The Lake House

by Marci Nault

  The wind continued to grow stronger as she waited for Molly, wondering if she should walk to her house. Branches creaked and the electricity in the air raised the hair on her arms. Molly waved from the Jacobses’ driveway. Her long sundress swished as she waddled across the road with three Tupperware containers in hand. Oh, please let those be brownies. Molly had done so much for her this summer—it was the first time Heather had been mothered—and she realized how much she’d come to love this woman.

  Molly stopped in the middle of the street. The wind blew her white curls as she placed a hand to her eyes. Suddenly, the world went into slow motion. Molly’s knees gave way. Her body crumpled. The Tupperware crashed to the road as her face hit the black pavement.

  “Molly!” Only twenty feet away, Molly lay limp, a bright red puddle seeping from under her white hair. Heather sprinted toward her, but like the dreams where running felt like slogging through quicksand, her legs were leaden, and it seemed to take forever to reach Molly.

  “Tommy! Victoria! Someone!” Heather dropped to her knees; the stones scraped bare skin. She felt for Molly’s pulse. “Come on. Where are you?”

  The rosy coloring of her cheeks turned white as she continued to bleed. Heather pressed against Molly’s neck and found a faint pulse. The rock she’d struck her head on lay next to her face.

  “Tommy!” The wind took her voice and sent it over the trees. “Tommy!”

  The screen door slammed and Tom came running.

  “She collapsed. I need to call 911. Stay with her.” Heather ran toward the community center. Her pulse and breath quickened. With every stride she willed her heartbeat into Molly’s chest. She stormed into the room. “Victoria, come quick!”

  Everyone turned and watched her as she grabbed the phone on the wall and dialed the emergency number. “I need an ambulance. My friend collapsed.”

  A female voice came through the receiver. “I need you to stay calm so I can get some information. Are you in a residential home?”

  “I’m at Nagog Drive in Littleton. She’s in the street bleeding. I need you to hurry.”

  Victoria rushed to her. “Heather?”

  “Molly collapsed and this operator wants to know if I’m in a residence.”

  Victoria turned and hit a button against the wall.

  “Strong Security. What’s your emergency?” a voice said through the intercom.

  “I need an ambulance. An elderly woman has collapsed,” Victoria said.

  “I’m contacting EMS now and sending them to your address.”

  Victoria grabbed Heather. “Where is she?”

  “The street. She fell. Her head’s bleeding.”

  “Grab ice,” Victoria yelled as she and the others ran outside. Police sirens and the wail of an ambulance could be heard in the distance. Heather grabbed a towel and filled it with ice.

  The community had gathered in a circle around Molly. The ambulance made its way down the road and the crowd parted. Bill sat on the ground, Molly’s hand in his, as he petted her hair. His huge body looked crumpled.

  “You’re okay. I’m here. I won’t let anything happen.” He kissed her forehead.

  Carl knelt beside him and Joseph kept his hand on Bill’s back. Two men jumped from the ambulance. A stretcher came from the back of the vehicle. Policemen moved the crowd toward Heather’s yard.

  Bill refused to release Molly’s hand. Victoria lifted him and held his bearlike body to her chest. Heather watched his shoulders shake as he sobbed. “I can’t lose her. Not yet.”

  “Stop this talk right now. Molly knows we can’t take care of ourselves. She won’t leave us,” Victoria said.

  As thunder rolled overhead, windows rattled. Darkness fell like a shadow over the scene.

  Sarah fell to her knees and grasped her cross. With bowed head and closed eyes, she rocked and prayed.

  The EMTs lifted Molly onto the gurney and loaded her into the ambulance. Bill tried to follow, but the man stopped him. “Sorry, sir. There’s no room. You’ll need to meet us at Emerson Hospital.”

  “Bill, my keys are in the truck. Get in,” Tom said.

  The truck pulled away. Everyone moved to their cars. One by one they left, a parade of teary-eyed family members following their kin. Heather walked up to the bloodstain and closed her eyes. Then the tears came, matching the storm as the lake rose and puddles collected on the beach.

