Go For Gold

Chapter Three

The rhythmic rat-a-tat-tat of a woodpecker, a steady percussion against the wood, slowly pulled Chloe out of her deep slumber. The soft morning light streamed through the window, casting delicate shadows on the ornate ceiling. The playful cries of gulls mixed with the salty tang of the sea air. The realization of her new environment sent a surge of excitement through Chloe’s body.

She sprang out of bed and hurried down the corridor; the floorboards creaking beneath her eager footsteps. As she descended the staircase, the faint scent of wood polish mixed with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The tantalizing smell of sizzling pancakes grew stronger with each step.

“Good morning!” Evangelina exclaimed as Chloe rushed into the kitchen, her mother’s voice filled with warmth. The sound of the sizzling frying pan filled the room, accompanied by the gentle crackling of the fluffy pancakes as they cooked.

“Good morning, Mom!” Chloe said excitedly, embracing her mother tightly. Evangelina scooped the pancakes onto a plate, surrounded by an array of other delectable treats that Chloe did not recognize.

“What are you making?” Chloe asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Flapjacks,” mom said casually, inviting Chloe to the table. Chloe eagerly awaited the golden treats. Mom carefully arranged a few flapjacks on her plate, adding whipped cream and drizzling golden maple syrup over the top.

“What is that?” Chloe asked, her eyes wide with wonder as she pointed at the colorful, glistening toppings.

Mom chuckled. “That’s whipped cream and maple syrup,” she said, a playful smile on her face as the sweet scent filled the air.

Mom showcased her skills and bit into a flapjack. Chloe patiently waited for mom to finish her breakfast, her mouth watering. In the orphanage, Miss Grimshaw’s leisurely mealtimes were a daily ritual, with everyone’s eyes fixed on her.

“Dig in!” mom invited warmly.

Confusion etched itself into Chloe’s face. “Shouldn’t we pray?”

“Not in my house,” mom said, a hint of resentment coloring her voice.

Chloe didn’t wait for a second invitation; she shrugged and attacked her food with gusto. The fluffy pancake, melting under a drizzle of sweet syrup and a dollop of whipped cream, created a symphony of flavors, each bite a delightful explosion of textures and tastes. Mom chuckled as Chloe let out an animated burp, filling the kitchen with joyful noise. Their laughter mingled with the delightful aromas of breakfast, creating a symphony of happiness.

Chloe suddenly realized that Asher Nightshade was absent. Looking up at her mother, she asked, “Where’s dad?” Their gazes met as her question hung in the air.

“He’s in the city for work,” Mom replied casually, switching on the kitchen TV. It was a rare luxury for Chloe to have such a thing in their kitchen.

Confused, Chloe shrugged her shoulders and asked, “Why?”

“Honey, I don’t want to bore you with grown-up stuff, but he’ll be back tonight,” Mom said, squeezing her hand. The term of endearment filled Chloe with a sense of belonging, something she had never experienced before.

Mom saw the unspoken questions in Chloe’s eyes, a silent plea hanging in the air, and casually said, “Finish up.” Suddenly, the deafening whir of a low-flying helicopter sliced through the quiet, making Chloe instinctively cover her ears and dive under the table, her heart pounding in her chest. Trembling uncontrollably, she waited for the noise to fade, the thunderous roar disappearing into the distance.

Emerging from her hiding place, Chloe asked, “What was that?” Her eyes were fixed on her mom, filled with curiosity. Mom sighed, a smile crossing her face, and clasped her daughter’s hand. “It’s just a helicopter,” she reassured, her words punctuated by the low, piercing cry of a foghorn. Chloe’s eyes widened, a prickling unease crawling up her spine as the silence pressed in.

Evangelina reached into her worn leather purse and withdrew a crisp new bill. With a quick flick of her wrist, she sent it sliding across the shiny kitchen table towards Chloe. Chloe’s eyes lingered on the bill, recognizing it as a very rare commodity.

“Why not hit the beach and go shopping?” Mom suggested, her eyes twinkling with a hint of an emotion Chloe couldn’t quite identify.

Cautiously, Chloe’s slender fingers curled around the bill, revealing the numbers reading 100, before she darted up the creaking staircase and out of sight.

The vibrant colors of Chloe’s polka-dot dress seemed to swirl as she carefully made her way down the worn wooden staircase, her hand gliding along the smooth banister. A proud gleam shone in Mom’s eyes as Chloe descended; the admiration clear in the way her eyes sparkled, reflecting the light like polished gems. She warmed a white sticky cream between her hands, the scent of sunscreen mixing with the air, and gently spread it across Chloe’s face. Chloe inhaled deeply, the unfamiliar scents of coconut and lotion filling her nostrils.

