The Spyglass Portal: A Lighthouse Novel (3 page)

Her arms hung limp at her sides, unmoving. As if she were in a dream, or sleepwalking, she sank deeper into the swallowing waves. Her blue sundress grew wet as the water swirled around her waist and then broke at her chest, dampening the tip of her ponytail. Still, she trudged further into the water.

Samantha’s heart began to pound. Something wasn’t right. The girl wasn’t playing. She hadn’t gone in for a swim. It was almost as if she were… 

Curls of foam splashed over the child’s shoulders. All at once, her head disappeared under a rising swell.

Utter shock crushed Samantha’s attempt to scream. She swung the spyglass up and down the beach again. There seemed to be no one around. Not a soul ran to the child’s rescue.

She lowered the spyglass and finally found her voice. “Hey! Little girl!” she shrieked, pounding on the glass. The child’s head popped up and then went under again. Sam ran through the small door and onto the observation deck. Leaning over the rail, she glanced down at the beach and screamed, “Please! Someone help her!”

Suddenly, a stabbing pain—worse than any headache she’d ever been struck with—pierced her head. The feeling was similar to a crochet hook being shoved into her temples and twisted. Groaning, she shut her eyes, felt the spyglass slip from her hand, and her world went black.

* * * *

Samantha woke to a hand jiggling her arm. The pain in her head had subsided, but she felt soggy. Soggy? Yes, wet and soggy. When she ran a hand through her hair, it was damp, as were her clothes. It felt like she was lying in wet sand. Slowly opening her eyes, she squinted into the red and wind-burned face of an old man with gray whiskers. He wore a cap adorned with a dozen fishing hooks.

“Are ya okay, Miss?”

She nodded. “I think so. What happened? Have I been unconscious?”

“Yep. You’re lucky I saw ya when I did. What were you doing in the ocean if ya can’t swim? Ya nearly drowned yourself.”

“Ocean? I wasn’t in the—” Her words stopped in mid-sentence as her thoughts flew back to the last thing she remembered, which was standing on the observation deck of the lighthouse watching a girl drown. With the old man’s assistance, she stood up and tried to make sense out of her jumbled thoughts.

“You shouldn’t have gone in if ya can’t swim,” the man repeated gruffly.

“I know how to swim. But I tell you, I wasn’t in the water. At least, I don’t remember going in.” She rubbed her aching temples.

The old man’s tone softened. “Maybe ya bumped your head and lost your memory, but trust me when I say you were in the water. I pulled ya out of the surf, Miss.”

Confused, Samantha wondered if she’d had a seizure of some kind and had fallen over the lighthouse rail and gotten swept into the sea. She glanced around. “Where’s the little girl? Did you save her, too? Please tell me you did.”

The man’s bushy brows knitted together. “What little girl? You, me, and the painter over there are the only ones on this beach.” He pointed to a man who strode toward them through the sand. Behind him, in the distance, Sam could see an artist’s easel set up near an outcropping of large rocks.

This made no sense. What had happened to the child? And how had she ended up there on the beach, soaked to the skin? Had she run down to save the child herself and fallen and hit her head, as the old man suggested? Shivers racked her body, so she hugged herself to ward off the chill.

 Her gaze latched onto the figure approaching in bare feet. Blinking against the bright sun and wiping salt and spray from her eye, she could tell he was fit and probably near her age. He wore docker-style shorts and a t-shirt that showed off muscular legs and well-developed biceps.

He must have seen something, or he wouldn’t be coming this way.

“You gonna be all right, Miss?” the old man asked.

“Y…y…yes,” she stammered between clicking teeth as she reached out to shake his hand. “Thank you for your help.”

He nodded and sauntered off in the other direction.

Feeling disoriented and grappling with uncertainty, Samantha called out to the approaching man. “Did you see her?” she asked as he drew closer. “The little girl?”

When he stopped in front of her, she felt her heart thrash in her chest. At the same time, his hazel eyes enlarged, and his gaze raked her from head to toe.

“Are you all right, Miss? I saw an old man pull you out of the water and thought I could help.” He stared beyond her to where the fisherman had disappeared. “Why did he run off like that?”

