Dream Lake

by Lisa Kleypas

  Lorraine had been one of Emma’s sisters. Swallowing hard, Zoë leaned over and kissed her. “I’m going to take my bath,” she whispered. “Rest here and listen to the music.”

  Emma nodded, staring at the windows, the sky darkening to twilight.

  Zoë drew a bath and sank into the hot water with a sigh. She would have liked to soak for a while, but allowed herself only about ten minutes, reluctant to leave Emma unsupervised for any longer than that. Letting the water out of the tub, she dried herself and dressed in a nightgown and a robe.

  “Much better,” she said with a smile, walking into the main room.

  There was no reply. The couch was empty.

  “Upsie?” Zoë glanced around the silent kitchen, and strode into her bedroom. No sign of Emma anywhere.

  Zoë’s pulse began to race. So far Emma hadn’t yet started to wander, which was usually a feature of a more advanced stage of dementia. But there had been a definite downturn today. And she had been so insistent on seeing this mysterious Tom, and having Alex bring him … Rushing to the front door, Zoë saw that it was unlocked. She darted outside, her breath coming in frantic bursts. “Upsie, where are you?”

  Alex had just concluded a walk to the periphery of his Dream Lake parcel with a Realtor and a lawyer, both of whom worked for Inari Enterprises. They had met for dinner in town, and afterward had gone to the property. They had strolled along a bulldozed trail to the lakefront, ostensibly to get a feel for the land, but mainly to get a bead on what kind of guy Alex was. The meeting had gone well as far as Alex could tell.

  Night was falling by the time he got into his truck. As he turned the key in the ignition, his phone vibrated, and he glanced at the small screen. The sight of Zoë’s number caused a tumult of eagerness. He was starved for the sound of her voice. Without even thinking, he answered.

  “Hi,” he said. “I’ve been—”

  “Alex.” Zoë sounded desperate, shaky. “I’m sorry, I—please help me. I need help.”

  “What is it?” he asked instantly.

  “Emma’s missing. I just took a bath, and … she’s only been gone for fifteen minutes, but she wandered off and I’ve been calling for her.” Zoë was sobbing and talking at the same time. “I’m outside right now. I’ve gone all around the outside of the house and she won’t answer, and it’s dark—”

  “Zoë. I’m close by. I’ll be right there.” All he could hear was the broken sound of her crying. He was fiercely glad that she had turned to him for help. “Sweetheart. Did you hear me?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Don’t be scared. We’ll find her.”

  “I don’t want to call the police. I think she would try to hide from them.” More crying. “She’s had part of a sedative. And tonight she kept talking about you, and s-some guy named Tom, and she wanted me to ask you to bring him. I think she went out looking for you.”

  “Okay. I’m less than a minute away from the cottage.”

  “I’m sorry,” Zoë choked. “Sorry to bother you, but—”

  “I told you to call if you needed something. I meant it.”

  He’d meant it even more than he’d realized. Even in these circumstances, talking with Zoë was a relief beyond measure. It was like being able to breathe again. He realized he wasn’t going to be able to walk away from Zoë this time. Something had changed in him, or … no, something had not changed. That was the point. His feelings for Zoë hadn’t changed and never would. She was a part of him. The revelation astonished him, but there was no time to think about it now.

  As he drove, he scanned the heavily forested road for any sign of Emma. She couldn’t have gotten far in such a short amount of time, especially not while sedated. The only thing he worried about was the lake being in such proximity. “Zoë,” he said, “have you gone to the waterfront yet?”

  “I’m headed there right now.” She sounded calmer now, although she was still sniffling.

  “Good. I’m pulling into the driveway. I’m going to check out the woods on the other side of the road and work back to the house. What is she wearing?”

  “Light-colored pajamas.”

  “We’ll find her soon, sweetheart. I promise.”

  “Thank you.” He heard the sound of her unsteady sigh. “You never called me that before.”

  She ended the connection before he could answer.

  Alex jumped out of the truck and nearly yelped as he came face-to-face with the ghost. “Jesus!”