  The emergency waiting room reminded Heather of Logan Airport: dull blue walls, flecked floors, and the ambiance of an asylum. A young man held an ice pack to his head, his face bruised and swollen. A teenage boy hugged a crying girl. Bright red, blue, and green children’s toys had been scattered across the floor.

  Heather walked to the reception desk, her wet clothing leaving a trail of water along the floor. “I need to find Molly Jacobs. She came in an ambulance. An elderly group followed.”

  “Miss, you’re soaked to the bone.” The woman had a round face and black unruly hair showing the first signs of gray. She wore a pink scrub top with a Scooby-Doo pin above a name tag that read Millie. Heather looked into the woman’s brown eyes and wondered if the nurse came to work every day so she could put food on the table or because, like Molly, she lived to help others.

  “I need to know about my friend,” Heather said.

  Millie walked away. She came back with a wool blanket and a towel, and handed them to Heather. Her fingers clicked across the keyboard and she picked up a chart. “She’s on the third floor. There’s a waiting room for family and friends up there. The elevators are around the corner.”

  Heather hesitated.

  Millie pulled the towel from Heather’s arms and wrapped it around her shoulders. The blanket went around Heather’s body, and Millie rubbed her arms. “It’s hard when someone we love is sick. But I’m sure Molly will feel better knowing you are here.”

  Heather hadn’t realized how cold she’d been. How long had she been in the rain? “Thanks, Millie.”

  “If you need a cup of coffee or some food, the cafeteria is on the second floor,” Millie said.

  Heather stood outside the waiting room and peeked through the window. Molly’s friends sat on leather couches and chairs. Evelyn, in her party clothing, looked lost as she listened to Agatha and Sarah talk. The two women kept their hands busy with knitting needles. The women never seemed to be without their yarn.

  Tom’s hand touched her shoulder. “Stalking?”

  Fireflies danced along her skin. “I needed . . . worried . . . I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “She’s having an MRI. They think it’s an aneurysm.” He handed her a coffee from the tray he carried. The black liquid smelled stale. “Come in. It’s going to be a long night.” He opened the door.

  Bill walked over to Heather and pulled her into a hug. She sank into his flesh. The scent of Molly’s cookies was in his shirt.

  “Thank you for acting as quickly as you did. Molly will be happy to know you’re here,” Bill said.

  Tom pulled a folding chair from a closet and placed it behind Heather.

  “Where’s Victoria?” she asked.

  “She went home,” Tom said.

  Joseph looked up. “I thought she was in the cafeteria.”

  Tom looked at his coffee. “She decided Molly would want her own robe and nightgown.”

  Joseph looked at Bill and then at the door. Deep creases appeared on his forehead.

  “Why don’t I check on Victoria?” Heather turned to Tom. “If you hear anything, you’ll call?”

  Tom nodded. Heather dropped the towel and blanket on the chair. As she walked toward the door, he grabbed her hand. “Stay with her, okay?”

  Heather noticed the look of fear in Tom’s eyes. “Of course. I promise.”

  CHAPTER 25

  The rain had stopped. Mist lifted off the ground in ghostly swirls and a faint rainbow, more pastel than primary, faded behind puffy white clouds as Victoria walked along Nagog Drive. Directors hunger for this scene, Victoria thought,
as she stopped and looked at the lake.

  As an actress, she’d spent hours in full makeup and wardrobe, fans blowing against her face to keep her look fresh, while the director waited to see what the sunset would bring. More often than not, darkness came without one line spoken for the camera. All those hours wasted when she could’ve been here in Nagog with Molly.

  Victoria walked across the sand and onto the grass by Molly’s house. At the tree house she climbed the ladder. Dirt and moss covered the wet wood. The low doorframe made her duck her head as she went inside the fort. Leaves had taken up residence in the rooms, and birds had left white marks on the windowsills. The kitchen table her father bought had scratches on its face and had lost its luster. The chair’s vinyl had ripped, but the small metal legs still held Victoria’s weight.

  Dust covered the teacups and saucers that had been left on the table. Victoria lifted a cup and pretended she was eight again, playing house with Molly. “Yes, dear, I’d love more of your delectable tea. And would you pass me a scone?” Victoria grabbed a stick from the floor. She held it between her pointer and middle finger, brought it to her lips, and breathed in the imaginary smoke. “I think we should spend the day shopping in the city and then go for dinner.” She would’ve been wearing her mother’s cape and hat, both too big for her little body.

