What happened next almost sent Laura teetering over the edge for real.
Bit screamed.
The scream went on and on, a loud, piercing wail that reverberated across that shadowed room, undulating out across the beach and down into the black depths of Bear Gap Lake.
Laura fell back, clasping her hands to her ears as if struck by a blast of cold, fetid air. She had never heard a sound like that, never imagined in her darkest nightmare that a little girl was capable of making such an unnatural noise.
The sound seemed to have shuddered up from some dark place within, a cacophony of anger and hysterical fear, much like the sound made by someone suddenly waking up inside a buried coffin.
Laura grabbed Bit's shoulders and gave them a shake.
The screaming stopped at once, as if the faucet had been turned off.
But the haunted, faraway look on Bit's face remained frozen in place.
Then Laura watched her daughter lie down slowly, close her eyes and go to sleep.
⸙
FOR THE LONGEST TIME, Laura didn't move. She sat with both hands cupping her daughter's sleeping face, unable and afraid to tear her eyes away.
What horror-filled visions had invaded her little girl's mind? What perverted and unrelenting power had brought on that blood-curdling scream?
Finally, unable to take anymore, Laura lay down beside her sleeping daughter and closed her eyes. Before dozing off, she heard Bit stir beside her.
All at once the girl opened her eyes and asked, "Mom, will you please leave the light on? The light keeps them away,"
Thirty-Five
THE WALK TO PAUL’S CHALET took less than twenty minutes, but it might as well have been twenty hours.
All Laura could think about as she and Bit strolled down the dappled wooded trail was the bear. She could still feel the creature’s hot breath on her cheeks, smell its wet, matted hair from the previous encounter. For the rest of her life, she would never be able to forget that awful roar or sense the primeval bloodlust that drove the bear toward her.
She had never been closer to death.
It was a feeling she found hard to shake.
She brandished the heavy Mag Lite as if it were some kind of medieval weapon, all the while knowing it might as well have been a popsicle stick if they happened to come face to face with Smokey the Bear.
She listened intently for every sound, every rustle in the bushes. She glanced warily at each fluttering shadow, constantly on alert for the slightest grunt or snorting sound.
In her heart Laura knew she probably should never have brought Bit into the woods. It wasn’t safe, not with that big creature hulking about somewhere. She resisted the urge to turn around and go back to the house, perhaps on the pretense of a headache.
“Mom, what’s wrong? You’re acting weird again.”
Laura had not told her about her encounter with the bear and didn’t exactly think this was a good time to spring the news. “Nothing, sweetheart,” she stammered. “It’s just that I’m not feeling the best tonight.”
“Do you think we should go back to the house?”
“I think I’ll be okay once we get to Paul’s.”
“But you keep looking around like you’re expecting some monster to jump out of the bushes and eat us up.”
If you only knew, sweetheart.
Laura laughed. “Do I? I’m sorry. Guess my headache is making me a little skittish.”
Paul had dropped by briefly earlier that afternoon and told them how to get to his house. The quickest way, he said, was to go straight up the main trail towards Phyllis’s cabin, but about a hundred yards before getting there, they were to turn down a small trail on the right. They could have gone back out on the road and come in that way, but Paul had assured them the shortcut was so much nicer.
“No bears,” he promised.
“Look, there’s Paul’s house now!” Bit shouted. She scampered up the trail ahead of her mom, oblivious to killer bears and axe-wielding monsters lurking in the bushes.
“Bit, wait…”
But she was gone, bounding down the trail with Anastasia and Teddy clutched in her arms.
⸙
PAUL SAT ON THE steps, cup of coffee in hand, waiting. He could hear them coming up the trail long before he saw Bit burst into his yard from the woods.
“You made it,” he said, waving. He stood up when they drew near and asked, “How was the walk?”
“Great,” Bit gasped, a little out of breath. “It’s so cool in the woods, a lot cooler than I thought.”
“What about Anastasia and Teddy? Did they enjoy it too?”
Bit nodded. “I think so.”
“Well, I hope they’re hungry.”
Bit laughed. “Silly, you know dolls can’t eat.”
Laura staggered up and plopped down on the steps.
Paul sat next to her. “Are you all right?”
“Just need to catch my breath. That’s a long walk.”
“She has a little headache,” Bit offered.
“Oh, let me see if I can fix that,” Paul said.
He positioned himself behind Laura and started massaging the back of her head. Laura closed her eyes, relishing the touch of Paul’s strong fingers working the muscle groups in her neck and back. His fingers moved slowly against her temples, down the back of her neck. He probed firmly but gently, generating sensations in Laura she never dreamed possible.
“How does that feel?” he asked a few minutes later.
“There…are…no…words... to…describe... it,” she said in her best robotic impersonation.
“I’m just getting started,” Paul laughed. “But, hey—right now dinner’s a’waitin.’ We don’t want it to get cold, do we?”
“No,” Laura said, rising slowly.
“Hope you’re hungry,” he said. I’ve got fresh-caught trout on the grill, roasted potatoes and fresh asparagus.”
“Where did you get fresh asparagus?”
