I looked down at my hands. “When did you find me?”
“Last year. It was spring. I followed you, but then you left. I remember, because I could see the flowers blooming. They were pink. I knew right away that something with you was different.”
“What is it with colors? You said something before about seeing colors around me.”
He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. In the half-light, the white-blond strands were muted. But that black streak was still as bold as ever.
“I can’t see colors anywhere else except around you. Normally everything I see is gray. It’s like living in this shadow world. But around you…” He made an arching shape with his hands. “There’s a… bubble or something that surrounds you. Your eyes, your hair, your clothes.” He laughed. “Even the tree you stood next to shared your color. When you moved, I could see the green grass under your feet.”
He stopped suddenly and leaned forward, saying very intently, “It’s exhilarating, Abbey. You exhilarate me.”
My heart lurched, and I gave him a stern look. “There you go again. Saying things that make me—”A huge yawn interrupted me, and I broke off, embarrassed beyond belief.
“Why don’t you lie down on the bench?” Caspian suggested. “I have a pillow.” He stood up again and went to a spot on the far side of the room. Then he brought back not only a pillow, but also the black jacket I’d picked up before.
He held both out to me. “Even though I don’t need to sleep, it helps to have something that reminds me of… before. Sorry, I don’t have a blanket. Will this jacket be okay?”
“Yes, on one condition.”
He cocked his head at me, waiting for me to go on.
“Can you come over here? To sit on the floor by the bench?”
He came closer, and I took the pillow first. Then I took the jacket and pulled my feet up, shifting to a lying-down position. Caspian knelt on the floor beside me, smiling as he tugged on a piece of the jacket that was hanging on the floor.
Good Lord, he is gorgeous when he smiles.
I smiled shyly back at him and arranged the jacket around me before turning to put my head on the pillow. He was close enough to reach out and touch… and I bit my lip at the sudden sadness that overwhelmed me.
“Can you do shadow puppets?” I whispered to him, desperate to make the sad feeling go away.
He hooked his two thumbs together and flapped his fingers, angling his body so that the shape he was creating showed up on the wall. “Kee-yar, kee-yar,” he said softly.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s the sound a hawk makes. That’s what my shadow puppet was—a hawk.”
“I thought it was a bluebird,” I teased. “Do it again.”
He made the shadow again, this time making it flap its wings fiercely. I giggled, and then he moved his fingers, casting some bizarre round-shaped thing on the wall. “Three guesses what this one is.”
I studied it carefully. “Bunny?”
“Nope.” He wiggled his hand to simulate movement.
“Puppy?”
He laughed. “Where did you see a puppy there?”
“I don’t know. Okay, last guess, um… a turtle?”
“Ehhhhhhh, wrong answer. It’s an armadillo.”
“An armadillo? How did you learn how to make an armadillo shadow puppet?”
His face turned bashful. “Okay, you got me. I made that up. I didn’t know what that one was.”
I snuggled deeper under his jacket. My eyelids were starting to get heavy. Caspian arranged his fingers into an intricate pattern.
“There you go. I’ll make ’em, and then tell you what they are. No more guessing.”
I fought back another yawn. “Okay.”
“First obligatory shadow puppet is… an incredibly self-conscious clown.” He wiggled his fingers. “Second one…”
My left eyelid drooped. Then my right. I blinked heavily, and the walls shifted around him.
“… Three-legged panda bear.”
My eyes stayed closed, and I felt myself sliding toward the edge of sleep.
“Scrambled eggs… bacon on the side.” His voice ebbed and flowed around me. “Are you falling asleep, Abbey?”
I fought to stay awake. “Noooo… ,” I heard myself saying. “Caspian, don’t leave, ’kay? I don’t want them to get me.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll stay with you.”
Everything was fuzzy now, but I tried to stay awake long enough to tell him one more thing. “Glad you… see… my colors, Caspian.”
“Me too, Abbey,” he said softly. “Sweet dreams.”
