Rag Doll in the Attic

by Jan Fields

  “Research?” Ian snapped. “That’s the most stupid excuse I’ve ever … ” Then he stopped.

  “Stupid?” Annie said, her voice very quiet. “Did you just call me stupid?”

  “No,” Ian said. “I was just worried.”

  “Worried about how stupid I am?” Annie said, her voice still deadly calm and quiet. She knew the decision to walk up the gravel road wasn’t the smartest she’d made since coming back to Stony Point, but hearing the word “stupid” directed at her made her swell with anger.

  “I should not have said stupid. But when I got that call from Mary Beth, I was worried. I don’t want anything to happen to you. I like you, Annie Dawson. I like you a lot.” He paused at Annie’s sharp intake of breath and raised one hand to hold off her comment. “I know we’re just friends. I’m fine with being friends. It’s good, and I’m not trying to step over any lines here. But if I see you in danger, I’m not going to sit back and say nothing.”

  All of Annie’s righteous indignation at being called stupid drained away in a wave of confusion. She wasn’t sure exactly what Ian was confessing about his feelings, but she knew it was something she wasn’t ready to deal with. “I’m sorry I worried you,” she said softly. “But you have no reason to be mad at Jim. He didn’t make anyone do anything. I’m pretty sure this was Alice’s idea—not Jim’s.”

  Ian didn’t answer for a moment; then he nodded, his eyes firmly on the road ahead. “He still went along with it. He seems to care about Alice. That’s what confuses me. How could he let her do something so … ”

  “Stupid?” Annie asked.

  “Dangerous.”

  “I suspect Jim is an adventurer. He doesn’t think about danger like you do, or even like I do. And I think maybe there’s a little of that in Alice too.” She sighed. “But that road scared me half to death, and I was very glad when you showed up. I don’t think I’m much of an adventurer.”

  Ian turned to smile at her, and then brought his eyes back to the road with a laugh. “Your track record since you came back to Stony Point sure makes you look adventurous.”

  “I don’t know how I get into these things,” Annie said, shaking her head. “I’m really a big chicken at heart.”

  “But a curious chicken,” Ian said, still chuckling, “with a stubborn streak a mile wide.” He turned onto Ocean Drive and asked. “So Grey Gables or back to the lighthouse?”

  “I’d like to go to Grey Gables,” she said. “I’m suddenly really tired of being cold and wet. I think Alice probably soaked up enough atmosphere on the road for both of us. Please, tell them I’m going to finish the library research tomorrow. If you don’t think that will be too dangerous, Mr. Mayor?”

  “It sounds safe enough,” Ian said, “but I’m starting to realize you can find trouble anywhere.”

  “Oh, I hope not,” Annie said, though she was starting to suspect Ian might be right.

  17

  The driving rain struck the young blond girl’s arms like thrown stones. She lagged behind her tall friend as if pulled from behind. The gap between them grew wider.

  “Come on, Judy,” Jo yelled as she raised an arm to shield her eyes from the rain. “As soon as we touch the lighthouse we can go home.”

  “I’m worried about Jenny,” Judy shouted. “I should go back.”

  “She’ll be fine. It’s not like there are wolves in the woods.” Jo tromped back down the road and tugged on Judy’s arm. “Let’s go. The sooner we do it, the sooner we can be home. We’re going to be in trouble when we get home. I just want to make sure it’s worth it.”

  Judy looked into the darkness behind her. She started to turn away when both girls heard a scream.

  “Jenny!” Judy’s shout was raw and thin. She scrambled down the gravel road, the loose rocks sliding under the slick soles of her shoes. Jo passed her on the road, thundering down into the darkness, screaming her sister’s name.

  Annie woke with a start, almost surprised to find sunshine pouring through her windows. She remembered more of the dream this time, and the feeling in her dream of her mother’s panic left her shaken. Something terrible had happened on that steep, stormy road, and Annie vowed not to let one more day pass before she found out exactly what it was.

  As she dressed for the day in crisp cotton pants and a soft aqua tee, Annie realized she was beginning to treat the dreams like some kind of revelation. She’d never believed that dreams were more than movies from your imagination, but these dreams certainly seemed to be showing her something that really happened.

