the line in case Hunter is trying to call. But I want you to relax and enjoy your time at the beach, because when you get back home, I’m going to be dragging your butt all over Portland. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. And that includes a ton of shopping.”

  “I look forward to it.”

  “Me, too. Hugs.”

  “Hugs.” Samantha ended the call, happy. Her watch said nine o’clock. When her stomach grumbled, she grabbed an apple out of the fridge and bit into it, making a mental note to go shopping soon. The groceries Jason had brought over were basic staples. She needed more in the pantry.

  After slipping into the bedroom with the spyglass box under her arm, she changed into a sleep shirt and shorts and realized she’d missed her date with Aidan that had been scheduled for seven. She doubted he’d shown anyway. Now that she’d determined the spyglass was a portal into parallel universes, she could forgive him for standing her up at the restaurant. Obviously, that had been one of the times when a shift had occurred.

  As fast as that concept sunk in, an epiphany struck. If Linda could be resurrected from the grave, why couldn’t Chad awake from the coma? Her gaze pivoted to the mahogany case on the bed, and the pulse in her neck began to throb.

  Hadn’t she promised herself she’d never look through it again? Yes, she had. But this was different. She wasn’t going to use the instrument for invading someone’s privacy. If she could bring Chad back from eternal sleep by simply gazing through the spyglass, everything would be right again.

  With a second chance, perhaps their relationship would progress to a new level. She’d sensed that was what he’d wanted. It’s what she might have wanted too, only she’d been too afraid to give it a try. All she had to do was pull out the spyglass, extend the brass tube, and wait for the blue mist to pass over the glass lens.

  But who was to say the magic would work the way she hoped? And wasn’t she already getting a second chance with Aidan here at Pavee Cove? Didn’t she feel a bond with this man? She did, but if she had the power to give Chad his life back, shouldn’t she try?

  Adrenaline rushed through her veins and her heart hammered in her chest. It was now or never, before she lost courage. Flipping the wooden lid open, she snatched the spyglass and sprinted up the stairs to the light tower. Stumbling in the dark, her toe caught on the lip of the top step and the spyglass flew out of her hand. Her body careened across the floor, and her knees and palms scraped the concrete.

  “Damn, that hurt.” Moaning, she rolled onto her hip. With her kneecaps and hands stinging, she managed to get to her feet and fumbled to find the light switch on the wall behind her. The white light nearly blinded her.

  Alternately squeezing her eyes shut and opening them to slits, she caught sight of the spyglass on the other side of the room. Terror gripped her as she limped over to it. What if it was broken? Would the magic still work if the lens were cracked? Sweat pooled between her breasts as she gingerly picked the telescope up and inspected it for damage. Her erratic breathing slowed once she saw there wasn’t a chip on it anywhere. Thank God they made things of quality back in the 1800s.

  She stepped onto the observation deck and leaned against the railing. The breeze off the ocean caught and sent her hair dancing around her face. Sea salt invaded her nostrils, and the boom of crashing waves assaulted her ears as she shakily held the spyglass to her eye.

  “I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she whispered aloud as the familiar blue haze wafted over the lens and then dissipated.

  Swinging the instrument back and forth, there wasn’t much to view with the
darkening sky closing in. Did it matter if she could actually see anything? Or did the change happen simply through the act of looking into the spyglass? She had no idea. She only hoped this worked. Her friend’s life depended on it. “Please let Chad wake up and be healthy,” she implored the supernatural gods. “Please let this work. Please let this work.” The mantra she chanted soothed her frayed nerves.

  A few minutes later, she squeezed her eyes shut and felt her way to the door and shut off the beacon light. The people of Pavee Cove could do without the lamp tonight. Apparently it hadn’t been missed before she came, except by one man.

  The image of Aidan’s face caused her skin to prickle with excitement, but it was his look-alike in Portland who filled her thoughts right now. Had the spyglass worked its power?

  Carefully, she wound her way down the stairs to the bedroom. Her body was already growing stiff from the fall. Ben Gay and a heating pad might help. Antibacterial ointment was needed for her scraped kneecaps and hands. She returned the spyglass to its case and placed it reverently on the dresser before entering the bathroom for first aid supplies.

  Crawling into bed smelling like a pharmacy, she placed the hot pad behind her back and let her head sink into the downy pillow. Her eyes closed and Samantha uttered a quick prayer.

  Tomorrow she’d call Chad’s cell phone. If he answered, she’d know her prayer had been answered.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Aidan was eight years old. He was running down the beach, shirtless and barefoot. The heat from the morning sun soaked into his back and sand pebbles squished between his toes as his arms pumped in rhythm with each stride. He spied his friend ahead, who tossed a stick-and-string fishing pole into the water. Jason grinned and dropped the homemade pole in the sand to join Aidan. They sprinted further down the beach to find the little girl who was busy building a castle in the sand. The boys stopped at her feet. They were out of breath. Her smile was shinier than a glass marble when she looked up and asked if they wanted to help her. Her blonde ringlets curled around her pink, cherubic face. Aidan realized most boys his age preferred frogs and crabs to girls, but he was different. He didn’t quite understand why his heart skipped a beat, or why a goofy grin filled his face when he was around little Remy. All he knew was that she was special, and he felt entrusted to always protect her.