The Scientific Method
a Sleepy Hollow story
by Hermione Eveningfall
On a particuarily muggy early summer morning, Ichabod Crane awoke to the sound of ear splitting wails. The bedroom was still dark, but when he lifted his head, he noticed that the sky was beginning to show a faint pink glow over the tops of the trees. Sighing heavily, he turned towards the crib in the corner, his dark eyes fixing on the small hands and feet that moved in fitful circular motions between the wooden bars.
"Ichabod?" a small whimper escaped the lips of his wife from beside him, and he blinked once.
"Katrina?"
The baby continued wailing, and Katrina sat up at last, her golden curls covering her face. "Ichabod, please. I have been up twice last night already. Can you not go and comfort Julia this morning?" she sounded desparate, but he could not quite read her facial expression.
Ichabod sighed, laying back down. It was much too early to be awake yet. "Katrina, it is the woman's job to care for the children." He turned away from her, burrowing beneath his blankets again, trying to get comfortable. "Wake me when the sun comes up," he whispered, yawning loudly and closing his eyes.
Katrina glared at him, fighting the urge to push him off the edge of the bed. Breathing heavily through her nose, she slid to the floor, fetching her robe before walking over to peer down at her distressed daughter. "Shhhhush, my darling. Mama is here."
Julia gurgled, chewing on her knuckles and staring up at her mother with wide, chocolate colored eyes. "Shhhhhhsh." Katrina lifted the baby out of the crib, walking over to sit in the chair by corner. She gazed wearily over the foggy fields of her native Sleepy Hollow, before unbuttoning the top of her nightgown to allow the baby to suckle the milk from her breast. It was a bit painful to stay at her father's mansion in tarrytown, but it would be a waste of property otherwise. The Cranes made the decision to spend the winter season in New York City and the summer season in Sleepy Hollow. Here Ichabod had been named Magistrate after his success in vanquishing the spectre of the headless horseman (and the death of the previous magistrate) nearly a year ago.
Ichabod began to snore rather loudly from his side of the bed, and she rolled her eyes. "Honestly," she thought aloud. Ichabod had been so distant since Julia's birth that fall. He threw himself headstrong into his work, which, Katrina found herself thinking, was all he seemed to care about these days. She did know that he had the task of aiding her in keeping the Van Tassel estate and its tenants, but she missed having him around. Whenever she wanted a hand with the baby, Ichabod murmered "I'm too busy" and dash away to do whatever work was available for him at that given time.
Katrina did not understand his behaviour in the least. He had fully agreed when s he'd told him she wanted to have a child of her own. `But usually he agrees to anything I request,' she wet her lips, noting that Julia was starting to doze off again. Katrina kissed the baby's rosy cheek, very carefully standing so as not tojoustle her, and tucked the infant back into the crib.
"Daaaaa," Julia gurgled, stretching her tiny feet and smacking her own lips in the usual infant fashion. Katrina smiled before going to the press, and pulled out Ichabod's uniform first. It was slightly wrinkled from the previous day's use, but not so bad that she felt the need to iron it. She lay it out on her side of the bed, and then began to undress herself, gazing into her vanity mirror. Choosing her gown next, she stopped suddenly, a pang of realization settling in the pit of her stomach. Today was her twentieth birthday, and Ichabod had not even said a single word to her about it. In fact, he had not mentioned it at all that week. `Well, perhaps he was still half asleep. He barely remembers his own name when woken before he is supposed to get up,' a voice spoke inside of her head, as she finished dressing. Once she pulled her hair up halfway into a butterfly clip, she began the process of bathing and dressing the baby. The sun began to finally rise just as she slipped on the baby's bootie, and, shifting Julia to one arm, she made her way over to the bed.
"Ichabod." She shook her husband, receiving only a grunt and a small stir. "Ichabod, the sun is up." She frowned when he only reached out a hand and waved it at her, murmering under his breath. Katrina finally went to the head of the bed, taking hold of the edge of his quilt, and yanked it down. Ichabod's eyes snapped open at the sudden chilly air, and he turned to face her.
"Now really, Katrina, was that necessary?" he croaked, sitting up and rubbing his hands over his face.
"In deed it was." She replied huffily.
"Is young Masbath awake yet?"
