Hey guys! Now I would apologize for once again being jerky and not updating, but this was for a good reason. I am not going to tell you that reason because in time it might reveal my identity. Also, I was waiting for a review, so thank PhantomFandom (and read her story which I so approve of and like because it has similar characters to this one ). Now at the end of this chapter there is a cliffhanger, but it isn't what you think. No one is kidnapping or going to physically hurt Sarah, because that might not be K+. I really hope you enjoy this chapter!
Chapter 3- A Difficult Place
Sarah's P.O.V
The blustering winds hid the scorching August temperature. My coach came to an abrupt halt. I stared out the window with my curious eyes' vision sweeping around a small cottage.
"Sarah, here we are at 1808 West Avenue. Have a splendid time. I will check back with you in three days," said Mr. Adams (he had driven me because he had business in Williamsburg as well) gaily as he rode off into the early morning light.
I actually was worried that perhaps the host/hostess was not up yet because it was only 7:30. So I decided to take a walk through the woods that was on the other side of the road. Waiting for Mr. Adams to get out of eyesight, I gazed at the house. There were only two windows I could see, and they were both shrouded with grit. The flowers out in the garden hadn't been tended to in a while. I inferred this from their limp petals and wilting stems.
I found this all quite sinister, but perhaps the groom was away. I turned my attention to the woods. Stepping carefully over a vine, I strolled down the trail. I hadn't been walking for a minute when I heard something. Someone was screaming from inside the cottage. My instinct told me to see if someone needed help.
With an equally silent manner as an owl in the dead of night, I strode down the dry grass. The cottage was constructed of bricks, but the roof was slapped together with various materials I couldn't identify. Honestly, it wasn't very attractive. I could just imagine my mother standing next to me exclaiming softly,
"My, what an eyesore!"
I slipped up the steps that had loose cobblestone but at least were safe to look at. I knocked on the door three times. A chill ran up my spine. I heard heavy footsteps coming in my direction; but they walked away without answering. I pressed my ear to the wooden door, hoping not to get a splinter. What I heard was not a cry for help but splashing water. Once again copying an owl's silent manner, I sneaked around the corner. "Perhaps," I thought, "I can rap on the window. The person may have not heard me and continued what they were up to. Furthermore, they might be closer to this window."
Though from a distance it had looked shrouded with dirt, up close I was able to see inside the window. Once more, I rapped three times. This time all I heard was my own breath. Something here just wasn't adding up. I peered inside to see a broom closet. There was nothing I could see that suggested any suspicious activity.
Suddenly, someone grabbed me from behind. I fell backward into their grasp. But, before I could see who it was, their hand came over my eyes and mouth. A low voice growled,
"Don't say a word, Sarah!"
Meanwhile
Sybil's P.O.V.
The police had left our house in hope of finding the thief. I normally would have given anyone who forgot to latch a door a good lecture, but I spared my husband. Instead I demanded,
"How much money do you have in your pockets?"
Udtuney shakily retrieved two small coins from his coat pocket and bowed his head as he thrust them towards me. I nodded and began to pace.
"The business of silver smiths is slow around here these days. Our house is too expensive for us now. I say we move to a place where you can find a good job," I commented.
Udtuney looked up at me with hurt eyes. He croaked,
"Sybil, my love, I hate to say this. I think it may be easier if you go back and live with your family while I look for a job. Then-"
"No," I yelled trying to compose myself, "Udtuney I'm coming with you wherever you go. I am not going to let you face this world alone. If I need to get a job myself, I shall do so."
My husband still seemed uncertain, but his protest was firm,
"Sybil, I'm sorry, but most people don't want a woman to work for them. Some people don't even want me."
I thought about that. Where was a place both men and woman worked? Then suddenly, like an apple falling and hitting you on the head, it came to me. Excited, I exclaimed,
"Udtuney, it is so simpleā¦the print shop!"
