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Authors: Brynn Chapman
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public park in the centre of town on 14 Septembre 1902.
Jonathon Smith—seven years old—disappeared from the rock quarry on the outskirts of Rhinebeck, 12 Octobre 1902.
Anne Hathaway—three—disappeared from her own bedroom, presumably out the window on 17 Octobre 1902.
"Wait a minute...” breathed Raena. “That's the inn's address. Another disappearance from behind the inn.” She quickly scanned the article and dialed her cell phone.
"Sam, how's it going at city hall?"
"Okay. I'm finding a lot of the old case files, thanks to Cody. What do you need, Rae?"
"Did you look up Eva Entwhistle?"
"No, she's further down on my list of disappearances from that year. Why?"
"She lived at the inn. Her parents must have been the innkeepers."
"I'll try to find the case file and ask Cody to make a copy on the sly for me."
"I'll see you at home."
* * * *
Marisol awoke at midnight, looked around her quarters, and found all was silent in the cottage. She reached under her bed and removed a white dressing gown and pulled it over her head. As she slipped out of bed, she faced the mirror. She unwound her braids, which hung past her waist, releasing her hair into lustrous waves. She donned a balaclava and slipped out of the servants’ quarters unnoticed.
She walked down a twisted path to a clearing by the lake. The moonlight was so bright, she had no trouble negotiating the way. This evening, there was a blue moon, the second time it was full during the month. Many of the fables she had listened to as a child included this moon, especially when a significant event was about to take place. What she saw next took her breath away. Colin stood in the clearing, his dark hair blowing gently in the night's breeze, and his dark gaze fixed upon her intently. He was breathtakingly handsome, even painfully so, and beside him stood the clergyman.
As she reached him, he held out his hand for her to take, never removing his gaze from her.
"I thought this day would never come,” he whispered quietly. “For since I was just a mere lad, I have dreamed of us becoming one."
They knelt before the clergyman and Colin slipped his hand into his tunic and withdrew two shining silver bands.
The man of God said, “Do you take her as your wife, Colin? Keeping you only to her?"
"Yes,” was his only reply, and Mari saw that his eyes were bright with tears.
"And you, Marisol, do you take Colin for your husband? Keeping you only to him?"
"Yes.” Marisol felt weak with joy and fear—the fear of losing something she treasured as much as life.
Colin placed the ring on her finger; its silver surface gleamed in the moonlight. Marisol was moved with the memory of Colin's mother removing the band and polishing it one evening as she sat by the hearth in their home next to Colin's sister playing with her dolls. His sister couldn't have been more than five years old.
"Papa's is too large for my hand; we will deal with it when life has improved for us."
He swept up his wife and carried her across the field of millet by the lake to a covered wagon. Neither of them took any note of the clergyman's departure. Colin gingerly helped her into the wagon and then deftly slipped inside as well. Inside was a cot, a lantern and a few blankets. She lay down on the cot and stared at him, her long hair now spreading out over the cot like a peacock's plume. As he came to her, it felt surreal, as if her whole life after the destruction of their village had been leading up to this moment. She felt her dressing gown being slowly slid up her bare thighs and she shivered with cold and anticipation.
"Do not be afraid, Mari,” he whispered to her, when he could feel her trembling beneath him.
After their bodies had joined many times over, they lay together in the still night. Marisol willed herself not to cry as she felt his arm reach around her and grasp her hand a little too tightly, then it relaxed as Colin drifted off to sleep.
The morning light shone on Marisol's
Jonathon Smith—seven years old—disappeared from the rock quarry on the outskirts of Rhinebeck, 12 Octobre 1902.
Anne Hathaway—three—disappeared from her own bedroom, presumably out the window on 17 Octobre 1902.
"Wait a minute...” breathed Raena. “That's the inn's address. Another disappearance from behind the inn.” She quickly scanned the article and dialed her cell phone.
"Sam, how's it going at city hall?"
"Okay. I'm finding a lot of the old case files, thanks to Cody. What do you need, Rae?"
"Did you look up Eva Entwhistle?"
"No, she's further down on my list of disappearances from that year. Why?"
"She lived at the inn. Her parents must have been the innkeepers."
"I'll try to find the case file and ask Cody to make a copy on the sly for me."
"I'll see you at home."
* * * *
Marisol awoke at midnight, looked around her quarters, and found all was silent in the cottage. She reached under her bed and removed a white dressing gown and pulled it over her head. As she slipped out of bed, she faced the mirror. She unwound her braids, which hung past her waist, releasing her hair into lustrous waves. She donned a balaclava and slipped out of the servants’ quarters unnoticed.
She walked down a twisted path to a clearing by the lake. The moonlight was so bright, she had no trouble negotiating the way. This evening, there was a blue moon, the second time it was full during the month. Many of the fables she had listened to as a child included this moon, especially when a significant event was about to take place. What she saw next took her breath away. Colin stood in the clearing, his dark hair blowing gently in the night's breeze, and his dark gaze fixed upon her intently. He was breathtakingly handsome, even painfully so, and beside him stood the clergyman.
As she reached him, he held out his hand for her to take, never removing his gaze from her.
"I thought this day would never come,” he whispered quietly. “For since I was just a mere lad, I have dreamed of us becoming one."
They knelt before the clergyman and Colin slipped his hand into his tunic and withdrew two shining silver bands.
The man of God said, “Do you take her as your wife, Colin? Keeping you only to her?"
"Yes,” was his only reply, and Mari saw that his eyes were bright with tears.
"And you, Marisol, do you take Colin for your husband? Keeping you only to him?"
"Yes.” Marisol felt weak with joy and fear—the fear of losing something she treasured as much as life.
Colin placed the ring on her finger; its silver surface gleamed in the moonlight. Marisol was moved with the memory of Colin's mother removing the band and polishing it one evening as she sat by the hearth in their home next to Colin's sister playing with her dolls. His sister couldn't have been more than five years old.
"Papa's is too large for my hand; we will deal with it when life has improved for us."
He swept up his wife and carried her across the field of millet by the lake to a covered wagon. Neither of them took any note of the clergyman's departure. Colin gingerly helped her into the wagon and then deftly slipped inside as well. Inside was a cot, a lantern and a few blankets. She lay down on the cot and stared at him, her long hair now spreading out over the cot like a peacock's plume. As he came to her, it felt surreal, as if her whole life after the destruction of their village had been leading up to this moment. She felt her dressing gown being slowly slid up her bare thighs and she shivered with cold and anticipation.
"Do not be afraid, Mari,” he whispered to her, when he could feel her trembling beneath him.
After their bodies had joined many times over, they lay together in the still night. Marisol willed herself not to cry as she felt his arm reach around her and grasp her hand a little too tightly, then it relaxed as Colin drifted off to sleep.
The morning light shone on Marisol's
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