SEVERED (A Tale of Sleepy Hollow) (14 page)

Before I could
comment, she whisked away. But what else could I have said? I had failed her.

After many parting
pleasantries, the parishioners began to filter out. My father stood in one
corner, speaking with the Council. Ichabod was among them. I casually wandered
over, yes, to eavesdrop, but also for a chance to be close to him. I stayed in
the shadows behind the pew, thumbing through my Bible, trying not to look
obvious.

“We’ll resume at
my home this evening,” Father said to the men. “And I suggest you arrive in
groups – safety in numbers.”

They all nodded
and mumbled, then broke their circle.

Once they’d
dissembled, Ichabod walked by me, slipping a folded piece of paper onto my
Bible as he passed. After making sure no one saw, I opened it. It contained one
sentence:

When and where
can we meet?

The when and where
I knew. But how could I tell him? Especially now that he was across the room
between two men.

Just as I looked
up, he said something to one of them, then came back to retrieve his Bible
lying on the windowsill. He sauntered over to where I stood.

“Three o’clock.
Our stables,” I whispered. “But Ichabod, should you risk it?”

He kept his voice
low. “Katrina, they even escort me to the privy. I’ve got to get away.”

The misery weighed
on his face.

“Then three
o’clock if you can manage it.”

“I won’t be a
second late.”

* *
*

Keeping to his word, Ichabod rode
up on a splendid roan. I met him just inside the stable doors, holding
Dewdrop’s reins. “Thank God they gave you another horse. Do you think it can
outrun The Horseman?”

He rubbed its
neck. “You’d be amazed at how fast a frightened horse can gallop.”

“Then let’s go
quickly before we’re caught.”

I spurred Dewdrop
into action. Ichabod followed closely at my side. Our horses raced at a full
gallop – crossing fields and orchards – carrying us to my sacred haven. Not
only would we have the privacy to talk, but I also longed for Ichabod to see
it.

When we reached
the hilltop, we did not immediately dismount, but instead cast our gaze over
the beauty of the countryside and the quiet rolling waters of the Hudson. I
could tell by his expression that he was breathing in every wondrous detail.

I climbed off my
horse and stepped to the edge, drawing my cloak around me. Ichabod joined me
and we stood together, overlooking the tranquil domain.

“This is my
sanctuary. I call it Bliss,” I said.

“Bliss,” he
murmured.

“I played here
often as a child.”

He continued to
look on in awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Ichabod…I must
apologize.”

He turned to me,
brows furrowed. “What for?”

“For everything.
For everyone. The Council brought you here under false pretenses, and never
warned you afterward. You’re in danger because of them.”

He ran his fingers
along my cheek. “Katrina, you shouldn’t apologize for them. Especially since
you were the only one who was honest with me.”

“But the Council –
”

“We should be
thanking them for bringing us together.”

“But now they’re
keeping us apart.”

There was a sudden
rustling nearby. “Come,” I said, “we should go inside.”

He raised an
eyebrow. “Inside?”

I led him around
to the old weather-beaten granary. As I pushed open the door, we were met with
the golden scent of scattered grain.

We climbed the
stairs to the very top, and stopped at a small crusted window that overlooked
the beds of wild asters. “I spent my best hours here,” I said, unfastening my
cloak and setting it aside.

An old patchwork
quilt lay in the corner, next to a wooden stick pony, and a tangled marionette.
I unfolded the quilt, shook out the grain dust, and settled it onto the floor.
Then I sat down, bringing him with me.

“Ichabod, what are
we going to do?”

He wrapped me into
his arms. “We’re going to find a solution.”

“Can we?”

He gazed out the
window, thoughts circulating behind his eyes. “There’s obviously more to The
Horseman’s killing than random choice. He murdered the previous schoolmaster
and now he’s marked me. Why does the position of teacher incite him?”

“It’s not just
that. What about Garritt? He was an apprentice to his father. He had nothing to
do with teaching or education.”

“That’s another
part of the puzzle that I can’t place.” He heaved a frustrated sigh. “It makes
no sense. In life the man was a Hessian. A mercenary. He killed for profit.
What does killing gain him now?”

