The Spyglass Portal: A Lighthouse Novel (21 page)

“No. Since you dropped the charges, I’ll keep my mouth shut about you breaking and entering and burglarizing the lighthouse.”

His head snapped up and his jaw locked. With his pale blue eyes impaling her, he said, “You didn’t lock the door. True, I entered the lighthouse, but it could hardly be considered breaking in. Anyone could have strolled inside.”

“That’s a technicality,” she countered. “And you know it.”

Humph
. “You ruined my garden,” he groused.

She glared at him a moment and sighed, once more reining in her temper. “I think I know why you took this spyglass, Daniel. It wasn’t to donate to the museum. It was for purely selfish reasons. You wanted something in your life to change. But it didn’t work, did it?”

She knew she’d hit a nerve because his eyes grew moist and he spun away from her. When she placed her hand on his shoulder, his chest heaved a heavy sigh. Her tone was more amenable when she asked, “What had you hoped may happen when you gazed into the spyglass?”

It took what seemed like a month of Sundays for him to answer. “I was sure I’d be a handsome young fellow without a hump and a gimp leg in a parallel universe. I’d be married with a nice family. This life hasn’t been too bad as most lives go, but I always wanted children and a pretty wife. The right girl never came along. But I’ve always wondered if she was out there…somewhere. It worked on Eamon McBride and it worked on you.” He turned around to face her and wiped the dampness from his eyes. “I would have been a good father. Why didn’t the magic work on me?”

His poignant gaze pleaded with Samantha to give him some kind of answer that made sense. Her sympathetic heart thumped against her breastbone. “It probably has to do with my being the one who discovered it in the tower wall,” she answered with honesty. “I don’t have any other explanation.” She reached to touch his hand and found his skin as soft as butter that had set out all morning. “I’m sorry, Daniel.”

“As am I.”

She offered him a weak smile and they both stared at the floor for a couple of moments. “Can I fill in the holes I made in your garden?” she asked, not knowing what else to say.

He shook his head and returned a smile. “No. It’ll give me something to do this afternoon. I don’t feel much like opening the shop today.”

“I understand. I should go now.”

After he opened the door and she stepped onto the porch, he said, “You promise you won’t tell anyone about any of this?”

She clutched the mahogany case to her chest. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Daniel nodded. “So is yours.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Back at the lighthouse, Samantha locked the front door and removed the spyglass from its case. She clasped it tight and ascended the winding staircase to the tower. Once she’d stepped onto the observation deck, she raised it to her eye and watched the familiar blue mist waft over the lens.

“Please work,” she incanted, while swinging the spyglass up and down the sandy coast two hundred feet below. “Please let it go back to the way it was with Aidan and me last night.”

When she felt she’d peered long enough, she zipped back down the stairs, returned the spyglass to its box, and hid it in one of the kitchen cabinets, deep inside. With her skin tingling, she dashed out the door and jogged down the beach toward Aidan’s cottage. Impatience didn’t allow her to wait another second to see him again, and to hopefully take up where they’d left off before Remy had unexpectedly come into the picture.

She went directly to the rock where she’d posed. He wasn’t there, or in his usual spot painting. No easel was set up on the beach. There was no cooler full of cold drinks stuck in the sand. No paints. When she heard the whistling of a familiar Irish tune lilting through the air, she stole softly into the stand of trees near his house and made herself as small as possible.

The hood of Aidan’s pickup was propped open and he was shirtless, bending over the engine with pliers in his hand. The whistling stopped and he stared into the guts of the vehicle, seemingly deep in thought.

Samantha took some steadying breaths as she gazed upon his muscled back—the same back she’d stroked with her nails last night. Her fingers itched with the desire to run them through his long dark hair. Aidan shifted his weight from one hip to the other and she felt her breath hitch. She’d been driven delirious with the thrust of those hips not so many hours ago.

A thrill raced up her spine as she recalled the taste of his lips and the way her body had heated like a flame with his fiery touch.

