Chapter 8:Explorations and Introductions

Carrie awoke the next morning feeling invigorated. After arising, she unpacked her suitcase first thing as she had decided she was staying here for a while. Opening the drawers of the antique bureau, she started to place her t-shirts and shorts inside. When she opened up the top drawer to put away her necessities, she saw a piece of paper sticking out of the false wooden bottom. Carefully lifting up the old and delicate wood she retrieved two pieces of very worn and aged paper. They were torn clippings from a newspaper, The Herald.

The Herald

Former Governor William T. Hughes Dies Today

17^th of April, 1853

That was all the information that paper imparted and the second read:

The Herald

Former Governor William T. Hughes Last Will and Testament

States that all money go to his young nephew:

Stephen P. Murray 3^rd

The items were interesting because of their age, but more then that, Carrie felt as though they had been put there for a reason. She was meant to find them she was sure, but why? That was something for her to ponder as she made her way along her day. But she had to get a move on, there were men coming to check on the operation of the rambling home’s four fireplaces. Plus, she wanted to get a few moments to explore the town, purchase some groceries and see the beach. That was what she longed to do most today, let the sun kiss her body, the ocean waves glide over her toes. Heading downstairs, she took the pieces of paper with her, and carefully folding their well-worn creases together, she opened up the China cabinet and lifted out the music box. She let the soft strands of that wonderful song assail her senses before she carefully placed the pieces of paper inside. And this time when the door slammed, she didn’t jump.

The chimney sweeps got done their work in record time. Carrie had the most ridiculous urge to sing some songs from Mary Poppins as she waited for them to finish their labor. There was something about this place that made her feel silly and young, light-hearted and refreshed, almost as though not a care in the world affected her. When they were finished their cleaning, she paid them with the funds that Ronald had allotted her for repairs and left the house to go food shopping.

Once her chores in town were all finished. Carrie rushed back home to put the groceries away. There was a nice kind of anonymity in this town. If anyone recognized her, no one said. Of course, Martha’s Vineyard was full of celebrities. Carrie supposed people were used to respecting privacy.  After she was finished, her necessary things complete for the day, she jumped in her convertible and put the top down. She took a long, leisurely drive all around, losing her bearings now and then, but finding them in short time. She drove past the stately and magnificent vineyards, vowing to tour them another day. She drove through the town, making note of the library and the bookstore. Like most good writers, her thirst for knowledge and fantasy could never be completely quenched. She drove in and out and all around before finally ending up back at her temporary home and knowing exactly what she wanted to do with the rest of her day. She took the stairs two at a time, raced into the bedroom and slipped into her shocking pink bathing suit that she normally reserved for Jon’s eyes. She felt decadent and deliciously free. She grabbed her towel and her notepad and headed out the back door to the beach. She ran when she got out there like a kid to a candy store. Feeling light as air and carefree. There was a taste in her mouth that she did not recognize. It was the sweet taste of freedom; like sampling a piece of nectarine straight off the vine, succulent and delicious. Your lips crave every drop of juice that falls; your tongue finds the dance delightful. Her laughter bubbled up out of her throat and she was sure had anyone been around they would have thought her mad. But she was quite safely alone out here on this private strip of heaven.

Spreading out her towel, she lie down and let the sunrays warm her into complacency. She let all thoughts of Jon and her future slide out of her head. She let the world around her envelop her. The house and all of its creaks and quirks gave her a fortress to the back. It’s shadow falling inches from where she was almost as though it was keeping her in its reach, protecting her from anything that could harm her. Carrie laid there for a while before noticing anything was amiss. Her sharp senses, accustomed to looking for things out of the ordinary, sensed that someone was watching her. Looking around, at first she saw no one and then her eyes alit on a man sitting on a rocky dune that jutted out from the land to the left of her house. He was distant but she could feel his eyes upon her, studying her in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. It felt as though their eyes met and it startled Carrie. She knew in the back of her mind that it was impossible to make eye contact with anyone who was that far away. She could barely make out his features in the glare of the sun. But she knew that he was staring at her, just as sure as she knew he had seen her stare at him. The other thing that Carrie was sure of was that she was going to go talk to that man and tell him to get the hell off of the property he was trespassing on. While she was planning her indignant little speech, she was caught off guard by the shadow that overcame her. She turned, only to come face to face with the intruder. And all of her speeches and resolve were lost when she glimpsed the cool blue depths of those ice-like eyes.

Carrie assessed the man standing in front of her and though he made no move toward her, she sensed danger emanating from him. It was as though she was not safe to stand within fifty yards of him. He was calling to some place inside of her that she was not even aware of and yet she knew it was an unbidden place where she was not permitted to go. She backed away carelessly getting caught in the beach towel strewn under her feet and as she stumbled he put out a hand to steady her. She stared at the place on her arm, the skin burning from his touch, heat radiating from it like there was pure electricity in his fingertips. He was unkempt. His face was dark with whiskers where no beard had fully formed. He wore his hair long and though it looked as though it had not been styled it seemed to suit him falling in dark curls to his shoulders. He wore a white dress shirt; a rather expensive one for a beachcomber and one that accented his broad chest and shoulders. He wore jeans with it, faded Levis that had seen better days. They were rolled up into cuffs and his feet were bare as if he had been walking in the ocean.  Carrie took all that in with one long glance. He was still staring at her, the corners of his mouth were caught up in a smile and those ice-blue eyes were twinkling with laughter at her obvious outrage.

“You are not allowed to be here sir,” Carrie said with righteous indignation. “This is private property.”

He smiled at her, an infuriating smile that made Carrie want to scream, “He told me you had come, but I had to see for myself.”

“Who told you I had come?”

“The old man of course, but I had to see for myself what a vision of loveliness you are,” letting loose a brilliant and sexy smile.

“I don’t know anyone from around here yet. I have no idea what man you are talking about. Vision of loveliness indeed. Does that line of yours work on many women?” Carrie asked trying to calm the butterflies in her stomach. This was a crazy schoolgirl attraction to a stranger who might well be a madman. What was she thinking? What would Jon think of her?

“Hmm, well it’s not really a line, it was a statement, but as to whether it works or not, I’ll let you know .”

Damn, but he was charming. “I have to ask you to leave, Mr…. eh… well whoever you are.  Mr. Murray does not take kindly to trespassers. I just have to call him and he will surely get the police to remove you.” Carrie fibbed, hoping it would work. She did not know the owner from a hole in the wall, but she figured the mention of his name and the police might be enough to remove this disturbing stranger from the property.

“Oh, so you know Mr. Murray do you?”

“Intimately,” she answered hoping he would just leave.

“Well then since you and Mr. Murray are such good friends I best be on my way. Wouldn’t want the embarrassment of police around here would I? But just one more thing before I go, would you do me the honor of having lunch with me someday…um…Ms…er…”

“My name is Carrie…Carrie Stenson. And no, well at least not until we know each other a little better Mr…. um…” Carrie watched his face for any glimmer of recognition of her name but if he knew her he didn’t show it.

“My friends call me Charlie.” He said and with that he walked back to his rock, grabbed his shoes and rambled on his way. Leaving Carrie to wonder him. Shaking off the feelings that the man set off in the pit of her stomach, she went for a swim, letting the ocean waves calm and soothe her.