Adrift: The Widow's Walk Trilogy, #1

By Robin Wainwright

On the coast of California nestled between Los Angeles and San Francisco is the quaint village of Crescent Bay.

In the past it was an active port for smugglers, but now it serves as a tourist destination for those seeking cute shops, seaside relaxation, and nautical history.

Part of Crescent Bay's history sits on the outskirts of the village, an abandoned lighthouse overlooking the cliffs.

It is said that on foggy nights you can see the wispy figure of a woman standing on the gallery of the lighthouse, searching the sea. Some claim that they have seen her jump over the edge and plunge screaming to her death.

Two unsuspecting individuals land in Crescent bay, a grieving woman seeking her future and an industrious man, longing to bring the lighthouse's past back to life.

But sometimes the past wants to be left alone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Purrfect Publishing
• Release date: Oct 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781502273178

Robin Wainwright

As a child, Robin Wainwright's Irish mother filled Robin's active imagination with stories of magic and the wee people. Her days were filled with other worlds where magic and the paranormal were an accepted way of life. As soon as Robin learned how to write, she continued her mother's tradition of storytelling. She shared her stories with her mother, but no one else. In 2013, Robin decided to begin sharing her stories with a broader audience and so The Widow's Walk trilogy was born. Robin lives in Southern California with her wonderful husband and two cats. She loves the rain, thunder, and lightning (although she doesn't see much of it where she lives) as well as chocolate, coffee, and Halloween. She continues to write (sometimes with the help of her cats) while sitting in her recliner, appearing to look out her window into her green yard, while in reality her vision is focused on other locales.

Book preview

1

No noise. No light. No life. Heather sat in the dark waiting. Waiting for a call that would never come again. Heather? It was his voice she heard in her head. She looked around, searching, even though she knew it wasn’t real.

She sat in a state of stasis. There was nothing she had to do. No where she had to be. No responsibility. Heather felt frozen.

Full darkness fell and she knew she should turn on the light, but why? Instead, she closed her eyes and fell asleep.

Sunlight bathed the room and Heather groaned. She rolled over, to hide her face in the pillow, but her eyes popped open. Oh god! What time is it? Dad’s going to want his coffee! She jumped up and was half way to the kitchen before she remembered.

For a moment, she froze and felt the knife in her heart twist. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she continued into the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee.

She sat with her coffee at the kitchen table she had shared with her Dad, Tony, for the past 18 years.

Heather had moved in with him after her Mom had died ten years before, and as the years had passed her father had needed more and more assistance, until the day he received the diagnosis—liver cancer.

Because of his advanced age, he chose to enter Hospice care instead of undergoing invasive medical treatment. Heather had supported his choice and had done her best to make his final days as happy and comfortable as possible.

Her life had become more and more absorbed by her father’s needs. Heather didn’t begrudge him his care; after all, he had always been there for her. She thought back over all the nights her father had come to her middle school and high school choir concerts. At the time, she hadn’t realized what a chore this must have been, but now, as an adult Heather understood. He must have been so tired after working a full day, and yet he would come and sit through what must have been a mind-numbing two-hour concert. Heather hadn’t been in a show choir with amazingly talented teenagers who could sing and dance without breaking a sweat or losing their breath. Heather’s choir had consisted of enthusiastic kids who could manage to carry a tune in a bucket, but not much else.

After a concert, her father would praise her and say how proud he was of her. Throughout her life, Heather’s dad had never made her feel like he was anything but enthusiastic and proud of anything she attempted.

She was proud that she had managed to give him the gift of passing in his home with her holding his hand. But now what?

Suddenly it hit her, she couldn’t stay in the house another minute. She had to get out of there.

Now that she had something to do, she moved quickly. Down came her luggage; in went whatever she could grab. She locked up the house, threw her suitcase in the trunk and was off—to the end of her driveway.

There she froze again. Now what? She asked. She looked around her and thought, this isn’t much of a change of scenery.

Defeated she went to see what mail had accumulated while she had vegetated in the house. The envelopes addressed to her Dad pierced her heart and drained what little energy she had managed to gain.

Returning to her car, she tossed the mail on the passenger seat and prepared to return to the garage. As she turned the car around, the mail slid off the seat and under her feet.

Dammit! She screamed as she slammed the car into park and pulled up the hand break. Then she began to gather up the spilled mail. She could reach it all, except one annoying card that was jammed under the gas pedal.

She threw open the door and got down on her knees to yank the offending postcard out from under the pedal. The postcard was an ad from a travel agent showing a quaint village on the edge of a beautiful beach.

Heather looked back to the house and then down at the postcard.

Okay Dad, I got your message, she said as she wiped the tears off her face, climbed back into her car, and headed for the coast.

