Chapter Nine
A New Start
It was a long and miserable ride to my new home. The night was dark, with only the full moon to guide me, but worse still, it was wet. The rain never ceased. I almost stopped a few times to find shelter from the storm, but I did not want to prolong my journey any more than necessary. By the time I made it to Baycrest, I was weak with exhaustion, chilled to the bone from the rain, and desperately lonely for the life I had given up.
I reached the small town, in the wee hours of the morning, and of course all was still. Only someone mad would be out this late and in this kind of weather, or someone like me, who was running away. I followed the main road and turned at an old overgrown lane. The grass, weeds and brush had overtaken the road that was once here. I knew from memory that this would take me to our cabin, even though my family and I hadn't been here in years.
The road was bumpy and full of holes that I could have avoided had I not been so fatigued. Finally, after a few miles, I could see the outline of the cabin. It was old, with faded grey wood that appeared to be black in the darkness. The shutters were hanging from nails and the grass had grown so high it covered half of the door. The appearance of the shack might scare away someone else, but not me. I looked forward to bringing the cabin back from the depths of disrepair. It would take weeks and a lot of hard work to bring it back to the way it once was, and I couldn't wait to begin. With each pound of the hammer and stroke of paint, it would keep my mind from drifting to the misery that was now my life. It would hopefully help make me forget that the last month had ever happened.
I rushed inside carrying the crates that my father had thankfully covered. I was shivering uncontrollably but still managed to undo the buttons of my shirt and trousers. After tossing my wet clothes on a dust covered chair, I took out a lantern and placed it on the table. Now that I could see what I was doing, I decided to make a fire.
There was a pile of wood sitting on the floor by the stove. Dust and cobwebs had settled from lack of use, but when I struck the match and tossed it into the stove with some newsprint, a fire started immediately. I huddled in front of the open stove, warming my body, before putting on dry clothes. The room was dark, causing the fire and lantern to create shadows along the dreary walls.
When I finally stopped shivering, I retrieved the lantern from the table and carried it outside to put Bessie and Franklin in the stables. They resisted at fist when I touched them, but they eventfully let me lead them to shelter. It was either fight with me and stay in the rain or get warm in the barn. Inside their stalls I fed them with the little bit of hay I could find, and when they were distracted with food, I gave them each a quick brush. The only resistance I noticed was a few flinches as the brush went over their fur. Once they were settled comfortably, I went back inside.
I was so tired that I could barely keep my eyes open. I remembered coming here as a boy, so I knew there were two rooms. I picked the one I used to stay in. I wanted to pretend things were normal for at least one night and if I slept in my parent’s room, the delusion wouldn’t work. I didn’t take time to look around to see if the room was the same as I remembered. I removed the drop cloth my mother had placed years before, and flopped onto the tiny wood framed bed, falling asleep instantly.
My eyes were still closed when I woke in the late morning, but I knew without looking that something was amiss. This was not my room. The smell was different, and the bed I lay upon was harder than my own. As I slowly opened my eyes, the events of the previous evening flooded back to me. I was lying in my old bedroom of my family's Baycrest cabin. In my exhausted state, I had forgotten to make the bed. I was curled up atop the small, dusty, bare mattress. I could tell by the light through the window that it was mid morning. I had hoped to sleep longer, after my never-ending night, but I had been having a disturbing dream about Lucy. We were walking through a meadow, and I felt as if we were being watched. I knew this dream, I had it many times after her death. It always ended the same, Lucy lived and I died. That was when I woke up.
Still a tad sluggish, I rolled onto my back and gazed up at the old wooden plank ceiling. Awaking alone felt so much worse than I thought it would. I knew it would be hard to leave my family, but with everything that happened last night, I didn't realize the loneliness I would feel this morning. The quiet was smothering. I wasn't use to it; my sisters never went long without talking or singing. Their voices carried throughout the whole house. You'd think I'd welcome the silence. You'd be wrong.
Taking a few deep breaths to familiarize myself with the new scent of dust and dirt, I sat up slowly and looked around. The small bureau from my childhood was where I remembered, under the tiny cubby hole of a window. A wooden shelf held a few of my old books my mother had forgotten the last time we had been here, just before Mary was born.
I stood up and reached for my favorite, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, I thought I had lost it. I had read the book many times, but never got tired of it. I blew the dust off the cover and flipped through the pages. For the first time in forty-eight hours, I smiled, remembering a time when I was a child, lying outside under the large oak tree reading about Tom’s adventures. I had no worries then. Monsters were an intriguing myth to me and farthest from my life as possible. If only I could go back to that time.
I closed the book with a thump, and coughed as dust flew off the pages. With no one to keep me company, I placed the book on the stand next to my small cot, I would read it later.
Noticing the crate with my bedding beside the doorway, I dug through it, choosing my favorites and made the bed. Once that was done, I went out to the kitchen to find something to eat.
