The Legend of Fuller’s Island

by Jan Fields

  “I see I still didn’t beat Stella,” Annie answered, smiling and nodding toward the elderly woman in the smart blue suit. Stella Brickson nodded back with the silent dignity of a queen bestowing favor. Then she bent her white-haired head back over her knitting.

  “I barely beat Stella here on Tuesdays,” Mary Beth answered.

  Annie looked around the bright, cozy shop. “Where’s Kate?”

  Kate Stevens was Mary Beth Brock’s assistant and one of the most talented crochet designers Annie had ever seen. She’d even won a prestigious design competition with one of her lovely dresses.

  “She came in this morning looking like a ghost, and I sent her home,” Mary Beth said. “Apparently she ate some questionable seafood over the weekend and spent all day yesterday ill.”

  Annie winced. “Poor thing. Does she need someone to pick up Vanessa from school or get her anything?”

  “No, I checked,” Mary Beth said.

  Annie nodded. Mary Beth could be a bit of a mother hen, so Annie was sure she had things well in hand. As Annie turned toward the circle of overstuffed chairs to join Stella, she heard the tinkle of the bell behind her.

  Gwendolyn Palmer and Peggy Carson walked in together. They were an interesting study in contrasts. Peggy had the exuberance of youth, was full-figured, and had shiny black hair. Gwen wore her pale blond hair short and was the perfect image of a handsome woman of means. Peggy’s pink uniform from The Cup & Saucer was slightly rumpled from a busy morning shift, while Gwen’s soft wool suit and matching silver sweater hung on her thin frame perfectly. Their sparkling eyes and bright smiles were definitely something they shared as they greeted everyone; there was no class warfare when it came to the Hook and Needle Club.

  Mary Beth explained again about Kate as everyone took a seat. Annie kept glancing toward the door, hoping to see Alice. She tried to tell herself firmly that her curious nature was constantly getting her in trouble, and that she should rein it in—but then her eyes would dart to the door again.

  “What’s keeping Alice?” Gwen asked, noticing Annie’s distraction.

  “I’m not sure,” Annie said.

  Peggy giggled. “I have an idea. I saw her and Jim Parker in the diner for breakfast. He always reminds me of a pirate. Maybe he’s whisked her away for an adventure.”

  Stella looked up from her knitting with a sniff. “He looks untidy with that scruffy beard.”

  “Pirates generally do look untidy,” Gwen said. “It’s part of the appeal.”

  “I’m surprised you like that sort of thing,” Stella responded. “Your John always looks so neat.”

  “Not always,” Gwen said with a small smile. Then she turned her attention very intently to her own knitting to discourage possible questions on that subject.

  “What about you, Annie?” Peggy asked, her voice teasing. “Do you like the pirate type or someone who’s tidy?”

  “I just like that Jim makes Alice happy,” Annie said. She hoped to divert a storm of Ian-related teasing since she suspected it was on the horizon.

  “He does seem to do that,” Stella grudgingly agreed.

  At that, the bell over the door tinkled again and every eye turned as Alice rushed into the shop. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “I was tied up.”

  “See?” Peggy whispered loudly. “Pirate! Arr!”

  All the women laughed. Alice put her hands on her hips and looked at the group with a mock frown. “Did I miss something?”

  “Peggy was telling us that Jim Parker is in town,” Mary Beth said.

  Alice nodded and took a seat with the rest of the club. “He may not be much longer. He’s trying to track down a family from South Carolina so he can get permission to shoot photos on their island.”

  “Oh?” Annie said. “So he read the book?”

  “What book?” Peggy asked.

  Annie explained about the book she’d found in the attic of Grey Gables and Jim’s interest in it. “I do hope it’ll prove to be a good lead for him.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” Alice said. “I’m on computer search duty, and I was hoping we could do it together. Between the two of us, we make about one experienced Web surfer.”

  “I don’t mind trying,” Annie said.

  “A trip to South Carolina would be wonderful,” Mary Beth said. “It would certainly be much cooler to go south this time of year than when we made the road trip for the needlework convention in Texas.”