Chapter Twelve
OLD FRIENDS
The chief part of the stories, however, turned upon the favorite spectre of Sleepy Hollow, the Headless Horseman, who had been heard several times of late… ; and, it was said, tethered his horse nightly among the graves in the churchyard.
—“The Legend of Sleepy Hollow”
Abbey… Abbey…”
My eyes opened slowly, and Caspian’s face came into view. “What are you doing here?” I asked, rubbing one eye. My hair was in my face, and I pushed it away.
“I’m here because this is my place, remember? You came to see me.”
Right. I’d snuck out of the house. “Crap! I have to get back. What time is it? My parents are going to kill me!”
“It’s okay. You’ve only been asleep for an hour. You have plenty of time to get back before they wake up.”
I groaned and rolled my stiff neck from side to side. Already my brain was waking up and slamming into overdrive. Is my hair a mess? Do I have morning breath? What about drool… I hope I didn’t drool. Oh God, do I snore?
Not knowing what to say, I carefully folded up the jacket and then the shirt. Would “Thanks for letting me sleep in your crypt” work?
But what came out was, “Did you stay awake the whole time?” I wanted to kick myself as soon as I said those words. Why can’t I be witty? I was perpetually cursed with nonwittiness.
Caspian smiled at me. “Yeah, I stayed awake. I didn’t want to close my eyes and fall into the… darkness.” Then he blurted, “I didn’t, uh, sit here looking at you, or anything weird like that. I had a book.”
Well, that was oddly comforting and disappointing at the same time. “I hope I didn’t snore.”
“Nope. Did you have any more bad dreams?”
“No. No more dreams.”
He stood up and shuffled his feet. “I don’t want you to think I’m kicking you out or anything, but you should probably be on your way home before your parents wake up.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I handed him back the jacket, then glanced down at his shirt I still had on. “Can I, um… Would it be okay if I… keep this?” That sounded so lame, but I wanted to have some small piece of him.
“Sure. Although I don’t know why you’d want to.”
Because it’s yours… I kept that thought to myself. “Thanks.”
Caspian walked me out of the mausoleum, and the early-morning air was cool. We both moved in silence until we got to the gate.
Jamming my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, I turned to face him. “Thanks for letting me sleep over. It was… nice.”
He snorted. “Yeah. I’m sure spending the night in a creepy tomb is every girl’s idea of the perfect date.”
“It wasn’t creepy. You were there.”
“That’s why it was creepy. Because of me.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “It wasn’t you. Don’t say that. Besides, you’re going to ruin my happy memories of shadow puppets.”
“I am pretty great at shadow puppetry. Maybe I should start my own business.” He grinned, and I felt warmth spreading through me.
I looked up at the brightening sky. “I really do have to go.” I dug my shoe into the ground. “But if I, maybe, came back later today… would you be here?”
Caspian nodded, then turned and started to walk away, pausing long enough to say,
“You know where to find me.”
I stood there watching his retreating figure, then shook my head. We’d pretty much just spent the night together, and he was able to act that casual about it? Boys were so hard to figure out sometimes.
Movement on the path to my left caught my eye, and I turned and saw a person. A person with a little wire brush and a trash bag sticking out of his back pocket. A person with gray hair, a faded blue shirt, and patched overalls. Nikolas.
He spotted me, too, and paused. I walked toward him and threw my arms open for a hug when I reached him. Nikolas patted my shoulder in that rusty way of his, and hesitantly hugged me back.
I squeezed him tight, suddenly realizing how much I’d missed him. It was like seeing my long-lost grandfather.
“I’m kind of mad at you,” I told him, drawing back. “But I really missed you, Nikolas.”
I could see his eyes were misty, and he scrubbed a rough hand over his face. “Forgive an old man whose eyes leak,” he told me. “I missed you too, Abbey. We thought you had decided to abandon this place.”
A sliver of guilt and shame wormed its way into my heart. I had intended to leave them all behind. “I had a lot to work through, Nikolas. I’m still working through some of it, I think. But I couldn’t stay away. In fact I was going to come see you again. How is Katy?”
