Cedar Hollow (15 page)

She broke the kiss, gasping for breath and burying her face against the side of his neck inhaling his intoxicating scent as he pushed her closer to the edge. She pressed back against him as he drove into her, needing all of him.

This was a need like she’d never experienced, a pleasure like she’d never known. She sat up straight, arching her back, taking all of him inside her and a blinding light exploded behind her closed lids. She cried out as she convulsed and she moved with a rhythm that her body demanded. She rode the waves of ecstasy as they washed over her, she rocked against him as the pleasure flowed from her until he finally pulled her away as his body was racked with his own climax.

She trembled beside him, completely sated.
They both lay sprawled on the bed and just like the night before Ben reached out and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her to him.

“Stay with me tonight.” She whispered against his chest as she snuggled up against him. He held her closer and kissed her forehead as they both drifted off to sleep.

As Cassidy floated in that limbo between sleep and awake she thought she could hear Ben whisper to her, but wasn’t sure if she was already dreaming.

“
Stay with me always.”

Cassidy woke slowly the next morning. All of the previous day’s events trickling into her conscious mind, ending with the most intense, passionate night that she’d ever experienced. She let her mind linger on the details of the night before, ignoring the more disturbing revelations of the day. She thought of Ben’s whispered words:
Stay with me always.
Had she dreamt them?

They hadn’t really discussed their relationship, their future.
A wave of anxiety washed over her. What did all this mean to him? It hadn’t escaped her notice that she’d woken up alone, again. She only had two weeks left in Cedar Hollow, and then what? Would she even survive two more weeks? Cold reality came crashing in; regardless of how hard she tried she couldn’t avoid it. There was more going on here than just her and Ben. So much more. Cassidy sat up in bed and saw the note on the nightstand.

Had some work to do in the garden. Didn’t want to wake

you
. Should be done by lunch then we can go back into

town
to see Mr. Woodard. Please don’t go without me.

XOXO

Ben

She hugged the note to her chest. Whatever this was between them, it meant something to him too, she was sure of it. And somehow that knowledge made the rest bearable. She jumped out of bed and headed for the shower. The warm water helped wash away any lingering anxiety and she emerged ready for the day that lay ahead of her.

Cassidy sifted through her small closet, thrilled that she finally had some decent wardrobe options
, also grateful for the warmer clothing. The recent storms had brought with them cooler weather. She chose the mint green cardigan that she’d picked out because it had reminded her of Ben’s eyes, along with a snug fitting pair of designer jeans that she cuffed at the ankle and a pair of matching green flats.

She brushed out her long blonde hair
which still held the waves from being braided the previous day, she pinned up the sides allowing the rest to flow freely down her back. Ben had said he liked her hair down. She brushed her teeth and fixed her make-up, feeling better by the minute. Whatever dark mystery was haunting her, they were going to figure it out together. And then once they did they could figure out the rest. Until then, Cassidy resolved to simply enjoy every moment they were given.

She skipped down the stairs and headed for the kitchen. She wasn’t surprised to find Mrs. Owens there.
She was busy at work, as usual. The large tray that she typically carried her meals away on was set up on the counter with two bowls of steaming oatmeal. Mrs. Owens was sprinkling a white powder from a vial into one of the bowls and mixing it up as she hummed to herself.

“Good morning, Mrs. Owens.” Cassidy said as she entered the kitchen. Mrs. Owens quickly spu
n around to face her. Momentary surprise crossed her face, but she quickly schooled her expression and smiled warmly at Cassidy.

“Good morning, dear, I assumed you’d gone out to work in the yard with Ben this morning.” Mrs. Owens covered the serving tray and
casually replaced the lid on the vial returning it to the cabinet. “Would you like some oatmeal?”

“Sure.” Cassidy agreed. “But I can fix my own if you were just headed upstairs.” Cassidy nodded toward the covered tray.

“Oh I don’t mind.” Mrs. Owens assured her, retrieving a bowl and scooping some oatmeal from the pot on the stove. Cassidy watched her carefully as she served it up.

“What was that powder that you were mixing in yours?” Cassidy asked casually as she accepted the bowl and sat at the table.

“That was just Mr. Owens medicine.” She explained easily. “Much easier to get him to take it that way.” She winked and smiled conspiratorially. Cassidy smiled back.