  “I’ve been to Charleston in the fall,” Annie said. “It’s lovely. I don’t know how far away the island is from there though.”

  “I don’t know either, but I might find out firsthand,” Alice said, blushing slightly. “Jim asked me to go along if this lead pans out.”

  “Oh?” Mary Beth said, her voice rising. “What happened to your being so busy with Divine Décor parties that you couldn’t make it to the needlework convention with us? Hmm?”

  Alice grew a bit pinker, but she just laughed at the teasing. “Things tend to slow down a little in September and October, then go crazy with the Christmas buying rush in November. I think I can squeeze in a little trip.”

  “Right,” Peggy said. “It has nothing to do with getting to spend time with a handsome pirate.”

  Alice laughed. “Pirate? Hardly. He gets seasick.”

  Peggy shrugged. “OK. If not a pirate, maybe an adventurer like Indiana Jones.”

  “That I can agree with,” Alice said. Then she clapped her hands. “So can we move on from talking about my love life? Any big projects for the club?”

  “Well, since you mentioned it,” Mary Beth said, “the little needlework group at the Seaside Hills Assisted Living facility asked me about taking part in a gift drive for the families who lost homes during the tornado season last spring. They want to do slippers, warm hats, scarves, afghans—things like that. I promised I would ask everyone.”

  “What would be the target date for sending the things in?” Stella asked.

  “Mid-November,” Mary Beth said.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Annie said. “I can’t imagine losing everything to something so unpredictable and uncontrollable.”

  “I’m in,” Peggy said. “I have a cute pattern for quilted boot slippers. I was going to make a pair for Emily for Christmas.”

  “Let me guess,” Alice said. “Purple ones, right?”

  Peggy laughed. “Is there any other color?”

  “I’m in too,” Gwen said. “I could do several warm hats by that deadline.”

  “And I’ll be happy to join in,” Stella added. “I would like to do mittens.”

  “I’ll try a scarf,” Alice said. “It’ll let me practice my fairly weak attempts at crochet.”

  “Then we’re all agreed?” Mary Beth said. At the nods, she added. “I’ll call Joan McTavish, and she can pass the word to the other ladies.”

  The women continued to chat about needlework for a while longer before Peggy yelped and announced she had to run back to the diner. “Time always flies at our meetings!” she moaned as she gathered up her things.

  As always, that was the signal for everyone to begin putting away supplies and stuffing projects back into bags. Annie saw Gwen carry a piece of knitting over to Stella, and the two women peered at the stitches together. Both women were master knitters, and Annie always enjoyed seeing their intricate work.

  Annie folded her own half-done afghan carefully and slipped it back in the bag. She thought she’d contribute it to the tornado victims once it was done and maybe crochet a few hats to go with it. Simple ribbed winter hats were quick to make.

  “Do you want to join me for lunch at The Cup & Saucer and then hit the computer?” Alice asked.

  Annie turned and smiled. “I heard you’d already been to the diner once today.”

  Alice nodded. “True, and so normally I would suggest Maplehurst Inn, but since the diner is so close to the library … .”

  “Peggy will tease you,” Annie warned.

&
nbsp; “I’ll be brave.”

  They said their goodbyes to the others and headed out. Annie shivered at the slight chill in the breeze and pulled her cardigan closer around her. “The sunshine fooled me this morning,” she said. “I wish now that I’d worn a jacket.”

  “That’s one thing driving a convertible does for me,” Alice said. “I always dress a little more warmly because I know I’m going to feel some wind.”

  “It also means you have the most extensive collection of scarves of anyone I know,” Annie said.

  “That’s me, the fashionista,” Alice said with a laugh.

  Thankfully, the walk to the diner was short, and soon the slightly moist warmth of the diner engulfed Annie. She sighed with the combined pleasure of the warmth and the delicious aroma coming from the kitchen.

  “Wow, you do love our food,” Peggy said to Alice as she met them at the door. “Are you two joining Jim?”