  After a quick breakfast, Annie drove into town. This time she parked as close to the library as possible. She didn’t want to risk running into anyone who might distract her from her goal.

  The rain had left the air fresh, and the sky was a dazzling blue with only a few cottony puffs. A light breeze cooled Annie’s face as she closed the car door. It was a perfect Stony Point day with no sign of the storm that had made the night so frightening.

  “Annie!”

  “Oh no!” Annie whispered. I’m going to the library, she reminded herself as she turned around to face whomever had called out her name. It was Kate, waving from the sidewalk in front of The Cup & Saucer.

  “Hold on just a second,” Kate said. The breeze stirred her dark hair as she hurried across the street. When she reached Annie, she gave her a quick hug, turning her warm smile up to full wattage. “I wanted to thank you for getting Vanessa safely home!”

  “Oh, she told you?” Annie said.

  “I caught her dripping all the way to her room,” Kate said. “Vanessa never could lie, thank goodness. She told me about her adventure with Mackenzie at the lighthouse. And that you and Ian drove her home. Since she looked like she’d been involved in a near drowning, braving the lighthouse curse seemed a lot less terrible than my first guess.”

  “Ian will be disappointed that she’s off the hook,” Annie said. “He was hoping to get some community service out of her and Mackenzie.”

  “Oh, he still will. It was that or grounding,” Kate said. “Besides, I couldn’t be too mad at her … ” she looked both ways mysteriously and then whispered. “ … Harry and I snuck up there when we were teenagers. I was scared to death, but I think Harry liked the chance to be my brave hero. I’d feel like a hypocrite if I were too harsh. Though when I think about Vanessa being out on that narrow road in a storm … Anyway—I’m grateful to you and Ian for getting her home safely. Now, what were you doing up there in the middle of the night?”

  “Research for Jim Parker’s book on the lighthouse,” Annie said, “and probably proving Alice and I still haven’t grown up.”

  Kate laughed. “I think we should never have to grow up too much. Well, I need to dash. Mary Beth will be wondering where I am. Thanks again.”

  “No problem,” Annie said. “I’m glad to have helped.” She watched her friend dash back across the road and hurry up the sidewalk. For a moment, Annie just enjoyed the thought of how many friends she’d made in less than a year at Stony Point. Then she turned and crossed the sidewalk to the steps of the library.

  As always, she paused to look at the beautiful building. A brass plaque next to the door declared it had been built as a private home in the 1840s. Back home in Texas, it was rare to see truly old buildings. But in New England, many homes bore little plaques that gave the year they were built and listed who the first owners had been. Annie liked that feeling of living and walking through history every day.

  She strolled up the steps and ran a hand over one of the tall white columns. The feeling was so different from the rough lighthouse rock. History had texture, Annie knew. Some of it was bright and smooth, and some dark and rough. The history she was looking for today couldn’t help but be rough.

  Annie sighed and pushed open the multipaned glass door. Her sandals tapped lightly on the wood floor as she crossed the foyer, throwing a quick nod to the portrait of the library volunteer of the year.

  Sun streamed through the tall
windows in the Great Room, welcoming Annie to one of her favorite places. Then, she stopped for a moment and blinked. The library volunteer of the year—Josephine Booth—stood behind the circulation desk, sorting through a pile of books. Annie smiled. She was finally going to meet the mysterious Ms. Booth. She picked up her pace and headed straight for the desk; her research could wait a few minutes.

  The tall, older woman looked up at Annie as she approached and smiled slightly. Annie was struck by the sense of quiet surrounding the woman, as if she tried not to disturb the air around her too much. The woman’s hair was snowy white and styled in delicate waves away from her face.

  “Hello,” Annie said. “I’m Annie Dawson, and you’re Josephine Booth.” The older woman raised her eyebrows in mild surprise, and Annie added, “I’ve seen your volunteer picture so many times, I just had to introduce myself.”

  Ms. Booth nodded. “Annie Dawson. I’ve heard about you from Valerie and Grace. You’re always tracking down information about things from Grey Gables.”

