Through the Darkness: Of Love and Loss Series Book One

33

Everett led her up the stairs to the covered porch and unlocked the back door, cringing when it screeched like a wailing banshee protesting their intrusion. "Sorry about that, guess I need to oil the hinges."

Gripping her hand tight, they crossed into the large living and dining room area. From there, he showed her around the entire house.

Blatantly evident from the moment he opened the door, his home was furnished for a bachelor. It would have to be rectified immediately if they both wanted to eat together, let alone do anything else while in the house.

Standing there, taking it all in as a married man, it smacked him in the face just how lonely and meager his existence had been up till now. The fact that he was not poor by any means, and hadn't been since selling the fireworks factory, made his surroundings more miserly than he'd ever realized.

The majority of his extensive book collection surrounded his favorite overstuffed chair with a matching ottoman and sat in the designated reading spot next to a small side table and lamp.

It was a cozy little area that now seemed cut off from the rest of the room by an ever-widening void of space between the reading chair and his small dining table with seating for one.

Everett showed her to his modest-sized kitchen and even more meager pantry in trepidation. Years of hating to cook and taking all possible meals at the cafe in town showed.

He owned one pot and a single pan, along with a chipped glass for drinking. A plate, warped spoon slightly flattened on one side and curved on the other, a fork, and a knife better suited for slathering on butter than cutting meat completed his assortment of cutlery and dishes.

When he accepted his current teaching position, Aunt Mable had lamented his lack of proper cooking tools on their first visit. Ever since then, she practically traveled with her entire kitchen any time they came to see him for any length of time.

He'd always laughed and passed the tendency off as a funny quirk of hers, but now he understood why she'd felt the need to do so.

Elyria remained silent while he led her from the main living area over to the guest room, which housed a full-sized bed shoved up against the far wall to give the room more space. It had been a gift Aunt Mable and Uncle Edgar had insisted on buying for their visits.

A lone bedside table, directly under the window, occupied the left side and held a lamp and small clock. To the left of the bed, along the wall, resided the built-in closet that housed a pitiful supply of bed linens and towels.

He showed Elyria the bathroom, spacious enough for a sink, the toilet, and a large clawfoot tub that allowed him to submerge his full height.

Lastly, he led her to what would now be their bedroom and approached it with excitement and bated breath. He spent the vast majority of his time in this room, his refuge from the stresses of the world, and it showed.

There was a comfortable air to the space, one that welcomed and invited he now realized the rest of his home didn't possess.

Quite large for a bedroom—a necessity he'd insisted on when drawing up the plans to have it built—it accommodated two chests of drawers, a writing desk and chair, a queen-sized bed, a nightstand on either side, and three tall bookshelves filled with the remainder of his collection.

Turning to Elyria with mixed emotions, he asked, "Well, what do you think?"

"Out of the entire house, this room and the bathroom are the only ones that feel like you actually live here."

His brow arched, and his lips curled in a wry smile. "Really?"

She looked at him and nodded. "It's faint, but they're the only two spaces where your cologne lingers... all the other rooms feel impersonal and empty. In here, there's a sense of warmth and life."

It was an excellent way to describe what he'd only just realized himself about where he'd spent the past six years of his life. He closed his eyes and sniffed the air, but it only smelled like home to him.

Shrugging his shoulders and smiling, he took her into his arms and whispered, "We'll buy some new furniture and warm the place up. It could use a woman's touch."

"Turn it into a lover's haven?"

He bent his head and kissed her. "I like the sound of that."

Her stomach growled, reminding him he didn't have any food in the house. Pressing another kiss to her lips, he pulled away and ran a hand through his hair. "On a scale of one to starved, how hungry are you?"

"Is famished before starved?"

Everett chuckled. "They're the same thing in my book. Maybe there's still time to go to the café?" He checked his watch and cursed at seeing it was 8:00. "So much for that idea. It closed a half-hour ago."

"I'm sure I could—" A sharp knock at the door interrupted her. "Is it normal for you to have a visitor this late at night?"

He pressed another kiss to her lips and sighed. "No, but I didn't think it normal to be stopped and greeted by so many people at the station either."

She laughed and walked with him to the front door.

"Is it too much to hope whoever it is might be bearing food?" He pulled open the door and then smiled.

Marcus stood before him, as though summoned by the food gods themselves with a hot pad in each hand, holding a casserole dish of heavenly smelling food covered in melted cheese. "Evening, Everett. Nice to see you again, Miss Elyria Ormond of 224 Rhode Island Ave. Looks like you found each other."

She nodded and smiled. "That we did."

"We got married a month ago today," Everett murmured, grinning down at her. "Thanks again for the train ticket."

Marcus blushed. "My pleasure, Cap." He cleared his throat and nodded down to the dish of food in his hands. "I saw you two arrive a little bit ago, and I thought I'd bring this over just in case you hadn't stopped to eat at Katherine's Café on your way home."

"You devil." Everett grinned, motioning the man inside. Common knowledge about Marcus the postman in their little town—and one more reason Everett enjoyed having him for a neighbor—was that he happened to be an exceptional cook. "I'm so happy I could kiss you."

Marcus shrunk back at the same time he held the dish out and remained firmly on the doorstep. "Wh-whatever for?"

"Don't look so worried," Everett laughed and took the proffered dish of food. "Thank you for dinner; you've saved us from going hungry."

Marcus let out a relieved sigh and smiled, "Glad to hear it... I best let you two eat in peace and settle in. I'm sure glad you both made it home safe; hope you enjoy dinner. Sally—that'd be my wife—said it's a real winner." With a nod, he turned and marched across the porch, then down the steps with an agility Everett envied. "You two have a good night."