“Can I get you anything else, dear?”

“No, thank you.”

“Well then I guess I’ll be headed up.” Mrs. Owens grabbed the tray and Cassidy watched as she ascended the stairs.

She picked at her food as her mind raced. Something about the way Mrs. Owens had been tampering with the oatmeal just didn’t sit right with her. She rose from the table and opened the cabinet where Mrs. Owens had stowed the vial of powder. She heard a floor board creak and froze in place, listening intently to make sure no one was headed her way.

After a moment of silence she continued to rummage through the cabinet. Multiple vials and canisters were present holding a wide array of powders, leaves and liquids. There were no prescription medication bottles, no labels on anything.
Ben had said that Mrs. Owens relied on home remedies, maybe Mr. Owens “medicine” was some concoction of her own.

Cassidy thought of her unexpected trip to the hospital last week. Was it possible that Mrs. Owens had slipped her something? Her intentions could have been
good, the poisoning could have been accidental. Cassidy closed the cabinet and retrieved her bowl of oatmeal from the table. She’d lost her appetite. She scraped the contents into the sink and washed them down, cleaning and drying her bowl to put it away.

She began to wonder
how many of her other “accidents” could have truly been accidental. Maybe she really had just had some terrible luck since arriving. The crates falling on her in the shed had seemed completely innocent until viewed through the light cast by other events. It’s possible that really was a clumsy mistake. And the incident at the pumpkin patch, even though Ben had concluded that the rope had been cut maybe it had simply broke. It was an old harness system, the rope had most likely been frayed. Perhaps Ben immediately assumed it was cut because he didn’t want to feel at fault for her falling. Then the poisoned lunch, well that really could have been good intentions gone wrong. All that really left was the car accident.

Cassidy thought of that day, of the pouring rain, the blinding storm. Car accidents happened every day. Had nothing else happened until that point, would she have immediately assumed that the other driver had intentionally run them off the road? Maybe some other emergency was causing that driver to drive erratically. Maybe it had nothing to do with Cassidy at all.

She sat at the kitchen table questioning everything. Was it possible that no one was actually trying to hurt her, or was she just grasping to the hope that she was safe? Her mind drifted back to the tragedies of the past. Those were undeniable, but maybe, just maybe it had all ended with the death of her great uncle. Maybe it was finally over. Could he have really been behind it all? She thought of the trunk in the secret attic room. She wanted to see the other letters, the ones she hadn’t grabbed the last time.

Her mind made up, C
assidy headed for the stairs. She didn’t hesitate at the landing but continued on to the staircase that led up to the attic. She felt exhilarated, empowered. Everything was finally making sense. She was safe, nothing dark or mysterious was haunting her. No family curse. Her uncle had been a deranged man who had planned and executed the murder of nearly his entirely family. But he hadn’t succeeded. Cassidy was still alive and he was dead, and no one was after her.

For some reason Cassidy was sure that whatever she would find in that attic would confirm her new belief. She reached the door and grasped the handle, ready to put this mystery to rest. Ready to prove that her uncle had been the culprit and that the Miller family curse had died with him. She turned the handle. The door was locked.

She tried it again. It wouldn’t turn. This door had not been locked last time, why was it locked now? Suddenly she thought of Mr. Owens. Was that poor old man locked inside the attic? Was Mrs. Owens locking the door now to keep him from wandering the house? She needed to talk to Ben about this right away. She thought the world of Mrs. Owens but she couldn’t just overlook the fact that the woman might possibly be keeping her husband locked in an attic feeding him poisoned oatmeal.

Cassidy hurried back downstairs, her mind consumed with a whole new set of worries.
She headed straight for the back door, crossing through the empty kitchen. As she walked around the house toward the gardens she glanced up at the third story window. The curtains shifted. Someone was up there. Someone was watching. She picked up her pace and was practically jogging as she rounded a corner and nearly ran into Ben.

“Cassidy, what’s wrong?” Ben asked grasping her shoulders to stop her momentum.
He was wearing his standard t-shirt, jeans and work boots with a healthy coating of dirt covering him from head to toe. He wore a baseball cap to keep the sun off his face and his light brown hair was curling out from under the cap around his ears. It made him look years younger. Cassidy lost her train of thought.

