Secrets of Hallstead House

by Amy M. Reade

  I gripped the crevice as best I could with both hands and let my legs dangle for a moment in the water. My foot touched a small ledge under the water and I tried to stand on it briefly.

  The pain in my foot was almost overwhelming. I couldn’t set it down on the underwater ledge. Waves continued to pound against the rock walls of the cave. Several times the force of the water slammed the rest of my body against the rock, leaving long, searing gashes where my skin was torn away.

  I had to calm myself somehow. I had to center myself and try to think clearly about how I might get out of Devil’s Oven. But calm was not to be had. Not yet. Panic swept over me like one of the thundering waves when I realized that my joints were starting to stiffen and my foot didn’t hurt as much as it had. My body was starting to slow down. I didn’t know how long I had been in the water, but I knew the water was winning the struggle. I couldn’t survive much longer in this cavern, in the freezing river.

  I started to remember things I had done as a child. An image of me learning to ride a bike, my father’s strong hands letting go of the bike seat as I tried riding on my own for the first time. An image of my high school graduation. An image of me playing with a cat we used to have, Buttercup.

  And then the images stopped. I was filled with a weariness that I couldn’t seem to overcome. My fingers began to loosen their grip on the crevice in the wall. My feet floated free. I could hear the violent waves colliding with the walls inside my cave, but it wasn’t a frightening sound anymore. It seemed to be more of a raw, strangely natural, background noise.

  How easy and peaceful it would be to let go of the rock, to let go of the pain, to welcome an end to the cold, the watery darkness. The waves continued to drive my body into the wall, but I stopped caring. This would soon be over.

  Then another image intruded on my fuzzy mind. It was Diana, the Diana from my nightmare, her upturned face staring at me with empty eyes from under the water, her hair billowing about her head in a tangled whorl.

  And somewhere in my slowing mind, something clicked. I didn’t want to die like Diana had. I didn’t want her legacy to me to be one of drowning and terror. I wanted to do everything in my power to live the legacy left for me by my real mother, Marianne. I wanted to live a life of loving and learning.

  But as much as I wanted to live, I couldn’t swim.

  Forcing myself to think calmly, I gripped the rocky crevice with a renewed strength and kicked my good leg gently until it touched the underwater ledge again.

  That’s when I saw the light. At first I thought I had imagined it, but then I saw it again. Reflected light, bobbing up and down erratically on the walls inside Devil’s Oven. Then I heard voices. Men’s voices, yelling my name. I tried feebly to yell back, but my exhaustion made it difficult to raise my voice. The light became stronger and the voices got louder, and soon I saw a boat in the mouth of Devil’s Oven.

  I was not going to die in the water.

  The next few minutes were a blur. I remember Pete jumping out of the boat and swimming to me with a life belt. He hooked it around my waist, and someone else, someone on the boat, started dragging me through the water. Pete was behind me, firmly steering me over the waves that still rushed into the cave.

  Seconds later strong hands reached down to pull me from the water. They gripped me under my arms, my shoulder protesting, and pulled me out of the water and onto the floor of the boat. I looked up into Will’s face.

  Will! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He had a stack of blankets next to him, and he wrapped them carefully around me one by one while Pete took the wheel of the boat.

  After Pete had steered us away from Devil’s Oven, the two men switched places. Will drove the boat back into the channel, still through the relentless storm, while Pete, as cold and wet as he was, sat on the boat’s floor, his arms around me to try to warm me.

  I tried to say something, but Pete hushed me. “Don’t say a word. You can tell us everything later.”

  I was content to say nothing, to be on the floor in his arms. We were going back to Summerplace.

  Once at Hallstead Island, Pete and Will fashioned a hammock out of blankets and carried me swiftly and gently up to the house. Alex was waiting for us by the door.

  “Macy!” she cried. “I’m so glad you’re all right!” The tears rolled down her face, and when I saw her tears, my own started. Pete and Will laid me on the sofa in Alex’s sitting room while I tried to compose myself. Alex helped me into one of her robes while Will ran to get a change of his own clothes for Pete.

  After a while, the story became clear. After Giselle and I left Alex, she had tried contacting Pete’s boat radio unsuccessfully. Before long, Pete had appeared in Alex’s sitting room to tell her that they would have to postpone the trip to Pine Island until the morning, since the storm was so ferocious. In answer to her puzzled questions, Pete explained that he knew better than to go out in such weather and had been in the boathouse for hours.

  That was why Alex hadn’t been able to reach him in the boat. She told Pete what Giselle had said, and they quickly realized that she meant to harm me. At that point Will arrived, running, saying that I was in trouble and that Giselle was taking me somewhere. Brandt came on the scene just then, having used a Coast Guard cutter to get to the island. They all explained to him what had transpired, and Brandt knew immediately where to look. He instructed Pete and Will to go to Devil’s Oven to look for me while he contacted the Coast Guard and used a boat to go out searching for Giselle.

  Alex had called for a doctor after Pete and Will left, but he could not get to Summerplace until the storm subsided.

