Winterbay Abbey

by John Bladek

  I had not drawn this.

  I flipped through the pages. All my other drawings were there, just as I remembered them. Front view, courtyard, lighthouse.

  I felt my head. Did I have a concussion? I held up my index and middle finger and saw only two digits.

  My skin prickled, and I felt like I was suddenly being watched. I whipped around and scanned the beach. No one was in sight except for Vaughn down the beach, speaking with the two other officers.

  A headache at the base of my skull added to the pain from my forehead. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment to deaden the pain. Then I turned and dashed back toward the abbey with my sketchbook in hand.

  Another blast from the quarry echoed through the trees.

  I looked up at the bell tower on the way to the parking lot. No sign of the circular window in the sketch. I jumped when one of the paramedics yelled to me.

  “Hey, buddy! Do you want a ride back into town?” He waved. “Vaughn just gave us the go-ahead to leave. Comin’?”

  I tucked my sketchbook underneath my jacket. It was all I could do to not break out into a sprint.

  chapter nine

  It was 9:00 PM when Emily’s plane finally landed. I’d fallen asleep on one of the rows of connected chairs. When she woke me, I grabbed her and wrapped my arms around her, almost afraid to let go.

  She stepped back and looked at me. A flash of worry wrinkled her brow as she inspected my face. “Whoa, are you okay? I got your message. You lost your phone?” She leaned back and looked at me. “What happened to your head?” She softly brushed the bandage I’d put on my wound.

  I hadn’t told Emily the whole story in my message, especially about going into the water. I didn’t want her worrying. “Let’s get going,” I said. “I’ll explain in the car.”

  She put her hand on my arm. “Will, you’re scared. I’ve never seen you like this,” she said.

  “I’m fine, just not sleeping much. You know, jet lag. And maybe with the baby coming I’ve been a little bit more on edge. I’ll get through it.”

  Emily looked down at her feet. She only did that when something was wrong.

  “What’s that look?” I asked.

  “Nothing, everything’s fine,” she said, still not meeting my eyes.

  I stood there for a moment waiting for her to say something. She didn’t.

  I didn’t have the strength to pull an answer out of her. “The car’s this way,” I said a little sheepishly.

  As soon as we got in the rental, I blasted the heater, knowing she loved the warmth.

  “You said on the message that a nun maybe drowned. I thought Winterbay Abbey was abandoned,” Emily said.

  “It is…I just…I still don’t know what to make of all of this. The police said they’d give me a call when they knew something.”

  “That sounds so horrible. I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” She reached out and squeezed my hand.

  “It’s all so strange, and it isn’t the only bizarre thing that happened today.”

  “Oh?” she asked.

  “Could you do me a favor? Take a look in the glove compartment.”

  She took out the tiny knit blanket I’d found in the abbey. “Gross, what is this? It smells awful. Did someone bury a cat in it?” she asked with a laugh.

  A nervous chuckle escaped my lips. “Open it and look at the top right corner,” I said.

  “But it’s beyond dirty and…”

  I glanced over quickly. Emily was staring at the blanket, her mouth agape. “Where the hell did you get this?”

  “Inside the abbey. Did you copy your symbol from some old pattern book or something?”

  “No, I just made it up on the fly. I don’t understand. Even the mistake I made with the stitching is here. Is this some kind of weird joke? Because it isn’t funny, Will.”

  “No, it’s not a joke. It’s nothing. Probably just a coincidence. Someone just lost a baby blanket. Don’t worry about it.”

  Emily stuffed the blanket back in the glove box. I waited for her to say something because I was at a loss to say anything comforting at this point. She just sat back in her seat.

  The rest of the drive to the hotel was silent, just like to the airport yesterday.

  I should have just asked her if she had copied the pattern from somewhere without showing her the blanket. Idiot. Now that I knew Emily hadn’t duplicated the pattern, my vague fears deepened. I tried to tell myself it was just a simple heart. I wasn’t convinced.

  We pulled into the hotel parking lot. The same boney branches reached toward the inn, a stark contrast against the bright moon.

