“That’s Emily,” he breathed out the words like a prayer. “I would know her singing anywhere.”
Of course, it was Emily. Only her sweet, young voice would have the power to sway Xavier’s soul now, to help him see she had forgiven his mistakes long ago.
“She’s calling to you, Xavier,” I said. “And if she’s there on the other side, so is your mother—and your father.” I thought of the handsome doll Margaret had made to look like her husband. The man she had never stopped loving, even in death.
Xavier’s eyes widened ever so slightly as this new possibility took root in him. “I never knew my father, in life,” he murmured.
I nodded, smiling my encouragement. “Let go of the old world,” I said, pulling his hands close to my body. “Come with me into the next.”
“I am willing to try, Wren,” Xavier said, his voice filling with a new strength of resolve. “But I don’t know how.”
“Follow me,” I said, pulling him into the blinding light. This time he did not resist me.
The deeper we got into the tunnel, the more weightless I became. I could feel the warmth of the light intensifying and washing over me, engulfing me in its irresistible embrace.
But something was wrong. Xavier’s hand lay heavy within my own, his grip growing tighter by the second. His movements slowed to a crawl. I glanced back and was alarmed to find him struggling as if against some unseen force. I held on tighter, trying to drag him into the other world with my sheer force of will. But it was no use. He shuffled a few steps as if his feet were too heavy to lift. Finally, he ground to a halt, his hand trembling within my own.
For me, the light was almost overpowering. Reaching out its warm fingers of strength, it tried to gather me in. Tugging at my hair and clothing, dragging me slowly from Xavier’s desperate grasp. I couldn’t resist the pull of the other world and he couldn’t break free of what held him back. He began to slip away from me, his body becoming slightly less tangible and solid.
I was going to lose him!
“Let go of the doll!” I cried in panic. “Your anchor, it’s holding you back!”
His earnest eyes searched my own. “Without it, I’ll be lost in limbo for eternity.”
“Use me as an anchor instead.”
Xavier stared at me in silence. I could read nothing on his handsome face.
To be honest, I didn’t know how one went about switching a spiritual anchor. Xavier seemed to have an idea though. Without warning, he pulled me closer, until our faces were only inches apart. As the warmth of his breath tickled the tip of my nose, and lingered over my lips, I realized that he meant to kiss me. Our noses touched for a moment as we both hesitated, not sure if this was the way it was supposed to work.
I’d just died. Was kissing even allowed at a moment like this? Xavier was dead, too. I guess that made it all right then?
Quite suddenly, I didn’t care if it was right or not. I really wanted that kiss. My first kiss. The one I’d stopped hoping for a long, long time ago. Most of all, I wanted my first kiss to be with Xavier Kensington. The possibility of it was so strong, it momentarily lessened the pull of the other world on me.
I leaned into him ever so slightly, inviting him to come the last little distance that separated us. To show me I had not misjudged all that had passed between us during my time at the museum. Still, he hesitated.
I waited.
And waited…
His lips touched mine lightly—exploring—testing the feel of them against his own. A prelude of things to come, but not quite a real kiss.
I held very still not wanting to break the delicate spell beginning to take hold—and then—despite the strict Victorian codes of gentlemanly behavior, Xavier gave in.
The first kiss was as gentle as moonbeams dancing on the surface of a shimmering lake.
The second kiss came quicker and lasted slightly longer.
The third kiss was slow and lingering and I savored every moment of its bewildering delight.
I wrapped my arms tight around Xavier’s neck, returning his kisses. Mine were urgent and needy, begging him to not leave me. My kisses pulled at him, wrenching at the chains that bound him to the doll. A doll created with the greatest of motherly love. It was a powerful force indeed. But I refused to let it win the tug of war that raged over Xavier’s soul. Each new kiss we shared bound us closer and deeper to one another.
I felt the moment when the chains of life, heavy with his guilt and pain, loosened their hold on Xavier. When he became solid and heavy within my arms once again. Slowly, reluctantly, I pulled myself away from Xavier’s kisses. We blinked silently at one another, then each broke into breathless bursts of laughter.
“Did it work?” I asked. He was still so close to me that I was having a tough time concentrating.
Slowly he took in every detail of my face with his lingering gaze.
“I think so,” he said in a voice like melting moonlight. He moved in closer. “But maybe I should give it one more go, just in case…”
With a smile, I put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him away. “Tell you what, you get yourself to the other side of that light, I’ll let you kiss me all you want.”
“It won’t be the same.”
“Why not?”
“Your parents are over on the other side,” he said with a twist of a teasing smile. “I’ll have to be on best behavior with them.”
Oh, my mother was gonna love him. Of that I was certain.
“If you hold my hand, I can lead you to it,” I said, linking my fingers tight through his.
He smiled, leaning flirtatiously toward me. For a split second, the tips of our noses touched. “I will follow wherever you so choose to lead me, Wren Farrow,” he murmured softly.
Forget my mother—I was in love with him! But if we weren’t careful we’d get caught up in kissing again and then we’d both miss the tunnel of light. We’d be haunting the halls of the doll museum together for the rest of eternity.
