Etched (5 page)

Chapter 8

She returned to the house and put her laptop on the kitchen table before putting on a heavier coat and running toward the barn.  She didn’t know what specifically to do about the storm coming and the sheep but she figured she would put down more hay
and make sure the gate was securely locked.  She was amazed at the speed at which the storm rolled across the water.  When the first round of thunder cracked in the sky behind her, she flinched and covered her head. 

“Stay dry guys,” she said to the sheep
before dashing towards the house.

Once inside she shed her wet coat and hung it on the hook by the front door
before putting the kettle on the stove. Daunted once again by the thought of starting a fire, she returned to the living room and knelt before the embers.  “Here goes nothing.”  She struck the match against the box and watched it glow orange with a flame.  She eased it toward the wood, her hands shaking nervously.  “Come on,” she pleaded as if the powers that be could help ignite the flame.  She managed to light some kindling which produced a very minor flame, “Well, it’s better than nothing.  Maybe it will grow.”

A deafening
crack of thunder seemed to shake the very foundation of the small cottage as the whistling tea kettle pierced the air.  Susanna was nervous about the impending storm, never having been fond of them as a child, and she literally sat and cringed each time the thunder cracked in the sky.  As she stirred her tea she looked towards her purse and instantly thought about her bottle of Xanex hidden away.  She always took it with her when she traveled because she had a problem with small planes.  Maybe one tonight wouldn’t hurt.  Just one.  She popped open the bottle and downed one of the small white pills as she stared at her reflection in the glass of the front door.  She would have to make do.  There was no boat, no way to escape the island.  She was literally a prisoner there until Bill came to retrieve her.  Once she regained some courage, she rose and rinsed out her cup in the sink.  The thunder was still roaring outside when she went into the bathroom to change out of her damp clothes.  Her thick socks and the clothes she wore last night were hanging on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. She put them on and then donned a long thick sweater to fight off the cold.  As she entered the bedroom with her folded jeans she noticed a book on the nightstand beside the bed. 
Had that always been there? 
She dropped the jeans on the bed and reached for the book. 
Sea Swept:
 
The History of the Cape Elizabeth Lighthouse. 
The elusive book that she had searched for had now suddenly appeared on the nightstand.  She tapped her fingers against the worn hard-backed book and looked around the room. 
Maybe it had been there all along and she hadn’t seen it?
  There was a possibility that it was true.  After all, she’d not slept in the bedroom, only in the living room before the fire.  Tucking the book under her arm, she returned to the living room and sat before the faint fire.  “Wow, I suck at this,” she said with a laugh as she stared at the almost nonexistent flames. 

Feeling a little guilty, she plugged the heater in and moved it as close as she could towards her blankets on the floor.  After settling in, she opened the book and scanned the chapters.  There were sections on the town founders, the materials used to build the lighthouse and all the trials and tribulations that went into the construction
.  Chapter 5 – The Keepers of Cape Elizabeth.
  Sounded like a good place to start.  She flipped it open to page 89 and began to scan over the names and ages on the page.  She chuckled to herself noting that a lighthouse keeper must be an older man’s work since no one under the age of 60 had ever taken the job.  As she scanned the names, one in particular caught her attention.  Donnell Bailey.  Bailey was a common name but she couldn’t help but wonder if there was any relation to Bill and Emma.  She made a mental note to ask the next time she spoke with her. That would certainly be an interesting point to note in her article. 

The wind howled outside and
Susanna jumped up to flip on the light and look out towards the barn.  The tin roof of the old barn was waving up and down, barely hanging on through the storm.  She prayed that all the sheep were safe and sound under the barn and out of the horrific weather. 
What if the island lost power?
  She dreaded the thought of being trapped on the island with no lights and then she remembered the lanterns and candles in the storage closet.  She went to retrieve them and set them close to the fireplace just in case.  She also grabbed a flashlight and checked the batteries before settling back down on her makeshift bed and reaching for the book.  Randomly flipping it open, she looked down at chapter 15. 
A Death Defying Rescue at Sea
.  She began to read the short story of a small vessel carrying supplies and a few passengers off the coast of Maine in 1909.  The vessel ran into a terrible winter storm which pushed it out to sea for days before turning it back towards land where it was left disabled by some rock formations off the coast.  The captain was gravely injured, their supplies were diminished and the people on board were freezing.  The passengers consisted of two brothers, Liam and Kane O’Reilly and Liam’s fiancé Rayna.  Rayna was becoming more and more ill as the boat began to take on water.  Liam was unwilling to leave her and therefore the younger brother, Kane offered to try and get help.  Liam pleaded with his brother not to venture out but Kane knew it was their only option.  The brothers could make out the lights of the Cape Elizabeth Lighthouse in the distance and knew that if somehow one of them could make it to shore they would be saved.  Kane O’Reilly set out in the frigid water, fighting his way towards shore.  Once there, although injured and freezing, he managed to scale the large rocks surrounding the island and walk a mile to the lighthouse to alert the keeper, Joseph Stroud.  Stroud immediately set out in the storm to rescue the remaining passengers.  He did make it to them in a small skiff where he began a rescue.  As the storm worsened, Stroud was thrown overboard by the storm and drowned in the waters off the coast. 

