Chapter Text
"Okay, look there, Ms. Swan and you'll get your first glimpse of Misthaven Cottage," The sharp-dressed, dark-eyed realtor said, pointing off-handedly upwards along the road.
And Emma's breath caught in her throat. Just peeking out behind a line of tall uneven shrubs and coarse trees, the house was even more spectacular in reality than what she had seen in the pictures. With it's washed-white walls, the cottage's north corner looked down from atop the winding gravel road and the West front faced a steep cliff with a clear view of the ocean. Suddenly Emma felt like she was in the setting from an old romance novel. She swallowed hard and tried to tamp down on the emotions she was feeling at the sight of seeing the house.
Her house, she thought wistfully.
Whoa, take it easy, Emma. It's not yours yet.
"It's nice, Mrs. Mills. Kind of a steep drive though, don't you think? Looks a bit run-down, too." She said, trying to sound as apathetic as possible.
The realtor (Regina, Emma recalled. She said to call her Regina. Like they were friends.) sighed at her and pulled her black sedan off to the side at the bottom of the unkempt driveway. "I suppose, then, we should walk from here?" She offered curtly, clearly eyeing the driveway with disgust.
Emma nodded her agreement and turned to her son. Henry was completely taken in by the view of the ocean just beyond the treeline and his usual exuberance was quelled for the moment. "Hey, kid," she whispered in his ear as he turned to her and beamed, "wanna go take a walk?" He nodded eagerly and quickly threw open the door of the sedan with his rounded and slightly clumsy 6-year-old hands.
She met him on the other side of the car and his little hand slipped easily into hers. Her heart melted into a puddle of gooey marshmallow softness like it did every time.
The walk up the driveway was largely dominated by the sound of three pairs of shoes crunching on the gravel, as Mrs. Mills, the realtor seemed reluctant to speak, choosing to concentrate on keeping her high heeled shoes from disappearing into the rock. Despite her frequent huffs of annoyance, the walk was over fairly quickly and rounding the last of the overgrown shrubs, Emma finally could see the cottage in its entirety.
It was like entering a dream. A really good dream. For a moment, she could have even sworn there was a slight mist obscuring the air. Even though the two-story cottage may have been missing large chunks of wood panels and in desperate need of a fresh coat (or five) of paint, Emma knew she had never seen anything so charming. Her heart sped with anticipation of finally getting to peer inside the house she had so long wanted to see.
The grainy, blurred photos of Misthaven Cottage she had seen through the online realty website really had not done it justice at all. One look at the two large dormer windows, the black-framed door and the small freesia-covered porch, and Emma felt an instantaneous rush of excitement. Despite the run-down state of the place, something just called to her. The house seemed lonely. Unwanted. In need of someone to believe it could be great once more.
She knew the feeling well.
A lone fluffy cloud hung low over the house, electrifying the atmosphere as she approached, and her arms dotted with gooseflesh. She closed her eyes, imagining that she could hear the wind blowing off the ocean and through the weathered eaves calling her name. Who knew Emma Swan could have a romantic side after all?
Henry tugged fiercely at her hand and she opened her eyes to look down at him, his eyes big brown saucers of wonder.
"What do you think, kid?"
He looked up at her, mouth slightly agape and then slowly breaking into a small grin. "It looks like a boat, mommy."
Henry's statement floored her. Now that he had said it, she couldn't unsee it. How had she missed that? The way the front end curved to a point like a bow, or how there were little rows of round porthole-shaped windows along the top.
Even Regina seemed impressed by Henry's sharp observations. "Wow, that's…you are very clever, little man." Henry turned to her and flashed his brightest smile. Regina paused for a moment, clearly moved by his charm. She bent down to him and said, "You know, some of the wood used in the construction did come from an old ship. Come on in and I'll tell you and your mom a little bit about the history of the place." She offered as she walked forward with a flourish of keys.
The front door of the cottage at one time must have been painted a welcoming, cheery red, but the paint was so chipped and flaked that the wood was now a dark, stained ochre. Two lead-glass windows framed the door, offering a slivered view of the foyer beyond. Emma gripped Henry tighter and tried to hold back the flutter of nerves in her stomach as she stepped inside.
As they stepped inside, the smell of the sea and old wood assaulted her, filling her mind with visions of old libraries and ancient museums. She couldn't imagine a more interesting and adventurous smell. Dust particles dotted the air like tiny faeries. Being locked up for years, the place was stiflingly warm. A few scattered pieces of furniture left from previous owners were covered in clothes, but otherwise, the place was just empty. Isolated. Forgotten.
