Passions Page 2

  With the grocery list in hand, she drove down the mountain into Carter Lake. She took it slow around the twisting, hairpin turns, passing by countless different specimens of trees and shrubbery on the way. She couldn’t remember if there were any wildlife in the area besides the birds, squirrels, and occasional skittish deer, but she was mindful to watch for anything that dared to dart out into the road. The last thing she wanted was a guilty conscience over a flattened turtle or squished chipmunk.

  Chloe wondered how nerve racking it would be to traverse these roads at night. Checking the time, she knew she would have to set herself on a schedule to ensure she was back at the cabin before the sun began to set. Hopefully, shopping wouldn’t take too long.

  Once at the base of the mountain, she drove past several plots of farmland bordered by split rail fences before reaching the main road. Carter Lake quickly came into view, heralded by the old gas station that only had two vintage pumps and an old dented Coca-Cola sign hanging on the storefront. Parked at one of the pumps was a rusty truck, the bed full of hay bales and the driver dressed in dusty farm clothes.

  Driving on, the rest of the town became visible.

  The town only had one main street with two lanes bordered by red brick stores built at least half a century ago, if not earlier. Old advertisements for products that weren’t even on the market anymore were still nailed to the sides of the buildings. Titles like “Murphy’s Antiques” and “Carter Lake Hardware Store” were painted in white on the storefront windows, shadowed by the canvas awnings that fluttered in the afternoon breeze.

  Only a few pedestrians sauntered along the sidewalks while she passed perhaps only four cars on her way to the grocery store on the other side of town. It was a modest establishment, nothing like the supermarkets in the big city. They sold strictly food products, but Chloe was unsure if they would have everything she needed.

  She received her answer halfway through the shopping excursion. They didn’t have all the big name brands that she was used to, but she found adequate substitutes. Her next fear was that someone would recognize her. Chloe hadn’t been back to Carter Lake in years, but she wouldn’t be surprised if someone spotted the resemblance between her and her late aunt.

  Her mother always said that they looked similar, especially in the almond shape of their eyes combined with her sharp nose and cheekbones. Flattering friends said she would have made a great model if she were skinny enough. But Chloe loved food too much to live such a lifestyle. And for that, her mother was grateful. Chloe wasn’t overweight by any means, but she wasn’t a fragile twig of a woman, either. She had curves in all the right places, which made it a little difficult to shop for jeans sometimes.

  While perusing the canned foods aisle, she heard it.

  “Ma’am?” a gentle voice came from behind her.

  Chloe wanted to lean against her cart handle and pretend she didn’t hear anything as she hurried along. But, that was the old Chloe—not the new Chloe who was a writer. Running from people wasn’t an option anymore. The voice didn’t belong to someone she had wronged, and there was no need to fear it. No one in this town would insult her or give her dirty looks for no reason.

  She straightened and turned to see who was speaking.

  A slender, elderly woman stood there, clad in a brilliantly colored flower dress that reached down to her knees, holding a hand basket in front of her. The woman’s silver hair was pulled back into a bun, but small tendrils had escaped and framed her wrinkled face. She had the clearest blue eyes Chloe had seen on a woman so old. She must have been a knockout in her younger days.

  “Excuse me, but are you new in town?” she asked, her slow, thick southern drawl gracing Chloe’s ears like a timeless lullaby. It reminded her so much of her aunt’s accent and the one her mother had all but lost after moving to the big city decades ago.

  Chloe nodded and put on her kindest, most genuine smile. “Yes, ma’am. I just got settled in today.” Her own accent was faint, not near as heavy as this old woman’s.

  The woman peered at her, bright red lips tightening into a thin line. “You look strangely familiar.”

  There it was. Her whole new adventure may have just been ruined. Chloe had never been good at lying, so she might as well come out with it. “My aunt used to live here a few years ago. Mary Anne Hilton.”