“But what happened to the other brother?”
Susanna whispered, turning the page.

Her hand flew to her mouth
when she saw the picture on the page before her. 

“No, no, no …” she stammered
in disbelief as she studied it, “It’s not possible.”

Susanna was staring down at a black and white picture of Kane O’Reilly, and she knew, without a doubt, he was the man from the window.  In her dream his face was not as clear but as she
stared into the picture, it was unmistakable.  She couldn’t tear her eyes away from it.  Running her fingers over his face she thought,
how is this possible?
  Her heart was pounding as she forced herself to focus on the words below the picture.  Completely transfixed, she read them aloud, “Joseph Stroud was never able to tell anyone that Kane made it to the lighthouse with news of his brother and Rayna.  When Stroud died in the icy water that night, so did the knowledge that a gravely injured Kane was alone at Cape Elizabeth with no way to summon help.  It took days for the storm to subside but as soon as it did, Liam set out towards the lighthouse in search of his brother but it was too late.  Kane had succumbed to his injuries alone at Cape Elizabeth Lighthouse never knowing that his brother and Rayna had made it safely to shore.”

Tears stung her eyes as she read the words, “Oh my God, how horrible,” she cried. 
She reached for her phone to dial Emma’s number. The time flashed in front of her:  11:11pm. 
I can’t call her this late! 
She slammed the book closed and rose from the floor.  Once she stood she was a little dizzy and she chalked it up to the anxiety pill she had taken earlier. 

She paced around the small room
and whispered to herself, tugging her sweater tightly around her, “It has to be someone else.  It couldn’t have been him at the window,” she tried in vain to reason with herself.  Maybe it just looks like him, a
lot
like him.  She returned to the living room and stared down at the closed book, nervously chewing her lip. 

“She’s right
.  Michelle’s right … I’m going crazy without people,” Susanna said, “I haven’t even made it two days and I’m already losing my mind!”  Lightning flashed in the sky and lit up the small kitchen just before the deafening sound of thunder cracked above her.  Susanna cowered instantly and covered her ears. 

“I can’t believe I agreed to this!” she cried out in panic. 

Suddenly a very distinct and repetitive noise clattered in the distance.  It sounded like the slamming of a door or shutter.  She went to all the windows in the living room and bedroom and found all the shutters tight and secure. 
Where was it coming from? 
She opened the front door which was barely protected from the storm, the rain cutting sideways and battering her face.  The noise was louder and clearer from there and she looked up towards the tower. 
It’s coming from up there.
  The storm must have blown a door open.  She retreated back into the house and went towards the storage room and around the corner.  Remembering her flashlight she ran back to the living room and retrieved it before returning to the closed door of the tower.  Opening it, she shined her light inside and was greeted by the winding black iron stairs of the tower.  She could scarcely make out the door upstairs but could see it banging in the wind where it had come ajar.  A wave of apprehension swept over as she judged the distance to the top of the tower.  Summoning her courage, she shined the light up the stairs and began her trek into the dark abyss.  She was now cursing the fact she had indulged herself and taken a valium which made the spiral stairs that much more daunting.  Normally, she imagined she could have sprinted to the top without a problem, but tonight she was having some difficulty.  The banging of the door was getting louder and more ominous as she approached the top of the tower. 