Katrina scowled, turning away, and walked towards the door. "How would I know that, my dear? I have been too busy caring for our baby."
Julia giggled at her mother's sour expression, and reached a tiny hand out to grasp the bow attached to the sleeve of her gown. "Da!" she squeaked.
Ichabod raised an eyebrow, wondering what on Earth could have put Katrina in such a foul mood this morning. "I did not mean to offend," he told her, removing his night shirt.
"I can not believe you are going to work today," Katrina told him as he pulled on his uniform and boots. "Do you even remember what it IS?" her eyes were flashing as she opened the door to the hallway.
Ichabod looked at her with confusion. "I can not afford to take a day off, Katrina. I have to aid you in managing the Van Tassel estate as well you know, and money does not grow on trees. And no, I do not remember any specifics of today except that I must send the cook to the market to restock our food supplies."
Katrina glared at him. "It is all about money, isn't it, Ichabod? That is all you seem to care about now."
Ichabod groaned. All he and Katrina had been doing lately was arguing over the tiniest of things. "You know that is not true in the least..."
"Do I?" Katrina asked, rubbing Julia's back absentmindedly. "Do I not know? Ichabod, you have not truly looked at me since our daughter was born. You have not wanted to sit down and be with me or your child. Do you know what I think? I think you do not want us around you anymore." She started to walk out of the room.
"Where are you going?" Ichabod asked, following her, grasping the side of the door frame. Katrina looked over her shoulder.
"I am going out. Do not expect me to sit through such a hostile breakfast, or luncheon for that matter."
"Katrina, please be reasonable, I..." Ichabod walked down the stairs with her, watching as she gathered her straw basket.
"Goodbye, Ichabod." She opened the front door of the mansion and walked out, shutting it a bit harder than was necessary. Following her departure, a second set of footsteps drew Ichabod's attention, and he turned to see Young Masbath entering the hallway from the servant's quarters.
"What happened, sir?" he asked, buttoning the last button on his waistcoat.
"I'm afraid Katrina and I have had a bit of a falling out," Ichabod replied softly.
The boy's mouth hung open, and he chewed on his nail nervously. "That will not ruin the surprise for her birthday, will it?"
Ichabod smiled faintly at him. "No. Of course not, young Masbath. I'm afraid she thinks I've forgotten her birthday, and that, along with whatever else is on her mind set her off. But we will continue to plan for the celebration tonight, and no matter what, will bring her back."
Young Masbath nodded, and followed his master towards the kitchen, where the middle-aged, chubby Irish woman they'd hired for their cook stood by the fireplace. She was whistling pleasantly, stirring something with a spoon, and smiled when she saw them enter. "Yer breakfast is almost ready, Mr. Crane. Where's the Missus? I ain't seen her yet this morn."
Ichabod cleared his throat, rocking on his heels, before making his way over to the desk in the corner. "She's taken the baby visiting," he replied, opening the top of the desk, pulling out a blank piece of parchment. "Lolly, I must ask a favor of you." He snatched a quill from it's stand, dipped the edge of it into an inkwell, and began writing things down.
"Of course, sir." Lolly wiped the palms of her slightly sticky hands onto her hand, watching as young Masbath began to set the table. Eventually she began to fill both bowls with a thick, creamy porridge, and set plates of fresh bread and peach jam onto the table as well.
"Would you kindly go to the market and refresh our food supplies today? I am afraid we are running rather low. Here is a list of what I am most certain we need, but if you happen to see anything of importance there, do not hesitate to pick it up."
Lolly nodded, taking the list, and read it over carefully. "Of course, Mr. Crane. Are you certain you will be all right for yer luncheon? I feel badly leaving you and the lad to fend for yerselves!"
Ichabod nodded. "Yes, thank you. We'll manage just fine."
Lolly removed her apron, hanging it on an rack with small iron pegs on the wall, and found the basket she usually took with her to go shopping. "Go on now and eat yer breakfast a'fore it gets cold." She encouraged Ichabod with a gentle wave of her hand, and nodded in satisfaction when he sat down beside young Masbath. "Well, then, if yer certain you `ave everything under control here, I'll be on my way." She waved, making her way out into the hall, and young Masbath had a very difficult time trying not to giggle aloud as he heard her bustling about. Ichabod ate his porridge slowly, his appetite not quite up to it's usual standards this morning. He felt terrible for having offended Katrina, and wished they had not started off on such a bad note that day.
