AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well, if you change your mind, Lacey has my number.”
It’s not often I get asked out, mainly because I don’t go anywhere to meet new people, but it doesn’t matter. Dating isn’t a possibility for me. It’s just not right. That’s something I accepted years ago.
It’s late when I climb into my truck to go home, but I know I won’t be going to bed. During the entire drive, all I can see is Calli’s smile as she joked about murder being a cold weather activity. Her cabin is dark, and her car is gone when I return.
I head straight to my studio. Calliope’s eyes are on me from a handful of different directions as she smiles back from the sketches taped to the walls. Different poses and expressions, none of which quite capture her luminant beauty.
I’m certainly not done trying.
CHAPTER 5
CALLIOPE
I’m restless this evening.It was too hot for my usual walk in the woods, and I’ve spent the day inside, trying to get interested in something. After flitting from trying to read about birds, to watching ten minutes of a show, to cleaning my cabin, I end up rolling a joint and sitting out on my porch. I’m having what I always refer to as an edgy day—where unsettled seems to be my default even if I’m not worried about anything specific.
Before I can smoke, Arlow steps out of his front door. I’m surprised to see him walk in my direction instead of disappearing into the graveyard like he usually does. He slouches a little, one hand in his pocket as he crosses the driveway. His long limbs make routine movements more pronounced, giving him an awkward, gangly appearance despite his broad shoulders and wide chest.
Yesterday, Silver and I went to a local flea market where I got a cute glider that will be perfect to replace the lawn chairs on the front porch once I repaint it. Right now, it sits in my yard, covered by a tarp. He eyes it curiously as he approaches.
“Don’t worry. That’s not a body either.” I get to my feet to meet him.
“Of course not. What are the chances two killers move in next door to each other?” His dark humor matches mine, lightened by his soft tone. “The cobbler was delicious.”
“I guess so if you ate it all in a night,” I chuckle, accepting my pan from him.
“I shared it with some friends. Terrible mistake. I should’ve tasted it first and kept it for myself.”
He seems so kind when I talk to him that it’s easy to forget that he’s also the guy who creeps around a graveyard at all hours. The question spills out of me without forethought. “Why do you hang out in the graveyard at night?”
His lips twitch, and he raises an eyebrow. “What’s your going theory? Seances? Graverobbing?”
“I haven’t completely discounted those but I’m also entertaining the possibility that you’re building a Frankenstein.”
“That sounds like way too much work. Plus, I can’t sew.” He runs a hand through his dark hair, and it flops back down, a few waves reaching his earlobes. “I’m not hanging out there, just cutting through to get to my bonfire pit or to watch the sunset.”
It never occurred to me what might be on the other side of the graveyard. Before I can reply, he adds, “Do you want to come with me, and I’ll show you? It’s a beautiful view.”
His invitation catches me off guard. “Now?”
“Unless you’re busy. I’m pretty sure there’s another sunset scheduled for tomorrow night if this isn’t a good time.”
My decision is impulsive and maybe not the smartest. “Sure. One second while I lock up.” He waits outside while I grab my phone and keys, then lock the cabin door behind me. My jitteriness fades as I join him.
This is what’s fundamentally wrong with me as a person. I’m a ball of anxiety at a crowded restaurant or when the self-checkout yells at me about unexpected items, or for no reasonwhatsoever like today, but following a mysterious guy into a graveyard at dusk? Perfectly fine.
Maybe it’s his demeanor or the calming sound of his voice. I feel bad about the way I reacted to him, first in the forest and again yesterday. After all, I’m the one who was trespassing, and he’s been nothing but nice about it. Sure, the nightly walk among tombstones is weird but it looks like there’s a simple explanation for that too.
A major part of my personality that I’ve worked most of my life to overcome are the cynical snap judgements about people that pop into my head. My first thoughts are never kind and I hate it. Because it’s like her. Conditioned into me by growing up with the woman who is now ashes on my mantel. It’s not who I am or want to be.
It’d be nice to be on good terms with my only neighbor. I should give Arlow the benefit of the doubt and stop letting my imagination run away from me just because he’s a little different. I’m sure I appear mysterious to some too. A woman who moved into a small town she had no connection to and spends most of her time in the woods. That didn’t stop Silver from becoming my friend or Mona from hiring me.
Still, being alone in the boonies with any guy I don’t know isn’t risk free and I want to make sure he knows I’m not easy prey. “I texted my friend that I’m with you so if I’m being lured as a human sacrifice or dinner for zombies, you’ll be the main suspect. I’m just saying.”
He glances down at me with a flash of a smile. “Don’t worry. The corpses don’t reanimate until midnight. We have plenty of time.”
One of his long strides is easily two of mine but he takes his time so I’m not rushing to keep up as we cross the driveway and walk through his yard to enter the cemetery. The upright gravestones cast long shadows in the setting sun. Most of thenames carved into them are barely legible, and a few can’t be seen at all. Lying toppled and broken, or crumbling to dust, some are losing the fight against time and weather.
Despite the state of the markers, the grounds are well tended, mowed and weeded. “Are you responsible for maintaining the graves?” It’s never occurred to me that a person could own a graveyard or what that might entail. “Letting families visit and stuff?”