  The old woman’s face lit up, making her suddenly appear a decade younger. “You’re Mary Anne’s niece? I thought I recognized you. I saw you at the funeral, but before that the last time I saw you, you were yay high.” She held out one of her bony hands to about her hip level to emphasize her point.

  “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t recognize you,” Chloe replied, maintaining her pleasant grin.

  The lady gave her a dismissive wave and shook her head. “No, no. I wouldn’t expect you to. Your aunt and I used to play cards together years ago before Mary Anne got too old to make that trip up and down the mountain.” She offered her hand to Chloe. “My name’s Rosie.”

  Chloe gingerly took her hand and shook it, careful not to crush Rosie’s fragile bones in her grip. “I’m Chloe. But, I guess you knew that already.”

  The wrinkles around Rosie’s eyes deepened with her smile. “Yes, I remember. So, where are you staying?”

  Their hands dropped and Chloe nervously slid her hands into her jean pockets, fiddling with an old paperclip she had never bothered to take out. “At my aunt’s cabin. I inherited it from her.”

  It seemed a bit morbid to take pride in the fact that she was now living in her deceased aunt’s home, but somehow the excitement of having a place to call her own overshadowed the sadness of losing her relative. Not only that, but the cabin would stay in the family for at least one more generation.

  Rosie’s expression suddenly shifted from merry to wary. “Really? Do you like it up there?”

  Chloe was a little disconcerted by such a question but only shrugged. “It’s OK so far. The real estate office was nice enough to leave all the furniture in there, so I didn’t have to bring my furniture from Atlanta.”

  Rose inclined her head, eyebrows raised as if she were trying to have a serious talk with a child. “But, do you like it?”

  A frown formed between Chloe’s eyes as she tried to decipher the old woman’s question. “I haven’t spent a lot of time in there to really form a good opinion yet.”

  Rosie nodded and made a sound in her throat like Chloe’s answer was satisfactory. “Well, just be careful up there.”

  Chloe wanted to attribute this behavior as mere eccentricity, but there was something in the cryptic warning that intrigued her.

  “Why?” Chloe asked. “I used to spend a lot of time up there as a kid. Is there something wrong with the house?”

  “Not really.” Rosie didn’t seem convinced by her own admission. “Just, every time I went up there, I never felt safe—like the house was haunted or something.”

  Out of respect for her elders, Chloe did not roll her eyes like she wanted. Perhaps this old woman really was eccentric. She was a friend of her aunt’s after all. Part of her wanted to keep an open mind for a potential friendship with this old woman. The other part wanted to bid her a good day and keep rolling through the grocery store.

  She gave Rosie an encouraging smile and shook her head. “I can assure you, it’s not haunted. I understand it was a pretty popular spot for vacationers. The real estate office was sad to give it up.”

  Rose leaned in, her voice dropping a bit. “They were probably sad to see it go because they were concerned for your safety.”

  Chloe was growing impatient and a little offended. There was nothing wrong with her aunt’s house, and there was certainly nothing to worry about. There were no ghosts, no spirits, and no monsters hiding under the bed. Even as a child, as perceptive as children normally are, she felt nothing when in that cabin; nothing but happiness anyway. However, she would indulge the woman. It had been a long time since she’d had a lengthy conversation with anyone th
at hadn’t involved her late aunt’s affairs. And, despite the fact that their discussion was less than sensible, she wasn’t willing to cut it short just yet.

  “Did the renters complain about something?”

  “Not that I’ve been told.”

  “I’m sure it’s just how old the cabin is. If it was good enough for my aunt to will it to me, then she must have been certain that it was safe enough to live in.”

  Rosie heaved a sigh and nodded. “I suppose. But, if you find that house is too much for you, take my advice and have it torn down or condemned.”

  Torn down? Condemned? She couldn’t be serious. The home was a piece of Carter Lake history. It might have been one of the first homes built in the area, and she had the gall to suggest she demolish it just because of a little creepy feeling? Chloe didn’t want to despise this woman for her late aunt’s sake, but Rosie was slowly crawling up her long list of people with whom she’d rather no associate.

