SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow) (12 page)

He stepped closer.
“You seem upset. Has something else happened?”

I dropped my hand
from my face. “I just heard that Father has ceased the Wednesday lessons.”

He shrugged a
shoulder. “I gave it my best. Maybe after The Horseman is dealt with, he’ll
reconsider.”

“Father? Don’t
count on it. And don’t make excuses for him. ”

“Relax, Katrina.
Progress takes time.”

I studied those
vibrant green eyes. “How can you be always so carefree and optimistic?”

His lips softened.
“Because I prefer it to the alternative.”

I swept a
windblown lock of hair from my face as I stepped a little closer. “I wish I
could be as mild tempered. I’m always one heartbeat away from strangling
someone.”

“Well then,” he
said, holding out his hand, “I’ll show you something that’ll settle your
murderous rage.” When I reached over, he quickly drew his hand back. “If it’s
safe.”

I playfully
swatted at his arm. You
make me cheerful.
Then, gently taking my hand,
he led me to a white ash tree just yards from the rippling water. There, on the
ground, was a large cluster of black and gray rocks. I peered down at them,
confused. But after a moment, the grouping took shape. “Oh! It’s a dragonfly.”

“Yes,” he beamed.
“It’s a mosaic.”

I knelt and ran my
fingers over the smooth stones. “It’s beautiful.”

He knelt too.
“After all the children have faced this week, I thought it would be uplifting
to resume classes in a more enjoyable way.”

I thought of the
Council and their watchful eye. “What exactly did this teach them?”

He gave me a
heart-melting smile. “Mathematics.”

I stepped back,
admiring it. “It’s utterly amazing.”

“Katrina, you
should have seen them working. They completely engineered it themselves. I had
no hand in either the design or the building of it.” I’d never heard anyone
speak with such pride.

“Please don’t let
Father or the Council see this. They already think your methods
unconventional.”

“I know. They feel
all learning should be written or read. But if they find this grounds for
dismissal,” – He threw up his hands – “then good luck finding a replacement.”

I laughed. “Yes,
you do have
some
leverage.”

He helped me to
rise, then stepped intimately closer. As close as we’d been in the cellar.
Tingles danced along my skin as I drew in his scent.

“What about you?”
he asked. “How do you feel about my methods?” He waited, like my reply was the
only thing that mattered.

“I think you’re
absolutely wonderful.”
Did I just say you’re?
“Methods. I think your
methods
are wonderful.” His presence was like nectar, and every part of me wanted a
taste. I needed that kiss – the one that had been interrupted several days ago.

After a few
seconds of anticipation, I finally took a step back. “It’s getting cooler.” I
rubbed at the nonexistent chill on my arms. “Maybe I should let you get back to
your…” – I circled my finger toward his pocket, indicating his small notebook –
“…story.”

I turned to go.

“Katrina.”

When I turned
back, he pulled me into his arms, and in an instant, his lips were on mine.

With plans in
place to sail away, I should’ve pulled back. Why do this to myself? To him?
Instead, I wrapped my arms around his neck and drank the nectar.

We kissed at
length, and with passion – as though our very existence depended on it. When we
finally parted, he whispered, “Had I spent another second without holding you,
I might’ve gone mad.” He pulled me in for another kiss, and I melted into it.

My fingers played
through his hair as I consumed every eager moment. My heart raced, and my
breath came quick and shallow. I’d never known a joy like this.

We kissed again
and again among the solemn sounds of the rolling brook. But just as I’d lost
myself completely, an eerie chill swept through me, as it had that Sunday
night. I broke our embrace and glanced around.

“What is it?” he
asked, suddenly on guard.

“I don’t know. It
feels like someone’s watching.”

He drew me close
as he scoured the area. “Unless you count the birds and insects, there are no
eyes upon us.”

“But The Horseman
has no eyes,” I whispered.

Sensing my
apprehension, he placed his arm around me. “We should get inside.”

The sun had tilted
in the sky and our shadows fell before us. Though leaving Ichabod would be
difficult, I needed to get home straight away. Dealing with Father would be
easier if I returned well before dusk.

As we approached
the school, Ichabod slowed his pace. His brows dipped and his eyes narrowed.
“Did you leave the door open?”

