The Lake House

by Marci Nault

  “She’s gorgeous,” Heather said, her eyes scanning the room.

  “Oh my God,” Heather said. She pointed to the golden statuette. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yes,” Victoria said. “You can touch it.”

  Heather tentatively reached out her fingers as if it were a magic lamp that made wishes come true. “I’ve never seen an Oscar in person.”

  Victoria looked away and busied herself by opening a large drawer filled with DVDs. “What would you like to watch? I have everything.”

  “How about one of your movies?” Heather said.

  “Why don’t we save that for another night? I’m in the mood to watch something fun, with a handsome leading man. How about Singin’ in the Rain? Gene Kelly’s finest moment.”

  “Never seen it,” Heather said as she turned and looked at a collage on the wall behind the rocking chair.

  Victoria placed her hand over her heart. “Pure sin. We have so much work to do. I’m going to make hot chocolate and popcorn. I say we watch movies until we can’t stay awake.”

  Victoria went to the kitchen and left Heather to scan the pictures around the room. When she returned with two blue mugs with sunflowers painted on the sides and a large bowl overflowing with white popped kernels, she saw Heather looking at a large photograph hung on the wall above the shelves. She placed the tray on the ottoman and stood behind Heather who was studying the women in bright-colored dresses standing in the windows of an abandoned brick building. The picture had been signed: Ormond Gigli 1960.

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s incredible,” Heather said.

  “Look at the second row from the top, the girl in the white dress.”

  Heather’s eyes widened. “Is that you?”

  “It is. The picture is called Girls in the Window, and it graced the cover of Ladies’ Home Journal.”

  “You wore pointy shoes back then?” Heather asked.

  “You think you’re the first generation to realize they elongate the leg? You’d be surprised how much us old folks influenced fashion.”

  Heather leaned closer to the picture. “You all look so sexy and powerful.”

  “And we’re covered up. Not wearing bikinis for clothing. Back then, women were in touch with the sensual pride of the feminine spirit.” Victoria brushed Heather’s hair from her face. “These days I think girls are ashamed of how they come out of the womb. They’re determined to stuff themselves into a perfect mold.”

  “Determined? More like forced.” Heather looked at a framed movie poster. “Is that you in the background?”

  “Yes. I won the Oscar with that film,” Victoria said.

  “I know this picture. Where do I know it from?” Heather asked. “Oh my God, I remember. My grandmother. We watched this together when I was little. She loved this movie. You really were famous.”

  Victoria waved Heather’s words away as she walked toward the television. “You’re the famous one these days. I’ve been reading your column, you’re a wonderful writer.”

  “I think my writing is a far cry from an Academy Award, but I might have a chance at a travel show.”

  Victoria smiled with excitement. “Let me know if you need any tips on how to work the camera. I’d love to share all my secrets with you. We’ll have such fun. But for now, let’s watch our movie.”

  Heather sat on the couch and pulled a throw pillow across her lap. The black-and-white MGM lion roared on the television. Heather grabbed a mug and a handful of popcorn. “That’s Gene Kelly? He was hot.”

  “And he could kiss,” Victoria said as she sat.

  “Okay, I’m jealous,” Heather said as she sipped her hot cocoa. “Victoria, can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “I was wondering about your husband since I assume you were married, but if it’s none of my business . . .”

  “I was married for eight years to a man named Devon. He was an actor.”

  “What happened?”

  “Devon and I were two fast-burning flames. He’d touch me and it was like thought ceased to exist and I drowned in a current of passion.”

  “Oh, God, are you going to talk about sex again?”

  “I’ll spare you the details.”

  “Thank you,” Heather said. “So what happened?”

  “I changed and Devon didn’t.” Victoria took a handful of popcorn and passed the bowl.

  “So, what you said about marriage being the place where you’re beautiful whether or not you’re wearing a fancy dress or a bathrobe—was that from being with Devon?” Heather popped the puffed kernels into her mouth.

