“It made sense, and since you didn’t mind…” she said, hoping her tone was just as breezy.
As they left the town behind, she found herself noticing how much darker things got. The coastline of New England was well-populated, and had been since the Pilgrims came and others followed. But they were moving inland, into farm country, she thought as she pointed out the road signs to Jeremy, so he would know exactly where they were going and how to get back.
“Just how far out are you?” he asked her.
“Now? Twenty minutes. In what we call rush hour? Thirty. Well, on a day like Halloween, more like an hour.”
She didn’t live all that far from the city, but the streetlights grew fewer and then stopped altogether when they reached the cornfields. She stared at the stalks, tall, pale sentinels in the night. They stood high, this near the harvest. They swept by in a blur of shadow and darkness with the speed of the car.
She didn’t realize how tense she had become until she almost jumped at the sound of Jeremy’s voice.
“Do you own much land?”
She shook her head. “No. I just have a few acres. I love the house, though, and the country is pretty. I’ve always thought I’d like to get a horse one of these days, when I’m not traveling quite so much.”
Shouldn’t they have passed the cornfields by now? she wondered. Surely they should have reached her house by now. No, she was just misjudging distance, because the cornfields were spooking her.
She told herself not to be ridiculous. She lived out past the cornfields. She was used to them. This uneasiness was utterly neurotic. She had to stop it. She loved her home, and she couldn’t allow herself to become afraid of it because of some stupid nightmare.
“Are you all right?” he asked, glancing her way.
“Fine. Why?” she asked him.
“You look pale.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said, hoping her laugh wasn’t as shaky as she felt. “It’s the light. Or the lack of light.”
They had passed the cornfields at last. Of course, they were still out there. Lurking in the darkness. But there was the old MacElroy place, and next road led to her own home.
“There, take a right,” she told him.
She drew a sharp breath when her house came into view. It was dark. It shouldn’t have been. Ginny MacElroy, spinster aunt of the current Dr. MacElroy, always looked after the place when she was gone and left a different light burning every night.
Only the glare from the car’s headlights kept the house from being swamped by the night.
“Strange,” she murmured.
“What?”
“Oh, I guess a bulb burned out, that’s all,” she said casually.
He looked at her speculatively but didn’t say anything.
Rowenna stepped from the car and headed up the walk to the wooden steps to the porch. The house was a total mishmash of architecture, with one room from the 1600s, an addition built in the very late 1700s and a final addition from the 1850s. There was ginger-breading on the balcony across the front of the second floor, and on the wraparound porch at ground level. She kept the house in good repair, aware that even in a place where historic buildings were common, her house and its history were unique and deserved to be cared for.
The steps were old, just like the rest of the place, and creaked when she walked up them. She searched through her large, over-the-shoulder travel handbag, found her key and opened the door, then fumbled for the light switch. She was relieved when the simple iron chandelier in the mudroom came right on.
“Come on in,” she said to Jeremy, who was standing right behind her, carrying her suitcases.
She walked through the mudroom, hitting the lights for the foyer. It wasn’t a grand entry by any means, but rather a glorified hall that opened to the oldest section on the left and the newer wing—the section added on in the 1850s—to the right. The stairway ran along the right wall and led to a picture-perfect landing above, complete with cast-iron balustrade. On the second floor she had her bedroom, guest room, office and a room she mostly used for storage. The stairs to the attic were in the storage room, and the attic was filled with all kinds of wonders that she meant to go through at some point.
“Where would you like these?” Jeremy asked, hefting her suitcases. There were two of them, and they were heavy, just missing the cutoff, after which she would have been charged extra by the airline.
“Right there is fine,” she told him quickly.
He set them down, and she watched him as he surveyed the house. He met her eyes and grinned at her. “This is one big place to be stuck out in the middle of nowhere, huh?”
“It’s not that big, and I do have neighbors—we passed their place,” she said.
“But you live here—alone—and have for years, right?”
“Yes. I’ve lived here all my life, really, except for college and a lot of traveling,” she said. “It’s good to have somewhere that’s home.”
“Do you have an alarm system?”
“No.”