Page 9 of Headless Over You
My feet carry me to the wrought-iron fencing’s edge, and as I reach out to touch it, I question how long it’s stood here. The fence extends a good way beyond the actual manor, but I can see the house from here. It’s old but remodeled for modernity.
I hear a car approach from behind me, but it doesn’t pass by.
“Iris?” Kurt’s voice cuts through the silence.
“Kurt?” I turn and try to play this off as best I can. “You know, I honestly doubted any of the locals had a car for your one stoplight.” It seems to work as he laughs me off.
“We have cars, silly. What are you doing out here?”
“Well, I realized I haven’t really explored, so I laced up my hiking boots and got to walking.”
“I see.” He nods. “Do you know where you are?”
“Not exactly,” I lie. “I know I passed the historical center, but other than that I’m aimlessly wandering.”
“Well, get in. You’ve ended up at my parents’ house.” He unlocks the car, and I stand there without moving. Do I want to know where he’s now directing this? It will be good to get a closer look at all the things that could possibly be in that house, but it will also come at a cost.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t intrude on their Saturday.” I take a step back.
“It’s not an intrusion. We’re about to have our weekly lunch.”So he doesn’t live at the manor.Interesting,I note. “Come on, it’s supposed to rain soon. You’ll be better off in the manor than stuck in the storm.”
“Okay,” I agree hesitantly, trying to hide the back and forth going on in my mind. I’m about to meet the Van Tassels and crash their lunch plans. I’ll be within searching distance of rooms. What’s an accidental left instead of a right when looking for the bathroom? It’s easy to get lost in such a big house.
Kurt walksme up the steps and onto the porch. It’s a wraparound that’s wide and filled with beautiful outdoor patio furniture. A swing sits to my left at the very end of the walkway.
“Many of my summers passed by on that swing.” Kurt looks over the property with fond reminiscing. How long has it been since he lived here?
He knocks on the door, and the sound takes me out of my thoughts as it opens to a petite blonde woman standing in the frame.
“Kurt,” she says sweetly before her eyes land on me. “Who is this young woman?” She’s not rude or taken aback by my presence like the townspeople, but all the same I’m hesitant to introduce myself.
“This is Iris Crane. She’s a folklore professor I met a few days ago at the coffee shop.” He graciously leaves out how that meeting turned into a coffee shower.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I extend my hand for hers. Thin fingers wrap around it and she lightly shakes.
“Lovely as always to meet one of Kurt’s friends. Will you be staying for lunch? We have a wonderful spread being cooked for us.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” I say, trying to get out of it one last time. But it doesn’t work.
“Nonsense, there’s never any trouble with guests coming by on Saturday. The more the merrier!” She steps back, gesturing us forward. “Come in, come in.”
The hospitality is refreshing, and I see where Kurt gets it from. He wasn’t put off by my presence either. A battle of conflicting feelings wages inside me. On one hand, the Van Tassels have been the only ones to welcome me warmly anywhere, but on the other, they’re at the center of the curse surrounding Brom. They’re somehow responsible for the strife and grief he’s experienced over countless decades.
The home smells delightful, and I don’t doubt the wonderful lunch to be had.
“Come and relax in the sitting room. I’d love to know more about your job.”
“So,tell me, Iris, what is it that you do?” His mother is a kind woman, and this doesn’t feel like prying.
“I study folklores of many cultures and teach at Indiana University. I get to travel and meet all kinds of people to help my studies and lessons.” She moves a pitcher of water and a glass to the center of the table, and I pour myself a drink. “Thank you for your hospitality on such short notice.”
“Never a problem. So, what brings you to Sleepy Hollow?” I feel the answer is obvious, but nevertheless, I entertain her question.
“The legend of the Headless Horseman,” I admit with anxious trepidation. She doesn’t balk or clutch her very existent pearls.
“As do most travelers. How has that been for you? Have you visited the museum? You know, it sits on the outskirts of our property.”
“I have. Kurt was gracious enough to show me around and take me there early on. However, I didn’t know it extended onto your property.” The lie is smooth on my tongue.
