Now and then Christy walked alone in the woods, more apart from the others than when Deirdre had been alive. Often she sensed that something drifted near her, just out of sight among the trees—something utterly lost and sad. Perhaps Hayden could never be entirely free until this unhappy presence was released.
The time came when she knew she needed her mother’s help. One morning she found Lili sitting alone on the steps to Nona’s deck, and she sat down beside her. They were both quiet for a little while, because there could be communion in silence. During these days of waiting, Christy had found a new respect and admiration for her mother. They could be friends now, as they hadn’t been when she was young. Lili’s way was not Christy’s, but by letting old judgments go, she could come lovingly close to her mother. This took nothing away from her affection and gratitude for Nona—and her aunt seemed to understand.
When the quiet between them had lengthened as they sat together on the steps, Christy began to pour out what was troubling her.
“I’ve almost seen her down there in the woods. Not Deirdre—the other one. I don’t think she knows that the body she shared with Deirdre is dead. Is there any way we can help her to find release?”
“Perhaps if we act together,” Lili said, “we can find a way. Hayden must be part of whatever we do. He’s still at home this morning—I saw him outside a little while ago. Perhaps you can ask him to come with us. And there’s something else—do you know where Deirdre’s crystal is—the one with the inner phantom?”
“I know where Donny keeps it. He’s back in school now, but I don’t think he’ll mind if I borrow it.”
“I’ll wait for you,” Lili said.
Christy found the crystal easily, and Hayden came with her without asking questions. It was almost as though he too had been waiting, and expected whatever was about to happen.
Once more they started along the fateful path through the woods, this time to the foot of the rocky cliff. The small clearing had been cleansed by rains since Deirdre had lain there, and purified many times over by the sun. Yet it seemed to Christy, with all her senses alert, that a lingering sadness haunted this spot.
“Do whatever you are prompted to do,” Lili directed her. “Go inside yourself and ask.”
Perhaps if she could do this, Christy thought, it might be possible for Hayden too to leave the past.
She stepped into full sunlight and held up the crystal in the fingers of both hands, so that it pointed toward the sky. Negativity seemed to flow away from the space about her, as though it could not face this radiant light. In her hands the crystal felt warm, but no throbbing energy filled it now. Sunlight washed over its planes, striking rainbow colors, and deep within the stone the “phantom” seemed to move as she watched it.
Words came into her mind as clearly as though she spoke them aloud. I know you are there and I want to help you. You aren’t tied any longer to the body you shared with Deirdre. You are free now. Let your earthly life go.
A questioning word seemed to whisper through Christy’s mind: Atonement!
She spoke her answer silently. There’s no atonement for you here. That lies ahead when you can accept fully what you must accept.
A drifting of mist near the edge of the woods seemed to thicken and come closer to where Christy stood. Hayden and Lili stood back in silence, watching. Christy closed her eyes and a vision came into her mind. She could see broad stairs climbing up and up, until they vanished—perhaps into some other plane than this earthly one. Christy herself seemed to stand at the very foot of the flight, and her own spirit beckoned to the other Deirdre. The prayer that filled her was for release from evil, and a return to all that was good. Sensing, more than seeing, she was aware that the drifting of mist was floating up the stairs.
The way up is open now, she said in her mind, and held the crystal still higher, her eyes fixed upon it. The phantom within the stone shimmered in the light and began to change. In wonder, Christy saw what was happening. Even as she watched, the form that hid inside the stone grew less distinct. Slowly the shadow blurred—and was gone. The vision of a broad staircase was gone as well, and only the crystal shone clear in her fingers—with no lingering shadow within.
“Look!” she cried to Hayden and Lili, and held the crystal toward them. No lost spirit lingered in the woods, and a wonderful sense of peace flowed through her.
Lili’s smile was loving and proud as she embraced her daughter. “It’s time for me to return to my work,” she said, and she moved up through the woods without looking back.
The haunting was over.
Hayden came to stand before Christy, once more marveling. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, finding its contour and the line of her jaw. Her lips trembled, and he kissed her, stilling the tremor. For a moment he held her quietly, his cheek against her hair.
They started up the hill together, climbing silently until they came out under that great open sky, with its scalloping of mountains at the horizon. The only shadows around them were cast by clouds.
Christy still held the stone that had been symbolic of Deirdre’s life. Both Deirdres were free now, and so was Hayden. He put an arm about her.
The way was open to all the discovery of each other that lay ahead.
Acknowledgments
My thanks to many friends in Virginia, who helped with this book.
Robert and Nancy Monroe opened the first doors for me. Jean Wallis sang to the cows, and let me adapt that wonderful scene for my story. Trew Bennett introduced me to her magical Sun Wheel, while Linda Jackson, Morrie Coleman, and Nora Murphy shared llama lore with me at their llama farm, which I can see out my windows. The character of Victor grew out of conversations with Maureen Littlepath, to whom I am grateful.
My special thanks to Tina Anderson who typed all those words.
Others read the manuscript when completed and I owe them my gratitude for watchful attention to detail: Phyllis and Arnie Popkin, Scooter McMoneagle, and Nancy Navarra.
A BIOGRAPHY OF PHYLLIS A. WHITNEY
Phyllis Ayame Whitney (1903–2008) was a prolific author of seventy-six adult and children’s novels. Over fifty million copies of her books were sold worldwide during the course of her sixty-year writing career, establishing her as one of the most successful mystery and romantic suspense writers of the twentieth century. Whitney’s dedication to the craft and quality of writing earned her three lifetime achievement awards and the title “The Queen of the American Gothics.”
