Chapter 3: The Stranger
Chapter 3: The Stranger
The Hollow Tree stood at the corner of Main and Elm, its weathered sign creaking gently in the evening breeze. Clara paused outside, her hand hovering over the worn brass door handle. The muffled sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filtered through the thick oak door, a stark contrast to the quiet solitude she'd wrapped herself in since returning to Blackthorne Hollow.
Taking a deep breath, Clara pushed open the door and stepped inside. The familiar scent of polished wood and stale beer enveloped her, triggering a rush of memories from her high school days. Not much had changed in the years she'd been gone—the same dartboard hung in the corner, the same neon signs cast their soft glow over the bar.
A hush fell over the room as heads turned to look at the newcomer. Clara felt the weight of their stares, a mixture of curiosity and sympathy that made her skin prickle. She scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face.
"Clara!" Lily's voice rang out from a booth near the back. "Over here!"
Grateful for the lifeline, Clara made her way through the maze of tables. Lily stood to greet her with a warm hug, then gestured to the group gathered around the booth. "Look who I found, everyone!"
A chorus of greetings rose up as Clara slid into the booth. She recognized most of the faces—Mike Thompson, who'd been the star quarterback in high school; Sarah Winters, Mrs. Winters' granddaughter and Clara's former lab partner; and Tom Chen, Lily's older brother who'd always treated Clara like a second sister.
"It's good to see you all," Clara said, managing a small smile. "Though I wish it were under better circumstances."
A somber silence fell over the group. Tom was the first to break it, raising his glass. "To Elizabeth Montgomery," he said solemnly. "One of the kindest souls Blackthorne Hollow has ever known."
The others raised their glasses in agreement, and Clara felt a lump form in her throat. "Thank you," she murmured, touched by the gesture.
As the conversation resumed around her, Clara found herself relaxing slightly. The familiar banter and inside jokes served as a comforting backdrop, allowing her to momentarily set aside the weight of her grief and the questions that had been plaguing her.
"So, Clara," Mike said, leaning across the table, "what have you been up to all these years? Last I heard, you were off conquering the big city."
Clara shrugged, taking a sip of the beer Lily had ordered for her. "Not much conquering, I'm afraid. I've been working at a publishing house, mostly editing manuscripts and dreaming of writing my own someday."
"That sounds exciting," Sarah chimed in. "Any bestsellers we should know about?"
"Not yet," Clara laughed. "But I'm still holding out hope."
As the conversation flowed around her, Clara found her gaze drawn to the bar. A man she didn't recognize sat alone, nursing a glass of amber liquid. There was something about him that commanded attention—perhaps the set of his broad shoulders, or the way his presence seemed to fill the space around him.
As if sensing her scrutiny, the man turned, his eyes locking with Clara's across the room. For a moment, she forgot to breathe. His eyes were a striking shade of green, intense and searching. A small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he raised his glass in a subtle salute.
Clara quickly looked away, her cheeks warming. When she dared to glance back, the man had turned his attention back to his drink.
"Earth to Clara," Lily's voice broke through her reverie. "You okay? You kind of zoned out there for a second."
"Sorry," Clara mumbled, forcing her attention back to the group. "Just got lost in thought, I guess."
Lily followed Clara's earlier gaze, her eyebrows rising as she spotted the man at the bar. "Ah," she said knowingly. "I see you've noticed our newest resident."
"Who is he?" Clara asked, trying to keep her tone casual.
"That's Adrian Blackwood," Tom supplied. "Moved here about six months ago. Bit of a mystery man—keeps to himself mostly."
"Blackwood?" Clara repeated. "Any relation to the town founders?"
Mike shrugged. "He claims to be a distant relative, here to research his family history. But if you ask me, there's more to the story."
"What do you mean?" Clara pressed, her curiosity piqued.
"Just a feeling," Mike said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Guy gives me the creeps sometimes. Always hanging around the old parts of town, asking questions about local legends and such."
"Oh, stop it," Lily admonished. "You're just sore because he turned down your offer to join the softball team."
As the group dissolved into good-natured bickering, Clara found her attention drawn back to Adrian. This time, he was looking directly at her, his gaze unwavering. There was a challenge in those green eyes, an invitation she couldn't quite decipher.
Before she could stop herself, Clara stood. "I'm going to get another drink," she announced to the table. "Anyone need a refill?"
Waving off their requests, she made her way to the bar, her heart pounding in her ears. She could feel Adrian's eyes on her as she approached, and she silently willed her legs not to betray her nervousness.
"What'll it be?" the bartender asked as she reached the counter.
"I'll have what he's having," Clara said, gesturing to Adrian's glass.
A low chuckle came from beside her. "Careful," Adrian said, his voice a rich baritone that sent a shiver down her spine. "Not everyone can handle a Blackthorne Special."
Clara turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge, Mr. Blackwood?"
His smile widened, revealing a dimple in his left cheek. "Not at all, Miss...?"
"Montgomery," she supplied. "Clara Montgomery."
Something flickered in Adrian's eyes at the mention of her name, so quickly she almost missed it. But his smile never faltered. "Clara," he repeated, as if tasting the name. "A pleasure to meet you."
The bartender set a glass in front of Clara, filled with the same amber liquid Adrian was drinking. She took a tentative sip, the liquor burning a path down her throat. It tasted of smoke and spices, with an undercurrent of sweetness she couldn't quite place.
