This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
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Beckoning Spirit
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Stacey Coverstone
Visit her Website: http://www.staceycoverstone.com
Cover Art by Sheri McGathy
Digital Layout by www.formatting4U.com
DEDICATION
To my mom, Beverly Marvin, who loves Maine and climbed the hill to the real Monhegan lighthouse with me.
Waking to a distant roll of thunder after a midday nap, Devin first thought she was on the island. Then consciousness stirred. Pale light seeped through the thin curtains. Through the open window she heard the sound of tourists on the street below. Although it was June, her duvet cover was tucked up under her chin. She shivered and lay there for a moment with the back of her clammy hand pressed to her damp forehead. She’d had another dream about the woman in white. Each time she experienced one of the dreams, she woke with a slight headache and her body covered in chill bumps.
Her eyes remained closed. The dreams had been coming for several weeks now, in flashes and bits, like the pieces of a puzzle. The woman’s face was always shrouded in a gray mist, but Devin sensed familiarity—a kinship with her.
The meaning of the dreams remained a mystery, but a strange feeling niggled beneath Devin’s skin. She believed the visions were leading up to some significant event—one in which she, her grandmother, and the island played major roles. The phantom in white called to her, tugging at her like a magnet to return to Monhegan.
As her eyes opened, she splayed her fingers across her chest and felt her heart beat an agonizing staccato. A great sense of urgency washed over her. She sat up in bed and glanced at the calendar hanging above her desk. Today’s date was circled in red. It was the first anniversary of her grandmother’s passing.
The dreams were more than mere coincidence. Devin was certain. She needed to go back to the island immediately. Not understanding the force that fueled the dreams, she only knew the woman in white beckoned to her, and she felt compelled to heed the call.
The bedside clock glared two forty-five. “Shoot!” She leapt out of bed and slipped into her sandals as she ironed her top and shorts with her hands. The last ferry of the day would be leaving at three o’clock.
I must go now.
She rushed into the bathroom and tossed her hair into a ponytail and cleaned her teeth quickly. There was no need for extra clothes or an overnight bag. She wouldn’t be spending the night on the island. Grabbing her purse and keys, she locked the apartment door behind her and took the stairs two at a time.
At the narrow street, she waited for a car to pass and then sprinted to the dock. Although she lived right across from the harbor, it had been a full year since she had ridden the ferry. The crisp tang of brine invaded her nose, and anticipation gripped her chest.
Deep rumbles shuddered across the steel gray sky. She looked up. A scattering of dark, billowy clouds hovered ominously above. Light raindrops peppered her arms. At one end of the street, a group of tourists ducked into a gift shop. Closer by, another bunch entered the Ebb Tide, the greasy spoon where Devin waited tables as a way to supplement her income as a budding romance novelist.
A brief summer shower never hurt anyone. Her sandals clicked on the plank boardwalk as she jogged to the ticket booth. The island ferry was still tied to the dock. “Good! I’m not too late,” she said aloud. “One ticket please.” She offered some cash to the man in the ticket booth and inhaled a deep breath of the fresh, rain-scented air.
“Sorry, miss. The captain just cancelled the last run of the day.” He pointed a finger upward. “Storm’s comin’.”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding. It’s just a few clouds and raindrops,” she moaned. “I’ve got to get to Monhegan today.”
The man shrugged. “As I said, the ferry won’t be making any more runs today. Try back tomorrow when the sun’s shining again.”
“I can’t wait until tomorrow. I have to go today. Right now.” An emotional charge surged through her body. “It’s an emergency. I have a sick relative who needs me,” she fibbed.
“I have nothing to do with the decision, miss. The captain has the final word, and the last trip of the day is cancelled. I’m truly sorry.” With that, the man placed a Closed sign on the counter and shuttered the window.
Devin sighed. “Darn Maine weather.”
“I could take ya,” came a deep voice from behind her.
She whirled and found herself face to face with a suntanned man wearing a tee shirt, jeans, and tall rubber fishing boots. He was about six feet in height with a shock of black hair and eyes of the most unusual color. They were so dark they appeared purple. The man was so handsome, he almost looked unworldly. Something immediate and profound stirred within the depths of Devin’s soul. The feeling was like a fist punch to the stomach.
She gazed at him, mesmerized.
Where have I seen this man before? He looks so familiar. Those eyes…it would be impossible to forget such fascinating eyes. Maybe we went to school together, or perhaps he’s a customer at the Ebb Tide.
“Hello?” he said, waving a hand in front of her face.
His voice jarred her from her musings. “Beg your pardon? Did you say something?”
“I overheard ya tell the man at the window that ya need to get to the island. My boat’s available for chartering. I’d think you’d know better than to head out on the water when a storm is approaching, but that’s not my business. I’ll take ya if it’s so important. Be warned, however, it’s going to cost a pretty penny. I won’t risk my own life and the welfare of my boat for my regular fee.”
The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. His rugged good looks could melt ice, but his bedside manner left something to be desired. “Excuse me, mister…?”