2

As Heather drove up Highway 101, she felt her sadness lifting. She rolled down the windows and allowed the cool salt scented air to fill her car. She had no destination in mind, but already her soul felt lighter.

The waves played peak-a-boo with her as the highway wove north up the California coast.

She only stopped when her gas tank was low, and then she would immediately continue on her journey. Twilight began to fall and she decided she had better find somewhere to spend the night.

Heather drove around a sharp bend in the road and her breath caught in surprise. Perched on the edge of a steep cliff, silhouetted against the dramatically colored sunset, was a lighthouse. The sight was so beautiful that it was hard to believe it was real. Heather sighed, wishing that she could have a closer look, but the sun was quickly setting and darkness was falling.

Heather saw a sign, Next Exit - Crescent Bay, and decided to pull off and look for lodging.

Signs directed her to the town center and soon she was driving down Main Street.

The village seemed mostly empty with the exception of one business; the sign over its eaves declared it to be The Foghorn Tavern.

With no hotel in sight, she pulled up to the tavern and went in to ask where she might find lodging.

The first thing that hit her was the heavenly scent of fried food. Her stomach let out a war cry and she realized that she hadn’t eaten all day.

A feminine laugh startled Heather and she turned to see a cute full figured brunette with laughing brown eyes smiling at her.

Well it sounds like your stomach votes yes. What about you, table for one?

Embarrassed, Heather chuckled and nodded her head. The laughing brunette led her to a table and gave her a menu. I’m Maggie and I’ll be your waitress today. What can I start you with?

Coffee please.

One coffee coming right up. Maggie moved quickly toward a set of swinging doors that must have led to the kitchen.

Heather glanced up from her menu and caught a few people looking at her. They turned away quickly, seemingly embarrassed to have been caught staring. The stares didn’t feel aggressive, just curious.

Heather wondered what they saw when they looked at her. In the past when she had looked in the mirror she had seen reflected back at her a woman with green eyes, chin length mouse brown hair (that she pumped up with golden highlights), and a medium build. Lately she had lost a little weight, due to the passing of her father, but she still felt like she was heavier than the ideal. She had always thought her appearance was closer to cute than beautiful.

She glanced at the menu in her hand and then put it down without bothering to read it. She knew what she wanted and so did her stomach.

Maggie returned with her coffee, Have you made up your mind?

Yes. I’ll have a cheeseburger and fries. Heather’s stomach rumbled again and both she and Maggie laughed.

Good choice. I think I’d better put a rush on that. Still laughing, Maggie moved back to the kitchen to place Heather’s order.

Heather settled in with a contented sigh and realized that for the first time, in a long time, she felt relaxed.

As she sipped her coffee, she took in her surroundings. The tavern was decorated in warm browns with golden accents. A fireplace dominated one wall and above the mantel was a large oil painting. She couldn’t see all the details from her seat but it looked like a beautiful painting of a foggy sea and a large ship with tall masts.

The tavern was not crowded but there was enough clientele to keep Maggie hopping. Heather watched Maggie as she maneuvered around the tables with a grace gained from years of practice, with a laugh here and a light touch there. She seemed to make everyone feel that they were her special guests and that their every need would be cheerfully fulfilled.

Heather felt a small touch of envy as she realized that Maggie was a woman who seemed happy and content with herself and perhaps her life.

Heather shook her head and thought, How can I know that, she’s just good at her job. Bigger smiles mean bigger tips right? Yet, it didn’t feel like Maggie was faking it.

Heather looked away from Maggie to study the other patrons. Most likely, some were locals and some were visitors like her. She made a game out of trying to figure out which was which. The older gentleman at the bar, dressed in the flannel shirt and jeans, must be a local. The couple holding hands in the corner booth were probably visitors. Those three were easy, but the balance of the patrons were harder to figure out. Considering the apparent lack of a hotel, they were probably mostly locals.

Maggie returned with Heather’s order and the smell made Heather’s mouth water. The hamburger was still sizzling and the cheese was a slice of molten goodness. The fries were thickly cut slices of potato with the skins still on, sparkling with a dash of sinful salt. Oh yeah, Heather thought I’m hungry!

Maggie refilled Heather’s coffee cup and asked, Is there anything else I can get you?

Restraining herself for just one more minute, Heather looked up at Maggie. Yes. I’m on a road trip and I was wondering if there is a hotel nearby?

Sorry no hotels, but Sarah runs a wonderful B&B. Hang on a second. Heather barely refrained from diving into her cheeseburger as Maggie turned away and briskly walked over to a table where a couple of women were sharing a glass of wine.