  Molly, in her mother’s flowered housecoat and high heels, would’ve said, “That would be delightful. And then we’ll ride the carriage through the park and eat warm chestnuts.”

  Victoria placed the cup on the table. Her finger traced the once golden rim.

  Two sleeping bags had been stored on the small bunks in the next room. Victoria grabbed the musty-smelling blankets and headed to the porch. The shiny blue material covered the wet planks protecting her as she sat with her feet dangling over the edge.

  “On the good ship, Lollipop. It’s a sweet trip to a candy shop. Where bonbons play . . . on the sunny beach of Peppermint Bay.”

  Victoria rubbed the pink pearl ring. Tears dripped down her cheeks as the memories from five years ago returned.

  The temperature outside had topped 100 that day and the humidity drenched the leaves until they dripped tears of sweat. The sunlight streamed through the windows of the sunroom and illuminated Annabelle’s golden locks. She sat on the couch wearing Tommy’s Harvard T-shirt, looking as if angels had lit a halo around her face. The wedding binder, filled with order slips, menus, seating charts, flower arrangements, and color swatches, sat open on the ottoman.

  Armed with yellow, pink, and green sticky notes, Annabelle chose a different color for each category: yellow for details she worried still needed to be attended to; pink for notes to the wedding planner; green for the things that were too hideous—now that she’d really thought about them—to be part of her special day.

  Victoria placed a tray on the end table and handed a glass of iced tea to Annabelle, who guzzled the drink and then placed the glass on the tray next to the turkey sandwich. She took a bite of the food and then put it down.

  “Is the sandwich okay? I can make you something different,” Victoria said.

  “No, it’s fine. Just the heat has taken my appetite,” Annabelle said as she stuck another note in the binder.

  “I think your loss of appetite has more to do with nerves about the wedding than the heat, and my cooking would make anyone lose their appetite. I’m calling Molly and having her fix something your stomach will appreciate. We’ll sit and enjoy a barbecue and you can relax.”

  The child needed rest before the big day. Excitement had kept her up the last five nights as she continued to plan well after midnight. It didn’t help that she’d just finished six grueling weeks traveling and performing, and was now jet-lagged.

  She needed time with Tommy. He could relax her to sleep, but their hectic schedules had kept them apart.

  “Why don’t I make you a milk shake? It will cool you off,” Victoria said.

  “Thanks, Grandma, but I’m okay. I think I’m going to go for a run.”

  “In this heat?”

  “Please, I dance and sing all night under the spotlights. I’ll be fine and it will relax me. I think the lack of exercise is what’s keeping me up at night.” Annabelle placed the binder down and took another long drink of the iced tea.

  Victoria pulled the heavy binder onto her lap and flipped through the pages. Pictures of the wedding site made her smile. Annabelle and Tommy would marry at a seaside mansion in Newport, Rhode Island. Two hundred fifty chairs, covered in white silk, would be decorated with pale silver roses. As Annabelle walked down the aisle, a string quartet would play with the sound of the ocean in the background.

  The search for the perfect wedding gown had taken Victoria and Annabelle on three shopping trips to New York, one to Paris, and another to London, but they finally found the dress at Priscilla’s of Boston, a local institution. Annabelle’s golden hair would flow around the fitted silk top, which had small Swarovski crystals sewn along the bust. Pearl-colored material would drape along her curves and sway when she moved.

  “I forgot one more thing. Can I see the binder?” Annabelle said as she wrote on a yellow sticky note.

  “I don’t know why you’re stressed,” Victoria said. “The wedding planner has everything under control.”

  “It has to be perfect. I feel like I’ve waited forever for this day.” Annabelle took the binder and placed the note on the front cover.

  “Well, it won’t be perfect if the bride collapses from exhaustion.” Victoria pulled the pen from Annabelle’s hand. “Go for your run. I’ll call the wedding planner and give her all your notes.”

