The Lake House

by Marci Nault

  “What?” Heather stepped back and looked at him. The sport coat and tie now made sense. “You want me to put you on an Internet dating site?”

  “Yep,” he said. “How else am I going to find a new lady? Everyone around here is like family. Over at the Amvets dinners they’re all a bunch of old farts, and I can’t go looking in the nursing homes, because I don’t live there. Turns out they frown upon nonresidents coming in just to find dates. And I’ve been kicked out of most of the bereavement groups because I dated too many of the widows and they all talk.”

  Heather tried not to giggle, and her eyes watered as she stifled her laugh. “Thomas, you dog.”

  “I’m just looking for a little love in this big lonely world.” She opened a few different dating sites until she found the one that Thomas recognized. He couldn’t remember his password or username, so she created a new one and wrote it down on a sticky note that he stuck under the desk so no one would see it. Then they took a picture with the computer’s camera and posted it. “I’m not certain how many ladies in their eighties are going to be looking on this site,” Heather said.

  “Who said I wanted someone my own age?” Thomas said. “I like ’em young and frisky. Someone in her early seventies or even sixties would be good, unless you want to have a go with me?” He smiled and she saw the devil in his eyes.

  “I think you might be a little too much for me,” she said.

  He pinched her bottom and her mouth dropped in shock. “Thomas!”

  “What? I didn’t do anything. These old hands just do what they want.”

  “I’m going to leave you to your search. If you need more help, just let me know, but next time I’ll slap that hand if it gets too fresh.”

  He smacked his gums and smiled at her. “Thank you, Heather.” She shook her finger at him and then walked away.

  Tommy’s rusted white truck pulled into the driveway just as Heather was walking up her deck stairs. Thomas had put a smile on her face and she turned to Tommy as he got out of the vehicle. He slammed the door and walked toward her.

  “Hi,” she said, and then noticed his aqua eyes were brewing with anger.

  He stepped onto her deck. “We need to talk.”

  Heather’s mind flashed to how Charlie loomed over her with his hands squeezing her biceps. Instinctively, she took a step back and crossed her arms over her body.

  “You had a party last night,” he said.

  “More like a gathering. Why?”

  “From what I understand, the music kept getting louder long after dark, and then a fight broke out because everyone was drunk. This is an elderly community, what were you thinking?”

  He didn’t yell, but the harsh tone he used was too much for Heather’s current state of mind. “I think you got your facts wrong.”

  “Oh, really, because Sarah and Agatha called me last night and this morning with the same story.”

  “Yes, I had a party. There was music until about eleven and people stayed until around one. Victoria said that it would be okay.”

  “And what about the fight?”

  Heather blushed. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, a small argument broke out. It was over quickly and it wasn’t due to alcohol.”

  “Do you understand that you live in an elderly community and that one night of missed sleep could cause an illness? You live next door to my grandfather, and I won’t put up with this.”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any problems, but Victoria had said it would be okay to play the music past quiet hours. And by the way, you don’t have any right to come onto my property and start yelling at me.” She pushed past him and walked off her deck. At the end of the driveway she turned back. “You know, you could take a few lessons from your grandfather on how to treat a lady. So far, you’ve been a class-act jerk.” She stormed off without giving him a chance to speak.

  The 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.

&n
bsp; “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?

  The 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 summ
er, 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.

  It was Annabelle’s twenty-first birthday, and she and Victoria had flown in from London so she could celebrate with Tommy. For one year she’d been performing onstage as a dancer, limiting their time together. On the morning of her birthday, she’d awoken in her bedroom in the Rose home to dozens of gardenias, her favorite flower, and a large dress box. Victoria’s silver Dior gown and Melissa’s tiara had been tucked inside. A limousine had driven Annabelle to this spot at the ocean. The light from the moon reflected off her skin as she walked toward him, and the ocean breeze blew soft tendrils around her face as he greeted her with a kiss. Candlelight flickered on the table he’d set for dinner.

  “May I have this dance?” He pulled her into a slow waltz, the cold sand squishing between their toes.