by Mari Labbee
As soon as he arrived at Exit 28, everyone turned left so they could continue on the surface roads to catch the interstate farther up ahead, but Matt turned right—he was turning around.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Rosabel was coming out of the fog. She heard the familiar voices of Isabel and Elias above her as she came to.
“She didn’t take the news well,” Isabel said.
“I don’t understand. When we spoke, she was fine. It was all going to be fine.”
Rosabel opened her eyes. She was on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. How did she get there? Had she fallen? Was she pushed? She couldn’t remember. Everything was fuzzy.
Elias was kneeling next to her, cradling her head in his hands as he spoke up to Isabel who stood somewhere behind her. Rosabel could only guess at Isabel’s position based on her voice. They hadn’t noticed yet that she had come to. She saw her chance. She moaned.
“Rosabel. Rosabel. Can you hear me?” Elias asked, his voice full of concern.
Isabel came up behind him; Rosabel could see her now.
“Darling, you tripped on the top step. None of us were close enough to stop you from falling.” Her voice dripped sickeningly sweet and strangled her with every word. Isabel’s eyes—it had been years since Rosabel had looked into those eyes to see the evil dancing in them. She remembered now.
Isabel had something to do with Elias’s disappearance. Where had they been? Isabel was behind all the voices and dreams that nearly drove her to madness. What power did she have that could reach across the miles and years to hold her mind hostage, almost killing her? And when had Elias joined forces with her? She was sure now that they had known each other before. How else could Isabel have her things, things she had given Elias? She thought she had seen recognition in Elias’s eyes when Isabel first arrived. After hearing them talk just now, she knew they were conspiring against her.
Tonight was the night Isabel had planned to carry out her plan. Was it already supposed to have taken place? Did Elias come home late, expecting it to be all over?
Somehow—and Rosabel could not fathom what magic it would take to steal a soul—Isabel was going to do away with her and take her place. To the world, it would seem that Isabel had died, but in reality, Rosabel would die.
It would not happen, it could not happen, Rosabel thought. She would never let Isabel have her child.
Madeline had known, and the medallion she had given her was no ordinary medallion; it had the power to protect her from Isabel. She had made a mistake in removing it, and Isabel had taken it and hidden it. But Rosabel knew where it was now—in the one place that Isabel knew she would be too frightened to look.
Rosabel moaned loudly and attempted to sit up, and then she feigned dizziness.
“Lean on me, dear,” Elias said soothingly as he helped her stand. He was still pretending, she thought angrily.
Isabel watched them and then came to stand on the opposite side of Elias and offered Rosabel her arm to lean on. Elias was on her left and Isabel on her right, and both of them were helping her walk, with Elias taking almost the full burden of her weight. She leaned all her weight on him, and with every step, they came closer to the front door…the opportunity was at hand.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Bri had been relaxing in the warm water when she suddenly sat up, splashing water over the tub.
The medallion! Madeline’s medallion! It was meant to protect her! It was the key to all of this. Finding it meant stopping this, and she knew where to look.
She jumped out of the tub, hurriedly toweled off, and then quickly pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. Outside, clouds whorled, the wind blew, and rain fell. The storm had grown, and it was much worse now than when she came home. As Bri made her way down the stairs, a loud bang followed a crack of lightning.
The front door had blown open.
She felt her stomach tighten. This was it.
Matt sped up to the house, spraying gravel as he came to a stop just in time to see the front door thrown open. His headlights shone on a frantic Bri as she came running through it. She didn’t even look his way as she ran to the end of the house toward the clearing. He froze.
“What the hell?” he said, throwing the truck in park and jumping out to go after her.
She had an incredible lead, and she was running at full bore, headed for the lighthouse.
Matt’s voice was carried off by the wind, and she never heard him calling after her. As she neared the lighthouse, there was only wind and waves. She grabbed the handle of the lighthouse door and pulled it open. Taking two steps at a time, she ran up the spiral staircase, looking up as she ran. There was very little time.
At the landing just below the lantern, she stopped. This is where she needed to look. She was overcome with dizziness and steadied herself against the wall. When she placed her hand against the wall, the brick under her hand moved.
