SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow) (20 page)

He glanced around
the room. “Because there are still so many unanswered questions. I can’t stop
wondering why The Horseman chose me? Why Devenpeck?”

“Does it even
matter now?”

He tilted his
head. “Probably not. But still…what’s his connection to school teachers?”

“Ichabod, you’re forgetting
Garritt. He was educated at home. I don’t think he’d ever set foot in this
school. And as far as I know, he barely knew Nikolass.”

“I’ll always be
curious.” Then he looked at me quizzically. “Now it’s your turn. Why are you here?”

That brought me
back to the bitter truth. “I was searching for my tiny rose.”

“Of course. I’d
forgotten. Where have you looked?”

I held my palms
up. “Everywhere.” Then sighing, I asked, “Do you think one of the children
could’ve kept it?”

“No. To them, the
money I offered was more valuable than the rose. Not to mention the extra
points I promised for their grade. Trust me, they not only cleaned up the mess
that day, they rooted through everything.”

My heart ached. “I
can’t leave till I find it.”

“Then we’ll find
it. But let me light a fire first. This cold is making your nose red.” He
kissed the tip of it.

As he started for
the fireplace I grabbed his arm. “Wait! I haven’t thoroughly searched there.” I
hurried over, knelt, and shoved aside some of the logs. Then I ran my hand
along the cobbled floor. There was an unusual amount of debris – snapped twigs,
dirt clods, bird feathers. I’d never seen so much fall through a chimney. As I
skimmed across it something pricked my finger. “Ow!” I quickly withdrew my hand
and examined it. A large splinter had pierced the skin, the wound already
livid.

Ichabod pulled a
handkerchief from his pocket. “Hold still.”

“That’s going to
be extremely difficult,” I said, quaking from the cold.

“Yes, it’d be
easier to remove the sliver if my hands weren’t shaking too. I’ll light a fire
first.”

Drops of blood
were beginning to form so I wound his handkerchief around my finger.

Once the fire was
lit, Ichabod brought over a basin of water. He took my hand, cradling it in
his. “And now, my fair patient.”

I bit my lip as he
slid the splinter free. The burning pain was nothing compared to the blood that
freely streamed. He dipped the handkerchief in the water and pressed it to the
puncture.

“Ay! That water’s
freezing.”

He tied it on
tight. “Good. It will stop the bleeding faster.”

I looked down at
the bulky wet bandage. “Thank you, Doctor.” Just when we were leaning for a
kiss, we noticed the air had gone thick and gray. Puffs of dark smoke billowed
from the fireplace.

Ichabod waved his
hand in front of his face. “The chimney’s clogged.”

I remembered the
twigs and feathers. “I think there were birds nesting in there.” I covered my
mouth, coughing.

Our eyes watered
as he went for the broom. Staying clear of the flames, he thrust the handle up
into the flue. “There’s something blocking it.” He prodded and poked, shielding
his nose with his crooked arm.

“Ichabod, I can
barely breathe. Let’s extinguish it and –”

Right then, a
welter of dead birds and dried sprigs crashed down from the chimney. Ichabod jumped
back as the heap struck the hearth. Debris rolled toward us, bringing flaming
embers with it.

I shot back,
keeping my hem raised.

While the smoke
now rose upward, the room was still filled with a stinging haze. Ichabod
stomped out some of the cinders. But I reacted quickly, picking up the basin,
pitching the water and dousing the fire.

We both stood
back, agape.

“What in God’s
name?” I muttered.

There were at
least a dozen dead blackbirds cluttering the floor, sticks and vines entangled
in their wings.

“Now we know what
caused the blockage,” he said, fanning the musky air.

“But how? Why?” I
looked to him, still astounded. “Was this the work of The Horseman?”

He put his arm
around me, drawing me close. “No. This was a manmade nest.”

“Who would do such
a thing?”

“I don’t know,” he
answered, “but I think we’d better leave.”

As much as I
longed to find that bead, I knew he was right.

We made our way
through the smoky room and stepped out into the misty air. I inhaled, clearing
the smoke from my lungs.

He nodded toward
my hand. “How is your finger?”

My finger. I’d
nearly forgotten. I untied the handkerchief to examine it. “Swollen.” It still
bled.

