“I’m sorry, but I have to go, Daniel.” She reached for his elbow, heaved him up from the chair, and practically shoved him out the door. “Thanks for stopping by and giving me that news. I’ll talk to you later.”
“But what about the spyglass? What are you going to do with it?” he asked.
“It’s going to stay right where it is for now. It’s safe in my bedroom here in the lighthouse. I can’t let it fall into the wrong hands. Its power is incredibly strong and changes lives.” She slammed the door behind her and led Daniel to the parking lot and said goodbye. When she jumped into her car, her heart felt like it was going to explode. Would Aidan be at the cottage when she got there? If so, would he remember last night?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Samantha whipped her car into the driveway at Aidan’s cottage. Seeing his pickup truck was there, she hurdled out and knocked on the front door. “Aidan? Are you home?” Pounding again, she listened at the wood for sounds coming from inside. Nothing.
Thinking he might be out painting already, she jogged to the beach and gazed in all directions. No Aidan. No easel or cooler in sight. Jogging back, she went to the front door and knocked again and still received no response. “The kitchen door,” she said, remembering he’d taken her through that door the day he’d rescued her from the stampeding horses.
Her hand touched the knob and the door creaked open. “Aidan?” she called again, peeking her head inside. Their relationship had reached a new level last night, but that didn’t give her the right to trespass. Did it? “Aidan?”
What if he was inside hurt? Or sick? Maybe that’s why he’d left the lighthouse this morning without waking her. She had to find out and help him if that were the case.
Was that her true concern? She spent a few seconds considering the notion. Or was it simply a convenient excuse to snoop around his house and see what, if anything had changed?
She stepped into the kitchen and quietly closed the door behind her and gazed around. A toaster and white porcelain canisters lined the spotless counter. A coffee maker sat nearby, unplugged and half full. A spice rack hung on the wall. There were no dishes in the sink except for two mugs. A plaid dishtowel hung from the stove’s handle. A cloth with a print pattern covered the small table, and a Mason jar bursting with summer flowers sat in the center. The window was adorned with a valance of the same printed pattern as the tablecloth. The floor looked so clean she could have eaten off of it, and everything seemed to be in its rightful place.
To sum up, the kitchen looked a lot different from the last time she was here.
Samantha entered the living room with a quickening in her chest. It looked the same as she’d remembered except that a large braided rug now covered the wooden floor and lace curtains decorated the tall windows. There was also an entertainment center against the wall where there’d only been a table with a television set on it before. On each side of the entertainment center were bookcases holding knick-knacks and rows of books.
Knick-knacks? Those were definitely not here the other day, she thought, touching a couple of the Painted Pony figurines. Though the figurines might be considered works of art, Aidan didn’t seem the type of man who’d display collectibles. Especially not Painted Ponies.
Skimming over the many volumes of books lining the shelves, she saw he was interested in more than art. She noted there were many books on Ireland and Irish history, traditions, and legends. That made sense seeing how he was of Irish descent. But something he’d said sprang to mind. He said he didn’t know much about Irish myths and legends, and he was about as Irish as she was.
“Aidan?” she called once more before cautiously stepping into what must be his bedroom. He hadn’t showed her his room the other day, and now she knew why. Frozen in her spot, her gaze drank in the brass bed with a Jacquard spread, the gauzy curtains hanging at the window, and matching tables and small Tiffany lamps on each side of the bed. A soft carpet was below her feet. A large seascape painting hung on the wall above the bed. This room was decorated nicely, neat and uncluttered. And it felt much too feminine.
With tentative steps, Sam made her way to the closet door and squeaked it open. Her fist flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp. To her dismay, inside hung both male and female clothing. Leaving the door standing open, she spun around and swallowed tears that threatened to burst from her eyes.
Was this his real life, or was she in a parallel universe, one in which Aidan was living with or married to another woman? The knot in the pit of her stomach supplied the answer. Either way, they’d made love last night and that act, she knew in the depths of her soul, had been very real.
