Breakwater Beach (24 page)

Chapter 28

June 25, 2009

Brewster Massachusetts

The breeze turned chilly. Sea mist kissed her face. Liz pulled up the hood of her sweatshirt and started home. No flashlight, which was a mistake. The moon ducked behind the clouds. Most of the cottages were deserted, and only an occasional passing car provided some illumination. The wind picked up. Leaves rustled. A flock of bats flapped by, their vampire-like silhouette unmistakable.

Kate’s was closed, and that meant it was after ten p.m. Liz fought the urge to run and turned three times, hearing footsteps behind her. But only a few chipmunks, a raccoon, and a skunk scampered across the road and under the hedges. An owl hooted.

A faint light burned in her bedroom, but the first floor was dark. She struggled with the stubborn lock on the heavy double doors. Her heart pounded. Her hands shook. Liz lunged inside, quickly locked the door behind her, and flipped a switch. The chandelier in the hallway blazed on, bathing the entire first floor and staircase in white light.

She pressed her back against the door until her heartbeat returned to normal.
Everything is fine. You only feel panicky because you’re alone in a new house.

Liz went room to room, flicking on lights to banish her anxiety. She rattled all the downstairs windows to be sure they were locked. Shadows danced in every corner.
I need more lamps. This place is full of dark corners.

She went upstairs, surveying the long hallway and empty guest rooms, as silent as a tomb. Her bedroom door was ajar, the ray of light welcoming. Surrounded the smell of fresh linen and Mae’s lingering spirit her fears dissipated.

Liz filled the claw-footed tub, adding some of the luscious bath salts from her gift basket. Warm water and the gentle abrasive massage and relaxed her. Plush towels soothed her skin. She dusted on scented powder and rubbed lotion into her work-roughened hands.

The nightgown Mae had hung on the door looked just right for the chilly night. The fabric warmed and soothed her skin. She settled into her new bed, sandwiched between the crisp linens and down comforter, and got to reading about the latest mayhem in
The Boston Globe
.

The newspapers blew off the bed and across the floor. A loose shutter banged against the house. Liz awoke, still sitting up in bed.
2 a.m
.

She leaped up and grunted as she forced open the window. Dim light from the bedside table wasn’t sufficient to find the shutter latch outside. She loosened the other side and fastened the pair closed.

A gust of wind blew the shutters on the opposite side of the room closed with a sickening thud. A dark curtain surrounded her, and there was no light, no sounds, nothing. Liz kicked and clawed at the shroud struggling to push a dead weight off her chest, to breathe. The curtain faded into a thick cold mist, leaving her gasping, dizzy with relief. A male figure coalesced, and she screamed.

“Ah, Elisabeth, my love. You look as fine as the last time I saw you. I’ve spent two lifetimes in Purgatory waiting for this moment. And there you stand in the same nightgown you always wore. Don’t you remember me?” He wore breeches and a topcoat over a ruffled shirt. His beard was long and untrimmed, his moustache full. A sea captain’s cap topped black curls.

Liz backed toward the bedroom door, recognizing the throaty British voice of her dream lover. Boots scraped the floor as he walked toward her. The room tilted and spun as fast as an amusement park ride. A quivering deep inside her gut spread through her body until her skin tingled and burned. Memories unraveled out of her mind like a ball of yarn.

Liz looked into his dark eyes and saw they were luminous with tears. He removed his hat, took her hands, pressed them to his lips, and fell to his knees.

She knelt, cradled his face in her hands, and her voice slipped into a soft British accent. “Edward, where ever have you been?”

He rose, took her into his arms, and buried his face in her hair. “It’s a mite shorter and darker than it was, but as soft, Elisabeth. You smell so good.” 

He kissed her neck, and then brought his lips to hers. “I’ve been waiting to come back, to explain. It wouldn’t have been right to drop in on a married woman, would it now? Imagine, claiming to be a long lost husband and apologising for driving you to kill yourself.”

Edward sobbed in Elisabeth’s arms, and she held him tight. He smelled like the sea, his calloused hands and grizzly beard pleasantly abrasive against her neck. His arms were muscular and strong from hefting sails and rigging, his voice coarse from shouting orders and chewing tobacco.

“It was too dangerous to take you on an overloaded ship. And indeed, we went down only three days out, off Nantucket Island. I felt such sadness you wouldn’t know what happened. That you’d be standing up on the widow’s walk, day after day, wondering.” He stroked her face and ran his fingers through her hair.