  Tom gave him a sardonic glance. “No, it’s just me.”

  “It’s about time you showed up.”

  “This has nothing to do with you,” Tom informed him. “I just want to help find Emma. Start calling for her.”

  “Emma,” Alex shouted. “Emma, are you out here?” He stopped as he heard the sound of a distant female voice, but he recognized it immediately as Zoë’s. Continuing to search, he went into the woods, periodically calling Emma’s name.

  Tom strayed from Alex as far as he could, wandering among the trees. “She wouldn’t have gone any farther than this,” he said. “I don’t think she crossed the road—let’s head back toward the house.”

  Night was lowering fast, opaque and plum-colored where it draped over the lake.

  “Emma,” Alex called out. “It’s Alex. I’m here with Tom. Come out so I can see you.”

  The twin high beams of a car slanted outward from a deep curve in the road. It was coming fast, too fast for such a narrow lane, so Alex retreated to the side, waiting for it to pass.

  “Alex,” came Tom’s voice, harsh with fear.

  At the same moment, Alex saw Emma’s slight form wavering unsteadily toward the center of the road. She looked uncertain, wide-eyed, her skin brilliant in the stark glare of headlights. The car was coming around the curve. By the time the driver saw her, it would be too late.

  Zoë, who had just returned from the lake, approached the opposite side of the road from Alex. Her face contorted with horror as she saw Emma standing in the path of the oncoming vehicle.

  Alex sprinted toward Emma, a rush of adrenaline making him lightning-fast. He reached her, shoved hard, and felt a massive impact that knocked him to the ground. Everything spun, the world turning too fast, his flesh translating to fire. But the scalding premonition of pain vanished instantly. He wasn’t hurt. He’d just had the wind knocked out of him.

  It took him a few seconds to recover himself. Dazedly he sat up, looked around, and saw with relief that he’d succeeded in pushing Emma out of the way. She had stumbled against Zoë, who had caught her. They’d fallen to the ground, but Zoë was already helping Emma up.

  Everything was all right. Everyone was fine.

  That was a close one, he was about to say, when Zoë looked at him and gave an anguished scream. She began to sob, Alex, no, no … running toward him, tears streaming down her face.

  “It’s okay,” Alex said, amazed that she would be so concerned for him. A rush of overwhelming tenderness swept over him. He stood and began to walk toward her. “The car just bumped me. I’ve got a couple of bruises, nothing more. I’m fine. I love you.” He couldn’t believe he’d just said it, for the first time in his life. And it was so damned easy. “I love you.”

  “Alex,” she choked. “Oh, God, please, no …”

  And she rushed right past him.

  No, not past. Through him.

  Startled, he turned to see Zoë dropping to the ground, huddling over a crumpled shape on the road. Her shoulders shook violently, and she crooned a few broken words.

  “That’s … me?” Alex asked in bewilderment, backing away. He looked down at his arms and legs. They weren’t there. Nothing was there. He was invisible. His gaze returned to the two figures on the road … the body Zoë was crouching over. “That’s me,” he said, his emotions racing across the spectrum from joy to despair.

  He wanted to cry, he could feel the agony of sorrow, but his eyes remained dry.

  “You never get used to grief without tears,”
came a quiet voice beside him. “Who’d have thought one of the things you miss the most is crying?”

  “Tom.” Alex turned and seized his forearms desperately. He was shocked to be able to feel the texture and strength of a human form. “What do I do now?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” Tom stared at him with grim compassion. “All you can do now is watch.”

  Alex’s gaze returned compulsively to Zoë. “I love her. I have to be with her.”

  “You can’t.”

  “Goddamn it, I didn’t get to say good-bye to her!”

  “Easy with the language,” Tom said. “You’re not one for hedging your bets, are you?”

  “There are things she needs to know. My life can’t be over yet. I didn’t have enough time with her.”

  Tom looked exasperated. “What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you, you lunkhead?”

  “If there is a God, I’d like to tell Him to—”

  “Shut up.” The ghost shook free of him impatiently. “I just heard something.”

  All Alex could hear was Zoë’s broken crooning.