  I had so many questions. And my body hurt so much. As the others took turns sitting with me, I drifted in and out of sleep while we waited for the doctor. When he arrived a couple of hours later, he saw me alone in Alex’s sitting room. Besides bruises and cuts, I had a dislocated shoulder, a broken foot, and a facial laceration requiring stitches. The doctor was able to pop my shoulder back into place, put a soft cast on my foot, and stitch the deep wound. He ordered me to get some rest and, under the circumstances, said a hard cast on my foot would have to wait until the following day.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t go into shock, Miss Stoddard,” he told me gravely as he was leaving. “If those fellows hadn’t arrived when they did, there’s no telling how much longer you would have survived.”

  After the doctor left, Will came in.

  “I asked Alex and Pete to give me a few minutes alone with you,” he began. “I won’t stay long because I know you need to rest, but I think you deserve an explanation from me. And an apology.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean everything I’ve done to you. The threats and the scare tactics to try to get you to leave Hallstead Island.”

  I said nothing, unsure where this conversation was going.

  “I know you’re Diana’s daughter,” he stated simply.

  I was stunned. “But . . . how did . . . how did you know?”

  “A long time ago, I had to go into Stephan’s desk in his New York office to retrieve something. I looked in the wrong drawer and I found copies of the adoption papers and documents all about you. I saw the pictures of you. I never told anyone what I found.”

  He took a deep breath. “Anyway, when I found out that you were coming here, I assumed immediately that Alex was looking for a blood relative—an heir. I could envision her giving you my inheritance and I wanted you gone.”

  “I never would have taken your money, Will.”

  “I know that now. Will you accept my apology?”

  “Yes.” I smiled. “Of course. I have a question for you, though. How did you know that Giselle meant to hurt me?”

  Will went on to explain that he and Giselle had had several glasses of wine the previous night in the dining room. I admitted that I had heard part of their conversation.

  “You should have stayed longer.” He smiled wryly. “Then you could have avoided goi
ng with Giselle altogether.”

  He said that Giselle knew who I was. She had noticed immediately that I shared Diana’s violet eyes.

  “She spoke cryptically,” Will explained. “She said Diana had stolen something from her years before and she wasn’t going to give you a chance to come and steal it again.

  “I didn’t know exactly what she meant. She seemed to be confusing you with Diana,” Will said. “But the threat was implied. That’s why I ran after you earlier tonight when I saw that she was leading you somewhere.”

  “Thank you,” I said, bowing my head. “I’m sorry I suspected you.”

  “That’s all right. I deserved it. Now, try to get some sleep.” He turned to go, but I called him back.

  “Will,” I asked, “what were the scare tactics you mentioned?”

  He looked ashamed. “I threw that rock through your balcony door and I locked you in the turret that day.” I lowered my eyes. “I’m really sorry,” he said again. I nodded and he left then. Pete came in briefly.

  “We haven’t heard from the police or the Coast Guard yet,” Pete explained. “You rest now, and we’ll let you know if there are any developments.”

  “Pete, there are things that Giselle told me tonight. Horrible things. She killed Diana and Forrest.”

  He looked at me in shock.

  “She pushed Diana into the water because she thought Diana had stolen Brandt from her. She also pushed Forrest down those balcony steps because she thought he was trying to get Brandt to leave her. It was all because of Brandt.”

  He shook his head in amazement. “At least we know now. We don’t have to wonder anymore.” He leaned in close and looked in my eyes.

  “Pete,” I said, “someone needs to tell Alex the things Giselle said.”

  “That can wait,” he replied. He paused. “I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you tonight,” he said softly. “I’m glad you came back to me.” He wiped a wisp of hair from my forehead and kissed my lips before leaving.

  Alex was the last person to come in. She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Rest, dear. I’m glad you’re going to be all right.”

  “Alex,” I began.

  “Yes?”

  I hesitated. “Never mind. We can talk in the morning.”

  She nodded and closed the door softly behind her as she left.

  Alone in the sitting room with the fire crackling in the grate, I felt a warm sense of relief flood over me, despite the pain from my injuries. I fell into a dreamless sleep under the soft blankets.

  I was awakened just a short time later by voices in the foyer. I called out for Pete and he came to the sitting room door.

  “Brandt’s here,” he told me. “Giselle’s dead. Her boat crashed into a bridge support. Brandt was on a Coast Guard cutter and saw the wreckage. Giselle was still alive when he found her, clinging to a piece of the boat.”

  Brandt and Stephan came into the sitting room then. Brandt wore a pained expression on his face.

  “I pulled Giselle out of the water,” Brandt said. “Before she died, she told me all that she had done. She told me about killing Diana and Forrest too. I’m sorry, Macy, for what she put you through tonight.”

  Stephan sat down at the end of the sofa. “Macy, Pete told me that Giselle was responsible for the deaths of Diana and Forrest. We haven’t told Alex yet. Do you want one of us to tell her?

  “I’ll tell her,” I answered quietly.

  Alex came in then, and Stephan got up to let her sit on the sofa.

  “Alex, there are some things that you need to know,” Stephan began. He looked at me. “Macy can explain.”

