Part 4: Real

9.3K 263 102
                                    

As soon as the chains had fallen away, Georgia was through the front doors. She flew down the steps and ran out onto the sprawling lawn, screaming with glee. Ashton quickly followed, calling for his sister to wait for him. For the first time in weeks, the fog and cloud had completely receded, exposing the land that surrounded Spruce Hall to crisp, clean air and a brilliantly bright sun.

Christine held the door for Martin with one hand and used the other to shield her eyes. “You know, I’m kind of relieved. I was beginning to worry,” she said, admiring the sky… It was near-perfect, except for a distant line of grey haze at the horizon.

“Why?” Martin huffed as he squeezed past, cradling an enormous picnic basket in his arms. He lugged it down the stairs, then dropped it on the stone patio that curved around the front entrance. There was a loud clinking as the contents shifted.

“Careful!” she shouted, quickly closing the door behind her and hopping down the steps to join her husband. “There’s glass in there.”

“Sorry,” Martin said, still breathing heavy. “But why were you worried? You didn’t think the kids weren’t going to get enough Vitamin D up here or something?”

“No,” she said, sternly, but a wide grin quickly pulled at her mouth. “Well, okay, maybe. To be honest, I was wondering if I’d ever see the sun again,”

Martin shook his head and gave a half-laugh. “Alright, so it’s not exactly Mexico,” he conceded. His own mouth twitched into a small smile before quickly flattening out again. “But the summer will be better. It’s supposed to be like this all the time in the summer.”

Christine just looked at her husband. He had always been pale, but the time he had spent up here had seemed to have already sapped his skin of all the sun’s warmth he had acquired down south. “I hope so,” she said, at last. “Though, to be honest, I have a hard time believing you.”

“And why’s that?” he asked, his voice light.

“Because, seriously?” Christine said, her voice quiet with awe as she looked around. “This is insane.”

“It really is, isn’t it?” Martin replied, looking out on the lawn. When he had first come up to Spruce Hall to meet with his Aunt Mildred, she had given him the customary tour of the property. The grounds—lush and sprawling though carefully manicured—had been impressive, of course, the front lawn especially. But he had seen it under the cover of cloud… It was completely different under a clear sky. Under the sun, the colours were vibrant, almost glowing.

“Come on then,” Christine said, with a sigh. “Let’s set up before the kids get too carried away.”

Martin’s brow folded together in confusion, so Christine simply pointed ahead. His gaze followed her finger, and found their two children already ankle-deep in the large pond in the middle of the great, green lawn. Its surface was sparkling in the light, casting dancing shapes against the small footbridge that arched over it.

He let out a groan. “Goddammit,” he mumbled to himself, then looked down at the basket at his feet and groaned again.

Christine patted his arm. “Here, let me help you with that,” she offered.

He did not refuse the help. Each took one handle of the basket, letting it hang between them as they walked across the grass; the contents clanked again as they slid to Christine’s lower side. Lingering dew collected on Martin’s sneakers, seeping through the light fabric and soaking his socks. It was surprisingly cold, a cruel reminder that this was just a taste of summer, not the real thing.

“Yikes, I hope this doesn’t soak through the blanket,” Christine said, shaking her foot out. Her canvas shoes were already shade darker from the damp. “Let’s walk on the pathway, okay?” Martin nodded and followed her lead as she moved to one of the many gravel paths that twisted across the yard in a beautiful—but impractical—pattern.

Tell No TalesWhere stories live. Discover now