  Emily glanced up. “Charming.”

  “It’s not so bad. It’s actually quite nice inside.” I bit my lip, thinking I’d regret that fib later.

  We made our way to our room. I put Emily’s bags down, and she hung up her coat. She put her hand on the small of her back and sighed.

  “Too long in an airplane seat?” I asked.

  She nodded. “The guy next to me kept his seat tray down so he could nurse his cup of water for three hours. You don’t know what it’s like to hold it until you’ve had a baby sitting on your bladder.”

  “I don’t want to find out,” I said. “Hey, how about a fire?” A little heat sounded nice and cozy right now, and I needed something to get my mind off the “nun” at the beach and the blanket.

  “Sounds great. I’m going to use the bathroom real quick.”

  I turned on the gas and stood in front of the flames, letting the heat soak into my hands. I’d felt perpetually cold since arriving here. The flames entwined in a rhythmic pattern.

  “So, I assume this is what the abbey looks like?” Emily asked, breaking my hypnotic stare at the fire.

  I spun around. Emily was holding my sketchbook.

  “Where did you get that?” I grabbed the pad from her.

  “It was on the back seat of the car. I picked it up and carried it in for you. What’s with you?”

  The pad was open to the last page. I looked at my drawing again. It was the same one of the abandoned building, a stylish sketch that almost looked more like Emily’s polished, pre-accident art than my rough drawings.

  “Who is that person in the window?” Emily asked.

  Person? I scanned the sketch, looking at all the windows until I noticed the round one in the bell tower. The muscles in my neck tensed. A dark figure peeked out from behind the glass.

  I stared at the pad. “I didn’t draw this, either,” I said to myself.

  “Either? What do you mean?” Emily asked.

  I gazed blankly at the drawing, frozen.

  “Will, your hands are shaking. What is it?” she asked, her voice rising.

  “I don’t know. This morning I made some sketches. Originally, I drew a renovated hotel made up to look like the 1890s. I dropped my sketchbook when I saw the girl going into the water and didn’t get it back till later. That’s when I noticed the drawing had changed.”

  “Changed like how?”

  “The drawing I made isn’t here. Just this one of the decrepit abbey. And I did not draw a figure standing in the window. That’s new even from when I found it. The window was there, but no one in it. At least I didn’t see anyone before. And there aren’t even windows on that tower. I would’ve drawn an element as noticeable as that.” I grabbed the folder with the photo Lance had given me. It was taken from a different angle, and no windows were visible. I couldn’t have gotten the idea from looking at that. I gripped the picture so tightly my fingers started to ache.

  Quickly, I scanned my drawing to see if there was anything recognizable in the figure’s style of dress. The person was cloaked in shadow, nothing but a pale face and blank eye slits.

  Emily wrapped her hand around my arm and pulled me close. “Okay, I think you need to relax and not obsess about blankets and drawings right now.”

  I closed my eyes, letting her touch sink in. All I saw in my mind’s eye was the face of the girl stan
ding on the shore, her glare burning into me, a knife of hatred mixed with sadness.

  I leaned away and took a closer look at the drawing. I hadn’t lifted a pen to this pad since seeing that woman. Could I have somehow started to draw her in the window and not remembered?

  “Look,” Emily said, letting me go, “you lost the sketchpad on the beach. Someone found it, maybe drew the sketch, then tossed it back where you found it. It’s probably just a—”

  “Coincidence?” Like the blanket? “This is my pad.” I pounded on the sketch paper. “This can’t be the work of some random stranger on the beach. That’s too convenient.”

  Wasn’t it?

  chapter ten

  I must have woken up at least four times that night to check on Emily. I expected a nightmare to drive her out of bed or even back to Seattle. She hadn’t said anything after examining the sketch again. In fact, another long, trademark silence between us followed. I wondered how much I’d freaked her out, maybe even made her wary of me.

