by Mari Labbee
She stared at the massive hearth and realized the mantel hadn’t been in her dream. In the dream, it had just been a stone hearth. She thought about this and tried to remember the details. Suddenly the light swept over one corner, and she stopped. This was the spot she had pointed at—where one of the legs of the mantel met the stones of the hearth beneath it. She kneeled to take a closer look. Near the base of the leg, she saw the mortar around one stone was gouged out. Bri ran her fingers over it, feeling the deep groove around it. Suddenly it moved, and she pulled her hand back as if it had bitten her. She stared at it for some time, frozen, before she touched it again.
Part of the stone that had moved extended beneath the leg of the mantel Matt had just repaired. To see what was beneath it, the mantel leg, or at least part of it, had to come off.
Back with two hammers from the kitchen, she set the flashlight on its side so it would illuminate the stone, and then she wedged the spiked end of one hammer against the leg and hit it hard with the other hammer. The bottom of the leg shattered, sending shards flying. She carefully removed the stone from where it had laid over a hundred years.
Grabbing the flashlight, she shone it into the hole where the stone had been, and she saw something inside. Her heart pounded as hard as the thunder outside. How had she even ended up here, doing this? She reached inside. She had to learn why.
Sliding her hand in, her fingers touched something smooth and cool. She pulled out a metal box with an elaborate lock. She knew immediately what lock the old brass key was meant to open.
She quickly ran to the kitchen to retrieve the key from the drawer where she had put it just after she moved in.
Her hand shook from both fear and excitement as she put the key in the lock. A perfect fit. It turned, and the lock clicked open. She thought of Pandora’s box and wondered what curse she was about to unleash, but there was no way she wasn’t going to open it; she was compelled to do so. Inside was a small leather-bound book, its cover worn and patchy, but the binding had held, and the book had a nice sturdy spine holding the pages together.
With extreme care, she lifted the small book out of its resting place and opened it. Holding the flashlight in her left hand, she shone the light onto the pages. Inside the cover, written in small neat script, was the name Rosabel Bennett.
She turned the first page.
April 21, 1829
I have met the man I am going to marry.
Bri stared at what she held. “My God,” she whispered to herself. Her hands began to shake so badly that the flashlight beam bounced everywhere except where she wanted it.
His name is Elias Browne, and I met him this past weekend at Meg Suttie’s birthday dance. I have never seen such lashes on a man! Is it possible for one to fall in love instantly? I would like to ask Aunt Vivian, but then I would have to explain myself. Though it was she who told me on my sixteenth birthday that as a young woman, I would have many thoughts running through my head, and it was best to put them to paper rather than speak them. And it was she who gave me this book, which, I admit, sat untouched these three years hence, but only because, until now, I have not had anything of merit to write down.
Rosabel Bennett’s diary. She was holding Rosabel’s diary in her hand.
A clap of thunder from above shook the walls. Bri jumped and dropped the book. Lightning illuminated every inch of the great room, and the mural came to life. But more than that, the furniture, pushed back against the wall, covered in the vintage fabric that Rebecca Holley had chosen, was all as it had been in the dream. Exactly the same. Bri scrambled backward like a crab, her legs slipping out from under her. The world closed in on her.
She didn’t stop until she arrived at the Whittlebee marina. Having seen her with Matt before, the guard allowed her in. She found a guest parking space near Matt’s reserved space. His truck was there…good. The wind had picked up and was blowing the rain sideways. She threw the car in park and turned to grab her tote bag, but her hand stopped mid-reach. The diary was lying there on the passenger seat, except that she had no memory of picking it up before running out of the house.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Matt was lying in bed and had been staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours already. He had tried reading, but he gave up after rereading the same paragraph a dozen times, still uncomprehending. The weather had picked up, and the Audrey Natalia rocked in her slip. But that wasn’t what was keeping him up. He rolled over on his side and closed his eyes. He was tired. Maybe if he just closed his eyes, sleep would come.
There was a noise up on deck; something outside had hit the boat. The wind is really kicking up, he thought as he rolled onto his back again. The noise came again. Matt sat up, listening-somebody was on deck.
He opened the cabin door and saw Bri standing there soaked from the rain, pale, and shaking. She was trying to say something, but nothing came out. Alarmed, Matt pulled her inside. What had happened to her?
“What happened?” he asked.
She didn’t answer and felt like a rag doll in his grip. If he were to let go of her, he was sure she’d fall to the floor in a heap. He led her to the sofa.
“Just sit here. I’ll be right back,” he said.
He came back with one of his shirts and a pair of shorts.
In a weak, flimsy voice, barely audible, she said, “I didn’t mean to bother you. But you were the only person…I knew…”
“It’s OK,” he said, lifting her out of the chair and leading her to the head. Once there, he handed her his clothes.
“There are towels under the sink. Get out of your wet clothes and put these on. OK?”
She nodded obediently, and Matt pulled the door closed. He stood by the door a few moments before moving away. He wondered what had happened. She looked a wreck, but he wouldn’t tell her that. He would wait and see what she said.