One of the women was heavy set, with dark brown hair and was dressed in a beautiful purple tie-dyed dress and flip-flops. The other woman was dressed more conservatively in a tan linen skirt suit and low heels.

As Maggie spoke to them, they both looked over to Heather and she shyly gave them a small wave. They smiled and waved back. Looking up at Maggie the woman in the tie-dye nodded and picked up her wine.

Maggie returned to Heather’s table with a huge smile on her face. The lady in the tie-dye is Sarah Gnome and she says she has a room you can rent. It’s past check-in time, but she said that when you finish your dinner just let her know and she’ll show you what she has available.

Wow, thank you. I appreciate you going above and beyond.

No problem, Sarah is a friend of mine and I know that after you finish your dinner you’re probably going to be ready to crash. Driving while tired is never good, especially along this highway. You can never be sure when the fog is going to roll in. Maggie smiled and headed off to another table.

The cheeseburger and fries were a decadent delight. Heather couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten something that someone else had cooked and she was sure it probably hadn’t been this good. As the food hit her stomach Heather had to admit that Maggie had been right, even with the two cups of coffee she’d finished she was definitely crashing.

Maggie returned and asked if Heather would like anything else.

No, thank you. That was fantastic.

Maggie laughed, Terrific. I’m glad you liked it, I guess I’ll keep Mario on for a while.

Mario?

Mario is my chef. I know that with a name like that it seems like he should probably be working in an Italian restaurant, but he can sling some mean grub. As you now know.

Oh, this place is yours?

Yep, mine and the bank’s that is.

It’s a beautiful restaurant.

Thanks. Maybe you’ll come back in tomorrow for lunch, then you can try Mario’s Molten Mountain. It’s a huge piece of chocolate cake with a melted chocolate center served in a ring of French vanilla ice cream drizzled with dark chocolate syrup. It is to die for.

Heather rubbed her belly, I can’t imagine having room for that, but by tomorrow I just might be able to squeeze some in. Heather placed a twenty on the bill tray and said, Keep the change.

Maggie picked up the check and said, Well, thank you. Now let me introduce you to Sarah.

As they approached the table, Sarah quickly finished her wine and stood up to meet Heather.

Sarah this is Heather, Maggie hesitated when she realized that she didn’t know Heather’s last name and she looked to Heather for help.

Moore. Maggie smiled her thanks.

Heather Moore. She is looking for a place to spend the night.

Well, fortunately I have just such a place. Sarah replied. Turning to her companion she said, Thank you for joining me tonight. I hope you’ll think about my idea.

I will Sarah and I’ll get back to you. The woman in the suit stood up, nodded to Heather and Maggie and left the tavern.

So, big plans Sarah? Maggie asked.

Maybe, Sarah grinned. We’ve got to do something to attract more tourists to our humble little village. Maggie, are you going to the council meeting?

Wouldn’t miss it! It’s always good for some drama if nothing else. Laughing, Sarah bid Maggie a good night. After thanking Maggie, Heather followed Sarah out the door.

So, what brings you to our fine village? Sarah asked.

I needed a change of scenery, I drove up the coast, and this is where I landed.

Well I’m glad you stopped. If you have time to sightsee tomorrow, I think you’ll find a lot about our village that you’ll like. We have some cool shops with arts and crafts made by local artisans, such as myself, Sarah smiled. But, if nothing else you should take a walk on the beach and see our lighthouse. It’s really beautiful.

I don’t need to be anywhere, so I think I might do just that. They got into Heather’s car and Sarah directed Heather down a side street to a lovely three-story house painted white with blue trim. A white picket fence enclosed a well-kept front yard. Malibu lighting illuminated a lush green lawn, rose bushes and shade trees. White benches were scattered around the yard as though inviting one to sit down and read for a while. Heather laughed when she saw playful gnomes and gargoyles peeking out from behind various bushes and shrubs. A sign at the front gate sported a cute painting of a gnome sleeping in a hammock and welcoming you to Gnome’s Rest.

Sarah smiled at Heather as she opened the front gate. Welcome to Gnome’s Rest also known as home sweet home. Sarah led Heather up onto the porch and in through the front door.

They entered a large living area with overstuffed chairs and couches arranged around a central fireplace. Heather approached the fireplace to look at a painting hanging over the mantel. The painting was a dark and moody image of a lighthouse perched on a cliff above large crashing waves. The beam of light from the lighthouse tried to pierce a fog that was rolling in toward shore. Standing on the gallery of the lighthouse looking out into the ocean was a willowy figure of a woman in a billowing dress. The woman had been painted so that she looked almost transparent. The overall mood of the painting was desolate and yet somehow beautiful.

Heather was so absorbed by the painting that she jumped when Sarah asked, What’cha think? Patting Heather gently on