If he was married today, but hadn’t been yesterday, did that technically make her an adulterer and him a cheater? She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
A noise from the other room captured her attention. Her eyes flew open. If it were Aidan, he’d have seen her car outside and would know she had let herself in. She clapped a hand over her mouth. There were no two ways around it. She’d have to come clean and admit she’d snuck in and snooped around. But what if he was with the other woman? How would Sam explain being in the cottage?
Her heart thrashed in her chest as she tiptoed out of the bedroom and into the living room where she could peep out the front window. Aidan’s truck was still parked in the same spot, but there was no sign of him, or anyone else outside.
Jiggling the doorknob, she mumbled a curse, realizing she had to go out the way she came in, since she wouldn’t be able to relock the front door if she exited that way. She crept across the room and peeked around the corner. When she was halfway across the kitchen floor, a noise came from the vicinity of the studio. What was that? A groan? Maybe he was here after all, alone and injured or ill.
Deciding to take the chance of getting caught, she strode toward the sun porch. “Aidan? It’s Sam. Are you in there?”
The door to his studio was unlocked, so she turned the knob and stepped inside. Her jaw went slack at the sight in front of her. Her widened gaze shifted from wall to wall to wall and over the many easels scattered throughout the sun porch. Dozens of paintings—all portraits of a blonde female with striking blue eyes—stared back at her.
“They’re all of me,” she whispered. Struck numb, her gaze slowly moved from painting to painting, transfixed. Aidan had painted her in all sorts of poses and at different ages. But how could it be? She’d only posed for him once. Yesterday. And he hadn’t finished that one. These paintings showed her not only on the rock at the beach, but in other settings as well. Stretched on Aidan’s bed. Lying in grass. Building a sand castle. Swinging from a tire swing. Smiling. Frowning. In clothes she didn’t recognize. And at ages he could only have imagined.
An icy chill slithered over her nape. When at last she came to her senses, she ran out of the room and through the house not caring what racket she made. Flinging open the kitchen door, she almost collided with the man standing there. “Oh!” Her heart lodged in her throat. Choking out the words, she gasped, “I’m sorry. You scared me.”
The stocky man chuckled and grinned, exposing a gap between his front teeth. He wore a gray and blue postal uniform and held a large envelope in his hand. A mailbag was slung over his shoulder. “Are ya in a hurry, Mrs. Gallagher?”
Her mouth dropped open. “Mrs. Gallagher? I’m not Mrs. Gallagher.”
“Oh.” His brows drew downward. “Beg your pardon, ma’am. Is Mrs. Gallagher at home? Or Mr. Gallagher?”
“I…I…no. He’s not here at the moment.” Samantha’s gaze shot past the postman, fearing at any moment that Aidan would appear, with or without a woman. “Excuse me, but I really have to go.” She closed the door behind her and pushed past the man.
“Wait! I need a signature,” he bellowed.
“Please come back later,” she cried, while dashing to her car and hopping in. As she backed out of Aidan’s driveway, she saw the postman shrug his shoulders and clim
b into his postal vehicle. She turned onto the main road and a slew of questions clouded her thoughts as she drove back to the lighthouse.
Where was Aidan? Had he slipped into another dimension as he’d hoped, or had the magic only worked on her again? Was he married? From the looks of it, he was. The well-appointed rooms in his cottage and the female clothes hanging in the closet were sure evidence of that, unless Aidan was a cross-dresser.
If there was a woman in his life, why had he created so many paintings of Sam? Most people would consider it obsessive, the extraordinary amount of canvases bearing her likeness. She wondered what the other woman thought of Aidan’s subject matter. Obviously, she was more tolerant than Sam would be. She’d only known him a few days and didn’t want to share him with anyone else.
Why had she let him look through the spyglass? She pounded her hand on the steering wheel in frustration. Had Aidan actually made love to her last night? Or had it all been a dream? It had felt as real then as pinching herself right now would. To prove it, she pinched the delicate skin on her arm and winced. “I know we were together, and I know he cares for me. He told me!”
