Chapter 26 Paradigm
Paradigm
Lydia Brown
It’s two miles to home, up Bear Wallow Road, through the opening beneath the parkway and onto Crabtree Road.
Once past the white church, I pull into a steep field of wild grass and follow the narrow dirt road that zigzags to the top with Kate following.
We park and walk the path into the wood, me with the dog food and my flashlight, Kate with her backpack, and Gus the box of incidentals. We walk single file.
“How did you find this place, Lydia?”
“Part luck and part destiny. A few years ago, my husband and I lived in Asheville but wanted a retreat with a view. One of our weekend hunts brought us to this back road. We found a faded For Sale sign that had fallen in the weeds and took this trail to two abandoned buildings. The view at the bluff was what captivated us.”
“Does he live here, too?”
“No. Jack died two years ago.” I say impossible words that always lead to an awkward silence.
Beneath regal pines we pass mossy boulders and blooming rhododendrons with fat pink blossoms aglow in the dusk.
Then the outline of the structures comes into view, backlit by traces of the sunset.
Gus and I lead Kate to the stone guesthouse perched on the edge of the cliff a hundred yards from the main cottage.
Inside, I click on soft lights, drop the bag of dog food at the door, and take the box of things Gus carries so she can leave.
The dog curls up under the oak table on the hooked rug while Kate turns full circle to see a persimmon-colored sofa facing a stone fireplace, a large matted photo of a mysterious glen hanging above the mantel, and narrow bookcases framing each side of the fireplace.
An oversize rocker sits beside a brass reading lamp, and the side table is large enough for a book and a mug of tea or coffee.
The kitchen has a small electric stove and refrigerator.
A coffeepot, two mugs, and bowl of apples sit on the butcher-block countertop.
And tucked in a nook is a comfortable bed covered in a vintage quilt and stacks of down pillows.
I say, “The bathroom is through that door. It too has stunning views.”
“It’s perfect, Lydia,” she whispers. “Absolutely perfect. Was it like this when you bought it?”
“Heavens no,” I chuckle. “Both the cottage and this structure were sound but in need of a lot of work. Jack and I spent every weekend for a year doing repairs. When the hard work was done, he had a heart attack sitting at his desk at the university. It was so unfair.”
Kate sympathizes. “Do you find it hard to be here or a comfort?”
“A comfort really. His work here was a labor of love. I see his talent everywhere. Now this stone house…we were told it was built last century. We were also told that locals believed this wood was haunted. Buyers were scared away. It was the reason the property came at a bargain price.”
Kate’s eyes widen. “Haunted?”
“That was the story, and when we started spending weekends here we heard moans and whispers and creaks that sounded spooky until we realized it was only the wind crossing the canyon. It hummed through the rocks and cracks in the chimney and the poorly fitted windows. The more we repaired, the fewer ghosts we heard, until now they’re gone. ”
“I don’t like haunted places.” Kate’s voice is tight.
“But this place isn’t haunted. It’s all imagined. In truth, I had hoped to find ghosts here. Would welcome seeing ghosts.”
“Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“I’ll save my personal story for another day but trust me. Your stay here will hold nothing supernatural or frightening. If you hear a moan, it’s only the wind. But I do want to warn you. Be prepared to be awed when the sun comes up. The view is stunning. Will this do for your new home, Kate?”
She shakes her head and grins. “You know where I’ve been living.
I collect drinking water from a spring, use an outhouse that has spiderwebs, and cook simple meals on a woodstove.
By those standards, these accommodations are pure luxury.
Thank you. And thank you for caring about Birdie’s books.
I honestly don’t know why she left them to me. ”
“I can hazard a guess.”
“Then enlighten me, please.”
“I don’t think Birdie wanted her books to stay out of the public eye forever.
I believe they hold universal knowledge that will benefit a larger audience.
The illuminated manuscript is proof that her legacy spans centuries and goes far beyond the boundaries of Baines Creek.
Somehow, it’s all one big mystery, and you and I are being tasked to find the pieces of this puzzle and put it together.
It’s a privilege to be part of something so important.
May you and your dog be happy here, Kate.
Come for breakfast around eight. I’ll have the coffee on. ”