Love's Darkest House

by Ginny Lynn

  Turning around at the bottom of the staircase, I caught the glint of the green glass as it burnished in the morning rays of the sun as they played against the greenhouse walls. I could go for a walk and investigate the property if the weather stayed this wonderful. It was a welcome after the energy that clung to me from the storm last night. I was surprised I had slept through the majority of it with how tense I had been. It was a good surprise, which didn’t happen very often these days.

  I put more water in the kettle from last night but was going to turn the heat off just before it screamed good morning to me. While the thin metal heated, I set about looking amongst the grocery items again. There was fresh milk, eggs, and a small slab of peppered bacon in the unit’s door. I didn’t recall them being there last night but I had been a mess, so anything was possible. Or, there was a slight chance we had a service that brought these things out to us in the farthest part of the district. Shaking my head, it was too convenient to be true for this modern a time.

  I was still annoyed at not having Mr. White’s phone number but throwing a three-year-old-like tantrum would not make him show his lined face to answer my growing list of questions. In that case, I set about fixing breakfast. I was able to sip my tea before life was able to shatter my contented silence of the morning. It wouldn’t take long to catch up with me as I breathed in the smell of sizzling bacon that was as comforting as the pants I had pulled on this morning. Little pleasures were so important to me these days. They were the rays of sunshine which winked at you behind a dark wall of oppressive clouds.

  My mind began to wonder what I could do today, besides take a walk around the sixteen acres of land. I would have to look for property markers as I could easily find myself on a stranger’s land. I could look over the sketched map of the estate before I left so I could have a better bearing on which directions were safe to travel. On my way back in, I could grab up some of the tomatoes off of the vine for sandwiches later. If a few were very ripe, then I would see if I had the items to make marinara sauce. Putting down the spatula, I looked back in the dry goods for any pasta and I was happy to see a single package of penne waiting for me there.

  Today was falling into place and I felt a little better already. This was a marker of the peacefulness I needed to get myself back to being healthy. Fresh air, solitude, sun-ripened vegetables, all sounded so calm and clear right now. That’s what I needed. Not a smug man who could turn me into any knot he could choose. The simple thought had my shoulders tense. Shaking myself back into the now, I pulled the bacon off the stove and slid a plate out. Which was promptly dropped when Kenrick came into view.

  Thank goodness it didn’t shatter because who knew if it was something expensive, like most of the items surrounding me. Bending down at the waist, he picked it up and put it on the counter next to the pan of bacon.

  “As you’ve made yourself at home, is there anything left for my own breakfast?”

  Picturing that smug face of his meeting the back of the greasy iron skillet was way too good to make reality, so I counted to ten instead. He didn’t deserve to see me in jailhouse orange. By the time I hit five, I was smiling but at my imagery of what I wanted to do to him and not his rude way of saying good morning. My wonderful sleep from last night had attributed to me being less aggressive toward my new housemate. The man should consider himself lucky.

  “Pardon me. I made myself as comfortable as possible with the little that was offered to me. If I intruded, then I apologize and ask that you simply leave me a detailed list of what I am and am not allowed access to while I stay here.”

  “You want a detailed list of what you can handle?” he asked with a less stern look on his sexy mouth.

  “Yes, as conversation is too much to expect from you, then a list would be helpful.”

  “Why would you think the conversation would be too much for me? I seem to be handling it rather well at this point. And I can certainly provide you a list, which would be very interesting to put to paper, but I do like a challenge.”

  Was he flirting with me or simply trying to get me worked into a tizzy?

  “You have shown me you are a man of few words. There has been no discussion of what liberties I am allowed, how I am to get by with my normal daily requirements, or even what is typically done here on a day to day basis.”

  “Mr. White gave you the general information about what is done on the property, but I was not asked for anything further.”

  “My humblest apologies, I thought all human beings had the decency to make polite conversation, especially when that person is new to a situation. This is not of my making, but you have also not put forth the effort one would expect if the wheels were reversed,” I stammered as I fought to see which emotion the man was aiming for.