When Lolly left the mansion, young Masbath reached over to take the tiny honey pot from the center of the table. "What exactly are we going to do for Katrina's birthday, sir?" he asked, dropping three spoonfuls of the sweet liquid into his mug of tea. "You suggested that we make dinner last night, but then you did not sound as though you were certain."
Ichabod smiled faintly at him. "Yes, we are going to make dinner, lad, but what I was unsure about was what exactly to make. I'm afraid my cooking skills aren't up to Katrina's or Lolly's, but I am sure..." he blushed a little, pausing. "Never mind."
Young Masbath finished the last of his porridge before starting on his bread, and gazed thoughtfully at the far wall. "Well, we could make roast chicken and potatoes, green beans..."
Ichabod chuckled. "Of course."
"And a cake!" the lad added, excited. He loved surprises. Ichabod managed another laugh, feeling slightly more cheerful than he had earlier.
"Naturally."
"We'd better begin straight away, sir. Lolly won't be in the marketm ore than half a day."
Ichabod ate what he could, before standing. "Sir," the boy chewed on his lower lip. "Should I go an dfetch a chicken now? So that we have it? I mean, I do not want to accidentally run into Lolly on her way back home." The boy had an inklin that Ichabod clearly did not understand how to prepare and cook a bird himself. He'd most likey only seen the finished product.
"What? Oh...of course." Ichabod pulled a couple of gold coins from his trouser ocket, and placed them into the boy's hand. "In the meantime, I'll clean up here and put together what we need for our cake."
Young Masbath beamed. "Are you sure you won't need my help, sir? I won't be long at the market."
Ichabod shook his head, patting young Masbath's shoulder. "No, no, go on, I'll be just fine. I have washed my own dishes before."
"All right." Young Masbath put the coins into his own pocket and dashed through the front door. When he was gone, the mansion turned nearly silent. The only sound Ichabod could hear were birds chirping outside. Taking a deep breath, he gathered the dirty breakfast dishes and carried them outside to th water pump. He jumped when he heard a strange sound, and lifted his head to find Henry the gardener clipping a set of rosebushes.
"Good mornin', Mr. Crane!" the old man tipped his wide-rimmed straw hat cheerfully. "Need a hand there, sir?"
Ichabod shook his head. "No, no thank you. I'm just fine."
Henry nodded as he continued clipping, and Ichabod sighed with relief. As soon as he finished washing the dishes, he brought them back inside and prepared gathering the ingredients he would need to make the cake. Even though Lolly and Katrina did most of the cooking, they still took the time to show him where things were located. He went to the cellar (much to his disgust) to fetch fresh eggs and the tin jug of milk. Then he came back up to find the flour, sugar, Katrina's box of cooking spices, and set everything down on the kitchen table. Whistling softly to himself, Ichabod found the wooden box of recipies Katrina kept on the desk, and began flipping through them to find a recipe for a spice cake. As he gazed at her neat handwriting, he found that his heart sank lower and lower, and finally just sighed heavily, leaning his chin in his palm. He realized now that he and Katrina had not really sat down and had an intimate moment together since Julia's birth. He chewed on his bottom lip, wondering what about the tiny little baby made him so nervous.
He had no troule at all raising young Masbath, but the boy was more of an apprentice than a son, and was certainly not his own child. Besides, Ichabod had taken the boy when he was ten, so the lad already knew how to walk and talk, and how to behave in public regarding his status. Julia knew nothing, and it was up to himself and Katrina to teach her. That frightened him, because he was brought up with a white witch for a mother and a very strict, black- hearted father. `I do not know how to be a father,' he thought. `All I do know is that I do not want to become what my father was to my daughter. I do not want her to have to suffer the same cruelty I myself suffered until I ran away from home after my mother's death.' That fear of failure seemed to create a barrier between himself and Julia. `And this is why Katrina is angry with me,' he thought, finally continuing to search through the recipies and finding the one he wanted. `She is angry because I am being so afraid. After all, I had as much to do with our child as she did. I agreed to have her.' "I am so sorry, Katrina." He spoke aloud to the furniture, wishing he could go out and find Katrina to tell her this personally.
