THE COTTAGE
Chapter 4
Written and illustrate by Elaine Troisi
The ice cream carton slipped from her fingers, spilling its melted remains across the wood floor planks.
Caroline didn't notice. Her eyes were fixed on the bedroom door.
She rose slowly, hoping the floorboards would remain silent beneath her feet. Tiptoeing across the room, she reached for the doorknob. Slowly, she turned the lock. The click seemed deafening in the stillness.
Back in bed, she pulled the covers to her chin and listened.
The cottage settled around her with a long sigh, as if relieved the door was locked once more. The familiar sound eased her racing heart. This old place had always seemed alive somehow.
Just as sleep began to claim her, her cell phone rang insistently.
She sat up and grabbed it from the bedside table.
“Daddy,” she said, smiling as she answered.
“Hi. I know it's late. Did I wake you?” Ned sounded concerned.
“Maybe,” she said. “I was just drifting off.”
“Are you settled in? Everything okay?”
Caroline hesitated. The last thing she wanted was for her father to worry. Somewhere in the house, a board creaked softly. The sound made her smile despite herself.
“This place brings back so many happy memories, Daddy.” That part, at least, was true.
“Oh, that makes me so happy to hear, honey.” He paused. “How would it be if I came up for a three-day weekend? I could be there by dinner on Friday.”
“I have a lot to tell you,” she said. “How's it going on your project for the Attorney General's office?”
“Well, let's just say I have a lot to tell you, too.”
“Okay, it's a date. I'll make your favorite—rack of lamb. I'm so happy you can come!”
“Go back to sleep, my darling.”
They chatted a minute longer before hanging up.
As Caroline drifted off, the cottage gave another soft groan, settling into the night around her. She found herself wondering what or how much she would tell her father.
She slept soundly until eight a.m. She gave herself a good stretch and unlocked the door. The sun was shining, and the house was silent, perhaps sleeping in, too. She smiled as she padded down to the kitchen. She made coffee and smeared a thick layer of cream cheese on a bagel. She was grateful to have her mother's slender frame. No matter what she ate, her figure resisted the calories.
“Thanks, Mom,” she said as she bit into the bagel and sipped the coffee.
She drank a second cup before heading upstairs to ready herself for the day. There on the floor was the empty ice cream carton and a dried slick of peanut butter fudge ice cream. She felt a prickly sensation at the back of her neck but chose to ignore the crouching fear.
After cleaning it up, she dressed and raced down the stairs, ready to start the day. First on her list was housework. Her dad was coming in a few days, and the old house needed some shining up.
Later she went outside to see what the yard wanted as well. She remembered there was an herb garden by the barn. It was still there, surprisingly in better shape than the rest of the yard. Early spring though it was, she found fresh thyme and rosemary. She squeezed them between her fingers, and they released exactly the fragrances she wanted. In fact, they awakened her appetite.
“Just perfect,” she said, smiling.
She moved about the yard, picking up sticks as she went. Two branches had been brought down by winter wind and ice, but she left them for when her dad came.
As she neared the tree line, she paused. For just a moment, she had the odd sensation of being watched. She turned quickly, scanning the woods.
Nothing.
Only branches swaying gently in the breeze.
Shaking her head, she returned to her work.
When she went inside, she made a grilled cheese and tomato sandwich for lunch. She grabbed a folding chair from the mudroom and ate outside on the Sunny Side Patio. Her mother had named it that. Caroline marveled at how good she felt, sitting at the cottage and enjoying her sandwich in the spring sunshine. She closed her eyes and watched the sunbeams dance through her eyelashes, scattering tiny rainbows.
The rest of the day was equally delightful in its ordinariness. Before dinner she baked two loaves of bread, one for now and one for her father's visit. Just as her mother had done, she wrapped the completely cooled loaf in a tea towel to keep it fresh. She placed it on the counter.
After dinner, as night began to fall, Caroline laid a fire in the parlor, poured herself a glass of sherry, and ensconced herself in her father's favorite chair. She sat reading a book, amazed that she was relaxed enough to enjoy reading once again.
“Ha! Here I am, Caroline Delanoe, sipping my dad's sherry, sitting in his chair, while the fire dances on the ceiling.”
She paused and whispered a name without tears.
“Jonathan. Look at me now.”
She took a sip of sherry and returned to chapter four.
A half hour later something caught her eye. A shadow at the window. She ran to the kitchen. There it was again, passing the window. She grabbed a jacket and ran outside. She saw it again, heading to the barn. She took a breath and then followed.
“This is not my imagination,” she whispered.
“Hey!”
The figure froze.
“Don't move!” Her voice was sharp. Her breathing quickened.
The man turned slowly. Even in the fading light, she could see surprise on his face. Perhaps even alarm.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
For a moment he simply stared at her.
Then he said, “I could ask you the same thing.”
“This is my cottage.”
The man glanced toward the house.
“Then you must be Caroline.”
Her stomach tightened. The prickling sensation returned. “How do you know my name?”
He hesitated.
“My father sent you, didn't he?”
The man rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To keep an eye on things.”
“What things?”
His gaze shifted toward the woods.
“That's a long story.”
“Try me.”
He studied her for a moment.
“I'm Tim.”
“That's not an answer.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
“No. It isn't.”
Caroline folded her arms.
“It was you, wasn't it? The night I arrived.”
This time he looked genuinely uncomfortable.
“Yes. You might not remember. You slipped and fell. Knocked out cold.
Anger flared. “So why didn't you call the ambulance?”
“Caroline, you were soaking wet, unconscious, and it was cold. How long to get to get an ambulance out here? A half our? An hour?”
“Oh, I see.” She was deflating, but she wasn't done.
“You also carried those boxes.”
Another nod.
“You're the one I saw outside.”
“Yes.”
Caroline frowned.
“I as it you hiding in the woods when I returned with groceries?”
“No.” He paused. “What?”
The answer came so quickly she believed him.
“Then who was it?”
Tim's expression changed.
For the first time, he looked worried.
“I don't know.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Would you like a cup of coffee,Tim?” she asked finally.
The question seemed to catch him off guard.
“Yes,” he said. “I think I would.”
Dear Readers,
While I work to develop this novel, don't forget to continue your support of The Urn: A Legacy of Silence. You can acquire it on Amazon .
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Thanks,
Elaine
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