Chapter
5, The Grounds
Why would this room be locked? Running
back down the stairs, I grab the cabin keys. Back at the locked door, I look
for the key hole realizing that the keys for the cabin are not the proper kind.
I need a skeleton key. Frantic, I remember that many times the key to a door
like this is hung at the top of the door casing so one does not lose it, only
it is not here. And then it dawns on me that it would make more sense if it was
hung inside of the room, not outside.
My next course of action is to call the
sheriff, Todd. However, by the time I reach my phone I realize we never swapped
numbers. With the way things ended yesterday, I probably should not expect to
see him anytime soon.
But I am intrigued. How do I ignore
this? I must find out what is on the other side of that door. Deflation over
comes me. I sludge my way back down the stairs to the kitchen, happy I brought
espresso shots on this trip. My next cup of coffee needs a couple of those.
Feeling wound up, I begin pacing with freshly poured coffee – and espresso –
around the cabin grounds. Fresh air has always done wonders for the mind’s
wanderings.
As I explore the grounds, I am lifted
up. The beauty represented within all of nature is exquisite. It brings to mind
how awesome God is. God is Awesome.
Ah…clever. God reminds me, I have forgotten to talk to Him about what has been
going on; especially since I arrived here.
The breeze is still light and fresh, the
sun still shining in all of its glory, and the birds chirp an amazing melody.
All of my senses are awakened to God’s artistry and He has chosen me to be the
receptor of such lovely and intimate gifts.
OK. So, I know I have made a few
mistakes since arriving. I haven’t trusted in Him wholly, nor have I asked for
His assistance with these dreams.
I walk, breathing my surroundings and
getting lost within my mind, seeing, hearing, feeling nature around me pressing
on my every being, calling to a truth within myself that I have not wanted to
fully face. No time like the present. And I mean that.
I lost my way a few years ago. Not
proud, but not regretful. Decisions made upon other decisions, small or great,
led me down a path that was not a path I wanted for myself. It was a path that
was expected of me. I realize now that I was not strong enough to do what I
thought was right for me. I do not believe I was necessarily wrong either,
though that may be part of my problem.
If you believe your heart is in the right
place as you move through life, but it turns out to affect you negatively, are
you wrong? Is your heart really in
the right place if you continue to hurt yourself in the process? Living for
others, I have decided, is definitely not the way for me to live. I know now
that I have created hollow foundations for which to build my relationships. I
was unable to see that until after those relationships came crumbling down
around me. The support was false. The reasons were false. Everything was false.
Nothing was real.
This sucks.
Lost in the fog of my swirling thoughts
of the past couple of months led me to a place within myself that I have been
unsure of. I have always been here; hiding inside, but not knowing how to be
that part of me. Even now that I am recognizing and accepting this old and new
part of me, I am questioning how to fully embrace it. Though, I know it will
take time.
Somehow I have walked back into the
house and up the stairs. I am standing before the locked room, hand on knob. Lord, if I am to know what is beyond this
door, please reveal the way to me.
At the moment those words are whispered,
I realize they escaped my mouth and that it has been a long time since I last
prayed. When did I forget God? And that makes me wonder: how much did I really
invite Him in in the first place if I made so many wrong choices that led to an
empty life?
My head hurts. Where did my coffee go? I
feel empty and filled simultaneously. I think I know what that is. I feel empty
because I have purged, exposing my mistakes. I am filled because God is with me
holding my hand, lifting my spirit.
I walk down the stairs back to the
kitchen and trip over my bags from yesterday. I had almost forgotten that I
went shopping. Picking them up, I take them to the kitchen counter to peruse my
purchases, excited over the painting supplies. My heart feels warmed, eagerness
spreads through my limbs.
~ ~ ~
“There you are!”
Todd, the sheriff, I would know that
voice anywhere. And of course he is behind me.
“Hey,” I turn around to see he is in
uniform today. “What brings you by?” I smile. While I am slightly embarrassed
about the previous day, I am genuinely happy to see his face…well, all of him
really.
“I was on my rounds and thought I’d
check in on you.” He adjusts his belt as he approaches me. I picked a spot in
the back facing the beautiful pergola set off in a nook of pastels. Lilies,
butterfly bushes, tulips, grasses, grape vines…there are more flowers and
plants, but I am not sure of their names.
“Ah…” I turn back to my painting. Todd
is behind me leaning over to view my work.
“That’s interesting.” He is being
polite. It is really perplexing.
My painting is not entirely reflective
of the view before me. The pergola is in the center, set back in perspective.
Flanking the vignette of the pergola is a set of bookshelves; however one shelf
is pushed back as if on hinges, revealing a strip of lavender…Hmm…peculiar.
“I’m not sure what happened,” I mumble,
insecurity snaking through my veins. Between yesterday and today, Todd has to
be questioning my mental state.
Feeling awkwardness filling the space
between us in an effort to suck out all breathable air, I choke out, “Would you
like to come in for coffee?”
He grins, big.
“So, what is going on, Ivy?” He is
sitting on a bar stool, I am leaning against the counter across from him. “Good
question,” is all I am able to say.
I look over at him, mesmerized by his
eyes. They remind me of pastel emeralds, if that is a color, with little brown
flecks as if his eyes were made of blown glass. That glass blower is a true
artist. Held by the depth of understanding residing within, I hear myself
speak, though it doesn’t sound like me. I am clearly not in control. I begin to
wonder if I have landed myself in another dream, where I am the main character and the bystander.
This juxtaposition of being and watching is beginning to wear me out. I am constantly torn in two.
And not just in my dreams. Between the first night at the cabin and yesterday
at Overlook Pass, I feel that I am living in two dimensions unable to discern
reality, if it even exists.
Todd cuts off my line of thinking,
punching the air with, “Wow…”
Why did he say ‘Wow’ like that? What
just happened? He looks at me with a myriad of expressions playing for
dominance upon his face: Understanding… Disbelief…Excitement…Worry…?
What is going on in his head, and what
did I say to elicit this response?
“Well?” This is when I realize he has
asked me a question. A question I clearly did not hear. I choked on my coffee,
spitting out, “What?”
“Are you going to show me, or do I have
to seek it out myself?”
Show him? Show him what? Todd must have
seen the confusion on my face, furthering his potential perception of my odd
mental state. “The…locked…door…” He says this slowly, so slowly it is painful.
I feel bad and ridiculous.
“Right, the door,” I put down my mug,
“This way.” It occurs to me that I must have blurted out everything revolving
around that locked room. I wonder how much I divulged. Does he know about the
dreams? What about the shadows?
Todd is kneeling down before the door,
trying to peer through the keyhole. Why did I not do that? He stood up quickly
– it brought to mind a cat leaping upon being frightened. Excitement exudes
from his entire being, face flushed, eyes dancing. “I think I can get this door
unlocked!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
What is behind the door of the locked room? Will Todd be able to open it?
Think you know? Have any ideas? Share your thoughts!!!
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