  Chloe flashed another fake smile. “I surely will, Miss Rosie.”

  After a cordial invitation to a game of Bridge the following Tuesday night, the two ladies parted ways, and Chloe continued her shopping trip.

  With every step across the white tiled floor of the grocery store, Rosie’s words floated back to her. What did she see in the cabin that Chloe and her aunt didn’t? Or more specifically, what her entire family didn’t.

  Before the cabin was in her aunt’s possession, it belonged to her grandparents and her great-grandparents and their grandparents before them. Though the last name changed a few times, Chloe was a descendant from one of the founders of Carter Lake. Somewhere in the attic were old land deed documents, photo albums, and memorabilia that her aunt had cautioned the real estate company not to leave undisturbed. Chloe knew she would need to take a visit up to the place she was never permitted to go as a child and see if a reason lay there.

  Chloe couldn’t help but feel a fiery indignation for the suggestion to take down the home. She knew Rosie meant well by it, but burning down the place that had become her refuge was the last thing she wanted to do. She’d sooner move back to Atlanta than see her childhood memories get blown to bits or torn down board by board.

  She drove back up the mountain, nearly panicking every time her tires spun on the roads. Finding herself once again parked in front of the cabin with her backseat packed with groceries, she took a long hard look at what was now her home.

  Even in the orange glow of the sunset, the cabin was the picture of peace. She could faintly hear birdsongs in the surrounding woods, mingled in with the rustling of the autumn wind through the trees that towered over the property. She squinted her eyes against the harsh golden glare of the tin roof, but otherwise the house was unimposing.

  She hated to think it, but maybe Rosie was just blowing smoke. Chloe had never heard about the cabin being haunted until Rosie mentioned it. It was completely possible that Rosie was either senile or simply mistaken. Maybe this wasn’t even the cabin she was talking about, but another somewhere on the mountain and she was confused.

  Chloe scolded herself for being the least bit worried about it in the first place and hurried to get her groceries inside. Tonight, she’d have a simple meal of spaghetti using her mother’s famous sauce recipe and sit down for as long as she could keep her eyes open to begin writing her first story.

  As she stirred the noodles, her mind buzzed with the words she would say first. How would she grab her future readers? With an action scene? Dialogue? Maybe a dream or just skip right to when her characters meet for the first time. Every story she had ever thought of was always a love story. Her thoughts were consumed by nothing else.

  Even as a child, she dreamed of her handsome prince coming to sweep her off her feet and whisper gentle words of love and affection. While most girls were forming the “No Boys” club, she was daydreaming about new crushes in school.

  It took a few years for her friends to catch onto the boy craze, but it was worth it to have others with her swooning over buff football players and young handsome teachers. She spent many weekends giggling at slumber parties when she could have been here at the cabin with her family.

  Quite ironic, actually, that she of all people would think herself an authority on romance. Out of all the crushes she’d had, and all the unrequited loves she fawned after, only one man ever bothered to return her affections. And it had turned out disastrously..

  Memories flared up, ones of an afternoon spent in the park and late evening dinners in her apartment. She could see his brown eyes smiling back at her. But then, the memories turned sour and a handsome faced morphed into a scowl. Spiteful words echoed in her ears once more, words that she never wanted to hear again, words that she wanted to forget.

  Chloe shook her head and took a steadying breath to fight back the tears that gathered at the corners of her eyes. New life, new adventure, new Chloe, and no more Atlanta. She hoped it wouldn’t be this hard when she actually started writing.

  Sitting down at the little writing desk under the stairs, Chloe set up her laptop as the meat sauce began to simmer. The real estate company had never hooked up the cabin with internet service, but Chloe was able to use her mobile hot spot to check her email. Nothing was there, as she had suspected. She wasn’t expecting anyone to contact her for anything. But it was worth the time to check at least.

