The Haunted - Jessica Verday [54]
“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 scol-ded 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