Mr. Buonaterra had never painted the inside of the lighthouse, and whether he had ever intended to paint it to match the exterior would never be known. The entire interior of the lighthouse was still lined with smooth red bricks, except for this one, thought Bri. The one under her hand was jagged and gouged and completely unlike any of the others surrounding it.
She pushed on it, working it back and forth until it fell to the ground, breaking into pieces by her feet. She thrust her hand into the hole and quickly pulled out a small bundle.
It took less than a minute for her to unfold the fabric. She picked up the long chain, at the end of which hung a small medallion.
The medallion. Madeline’s medallion. Rosabel’s medallion.
Suddenly she heard a sound coming from outside. Bri climbed into the lantern and looked out. She saw the woman—Rosabel.
She stood perfectly still, her golden hair blowing in the wind; Bri’s heart was beating wildly as she walked out to where Rosabel stood. She stopped near her—only the short rail separated them. Slowly, Rosabel turned to look at Bri.
Matt had finally reached the lighthouse and began running up the stairs. If he hadn’t tripped on a slick patch of mud that ripped open his jeans and left a huge gash behind, he would have reached her before she had the chance to get up to the lighthouse. The sense of urgency had built to a fever pitch, and he pushed himself despite the pain in his knee and the blood he felt running down his leg. But he wondered where all this fear was coming from.
The wind ripped hard into Bri, and she squinted against the rain. She looked down at the churning water below. She was afraid of what was to come.
“Rosabel,” she whispered.
The two women looked at each other. A burst of light shot out from behind the clouds, and the full moon lit up the northern sky as if it were day. Rosabel looked into Bri’s eyes, and a soft smile appeared. This is Rosabel, thought Bri; there was no question in her mind of that. The wind suddenly calmed.
Rosabel stretched her arm out, reaching out as far as she could, and Bri extended her own. As she did, she saw the medallion dangling, the chain tangled around her fingers. The medallion shone in the moonlight. As the tips of Rosabel’s fingers brushed against hers, a rush of warmth ran through Bri, and she gasped, almost falling back. Then, slowly, Rosabel pulled her hand away.
“No,” Bri whispered.
Powerless, she watched Rosabel inch her tiny feet over the edge. Suddenly there was a great crash from inside; someone was coming through the lantern. Bri turned to look, but Rosabel did not; she softly closed her eyes and drew in a breath, one final thought before she fell gently from edge-she is safe now.
Bri’s hand was still reaching out, when another hand shot out of the dark-Isabel.
Bri pulled her hand back quickly and held it close against her chest. The two women stared at each other, and then Isabel shrieked.
“Noooo…!”
Bri felt a violent tug from behind.
Matt grunted as she landed on him, and they both fell back onto the floor. He had an arm around her waist, and
he had just pulled her back from the edge.
“What are you doing?” He was panting.
Suddenly she was back; immediately she looked up to where Rosabel was standing a moment ago, but there was no one there. Had it been another dream, a hallucination? Bri looked down at her balled-up fist and opened her hand. The medallion sat neatly in her palm, the chain coiled about her fingers.
EPILOGUE
The odd heat spell that had hovered over the region disappeared almost overnight and was replaced by the typically mild temperatures everyone around here was used to.
Over a month had passed since Matt pulled Bri back from the brink. Since then, Bri had nothing but blissful, dreamless nights.
The story about Rosabel, it turned out, had been true, but it wasn’t quite the story that had been told through the years. Rosabel had not killed anyone. She had killed herself to save her unborn child from a fate she thought worse than death. Elias and the two servants were found dead inside the house at Jackal’s Head Point-Isabel had killed them. She was the only one that could have done it, but nobody was aware of her existence, so it was presumed Rosabel had perpetrated the crime. Isabel, meanwhile, had escaped to…somewhere.
Unfortunately, the story of Jackal’s Head Point could not be changed. It was a murderer/suicide as far as history was concerned. It was a wrong that would never be made right, and Bri would never be able to explain how she came to know the real story; nobody would believe it.
Matt read the diary and knew now that what had happened was real, but suffice to say, neither of them had any idea how any of it was even possible. And they hadn’t spoken of it since.
