Page 8 of Headless Over You
“You’re not as scary as they make you out to be,” I say, but the jack-o'-lantern is unmoving and no ghostly voice follows. The breeze picks up and my hair swirls around us. “Is there a way you can talk to me? Please.”
His hands run over my arms again before circling my wrists. I look down. His hold doesn’t hurt; it’s gentle, as though he were simply holding me. I could easily free myself of his grasp if I wanted. The turning fire in my belly tells me I don’t want that at all.
I raise my hands and he lets me, but he doesn’t let go. “Yes or no questions,” I say. I gesture with my left hand. “This one isyes.” And with my right. “This one isno.” I put them back at my sides. “Do you understand?”
He raises my left hand.
“Are you Abraham Van Brunt?”Yes,he answers. “Can I call you Brom?”Yes.“The Van Tassel family, they killed you, didn’t they?”Yes.“Over love?”Yes.He pulls me flush to him and my thighs squeeze together at the contact.
“Did you once protect Sleepy Hollow?” He doesn’t answer yes or no, just remains still. “Do youstillprotect Sleepy Hollow?”Yes.“From outsiders?”No.I think over his answer and the long history of his being. It was never an outsider issue, or at least it wasn’t anymore. On a guess and a whim, I ask, “From the Van Tassels?”Yes.
I look into the glowing face of the jack-o’-lantern. It beckons me closer.
“Can I touch you?” He raises my left hand to his pumpkin head, using my fingers to caress it. He’s so tall that I’m broughtto my tiptoes, but his arm wraps around my waist and he holds me steady. “Can I kiss you, Brom?” The intrusive thought is out of my mouth before I can stop it. But I don’t want to. The pull I feel is impossible to ignore, and I’m curious to know his answer.
He squeezes my left wrist and bends down slightly. Softly and cautiously, I lean forward and gently kiss the jagged cut of the jack-o'-lantern mouth. I move down his neck. His hands are tight around my waist and he pulls me closer. He wants more. His body moves against mine as I kiss up and down his neck. His skin is salty, like a living man. His scent is woodsy and pumpkin spice, a mixture of autumn. This elevates my need for more of him.
The church bells toll, ten in total, and I break away from him. I don’t move out of his hold. I like his hands on me, his arms around me.
“Can I see you again?” He rests his pumpkin head against my forehead and squeezes my ass with his right hand. He’s cheeky and playful, nothing like the murderous fiend of the night from the tales.
“I have to go . . .” I step back even though it pains me to do so. I’m slick and wet, wanting nothing more than to climb on his lap and take what he wants to give me. He lets me leave, and it comforts me that he wants to see me again.
As I make my way back, there’s no question about hiding this from Kurt and the other townspeople. I can’t rely on Kurt to be honest, and I can’t trust him with my truth either. He’s a playing card that I haven’t quite figured out yet.
My room is dark when I return, only the faint glow of a desk lamp helping me navigate my way to the bed. I look out the window and see him there as he gazes upon me.He always watches,I remind myself. And tonight, I’m thankful to know that his time here isn’t determined by the bells. He rears backon his horse and takes off into the pitch-black woods. The fog disappears and the night returns to what it was before.
SIX
Iris
My eyes crackopen with caked-on sleep as the sun comes through my window and paints my face in a soft glow. I feel refreshed and better than I have since first arriving in Sleepy Hollow. There are answers to be found, truths to be uncovered. While the townspeople seem to want to avoid the issue at hand, I get the feeling the head of the Van Tassel family wants some form of control out of keeping the curse alive. The connection lies there. It must.
I get up and go through my morning routine. My shower is peaceful and warm, washing away all my buzzing thoughts. They roll down my back and into the drain as I settle into a carefree state of mind.
The Horseman wanted to see me again, and see me he shall. I have wicked plans for when the bells toll. My thoughts are soon replaced with images of having him in every carnal way I want.
I turn the steaming water off and feel around for the towel on the wall rack. Its soft coziness touches my fingers and I grab it, trying to retain as much heat as possible as I wrap it around me. The bathroom mirror is fogged over, and I reach up to wipeit away. Something in the background captures my attention. A shadow? I jump back and turn around, chest heaving with panting breaths. Nothing. It’s just an empty bathroom and me.
I make quick work of the mirror and don’t read too much into the shadowy figure. After I run a brush through my wet hair, I wrap it up in the towel to dry. My outfit is an easy choice: leggings, a sweater, and my hiking boots. I’m going on a little adventure today.
Steppingoff the steps of the inn, I realize I dressed in the right clothing. Despite the sun being out, it’s cool and breezy. I sling my bag across my body and march down the main road of town. I have nary an idea of where this beloved estate may be, but I figure it can’t be too hard to track down in a town with one stoplight.
I pass by the coffee shop, but I don’t see Kurt loitering around. I quicken my pace in case he’s inside. I don’t want to be spotted sneaking my way to his family’s home. His home? Does he still live with them?
Moreover, after last night, I want to avoid him as much as I can today. He doesn’t share the same sentiment about the Headless Horseman, and I doubt I have the capability of changing his mind. Realistically, it’s just opening your heart to the injustice Brom received. But in turn, that means going against his family for Kurt. I make a mental note to test the waters of changing his mind at a later date. This is still too fresh for me to play my hand.
I pass by the pathway that leads to the bridge where Brom appears every night and I wonder what keeps him from crossing. Though, I guess that isn’t a wholly factual statement. He crossed it for me that night. But still, does he roam the town?
About half a mile later, I come to the historic Victorian home we visited yesterday. It’s closed today, but the answers I want don’t lie there. Someone, possibly a caretaker, steps out onto the porch and locks the door behind them. They make their way down the walkway and startle when they look up and see me.
“Hello,” I say politely, making myself seem small and unassuming. “I was wondering if you could help me? I’m a little lost, which seems crazy to say in such a small town like this. I’m meeting Kurt Van Tassel at the Van Tassel estate, but he didn’t give me directions. Could you tell me where I need to go?”
She seems wary but loosens her shoulders before answering me.
“This historic home is on the property of the estate. You just take a left at the stop sign and continue until you see the gates of the Van Tassel manor. You can’t miss it.” Her voice is quiet, like she’s unsure if she should be telling me this at all. She’s right to feel that way. I just lied to her after all.
I thank her for her time before I meander down the sidewalk. Reaching the stop sign like she said, I go left. This part of the street looks the same as the others, lined with beautiful turning trees. It hits me then that I have no real plan for what I’m doing here, and clearly my only excuse is to cling to Kurt’s name. My steps don’t falter though.
