Secrets of Hallstead House

by Amy M. Reade

  “You can let go now. Why don’t you relax and enjoy the view? You won’t find scenery like this anywhere else in the world.”

  After that, I tried to take his advice. I loosened my grip on the seat and sat up straighter to look around. Luckily, he wasn’t going too fast and before long I found myself forgetting my fear somewhat and actually enjoying the trip. As we motored along, Pete talked amiably about the islands we were passing, ones he hadn’t mentioned on my first trip to Hallstead Island.

  “That one over there is called the Isle of Caprice. And that one on the port side is called Fuller’s Folly. The story goes that a Mr. Fuller, from New York City, bought the island in order to build a getaway home for his wife, but when she found out she hated the idea. She was a city person, through and through. He visited only once in a while after that and built a small fishing lodge on the island instead of a big, fancy home. He left the island to his children, who are apparently still alive and never set foot on it. I guess they got their love of the river from their mother.”

  I nodded and smiled absently.

  “That right up ahead is actually called Snake Island. No one really knows how it got its name, but the locals have some ideas. One story tells of a young girl who was a passenger on a boat that capsized nearby. It was getting dark and she couldn’t swim. She was found the next morning, perfectly fine, on the island. She swore that a huge snake had passed her in the water, encircled her with his tail, and pulled her to safety.”

  “If a snake had wrapped itself around me, I think I would have had a heart attack,” I noted.

  “Nobody knows how she made it to the island, so it is a little strange. Another tale is of an old man who was marooned there one summer night. He was rescued the next morning by a fisherman. When the old man got on the fisherman’s boat, he acted like a madman, screaming and ranting about the snakes slithering all over the island.” Pete shook his head. “Personally, I think someone made that story up to scare local kids off the island. If you look at Snake Island from the air, it’s thin and long and shaped vaguely like an ‘S.’ It looks like a snake; that’s probably why it’s called Snake Island.”

  I shivered. Wasn’t it enough that I had to be on a boat? Did I have to be subjected to stories about snakes, too?

  We were both silent for several minutes after that, looking around at the autumn river scenery. It was beautiful. The leaves were a rainbow of warm colors and the air was crisp and clear. The waves danced across the channel, their small whitecaps rising and then disappearing. Though the breeze on the boat was a little chilly, one could easily forget the cold and sit mesmerized by the idyllic surroundings.

  Before long, Pete pointed out Pine Island looming ahead of us. As its name suggested, the first things I noticed were the abundant pine trees. They were tall and slender and grew thickly, their stands parting every so often to allow boaters glimpses of the island’s stately homes, mostly Victorians. Many were white, but I also saw yellow, blue, pink, and even lavender homes. Most had quaint boathouses at the water’s edge.

  “Alex’s house is around the other side of the island, away from the channel,” Pete informed me. “There’s a lot less boat traffic over there. I thought I’d show you the rest of Pine Island first.”

  I thanked him and watched the attractive homes slip past. When we rounded the end of the island we were in a shady narrows between Pine Island and a smaller one that was just a stone’s throw away. Pete nodded toward the smaller island and said, “That’s Bella Island. Alex’s place is coming up.” I turned my attention back to Pine Island and saw a hunter-green boathouse about a hundred feet ahead. As we drew closer, I could see tan Victorian gingerbread on the boathouse. It looked dark, much like Summerplace and its matching boathouse, but it was charming. A long, narrow flight of steps led from the boathouse to the main house, which was perched high above the water on a hill of rock and scrub grass. I immediately recognized the stairs as a dangerous hazard for Alex and mentioned my concern to Pete.

