Into the Gloaming
Mercy Celeste
Copyright
Into the Gloaming is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Mercy Celeste and MJC Press
ISBN 13: 978-1-945444-15-9
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Mercy Celeste and MJC Press
Warning: No part of this book may be reproduced in any way without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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https://mercyceleste.com/
Acknowledgements
Cover art provided by Marianne at The Premade Book Cover Shop
Into the Gloaming was previously published as Epiphany: A Winter’s Tale
There are no significant changes.
Cortlandt Manor is based on The Russ House in Marianna, Florida, and the local ghost legends of my childhood.
I’d like to thank Jambrea Jo Jones for keeping me from scrapping this book.
Mercy
To Table of Contents
Chapter One
The old Georgian Revival manor house would open to the public as a museum soon. Heath watched as construction dragged on day after day. His vantage on the square allowed him to see the comings and goings of the crews bringing life back to this part of town. Hoping people would return to frequent the merchants and restaurants surrounding the old house, the whole area had been restored, at least, he thought that was the word he’d heard as the development people had rolled out their blueprints over coffee from the one shop that had operated there for longer than Heath could remember.
He saw the developers every day as he walked past the coffee shop on his way out in the morning and sometimes on his way back in the evening. His routine didn’t allow for him to stop for coffee. He’d lingered on the sidewalk, waiting to cross the street while they talked about their hopes and dreams for the area.
Heath knew this area was dying. It had been dying for decades. He’d heard that the factories outside of town had closed with little notice. That had been how long ago now? He couldn’t remember. Seems like a couple of years. But he had a job. It didn’t concern him.
Every day, for he had no idea how long, he watched as new brick went up on old buildings and broken sidewalks were replaced with new. There were ornamental light posts up now. They glowed like gaslight but hummed with electricity. Black wrought iron planters that had been rusting away in the ramshackle building behind the old house were now gleaming with health and blooming with flowers.
The coffee house had changed very little. Updated to fit the style of the times. The name had changed to one more trendy. But Heath didn’t take coffee in a paper cup, much less a mug. He preferred tea in a china cup. Not that it mattered. He still had his job to do, and no time to stop to partake of their coffee.
The house would be the last to re-open. It required the most work. Heath couldn’t remember what the developers had said about the place. Abandoned for nearly a century or something like that. Really? That was a long time to stand sentry over an entire town square without a single person to care for it.
He passed the manor house every day on his way to and from work. It loomed over his life. Drawing him back to it. The old wood and brick had crumbled. The paint had peeled away from years of extreme summer heat and winter damp. Another ten years and the place would have rotted to the foundation had no one stepped in.
Not that this was his concern. He minded his own business. He had his work to do. Mouths to feed. Backs to clothe. He walked past every day at sunrise, the house quiet as the grave.
And now it wasn’t.
People returned to the square. A trickle at first. Now, a river of them, it seemed. Books were sold in one store. Candles in another. A lawyer had set up shop. A barber in another. Just like in the old pictures he’d seen the developers looking at as he walked past. They wanted the square to look like it had when it first came to life. They wanted to breathe modern life back into this forgotten corner.
Heath eyed the sweets shop. He wanted ice cream. But it was always closed when he made his way home.
Tonight, he passed as the sun was setting, as was his custom. Music floated on the air. Upbeat music that made the growing crowds of people laugh and dance in the street. He wove his way through the gathered masses. No time for such frivolity. As he wended his way home from a hard day, he did not stop.
“Hey,” someone said, catching his attention. Heath ducked away, hoping to put distance between him and the crowd, but a hand cupped his elbow, stopping him. Startled, Heath turned to face the young man smiling at him.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” the young man said, his smile growing tentative. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I was hoping you’d stop for a bit. You always seem to be in a hurry. Have a coffee. Or maybe something to eat. It’s all free tonight.”
Heath felt the warmth of the young man’s hand through his work shirt. He glanced down to the spot where they touched, and the young man dropped his hand. He cleared his throat and stepped back, giving Heath room on the sidewalk.
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to keep you. My apologies.” The young man looked contrite, and maybe a touch embarrassed.
“No.” Heath searched his eyes for… something. He knew not what. They were brown, flecked with green, his eyes. Behind the glasses he wore, they flickered with a soft twinkling light, a reflection of the lights that wrapped every bush and tree trunk. Heath liked the smile he saw there. It had been a long time since he’d felt a smile just for him. “I mean… Ice cream. I think I would love to try the ice cream. I’ve watched that store with some interest, but there never seems to be time.”
“I know what you mean,” the young man said, grinning now that Heath had lingered. “The days are growing so short now with Halloween past. Fall is almost over. It will be Thanksgiving soon, then Christmas will be here before you know it. What flavor?”
