by Jan Fields
“That she did,” Annie agreed. Gram never failed to tell her about Stony Point celebrations or good news about the people she knew. Gram was no Pollyanna, but she chose to focus on life.
“I admired that about her,” Liz said, “but I believe that the sad stories of history are worth telling too, or else the people who struggled and suffered are forgotten. There is an old saying that a man isn’t truly dead as long as someone remembers him. So, in a way, our job here at the Historical Society is to keep memories alive—good ones and bad ones.”
“There’s another sad memory I’d like to know more about,” Jim said. “It’s the story of the child who died near the lighthouse. I believe it’s tied to the lighthouse curse.”
“The lighthouse curse is a simple cautionary tale,” Liz said. “It’s the kind of legend you hear in connection with many dangerous places. Do you know the story?”
Jim nodded. “I’ve heard it from Alice and a few others around town. All basically tell the same story of a lighthouse keeper tormented by the local children who curses them with his dying breath should they ever touch the lighthouse on a stormy night.”
“We have no reason to believe such a man ever existed. Mr. Murdoch isn’t the first keeper to die at the lighthouse, but all of them seem to have been well-liked. There is no evidence of a crazed keeper tormented by local children.” Liz shook her head sadly. “The story is meant to keep children safe, obviously. But too often such stories do just the opposite. They tempt the reckless.” Again she looked at Alice.
Alice colored slightly. “I was young,” she protested.
Then Liz’s face broke into a sheepish smile. “Actually, I tried it too, but I got cold feet halfway up that dark road.” Then she pointed a finger at Jim. “That better not turn up in your book.”
“It won’t,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender, “but can you tell me about the child who didn’t survive that curse?”
“No,” Liz said.
“No, you can’t?” Jim asked. “Or no, you won’t?”
Liz sat forward on her chair and folded her hands in her lap. “I’m truly not trying to be difficult, Mr. Parker, but you’re asking for a story that is very personal and private. I am not someone who believes the dead can be hurt by stories, but I do know that the living can be devastated. This is not a story I can share with you. I would have to get the permission of someone I would never even dare approach about it.”
Jim nodded. “I can respect that. Then we’ve probably taken all of your time we need to for today.” He stood and smiled at Liz. “You’ve been a great help.”
“Then I’m glad,” Liz said. “Since Stella told me that you would almost certainly be coming by, I also put a packet together for you of all the things we have here at the Society that relate to the lighthouse. I made photocopies.” She walked to the desk and picked up a thick folder bound by rubber bands. She handed it to Jim. “Will you be in Stony Point much longer?”
“I’m afraid not,” Jim said, tucking the folder under his arm. “I have one last series of photos I want to shoot, but I’ll probably be leaving in the next few days. Still, I know this will be a huge help.” He tapped the edge of the bulging folder with a finger.
“I hope it will.”
Annie watched her friend’s face to see if Jim’s impending departure was news to Alice, but she didn’t seem surprised. Annie just hoped she was prepared.
Before they could excuse themselves, Liz asked Alice a question about a recent Divine Décor order. Annie smiled at that. Her friend was amazingly successful with her decorating and jewelry parties, more than Annie would have expected considering Stony Point was a relatively small town. Of course, Annie had picked up more than a few things from Alice herself. The Divine Decor style seemed to work well with the stately older homes around the area as they had a touch of the vintage about them.
Finally, Alice broke away, and they headed out to the parking lot. “I’m sorry that wasn’t more successful,” she said to Jim.
“That’s OK,” Jim said, smiling ruefully. “In my business, you do a lot of fishing for facts. Sometimes you land something big, and sometimes it gets away. I think the story of the mad lighthouse keeper will be a nice addition though.”
“That was such a sad story,” Annie said.
“Yes, it was,” Alice agreed as she fished in her purse for her keys. “I can almost forgive him for being such a grouch. I’m still trying to reconcile the crazy guy screaming at me with the image of a tragic young husband and father.”
“You know, Ian asked me if I wanted to go whale watching on his brother’s lobster ship sometime,” Annie said. “But after that story, I might be a happy landlubber for a while.”
