Emerald Eyes

Emerald Eyes

By

Elaine Waldron

Copyright 2011 by Sandra
Elaine Waldron

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction.

This book is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and/or incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.

One

The day Madison Stevenson left her sniffling mother, Lois Stevenson, standing at Hobby Airport and boarded her Southwest flight into Seattle, she had no clue as to just how drastically her life was about to change. Her Aunt Mattie Ray had suddenly passed away – found by a neighbor early one morning in her front yard – and left Madison with a sizable savings and her small cottage not far from the Nisqually Entrance to Mt. Rainier Park in Washington. There, Madison hoped to spend her days not only painting the beautiful scenery and enjoying the serenity that outdoor life there could provide, she also wanted to be free from her nagging mother, who wanted her to finish college and follow her steps into law school.

Even more so, she wanted to forget Jake Brothers, her ex fiancé who had broken off their engagement to join the Army. Something she didn’t even want to think about anymore. She’d cried enough over that broken dream.

Being a lawyer wasn’t appealing, either. After her father had been killed in a construction accident in Galveston, life had been hard. She practically raised herself, as her mother was always working with a client or attending social events that she just couldn’t miss. Madison felt it was just her mother’s excuse to stay away from a rebellious daughter that she did not understand at all. There were no siblings. She was an only child.

Her father, John, was the one who had understood her. He had been a free spirit just like Madison. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t miss him. As an artist, he had passed his talent on to her, which she was eternally grateful. She always felt close to him when she was painting. And though Aunt Mattie had been her mother’s sister, she had been more like Madison and John; often defending Madison when her mother was down on her. She, too, would be sadly missed.

Madison now had her cottage and the memories of the summers she had spent with Mattie as a child. She couldn’t wait to begin her life anew.

Before leaving, she made arrangements to lease a Kia Rio, figuring she didn’t need a big car. She was happy to find it waiting for her when she stepped out of the terminal. Ron Baker, a short, thin man in a white shirt and black pants, had the car running and waiting for her. He then took her straight to the Kia dealership where he worked. She signed the papers, shook hands with Mr. Baker, got in her car and headed in the direction of Mount Rainier and for the little yellow cottage with white trim.

Only when she pulled in, it was late afternoon, sun setting behind the tall trees. She hoped the power was on, as it was already in her name, as was the house phone. She shut off her car and slowly opened the door. Although it was the middle of summer she’d forgotten just how cool it could be in Washington, especially in wooded areas. She realized she should have had a sweater or jacket handy.

She decided to unlock the front door before getting her luggage out of the trunk and went up the three steps that were on the right side of the front porch by the driveway; carefully fingering through her keys, finding the one she still had from the times she had stayed with Mattie, and unlocked the door. It fell open. She felt for the switch to her left and let out a hearty sigh of relief when the light came on, although it wasn’t dark yet. However, it would be before long. “Thank you, God!” she said, as she had been a little afraid that the power might not be on. But it was. Grateful was an understatement.

The cottage was a little musty, but not bad for having been closed up for a while, with only the realtor who had been keeping an eye on it coming in and out for the past few weeks. Nostalgia hit her as she moved through the small living room where the big red and sepia braided rug still claimed its place in the center of the living room floor. Mattie had braided it years ago. Madison had been six. She still remembered helping her aunt get it started, holding the ends while Mattie began the plaiting.

There was a large archway into the kitchen, and the mahogany table that had sat there for years was still there up against the wall on the right. She stopped to clear the lump in her throat, almost anticipating Aunt Mattie calling out to her. She wondered if she concentrated hard enough, if she could hear her (at least, in her thoughts). She wiped a tear from her cheek and decided to go out and get her suitcases.

Just as she opened up the trunk, short barks startled her from behind. She swung around to see a Border collie resting on his haunches, wagging his tail. “Hello,” she greeted. The dog let out an enthusiastic yip.

Just then a man’s voice called out, “Shep! Shep, get over here now!” And then a tall man with sandy hair, trimmed just below the ears, appeared from around the trees at her driveway entrance. “Sorry about that. Shep’s not used to anyone being here.” He walked up to her and extended a hand. “Name’s Chuck. Actually, Charles Smith. I prefer Chuck.”

She shook hands with him and then dropped hers down. “Madison Stephenson.” Her attention returned to the dog, who was eyeing her with bright eyes and tail swishing. “I used to have a Border collie…But that was when I was really young. Around six. His name was Fred.”

“Good dogs.”

“I knew Aunt Mattie had a neighbor or two, but I wasn’t aware anyone lived real close.”

“Actually…I just built a cabin down the road and moved in about six months ago. Just before Miss Ray passed away. So, she was your aunt? ”

“Yes! She was.” Madison noticed his eyes were a pretty gray. Then it hit her. “Goodness! Are you the one who found her?”

At once, he was apologetic, “Yes! Afraid I am. Early one morning. I’d just let Shep out, and he ran off and started barking. I called and called but he didn’t come. I knew he’d run off in this direction, and when I got here, he was sitting by her body here in the middle of the yard.

“It looked as though she had dropped in a midstride, a heart attack. I tried to give her CPR, but she was already gone…I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. And thank you for trying to save her. I remember now that we were told a neighbor had found her. Only at the time, we were confused, as we didn’t know she had any real close neighbors.” Then she thought about it. “Except for one man, who lived back in the woods. He used to come around a lot. Aunt Mattie and he were very good friends. They often had coffee or tea together, had picnics in the woods, and sometimes played Chess or Monopoly, and then he’d leave…He’s probably not around anymore. I can’t even recall his name right now.”

