"Yeah, it's just weird I get all of it. Aunt Karen and I weren't even close." I pulled my mess of auburn hair, fixing it in a bun at the back of my head.
"What do you think you'll find there?"
"I'm not sure what to expect." It was true—I didn't know what I was getting myself into by dropping everything to deal with my dead aunt's affairs. Part of me was thankful for the reprieve from life, from the city. My aunt's death was a shitty reason for a break, but I took it gladly.
Kirstin smirked at me. "I bet you're looking forward to checking out the gay clubs in Seattle."
I snorted. "As if. The property is in bumfuck Washington, out on some island in the water. I doubt I'll find many women out there. Maybe some hippie midwives or someone your sister would find irresistible. You know, total free spirit living off the land and communing with the dead. That sort of thing."
"Oh, shut up. You could find a woman in the middle of the bible belt willing to go down on you."
"You give my sexual prowess far too much credit, my friend," I said. Though, she wasn't kidding. I could be very persuasive and when I found someone I was interested in, I went after her with a sense of determination. I took my conquests serious and Kirstin knew this. It was like a compulsion, a fixation that wouldn't abate until I conquered.
Kirstin stood and stretched, yawning obnoxiously. "I'm out. Don't have too much fun up there. You've got to be at the party on Wednesday."
"You know I will be. Now, get out so I can sleep before I have to leave for the airport."
After I booted her out the door, I finished my packing and went to bed.
The trip went by in a blur, as one would imagine from a middle of the night 'morning' flight. Once I reached SeaTac, I grabbed my rental car and headed out to drive the three hours to the ferry terminal that would get me to the island I needed to get to.
The ferry horn blared overhead, reverberating deep in my chest. Splashes of cool ocean water lifted into the air as the vessel plunged forward on the rocky surf, sprinkling my face and hands as I gripped the railing. It was beautiful; the Puget Sound spread out in front of me with a thin layer of mist clinging to the small islands. I pulled the crumpled paper from my jacket and reread the words I'd nearly memorized on the flight from LAX. It was the faxed copy of my aunt's will, naming me the recipient of her entire estate, which was saying a lot as it was over five acres of land on Orcas Island, Washington. A quick search on a real estate webpage listed the estimated price to be well over one million. Obviously, my first inclination was to sell, not only because I wanted the money but because I couldn't see myself living on a desolate island in the middle of the Puget Sound. Being stuck on an island with the only way off by boat wasn't what I had in mind for my place of residence.
The sun had barely peeked over the Cascades when I boarded the boat and now it was spilling across the water, causing the surface to shimmer as the boat cut through the surf. My flight had come in the day before and instead of starting the travel mid-afternoon, I'd stayed in a hotel in Seattle until early that morning before I set off. I planned to meet with the neighbor of the property around nine and I was set to be right on time, barring any difficulty finding the location. Wind whipped my hair into my face, forcing me to pull it back.
The boat approached the islands and my eyes widened at the beauty of the area. Instantly, I could see why people gave up the bustle of the city for the natural majesty in front of me. Land jutted out, stretching into the waters with varying hues of greens. The ferry pushed forward between two islands, Orcas on the right and Shaw on the left. I was in awe, gazing out at the rocky beaches, perched homes lining the shore's edge, until an announcement overhead alerted the riders of our arrival and to return to our vehicles. I headed back to the rental car below deck and waited.
Once on the island, I followed the GPS on my phone, thanking the internet Gods I had enough service to find my way to the location. Although my aunt invited me to her new home on several occasions, I'd never taken up her offer. The cottage was a petite building surrounded by thick copses of trees and a forest that stretched out for miles behind it. An enclosure larger than the home was set off a few yards from the house, three little alpaca heads poking up from the piles of hay on the ground at the sound of my tires crunching over the rock driveway. I pulled up close to the gray pickup truck in front of the house, peering around, trying to locate the neighbor who'd I'd spoken the previous day.
