“Is that part of sound healing?”
“It could be. If it saves your dog from his addiction.”
“It sounds as if my dog is in heavy denial. How’d you learn to throw your voice?”
She sighed. Towner’s assertions about her “gifts” were still fresh in her mind. “I’ve always just been able to play with sound.”
They passed the stables, which were empty.
“Do you still keep horses?” Callie asked, happy he hadn’t probed further.
“Mum isn’t riding much these days. She boards her horse at Myopia Hunt Club now. The last bastion of snobbery for the horsey set,” he said in a voice meant to mimic hers.
“I didn’t say it.”
“I beat you to it.” He laughed.
She saluted him with her coffee mug. He really did have a devastating smile.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, their steps crunching on the gravel driveway, Jasper peeling off, tracking a scent that enchanted him. “Come on, I’ll show you where I live when I’m home,” Paul said, cutting to their right.
Callie recognized the spot as the one from which she’d seen Towner and Rafferty emerge earlier. Tall pines stood in rows as if they’d once been planted for harvesting as Christmas trees and then abandoned to grow. She saw the long path winding through the trees disappearing into the fairy-tale darkness of the woods.
She took the first step into the woods, and a twig broke under her feet. The sound paralyzed her. A squirrel scurried up a nearby pine. She willed herself not to panic but couldn’t move.
“Come on.” Paul faced her, smiling, holding out his hand. He took her mug and put it down on a nearby tree stump.
She managed to step onto the path, not taking his hand. Her heart was beating too fast.
He turned and walked ahead.
She wanted to turn back, but she knew she was being ridiculous. Instead, she stayed a few feet behind him on the narrowed path, forcing herself forward while dodging tree roots, stepping on soft moss and pine needles. She’d been in this kind of place before, among far more twisted trees in the most terrifying moment of her life. Where the hell was he taking her, and why had she followed? Suddenly, the path steepened and arched downward. He turned back and took her arm instead of offering his. “Careful,” he said. “Watch your step here.”
She hesitated.
“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” A hand on her arm, the other on her hip, he lowered her slowly to the ground. “There,” he said as her feet touched earth. He paused ever so slightly before he released her, bringing them close enough to feel his warm breath on her face. He smelled like salt air and sage. He stepped aside, and the view opened up to a hidden cove. The sloping lawn and deep unmowed grass that swept toward the ocean looked like a receding wave. Callie immediately thought of the Andrew Wyeth painting Christina’s World, the girl sprawled on the grass, the houses on the hill behind her.
The first building Callie saw had the look of a small lighthouse with a narrow observation tower. It was built into the side of a red granite ledge; a main level sat on the grassy land, and a lower story was on the beach underneath, just feet from the water’s edge. The lighthouse towered another four stories from the main floor, becoming glass as it ascended, more church spire than warning light. The second building had all but disappeared into the landscape, the roof on the same angle as the hill’s slope, its color a camouflage of rock and sea grass.
“Come this way,” Paul said, leading Callie over a pebbly path, across more red granite, and around the back of the house to a half-hidden door on the ocean side of the building.
At their approach, a huge seagull raised itself and hung on the wind, dropping a quahog on the rocks below in an effort to break open its shell.
They entered the house in the side of the hill. Callie could see that it was designed with all of its windows on the ocean side. Paul opened the shutters to the sunset. Even in the half-light of impending dusk, the place seemed made of silvery water and golden sun.
The first things she noticed were the brass compasses and an old-fashioned diving helmet. They looked like they belonged in a steampunk exhibit. Then, in the center of the large open room, she was surprised to see what looked like another house: it was only one room, with a large walk-in fireplace similar to the one she’d seen at Ann’s, and it had leaded-glass windows that were opened.
“This was the original house,” Paul said. “Built in 1640. My great-great-grandfather wanted a larger house but didn’t want to disturb the historic value of this one, so he simply surrounded it. It’s the kitchen now.”
Callie had to duck a little as she passed under the low beam. “Sixteen forty, huh?”
“It was home to one of Salem’s accused witches.”
“One of your family members, I assume?”
“I’m afraid so.” He smiled.
Paul led her through the small room and out the other side, ducking so as not to bump his head on the ceiling beam. The far door led back into the main room, revealing more steampunk gadgetry.
“My grandfather was a bit of a collector. He spent a fortune on this stuff, among other things. Come on, let’s catch the sunset,” Paul said, walking her through the living room and up a spiral staircase to the glass tower.
At the top of ninety steps was a tiny octagonal room with 360-degree views. All of Salem Sound was visible, as was much of the North Shore from Beverly to Manchester and south to Marblehead Light. Straight ahead were the border islands: the Miseries, Baker’s, Children’s, and Yellow Dog.
“That’s Norman’s Woe,” he said, pointing to a tiny speck of rock in the far distance, three towns away.
“?‘The Wreck of the Hesperus.’ Longfellow.”
“You know the poem?”
“I do.”
It was one of her favorites.
It was a breathtaking view, with the sun setting over the land west of Beverly Harbor, its reds and oranges flaming as it dropped. Paul and Callie watched as the eastern sky deepened and melted into water, the spreading darkness building above and below the horizon until, as it slowly erased its dividing line, the sky blackened, and the stars became visible.
She could feel Paul close behind her in the darkening room, breaching the personal space she usually protected.