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BONUS MATERIAL: LACEWOOD
Chapter 1
“Recalculating.”
Katie McCain smacked the steering wheel with both hands and then glared at the navigation screen.
Renting a car and heading due west into the Virginia countryside seemed like a good idea when she bolted from a ritzy fashion show in Washington, D.C. earlier this afternoon. The charity event she’d been roped into attending had devolved into a made-for-television spectacle courtesy of a few attention-seeking B-list celebrities. The whole debacle rekindled her craving for green grass, open space, and solitude. But with no planning and little thought put into this impulsive excursion, she was now hopelessly lost.
“What made you think you could find it?” Katie muttered as she admitted to herself this fateful flight involved more than her need to escape the small talk and fake smiles of the Beltway elite. Did you think you could simply stop and ask someone where Esther Bennett lived—twenty years ago?
Katie shook her head and tried to look at the bright side. The scenery was lovely and the traffic was light. Her agent, thinking she would enjoy another day in DC, scheduled her flight for tomorrow. Even if she didn’t find the old farmhouse where she spent so many happy summers with her grandmother, all was not lost.
But she was disappointed. Just when the landscape seemed familiar enough to spark flashes of recognition, the narrow road widened into two lanes and houses replaced horses in the fields. Parking lots and pavement fragmented all remnants of the quaint countryside she remembered, and sprawl replaced the scenic views she’d been hoping to reconnect with during her sentimental journey.
Stopping at a traffic light, Katie glanced to her right and sighed at the size and opulence of the house sitting in the middle of a professionally landscaped yard. The home appeared out of place among the rolling hills, as did the cluster of similar structures lined up in monotonous rows on each side and behind.
Trees that could have provided both beauty and shade were nowhere in sight. But air conditioning systems, meant to keep the occupants cool and comfortable behind their locked doors, emitted a low-pitched hum loud enough to compete with the drone of idling engines.
Katie studied the extravagant entrance identifying yet another new development in ostentatious lettering—Fair Hills. She peered past the sign to some newer houses sitting on recently leveled land and winced at the absurdity of the description. Like all the others—Fox Den, Tall Oaks, Deer Run—this community bore the name of something that no longer existed. The fox, the deer, the oaks, and even the hills, had been destroyed, run out, cut down, or leveled in order to make room for the developments that now proudly carried their names.
For all she knew, Katie’s grandmother’s farm might have fallen victim to the same type of growth and expansion. The century-old house certainly wouldn’t fit into this smug, suburban setting where anything less than brand new was considered outdated and obsolete. The demand for swanky, upscale neighborhoods left no room for history and antiquity. Crooked shutters, sagging porches, and squeaky screen doors would not be welcome here.
Katie envisioned monstrous bulldozers leveling her grandmother’s home, pushing it into a hole and covering it with sod. Such rituals took place every day, performed without a second thought or a moment’s hesitation...like sweeping dirt under a rug.
High-pitched static on the radio yanked Katie back to the present. Nothing seemed familiar now. One gently rolling hill followed another on an undulating road that was sometimes paved and sometimes only gravel. Thick forests began and ended abruptly, plunging her into a dark tunnel one moment and blinding her with dazzling sunlight the next.
Katie continued driving because the views and the countryside kept her spellbound. Horses meandered through belly-deep grass in meadows kindled gold with sunlight or streaked blue with shadow. Clusters of sunny daffodils embroidered the hillside where cattle dozed contentedly beneath ancient trees bursting with buds. A tractor in the distance caught Katie’s eye as it crawled through a brown sea of soil, tilling the earth in even waves that seemed to go on for miles.
Drawing in a long, deep breath of fragrant spring air, Katie lowered all the windows in the car. She never drove like this in the city, but she reveled in the rush of air blowing through her hair today, and delighted in the pungent, freshly-plowed smell of the earth in the distance. It made her feel young again. Carefree. And it generated a scrapbook of images that unleashed a cloudburst of tears.
Darn it. There goes my mascara. Katie pushed the memories away and wiped her cheeks, then checked in the visor mirror to see how much damage she’d done. If she ever found someone to ask for directions, she didn’t want to scare them with raccoon eyes.