“God Susanna, don’t look down,” she said, her voice echoing through the concrete walls.  The closer she got to the top, the iron steps
became more and more slippery from the rain pouring in whenever the door was blown open.  She was shoeless, her thick wool socks now soaked through, “Another excellent decision,” she whispered.  She was close to the top, the wind and rain now pelting her as she fought her way up the stairs in the freezing cold.  As she carefully took another step, Susanna slipped on the cold, icy iron and immediately panicked and grabbed at the rail beside her.  She let out a short, terrified scream as she attempted to catch her fall, dropping the flashlight in the process.  The metal light clanged and bounced against the steps as it tumbled the entire length of the stairs below her. The noise was loud and horrifying to Susanna as she instantly realized her only source of light was now gone.  When the flashlight landed at the bottom of the stairs it spun in a circle wildly, illuminating everything in its path … including the shadow of the man that had been silently following her. 

Holding on to the rail for dear life, Susanna, her legs now quaking in fear
, climbed the few stairs left to the top of the tower.  Elated that she had made it to the banging door, she reached forward to close it when the sky lit up with a brilliant streak of lightening which gave way to an earsplitting crash of thunder.  Instinctively she threw up her arm to shield her eyes and turn away from it.  Susanna could feel her heels slipping from the step and let out a terrifying scream in panic.  Her hands clawed at the air to grab the rail but there was nothing there.  She could feel herself falling backwards, the sound of the thunder and her own petrifying scream echoing all around her.

Susanna heard a voice screaming, “No!” and she wondered
in that split second if it was her own before she landed with a horrific thud against the iron stairs.  Pain, unspeakable and unrelenting coursed through her body.  She moaned and attempted to raise her head before letting it fall again.  The cold, wet rain quickly soaked through her clothes and the thought crossed her mind that she was glad she could feel it.  As long as she felt the terrible pain and cold, it meant she wasn’t paralyzed from the fall.  She could hear a deep banging noise, different from the door, a swift repetitive stomping sound getting louder and louder.  She raised her hand and placed it on the back of her throbbing head and immediately a warm liquid began to ooze through her fingertips.  She was bleeding.  Susanna’s thoughts became fuzzy, the pain fading as she slipped into unconsciousness. 
I don’t want to die.  I don’t want to die.
  She said the words over and over again in her head.  Suddenly there were hands on her, touching her face in the darkness before arms gently lifted her from the stairs.  She cried out in pain, her back felt as if she were broken in half. 

“I don’t want to die,” she whispered in a
complete daze of pain.

“I won’t let you,” was his answer in a hushed
but soothing voice.

Chapter 9

Susanna floated in and out of consciousness over the next several hours.  She was distantly aware of someone holding the back of her head and the feeling of being held tightly and pressed against a chest.  Her head ached with a blinding pain and as much as she wanted she could not force her eyes to open. She moaned again in frustration at being physically unable to force herself to be more alert. 

“
Shhh,” his lips were against her head, “Rest, Susanna.”

Susanna’s eyes blinked slowly, the pain unbearable as the popping sound of the fire roused her from sleep.  She had never been in such pain in all her life.  She was a little more aware of her surroundings now than she was the last time she was awake.  She was able to think clearly and remember that she had pain medicine in her bag in the bathroom. She only used them for her worst migraines but she had them on hand at all times.  She wiggled her fingers as a test and then moved her arm slightly.  She lay still, taking a few deep breaths before attempting to prop up on her elbows.  The motion of raising her head caused her to groan loudly in pain.

“
Don’t … don’t try to move.”

Susanna froze, the pain, although ever present,
was secondary to the thought that someone was in the room with her.  She eased back down on the pillow, grimacing at the pain the soft surface produced.  Her heart was thrashing in her chest and deafening in her ears, causing even more discomfort. 
It had to be Mr. Bailey …
screamed her subconscious but rationally she knew it wasn’t true.  She had only been around the old man for a few hours but she knew the voice that called out to her did not belong to him. 

“Can I get something for you?”

Oh God, he was asking her a question.
  She would now not only be forced to acknowledge there was a stranger in the room with her but she was now required to answer him. 

“
Pain,” she answered honestly, her voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.   

“I know
.  You’ve got a small cut on the back of your head, but I don’t think it’s severe.  The fall itself is what you’re troubled by,” the voice was low and matter of fact.

Susanna
didn’t feel threatened at all by the voice, and yet she was still paralyzed with apprehension.  The silence in the room was palpable.  The thought crossed her mind that she was dying up on the stairs in the tower and that she was dreaming before death. 