  “Speak plainly. What are you fussing about?”

  I grunted and spun on my feet to move around him. The heck with the spoils of breakfast because he was ruining the gentle atmosphere of my morning with his attitude. I at least wanted my tea before I left him to his snotty tone and pre-made meal. I was filling my teacup and ready to stalk from the kitchen when he rounded on me.

  “If you’re going to scold me then I would like to know what I did to deserve it.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I am asking. Am I not?”

  I harrumphed at him and finished making my cup of tea. As if it would do anything to settle me now. Not unless I could toss it at him, but why waste good tea.

  “Mr. Giles, you have not been friendly since I got here. You have not stepped forward to discuss your working knowledge of the property, nor have you said anything to me to make me feel welcome when I have lost the only kind relative left to me. Do you have any emotions in that heart of yours?”

  “I happen to be an individual who has things to do and should not have to stop on the account of an unknowing college chick deciding she wants to be on the gothic version of Life of the Rich and Famous.”

  “What did you just say?” I knew what he’d said but was going to give him a second to backpedal, if he was smart he’d take what I was offering him. I set my cup down slowly, as I really wanted to spray it across his trim jaw then take glee in it spilling from the tips of his shaggy hair.

  “I didn’t ask to have you here any more than you asked to have your life tossed like a salad. Here is what I have and this is what I have to do to live. Now, if you want to be polite enough to just ask me what you want to know, instead of just expecting me to pull out the estate crystal ball, then go for it, chickie.”

  “Chickie?”

  He just stared at me and I was so flabbergasted I said the only thing that popped into my insane head before the vision hit me like a brick.

  “So what, are you going to kiss me now so you can get even with me? Like last night?”

  Then I blacked out of reality and into the dark space that showed me the other side of the mirror.

  Chapter Seven

  I appeared in what seemed to be an attic. A bare bulb hung just behind me and was swinging like an electric pendulum. Peculiar shadows were thrown from the light as I stood in the center of an area that hadn’t been used in some time. Dust coated like layers of paint while cobwebs resembled delicate frames for the items displayed before me.

  A trunk sat in the eerie darkness as my body’s shadow consumed the leather of the vintage exterior. It was the focal point of my vision. I didn’t know why but I’d had these long enough to pick up the vibes of power when I’m being pointed toward an object. Tiptoeing over the old rocking horse and the chipped china doll, I stooped to look at the hasp lock before me. There was no extra lock, so opening it would not be difficult. It was a good thing. The bad thing would be what could be in the simple looking trunk.

  I didn’t know how long I had to see what was being pushed upon me so I bit my lip and gently pulled the lid open. Dust erupted around me, like busy little ants, while my eyes focused to see the contents inside. It was covered in flowered satin but sm
elled of the pine below the fragile lining. Reaching in, my hands touched the thick binding of a leather book with more cracks than an aged walnut tree. Lifting it was odd as the old tomb was heavier than it appeared. It felt as cumbersome as the sadness which crowded me. Heavier still. A weighty silence that bore witness to many tears.

  Then I heard a shriek and breaking glass. Scared, I looked around and found no one. The attic had vanished and my body was back in the kitchen of Fenmore Estate. Later, I would ask myself if it was better to have Kenrick catch me on the way down or if he should’ve let me hit the cold wood floor. Blinking, I focused on the warmth that surrounded me and not the hardness of the panels beneath me. Kenrick wasn’t exactly soft but he wasn’t wood with many layers of lacquer on it. Actually, maybe they were the same material and no one had figured out since one had a layer that was much more appealing than the other.

  My face was entirely too close to his. It unnerved me how my heart leapt as if I’d been scared out of a horror scene. Some would consider my life to be an ongoing episode of one, with all of the visions and strange happenings. Here I was, in a house from out of Southern Eccentric Magazine, where fluorescent bulbs were more heinous than weeds around the greenhouse and no one would even think to pave the driveway.