Paul pointed toward a small garden plot next to the house. “Grows easy up here.”
Laura shook her head in utter disbelief. “He paints. He sails. He grows vegetables in a garden. He gives the best massage in town. What other secret talents do you possess?”
“Well, the fish didn’t crawl up to my grill,” he teased. “I had to catch them. There’s a nice little creek not far behind my house. It’s full of rainbow trout.”
“So he’s a fisherman too!”
“What’s that?” Bit said, pointing to small shed on the other side of the yard. It was a little bigger than a doghouse and decorated with weird iron signs.
“That’s my well house,” Paul replied.
“Your well house? What does that do?”
“That’s where the pump is that feeds water from underground up to my house.”
Bit didn’t know why, but she had a strange feeling about the little shed. She had never seen a well house before, but this one looked odd and all alone at the edge of the woods. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the little building. She felt drawn to it, as if drawn by a mysterious magnet.
Paul noticed the way Bit was staring at the well house. He walked over, leaned down and whispered: “Actually, it’s a witch house,” he joked. “That’s where all the little boys and girls who get lost in the woods wind up.”
“What about those funny-looking things hanging all over it?”
“Those, my dear, are hex symbols.”
“What are hex symbols?”
“In the old days, people in some parts of these mountains used to put hex symbols like those up on their barns and outbuildings—even their own houses—to keep witches and demons away.”
Bit thought about that for a moment. “For real?”
“For real.”
⸙
PAUL HAD SET the table as elegantly as he did everything else—complete with blue-rimmed Canton China, Waterford crystal glasses, linen table cloths and silver serving ware. The food was piled high on antique
, hand-painted Portuguese platters and bowls, with gravy and sauces in silver side dishes.
“Lovely setting,” Laura exclaimed.
“You can thank the owner of this cabin. She has expensive tastes.” He smiled. “You should see her other house, the one down in Atlanta. It’s a ten-thousand square foot mansion on ten acres in Buckhead. She and her husband also have a little place down on Sea Island.”
“You certainly hang around with high society. I’m impressed.”
“Oh, I don’t hang around with them. The wife just commissioned me once to do a portrait of her daughter. Would you believe they wrote me a check for ten-thousand dollars? Plus, they gave me this chalet for two years, rent-free. They’ve only been up here once since building the place, anyway.”
Before serving, Paul uncorked an expensive-looking bottle of white wine and filled his and Laura’s glasses. “Tell me what you think,” he said, waiting.
Laura swirled the wine around in the long-stemmed glass, took a sip. “Umm, delicious,”’ she said. “What is it?”
Paul laughed. “I haven’t the slightest idea. I picked it up at a little winery near Clarkesville. It looked good, the price was right, so here it is.”
For Bit, the choice was simple: unsweetened ice tea or grape soda.
“I’ll take the grape soda,” she said.
“Excellent choice, madame,” Paul replied, mimicking a French accent. He unscrewed the cap and filled her glass.
Paul sat down and reached for his fork and knife.
“Do you mind if we say grace first?” Laura asked.
“Of course.”
They bowed their heads while Laura uttered a few words.
“Amen,” Bit and Paul said when Laura finished saying the prayer.
They ate in silence for several minutes before Laura noticed Bit poking at the fish on her plate with a fork. “Sweetheart, you haven’t touched your food.”
“I’m not hungry,” Bit replied.
“But Paul went to a lot of trouble to prepare this scrumptious meal. The least you could do is try to eat something.”
“It’s okay,” Paul said. “When I was her age, I didn’t like fish and asparagus either.” He got up and said, “Hey, I bet I’ve got something you’ll like.”
He went into the kitchen and came back with a bowl of spaghetti and meatballs. “I made it this morning just for you in case you didn’t like trout. Would you rather have this? I can heat it up in a jiffy.”
Bit glanced at the spaghetti. “It’s okay. I’m just not hungry.”
“Beatrice Drake, that’s no way to be nice,” Laura said.
Paul motioned to Laura that it was all right. “I understand how she feels. Why don’t I just wrap this up and send it home with you? Maybe you’ll be hungry by the time you get back to the house. Would you like that?”
“I guess so,” Bit said.
“Can you at least say ‘thank you?’” Laura asked.
“I’m sorry, Paul. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Paul said. He went into the kitchen and wrapped the bowl of spaghetti with aluminum foil and stuck it in the fridge. “It’ll be here when you get ready to leave.”
“Are you feeling all right, sweetheart?” Laura asked.
Bit nodded. “I guess so.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Laura decided to let it go. She hoped it didn’t have anything to do with that strange mood that came over her last night.
Chapter Thirty-Six
THEY FINISHED DINNER and went into Paul’s small combination living room/study. The room was crammed with books—mostly over-sized volumes about art and artists. Paintings hung from every nook and cranny on the walls—sketches, watercolors, pastels and charcoal—but predominately oils.
Paul poured them another glass of wine, then sat down in a leather wingchair opposite Laura.
“The meal was exquisite,” Laura said. “Thank you so much.”
“It was nothing.”
“Oh, yeah? I bet you do this for all your lady friends.”