Unable to stand another moment of quiet torture, she moved slowly from behind the tree where she was hidden so as not to alarm him. Softly clearing her throat, she was about to speak his name when a tiny voice called out from behind the kitchen screen door. Samantha’s head jerked up when the door banged open and a small curly-headed boy of about five bounded out.

“Daddy! Mama says to come inside. It’s time for lunch.”

Aidan laid the pliers down and swung the child into his arms and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, son. Wonder what she’s fixed for us today. I’m so hungry I could eat a bear. How about you?”

The boy giggled when Aidan ruffled his chestnut brown hair and nuzzled his neck.

Another voice, this time a feminine one, floated out the kitchen window. “Are my two favorite boys coming in? The food is ready.”

The beating of Sam’s heart stopped when the profile of a woman passed by the window from inside the house. Mostly hidden by shadows, Sam couldn’t see her features, but she knew this was Remy, Aidan’s wife. The spyglass hadn’t worked this time! Aidan was
still
married, and it was even more complicated. Now he had a son.

She’d known she might not get her wish just because she’d prayed for things to go back to the way they’d been last night. After all, she’d hoped Chad would be released from the coma and he hadn’t. Still, deep in her soul she’d thought the power of hers and Aidan’s newly formed bond was strong enough to override the slapdash influence wheeled by the spyglass.

Unable to move, Samantha’s feet were stuck to the ground like they were frozen in ice. Dumbly, she watched as Aidan set the child on the ground and the boy ran to the house. The kitchen door swung open and a woman’s hand stretched out to take the little boy’s.

“I’ll grab my t-shirt and be right in,” Aidan said, sauntering back to the truck.

Sam’s gaze followed him as he leaned into the lowered window on the driver’s side and pulled a t-shirt from off the seat and drew it over his head. He took a step forward and stopped. With what seemed like the instinct of an animal protecting its territory, Aidan looked over his shoulder and watched and listened. His gaze swung across the ground at the sound of a small creature scurrying around. Then he looked toward the ocean. Sam held her breath, daring not to move a muscle, as his eyes lifted and searched the blue sky.

What was he thinking about? Could he sense her? Did he feel her presence?

Sweat trickled between her breasts as he turned in a slow circle.
Please don’t look this way
.

With a flood of emotions bubbling inside, her lips parted and she quietly gulped. The air caught in her throat causing her to hiccup. She slapped a hand over her mouth but it was too late. Aidan’s head pivoted and their gazes connected. His head angled, and she thought she glimpsed a hint of recognition in his eyes.

“Aidan?” Remy called from the screened window.

When his gaze shot to the house, Sam seized the moment and sprinted away, through the trees and onto the beach. With her legs and arms pumping like pistons down the long stretch of sand, she felt heartsick, confused and relieved, all wrapped into one. Aidan had a family, but she was certain he’d recognized her, which meant she’d not been completely erased from his memory. Before he’d looked into the spyglass, he’d sworn he’d come back to her. And he’d been the one constant through this whole mess. She had to believe he still remembered her and there was a way for them to be together.

Her breath was ragged by the time she reached the lighthouse. Bending over and gulping in fresh air, she wondered what to do now. Should she go inside and peer through the spyglass once more, hoping her world would shift yet again? Or wait and see what else had changed this time? Maybe there was a limit to how many times reality would alter. There was no way of knowing and no one to talk to about it. All she wanted was to be with Aidan. He was the only person who understood what she was going through; the one person she trusted.

As she unlocked the door, she realized she’d associated the word
trust
with him. It felt so good to believe in someone.

She opened the kitchen cabinet door and pulled the mahogany box from its dark hiding place. Dropping into the living room chair, she placed the box on her lap and laid her head back and closed her eyes.

Yes, she did trust Aidan, with her secret and with her heart. But he was another woman’s husband, and a little boy’s father. She drummed her fingers on the top of the box. He had looked so content, sweeping the child into his arms and rubbing his head. Remy was probably a devoted wife and mother. Theirs appeared to be a happy family. Could she ruin all that to be with Aidan and to forge a life with him? To make her own selfish dreams come true?