  Kenrick ran a fingertip across my cheek, reminding me I was staring into his eyes as if under a spell. “Are you all right?”

  “Uh. Yes, I think so. It doesn’t feel like I hit anything on the way down.”

  “You do this so often you take inventory when you wake up?”

  “Yes. You can let go of me now.”

  “Let’s make sure you’re okay before we have you testing gravity again.”

  He was still touching my face. It was a lazy feeling and I wondered if this was a way to wake up with someone every day. Not in the way of my visions but as a normal occurrence in my lonely life. With the few dates I’ve had, and even fewer one-night stands, this was uncharted territory for me. I’d had longer relationships with a vibrator than I did with a flesh and blood man. Then I remembered I had been in his arms last night.

  “Okay, enough floor time. I really need that tea now.”

  “You’ll have to get a different cup because you broke the last one.”

  I peered over his arm and saw the cup I had gotten out earlier was in two pieces a foot away from me. Thank goodness I hadn’t fallen on it because I couldn’t even begin to tell you where the closest emergency room was to this place. I got up as quickly as possible, even if not gracefully, and scooped the pieces up before Kenrick could stop me. I had them thrown away and was heading back to the cooling kettle by the time he caught up to my actions.

  “You’re running from me as if I’m the big bad wolf. Why is that?”

  I evaded him and grabbed the kettle between us.

  “Are you afraid I’ll eat you up, my dear?”

  “If you’d just flopped onto the floor in front of a stranger, wouldn’t you be jittery?”

  “But it’s not quite anxiety. Or is it? Maybe you’re troubled over something a little more touchable.”

  “Touchable? I’m certain that I felt the floor beneath me.”

  “But we aren’t talking about the floor or the fainting, are we?”

  He took a few steps forward and I was close enough to the sink to turn and act as if I needed to get more water, if I could only manage to move. The act would give me permission to turn my back on him but the boogeyman was always there when you turned back around. A light flashed in his eyes. I blinked. It had to be from the reflection of the window. This wasn’t some mystery show where the victim saw the gleam of their death in the killer’s eyes as the music tempo stepped up. Lord, I was losing it.

  Quickly, I turned my back on him and began pouring water into the kettle while I started to babble.

  “Do you want any tea? As I recall, my fall interrupted you telling me how rude I was for coming into the kitchen and cooking the food that was here.”

  “By your tone, I’m guessing you’re still perturbed with my choice of words,” he said behind me. Was he closer or were my nerves talking?

  “A lapse in time does not excuse a lapse in manners, Mr. Giles.”

  “Now, I’m Mr. Giles?”

  His tone was mocking me and I spun on my heel with the water, hoping it would slosh on him. It didn’t. Even the water was acting abnormally. Then I noticed he had stepped into the realm of my personal space.

  “Excuse me.” I avoided his eyes and silently pleaded for him to do as I asked.

  “Let’s get this settled. Shall we?”

  He took the kettle away from me and set it on the burner just behind me. If I had fought then we both would have been soaked. He ignited the burner and I took my advantage by taking a large step away from the man vexing me on almost every level imaginable. He sidestepped and was back to standing in front of me like a choreographed dance.

  “Do you mind?” I asked with a small squeak in my voice.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. You’ve been avoiding me this morning and I’d like to know why.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. The only thing I mean to avoid is the rudeness you emanate wherever you go. I’ve had enough negativity in my life, more of it is just not needed. If ignoring your attitude makes my day better, then I will put my energy into accomplishing that very task.”

  He folded his arms in front of his nice chest. Well, it was extremely nice in my dream last night, so it didn’t hurt to use that adjective. The sex needed a stronger choice of words, but I so wasn’t going there when I had the face of this erotic man in front of me. Great, amazing, record-breaking sex. Oh boy. I could feel the heat radiating from my face and wondered what was hotter, me or the kettle on the low flame.

