Epilogue
Stillwell was sold for $20.2 million, an astounding price, considering its reputation. It was lovingly refurbished to all its former glory. Parties, once again, graced its halls and grounds and the Stillwell wishing well was filled with many shiny new coins with happy wishes. Paul never saw Craig or Melissa Andrews again. He heard they sold their house with another agent and divorced shortly after that. Molly continued to be his partner but took another job in the evenings as an assistant to Georgia Oaken. The ghosts of Hannah and John were never seen again.
Paul kept the diary. He felt as though it was a part of him. His house had become peaceful, the ache in his heart healed. He knew now that he felt her love and that though he couldn’t see her, she surrounded him, enjoying his small victories at survival.
The summer day dawned bright and clear. They had packed a picnic basket and were planning a day at the shore. The car was filled with happy children, as well as a couple of guests. Ellie Marcus and her son had started joining them more and more as they ventured out in the summer.
He pulled into the gravel driveway of St John’s Church. It was high on a hill overlooking a beautiful pond that surrounded it like a green bowl.
“What are we doing here?” Jesse grumbled. “It’s not Sunday and this is not our church.”
“You’re right. I have to look something up.” He held out a bag of old bread. “Go feed the ducks in the pond around back.” Jesse grabbed the bag, but Paul held it just out of his reach. “No pushing, or shoving, and you two,” he said and looked at Jesse and his older twin, “watch the younger ones by the water.”
“Gotcha.” Jesse grabbed the bag, shouting, “Wait until you see how they all fight over the bread.”
The kids scrambled out of the car.
“A church, Paul?” Ellie looked up at him, her eyes bright. They had just started sleeping together. She twined her fingers through his. Ellie waited patiently for him, investing time, listening until one day he noticed her, really noticed her. It was a sweet courtship, and while Ellie knew his first love was Allison, she was more than willing to be his second. He had a rare well of deep commitment that made everything worthwhile. There seemed to be room in the universe for second chances and for that Ellie was grateful.
“I’ve been meaning to check this out.” She followed him into the dark interior of the three-hundred-year-old church. Tombs of the longtime residents of the town lined the walls. He stood in front of the Andrewses’ pew and walked around it to come to a tomb against the wall. It was Hannah’s grave. Elaborate, it was decorated by a guilty father perhaps. He touched her name gently and was momentarily startled when somebody behind him cleared his throat.
“You’re interested in Hannah Andrews?” the rector asked.
“My wife’s family is related.”
“He married her here, you know,” the clergyman announced.
“What?” Ellie gasped. “Hannah Andrews was married?”
“Follow me.” The rector took them into the back room where rows of leather-bound books lined the walls. They heard the children’s giggles though the walls and smiled.
The rector’s fingers danced down the rows of books and rested on a cracked column. “Aha, let me see...” He opened it and scanned the pages. “Here it is.” He pointed an ink-stained finger at two names and a date. “‘Hannah Andrews married John Wendover,’ secretly, I may add,” he said and looked up at them conspiratorially, “‘on September 25, 1777.’ Here is John’s death. He was hung, as a traitor October first. She threw herself into the well, October second.”
“They said her lover threw her into the well, because he couldn’t have her.”
The rector shook his head. “Her father told everyone that, because as a suicide, she would not have been allowed to be buried.”
Paul continued, “On hallowed ground. Church rules. People who kill themselves can’t be buried on church land. Do you know where John is?”
“However rich and powerful Geoffrey Andrews was, he was no match for the Wendovers. John Wendover has been in the tomb with her for years.”
Paul reached into his pocket and pulled out Hannah’s ring. In his other pocket, he had her diary. Handing it to the clergyman, he said, “I think these belong here.”
The rector smiled and took the objects. “I believe they’ve been waiting for them.” He placed them on the top of the tomb.
The wind sighed through the church, raising goose bumps. The sun peeked through the stained glass windows, leaving their faces filled with wonder.
Author’s Note
Long Island was mostly pro-England or Loyalist during the Revolutionary War. After the Battle of Brooklyn, troops were quartered and stayed throughout most of the conflict. Historical plaques dot the island, naming places that became famous for housing high-ranking people involved in the war.
Stillwell Manor is a figment of my imagination as is the library, and many of the streets mentioned in the book.
St. John’s Church is a beautiful white clapboard church in Cold Spring Harbor on Long Island. It sits atop a hill as described and has many tombs from the locals from the 1800s.
While the island stayed loyal to King George, the Townsend family of Oyster Bay became patriotic. Though their home, Raynham House, served as headquarters for the British army, the family remained ardent rebels. It is rumored that Lt. Col. John Graves Simcoe fell madly in love with the daughter of the house, Sally Townsend. In fact, the first known Valentine in America was found among her effects when she died a spinster at eighty-two.
It was also reported that Sally intercepted a message from Major John Andre regarding Benedict Arnold’s surrender of West Point. Through her brother, they managed to get the message to General George Washington, causing Andre’s capture. It is said that both the ghosts of Sally Townsend, as well as John Andre, haunt the house. But that’s another story.
Another note about psychics. While Georgia Oaken is not a real person, the “session” is based on one I recently attended. Though the names and circumstances were different, the session ran similarly and was an enlightening experience.
About the Author
Born and raised on Long Island, Michael has always had a fascination with horror writing and ghostly tales. He earned a degree in English and an MBA, and he has worked various jobs before settling into being a full-time author. He currently resides on Long Island with his wife and children. Stillwell is his second novel.
[email protected]
Stillwell: A Haunting on Long Island Page 14