Matt had gone back to Iowa. His mother was recovering well, and the two came to an understanding. After a thorough examination of the farm’s finances, Matt arranged for a refinance that consolidated the various loans his father had taken out over the years into one manageable loan, and another forty acres were sold. That took care of their immediate financial worries. Matt also talked to one of the neighbors who had recently switched to organic farming, and there would be a partnership. Forty acres was plenty for an organic farm and specialty crops. His mother was actually excited about it. She had always taken a passive role, allowing decisions to be made without her input and usually without her knowledge. In control for probably the first time in her life, she was stepping up to the challenge.
While Matt was gone, Bri managed to find a contractor who would be able to do most of the work at the house, all except for the cocobolo woodwork; Matt still held on to those reins. But at least the old wallpaper was coming down, the painting was getting done, and they would start refinishing the floors soon. The mural would stay. It didn’t bother her anymore. And to get rid of it just didn’t seem right. It was part of Jackal’s Head Point, part of Rosabel’s legacy.
Matt had also come up with a brilliant idea. He thought of turning the lantern room in the lighthouse into a guest room. Oh, it wouldn’t be a guest room in the actual sense of the word. It would be more of a ‘glamping’ experience. Up there in the heavens with a bird’s-eye view to the horizon it would be amazing. That unique feature would set her inn apart. The honeymooners would love it.
The morning was crisp, and Bri sat outside in one of her new lounge chairs, watching seagulls floating on drafts as they circled the lighthouse, their calls faint, almost too far off to hear. She had just taken a sip of peppermint tea when Matt appeared with a handful of rolled-up maps. He kissed the top of her head and dropped to his knees on a spot of flat ground next to her.
“You’ve got to see this.” He began unrolling one of the maps, anchoring the ends with small rocks. He had been planning their trip since he got back from Iowa a week ago. They were going to sail the Audrey Natalia down to the Caribbean and dive for treasure. When he first brought up treasure hunting, she thought he was joking. But she quickly realized he wasn’t. It was something he had always wanted to do. Never mind that she had never even snorkeled.
He rolled several maps out on the ground. All had marks: red Xs, blue circles, and green checkmarks. He’d gotten the maps from Darell, the Audrey Natalia’s previous owner, who got them from a retired treasure hunter.
“So Darrell’s buddy said we can forget about the Xs; those aren’t any good. The checkmarks are good spots, picked over some, but still plenty to find out there. The circles.” He tapped the map as he spoke. “This is where there might be some really big finds. There are records of ships going down in or around to those areas that haven’t been found yet. Those are the spots we’ll go to.”
She sat up, and her stomach lurched, followed by lightheadedness. The past week or so she’d been feeling-off. Maybe she was coming down with something, mornings were particularly bad, and listless didn’t even begin to describe her energy level. The Audrey Natalia was luxurious and had every comfort, but a month at sea? That was a long time. She wouldn’t tell Matt, though; she didn’t want to spoil it. He wanted this so much, and actually, they both needed it.
He spoke excitedly, pointing to different sites when her eyes fell on a spot on one of the maps. Staring at it, she slowly extended her arm out and tapped lightly.
“Here.” She pointed.
A small dot, with no Xs, circles, or checkmarks lay under her finger. He squinted at it but still couldn’t read the name of the tiny island—they would need a magnifying glass. The island lay east and south of the Bahamas, below an area marked Sargasso Sea.
Bri sat back and fought off the wooziness that followed.
“Sar-gas-so,” Matt said.
She closed her eyes against the sun. Its gentle warmth felt good on her face. She had doubled Madeline’s chain so it fit as a necklace, and now she rubbed the medallion before moving her hand down to her belly where it came to rest. A gentle breeze blew in from the sea.
“Sar-gaaa-sooo,” Matt repeated, drawing out the syllables, unsure of how to pronounce it.
Bri sighed, content, rubbing her belly absently.
“It means seaweed,” she said.
AUTHOR BIO
Mari Labbee has been an avid reader her entire life.
She first fell in love with the mystery genre at the ripe old age of nine, when she read her first Sherlock Holmes story. Since then she has believed that life is always more interesting with a bit of mystery thrown in. She currently resides in North Carolina with her husband and a cat that believes the backyard is really the Serengeti. The Feel of Echoes is her first novel.
Table of Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT PAGE
DEDICATION
CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PART ONE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
PART TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FO
RTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR BIO