“I’m scared …” she murmured
a reply to her very own thoughts.

“I’ve no wish to frighten you,” he answered quickly,
his voice soothing, “I would leave you but you’re too injured and you shouldn’t be alone.”

Susanna almost sighed in relief
. At least he was saying he didn’t want to hurt her, “Who are you?” she ventured, unsure if she was ready for the answer.

“Tell me what I can do for you, Susanna?” he blatantly ignored her question
and called her by name. 

“My bag in the bathroom, there is some medication in there for pain
.  It’s a bottle with a red top.  I think it would help … and water, can I have some water?”

She didn’t hear him when he left the room but she heard the sounds coming from the bathroom and knew he had gone in search of her medication.  She took that opportunity to open her eyes
, which was no small feat, considering her pain.  She was in the living room in front of the fire on her pallet.  The room was dark, the fire although warm was not bright and all the lights were off.  A warm blanket covered her and her clothes were dry.  She heard him move towards the kitchen, his footsteps unbelievably quiet.  A drawer opened and she heard the unmistakable rustling of some utensils as well as the sound of the fridge door.  

She
strained to see through the darkness as he moved from the kitchen towards her but all she could see were shadows.  He moved behind her, which made it impossible to see him since there was no way she could roll her eyes upward to look at him.  Frustrated she breathed a sigh. 

He raised the pillow under her head gently and held a coffee cup to her lips, “Water,” he
commanded softly. 

Without thinking she reached for the cup and brushed against his hand, steadying the cup at her lips.  He didn’t pull his hand away and at the moment the hand of this stranger was not a concern because the taste of the water consumed her.  She guzzled most of it before he pulled the cup away.

“Take this and I’ll get you more,” he said calmly, holding the pill to her lips.  She opened her mouth and he placed the pill on her tongue before raising the cup once more.  She took it, quickly downing what was left in the cup. 

After gently lowering her pillow back to the floor, he hurried into the kitchen once more.  Returning with another full cup of water, he held it to her lips once again.

“Thank you,” she managed, her eyes closing in relief. 

“Of course,” was his only
reply.

She was so weak with exhaustion and pain, she wanted to sit up and ask who he was and how he got in the house but the thought of too much interaction drained her.  Even though he was quiet she knew he was there and that was enough to make her feel somewhat content and safe. 

“How long ago did I fall?” she managed to ask, her eyes closing with fatigue and pain.

“A few hours.”

“How long was I there before you found me?” her voice was trailing off, the effects of the medication worked faster on an empty stomach.

“Seconds.”

Seconds?
  The word floated in her hazy thoughts and screamed for an explanation that she was too weak to demand.

“I don’t understand,” was all she could manage, the pain in her head ebbing as the medication took hold. 
Visions of her as a little girl at the lighthouse fluttered in her mind. She was laughing and running through the tall flowers on the island.  Then she was in the room with the etched glass, pressing her hand against it.  He was there, on the other side, pressing his own hand to hers.  And suddenly she was at the Bailey’s, sitting across from Emma who was flipping over her tarot cards.  The woman in a white robe, blindfolded with two swords crossed over her chest,
the softest light can blind those who have spent an eternity in darkness.
Then she remembered the feeling of strong but gentle hands holding her head and embracing her. 

In her cloudy state, Susanna lifted her hand and held it behind her, “Are you here?”

“Yes,” he answered, his fingers hesitantly reached for hers.  Susanna wound her fingers between his and drew his hand close to her face, “Am I dreaming?”

The man didn’t make a sound, but his fingers lightly traced hers, his thumb slowly rubbing the inside of her palm.

“
If you’re a ghost, how can I feel you?” she whispered, barely aware of what she was saying.  His hand left hers and pressed against the side of her face, without hesitation she turned into it and he cupped it around her cheek, “I’m flesh and blood,” he answered, his thumb stroking the side of her face, “Rest Susanna,” he commanded gently.  And she obeyed. 

The distant sound of birds and the occasional call from the sheep penetrated Susanna’s sleep and she opened her eyes hesitantly and blinked a few times.  The light was pouring into the room from the open blinds, the clouds now gone and all but forgotten. 

She turned her head and felt the pain but not near as debilitating as it had been.  Her body was indeed sore but
she risked it by rolling to her side to sit up, hoping she had the strength.  Her head was spinning as she made the transition and she sat still for several seconds before opening her eyes again.  The fire was still roaring, the wood beside it stacked and full.  There was also a full glass of water and a plate full of bread beside her.  She immediately turned to look around the room but no one was there. 

