by Denise Daisy
Walt mopped the water from his face and tossed the towel to Bronwyn. “No shuttle, but the man who owns the inn is waiting outside in his pickup.”
Lillian wasn’t satisfied. “A pickup? In this weather? I’m expecting it has a covered bed?”
“It’s either a quick ride in the back of an uncovered pickup, or a four-mile hike in the storm,” Bronwyn said. “Take your pick, Princess.”
“Neither of those will do.”
“There’s always staying put.” She snapped back.
Walt interrupted their banter. “I suggest we all grab a small bag for tonight. Just what you need. There won’t be room in the pickup for everyone to take their luggage.”
Bronwyn returned to her seat. Into her bag, she tossed a book she had been struggling to read. She hoped that reading a good novel would somehow inspire a thought that would force its way through a blockage of revelation that had kept her writing at bay for some time now. The book was not proving to be that inspiring. Still, she placed it in her bag. She didn’t intend to read it. The book would be her defense, a barrier she could retreat behind, to sit alone with her thoughts. People were less likely to drum up a conversation with someone who appeared to be engrossed in a book.
The opening of the bus door diverted her attention from packing. Once again, she was taken aback with Travis as he entered.
Walt made the introductions. “This is Travis; he’s giving us a ride to his inn.”
Bronwyn observed him scan the interior of the bus. Their eyes locked again, causing the peculiar heat sensation to re-engage her body, recreating the inexplicable emotion. She removed her eyes from his gaze; the intensity of his stare unnerved her. She looked to see if the others had noticed their unusual encounter. No one seemed to pay any attention. Everyone was immersed in packing his or her belongings. Bronwyn glanced at Bethany, surely she had noticed. Not much escaped her, however, she remained completely oblivious.
Bronwyn cautiously returned her eyes back to Travis. He was still watching her; their eyes locked again. She found it difficult to pull away.
“We need to move quickly and get you out of here while there’s a lull,” his eyes never left hers when he spoke. “More storms are headed this way. Believe me when I say it’s only going to get worse.”
Descending the steps, he gave her one final glance before disappearing into the night.
The sky remained black as the massive storm clouds continued to obscure the moon. The utter darkness cast pure eeriness into the night. The headlights from Travis’s truck offered the only light to assist the troupe in finding a way to their ride. Bronwyn held her bag close to her side as she made her way to the pickup. Travis stood at the uncovered bed, holding a tarp.
Bethany shook her head in disbelief, “A tarp?”
“Why is he holding a tarp?” Lillian asked. “Surely it’s not the cover to the bed!”
“No, it’s what he uses to bury his victims in,” Bronwyn offered an attempt at evil humor.
Lillian wasn‘t amused. “Stop it! Do not bring those dark thoughts to my mind. You know how it affects me!”
Bethany gave Bronwyn a sly grin. It always gave her perverted pleasure to torment Lillian anyway she could. Bronwyn returned the smile, despite the gnawing fear that her statement might be right.
Travis and Trent offered the girls their hands. Bronwyn waited to board last; graciously allowing Karley, Anna, and an extremely fearful Lillian to enter before her. After they were all safe on board Travis turned to Bronwyn and extended his hand. With his strong grip, he pulled her upward. At the touch of his skin, the heat sensation began again, this time with more intensity, and she wondered if he could feel the warmth as well.
Handing the tarp to the group, Travis yelled over the rain, instructing everyone to place it over their heads. Hail was coming; the tarp would offer some protection from the falling balls of ice. Bronwyn grasped her end, lifting it high above her head to create a canopy.
Slamming the door to the cab, Travis sped towards the Inn. The sudden movement of the truck combined with the gale force winds yanked the tarp, ripping it from their hands, sweeping it away into the black night. At the very same moment hail began falling, pelting the truck as well as the unprotected passengers. Bronwyn raised her duffle bag, placing it over her head, shielding herself from the plummeting hailstones. Had it not hurt so much, the situation would have been one of the most comical she had ever experienced with the troupe, but for some reason she couldn’t seem to find her laughter.