“Forced to take in houseguests to survive, fighting off that bastard Somersell, you were driven to madness. Elisabeth, I wanted the best for you always. But all you wanted was a life with me. That night you went into the bay looking for me, I saw you carried away by the current. I shared the grief of your friends, and Jared, left wondering how they’d failed you.”

The years between then and now compressed into a single reality. Her long-lost sea captain had returned, as promised. “I heard you calling, Edward. Why couldn’t I hear you?”

“We were kept apart, even in death, because of our unfinished business.”

“Jared tried to help, and I was falling in love with him. I needed reassurance from you. That infernal wailing. The sea witch tricked me, just like she tricked you. The wind came up and the tide came in so fast, my skirts weighed me down.”

“Elisabeth, there was never any other woman. And the sea wasn’t an enemy or a rival. Pure greed doomed my ship and my crew. We should have turned back when the weather went bad. Those were my cries for forgiveness you heard. I’ve remained in limbo for all this time, as have you, waiting for my chance to make it up to you. Now I can rest in peace.”

An awful realization spread through her. “Did you cause Gerry’s illness?”

He shook his head. “No. It isn’t the place of a penitent to determine the fate of another. Only to seek forgiveness, make amends.”

The promise of a new future together warmed her as much as his arms. “Edward, we both have a second chance.”

“Elisabeth, I must leave.” His smile faded and his eyes, downcast, once again brimmed with despair, sadness.

“No, I won’t let you go this time.” She traced the ragged gash on his face, brushed away his tears, and kissed him, drawing him to the bed while unbuttoning his coat and shirt and easing them off his shoulders. He removed his boots and breeches. They tumbled onto the bed, wrapped around each other.

Impatience apparent in his lovemaking, Edward fumbled with the whalebone buttons on her nightgown before he slipped it off. His hands knew where to go, familiar and gentle. Elisabeth welcomed him inside as if it had been just yesterday they had last been together. Filled with him, united body and soul once again, she willed this moment to never end.

The sky lightened. Edward slid off and entered her from behind. His hands stroked her all over. Elisabeth fought to hold back, to hold onto him forever. He relinquished control, moaning as if in ecstasy as well as pain. Her climax followed his release, rapid and intense, leaving her gasping.

Instead of a lingering embrace, Edward rose and dressed. “My time here is over, love. You must go on to live the life I stole from you the first time.”

Elisabeth jumped up and held on to him. “I lost Gerry, now I have to lose you again?”

He backed away. “Your son needs you. And you might have a new wee one, if the Lord sees fit, to remind you of our last night together. I regret we never had a family, but imagine it’s a bit safer birthing these days.” Edward’s body began to disintegrate into sparkling flecks of dust.

Elisabeth reached for him. Her hands plunged inside his apparition, all his warmth now replaced by the bone chilling mist swirling around Edward’s rapidly dissolving image. “You will not leave me behind this time.”

Edward blew a kiss and looked into her eyes. “I made my choices, and the consequences are mine to bear. I’ve put it all right for you, and the others whose lives I ruined. Stay here, in our house. Honour my memory by living your life.” He vanished into a puff of fog that drifted downstairs.

Elisabeth put on her nightgown and ran after him. A light film coated the grass. She slipped and fell, the wind momentarily knocked out of her by a painful jolt up her spine.

She struggled to her feet and followed the cloud. There were no streetlights, no sidewalks, no paved roads, no signs. The grand colonial and saltbox sea captains’ houses, surrounded by dense brush and pine groves, were the only markers leading her to the harbour at Breakwater Beach. Dust coated her feet as she picked her way along the dirt path, past the General Store and a bog brimming with cranberries.

Beyond the expanse of moonlit mud flats at low tide, boats bobbed at anchor. Halyards clanked. Elisabeth ran toward the barks and schooners, holding the nightgown up as mud splattered and shells slashed her feet.

“Edward, come back!” She sensed his presence and ran into the bay. Water sloshed around her ankles, rising to her knees at some points.

She fell into a deep pool and went underwater. Daggers of cold penetrated to the bone.

The nightgown wrapped around her legs. She struggled until the sand bar rose, and the water receded to waist level. Her battered and bruised feet stumbled. A swell sucked her underwater again.

