Chapter nine
Katrina came back with a slice of apple pie the following evening.
At first, the Horseman didn’t dare to hope, but she came again and again until a week and a half had slipped by like a dream.
The nights became shorter, and the anticipation kept him awake when he needed to sleep, his legs shifting restlessly until the sun lowered in the sky.
He had something to look forward to in his lonely existence—some light within the darkness. The spectacle of waiting became addictive, but her presence and friendly conversation were even more so.
Some nights, she visited for only a few minutes to review names she found in church records.
Others, she stayed for an hour to talk about her day and the following mishaps.
The Horseman had little to contribute to the conversation, but he enjoyed sitting and listening to her chat, her hands gesturing animatedly as she spoke.
“Mother bought me a new bonnet the other day,” Katrina had told him the third night. “It’s a beautiful thing with silk ribbons, but it blew right off my head in the wind. I chased it around like a madwoman at the market until it plopped on Gunpowder’s head!” she said, giggling.
On the eighth night, she came to him looking cross as a pleased Smudge trotted behind her.
“This ball of mischief slept on the sack of flour. The next thing I knew, little ghostly white paw prints were tracked all over my bed! He left a trail of flour from the kitchens to the second floor,” she said, shaking her head in disapproval.
Tonight, the Horseman couldn’t stop staring at Katrina’s lips. The way they formed words and lifted into an enchanting, mesmerizing smile, her eyes sparkled when she spoke of Marta’s hot chocolate. Then, the smile vanished.
“Brom attempted to visit me today,” she informed him, twisting a leaf between her delicate fingers that she found by her skirts.
Katrina had a penchant for sitting on the ground, but he didn’t mind.
A frown painted her perfectly shaped mouth, and the Horseman found that he also disliked the mention of Brom.
An uncomfortable sourness sat in his stomach when he thought of the man vying for her attention.
“I saw him coming up the property with a bouquet.” She sighed, but a smirk replaced her grimace. “However, Bart, our goose, had escaped his pen. He charged Brom, his wings spread out for battle.”
The Horseman’s grin widened at the image of the goose challenging the large man. “Then what happened?” he asked.
“Brom stood his ground, thinking he could assert his dominance over Bart, but let’s just say…” She paused, her hands flying to her mouth to stifle her snickers. “Brom won’t be wearing that coat anytime soon.”
He chuckled, finding her laughter contagious.
When her giggles subsided, she said, “Oh, if only Bart could chase him away forever.”
The Horseman frowned. “Why must you marry him if you don’t wish to?” he asked.
Katrina had briefly explained to him that she had an unwanted suitor, but she hadn’t discussed why she tolerated the man. When her face fell, he regretted asking the question.
“I will be twenty-five in December and expected to marry soon. I’m reaching the limit of marriageable status. My parents wish to ensure our ancestral estate passes on to my husband,” she said.
“But you don’t have any…” he hesitated over the word, dreading the answer, “affection for him?”
“No,” she scoffed. “Sometimes I wish I did to make this easier. But I do not love him.”
Something within him loosened. A curious weight lifted from his chest—one he didn’t quite understand, but he savored it all the same.
Katrina exhaled a deep sigh before reaching for the journal beside her.
“I suppose I’ve chatted too long. We should probably see if this new set of names is familiar to you,” she said, opening the book. Her finger ran down a page before stopping. “Are you Abel Smit?” she asked.
He shook his head, the name not sparking anything within him. No flicker of recognition. No light or warmth. Nothing.
“He was a barber’s son who passed forty years ago, apparently. How about Jacobus Van der Linden?”
“No, the name does not inspire anything,” he admitted.
Katrina listed off a few dozen more names, but each one did not give him the sense of belonging he sought. No memories surfaced in his mind, and Katrina’s shoulders slumped.
“That’s the last of the names and their backgrounds,” she admitted, closing the journal.
Fatigue was etched on her features as she rubbed her temples.
Standing, she hugged the book close to her chest. “I’m not sure how far back in time I should go with these names.
Maybe you’re much, much older than we think. ”
“Perhaps I’m not from here at all,” he suggested. He motioned for her to walk with him, hoping it would help soothe her troubled thoughts.
“Then why would you be drawn here?” she asked. “Why would you feel a connection to me?”
In truth, he felt his connection with her went longer than the fourteen years he’d been cursed. “I suppose I was drawn to your light,” he settled on.
She froze and blinked at him. A rosy tint stained her cheeks. “My light?”
“You have this glow,” he said, gesturing a palm in a circular motion in her direction. “A… soft radiance I cannot ignore. Since I laid eyes on you, I’ve been unable to turn away.”
The more he spoke, the more her cheeks darkened against the warm, pumpkin light. She resumed walking and averted her gaze.
“Usually, the first thing men notice about me is my beauty,” she said lightly.
“You are beautiful,” he whispered. “But that is not what lured me to you.”
Again, her steps paused as she peered up at him. Her eyes sparkled, making his heart thump beneath his chest. If Katrina thought he was dead, he had a beating heart to disprove her theory. It fluttered alive like a songbird soaring in the skies.
“I don’t hear that often,” she whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
His brows pinched together. “You should,” he said, “you have been generous enough to try to help me restore my memories. You could have screamed and fled, but you did not see me as a monster. That is more precious to me than physical beauty…” he halted.
His breath caught at how the moonlight bathed her blonde hair like a gentle halo.
“Though… I think it makes your beauty all the more radiant.”
Katrina’s mouth parted and then shut within the same breath. Pressing her lips together, she trained her eyes on the road as they walked side by side through the forest. He wasn’t sure if he had said something to upset her, but she did not excuse herself to return home.
The shadowy trees swayed, and red, crisp leaves danced in the wind. They stopped in a glade, and Katrina looked up, her eyes glittering like the stars. The Horseman didn’t know what this feeling was. What was the strange tingling awareness—the security he felt in her presence?
He’d been lost and alone for so many years, but he didn't feel such things when she was at his side.
“How often do you look at the stars?” she asked.
He tilted his head in question. “Every night,” he said.
“Do you think people are watching us? Angels?”
The Horseman followed her gaze and took in the night sky.
He pondered her question, wondering if angelic beings could watch over a creature of darkness like himself.
After all those years, he had doubted his belief in a higher power.
How could such a being exist if they could leave him in this wretched state? Alone with no memory and no home.
But the moment Katrina handed him the flask of hot chocolate, something inside him shifted. Perhaps angels existed after all.
“Yes,” he whispered, glancing at her face filled with curiosity and wonder, glowing against a moonlit glade. “I believe there’s something greater than us out there.”