Glancing at the clock on her dash, Katie calculated she’d been driving for three hours and had now officially arrived in the middle of nowhere. The navigation program continued to tell her to make a U-turn where none was possible, after instructing her to turn onto roads that didn’t exist. You don’t know where I am any more than I do.
Annoyed by the unrelenting static on the radio, she turned the volume down, as if silence would help her think. Just as she glanced back up, she noticed a small road sign with big letters: New Hope.
A town! Maybe she could find a restaurant to grab something to eat—and get directions back to DC. Spurred on by newfound confidence...and a growling stomach, she kept driving. And driving.
And driving.
“Did I miss a road or sign?” she wondered out loud. She hadn’t seen a town...not one recognizable as such, anyway. She began to worry that she was getting farther away instead of closer.
As she rounded another curve, Katie impulsively jerked the wheel hard to her right, thinking she’d discovered a place to turn around—but immediately stopped the car to reconsider.
The road fell off into a ditch on both her left and her right before disappearing into a narrow, gloomy passageway in front. Her only options were to back out onto the main road, or go forward and hopefully find a place wide enough to do a U-turn.
She sat with her hands on the wheel, peering into the dense foliage. The ancient trees created a canopy of twisted branches like a mysterious tunnel into another world. The only evidence of civilization was a dilapidated sign with a faded arrow saying FOR SALE.
No, thank you. The narrow, overgrown lane brought to mind the opening of a horror film. I’m not going to be the woman who takes the road to nowhere and ends up fighting for her life in zombie land.
Shifting the rental car into reverse, Katie turned her head and began to back up. But no matter how she moved or shifted in her seat, she couldn’t see beyond the blind curve. Although traffic had been sparse, her wild imagination conjured a fully loaded logging truck flying around the bend in the road, totaling her rental car. And her.
Impatient to get moving, Katie shoved the vehicle into drive and inched forward, intent on finding a place to turn around.
Bad decision. Rain and neglect had carved deep ruts in the road, and untrimmed branches hung low, scratching the car on both sides. No matter which way she swerved, at least one wheel dropped into a pothole. She rolled up the windows to keep from getting sideswiped by thorny branches, but the limbs scraping the sides of the rental sounded like fingernails on a chalkboard. She turned up the radio again. Loud.
Glancing down at her phone, Katie considered calling someone for help. But who? And what would she say? Hello? I’m lost somewhere in Virginia. Can you send help?
Luckily the road began to widen and then forked off to the right through intermittent beams of sunlight. Relieved, Katie attempted to make a wide turn, and almost hit another FOR SALE marker.
What could be for sale way back here? Trees and rocks and grass?
The arrow pointed toward two stone columns marking an entrance of some sort. Only when she started to inch closer did she notice a weathered wooden sign. Vines obscured most of the wrought iron post where it hung, and even this close the lettering was too faded to read.
When she saw a breeze rustling through the trees, Katie reached over and turned down her radio so she could listen.
What she heard was a strange, bone-chilling screech as the signboard swayed back and forth on rusty chains. Was this mysterious breeze beckoning her on?
Or warning her to go no farther?
Katie glanced around at her surroundings, and for a fleeting moment had the strange sensation she’d been here before. She chuckled at the thought. How could she have been here before when she didn’t even know where she was?
With her curiosity and her sense of adventure piqued, she edged the car forward, but then slowed to a stop again. Should I?
She thought about how far she’d come and shrugged. Another few minutes wouldn’t hurt.
Turning to the right, she proceeded through the stone entranceway and traveled only a short distance before catching a glimpse of blue sky ahead. When she finally broke out of the forest altogether, she hit her brakes so hard she almost bumped her head on the steering wheel.
The sight before her had to be taken in slowly, and with deep breaths.
Dogwood trees, fleeced in their finest spring attire, lined the lane as far as she could see, creating a spellbinding view. The trees themselves were stunning, but the lush blanket of blossoms carpeting the road captivated as well. The dramatic contrast between the murky forest behind her and this vibrant view transformed the scene into a magical entranceway to a fairy-tale land.