  “Well, it’s nice to know my advice didn’t fall on deaf ears, but sadly, no. Just consider that advice from a woman who’s lived a long life and knows a thing or two about love because of her experiences.”

  “Did you remarry?”

  “No, I spent many years dating and being an independent woman.”

  A sad look came over Heather’s face. “Were you lonely?”

  “Oh, I’m certain at times I was, but I was caught up in my adventures. The world is such an incredible place, and I had my daughter and granddaughter.”

  “What about now?” Heather said. “Joseph seems rather eligible? Have you thought of asking him out?”

  Victoria choked on a popcorn kernel and Heather patted her back as Victoria put her hands over her heart.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Heather said when Victoria caught her breath and took a sip of her hot chocolate.

  “Why don’t we watch the movie,” Victoria said.

  Heather nodded and with a smile she turned to the television. “I think you should go for it. He’s kind of the Sean Connery of Nagog.”

  “I’m ignoring you now.”

  “Fine.” Heather sipped her cocoa and watched the movie as she munched on the popcorn.

  A tug of guilt played at Victoria’s conscience. She hadn’t been completely honest. If she told Heather the truth about leaving Devon, she would’ve needed to explain that life had been lonely after they split. She missed the passion and the companionship. He’d been her friend as well as her lover, and she knew she’d left him without fighting for their relationship—their marriage hadn’t matched the perfect picture of what she’d thought it should be. But the real truth was that once Melissa had been born, Devon no longer lived up to the feelings she’d had for Joseph.

  The rhythmic breath of sleep came from Heather’s lips as the movie finished. Victoria looked at the sleeping girl and placed a blanket over her before turning off the television, then retired to her own bed.

  Hundreds of dragonflies in vivid colors of blue, red, and green flapped their wings in a dizzying circle around Victoria’s face. She could see Annabelle; the moonlight reflected off the silver gown that clung to the girl’s curves as she twirled three feet above the patio. “Dance with me, Tommy,” Annabelle said.

  Tommy tried to hold her, but she slipped away and floated higher.

  Annabelle laughed as she ascended, blissful in her weightless freedom. Her hands reached for the high tree branches. Victoria tried to yell, to stop her baby from going higher, but nothing came out. She willed her feet to move, but they sank in the sand, her calves disappearing into the earth. The dragonflies hit at her face, but she didn’t swat them away. She didn’t want to harm their elegant bodies.

  Victoria struggled to free her legs, but the beach became quicksand, and the more she moved, the deeper she sank. Annabelle twirled higher and Victoria could see the stars all around her granddaughter. Annabelle smiled at Tommy and blew him a kiss.

  Victoria shook awake, the top of her pajamas soaked with sweat. Outside, the moon was still high in the sky; Victoria looked to the clock and saw that it was only three in the morning. She’d been asleep only a few hours. In the closet she stripped off the nightshirt and replaced it with a white tank top and zip-up sweatshirt. Adrenaline surged through her body and she couldn’t return to bed.


  Downstairs the darkness of her memories called to her. The cool tiles of the kitchen floor led her feet to the counter with the butcher’s block of knives. Sarah believed that Victoria left after Annabelle’s death because she wanted to go play in Malibu and forget what had happened. Joseph thought that she ran away without a thought to the kindness he’d shown her. No one knew the truth of what she’d almost done.

  Victoria sunk to the floor. Moonlight came through the window and reflected off the pale skin of her wrist. This had been the place Victoria had reached five years ago, a week after Annabelle’s funeral.

  She’d sat on this floor ready to end her own life. But grace had come from an unseen touch on the wrist—a breeze, perhaps. Victoria felt a presence lift her from the ground, and she’d put the knife away. That night, in the window over the sink, she’d seen someone else in her reflection, a sick woman who needed help. Ashamed of what she’d almost done, she’d flown back to Malibu early in the morning and checked herself into a hospital. She still hadn’t told anyone, not even Molly, what had happened or that she’d been institutionalized for severe depression.