  “It does feel like that sometimes,” Annie said. “Though today I’m on a mission for a friend, but I had to introduce myself first.”

  Ms. Booth nodded again. Her reserve wasn’t exactly cold, but Annie sensed she was someone who kept her distance from strangers. Annie wondered if she should just move on and stop bothering the woman, when Ms. Booth said, “You’re Judy Holden’s daughter?”

  Annie smiled in surprise. “Now, that’s a first. People usually ask if I’m Betsy Holden’s granddaughter. I guess there aren’t as many people in Stony Point who remember my mom. Did you know her?”

  “A bit,” the older woman said hesitantly. “I went to school with Judy a long time ago. She was actually a grade below mine. Didn’t I hear she married a missionary?”

  “Yes, she married George Spencer soon after he visited the church here,” Annie said. She looked at the quiet woman closely, wondering if Josephine Booth could possibly be the Jo from her mother’s journal. She was the first person Annie had met in Stony Point who remembered her mother, and her name just happened to be Josephine? Surely, it wasn’t a coincidence.

  “That’s nice,” Ms. Booth said vaguely, pulling Annie back to the conversation. “I hope they’re both well.”

  “They died,” Annie said softly. “Quite a few years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” the older woman said, and Annie was alarmed to see her face grow pale. She put a trembling hand to her cheek. “I’m afraid I didn’t keep up. I always pictured Judy off in some wild place, teaching and having her adventures.”

  “That’s all right,” Annie said gently. “Mom was doing what she loved most in the world. She caught tuberculosis in Africa, and she insisted on staying there and continuing the work. She couldn’t leave behind the people she’d come to love. My dad passed soon after Mom. He had a stroke, but I think he also had a broken heart. They were very close.” She looked closely at the tall woman who still seemed shaken. “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’ll be fine. I am a bit hypoglycemic, and I need to stop and have a snack soon,” Ms. Booth said, forcing a tight smile. “It was nice meeting you and hearing about your mother. As I said, I only knew her slightly.” The older woman turned her eyes back to the pile of books, effectively shutting Annie out.

  “Right, of course,” Annie answered, taking a step back from the counter. She felt a small flutter of disappointment. This stiff woman couldn’t possibly be the wild, passionate Jo from her mother’s journal. Annie murmured something vaguely polite and backed away from the desk to head for the Reference Room.

  She slipped through the archway and into the Reference Room. The reference books stood in neat rows on the shelves that lined one wall. The other wall was lined with computer stations. Since it was still early, the normally busy computers were mostly empty.

  As Annie walked by one woman staring intently at a screen, she peeked over her shoulder. The woman was looking intently at something called Facebook. During one of LeeAnn’s pitches about the value of joining the information age, Annie was certain Facebook had come up at some point.

  To Annie’s surprise, she recognized the only other computer user. It was Mackenzie slouching in the computer chair with a frown on her face.

  “Good morning, Mackenzie,” Annie said.

  The teenager sat up sharply. “Good morning, Mrs. Dawson.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t sleep in this morning after so much excitement last night.”

  Mackenzie sighed. “I’m making a list of the possible things Vanessa and I could volunteer for. I couldn’t use my laptop because Mom took it. She caught me last night, and now I’m grounded except for school and the library, and I still have to do the mayor’s service work.”

  Annie winced. “You might have fun working with Vanessa.”

  “If I do,” Mackenzie said glumly, “it’ll be the only fun I have for a long time.”

  Annie patted the girl on the shoulder as she turned back to her screen. She felt bad for Mackenzie, but when Annie thought back to her own teen escapades with Alice, she didn’t get away with much either. Sometimes Annie suspected Gram had some kind of magical power. It wasn’t until LeeAnn hit her teens that Annie realized she probably hadn’t been as sneaky as she thought she was. Usually Annie took one look at LeeAnn’s face and knew when her daughter was up to something.

  She headed for the bulky microfiche reader that sat close to the main stacks of the reference section. It looked ancient and hulking next to the streamlined computers, and Annie patted it gently. We old dinosaurs have to stick together, she thought fondly. Then she glanced down the stacks. Maybe she’d take just one more minute.

