Katherine's Prophecy Read online

  For the next few days, Emily had the best time she’d had in her entire life. She and Ted hadn’t done anything particularly exciting; it was just the fact that she was getting out and doing things with a male companion whom she was very fond of on her home turf that had been so fulfilling. At night, they made the rounds through town, hanging out with the locals, and catching a movie at the town’s only movie theater. She’d taken Ted over to her grandfather’s house and it became more than obvious that both Grandpa Warren and Miss Rutledge were overjoyed to see her with a man and enjoying herself for a change.

  At one point during the visit, Miss Rutledge had taken her aside and asked her if she was serious about Ted. Emily laughed and told her that they were just good friends. The look of disappointment on Miss Rutledge’s face had been more than evident, and Emily wondered at the time why she’d been so affected by her reply.

  Just before she and Ted had left, her grandfather had given her a hug and told her he loved her. Then he’d asked her to wait a moment while he went into his study to get something. He’d returned with a framed portrait of Grandma Katherine and handed it to her. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he explained to her that the portrait had been taken not long before she’d passed away, and that he wanted Emily to keep it. Emily had tried to hide her shock at seeing the remarkable resemblance between herself and her grandmother as she thanked him and began weeping herself, telling him that she loved him and that she would treasure the portrait forever.

  It was the last time Emily saw her grandfather alive.

  On the fifth day of Ted’s visit, Emily had suggested that they take a picnic out on the mountain. She’d learned from Miss Cooper that her father was out of town on business and wouldn’t be back for several days. Emily packed a lunch complete with a chilled bottle of wine then the two had set out for the woods.

  It had been an absolutely gorgeous day; sunny and warm, yet still early enough in the season not to be humid. Emily had considered taking Ted to the old house but decided against it since she hadn’t told him about her family’s past and didn’t want to have to try and explain the ruins to him. So she opted to take him to one of the more scenic areas of the mountain that she had frequented—a clearing near the western ridge that offered a spectacular view of the Hudson valley.

  They had reached the clearing in a little less than half an hour. Emily spread a blanket out beneath one of the trees and went about preparing their lunch.

  Emily had never been much of a drinker. One drink was normally enough to get her tipsy and much more than that usually got her downright drunk. They each drank a glass of wine with their meal and when Ted offered to refill Emily’s glass she declined. He’d seemed annoyed by this, Emily noticed, but he said nothing. He poured himself another glass and drained it then poured another one.

  Emily began noticing a gradual change in Ted as they sat there in relative silence, taking in the beauty and tranquility of the surroundings. It was in his eyes; the way he looked over at her from time to time. It was a sort of wild, hungry look and it started to frighten her. Twice she’d caught him staring down at her breasts, and she suddenly wished she had chosen something other than the white tee shirt, sans bra, that she had worn. Each time she caught Ted staring, he sort of snickered at her in a scary way then turned his head away from her—pretending to be absorbed in the scenery.

  She started feeling even more uncomfortable when Ted had poured himself the last of the wine. Something inside told her that things were going wrong—that Ted was breaking down and suddenly had more on his mind than friendship. She tried telling herself that perhaps she was just imagining these things; that surely Ted would never break her trust in him. Surely, she thought, she was just imagining all of this. But that look in his eyes, the way he kept looking at her . . .

  All of a sudden Ted had thrown his arms around her and pressed his lips hard against hers. She tried to break away, but couldn’t. He lunged forward, causing her to fall back onto the ground with him on top of her. She screamed out his name and for a fleeting moment he merely stared at her; his eyes wild and vacant—like those of a hungry shark.

  She started beating his back with her fists then dug her fingernails into him, but he never even flinched. One of his hands slid in under her shirt and grabbed her breast as his other hand yanked down her walking shorts. Her mind was reeling by then and she started screaming at the top of her lungs, knowing full well that no one would ever hear her.

  Then she felt a finger enter her. Her shorts were pulled down to her knees as he took his hand away from her breast and started pulling down her panties. His strength was incredible as he pinned her hard against the ground with his chest, making her arms feel powerless under the pressure of his weight.

  He yanked down her panties and shorts to her ankles and somehow managed to slide them over her feet, keeping her pinned down at the same time. Then he raised himself up from her just enough to undo his jeans, resting his weight on an outstretched arm.

  This had been her only chance.

  With every ounce of strength she had, she rammed her knee into his crotch, causing Ted to let out a bloodcurdling scream and fall to her side. In an instant she was on her feet. As Ted brought his hands to his crotch in agony, she kicked him in the face with her foot as hard as she could. Then, she ran.

  She reached her house in what seemed like seconds and bolted into the kitchen. She was sobbing hysterically as she stood over the kitchen sink trying to catch her breath. She took a glass out of the cupboard, filled it with water and drank it down before realizing that she was naked from the waist down. She shuddered to herself in horror and ran up into her bedroom to throw on a pair of jeans before going back downstairs to await Ted’s return.