No longer interested in turning around, Katie kept her foot on the gas, moving slowly, her head on a swivel as she took in the marvelous sights.
She blinked to clear her eyes. Is this a dream?
After ascending another rise in the road, Katie glimpsed a wide chimney towering above a grove of trees in various stages of fresh spring growth. Nothing else was visible until she made her way up a winding path and pulled into a weed-covered circular driveway. Even then the ivy-covered gate and wall concealed most of the house, but hints of the property’s former grandeur were everywhere.
Katie studied the scene, trying to take in everything at once. Two venerable trees with snowy-colored limbs stood like giant sentinels on either side of the house. The trees were striking in both their size and prominent placement, but the ghostly white bark imparted a mystical quality that stunned and mesmerized her.
She turned her attention to the four enormous pillars lending an air of Southern charm to the mansion. Like the fencing, the pillars were heavily laced with ivy and velveted with the greenish hue of moss. Katie glimpsed subtle signs of the estate’s original splendor, but its overall appearance was one of abandonment and neglect.
Still, as far as Katie was concerned, she’d stumbled upon the most beautiful, secluded, enchanting spot ever created. She turned off the engine and sat spellbound, imagining the house as it must have once been. In place of the faded façade and dilapidated porch, she visualized gleaming white pillars and a welcoming front door. Instead of the weeds and vines, she imagined a haze of daffodils, with here and there a splash of red tulips thrown in for contrast.
A sudden tap-tap-tap on her window, caused Katie to jump from surprise. A police officer stood outside, signaling for her to roll down her window. She hesitated, then glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the marked police cruiser. She’d been so intent on the house she hadn’t even heard him pull up behind her.
Rolling down her window, Katie stared into the deep brown eyes of a handsome officer about her age.
“Can I help you, miss?” He bent down, his expression one of curiosity more than disapproval or displeasure.
“I’m sorry,” Katie said. “I was lost and wanted to turn around, but then I saw the FOR SALE sign and kept driving...” She realized she was rambling and stopped.
“Where are you heading? Maybe I can help with directions.” He seemed impatient now. A little stern, even.
She almost said “back to the rat race,” but stopped herself. “I have a flight out of DC tomorrow...” Her gaze returned to the iron fence and the view beyond.
“Sorry, ma’am, no way to get there from here.” He sounded so straightforward and serious, Katie didn’t realize he was kidding until she spotted the glimmer of humor in his eyes. They were smiling even if his mouth was not.
She let out a breath and then turned her attention back to the house.
“Beautiful place at one time,” the man remarked. “It’s in bad shape now.”
There’s the understatement of the year. Nevertheless, something about its remoteness and rustic magnificence gave Katie pause. With its shutters tilting haphazardly and its porch steps all askew, it appeared unhappy. Hopeless.
Whatever glory the place once flaunted had long since faded, but it wasn’t hard for Katie to look past its imperfections. Something about it reminded her of second chances and new beginnings...a lost world waiting to be discovered.
His gaze followed hers. “A shame it’s been vacant for so long.”
“How long?”
He shook his head, still staring through the gate. “Long time. Hasn’t been rented since I was a kid.” He glanced back at her and laughed. “And that was a long time ago.”
“So you’re from around here?”
“Yes, ma’am. Born and raised.” He reached his hand through the window. “I’m Sheriff Ferguson, by the way.”
“I’m Katie McCain. Pleased to meet you.” After shaking his hand, she strained again to see through the heavy vegetation. “Why is it abandoned?”
The sheriff leaned forward and propped his arms on the window frame. “Well, there’s lots of work that needs done, as you can see. Problem is, we don’t have many high-paying jobs around here, so nobody has the money to take it on.”
Katie nodded absently. “So New Hope is a quiet place, I guess. I don’t remember passing through a town, though. That’s why I needed to turn around.”
He chuckled. “There’s not much to see. Nothing but a country store. And the post office, of course. Then there’s old John’s place...he does car and tractor repairs...along with the farm supply and the Old Mill bar and grill. You can’t miss it. Which way did you come in?”