“Of course, every night,” Paul joked. “Right here in my Playboy mansion.” He suddenly grew serious. “No, Laura, you’re the only woman I’ve ever had up here.”
Glancing over the rim of her glass, Laura said, “Why, I’m flattered.”
They both glanced over at Bit who sat cross-legged on the floor going through a stack of Paul’s art books.
“She’s one smart little girl,” Paul said. “I’m sure you’ll agree.”
Laura smiled. “Yes, I do.”
“You’re a lucky woman, Laura, to have a daughter like her.”
“Thank you,” Laura said, genuinely touched. She looked down at her glass of wine. “I’m just sorry she’s acting this way. It’s so unlike her.”
“Well, it was probably something I said earlier, out in the yard. She was asking me about the well house, and I told her it was a witch house.” He shook his head. “I know, I know, it sounds corny as all get out, but I only meant it as a joke.”
Laura stared at him. “A witch house?” she asked—then burst out laughing.
“I didn’t mean to spook her.”
Laura couldn't stop laughing.
Before Laura stopped laughing, Paul leaned toward her and said, “Hey, how would you and Bit like to get out of here for a couple of days, go with me to Denver?”
“Denver?”
“Yeah, I’ve got to go back out to take care of some unfinished business with the museum. Thought the two of you might come along for the ride. I could arrange with the museum for a couple of extra free tickers.”
Laura had always wanted to go to Denver. The thought of seeing the Mile-High city high up in the Rockies thrilled her to the core. But in her heart, she knew she might as well fly to the moon. Brad would never, ever understand that. And who could blame him?
“Wow. That is so tempting, Paul, but I’m afraid we’ll have to pass. I’m sure you understand.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
At that moment, Bit held up a book about the life of Vincent van Gogh. “I like this one,” she said, beaming.
Paul stretched forward. “Vincent van Gogh. That’s one of my favorites, too," he said. “When I was a little boy, about your age, I wanted to grow up and paint just like van Gogh.”
“He was weird,” Bit said, flipping through the pages.
“That’s quite the understatement,” Paul replied. “You know, he was a sad, sad little man, and it was that sadness that brought on a great madness. He even cut his ear off one day in a fit of depression.”
Bit frowned. “Yuck. Didn’t he have a family, anyone to love him?”
“He had a girlfriend once. But he lived alone mostly. He died a complete pauper, never knowing that one day he’d be one of the most famous artists in the world, and that each of his paintings would sell for over one-hundred million dollars.”
“Cool. He would have been rich!”
“But all that money probably wouldn’t have made him any happier,” Paul continued. “He didn’t care about riches or things that most people crave. The only thing that mattered to Vincent was his work. All he wanted out of life was enough money to keep buying his brushes and oils and canvasses.”
“What about food? Didn’t he have to buy food and clothes?”
“He had friends who fed and clothed him because they believed in his art.”
“Wow. Imagine having friends like that.”
Paul looked at Laura's empty glass and asked, “Would you like a re-fill?”
Laura shook her head. “No, thanks. Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to make the trek back home.”
“I have an extra room. You and Bit are welcome to stay here.”
“That’s a very generous offer, but I think we can make it.” She looked at Bit and said, “Put the books away, sweetheart. Time to go home.”
Bit glanced at her mother and frowned. “Already?”
Laura r
ose and headed for the kitchen with her empty glass. “Yes, it’s almost ten o’clock. Paul has to leave tomorrow morning for the airport, remember? We must let him get to bed.”
Paul saw Bit still holding the Van Gogh book. “Hey, why don’t you take that book along with you. That way you can take your time looking through it and studying the pictures.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Sure, it’s yours.”
“You mean I can keep it?”
“Consider it a gift,” Paul said. “But let me put it in a carrying bag for you.”
“Gee, thanks, Paul.”
When Paul gave Bit the bag, Laura asked, “Are you sure? That’s an expensive looking book.”
“Bargain Books section, Barnes and Noble, Red Dot Special,” he explained.
“Well, it’s still very thoughtful of you to let her have it.”
Paul walked them outside. The night was clear and cool, with the temperature hovering in the low forties. A light mist crawled across the yard, but not enough to screen their view of stars poking through the canopy of trees.
“Starry, starry night,” Paul said, looking up at the star-streaked sky.
“Thanks for the invitation to go to Denver,” Laura said, steering Bit down the steps. “In another life, I would have really liked that.”
“Hey, that’s okay. Maybe next time.” He leaned over the railing and called down, “Sure you wouldn’t like me to walk you home?”
“We’ll be fine,” Laura replied. “Thanks again for the lovely dinner.”
“My pleasure. Maybe we can do it again when I get back.”
“We’ll see.” Before starting off down the trail, she turned around and said, “Good luck with the exhibit. Bit and I will keep our fingers crossed.”
“Thanks. I’ll need it.”
⸙
THEY HADN’T GONE twenty yards when a light rain started to fall. It made soft, hissing sounds as it slid through the trees, splatting the rhododendron and laurel bushes with a shimmering, silvery mist.
The People in the Lake Page 17