Whitney was born in Yokohama, Japan, on September 9, 1903, to American parents, Mary Lillian (Lilly) Mandeville and Charles (Charlie) Whitney. Charles worked for an American shipping line. When Whitney was a child, her family moved to Manila in the Philippines, and eventually settled in Hankow, China.
Whitney began writing stories as a teenager but focused most of her artistic attention on her other passion: dance. When her father passed away in China in 1918, Whitney and her mother took a ten-day journey across the Pacific Ocean to America, and they settled in Berkley, California. Later they moved to San Antonio, Texas. Lilly continued to be an avid supporter of Whitney’s dancing, creating beautiful costumes for her performances. While in high school, her mother passed away, and Whitney moved in with her aunt in Chicago, Illinois. After graduating from high school in 1924, Whitney turned her attention to writing, nabbing her first major publication in the Chicago Daily News. She made a small income from writing stories at the start of her career, and would eventually go on to publish around one hundred short stories in pulp magazines by the 1930s.
In 1925, Whitney married George A. Garner, and nine years later gave birth to their daughter, Georgia. During this time, she also worked in the children’s room in the Chicago Public Library (1942–1946) and at the Philadelphia Inquirer (1947–1948).
After the release of her first novel, A Place for Ann (1941), a career story for girls, Whitney turned her eye toward publishing fu
ll-time, taking a job as the children’s book editor at the Chicago Sun-Times and releasing three more novels in the next three years, including A Star for Ginny. She also began teaching juvenile fiction writing courses at Northwestern University. Whitney began her career writing young adult novels and first found success in the adult market with the 1943 publication of Red Is for Murder, also known by the alternative title The Red Carnelian.
In 1946, Whitney moved to Staten Island, New York, and taught juvenile fiction writing at New York University. She divorced in 1948 and married her second husband, Lovell F. Jahnke, in 1950. They lived on Staten Island for twenty years before relocating to Northern New Jersey. Whitney traveled around the world, visiting every single setting of her novels, with the exception of Newport, Rhode Island, due to a health emergency. She would exhaustively research the land, culture, and history, making it a custom to write from the viewpoint of an American visiting these exotic locations for the first time. She imbued the cultural, physical, and emotional facets of each country to transport her readers to places they’ve never been.
Whitney wrote one to two books a year with grand commercial success, and by the mid-1960s, she had published thirty-seven novels. She had reached international acclaim, leading Time magazine to hail her as “one of the best genre writers.” Her work was especially popular in Britain and throughout Europe.
Whitney won the Edgar Award for Mystery of the Haunted Pool (1961) and Mystery of the Hidden Hand (1964), and was shortlisted three more times for Secret of the Tiger’s Eye (1962), Secret of the Missing Footprint (1971), and Mystery of the Scowling Boy (1974). She received three lifetime achievement awards: the Mystery Writers of America Grand Master Award in 1985, the Agatha in 1989, and the lifetime achievement award from the Society of Midland Authors in 1995.
Whitney continued writing throughout the rest of her life, still traveling to the locations for each of her novels until she was ninety-four years old. She released her final novel, the touching and thrilling Amethyst Dreams, in 1997. Whitney was working on her autobiography at the time of her passing at the age of 104. She left behind a vibrant catalog of seventy-six titles that continue to inspire, setting an unparalleled precedent for mystery writing.
A young Whitney playing with her doll in Japan.
Whitney with her family in Japan, where they lived for approximately six years. From left: Lillian (Lilly) Whitney, Charles (Charlie) Whitney, Phyllis Whitney, and Philip (Whitney’s half-brother).
Thirteen-year-old Whitney dancing in the Philippines.
Twenty-one-year-old Whitney at her graduation from McKinley High School in 1924.
Whitney worked at the World’s Fair in Chicago, Illinois, in 1933. She was pregnant with her daughter, Georgia, at the time.
Frederick Nelson Litten, Whitney’s mentor in writing and teaching, in Chicago, 1935.
Whitney’s first publicity photo for A Place for Ann, 1941.
Whitney, forty-eight, in her first study in Fort Hill Circle at her Staten Island house, where she lived with second husband Lovell Jahnke, 1951.
Whitney at sixty-nine years old with Jahnke in their home in Hope, New Jersey, 1972. Behind them hangs a Japanese embroidery made by Whitney’s mother.
Whitney at seventy-one years of age with Pat Myer, her long time editor, and Mable Houvenagle, her sister-in-law, at her house on Chapel Ave in Brookhaven, Long Island, New York, 1974. After her husband died in 1973, she lived close to her daughter, Georgia, on Long Island.
Whitney at eighty-one years old on a helicopter ride over Maui, Hawaii, to research the backdrop for her novel Silversword, 1984.
Whitney giving her acceptance speech for her Mystery Writers of America Grand Master Award in 1985.
Whitney rode in a hot-air balloon in 1988 to use the experience for her novel Rainbow in the Mist.
Whitney ascending in the hot-air balloon, 1988.
Whitney in her study in Virginia in 1996 at ninety-three years old, looking over her “Awards Corner,” which included three Edgars, the Agatha, and the Society of Midland Authors Award.
Whitney at ninety-six years old with her family in her house in Virgina, 1999. From left: Michael Jahnke (grandson), Georgia Pearson (daughter), Matthew Celentano (great-grandson), Whitney, and Danny Celentano (great-grandson).
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1989 by Phyllis A. Whitney
Cover design by Mimi Bark
978-1-5040-4698-5
This edition published in 2017 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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PHYLLIS A. WHITNEY
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