Chapter 1
Morgan Seaver looked around her, taking in the sights, and felt a great weight lifted from her shoulders. A weight she wasn't aware she carried. The sound of children's laughter faded into the distance as she became focused on the island in front of her.
Morgan always experienced a longing to be by the sea. But right now, her longing was for the island. And She didn't know why. She felt called in many ways that had nothing to do with the letter she had gotten from her aunt, beseeching her to come and help her with her library full of ancient books in need of desperate repair.
Morgan thought back to the letter and how it arrived at the most appropriate time. She was in between jobs and getting restless, as she often did. Since she graduated from high school, Morgan had wandered the Atlantic coast, looking for something, but not knowing what she was looking for. Her skill and talent at restoring old books had earned her a reputation, making the most exclusive libraries and private collectors call for her services. But when the letter from her aunt came, Morgan knew she needed to help. It was more than the family thing; it was a calling she'd been waiting for and hadn't known.
"Excuse me," called out a childish voice, and Morgan looked up quickly to see a beach ball heading her way. Quickly ducking out of the ball's path, she laughed with the child and picked up the ball, tossing it back to him.
"Thank you, Miss." The child had started to run away and then seem to remember his manners and turned back to call out to Piper. She waved her hand in acknowledgment.
The interaction with the child brought her focus back to the here and now, and she looked around the beach area and noticed many children around the same age as the young boy with the beach ball happily playing. Mothers were grouped together, watching their children, and picnics were laid out on the crystal white sands of the beach. It was one of those beautiful days in late April when it wasn't too hot in the Florida sun. The winter crowd had thinned out as well; most of the tourists starting to make their way back home to the northern states where the temperatures were finally beginning to climb. This time of year seemed to be a signal for the residents of the small coastal communities along the Florida peninsula, which was now their time to take over the beaches.
The ringing of a small bell caught Piper's attention, and she looked over towards the main road noticing several bicyclists. A wide range of bikes made up the group of bikers, and she smiled at the tandem bike with two older people riding together. Her aunt's letter warned her that biking, walking, and golf carts were the most common forms of transportation on the island. This suited Morgan just fine. She was anxious to get her car parked permanently and get to work.
"Standing here admiring the view won't get me there any faster," She laughed to herself. With one final look at the water, Morgan shrugged her shoulders and turned to walk back to the parking area where she had left her car.
Once in the car, she took a quick swig of cold water and then pulled out her aunt's notes to follow the directions that would lead her to the family home she would now call hers. Morgan didn't really need the instructions, the way home seemed instinctive. She could visualize the house that been in the family for generations, and she remembered her time as a child playing in the same sands as the children she'd just left. Her memories were clear, mixed with pictures in her mind of her mother and her aunt spending time with her along the beach.
Quickly glancing at the directions, she put the paper back down next to her and started towards the island. It was a one-way road over the island, and she waited patiently for a car coming across the bridge before she could take her turn to enter Pearl Island. Her car passed over the water as she made her way onto the island, and she experienced a profound sense of homecoming.
Chapter 2
With the memories guiding her, it didn't take long before her aunt's historic beach house could be seen in the distance.
The house was three stories, and in all truth was the focal point of the island. It could be seen from almost any position on the island as if it was standing tall and strong guarding against something.
Morgan's feeling of homecoming intensified as she got closer to the house. When she reached the driveway, she stopped. Rather than pulling up towards the house, she got out of the car and just stood looking at the beautiful home. She knew the house had been in the family for close to a century, but it didn't show the ravages of time or weather. Her aunt Meredith kept the house in beautiful repair, and her gardens, which surrounded the home, were a horticultural delight. Tropical blooms could be seen from the roadway, and foliage of assorted greens and textures filled the planting beds. There were no structured hedges around this house. Everything had a natural flow to it as if one with nature.
Morgan's eyes followed the path of a seagull soaring above the waves to perch itself on the balcony of the third floor of the house before her. The corners of Morgan's smile tugged itself into a smile as memories of playing in that third floor came flooding back. It had always been her favorite part of the house, and her aunt Meredith had let her have free rein to play where she wanted whenever she visited.
"Well, you've arrived," Morgan told herself. "Standing here staring isn't going to get you settled. Let's get a move on, girl."
Getting back into the car, Morgan pulled up to the front walkway of the house. Reaching across the front seat, she grabbed her backpack and laptop, planning to come back out for her suitcases later. Right now, she wanted to get inside and find her aunt.
"Hello?"
Morgan slowly opened the front door, not surprised it was unlocked, as her aunt had reminded her the doors were never locked. Silence greeted her, and she was surprised because her aunt had promised to be here when she arrived. Making her way into the hallway, Morgan set her bags down next to the stairway as the old grandfather clock chimed the arrival of the half-hour. Surprised, she glanced at her watch and saw that it was indeed half-past two. Morgan had made good time on her drive to the southern part of the state.