  “Alex hasn’t used those stairs in a long time,” Pete replied. “When the household is on Pine Island, Alex has two cars that she uses if she has to go anywhere. Vali and Leland use the cars to run errands, too. So whenever Alex leaves the house, she goes out the front and never has to go up or down these stairs. And if she does want to go out in the boat for some reason, Vali or Leland drives her in the car to the public dock and I pick her up there in the boat. In fact, that’s how we’ll take her over when she closes up Summerplace this fall. I’ll take her to the dock and Vali or Leland will pick her up in her car. We make it as easy as we can for her. Besides that, going on a boat isn’t going to be an option too much longer on the river. We put the boats in storage over the winter.”

  When Pete had docked the boat, I finally took off my life jacket and placed it on my seat.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, grabbing two large wooden boxes from the floor of the boat.

  I grinned. “It was okay. I’m glad I wore it, even if it did make me look like a big orange marshmallow.” I picked up a small toolbox that Pete had placed on the dock and followed him up the stone steps, some of which were a little wobbly and unstable.

  “I’m going to have to shore up some of these steps,” he remarked as we climbed. “These are worse now than they were in the spring when Alex moved back to Hallstead Island.”

  I counted forty-two steps, turning this way and that up the hill and around boulders and trees. When we got to the top I was a little out of breath. Pete laughed good-naturedly. “Maybe you’ll want to use the car too, whenever Alex does.” I laughed with him and we continued walking to the front of the house.

  Solstice was a very pretty Victorian house. It had a wide double front door of dark oak with a large brass door knocker on each side. Pete took a huge key out of his coat pocket and inserted it into one of the locks. It turned hesitantly, making metallic scraping sounds. He grimaced and noted, “I’ll need to oil these locks, too. It looks like I’m going to have to start making a list of the projects I’ll have to get done before everyone moves here for the winter.”

  I was anxious to see the inside of the house. Pete opened the door and let me step in front of him into a small, rather dark foyer with several pieces of antique furniture. Pete told me he was going to the garage to start working on a couple of projects, and I started wandering around the rooms on the first floor. The first room I came to was a small but cozy and inviting living room decorated mostly in chocolate-brown leather furniture. On the walls, as in Summerplace, were drawings and paintings that appeared to all have been done by Alex. Next I came to a library, done in reds and browns and home to thousands of books.

  Besides the living room and the library, I found the dining room, the kitchen, a small formal parlor, and a large suite of two rooms that I supposed to be Alex’s office and bedroom. She didn’t appear to have her own sitting room in this house, so she probably used the living room when she wanted to relax. The rooms on the first floor contained many obstacles to Alex’s easy movement, and as I walked through the rooms I noted on a pad what I would need to do to make the house safe for her.

  After I had looked around downstairs, I took a look at the second-floor rooms, three bedrooms and a small sitting room. I took a peek in the bedrooms, one of which would be mine, and found that they were identical. The two extra bedrooms, I assumed, belonged to Will and Stephan.

  I didn’t bother to look around the third floor, since Alex had told me that those rooms belonged to Vali and Leland and Pete.

  I made my way back down to the first floor and started working in the living room. Several occasional tables had to be moved, and I eventually succeeded in moving one of the heavy sofas several inches as well. After rifling through some of the kitchen drawers to find tape, I secured all of the electrical cords that could potentially cause Alex any trouble. I needed double-sided tape to anchor the area rugs, but that would have to wait since I couldn’t find any in the house.

&nb
sp; I continued through each room downstairs, systematically removing any obstacles to Alex’s easy movement through her house. I didn’t move any furniture or items upstairs, since Alex probably would not go there very often. If she wanted to, I could move that furniture quickly at a later date.

  When I was finished I went in search of Pete. I found him in the garage, tapping on something with a small hammer. He looked up at me in surprise and glanced at his watch.

  “Are you done already?”

  “Yes. I was able to go through the rooms downstairs and finish what I needed to do.”

  “Good. I didn’t realize it was getting so late. We’ll have to be heading back before too long.” He turned his attention back to the machine he was tapping and gave it two more quick whacks.

  “There. That’s it for today. Are you hungry?”

  “I guess so,” I answered.