I gripped Xavier’s hand and tugged him firmly toward the light. He followed obediently after me. Emily’s far-off voice sang her sweet musical blessing upon us as we let go of everything but each other. As we crossed over into the other world together, engulfed in its brilliance, one completely irrelevant thought chose that particular moment to wander through my bedazzled mind.
I hadn’t missed out on my first kiss after all…
Epilogue
A soft knock at her open office door made Victoria Chasswell look up in mild surprise. How long had she been sitting there starring at nothing in particular? Too long, judging by the look on Kat’s face. She stood in the doorway.
“Hey,” the blue haired girl said, brows drawn together in concern. “You okay?”
“Of course, I am,” Victoria said, motioning with one hand for her to enter. Kat came over and plopped down casually on the end of the desk, looking down at Victoria.
“It’s been a rough six months,” Kat said. “What with all the media coverage and stuff.”
Victoria nodded in agreement. “The number of museum visitors is way up because of it, though. Profits are up as well.”
Kat stared down into her lap, looking suddenly weary. “They’re never going to find out who did it, are they?”
Victoria slowly shook her head. “They said the blaze started on the second floor of the stables, but they couldn’t find the actual source of the fire. Which means the person responsible probably took it with them when they left the building.”
“Yeah, I saw the fire marshal’s report. Mom caught Peter watching the whole thing on the news, bawling his eyes out. Mom finally unplugged the TV and dragged it out to the garage. It was really upsetting to Peter, having to hear about what happened to Wren over and over. Especially when he found out about her leukemia.” Kat stopped, her throat swallowing convulsively for a moment.
Victoria gently squeezed Kat’s hand as it lay resting on the desk. “I’m sorry this has affected your family.”
<
br /> “No, I’m glad Wren and Peter met. He considered her a friend, something he’s never had a lot of,” Kat said. “He’ll be all right. In fact, he’s been asking me to bring him back to the museum. He keeps begging to see Wren’s doll—whichever one that might be.”
“That would be the groom. Wren was very attached to that particular doll.” Victoria noticed that Kat kept glancing at the door, as if expecting someone to come in at any moment.
“Did you hear?” Kat said, lowering her voice. “They’re going out on another date tonight.”
“You mean Matt and Gabrielle?” Victoria laced her fingers in front of her, watching Kat’s reaction carefully. “Is this the second or third time for them?”
“It’s the fourth,” Kat said in a flat voice. “But who’s counting.”
“Definitely not you,” Victoria said with a small smile.
Realizing she’d been caught, Kat shrugged, then after a few seconds gave out a long, deep sigh.
“I’ve never seen Matt look so happy,” Kat admitted. “Though I hate to admit it, Matt’s been a good influence on Gabrielle, too. She’s not so uptight all the time these days. Not that she can’t still be a royal pain in the backside but, well, she mostly treats Matt pretty good.”
Victoria sat back in her chair, waiting patiently for Kat to go on.
Kat suddenly narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice dangerously. “If Gabrielle ever breaks Matt’s heart, I will so make her pay.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” Victoria said. “Gabrielle knows a good thing when she finally takes the time to see it.”
Kat traced a finger absently along the desk in front of her, her eyes unfocused and thoughtful. “Unfortunately, I think you might be right.”
Without another word, Kat gathered herself and got to her feet.
“Kat,” Victoria said softly. Kat paused to look down at her. “Feel free to bring Peter by to see the groom doll anytime. It might make him feel better.”
Kat nodded once, then headed for the door. She got there just as Gabrielle appeared. Kat stepped to one side allowing Gabrielle to enter, then wiggled her eyebrows suggestively behind the young curator’s back before exiting. Victoria managed to keep an amused smile in check as Gabrielle approached her with a large brown package in her hand.
“Mail delivery,” Gabrielle said, placing the parcel on the desk. Victoria sat up a little straighter when she saw the return address. She gingerly pulled the package closer, her face thoughtful as she reverently gazed down at it.
“What did you tell them?” Gabrielle nodded at a letter sitting in Victoria’s outbox. It was addressed to Cassandra Flynn. Victoria reached out one hand and touched the envelope with her finger. It had taken her six months to finally feel up to the task of writing this particular letter.
“I told her about Wren’s accident—and the leukemia. I didn’t feel it was necessary to add all the gory details of the police report.”
Gabrielle nodded then glanced down at the package “Is that a new doll for the collection?”
“Sort of,” Victoria said, gently tearing open the brown paper wrapping from the package. “I commissioned a new bride doll to be made in Margaret Kensington’s style, but I decided not to have the doll made to look like Rosalyn.”
“Why not?” Gabrielle asked in surprise. “If you were going to pay to have a reproduction made, then it should look like Rosalyn.”
“Wren had a theory about Rosalyn,” Victoria said slowly. “She believed that it was her, not Xavier, who killed Emily Kensington. I’ve given it a lot of thought over the past six months and her arguments make too much sense to ignore.”
