She brings two cups of tea, one with sugar and one without, to the sitting room in the front of the house. He is gracious and takes the saucer from her trembled hand.
“Have you news of William?”
“I do not.”
“I fear there is an intruder skulking about.”
“Rest assured, we will locate him. Out here on your own, I do hope William taught you to be a good shot?”
Officer Murdock teases. Rise he does and tips his hat. A friend of William and Mary’s, he frequents the house to keep her apprised.
He expresses concern, “Without proper answers on where William is, I do not want your nerves to unravel.”
With a grateful grin she pats his hand, “You are much too kind, for the trip requires a half a day’s travel.”
He descends the tattered steps. She watches from the door, the sky takes on a pastel hue. Years of salty air and sand eroded the porch floor.
Her gaze, she shifts to the edge of the world. William built a dream, where the ocean met raptures seam. The daybreak horizon stitched in red and gold, a place where they would grow old.
It shall not be, for she is alone—alone to stir within her thoughts.
Without her beloved, the house is mere splintered wood and stone.
Much like what her and William have become. He stayed away. The nights were lonesome.
“Did William think me simple, think me dumb?
He blamed his work, his clients, and his stack of papers.
William is an attorney. He departed the final day in June. A new client inquired his expertise in regards to commercial development. “If I am to be long, I will send word to the postal clerk. Do not be sad. Hush now. I shall return.”
She wept and implored.
His temper swelled, his voice stern.
Alas, word would not come.
Not in July or August. Nor September.
Melancholy lurks in the shadows and in the night, she hearkens a familiar hum.
Solitude is her foe. A life of rapture turned to a life of woe.
She does not sleep, but paces the halls beneath her veil of black and lace. For at night, monsters creep. The floorboards creak with phantom steps, and through the keyhole to William’s library, there is a light. Brilliant at first, but dims the closer she becomes. The hairs rise along the nape of her neck when she takes notice she hears the hum, a vibration, which stirs the chilled air next to her ear.
“William, my dear.” She whispers.
Another sound came with tones of mockery and menace. Waves of fright pale her flesh. “Is this my penance? Am I cursed and my Lord has left me to bare the ache of loss for eternity?”