  As she stood by the back door staring out the window, Emily had no idea what to expect; whether Ted would be running, walking, or crawling back to her. She only knew that he had to come out of the forest sometime.

  She’d waited about forty-five minutes when Ted finally appeared. She spotted him just as he emerged from the woods and stepped onto her back yard. His stride was unsteady and slow, his hand holding something white against the side of his face. As he limped across the yard, she could see that he was staring at the house, perhaps in an effort to map out his next move. Her heart started pounding faster as he drew closer.

  When he was about twenty yards away, he spotted her standing there and stopped dead in his tracks. He hollered her name and asked her to open the door.

  Emily hesitated for a moment then opened the door a few inches and stuck her head out. She could see that his left cheek was bleeding where she’d kicked him and cringed when she realized that the cloth he was holding against it was her panties—now soaked with his blood.

  Emily could tell by the expression on his face that he meant her no further harm. In fact, it looked as though he’d been crying—either out of shame for what he’d done or from the pain he no doubt was experiencing. She really wasn’t sure which was the case.

  Ted started apologizing to her vehemently and begged her to forgive him. He told her he didn’t know what had gotten into him—he’d simply lost control of himself after all the wine he’d drunk. Emily remained silent as he spoke and merely stared at him until he was finished saying what he had to say. Then she calmly ordered him off her property and told him that she never wanted to see him again. She closed the door, locked it, and waited until Ted got into his car and left. Then she had gone upstairs and taken a long hot bath.

  She never saw Ted Chalmers again . . .

  Emily felt a lump come to her throat after recalling that day. She knew now what she hadn’t realized then; that she had fallen in love with Ted Charmers but at the time had hidden it from herself. And had what occurred on that Sunday afternoon never happened, she might have seen things turn out differently then they had.

  But Ted had blown it. And ever since that day she had never trusted another man. She never would again.

  Emily glanced o
ver at the mantle at the portrait of Grandma Katherine her grandfather had given her on the last day she’d seen him alive. She missed him so much and wished that he could be with her now, holding her in his arms and reassuring her that everything was going to be all right. He’d always had that calming affect on her and, in retrospect, she realized now that Grandpa Warren had been the true father figure in her life—the father that her real father had never been. She silently cursed Charles under her breath for keeping her away from her grandfather as long as he had and depriving her of someone who had meant so much to her.

  It had been less than a week after the incident with Ted when Miss Rutledge had called and told her that her grandfather had passed away. He’d had a massive heart attack earlier that morning. Her father had been in the room at the time and asked her why she was crying. When she told him what had happened, she couldn’t believe the look on his face. Not a look of shock or grief—but a look of jubilation, carefully masked by an expression of mock remorse. But he hadn’t fooled her for one second.

  In his will, Warren Hoffman left to his only son, Charles, all interests to Hoffman Textiles and the remainder of his assets, with the exception of his home in Ashland Falls, which he left to Dorothy Ann Rutledge. Also, he left to his granddaughter, Emily Hoffman, the sum of $75,000.

  But Emily later learned from Miss Rutledge that her grandfather had intended to have his will rewritten. The new will would have left Hoffman Textiles to her father and Emily jointly, with the added stipulation that Emily would own 51% of the interests and her father the remaining 49%. The purpose of this would have been to prevent her father from selling the business, which her grandfather suspected that he might well do. In order for him to sell out, her father would have to either acquire Emily’s consent or buy out her interests in order to do so, which would have been virtually impossible for him to do. Miss Rutledge told Emily that her grandfather had always been slow in doing things and although he’d mentioned changing his will several times throughout the years, he’d never gotten around to it.

  This revelation had haunted Emily for the last ten years. She had thought to herself on numerous occasions: if only—

  But Hoffman Textiles became her father’s legal possession and when this became common knowledge around town, the rumors started flying that Charles Hoffman might sell out. Emily had little doubt that he was going to sell—she’d heard him talking on the phone to several investors over the next few weeks after her grandfather’s funeral. But she had been under the impression that he was trying to find someone to take over ownership of the mill, and never in her wildest dreams thought that he would sellout completely—lock, stock, and barrel. When he had indeed sold the family business to land developers and Hoffman Textiles was subsequently leveled to the ground, Emily had been just as shocked as everyone else.

  It was during the period between her grandfather’s death and the shutdown of the mill that Miss Rutledge had called Emily and invited her over to her house. She told her that she wanted her to look over several items that her grandfather had left that she might be interested in having.

  It was on this particular day that Emily learned what had been kept from her all those years concerning her Grandmother Katherine.

  Emily could still see the stern, deliberate look on Miss Rutledge’s face as she recalled that ominous day of revelation . . .

  CHAPTER 3

  Emily had no sooner arrived at her grandfather’s house, which now belonged to Miss Rutledge, when she was led into the living room and asked to sit down by her aging host. Miss Rutledge took a seat on the sofa across from her and cleared her throat ceremoniously.