Nearly a half hour later, he heard a rather loud clucking, and stood to peer out of the kitchen window. His dark eyes widened in shock as he saw young Masbath dragging a very much alive chicken across the property. `The boy has lost his mind!' he thought, rushing to open the door, and blinked stupidly.
"What are you doing with that thing?" he called, as the boy made his way towards the shed. The chicken was frantically trying to escape the lad's grasp, flapping it's wings and sending white and brown feathers all over the place.
"I have to kill it, sir! We surely can't eat it alive!"
Ichabod swallowed, suddenly feeling sick. "I beg your pardon?!"
"Well, you wanted a fresh chicken, didn't you sir?" the boy asked, raising his eyes.
"Well, yes! B-but I..." Ichabod stuttered, making his way down the steps.
"You've never cooked a chicken before, have you sir?" young Masbath asked, grinning thoughtfully.
"No, I haven't..."
"Well, first, we have to kill it, pluck the feathers, drain it, and then..."
"I...think I've heard enough, lad." Ichabod leaned against the rail, feeling very faint in deed. "Perhaps you'd better do the honours as you're familiar with...with it." He fought hard to keep his breakfast down, and young Masbath shrugged.
"All right, sir. If you would like for me to."
"Would be most appreciated." Ichabod choked, waving the boy onwards, before slowly walking back into the house. `So that's how it's done,' he thought, feeling downright awful for the poor animal, wondering how anyone could stomach such a thing. No wonder his mother shooed him out to play before she prepared dinner every evening. `It is not for you to witness, my Ichabod,' she would tell him sweetly, with a peck on the cheek. He'd not given it much thought, and had romped around as usual.
As soon as Ichabod reached he kitchen, his curiosity took over, and he dashed towards the window facing the shed, watching the boy. Young Masbath fetched a sharp axe from the shed and within seconds, beheaded the panicking bird with an easy thud. Ichabod jumped, covering his heart with his hand, and fell backwards, leaning against the wall.
Eventually, young Masbath finished plucking the feather's from the bird, and brought the animal back inside, setting it down on a tray by the fireplace. Ichabod walked over to it, peering down. The animals wing twitched slightly, and he felt darkness cloud his mind.
"Ichabod!" young Masbath heard his master fall to the floor, and ran over, kneeling down beside him. "Sir, wake up!"
Ichabod's eye's moved under their lids, but he did not open them. The boy shook his head, moving Ichabod away from the chicken and towards the living room. He fetched a mint leaf from Katrina's herb box, and held it under Ichabod's nose just as she did when he fainted before. "Come along, sir, you're all right," he promised.
Ichabod's slender nose suddenly twitched, and his eyes slowly opened. Young Masbath leaned back, giving his master room to sit up. "Oh..." Ichabod groaned, holding a hand to his forehead. He still felt fairly dizzy. "What-happened?" he croaked, clearing his throat afterwards.
"You just fainted, sir. Are you all right? Would you like a cup of water?" the lad narrowed his own eyes with concern, a small frown spreading over his lips.
"Yes...I'm...I'm all right, I think." Ichabod pushed himself to his feet, swaying a little. When he turned his head to look at the boy, he saw the dead, featherless, uncooked chicken still in its pan on the stone floor. It was then he realized why he'd fainted, but no movement came from the poultry at all. `Pearhaps I imagined it,' he thought, blinking. Young Masbath fetched his master a glass of water, before helping him to sit down.
"Perhaps we ought to work on the cake first sir," the boy suggested. "We still have time for the chicken."
Ichabod nodded, relieved. "Good idea, young Masbath." He set his glass on the table, and picked up the recipe card he had chosen. "I believe a spice cake would suffice. I enjoy it, and I do believe any sweet thing is suitable for Katrina."
Young Masbath licked his lips, murmering a soft "Mmmmm," in agreement. "So what would you like me to do first, sir?" he asked.
"Let me see." Ichabod peered closely at the directions, his forehead crinkled in concentration. "What you can do for me now, lad, is fetch the measuring cup and spoons..." he took the sack of flour and began to open it while the boy did just as he was told. They both ran into each other by accident afterwards, as Ichabod planned to meet young Masbath as he came over, but thought too late. As a result, both of them let out an astonished cry, and the flour slipped from Ichabod's hands to the stone floor. The flour exploded, covering the kitchen and both of them in a shower of white. For a moment, both stood very still, eyes closed and lips pursed. Young Masbath dared to open his eyes first, and squeaked with laughter. He covered his mouth with his hands, trying to stifle the giggles, but had no luck in doing so.
