Grandfather Robert's Will
Chapter 18's

Rachel sat in the middle of her darkened room for exactly fifteen minutes and she just listened. All he needed to do was go outside without being caught by others, the rest would be easy.

He opened the door of his creaking room, he held his breath, waited and listened for a while. There's no sound. Now or not at all, her mind as she tightened the jacket. He reached into his pocket deeply, took a flashlight, two matchboxes, and a small can of hair spray. As good as a big stick, thought Rachel, if only you had met something hostile. He tiptoed towards the corridor and began to descend the stairs slowly with his back docked to the wall.

An adventure, he thought. He felt a happy thump as well as a familiar tense. He hasn't experienced it since Grandpa Robert died. While letting himself out of one of the side doors, he thought about how happy Grandpa would be if he could go on this one mission.

The moon only appears as bright as it is, but the sky is studded with stars. A fog blocking the stars is nothing more than a translucent blob. And air... Rachel took a deep breath, feeling as cool and as fresh as an orange. Turning a glance toward Jenson's room window, he began to exit Grandpa's residence.

The starlight couldn't help him there. Although the trees appear plain, the branches are thick enough to block the cloud clumps. It was called the flashlight, and directed to the left and right to find the ends of the road. He's not rushing around. If he were to hurry, the adventure would be too soon to be completed. He walked slowly, listening and imagining.

There's voices. The wind blew on the tops of trees and ruffled the dry leaves. Occasionally the forest dwellers behind Grandpa Robert's residence passed to the left or right. A fox, a bat that can't stay still at night? Rachel liked the feeling of not being too sure of it. If you walk through the forest alone, in the dark, and don't wonder at all, the journey will be completely uninteresting.

He likes the smell of wood, soil, dew that will go down to the bottom before morning. He loves solitude, and moreover, has something in sight that needs his attention. The road branched, and he chose to turn left. The cottage is not too far away. Suddenly he stopped, convinced he had heard something moving upwards that was too big to be considered a fox. For a moment he found himself thinking nothing of a giant bear. Speculating and dealing with them are two different things. But it turns out there's nothing. Rachel shook her head, then continued her steps.

What will he do if after arriving at the cottage turns out the place is not dusty and taken care of? What would he do if he actually found one of his dearest relatives was busy doing household business? Uncle Diara Joseph read the newspaper by the fireplace? and Auntie wagged a rag to get rid of the dust around the rickety wooden table? Rachel almost laughed, until she remembered her study that had been made a mess.

Linking her eyebrows together, Rachel stepped forward. If someone is there, they have to face it. The shadow of the cottage faintly began to appear. The place looks like it should be, quiet, uninhabited, scary. He dimmed his flashlight as he crept towards the porch, then almost shouted as his own weight caused the narrow wooden staircase to crackle. Her own chest with one hand until the beat no longer felt so tight. Then slowly, silently, stealthily, he grabbed the door handle and turned it around.

The door opened and let out a whimpering sound. Grimacing at the sound, Rachel counted to ten before taking her next step. After a quick glance of his flashlight, he stepped in.

As the arm smothered his neck, he dropped the flashlight he was holding. It was rolling on the floor, its highlight spreading indeterminately in all directions, to the wooden walls and the brick fireplace. Holding his breath wanting to scream, the mouthful of a can of hair spray in his pocket. After his body was flipped, he found himself face to face with Jenson.

Jenson's fist was clenched just a few inches from her face, a hair spray Rachel's can of several inches from Jenson's face. Both of them were glued to where they stood.

“Sial!” Jenson dropped his fist. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” reply Rachel. “And what do you mean gripping me like that? You can damage my flashlight.”

“I almost broke your nose.”

Rachel flicked her hair and took back her flashlight. He didn't want Jenson to see his hands tremble. “Well, I really think that you should have first figured out who it was before raiding that guy.”

“You followed me.”

“Interference.” Jenson directs her own flashlight directly to Rachel's face until the woman has to block her by hand. “And what would you do if something happened? Overcome?”

Rachel thought about how easily Jenson made her dumbfounded. It just made him lift his chin even higher. “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure.” Thought about the can that Rachel was holding. “You brought what?”

He had forgotten about it, Rachel glanced at the can as well and had to dampen the deck. Oh, how Grandpa Robert would love this weirdness. “Hair spray,” he said in earnest. “Just between your eyes.”

Jenson swore, then laughed. He wouldn't be able to write something so absurd. “I think I should be thankful that you haven't had time to spray me.”

“I saw first before attacking.” Rachel put the can back in her pocket. “Yeah, since we're already here, we'd better take a look around.”

“I was doing that when I heard ‘approach cat’-mu.” way Rachel pursed her nose, but Jenson ignored her. “It seems someone has made himself at home,” To prove his point, Jenson shines his flashlight towards the fireplace. The half-burned wood was still smoky.

"Wah, wah.” Using her own flashlight, Rachel began to step down the cottage. The last time he was here, a broken chair was by the window. Grandfather sat there, watching Saunderson, while Rachel opened a can of sardines to overcome the famine. Now the chair was pulled near the fireplace. “A traveler, maybe.”

While observing him, Jenson nodded. “Maybe.”

“But it doesn't seem. You think he'll be back?”

“Hard to say.” Just looking at it did not show any results. The cottage was neat and slick. Too slick. The surface of the floor and the table should be covered with dust. Everything has been wiped clean. “It looks like he managed to do the vandalism he wants to do.” Grunt, Rachel flopped onto the bed and supported her chin. “I hope to catch wet him.”

“And what? Spray it with eco-friendly hair spray?”

He glares. “You have a better plan, huh?”

“I think I'll make him feel a little more uncomfortable.”

“Puffy eyes and broken nose.” Rachel let out an impatient voice. “Really, Jenson, you should try to separate your fist from your mind.”

“I think you just want to have a reasonable conversation with whoever is a kind family member, who has ruined your work space.”