“The name’s Kipp Sullivan.” As if he’d just noticed something unusual about her, his mouth opened and closed like a goldfish’s, and his brows furrowed. “Say…do we know each other? I didn’t think I ever forgot a pretty face. Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so.”
He thrust his hand out to shake, and his dark eyes sparked like aubergine diamonds. “Are ya sure we’re not acquainted?”
“I’m sure.” She was fibbing again. The truth was, she did sense something familiar about him. Time and space blurred for a moment, and a heart string vibrated in her chest. Despite the warm feeling, and the desire to touch him, Devin refrained from accepting his hand just then. He smelled of fish. “Are you in the habit of eavesdropping on people’s conversations, Mr. Sullivan?”
He grinned and shook his head, unbelieving. “Try to help a lady out and this is what I get.” He turned and began to walk away.
The sky quaked with another clap of thunder. “Wait!” she exclaimed.
He swung around and took several steps forward until his lean frame towered over her. His unusual purple eyes flashed. “Well, do ya want me to take ya to the island, or don’t ya? My price is seventy-five dollars. Make up your mind before the Heavens unleash a mighty torrent.”
“Seventy-five dollars!” she cried. “That’s twice the amount the ferry charges.”
“I’m doing ya
a favor, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Her own eyes narrowed. “You call that a favor?”
His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “It’s up to you. Take it or leave it. I don’t have all day to argue with a hard-headed woman, no matter how pretty you are.” His gaze flicked away from her and shifted to the sky. He winced. “If we’re going, we’ve got to get on the water now. This storm won’t wait for procrastinators.”
Devin hadn’t missed that comment about her being pretty. Still, flattery would get him nowhere. Her mouth drew into a tight line. Seventy-five dollars was highway robbery. “I get the distinct feeling I’m being bushwhacked, Mr. Sullivan. But I suppose I have no option. I need to get to Monhegan today.” Luckily, she’d gone to the bank yesterday and withdrawn one hundred dollars. She nodded acceptance of his offer.
“Okay, then. Let’s go. And it’s Kipp, not Mr. Sullivan.” He turned and trod down the boardwalk. She followed, trotting like a pony in order to keep up with his long-legged strides. The urge to stare at his physique couldn’t be squashed, no matter how she tried. The bulging muscles in his arms flexed with each swing of his limbs.
They stopped at the end of the pier. A small commercial fishing boat bobbed like a buoy in the choppy water. Devin’s mouth gaped. Her cool eyes scanned the ancient, rusted-out rattletrap of a boat.
Noting the name, Serafina, painted on the hull, she was aware that translated, the name meant angel. New Englander fishermen always christened their sailing vessels after the women in their lives. She stared at Kipp Sullivan’s powerful back and silently wondered about his muse.
A picture formed in her mind. Serafina was probably as beautiful and sweet as her name implied—a lithe, fairy goddess with long legs, blonde hair and blue eyes that twinkled. Totally opposite from her, with her thick red hair and boring hazel eyes. She sighed. What difference does it make what his woman looks like?
Devin studied the boat with a solemn countenance. “Are you sure that tin can will even make it out to sea?”
He snorted. “I know she doesn’t look like much, but I guarantee, she’s sturdy and reliable. Don’t worry, miss.”
“Who is Serafina?” she blurted.
“Pardon me?”
“Serafina. Who is she?”
Kipp’s eyes fastened with hers. A vague unease snuck along her chest wall. She sucked in a breath and waited, wishing she hadn’t opened her mouth.
He shrugged. “Don’t know. You’ll have to ask the retired seaman I bought her from.”
Although she had no idea why the answer pleased her, she smiled and released the breath she held.
“Is that a satisfactory answer?” he asked curiously.
“Yes.”
“Good. We’ll have time to chat later, if you want. But right now we have to shove off if we plan to make it to Monhegan before the storm hits.”
She stared at the rollicking waves beyond. White frothy crests reminded her of horses’ manes. “Maybe we shouldn’t go after all,” she said.
“Nonsense.” Kipp hopped onto the rocking boat and stretched out his hand to help her in. “You have nothing to worry about with me at the healm.”
A spark caught the moment their fingers touched. When Devin grasped his hand and stepped into the boat, a jolt shot through her arms and raced through her veins. Her entire body trembled with the kind of awareness that comes when one soul meets its mate. Had he felt it, too? The perplexed look on his face confirmed that he had.
“Did ya feel that?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What just happened? It felt like volts of electricity coursed through my body.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Maybe it was static electricity caused by the storm.”
“Maybe.” He didn’t look convinced. “I’ve never felt anything like it before.”
“Me either.”
Kipp fixed her with a stare so intense it froze the muscles around her mouth. Neither of them moved until a wild pitch of the boat returned them to their senses. The rain suddenly fell harder and colder, and Devin shuddered.
“I’m light headed,” she said, feeling a stir of strange memories flicker through her mind like the frames of a movie. “I haven’t sailed in a while. Must be anxiety kicking in.”