She moved as if guided by an old memory and made her way down the hallway to the kitchen. The smells of fresh-baked cookies greeted her, and there was a huge bouquet of wildflowers sitting in an old mason jar in the middle of the table. But there was no Aunt Meredith.
Walking over to the large French doors that opened up onto a path leading to the beach, Morgan's searched the horizon.
"There you are, I should have known you'd be along the shore," she mumbled to herself as she saw the silhouette of a woman walking close to the waves breaking on the shore.
Grinning to herself with excitement, Morgan opened the door and headed down the path to meet her aunt and reconnect after years of being apart.
***
"Oh, my goodness, just look at you. You look just like a Seaver!"
Meredith Seaver had turned and watched her niece walked towards her across the seed dunes. Her voice called out to Morgan before she even reached her aunt's side, the pride evident in her tone.
Morgan laughed outright at her aunt's words and, without thinking, raised her hand to push her jet black hair out of her face. Her jet black hair with a streak of deep blue that she had put in on a lark, just to be different. She could put money on it that none of her relatives, past or present, had ever had hair like this.
"Really? Even with this?" She asked her aunt with a laugh.
"Yes, even with that brilliant blue streak. But you know each of us Seavers have had something unique about us that makes us stand out from the rest of the crowd."
"Even my mother? I rather doubt that, Aunt Meredith." Morgan shook her head in disbelief to her aunt's words. Then her disbelief turned to shock when her aunt answered her.
"Yes, even your mother. Did you know she had a birthmark? It's in the shape of a seashell right underneath her hairline on the back of her neck."
Morgan looked at her aunt with interest; she'd never known about the birthmark, and somehow it made her mother seemed just a little less perfect. Then she shrugged her shoulders.
"Well, not to worry, this blue paint will fade shortly and I'll go back to being boring old me," she informed Meredith
But her aunt just smiled at her, not saying a word as if she knew some secret.
Morgan made a move forward, ready to give her aunt a warm hug. But before she could take a step, her aunt turned away as if she hadn't seen the movement and swept her arms out towards the sea.
"It's time you came back to the island, Morgan. The sea knows you're here, and things are now in motion."
"I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean by that."
"You will, things have already been set in motion. But for now, why don't you go back to the house and make yourself at home."
"Aren't you coming?"
"Not right this moment. There are a few things I need to do. Go on and explore the house, pick out which room you want. There's snacks in the fridge, and if you feel up to it, the library is there for you to look over."
Morgan gave her aunt a funny look, surprised that Meredith wouldn't come up to the house with her. But her aunt simply blew her a kiss and turned and walked towards an outcropping of rocks. Morgan remembered from her youth these were an excellent place for hide-and-seek.
"Okay, Aunt Meredith, I'll talk to you when you get back to the house. And thank you for welcoming me home." Morgan called out to the woman as she walked away. Meredith raised her hand, acknowledging the words, but didn't turn around. Morgan watched the woman walk away until she went around the rocks and was lost from sight. Then with a shrug, she turned and made her way back towards the house, eager for the snack, and even more eager to reacquaint herself with her childhood home and explore the vast library.
Chapter 3
Even though Morgan was eager to explore the house and settled herself into the library, she got the mundane things completed first. Grabbing a cookie off the plate on the kitchen counter as she walked through, Morgan made her way to the front door. Picking up her backpack and bag, she headed up the stairs. She skipped the second floor and went straight to the third floor, where she found the room that she had claimed in her youth. The room had always felt magical to her. Like she was a princess stuck away from reality, waiting for Prince Charming to come and rescue her. But life it quickly taught Morgan that there was no Prince Charming, and that she had to rescue herself. It felt good to walk through the threshold of the room that held so many sweet memories from her childhood. She looked around the room and saw fresh flowers on the dresser and smiled to herself. It seemed her aunt Meredith had remembered this was her favorite room as well, and prepared it for her, even though she told her she would have her pick of the rooms. Tossing her backpack on the bed, Morgan walked over to the window and looked out across the sand dunes, and watched the waves come onto the shore. It was mesmerizing, but she quickly pulled herself away from that view and walked over to a door she remembered from her youth. Throwing the door open, she walked out onto the widow's walk that many of the old houses had on the island. This walkway went across the roofline. Decades ago, brides waiting for their sailors to come home would go to the widow's walk and look out over the ocean, waiting for the ships to come in, bringing home their true loves.
"Well, hello there, are you the same bird I saw earlier?" Morgan spoke to a fat seagull that sat on the railing and then laughed at herself, knowing the seagull would not answer.
Deciding now would be the perfect time to get the rest of her bags in from the car while she still had the energy, and before she got involved in any of the library books, Morgan raced down the stairs and out to her car. It only took two trips to empty the car, and most of what she brought in went to her room. There was one large bag that she left at the base of the stairs. She would need to talk to her aunt before she decided where to place the tools of her trade. Her pressing box was still in the car; its heavy frame a little too bulky to bring in and take up room in the hallway. She could wait on that.
