The Caretaker - Part 2

In that brief moment filled with the crack of gunfire and flashes of lightning, I perceived numerous things. My target was far less monstrous than my fragile, fear-ridden mind had originally grasped; at least comparatively so. In fact, she was an arachne. Her gender I discovered by the sharp wail of pain she unleashed as my shots found their mark. I also noted that she was unarmed, and in conclusion, was far less a threat than one deserving of the punishment I had just delivered. And so in that moment, I immediately regretted ever pulling the trigger.

I heard her large form slump down to the floor and her begin to whimper pitifully. In panic, I suddenly lost all sense of my previous terror and rushed back to the door to retrieve the candle I had brought with me. Putting down the gun, I reentered the attic and followed the sound of the injured arachne until I found her, sprawled on the ground and clutching her side. When she saw me, she hurriedly attempted to get back on her feet and retreat, all in vain.
"Please! No more! I'm sorry!" she shouted through a pained voice and sincere dread in her eyes.

"Wait, wait! Calm down, it was an accident," I attempted to explain, showing my unarmed hand and maintaining my distance. "You just startled me. Please let me help you." Sure it may not have been the most compelling argument, all things considered, but she was really in no position to refuse. She gave a deliberate, but clear nod and settled down laboriously. Crouching before her, I held up the candle between us and began examining her. "Where did I get you?"

Removing her hand from her side, she revealed a grazing wound, and also indicated similar damage to her other arm. I was relieved to find that, upon closer inspection, neither bullet made a direct hit. Still, they were nasty injuries that needed to be treated. I will readily admit that I was not entirely sure how to proceed. So I waited until she was calm enough to get on her feet and supported her as we made our way back to the lounge. "Keep pressure on it. Don't stress the wound." Are some of the typical things I said during the trip that I figured made sense. All the while, she whimpered back weak replies that made me feel worse by the minute.

Once we arrived, I helped her beside the fire and insisted she wait there for me to return. After recalling where my uncle kept the medical supplies, I rushed in the dim illumination of my candle to retrieve them.

The arachne had settled down by the time I got back, but she was clearly still in pain. Pulling up a chair, I sat in front of her and began doing what I could to patch her up. As I helped her out of her soaked jacket, I finally got a proper look at her in the firelight. Her long hair cascaded down her back and was black like a raven's feather. Her skin was pallid and her eight eyes, while peculiar, were deep and expressive. Her spider half had an admittedly entrancing quality as well, though more for the color, which was a grayish-brown with a few complementing black patterns. If I had to compare her to a proper spider, it'd have to be those wolf spiders. Her arachnid qualities did not put me off at all, but I felt a tad apprehensive being around one, as we barely had any back in the city I lived in.

"Pull up your shirt a little," I instructed. "So I can get to the wound here." And without complaint, though wincing as the cloth brushed past her injury, she complied. So I got to work cleaning it up and bandaging it as best a novice like me could. We sat in silence for the next five or so minutes, neither of us completely sure what to say in this situation. The cacophony of the storm outside filled the empty void between us. I noted that she stared away at the ground, avoiding eye contact as though she either resented or feared me. It could be both. I wouldn't blame her either way. I let my anxiety rule my actions and she ended up like this because of it. It could have ended a lot worse than it did.

"I really am sorry about all this," I began. "I was nervous and jittery because of the storm, so I wasn't thinking right. I don't care if you forgive me or not, but I would at least like to make it up to you and make sure you recover properly." I looked up at her face for any signs of an answer or acknowledgement. She remained silent, but nodded gently in reply. This was enough for me, so I felt my heart just slightly relieved of the guilt and continued working.

Ignoring the winces and grimaces she made, I finished up and put all the supplies back in the bathroom cabinet. I returned to find her staring at the fire, as though deep in contemplation. As I sat beside her I could not help but notice the way the light danced in her eyes. Being the pools that they are, the fire reflected off of them and seemed like little embers of a candle.

"Are you well enough to talk? Because I would like to know what you were doing here." I began, shifting my chair to sit closer by the fireplace. She jolted for a moment and looked over, meeting my gaze only for a second before glancing down at her hands. "I would like to think you were looking for shelter, am I right?" I inquired, to which she nodded in reply. "So why didn't you just knock? I would have been more than happy to let you in. That aside, why were you all the way out here to begin with? There isn't a town for miles around here."

