Page 50 of Hollow
The next morning, we rise with the dawn. The roosters crow from the yard, and golden light streams through our windows. I’m curled up in the corner of the bed, alone, forgetting I’m upstairs in my mother’s room. I think I slept like the dead; the tea probably knocked me right out.
I get up and slip on my dressing gown, surprised to find Crane already up and reading a book by the fire. He glances up at me as I walk down the staircase and grins.
My heart does a little dance in my chest. I don’t care what my mother said about him looking like a ghoul—he’s certainly beautiful.
“Good morning,” I say to him, feeling stupidly shy at having him see me so early in the morning, despite how intimate his fingers were with me last night.
“Good morning,” he says, his smile getting deeper, one that makes me feel weak at the knees.
“Katrina, get dressed and get ready,” my mother barks as she bustles out of the washroom. “We need to leave soon.”
I roll my eyes and get ready as quickly as I can. Then we have a quick breakfast of a few hard-boiled eggs and bread, which Famke was very insistent we eat.
By the time we’re out in the stables getting the horses tacked and ready, the sun has already burned off the layer of fog that was sitting on our pastures and over the Hudson. The water sparkles now like a mirage.
My mother gives Crane my father’s old horse, Gunpowder, a sway-backed dapple grey who is still strong but only gets more stubborn over time, and once she’s on top of her sorrel gelding, Chester, we’re off and riding toward the school.
It’s a brilliant morning, clear blue skies and the air scented with bonfires and the last of the season’s blackberries, October only a couple of days away. Goldenrods that dot the lane sway in the breeze, and I’m having a hard time reconciling this bucolic morning with the terror of last night. Is it possible that it all happened? Could it have been an illusion, not an actual ghost of a soldier?
And if it was an actual ghost, this Hessian, where was it going?
Who was it hunting?
My mother is riding between me and Crane, and I try to catch his eye, but his focus is elsewhere. I want to talk to him in private about last night, about everything. But even if he did use his so-called voice where he speaks inside my head, not only can I not respond, but there’s a chance that my mother will hear it. There’s so much of her magic I don’t know about.
Eventually, we reach the school and go our separate ways after handing our horses off to the stableboy, who seems a little less spooky now in the daytime. My mother takes off for the cathedral building to talk with her sisters while Crane and I walk toward the center courtyard.
“I know I’ll be late, but I need to get changed,” he says, coming to a stop. He’s close, almost too close if anyone were to be watching, but he doesn’t touch me. “Are you alright?”
“No,” I admit. “I want to be alone with you. I want to talk to you.”
He swallows and gives me a quiet smile. “And I want to be alone with you. More than you know, my vlinder. Our afternoon walk will have to suffice.”
“Okay,” I say with a nod, hating how strangely desperate I’m feeling for him. I feel scared for reasons I can’t explain. It’s not just that we encountered the horseman last night. It’s everything. It’s the way he made me feel, the power I felt when I came on his hands, this need to grab him and get as close to him as possible. I ache for him, both physically and emotionally, maybe even spiritually.
“I would die to kiss you right now,” he says, leaning in closer, his charcoal eyes burning on my lips. “And I would happily accept that death.” Then he pulls his head back. “I’m not a patient man, Kat, but it will have to wait. I promise it will be worth it.” He gestures to the dorms. “Will you wait for me while I get changed?”
I nod, and he casts a cautionary glance around him before hurrying off to his dorm.
I exhale a trembling breath, my whole body feeling jittery, and stand there on the path as he runs into the building. There’s so much to try and make sense of, and I feel like my brain isn’t keeping up.
Thankfully, Crane doesn’t take long, and he’s back in a few minutes. “How do I look?” he says as he takes long, quick strides toward me, tightening the buttons at his collar. “Do I look like I spent the night at the Van Tassel farmhouse?”
I laugh, reaching out and straightening his necktie. “Not at all.” Truth be told, all his suits are dark and look the same anyway.
We hurry along toward the classroom, and with my short legs, it’s hard to keep up with him—he covers so much ground when he wants to. Crane anxiously checks his pocket watch. “Well, a few minutes late won’t kill anyone,” he says. “I’m sure one of the teachers has already unlocked the classroom.”
He opens the door to the building for me and ushers me inside. By the time we reach his classroom, I’m already out of breath.
Someone did unlock his door for him, and the chatter of the students rolls out into the hall.
We stop inches away, and I look at him to ask if it would seem wrong for the both of us to enter the room together. He taps my bottom with his hand, telling me to go first.
I give him a coy smile and then step into the classroom.
Everything looks the same as it usually does except for one big difference.
There’s someone sitting in my chair.