6. Iris
SIX
Iris
My eyes crack open with caked-on sleep as the sun comes through my window and paints my face in a soft glow.
I feel refreshed and better than I have since first arriving in Sleepy Hollow.
There are answers to be found, truths to be uncovered.
While the townspeople seem to want to avoid the issue at hand, I get the feeling the head of the Van Tassel family wants some form of control out of keeping the curse alive. The connection lies there. It must.
I get up and go through my morning routine. My shower is peaceful and warm, washing away all my buzzing thoughts. They roll down my back and into the drain as I settle into a carefree state of mind.
The Horseman wanted to see me again, and see me he shall. I have wicked plans for when the bells toll. My thoughts are soon replaced with images of having him in every carnal way I want.
I turn the steaming water off and feel around for the towel on the wall rack.
Its soft coziness touches my fingers and I grab it, trying to retain as much heat as possible as I wrap it around me.
The bathroom mirror is fogged over, and I reach up to wipe it away.
Something in the background captures my attention.
A shadow? I jump back and turn around, chest heaving with panting breaths.
Nothing. It’s just an empty bathroom and me.
I make quick work of the mirror and don’t read too much into the shadowy figure. After I run a brush through my wet hair, I wrap it up in the towel to dry. My outfit is an easy choice: leggings, a sweater, and my hiking boots. I’m going on a little adventure today.
Stepping off the steps of the inn, I realize I dressed in the right clothing.
Despite the sun being out, it’s cool and breezy.
I sling my bag across my body and march down the main road of town.
I have nary an idea of where this beloved estate may be, but I figure it can’t be too hard to track down in a town with one stoplight.
I pass by the coffee shop, but I don’t see Kurt loitering around. I quicken my pace in case he’s inside. I don’t want to be spotted sneaking my way to his family’s home. His home? Does he still live with them?
Moreover, after last night, I want to avoid him as much as I can today.
He doesn’t share the same sentiment about the Headless Horseman, and I doubt I have the capability of changing his mind.
Realistically, it’s just opening your heart to the injustice Brom received.
But in turn, that means going against his family for Kurt.
I make a mental note to test the waters of changing his mind at a later date.
This is still too fresh for me to play my hand.
I pass by the pathway that leads to the bridge where Brom appears every night and I wonder what keeps him from crossing. Though, I guess that isn’t a wholly factual statement. He crossed it for me that night. But still, does he roam the town?
About half a mile later, I come to the historic Victorian home we visited yesterday.
It’s closed today, but the answers I want don’t lie there.
Someone, possibly a caretaker, steps out onto the porch and locks the door behind them.
They make their way down the walkway and startle when they look up and see me.
“Hello,” I say politely, making myself seem small and unassuming.
“I was wondering if you could help me? I’m a little lost, which seems crazy to say in such a small town like this.
I’m meeting Kurt Van Tassel at the Van Tassel estate, but he didn’t give me directions. Could you tell me where I need to go?”
She seems wary but loosens her shoulders before answering me.
“This historic home is on the property of the estate. You just take a left at the stop sign and continue until you see the gates of the Van Tassel manor. You can’t miss it.
” Her voice is quiet, like she’s unsure if she should be telling me this at all.
She’s right to feel that way. I just lied to her after all.
I thank her for her time before I meander down the sidewalk.
Reaching the stop sign like she said, I go left.
This part of the street looks the same as the others, lined with beautiful turning trees.
It hits me then that I have no real plan for what I’m doing here, and clearly my only excuse is to cling to Kurt’s name. My steps don’t falter though.
My feet carry me to the wrought-iron fencing’s edge, and as I reach out to touch it, I question how long it’s stood here. The fence extends a good way beyond the actual manor, but I can see the house from here. It’s old but remodeled for modernity.
I hear a car approach from behind me, but it doesn’t pass by.
“Iris?” Kurt’s voice cuts through the silence.
“Kurt?” I turn and try to play this off as best I can. “You know, I honestly doubted any of the locals had a car for your one stoplight.” It seems to work as he laughs me off.
“We have cars, silly. What are you doing out here?”
“Well, I realized I haven’t really explored, so I laced up my hiking boots and got to walking.”
“I see.” He nods. “Do you know where you are?”
“Not exactly,” I lie. “I know I passed the historical center, but other than that I’m aimlessly wandering.”
“Well, get in. You’ve ended up at my parents’ house.” He unlocks the car, and I stand there without moving. Do I want to know where he’s now directing this? It will be good to get a closer look at all the things that could possibly be in that house, but it will also come at a cost.
“Oh, no, I couldn’t intrude on their Saturday.” I take a step back.
“It’s not an intrusion. We’re about to have our weekly lunch.” So he doesn’t live at the manor. Interesting, I note. “Come on, it’s supposed to rain soon. You’ll be better off in the manor than stuck in the storm.”
“Okay,” I agree hesitantly, trying to hide the back and forth going on in my mind.
I’m about to meet the Van Tassels and crash their lunch plans.
I’ll be within searching distance of rooms. What’s an accidental left instead of a right when looking for the bathroom?
It’s easy to get lost in such a big house.
Kurt walks me up the steps and onto the porch. It’s a wraparound that’s wide and filled with beautiful outdoor patio furniture. A swing sits to my left at the very end of the walkway.
“Many of my summers passed by on that swing.” Kurt looks over the property with fond reminiscing. How long has it been since he lived here?
He knocks on the door, and the sound takes me out of my thoughts as it opens to a petite blonde woman standing in the frame.
“Kurt,” she says sweetly before her eyes land on me. “Who is this young woman?” She’s not rude or taken aback by my presence like the townspeople, but all the same I’m hesitant to introduce myself.
