by Betty Bolte
“You have a lovely home, Lenore.” He nodded to her as she stirred what he assumed was soup in the black kettle hanging over the merry fire.
“I hope you’ll find it comfortable for a time.” She tapped the ladle against the kettle rim and then hung it on a black metal hook on the right side of the fireplace.
“Were you expecting guests this evening?” Tara linked her fingers around the shoulder straps of her pack, clutching them like a security blanket dangling in front of her legs. “I’m sorry if we’ve interrupted.”
“Not at all. The ravens let me know you were on your way to visit and so I prepared a nice meal for you. I’ve a bedroom all fixed up for you as well.” The wizened face peered up at Tara with a hint of conspiracy mixed with humor in her expression. “You don’t mind sharing a bed with your handsome man, do you?”
Grant waited for Tara to explode at the concept even as concern settled in his chest. She’d planned for their visit? And expected for him to sleep in the same bed with Tara? After all, they barely knew one another so he’d be surprised if she were willing to sleep with him. Literally or figuratively. He cleared his throat in preparation to offer to bed down on the floor, when Tara shot him a look that stopped him.
“Not at all, Lenore. I don’t want to add more work to your kind offer to put up with us for the evening.” Tara hefted her backpack. “Can I deposit this in whichever room is ours for the night?”
Tara surprised him at every turn. From her stance and posture, he could tell she really would rather be anywhere but in the house. Though he didn’t comprehend her reasons, he admired her courage to face the situation head on. To not let her discomfort overcome her good sense. After all, they had no other option but to stay the night and then make their way home in the morning at first light.
“It’s the door on the right.” Lenore waved a wrinkled hand toward the room and then winked at Grant. “You’ll be wanting to see where you two will sleep tonight, big fella. Now won’t ya?”
Damn straight. He also wanted to have a little talk with Tara as to what she was up to. Find out what concerned her more, the actions of their hostess or the idea of sharing a bed with him. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be right back.”
Tara pushed the door open and strode into their assigned quarters for the night. He halted beside her when she paused to get her bearings. A full-sized bed boasted a patchwork quilt in red, blue, and green, with a solid, dark green bed skirt. Cozy, with barely enough room for him alone. Sleeping with Tara meant they’d have to snuggle. He grinned in anticipation. Two bed pillows wearing dark green shams rested on top of the quilt. By the lone window in the room, a table held an urn and basin with a chair nearby. Did the place not have running water? How would Tara feel about roughing it? He spotted a door and hurried to it to find it led to a small bathroom. Complete with toilet and sink and even a corner shower. Though tiny, it would meet the need. He scratched his chin, contemplating how the home had inside plumbing in such a remote spot. There must be a well somewhere he hadn’t noticed. Behind the house perhaps. Something to check for after dawn. He spun on his heel and strode into the bedroom where he dropped his backpack under the window.
“Not too shabby.” Grant went to the bed and pushed down on the mattress, testing its firmness. “It’ll do for one night anyway.”
“You don’t think we’re going to share that bed, do you?” Tara crossed her arms and stared at him. “I mean, not both of us under that quilt.”
“You want me to sleep on the floor, that’s fine. I had planned to do so.” He strode over to her and clasped her upper arms. “I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable.”
She gazed at him and then released a long sigh. “That wouldn’t be fair. You’re as tired as I am, I’d wager.”
After the words left her mouth, he realized how tired his body felt. “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I’ll force myself on you.”
She blinked several times as she searched his eyes. “I trust you to be a gentleman.”
He grinned, relief at not having to endure the hard floor on a chilly evening spreading through him in equal measure to the anticipation of holding her. Another surprise from his lady. “It will be like olden days when couples bundled.”
She lifted one brow and shook her head. “Engaged couples did that, not friends. Or new acquaintances.”
“True, but the results will be the same. We’ll share a bed but not touch each other.” A fib but he couldn’t help himself. He slid his hands down her arms, careful to avoid her injury, and grasped her hands. “Let’s go have some dinner and find out what we can about Lenore’s situation. I’m intrigued by what she’s doing way out here.”
Tara bit her lip as she slowly shook her head. “Her story may surprise us both if she’ll share it with us.”
“I hope she will. I’m very curious about her. I wonder if there’s some way we could help her out.” Grant tugged on one of Tara’s hands, dropping the other free, and led the way into the main room of the house.
During their absence, Lenore had warmed the house by adding fuel to the fire, its tongues of flame reaching up the sides of the kettle in a haunting dance of heat. “Bring me your bowl, and I’ll ladle some soup into it.” Lenore grabbed the ladle and swirled it in the depths of the pot.
Tara and Grant did as asked and then took a seat at the table. Lenore dished up her supper and carried it to the table, and then retrieved a loaf of warm bread resting on a silver tray and placed it by Grant’s elbow. Finally, she opened a little door beside the chimney in the wall and reached inside. Grant frowned while she struggled to remove something from within the depths of what must be a pantry of sorts.
“Do you need a hand?” Grant half rose, but she waved him back in his seat.