“Perhaps he kills
for the thrill of carnage.”

“Then why pick and
choose his victims? Bloodlust is blind. It controls the slayer. This ghost has
a purpose.”

“Have you told any
of this to the Council?” I asked.

He laughed.
“They’re looking for ways to exorcise a demon, not put it under a microscope…as
they have made clear to me twice now. They insist it’s my radical behavior and
modern teaching methods that’s attracted him.”

“That’s absurd.”

He tilted his eyes
toward me. “Remember, we’re talking about the Council. I was surprised the word
modern
was even in their vocabulary.”

Nothing surprises
me when it comes to those men. “What about the belief that someone controls The
Horseman?”

“That still
doesn’t explain how the victims are chosen.”

I stroked a finger
across his cheek. “Surely they’ll find a solution. They must feel some
responsibility.”

“I’ve heard no
apologies from them. And anyway, it’s not really my head they’re worried about.
Should The Horseman take it, then more citizens of Sleepy Hollow could fall
victim. As long as I’m marked, everyone else is safe. That’s all that really
matters to them. They look after their own.”

A fact I’ve known
my entire life. “Right now, yours is the only head I’m concerned about.”

He gave me a
gentle squeeze. “We have so little time here. Let’s not waste it talking of
this.”

I arched a brow.
“What shall we waste it on?”

He lifted his
hand, noting our surroundings. “I’m quite curious how you spent your best hours
here?”

I kept my brow
lifted. “Would you like me to show you?”

“Absolutely.”

“It’s very girly,”
I warned.

“I will admit, it’s
your girlishness that I noticed first.”

I tickled him and
he chuckled.
God, I love that laugh.
I then took out my small basket of
miniature Delft teacups and tiny silver spoons.

Ichabod held up
one of the wee cups for inspection. “Oh, now I see. Were your party guests of
the imaginary sort?”

“I had a lot dolls
back then. And Elise was here with me sometimes.”

He set the cup
down, then rocked back, resting his arm on his knee. “I can envision it now.
You, innocent-eyed. Lace bonnet. Pink apron.”

“That’s not too
far off. But of all the toys I brought here, nothing compared to these.” Moving
the crate that I’d used as a table, I pulled out a blue silk pouch I’d hidden
underneath. I turned away, holding it to my breast. “Do you, Ichabod Crane,
solemnly promise not to laugh at what’s in here?”

He moved behind
me, resting his chin on my shoulder. “So help me God.”

I paused a moment,
then unclasped the silken pouch and removed the contents.

“Paper dolls!” he
said, intrigued.

“I cut them from
issues of
The Lady’s Magazine
that I sneaked out of my mother’s bureau.
That’s why they’re such a secret.”

“Why did your
mother not share her fashion papers with you?”

“Are you familiar
with that publication?”

He sighed
dramatically. “Sadly, I let my subscription expire.”

I reached back and
tickled his side again.

He buckled,
laughing. “I should never have shared that particular weakness with you.”

“I’m glad you did.
Now I’ll always have an advantage.”

He nodded back
toward the dolls. “You were saying?”

“Mother never shared
her fashion papers because some of the articles and stories were not suitable
for children.”

His lips twisted
into a grin. “And yet you read every one.”

“Of course,” I
said with a giggle.

Ichabod brushed my
hair aside, his fingers skimming my cheek. “You’ve never spoken of your
mother.”

“She died of a
fever when I was twelve.” Six years have passed, yet at times, I still feel her
about.

“I’m so sorry,” he
said.

I gazed down at
the paper dolls. “You would’ve liked her. She was kind and giving, and always
smiled. Always. Even as she lay dying she had a smile for us. I can’t recall a
single moment when she was cross. Father says I favor her. And there are times
when I look in the mirror and can see it.” How different life would be had she
lived.

Ichabod looked at
me with loving eyes. “Then she must’ve been very beautiful.”

I turned and gave
him a kiss.

He rested his chin
back upon my shoulder, then pointed to the paper dolls. “So, how many lovely
ladies do you have there?”