  She walked down the row of books to the back wall, and then slipped along the wall where a familiar piece of framed art called to her. It was one of Gram’s Betsy Original cross-stitch landscapes. This one featured Butler’s Lighthouse, but not as the scary source of ghost legends. In Gram’s cross-stitch seascape, the lighthouse stood soldier straight at the end of the point, its light bathing the picture in gold. The lighthouse looked like a guardian and protector, guiding ships to safety. Annie took a moment to absorb her grandmother’s bright optimism. All of the Betsy Originals that Annie had seen conveyed that same quality of hope and warmth.

  Annie knew that the edifice that inspired the cross-stitch scene had taken the life of a sailor aboard a fishing boat in a storm. Gram hadn’t focused on the loss, but on those saved. The lighthouse wasn’t a reminder of a killing storm, but a guardian that brought men safely home.

  “We have to stop meeting like this,” a cheery voice said behind Annie. She turned to face Grace’s sweet smile.

  “I just needed a reminder of Gram’s vision,” Annie said. “Sometimes it’s too easy to focus on the negative things in life and the unanswered questions. Gram always seemed to look for the light.”

  Grace nodded, her own face solemn for a moment, and Annie wondered if she had accidentally reminded the librarian of her grief over her deceased husband. But Grace turned to her with a smile, “Do you need any help today?”

  “No, I’m going through the newspaper microfiche again.”

  “Well, you’re certainly a pro at that. I should have you give lessons. Some of our patrons act like the old microfiche viewer might explode if they get too close,” Grace said. “Well, if you’re all set, I’m going to lend a hand in creating the toy display.”

  “Oh, really? I’ve been looking forward to seeing that.”

  “You’ll have to take a peek before you leave,” Grace said. “I’m going to get Josephine to help me as soon as Valerie gets back from her break. Josephine has a wonderful eye for composition. We get her to do all the displays.”

  “I’m looking forward to it,” Annie said. She took one last look at Gram’s beautiful cross-stitch, and then headed back to the microfiche reader. It was time to poke into the past again.

  She retrieved the newspaper microfiche for the oldest year her mom could pos
sibly have entertained thoughts of a cute boy and threaded it into the reader. She learned a tourist swore he’d seen a mermaid sunning herself on a rock in the harbor. This report was followed by a flurry of letters to the editor from fishermen talking about the mermaids they’d caught or nearly caught.

  She saw the high school had an unusually good year in sports. She learned that Town Hall got a new paint job. But she found nothing about an accident on the lighthouse road so she swapped the microfiche for the next one and then the next one.

  As always, dipping into the day-to-day history of Stony Point fascinated her, but this time she paused frequently to picture her mom as a young girl attending each community event. She knew her mother loved the beach from the words she’d read in her journal, but each page of The Point brought up a new question. Did her mother love parades? Did she find the loud boom of the fireworks a little unnerving, as Annie sometimes did? Did the National Anthem make her cry?

  Annie felt like she’d gotten the barest glimpse into her mother through the journal, and now she wanted to know so much more. She had questions on top of questions and no one to ask. She blinked back tears as she slipped another sheet of microfiche into the viewer. Then she froze, staring at the screen. She’d found it.

  A Stony Point girl has died from a fall from the cliffs bordering the access road to Butler’s Lighthouse.

  Chief Carson Edwards of the Stony Point police department reports that 11-year-old Jenny Matthews died of injuries sustained in the fall. Edwards says the child was walking on the road with two companions in the storm at about 8:30 p.m. He also reports the accident ties into the lighthouse legend that has caused that strip of road to be a popular spot among Stony Point teens.

  According to a Stony Point resident, who preferred not to be named, “The Butler’s Lighthouse legend states that a previous lighthouse keeper placed a curse on the children of Stony Point. Anyone who touches the lighthouse in a storm will be visited by ghosts.” For generations, this promise of ghosts has brought young people up the narrow road to prove their courage, to respond to a dare, or simply for a chance to see ghosts.