Chapter 9
The long stretch of corridor is quiet, my footsteps muffled by the thick carpet runner.
I find myself pulled back to the music room again.
Maybe it’s because one of the strongest memories I have of this house is Mum in this room, laughing and playing the piano.
The door is already slightly ajar, and I step inside.
I’m surprised to see Ichabod is still here. I thought Toby’s music lesson must have ended hours ago, while I was reading, but here’s Professor Crane packing sheet music into his briefcase. He lifts his head as I enter the room.
“Katrina. What a nice surprise,” he smiles.
“Yes, very surprising to find me in my own home, Professor Crane.”
He chuckles. “Ah, and I thought you were determined that Sleepy Hollow wasn’t for you. I’m glad you’re starting to think of it as home. And please, call me Ichabod.”
That makes me pause. Had I just referred to this place as home?
Christ. I definitely don’t want that. Sleepy Hollow is not my home.
If this is the effect Ichabod is having on me, maybe I should back the hell out of this room right now.
I feel drawn to him. He’s definitely the most interesting thing about this place.
Aside from the murders, of course, although that’s more terrifying than interesting.
But something about him does make me want to know more.
But I do not want to stay in this town.
As he finishes putting the last of his papers into his overflowing briefcase, he indicates the piano next to him. “Do you play?”
I flex my fingers instinctively. I haven’t played for a long time and I’m sure I’ll be rusty. I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of Ichabod — an actual piano teacher, and a talented one, according to Brom. And, let’s face it, I just don’t want to look stupid in front of a hot, older guy.
But I find myself moving towards the piano. “I used to.”
I sit on the bench, and he joins me, his knee close enough to brush mine.
I lay my fingertips against the white keys, resting them there for a moment, deciding what to play.
I test a few notes out tentatively. As soon as I start, I find muscle memory kicks in and my fingers are flying across the ivories, playing a piece by Chopin that I learned a long time ago.
I can sense Ichabod next to me, watching the way my fingers move.
The heat from his body next to mine radiates between us.
Slowly, he lifts his hands to the keys and joins me, matching my rhythm. Our fingers dance across the keyboard, meeting but not quite touching. Together, we finish the song as a duet.
As my hands still, Ichabod laughs gently. “I can see you won’t be needing my services any time soon.”
I turn my head, blushing slightly at the compliment and proximity between us. I can smell his aftershave, woody but sweet.
“I wouldn’t say that…” I reply, suddenly unsure where to look.
He moves slightly on the bench, so he can face me, but it creates more space between us, and I find myself disappointed.
“Did your mother teach you play?” he asks, his voice quieter now.
Tears prickle the backs of my eyes. Oh god, don’t cry. I just promised myself I wouldn’t do anything embarrassing.
I nod.
“I’m sorry she’s no longer with you,” he says.
I shift in my seat. “Thank you. You didn’t know her, did you?”
“No, the two of you had left before I came back to Sleepy Hollow. But I know what it’s like to lose someone and return to a place you wouldn’t choose for yourself. It doesn’t feel like coming home at all.”
So it was true. He had come back to town after losing his father. I smile at him sadly, and a level of understanding I haven’t felt since my mother’s funeral passes between us.
“Are we both trying to outrun our ghosts?” I say, barely above a whisper.
“Maybe,” he replies, his eyes searching my face as if I’m an intricate piece of sheet music that he’s trying to read. “But I wouldn’t mind running with you.”
I should move away. I should not be here, not this close. But I stay, caught between the pull of him and the weight of everything I don’t want to feel.
“I thought my dad might be a bit happier to have me back here,” I finally admit.
“We haven’t spent any time together at all yet, except for one dinner, and that was…
” I don’t even know how to describe what that was.
“He’s acting strangely, and now a second person has been killed, and I just don’t know what to think about any of it. ”
There’s grief in my chest, and something hotter, sharper, flickering beneath it. Attraction feels like a betrayal. But so does ignoring it.
“Katrina,” his voice is low, weighted with concern, urgency and something else I can’t detect. “There’s something happening in this town. Something dark. And I —”
He stops, his eyes fixed on mine.
“I need you to be careful,” he finishes.
He leans in, ever so slightly, and his gaze flickers to my lips, then back to my eyes. I know what’s about to happen. I think I want it.
But I hear footsteps in the corridor outside and look over my shoulder as Meredith appears in the doorway, which is still slightly open.
“Ah Professor Crane. I didn’t realise you were still here. Is everything all right?” She smiles lightly.
Ichabod pulls away from me and stands. “Yes, Mrs Van Tassel, thank you. It turns out your stepdaughter is an excellent pianist herself. But I must get going.”
As he leaves the room, his gaze flickers and catches mine. Whatever was about to happen still held in his eyes.