CHAPTER 15

LIFE IN THE HOLLOW AND AN UNEXPECTED TWIST

And so it was that I remained under the Crane's roof through the season's first snowfall performing the odd jobs that was asked of me in exchange for room and board. The townspeople thought it odd and most irregular for the mysterious young woman to be lodging with a married man and his wife, but neither Ichabod nor Katrina seemed to mind the disapproving stares that harbored their way. I, on the other hand, received more that just censorious glances and the people of Sleepy Hollow seemed to all but spit at my feet. On the outside, I went about my tasks with a smile across my face, and was everything I should have been; the villagers' comments did nothing but braze my flesh. On the inside, conversely, my emotions were rampant.

Not long after I arrived at the Crane Mansion, I caught a glimpse of William Rexroth while on one of my daily jaunts about the town. His eye was a burnished black and he was visibly rushed as he hastily shoved bags of his belongings in a coach I did not recognize from Sleepy Hollow. From the safety of the corner, I watched discreetly as he ordered the driver his muffled destination and climbed into the cab. I never saw him again. The cottage he abandoned was in as worse conditions as ever, its walls hardly able to support its own leaky roof. Although not a single person occupied the little shack, the thought of moving back did not cross my mind.

Initially, living with Ichabod was incredibly awkward, but soon we grew accustom to each other's presence. Conversation was little, always polite, but predominantly we avoided each other as much as unsuspectingly possible. He mostly kept behind the closed doors of his laboratory while I busied myself around the house or ran errands for Katrina. Being near Ichabod eased my state of lovelorn even though we weren't close. He always was kind and friendly and treated me with the respect that was absent from so many other people. It was he who made me feel like I mattered, and in so many words, the few times I gazed into his eyes that fait flicker of passion that possessed my dreams ever since we kissed was present.

Without realizing it, I found myself knowing even the smallest details of the complex Constable Crane. I knew that he was an early riser, preferred his chamomile tea lukewarm with the slightest hint of peppermint, and the only vegetable that he avoided completely was cauliflower. I knew he suffered from insomnia for many times as I lay awake at night, I could hear the unique shuffles of his feet as he paced through the halls or worked frantically in his laboratory until the wee hours of dawn.

But that isn't all… it goes deeper. I knew Ichabod, perhaps, even better than he knew himself. I knew that he was squeamish and edgy; a workaholic uncomfortable in his own skin and insecure about himself. He was one who preferred facts to conjectures, and didn't adapt easily to change. Yet there was a softer side to this man, a side of empathy and mercy that he kept hidden beneath his dark clothes and proper posture. It was this side that brought a grin to my face and I was certain I could see it as easily if I were blind. It was these thoughts that made me tremble. The fact that I knew all these things without the recognition that I did was frightening.

As time wore on, my life was more than less, a routine – everyday was the same. I woke at the same hour, completed the same endless and tedious tasks each day, retired to my room the same time each night, and was sleepless for countless hours wondering if my life would always be as it had become.

It wasn't until mid December when our lives took an unexpected twist. At the evening meal one night, Katrina announced she had received a letter from her uncle in Delaware saying her aunt was vitally ill and had requested her presence before she passed.

"This is something I must do," she told Ichabod sternly. "I've already sent for a coach and it should arrive early tomorrow morning."

Ichabod smiled warmly at his wife. "If you must go, then give my regards to your aunt, and I wish you the best on your journey. How long to you plan to be away?"

"Not long at all. A fortnight, perhaps a three weeks at the most, I'll be home for Christmas certainly." Ichabod nodded slightly.

"I'll make sure everything is tended to here," I added. "You don't need to worry about a thing."

"Thank you Melanie. It's been such a relief having you here," Katrina flashed a sincere smile my direction and for once, I smiled back, a true smile. Even though we hadn't really become friends, we seemed to mingle a little more than I thought we would. I still despised her with a passion; after all she still was Katrina Crane, wife of Constable Ichabod Crane. However, never in a hundred years would I have thought of the two of us actually occupying the same room without staring at each other with the tint of bloody knives in the gleams of our eyes – although I was quite positive either one of us would admit to it.