  Alex looked at me, puzzled. “Macy’s not well enough to—”

  I interrupted her.

  “Don’t worry about me right now. This is important. Giselle told me some things tonight that you need to hear.” I took a deep breath. “Giselle was responsible for the deaths of both Forrest and Diana.”

  Time seemed to stop as she swallowed hard and clasped her hands together tightly. “Tell me everything.”

  “Giselle was the one who pushed Forrest down the balcony stairs. She thought he was trying to break up her relationship with Brandt.”

  “What?” Alex cried. “Forrest would never have done such a thing!”

  “Of course not,” said Brandt. He looked at her sadly. “He was concerned that Giselle was a little insecure, and he spoke to me about it once. Giselle must have overheard our conversation.”

  “She did,” I confirmed.

  “And what about Diana?” Alex asked.

  “She pushed Diana into the water because she was jealous of her. She was jealous that Diana was the one Brandt married. She wanted Brandt for herself.”

  “But Giselle was such a good friend of Diana’s! How could she have done such a thing?” Alex closed her eyes and sat very still. Several long moments went by in silence.

  Finally Brandt spoke, a slight catch in his voice. “I can’t tell you all how sorry I am about everything.”

  Alex took his hand. “You have nothing to be sorry about. How could you have known what Giselle did? She hid her secrets from all of us. I’m sorry that you’ve lost someone you cared about.”

  Brandt blinked his eyes several times. “I think I need to lie down.”

  “Use my room,” suggested Stephan.

  We watched him go. There was nothing more to say after that. There would be time for talking in the days to come. Alex went into her room and closed the door. I lay awake listening to the muffled sounds of her sobs, wishing I could help but knowing that Alex needed to face this pain alone.

  I awoke the next morning to Alex sitting on the sofa with me.

  “I’m going to be okay,” she stated.

  I smiled. We would all be okay. No more fear, no more threats, no more danger. Healing lay ahead.

  EPILOGUE

  Many years have passed since that night, and though I try not to, I think about it often.

  The leaning tree was toppled in the storm. Alex had mixed feelings when she learned it was gone. So many memories—some joyful, some painful.

  I recovered from my physical injuries quickly; the emotional ones would last much longer. I stayed on as Alex’s nurse, and she eventually regained the abilities she’d had before her fall. She started painting again, and her old talent is still there. Though she is still tough and spry, she has slowed down a bit. But she still takes walks and loves to tell stories of her childhood. She no longer runs HSH Oil; however, she keeps a close eye on the business.

  Vali and Leland never made the move to Pine Island that autumn. They decided abruptly to retire to the Midwest; their belongings were already packed, so they left quickly and quietly. But not before I confronted them about their actions toward me. As it turned out, I finally solved the mystery of my missing photo album. Vali had been the one who took it. Out of curiosity, she said, but I knew better. She had taken the album to intimidate me. And it had been Leland who was spying on me on the balcony on my first day on Hallstead Island.

  Their decision to move back to the Midwest was best for everyone. They had been loyal to Alex for many years, but the time had come for them to go. Alex found a wonderful local couple to help her manage her homes.

  Stephan continued working closely with Alex, but Will took a job with a different company. At Stephan’s urging, he decided that it was time for him to get some experience away from the family business. He eventually came back to take Stephan’s job upon his retirement. We still see Stephan and Will from time to time here on the river.

  Brandt eventually came to the realization that his relationship with Giselle had not been healthy for either of them. He had been concerned about her behavior for quite some time, but he had been reluctant to discuss it with her. Several years after Giselle’s death, he married a wonderful woman, and they visit frequently.

  As for Pete and me, he is by my side, helping me to dispel the nightmares that crop up occasionally. We live in Summer
place, but I prefer to call it Hallstead House. I gradually conquered my fear of boats, learned to swim, and have become a proud river rat.

  Not long after the attack, Pete showed me an amazing sight. I was enjoying a cup of coffee early one morning when he came in and grabbed my hand, pulling me along as we walked quickly toward the boathouse. When we emerged from the woods, the sun was rising and the surface of the water was covered with a thick layer of mist. It was as if I could step off the island onto a blanket of swirling opaque softness. Pete called it sea smoke; it is a rare treat, he said, a thick fog that forms over the water, usually in the fall. It was a hauntingly beautiful scene, smudging the outlines of the islands and the trees around it like a watercolor. We watched, hand in hand, until the sea smoke gradually lifted and we could see the river clearly again.

  Photo by John A. Reade, Jr.

  Amy M. Reade grew up in northern New York, just south of the Canadian border, and spent her weekends and summers on the Saint Lawrence River. She attended Cornell University and then went on to law school at Indiana University in Bloomington. She practiced law in New York City before moving to southern New Jersey, where, in addition to writing, she is a wife, a full-time mom, and a volunteer in school, church, and community groups. She lives just a stone’s throw from the Atlantic Ocean with her husband and three children as well as a dog, two cats, and a fish. She loves cooking and all things Hawaii and is currently at work on her next novel. Visit her on the web at http://www.amymreade.com and http://amreade.wordpress.com.

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