CHAPTER 25

KNOWING TOO MUCH

Leaving my trunk in my room, I ventured out to find John. Ichabod said he would be here before morning, but I couldn't bear to face Ichabod now – not after what had happened. Since I knew he had taken leave, it would be the perfect opportunity to have John collect my things and head to Mrs. Tate's with as little confrontation as possible. I didn't entirely want to go to the boarding house, but I knew of nowhere else to set my bearings.

The snow melted under my feet with every footstep, and again, it was another unusually warm evening two days before Christmas. The sky was flawlessly clear, transparent even, and the stars twinkled and waltzed across a moonless sky. I looked about the stables for John, but he was nowhere to be found; he was not in any of the stalls or even in the coach house. Near the tack room, I noticed a vertical ladder leading up into a loft. A faint glow radiated from the opening and curiously, I began to climb up the ladder. "John?" I called. "Are you up here?" I peeked my head through the opening and realized I had entered John's flat. It was small, but well kept for what it was. A bed was pushed back against the far wall, and a table with a single chair stood just beneath a solitary window that looked out over the Eastern Valley. John, himself, was leaning over a pot resting on the small cast iron stove in the center of the room. The sweet aroma of a nameless stew filled my nostrils. "John?" He spun around startled, but his expression was replaced by smile when he realized it was only me who had disturbed him.

"Melanie!" he greeted. Walking over to me, he offered his hand and helped me with the final steps into the loft. His palm was rough from years of hard labor, but warm, and when he took my hand I could feel the capability of his strength even within his light grasp. "It isn't much," he said once I had both feet on the floor firmly inside.

"No, it's uh…lovely." I replied politely looking around.

"I love it though," he smiled sincerely. He walked over to the boiling pot and began to stir its contents. "Being this close to the horses, I couldn't fancy being elsewhere." He continued. "Would you like some?"

"No, thank you. I've already eaten," I stated bluntly. He shrugged and took a bowl from the cupboard over to the stove and ladled the stew, a mixture of carrots, potatoes, and beef, into it. Taking it to the table, he sat down with a sigh and began to spoon the broth into his mouth.

"So, of what do I owe the honor of your presence?" he asked between bites.

"Certainly Ichabod has informed you that I will no longer be residing in the Crane Household."

He stared at me with a mischievous grin. "Why is that? The Constable finally grew too weak to resist your temptations?"

"I should smack you," I said offended.

"I'm not going to stop you, and besides, I didn't say I didn't deserve it."

I clenched my fists, my knuckles turning white. "I need your help regardless of how you see the situation. And if you refuse, I could very well have you fired."

"Ah, but has one forgotten? You are nothing more than a servant yourself."

"If only you knew," I mumbled to myself. "Anyway, John, it's your choice."

John smiled smugly. "Very well, of what then do I oblige my services?"

"I'm going to the boarding house. My trunk is packed and I'm ready to go." I continued. "And I'd prefer if we left before Ichabod returned from his ride," I added softly. John flashed me a look that made my stomach churn, but it was quickly replaced by a self-conceited grin.

"And you expect me to drop everything and help you?"

I was speechless and fumbled with my words before I said something worth a fragment of decency. "Well, I…no, I don't expect anything of you –"

"Except for this," John interrupted me.

"John, please. I'm asking you because I knew you'd help…and further more, Ichabod said you agreed to help me."

"That's what it is," he chuckled and ran his fingers through his ash blond hair. "Is there not a thought that goes through your head that doesn't have to do with that coward of a Constable?"

"I only asked you to help me with my trunk," I reminded him in a whisper, swallowing nervously. But it seemed as if he didn't hear me.

"You are privy to the fact that Constable Crane is married are you not?"

"How dare such tainted thoughts cross your mind," I scolded. "I can assure you there is nothing more than friendship between Ichabod and I," I added, almost pleading.

"Well then, I suppose if what you say is true, you'll have no problems in fulfilling my requests for a kiss," he smirked and walked closer to me.

"W-w-what?" I stammered.

"A little peck, and then we'll forget all about this conversation and tend to your trunk." He studied his nails waiting for an answer.

"I couldn't possibly…not when…"

"Ah, has the lady of the evening just admitted to seduction?" I raised a hand to smack the leering face of John, his hazel eyes dancing with excitement, but before my palm could collide with his cheek, his hand grasped my wrist.

The next thing I knew, he was kissing me, and it wasn't just a little peck. But his lips enveloped mine, kissing me passionately like he had waited his whole life for this moment. His kiss was different from those of Ichabod's. His kiss was lush with experience and promise, whereas Ichabod's were timid and nervous. And yet, every time I kissed Ichabod it was as if I was reborn, and I didn't feel anything remotely resembling that with John. I loved Ichabod, my heart was his to keep, and I could give it to no other. "Melanie, please." John whispered in my ear. "Give me a chance."

I pulled away from John and by reading the look on his face, I knew it was likely this first time a woman's rejected him. "Sorry," was the only word I could think of saying.

"I'll tend to your trunk," John said coldly brushing past me. He was scowling and his cheeks flourished a deep crimson.

Fury surged through my veins. John was completely amiss for accusing me of having an affair with a married man, whether or not it was true. He knew scarcely knew me, and thus, he had no entitlement to make any accusations about me at all. A vile rogue was more competent then he was, as his vulgar ways were not worth my time. But he was right. I had a feeling deep within my gut that he knew everything.

Picking up my skirts, I scurried after him, climbing quickly down the ladder. He had already begun to hitch one of the geldings to a small buggy when I caught up with him. Working easily and swiftly, his eyes were merely slits in his face and his mouth was set in a paper-thin line. But he couldn't possibly know about Ichabod and me, I told myself. I'm just being paranoid. It's inconceivable and I have nothing to fret about. Even if he had the slightest notion that something was going on between Ichabod and I, I could persuade him to think differently. By doing what he asks of me, I felt I could very well do just that. I knew I would never grow to love another, but I could make John believe that I could.

John had just climbed into the buggy and I quickly clambered in after him. Staring at me through blank and inexpressive eyes, he cued the horses to make way towards the front of the house.

"I'm sorry, John." I said, but he didn't even acknowledge me. It was as if I were not there. "It's just been so long since I've kissed a man before," I lied through my teeth, but I even startled myself at how sincere I sounded.

"And what of the constable?" he asked in a monotonous voice, like he was simply commenting on the weather. He didn't look at me, but his gaze was continually fixed straight ahead.

"As I have said before, Ichabod and I are merely friends, nothing more. You must believe me," I said. "Besides, I'm quite bashful, but I do admit I would be a liar if I said I felt nothing for you."

John finally looked at me with searching eyes. "How can I be certain you're being truthful? I hardly know you."

"Exactly, which is why I considered your accusations towards me most offensive. I don't tell untruths." What was I getting myself into? I was even resorting to lying about lying, but it wasn't like I had planned to say these things, they just sort of popped from my mouth.

"Then why are you so quick to leave?" John questioned.

"Why wouldn't I be? I don't want to be a house-maid forever." I said. "I'm sure you'd be the same way."

John nodded and pulled the horses to a stop in front of the house. "I'll go fetch your trunk," he said. "You have everything?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Very well. You wait here, and I'll return with your things in a moment." He hopped from the carriage and started towards the house.