  Tom stared distractedly up at the sky, wandering away a couple of steps.

  “What are you doing?” Alex demanded.

  “Someone’s trying to tell me something. I hear a voice. A couple of voices.”

  “What are they saying?”

  “If you would just shut your piehole long enough for me to hear them, I’ll—” His attention returned to the sky. “Okay, I get it. Yes. Uh-huh. Right.” After a moment, he looked at Alex. “They’re letting me help you.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “Not sure. But they said we only have about fifteen seconds left before it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  “Quiet. They just told me how to fix this, and I’m trying to remember everything.”

  “Fix what? Fix me?”

  “Don’t distract me. Shut up and go stand next to the body.”

  The body. His body. Alex wanted so damn badly to be alive, to inhabit that broken carbon shell even for a few moments. Just long enough to tell her what she meant to him. Standing over the prone form, he saw his own still face. Zoë’s hand caressed his motionless jaw, her fingers trembling against his parted lips. The sounds she made were like the fabric of a soul being torn apart. He would never have dreamed anyone could feel such grief for him.

  Precious seconds were ticking away.

  “Tom,” he said desperately, his gaze locked on Zoë. “Nothing’s happening.”

  “I’ll take care of my part of this.” The ghost was at his side. “You do your part.”

  “Which is?”

  “Focus on Zoë. Tell her what you’d say if you had a couple of extra minutes with her. Pretend she can hear you.”

  Alex knelt over her, longing to stroke her hair and dry her tears. But he couldn’t hold her. He couldn’t feel or smell or kiss her. All he could do was love her. “I’m so sorry,” he said urgently. “I don’t want to leave you. I love you, Zoë. You were the one miracle I believed in. You made up for all the rest of it. I wish you could hear me. I wish you could know that.” He felt dizzy, felt himself fragmenting, the bonds of spiritual matter dissolving. The remnants of consciousness slipped between the blurred margins of life and afterlife. His last few seconds were slipping away. Words were no longer possible. Only thoughts were left, moving outward like a row of toppling dominoes. No matter what I become … I will love you. No force of heaven or hell could stop me, and damn anyone who tries. I will love you forever.

  Everything went dark, the stars extinguished as the sky collapsed and the world folded in on itself.

  “Blaspheming to the end,” Alex heard someone say dryly. “Can’t say I was surprised.”

  Alex recognized Tom’s voice. He felt like he’d been encased in lead, his limbs too heavy to move. And then it hit him: he was in a body. He had a physical form.

  “Wasn’t easy to get you in there,” Tom informed him. “Like trying to put toothpaste back in the tube.”

  Gathering sensations in a frantic rush, Alex perceived that he was lying on asphalt, his neck angled uncomfortably because of the way Zoë was clutching his head against her chest. His lungs felt like they were about to burst.

  “Try breathing,” Tom suggested.

  Alex pulled in a rush of cool, blessed air, blinked his eyes open, and began to move.

  Zoë let out a startled cry. “Alex!” Her shaking hands moved over him. “But … you were … your chest was all … there was no way you could have …” Overcome, she covered her mouth with one hand, staring at him in terrified wonder.

  With effort, Alex levered himself to a sitting position. He grasped Zoë’s wrist and pulled it away, and crushed a hard kiss against her lips. He tasted the salt of her tears. “I love you,” he said hoarsely.

  Breathing in sobs, Zoë stared at him with streaming eyes.

  Tom spoke to him urgently. “Help Emma. She needs to go inside the house.”

  Emma was kneeling nearby, watching them blearily, the breeze blowing locks of silvery hair across her face.

  Alex struggled to his feet and pulled Zoë up with him.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t try to walk,” Zoë protested.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Alex, you were hurt. I saw it.”

  “I know what it must have looked like,” Alex said gently. “But everything’s okay. I promise.”

  The driver of the car, a distraught middle-aged woman, was babbling about insurance and phone numbers and calling paramedics. Alex said to Zoë, “If you could take care of her, I’m going to bring Emma inside.” Without waiting for a reply, he bent to scoop Emma into his arms. He carried her to the cottage. She was astonishingly light in his arms.