“My lady is well. Her garden has been blooming these past few weeks, and she is happy to be in her element of picking flowers.”
I laughed. “I bet she is. Does she still have them covering every surface of the house?”
Nikolas nodded. “I cannot take a step or make my seat without fear of crushing some fragile bloom.” A gentle look came over his face. “But that is what pleases her, and so I tread carefully.”
A warm feeling settled over my heart. It was nice to hear that they were still so happy together. The sky lightened to a shade of pink with faint fingers of yellow. Daylight was racing toward us, and I needed to get home.
“Is it okay if I come over later today?” I asked him. “I have a lot of questions for you.”
He followed my gaze toward the sun. “Why don’t you come with me now? Katy is at home, and I’m sure she will be happy to make us some tea. We have peppermint.” His look was hopeful, and I hated to turn him down, but I could get seriously grounded if Mom or Dad found out that I snuck out of the house.
I tried to think fast. I could always tell Mom that I went for a walk early this morning. Technically, it was early morning when I went to see Caspian, and I had walked to get there. I turned my attention back to Nikolas. “I guess I could come for a short visit.”
“Good! Let us go now.”
He turned, and I followed him to the far side of the cemetery. We reached the woods and set off down the overgrown path that would lead us to their cottage. An angry chipmunk scolded us when we trampled dangerously close to the tree he called home, and I smiled at the absurdity of his chattering. Chipmunks had it easy. Gather a couple of nuts, make your home in a tree, wave your tail at the giant humans invading your space…
The path widened, and a little bridge came into view. Beyond that was Nikolas and Katy’s home. I held my breath. Would it still look like the enchanted little storybook cottage that I’d visited before? Or would it look different to me in any way?
But the thatched roof was still the same, and the giant round stones that made up the exterior were still there. Even the wisteria growing on the stone chimney looked colorful and vibrant. I exhaled in relief.
Nikolas led me around back, where Katy was kneeling in a garden among daisies and bluebonnets. She had on a wide straw hat and an old-fashioned, yellowish summer dress. I stopped for a second and mentally kicked myself for not seeing it before. She was the picture of someone straight out of Washington Irving’s tale, right down to the bouffant hair she had rolled up under her hat in a loose bun.
I felt shy all of a sudden. But as soon as she heard Nikolas call out, Katy looked up, and a large smile broke out on her face.
Gracefully rising to her feet, she hurried over to me, arms outstretched. Seconds later I was smothered in a hug that smelled like peppermint and honeysuckle. “How wonderful to see you, Abbey!” she said. “What a pleasant surprise. It has been so long.”
“I was gone for a while. I’ll tell you all about it inside. Can we go talk?”
She nodded. “I’ll make some tea.”
I stepped back, and Nikolas came around to her other side, offering his arm. She leaned on it, and they started toward the front of the house.
Entering the kitchen, I crossed the room and went to the large slate table by the fireplace. I pulled out a glossy cherry-colored chair and sat down. Nikolas sat too, and Katy went to the cupboard.
I stopped her before she made the tea. “Can that wait for a minute? I’d like to talk first.”
She sat at the table and bent to pick up yarn and needles from a basket on the floor. Within seconds her fingers were flying.
I decided to start from the beginning. “I left Sleepy Hollow to go see a specialist. A doctor who helps people who… see and hear… things that don’t exist.” I wasn’t sure how much to tell them, how much to admit to, but I didn’t want to hold anything back. “See, I thought I was crazy. You guys told me that you’re Katrina Van Tassel and the Headless Horseman from ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,’ and the father of the boy I’d been spending time with told me that his son was dead. I couldn’t cope with any of that.”
Katy paused from her knitting and put one hand on mine. “I know how you feel, Abbey. I, too, was once in the same position. When Nikolas and I first met and I learned he was dead, I didn’t handle it very well. I ignored him for a month.”
“After she tossed an entire Sunday dinner through my head,” Nikolas muttered.
“So wait,” I said, “you did have a head?”
