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Chapter 1 Carly

My headlights cut through the thick, heavy curtain of fog that hovered above the asphalt as I reached town and searched for the road I needed. Reducing speed, I slowed to a crawl as I scanned the street signs. An empty gas station marked the only business with the lights on this late at night. I considered stopping and asking for directions, but the GPS assured me I didn’t have much farther to go.

After nearly ten hours on the road, I was tired and stiff. The caffeine wore off three hours ago. Even the true crime episode on the podcast I listened to wasn’t holding my attention.

I wasn’t prepared for the long, winding road that led upward into the Adirondack Mountains, and eventually to Woodbridge Falls. Living in Ohio, I regularly saw a vastly different landscape of cornfields, farmland, and rolling hills. Ohio had its charm and Midwest beauty in ways that nowhere else in the U.S. could compete. I might be a little biased. Still, I never missed an opportunity to explore another part of the country.

Before I left home, I spent a few minutes online reading up on Woodbridge Falls, and I was pleased to see scenic photos of a quaint town caught in the throes of autumn’s splendor. Colorful leaves with vibrant colors on rows of Maple trees. Lantern-lit streets. Pumpkin fields and fresh cider. Architecture like Dutch Colonial and Victorian homes. Historical landmarks. All the cozy vibes and charm I needed for a two-week getaway.

Dusk had given way to inky night an hour ago, and now I could barely see through the fog to drive. Luckily, I wasn’t far from Bramblewick Lodge, where I’d booked a room. I hoped the bed would be comfortable. I sure needed it.

From what I read online, the lodge sat on a lonely mountain crest close to a church with a towering steeple and an old bell. Behind it, Greywater Cemetery boasted a list of famous people residing within the graves. It overlooked the majestic Woodbridge Falls waterfall. Both locations had been placed on my list of must-photograph landmarks. I couldn’t wait to go exploring in the morning.

Finally, I found Lonely Rock Peak. Gas streetlamps provided illumination on my way up the winding, hilly drive. I slowed to a stop as I reached the peak, staring at the lodge before I made the turn that would lead to my cabin.

Candles glowed in every window as I took in the sprawling wooden structure, comprised of several floors and balconies. A huge wraparound porch provided cover against the drizzle that began to fall. I couldn’t wait to see it in full daylight, with the colorful mountains as a backdrop. When I finally lifted my foot off the brake and took the gravel road turnoff, I followed the pathway to the row of cabins. Trees lined both sides of my car as I drove in the dark, soon devoid of any light from the lodge or the gas streetlamps.

I found the cabin marked 8 and parked in front of it. Although quite a few cabins were located on this road, they were spread apart to provide privacy. A golf cart sat empty a short distance away as I opened my door and stretched. A porch light had been turned on, which was good since I never would have been able to see the cabin number without it. I stood with one hand on the doorframe, gazing out at the forest and Adirondack Mountains that framed the cabin with natural beauty. Even with limited visibility, I could still see some of the changing foliage on the nearby trees.

A brisk breeze blew around me as I unloaded my suitcases. I reached for my baggage and headed toward the steps. A woman with white-blonde hair opened the door to greet me.

“You must be Carly.” Her warm smile immediately put me at ease. “Your cabin is ready. I built a fire about an hour ago, so it’s nice and toasty.”

Good call. The wind picked up, sweeping a chilly breeze over my exposed skin as I shivered and nodded. “Hi. Yes. That sounds wonderful. I’m looking forward to a hot shower and a soft bed.”

“I bet after such a long drive. I’m Laura. My husband and I manage the lodge and cabins for Mr. Coleman. Welcome to Bramblewick.” She led the way inside, and I couldn’t help pausing to take in the interior. Soft candlelight provided the perfect backdrop to the polished woods and colored rugs. Everything had a rustic charm. Exposed beams, ceramic vases filled with dried branches and berries, a big stone fireplace, and flannel throw blankets folded over a pair of leather sofas.

“I made hot chocolate for you. You’ll be staying in the master bedroom.”

I followed Laura, delighted to find a thermos of the hot chocolate she’d mentioned and a wooden bowl of snacks on a table by the window. “This is wonderful.” I pulled my suitcase toward the bed and dropped my purse as well as my smaller case on the mattress. “It smells like citrus and home.”

Laura laughed. “Just the vibe I was going for. I’ve left you a variety of light snacks, but if you need anything else, help yourself in the kitchen. I’ve made chicken salad along with a tray of meats, cheeses, and fruit. Croissants, crackers, and bread are in the pantry to the left of the stove. I keep the fridge stocked for you, so if there’s anything you want or need, let me know.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“It’s a bit of a walk to the lodge, so if you prefer, I can have one of the golf carts available for your use. You’ve got the cabin farthest from us.”

A kind thought. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I don’t mind the walk.”

Laura’s lips widened into a big smile. “Enjoy your night. Breakfast is served buffet style from seven to ten every morning. If you change your mind about the golf cart, call the main lodge line, and I’ll send one to you.”

“I appreciate that. Looking forward to exploring in the morning.”

“Of course.” Laura left and closed the front door shut with a firm click. I heard the golf cart as she traveled the gravel drive back to the lodge.

The first thing I noticed in her absence was the quiet. Not even the forest seemed to have much to say as the wind settled through the leaves. I heard a few nocturnal sounds but nothing alarming. So different from my home in Columbus. I’d grown up in the suburbs of a metropolis. Night skies like the one I stared at through the window in my room didn’t exist. The clarity prompted me to dig around in my suitcase for my camera and snap a few shots.

I left the bedroom and opened the back door, stepping onto the deck to soak up the ambiance. The stars twinkled with a clarity and brightness you never saw in the city. It took almost thirty minutes to head back inside, lock both doors, and take a hot shower. By the time I lowered onto the mattress, I could barely keep my eyes open.

Birds chirping outside the window woke me first, followed by sunlight streaming through it. I’d forgotten to close the drapes last night. Sunbeams poked through the panes, warming my bedspread and toes. I snuggled under the covers and fell asleep for another hour.

Since I overslept, I missed breakfast. Opting for the chicken salad and fruit in the fridge, I ate a quick lunch and then grabbed my camera on the way outside. Late-morning sunshine cut through the trees and warmed my skin as I walked toward Greywater Cemetery. The iron gates opened wide at the entrance and welcomed me inside with a hint of forgotten secrets.

I loved that the cemetery stretched over low hills to the property’s edge, where it dropped to a plunging rocky shoreline. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine the ghosts of those buried here. Across from the headstones and crypts, the falls flowed with a crystal-like mist. I would have to find time to hike to the falls and get a closer look.

A sigh of contentment flowed through me. This was what I needed. I loved being out in the fresh air, especially in autumn. My favorite season.

Maple trees around the cemetery lightly shook in the gentle breeze as my clothing softly rippled against my skin. The changing colors brightened the gray and solemn stones. I stepped over the crumbling grave markers at the back of the cemetery and walked toward the edge to take more snapshots of the view.