“No, you will not leave me again!” Elisabeth caught her breath, got up, and staggered toward Paine’s Creek. A strong current surged in, a sure sign the tide was rising.

Time blurred. The moon vanished leaving her once again in darkness, trapped between the two beaches, between two lives, between life and death.

“Edward, Gerry, you both left me behind. Two lives, but the same misery.” Liz tripped over a submerged rock and plunged under again.

I’m not getting up. I’m not fighting anymore. I’m going with you.

Silence enveloped her. Brine filled her nose and mouth. Her body scraped across the sandy bottom and settled. She smelled sulfur and a faint odor of fish.

Chapter 29

June 26

The sky lightened in the east, but fog shrouded the horizon. Mike Keeny stashed a mackintosh behind the seat and dumped his tackle box and fishing pole into the bed of the truck.

“Good fishing’ day, isn’t it, Mary? The tide is bad, but some line caught striped bass will sell well at the restaurants.”  

The sense of Mary’s presence seemed so strong that Mike expected her to answer, but the sweet, lilting voice had been silent for two years.

“You kept me up all night, trying to reassure me Liz is okay by you. But I don’t think that lady would be interested in the likes of a Cape Cod fisherman living off his wife’s life insurance policy.”

The counter waitress at the Brewster Diner knew her regulars. When Mike walked in, she mixed up a cup of tea, light with two sugars. At the bait shop next door, he grabbed a box of sandworms from the cooler, left three bills on the counter, and waved to Mark who was helping another customer.

Mike started to turn left out of the parking lot, then decided to go right instead. “Paine’s Creek was always your favorite, Mary.”

He pulled into an empty parking lot. With the wind and chill there were no kids crabbing in the tide pools. The rain had stopped, so he donned a sweatshirt and mud boots, stuffed the box of bait into his pocket, grabbed his rod and reel, and trekked out along the almost dry flats.

The white mound on the sand at the distant point where waves broke over the low tide line, was probably a seat cushion or part of a sail. As he got closer, he shook his head, hoping his eyes were playing nasty tricks.

He ran toward the body lying in a shallow pool. The thin white dressing gown tangled around the woman’s legs, and plastered to her body, concealed nothing. Her face, slick with mud, was unrecognizable, her feet slashed and bloody.

Mike fought back the urge to vomit, bent down, willing her chest to move, knowing at the same time it wouldn’t.
They always say to never touch a body, but I can’t leave the poor thing lying there.

The woman thrashed. “Edward, Gerry.”

She’s still alive!
Mike knelt, lifted her out of the muddy water, and wiped her face with his sleeve. “Oh my God! Liz!”

Elisabeth awoke, once again in silent darkness. Edward appeared, lifted her off the bottom, and placed her on the sand. “I shall not stand by and allow this to happen again. No, you cannot come with me.”

He kissed her lips, breathed life back in, then vanished. Her chest heaved, her heart fluttered with fear and despair. Her limbs obeyed the brain’s command, but flailed helplessly as she tried to move, to follow him.

Chilly surf broke over Liz and shocked her awake. Gerry watched from a distance, surrounded by a halo of light.

“Liz, don’t give up. It won’t bring me back.” His image faded away.

“Edward, Gerry!” Water splashed as her head fell back into the muddy pool.

Another pair of strong arms lifted and held her close. She recognized him immediately. Those blue eyes were impossible to forget. He shook as hard as she did; his mouth hung open in shock.

“Who did this to you?” Mike helped her to her feet.

She fell against him, her legs too weak, her muscles too cramped to support any weight.

He stripped off his sweatshirt and eased it over her head. The warmth was welcome as the hem fell to her knees. He cuffed the sleeves several times and rubbed her hands. “I’ll carry you back. Look at your feet, all cut up from the shells.”

No, he would not be forced to re-enact, re-live, and then recall that awful procession. “I’ll walk. Take your fishing pole.”

“The hell with the pole, Liz. It’s more than a mile back to the beach. You’ll never make it.” Mike wrapped one arm around her and upended the pole into the mud. “I’ll come back for it later, or someone else will pick it up.”

“Let me lean on you.” Her muscles screamed in protest, but she insisted and prevailed. Cold mud squelched between her toes and numbed the pain.