The truck pulled off the road and onto a narrow driveway, rolling to a stop a hundred yards later in front of a three-story, Victorian inn. The inn stood in total darkness, save for a few flickering candles in the windows. A bolt of lightning struck just behind the inn, adding to its ominous appearance.
Bronwyn read the uneasiness on the faces of her friends. Anna, who usually put on airs and offered positive outlooks, was surveying the inn as if it would be her final resting place.
Bronwyn thought about making a run for it, but where would she go? There was nothing for miles. She envisioned herself running through the drenching rain, into the woods, only to meet her demise by encountering the hooded figure and disappearing off the face of the earth forever. A second bolt of lightning interrupted her thoughts, striking only thirty yards from the truck. The crackling sound of splitting wood, accompanied by a burning aroma was enough incentive for her and the rest of the troupe to bolt for shelter.
She entered through the doorway into the gloomy atmosphere of the inn. The sparse lighting made it difficult for her to make an accurate assessment of the place. She seemed to be standing in an entrance hall of some sort; evidently it doubled as a living room. It felt comfortable enough, furnished with soft leather couches in addition to several overstuffed armchairs. The colors and fabrics remained hidden in the darkness. A mammoth stone fireplace took over an entire wall, and a sizable picture window without covering gobbled up another. The floor was a well-polished, hard wood, covered in places by soft throw rugs that cut the chill off a bare floor. An elevated antique desk stood at the far side of the lobby, matching a colossal banister that came to rest at the end of a spiraling wooden staircase.
“Welcome, weary travelers,” the cheery, Southern voice rang out from behind the lofty desk.
Bronwyn stepped further inside the room to view the person who offered the greeting. The light of a small glowing lantern revealed a woman who appeared to be in her early forties. Her loosely braided hair hung to the side of her head. Her welcoming smile covered most of her face, revealing a missing tooth on the left. A noticeable scar traveled from the corner of her left eye halfway down her jawbone. Despite the flaws, Bronwyn could see the beauty hidden deep within her face, and was certain that in times past, this woman had been quite lovely. Nevertheless, an obvious accident had taken its toll on her.
“Sorry ‘bout the darkness. Our power got knocked out by the storm. Should have light some time tomorrow. Just step right up and sign my register here, and I’ll be gettin’ y’all into your rooms.”
Wilbur forced his way to the front demanding a private room on the first floor. His chubby fingers curled tightly around the pen as he scribbled his name in the book.
The woman glanced at the written name on her register. “Sorry, Mr. Hogg, we only got four rooms here at Sandalwood Inn, and every one of ‘em’s on the second floor. They all have king sized beds in ‘em. You’re gonna have to double up for the night. Y’all can decide amungst yourselves how. Makes me no never mind.”
Trent listened in awe to the words that poured from the woman’s mouth. “Makes me no never mind? What the hell does that mean?”
Stepping forward, Bronwyn signed the book. She took the key from the woman who flashed a perplexing smile and then quickly exchanged glances with Travis. Their knowing looks made Bronwyn feel all the more uncomfortable. The strange bit of heat once again rushed through her body. Maybe it was the premonition of danger. After all, she had heard
stories of people who had a sixth sense, enabling them to foretell impending doom, like people who bolted from a flight at the last minute, only to hear the plane crashed moments after takeoff. She prided herself on her intuition and discerning abilities, but she had never felt something this strange before. Perhaps it was because she had never been in extreme danger until now. Her heart raced as the heat wrapped around her neck.
“The name’s Mavis,” the woman said, interrupting Bronwyn’s thoughts of doom. “Travis and I own this here Inn. If you be needin’ anything, you give us a holler!”
Bronwyn nodded and noticed the plaque embedded in the wood of the desk.
“Sandalwood Inn. Travis Colton and Mavis Colton, proprietors.”
The three girls ascended the winding staircase and located room number two. Bronwyn inserted the key and pushed open the door. The room was dark except for the glow of a flickering candle, burning on a nightstand beside a rather inviting feather bed. An heirloom dresser and mirror also occupied the room, along with a desk and an overstuffed chair. There was an adjoining bathroom, complete with a quaint old-fashioned tub on legs. Clean towels and washcloths lay folded on the vanity top, along with a basket of sweet smelling ointments and homemade soaps.