  Chloe plugged in her hard drive and scrolled through the dozens of folders marked with novel titles that were waiting for her. Character profiles, plot outlines, and picture resources swam before her eyes, and she couldn’t help but grin and squeal like a child. It was all too exciting.

  With a plate of steaming spaghetti next to her mouse, she opened up a fresh word document and began.

  Chapter 2

  The morning sun slanted through the thinly curtained windows of Chloe’s bedroom, bathing the room in a golden glow that she wasn’t used to after living for so long in the big city. She rolled over under her silky comforter and stretched her arms high above her head, letting out a tired groan as her eyes took in the room in all its chaos.

  Suitcases were piled haphazardly in the empty corner of the room, and the clothes she had worn from the day before were strewn across the woven rug at the foot of the bed. She’d only had enough energy last night to strip and change into her flannel pajamas before collapsing on the mattress.

  Her sleep wasn’t anywhere near long enough, but there was a feeling of contentment in her gut when she closed her eyes, knowing that she had accomplished a lot the evening before. She had managed to crank out three chapters before her mind refused to form the right words for a scene.

  It took a moment for her to remember where she was as she surveyed the tongue-and-groove wood walls and ceiling that boxed her in. She wondered how long it would take for her to get used to her new surroundings. Days? Weeks? Months? Would it ever truly feel like home?

  Then a feeling settled in that was unwelcoming. It was something she’d been able to fight off for weeks. With all the business of the move and settling her aunt’s affairs, she’d had no time to feel lonely. But now, lying in her bed, knowing that she was miles away from another living soul, she felt it all too keenly—that aching in her core that longed for the presence of someone else. It was enough to knock the very breath from her lungs.

  Chloe never gave a second thought to the fact she would be living alone with not so much as one neighbor to rely on for company. She should have been used to such loneliness in Atlanta. The week preceding her aunt’s death had been nothing but loneliness. But at least she still had her job and a place she could go to hear human voices.

  Out here, there was nothing but birds and squirrels. Perhaps now would be as good a time as any to get a pet; a dog, or perhaps a longhaired cat, to talk to and take care of. Her apartment had strict rules regarding pets, but Chloe was no longer under such restrictions.

  Her troubled heart began to take comfort in the notion that perhaps a farmer down in the valley was trying to
get rid of a litter of puppies. That would surely cure her loneliness.

  She let out a tight breath and struggled to push herself up. Before she went scouting for a companion, she would need her morning cup of coffee. The familiarity of her favorite blend would make this cabin her own as its aroma filled the air.

  Chloe threw back the blankets but recoiled the moment her bare feet touched the freezing floor. She had been accustomed to carpeted floors that were the perfect temperature, no matter the season.

  After slipping her feet into some socks, she ventured downstairs to the kitchen, her mind still a bit foggy with sleep.

  The same warm sunlight beamed through the downstairs as it did upstairs with only the shapeless shadows of the trees to hinder it. Chloe made her way to the kitchen and mechanically started the coffee maker with the only thought in her mind that she needed to wake up. She filled up the pot a little more than usual, knowing that she would need more caffeine than normal. If she played it right, she’d make the brew last all day.

  The water in the appliance began to boil as she started up the slightly used electric stove. Placing a cast iron pan coated with oil on the eye, she pulled out two eggs to scramble from the fridge.

  It was when she closed the fridge that she first noticed it. By her computer was her yellow notepad that she used to jot down random notes. Last night she didn’t write anything on it at all, but Chloe could faintly see a few sentences scrawled out in neat, almost perfect cursive penmanship between the lines at the top of the page.

  Chloe froze as panic flooded her body, gripping her chest like a vice. The oil in the frying pan sizzled in the background, and the coffee pot chimed from the far counter, but she hardly heard them. Her vision zoomed in on the note as her hands began to shake. She was more awake now than she had been in days.

  She hurried to the notepad, her weak legs tingling with sudden fatigue, each step feeling heavier and heavier. The chair creaked loudly as she dropped into the seat, letting her eyes pour over the carefully scripted words.