THE COTTAGE
Chapter 5
Written and illustrated
By Elaine Troisi
He followed Caroline into the kitchen. He wiped his feet on the doormat and hung his hat and jacket on the rack, following Caroline’s lead.
“Have a seat. Do you like your coffee strong?”
He nodded.
“I thought so,” she said, as she prepared the dark brew. She didn't look at him as she spoke. He shifted in his chair again. Caroline hid a smile. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one feeling uncomfortable.
“Are you from around here,” she asked,” still with her back turned.
He hesitated. “No, I've never been to Nova Scotia.”
Caroline poured the coffee. “Black, I suppose.”
“No, just a little cream or milk.” He pushed his chair back.
She turned to watch him get the milk from the refrigerator.
“You've been in this kitchen before.” A statement, not a question.
She put the coffee cups on the table. He took one and poured milk in it. He offered the carton to her. “Thanks, but I drink my coffee black.”
They sat in silence, staring into their cups.
Caroline offered, “If you can build a fire in the parlor, perhaps we’d be more comfortable there. Are you hungry?” she asked.
“I can always eat,” he said, standing.
“Toast okay? I made the bread myself.”
“Sure,” he replied. He refilled their cups and carried them into the parlor.
Caroline cut thick slices to toast while he set the fire.
The fire was roaring when she entered the parlor with two plates of thickly buttered toast.
He was standing at the window. “It's raining again.”
She nodded. “What did you say your name is?” She handed him a plate of toast.
“Just Tim.”
“Okay, Just Tim. Is there a last name that goes with Just Tim,” she asked as butter dripped down her chin. She wiped it away.
“Tim is fine.”
“For you, maybe.”
A ghost of a smile crossed his face.
“You always interrogate strangers over toast?”
“Only the ones living in my barn.” She added,"and those who sneak into my house at night and eat my ice cream!”
Tim stood abruptly.
“For your information, Caroline, while you were having lunch on the patio, that's when I ate my peanut butter fudge ice cream.” He paused briefly.“When I heard you at the door, I made a very hasty retreat!” He sat down, hard, like a balloon deflating. The firelight flickered on his face. They became quiet again. The fire crackled but the slash of rain on the windows drew his attention repeatedly, as if expecting something.
“What do you mean your ice cream? I bought it the day before!”
“Your ice cream is right where you put it, Caroline. I sometimes put things in the house freezer. The mini fridge in the bunk house doesn't hold much,” he explained.
Caroline looked at him. “Oh,” she said.
“Quiet! Listen. Is that a car?” He seemed anxious when he returned to the window.
Caroline joined him. She heard it, too, agreeing. “There are rarely any cars on our road, especially at night.”
“I know,” he said. "Thanks for your hospitality, but I have to leave now.”
Caroline followed him to the door and watched him disappear into the rain.
A moment later she heard the approaching car slow as it passed the cottage.
Then it continued down the road.
Tim had vanished into the darkness.
Caroline stood in the doorway long after the taillights were gone.
She returned to the parlor. The fire was burning down. She picked up the book she had been reading the night before. But there were too many unanswered questions swirling in her brain. The book slid to the floor. She didn't bother to pick it up.
Caroline stirred the dying embers before tending to the dishes.She was confused. Tim wasn't a danger to her, she was sure, but something was clearly wrong.
She was about to go upstairs when she heard a car approaching from the opposite direction at a normal speed. She went to the window, feeling a bit paranoid. Sure enough, it slowed in front of her house. She thought it was going to stop. Her heart skipped a beat. It moved on, picking up speed as it went.
Realization struck hard. She wasn't being watched. They were being watched. She shuddered. The prickly feeling at the back of her neck grew. She opened the back door and stared into the wet blackness until her eyes acclimated to the night.
She flicked off the porch light so he wouldn’t see her.
But he already had.
Tim stood beside the barn, motionless in the rain. He wasn’t looking at the cottage.
He was looking toward the road.
Watching.
Waiting.
Caroline quietly closed the door.
For the first time, she wondered what she should really be afraid of.