In the bathroom, Bri followed Matt’s directions and took off her wet clothes, changing into his. The smell of coffee hit her as soon as she opened the door. She wasn’t feeling any better about what had happened, but she felt a lot better—safer—here with Matt.
He turned around when he heard the bathroom door. She was holding the waistband of his shorts bunched up in one hand, and in her other hand, she held her wet clothes. He reached out and took them from her.
“Sit.” He gestured to the table. She did as she was told.
He pulled open the louvered doors at the aft end to reveal a space-saver washer-dryer unit. He threw her clothes in the dryer and set the timer. Then he brought two mugs of coffee to the table where she was sitting, set one in front of her, and slid into the booth opposite her.
“What happened?” he asked softly.
All the questions he was going to ask, the speech he’d rehearsed, and, yes, the anger that had been growing the past day all dissolved. What happened was all he could ask.
She had no idea how to begin. Best to start at the beginning and tell him everything exactly the way it happened and hope for the best.
In a voice so low he had to lean in to hear her, she began.
“I’ve been having these…these…dreams.”
There was no stopping the rush of words once she got started. As she told him about the dreams, about Angela and her mother, about what she’d found in the archives, about Rosabel, she never looked at him. She looked at the ceiling, the floor, her hands that flailed about her, anywhere but his eyes.
“That’s the reason I felt dizzy and lost my balance in the lighthouse. I had seen it before, in the dream…the woman in the dream was painting the mural with her…her…blood. The furniture—it’s exactly as it was in the dream.
“And Angela’s mother was having dreams. I’m pretty sure they were the same dreams I’ve been having. She’s the one who put that crazy wallpaper up. She said she was trying to bury the girl. That’s what Angela said her mother told them. Bury the girl—her words.” Bri paused and glanced down, knowing that the tears would come if she looked at him.<
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“I know what she was trying to do,” she said softly. “It all sounds completely crazy, I know, but I can’t…I can’t explain how I know that they aren’t just dreams…they aren’t nightmares. There is something else going on.”
She paused a moment.
“Of course, everyone thought the poor woman was…well…you know…crazy. Angela said they moved away because her mother wouldn’t live there anymore, and she had to go live in an…an…” Bri didn’t finish the thought. “Living in that house changed her, just like I feel it’s changing me.”
The cabin had grown considerably smaller in the hour that Bri spent recounting what had been happening since moving into the house on Jackal’s Head Point, and when she finally stopped, she took a deep breath and looked at him, her eyes pleading. I’m not crazy. She didn’t have to say it.
Matt listened quietly but quickly stopped trying to follow early on. It was an incoherent jumble. He hid his true feelings behind a blank expression; best not to let on what he truly thought—Bri needed help. He didn’t understand why she was giving a few dreams such importance. They were just nightmares: the lighthouse, the strange mural, a story she’d heard. Her imagination had run away with her. She’d been under a lot of stress; it was only natural that she wasn’t able to sleep. He didn’t know what to make of this.
He didn’t believe in this sort of thing, never had, never encountered anything remotely paranormal, and considered it ridiculous. However, it was clear that she believed every word she was telling him.
She had reached over and laid her hand on his forearm but pulled it back now. She looked down at her lap, preparing for what came next.
“I found a book, a diary.” She took a breath. “Under one of the stones at the foot of the hearth in the great room. And I’m sorry, but I had to pull off the leg of the mantel to get at it.” She paused. “It was locked in a metal box, and the old brass key that was on the key ring Dana gave me unlocked it. It’s been passed down through the years, nobody knowing what it was for; still, they kept it. Don’t you think it’s strange that the key still exists?”
“It’s a pretty big coincidence, but it could happen,” he said.
She searched his face but couldn’t read him. Did he believe her?
He was looking down and into his coffee, unaware that he was nodding slightly as his mind resisted what he was hearing.
“It’s Rosabel Bennett’s diary.”
Matt’s expression changed. “Wait a minute. How do you know it’s her diary?”
Her voice rose a quarter note.
“She wrote her name on the inside, and in her first entry, she wrote about Elias, who I already know she married, from the newspaper announcement and the suicide story. Who else’s diary could that be?”
“It could be anybody’s.”
“Why would her name be in, then? She led me to it; how could I have found it if she hadn’t led me to it?”
Matt shook his head. The practical, down-to-earth Iowan in him was having trouble this far out on a limb. He just couldn’t see it.
Her eyes welled up with tears, and he saw her shoulders begin to shake; she was breaking down.
“In my dream—the one where she was painting the mural—she was pointing to the exact spot where I found the diary. Is that a coincidence? Was that an ordinary dream?”
“You want to believe that it’s real,” he said.
“Of course I believe it. There’s no other choice for me other than to believe it’s real. And now we know why the red sky looks so—”
He interrupted her.
“This is very confusing for me,” he said.
“You’re confused?” She began laughing, a high-pitched laugh, fueled by raw nerves, which quickly led to sobbing. He immediately got out of his seat, went over to her, and hugged her. She was shaking. This was plenty for one night.
“Come on, let’s get you in bed.”