“I could see him in his true form. How he was before,” Katy said.
“Will you tell me, then? About your story?”
Katy looked to Nikolas. “Do you want to start?”
He nodded. “The tale is true that I was a Hessian soldier. During the Revolutionary War, I made my living as a mercenary. A soldier for hire. Alas, I had an unfortunate meeting with a cannonball. It took my head, and my horse dropped over with it. They buried me in this cemetery, because I saved a child once… but that is a story for another day.
“When I found Stagmont nuzzling at the cemetery grass, I realized he had followed me over. My story spread, became the stuff of legend, if you will, and that is how I became the Galloping Hessian of the Hollow.”
“So you keep a horse here too?” I said. “Where is he? Can I see him?”
“Sometimes we go on midnight rides through the cemetery, but I do not keep him here. It isn’t fair to him. He prefers to wander.”
Katy spoke up. “As for me, everything changed when Ichabod Crane came to town. He gave me singing lessons and seemed very interested in me. I tried to remain kind in my refusals of his attention, though.”
“Bah. That proud peacock knew you were no more going to choose him than that bag of bones Brom,” Nikolas said.
I leaned forward, looking back and forth between the two. “Wait. I thought Brom Bones was the sturdy one and Ichabod Crane was the skinny one. That’s what the legend says.”
“Yes,” Katy said. “That’s how it was written, but as we told you before, the legend was changed from reality. Most notably the ending, to protect Nikolas and me, but other aspects were changed as well.”
“Then one day I saw her and fell instantly in love,” Nikolas replied.
“I was not very pleased by that,” Katy said. “I thought I was having fits or a case of the vapors, seeing things that no one else could see. Thank goodness I never told anyone. They would have sent me to a convent.” A faraway look came into her eyes. “Although I did often think about telling Father. I always thought that he might be the one person to understand.”
She shook her head as if
to clear her thoughts. “Imagine having a lovesick ghost as your constant companion. I threw my needlepoint at him, my books at him, even my slippers at him! But he followed me everywhere. Then Brom pulled that silly stunt, dressing up like a headless horseman, and chased Ichabod over the bridge.”
“What happened next?” I asked.
“Ichabod left town, and Brom married someone else. Eventually I was able to woo the fair Katrina, and she said she loved me,” said Nikolas.
“So you never married Brom?” I asked Katy.
She shook her head no. Pushing her needles to the side, she stood up. “I think I will make the tea now, if that is agreeable with you?”
I nodded.
As she passed by Nikolas, he reached out an arm, and she took his hand, gently kissing the back of it. A twisting sensation filled me, and I looked away.
Sounds filled the kitchen as she started to prepare the tea—the scrape of a bowl being moved, a cabinet door banging open, water filling the kettle. There wasn’t a fire in the hearth this time, since it was summer, but Katy put the metal teapot onto an old stove. When she turned the knob, a fine ring of blue fire lit up under the burner, and she came back to sit at the table.
I still had so many questions. “How was Washington Irving involved in all of this? Besides writing the story.”
Nikolas was the one to answer. “He played in the cemetery as a little boy and had a penchant for telling stories, even as a lad. I was his companion, and we spent hours talking together. He grew up listening to our story. I was honored when he asked me if he could write it down.”
“Washington Irving could see you? How?”
“He was one of us. A Shade.”
I looked at Katy. “Could he see you, too? Is he still, um… here? Somewhere?”
“Oh yes, he could see me, too. We talked fairly often. But he didn’t stay. His love moved on, and then so did he.”
“Wow.” I said. “So you guys are like really old then, huh?”
They both laughed. “Yes,” Katy replied. “I suppose we are rather old.” The teakettle whistled, and she got up to remove it from the stove.
“What about the other stuff ?” I looked down at the table, suddenly unsure of what I was asking. “With Caspian… the boy from the cemetery.” I thought back to the last time I had seen them, right before I left for Aunt Marjorie’s. “You told me that he was a Shade like you—because of the black streak in his hair. What exactly is a Shade?”
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