All of Emma's previous feelings about the house magnified as she strolled through the foyer into the main living area. The rooms were smaller than she had expected them to be, but her mind quickly filled them with the soft twill couches, old books and knickknacks they already owned. Already she could see how the room would look as she added new pieces, and she knew it wouldn't feel cramped, only cozy. The warm oak floors, despite the layers of dust, had a layer of smooth polish and the eggshell blue and walls would barely need touched-up at all. The rooms also seemed to have a gently sloping curve instead of hard corners, again leading her to the feeling of being inside a ship at sea. She could almost feel the sway of the ocean under her feet.
As they moved through to the back rooms, the sunlight poured in through a set of long, beveled windows. Through them, she could see the slope of an unkempt but large yard, a line of thorny bushes at the back, and finally the great wide expanse of ocean beyond. Instantly, her mind was making up a hundred different scenarios of her and Henry sitting a small kitchen table, drinking hot cocoa and watching the clouds cast shadows upon the water.
It was her idea of heaven.
Regina spun herself around, leaning against the kitchen counter and studying Emma's face. "You like the place. I can tell." She taunted, and Emma reluctantly agreed with a slight nod.
"It's an amazing view," she conceded.
"You could say that. I'm not going to lie, though. The house itself is pretty rough. It will take a bit of work to get the house into a proper state, although the plumbing, wiring, and roof are fairly adequate. I can get you the exact dates on those updates back at my office, if you decide you're interested." She shuffled a small folder, pulling out a spec sheet and handing it to Emma as she continued. "The house itself was built in 1897, by an eccentric, albeit wealthy, antique dealer who always wanted to be a sailor, thus the nautical touches. Supposedly, the dark wood paneling along the staircase and the floors and even some of the columns and doors, have all come from the salvaged remains of an old pirate ship," she added with a conspiratorial wink towards her son.
At this, Henry's face lit up with glee and he began hopping around the kitchen pretending to sword fight, while covering his left eye with his hand. Both Regina and Emma watched him with considerable amusement before remembering why they were actually there.
Finally, Emma coughed a little and tried to get back on track with the sale. "Okay, let's say I am interested in this house. Why has it been on the market so long? Is there some major issues needing to be done?" She crossed her arms and tried to school her face back into cold indifference, while mentally calculating just how much money she could salvage together for repairs if necessary.
Regina flinched and darted her eyes away, causing Emma's internal lie-detector to flare to life. "No, nothing specific that I am aware of. However, it is a very old house and I'm sure there are numerous things that will need repaired."
What was this lady playing at? If Emma didn't know better, she would almost think that the realtor was actually trying to keep her from buying the house. Did she look like she couldn't afford it?
"Okay. I'm fine with that. But you really haven't answered my question. What's wrong with this place?"
Regina heaved a long-suffering sigh and crossed her arms this time, staring back. "All right. In the interest of full disclosure, I have to tell you that all of the previous occupants have put the house back on the market within 6 months of purchase."
No one lasted more than six months? What on earth would make someone ever give this place up like that? Emma frowned. "What? Why?"
Regina rolled her eyes and shrugged. "They all claimed that the house was haunted," she mumbled quietly.
Emma blinked. Then blinked again. Then a large smile broke over her face. "You serious? Haunted?" She couldn't help it, she began to laugh.
Regina rolled her eyes and gave her a look of complete exasperation. "Ms. Swan, please. I know how it sounds. Trust me. I have shown this house so many times and every single last person has had the same reaction as you: 'What a view!' or 'This place is perfect!' etcetera, etcetera," she emphasized with a wave of a perfectly manicured hand. "And yet, no one, no one Ms. Swan, has actively lived here in, well, forever. I cannot for the life of me figure it out." She seemed truly flustered now, almost as if she were speaking to herself. "This is prime real estate. An old house with an uninterrupted sea view in this market…it should sell for over a mil, easy. It's a travesty, is what it is. I can't say I believe in the supernatural, but there must be some sort of darkness here to explain it. I don't know if it's ghosts or a curse or just really bad luck…but it is absolutely ridiculous!" As if to emphasize her point, she shuddered violently and wrapped her arms around her.
Emma was silent for a long time as she took this information in. She didn't believe in the supernatural either, so the idea of this place being cursed or haunted just seemed absurd. How could a place that felt so right be…dark? "Do you…can I take a look at the upstairs…alone?" Emma asked suddenly.
Her mind was still awhirl and she really just needed space to work out what she was feeling. This house couldn't be dark. It just couldn't. Even trying to apply that word to this place made her angry, almost as if the raven-haired woman had called Henry that name. The house just needed to be shown the light. Again, Emma felt that odd ache of connection in her chest.
Regina nodded and waved her off. "I'll look after your boy until you get back. You know, I've got one of my own about his age." She said softly and far more sincerely than any of her previous tones, as her eyes focused on the boy.
And like a pulled plug, Emma's anger drained away into the ether. Thinking about Henry always had that effect on her. "Really?"
Regina smiled at Henry, who was busy opening all of the kitchen cabinets and peeking inside. It was the genuine affection of that smile that convinced Emma. "His name's Roland. He'll be seven next month. I really don't mind."