  “I have asked you over, Emily, because there are a few things I feel compelled to tell you now that your grandfather has passed on—God rest his soul. Warren and I both were beside ourselves for years debating whether we should or should not tell you what I’m about to say, and I must confess that it hasn’t been an easy decision to make. But I feel, and have always felt, that you should know these things because you have the right to know, if for no other earthly reason. I also feel it may shed some light on a few things and help you to understand why circumstances have come to be as they are.

  “You already know part of the story concerning your grandmother, Katherine Hoffman, and how she was raised by my mother after her parents perished in the fire that destroyed their home. What you don’t know is that your grandmother had been inside that house while it was burning and that she had been rescued by your great-grandfather, John Hoffman, Warren’s father. John Hoffman had been coon hunting on the mountain alone that night when he discovered that the house was on fire. He ran over to the house, which had been engulfed in flames by that time, and went inside in an effort to save anyone who might still be alive. Clem and Nancy Porter, Katherine’s parents, were already dead but their infant daughter miraculously was unharmed. John quickly snatched up little Katherine and fled the house just before the roof had fallen in.

  “John Hoffman had been quite close to Clem Porter’s father and in fact had given him the small plot of land where Clem and his family were living years before the tragedy. When Clem’s father had passed on, Clem was left alone in that house at a young age without any family and no means of support, so your great-grandfather had more or less taken him under his wing and given him a job at the mill. After rescuing your grandmother from the house that night, John felt an obligation to Clem to see that his daughter would be taken care of. So, he confronted my mother and asked her to consider taking little Katherine in and raising her. Neither Clem nor Nancy had any surviving relatives. He told her that had he not been a widower with a child of his own to raise—your grandfather, who was only two at the time—he would have adopted Katherine himself. He also offered to help out financially. My mother, who as you already know had been a close friend of Clem and Nancy’s anyway, happily accepted his proposal.

  “My mother had been your great-grandfather’s housekeeper and we were living in the guest house that used to be out back across the courtyard. The fact that she was to become Katherine’s legal guardian was really only a formality since, for all intent and purposes, she was already raising your grandfather and myself anyway. In reality, we were more or less one happy family, seeing as we for the most part were living under the same roof.

  “I was only four years old at the time and thrilled to have a little sister to look after and care for. Warren simply loved Katherine right from the beginning and they eventually became inseparable as the years went by. By the time Katherine was fifteen, and Warren seventeen, it became quite apparent that they had fallen in love with each other. Then, a dreadful thing happened. Katherine became pregnant. Warren was the father.

  “This became a very grave matter indeed. It could have been resolved easily, in theory. Warren wanted to marry Katherine and she wanted to marry him. It wasn’t unusual for a fifteen year old girl to get married back in those days, so there was no real threat of public scorn or any such nonsense as that. Furthermore, your grandfather was financially secure since he had already been helping his father run the mill and knew that he would eventually inherit it. Everything should have turned out all right, in light of all of this.”

  “But unfortunately, it didn’t.”

  “John Hoffman hit the ceiling when he learned that Katherine was pregnant and he absolutely refused to let them get married. Nobody, including my mother and myself, could understand why he was so upset. It simply didn’t make any sense whatsoever. He loved Katherine as if she were his own daughter and had to have known that she would make a wonderful wife for his son. So why, everyone wondered, was he so adamantly opposed to their being married?”

  Miss Rutledge posed this question rhetorically and paused before continuing. Emily, already in shock from these revelations, simply continued staring at her.

  “Well, no one knew—except for John Hoffman himself. And he would offer no explanation. Warren and Katherine became defiant once it became clear that John H
offman wasn’t going to relent. So, they eloped. They were gone for only a few days then returned to face your great-grandfather. He was absolutely livid to say the least, and from that day on became a changed man. He started drinking more than usual and was forever ranting and raving around the house, yelling at everyone—particularly at Warren. It seemed that the bigger Katherine grew, the more John’s anger grew.

  “Then one evening, John had taken Warren into his study and closed the door. I happened to be in the next room polishing the silverware—I often helped Mother with the housework at the Hoffmans’—and I don’t think he realized I was there. I could hear every word that was said as clear as day.”

  Miss Rutledge hesitated for a moment. Emily immediately sensed that she was debating whether or not to go on with the story, judging by the look on her face. Then, after clearing her throat for the second time, she continued; her voice lowered and at times tentative.

  “John told your grandfather that he simply must not allow Katherine to give birth to this baby; that it would be a very big mistake. Warren was obviously bewildered by his father’s remark and asked what on earth he meant by it. John said nothing for a moment, then told him that it simply wasn’t a very good idea under the circumstances. Warren was quickly becoming annoyed and impatient with his father, and demanded to know what John was driving at; and I dare say that I, too, was wishing he would hurry up and get to the point.”

  Again, Miss Rutledge paused for what seemed like too long a time. Then she spoke slowly, choosing her words very carefully.

  “John told Warren that he’d had good reason for being so opposed to his marrying Katherine in the first place. That reason being the fact that Katherine could quite well be his little sister.”