Reeling with confusion, she took several steps backwards, not caring about the old man. She felt her face petrify into a mask of terror. “It can’t be…”

A frown drew the man’s brows together. “Pardon? Are you injured? Do you need to see a doctor?”

Her limbs began to quake, and not just from being wet. This couldn’t be happening. She wondered if she was asleep and having another nightmare. “Who are you? Is this some kind of a sick joke?”

The man jolted like he’d been shot. “Joke? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Miss.”

Sam glanced up and down the beach, but they were alone.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, calmly. “I don’t have a cell phone with me, but I think I should get you to a doctor. “ When he reached for her hand, she jerked away from him and felt fear-pumped adrenaline race through her veins.

“What’s going on here?” she exclaimed. Full-blown terror clawed at her insides as she searched the eyes she’d know anywhere.

The man angled his head. “I don’t understand, Miss.”

“Please stop calling me Miss. You know my name.”

He raised his hands as if he was surrendering to an enemy. “I’m sorry, but we’ve never met before. I’m just a guy trying to help.”

Samantha skimmed trembling fingers through her tangled hair trying to make sense of the moment. She must have a brain tumor that was making her hallucinate. Or maybe she’d suffered a heart attack or an aneurism and died. That had to be it! She was dead, and she was a ghost speaking to another ghost. There was no other possibility.

The man warily moved toward her again.

“Am I dead?” she asked.

His footfalls halted. “No, but you might have been if that old man hadn’t fished you out. Apparently, you don’t know how to swim.”

Her teeth clicked together with cold. “You know I can swim.”

When he cocked his head again, she searched his face, the same face she’d kissed goodbye in the hospital before coming to Pavee Cove. “How can it be?” she choked out. “I’m afraid. But I still need to know. Please tell me it’s you.”

His gaze narrowed. “Who do you think I am, Miss?”

She drew in a shallow breath and whispered, “Chad?”

CHAPTER FOUR

“My name’s not Chad,” he said. The muscle in his granite jaw twitched. He repeated, “You’re hurt. I have a truck that’s down the beach. Let me take you to a doctor.”

Samantha’s pulse continued to race. Her gaze caught in his dark hair; hair that was no longer cut short but was pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes skimmed over the black stubble that peppered his cheeks and chin and traveled up and down the strapping physique that towered over her by five inches. If she didn’t know her friend was back in Portland in a hospital hooked up to machines, she could swear this man was Chad. But he couldn’t be, could he?

“I don’t want to go to a doctor,” she said.

The man inhaled deeply. “If you refuse, then at least let me walk you home. Have you got someone to help you there?”

She continued to search his face. The resemblance was uncanny, and it scared the crap out of her. Had Chad ever mentioned having a twin? No. She would have remembered that kind of information. She couldn’t explain what was happening, but she had to try. “Do you have a relative living in Portland?” she blurted.

A slight curve raised his lips into a crooked grin—just like Chad’s. “No. I have no one in Portland, and no brothers or male cousins, if that’s to be your next question. I’m an only child.”

“What’s your name?”

“Aidan Gallagher.”

Shaking her head violently, Samantha said, “What’s happening to me? You look so much like… I must be going crazy.”

The man grew serious again and offered his hand. “Walk with me to my easel. I’ve got some water I’ll share.”

Her nerves felt like they were about to snap. “I don’t need water. I want to know why you’re playing a joke on me. Who’s in on this with you?” She gazed around the beach like someone was hiding and ready to jump out and surprise her. “It’s cruel.”

“I haven’t any idea what you’re talking about,” Aidan said, shrugging and obviously uncomprehending. “I assure you, no one’s playing any jokes on you.”

Samantha suddenly remembered the reason she’d mysteriously washed up on the beach in the first place—the little girl. “Where’s the child I saw walk into the water?” she asked. “You had to have seen her!” Her gaze darted back and forth down the stretch of sand again.

“Child? What child? I’ve been the only person on this beach all morning until now. Well, and the old man.” He stared at her with an intensity that made her squirm. Either he felt sorry for her, or he thought she had lost her mind. Maybe she
had
.

She reached for calm and tried to explain. “I saw a small blonde girl wade into the ocean. The waves swallowed her up. You have to help me find her or it’ll be too late.”