"Well?" Adrian asked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "What's the verdict?"
Clara took another sip, more confident this time. "It's... intriguing," she decided. "Much like its namesake town, I suppose."
Adrian's eyebrows rose. "You're not from around here, then?"
"Born and raised," Clara corrected. "But I've been away for a while. Just got back, actually."
"Ah," Adrian nodded, understanding dawning on his face. "You're Elizabeth Montgomery's daughter. I heard about your loss. My condolences."
Clara studied him over the rim of her glass. "Thank you. Did you know my mother?"
Adrian shook his head. "Not personally, no. But in a town like this, news travels fast. Your mother was well-respected."
There was something in his tone, a hint of... what? Regret? Curiosity? Clara couldn't quite put her finger on it. She was about to press further when Adrian smoothly changed the subject.
"So, Clara Montgomery, what brings you back to Blackthorne Hollow after all this time? Besides the obvious, of course."
Clara hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "Unfinished business, I suppose," she said finally. "Loose ends that need tying up."
Adrian's green eyes seemed to look right through her. "Careful," he said softly. "Some threads, once pulled, have a way of unraveling everything."
A chill ran down Clara's spine at his words. Before she could respond, a commotion at the other end of the bar drew their attention. Two men were squaring off, their voices rising in anger.
"Excuse me," Adrian said, setting down his glass. "Duty calls."
Clara watched in surprise as Adrian made his way to the arguing men. With a few quiet words and a firm hand on each of their shoulders, he managed to defuse the situation. The men grumbled but separated, retreating to opposite ends of the bar.
"Impressive," Clara remarked as Adrian returned. "Do you moonlight as a bouncer?"
He laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Hardly. But I've found that a calm word at the right moment can prevent a lot of trouble."
"You sound like you speak from experience," Clara observed.
Adrian's smile turned enigmatic. "Let's just say I've had my share of fires to put out over the years."
As they continued to talk, Clara found herself drawn in by Adrian's charm. He was well-traveled, with a wealth of stories that hinted at a life far more exciting than the average small-town resident. Yet there was something guarded about him, a careful distance he maintained even as he regaled her with tales of his adventures.
Time seemed to slip away as they conversed. It wasn't until Lily appeared at her elbow that Clara realized how late it had grown.
"Hey," Lily said, her eyes darting between Clara and Adrian. "We're heading out. You coming?"
Clara glanced at her watch, surprised to see that several hours had passed. "I should go," she said, turning back to Adrian. "It was nice meeting you."
"The pleasure was all mine," Adrian replied, taking her hand in a gentle grip. His touch sent a jolt of electricity through her. "I hope we'll have the chance to continue our conversation soon."
As Clara followed Lily out of the bar, she could feel Adrian's eyes on her back. Outside, the cool night air helped clear her head, but did little to slow her racing heart.
"So," Lily said, a teasing note in her voice. "You and Adrian seemed to hit it off."
Clara shrugged, aiming for nonchalance. "He's interesting. Knows how to tell a good story."
Lily's expression grew serious. "Just... be careful, okay? There's something about him that doesn't quite add up."
"What do you mean?" Clara asked, thinking of Mike's earlier comments.
Lily hesitated. "It's probably nothing. But ever since he arrived in town, strange things have been happening. Old feuds resurfacing, people acting out of character. And there are rumors..."
"What kind of rumors?" Clara pressed.
"Just silly stuff," Lily said, waving a hand dismissively. "You know how people in small towns love to gossip. Some say he's here looking for some long-lost family treasure. Others think he's running from something in his past."
Clara's mind raced, thinking of her mother's journal and the secrets it hinted at. Could Adrian's arrival be connected somehow?
As they reached the corner where they would part ways, Lily pulled Clara into a hug. "I'm glad you came out tonight," she said. "It was good to see you smile again."
Clara returned the embrace, grateful for her friend's steadfast presence. "Thanks for inviting me. It was... nice to feel normal for a while."
As she walked the rest of the way home alone, Clara's thoughts were a jumble of contradictions. The evening had been a welcome distraction, a glimpse of the life she'd left behind. But it had also raised new questions, adding to the mystery that seemed to be growing with each passing day.
She thought of Adrian—his magnetic charm, the intensity of his gaze, the cryptic nature of his words. There was more to him than met the eye, she was sure of it. But was he a potential ally in her quest for answers, or another piece of the puzzle she needed to solve?
As Clara reached her front porch, a movement in the shadows across the street caught her eye. For a moment, she thought she saw a figure watching her—tall, broad-shouldered, familiar. But when she blinked, the street was empty.
Shaking off the unnerving feeling, Clara unlocked her door and stepped inside. As she prepared for bed, her mother's journal beckoned from the nightstand. Clara picked it up, running her fingers over the worn leather cover.
Tomorrow, she decided. Tomorrow she would dive deeper into her mother's secrets, would start pulling at the threads Adrian had warned her about. Whatever the cost, she would unravel the mystery surrounding her mother's death and the shadows that seemed to be closing in around Blackthorne Hollow.
As she drifted off to sleep, Clara's dreams were filled with green eyes and whispered warnings, the taste of spiced liquor on her tongue and the feeling of standing on the edge of a great and terrible discovery.