“No.” Yet it stood
opened all the way.

“Stay here,” he
said, quietly. Then cautiously, he took the steps and went inside.

I waited, biting a
fingernail and straining to see in. After a few moments, I couldn’t wait
anymore. I hurried inside and… “Dear God!” It looked as though a cyclone had
found its way in. Overturned Desks. Copybooks ripped, pages scattered to the
floor. The water basin shattered. And fireplace ash was smeared across the
floor, windows, and walls. Even some of Ichabod’s personal books, including
Aesop, had fallen victim to this rage.

He stood limp,
assessing the damage – a mixture of hurt and awe on his face.

“Oh, Ichabod!” I
knelt, scooping up papers and quills.

“No, Katrina.
Leave it.” He bent to help me stand, but I continued whisking up all that I
could hold.

“Katrina,” he
urged.

“Who would do
this?” I asked, slipping pages into their covers.

“Don’t worry.”

I couldn’t help
but worry while I gathered more and more. As I reached for a page of scripture
lying under a tumbled bench, my bracelet caught on a loose nail. Instinctively,
I jerked back, snapping the thin chain. The tiny roses clicked to the floor, bouncing
and rolling in various directions.

“No!” I dropped
everything, sweeping it all aside. I quickly plucked up three of the beads that
hadn’t strayed far.

Ichabod knelt to
help me. “Here.” He took my hand and dropped two more into my palm.

Five. Only five.
“There’s one more. I have to find it.”

I ran my hand
across the filthy floor. “It has to be here.” Peter’s payment.
What have I
done?

“I don’t see it,”
he said.

“Search!”

Ichabod lifted me
to my feet and wrapped me into his arms. “Katrina, relax. It is here, somewhere
among the clutter. I’ll find it. I promise.”

I gently pulled
away from him. “I need to find it now.”

“Believe me, it
will turn up when things are put back in place.”

My eyes roamed
over the devastation that had been his orderly school. “That’ll take hours.”

“On the contrary,”
he said, placing his hand to my cheek. “Tomorrow I’ll bring a pocket watch, and
my students will have a lesson in ingenuity and time management.” Then he
whispered in my ear, “I bet your father would approve.”

I forced a smile.

He retrieved a
handkerchief from his pocket, then loosening my cupped hand, he placed the five
clay roses and chain within it. “Can you have it repaired?”

“I need the sixth
one.”

“I assure you,
it’s here somewhere.” Then his lips touched mine, comforting me with a kiss. I
again fell victim to his affection.

He ran his thumb
along my jaw. “Come. I’ll accompany you home.”

“No,” I said, “you
have much to do here.”

“But I would feel
better if –”

“Really, I’ll
fine.” I couldn’t risk Father seeing us together. “Just promise me you’ll be
back at Van Ripper’s before dark.”

“I promise.”

He helped me
around the clutter, then rested his forehead against mine. “Remember, Katrina,
nothing can undo the happiness you brought me today.”

Before leaving, I
tucked the handkerchief into my bodice. I couldn’t risk losing the rest.

Ichabod smiled,
his eyes soft. “I’ll find the other and return it Saturday.”

“Saturday?”

He winked. “When
you bring me more sausages and beer.”

* *
*

I had intended to ride back to the
stables, but as I neared the house I saw Brom on the piazza, leaning against a
column, arms crossed. I hitched Dewdrop in front.

His eyes narrowed
as I approached. “So how was your visit with the schoolmaster?”

Without hesitation,
I drew back and slapped him hard across the face. “You’re such a child!”

His eyes widened
as his hand flew up, touching the sting.

I stormed into the
house.

“Katrina,” he
called, following. He reached out and latched onto my arm.

“Let go of me.” I
jerked free, glaring.

Father came out of
his study. “What the devil is going on here?”

“Katrina, stop!”
Brom barked.

I continued
walking until Father stepped in front of me. “What is this nonsense?”

I took a deep
breath to compose myself. “How you can employ such a monster is beyond me.”

“What has
he
done?” Father asked, implying that I’d done plenty.

I glanced back at
Brom who stood firmly, his cheek crimson from the slap.

“He’s cost you
money for new copybooks.”