Katie pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. “Whatever the road behind us is.”
“Oh, well, that’s why.” He straightened up, glancing to the left. “You must have missed the turn and circled around. Another couple miles and you’d be smack dab in the middle of New Hope.”
“Maybe I’ll stop on my way out.”
An awkward silence followed as they both stared at the rusty, wrought-iron fence and the looming presence of the house stretching out across the driveway in front of them. “Want to see it up close?”
“I’d love to.” Katie spoke in a low tone, not wishing to disturb the peace and quiet of the place. “But the gate’s padlocked.”
“Oh, that’s no problem.”
The officer started back to his car while explaining over his shoulder. “My ex-sister-in-law is a real estate agent. She gave me the keys so I could do a walk-through every now and then. We get riffraff out here, which is why I followed you in.” He reached his cruiser and leaned in through the open window, still talking. “I haven’t gone inside for quite a while. Wouldn’t hurt to check around now...if you’ve got time.”
Katie opened the door in an instant, no longer thinking about the lateness of the hour or her hunger pangs. “I can make time.”
Chapter 2
“Found them!” The sheriff backed his lean frame out of the window and waved a ring of keys before heading toward the gate. As he stomped through the dense grass he pointed to the ground. “Careful, there’s broken glass everywhere, and who-knows-what hidden in the weeds.”
Katie stopped and looked down at her open-toed sandals. “What exactly do you mean by, who-knows-what?” She lifted one foot and then the other. “Like snakes?”
“Could be.” He nodded. “But don’t worry, they won’t hurt you...unless you step on them, of course.”
“Thanks,” Katie mumbled as she concentrated on placing her feet where his had been.
As he stood at the gate, the sheriff inspected each key, and finally held one up. “I think it’s this one.” With a little jiggling and jostling, the rusty padlock opened and the chain fell away. The sheriff pushed on the gate, but it didn’t move at first. After a few hard shakes, the hinges let loose, emitting a wailing, high-pitched screech that made Katie feel a bit unwelcome.
“Follow me,” he said. “Watch out for loose bricks.”
Walking carefully along the neglected path, Katie stepped to the side to touch the bark of one of the trees towering over the front yard. “I’ve seen these white trees before, but I don’t know what they’re called.” The trunk displayed a distinctive fusion of creams, grays, and browns, but the limbs above were a smooth, snowy white that stood out vividly against the brilliant blue sky.
The sheriff stopped and turned. “They’re sycamores. See how the bark forms a lacy pattern at the bottom? Back in the old days they called it lacewood.” He turned and bounded up the steps while Katie ran her fingertips over the intricate design. “It’s beautiful,” she said, under her breath. “Lacewood.”
“Of course, another common name for the tree hereabouts is ghostwood,” the sheriff quipped over his shoulder while he searched through the keys. “But that wouldn’t make a very good name for a house, now would it?”
Katie lifted her eyes from the multicolored bark at the bottom to the skeletal limbs overhead. Even in broad daylight the trees appeared ghostly, with budding branches reaching out like bony fingers. Yet the unusual color was so beautiful it dispelled any notions of apprehension or fear.
After one last look at the patterns on the base of the nearest tree, Katie turned to follow the sheriff. The stately pillars bookmarking the wide veranda added a grace and charm to the otherwise run-down property. She put her hand on one of them as she walked by, and jumped back when the paint fragmented and showered the ground.
Ignoring the flaws, Katie focused instead on the long-forgotten majesty of bygone days. Yes, the outward appearance suggested deterioration and decay, but the dignity of the place remained intact as far as she was concerned.
The sheriff triumphantly held up an old skeleton key before sticking it in the lock. The thick wooden door creaked open noisily—some might say mournfully—after the sheriff gave it several hard shoves with his shoulder.
Clearing the doorway of spider webs with a few swipes of his hand, he walked in without a moment’s hesitation. Katie, on the other hand, eyed the space above her and on each side before cautiously following him through. When she stepped across the threshold, she let out her breath in one long, “W-o-w!”