He turned the
handkerchief over and retied it. “It needs a poultice to prevent infection.”

“I’ll take care of
it when I get home.”

Placing his hands
on my cheeks, he leaned down and kissed me. The medicine I truly needed.

“I love you,
Katrina.”

“I love you too.”

He gazed on me,
his eyes soft. “When can we meet again?”

“After the school
day tomorrow. The granary at Bliss.”

He cocked a brow.
“The naming of that property was great foresight on your part.”

Then we were
intertwined again, kissing with passion. I eventually gained my senses and,
whispered, “Ichabod, though it hurts me to leave you, I may well bleed to death.”

He relaxed into a
smile. “Go take care of your finger. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And with one last
kiss, we parted.

* *
*

Father never said a word about
Ichabod at dinner. And I certainly didn’t press. I’m sure in some roundabout
way, he felt sealing The Horseman was yet another attempt by Ichabod to make
him look incompetent. He hurriedly chewed his food, then throwing his napkin
upon the table, he finally looked my way. “Katrina, I’ll need you to take care
of all the arrangements for the party.”

My jaw dropped.
“We’re still having our harvest party?”

“Of course,” he
bellowed, eyes wide. “We have much to celebrate.”

My dinner became
all the tastier.

* *
*

The next day dawned as frigid and
damp, yet reminders of icy rooms and tumbled birds could not erase my joy.

I reached the
granary early, spread out the quilt and waited. A short time later, I heard
Ichabod’s footsteps on the stairs.

His dark hair
glistened from the mist and his vibrant eyes glimmered – sending a wave of
tingles throughout me. He knelt and inspected my bandaged finger. “Is it
better?”

“Much better,
though the children taunted me, saying I sliced it on my sharp tongue.”

“Ah, yes.” He
nodded. “I’ve heard that you are a most cruel schoolmistress.”

I huffed. “I
certainly can’t have them taking advantage of me.”

“Of course not,”
he said, drawing me close. “That’s my job.”

We kissed for a
time, holding…touching…caressing. It was as though nothing existed outside the
granary walls. But still, there was something gnawing at me.

“Ichabod?”

“Umm-hum?” he
answered, nibbling my ear.

“Did Elise come to
see you?”

He sat back. “Yes,
she came bearing strudel.”

“And?”

He shrugged a
shoulder. “She told me she was pleased with what I’d done, complimented me on
my bravery, and said she looked forward to when I could dine with her family
again.”

She’ll never
give up.

“That was it?”

“That was it.”

I stretched my
legs in front of me and scoffed. “At least her father informed her of your
release.”

Ichabod teasingly
pursed his lips. “I’m beginning to think Baltus doesn’t like me.”

“Only because he’s
stubborn, old-fashioned, and can’t accept change.”

His eyes softened
as they met mine. “Perhaps that why he keeps you so close.”

The thought
lingered. Father’s dominance toward me had started just after Mother died. Did
he really fear losing me? “Regardless, he’d never allow us to be together. Not
as long as we remain in the Hollow.”

He rolled a lock
of my hair in his fingers. “Then let’s not remain.”

I snapped my eyes
to him. “You want to leave?”

His never
flickered. “Don’t you?”

I felt so light, I
feared I might float away. I placed my hands on his face and drew him into a
deep kiss. But within the passion, my mind churned, remembering Marten’s
scheme. “Ichabod, we need to plan our departure.”

He smiled, still
drunk from the kiss…and the thought of us leaving, I guess. “We could go now if
you’d like. This second. What’s to stop us?”

“Plenty. Father’s
money goes a long way. He’ll stop at nothing to bring me back.”

He sat a little
taller, his face taut. “Katrina, don’t. We can go halfway around the world if
that eases your mind, but I won’t spend the rest of my life constantly looking
over my shoulder.”

“But I will.” I
rolled onto my knees. “I’d always be wondering what bounty Father had set.”

He wrapped his
arms around me and pulled me close. “If it’ll make you feel safer, then we’ll
come up a plan.”

I lay my head on
his shoulder and closed my eyes. “I already know a way.”

He waited,
listening.