  “That’s good, because I’m starved. What do you say we grab a bite to eat at the only restaurant on this island and then hightail it back to Summerplace?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  After making sure all the doors were locked and the lights off, we made our way down the stairs to the boat. Going down was easier than going up.

  When we got in the boat, the first thing I did was don the life jacket. Pete chuckled. “We’re not going very far, you know. It’s just around the island.”

  “I know,” I admitted sheepishly. “I just feel better with it on, that’s all.”

  He steered the boat around Pine Island and put in at a small, rickety dock that looked like it hadn’t been painted in years.

  “This restaurant is our island version of the haute cuisine you’re probably used to in the big city.” He smirked.

  “I guess we’ll see if it measures up,” I replied good-naturedly.

  He looked at me out of the corner of his eye and grinned.

  I liked the restaurant immediately for its rustic interior. There were pine plank floors, and a big brass chandelier lit up the room. We sat down at one of the many vacant tables and looked at the menu, which was well used and stained.

  We both ordered the trout, which came with a cheesy polenta and squash. When the waitress disappeared with our orders, Pete looked at me intently and said, “So. Tell me what you really think of Summerplace and its inhabitants so far.”

  I thought about my answer before speaking up. “Well,” I began, “Alex is a wonderful lady. I hope that I can help her get to a point where she can walk without pain. I want her to be able to climb stairs and take a boat ride and do whatever else she wants to do. She certainly is determined to get back on track and heal herself.”

  I paused, and Pete said nothing. He raised his eyebrows, obviously waiting for me to continue. I looked outside at the scenery and thought again how beautiful these surroundings were. Just then, the waitress brought our food.

  “That was quick,” I observed.

  “They probably had some ready. We’re the beginning of the dinner crowd, if you can call it that. There will be a few people trickling in while we’re here. In the summer, this place is jam-packed. But I don’t believe you were done discussing Summerplace and its residents. And part-time residents.”

  “You don’t give up, do you?” I asked. “I wish Vali and Leland liked me better. They don’t seem to have gotten used to me being around.”

  “And they won’t,” Pete put in.

  “And as for Stephan and Will, I find Stephan to be a charming man and I find Will to be bored and dissatisfied with everything. He doesn’t act his age. They both seem to dote on Alex, though, which I think is wonderful. She needs that.”

  “Bored and dissatisfied, huh? I never thought about Will that way.” Pete was quiet for a moment. “But you’re right that they both dote on Alex. And you’re right that she needs that.”

  We ate the rest of our meal, which was delectable, in comfortable silence. We had to eat quickly because the sky was already starting to turn a pink-yellow color. It wouldn’t be long before the sun disappeared.

  When the check came, I tried to take it, but Pete was too quick for me. “You can pay next time.”

  We left hurriedly and got into the boat. Pete had already pulled away from the dock before I got my life jacket on, and the ride back was much quicker than the ride to Pine Island earlier in the day. In a way I was almost disappointed, despite my apprehension over being in the boat. I would have liked talking with Pete a little longer. He seemed pretty down-to-earth, and, despite our rocky start, he was the closest thing to a friend that I had around.

  When I got back to Summerplace, I went in to check on Alex. I found her slowly pacing the floor of her office. She had been unable to work all afternoon, she told me. She was just as agitated as she had been when I had left her earlier, and my heart ached for her. Losing her child must have been an unbearable experience, and it was no wonder she was upset on the anniversary of her daughter’s death.

  I went to the kitchen and made her a mug of warm milk with cinnamon and nutmeg to flavor it a bit. Back in her sitting room, where Leland had built a fire, she had taken off her shoes, and I massaged her feet and lower legs while she drank the milk. She also took a mild sedative that the doctor had left for her, and we talked, mostly about Diana. Alex seemed to need to talk about her daughter, and she was happy to have a willing and interested listener. She told me stories of Diana’s childhood and of her somewhat wilder and rebellious teen years. I got a glimpse of what it must have been like for Diana to grow up in a very affluent household where the parents had lots of love but not much time to give their child. I came away from the conversation feeling rather sorry for the girl, who had obviously tried so hard to get her parents’ attention.