“Let me move these lobster traps out of the way.” Kipp released her hands and shoved the traps with his foot. They slid across the bottom of the boat to the opposite side. “Come sit in the wheelhouse,” he offered. She did, and he reached into a storage box and pulled out two rain jackets with hoods. “Here ya go. The rain could still blow in on us, so this will keep ya dry.” He handed her a jacket and suggested she put the hood over her head. He slipped the other coat over his own shoulders. “Are you going to be all right now?”
She nodded in response. “Thank you, Mr. Sullivan. I mean, Kipp.”
He began to guide the boat carefully away from the dock. “You haven’t told me your name yet,” he said, not looking at her.
“I’m sorry. I’m Devin Fuller.”
“Do you live in Boothbay?”
“Yes. I rent an apartment across the street from the harbor. And I work at the Ebb Tide.”
“Mmmm. Maybe that’s where I’ve seen you.”
She didn’t think so. She would have remembered such a fine looking fisherman.
Conversation halted as he concentrated on maneuvering past other fishing boats and into the open sea. Out in the open, the small boat chugged out its rhythm as it bounced on the choppy water.
Sinking into the oversized rain jacket like a turtle delving into its shell, Devin pondered the feeling of déjà vu she’d experienced when they touched. He said he felt something, too. Any fool knew it wasn’t static electricity, as she’d suggested. She could tell he didn’t buy her flimsy explanation, but he’d not had an answer himself as to the current that had jumped between them.
The outside temperature dropped quickly in the open air. The next time Devin spoke, blustery wind lifted her voice and carried it like a feather. Kipp either couldn’t hear her or was too preoccupied to respond.
Thirty minutes into the ride, the Serafina rose and fell with the foamy waves. Icy water spewed and splashed up over the sides and into the boat. With chattering teeth, Devin drew her knees up to her chest and hooked her arms around them.
Kipp finally glanced her way. Holding the wheel securely with one hand, he reached into the storage bin next to him with the other and yanked out a pair of rubber boots.
“Put these on over your sandals or your feet will freeze.”
She stuttered, “Th…th…thanks.”
“You’re not dressed for this kind of weather,” he yelled.
She hauled the boots over her calves and closed the buttons at the top. Even though the boots were way too large, she was grateful for the leg protection. Her nearly bare feet were drenched and as cold and hard as a frozen mackerel.
“You were right. I should have known better. I left my apartment in a hurry and didn’t dress for foul weather.”
Huddled in the swivel chair, she stared out at the dark blue sea and glimpsed a pair of porpoises springing up from the depths. They weren’t bothered by the nasty weather. Spying them at the same time, Kipp pointed and smiled. Then he turned back to his wheel.
Despite the mind-numbing cold, Devin gazed at the horizon, and her memory drifted to the last time she was on the island. What connection is there between Grandma’s passing one year ago and the journey I’m on today? She wondered.
The past year had been the worst of her life. After her grandmother’s death, her parents split up. Then the man she’d been dating for six months accepted a job offer in California and didn’t invite her. Writer’s block plagued her with a vengeance, and she found it difficult to complete any story. The straw that broke the camel’s back was when her cat ran off. Not coincidentally, the dreams began soon after that last humiliating incident.
Emotionally, Devin had somehow managed all that was thrown her w
ay, but the dreams became a welcome distraction.
She’d never believed in ESP or ghosts before, even though she’d been raised on her grandma’s stories about the spirits who roamed the outer islands. As the dreams intensified, so did the certainty that she was receiving a message from beyond. From whom, she wasn’t sure. What the message was, she had no idea. She hoped to discover answers to both those questions once she reached Monhegan.
Fortunately, during every dream, her grandmother’s strong, comforting presence had wrapped her in a warm cocoon. This reassured Devin it was safe to follow her heart back to the island, despite a continual nagging feeling. What was the true nature and motives of the woman in white? Devin could not fathom who she was or what she wanted. She only knew the woman was bound to both she and her grandma as sure as a package was tied with string.
“How are ya feeling?” Kipp hollered through the wind and drizzle. “Are ya motion sick?”
She shook her head and hollered back, “No motion sickness. I’ve been taking the ferry ever since I was a little girl, and never once been seasick.”
He smiled. “Only the tourists sailing over on day trips tend to get sick.”
“Do you charter a lot of day trips?”
“Some. They help pay the bills.” Before he could elaborate, a rogue wave slammed into the boat. A scream caught silently in Devin’s throat. Kipp twisted the wheel and easily regained control while keeping a steady eye on her.
Wishing time would speed up, she locked her gaze on the bulging sea and prayed they’d get to Monhegan Island before the old boat cracked apart.
The island lay ten miles offshore from the coast of Boothbay Harbor. A picturesque summer haven for artists and vacationers alike—a place that time forgot—the island beckoned nature lovers, photographers, writers, poets, painters, and every other kind of traveler in search of a truly unspoiled hideaway.
On the eastern edge were cliffs that offered awe-inspiring views of the crashing surf below. A hike to the top took one to the lighthouse and the keeper’s house, as well as the neatly manicured cemetery.
Beckoning Spirit (A Romantic Paranormal Short Story) Page 1