Jim leaned against the side of the convertible and said, “Whale watches are fascinating. I’ve gone on a few on the East Coast and hope to get one in when I’m in Washington later this year. They spot huge family groups of killer whales out there. You should go sometime. Seeing such huge creatures that live in an environment totally alien to how we live—it’s incredible really. And you truly can’t grasp the scale of a real whale until you’ve seen one breach right beside the rail where you’re standing.”
“Now you’ve sold me,” Annie said. “You’re going out West later this year?”
Jim nodded. “My publisher is already talking about the next lighthouse book. It’ll be about Pacific Coast lighthouses. They have some great ghost stories out there too.”
“Speaking of ghost stories,” Alice interrupted, finally finding her keys. “We still have one more adventure to invite you on.”
“Oh?” Annie paused before they climbed into the car. “What would that be?”
“A ghost walk!”
14
With Alice’s words ringing in her head, Annie pushed the passenger seat forward as Jim opened the door. She slipped into the backseat and waited impatiently until her friends were in the car. “What kind of ghost walk are you talking about?”
“Alice is being dramatic,” Jim said. “I actually want to get a feeling for what the lighthouse and the lighthouse road would be like at night in the rain. I can’t walk the road,” he said as he slapped his leg, “but Alice offered to do it and record her impressions. That way I can write about that part of the legend pretty accurately.”
“Why don’t you just use your memory of sneaking up there?” Annie asked. “That road is dangerous. I could see that when we walked it in broad daylight. Speaking as the mother of an ex-teenager, I would have grounded her for doing exactly what you’re proposing.”
“The difference,” Alice said as she turned the key and coaxed the Mustang into a rumble, “is that we’re not scared kids who can be spooked into running blindly in the rain, and I’m going to have one whopping big flashlight since I don’t have to worry about hiding from the lighthouse keeper this time.”
“And you want me to go with you?” Annie asked carefully.
Alice smiled at her in the rearview mirror. “I had hoped. It would be more fun with both of us.”
“When did you want to do this?” Annie asked as Alice eased the convertible out of the tiny parking lot and back onto the road. Though Alice didn’t drive overly fast, the breeze immediately began to tangle Annie’s hair, and she smoothed it down nervously.
“Tonight. The weather report is calling for rain, so it should reproduce the conditions perfectly for the curse. You and I will walk up the road and meet Jim at the top. I’m going to carry Jim’s recorder so I can record our impressions as we walk along.”
“I’ll be taking photos of the lighthouse and the sea in the storm,” Jim said. “It isn’t supposed to be an electrical storm, and with the flashlights I bought today, you should have plenty of light to see. But if it worries you, don’t feel like you have to come.”
Annie hesitated. It sounded a lot like her dreams to her, and those were definitely not very comforting. At the same time, maybe it would be best to conquer her fear by facing it head-on. She
glanced at Alice’s hope-filled eyes in the mirror again and said, “OK, you can count me in.”
Alice whooped and slapped her hand against the steering wheel. “That’s great. Thanks so much.”
“But that will mean I don’t have time to go to the library today,” Annie said. “I need to see if Gram left a proper New England raincoat in her closet. The coat I have is more for storms that aren’t trying to pound you to death. It doesn’t even have a hood, and I can’t envision carrying an umbrella and a flashlight.”
“The wind would make quick work of an umbrella,” Jim said. “Should we take you to buy a coat? I don’t want you to be out there if you’re not properly protected.”
“I think I’ll find something. Gram always embraced the idea of being prepared. I expect she has a coat that can handle any storm.”
“Great,” Alice said. “Should I take you home or back to Main Street? Did you park in town?”
“Yes,” Annie said. “My car is near Mary Beth’s shop. I think I still have time to pop in and volunteer to help if Mary Beth needs any help with the library crafts program.
“Oh great,” Alice said. “Tell her to add my name too.”
Alice pulled up beside Annie’s burgundy Malibu, and Jim climbed out of the car to let Annie escape from the tight back seat. “Thanks again,” Alice yelled as Jim slipped back into the car. “I’ll come by Grey Gables tonight at about eight, and we’ll get ready for the adventure!”