  His voice lowered as he bent to meet my hooded eyes. “Why is it you can’t seem to look me in the eyes, my dear?”

  “I’m not your anything,” I realized he had gotten the attention he was looking for. The nerve!

  “Why are you bothering me?” I asked him in frustration.

  “Am I? Bothering you? That sounds more like a compliment than a complaint.”

  He had taken another step closer and was now close enough to kiss me. Oh dear. I swallowed. A few times.

  Just as his lips inched forward, I squeezed my eyes shut and fought not to kiss him. This was insane. I popped my eyes back open and began to ramble when the kettle screamed. The screech brought death to the tension-filled moment and I squeaked right behind it.

  For the first time in my life, I was thankful for tea. Tea kettles, annoying sounds, screams, and any other deterrent that kept me from making a total ass out of myself. Peeling myself away from the counter to stop the high-pitched noise, I breathed a sigh of relief at being away from the nearness of Mr. Kenrick Giles. The man drew me to him even though his attitude was of an ill-tempered playboy. Maybe, if he’d been less repugnant, I’d have fancied seeing if a kiss would bring visions or just have me wishing I was in a bed somewhere.

  Shakily, I fixed my tea and stood in a corner as I went back to ignoring the sexy elephant in the room. He was staring at me from under his tousled hair. It was very predatory, like a tiger wanting to see if I tasted as good as I looked. I couldn’t recall a time when I had ever had a man look at me that way. You’d think that among one of my three sexual encounters, one of the gents would have been affected by me. This man wasn’t even in a bed with me and I felt like he could eat me up. Well, if dreams were anywhere close to being reality, he could. I’d beg him to.

  My mind screamed for me to get the heck out of this room. My tea was just cooling, so I decided to sip it as I walked around the house a bit more. At least, it would give me an excuse to walk away without it looking like I was afraid of him. That’s what I was telling myself anyway. Turning, I traipsed out, as if he wasn’t burning a hole in me, and forced myself to hum as I walked from room to room, glancing at a few details I hadn’t noticed before. Each room had been taken over b
y a loving hand that knew how to mix a touch of the modern time with the more elegant style of the house itself.

  It didn’t take long to start noticing my grandmother’s touch about this floor. She had a love for lace, rich colors, and comfortable upholstery. I bet she had even picked out the pillows piled on the bed in my room. It soothed me to think of this. This place may have been Mr. Fenmore’s but getting a reminder of my own blood filling up this space was an easier way to accept it as a possible home for myself.

  Did I want this home? Now that I could see her in it, yes. Before, it felt like a museum that needed a new supervisor. Remarkable how things could change with just a turn of the mental wheel. It would be overwhelming to see the day to day items I would have to add to my life if I accepted this home. But seeing as I would have the finances to focus on that task, it could be managed. If taking this leap allowed me to be a part-time worker, then I could add my career as a side income for anything personal I needed. A car would be one for the list in the near future. I loved my old girl but maybe I could donate her to someone who could fix her up right. I’d have to check into it.

  Being out here, I only had a couple of neighbors and most didn’t seem to be involved in the estate or I might have seen them while I was here. Normally, a good old-fashioned neighbor would come by to see if anything was needed when you lost someone in the community. No sign of that here, so I could continue my introverted lifestyle. Why was it so comforting? Did I want to be part of this town since I was such a basket case? Or would I turn into a hermit with a hundred cats ghosting around the tree-lined property? The thought made me giggle into the empty hall as I made my way back to the kitchen for my last cup of hot tea.

  The room was empty but it hadn’t been for long as I noticed a terry tea cozy had been slipped onto the steaming kettle. The dishes had been cleaned and there were two blueberry muffins lying on a saucer by the range top. If it was an apology, then I would accept it. Reaching for a fruit-laden muffin, I saw a note scrawled under the delicate saucer. Picking it up, I studied the masculine scrawl neater than any man’s I had seen in my life. It held the characteristics of a time long ago with parchment and ink quills.