“What do you mean?” Gabrielle pressed.
“There was not a single photograph of Rosalyn found in this house. There were lots of photos of Xavier and Emily in those boxes in the secret closet, but none of Xavier’s supposed true love. Not even engagement photos. Margaret must have destroyed them for a reason. The bride doll had obviously been sealed up inside the basement wall for quite some time. Not the kind of thing one would usually do to remember a beloved almost-daughter-in-law.”
Almost, Victoria thought only to herself, as if Margaret thought any images of Rosalyn would be unsafe.
“It would certainly put a different twist on the story, wouldn’t it?” Gabrielle said thoughtfully. “I suppose there will never be any proof one way or another.”
“Wren’s theory feels like the truth,” Victoria said. “If Margaret really did seal that bride doll in the wall, it wouldn’t be right to go against her wishes by putting a new replica of Rosalyn in with the others.”
Gabrielle also suspected that seeing a reproduction of the doll that led to Wren’s tragic death, would be too painful of a reminder for Victoria to have around.
Victoria finished unwrapping the box. She lifted the fitted lid and pulled back the bubble wrap that kept the new bride doll safe during its long journey. Gabrielle looked down at the sweetly smiling doll and all but stopped breathing.
The new bride wore a creamy white bridal gown. As was the style of the time, the bride had her long, curly strawberry blond tresses pulled up into a bun held in place with a cluster of budding orange blossoms. The doll’s hazel-green eyes looked up and to the left as the bride happily dreamed of some secret thing only she knew. The tiny bride looked like she was about eighteen years old, but her face and its delicate features were only too familiar.
“It’s Wren,” Gabrielle whispered reverently, the tears starting to well up within her dark eyes.
“The artist asked if I had any examples of what I wanted her to look like,” Victoria said. “In a moment of weakness, I sent him Wren’s photograph. The one I took of her and her family at a picnic a couple of summers ago. Wren always kept that picture by her bedside.”
Gabrielle watched a peaceful smile soften Victoria’s features as she looked serenely down at that doll. The doll was all Wren should have been. Grown-up, blissfully happy—with no sign of the illness that had haunted her young life.
Without another word, Victoria got up and walked out of the office. Hesitantly, Gabrielle followed her down the hall and into the Margaret Kensington Historical Doll Room. Stopping before the display that held the bridal party, Victoria pulled her keys from her pocket with her free hand and proceeded to disarm the alarm.
With the doll of her niece held close, Victoria paused a moment, to look into the face of the groom doll who sat in his proper place right in the center of the display.
“You took care of her to the very last,” Victoria whispered.
Something about the intense look on her employer’s face made Gabrielle slightly uneasy. She gave a forced laugh to break the strange mood creeping over the room.
“You talk to him as if he can hear you,” she said. “Don’t tell me you’re starting to believe all the nonsense about Xavier Kensington’s ghost haunting this place.”
When Victoria didn’t answer, Gabrielle fell into silence. She watched as Victoria solemnly placed Wren’s doll next to the one of Xavier Kensington. Victoria paused a moment to look at the two of them. The groom doll Wren had given her life to keep safe and the brand-new bride doll of a young girl who lived a difficult life so bravely. Now that the two dolls stood side by side, Gabrielle could see why the bride’s eyes had been made looking up and to the right. She and the groom now seemed to be looking sideways at each other, sharing a private but loving glance.
“They make a handsome couple, don’t you think?” Victoria said with a soft smile.
Even Gabrielle had to admit they most certainly did.
Acknowledgments
There are so many to whom this book owes its existence. My deepest and sincerest thanks to all those who helped along the way.
To Brynn, for her willingness to share an unflinching look into what it is like to live with Leukemia—and the joy of overcoming it.
To Shirley Paxman, who patiently answered every question this author had about the
ins and outs of running a doll museum. Her amazing and touching real life stories, helped me bring Aunt Victoria’s wonderful doll museum into vibrant reality.
To my editor, Karlene Browning, for believing in this book, long after I had given up on it. And for all her tireless work to make its publication a reality.
To my niece, Anga, who begged to read this book so many times, and loved the characters in it so much. She made me realize that it might actually be worth trying to get it publish after all.
To Chris Minch, Kristen Landon, and Tiffany Dominguez, members of the best writer’s group any author could ever ask for!
About the Author
Sheila Nielson is an author of middle grade and young adult novels. She tends to favor fantastical or spooky realms in her writing.
Sheila was terrified of the dark as a child. Her very overactive imagination made the monsters she imagined hiding under her bed seem all too real. Then one day her mother suggested that she use her imagination to think about fun adventure stories rather than monsters every night. There was no turning back after that!
She graduated from college with a BFA in illustration and has worked as a children's librarian for over twenty-four years. Now Sheila creates stories that will scare her readers rather than herself! Lifelike is her third published novel. You can see her other books here.
Visit Sheila at her website: sheilaanielson.com
For information on new releases, reduced pricing, and other fun stuff, sign up for Sheila’s newsletter: http://eepurl.com/hfMwoL
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