Annie nodded and smiled. Trust Alice to make a trudge through mud and rain sound like a thrill ride. She patted her trusty car on the hood as she walked by and headed to A Stitch in Time.
Mary Beth looked up as Annie walked through the door, her pixie smile as bright as the piles of yarn surrounding her on the counter. “Hey, Annie!” she exclaimed. “You came just in time to help me sort this new shipment.” She held up a skein of cotton yarn. “Look at these colors!”
Annie looked over the new selection. She was drawn to a skein in a gorgeous mixture of rose, yellow, orange and chocolate brown, and when Annie turned the wrapper to find the color name, she found it was called “blushing sunset.” Another wrapper declared itself “storm at sea” with a mix of grayish blues and greens. “Do you ever wonder who comes up with these color names?” she asked.
“Only when they don’t make any sense at all,” Mary Beth said. “I have one around here called ‘Mother’s Love.’ How would anyone know what color that is?”
Annie shook her head. “What color is it?”
“A kind of creamy pink.”
When they’d sorted most of the pile on the counter, Annie said, “I actually came in to pre-volunteer to help with the children’s craft program at the library when it rolls around. I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I’ve been in a bit of a fog lately.”
Mary Beth nodded. “I don’t suppose you’ve learned who owned your lovely little rag doll?”
“Not exactly, but I think it was a friend of my mother’s.” Annie’s face lit up as she told Mary Beth about finding her mother’s journal. “I really feel like those few words I’ve read so far have opened a whole new window on my mother for me.” Then Annie paused, nearly smacking herself in exasperation. “You know Liz Booth isn’t that much older than my mother would be today. I should have asked her if she knew my mom when I talked to her today.”
“You talked to Liz Booth?” Mary Beth said, surprise clear in her voice. The women of the Historical Society tended to be a bit like Stella, not exactly social chatterers. “Are you going to join the Historical Society?”
Annie shook her head. “I was with Alice and Jim Parker on a research mission for his book on the lighthouse. I guess I was so caught up in Liz’s story about the old lighthouse keeper Matthew Murdoch that I didn’t think about anything else. Did you know about him?”
“Some,” Mary Beth said. “I met him once when I was in Magruder’s to get groceries. I think it wasn’t a long time before he died. As I remember, he stormed through the store, practically knocking people over. Then he was so grouchy with the cashier he made her cry.”
“He’d been through a lot,” Annie said, giving Mary Beth the condensed version of what Liz had told them.
“It never ceases to amaze me about all the different ways human beings deal with tragedy,” the older woman said sadly. “Plus, I guess that’s a reminder. You never know what someone might be going through.”
Annie nodded. The bell above the door jingled, and Annie waited while Mary Beth turned her bright smile on a customer who had come in to buy an extra skein of yarn for a project. Annie let their voices wash over her while she gazed out the front windows. At some point, morning had turned to afternoon and shadows were lengthening. She realized she should be going soon, in case it took some time to find a proper raincoat.
The customer left smiling, and Annie told Mary Beth about her planned adventure with Alice.
“That doesn’t sound terribly safe,” Mary Beth said. “You be careful. That Alice can be entirely too brave for her own good sometimes.”
Annie laughed aloud at that. “Actually Gram said those very words about Alice more than once.”
She promised to be careful and to tell everything about the adventure at the next Hook and Needle meeting. “I expect most of the details will be soggy ones,” she said. Then she excused herself and hurried out to the car. The drive back to Grey Gables was short, and Annie missed the breezy fun of Alice’s convertible. If she ever traded in her beloved Malibu, maybe she would consider a wild choice like that for her next car. Then she chuckled. She’d certainly spend a lot more time straightening her hair if she did that.
When she pulled up in front of Grey Gables, the afternoon sun made the windows sparkle like gold. The bright wicker furniture on the wide front porch looked inviting, as if welcoming her back. Annie chuckled, thinking how much difference the sun could make.
