Fascinated by the Legend of the Cornwallis Ghost, Becca sneaks into a military base to see the ghost’s tombstone.
When she finds and follows a secret tunnel to the Officers’ Mess, Becca meets a living and breathing Eve, the betrayed young woman who hanged herself and haunts Cornwallis.
Trapped in the past with Eve in the days leading up to her tragic death, Becca becomes Rebecca, a woman devastated by a shattering loss and failing marriage.
Can Becca unravel the past to give Rebecca and Eve a second chance, and escape with her heart and future intact?
Targeted Age Group:: 18-99
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
Back in the late 1980's, hubby and I enjoyed a three-year posting to beautiful CFB Cornwallis, a Canadian military training base in Nova Scotia. We lived in PMQs and from my living room window, I was spoiled with the most gorgeous sunsets over the Annapolis basin. We moved in with one daughter and moved out with two daughters and half a son.
The thing that fascinated me the most on the base was the legend of the ghost of the Officers' Mess. According to the legend, a local young woman fell madly in love with a British sailor during WWII. When the sailor left on his warship to go back to his wife to England, she was heart-broken. She watched him sail away from one of the upstairs bedrooms of the Officers' Mess before hanging herself in front of the window. Her ghost was said to haunt the Officers' Mess, making strange noises and playing with lights, but only showing her ghostly self to unfaithful married man.
I wasn't a writer back then, but I've never forgotten that legend. I've always thought it would make a great story.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
I needed an intrepid character to sneak into the military base, and a reason for her to do so, so I made her a reporter for a newspaper and I named her Becca, like my granddaughter whose mother was born on that military base.
The chirping of the birds pierced the hazy layers of her sleeping brain, rousing Becca from a peaceful slumber. Enjoying the last vestiges of a furtive dream, she stretched in bed, tangling her fingers in a railing.
Her eyes flew open as she gripped the railing of a headboard that shouldn’t exist. "What am I still doing here?"
The first ray of sunlight filtered into the room through an open window and a salty breeze tickled her nose. She loved waking up at dawn, taking long walks along the shore, and breathing in the smell of the ocean, but she didn’t belong in this cozy room with an antique dresser. As a disturbing thought flitted across her mind, she rolled on her side.
To her relief, no one occupied the other half of the bed. "Thank the stars for small favors."
Still, it didn’t explain why she didn’t wake up from her dream, unless—
"No, it’s impossible. I must be dreaming." Nobody traveled back in time, except in the movies, and her life bore no resemblance to any movies worth swooning over.
Wary someone might barge in at any moment, she got up to rummage through the dresser in search of something more comfortable to wear than a skirt. She extracted a pair of dark blue pants, which she hurried to slip over clean granny panties, then strapped on the white bra and donned the shirt she’d discarded on top of the dresser the previous night.
The sunlight reflected off a beautiful ring resting on the drab brownish cover of a familiar book, a copy of The Long Winter by Laura Ingalls Wilder.
Fascinated by both items, Becca picked up the ring. An inscription was engraved inside.
Rebecca & Asher 1933
"My name is Rebecca?" The coincidence unsettled Becca. Then the date struck her, adding a new dimension to Rebecca’s recent loss. She and Asher had been married eight years, and from what Becca had gathered, Rebecca and her husband didn’t have any children, making her wonder how many babies they’d mourned over the years. When she met her husband last night, she didn’t notice if he wore a wedding band but in this era Becca didn’t believe a married woman would leave home without a ring adorning her finger. "If I were her, I would wear it all the time."
A quote from Sir Arthur Conan Doyle toyed with her reality. 'Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.' When she visited the basement of the Base Commander’s Residence, something bizarre had happened. That much she couldn’t deny.
"So, if I stepped into the past, how do I get back to my own time? And where’s Rebecca?" Becca hadn’t encountered anyone in the tunnel and the door acting as gateway in the warehouse, which Theo called a depot, had vanished. Whether Rebecca had taken her place in the future or become trapped in a different dimension didn’t change Becca’s current predicament. "The moment I go back to the future, Rebecca should regain possession of her body." Pondering Rebecca’s whereabouts wouldn’t accomplish anything, but Becca couldn’t ignore that they shared the same name. The coincidence didn’t strike her as fortuitous. "If I didn’t leap into Rebecca’s life at random, then I may be able to return home once I figure out the purpose of my presence here."
A reason jumped out at her. "The ghost."
Why else would Becca have landed here six days before Eve killed herself if not to save her? In a weird way, her strange predicament made sense.
All she had to do was to convince Evelyn Marie Manchester that her sleazy British sailor wasn’t worth shedding a tear over, let alone losing her life. "Easy peasy lemon squeezy." Then the door would reappear, and Becca would return home to write her newspaper article about Eve. "But if I save her, she won’t become a ghost."
The possible ramifications of such an event baffled her mind, triggering a headache. She rubbed her temples. "Don’t overthink the situation, Becca. Just see where it leads. And enjoy the ride. It’ll add up at the end. It always does." She’d stepped into Rebecca Dalton’s life therefore she should act like her alter ego.
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