The changing landscape of the salt marsh served as mile markers while she crossed the bridge from one life to another. Brown sand gave way to a section littered with quahog shells dropped by the gulls on the rocks. Flocks of the gray and white scavengers waddled along, picking at the tidbits, screeching in anger at the human disturbance.

Mud turned pink, dyed by nesting moon snails. Shallow tide pools, broken into sections by the coarse dune grass, harbored rock crabs and tiny hermits who ducked into their shells as four feet threatened them. Small fish treaded in shallow water, waiting for the reverse flow. A path wove around the dune grass, and Liz stumbled on the rocks.

Mike didn’t ask this time and carried her up the steep bank of sand and across the parking lot to his truck. He started the engine, cranked up the heater, and tucked a ragged wool blanket around her. “Drink this. It’s still hot.”

Liz warmed her hands around the paper cup and sipped the sweet tea. “Thanks, Mike. Please take me home.”
Please don’t let him remember
. A few turns later, they were in her driveway. He helped her out of the car and up the porch steps. The front door stood wide open.

“Wait here while I make sure no one is inside.” He left her in the foyer and searched the first floor rooms. His footsteps went up the back stairs. He’d find only a messy bed. Liz paced in the foyer, clutching the old blanket around her, still struggling to believe.

Mike came down the front staircase. “No one’s here. Let’s get you another hot drink.” He led her by the hand into the kitchen.

Liz lowered herself into a chair and stared at the floor. Elisabeth, once again captive, squirmed as memories of her life and death played like a movie in Liz’s head.

Mike found two pots and filled both with hot water. He put one on to boil, squeezed soap into the other, and knelt down in front of her. “Put your feet into this. It’ll warm you up and flush the mud and shell fragments out of the cuts. We better call the police. I don’t want to interfere or be nosy, but this Edward and Gerry can’t get away with what they did to you. They left you nearly naked on the beach for Christ’s sake. It’s a wonder you didn’t drown!”

He heard me calling to the ghosts, to my husbands
.
Oh, God.
“The police aren’t needed, Mike. I went to Breakwater Beach alone. Then I walked to Paine’s Creek.”

His brow furrowed. “At high tide in the middle of the night? What were you trying to do, kill yourself?”

“No! I didn’t . . . have any intentions . . . of hurting myself. I went looking for my husband.” How was she going to explain the unexplainable? Would the terrible memories come back to him as they had to her?

Mike stared at her, expressionless, saying nothing.

“My first husband died at sea. They never found him. Edward came to visit me last night, and explained why he disappeared without a trace. Then he left. I wanted to stop him.” The more she said, the crazier she sounded.

Mike, still kneeling on the floor, picked up her hands. “Liz, my wife speaks to me all the time. She visited me last night, in a dream, and was the one who sent me to Paine’s Creek today. I never go there. My boat is moored at Breakwater Beach. So who’s Gerry?”

“My second husband, the one who just died. I was mad at both of them for leaving me alone.” Liz figured he’d assume both unlucky men were from the same life and drop the subject. Tears ran down her face. She struggled to suppress the frantic spirit inside her who’d lost her beloved a second time.

Mike’s eyes narrowed, and he rubbed his forehead. “Liz, you can tell me the truth.”

He’s not buying my story
. “Mike, do you believe in reincarnation?”

“Many times I’ve felt like I’ve been somewhere, seen something, or known someone I’ve never met, but no, I don’t.”

“Edward Barrett came to see me last night. He explained when and how he died, and that he needed to complete our unfinished business. It’s no coincidence I bought this house.” She stopped before saying she remembered Mike’s blue eyes, too.

Liz put her head in her hands. If she told him that he was part of Edward’s plan, he’d be sure to have her committed.

Mike took a deep breath. “You think the Barrett that originally owned this house was your husband? No wonder you’re writing a book about Victoriana.” He rolled his eyes, stood up, and put his arm around her. He rubbed and patted her like a puppy.

Relief that he didn’t recall his role in the debacle was tempered with another reminder of paranormal activity. “Who told you about my book, Mike?”

His eyebrows raised. “You did. Yesterday.”

She hadn’t, in too much of a hurry to get rid of him. Gerry and Edward’s messages were clear to her, if not to Mike, at least not yet. Liz took a deep breath to compose her ghost.
Calm yourself, Elisabeth.

“Well, go get dried off and cleaned up. I’ll take you to the hospital in Hyannis to get checked out.”

“No, I’m fine. But you think I’m crazy.”