  “Jim’s still here?” Alice said in surprise.

  Peggy nodded across the room where Jim sat at a corner booth with a cellphone to his ear. “I think the diner is his new office.”

  “He looks busy,” Annie said.

  “We’ll have our own table,” Alice agreed, and then she smiled mischievously. “Just make it a table near his.”

  “You got it,” Peggy said, leading them across the room. “Do you need menus? The corn chowder is yummy today.”

  “I’ll just have that,” Annie said. “With coffee.”

  “Same for me.”

  They sat down without Jim even glancing in their direction.

  “I didn’t even ask. Are you OK with doing the research at the library? I could bring my laptop over to your house, and we could work at the table in the kitchen if you’d rather,” Alice said. “The computers are faster at the library, however, and Jim says he needs to do a little cleanup on my laptop.”

  “You have a virus?” Annie asked in alarm.

  Alice shrugged. “I’m not sure. It isn’t threatening me with doom or shutting down. Honestly, I know how to make the computer do what I need, but I’m not all that technologically savvy. I just know Jim was tsk-tsking over it.”

  Annie nodded. “Herb made those kinds of noises over mine when they were here.” Actually her daughter LeeAnn’s husband had just sat and shook his head as he fixed a problem she was having with her email. Annie had the sinking feeling that her grandchildren were going to be a lot more technologically gifted than she was.

  Alice snuck a glance over at Jim at almost the same moment he ended his call and looked up. The smile that spread over his face was like watching the sun rise.

  “Ah, the two most beautiful ladies in Stony Point,” he said. “Are you two going to join me?”

  “We didn’t want to intrude on your work,” Annie said.

  “You’re not intruding,” Jim said as the women got up and joined him in the booth. He scooted over to allow Alice to sit beside him, while Annie took the seat on the other side of the table. “You’re cheering me up. I still haven’t tracked down any of the Fuller family, but I did call the historical society in the closest mainland town—Preacher’s Reach. They had a little information on the Fullers.”

  “Well, that’s good,” Alice said. “Anything juicy?”

  “Apparently Steven Fuller, the man who wrote the family history, returned to the island not long after that book was published. He was some kind of doctor and opened a private hospital on the island.”

  “That sounds interesting,” Annie said.

  “Especially since no one knew what kind of hospital,” Jim said. “Apparently the general gossip was that it was a lunatic asylum for the wealthy.”

  “And what happened to it?” Alice asked.

  “The woman at the historical society had a newspaper clip. The hospital closed when Steven Fuller disappeared after one of the patients was killed in a wild animal attack on the island.”

  “The dogs again?” Annie asked.

  Jim took a sip of his coffee. “The clipping didn’t say. But the woman did have one more interesting clipping. Steven Fuller had one child, a daughter, and the clipping was of her wedding to a man named Maynard Cole. So, we might need to track the family through that line.”

  Annie pulled a notebook out of her project bag and wrote down the name. Then she slipped the notebook into her cardigan pocket as Peggy arrived with the soup. The smooth, creamy soup was full of soft potatoes, corn, and bacon. Annie’s attention was totally caught up in the haze of the delicious soup for a while.

  “So now, you might be taking pictures of a spooky house that was also an asylum,” Alice said after sipping her soup. “Did the historical society have anything else on the ghost stories of the island?”

  “She emphatically told me there was no ghost activity on the island. She used those words, ‘ghost activity.’” Jim shook his head. “You never know what you’re going to run into with historical societies. Sometimes they love to tell stories and gossip. Sometimes they’re completely closed-mouthed about anything they can’t document and fiercely protective about the reputation of local people. I suspect the society at Preacher’s Reach is more the latter kind.”

  “Hopefully, we’ll have better luck with the Internet,” Alice said. “What will you do while we’re surfing the Web?”

  “I need to talk to my publisher,” he said. “Even if this island is perfect, and we get permission, I’m still going to have to push back my deadline a little.” He sighed. “This will be the first deadline I’ve ever missed. On the other hand, since it’s the first extension I’ve ever needed, my publisher should agree to it.”

