The Hollow (13 page)

I started to cry. Uncontrollable tears consumed me from the inside out, and each one heaved, and rolled, and ached. Dropping to my knees, I cried, and cried, and cried.

I cried all the tears that I hadn't been able to shed at her funeral.

I cried all the tears that had been with me during those lonely nights.

I cried for the friend I had lost, and the memories we wouldn't get to share together.

And then I cried for me.

Hugging my knees to my chest, I sobbed all those tears that had been stuck inside. Every single heartache came pouring out in a twisted fury of anger and raw emotion, before slowly seeping away into the river until there was nothing left behind. As my tears stopped falling one by one, the weather took pity on me and offered its condolences. The wind died down, and the rain lessened.

Caspian waited silently. He just stood there patiently, until I was ready. When he finally spoke again, I looked up at him with wide eyes.

"The question to find the answer to is what Kristen was doing here the night that she died," he whispered. "So let's find out, Abbey. Let's find out."

Chapter Ten

Choosing Scents

It was the very witching time of night…

"The Legend of Sleepy Hollow"

Caspian walked me home from the river, placing himself as a silent barrier between me and the road. And even thouah we didn't pass any cars, the gesture left a sweet ache in the back of my throat.

I looked down at my wet, ruined dress as we walked. Mud smears and grass stains streaked down the front of it. Hopefully my face and hair didn't look as bad as the dress did. But then again, I was so tired I didn't really care what I looked like.

Well, maybe I cared a
little
bit.

The house was completely dark when we finally got there. I was so cold from being wet that I couldn't stop myself from shivering. It was
freezing
out here. I grabbed the spare key from a brick next to the front door and quickly unlocked it, turning on several lights as I stepped in. Unlacing my muddy boots, I kicked them off and tried not to let the mud splatter everywhere.

Caspian hung back in the shadows of the house. I could barely see him. Even his light hair was hidden by the dark.

"You can come in if you want," I called out. "Just leave your shoes by the door." Glancing at the clock on the wall, I saw that it was almost eleven thirty. Mom and Dad wouldn't be home for at least another hour.

"Won't your, uh, parents mind?" he asked, echoing my thoughts.

"No, they're at the Hollow Ball. They always stay until the very end, like the good little council members that they are. And then they'll offer to be the designated drivers, or help clean up after the party … and so on. They'll probably be home around twelve thirty, or even one o'clock."

He stepped out from the darkness. "Would you like me to come in, Abbey?" His green eyes glowed, and he looked at me closely.

"Yes," I whispered. Then I cleared my throat and tried again. "Yes."

I looked down at my dress. "I need to change out of this and get into something dry. I'm turning into an icicle here. Why don't you follow me up to my room? I'm sure you're freezing too."

He took a step closer and was suddenly right beside me. "I'm not cold at all," he said. "It's warm right here." I stared at him for a moment before I realized that I
definitely
needed to distract myself with something.

Taking a step sideways, I reached around him and grabbed the now empty candy bowls from the front porch. Butterflies were swimming in my stomach, and I tried not to think about the fact that we would be alone together… in the house.

Chills went racing up and down my back. So much for not thinking about it.

"Just going to take care of these," I mumbled.

Caspian slipped off his shoes and then followed me into the kitchen, while I took longer than was necessary to wash each bowl. Once I had them dried and put away, there wasn't anything left to do. I cleared my throat nervously. "Well… my room's upstairs… so, I guess we can… go… there… now."

Argh. I was pathetic.

He didn't say anything but trailed behind as I walked to the staircase. The clock started chiming eleven thirty when we took our first step up, and Caspian paused, listening to its toll.

"Almost midnight," he whispered behind me.

The stairs creaked ominously as I made my next move. He was only a step below me, and I had to remind myself to watch where I was going. Tripping and falling down the stairs would
not
make a very good impression.

When we reached the top, and were only a few feet from my bedroom, I felt the oddest compulsion to stall. To prolong the moment before he entered my room and saw my personal space.
What if he doesn't like it? Should I have cleaned up my perfume samples? Does it smell too strongly of the oils I've been working with? What if he hates the red color 1 painted it?

"Do you… Would you… like some dry clothes?" I burst out. "I mean, obviously not mine, but I could look through my dad's stuff. Maybe find an old pair of jeans for you?"