“Grief can do strange things to people.” His eyes mirrored a familiar look of kindness and understanding.

“Yes, it certainly does.”

Elisabeth settled, recalling the grief she’d witnessed after her death.

Mike got up and rummaged through the kitchen and made tea, toast, and eggs. They ate in silence. He dumped the paper plates and cups into the trash. “Maybe you’d like to have dinner tonight? You need some company.”

She needed to be alone but she needed to be near him. Yeah, she needed company. “I’d like that, Mike, but I’d rather go to Kate’s.” Much more innocent. Nothing like a date.

“They don’t even have beer there.”

“We can go to Paine’s Creek. If the sun ever comes out, we can watch it set.” It seemed fitting to go back there.

“I’ll pick you up at six. We’ll have plenty of time.”

“Here’s your sweatshirt.” Liz started to take it off.

“No, keep that on! And the blanket, too. I’ve already seen more of you than any casual acquaintance should. Remember, I’m an old-fashioned guy.” He seemed more panicked by the thought of seeing her scantily clad than her wacky explanation.

“They both need to be washed anyway.”

Mike tipped his hand in salute and went out to his truck. “Morning,” he said to Mae who was getting out of her van.

“Good morning’ to ya, too,” she replied, looking at him askance. “Come along, lassies, still plenty to do.”

Mae looked at Liz standing in the doorway wearing Mike’s sweatshirt. Her eyes traveled from Liz’s hair, still damp and caked with mud and sand, all the way down to her bare feet.

“Ehh . . . a change in plans, girls. We’ll start downstairs today. First, polish the woodwork and then clean all the fixtures. Then upstairs, after the missus has time to get dressed.”

Mae herded them out of the foyer then followed Liz upstairs, smiling like she was about to solve the crime of the century. “From the looks of ya, that was one wild night on the beach. Now ya best be hoppin’ into the tub after passin’ me the nightie. I’ll soak it and get that mud out before it’s ruined. I’ll freshen the big guy’s sweatshirt, too.”

“It was nothing like that, Mae.” Liz couldn’t bear the thought of having to explain this to another person she knew from another life.

“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not passin’ any judgment. To be honest, I’m relieved. Ya took my advice. There’s nothin’ wrong with livin’, Liz.”

“No there isn’t, Mae.” Liz passed the clothes out and settled into the warm bath.
Katherine and Mae are so different. Someday, after an Irish coffee or two, I’ll tell her the story. I think she’ll believe me.

Liz dressed and went downstairs where a sandy-haired man stood talking to Mae in the hall. His freckled, leathered face lit up with a beaming smile, his eyes twinkled.

“Why, this must be the Miss Lizzy she’s been chatterin’ about. Kevin Fitzgerald.”

He extended his hand, and Liz shook it firmly. “I understand you’re considerin’ fillin’ that barn with some ponies. I was a stable boy in Ireland and took a look. It needs some fixin’, but the structure is sound.”

The work-worn hands, the kind smile, the horses . . . Paul. Her head pounded as the ghost inside her squirmed.

“Mr. Fitzgerald, I wonder if you have time to fix something today.”

“Please, call me Kevin. What is it ya need?”

“The door to the widow’s walk won’t close.”

“I’ll get my toolbox and have it plumb in no time.”

“Come see.” Mae showed Liz around while the girls polished wood steps and banisters. The crystal sconces shone brightly.

“We’re bringin’ the place back to life, Miss Lizzy.”

Kevin came down the stairs. “All fixed, just needed some screws.”

It’s going to need more than that to fix this.
Liz took an envelope off the lady’s desk in the hallway and gave it to Mae. “That’s the fee we agreed on for the cleaning. I put extra in, for you and the girls to share. Kevin, I’ll need a bill for your work.”

“I’ll start a tab, Liz. Tomorrow we’ll discuss the stable.”

“That would be great,” Liz said.

Mae put her arms around both of them. “Ya see, St. Anthony, please come around, something’s lost and must be found. We all found each other, not exactly what ya prayed for but . . .”

“The Lord answers all prayers, even if you don’t always like the answer.” Liz had never before believed that.

“That’s right.” Kevin gave Mae a kiss and left.

Mae cackled and went back to work.

Liz went up to her room and kissed Gerry’s picture. “I’m glad we finished our business. I have more than enough to deal with now.”