Hell yes, she could. Her eyes popped open, and she sat up straight and opened the box lid. The brass instrument gleamed up from its velvet nest. Her fingertips skimmed the metal, and it felt cool beneath her touch.

“I deserve love as much as anyone else,” she said aloud. “I’ve felt alone most of my life. There’s a hole in my heart that needs filled, and Aidan is the man who can fill it.”

Her hands trembled as she raised the spyglass inch by inch until it was at eye level. Her tongue slid over her lips that were as dry as chalk.

“I deserve happiness, too,” she repeated. “This time it’s going to work. Remy and the boy will disappear and Aidan will be mine. He won’t remember them, and we’ll go back to the way we were last night. Then I’ll toss this thing into the ocean so it’ll be out of our lives forever.”

Samantha took a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

She couldn’t do it. No matter how she felt about Aidan, Samantha wasn’t that self-centered. Most important was for him to be happy, even if it was his destiny to be the husband of Remy and a father to the boy. Right?

She dropped the spyglass back into the box and slammed the lid, trying to convince herself she’d done the right thing by not looking. Aidan’s life had not been a bed of roses either. He deserved contentment as much as her.

Recalling the bits and pieces he’d told her about moving around with his mother made her wonder if there wasn’t more to his story than he’d shared. She sensed his growing-up years might have been very different from hers, but just as difficult. If Remy and the little boy gave him joy (and it appeared they did), Sam knew she should be pleased. After all, she’d only known the man a few days. That didn’t give her the right to feel as possessive as she did. According to Jason, Remy and Aidan had known each other as children. There was a strong bond between them; a connection that had lasted throughout the years.

But there was a connection between her and Aidan as well. The way she’d felt when they’d made love…they’d become one in body and spirit. It was as if they were meant to be together—and always had been. Two souls had joined last night.

She swiped a tear from the corner of her eye and returned the mahogany box to its former hiding place—the cave deep within the recesses of the kitchen cabinet.

“If it’s meant to be,” she said, “it will be.” A quote she’d heard somewhere a long time ago came to mind.
If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was.

A sharp pain in her head made her wince, and another vision began to play out in her mind, as if the scene were happening at that very moment.

Her five-year old self had captured a beautiful butterfly in a glass jar. She admired it for what seemed like hours. By the time she showed it to her mother, the butterfly appeared weak. Its wings were barely fluttering. Mama sat next to her on the wooden porch floor and stroked her hair with her hand. “You must let it go,” she told her.

Sam shook her head and pressed the jar to her chest. “It’s pretty. The butterfly is mine. I love it. I want to keep it forever.”

Mama’s gold cross necklace lay against her suntanned skin and caught a ray of sun as she shifted and leaned in close. She whispered, “If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it’s yours. If it doesn’t, it never was.”

Sam glanced up and over her mother’s shoulder to the window behind them at her aunt, who was looking through, bobbing her head and offering a sympathetic smile.

Joyful screams of children playing outside the lighthouse windows wrenched Samantha free of her trance and the vision faded.

Aunt?
Her pulse throbbed so hard in her wrist it felt like her arm was going to explode. “I don’t have any aunts. Where would that have come from?”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she conjured the image once more. She hadn’t gotten a clear look at the woman she remembered as her aunt. Like a film moving in reverse, the little white cottage slowly rolled into view, materializing in front of her closed eyes. She saw her child-self sitting on the porch. It was the same cottage on the south end of the beach! Just like that day, a face stared at her from the window. Pale skin and auburn hair hanging to the woman’s shoulders was all she could make out before the dream vanished for the second time.

Shaken by the daydream that felt so real, she grabbed the skeleton key, locked the door behind her, and strode south on foot. When she reached the run-down cottage, the hairs on the back of her neck bristled. An invisible hand touched the small of her back and nudged her forward.

Once again, she found herself standing on the dilapidated porch. Her hands trembled as she cupped them around her face and peered through the dirty window. The room inside was empty except for a tattered sofa pushed up against one wall and a crumbling stone fireplace in the corner. Beyond, in what had probably been the kitchen, stood a rickety looking table.