Looking around the first floor, she realized Meredith had not returned yet. When her stomach rumbled in protest of lack of food, she took her aunt up on her offer of a sandwich and made her way back to the kitchen. Grabbing a cold bottle of water from the fridge, she picked up the plate with her lunch and made her way to the porch. The porch was a wraparound and would connect to the front of the house. Meredith had old wicker rocking chairs scattered around the porch along with a comfortable table, chairs, and lounges. She'd arrange the furniture so you could look out to the ocean no matter where you sat. From here, you could watch the approach of visitors coming to call. No matter where you looked, it felt comfortable and welcoming. Morgan gave a sigh of contentment as she settled into one of the large chairs, curling her feet underneath her and biting into her sandwich. Finishing her quick meal, Morgan knew it would be easier to just settle in deeper to the chair and take a quick nap, but she resisted the temptation and made her way back into the house.
When she entered the library, it caught her breath. It was much more than she remembered. Morgan walked around the room, running her fingers reverently along the spines of the books on the shelves, and inhaled the mustiness of the old pages and their stories deeply. There was a massive desk in the center of the room, and Meredith had placed comfortable chairs inconvenient corners with reading lamps placed to give a reader perfect lighting.
"Now, this is my idea of heaven." Morgan couldn't wipe the grin off her face as she studied the books.
She quickly realized there was no rhyme or reason to their placement. They placed modern paperbacks in amongst books that looked to be easily 50 to 75 years old. Fiction and nonfiction were mixed together, and when she looked a little deeper, she even found personal photo albums squeezed in amongst the published books.
"Oh, Aunt Meredith, it looks like I have my work cut out for me here."
Even though her common sense told her she should categorize the book, she couldn't help but feel that the library was perfect the way it was. After all, it was a family library, not a public library, and she was sure if she followed the shelves of books, she would see history in front of her. She knew from experience that people bought books at different stages of their lives. The books within easy reach were probably the most recently purchased, and she knew the stack that stood on the desk were current publications.
She smiled as she looked at the spines, reading an assortment of genres ranging from western to romance. There was scattering the science fiction, but predominately they were mysteries. There were also numerous books that she didn't recognize. They didn't appear to be published books, and when she pulled one of them off the shelf, she found they were personal journals.
"Now this is a find," Morgan hugged the book to her chest, realizing the journals were probably records from, and about, her family. Not wanting to overstep herself, she put the book back on the shelf, deciding she would wait for her aunt to give her direction on what books needed attention. From the looks of things, there were a lot of books that needed to have worked unto them. Spines were broken, jackets dusty and faded, and some covers look like they were ready to fall off. Yes, there was plenty of work here to keep Morgan busy for years. Walking over to a pile of books on one small end table, she picked up a book that was sitting on top. It was one that she'd wanted to read for a long time, and without even thinking, she walked over to a comfortable chair in a corner with a window next to it where she could look out over the ocean. Opening the cover of the book, she was quickly lost in the story.
***
Reaching over her head, Morgan turned on the reading light next to her. Her movement brought her out of the book, and she looked around her, surprised at how dark the room had gotten. She'd been lost in the story for well over two hours, and with a jolt, she realized she hadn't seen or heard her aunt returned. Maybe she had and decided to give Morgan the chance to relax. But either way, Morgan put the book down and went in search of her aunt. She wanted to catch up with her and thank her once again for welcoming her back home.
"Aunt Meredith?" Morgan stood in the grand hallway calling out to her aunt, but there was no response. She searched the entire house, but Meredith was nowhere to be found. There was no evidence that she'd ever returned from the beach. Dusk was about to settle, and Morgan was growing concerned. Yes, her aunt knew her way around the island and was probably perfectly fine, but it seemed odd that she hadn't come back when she said she would, knowing that Morgan had just arrived.
Morgan hated to be indecisive, but she also hated waiting around. Grabbing her cell phone, she went to search for her aunt. Her aunt would probably scoff at her worries, but Morgan couldn't shake the feeling of unease that was overtaking her. Using the same door she had earlier, Morgan walked from the kitchen down over the seed dunes to the beach. The waves were calm, and there was just the slightest of breezes. She headed toward the rock outcropping where she'd last seen her aunt. As she got closer to the rocks, a mist began to develop, giving the beach an eerie feeling. She looked around her, realizing the mist was where she was standing and had not spread across the dunes. Hoping to find her aunt before the mist became a real fog, Morgan picked up her pace and quickly reached the rocks.
When she rounded the rocks, she was shocked to find a grouping of people standing clustered over something that was lying on the sand. The mist cleared just long enough for her to recognize that two of the people were police officers, and the third was a beautiful young woman about her own age. The woman turned and saw Morgan.
"She's the one that did it. I saw her!" The woman lifted her arm and pointed in Morgan's direction, and the others took a step away from each other, staring at Morgan.
Their movements allowed Morgan to see what they had been staring at, and she gasped. The mist moved, but not before Morgan had seen the body of Meredith lying prone at their feet.
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