“Too late for what?”

Samantha’s mouth gaped. “What do you think? Too late for the little girl! She’s probably already drowned.”

A high-pitched giggle caught her attention. She glanced around Aidan and saw a girl running down the beach toward the rocks. Her small arms pumped in rhythm with her legs, and her yellow ponytail flew behind her like a flag.

“There she is!” Sam exclaimed. She started to run. “Wait up!” she called out, as her bare feet pounded the hard shoreline. Without looking back, the little girl ran past the easel.

When Sam reached the easel, she stopped. Aidan was beside her in a flash. Sam glanced around, but the girl had disappeared into thin air again. “Where’d she go?” she asked, inhaling deeply to catch her breath.

“Who?” Aidan was barely breathing hard despite having run as far and as fast as she had.

Samantha felt her eyes pop with fury. “Please stop playing games with me. I was chasing the little girl. Don’t tell me you didn’t see her this time.”

He shook his head.

“Then why were you running?”

“I was following you. You’re obviously upset and not thinking clearly. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself or…run back into the ocean.”

Samantha balled her fists at her side, feeling like she was going to explode. She could barely look at him. The likeness to Chad was unnerving.

Aidan flicked a lightweight jacket from off a rock and handed it to her. From the size and style, it was his. “You’re shivering. Wrap up in this.”

He probably thought she’d been trying to commit suicide and was insane, seeing people who weren’t there. But he
was
trying to help. She took a deep breath to center herself and said, “Thank you.”

Then he retrieved a bottle of water from a small cooler stuck in the sand and offered it to her with his left hand. “Drink this. Maybe it’ll make you feel better. I suspect you’re dehydrated.”

As he held the bottle out, she noticed a scar in the gentle folds between his thumb and pointer finger. Chad had the same scar located in the same spot.

More pinpricks of fear stabbed her neck and slithered over her shoulders. While trying to make sense of a situation that made no sense at all, a thought popped into her head. Maybe the medication Dr. Teagan had prescribed was causing delayed side effects, such as hallucinations. She was sure she’d just seen a little girl on the beach, and this man was the spitting image of Chad. He even sounded like him and had the same scar on his hand!

Pushing damp hair back from her face, she wondered if Chad’s accident had affected her even deeper than she’d acknowledged.

Her mouth was parched so she accepted the bottled water, screwed off the top and took a drink. With her gaze poised on Aidan’s hand, she said, “How did you get that?”

He followed her gaze. “This scar? I had an accident when I was a kid.”

She took another drink and felt her pulse rate slowly begin to decrease. Chad had cut his hand on one of their first flips. She’d insisted he see a doctor and had driven him to the emergency room to get the wound stitched up. “Thanks.” She held out the half-empty bottle.

“Keep it. Did the cold water help?”

“Yes, I think it did.”

Aidan smiled. “Good.” After a few heartbeats, he spoke again. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“I’m Samantha Landers.” She waited with bated breath to see if her name meant anything to him, but it didn’t appear to mean a thing.

“Nice to meet you, Samantha. I haven’t seen you in town. Are you a summer tourist?”

“I’m staying at the lighthouse for a few weeks.”

“Oh. Needing some R&R, are you?”

“You could say that.” She gulped softly and continued to speculate on what had happened to the child and how this man could look so much like Chad without being related. He didn’t seem the least bit concerned about either situation. Of course, he’d informed her he never saw a child on the beach or in the water. And he seemed pretty sure of himself. Was it possible she’d imagined the child? But if that were the case, why and how had Samantha ended up on the beach and in the water herself? Perhaps she was more tired than she realized.

“Do you know the owner of the lighthouse?” she asked. Although she was desperate to leave, it seemed rude to simply walk away after he’d been kind and shared his water.

“To be honest, I don’t know many people around Pavee Cove. I’ve only just arrived here myself, not so long ago.”

“Are you staying for the summer only?”

“Maybe longer. It all depends. This is a beautiful place to paint. I’m inspired here.”

She doubted Chad could draw a stick person, let alone paint. The breath she’d unconsciously been holding softly blew out from between her lips. Her curiosity suddenly piqued. “Can I see what you’re painting?”