“
I… um…” She couldn’t seem to put into words exactly what had brought her outside. It actually seemed kind of silly now that she was standing here with Ben in the light of day. At the very least it was a conversation that could wait until he’d had a shower and changed.

“Is everything ok
ay?” He asked removing his hat to run his hand through his unruly hair.

“Yeah, I was just coming to see when you’d be done.” Cassidy offered the weak excuse, realizing the fact that she’d practically ran him over belied her casual demeanor. He eyed her closely and she tried to smile.

“I can be done now.” He said, still watching her with concern.

“There’s no rush.” Cassidy tried to assure him, regretting her impulsive run outside.

“No, really, I’m pretty much finished up for the day. I was just headed back to the house.” He told her taking a step in that direction. She walked alongside him toward the house feeling foolish and knowing full well that he was only coming inside because he was concerned about the way she was acting.

“I’m just going to
clean up.” He told her as they entered the kitchen.

“Ok
ay.” She nodded. She looked around the empty kitchen and noticed the coffee pot was still half full. Luckily it was still hot. She poured herself a cup and then searched for the sugar bowl. She opened several cabinets before she found it alongside Mrs. Owens mysterious herbs and powders. She decided to drink her coffee black.

Ben was back
in record time. He’d showered and changed into a clean pair of dark jeans and a pale grey V-neck long-sleeved shirt that showed off his broad chest and large biceps. Cassidy stared. Ben shifted nervously under her scrutiny. She blushed and cleared her throat realizing how obviously she’d been ogling him.

“Ready to head to town?”
He asked, sparing her any further embarrassment.

“Let me just run up and grab my purse.” Cassidy said turning quickly from the kitchen and trotting up the stairs. As she reached the landing for the second floor she saw Mrs. Owens coming down the stairs from the third floor. Both women stopped and looked at each other.

“I was just getting my purse.” Cassidy gestured toward her room. Mrs. Owens nodded wordlessly and Cassidy continued on down the hall, feeling as if she was being watched. However, when she emerged from her room with her purse in hand, Mrs. Owens was nowhere to be seen.

“Mrs. Owens has started locking the attic.” Cassidy had been trying to figure out a way to broach the subject as they drove into town. That was the best she’d come up with.

“Really?”
Ben sounded genuinely surprised. “That’s odd.”

“Do you think she’s keeping Mr. Owens up there?” Cassidy asked hesitantly. She realized how close Ben and Mrs. Owens must be and didn’t want to offend him.

“You said that once before.” Ben pondered, thankfully he didn’t seem upset. “What makes you think that?”

“Well I told you I went up into the attic and found that room.” Cassidy explained. “It looked as if someone might
still be living up there, it was spotless. Plus I’ve seen the curtains move in that window several times, and well…” Cassidy hesitated, she’d promised Mrs. Owens that she wouldn’t mention the encounter with Mr. Owens, but she didn’t feel right keeping something from Ben. “The day I went up into the attic, a little while later Mr. Owens came downstairs.” Cassidy revealed.

“Harold came downstairs?” Ben sounded shocked. “He hasn’t left his room in years.”

“Don’t you find that a little odd?” Cassidy probed lightly.

“The doctor says he has some sort of phobia, related to his dementia. He doesn’t feel safe outside of his own bedroom.
I haven’t seen him in almost five years, not that he’d remember me anyhow. When I came to Miller’s, Harold was already beginning to lose his memory, he and Lucy would take walks around the property every afternoon and each time they would see me she would have to introduce me to him again.

“
Then a few years ago, about the same time that your uncle became bedridden and moved up to the attic, Lucy and Harold moved into the master suite. We used that year’s harvest profits to buy some medical equipment to set the room up with everything he would need. Some hospice nurses came out to help us and show Lucy how to care for him. Honestly at that point I assumed he probably wouldn’t live much longer. The doctor comes out every year to check on him, and he’s hung in there longer than anybody expected. But it’s been years since he’s left that bedroom.”

Cassidy imagined the picture he was painting of what life was like at Miller’s before she came. Her dying uncle secluded in the attic, and a convalescing Mr. Owens
withering away in his room, Mrs. Owens caring for both of them alone. It sounded very depressing.