“This is Iris Crane. She’s a folklore professor I met a few days ago at the coffee shop.” He graciously leaves out how that meeting turned into a coffee shower.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I extend my hand for hers. Thin fingers wrap around it and she lightly shakes.
“Lovely as always to meet one of Kurt’s friends. Will you be staying for lunch? We have a wonderful spread being cooked for us.”
“I wouldn’t want to impose,” I say, trying to get out of it one last time. But it doesn’t work.
“Nonsense, there’s never any trouble with guests coming by on Saturday. The more the merrier!” She steps back, gesturing us forward. “Come in, come in.”
The hospitality is refreshing, and I see where Kurt gets it from.
He wasn’t put off by my presence either.
A battle of conflicting feelings wages inside me.
On one hand, the Van Tassels have been the only ones to welcome me warmly anywhere, but on the other, they’re at the center of the curse surrounding Brom.
They’re somehow responsible for the strife and grief he’s experienced over countless decades.
The home smells delightful, and I don’t doubt the wonderful lunch to be had.
“Come and relax in the sitting room. I’d love to know more about your job.”
“So, tell me, Iris, what is it that you do?” His mother is a kind woman, and this doesn’t feel like prying.
“I study folklores of many cultures and teach at Indiana University. I get to travel and meet all kinds of people to help my studies and lessons.” She moves a pitcher of water and a glass to the center of the table, and I pour myself a drink. “Thank you for your hospitality on such short notice.”
“Never a problem. So, what brings you to Sleepy Hollow?” I feel the answer is obvious, but nevertheless, I entertain her question.
“The legend of the Headless Horseman,” I admit with anxious trepidation. She doesn’t balk or clutch her very existent pearls.
“As do most travelers. How has that been for you? Have you visited the museum? You know, it sits on the outskirts of our property.”
“I have. Kurt was gracious enough to show me around and take me there early on. However, I didn’t know it extended onto your property.” The lie is smooth on my tongue.
“Kurt, my boy!” A voice booms from my right. I set the glass down and turn to see an older version of Kurt walk through the sitting room. “And who is this lovely young woman?” He’s vibrant and charismatic. There’s a reason he has a hold over the town in some capacity.
“I’m Iris Crane. Kurt and I are friends, and he graciously invited me to lunch today.”
“That’s my boy, you know? Always looking to make friends.”
“Dad,” Kurt says with an exasperated tone as he wipes his hand down his face. His cheeks have reddened. Is he embarrassed?
“He’s been very kind. All of you have, unlike the rest of the people I’ve met so far.”
“Being an out-of-towner has that effect. What do you say we move this discussion into the dining room? Food is ready.”
The meal is lovely, and I’m starting to become overwhelmed by their friendliness. Is it because I was originally here for less than stellar reasons? I’m not a liar or a manipulator at heart, but there is something to solving this mystery that has slowly changed my demeanor.
“So, Iris, how long are you in town?” Mr. Van Tassel asks as I take a bit of mashed potatoes. Swallowing, I think it over.
“I’m not really sure. I never have a set timeframe when I travel for work, just a general sense of when the research is done. I would hazard a guess of probably another week?”
“Well, I do hope you get all the answers you’re looking for. She’s researching the Headless Horseman, honey,” his mother explains, patting her husband’s arm. His eye twitches, though his smile remains the same. Did that strike a chord with him?
I offer quickly to recover, “I’m writing a book and figured I’d do the fictional tale justice by visiting the source of the ghastly legend.”
“Legends and myths, tall tales of the night. Have you been spooked yet?” Kurt looks at me as his father’s question settles over the table. He knows.
“Not at all,” I say with a saccharine tone in my voice. “My time here researching has been lovely, though uneventful.” The table takes a pause and resumes eating. I take my opportunity.
“Mrs. Van Tassel?”
“Oh, please, honey, call me Karen.” Her hand waves through the air like we’re old pals, and I should have known better than to call her Mrs. anything.
“Karen, I was wondering if I could use your restroom?” I take my cloth napkin and dab at the corners of my mouth.
“Of course, dear. It’s up the stairs, down the main hall, and it’s the last door on the left.”
“Thank you. Everyone, if you’ll excuse me.” Forks return to plates and quiet conversation about their week continues.
I walk the expansive rooms and stairs before finding the main hallway Karen mentioned.
Doors are closed, and instinct takes over.
Thunder rolls in the distance as the forewarned storm comes through.
It feels ominous as I stalk the hallway.
I don’t have enough time to check all the rooms on the floor, but the ones here might prove to hold an answer I can come back to later.
I try the first door on the left, and to my disappointment, it’s locked. On the right, the doorknob turns, but it’s merely a large linen closet. Is it possible these are just pointless spaces?
The second room on the left is a sparse bedroom. It’s outfitted with the usual things, but it lacks personalization. For guests perhaps? I close the door and try the second and last room on the right. It opens, but I’m stopped.
“Was your intent to scour my parents’ home?” I nearly jump out of my skin at Kurt’s words. I didn’t hear his approach at all.
“Kurt, you scared the shit out of me.”
“What are you really doing up here, Iris?”
“I’m looking for the bathroom. So far, I’ve found a closet and a bedroom. Do you think I’m searching for relics in a home I’ve been so graciously invited into? Do you think so little of me?” Now I’ve become a gaslighter, too.
“I don’t know what to think. I hardly know you.” My back straightens at that. So, I’m a stranger and the hospitality is a farce. “I think it best you leave after lunch.”
“Me too.” I nod and turn around, pretending like I didn’t remember the last door on this side of the hallway was a bathroom. I sigh in mock relief and step inside.
Kurt Van Tassel knows something, but will he be an accomplice to my plans or a hindrance to be dealt with?