“Welcome to Lacewood,” the sheriff said. “These fourteen-foot ceilings really hit you when you first walk in, don’t they?”
Katie merely nodded as she gaped at the antique chandelier overhead. Though time and dust had dimmed the sparkle, the elaborate detail suggested it was made of the finest crystal. It was a work of art, breathtaking even in its current condition.
Tearing her gaze away, Katie next feasted her eyes on the two pillars marking the arched entrance to a wide hallway running the length of the house. “I’ve never seen columns inside a house before,” she said, almost to herself.
“It’s extra support, I guess,” the sheriff said. “This foyer is as big as some houses. On the left, through those double doors, is the ballroom.”
“Ballroom?” Katie surveyed the wide plank floors, bare of everything but layers of dust. Decorative woodwork displaying quality artistry and craftsmanship bordered the walls and led the eye to the grand staircase off to the right. A sweeping bottom step narrowed and curved up to the second floor, as glamorous and majestic as the movie set of Gone with the Wind.
Katie moved forward, hesitant yet excited. Despite the decades of dirt and decay, she felt a welcoming presence here, a warm and friendly vibe. Sure, the house conveyed the impression it was too far gone to revive. But Katie preferred to think it was slumbering, perhaps dreaming of the day when someone would open the windows, allowing fragrant breezes to drift through the hallways and radiant sunlight to stream into the rooms.
Making her way over to the staircase, Katie touched the rich wood of the bannister, worn smooth by centuries of hands. Whose? And where did they go? Why did they leave?
The peace of the house and its timeless beauty unlocked something in Katie, making a prickly sensation race up her spine. There were stories here. Long-forgotten, and hidden just out of her reach. Were they to be lost forever?
Katie’s thoughts returned to her grandmother’s house. Did people still live there? Did they know about the laughter that once echoed through the halls, the ageless wisdom once passed on within its walls? Did they care?
Turning in a circle, Katie studied the room again. Faded wallpaper curled in strips above the dusty wainscoting, but the walls themselves appeared sturdy. Down the hall a set of double glass doors stood open in apparent welcome. On the far side of the entryway, and dominating the wall, a mammoth fireplace yawned beneath an ornately carved hearth. Katie’s attention was immediately drawn to a painting of a woman in nineteenth century dress that hung prominently over the mantel.
“Who is she?”
The sheriff turned to the dusty, sun-bleached portrait in the heavy Victorian-era frame. “One of the previous owners, they say.” He shrugged. “The family history kind of got lost with the house. Everyone around here calls her the Widow of Lacewood.”
Katie stood spellbound, riveted on the portrait, unable to speak or even move. The woman was dressed completely in black, but the magnificence of the gown gave the impression of sophistication and class. Her chin was slightly elevated as if to project strength, yet there was more than a hint of sorrow and pain in her eyes.
“She seems so sad.” Katie spoke without removing her gaze. “And so young. How could she be a widow?”
The sheriff had already started to walk away, but he turned back to the painting. “Not sure, but they say she never remarried. She’s the one out in the cemetery, too, I reckon.”
Katie’s heart suddenly struggled to beat, as if her blood had turned to molasses and couldn’t flow. The anguish in the woman’s expression held her spellbound. She could see the pain. Feel a heart ripped apart. Something was missing that could never be replaced.
Katie had felt such loss before. In a way, that’s why she was here.
“You coming?”
Katie heard the sheriff calling from the next room and turned to follow. With one quick glance back, she noticed particles of dust swirling and dancing in a shaft of light, almost like a living thing. Her breath caught as the dust seemed to materialize into the form of a woman, her eyes dull with the same agonizing despair and disbelief as the one in the portrait.
Katie jerked her head around for a closer look and blinked. The woman was gone.
She hurriedly caught up to the sheriff. “Is this place haunted?”
He shrugged and laughed. “I’m not sure. Some say that’s why it never sold, though.”
Katie peered back over her shoulder. The room was empty. It had been her imagination, of course, combined with the way the low sun caught the dust they’d kicked up. Her exhaustion and hunger most likely contributed to the appearance of the apparition that seemed so real.