“I do this all the time.” She tossed a smile his way as she pulled out a small ceramic jar and placed it on a nearby table. Then she carefully picked up her cane before grasping the jar in her other hand. Limping to the table, she placed the jar between them and sank down on her wooden chair. Hanging her cane over the back of the chair, she blew out her breath and peered at Grant. “Whew. That’s getting harder and harder as the…years go by.”
“You should have let me help you.” Grant picked up his spoon and scooped up some of the hot soup.
“You’re my guests.” Lenore glanced between him and Tara. “I’d never ask for you to work in my home.”
“I was raised to offer to help no matter whose home.” Grant ate the soup, enjoying the pleasant warmth flowing down his throat. “I don’t mind lending a hand in exchange for your kindness.”
Lenore inclined her head a little to one side. “Your mother taught you proper manners.”
Grant nodded as he scooped up another spoonful. “Emphatically.”
“How about you, Tara?” Lenore pinned her gaze on the woman in question. “Did your mama teach you right?”
“She was quite a stickler for being polite and helpful.” Tara’s gaze turned wistful. “I wish she were here.”
“Ah, I am sorry.” Lenore laid a bony hand on the table, halfway between her and Tara. “The loss of a parent is often difficult to adjust to. Has it been very long?”
Tara shook her head, her ponytail swaying. “A few years. Feels like yesterday.”
“Time has a funny way of distorting itself, doesn’t it?” Lenore chuckled and picked up her spoon. “At least it seems so to me. After all the time I’ve spent in this hollow, I barely recall living anywhere else.”
“How long have you been out here by yourself?” Tara stirred the hot soup, peering into the steaming bowl for a beat and then back to Lenore.
Grant looked into his vessel of delicious yet mysterious hot broth and stirred it around. What kind of meat floated among the bits of carrot and onion? Perhaps fish since the house stood near a river. Maybe chicken or some other wild fowl. Tentatively, he dipped his spoon and tasted the soup again. Interesting blend of tastes, some savory, some sweet. He couldn’t quite pinp
oint all of the ingredients.
“Many years now.” Lenore sliced the loaf of bread with a long serrated knife, its silver blade casting off shards of candlelight when she finished drawing it through each slice. She slid the pot toward Tara. “There’s honey to put on the bread, if you’d care for some.”
Grant accepted a slice of bread and waited for Tara to finish with the honey pot. “Do you enjoy living here? I would think it lonely.”
He honestly couldn’t imagine existing so far away from the comforts and conveniences of a town, let alone his home city. No phone. TV. Electricity, for that matter. At least she seemed to have running water. Cooking over a fire instead of a stove. Probably the most glaring thing missing was access to the internet and all it enabled for both his work and recreation. He wasn’t a huge fan of social media, but he did indulge in binge-watching his favorite shows and movies. He’d go stark raving mad if forced to live for more than a few days under such conditions. How did she endure?
Sadness settled in Lenore’s eyes when she raised her gaze to meet his. “You have no idea how alone I feel at times. If it weren’t for the ravens and songbirds keeping me company, and the wolves upon occasion, I’d have gone crazy over the years.” She patted Grant’s hand twice with a lopsided smirk upon her lips before picking up her spoon again and eating her soup. “Now I have people to fill the void.”
A chill having nothing to do with the darkness falling outside swept through Grant. What did she mean by such a statement? Her words hinted at a desire to keep them in the hollow for her own needs, whatever they may be. Surely she wouldn’t trap them in their room when they retired for the night. Would she? She ate the soup, so she likely didn’t poison the pot. But what about the bowls? He tightened his grip on the silver spoon in his hand, only relenting slightly when he started bending the metal. If she insisted on their staying, would it be as companions or slaves? No point worrying about the distinction. They wouldn’t be staying if he had anything to say about it.
“Tomorrow we’ll need to head for home.” Tara held her bread midway to her mouth while her wary gaze moved from Lenore to Grant. “Our family will be worried since we were due back this afternoon.”
Leave it to Tara to make short work of Lenore’s hope. Grant nodded as he chewed the deliciously sweet bread and then swallowed, examining Tara for any signs of drugging or poisoning from their meal. Where had the paranoia sweeping through him come from? He didn’t normally look for the dark side of people, especially little old women. As Lenore continued to eat with gusto, his defenses lowered somewhat. His imagination obviously had run away with him. But he would maintain his vigilance.
Another tack would open possibilities without putting themselves at further risk of retaliation or duplicity. “Perhaps you’d consider coming with us? You could find a better place in town somewhere so you wouldn’t be lonely.”
Lenore reared back in her seat, dropping her utensil, her cold blue eyes flashing with anger and something else he couldn’t define. Panic? She fisted her hands on the table top, her wiry frame trembling. She glared at him for several seconds and then pounded one hand on the tablecloth.
“Impudent man.” Lenore shook her head as a frown pulled her brows down so far her eyes became shuttered. “Impossible. I cannot leave. How dare you suggest such a reckless idea?”
Taken aback, Grant could only stare at her for the span of two breaths. “What did I say?”
“If you’ve quite finished, it’s grown very late, and I must close the house up for the night.” Lenore shoved her chair away from the table and stood, leaning heavily on her cane while Tara and Grant hurriedly swallowed and stood as well.