"Hee hee! You look like a ghost, sir!" he howled, doubling over at last.
Ichabod very slowly lifted his hands, wiping the stuff out of his eyes, and suddenly felt a dreadful tingle in his nose. He pulled out his trusty handkerchief, covering the lower half of his face with it. "Huh-eh-ehh-ESHHH! HuhESHHHH!" a series of rough sneezes shook him, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not seem to get them to stop. "Eshhh! USHHHUH! HutSHHHHH!"
Young Masbath giggled, shaking his head. "Bless y-y-Chuuuh!" he sneezed himself, startled. "Etshhhh! K'Tshhhh!"
Once Ichabod managed to draw in air, he led young Masbath, who was still sneezing pitifully, into the hallway.
"My...eh...ehh...CHSHHHH! ESHHHHH! My goodness!" he gulped, blowing his nose. "Lad, are you all right?" he added.
"Y...yes sir...k'TSHHHH! HuhKSHHHH! Ow..." he giggled again, shaking his head once he managed to calm himself down. "Oh dear, we've made quite a mess I'm afraid." He gasped. "Oh no! I do hope we've enough flour left for the cake!"
Ichabod wiped the flour off of his face as best as he could, snorting slightly as some still refused to leave his nose. "We, we will, I'm sure, even if we have to scavage a bit off of the floor." Sniffling, he and the boy made their way back into the kitchen, eyes widening at the disaster left by the flour from the bag and their own footprints.
Young Masbath walked over to the flour sack and lifted it up, letting out a soft "Uh-K'tshhhh!" as he breathed in some of the still floating fine particles.
"Bless you," Ichabod told him, taking out the other spices they would need for the recipe.
"Thank you, sir. I think we still have enough for the cake left in here." He held up the sack to show Ichabod, who nodded.
"Yes, I think so. Here, hold the cup and I'll pour it in."
Young Masbath handed the sack to his master, holding the measuring cup carefully, while Ichabod poured the two cups of flour into it. Then, he dumped it into the bowl separate for dry ingredients, and allowed young Masbath to pour in every other item. Once the batter was stirred to the correct thickness, Ichabod struck a match and lit the oven. "Very carefully we're going to slide this in..." he pointed to the pan with the batter poured inside, and with the lad's help they put it into the oven.
"There!" he nodded in satisfaction, and gulped. "Now er...I think it may be time for the chicken." He cringed at the idea, and young Masbath walked over to the pan, hoisting it up with a grunt, and plopping it down onto the table. Over the next hour or two, they basted it and seasoned it (Ichabod let out a series of forceful sneezes due to the pepper), and eventually had that cooking as well. Once everything was preparing itself, Ichabod and young Masbath began to clean up what messes they made, but found that cleaning the flour with water only made it worse.
"Perhaps we'd best just give up and allow Lolly to do this later," the boy fretted, miserable and sticky.
Ichabod sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, only smearing some of the glop onto himself. Young Masbath burst into giggles again, blushing slightly as Ichabod raised an eyebrow in disapproval. Instead of scolding the boy, Ichabod stuck a glob of pasty dough on young Masbath's cheek.
"Thank you, sir." He giggled even harder, and smeared a bit on Ichabod's already stained jacket, and snuck behind the table.
"Katrina should be returning shortly," Ichabod announced, glancing out the window at the setting sun. "I think the both of us are in desparate need of a washing up before she comes home."
Young Masbath peeped above the wood, blinking his large, dark eyes. "All right, sir." He started to stand, but yelped as a handful of paste whacked him on the vest. Ichabod burst into laughter as the boy stood gaping at the mess, his arms outstretched.
"Do not toil with me, lad. I am known for my sneakyness." Ichabod darted out of the kitchen as the boy chased after him, and the two had a lively romp around the lower part of the house. Eventually Ichabod managed to grab the boy around the waist and began to tickle his sides and stomach.
"Oy, sir, lemme go!" young Masbath squealed with delight. "I'll bathe with lavender soap even!"