“What did you mean when you said the lady in the portrait is in the cemetery too?” Katie realized that whatever the vision was, it hadn’t frightened her. The only emotion it elicited was sorrow, as if a blanket of grief had been draped across her shoulders.
“A statue. Way in the back.” The sheriff gazed off into the distance. “I remember it as a kid, but I doubt I could find it now. It was a woman kneeling...like she was crying. That’s all I remember. We used to be scared of it, to tell you the truth.”
He took another step and pointed. “Here’s the dining room.”
The sheriff stepped aside to let Katie pass, and then gestured toward the built-in china cabinets with broken glass. “Some kids got in here a couple years back and smashed the place up a little. That’s why I’ve got the keys now—so I can keep an eye on it.”
Continuing down the hall, he slid open two doors on their left to reveal a room more impressive than the front foyer and more magnificent than anything Katie had ever seen.
“And here’s the ballroom.”
The size and extravagance of the room—even in its abandoned state—left Katie breathless. Matching fireplaces, vast enough to hold a cord of wood each, graced opposite sides of the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows allowed enough sunlight in to reflect off the colossal chandeliers, creating sparkles of glimmering light on the floor. “I have never seen anything like this.”
“Me neither,” the sheriff said. “Except maybe in the movies.”
Katie followed the sheriff down the hallway to the back of the house, where an old cook stove and a gigantic wooden table identified the room as the kitchen. The flooring here was scarred and worn, but she liked the design. Big black and white checkers made the space welcoming and added a more modern flair to its character. “This is the biggest kitchen I’ve ever seen.”
Sheriff Ferguson laughed. “It isn’t the original kitchen. That one’s detached from the main house. This is where they got the food ready to serve and that sort of thing. When they started renting the place out, they turned this into the kitchen.”
Katie spied an old sink isolated from the other cabinets. “So the house has running water and everything already?”
“Yep. They say this place had modern plumbing long before anyone else in New Hope. The original owners were quite wealthy.”
“The craftsmanship shows everywhere.” Katie imagined the servants standing around the table, cutting up vegetables or baking pies. “It would be impossible to build something this extraordinary today.”
“Yep. But seems like everyone these days wants a new house,” the sheriff said. “They want the old, traditional appearance, but insist on every modern convenience. Unfortunately, the quality is usually lacking.”
“Such a shame.” Katie stood with her hands on her hips, taking in the thick wooden beams and the molding. “I can’t imagine wanting to buy something new when, with a little bit of work, something like this could be fixed up.”
“It would take more than a little bit of work.” The sheriff eyed her curiously now.
“Yes, but it’s mostly cosmetic. The bones are good.”
“True. The roof is in good shape, even though it’s old. Those old metal roofs seem to last forever.”
The comment brought to mind the metal roof at Katie’s grandmother’s house. The sound of the falling rain was like music, helping her drift off to sleep. Sometimes her grandmother would join her in bed, telling stories about the old days while they listened to the rain.
The sheriff continued through the kitchen to the back door and held it open for her. “And then there’s this.”
Katie stepped around the sheriff and took in a hodgepodge of tree limbs, shrubs, and weeds. Standing on her tiptoes, she could make out the top of an angel statue, green with moss, rising above the abundant vegetation. A broken wing seemed determined to remain above the tangle, and sad eyes peered through the dense brush beseechingly.
“They say the garden alone was five acres,” the sheriff said. “Goes all the way down to the river.”
Katie didn’t move. “How much is it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“How much are they asking for this place?”
“Well, I’m not sure, to tell you the truth.”
“But your sister-in-law is an agent. Can you ask her?”
“Ex-sister-in-law,” he corrected. “Of course, but...”
Katie’s smile faded. “Who owns it? Is there a legal issue?”
“Well, Virginia Massey was the last one I know of who owned it. But I’m not the expert. Clara knows all that stuff.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Well, miss. It’s over a hundred acres. So it might be a little pricey.”
“Oh, price doesn’t matter.” Katie dismissed the obstacle with a wave of her hand.
