Jack glared at a beautiful oil painting that hung above his bed. A beauty with raven waves and piercing blue eyes. She stared down at him with an inquisitive look. How very similar they were. Tristan’s anger at the dinner table reminded him just how alike they were. If Catherine were still alive, she would have reacted the very same way. Jack pulled out a worn leather wallet, and removed Tristan’s latest school photograph and held it in the air next to the oil painting. If he didn’t know better he would swear they were the same person.
That night as Jack’s mind drifted into slumber he could see both their faces, side by side. Mother and daughter, Catherine and Tristan; united in this moment, but never in life. The pair came closer, slowly approaching the foreground of Jack’s mind. The nearer they came, the more they looked like one.
Then in an instant the faces joined, and in a flash transformed into one. Catherine. Tristan. It was getting hard to differentiate. In an instant of panic, Jack shot up in his bed, sweat dripping from his brow, adrenaline pumping his heart to its limit. Above him, the woman in the oil painting, nestled in its oval cherry frame, stared down upon him with a contemptible glare.
Chapter Two
Morrow Manor
Fox Hollow, PA
December 24, 1981
Late Afternoon
A dark-haired beauty clothed in a red maternity dress stood at a wooden easel in the kitchen of Morrow Manor. With the curtains drawn, she peered out of the bay window of the large house as she painted a watercolor of the aging blue barn that stood in the distance on the land. Her tiny hands danced gracefully over the canvas. Her strokes were meticulous, methodical, and perfect. Occasionally, she would need to crouch lower to the floor to give the bottom portion of her painting the attention it deserved, as her swollen belly tended to get in the way of her art.
Afternoon light shone brightly through the beveled glass of the kitchen windows. Brilliant rays of sunlight catching the natural red highlights in her dark hair. Catherine’s ice blue eyes glanced up towards the ticking clock on the wall and she realized she had been painting for over three hours now. How time escaped her. Catherine stretched her arms and let out a loud yawn, while still holding her paintbrush with her right hand. Catherine exuded exhausted radiance; excitement poured from her eyes in anticipation of the new baby and the upcoming Christmas festivities. Catherine smiled widely, showing a mouthful of white, nearly straight teeth. As she lowered her arms from her stretch, one tiny speck of blue paint dropped onto her bare foot.
"Blast," remarked Catherine as she looked at the paint on her foot.
Catherine walked to the sink and grabbed the worn red checkered dishrag. She attempted to bend over to clean off her foot, but lost her balance and nearly tumbled forward, the weight of her belly pulling her thin body towards the floor. Catherine grabbed a kitchen chair and slowly lowered herself onto the pink and green floral seat cushion. With great effort, she lifted her swollen leg onto the other and wiped the now drying paint off of her foot. Catherine sat for a moment on her chair; she felt relieved to be off of her swollen feet.
After a moment, Catherine rose from the chair and walked over to the oven, dutifully checking on the fresh ham she was making for tonight’s Christmas Eve dinner. Satisfied with the ham’s progress, she closed the oven again, set her faded yellow egg timer for ninety minutes, and walked back to the window. Catherine peered out into the distance and surveyed the valley beyond the house. Her eyes seemed to wander off, becoming glassy and distant, seeing something in her mind that we could not.
A memory played in her mind like a movie that only she could see.
*
The farm laid nestled deep in the Allegheny Mountains in Pennsylvania, far from what most modern people would deem civilization. The land was well hidden, tucked away from the busy highways. Privacy was well-maintained by the natural geography of the land, lying in the shadow of the mountains. To the far west, at the border of the manor lay Croft Lake. To the south and east, trees as far as the eye could see. Set in the midst of Cavegat Forest, the entrance to Fox Hollow was well guarded by the majesty of nature.