There was a moment of silence as she seemed to muster her composure. She looked back up, though not entirely at me.
"I came to visit Clyde." she said. My uncle. I didn't realize he liked younger women. "He's a close friend of my family's, so he visited us often and we, him." I withdraw my previous statement. "When I got here, I saw that his old truck was gone, so I decided to climb in through the attic and wait for him. I've done it before, but it was especially dark this time, and I was startled by some thunder." She trailed off, looking down once more, and frowned as she adjusted her seating.

With a sigh, I stood and stretched out my limbs. "Well, Clyde isn't here anymore. I'm his nephew, Nathan." I held out my hand in greeting, "I wish we could have met under better circumstances." She suddenly looked up at me, eyes wide with surprise. From what, I'm sure a few things. She tentatively took my hand and we shook.

"Clyde? Y-You don't mean he's..." Her expression adopted a tinge of worry. I released her hand and shook my head.
"No, no. He's not that old. He's just retired. I'm the new caretaker from now on." I explained. She sighed, visibly relieved, and folded her hands in the lap of her pedipalps. With a polite grin, she introduced herself.
"Well, my name is Evelyn." A crash of particularly loud thunder suddenly punctuated that statement and we both jumped.

"It's a pleasure." I said, unable to contain a slight smirk as I thought about the whole situation. "I'll go and make us some tea. Just try and relax." I stood and grabbed my faithful candle companion, making my way across the hall and into the kitchen, wherein I was reminded just how inconvenient it was to be cast in total darkness. After a considerable effort, I was able to locate the appropriate implements and began the process of tea-brewing. As I did so, I leaned back against the counter and mulled over the situation in my head.

As sad as it is, my uncle never once mentioned having an actual social life outside of taking care of the manor. He made it out during his visits and in his letters as though he was living a boring, lonely life as a caretaker. My mother and I always had the firm belief that he was something of a hermit, slowly going mad out in the empty countryside. He certainly acted like it sometimes. Now, suddenly, I'm finding out that this was not the case at all. If this Evelyn and her family were as close to him as they say, then...Well quite frankly, it doesn't mean a whole lot. Only that he had a social life that, for some reason, he kept secret.

I spent some time thinking about what to say to the arachne until the telltale windy screech of the kettle shocked the living daylights out of me. Finishing up the process and pouring our respective cups, I returned to the lounge and sat in my same chair, handing Evelyn her tea. She seemed to be more at ease by now and she was nearly completely dry. As I tended to the fire, I suddenly realized something.

"Evelyn. You said you had come to visit my uncle. How did you get here?" I asked. With a sidelong glance, she answered.
"I walked."
"All the way here?" I was beside myself.
"All the way."
"Why, though? That is an awfully long distance to walk all by yourself."
"I like long walks."

I honestly had no rebuttal. She seemed to be more comfortable, at least, if still rather withdrawn. "Anyway, I'm rather curious now. When exactly did you meet my uncle? He never mentioned you or your family."
"Really?" She actually looked at me. "He mentioned you all the time."
Now I was befuddled. "Did he now?"
She nodded as she sipped her tea. "I've known your uncle since I was little. He always spoke about you very fondly." I could not help but smirk and roll my eyes.
"Yeah? Knowing him, I'm surprised you could tell it was fondness at all."

"He most recently described you as a 'Pitiful hooligan with good values but no ambition.' All with that toothy grin of his. I recall he was rather worried about your situation. He expressed often how he wished he could help you somehow." I knew the grin she spoke of. My uncle was always difficult to understand, but that smile in particular always meant exactly what it seemed to: he was happy. That's certainly like something he'd say. The way she talks about him is evidence enough that she isn't lying about their bond.

"Yeah. That sounds like him." I responded, looking aside and into the fire. Silence fell between us both once again as thunder raged outside, giving no sign that the storm was going to let up. It was strange how calm Evelyn's become now. The wounds clearly pained her whenever she adjusted, but it's a little weird seeing her sit with such a composed countenance when the first time I saw her she was begging for her life. I realized, along this train of thought, that she very gracefully had turned the momentum of the conversation onto me.

Suddenly, an immense crash like an explosion rang outside, as though lightning struck far closer than normal, and I saw Evelyn jump and stiffen up then, with a completely straight face staring intently at the heart of the fire. Her eyes betrayed her fear though, and I realized she was actually putting in the utmost effort not to give away how completely mortified she was. I knew the feeling.
"Not a fan of thunderstorms?" I asked.
"I despise thunderstorms." she replied without missing a beat.
"I'm impressed you made it here in the rain, then."
"It was a milestone of will."
Yawning, I took a peek at the clock beside us and realized how late it had become. The storm was clearly not going to be letting up, and there was no way to get Evelyn back to town now. Finishing my tea, I stood and stretched.