The cabin was small but held everything I needed, a kitchen that was just big enough for a table. A small parlor with one settee and a chair, my father’s old desk sat under the window. There was an outhouse about twenty feet from the cabin and a small barn with stables.
I found the muffins my mother had packed for me and gobbled them down. Now that I had some nourishment, it was time to make this place more livable. I rolled up my sleeves and got to work.
First item on the agenda was to air out the cabin, it had been closed up for too long and the air was thick with mildew. I opened windows, and swept away dust and cobwebs. Of course with the windows opened, the sun was extremely bright. Thankfully, my mother had sent some freshly laundered coverings. I hung them up and stepped back, they reminded me of home, which made me both lonesome and happy.
I unpacked everything and made a list of what I would need when I went to town, which I decided to do the next day. By noon, when the house was suitable, I started on the outside. I let the horses out so they could graze on the grass. The weeds were over grown and needed tending along the side of the cabin.
By twilight, I had taken care of the grass, weeds and had chopped enough wood for the next few days. I built a fire and started to cook myself some venison and potatoes. I had never cooked before, since my family had a house-maid, and my mother loved to do it. But as a child I would sit in the kitchen and watch her prepare our meals. For some reason, as I made my food, I felt closer to my mother. If I closed my eyes, I could picture her beside me peeling potatoes, and humming a tune. I almost smelled her rose perfume. When I cut myself with the knife, I was forced to open my eyes to the deserted kitchen. I busied myself with the task at hand before the pain at losing my family could return. I needed to accept my new life, and stop dwelling on the past. Although I knew that was easier said than done.
After finishing my meal, I cleaned the dishes. It took awhile to get the water out of the pump. It was mostly air from lack of use.
When the sun started to slip in the sky, I put the horses in the stables, giving them each a good brushing.
Inside the cabin, I lit the lanterns and settled down to read my old book. The only time I had spoken all day was when I brushed the horses. It was so quiet here; I could he
ar every blade of grass sway in the wind, every chirp from the birds flying overhead and every scurrying step from the small animals burrowing in the underbrush. But what I couldn't hear were the high pitch squeals of laughter from my younger sisters, or the calm soothing voice of my mother as she discussed the day's chores with Jane. It had only been one day, and I craved the contact of other humans. I missed my family terribly. My hate for Charlotte grew even more.
The next morning brought bright sunshine. It was a clear day; all traces of the storm from two days ago were gone. The sky was a soft blue, with nothing but white clouds streaking across it. I noted the spots in the lane where I would need to fill as Franklin, and I traveled to town to buy supplies. As I lounged in the parlor the night before, I found myself looking about the room. I decided the cabin could use some color, inside and out. I wasn't sure on the colors I wanted. I only knew that they needed to be as homey as possible.
Baycrest was much the same as Creekford, the town where I grew up and considered my home. There was a general store, a dress shop, a tavern and an inn. I tied Franklin and the buggy out in front of the store and went in to make my purchases.
The aisles were loaded with everything I needed, right down to the paint. I perused the colors and decided on white with green trim for the outside, eggshell blue for the kitchen, and pale green for my bedroom and parlor.
I loaded everything I needed onto the wooden counter. “Well hello there, you’re new around here. Are you visiting, or did you just move to town?” a pleasant woman, with chestnut hair asked. She was wearing a blue floral dress, and blue hat. Her coffee colored eyes were kind when she smiled. She appeared to be about the same age as my mother.
I tipped my cap at her, giving her a small smile. “Yes, I just moved into the old Riley cabin yesterday.”
“Oh my heavens! Way out there? I hope you’re not all by yourself?”
“Yes I am, Ma’am,” I said nodding to her, hoping she would not ask why.
“Oh, are you a relative of the Riley’s?”
“I am a cousin. My name is William.”
She held out her hand to shake mine, her hand was warm, her grip strong for a woman of her age. “Hello William, welcome to Baycrest. I hope you like it here. My name is Clara Matthews.” She rang everything through, and gave me the total. It was quite a bit, but I needed a lot. I really didn't want to have to go to town often. The whole point in coming here was to live a solitary life so I could get a handle on my new situation. It would be difficult if I became social with the townspeople, and if I had to come often for supplies that might happen.
Once I said my goodbyes to Clara, I carried my packages back outside to load the buggy. As I bent over arranging the items in the small carriage, I heard a couple of young voices, coming up behind me. With them, I could smell the scent of honeysuckle, and cinnamon. Finishing my task, I stood up, noticing two girls my age walking toward me. They blushed, smiled and giggled as they made their way passed. If they knew what I really was, I’m sure they wouldn’t be smiling at me. I ignored them and hopped up onto the seat and prepared to head for home.
Back at the cabin, I started on my work, beginning with the inside first, hoping the paint would be dry before I came in for the evening. The furniture was easy to move into the center of the room with my new werewolf strength. The kitchen didn't take long, since most of the walls were covered with shelves. As I worked on the bedrooms and parlor, I let my mind wander to the day I decided to court Lucy. I had had feelings for her for quite sometime, but had never acted on them. One day Henry and I were playing the new sport called basket ball, using one of my mothers old baskets. We had nailed it up on the barn door and were taking turns throwing the ball. Thump, thump, thump, Henry bounced the ball against the packed-in dirt. "Are you going to throw it? Or are you just going to bounce it?" I called to him playfully.