  In the sunroom, Heather slept in contented peace. The crickets and peepers had gone silent and the night air had cooled. Victoria closed the windows as she looked around the neighborhood. Everything looked safe. She tried to hug the secure feeling into her body, to infuse her soul with Nagog’s peace.

  CHAPTER 16

  Carl, Daniel, Bill, and Joseph carried the picnic table across the yard and set it down under Heather’s oak tree in the original ruts.

  “Damn girl, how is she moving this thing on her own?” Carl yelled.

  Joseph looked at the tracks of matted grass. “I think she drags it. Maybe we should simply leave it closer to your home, since this is the fifth time she’s moved it. I think the smoke bothers her.”

  “So we just let her decide that our meeting place needs to change because she’s sensitive to smoke?” Bill said. “Bad enough I have to go in and fix the problems we caused because Molly’s befriended her, but you want me to give up my tree as well?”

  “I’m just saying that we could try to be a little more courteous to our new neighbor,” Joseph said.

  “You mean the neighbor who threw a party and played loud music until all hours of the night?” Carl said.

  “That was almost two months ago. I think it’s time to forgive,” Joseph said as the men sat and started dealing the cards around the table.

  “I bet there’s going to be more parties real soon,” Daniel said. “Why else would she have bought a place out here?”

  The men lit their cigars and changed the subject to their usual conversation. From the open second-floor window, Joseph heard Heather scream in frustration. Her feet stomped on the wood floors and then the window slammed shut.

  Carl laughed. “I think we upset her.”

  “Good, maybe she’ll leave,” Bill said.

  “Why do you want her to move?” Joseph asked.

  “Because our kids can’t think they can come in here and move us into homes and sell our places,” Daniel said.

  Sarah, who was passing by on a walk with Evelyn, came up to the table and added, “The girl is rude and unfriendly to everyone but Victoria and Molly. What a surprise, Victoria has a new playmate and is ignoring the rest of the community.”

  Evelyn pulled her pink sweater around her shoulders. It was over eighty degrees and Joseph knew that Roger had probably tried to change her into something lighter but then gave up. He barely joined the men anymore. Every moment was spent looking after Evelyn, making certain that she didn’t get hurt and her needs were met.

  Heather came out of the house just as Evelyn opened the mailbox. “Hello, Evelyn,” the girl called. “Can I help you find something?”

  “I’m just looking to see if a letter came,” Evelyn said, smiling at Heather.

  Heather pulled the mail from the box and sifted through. “Nothing for you today.”

  Sarah raced to Evelyn’s side. “Dear, why don’t we walk back to your house and we’ll check back later.”

  “Good afternoon, Sarah,” Heather said with a touch of sarcasm. “How are you today? Did you have a nice time at church?”

  “I’ve noticed you don’t bother to attend, but the Lord might look favorably if you found your way into one sometime.”

  “I’m certain the Lord also looks favorably on forgiveness and I don’t see a whole lot of that going on around here.”

  “I don’t know what you are speaking about and I find your tone of voice rude.”

  “Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” Heather said, waving to Victoria as she came out of her house and headed to the beach. Heather turned to the men. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I really need to ask you a favor.”

  “What do you want?” Daniel asked.

  “We seem to be at an impasse with the picnic table location. I move it over there, and you bring it back. I was hoping we could find a compromise since your cigar smoke is coming right into my house.”

  “This picnic table has been here for fifty years,” Bill said.

  “Well, then, maybe it’s ready for a different view?” Heather asked.

  “Nope,” Carl said and blew out a thick puff of smoke.

  “Please?” Heather asked again.

  “Nope,” Bill said. They turned to their cards and ignored her.

  She looked to Joseph for help and he shrugged his shoulders. A lifetime of friendship had taught him that nothing he could say would change their minds.

  Heather had walked away and headed to the beach to join Victoria when Joseph heard the phone ringing in his house. “I’m going to try to grab that.” The men barely looked up as he left.

