THE COTTAGE
Chapter 3
Written and illustrated
By Elaine
Caroline examined the boxes by the door once more.
Everything inside was dry.
That was impossible. They should have been rain-soaked.
She had not carried them to the porch herself in some dazed state.
Then who had?
A chill moved through her. Suddenly weak, she went inside and dropped into a chair. She pressed her fingers against her temples. The headache had returned in full.
Without thinking, she dialed home.
The grief hit instantly.
There was no one left to answer.
At the sink, she splashed cold water onto her face and forced herself to breathe. Then she swallowed two aspirin and called her father.
No answer.
She almost left a message, but stopped herself. He would hear the grief and fear in her voice.
Logically, she had two choices: call the police or leave.
But what would she tell the officer?
" I fell in my yard last night and passed out." To which the officer will respond,"Well, ma'am, how much you did you drink before driving your car?"
Someone moved my luggage?
She rubbed her forehead. No. She couldn’t call the police.
That left only one decision: stay or run.
Her eyes settled on the front door. Finally, she stood.
An hour later, she pulled back into the cottage driveway with groceries piled high in the back seat. She sat for a moment with the engine running, scanning the property.
Nothing moved.
Then suddenly two rabbits burst through the tall grass, leaping over one another near the side yard.
Caroline jumped before letting out a shaky breath. “Get a grip,” she whispered.
She carried the groceries inside in two trips. On the last one, a bag slipped from her arms. Eggs shattered across the walkway. Milk rolled sideways and leaked into the cracks between the stones.
“Dammit.”
She left the mess for later.
Inside, she unpacked mechanically, barely aware of what she was doing. By the time she finished emptying the boxes and stowing the groceries, exhaustion and hunger hit her all at once.
The hoagie she’d bought at the market disappeared in minutes.
Afterward, she leaned back in the chair, heavy-eyed for the first time in days.
Then her eyes snapped open.
The spill outside.
Bucket and mop in hand, she stepped onto the flagstone walk.
And froze.
The broken eggs were gone.
The milk jug was gone.
Everything was gone.
For one irrational second, she wondered if she had imagined it altogether.
She walked around the house and saw the full trash can beside the barn door.
The empty milk jug and crushed egg carton stuck out from the top.
Someone had cleaned it up.
The bucket slipped from her fingers and struck the patio with a crack.
Fear prickled across the back of her neck.
Then anger took over.
Caroline marched around to the back of the barn as darkness settled over the property. The air smelled of wet earth and pine. Every sound seemed louder now—the wind in the trees, the creak of branches, the crunch beneath her shoes.
She rounded the rear of the barn and grabbed the door handle. She stood there motionless.
“I know you’re in here!” she shouted. “Come out!”
Silence.
She yanked the door open and stepped inside.
“I mean it!”
Nothing answered.
But somewhere deep in the bar—something shifted.
“I'm not alone.” The realization bit hard. "I am not alone!"
She reminded herself to breathe.
Caroline carried the bucket and mop inside and locked the door behind her.
Enough. I've had about enough. She was done for the night.
She checked the windows and doors twice, turned on every outside light, then carried the carton of peanut butter fudge ice cream upstairs along with a spoon.
Childish maybe.
She didn’t care.
Tonight survival was enough.
She changed into sweatpants and climbed into bed, propping herself against the headboard with the carton in her lap. The cottage creaked softly around her as the wind moved through the trees.
For the first time all day, she began to relax.
Then she peeled back the lid.
Almost empty.
Not melted.
Not damaged.
"But I just bought it today," she mumbled.
The spoon slipped from her fingers.
Slowly, Caroline lifted her eyes toward the bedroom doorway.
Someone had been inside the cottage.