Page 6 of A Love Like Candle Light

Chapter 1

Kylie

The door to my living room flies shut out of nowhere, loud enough to make my blood run cold.

“Oh my fucking God,” I curse, my heart beating so hard I’m afraid it might jump out of my chest.

Abby, the precious dog she is, runs over to investigate and tries to make sense of what’s going on and who to protect me from, but there’s nobody there.

How the hell did it happen? There’s no window or door open, not a chance for wind to get into this house.

It’s been almost a year since I muttered the words ‘I want a divorce’ to Zach, and now, finally, the chapter is well and truly closed. At least the money he made from working so much allowed him to buy my half of the house easily.

I thought I’d miss it. Then, one evening I stood in it, stared outside, and suddenly it hit me that all I could see were concrete and skyscrapers. A gray, loud world that was all too easy to lose myself in. At that very moment I decided I had to get out of the city.

After all how could I cheer up and recover, while I was surrounded by sad, gray misery?

During our divorce proceedings, I found this house, advertised in some magazine. It’s located in Wayward Hollow, a charming little town, surrounded by forests and mountains, in the middle of nowhere. I kept my eyes on it, hoping it would still be available by the time I got the funds to buy it, and by some miracle it was!

My new home is situated right by a lake, lined with the most beautiful old pine and maple trees, with a wonderful view of the sky-high mountains on the other side. The perfect place to take a deep breath from the whirlwind my life has become and unplug as soon as I’m done with work.

From what I can see from here, there are four houses situated along this lakeshore, and I’m on the very outside. Which is perfect. I would have preferred no neighbors at all, but I can deal with one. Hopefully. I hope they’re nice.

It’s the perfect spot to let Abby run free and to get away from my computer once my workday is over. The ink hadn’t even dried on our divorce agreement yesterday when I threw my packed stuff into the car, took Abby, and started driving.

I’ve never been more thankful for my remote job.

I have today off so I can get situated, unpack and wrap my head around being officially single. Or now being a small-town resident. To make the transition a little easier, and let it all sink in, I didn’t set any meetings this week either.

Living in this house is a lot different than I thought it would be, though. I imagined calmness, being awoken by hearing a soft breeze in the tree branches through my open window, the only sounds I hear of nature.

Instead, spending my first night here was akin to living a horror movie.

Doors have slammed closed in the middle of the night, or opened with the most chilling creaking sounds. There have been gusts of wind when I know all windows are shut and a lightbulb in my living room keeps flickering.

“What the hell?” I mutter and motion for Abby to get behind me.

She’s the most beautiful Australian Shepherd, her light fur specked with dark and light brown patches and might just be my soul dog.

Initially, I got her as an act of defiance.

The first time I talked to Zach about never being with me, about being lonely, I waited for him to change his habits. The second time I mentioned it, only a month later, I issued an ultimatum: Either he’d pull himself together and actually spend time with me, or I’d get myself a dog. I was sick of feeling lonely and abandoned. There was no way I would continue to sit in our big beautiful house all alone, without a creature to talk to, to cuddle, or to play with.

So, when nothing changed, yet again, Gabriella took me to the shelter, where I promptly fell in love with my girl. When I got her, she was barely out of the puppy stage and a riot to raise.

She’s too intelligent for her own good and incredibly stubborn. But oh so adorable with her big eyes and little heart-shaped spot right on her forehead. She’s the best and is the only thing that kept me sane on more than one occasion.

“It can’t be the wind, right?” I tiptoe closer to the door, lick my index finger, and hold it up in the air, trying to find out if there is a draft in here. But nothing.

This house was newly built, so there better not be any gaps to let air through. I reach for the doorknob with a trembling hand and ever so slowly, I pull it open. Heart racing, I peek around the door.

Nobody’s in here. I can tell by Abby’s body language. She’s confused and surprised, not alert. But damn, all the door slamming is throwing me off.

“Okay,” I mumble and put a box of clothes in the doorway to keep it from slamming shut again. I hope it works, because at this rate, this house is giving me a damn heart attack.

I arrived here yesterday evening, to two dozen boxes neatly stacked into the living room and most furniture assembled. I send a silent ‘Thank you’ to my sweetheart of a lawyer who proposed adding a moving company to our divorce settlement. It rained the whole night, until noon today, and there was nothing I would have liked to do less than carry a bunch of boxes from my car into the house.

Now it’s early afternoon. The rain stopped and I’ve made a pretty good dent into the box towers. Only four boxes are still left, and those mainly hold my puzzles and memorabilia.