  “Thank you for saving me,” Emma said.

  “No problem.”

  “I saw the car hit you.”

  “Just a little bump.”

  “The front grille was caved in and the headlight was smashed,” she told him.

  “They don’t make cars the way they used to.”

  She gave a raspy little chuckle.

  Alex carried her into the house and directly to the bedroom. After setting her on the bed, he removed her slippers and pulled the covers up to her chest.

  “I was looking for Tom,” Emma said, reaching up to pat his cheek.

  Alex bent to kiss her forehead. “He’s here,” he murmured.

  “I know.”

  Zoë entered the room and fussed over her grandmother, asking worried questions, coaxing her to take a sip of water. As Alex left the room, he heard Emma say a bit testily, “Let me sleep, Zoë. I love you, too. Let me rest.”

  When Zoë finally turned out the lights and left the bedroom, Tom went to lie quietly beside Emma.

  “I wanted you,” she whispered after a moment. “I couldn’t find you.”

  “I’ll never leave you again,” Tom told her. He didn’t know if she could hear him, but he sensed that she was relaxing, settling into sleep.

  A plaintive murmur. “I don’t remember anything.”

  “You don’t have to,” Tom replied, smiling at her in the darkness. “I found all your memories tonight. I’m keeping them safe for you … they’re waiting inside me like a heartbeat. And I’ll give them to you when the time is right.”

  “Soon,” she whispered, turning toward him with a sigh of relief.

  “Yes, love … very soon.”

  Zoë gestured for Alex to follow her. She led him to her room, her throat tight, her eyes flooding with fresh tears.

  He looked down at her with infinite concern. “What’s the matter?”

  “I was so scared,” she said in a watery voice, blotting her sore eyes with the sleeve of her robe.

  “I know. I’m sorry I pushed Emma like that. But she seems okay now—”

  “I meant you.” She went to the tiny bathroom, found a tissue, and blew her nose vehemently. Her jaw quivered as she continued. “I saw you get
hit by that car—”

  “Bumped.”

  “Hit,” she said, letting out a coughing sob, “and you were all s-smashed up on the ground, and I th-thought you were—” Breaking off, she swallowed painfully against another burst of crying. She would never recover from the sight of him unconscious on the road. The fear still hadn’t left her. Her shaking hand touched his shoulder, just to make certain he really was there, that he was alive.

  He took both her hands and brought them to his chest, where she could feel the strong, steady thump of his heart. “Zoë. I have so much to say to you, it could take all night. A year. No, a lifetime.”

  “Take as long as you want,” she said with a sniffle. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Alex put his arms around her, gathering her into a deep, secure embrace. So strong. So vital. He was silent for a long time, understanding somehow that she needed the feel of him. She laid her head against his chest, breathing in the scents of dirt and tar and night air.

  Pushing aside her hair, Alex pressed a few light, hot kisses against the side of her face. “When you told me you loved me,” he said quietly, “I got scared. Because I knew when a woman like you says that, it means … everything. Marriage. A house with a porch swing. Children.”

  “Yes.”

  He sank his hand into her hair and tilted her head back. He looked into her eyes with a sober intensity that she couldn’t doubt. “I want those things, too.”

  She had been shaking with nerves and fear before, but she felt shaky in a new way now, because she understood that he meant it.

  His mouth caressed hers, a searing pressure that lingered until her knees went weak. “We’ll take it at your pace,” he said. “As fast or slow as you want.”

  “I don’t want to wait,” she told him, her hands creeping up his warm, hard back. “I don’t want to spend a night without you ever again. I want to move in together right away, and get engaged, and set a wedding date, and …” She stopped and gave him a sheepish glance. “Is that too fast?”

  Alex laughed quietly. “I can keep up,” he assured her, and took her to bed.

  Alex awakened in a wash of morning light. He lay still, relishing the feeling of waking up in Zoë’s bed, his head half buried in lavender-scented pillows. His arm swept across the white sheets, reaching for her, but all his hand encountered was empty space.