  “They’ll be thrilled when they get the finished product,” Alice said. “Especially if you wrap it up with a really spooky location.”

  Suddenly Annie felt an icy chill. She shivered and pulled her sweater closer, looking around for where the draft might have come from. Not seeing anything, she turned her attention back to her soup, shaking off the nagging fear that it was some kind of premonition. She didn’t believe in witches, ghost dogs, and that sort of thing, but some of her thoughts of foreboding had been right several times in the past.

  Still, she was sure there was nothing to worry about.

  3

  In front of strangers, every member of my family said the same thing: wild boar. No one wanted to be connected with a mad story of curses and demon hounds. As a boy, I was a true believer in the hounds. The death of my great-grandfather had come at the time of my greatest weakness—a time when imagination was far more interesting than reality. I’m no longer a little boy, but a man and a scientist. I no longer peek under my bed or worry about the partially open door to my closet. Though, if honest, I would admit that the lonely howl of a hound in the night still makes me shiver.

  —Steven Fuller, 1925

  After lunch, Annie and Alice headed to the library. The beautiful Greek Revival–style building never failed to impress Annie. The library she always used back in Brookfield, Texas, was sprawling, squat, and modern. Annie liked the feeling of history the Stony Point Public Library projected, with its bright white siding, black shutters, and columns.

  Main Street in Stony Point was rarely noisy, but it was almost hushed as Alice and Annie stepped through the multipaned glass door leading to the library foyer. The softening of sound always made Annie feel like she was stepping into a different world.

  That sense of otherworldliness was broken as soon as they approached the circulation desk. Valerie Duffy, wearing a fall jacket decorated with pumpkins and black cats, greeted them with a smile. “Whenever I see you two together, I wonder what kind of mystery is afoot,” she said.

  “This is less mystery and more research project,” Alice said. “Annie and I are going to play dueling computers.”

  “You picked a good time,” Valerie said, coming around the desk to lead them toward the computer area. “After school lets out, the computers tend to be very busy.”

  “Then we’ll have to hurry,” Annie
said, glancing down at her watch.

  Valerie held out the clipboard with the sign-up sheets. “Since it’s quiet, you can go ahead and sign up for two hours, if you want. We still have one more open computer if anyone comes in.”

  Annie sat in the worn wooden chair in front of the computer station. She scooted the mouse, and the screen in front of her snapped quickly from the screensaver to the search engine. She slipped the notebook out of her pocket and typed in “Steven Fuller” and “Preacher’s Reach.”

  The combination produced two links, and both were a bit eccentric. The first connected to a Web page on a site for paranormal researchers in South Carolina. The other connected to a site about “Adventuring” in the South. Annie clicked on that link first and quickly learned “adventuring” was apparently a euphemism for trespassing on private property.

  The text below the video window said two anonymous adventurers had rowed out to Fuller’s Island at night to make a film for their website. Annie clicked on the video link. At first, she thought there must be something wrong since the little box remained dark. Then she realized it was simply the result of filming at night.

  She picked up the headphones that were next to the computer and put them on. She could hear a young woman’s breathless whispering along with the sound of a boat scraping across the sand. “I’m sure the canoe is out of sight here,” the young woman said. “We don’t dare turn on flashlights until we’re out of sight of shore.”

  “Come on,” a male voice urged.

  The screen was still dark. Annie heard brush crashing and the sound of breathing. She shook her head, amused, as the black screen remained, and she just heard more breathing and crashing. Finally she heard a larger crash and muffled swearing from the man. “That’s it!” he said. “Turn on the light!”

  A light flashed on, illuminating the face of a thin young man in his mid-twenties sprawled on the ground. He quickly swung up his arm in front of his face. “Not in my eyes,” he grumbled. “Now I really can’t see.”

  “Sorry,” the woman said.

  The light swung quickly away from the young man, and Annie could see overgrown brush faintly lit by the flashlight. “Which way to the house?” the woman asked, swinging the camera back toward the man.