“I know there’s a cabin back there. Came across it while trekking through the woods with Shep. Looks abandoned. Must be it…So,” he breathed. “I take it that you’re moving in?”

“Yes. I just brought my clothes. I knew it was already furnished. There are two bedrooms. One that was mine when I came to visit. That’s where I’ll be sleeping. I plan on saving and using what I can of hers. The rest, I’ll pack up and store in the attic or have a yard sale.”

He sniggered lightly.

“What?”

“Good luck with that yard sale. Only me here, and there is one other gentleman just the far side of me by a city block or two.”

“Dah!” she slapped her forehead. “I’m tired. Long day.”

“Hey…It’s okay. I’m walking distance. If you need any help, give me a yell.” His expression changed to concern. “You going to be okay? A young woman all alone in the woods like this?”

“My aunt was. She lived here for years.’

“Okay,” he said, smiling dubiously but attractively. “Just remember I’m not far away. Of course I’m gone during the day. I just got home a little bit ago and let Shep out. That’s when he made a bee-line for here. But I’m home of an evening and work only a few hours on the weekends.” He started to walk away.

“Wait!”

He spun around on his heels of his boots. “Yes?”

“Who’s this other neighbor?”

His expression took on a slight shadow. “You might not find him so friendly. I think his name is Devin Knight.”

“Hmmm.” Her forehead wrinkled. “Name sounds familiar…Nah…Couldn’t be. I think my aunt’s friend was named Devin too. But he’d be old by now.”

“I’m sure he’s not the same guy. This fella is about my age. Though he might be a relative. I only spoke to him a couple of times when he came in my little store. He’s tall too. Like me. Maybe a little taller. Dark hair. Hooded green eyes. Always looks serious. Not sure I’ve ever seen him smile.”

“You own a store?” she asked, not really paying attention to his description of Devin Knight.

“Yeah…Just down the road from the Nisqually Entrance to Mount Rainier Park. I sell a few groceries. And a lot of camping supplies. You’d be surprised at the things people forget to pack when they go camping.”

“I don’t know. I’d probably forget a lot of things.”

“Anyway, back to Mr. Knight. He seems okay enough, but I definitely get the feeling he just wants to be left alone. A man of few words.”

“Okay…I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You have a good evening, now. Just remember, I can hear you if you yell real loud. Don’t hesitate, if you need me.” He patted his leg and called his dog. The dog jumped up and went to him.

“You have a good evening too,” she said, grinning now, deciding he was definitely cute. She liked the way one curl spilled over his forehead. And though he hadn’t said, she got the feeling he lived alone; didn’t mention any wife or kids. She watched him disappear around the trees, and then she pulled her suitcases out of the trunk and carried them in the house.

She did okay until around eleven. Suddenly feeling the stress of the day taking its toll, she realized she was actually really tired.

After checking the hot water heater in the small cubby hole of a closet in the hall to make sure it was on, she took a quick shower and dressed for bed in her canary yellow pajamas.

She switched out all the lights, except for in her bedroom, the one she had slept in so many times as a child. Though she was sure the pretty off-white covers with red roses had been on the bed for a while, the bed still looked clean; hadn’t been slept in since it was made. Knowing her aunt’s fanaticism on cleanliness, she knew the covers couldn’t have been on there too long without having been washed.

She flipped back the covers and adjusted the two pillows, as it was a full bed; old fashioned, with a wrought iron head that had been painted off-white. There were no blinds on the two windows in the bedroom. Just shades. She pulled the shades down, leaving them open only about a foot above the sills. Then she turned off the light.

And stopped cold.

“Shit!” Pitch black. Couldn’t see her hands in front of her face.

She had forgotten how dark it could be in the woods in Washington at night, especially when there was no moon out to give its light. She didn’t consider that her eyes would adjust to the darkness. It was too dark! She anxiously felt for the light switch by the door. Finding it finally, she let out a sigh of relief. It was one thing being alone, but being alone in the pitch dark of night was another.

She was really tired but wasn’t sure she could sleep with the light on. A small lamp was by her bed. She hadn’t bothered to turn it on. Hadn’t even tried it. She pushed in the button on the base, but it didn’t come on. Looking down through the top of the shade, she saw there wasn’t a bulb. “Oh…hell with it!” she sputtered and decided to leave the hall light on and prop her bedroom door open just a little with her shoe, so the light wouldn’t be fully in her face, but she would not be in total darkness.

Done, she climbed in the bed and pulled the covers up to her neck, glad it wasn’t hot like back in Texas. There, even with the AC on, it often felt hot when one pulled up their covers.

She closed her eyes and attempted to fall asleep, even almost going to sleep, but then she got a strange, eerie inkling that she was being watched.

Her eyes popped open and she rolled over in bed, raised the shade slightly and craned her neck, looking out the window there. The sky was clear, could see the stars above. They were amazingly vivid, as there were no clouds; unusual for Washington where it was often overcast. But closer to the ground, though barely visible, was a low-lying fog. Somewhere an owl hooted, adding to the eeriness she felt. Then there was a rustling and something appeared at her window. She jumped back, startled and then laughed at herself, realizing it was a bird – a very large bird. It tapped on her window with its beak. Immediately Poe’s poem came to her mind,
“Tapping, tapping at my chamber door.”
She swung her legs over to the side of the bed. “Shit!”

The bird just sat there, staring in at her. Was it a crow? If so, it was really big for a crow.

“Go away!”

The bird croaked in response, sounding much like a frog.