The Lake House (25 page)

T
he cool evening air smelled like roses as Victoria clipped the flower bushes in her front yard. The sun had begun to set and the sky over the lake looked as if it had been washed in purple and
pink watercolors. Victoria watched as Heather walked out of her house and across the street with her head down, kicking at the sand as she walked toward the shoreline.

Victoria went inside, brewed coffee, and poured it into a thermos, and grabbed a bag of chocolates from the pantry. She gathered a blanket from the sunroom and walked out to the beach. Heather sat in the sand, her jeans rolled to her knees, her bare arms curled around her calves. Victoria saw that the girl was creating holes with her feet.

“Digging to China?” Victoria asked.

Heather jumped at the sound of Victoria’s voice. “Thinking that if I dig a pit deep enough, I can crawl in and hide.”

“Things that bad?” Victoria asked as she looked at the water and listened to the small waves lap against the beach and the rowboats bump against the wooden dock. This time of night the lake held such peace, and Victoria breathed in the scene.

“Actually, I’m pretending I’m in Belize,” Heather said. “Do you know that when the wind blows through the long pointed leaves of the palm trees, it sounds like rain?”

“I didn’t know that. I’ve never been to Belize.”

“A tropical island would be perfect right now: a hammock, a piña colada, and the ocean waves crashing. I feel like my life has become a strange vacation and any minute I’m going to take a flight back to Boston.”

“Well, I own a hammock and if you want, we could string it between the trees along the shore. I know how to make a rather good piña colada, and I think we could find the sound of rain on a meditation tape. We could re-create Belize right here in Nagog.”

Heather smiled. “Thank you. That helped.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt your thoughts, but you looked like
you might need some company.” She extended the thermos to Heather.

“Got anything stronger than caffeine?” Heather asked as she stood and walked to the picnic table.

“Sorry, it’s decaf. If I drink caffeine in the evening I’m up all night. Chronic insomniac.”

Heather looked at Victoria and then sat at the table. “I’m sorry if the music kept you up last night. I realize that you probably had church early this morning.”

“You were having fun. A woman your age is supposed to play loud music. And everyone got off to church just fine this morning, but personally, I slept in.” Victoria placed the cups on the picnic table and poured the rich, dark roast into the mugs. They watched the sunlight fade, the steam rising from their cups. Heather faced the lake. Mosquitoes began to buzz around them and Heather smacked at a few that landed on her skin. A small black shadow flew over them. “What was that?”

“A bat. They live in the old McAffee barn up on the hill, and they come here because the bugs make their nests around the water. They’re harmless and they eat the mosquitoes.”

“Too bad they don’t eat ants. I found a whole family under my sink this morning.”

“Put a paper plate of honey near your foundation. The ants will be attracted to the sugar and then they get stuck. That’s what my father used to do.”

“Thanks, I’ll do that. Of course, if someone hadn’t spilled a Coke under my sink, I wouldn’t have had the problem.”

Victoria looked at her with concern. Soda under the sink sounded a little too familiar. She’d have to keep an eye on the men of the neighborhood.

The air turned cool and Victoria placed the fleece blanket around Heather’s shoulders. The girl had yet to take a sip of her coffee; she simply stared at the lake. Victoria wrapped her arm around the child. “Drink. It’ll make you feel better.”

“I don’t think coffee is going to solve my problems.” Heather gave in and gulped the warm liquid. “Now, if only you had chocolate . . .” She held out the cup for a refill.

Victoria poured more coffee into the mug. A handful of Hershey’s Kisses appeared from under the pashmina.

Heather looked at her questioningly.

“I’m a woman, a mother, and a grandmother,” Victoria said.

Heather smiled weakly. “Thank you.” She peeled the silver foil and popped the candy in her mouth.

“I hear you had a fight last night with a young man,” Victoria said.

“Did you hear it all the way at your house?” Heather pulled a wrapper off another chocolate.

“No, but Sarah next door to you did, which means everyone knows by now.” Victoria patted Heather’s shoulder. “There aren’t many secrets around here. We’ve known each other since the beginning of time. You’re fresh blood, so you make for interesting dinner conversation.”

“Great.” Heather swirled the chocolate in her mouth and looked at the stars that emerged in the darkening sky. “Have you ever felt safe?”

Surprised by the question, Victoria didn’t answer. Heather peeled the chocolate and pulled the blanket closer. A breeze brought the scent of Molly baking cherry pies.

Victoria looked toward the tree house. “As a child, I thought
my daddy ruled the world. How could anything go wrong with him in charge? It wasn’t until the war that I even understood fear. After that, safety felt confining. I think a part of me loved excitement and the unknown.”

“At least you felt it once.” Heather looked at her hands. “Got any more chocolate?”

Victoria handed Heather the bag. “My metabolism isn’t what it used to be.” Victoria looked at the chocolate. “But a few won’t hurt the waistline.”

Heather grabbed a handful of candy and returned the bag.

“Haven’t you felt safe in your life?” Victoria asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe when I was first with my fiancé.” Heather sighed. “I mean my ex-fiancé.”

“I’m sorry,” Victoria said. “Was that what the fight was about last night?”

Heather nodded. “And I don’t know if he actually made me feel safe. He helped me to make my dreams come true. But I felt . . . I don’t know. Any woman would have killed for my life, but I felt as if any misstep could make it all fall out from under me. All I needed was to follow his plan and make certain I didn’t leave my luggage around. I didn’t even have to think about money, but then I started to let a bunch of little things bother me and I handled everything all wrong. God, I fucked up! Sorry, didn’t mean to say that in front of you.”

Victoria laughed. “I’ve heard worse. Said it too.”

The blanket fell from Heather’s shoulder and Victoria tucked it back.

“I’m worried I’m going to lose my career without him,” Heather said.