Lillian quickly tossed aside her wet clothing and dashed for the bed, throwing her overstressed body across the feather mattress. Bethany followed Lillian’s lead. As much as Bronwyn wanted to do the same, she decided on a bath instead. The old-fashioned tub seemed rather inviting, and despite the heat and mugginess of the night, she shivered in her wet clothes. After lighting a candle and placing it on the small table near the tub, she filled her bath with warm water, adding the sweet, milky potions from the basket. Delightful scents of lavender and jasmine quickly permeated the room. Removing her soaked clothes, she stepped into the tub. Her body melted into the balmy water. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against a soft foam pillow attached to the tub. Outside, the fierce winds and rain continued to wreak havoc, causing the inn to creak and the doors to shake. Even though she was uncertain of her surroundings, she was content to finally be in the shelter of the inn. She sank deeper into the tub and found herself dozing off and on as the candle cast hypnotic images on the dark wall.
Her sporadic dreams were nightmarish. She could see the stranger standing behind sheets of falling water; his black eyes revealing much distress. In her vision, she longed to reach for him, to be where he was, yet he was pushing her away. Then, without warning, the ground disappeared from underneath her and she felt herself falling, plummeting into darkness…
The fall jolted her awake so she kicked her leg violently, splashing water over the side of the tub. She shivered, the water having turned cold during the duration of her dream. She climbed from her bath deciding it would be best to continue sleeping in the bed rather than a tub filled with water. Toweling off, she dressed quickly. Tiptoeing into the room, she tried not to wake Lillian who was sleeping soundly in the middle of the bed or Bethany who staked her claim on the left side, furthest away from the door. After checking to see that the door was indeed locked, she blew out the remaining candle and climbed into the soft comfort of the bed. The rain had backed off to a gentle patter, and the winds diminished from a deafening roar to a steady whistle.
“You know what’s weird?” Bethany whispered.
Bronwyn flinched, surprised she was still awake. “Besides everything?”
“You saw Travis, the man that picked us up?”
“Uh huh,” Bronwyn wondered if Bethany had experienced the same peculiar heat sensation that she had when he looked at her, or if she had noticed the long stare between them on the bus.
“Did you see his wife? I mean how do those two go together at all? Is she lucky, or what?”
Bronwyn smiled in the darkness. “Beth, I think you’ve reached an all-time low in shallowness.”
Bethany sighed into the blackness of the room. “You were pretty quiet all day. Must have been a good book you were reading.”
“Uh hum.”
“When are you going to snap out of this funk? When do I get my partner in crime back? I miss you.”
Bronwyn remained silent. Although she agreed with Bethany, that she hadn’t been herself lately, she had no answer as to when she would snap out of it, as Bethany had so simply put it. She hopelessly tried to move forward and continue with life; it just wasn’t that easy, especially when she felt no energy or motivation to do so.
“I wish I could,” she sighed. “Believe me, I wish I could. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything’s just blah. There’s no color, no joy, no excitement, no intrigue, no motivation, no cause, nothing worth existing for.”
“All this because of Ryan?”
“Don’t give him so much credit.”
Despite the denial, Bronwyn knew her low spirit stemmed from exactly that. “Good night, Beth.” She refused to enter into any conversation about Ryan. She knew this was the reason Bethany had been waiting up. She was her dearest friend and usually she enjoyed her company tremendously. However, Bethany’s persistent questions and concern over her personal affairs, combined with her endless advice, had begun to grow wearying.
A final rumble of thunder sounded in the distance. The last bit of rain tapped gently on the window. Bronwyn’s eyes grew heavy as she faded off to sleep.
Just outside the inn, a shadowy, cloaked figure cleaned the blood from his knife and placed it back inside the folds of his robe. Camouflaged by the massive fir trees, he stood his vigil, watching the inn, and waiting.
CHAPTER SIX
DAY ONE
The morning sun streamed through the picture window, piercing through the lace curtains and filling the room with light. It wasn’t the gleaming rays of sunlight that stirred Bronwyn back to consciousness, but rather the delicious scents traveling from the kitchen, up the winding staircase, and directly into room number two.