“And it needs work,” he insisted. “Likely in the tens of thousands of dollars.” He turned and glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe in the neighborhood of a hundred thousand.”
Katie shrugged, her mind already set on results, not the money or the effort required to get them.
The sheriff raised his eyebrows and appeared ready to caution her further, but she brought the conversation to an end by pulling out her phone. “What’s Clara’s number? I’ll call her before I head back to New York.”
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Chapter 3
Katie felt the rough edge of the old key in her hand as she walked toward the padlocked gate of her new home. It sent electric currents of excitement through her—along with a ripple of pure terror. This was hers. All of it. Thirty days ago she hadn’t known this place existed. Now it was home.
She paused before opening the old gate and took a deep, slow breath. The air was clean. The sky was vast. The birds singing from the branches of the sycamore trees sounded jubilant—as if they were serenading her into this new world. She glanced up at the sunlight streaking through the tree limbs but couldn’t see the source of the joyful chorus through the thick new leaves.
Katie couldn’t explain the mystical pull of this house, the strange magic it created. Her friends in New York thought she’d gone off the deep end—and maybe she had. Why else would she be wearing this ridiculous smile as she pushed open the rusty gate of a decrepit, abandoned house? Why else would she feel downright giddy at the thought of owning all these weeds and shrubs and rocks?
The sycamores on either side of the house loomed before her, even more stunning and towering than when Katie first saw them. Back then, of course, the limbs were cloaked only in buds and a promise of what was to come. Now they were in full leaf, their immense white trunks standing in deep contrast to the green overhead, their boughs nodding and whispering mysteriously to one another as she passed. She tried to imagine what her view from the house would be like in the fall, when the trees around Lacewood erupted into a carnival of color, creating a tapestry of hues in every direction, as far as the eye could see.
Katie took her time making her way to the house. Mine. All mine, kept running through her head. Followed by, what in the heck am I doing? As she swept her eyes over the expansive vista of deterioration before her, she couldn’t help but think of the extravagant penthouse she left behind.
One moment she was excited, the next shaking with fear. She was completely alone here. No neighbors above and below her. No housekeeper to make her bed, or restaurant to deliver her dinner. So simple, yet so complicated. So exciting and terrifying...so daunting and thrilling.
Pure, stark fear, bordering on hysteria, bubbled up—and was swallowed. Bright sunlight and singing birds had a way of making panic over unknown things seem trivial. By the time Katie reached the front steps, she’d conquered her misgivings. I need this, she told herself. And heaven knows, it needs me.
After sticking the key into the lock with a trembling hand, Katie gave a firm turn. The resulting click sent an emotional charge straight through her. This was it. She’d just unlocked the door to her new home...her new life.
Katie took a deep breath and pushed. It didn’t budge. She thrust her shoulder against the solid wood, triggering only a mild groan when it opened—not a loud, wailing screech like when the sheriff forced his way through. Perhaps the house had accepted her, as she had accepted it...
At least she didn’t feel like an intruder when she walked in.
Then again, neither did she feel quite at home.
Closing the door behind her, Katie stood perfectly still in the foyer, her heart pounding in her ears. Dried leaves made a scuffling sound as they whisked across the floor in a hurried dance, settling into the shadows as if hiding from a stranger.
Katie knew the electricity hadn’t been turned on yet, so didn’t bother trying the switch. She studied the room in silence, seeing things she hadn’t seen—or at least didn’t remember—during her earlier walk-through.
Cobwebs, dust, and broken glass were the first things she noticed in the dim light, followed by the musty smells of dampness and decay. The ceiling and walls ranged from a washed-out yellow to a smoky, dingy hue, except for a couple of brown splotches where water had found its way in. Furniture, swathed in dusty sheets, appeared ghostly, drowsing in forgotten neglect in the corners.
“A little fresh air will do wonders.” Katie said the words out loud and was startled when her voice echoed and reverberated back to her in the nearly-empty room. She hurried to a window on the south side of the house and wrestled with the monstrous pane until at last it moved. The panel only rose a few inches, but the effect was instantaneous. Warm air full of birdsong and the alluring fragrances of spring rushed in, creating a completely different atmosphere.