  After a while Alex began to get sleepy. I helped her into bed, knowing that she would sleep soundly through the night.

  I wish I had. But I wasn’t to sleep again for a while.

  CHAPTER 9

  The familiar nightmare came again just a few hours later, with its terrifying sounds and lights and images. I woke up with tears streaming down my cheeks, my pajamas clinging to me with cold sweat. I could take little comfort in the lessening frequency of the dream, because when I finally fell into a fitful sleep, I had yet another nightmare. In this one, I was caught in a swirling eddy of water, reaching out wildly to a hand that I couldn’t quite grasp as the water closed over my head again and again. I woke up this time gasping for breath, my heart pounding violently.

  I didn’t sleep the rest of the night and got up in the morning feeling groggy and cross. I also had a throbbing headache.

  I made myself a cup of coffee and sat down at the dining room table, grateful to be alone. But my solitude didn’t last, as after several minutes, Stephan came in, to my surprise. He explained that he had come back from New York very early that morning and Pete had picked him up in Cape Cartier.

  Then I went to look in on Alex. I found her standing in her office holding a sheaf of papers, still as agitated as she had been the evening before. I was a little startled to see her in a velour exercise suit with her hair up in a braid, since she was always coiffed and dressed in business attire by the time I got to her rooms in the morning. She was pale.

  “Alex, are you all right?” I asked with concern.

  “I don’t know, Macy,” she replied shakily. “Here.”

  She thrust the papers at me and I looked at her, bewildered. “What do you want me to do with these?”

  “Read them.”

  I looked at her warily as I opened the top folder. What help could I possibly be with the work that she did?

  I leafed quickly through the first several pages, not understanding what I was reading. I was becoming confused, and my headache combined with the lack of sleep was beginning to make me a little irritated.

  “This looks like a copy of a birth certificate. For a baby named Lily. Who’s Lily?”

  Alex said nothing, and I read on.

  That’s when I saw it.

&nb
sp; Mother’s name: Diana Hallstead.

  “Diana had a baby.” It came out of my mouth as more of a statement than a question.

  Alex nodded.

  “How old was she when the baby was born?”

  “Fifteen.”

  “What happened to the baby?”

  “She was given up for adoption.”

  I kept reading, but there wasn’t much I understood. There were copies of tests that had been taken at the time of the baby’s birth, showing that everything was normal. There were short notes from Diana to her mother, written, it appeared, during the several months leading up to the birth of the baby.

  “Weren’t you with Diana when she was pregnant?” I asked.

  “No. She went to stay with family in Canada.”

  “Why didn’t she stay here?”

  “I didn’t want a pregnant teenager in my home,” Alex answered simply.

  Then there were other pages of correspondence and legalese between an attorney and the Hallstead family.

  I almost missed what I was supposed to see. I had quickly scanned one page and turned to the next one when I saw a name I recognized out of the corner of my eye. I flipped back nervously and sent papers scattering to the floor. I focused in like a laser on the sheet I had been reading and snatched it up, leaving the rest of the papers jumbled on the floor. This time I examined the words more carefully, and suddenly I understood. It felt like someone had punched me in the gut.

  Child’s adoptive parents: Fred and Marianne Stoddard. My parents.

  Slowly I looked up at Alex. She was staring at me with a pallid face and thin white lips. She swallowed hard and I heard her grind her teeth.

  “What is this?” I heard myself say.

  “Macy, dear, I—”

  “Please don’t call me dear,” I interrupted her.

  “Macy, I’m sorry. I needed you to know. I need to explain everything to you.”

  “Don’t explain anything. Don’t say a word. Just leave me alone.” I gathered up the papers I had dropped and put them under my arm. Then I turned on my heel and walked out without looking at her again.