Opening her eyes, she squinted from the brightness, raised her head from its cushioned cradle, and looked over the bed. The middle was empty, but Bethany still lay in the exact position as the night before. She was glad to see they were still in one piece and that no one had crept into the room while they slept. Lillian was missing but Bronwyn figured she was downstairs having breakfast, since she was known to be an early riser. Besides, there was no sign of a struggle anywhere. Considering the uneasiness she felt right before bed, Bronwyn was surprised at how soundly she’d slept. Yawning, she looked over at Bethany. “You awake?”
Bethany stirred groggily. “My body’s still asleep but my nose woke up some time ago. Have you ever smelled anything so amazing?”
“Not since I was a little girl.”
The two sat up and looked around the room. Bronwyn admitted that the morning light gave it a more inviting appearance. Pale Yellow walls trimmed with white crown molding and adorned with beautiful oil paintings hugged the room with warmth. White lace curtains hung over a sizable picture window, the fabric complimenting the snowy comforter covering the enormous four-post bed. Everything about the room felt friendly, cheerful, and inviting. It was so different from the feelings of the night before.
Bethany was the first to climb from the feather mattress. She gave a loud yawn and then crossed over to the window.
“Whatcha say we follow our noses?”
“Sounds good.” Bronwyn reluctantly climbed from the bed, pulled a pair of cotton shorts and a tank out of her overnight bag, and headed into the bathroom.
Bethany pushed back the curtains as she opened the window. Lovely floral scents immediately rushed into the room along with the morning air. The new day’s sun not only gave a different feel to the inside of their room, but unmasked a world of beauty outdoors as well.
“Wow, this is amazing!”
She announced her discovery so that Bronwyn could hear her from the adjoining bathroom. Surrounding the inn, as far as the eyes could see, were the most exquisite gardens. Plants, flowers and trees of every species bloomed in the fe
rtile soil below. An ornate fountain stood in the center of the circle driveway, bubbling over with fresh water. Numerous flowering plants and crawling vines found their way up the fountain all drinking from the water in its basin. To her far right, a river lazily trickled over droves of natural rock.
“This is amazing,” she repeated.
Movement near the stream caught her attention, bringing her eyes to Travis. He was busy, clearing away broken branches and debris that fell during the storm. The morning heat had obviously caused him discomfort, which to Bethany’s delight, had resulted in him removing his shirt. She watched eagerly as he grabbed a hefty branch with his gloved hand and tossed it effortlessly into a pile of collected rubble. With a jerk of his head, he swept his wet hair away from his forehead and continued his clearing.
“Bronwyn, come here! Quick!”
Still brushing her teeth, Bronwyn emerged from the bathroom. “What?”
“Look.” Bethany pulled back the curtain. “See what I mean about him and Mavis not going together? My God he is in great shape! Look at those muscles!”
Bronwyn rolled her eyes as she walked away from the window, returning to the bathroom. She feared if she took a small peek he might see and lock eyes with her again. She would make sure to avoid any more disturbing encounters with the man. She spit the toothpaste from her mouth, rinsed and then realized her hands were trembling. She splashed the cold water on her neck, hoping to cool off the heat sensation and stop the trembling before Bethany noticed and begin asking questions. Taking a deep breath, she walked back into the room. “Pull yourself away from the window, Beth. He's a married man, and more than likely has an inn full of kids."
"You’re probably right.” Bethany sighed and removed herself from the window; allowing the curtain to fall back slowly while she took in every glimpse she could possibly manage.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Larry Earp eagerly surveyed the bus engine. His excitement went unnoticed by Karley and Walt, who were hovering over him. Walt, eager for anyone who would listen, relentlessly spouted off his signature story about the time he had fallen ten floors from a building during firefighting school. Larry only half listened as he pulled and prodded at the complicated engine, offering only a grunt every now and then just to keep Walt satisfied. A soft spoken country fellow, Larry was the only mechanic in the small town. He kept busy repairing anything from car engines to lawn mowers. Much to Larry’s delight, a challenge worthy of his expertise presented itself. He stood from his squatting position and slammed shut the door to the engine compartment.