  “No, I have to do this.” Annabelle tried to grab the pen.

  “You don’t. Your jobs are to rest, get a tan, and make certain you glow. Tomorrow you’re going to sleep late and then spend the day relaxing at the spa. It’s non-negotiable. I’m laying down the law,” Victoria said.

  Annabelle stared at the pens and the binder. “Okay.”

  “And I think you should call Tommy and invite him to dinner.”

  Annabelle twirled the curl behind her ear. “He doesn’t have time. He needs to finish three sets of drawings and he wants to paint the downstairs bedrooms tonight. Trust me . . . I’ve been getting more sleep than he has.”

  Annabelle went to her room and returned with headphones and tennis shoes. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

  “You can’t run in this heat for an hour. At most twenty minutes and then I expect you to cool off in the lake, sit in the shade, and take a nap.”

  “Okay, I promise.” Annabelle waved and was out the door running up the road without taking the time to stretch.

  Victoria spent the next hour on the phone with the wedding coordinator getting her assurance that everything was under tight control. If the night air became too hot, misters were in place to cool things down. Refrigerator trucks would keep the floral arrangements looking fresh in the intense heat. The chef had begun the food preparation. Marinades were done; the meat would be soaked in vacuum-sealed containers. The hair and makeup artists knew the exact designs the girls wanted. No detail had been left to chance.

  Victoria hung up the phone and drank the tea, now watered down by the melted ice. The heat felt like a brick oven. Victoria pulled her hair off her neck and fanned herself.

  The air outside felt thick. Fragrant barbecue smells came from the Jacobses’ home as Victoria walked toward the beach in search of Annabelle. Molly had gone to work creating her magic in the kitchen. A good meal of potato salad, roasted chicken, corn bread, and fruit salad would give Annabelle’s cheeks color. The child looked pale today.

  A hot breeze blew across the sand. Where was Annabelle? She shouldn’t be running in this heat for this long. Victoria turned and saw Annabelle walk up the road and then stop at the beach. She shook her head and Victoria could see her eyes shut as if they were being forced closed. “Honey, are you okay?” Victoria called.

  Annabelle’s body crumpled
like she was a rag doll. She fell to the sand and Victoria ran to her side. “Annabelle!” Victoria shook her but she didn’t respond. “Annabelle!”

  Someone called an ambulance and Victoria rode with the paramedics. She stared at Annabelle’s face, at her purple lips slightly parted under the plastic oxygen mask, willing her to be okay.

  At the hospital they’d taken her baby through dirty white double doors marked with black scuff marks. “She pushed too hard,” Victoria said as she paced in the waiting room. “She’s exhausted, and it was so hot. I should’ve paid attention . . . not allowed her to go for that run. Oh, God, they kept saying something about an irregular heart rhythm. She’s a young woman, how can there be anything wrong with her heart?”

  “We don’t know anything. It could be as simple as dehydration.” Molly patted Victoria’s arm and forced her to sit.

  “Did someone call Tommy?” Victoria looked around the room for a pay phone. “He needs to be here. She’ll be okay if she sees Tommy. Nothing bad can happen when they’re together.”

  “I left a message, but his secretary said he was out of the office,” Bill said as he sat and held Victoria’s hand.

  “Bill, drive to Providence. Annabelle needs Tommy,” Victoria pleaded.

  A doctor in blue scrubs walked through the white doors. “Annabelle Rose’s family?”

  Victoria stood. “Here.” The doctor had kind, soft, Asian features. His black hair had begun to gray around the temples, giving him the look of competence, and Victoria felt comforted that he was taking care of her baby. “What’s wrong with my granddaughter? Is she okay?”

  “Your granddaughter is in third degree heart block with an abnormal rhythm.”

  “I knew she shouldn’t go for a run in this heat. Does she have heatstroke?” Victoria said in panic.

  “We’re uncertain. Heatstroke can cause abnormal rhythms, but we want to rule out an underlying condition. Do you know if she’s ever been diagnosed with any kind of heart abnormality?”

  Victoria clenched Molly’s hand. “When she was a young child, something was mentioned about an arrhythmia, but we were told it was nothing to worry about and that she would grow out of it.”