She didn’t resist and let him lead her to the bedroom, where he lay her down on his bed. He turned out the light and left the room.
Matt went up on deck. The rain had stopped, and he looked up at the incredibly clear sky crowded with stars. All that beauty was wasted as he looked without seeing, his mind racing from the fantastic story Bri had told him.
It was the wildest thing he’d ever heard. There was nothing supernatural there, just an awful lot of eerie coincidences. But something was bothering him, something that had started earlier but wasn’t fully formed yet. After some time up on deck, he went back down into the cabin and climbed into one of the bunk beds.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Bri sat up in bed; something had woken her. She stared out at an unfamiliar room, and then she felt the gentle motion of the Audrey Natalia beneath her and knew where she was. She was at Matt’s. Pushing the sheet aside, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and got up. Matt’s shorts fell to the floor as she did. Slipping out of them, she walked to the door and opened it carefully. Moonlight streamed in through the porthole windows and bathed the cabin in pale white light. The cabin seemed empty. Where was Matt? she wondered. Then she heard soft breathing coming from one of the bunks. He had pulled the privacy curtain closed to keep the light out. She tiptoed softly by him and made her way to the closet where the dryer was.
The dryer door squeaked, and she winced, stopping to look over her shoulder in Matt’s direction—no change. He hadn’t woken up. She carefully pulled out her underwear, jeans, and T-shirt and dressed silently, all the while listening for Matt. He hadn’t stirred at all. After she had dressed, she grabbed the keys to her car and left the Audrey Natalia.
There it was, on the passenger seat—the diary. She didn’t remember having it in her hand when she ran out of the house, didn’t remember tossing it on the seat next to her, and hadn’t looked over at it during her mad drive to Whittlebee. She stared at it now, wondering if it might bite her when she picked it up.
She quietly snuck back into the cabin of the Audrey Natalia and walked over to where her tote bag was propped up against the leg of the dining booth. She tucked the diary safely inside the bag. As she passed the bunk where Matt was sleeping, she heard him stir. It sounded like he was talking in his sleep. Gently she pulled the privacy curtain back a bit to peek inside. He looked so peaceful; her heart skipped a beat as she watched him sleep. She let go of the curtain and returned to his bed where she slept soundly the rest of the night.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
“Good morning,” Matt said as soon as she walked up on deck.
Was it her imagination or was it the brightest morning she had ever seen? She squinted against it, and last night seemed strangely far away.
He seemed to be in a good mood, and she was happy about that. She was wondering how he would be after last night, after everything she’d told him. Honestly, she had no idea what that might have been, and this sure was a welcome relief.
“Good morning,” Bri said and quickly followed with, “Matt, I’m sorry about last night.”
He shook his head as he pulled on one of the lines.
“Nah. Don’t worry about it.” He looked out at the harbor where the water was like glass. “In fact, as far as days go, I think this is about as perfect a day as ever to go sailing.” He dropped the line he was holding and went over to another.
“No rain in the forecast for today.” He paused, looking at her. “And it might be nice to get away for a bit. Stop thinking about the last few days. What do you say?” he threw a line her way. “Don’t just stand there; help me out here so we can get under way,” he commanded.
If ever she needed an escape, this was the time. “What do you want me to do?”
“Just hop out and untie us.”
She did as she was told, and when she hopped back in after untying the second line, Matt powered up the engine, and they started out of the marina. She stood behind him at the wheel, watching him steer out of the marina and out to sea.
The morning sun shimmered on glassine blue,
and the wind hit them straight on. Once safely out past the buoys, he turned to her.
“OK, take the wheel and just hold her steady. I’m going to raise the sails.”
“What?”
“There’s nothing to crash into out here, Bri.” He grabbed her wrist and placed her hand on the wheel.
“Buh…but, I can’t.”
He took her other hand and placed it on the wheel.
“You can do this.”
He walked away then, leaving her no choice. She clutched the wheel tightly and kept it in the exact same position, not allowing an inch of movement. When the mainsail went up, the boat lunged forward, and then it leaned over to one side. She slipped and almost let go of the wheel, but Matt was back at her side within moments.
“That was perfect,” he said, taking the wheel from her. Then, for the first time since she’d arrived last night, he kissed her, and her heart skipped a beat. The knot in her stomach unwound, and she laughed.
Distraction was his plan. Get her away from the house, away from everything that was bothering her; give her a chance to clear her head. Then maybe he could help her figure all this out.
They paralleled the coast for a bit, heading south, away from Jackal’s Head Point. Bri watched as they sailed farther and farther away, until the land just disappeared.
She sat against the mizzenmast, hugging her knees to her chest. The sun warmed her bare arms, and mist hit her face. Turning it toward the sun, she breathed in the sea, the salt, and the heat. Far from land now, a chop had come up, and the bow of the Audrey Natalia rose high up out of the water and then came down hard. She understood now what Matt was talking about, the power underneath them.
They had been sailing just over two hours when Bri noticed they were coming closer to the coast.
“Are we going back in?” she yelled to Matt.
“Yep, we’re stopping for lunch. Are you hungry?”