“Why? Does he do the writing? Does he do the traveling?”

“No, but he’s my agent, and when I’m stuck and can’t write, he’s great at talking it out with me. And I’m at a pivotal point in my career. I need him to get me to the next level. I don’t know where to start and I thought I had a handle on things, but I don’t know how to negotiate with a television studio or how to get a book deal. He’s always handled those things. I thought we could still work together, but the way he acted last night . . . I don’t know. I’m not certain I can do it without him.”

“Did he tell you that?” Victoria asked.

Heather’s hands began to shake. “It’s true. He went to Harvard. I never finished college.”

“Marriage is about unconditional love and acceptance. It’s the place where you’re beautiful whether you’re wearing a dress or sitting around in a bathrobe. It’s about a life of laughter and holding each other up through heartache. If that’s not what your relationship was going to be, then you did the right thing by leaving,” Victoria said.

Heather laughed. “I’m sorry, but that’s your generation. Fairy tales and happily ever after don’t exist anymore. Success—financial security—is the only way I’ll feel safe.”

“Heather, take it from an old woman, success doesn’t create safety.”

Heather handed Victoria the cup and blanket. “Thanks for the coffee and chocolate, but I need to go. You can’t understand.” She walked to her house, closed the door, and shut off the lights.

Victoria looked at Heather’s house and thought,
The question, Heather, is how do I make
you
understand?

T
he ocean waves crashed against Newport’s shore as Tom walked in the sand, his jeans rolled to his knees, his feet frozen from the icy Atlantic and a bottle of Patrón in one hand.

Tom sat on the sand and opened the bottle of tequila. The smooth, clear liquid burned his throat. He lay back; the sand mixed into his hair and scratched his scalp as he listened to the ocean’s steady rhythm. For the last five years since Annabelle’s death, he’d come to the beach to find a way to be closer to her.

The memory of Annabelle’s teenage voice came back to him. “You’re a jerk,” she’d yelled as they sat on the dock in Nagog. “I’ve been nice to you all summer and you’ve treated me like I’m a pest.”

Swing music filled the air as the community celebrated the annual Labor Day bash. Tom was drinking a cold beer, taking in the last moments of freedom before he started his junior year at Harvard. The bonfire popped and hissed behind him, the smell of pine sap in the air.

“You’re sixteen. I’m not interested in babies,” he said.

“Fine, then kiss me. Prove you don’t have feelings for me.”

He stood. Her lip trembled when he put his arm around her waist and leaned close. Her breath smelled of apple pie and her blue eyes stared at him, reflecting both fear and longing. He felt her heart beating fast against his chest. With one arm he picked her up and threw her into the lake. The sound of the splash didn’t cover her scream.

“That will cool you off.” He laughed.

As she climbed from the water, blond hair stuck to her cheeks, the pink shirt clung to her breasts and he could see her white
lace bra. She stormed off the dock swearing, her wet white shorts revealing lacy underwear.

Another memory quickly came: the year he graduated from Harvard; he went to the Memorial Day party in Nagog to put in his time. He’d planned to leave by ten to meet his college roommate at a bar in Boston. He was on the patio visiting with Molly when Annabelle appeared. Her yellow dress flowed over her hips and the low-cut neckline followed the lines of her cleavage. Tasteful, elegant, and the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

She walked up to him and extended her delicate hand. “Dance with me, Tommy.”

Mesmerized, he followed her to the dance floor. This time his hands trembled when he placed them around her curved waist. He stumbled and stepped on her toes. She didn’t flinch, but led him into a slow waltz. He found the pattern Maryland had taught him. Together they glided across the floor.

“I hear you’re graduating next week,” Annabelle said.

“I am.” He stared at her blue eyes. “I have a job in Boston working for a design build company. It will take me a few years to earn my architecture license and then I’m hoping to start my own firm.”

“Woodward Architecture . . . it has a nice ring to it. You’ll do it. I believe in you.”

She smiled at him. A strange feeling began to build in his stomach, the need to bring that look to her face.

“I was just accepted into Juilliard’s drama and dance program,” she said. “I start summer workshop in two weeks. I want to be a dancer and have the lead role in a London musical. Ever since Grandma worked at Queens Theatre I’ve wanted to be on that stage.”

He watched her eyes light with her dreams and her passion for theater. “Why do you love it so much?”

“There’s something that happens when I dance. Thoughts cease to exist and I get lost in the movement and the energy from the audience. It’s a rush like nothing else.”

“Well, you’ve always had a knack for the dramatic,” he teased her.

She punched his arm with mock anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been walking around in tiaras pretending the world was a stage since you were little. I still remember how many times you bugged me, when you came to visit in the summer, to play movie star with you.”

Annabelle’s skin flushed red. “You remember that?”

He leaned into her, his lips brushing against her hair as he whispered in her ear, “I remember a lot of things, including the night I threw you in the lake. Do you still want to kiss me, Annabelle Rose?” He felt her quiver in his arms as electricity danced between them.

“I don’t know, Tommy, maybe you’re the one who needs to cool off tonight.” She pulled back and sauntered toward the beach, her hips sending an invitation to join her. He followed, and when she reached the dock, he took a moment and stared at her in the moonlight: the curve of her shoulder, the gold of her hair, the seductive smile as she pretended not to notice his approach.

His hand went around her waist. With his other hand he lifted her fingers and brushed the inside of her wrist with his lips. Her breath caught and she turned toward him. He looked into her eyes and no longer saw the little girl or the teenager who’d come
and gone from Nagog throughout his life. For the first time, he saw a woman he desired.

The cold ocean water washed over his bare feet. He could let the coming tide lift his body and carry him out past the large waves. Under the stars he could drift, the salt water buoying his body. Tonight was the seven-year anniversary of his proposal.