I held back my emotions until we walked through the back door of the kitchen and out onto the garden. A fire pit rested in the middle of our yard, and the cobblestone house blended over the ground, creating an illusion of a stone deck and a pathway out to the dock. “In the summer, this garden will be covered in flowers. Not sure which ones yet, but I suppose we’ll find out soon.”
Two chairs rested right outside the backdoor, and Ollie sat over a chair and pulled me into his lap, releasing a long breath. We sat in silence for a while, with his chin dropped over my shoulder.
“Well, what do you think? Want to make a home here?” Ollie asked as we gently rocked in the chair, the view of the water stealing our gaze.
Birds flew from tree to tree, singing, and I curled deeper against him. “It’s perfect.”
“Mia?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s you and I, evermore,” he whispered, and he shoved his hand into the pocket of his pants and held up a small burlap box between us. “I bought this ring in the village right after I saw the cabin fire on the telly. I knew, God, I fucking knew that was you crying out for me. And perhaps no matter where we are, our souls still speak to each other. It’s the sweetest sound, and I’ve never doubted our music.” Ollie opened the burlap box, and plucked the ring from inside. “I’d been holding on to this ring ever since, waiting for this chance to put it on your finger.”
Ollie took my hand in his and slipped it on. Speechless, a tear fell down my cheek as I stared at it. The ring was round and simple, rose gold, with tiny diamonds surrounding a larger one in the center. It was perfect. “It’s beautiful.” I turned my head to face him, and his wondrous vulnerable green eyes shone back at me.
I dropped my forehead to his, and his nose brushed against mine before his lips did. “I love you, Mia,” he whispered against my mouth before our lips locked in an unhurried and ardent kiss. Emotions dominated both of us before we broke away, and I stuffed my face into his neck.
“This is the ultimate serial criminal kit. Black attire, a shovel, gloves, and a flashlight.” Mia laughed with her arms crossed over her chest against the car, her diamond ring glimmering in the night. “I feel worthless like I’m only along for immoral support.”
“You’re holding the flashlight,” I pointed out, closing the trunk.
It was close to midnight, and the drive was about an hour to London. I made a turn onto Dartmouth Park Hill and drove until I found the same spot I’d parked before where the corporate offices bundled together. Just on the other side laid George Eliot and forty-three grand, give or take a thousand. The moon lit up the grey murky sky through puffed stringy clouds as if someone dragged claws through them. “We’re here.”
We had to be fast and invisible. And I jumped out of the car and rounded to the back as Mia followed in her newly purchased black jeans, black long-sleeved shirt, black puffer vest, and a black beanie fitted over her head. I looked the same, omit the puffer jacket, and adrenaline pumped through the both of us as I grabbed the duffle from the trunk, which carried the items we needed. The hike to the wall through the overgrown forest was short, and I was glad Mia decided to wear her combat boots. I shouldered the duffle and kissed my girl. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Once we hit the wall, I directed her to shine the flashlight down the length of the stone. “There’s a door here somewhere. It blends into the rubble.” Our feet sunk into the mud as we walked along the wall, my hand grazing the stone, feeling for the wooden door.
“I think this is it,” Mia called out in a low voice a few feet ahead of me. “Do I just open it? How did you know this was here?”
I grinned. “I can’t give away all my secrets.”
“Taking it to the grave?”
“Yup.” My thumb dropped down the lever of the handle, and I gave it a shoulder shove until the door gave in. We passed a layer of thick brush until we spotted a trail. The cemetery had an intense aroma of dying days and an irreversible past. A gothic Victorian eeriness lingered within the dense vegetation of canopied trees and scattered tombstones, embodying and transporting us back into an uncanny time. The moon bored down on us, bouncing off Mia’s pale face as chills ran down my spine like it had the last time I was here. I nodded my head forward, and our boots and breaths bounced between us through the mud until we stepped foot on more solid ground. Harsh midnight winds ripped through her hair, but we were almost there.
I stood in front of George Eliot’s faded tombstone. “Of those immortal dead who live again in minds made better by their presence,” I read, admiring the engraving for the second time.
“Mary Ann Cross,” Mia added, staring at the tall gray stone.
“She took the pen name of a man so her work would be taken seriously.”
“That’s … sad.”
I shrugged and dropped the duffle, and it met the ground with a thud. “Times were different then.”
Piercing the soiled earth beside the tomb with the tip of the shovel, I dug about two feet until Mia’s flashlight glared off of the black plastic bag. Mia stood from a nearby tombstone, and I lifted my eyes until it hit hers. “Jackpot.”
She crouched down beside me with the flashlight between her teeth, holding the duffle open as I ripped open the plastic and dumped handfuls of banded notes inside. The night was colder for May, below seven degrees Celsius, where our breath came out in thick clouds. Paranoid, Mia’s eyes darted around her.
“You scared, love?” I asked, leaving no empty space inside the bag.
“No.”
I worked the zipper. “You sure?” The place was creepy, especially in the middle of the night. It took me a few shots of liquid courage to come here alone last time, but I’d never admit that to her.
She cocked her head. “I don’t get scared, especially of ghosts.”
“I wouldn’t say that too loud. You’ll hurt their feelings.”
I laughed as Mia’s eyes bulged, and she shoved my shoulder.
Fuck, was she beautiful, even surrounded by death like a wilted rose in the winter.
I patted the side of the bag before standing and filled the hole back in.
Our feet made quick work of high-tailing it out of there and disappearing into the woods. The moon wasn’t our friend on our way back, and I depended on the little light put out by the flashlight and a sense of direction. It took us over an hour to find the door, which we’d left open, but now it was closed and airtight. “Shit.”
“Don’t say shit,” Mia whispered from behind me.
“Fuck,” I uttered in a breath, working the handle again.
“What?”
“The wind must’ve closed it shut.”
“So, open it.”
“I can’t.” I dropped the bag and planted my palm over the stone wall for leverage as I tried again.
“Ollie …”
“I’m serious, Mia. The bloody thing is stuck.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. I knew it. You’ve gone and pissed her spirit off,” she huffed beside me, “What do we do now?”
“Plan B.”
“Which is?”
“Camping out.”