Tall ivy covered the archway of the porch, trailing down the wooden planks. I stepped up cautiously, a deep foreboding oozing from the small home. The building was in decent shape from the outside despite the overgrowth of foliage around its structure. I knew when I sold, the buyers would probably knock down the cottage to erect a large home or farm, to take advantage of the massive acreage. I shook the irrational fear from me as I turned the doorknob, surprised when it opened without difficulty. Maybe Bert, the neighbor, was inside. We'd spoken on the phone the day before, him telling me he'd be there at seven in the morning to tend to the alpacas. Aunt Karen kept the three animals for her retired pastime of knitting, hand-spinning their fur into yarn for her projects.
The living room was directly as I walked in, the entire space darkened, but I could make out several couches surrounding a large television where Aunt Karen probably spent most of her last days with cancer. Had I known of her illness prior, I would've come and stayed with her until the end. Of course, I felt guilty for not having taken the time out of my life to give her at least a phone call. Scant texts and emails didn't offer us any closeness and now she was gone, leaving everything of hers to my name. She hadn't any children and as the only child of her dead sister, I was the sole next of kin. A massive bookcase was set off by the television and I eyed the bindings.
A shadow dashed across the living room, toying with the rays of sunshine filtering in through the parted curtains. I squinted and moved closer, the anomaly catching my eye. The room lay still, and I held my breath waiting to see a glimpse of it again. A ghost, perhaps, I wondered absently. Again, I didn't believe in the occult but for a moment, I held my breath, waiting to see the darkened shadow move again. The ominous feeling the house exuded had to be responsible for my sudden superstition along with the tarot card reading I'd been given a few days before. Could the shadow be Aunt Karen's ghost? The thought sent a shiver over my spine and I chewed my lip. A squirrel jumped from the beams above my head and I screamed, stepping back. The furry critter hopped across the floor and bolted around me.
"Ah, you must be Brooklyn, Karen's niece?" a loud voice boomed from the open door. I jumped, holding in the shriek that almost left my lungs. I whipped around, meeting the smiling neighbor of the property, his weathered face kind.
"Boy, you scared me worse than the squirrel. Yes, that would be me and you're Bert?"
He nodded, shaking my hand before stepping back out onto the porch. "Bert Ames. I believe we talked on the phone. Glad you made it over. I hate to introduce you to the property this way but one of the girls is sick and I may have to put a call out to the vet." Bert was already walking toward the alpaca pen.
"One of the girls?" I asked, following him down the slight incline to the large fenced area. Two of the alpacas snorted as we got closer. They were adorable, the fur covering their faces in thick tufts. "Oh, my God, they are so cute," I said. Bert laughed, reaching over to open the gate. I followed him, staring in awe at the fluffy creatures.
"They're adorable!" I exclaimed like a little kid. Two of the alpacas walked up to us, one nudging Bert's shoulder and snorting loudly. Another area was fenced off toward the edge of the woods, the space empty. "What's in there?" I asked, pointing to it.
"Used to be goats," Bert answered before drawing my attention to the alpaca. "Hazel hasn't been acting herself," he said, pointing to the rust colored animal, the only one laying in the grass. The others surrounded us, hoping for food, I assumed.
"What's wrong with her?" I asked. The most I knew about animals was isolated to the one time I had a cat as a kid, my scarce knowledge not extending to livestock. We hadn't had the cat very long because it was oddly terrified of me. I didn't even know if alpaca were considered livestock.
Bert knelt beside the animal, petting her head. "She hasn't been eating the last few days and now she's been sitting here since last evening. I've looked her up and down but can't seem to figure out what's wrong with her other than a scab on her leg." Standing, he dusted off his pants and turned to me. "I'm going to head down the country store to grab some psyllium in case it's colic and if that doesn't help, I'll give out a call to the vet."
"Thank you so much for taking over their care after my aunt passed. I'm going to try to find a buyer soon because I don't know anything about alpacas." My gratitude was sincere. If he hadn't been able to tend to them until I got there, they surely would've died.
