AllFreeNovel
Share Us
For a moment, an instant only, darkness flooded her, swept through the room.
And she was gone.
The bride, blood seeping through the fingers she pressed to her belly, staggered to her feet. Through the glass, her eyes met Sonya’s.
Again and again, over and over, year by year, and bride by bride. Find the seven rings. Break the curse.
Like the woman in black, she was gone. The music, the soft and sad, the lively and quick, went with her.
With the dream having faded, Sonya woke just after first light to the sound of the snowblower. Remembering her duty, she went down to make coffee and took some out to John Dee.
A bear of a man with a brown beard and eyes to match, he grinned at her.
“Get ya up?”
“I’m a working girl. I need to start my day, too. That’s a seriously blue sky.”
“Yep. Should have a stretch of clear days coming. Only got about six inches with this last one.”
They stood, drinking coffee, him in his bulky navy coveralls, her in a coat tossed over her pajamas.
“Heard you ventured into the village.”
She had to laugh. “Is that news?”
“Most everything is in Poole’s Bay. That was my brother’s wife sold you a scarf. Friend of my mother’s daughter’s who makes them.”
“It’s wonderful work.”
“You oughta be wearing it. It’s a cold one.” He polished off his coffee, handed her the mug. “Appreciate it. How about I stack some more wood by the back door for you? You’re going through it.”
“Oh, that would be great. Thanks.”
“Happy to. I’ve gotta get back to it.” He winked at her. “I’m a working boy.”
“Here’s to the workers of Maine.”
She’d unlocked the door, and put the keys in her pocket as backup. As the snowblower started up again, the door opened smoothly.
“Okay then.”
A working girl did best with routine, she decided. Hers began with a quick breakfast, a check of emails and texts. Yesterday’s inquiry moved to a consult. Fingers crossed, she scheduled one for late morning.
A shower, sweats, her water bottle.
She refused to think about the neatly made bed as she dressed.
Not today; today she’d focus.
She took the Poole family book into the library to set on the coffee table before she started the fire.
The rack by the hearth was full. As John Dee said, she’d gone through it, so it shouldn’t be. The logs in the hearth, neatly laid, waited only for a match.
Maybe she’d look up what supplements or herbs—something—helped with memory.
But she wouldn’t think about it. Not today.
Not even when her iPad pumped out the Beatles’ “Good Morning Good Morning.”