“Hello?” she called out, the sound of her own voice causing her to wince in pain.

Nothing. 

She took a piece of the bread, knowing that she needed something in her stomach and sipped on the water.  She saw her phone sitting on the bricks by the fireplace and she reached for it.  4:15
p.m.

“Oh my God, I’ve slept all day,” she murmured. 

She ran her hand over the back of her head and felt the knot there along with a small cut.  She rose from the floor slowly, ensuring her balance, and walked to the bathroom. 

“Hello?” she called again.

She looked at her appearance in the mirror and cringed. She reached for a brush and gently ran it over her hair in an effort to return it to some sort of normalcy.  After brushing her teeth and putting on some lips gloss, she almost felt human again.  She looked over to the claw foot tub and noticed her wool socks lying across the edge.  She looked down at her feet and wiggled her toes now encased in a brand new pair of white socks. 

Her brows creased and she left the bathroom and went into the bedroom, “Hello?” she called a third time, “Is there anyone here?”

No answer.

Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders
, she went to the kitchen to get some orange juice.  As she shut the fridge door, she looked at the counter and noticed her bottle of medicine sitting there open with a knife sitting on the counter next to the broken lid.  She picked it up and studied it, confused.  She looked inside, knowing that she had ten pills when she left home.  After counting them quickly, she placed nine of them back in the bottle.  She slid the bottle across the counter and toyed with the broken lid. 

“Strange,” she whispered. 

She was remembering fragments of the previous night, she knew someone was there, his voice was not at all clear at the moment but she did recall him speaking to her. 
Was it Mr. Bailey?  Could she have been imagining someone else? 
She went to the sink to wash her hands and as she threaded her fingers together she vividly recalled him lacing his fingers with hers the previous night.  Her face flushed with the memory.  She returned to the living room and surveyed it for any kind of evidence.  Her phone was there, her laptop still on the side table.  There was a small rag beside her pallet that was stained with blood.  Blood from her head, no doubt.  Still sore but feeling resolute she went to the door and opened it, surveying the yard beyond the cottage.  She slipped on her shoes that were sitting by the door and started walking slowly towards the boat dock.  Half way there she realized that she was not properly dressed for the stroll but pressed on, shivering.  When she reached the dock she stared blankly, blinking into the wind at the empty boat slip.  Nothing.  There was no one there.  Sighing in frustration she turned back towards the house, her pace quicker, her teeth chattering from the cold. 

Once inside she walked straight to the fire, collapsing in front of it, exhausted by her short journey.  Her body was beginning to ache again, perhaps too much, too soon.  She reached down for another piece of bread. 
At least he had left her something to eat.
 

She looked at the book still tossed on the floor where she had left it before going up the tower to shut the broken door.  It was opened to the page about the O’Reilly brothers
with Kane O’Reilly’s picture looking out at her hauntingly. 

Susanna shook her head in frustration, her body aching from her fall.  She retreated to the kitchen once more and reached for another pain pill to help dull the ache.  While there, she found a pot and
began heating a can of soup.  She would at least have a full stomach tonight when she took the medication.  While waiting for the soup to warm she went to the window and stared at the etched glass. 
My heart drowns in sorrow,
the words repeated over and over in her head. 
Who scratched them on the glass and when?
  She went with her bowl of soup to the small kitchen table and ate in silence as the sun set behind the clouds.  She felt a tad guilty for not checking on the sheep but she had glanced at the gate and was confident that it was secure and nothing was amiss from the storm the night before.  She thought briefly about calling her mother but decided against it.  She would be worried sick and no doubt try and talk her into leaving if she found out what had happened.  Reaching for her phone she found herself dialing Emma’s number.  The phone rang and rang until Emma’s voice sounded on the recorder.  Irritated Susanna hit end and did not leave a message. 
So much for an emergency
.

As the sun set behind the clouds Susanna tiredly turned on the small light in the living room and took her place before the fire.  Her aching body felt
somewhat better and she certainly needed the soup.  She was beyond exhausted, the medication making her even more so as she settled into the blankets and blinked passively at the dying flames. She knew she should put another log on the flames but her energy was vanishing.  She would rest, for just a few minutes, then she would feel better.