“All good,” Mom said, her voice choked with emotion, eyes glistening with unshed tears, “you can now safely go outside.” The door swung open, filling the house with the symphony of gull cries and crashing waves. “Take your time, have fun!” Mom said, her voice barely audible above the gentle breeze that carried her words away as the door slammed shut behind Chloe.

The salty tang of the sea air filled Chloe’s nostrils as she ran across the burning road, the soft, white beach sand a welcome relief underfoot; the gritty texture of the sand instantly tickling her toes. Although it was early, the white sands were dotted with vibrant umbrellas, their colors painting a picturesque scene. Chloe’s eyes swept across the scene, taking in the sight of sunbathers lounging under the shade. Her gaze then shifted to a group of young men playing a ballgame, their golden bodies glistening under the sun’s rays. The sight made her blush, a warm sensation spreading across her cheeks.

“Abigail!” a woman’s voice called out, breaking the rhythm of crashing waves. Chloe turned, her eyes meeting those of a dark-haired woman running towards her. The wind playfully tousled the woman’s hair, its strands dancing in the gentle sea breeze. Her eyes, deep and mysterious like pools of liquid midnight, fixated on Chloe with disbelief.

Chloe’s brow furrowed in confusion, her senses heightened by the encounter. With a gentleness that belied the unexpectedness of the act, the woman reached out, her fingers brushing Chloe’s cheek as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Chloe flinched, startled by the unexpected contact.

“I’m so sorry,” she sighed, her voice heavy, “you look exactly like her.” The breeze carried her words away, leaving Chloe with a whirlwind of unanswered questions and a sense of intrigue.

“Watch out!” a young man’s urgent voice echoed in her ears, snapping her back to reality. Chloe’s gaze darted towards the group of players, their eyes fixed on the sky. She followed their gaze, her eyes widening as she spotted a football gracefully spinning through the air, heading straight towards her. Acting on instinct, she effortlessly caught the ball in her hands, the impact sending a jolt of excitement through her body. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the football back at a player calling for it, the pigskin spinning through the air.

The unexpected feat left everyone around her in stunned disbelief, their cheers and applause filling her ears. The whispers of the breeze mingled with the lively sounds of the celebration as she walked towards the shore, her shoulders relaxed in a casual shrug.

Her eyes fixated on the majestic sight of the waves, their turquoise crests crashing against the pristine white sands with a thunderous roar, the salty spray misting her face. The hypnotic rhythm of the waves, a deep and powerful sound, called to her, beckoning her closer to the sparkling turquoise waters.

A small wave, icy and sharp, ebbed along, its bitter touch engulfing her feet, sending shivers that prickled up her spine. Chloe couldn’t help but let out a joyful laugh, her senses alive with the luxuries of the moment.

Emboldened by her excitement, she ventured deeper into the water, braving the frigid waves that sent a chilling sensation through her body. Suddenly, without warning, a towering rogue wave, with its crest like a frothing mountain of churning water, rolled in, its menacing presence—a thunderous roar and the salty spray stinging Chloe’s face—threatening to break with her directly in its path.

Her eyes widened with terror, her breath hitching in her throat, as she felt a surge of fear course through her veins. It was futile to resist. The monstrous wave crashed over her, the roar deafening as it tossed her small body around like a toy. As she tumbled beneath the churning wave, the deafening roar of the ocean filled her ears, a pressure building in her chest.

Finally, the wave released its grip, washing her onto the shore with a rush of salty water and sand, before retreating back into the ocean’s vast expanse. Chloe spat out the gritty, salty water, the sharp taste burning her tongue as coughs wracked her body. Her eyes, burning with salt water, scanned the chaotic scene; sunbathers scrambled, desperately gathering belongings, their panicked cries a stark contrast to the ocean’s previous serenity.

Chloe’s eyes darted around, searching for her white sandals, but they were nowhere to be seen. Slowly, she rose, her body feeling frayed and worn from the wave’s ambush, her muscles aching with every movement. With her shoulders slumped in despair, and her soaked clothes heavy and cold against her skin, she wearily trudged home, each step a painful reminder of the icy wave that had crashed over her, the salty spray still clinging to her hair. The cries of the gulls overhead, sharp and insistent like needles, mocked her despair, their piercing calls echoing in her ears and seeming to amplify her misery.

As Chloe entered the house, an unsettling feeling washed over her. The air was thick with tension, and a sense of unease clung to her. In the distance, muffled noises emerged from her parents' bedroom, a cacophony of moans and cries that pierced the air. Each step she took on the polished hallway floor added an eerie soundtrack to the scene.