"Well, it's definitely not going anywhere anytime soon," I began.  "So you're going to have to stay the night." She looked up at me with those black pools and nodded in resignation, handing me her teacup.
"You don't have to tell me twice. This place is like a second home for me anyway."

I replaced all of the kitchenware and returned to douse the fire. I didn't have to guide her to the bedrooms, as she likely knew the house better than I did. So we walked side by side in the dark, lighting our way with my faithful candle companion, to the upstairs bedrooms. Entering the master bedroom, I made my way to the walk-in closet and turned to Evelyn.

"I'm more than certain that I don't have any women's clothing, so you'll have to make do." I said, unsure of what should be done in the way of sleepwear. However, Evelyn strolled right past me and entered.

"On the contrary," she said from the very end of the closet. "If I am right, my spare clothes should still be here."
"Is that so?" I peered in, holding out my candle.
"Indeed. I did say that this was like a second home, didn't I?" she replied.
"I did not realize it went that far." I placed the candle inside the closet and closed it enough to give her some privacy. "Have at it, then."

So I waited out in the dark of the bedroom, learning to appreciate the warmth of the fireplace as I realized how cold it had become. It was autumn after all, so it should be expected. However, it simply didn't register until I actually shivered a little while I was waiting. Perhaps the lonely feeling of the manor itself contributed to it, but everything felt lifeless at the moment. Just reaching out and feeling the wall beside me sent a chill throughout my body. Just then, Evelyn stepped out of the closet in her black nightgown.

"All yours." she said, gesturing toward the closet. I wasted no time in stepping in and changing into some warm sleepwear myself. Exiting with the candle in hand, I yawned, feeling my exhaustion catching up with me. Evelyn was busy admiring room idly. There wasn't much to see, truth be told. The bed was king-sized with layers and layers of blankets and pillows. The drapes hanging over the windows, while charming, did little to veil the flashes of lightning from outside. A plain vanity and armoire furnished the room, as well as one other chair and a side-table beside the bed. It was an attractive room, but seemed desolate and stripped at the same time.

"Do you need any help getting settled?" I inquired. "I'm sure you know where the guest bedroom is." She suddenly looked up at me with a queer expression, like she herself was uncertain how to put into words her reply. "The guest bedroom, Evelyn. That's where you're sleeping, right?"

"Oh! Um. Well. You see. I would prefer..." she trailed off for a moment, averting her eyes. It took a few seconds of thinking before I remembered.

"Ah, right. The thunderstorm thing, right?" As if on cue, a clamor of particularly raucous thunder crashed outside, causing the poor girl to jump and stare straight at me wide-eyed in terror.

"Yes! I hate storms! I'll never get to sleep on my own, so can I sleep in here tonight?" she blurted out almost desperately. This sudden movement apparently put some strain on her wounds as her face contorted and she grasped her side in pain.

"Easy now," I said, stepping forward and giving her some support. "Sure, you can sleep in here. Just take the bed and I'll sleep on the floor." She nodded and allowed me to lead her to the bed, helping her lay down without stressing her wound too much. It was different seeing an arachne curled up on the bed like that. I wasn't entirely sure how she would go about it at first.

Once I made sure she was settled, I pulled out a pillow and blanket for myself, wrapping up on the floor and trying to make the most out of the situation. Just as I mentioned with the wall, the floor felt cold as ice, so I had to maneuver especially well to avoid making contact. My eyes had well adjusted to the dark by this point, of course just as I was attempting to go to sleep. But it helped being able to see properly, as it kept me calm. More than that, just having somebody in the same room was quelling any rising bouts of anxiety or fear within me.

In my fatigued state of mind, I could not help wondering at why I took on this job in the first place. A calm life out in the countryside originally sounded perfect; ideal. Getting paid to just live comfortably and take care of a house? That was the train of thought that led to my jumping on the opportunity. In retrospect, I should have anticipated being alone out here. Just visiting my uncle; seeing and hearing what the job was like. I should have known. But I needed the job. In my reckless state of mind, signed up for the task without thinking about what it entailed. And in my weary state of mind, I wondered if I would be able to convince Evelyn to stick around for a little while longer. I liked her company.