“Katrina,” Brom
attempted.

I stepped around
Father before he could further intervene. “Tell Simon I’ll take dinner in my
room.”

* *
*

I waited all evening for a tirade
from Father, but no reprimand came.
Did Brom have a hand in that?

I spent the better
part of the evening conflicted. I wanted more than anything to be with Ichabod,
even at the risk of my “someday.” But would Father allow it? Never. Not after
Ichabod had
shamed
him before the Council…a body far more important than
me.

On Saturday, I
sneaked a hamper into my cabriolet and secretly rode back to the schoolhouse,
praying that Ichabod had found the missing rose. If the bracelet was that
valuable to Peter, I had to make sure all six were returned to Marten.

I was surprised to
see Isaiah there, loading flagstones from the wagon into a handcart. With the
teaching exchange off, it didn’t make sense. I didn’t see Ichabod around, but
assumed he was working in the cellar.

Isaiah stopped as
I approached.

“I didn’t expect
to see you here,” I said.

“Mr. Brom insisted
I be here every week until the floor is done.”

This was before
he destroyed the schoolroom, I presume.
“Did he mention why?”

“No, ma’am. He
just tells me what, not why.”

Has Brom
suddenly grown a conscience?
“Well, I’m sure Ichabod appreciates your hard
work.”

A trace of a smile
crossed his lips. “He’s a good man, Miss Katrina.”

I remembered then
that Isaiah was the father of three children, one being the adorably
rambunctious Elijah.

I patted his
shoulder. “Come help me with the hamper.”

As we were
spreading a quilt, Ichabod popped up from the cellar. “Do I smell food?” His
wool shirt hung loose, the collar undone, and his hair was wildly rumpled. Even
in a disheveled state he was beautiful.

I sat down next to
the basket. “I have brought nourishment.”

He washed his face
and hands and joined us.

He’d barely sat
before I blurted, “Did you find it? My rose?”

His expression
dropped. “I’m so sorry, Katrina. We searched everywhere.
Every
where. We
turned the hunt into a game, and I even offered a reward to the student who
could produce it. It simply wasn’t there.”

“That makes no
sense. You saw it break loose. It couldn’t just vanish.”

“And somehow it
has.” His eyes glimmered with empathy. “Can you order a replacement?’

“I’m afraid not.”
How’s
Marten going to take this news?

Ichabod reached
over and touched my hand, sending delightful sparks through my flesh. “I’ll
continue to look. This cabin is old. Some of the boards are loose. It could’ve
fallen through.”

“That would be
like finding a pea in a pumpkin patch.”

His lips curved
into a smile. “I happen to be a proficient pea-picker. But now,” – He snapped
away the cloth covering the hamper – “let’s celebrate what we do have.”

I turned to
Isaiah. “Has he been this cheerful all day?”

“Mr. Crane is
always agreeable. But he only gets cheery when you show up.” Then he quickly
added, “It must be this great food you bring us.”

Ichabod winked.

We laid out the
spread, then spent our time eating, laughing, and discussing how the weather
took pity and stayed dry. Once we’d had our fill, Isaiah said, “I’ll unload
those stones into the cellar.” He heaved away, going back to his chore.

“Is there much
left to –”Before I could finish, Ichabod drew me into a kiss. It tasted of salt
and seasoning and was absolutely delectable. When I worried my passion might
overtake my good sense, I broke away and tamped down my emotional fire with a
swig of beer. “As I was about to say, is there much left to do?”

“It seems I’ve
barely started.” He stretched out and laid his head on my lap. “Before I can
put in the planks, I have to lay a stone foundation. That’s what I’ve been
doing all morning.” He groaned.

I brushed back
some of his black curls, damp from perspiration. “I could help you.”

He chuckled.

I didn’t.

His eyes narrowed
and his smile disappeared. “You’re serious?”

I twisted a clump
of his hair and pulled.

“Ow.” He laughed
again. “Katrina, masonry is not woman’s work.”

“I guess I
misjudged you,
Mr. Crane
.” I pushed his head off my lap. “I thought you
were a freethinker. For your information, any task that I’m capable of
performing is woman’s work. And I can certainly lug a few rocks.”