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It became his obsession.
I would never be like that.
But over the next few weeks, I question my sanity and I, too, would do anything to make the strange occurrences in this house go away.
I’m in the middle of a meditation that’s doing little to soothe my disturbed soul when Spencer enters the room.
I’ve avoided him since Harlan’s death because I know if I let him get too close, I’ll blurt out the truth surrounding my husband’s demise and I’m not telling anyone. I’m taking that secret to the grave.
“Cora,” he whispers, and every hair on my body snaps to attention.
There’s sorrow in his voice, underlined with devastation, and I know in my gut only one thing could make him sound like that.
Something’s happened to Ava.
I stretch slowly and accept the hand he holds out to pull me to my feet.
“Did Ava miscarry?” I ask, a petty part of me annoyed Ava would go to Spencer before me.
He shakes his head, and when he lifts it, I see the tears coursing down his cheeks.
Dread blooms in my chest. “What’s happened?”
He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. Until an awful wail makes me yank my hand out of his and step back.
“Spencer, you’re scaring me.”
He whispers her name. “Ava…”
My chest tightens, and I have trouble breathing. “What about Ava?”
I know before he responds this is going to be bad. It’s going to be far worse than anything I’ve had to cope with in my entire life.
“She’s gone.”
All the air whooshes out of my lungs in relief. My daughter has finally left Arcania. I’ve been expecting it, but I wish she’d told me. Though I’m sure she’ll reach out once she’s settled somewhere; probably to ask for money.
But why is Spencer so bereft?
“An alligator in the swamp took her…” he starts sobbing, so I have difficulty computing his words. “Her hat and a finger were all that remained.”
I don’t hear anything else but I feel it.
The darkness.
Pressing in on me.
Until I give myself over to it and feel nothing at all.
Chapter29
Lucy
Idon’t leave my room for the rest of the day. Daphne brings me dinner—a ridiculously healthy poke bowl filled with brown rice, quinoa, hummus, cabbage, and peas sauteed in garlic, sprinkled liberally with black sesame seeds—but doesn’t stay despite my efforts to draw her into conversation. Instead, she leaves the tray and bolts. It seems that woman is afraid of her own shadow but she’d been so normal when we chatted earlier.
While I eat, I flip through the Outer Banks history book. As expected, it’s a broad summary of the area, with scant mentions of sunken ships and nothing about Arcania. Flotilla Firth, where Arcania is located, literally means small navy fleet in a sheltered inlet, but the historical significance mentions nothing about the navy and is heavily populated by pirate tales. It’s fifty miles from Nag’s Head, which got its name from land pirates placing a lantern around the neck of an old horse, a ‘nag’, and leading it along the dunes so that ships out at sea saw it. Thinking it was a gently bobbing boat in a sheltered cove, the captain would seek a safe harbor, but the boat would run aground on the sharp shoals near the shore and the land pirates would pillage the ship.
It’s a fascinating tale and I’m so engrossed I forget to eat. This often happens at home when I’m entranced by a book and Mom would chastise me… I blink and stare at the poke bowl. Mom isn’t around anymore and in that moment I’m swamped by a wave of loneliness so strong I wrap my arms around my middle.