The old wooden staircase groaned under Chloe’s weight, each step accompanied by the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of bouncing below, making her giggle nervously. Her laughter was quickly stifled, though, as curiosity propelled her forward. Finally reaching the landing, she leaned against the banister, peering down the dimly lit hallway below. Shadows danced ominously on the walls, intensifying the atmosphere.

A strange man, impeccably dressed in a dark suit, caught Chloe's attention. He was smoothing out the wrinkles on his jacket, his cologne mingling with her mother's perfume. The mix of scents created a strange concoction of emotions within her, causing her heart to race.

Realization struck Chloe as she crept toward her bedroom, each floorboard creaking beneath her weight. Just when she thought she was safe, her mother's voice called out her name, freezing her in her tracks. The tone sent shivers down her spine, reminiscent of her strict matron, Miss Grimshaw. She hastily put on an innocent face, barely managing a smile, preparing for the impending conversation.

Reluctantly, Chloe responded in a trembling voice, "Yes, mother?" Her words carried a thin veil of innocence, hiding her inner turmoil. Her mother's command left no room for negotiation, and Chloe knew she had no choice but to obey. With a sigh of relief, she hurried into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. The silence provided a brief respite, but the haunting echoes of her mother's cries and the stranger's moans lingered in her mind, sending chills down her spine.

A crisp, fruity scent filled the air as Mom delicately sipped her white wine, sinking into the soft cushions of the plush couch. The soft, rhythmic clinking of ice cubes in her mom’s glass, like tiny chimes, created a strangely calming yet luxurious atmosphere, a stark contrast to the nervous flutter of butterflies in her stomach. Chloe bit her lip, the plush couch sinking gently beneath her as she settled in beside her mom. The impending confrontation hung over them like an avalanche, the tension thick in the room.

Mom finally spoke, her voice carrying a mix of calmness and apprehension. “Did you notice anything strange, anything out of place, when you came in, sweetie?” Mom asked, her sigh a tremor of nervousness. The words hung in the air, swallowed by the ticking of the wall clock, creating an eerie silence. A nervous tremor ran through Chloe as she shook her head, unsure how to answer and feeling a flush creep up her neck.

Chloe’s gaze nervously swept across the grandeur of the living room, noting the gleaming crystal chandelier and the rich velvet upholstery. Suddenly, her eyes landed on a framed photograph perched on the sideboard. With a jolt, she leaped up and grabbed the frame. As she stared at the image, a girl who was her mirror image—curly ginger hair, amber eyes, and a flawless face dotted with freckles—an icy dread settled over her, constricting her chest like a vise. The truth slammed into her, a visceral punch that stole her breath and made her recoil in pain.

Confusion and disbelief overwhelmed her as she turned to her mother, tears welling up in her eyes. Stammering, she managed to ask, “Is that…who…?”

Her mom’s lips quivered with raw emotions as she whispered, “It’s Abigail.” The words, laden with the weight of sorrow, were punctuated by a sudden, shuddering sob. Chloe carefully placed the image back, feeling a mix of sadness and curiosity tugging at her heart.

With a trembling voice barely above a breath, Chloe whispered, “Did she die?” The question hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken fear.

Hot tears streamed down Mom’s cheeks, each one a glistening track through the dust of her sorrow as she shook her head. The quiet, ragged sound of her sobbing, like a wounded bird, pierced Chloe’s heart. “No,” Mom whispered, grief choking her voice, “She never returned after going to that haunted Hemlock Manor.”

The realization settled heavily within Chloe, making her stomach churn with unease. “She just vanished into thin air?” Her voice trembled with disbelief, the sound echoing in the room.

Mom nodded solemnly, her tear-stained face pale and drawn, a testament to the deep grief she held inside. “We offered a king’s ransom—gold, jewels, anything!—but she vanished without a trace, leaving only silence in her wake.”

The sight of her adopted mother’s grief, a torrent of silent tears and trembling shoulders, filled her with a deep sadness, but a nagging suspicion also took root—had her mother’s betrayal, the clandestine meeting with the stranger, anything to do with her missing daughter? Was it a twisted form of redemption, a desire to inflict pain on others, fueled by a sense of injustice? Curiosity consumed Chloe as she asked, “Was she alone?” Her voice held a mix of eagerness and apprehension.

Evangeline shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, the gesture accompanied by a heavy sigh. “We’re clueless, but it’s been two years since she vanished.”

Chloe’s gaze lingered on her mother’s face, etched with sorrow, the silent tears leaving tracks down her cheeks. She reached out and gently grasped her hand, offering a small measure of comfort in the midst of their shared pain.

“Stay away from that cursed manor, please,” Mom begged, her voice firm, laced with disgust at the thought of it.

“I promise, mother,” Chloe said, her voice a little too bright, as she crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping her mother wouldn’t notice.