Nodding in acceptance, Emma replied, "If you're sure. He can be a bit…enthusiastic."
Regina only nodded back at Emma and for a second, she found herself truly enjoying the presence of the other woman. Maybe they could be friends after all? It might be nice to have a friend.
"I won't take long," Emma promised before quickly sliding out of the kitchen area and making her way towards the broad staircase off the main foyer.
Ignoring the layers of dust and grime, Emma slid her hand delicately up the banister, almost as if it was a loving caress. She could almost hear the house purr at the touch. When was the last time it had been touched with such care and devotion? It seemed the house ached to be needed as much as she did.
The top of the stairway opened to a deep brown wooden hallway landing leading into three separate bedrooms. More than enough space for just the two of them. She entered the left-hand room first, noting the smell of sunshine on wood, salt, and dust before checking out the closet space and condition of the windows. It would make the perfect room for Henry with just enough space for all his books and toys, and she could easily picture him zooming around the room playing make-believe.
The middle room was the largest, clearly meant to be the master, with a tall, sloped ceiling traversed by large, carved, round beams. But it was the set of balcony doors that could be opened out to a nearly ideal view of the ocean below that stole her breath away. If she didn't know before that this was the house for her, the thought of being able to throw open those windows and have the cool sea air wafting into her bedroom at night had her absolutely determined to stay.
And there it was. Stay. A word she had struggled with all her life. Yet, here, she felt oddly reluctant to leave. But this was not her house yet, and there was still one more room to check out: the upstairs bathroom. Pulling herself away, she set out down the right-hand side of the hallway for the last room. Black tiles covered the floor and travelled up half of the walls, while a soft gray paint coated the rest. Overall, it leant the room a plain but sophisticated look. Something between uber modern and classic retro. A deep claw-foot tub dominated one corner, while three small round windows above it made the room feel as if she were deep in the bowels of a ship. On the other end a pedestal sink jutted out from under a large circular mirror. Not the most practical of bathrooms, but a couple of storage shelves and clothing hooks could solve that.
As she exited the bathroom, she caught sight of one more door. Half-hidden in shadow, it was smaller than an average door and Emma couldn't help but wonder where it might lead. Just as she reached out for the door handle, the sunlight that had been spilling in merrily all morning dimmed drastically, changing the entire atmosphere of the house. Emma looked up at the sudden darkness and wandered if a storm was rolling in. It wouldn't be good to get stuck at the house and have to run back down that driveway in the rain with Henry in tow. Whatever was behind this mystery door would just have to wait until later.
It wasn't like she wouldn't have time to check it out after the house was hers, anyway.
Hurrying back down the stairs, she entered the kitchen just as the sun reemerged from behind the gathering clouds. As light once again filled the small kitchen, she noted the way Regina was recounting a silly story about an apple tree and a princess to her son, who sat on the kitchen counter enraptured.
"Ah, Ms. Swan, you're back! How was the upstairs?"
Okay, Emma. Game face on. Time to be an adult. "Not bad, Mrs. Mills, although I thought the rooms were a tad small, and there's not much storage. But overall, I think it will be alright."
Regina's eyes widened as she took in what Emma said. "Wait...are you saying you want to buy this house?"
Emma tried to suppress a grin and nodded. "Yes. I think it will be perfect for Henry and I."
Blinking a few times as if in shock, Regina finally found her voice. "Well…I just…are you sure, Ms. Swan?"
"- Emma."
Regina nodded absently, not quite meeting her eye. She seemed upset. "Uh…Emma," her voice lowered as she frowned. "Look, I'm not trying to…it's just that…" she huffed, unable to adequately express what she was saying.
Crossing her arms, Emma waited her out. "I have the money," she finally replied defensively.
"Oh! I didn't mean to imply..." Her eyes finally met Emma's and she was shocked by the turmoil in the woman's dark orbs. "Look, it's just that…you have a son. And this place…with it's history…"
"I'm not afraid of any sort of superstitious whatever, Mrs. Mills, and I'm not afraid of a little hard work. This is the house I want, for me and for Henry. Now, please, I would like to make an offer."
"Are you positive about this? I mean, if you can't stay, re-selling a house like this is, frankly, financial suicide for those who don't have a really secure bank account to back it up."
Emma swallowed. Buying this house was a risk. A really, really huge risk. Like her-entire-income-for-the-next-decade kind of risk. But she had to try. "I'm sure. And don't worry. I won't be re-selling."
Regina took a moment to study her, and apparently seeing that there would be no use in talking her out of this any further, she reluctantly shrugged her shoulders. "Then, why don't we go back to my office and I'll get the paperwork so you can put an offer on it today?"
Taking a large steadying breath, Emma scooped up her son and felt freer and lighter than she had in…well, forever. "I would love that," she answered.