“I didn’t mean to offend…” Grant splayed his hands and shook his head. Went back over the conversation and found nothing out of line. At least not so far as he could tell. “I’m sorry if I did.”
“Apology accepted. But you must be more circumspect in your opinions in my house.” Lenore bobbed her gray head once, her eyes belying her age with the intensity of her regard. “They may be taken the wrong way, and then you’d not like the consequences. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll bid you both go and have a goodnight.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Tara hesitated at the edge of the table. “Do you want me to help you clean up?”
Lenore waved a skeletal hand side to side. “It’s not necessary. Go on to bed. You must be tired.”
“If you insist…” Grant paused, contemplating the undercurrents in the room while waiting for Tara to sidestep around the table to his side. “Thank you again for your hospitality.”
He placed a hand on Tara’s lower back to escort her to their shared room. Enjoyed the easy sway of her hips as they crossed the floor. When they reached the doorway, Lenore called out to him with a raspy yet steely voice. He gave Tara a gentle push to propel her through the doorway. He looked over his shoulder and saw the crone standing straight and piercing him with her stare.
“Yes?” Her posture belied her age and ailments and worried him all at one time.
“Do not come out of your room until daylight.” Lenore shook a bony, crooked finger at him. “Keep your young lady safe, as you said you would.”
Startled by both the veiled threat and the unexpected strength in her voice, he could only nod once. How had she known about his promise? “Understood. Goodnight.”
He closed the door and turned to see Tara’s worried features. While they had food and shelter, he still disliked the bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. What had they gotten themselves into?
Chapter 16
Concern etched lines around Grant’s mouth and eyes when he closed the door and looked at her. Had he felt the tension in the room? Tara suspected he detected the vibrations stirring the elemental magic enveloping the house. A spell cast over the building and its lone occupant. Lenore didn’t appear to possess magic of her own but a powerful sorcerer had left behind an incantation that blanketed everything in the hollow. She must be the key to everything. But how?
“Are you all right?” Tara drew Grant’s gaze with her question, a look suggesting deep confusion and disquiet. She untied the laces of her shoes and toed them off, pushing them under the bed with one sock-clad foot.
He sauntered closer, stopping when he stood near enough to touch her. But he kept his hands at his sides. His gaze drifted away to peruse the room much like a detective searching for clues to a mystery. Evaluating and inspecting each object. Touching each furnishing and piece of furniture. A frown settled on his brow when he returned his attention to her.
“You may well be right.” Grant rolled his shoulders and rocked his head side to side, apparently relieving tension in his neck.
“About?” She sidled to the bed and sank onto the firm mattress. Dang, she was tired. She splayed her hands behind her and leaned on them, tempted to fall backward and close her eyes. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“About things not being as they seem.” He raked his fingers through his hair, leaving furrows in the luxurious mane tempting her to touch it as well. “Lenore seems odd.”
Tara peered up at him from her reclined position. She’d noticed the vague replies and abrupt changes in tone and mood of their hostess. The peculiar conversation and comments. Even the house in the middle of the forest was strange. The fact that the crone happened to have the exact number of chairs and place settings for dinner also triggered a red flag in Tara’s mind. Concerns she’d keep to herself for the present.
“How so?” What exactly had sparked his consternation?
He rubbed one hand over his stubbly jaw, the rasping loud in the quiet room. “She pretty much threatened me, or rather us, for one thing.”
She sat all the way up to brace her hands on her jean-clad knees. “She did? What did she say?”
“Not to leave this room until daylight and to guard your safety.” His eyes narrowed and he pressed his lips together for a moment in thought. “Like I promised.”
Tara g
ripped the denim with both hands as she blinked up at him. “How did she know that you had?”
“Exactly. That’s what’s bothering me.” Grant sighed and sat on the lone chair beside the bed. He yanked on the boot laces and slipped them off, wiggling his feet one by one. “I don’t think I mentioned it.”
Tara shook her head slowly, contemplating the hints and clues to their predicament. “Neither of us said a word about previous conversations or anything.”
“No, and how is it she knew we were coming early enough to prepare for our arrival?” Grant rested his hands on his thighs as he studied her with a frown.
“I know, I was startled by that, too.” Tara shook her head a couple of times, recognizing the danger they had stumbled into. “We need to get out of here tomorrow.”
“Soon as it’s light.” He rested his elbows on his legs. “You trust me, don’t you?”
His serious regard reinforced the weight of the question. Something more than their current predicament seemed at play, another mystery. She searched his eyes, looking for hints as to what lay beneath his concern. Had she somehow given him cause to suspect her true nature?
“What’s wrong, Grant?” She rubbed her hands on the denim covering her thighs. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”
“It was a long time ago, but feels like yesterday.” He sat up, lifting a hand to grasp the nape of his neck. He leveled unblinking eyes at her. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know.” She hesitated to probe, but he seemed to need to get the past off his chest. “What happened a long time ago?”
He shook his head with a sigh. “Looking back, I know I couldn’t have done anything, but that’s in my mind. In my heart, I feel there must have been something that would have saved my friend’s life.”