  The day’s events kept replaying as I tried to make sense of it all. I was torn between never wanting to see the abbey again and finding out exactly what was going on. Between the drowning and the blanket, Martin’s stories, and even Vaughn’s complaints about juvenile pranks, Winterbay was cloaked in mystery.

  I needed to switch gears. I had a job to do with Ted and James and needed to get them some preliminary sketches. There wasn’t much time to impress them.

  When I woke up the fourth time, I found Emily still sound asleep. Normally she got up to use the bathroom two or three times. Not tonight.

  At least one of us would be rested by tomorrow.

  I glanced at the clock, 3:07. I rolled out of bed and stumbled to the desk to work on the drawings and take some Tylenol for my forehead, which was still aching. Using Lance’s photo, I re-sketched the abbey as the same 1890s summer wonderland I’d drawn before. Hopefully Ted and James wouldn’t think I was some amateurish hack.

  “Will?”

  I glanced over. Emily was sitting up in bed. “Don’t you have a meeting?” she asked groggily. My eyes darted to the alarm clock. It was 6:50. Time had flown.

  “Yes, we’re supposed to meet around 8:00. Did you sleep well?” I asked.

  She stretched. “A little rough, but okay,” she said.

  “Well, you can have a down day here and just rest and relax,” I said.

  “I really don’t want to be cooped up, and I’ve been thinking…” she said.

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “I want to help you,” she said.

  “Help me with what?”

  “That girl,” she said. “Finding her. I’d like to help.”

  An alarm went off in my head. When Emily’s friend Ariel was pregnant, she’d wanted to help. After Ariel suffered a miscarriage, Emily beat herself up for not helping enough. She was constantly worried about the baby, money, her hand, many other things, and she always seemed to want to “help” make things better.

  It always backfired. It depressed her, frustrated me, and ended in more fighting. I might be intrigued by this nun mystery, even a little scared, but I didn’t want Emily obsessed with trying to help find this girl. Besides, what would she do? Go down to the beach and look for a woman washed up along the shore? Or if Vaughn was right, interrogate high school girls?

  I wished I hadn’t been so rash to bring her here.

  “Don’t worry about that,” I said. “The more I think about it, maybe that cop’s idea, that it was a prank, some girl pretending to drown, is right.”

  “What?” Emily asked. “You never said that last night.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to sound like an idiot, getting fooled.”

  “Why would someone play a joke like that, faking a drowning?”

  I shrugged. “Vaughn says it’s a local tradition, on Halloween. Who knows why.”

  “Yeah, but Halloween is over. Do you really believe the cops?” Emily asked, her eyes narrowed.

  “Um, well, I think it’s a possibility. They never found a body.”

  “Will,” she said, lowering her voice, “I know you. You aren’t buying that.”

  I shook my head. “Yes, I am. Anyway, let’s forget about it. I’ll get these drawings to Ted and James and then we can relax, maybe do a little sightseeing. In fact,” I continued, “if the meeting goes well, maybe we don’t need to stay here at all. We can fly back to Seattle.”

  “Home? But I just got here,” she said. “Besides, can you give them what they want so fast? We really need this project, and I have to tell—”

  “No need to worry. These sketches will be great, and I can do the rest from home. It will be fine.”

  “Fine? Will, the mortgage was late last month. They called before I left to the airport. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I guess tearing up the notice hadn’t been enough. “Because I’m handling it,” I said.

  “Mortgage companies don’t call when you are ‘handling’ it.”

  I ground my teeth. “I think once you start working again, it will all pan out,” I said.

  “We just talked about me not getting a job right away, remember?”

  “I thought you were just thinking about that,” I said. “We never really agreed on you not working. Don’t you still have an application in with Microsoft?”

  Emily shook her head.

  “What? You pulled the application?” I said, my voice rising.

  Emily was silent for a moment. “No, I just haven’t heard anything.”

  Her eyes flicked away. What was she hiding?

  “Will, you really shouldn’t leave. And don’t you think a good word from Ted and James could lead to maybe a raise or a promotion at the firm?”

  A job anyway. “I will work it out,” I said, crumpling a piece of paper.