He grinned at me before tossing it in. "I believe that’s five to your measly three." He replied, smirking at me. "And it's your turn to get the ball out."
The only problem with basketball was that you had to constantly climb a ladder to pull the ball out of the basket. By the time I made my way back down the ladder, ball in hand, Lucy was standing beside Henry, smiling at me. "Can I play?" she asked, her pale blue dress was fancy. Her hair was up under a matching bonnet. She had been to see my mother for tea and scones.
"I'm sorry Lucy, but I don't think your mother would appreciate you getting your pretty dress all dirty." I leaned against the barn door, with the ball in my hand. "Besides this is a game for boys." Henry chuckled beside her.
Lucy narrowed her eyes and stuck out her chin. "Oh really?" I nodded my head and I couldn't help the grin that appeared. "How about a challenge then. Since I'm just a girl, you don't have to worry."
"What do you mean by challenge?" I asked.
She took the few steps that separated us and yanked the ball out of my hand. "If I get more baskets than you, you have to admit that girls can play games as well as boys." Both Henry and I laughed at that one, but were cut short by her scowl. "And, you have to court me."
I gaped at her, unsure if I had heard right, but by Henry's laughter, I gathered I had. "You… want me to court you…Why?"
With a roll of her eyes, she answered, "Do I really have to spell it out for you?" She said. When I continued to stare at her dumfounded by her statement, she went on. "You know that I came out last year?" I nodded. "Well, Cecil Barnes has been sniffing around Papa, asking about me, and I don't want to marry him."
"But you want to marry me?"
She bounced the ball in her hand. "You've been sweet on me since we were kids and dared me to jump off the rafters. And I guess being tied to you wouldn't be so terrible."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Only Lucy would ask a man to court her this way. Actually, I hadn't heard of any other girl doing the asking. I was so shocked by her behavior, I could only nod.
She grinned. "Okay, stand back," she instructed, holding the ball out, before tossing it upward. As the ball bounced above the basket, I held my breath uncertain of the outcome I was hoping for. It skidded along the top before sliding in. Lucy cheered, and my heart soared. Apparently I wanted her to win.
When my turn came, I purposely threw the ball too far. Henry eyed me curiously, knowing what I had done. But how could I not let her win, when her face was so flushed with happiness.
Of course she won, and I never told her that I threw the game. She might have won fair and square, but I didn't want to take that chance. How often do you find a girl so strong minded that she would make you start to court her?
That afternoon, I made my way to her father dressed in my Sunday clothes. The first words out of his mouth after I asked him were, "what took you so long?"
I chuckled to myself at the memory. It was getting easier to think of her without the searing pain in my chest.
By the time I was finished with painting the inside of the cabin, it was mid-day and I was hungry. I ate a sandwich and admired the walls, they looked much better.
The next few hours were busy with sanding the wooden siding and hammering the shutters back down. Once the outside of the cabin was prepared, I began to apply the white paint. The sun was just beginning to set when I was putting the finishing touches on the last shutter. I cleaned the brushes, and stowed all of my equipment in the barn, and then retreated into the house to eat dinner.
The day had been filled with strenuous activity, and I wasn't even tired. Before my transformation, my muscles would be aching from the work, but not now. Other than my memory of Lucy, I hadn't really even thought about my family, nor had a chance to miss them. My mind had been occupied with the work at hand.
After dinner, I sat down at the desk and penned a letter to my parents. The lantern's glow gave out a lonely feel, sending ghostly shadows all around the room. The only sound was the wind whistling through the cracks of the woo
den plank walls. The smell of paint overpowered every other smell in the room. Now that my mind was free from the chores that needed to be done, memories of my family and friends returned to my thoughts, leaving me feeling extremely lonely. The need for some contact from my former life was overwhelming. I dipped my quill in the ink and started writing, I tried to convey in my words that I was happier than I felt.
Dear Mother and Father, I wrote, my hand started to shake with the longing to see them. I took a drink of water from the glass on the corner of the desk and started again.
I’ve arrived at my new cabin, and have just finished making it a home again. I painted the walls inside and out, and cut down all the weeds. I could barely open the door, they were so long.
Bessie and Franklin are adjusting as well. The grass is abundant here so they have been stuffing themselves.
I went to town today and met the storeowner. Her name is Clara Matthews. She seemed friendly and welcomed me to town.
I miss you all very much, but I will enjoy being able to sleep in without the girls screaming outside my door.
I look forward to hearing from you.
Love Nathaniel.
I folded the letter, and placed it in an envelope, addressing it to both my parents. I did as my father instructed and used the name William for the return address. I would wait to take it to town the next time I needed supplies.