Sunshine spilled in as well, creating dappled pools of light on the floor. This was the type of thing Katie remembered from her time in the country...nature in all its glory. She wanted to smell and hear it, feel and enjoy it, even when working inside.
The intense satisfaction from that simple act made Katie sigh with happiness. Yes, this was a far cry from a condo at the beach—or even a rustic cabin in the mountains. But her jet-setting days of glamor and glitz were behind her. Lacewood was home, providing a haven she needed and longed for.
Katie walked through the imposing foyer, trying to avoid the shards of glass glittering in the sunlight. Her mother would never approve of this, that’s for sure. She often scolded Katie for wrapping herself in a cloak of isolation rather than enjoying the spotlight. Katie always responded by pulling the cloak even tighter.
The mere thought of what her mother’s reaction would be made Katie cringe, and then smile. For the first time, she was in charge of her life. No more trying to be what someone else wanted—or the world expected.
Turning her attention back to the house, Katie took in the desolate, dark, and barren room. Once she’d unpacked her things it would feel more like a home and less like a dirty, dilapidated barn. She’d bought a small microwave and coffee maker on her drive down, and packed everything she’d need to get by for a week or so. In addition to the necessities like her laptop and clothes, she had two coolers of ice, food, and a variety of flashlights and lanterns.
This wasn’t going to be easy, but this is what she wanted, Katie reminded herself. Instead of being waited on hand and foot, she would be able to measure the result of a hard day’s work by her aching muscles and the calluses on her hands...the way her father had, and his parents had, and certainly their parents before them. When her father reminisced about the old days, he always had a special glint in his eye. Now she was beginning to understand why.
Katie’s sandals made a scuffing sound as she walked down the corridor to the room in the back. This was where she planned to put her air mattress and belongings until other parts of the house were made livable. Sizeable yet homey, the room had a masculine feel to it, and an aura of protection and warmth.
Infatuated by the floor-to-ceiling bookcases encompassing two entire walls, Katie stood in the doorway and pictured the cherished volumes that once filled the shelves. Nothing remained of them now except the faint, musty smell of mildew, and a few scraps of paper that appeared ready to turn to dust.
Walking over to a built-in seat on the far wall, Katie rested her knee on the wooden ledge, and unlatched the French-style window behind it. She gave the pane a hopeful push outward, and was surprised when it creaked open with relative ease. A gentle breeze lifted the tattered remnants of a lacy curtain, rewarding her with the sweet scent of lilacs.
Leaning forward as far as she could, Katie tried to find the source of the fragrance, but discovered nothing but a tangle of weeds and untrimmed trees. Disappointed, she lowered herself to the window seat, trying to imagine the multitude of generations who sat in this very spot, reading, daydreaming, or simply gazing out over the wide expanse of flowers in the garden.
Of course, she had to use her imagination a little. The confusion of vines and vegetation that stretched out before her resembled a rain forest or a jungle more so than a garden. But even without flowers, this house was abundant with exactly what her soul needed.
Peace and quiet.
No more disruptions or distractions. No more interruptions or intrusions. On any given day, she could do as much—or as little—as she wanted. The debilitating headaches that had plagued her since childhood had all but vanished in the last month. She hadn’t even bothered to refill her prescription medications, or pack anything stronger than aspirin.
In that regard, the healing powers of the house were already evident. “I’ll fix you and you’ll fix me.” Katie felt silly making the promise out loud, but it was true. The house’s issues were countless and vast—but they were mostly superficial, paling in comparison to her deep-seated ones.
Pulling out her phone, Katie prepared to make the call she’d been dreading. Better to get it over with before the news begins to spread.
As she dialed the number, she steeled herself for the conversation to come. Her mother would be frantic with disbelief and dismay when she learned Katie made this decision without her. She would ask the inevitable question and demand an immediate answer. “What in the world are you DOING?”
Katie smiled with a deep sense of contentment at what her response would be.
Living.
Don’t stop reading! Lacewood won three awards in 2020 and is a top book club pick!
