Ev had obviously been terrified by some kind of apparition, and frankly I was frightened myself, but I needed to appear strong for her
I poured her a glass of wine and insisted she drink some while I fetched an afghan draped over a sofa chair and used it as a throw cover to put around her.
After a few minutes, some color retuned to her cheeks.
“Thanks, Jon,” she smiled, eyes shining.
Her look of gratitude warmed me more than wine. I wanted to put my arms around her and comfort her, but instead, sat beside her and waited for her to confide in me. Eventually she did.
“I lay down on the bed in my room just before dinner—I intended to come down, but was so tired, I fell asleep. I had an awful dream. I was aware of a dark presence coming out of the walk-in closet. I tried to scream and jump out of bed, but I couldn’t move. It was horrible.”
Somehow, I overcame my reticence and patted her hand. “There, there—take your time, Ev—you’re safe now.”
She began to weep. “It reminded me of the night terrors I had here in this house when I was a little girl—I spent years in therapy, but it didn’t help. Finally, when I was seventeen I went to live in the university residence, and refused to come back—until now.”
She said the latter words with a sense of hopelessness that wrung my heart. I wanted to protect her and shelter her for the rest of her life.
“I can’t go back up to that room tonight, Jon.”
I nodded, “I understand. You don’t have to—you can stay right here, and I’ll stay with you. Nothing will hurt you,” I said fiercely.
There was a moment of recognition when her eyes widened in surprise. I wanted so badly to kiss her, or at least put my arms around her, but instead, I forced myself to look away.
We sat in silence watching the fire for a while, and then I got up, checked the doors and windows, and retrieved another afghan for myself and sat down beside her on the love seat.
We sat there listening to the soft flutter of flames in the grate and a light rain pattering against the window, until exhausted, we both fell asleep.
During the night, I awoke to feel a slight pressure against me, and opened my eyes to see Ev’s head, leaning upon my shoulder. I could scarcely breathe for the joy I felt inside.
The great room became our nightly retreat, each of us snuggling beneath afghans on the love seat, then sharing breakfast and dinner in the dining room with the taciturn Eleanor and Cecil the baleful cat.
Ev gradually relaxed and opened up to me. Thankfully, it was shyness and not aloofness that made her appear distant—Oh, and I learned she preferred to be called Evelyn, an even more beautiful name, and I cherished speaking each of its syllables.
Then one night it happened. I awoke to see her face looking into mine—saw the surprise in her dark eyes for the passion we both shared—and we kissed for the first time.
Thereafter, our lives became entwined.
Sometimes physical proximity can lead to intimacy, if Fate conspires and two souls share the same essence.
Evelyn and I decided after the year to stay on in the manse with Eleanor and Peter and Cecil, the baleful cat.
We gave Evelyn’s room to The Cupboard Door Slammer, as we affectionately call him—he turned out to be quite benign. Sometimes at night, he creaks the stair, just to let us know he’s there.
We’re married now and Evelyn shares my last name, Mead.
We’re going to still call the manse, Hill House, in memory of Rosamund Hill, Evelyn’s mother, and I’m going to continue delighting in sounding each syllable of Evelyn’s name for the rest of our days.
Evelyn…Evelyn, such a lovely name.