He looked at me with an amused smile on his face. "I'm good. Almost dry already." I glanced over at his clothes. They
did
look pretty dry. Silently I cursed my dress and the heavy layers of fabric. His tone turned teasing. "I promise not to sit down on your bed and get it all wet."

He meant the remark to be funny, but I didn't find anything funny about it. Thoughts of him… on my bed… turned dangerous, and instead of feeling cold now I felt hot.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

My cheeks burned like they were on fire. His eyes weren't teasing anymore, and I couldn't tell if he was thinking the same thoughts about my bed that I was.

He stood to the side and motioned for me to lead the way. I rationalized to myself the whole time as I walked into my bedroom. It wasn't like we were dating. We hadn't even held hands yet. He'd never even accidentally brushed his skin against mine, for that matter. Nothing would happen.

I scanned the room quickly as I moved ahead of him, discreetly checking for dirty clothes and trying not to panic. Then I remembered that laundry day was yesterday. Not enough time for Mount St. Dirty Laundry to pile up again.

Casually making my way over to the bed, I tucked in the sheets and straightened the edge of the comforter. Then I grabbed a stray sock that was balled up next to my nightstand and swept a handful of stuffed animals from the window seat into the closet. I peeked behind me to see if Caspian had noticed. He was busy looking around the room.

"I'm just going to get changed," I said, heading toward the bathroom. It felt a little weird to know that I would be literally undressing just a few feet away from him. The idea made me feel queasy and excited all at the same time.

Kristen had been the only other person to come into my room, besides my parents. Having Caspian here was like exposing an inner part of me. It was terrifying. I only hoped that he liked what he could see. The thought of him not liking my room, that extension of myself, made me squirm.

I stopped at my closet to grab some dry clothes but turned back to see him standing in front of the desk that held my perfume supplies. I started second-guessing whether or not I should have ever invited him in here, when his voice stopped me.

"Is this where you work, Abbey?" He sounded so intrigued that I forgot about panicking… and changing… and walked back over to him.

"Yeah, it is." I picked up the large briefcase that was sitting on the desk and popped it open. Several rows of glass tubes, jars, and vials were exposed. "Almost all of my supplies fit in here. Finished samples, test tubes, essential oils… It even has a pocket for my notes."

He looked closely at the case. "So you use the oil from one tube and mix it with oil from another tube, and then you're done? The perfume is made?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that. See, when you make perfume, you need to have a top note, a middle note, and a bottom note. Then the three notes all blend together to create the scent. Once you've done that, you mix it with carrier oil, because essential oils can be dangerous if they're applied directly to the skin."

My hand wandered over several of the tiny clear glass tubes. "Most of the time I have pretty good luck with choosing scents that mix well. But every now and then I bomb. So I always take notes throughout the entire process."

"How many have you made so far?" he asked, gazing at all my sample vials.

"A lot." I laughed. "The possibilities are endless, really. It can boggle the brain to try to put a number on it."

"Boggle the brain, huh?" He laughed too. His smile was warm and inviting, and I didn't miss the opportunity to smile back.

"So what do you do when you create a scent you like?" He touched one of the tiny samples. "Do you just fill up a bunch of these small ones?"

Setting the briefcase down on my office chair, I opened a small drawer on the top of the desk. "That's where these come in handy." I picked up a larger cobalt blue bottle and held it out to him. The deep blue glass caught the light in the room, revealing its true gem tone. "They hold more than my sample vials, and I have a bunch of them stashed in my closet."

"Are they color coded?" He looked over at my sample case and then back at me. "I noticed that you have several different colored tubes."

"Very good." I was impressed. "Essential oils are kept in amber glass vials because it helps keep the light out. Sample scents that I'm working on are kept in the smaller clear glass vials. And finished scents are put into the cobalt bottles."

"Are these the perfumes you're going to sell in Abbey's Hollow?"

I nodded eagerly, and then I blushed. "Sony if I rambled on too much. I didn't mean to give you a formal class on perfume making or anything."

He laughed again. "I'm sure that was the condensed version. It sounds like you put a lot of time and effort into your work, Abbey. You're obviously very dedicated. One of these days I'll have to be your first customer and ask you to come up with a scent for me. Do you think you can do it?"