“I have a friend
who’s recently purchased a ship…”

* *
*

The days leading up to the party
were spent in preparation. Our home was overrun with servants who aired linens,
buffed wood, and polished silver. The new overseer had arrived, yet Father
still spent time away from the house.

I kept my nose to
the ledgers, budgeting for the affair, and seeing to every detail. Father was
right. There was much to celebrate.

Now, more than
ever, I couldn’t be seen near Marten’s ship. If Father thought I’d escaped with
Ichabod, Marten would have nothing to fear. And thank God we no longer needed
Peter Bottoms.

On the evening of
the party, Leta fastened me into a rose taffeta gown. Once my tresses were
securely pinned, I powdered my face and bosom and stepped into white brocade
slippers. I swept into our great room to check that everything was in place.
The fragrance of alabaster roses filled the air. Amber and cream ribbons wound
up our banister. And every wall shimmered with flickering candlelight. As
always, it was like stepping into a fairy tale.

Soon came the
first knock at the door.

Father and I stood
together, greeting the guests as they arrived. As usual, Reverend Bushnell was
the first. He spouted pleasantries and praised the Lord for delivering us from
our recent nightmare.

Reverend, I did
the delivering.
You should be praising me.

He was followed by
a few members of the Council. Even Notary de Graff came, though he was still
dressed in mourning clothes. His hand trembled when I took it to thank him for
coming.

I’d barely
finished greeting him when I heard a saucy voice say, “We got our real
schoolteacher back.” Dirk Jansen. He glared up at me, his arms firmly crossed
over his chest.

The little oaf.

“Believe me, Dirk.
No one is happier about that than I.”

“I doubt that,” he
countered. He poked out his tongue, then motioned for his brother, Devlin. They
pushed past me, tracking their way to the table of sweets.

Was it wrong that
I’d hoped the pastries would rot his little teeth?

As I turned back,
Elise stood before me in an ice blue gown dripping with lace. Her golden hair,
pinned up in curls, was adorned with gossamer butterflies. And the glass beads
of her necklace twinkled their way down to a delicate jay feather pendant. My
breath caught at the sight of her.

“Elise, you’re
dazzling.” How did she afford such splendor?

Her smile was as
cold as her eyes. “Thank you. You look quite lovely tonight too.”

“Please,” I
whispered. “Let’s resolve this.”

She turned her
nose and walked in, ignoring my plea.

How regal will
she feel when she hears Ichabod and I have run away?

A few more villagers
arrived, offering compliments and bits of banter. The music had already begun,
and laughter floated from our great room. I felt light and uplifted…then along
came Peter Bottoms. Just the sight of him caused my stomach to shrivel. He took
my hand and leered with yellow eyes. “Why Katrina, you look good enough to
eat.”

Hot bile rose to
my throat. I was tempted to spit it into his face.
Thank God, this will be
the last I’ll see of him.
“Believe me, Peter, you’d find me quite sour.”

He leaned close,
clicking his mouth. “I’d still like a taste.”

Before I could
react, he laughed and walked away.

I promptly wiped
my hand on my skirt, then turned to the next guest.

Three more
families passed, then Ichabod approached. I was absolutely agog. His black silk
suit and ivory waistcoat fit flawlessly – every fold of lace on his neckcloth
perfect. There was a bluish tinge to his raven-wing hair, and his emerald eyes
sparkled. My breath hitched just thinking that this delicious creature was all
mine.

He greeted us with
a smile as warm as our hearth.

Father’s face
pinched. “Well, Crane, you’re still in one piece. That risky endeavor paid off
for you.”

“More preservation
than risk,” Ichabod said. “And as I see it, it paid off for everyone.”

Father’s
expression held firm. “Curious though. I’d never have thought to look in
Smedt’s store, even after Katrina questioned me.” He peered down at me, his
eyes dark slits.

Ichabod came to my
defense. “I’d asked her through our correspondence if she knew what had become
of the confiscated weapons. I’m just grateful the sword was there.”

“All in all,”
Father chided, “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

A vein in
Ichabod’s jaw pulsed. “And which lesson would that be?”

“You can’t mock
God with all this progressive thought. It leads to no good end.” Father bit
each word as it rolled from his mouth.