Ichabod set the lad down at last, laughing heartily, and ruffled his hair. "All right."
Young Masbath folded his arms. "Ichabod, if you can play with me, why can you not play with Julia?"
Ichabod frowned, not expecting this question. "That is too bold, young Masbath. Off to the bath with you." He shooed the boy away, and stood with his arms folded, his eyes slightly downcast. `If you can play with me, why can you not play with Julia?" the lad's voice rang in his ears, and he felt tears prick the corners of his eyes.
After each of them washed and re-dressed, they made sure everything was ready in the dining room for Katrina's return. Lolly entered the mansion first, carrying all of the supplies Ichabod had asked her for, and nodded politely to her master.
"Thank you very much," Ichabod told her, clearing his throat and placing his hands behind his back.
"You're quite welcome, sir." Lolly went into the kitchen, causing young Masbath and Ichabod to stare at each other. The boy stuffed his fingers in his ears, preparing for the resounding "AHHHHHHHHH!" that burst through the kitchen door. Lolly burst out again, her eyes wide and her palms covering her cheeks. "A storm's come through th' kitchen! What's happened?!"
Ichabod and young Masbath looked at each other. "A long story," he replied, embarrassed. "If you could take care of that for us...I would appreciate it. I'm afraid we've only made a bigger mess attempting to do so ourselves."
Lolly stepped backwards, looking ready to faint. "Y-yes sir," she replied, stepping through the door again just as the front door re-opened. Ichabod took a deep breath, listening to the gurgles of his little daughter, and turned towards the sound.
"Go on, sir," young Masbath encouraged, smiling and nodding his head. Ichabod made his way into the front hall, and stopped right in front of Katrina. The two stood staring at each other in silence for a couple of minutes, and Katrina sighed.
"Ichabod..."
"Katrina, I..."
"Am so sorry," both of them spoke in unison.
"Why are you sorry?" Ichabod asked. "I am the one who acted like a fool..." he gazed at Julia who lay in her mother's arms, waving her tiny hands and feet towards him.
"Eeeeee!" she squealed in surprise as her father lifted her up and cradled her. Katrina gasped, shocked.
"Ichabod...!"
"Katrina, will you ever forgive me? For being so distant to you? I was just so afraid..." he kissed the child's forehead and held his finger for her to take, smiling as she sucked on it eagerly.
Katrina frowned. "Afraid of what, darling?"
Ichabod led her into the parlour and the two of them sat down, the baby resting against Ichabod's chest. "I'm afraid that I will not live up to what you or Julia expect. Katrina, my father...I am afraid of becoming him. I am afraid that I will hurt our daughter."
Katrina squeezed his arm, kissing his cheek. "Ichabod, do not be afraid. You will be a wonderful father. You are as far from your own father than anyone else ever could be. I love you so. I'm sorry I was so angry with you this morning. I know this is a new situation for you, and I must adjust to your speed." She tickled Julia's tummy, just as young Masbath stepped out, clearing his throat.
"Attentiton, Mrs. Crane, Mr. Crane. But supper is ready."
Katrina looked at Ichabod, who grinned. "Happy birthday, my darling." He reached over and kissed her. "Young Masbath and I cooked a lovely meal for you while you were gone."
"Ichabod! You didn't!" she stood, her mouth hanging open. "You remembered my birthday and...you...cooked...dinner? For me?" she was blushing furiously as she took the baby back into her own arms.
"Shhhhh. Come along." He led her to the dining room where the chicken sat, along with platters of potatoes, green beans, puddings and fresh bread sat. The spice cake sat at the end, a bit lopsided from having been taken out of the oven too soon, but still looked delicious. Lolly stood off to one side, very impressed by the work that had been done.
"Ichabod..." Katrina breathed as she sat down in her usual seat once the baby was placed into a crib. "Thank you. This is...one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me.." she felt him smooth the back of her hair, and closed her eyes as he kissed her forehead.
"I love you, Katrina," he told her, and meant it with all of his heart.
The characters names and places do not belong to me (unfortunately *snuffle*) they belong to either Washington Irving (who is probably rolling over in his grave for what im doing with them) or to Tim Burton. I promise to give them back. And I'm not making any money off of this. Written for Weekly hatch #4: Learning to love again