  The caller had hung up by the time he reached his phone. He had one new message and the caller ID showed his daughter’s phone number. He decided to call her back without listening to the message first.

  “Hi, Dad,” Joseph’s daughter, Shelly, said.

  “Hi, baby. How’s your day going?”

  “It’s fine.” In a sullen voice, the same tone she’d used when she’d admitted wrongdoings as a child, she said, “I need to tell you something. Mom met someone and she’s getting married.”

  Joseph sat down at the table. His wife was remarrying and his fifty-one-year-old daughter had to tell him. Divorce was such a strange thing for children to face, no matter the age. “That’s good news. I want your mother to be happy.”

  “Dad, I know this must be hard on you.”

  “Baby, I understand.” Joseph wanted to pull his daughter into a hug and stroke her hair. She was a grandmother now, but in his mind she’d always be that little girl who placed her feet on top of his shoes when they danced. The divorce had hurt her, and he knew that this marriage must be painful as well.

  “Mom’s the one that walked out, not you,” she said.

  “There were circumstances and I don’t blame your mother.” He could hear his daughter scuffing her foot against the floor.

  “I want you to be happy,” she said.

  “I am.”

  “Dad, Mom told me why she left. I saw Victoria the day we came for lunch. I know she’s back. If you really love her, then why aren’t you with her?”

  Joseph paused. “There are circumstances that I don’t want to get into.”

  “Dad, do they really matter all that much? For a long time I hated her for breaking up your marriage, but it’s been five years, and if you love her, then you need to do something about it.”

  “I’ll think about it. Let’s change the subject. How’s our little Emily?”

  “I’m babysitting her next week and I was thinking of bringing her for lunch. I know how much she loves her great-grandpa,” she said.

  “That would be nice,” he said, realizing that his eyes had misted over.

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  “Love you too, baby.”

  Joseph hung up. He went to the bedroom and lay down. The last time
he’d spoken with his wife was in a law office. Joseph had offered the house, but Barbara said she couldn’t bear to live in Nagog. In her mind, she’d always be the outsider. Joseph had set up accounts to take care of her financial needs and that had been the end of his marriage. Now his ex-wife was with another man. Someone else would touch the white stretch marks created by his babies.

  Joseph went into the study, where the spicy smell of pipe tobacco, smoked thirty years before, impregnated the thick drapes and antique carpets. This was Joseph’s father’s study and now his sanctuary.

  He looked out the window to Barbara’s overgrown flower garden. The patio had been designed to look like a European bistro, complete with café chairs and a fountain that once played a soft trickling medley. The wineglasses that hung from the outdoor baker’s rack had gone dirty with years of dust. Joseph didn’t have his ex-wife’s green thumb. Weeds had broken through the brick walk and vines choked the flowers, siphoning off their nutrients.

  It was a beautiful day outside. He stretched his limbs and walked into the garden. Four months ago, when he saw Victoria in the snow the night she’d returned, he didn’t believe he could open his heart again. She said she was here to stay, but if he let her in again, would he only be left heartbroken once more?

  The barista called out coffee orders as people stood around the café waiting for their drinks, buzzing with chatter. Heather sat off to the corner in a blue armchair, sipping her latte as she stared at her computer screen. She’d hoped that a change of scenery would help her write, but it hadn’t.

  Horror stories about writer’s block were taboo in the Globe’s office. No one wanted to say the words for dread of the writer’s virus spreading. Until this moment, Heather had never experienced any of the symptoms: hours of staring at the computer without progress; days of cleaning and laundry to avoid work or, worse, when the block completely took over, endless hours of television without the desire to move. The problem wasn’t the column—she’d sent off the four articles to George about lakeside vacations, but the hundred pages Charlie needed for the book publisher had become her nemesis. In her brief conversation with Charlie yesterday, she’d asked for the name of the publishing house or editor and he responded, “Are you asking so that you can go behind my back and invite them to a party?”