Molly had gotten up early that morning to start her drive down to the Bed and Breakfast. Her journey was taking her to an old country home found while surfing the WEB. She loved these romantic locations deep in the countryside. This one was especially interesting having been built in the mid 1800s by a wealthy southern farmer and his wife. The house reminded her of her grandparent's home and a host of good childhood memories. The fact that the WEB site hinted the house was haunted also tweaked her imagination.
Molly had made their reservations months earlier. It was a popular spot and they were lucky to get this weekend reservation since it was late October and the trees were scheduled to show their true colors that week. The drive would take her eight hours by herself; her husband was planning to fly into a nearby airport from Chicago and join her later that night.
What concerned her most was the storm. Last night, when Molly talked to her spouse, the conversation quickly turned to the hurricane churning out over the Atlantic. Yesterday the forecast had the storm staying out at sea and slowly moving northeast. Using that information they decided to make the trip. Now, five hours into the journey, the weather prediction had changed and the storm was moving quickly northwest, over land. Molly frowned as she watched the raindrops collect on her windshield.
Molly continued down the interstate, hoping that the weather forecast would be wrong. Two hours later the car veered off the state road and slowed down to negotiate the winding country back roads as the rain intensified.
Molly found the turnoff to the B&B without any problems. At first the road appeared to be good, but it quickly tightened and lost the smooth asphalt the auto had traveled on all day. The car felt like it was dropping, as in to a valley, as it moved. Coming to a turn in the road, the automobile moved slowly around the bend, and then stopped. In front of her was a bridge, but it was unlike any bridge she had seen before. What caught her attention was the lack of railing on the bridge. It was a solid cement bridge poured over a series of metal cylinders which allowed the river to flow under and wide enough to handle only one vehicle at a time. Molly put the car into gear and slowly moved across the bridge while holding her breath.
On the other side, Molly felt the car climbing as it moved away from the river. The old country dirt road was wide enough for one vehicle, needing to pass anyone would be tricky. She continued up the road, slowly, cautiously, pausing at each turn, not knowing what might be coming down the other direction. Finally a hard right in the road brought the auto to a large metal open gate. Stopping at the gate, she let her eyes take in the scene. In the distance a large southern style farmhouse came into view, Molly smiled.
From what Molly could see, it looked exactly like the pictures posted on the WEB. Three stories, old, large with a porch running completely around the house. She did love these old structures and knew that the two night stay they had planned was going to be great.
Molly drove up to the front of the old house and parked. It was four o'clock and she had had enough driving for the day. Getting out of the auto she ran to the porch while holding her arms over her head to deflect the rain. Standing on the porch Molly shook her head in an attempt to remove the droplets that had collected in her hair. Looking up she found two large oak doors. She opened one door and walked in.
To her right was a large sitting room decorated with furniture manufactured around the turn of the century. Molly preferred the old furnishings. Her eyes continued to survey the room, finally locating what she was searching for - a reception desk. After walking over to the desk and finding no one in sight, she tapped the receptionist bell.
The sound of the bell brought a woman from a backroom. The woman looked to be slightly older than Molly. Smiling she walked up to the desk. "Can I help you?"
"I have a two night reservation in the name of Peterson." Molly answered.
"Oh yes, Mr. and Mrs. Peterson, I see your reservation in the book. We thought that you might not be coming due to the storm. But here you are, and we are glad to have you. If you would, would you sign the registrar while I locate the keys?"
"I am expecting a call. Could you check to see if there are any messages for me?"
The woman turned to study the wooden boxes that lined the wall behind her. After looking closely into one box, she turned and said. "Sorry, I don't see any messages for you. If we get one later I will have it brought to you." Molly signed the book and as she looked up was met again with the smiling face of the older woman. The woman extended her hand. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Becky. My husband and I own this B&B and if there is anything we can do to make your stay more pleasant, please let us know."
"I am glad to meet you as well." She shook Becky's hand, "I'm Molly."
"Follow me and I will take you up to your suite and show it to you. Is your husband out at the car?"
"No, he is planning to fly in today and join me later."
"I do hope he makes it before the river rises any more."
"Speaking of the river, I couldn't help but notice that bridge?"
"Yes, it is a bit strange isn't it. Mind you, it's much better now we have the bridge. It use to be a ford years ago, over time it just got worn down so that crossing the river became harder. Since they built the bridge it's been much better."
"But it has no sides, isn't that dangerous?"
"Not at all, and it means the river doesn't dam up behind the bridge when it's in flood. Of course when it's really bad we lose the bridge for a few hours, but that's far better than being cut off for most of the winter."
"Are we okay with this storm coming?"
"Oh yes, this old house has weathered many a storm since it was built. It will protect you and keep you safe while you stay here." She answered with an understanding gaze. "Follow me please."