She hopped out of the car and hurried inside. As always, Boots greeted her with a rundown of everything she’d missed while she was gone. At least, that’s what Annie assumed the cat’s long meowing monologues meant. It was possible they were just variations on “feed me” repeated over and over.
“I filled your bowl this morning,” Annie said. “You should learn to pace yourself. I have a mission.” Annie began poking through closets for a proper raincoat. She found one in a narrow closet off the back porch. The long green coat had a short attached cape across the back. Its heavy hood and oversized visor would help keep the rain off her face, while probably making her look like a big green duck. “Good thing it’s not a fashion show,” Annie said as she pulled out two matching rain boots. She tried everything on and found it would definitely suit her need.
Since the coat search took far less time than Annie had expected, she decided to curl up with a sandwich and her mother’s journal. She opened to the page where an old photo of her mother marked the spot.
July 10th. The weather has turned hot and dry. I’m glad. Jo says we have to sneak up to the lighthouse at night in the rain, or it won’t mean anything. She wants to show we’re not afraid of the legend. I’m not afraid of the legend. Really, I’m not! But I don’t like the idea of being out on that road on a rainy night, so every morning when the sun shines, I cheer.
July 15th. This weather is perfect for the beach. We go every day and swim. Jo got a new swimsuit, and it has two pieces!! Mom hasn’t said anything, but I know she thinks it’s scandalous. Everyone thinks it’s scandalous. I could never ever wear that, but it looks perfect on Jo. Suddenly some of the boys on the beach want to hang out with us. They never did before. I know it’s because of Jo’s new suit.
Annie stopped and rested her fingers lightly on the page, smiling. She was struck again by how much her mother’s friendship reminded her of herself and Alice. She thought of the bikini Alice had bought with her birthday money one year. She’d kept it hidden from her mother for weeks. When her mother finally found it, she sewed a gingham skirt on the bottom of the bikini top a
nd another on the bikini bottom. Alice had looked like a set of curtains! Annie laughed at the memory, making a mental note to tease Alice about it later.
July 20th. Been so busy, it’s hard to write. Yesterday, a boy bought me a shaved ice. I can’t even write his name. It’s just too embarrassing. He’s got nice brown eyes. That’s all I’m writing!
August 4th. He gave me a note!!!! I’m putting it in here. He doesn’t come to the beach every day because he has to help his dad on the boat. I’m still not going to write his name, but I’ll write his initials—CB. He’s older than me, but I thought his poem was beautiful. Does he really think my hair looks like gold? I always think mine looks pale and dull next to Jo’s.
“Poor CB,” Annie said, smiling at the tiny heart Judy had drawn beside the entry. CB may have been her mom’s first crush, but ultimately he lost out to George Spencer.
August 20th. School will be starting soon. It’s still super dry here, and Mom’s garden looks baked even though she waters it. I’m sorry for the farmers that Mom and Dad worry about, but all this dry weather has kept us on the beach and away from the lighthouse. CB bought me another shaved ice. Jo teases me constantly about him. I’m glad I didn’t show her the poem. She would have laughed herself silly.
August 22nd. I just wish you couldn’t see Butler’s Lighthouse all the time in the distance. It keeps reminding Jo and Jenny. Please, just keep the sun shining.
Annie flipped the page and tensed up. Her mother’s handwriting was very different, almost sloppy. And all the little faces and doodles were gone from the page, replaced by smudges and water stains. She realized her mother must have been crying as she wrote the entry. Her hand trembled as she smoothed the page and began reading.
September 10th. I haven’t written because everything is so terrible now. We finally got rain on the night before school was going to start back. Jo was so excited. I suggested maybe just Jo and I should go, even though I was scared, but Jenny begged and begged.
It was horrible. I didn’t know she would panic like that—we couldn’t have known, could we? Now I wake up every morning hoping that that night was just a bad dream, but it was real. Horrible and real!!! Jo won’t talk to me at all. Her mom glares at me if I come by the house. I even went back and found Matilda and took her to Jo’s house last night. I had to throw pebbles at her window forever before she would come out. She screamed at me. She thinks it’s my fault. I’m supposed to be the one who says when an idea is too much. I always stop in time. Always. Why didn’t I?