I spread them on
the quilt. Only three had survived my hours of play, and they were creased and
dark and worn. But the beautiful details of their fashions had not faded.
Elegant wigs. Wide-brimmed hats. Low cut bodices, and grand hoop skirts. All
adorned with ruffles, lace, and flowers. Gloves, parasols, and fans.

“Quite a parade,”
he said.

“They still make
me happy.”

“Tell me, do these
refined ladies have names?”

I blushed. “Yes,
but those will remain secret.”

“I’ll bet they
have grand names like Dorothy and Ester and Florence.”

“I tend to prefer
floral names.”

“Then, Peony and
Iris and Rose.”

“You got one
right.”

As I placed them
back into the pouch, Ichabod curled his arms around my waist, laying soft
kisses on my neck. Tingles prickled my skin. He brushed aside my hair, making
his way around to the nape. I closed my eyes, shutting out all senses but this.

We lay back on the
quilt, reveling in our closeness – our kisses. But there was still one thing
between us.

“Ichabod,” I said,
grazing his cheekbone with my thumb, “tell me about Connecticut. Why did you
leave?”

He rolled onto his
back and gazed somberly at the beamed ceiling. “Katrina, let’s not do this
now.”

“I want no secrets
between us.”

There was anguish
on his face. Whatever the reason, it was something he couldn’t bear to relive.
Yet now, more than ever, I had to know.

“Tell me…please.”

Then closing his
eyes, he did.

“Just after
finishing my studies at the university, I worked as an aide to one of the
professors. My two closest friends were still students. One evening, the three
of us were at a tavern. A young woman happened to be there. Until she struck up
a conversation, we hadn’t even noticed her. We talked, had a few drinks, then
she left.

“Several days
later, I began thinking about her…a lot. And with each day, more and more. No
matter what I was doing, she was there, invading my thoughts. Eventually, she
was all I could think about. I wanted badly to see her again, but I had no idea
where she lived. So it became my mission to find her.

“And you did?” I
asked.

He opened his
eyes, but kept them to the ceiling. “Believe me, it wasn’t easy. Hartford had
completely swallowed her up. But just when I was giving up hope, she came back
to the tavern. I hadn’t remembered how beautiful she was. Breathtaking. By the
end of the evening I was completely in love.”

As I’d feared.
He’d come to escape a broken heart.
“What happened then?” I asked, hoping
he couldn’t detect how those last words stung.

“I became
obsessed,” he answered. “I spent every second I could with her – leaving work unfinished,
papers ungraded, and neglecting my friends as well. She was the oxygen I
breathed, and my only purpose for living.”

My blood rose with
jealousy, yet I still needed to hear.

“My two friends
tried to intervene, but I threatened them. Even fought one of them. I’d let no
one come between us.

“As weeks passed,
I’d lost myself completely. I no longer read or wrote. My job was hanging by a
thread, and my friends had abandoned me.”

He finally turned
to look at me. “Then one day she came to the university, crying and begging me
for help. Before she could explain, two constables marched in and arrested
her.”

“Arrested her?
Why?”

“At the time I
didn’t know, or even care the reason. I rushed them, swinging and clawing. The
more she wept and reached for me, the more it fueled my rage. They were going
to arrest me too, but my professor intervened and vouched for me. I’m indebted
to him to this day.”

I searched
Ichabod’s face, trying to imagine this gentle man expressing any kind of anger.

“I quickly learned,”
he went on, “that she’d been accused of witchcraft.”

“Oh, Ichabod.”

“Supposed evidence
was found by her servant, who presented several small pouches of bristle and
bone. The servant also claimed to have seen her conjure fire. Two merchants
came forward as well, alleging to have witnessed her manipulating the weather
and seas. Particularly in the case of export ships.”

Her servant?
Obviously her place in society was greater than I thought? “Did you see her do
any of this?”

“No. All I ever
saw was her.”

My teeth clenched,
but I reminded myself,
You are here with him, not her.

“Nevertheless,” he
continued, “I was outraged. I spent the next several days outside her cell,
refusing to eat or sleep or even bathe. By that third day, I looked like one of
the beggars who slept in the streets.”