He did not understand what the young man said. The young man spoke so fast with the drama of his youth. His words almost made sense, but, in the end, they didn’t. Flavor? He’d understood that much, at least. “Flavor of what?”
“You know? Ice cream. What is your favorite flavor? The pistachio is absolutely to die for.” The young man took his elbow and tried to steer him toward the ice cream display. “Or coffee. If you’re cold. It’s chilly tonight and you don’t have a jacket.”
“It’s not that cold. I’m almost home. Chocolate. I think. Maybe I’ll try the pistachio next time.” Heath glanced toward the sun setting down the street. The call of home very strong, but the touch of warmth at his elbow was almost as insistent.
“Chocolate it is.” A bright smile lit the young man’s face. Warmth spread from his fingertips along Heath’s elbow and beyond. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to be touched.
“Some shops will stay open later now that we’re reaching the end of the renovation of the house. Maybe you can stop in for coffee on your way home soon. Or when the tearoom is open at the house, we’ll be doing a high tea in the late afternoons. We’re working on the sandwiches now. I think it will be a treat.” The young man chattered as he maneuvered Heath through the milling crowd, pushing past patrons who’d been
waiting in line to get to the front. “Sorry… my apologies,” he said politely, but it was still rude. “Maggie, two chocolates in bowls please and I’ll get out of your hair,” he shouted over the dissenting voices.
“You got it, Austin,” the woman scooping ice cream shouted back. “Two chocolates to go.” She held up two paper bowls with little pink spoons stuck in the ice cream.
Austin handed one bowl to Heath without dropping his elbow and took the second bowl for himself. “Thanks, Maggie. I’ll be on my break now. Be back in fifteen.”
Austin pulled him behind the ice cream cart to a sidewalk, out of the way. “There are some tables around the corner. I need to take a load off. If you’d like to sit awhile before you head home?” He asked now, but it wasn’t much of a question, certainly one that he expected Heath to deny. Heath would love to ‘take a load off’, he’d been carrying his for far too long.
“I have time.” Heath simply stated. The heat from Austin’s fingers tingling up his arm, warming him. He was full of the energy of his youth. Almost bright and shiny with hope and possibility. Qualities that Heath had lost somewhere along the way.
Austin released his elbow to open the wrought-iron gate marked with a sign that read ‘Employees only’. Cold traveled in to sap his heat until almost no trace of it lingered. The sun was almost set. The path home becoming darker with each passing second. He eyed the golden glow with a heavy heart.
“Regrettably, my time is growing short,” he told the younger man as he slid onto a wrought iron garden bench beside a tall glowing lamp emitting heat.
“Oh, don’t I know it. Sit, relax for a few minutes. Try Maggie’s ice cream. It’s delicious. I have to get back to work soon. Running errands for the shopkeepers, so they can ‘tout their wares’.” He hooked his fingers in the air for some reason that baffled Heath.
Heath took the wrought-iron chair across from Austin and tried to arrange his overly large frame on the dainty piece of furniture. He wouldn’t break it, which was a relief, but he still felt discombobulated. He picked up the even daintier spoon that wasn’t big enough for a child and wondered how he was supposed to eat the ice cream before it melted from the heat coming from the lamp.
“Oh, sorry, these are sample spoons, we ran out of regular spoons. We weren’t expecting half the city to show up. But it’s good, yeah.” Austin scooped a bit of the ice cream onto the tiny implement and shoveled it into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days. “Oh, that’s good. And the bright side is, no brain freeze. The spoon isn’t big enough.” He ate another small bite and winced. “Maybe not,” he said, laughing.
Heath lifted the spoon with a careful bite and aimed it at his mouth. He couldn’t stop watching the young man who seemed to think him a long-lost friend instead of a virtual stranger he’d happened upon and waylaid with promises of sweets.
“You’re looking at me like I’ve grown an extra head or something.” Austin shoveled in another bite. He wasn’t as bright and shiny anymore. He seemed leery now. He should have been leery from the start.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had ice cream. It’s become a luxury I’m not accustomed to.” Heath explained, probably badly, but he wasn’t used to small talk. He’d kept his own council for as long as he could remember. “Times are tough at home.”
“Tell me about it.” Austin heaved a sigh and dug into the ice cream. “My student loans are going to kill me. I swear. But I don’t have to live on Top Ramen and Mac and Cheese anymore. Ice cream is still a treat. I’ll have to run a couple of extra miles, but it’s worth it.”
The last rays of the setting sun gleamed like a beacon over the old house. Heath had lingered too long. He was late getting home. He placed the spoon back into the bowl just as someone shouted Austin’s name from the street. The young man sighed and spooned in one more bite before jumping to his feet. “Gotta run. I’ll be right back. Stay and finish your ice cream,” he said just as the same voice shouted louder.
“Thank you,” Heath remembered his manners and rose to be polite as the young man ran off.