I stared into his green, green eyes and immediately thought of snickerdoodle cookies and rainy nights in a graveyard.

"What are some of your favorite things?" I heard myself asking him. I wondered how difficult it would be to create a scent for him.

"Hmmm, let me think about that." He wandered away from me, stopping briefly at several different spots around my room. "Well, I love snickerdoodle cookies, but you already knew that. I also like pumpkin pie."

He wandered some more, and then came back to me. I held absolutely still.

"And vanilla, Abbey." His voice was low, barely above a whisper. "I like the smell of vanilla. You smell like vanilla… and gingerbread cookies. And something else I can't quite figure out."

He was very, very close now. And so were his lips. His beautifully shaped lips. I watched them while he spoke, as he enunciated each word, and said my name.

"Grapefruit," I whispered, raising my gaze. I started at that stripe of black hair and followed it down to meet his eyes. They were changing… darkening. "It's Kristen's scent. I made it for her. That's why I went to the cemetery tonight, to give it to her."

I could tell he
wanted
to touch me but something was holding him back. Maybe it was the same something that made me hesitate every time I thought about reaching out to touch him. Fear of rejection? Or fear that once our skin met it would fuse together and we wouldn't be able to pull it apart again?

He took an abrupt step back. The moment was interrupted, and I felt confused. I couldn't quite grasp what was going on here. He wandered away again, and stopped in front of the fireplace mantel, staring at something. I followed after him to see what he was looking at.

It was a picture of me and Kristen, taken that night we had put the red highlights in our hair. A slow smile crept across his face as he reached out to touch the picture frame. I watched him in utter fascination. There was something about him that captured my attention; I was like a moth drawn helplessly to a beautiful flame.

Caspian gently traced the swirl pattern decorating one of the frame's silver edges, and then he glanced over at the wall next to the fireplace. "So, I take it your favorite color is red?"

I grinned.

"What gave it away? The red highlights in the picture, the red stripes painted on the walls, or…" I glanced behind me. "The red comforter on the bed?"

"It was a completely random, totally wild guess on my part." He turned slightly and gave me a half smile. "I like your room, Abbey. It suits you. The colors in here are just… amazing. I've never seen anything like it."

He couldn't have said anything more perfect at that moment. My heart thumped erratically, and I prayed with everything inside of me that I wouldn't tear up at his words.

Then his expression changed. "You like astronomy?"

I was still enjoying the warm fuzzies his compliment had just given me, and was kind of lost on how we'd gone from red striped walls to astronomy. Taking a step closer, I saw my telescope propped up against the wall next to him.

"I haven't used it since I was younger," I admitted. "My dad bought it for me, and we used to look at the constellations together. That was how my parents met in high school, actually. Astronomy class. Dad loved it, and Mom took it for extra credit."

He bent down and looked through the eyepiece, fiddling with the knobs and running his hands over it like a little boy admiring a new toy. "And you don't use it anymore? Why not?" The look of pure astonishment on his face was adorable, and I tried very hard not to laugh.

"I just sort of forgot about it, really. Got busy, had other things to do. Plus, it kind of used to be a special thing for Dad and me. He would tell me all about the groups of stars and constellations, and every Saturday night we'd go to the top of the hill behind our house to look at the sky. Once he joined the town council, he never had any free time anymore. I guess that's when I stopped using it." Comprehension dawned, and I turned away, feeling that familiar sting. Great, now I was going to cry.

Caspian immediately caught on. He stood up and walked away from the telescope. "Meet me at the library tomorrow," he urged suddenly.

"What? Why?" I was still trying to blink away tears that I would not shed, and follow his train of thought at the same time.

"Do you know what the name Astrid means?" He switched gears again, and I was helpless to follow.

"No."

"It means 'star.' That's what I think of you as, Abbey. One day I looked up, and there you were. A fiery spot of light surrounded by darkness. You make me feel like anything is possible. And seeing that telescope over there only confirms it."

"That's beautiful, Caspian," I whispered. "But what does it have to do with the library?"

He gave a husky laugh, and the sound ricocheted through me. "I want you to meet me at the library tomorrow because I have to go now. But tomorrow I can… Just name a time and I'll find you."

Crap.
I'd already promised Mom that I would help her reorganize the attic tomorrow morning. I
hadn 't
promised her my afternoon, though.