graveyard.”
“Yep. The Winthrop family lived here for almost 200 years, so it makes sense. Burying your family on your own land was preferable, if you could do it. They certainly had the money to. I think you'll like the place.”
“The graveyard?” She grinned as they opened the front door.
“Yes, it's decrepit with a mausoleum for a few of the first family members. Some interesting graves back there.”
“You had time to tour it?”
“I did. I told Lawanna I had read about it online. She kind of looked at me funny, but I insisted on seeing it. I noticed she didn't offer to go with me.” Bard laughed.
Amelia had grown quiet. She gazed around at the old, dark wood and upholstery, so little of it changed. It would need work, but she wouldn't ruin the feel of the place. Bard had inherited money after the death of his father earlier in the year, and he had set a decent budget for buying new things to spruce the place up and having restoration done after the baby got a bit older. They would finance the house with a large down payment from the windfall and Bard's stellar credit. It was a sad time, but Bard's father had been so proud when he had found out his son had gotten the job, just months before cancer claimed him.
“Well?” Bard rubbed her shoulders gently.
“Oh, babe. I love it. It's home. Stormcliffe—what a place.”
“You want it?”
“Do I ever!” She turned and fell into his arms, sighing with happiness. This moment almost washed away the previous 30 plus years of horror her life had been. Bard had done so much for her, and his love was the greatest gift of all. Now, they would have a home she loved—something she had dreamed of as a little girl, staring at blank walls in the orphanage every night. Her dreams hadn't died, even though her spirit almost had, several times.
This is it, little one—your home.
* * * *
Four weeks later
“Shh. You're going to love your new crib, babes.”
The baby had slept in a bassinet near their bed the first few weeks since they all came home from the hospital, but Amelia was ready for her own space. She knew Bard was, too. The cheerful Dr. Seuss's Lorax inspired nursery made the transition a little easier, with its pale green, yellow, blue, and pink tones.
Baby Lottie mewled as Amelia put her down softly on the downy sheets. She set the cheerful giraffe mobile in motion and sighed. She stood still for a moment, her skin prickling. The sensation of being watched had returned.
Amelia went to the window and gazed out down the gravel driveway and along the brushy edges of the yard. Nothing. She only had gauzy, sage green, thin curtains and blinds here on the window and kept the blinds up and the curtains tied back to let in the sunlight. The baby didn't seem to mind it so far, and Amelia figured they were remote at Stormcliffe. On the second floor, it wasn't likely someone could see their every move from a tiny window.
Or could they?
Her emotions were in an uproar ever since leaving the hospital—well, the day before, really.
“Hormones, honey. That's all,” her mother had reassured her. H er mom being 1,500 miles away didn't help much--not that they were close. Still, wasn't this a time when you wanted your mother—when you had your first daughter at the ripe age of 35, o r as her doctor had called it “advanced maternal age?” Yeah, that had been a real ego booster.
Amelia closed her eyes for a moment, tiredness rushing in now that the baby was settling for a nap. The morning had been a blur of feedings, wet diapers, and washing clothes. All she wanted to do was sleep. Her own body odor wafted up around her. Waking up every few hours to feed Lottie every night was doing her in.
“Let me help, hon. I can tell you've had it,” Bard had said a week after they got home from the hospital. He had two weeks off for paternity leave. It wasn't generous, but it was better than nothing. His job was stressful when he was working, so she welcomed him
“Yep. The Winthrop family lived here for almost 200 years, so it makes sense. Burying your family on your own land was preferable, if you could do it. They certainly had the money to. I think you'll like the place.”
“The graveyard?” She grinned as they opened the front door.
“Yes, it's decrepit with a mausoleum for a few of the first family members. Some interesting graves back there.”
“You had time to tour it?”
“I did. I told Lawanna I had read about it online. She kind of looked at me funny, but I insisted on seeing it. I noticed she didn't offer to go with me.” Bard laughed.
Amelia had grown quiet. She gazed around at the old, dark wood and upholstery, so little of it changed. It would need work, but she wouldn't ruin the feel of the place. Bard had inherited money after the death of his father earlier in the year, and he had set a decent budget for buying new things to spruce the place up and having restoration done after the baby got a bit older. They would finance the house with a large down payment from the windfall and Bard's stellar credit. It was a sad time, but Bard's father had been so proud when he had found out his son had gotten the job, just months before cancer claimed him.
“Well?” Bard rubbed her shoulders gently.
“Oh, babe. I love it. It's home. Stormcliffe—what a place.”
“You want it?”
“Do I ever!” She turned and fell into his arms, sighing with happiness. This moment almost washed away the previous 30 plus years of horror her life had been. Bard had done so much for her, and his love was the greatest gift of all. Now, they would have a home she loved—something she had dreamed of as a little girl, staring at blank walls in the orphanage every night. Her dreams hadn't died, even though her spirit almost had, several times.
This is it, little one—your home.
* * * *
Four weeks later
“Shh. You're going to love your new crib, babes.”
The baby had slept in a bassinet near their bed the first few weeks since they all came home from the hospital, but Amelia was ready for her own space. She knew Bard was, too. The cheerful Dr. Seuss's Lorax inspired nursery made the transition a little easier, with its pale green, yellow, blue, and pink tones.
Baby Lottie mewled as Amelia put her down softly on the downy sheets. She set the cheerful giraffe mobile in motion and sighed. She stood still for a moment, her skin prickling. The sensation of being watched had returned.
Amelia went to the window and gazed out down the gravel driveway and along the brushy edges of the yard. Nothing. She only had gauzy, sage green, thin curtains and blinds here on the window and kept the blinds up and the curtains tied back to let in the sunlight. The baby didn't seem to mind it so far, and Amelia figured they were remote at Stormcliffe. On the second floor, it wasn't likely someone could see their every move from a tiny window.
Or could they?
Her emotions were in an uproar ever since leaving the hospital—well, the day before, really.
“Hormones, honey. That's all,” her mother had reassured her. H er mom being 1,500 miles away didn't help much--not that they were close. Still, wasn't this a time when you wanted your mother—when you had your first daughter at the ripe age of 35, o r as her doctor had called it “advanced maternal age?” Yeah, that had been a real ego booster.
Amelia closed her eyes for a moment, tiredness rushing in now that the baby was settling for a nap. The morning had been a blur of feedings, wet diapers, and washing clothes. All she wanted to do was sleep. Her own body odor wafted up around her. Waking up every few hours to feed Lottie every night was doing her in.
“Let me help, hon. I can tell you've had it,” Bard had said a week after they got home from the hospital. He had two weeks off for paternity leave. It wasn't generous, but it was better than nothing. His job was stressful when he was working, so she welcomed him
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