Glancing to her left, she saw sailboats bobbing in the water. Seagulls dove through the air screeching and narrowly avoiding aerial mishaps with other seagulls. The warm morning breeze blew her hair around her face.
Yesterday, she would have stopped to enjoy the sights and smells of the ocean, but not today. Only one thing was on her mind—getting back to the lighthouse and peering through the spyglass. She had to fix this mess! It didn’t matter whether Aidan had found what he was looking for, or whether he’d be angry later. She had to do this to hold on to the relationship they had begun to build. She couldn’t lose him.
Understanding the control the spyglass held over people’s lives, but having no way of knowing what she’d be thrust into this time, it was worth taking the chance. The odds were in her favor that Aidan most likely would not be married the next time she saw him.
Smiling with resurrected hope, she slowed down when she spied a couple up ahead. They were walking on the side of the road with their backs to her. Their arms were wound around each other’s waists. As her car neared, she could see the male had dark hair pulled into a ponytail. He wore jeans that hugged his backside like a hand in a glove. The woman was about his height and looked fit and trim in a dress that showed off her tan as well as her firm arms and legs. Her hair was pulled up under a sun hat.
As Samantha slowed the car, her heart started beating wildly. It seemed they were oblivious to her vehicle or anything else around them. Obviously, they were happy and in love. Looking into the rearview mirror as she passed, Sam saw the woman wore big sunglasses that framed most of her face. Their steps halted and the man gave her a long kiss. When they parted, he looked up and his gaze met Sam’s in the rearview. The air whooshed out of her. It was Aidan.
Momentarily losing control of the car, her tires skidded off the road, but she jerked the wheel and aligned herself within seconds. “Get a grip,” she hissed to herself, pressing hard on the gas pedal and speeding away.
Moments later, she whipped into the lighthouse parking lot and had barely shut off the motor and pulled the key from the ignition before flinging herself out of the car and running up the walk. Ducking to miss the low doorframe, she flew inside and up the winding staircase. Breathing heavily, she skidded to a stop in front of the dresser.
Where was the mahogany box? Her hands patted the top as if she were blind and searching for a lost item. There was nothing there except her hairbrush and some ponytail bands.
“Where is it? I know Aidan put the spyglass back in its case last night and placed it here. It was here this morning. Wasn’t it?”
In a panic, she looked everywhere—under the bed, in the drawers, underneath clothes, and in the bathroom. She pulled up the cushions from the furniture downstairs and searched through the kitchen cabinets. Then she scrambled up the stairs to the light tower and pried into every nook and cranny. The spyglass was nowhere to be found.
Without it, she was stuck in this reality. And in this reality, Aidan was with another woman, and Sam probably didn’t even exist to him. Sinking into the sofa cushions, she felt blank inside. Wishing she’d stayed in Portland and never let Dr. Teagan talk her into coming here, she curled into the fetal position and cried until her stomach hurt.
A good cry seemed to be what she needed. Later when the teardrops dried, her mind felt clearer and she was able to focus again without getting so emotional.
When going over the events of last night and this morning, she realized Daniel was the last person she’d seen before striking out for Aidan’s cottage. He’d been very interested in knowing where the spyglass was, and damn if she hadn’t admitted that it was safe and sound in the bedroom!
She also remembered she’d been in a hurry and hadn’t locked the front door when she’d left. It all added up. Daniel probably waited for her to leave, waltzed through the unlocked door, found the spyglass and stole it.
Samantha’s shoulders grew stiff with fury. He might be a hunched-back old man, but that gave him no right to burglarize her. If you play with fire, Mr. Rehobeth, she thought with a bitter taste in her mouth, you’re sure as hell going to get burned.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Samantha banged on the door of the antique shop with her fist. There were no lights on inside and no movement, as far as she could tell by squinting through the glass. “Dammit,” she grumbled softly. Not wishing to cause a scene in front of the people strolling along the sidewalk, she resisted screaming out Daniel’s name. No doubt the old coot was hiding from her. She had to find him and get the spyglass back before he did something stupid, like claim it as his own and turn it over to the museum. Afraid she’d forever lost Aidan to another woman, her stomach churned with nausea.