  “Are you even listening to me right now?” Emily asked.

  I threw the paper into the wastebasket. “Yes, and I said I’ll work it out somehow,” I repeated loudly and slowly.

  Emily threw her head back. “God, you’re not even the same person.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, trying everything within my power not to yell.

  A thud hit the window, rattling the panes.

  Emily and I looked at each other before we ran to the window.

  I drew back the curtains. Close to the top of the pane was a large circular crack, like someone had thrown a rock at the glass.

  “Was that a bird?” Emily asked. She peeked outside.

  “Must have been,” I said. “Unless some kids are playing baseball in the parking lot.”

  “I hope the bird’s not hurt,” Emily said.

  “I can’t see anything. I’m going down there,” I said. I didn’t particularly want to go outside, but it gave me a good excuse to stop this argument. Putting on my coat, I shut the door and made my way downstairs, walking fast to blow off some steam. I hated fighting.

  A dim streetlamp on the side of the hotel lit the parking lot, and it was pointed away from where any bird might have fallen after hitting our window. A light frost iced all the cars. Drawing on what little light I had, I walked up and down the lot a couple of times, half-heartedly looking for our window attacker.

  I caught a glimpse of white out of the corner of my eye. Lying half underneath my rental car’s front end was a seagull. Its head was twisted at an odd angle with one wing bent completely out of shape. It didn’t move as I approached.

  The bird’s eyes reflected the lamppost light, wide open and staring, lifeless.

  I pulled on one of my winter gloves and eyed a dumpster at the far end of the parking lot. I didn’t want to drive over this thing. Reluctantly, I reached out. I wasn’t the biggest fan of gulls. At the Seattle waterfront, they dive-bombed my French fries.

  As soon as I grabbed its wing, my vision went fuzzy. Dark and tunneled, a stark picture of a small wooden motorboat flashed through my mind. It bounced in the mist-covered waves. Overhead, a large flock of seagulls
emerged from the fog, swooping perilously close to the boat.

  Panicked, I dropped the bird.

  As quickly as the pictures had come, they vanished and my vision returned. I stared at the bird.

  What the hell was that?

  I knew I had flashbacks of the car accident, but no motorcycle was in sight here to trigger me, and these were images I didn’t think I’d ever seen before. I tried to remember the entire sea scene. Sometimes doing certain routine actions brought up past events, seemingly unrelated, to mind, but this was more like a seizure. I’d never been lost at sea in a small boat.

  Just then the bird’s glassy eye locked on me, and a searing pain throbbed in my hand. I jumped back and pulled off my glove. A gash oozed on the back of my hand. Blood ran down my fingers in tiny rivulets of red. I glanced back at the bird. It still lay unmoving on the frosted pavement. Had it just pecked me, through my glove? I’d thought it was dead.

  I panted as I backed away. The bird still hadn’t moved.

  I didn’t want to see any more.

  I dashed back into the hotel.

  “Well?” Emily asked, genuine concern in her voice.

  “It was just a bird. A seagull,” I said.

  Emily’s eyes went wide when she spotted my bleeding hand. “Oh my gosh.”

  She grabbed my arm and led me into the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, she pushed my hand under the water and lathered it with soap. The foaming water mirrored the image of the boat and the sea.

  “What happened?”

  “Uh,” was all I could get out.

  “Did the bird do this? I hope this doesn’t get infected,” Emily said. “Those seagulls are filthy. I hate how close they fly to the crowds down at the waterfront at home.”

  I grunted again.

  “Are you okay? You’re acting funny again.”

  Was I okay?

  I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I think I’m just a little shocked.”

  Once I was cleaned up, the wound didn’t look so bad. Emily had some antibiotic ointment in her purse. Her touch on my hand soothed as she bandaged me. I looked into her eyes.

  “Hey, I’m sorry I got angry. This trip has been a lot to handle. I’m staying here, and I promise I’ll get the mortgage company straightened out soon, and we’ll figure out you not working for a while. Let me make it up to you and take you to breakfast before I have to go.”