Night fell while he watched him go. Guilt and duty clawed at him. He set the bowl of sweet temptation down without tasting it and disappeared into the dark.
~
Austin ran to the coffee shop to grab more cups. And then to the ice cream shop for more bowls. They were out of spoons in both shops. Swizzle sticks and mini spoons were running low. They’d planned the street fair to run until seven that night, but they hadn’t expected so many people. Which was a good thing. Until they ran out of free samples. The bookstore was crowded with shoppers. It looked like the day after Thanksgiving instead of the first week of November. They’d put up white twinkle lights everywhere they could find a place to wrap them. The air was nippy but not yet cold. People talked and laughed. The sidewalk speakers played old-timey music. It felt like Christmas. Or something close to it. But without the snow. He’d been told many times it didn’t snow here often. A part of him would miss the snow. Another part of him would not miss mornings shoveling out his car just to get to class.
He checked the other food vendors on the street and sidewalk and went to retrieve whatever they were out of. Maybe ten minutes had passed before he could get back to the day laborer. Funny, Austin had never caught his name. Maybe because he hadn’t stopped talking long enough for the guy to get a word in edgewise. But Austin had wanted so much to appease his curiosity about the guy since he’d first spotted him a couple of weeks ago. Every day like clockwork the guy walked past the house and around the corner just before sunset. He always wore the same uniform. Off-white work shirt with brown pants and brown boots. He never wore a coat or a hat. He always looked exhausted from his long day.
Of course, Austin was romanticizing him. He probably worked at one of the factories still in operation and just wanted to get home. Shame someone that gorgeous had the weight of the world dragging his shoulders down.
Again, with the romanticizing. The guy had to eat and pay rent just like everyone else. He probably had student debt and… maybe a kid. Or several kids. And a wife.
Austin hadn’t thought of that. He’d seen a pretty face and started spinning a fantasy that ended with him and tall, dark, and broody getting sweaty together in his tiny apartment. Or, hell, the coffee shop bathroom. He wasn’t picky.
But tall, dark, and broody never stopped at the coffee shop. He came after closing every day. Austin would never have known he existed if he hadn’t volunteered to sweep the street so the shop owners could get home to their families.
After the stores closed and the construction crew went home, Austin was mostly alone on the street at night. No wonder he was fabricating fantasies about hotties, who didn’t know he was alive.
Every afternoon he’d come out with his broom in time to see the man pass by, and hurry on past the house on fleet feet only to disappear around the corner. Austin had meant to catch up with him, but never found the time.
And like clockwork, sunset came, and there he was trying to maneuver through the crowd on the sidewalk. This time he’d seemed startled to share his evening walk with half the city’s population. Austin had to wonder why he hadn’t seen the signs. They’d advertised heavily. Every store on the street had a sign in the window. Yet he’d still seemed bewildered as to why people were interrupting his commute. Maybe when the pub opened, Austin could treat him to dinner one evening. If he would slow down long enough for Austin to find out if he was single. Or interested. Or, hell, a name would be awesome.
He handed off the last of the supplies and checked to see if there was anything else needed. He’d left his ice cream melting with a hot man. He wanted to get back to it… them.
Maggie waved him on just as her son rolled out a fresh barrel of ice cream and another volunteer came running up with a case of spoons from the market across town.
“Ten more minutes,” he called out and went back to the patio. Two bowls of melted ice cream waited for him. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding ha
d vanished… again.
But this time Austin knew he was real. Maggie had seen him. Everyone had seen him. He wasn’t a figment of Austin’s not getting any imagination. Tomorrow he’d meet him on the street and invite him in for coffee. More importantly, Austin would ask him his name.
He picked up the bowls and dropped them into the trash. And with a sigh, he grabbed the broom and swept up the cigarette butts and bottle caps, then went back to see if anyone needed anything.
Chapter Two
Two days had passed since the block party. Austin didn’t catch his mystery man on his walk home either day. Maybe he was off those two days. Or maybe he’d taken a different route home now that the community was active once again. Some people didn’t like crowds on their commute.
Austin didn’t blame them one bit. That’s why he’d jumped at the chance to take this job. The pay wasn’t as much as he could earn if he’d taken a teaching job, but he had a small apartment as part of his benefits package. Curating a museum that was still being renovated wasn’t exactly riveting work. Most of the antiques were still in storage. His actual job wouldn’t even start until the contracting firm gave the development firm the okay to move back into the house. Until then, Austin sat in on the daily meetings at the coffeehouse and helped in the museum as much as he was allowed. He’d cleaned the rooms that were finished and kept his apartment clean. He helped the tea room staff with menu ideas and tasting, but they were their own entity, answerable to him, but still not part of his job. And he’d tasted so many cucumber sandwich recipes he’d prefer to never have another. The chicken salad, however, was divine. Scones and clotted cream were a bit out of his taste preferences, but the tea was good.
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