Stella awoke and the first thing she noticed was the emptiness of her apartment. Had it all been a dream? She was hung over and giddy. She'd never been with anyone before and she certainly hadn't pegged herself as bisexual. She showered, brushed her teeth, dressed, and made herself breakfast. Lately, she really hadn't been feeling herself. She tidied her place up and began checking her emails. Her boss had agreed that the latest story she'd forced herself to finish just wasn't right for their company to publish. He sent her a few more manuscripts and she checked the rest of her messages. The lawyer said he would still be showing up as planned. Aimes sent a message to say she got caught up with double shifts. She junked a few spam emails. She didn't want a bigger cock or a Russian Bride, thank you very much.
The afternoon lulled by as she read through her work and knitted the rest of her shawl. She still felt so bad as to never want to drink again. Amelia would call her a lightweight. Unable to concentrate, she found her mind wandering. She thought about her grocery list, bills she needed to pay, everyday things flowed through her mind and distracted her from her work. She drank cup after cup of coffee, hoping to feel a little more alive.
She thought about her mother, remembering a memory she never knew she had. She had gotten up from her bed, very, very late at night and her Mom was gone. She walked outside, thinking she would find her, but she didn't. Instead, she heard singing from the woods. Stepping cautiously through the forest, she came to a clearing. Her mother, Viola, and several other women seemed to be praying through song. They all were pale, glowing in the full moon and seemed perfectly at peace. Stella remembered not being able to take her eyes away. She remembered a man telling her she should be in bed. He seemed to appear at her side. He lifted her up and carried her so fast through the forest that she barely had time to breathe. He had earthy green eyes and dark hair. Something about him made her feel safe and with him in the cottage, she remembered falling asleep quickly.
Shaking herself from the daydream, she got up and stretched. She still wasn't allowed to move her ankle or foot too much and that made her feel stiff and almost trapped. It was nearly time for the attorney to arrive and she made herself another cup of coffee. Why had she thought about that evening? Did it even happen? She found herself doubting a lot of things recently. Not least of all, herself. Some strange man with green eyes carrying her from her mother worshipping in the woods seemed a little far-fetched. Her Mom wasn't very religious, at least, Stella couldn't remember her being of one faith or another.
A knock on the door came right on time. She let a short man in with glasses and snowy hair. He had a box and a briefcase with him. She took his coat and hung it up for him and showed him to the sofa. He sat down silently and she was surprised to hear a deep southern accent roll out of his mouth.
"Stella, I have here a parcel that is meant to be delivered to you on your twenty fourth birthday. That is next week, is it not?" he drawled.
"Yes, it is, I guess I had forgotten. When you have no family, birthdays aren't much to celebrate," she said.
"Well perhaps you might find something in here worth being happy about. It's the deed to your family home, a few letters and I'm guessing heirlooms. I was instructed not to open the box. I just need you to sign here, here, and here and I'll be on my way," he held a pen and a stack of papers to her.
"My family home? Letters?" Stella paused, overwhelmed.
"Yes, Ma'am. They were left in my care nearly twenty years ago and I am a man of my word, go on and sign, now."
Feeling confused and shocked, Stella signed the papers and the man bid her farewell in an old fashioned way and let himself out. He seemed to be awfully eager to get on with whatever he had to do. She looked over the deed to the cottage and it's land, about 300 acres, and couldn't quite bring herself to look at anything else. She suddenly felt alone and for the first time in years, missed her mother with a hollow ache that seized her throat. Her apartment felt as though it were threatening to close in on her. She put her cold hands up to her face and tried to compose herself.
She paced back and forth and wanted to scream. It wasn't quite dark enough for her to leave and the idea of it was driving her mad. She had to get out, get away from the box and it's secrets and the letters and their words. She felt certain that if she tried to read them now, it would be like trying to read some exotic language, not spoken in centuries. She paced some more, and then she went in her room to get dressed. Something had taken her emotions over and she didn't quite feel like she was in control of herself. She didn't know where she would go, but she had to go. Now. She slipped on some dark jeans and a silvery tunic. She pulled her red hair up into a messy ballet bun. As soon as she felt she could without burning, she burst from her front door like a race horse in the Kentucky Derby.
The frigid blast was welcome and it cleared her head up some. She skipped down the stairs as fast as she dared on her crutches and walked. She walked and felt herself becoming angrier and that anger was a comfort. It was an emotion she could recognize and control. It was like all the swirling vortexes of undefined feelings were melding together inside her into a ball of frustration and mad and she breathed through it. She focused on her breathing until she realized she wasn't quite sure where she was.