“Hey Sam.”
The sound of a familiar voice roused her from her reverie. She twirled and Jason stared at her with his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Morning.” He still remembered her. She never knew what changes would take place after she’d peered through the spyglass.
“Looking for Mr. Rehobeth?” he asked.
“Yes. You haven’t seen him this morning, have you?”
“Yep. Saw him in his back yard a while ago. I took a shortcut through the alley, which runs behind his house. I waved but he didn’t wave back. Guess he was too busy.” Jason frowned, expressing his hurt feelings.
“Busy doing what? Could you tell?”
“Looked like he was digging something up from the garden. Probably potatoes. It’s that time of year.”
Potatoes, my foot, Sam thought sourly. “Are you sure Daniel was digging something up? Do you think he could have been burying something instead?”
“Like what? Treasure?” His eyes popped open with childlike enthusiasm.
“Maybe. Pirates were always burying their booty, you know. I’m sure there were pirates that docked along this coast back in the day.”
“I read a story about how Blackbeard buried gold in the front yard of his house in North Carolina,” Jason replied.
Talking kept him distracted while her mind worked at the options open to her. Every cell in her body clamored for her to barge into Daniel’s shop and confront him right now before it was too late. Or maybe he was still at home where Jason had seen him earlier.
“Do you think Mr. Rehobeth is a pirate?” he asked.
If he meant, did Daniel steal something that didn’t belong to him, then the answer was yes. But there was no need in trying to explain. “Where does Mr. Rehobeth live?” she asked, ignoring his question.
Jason pointed toward the pier. “Two blocks over that way on Seagull Lane. His name is on the mailbox out front.”
“Thanks. Tell your mom I said hi.” She took a few steps down the walk and then whirled. Her mouth felt dry, but she had to ask about Aidan. If the tightening of her gut was any indication, she suspected Jason knew Aidan in this reality and
would share some information about him. For a moment the words stuck in her throat.
“Did ya forget something, Sam?” he asked.
“No, but I have one more question for you.” She tried to keep her voice from wavering. “Do you know Aidan Gallagher and his wife?”
“Why, sure I do. Aidan and I have been best friends for a long time.”
“Really? I thought he just moved here recently.”
“Yep, but he used to live here a long time ago.”
Her pulse throbbed inside her wrist. So far so good. His story jived with Aidan’s. “What about his wife? Is she from Pavee Cove?”
“Yep,” he answered. “At least she lived here when she was a little girl.” He tilted his head. “She was only six years old when she left. One day she was here. The next day she was gone. Poof! We didn’t see her for a very long time.”
A lump clogged Sam’s throat. So Aidan was married. If that were the case, why were there paintings of her hanging all over his studio? Swallowing hard, she forced the next question out. “What’s his wife’s name?”
Jason’s face grew suspicious. “Why do you want to know?”
Sam felt her cheeks flush. “Just curious.”
“I didn’t know you knew Aidan.”
Oh boy. She was definitely in a different world than previously. It was complicated keeping track of details, but she was starting to get used to thinking on her feet. “Just barely,” she lied. “I met him on the beach when he was painting one day. We struck up a conversation, and he said he and his wife would invite me over for dinner sometime. I’m sure he was just being polite since I’m new in town. But I’d like to know her name in case I get a call one of these days.”
“Oh. I see. Aidan’s a nice guy. So is his wife. Her name is Remy.”
Remy Gallagher. Samantha recalled the way Aidan had gazed so lovingly at the woman in the sun hat when she passed them on the road. And he’d kissed her with such passion; a passion Sam had experienced firsthand. Her gut began to spasm with jealousy. She’s only his wife in this reality, she reminded herself. As soon as she got the spyglass back from Daniel, Remy Gallagher would no longer exist. She would go back to whatever parallel universe she’d come from and the only kisses Aidan would share would be with Sam.
The Spyglass Portal: A Lighthouse Novel Page 15
