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 nowa 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.
10
Ifollow Meredith into the kitchen, the scent of fresh herbs and baking bread enveloping me. She moves towards the marble island, twisting her blonde hair up into a clip as she walks, and picks up a large knife lying on the countertop. She cuts the vegetables with practiced ease, always looking so composed, despite being dwarfed by this shadowy, outdated house.
I realise she reminds me a lot of my mother.
“Need any help?” I ask, stepping inside.
She glances over her shoulder and smiles, her green eyes warm. “Yes please, darling. You’re just in time. I was about to finish up the stew. Would you mind stirring?”
