“This is the office,” Susan said as she threw open the door of a room that faced the front of the house and held a desk, several bookshelves, and a swivel chair. The white walls were bare, and the window faced the side of the garage. “You could write in here.”
I doubt it, Lauren thought as she sized up the unappealing room. No inspiration would strike her within its utilitarian confines. Whoever had used this room in the past had left nothing of their personality behind, not even a picture on the wall or a tattered paperback they no longer wanted.
“Shall we go upstairs?” Susan chirped, clearly happier now that she thought Lauren was interested. “There are four bedrooms: two kids’ rooms, a guest room, and a master bedroom. The master bedroom is not exactly in keeping with the rest of the house, but it’s very quaint.”
“Sounds ominous,” Lauren joked.
“Not at all. See for yourself.”
The three smaller bedrooms were reminiscent of any B&B Lauren had stayed at. Flowery quilts thrown over twin beds with scratched wooden headboards, neutral carpeting, and colorful curtains to brighten the space. The master bedroom, however, was a surprise. A four-poster bed dominated the room, its massive mahogany posts intricately carved. The seafoam-colored quilt appeared to be made of thick damask and decorated with silver braid that matched the delicate pattern. A heavy wardrobe stood in the corner, the design matching that of the bedposts, but the item of furniture that really grabbed Lauren’s attention was the lovely secretary desk that faced the window, which opened onto the vista of tall pines and shimmering sea. The desk was mahogany, its surface smooth and satiny despite years of use. There were three drawers on each side, plus several small drawers in the top section. Each drawer had a polished brass knob and a fanciful pattern carved into the wood. The desk was reminiscent of something Charles Dickens or Jane Austen would own, but it had probably been crafted before their time.
“All the furniture in this room is original to the house,” Susan said. “Eighteenth century. This room belonged to the last owner of the house, Mrs. Lacey. She was the current owner’s aunt. Died five years ago.”
“Not in this bed, I hope,” Lauren said.
“No, in a hospice in Chatham. She was a nice lady. My mom knew her well. So, what do you think?”
“I think I love it,” Lauren said, already picturing herself at the desk, her computer in front of her as she began a new project, her own this time.
“Great. Let’s get the papers signed, then, shall we? Why don’t we stop by the office, take care of business, and then grab some lunch? I’m starving.”
“I don’t know,” Lauren replied lamely. She’d actively avoided social situations since Zack’s death, but Susan looked so crestfallen, she felt mean for refusing.
“Come on. It’s on me,” Susan tried again. “I hate eating at my desk.”
“Okay. Sure. Thank you.”
“No, thank you,” Susan replied, smiling broadly. “Jerry will be thrilled to have rented this place so early in the season. When do you want the lease to start?”
“April first through Labor Day,” Lauren replied.
“Perfect,” Susan said, already heading toward the stairs. “I’m already spending my commission in my mind.” She laughed merrily. “I think you’ll be happy here.”
“Billy will love it.”
“Oh? Who’s Billy?” Susan’s arched eyebrows made Lauren laugh. She obviously thought Billy was her boyfriend.
“Billy is a puppy. My brother, Xavier, gave him to me for Christmas.” He thought a dog would make me less lonely, Lauren added in her head. And he had. Billy was a joy. A brown furball with limpid brown eyes and a velvety nose. “Pets are allowed, aren’t they?” Lauren asked, realizing she’d never thought to inquire.
“Yes, the owner has no issue with pets. What breed?”
“Chocolate lab.”
“I love those. They’re so cute.” Susan locked the house behind them and headed for her car. “Just follow me back to the office, and we can walk to lunch from there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Lauren said.
As she got into her car, she felt lighter than she had in months. “You’d like this place,” she said, addressing Zack, her vow to stop talking to him momentarily forgotten. “The view is stunning, and it’s nice and private, away from the mob of tourists. I think I can write here,” she added, her voice tinged with hope. “What do you think?”
I think it’s time you let go, Lauren, Zack’s voice replied in her head. Lauren ignored him and drove down the hill.
Chapter 2
Moving into Holland House didn’t take long. Susan McPherson had had the house cleaned and aired out before her arrival, so the rooms smelled pleasantly of pine cleaner and the sea. Lauren brought only the essentials: two suitcases of clothes, Billy’s crate and toys, her Kindle, which had at least ten books she had yet to read on it, and several framed photographs.
She set her favorite picture on the nightstand next to the four-poster. It had been taken at Xavier’s graduation party nearly ten years ago, the night she’d met Zack. Xavier had caught them unawares, gazing at each other with all the desire and wonder of two people who’d made a sudden and intense connection. They looked young and carefree, and already halfway in love. Looking at the picture always made her happy. It served to remind her that something wonderful could happen when you least expected it and change your life forever.
Lauren threw open the curtains and opened the window a crack to let in some fresh air, unpacked her clothes, and placed some personal items on the old-fashioned bureau, claiming the previously impersonal space as her own. She’d known she’d pick this bedroom before she even signed the rental agreement. She’d always been something of a history buff, and the colonial decor had appealed to her on sight, but it was the four-poster and the lovely writing desk that sealed the deal. Lauren positioned her laptop on the polished surface of the desk, then stowed some office supplies in the drawers, running a gentle hand over the pattern carved into each mahogany rectangle. She couldn’t help wondering about all the people that had used the desk before her, especially its original owner, who must have written all their correspondence as they gazed out over the bay, a quill suspended in their hand as they considered their next words.
Her reverie was interrupted by Billy, who pushed his nose into her calf, making her laugh out loud. He’d been nosing around the second-floor bedrooms, yapping excitedly, but now he probably wanted to get outside and explore. Lauren scooped up the puppy and carried him downstairs. He was too small to navigate the stairs on his own, which was a blessing in a way since that would ensure he’d stay put instead of running all over the house, but she’d have to install a security gate soon to keep Billy safe. The little dog ran toward the sliding door and pressed his nose to the glass, his eyes wide with curiosity as he took in the placid bay and the open space beyond the patio.
“All right, all right,” Lauren said as she reached for her coat. “We can go outside.” She grabbed Billy’s leash and pulled on a pair of gloves before opening the door. It was warmer than it had been when she came to see the house, but not by much. The wind lifted Lauren’s hair and whipped it around her face, momentarily blinding her. She loosened her grip on the leash, and that was all it took for Billy to take off. He raced toward the wooden steps to the dock and had managed to clear the first two on pure inertia before falling headfirst down the rickety staircase.
“Billy, no!” Lauren screamed as she plunged down the steps after him, hoping she wouldn’t follow his example and tumble headlong down the hill. The puppy looked like a brown ball of fur as he rolled toward the bottom, then landed with a hollow thunk. Lauren was beside him in moments, crouching next to him as she reached to stroke his head. Billy whimpered pitifully but didn’t get up. His gaze was glazed, and his back leg was folded at an odd angle beneath his body.
“Billy?” Lauren called to him. “Billy, get up.”
But the dog didn’t budge. His head
lolled to the side as he rested it on his paws, his eyes closed against the glare of the sun. His breathing was shallow, and his whimper was carried away on the wind. Lauren pulled off her gloves and yanked her phone out of her pocket, searching for the nearest vet. She called two numbers, but both offices were closed, the recording advising her to leave a message. She didn’t want to leave a message; she wanted Billy looked at immediately. The third call was answered by an actual person.
“Good morning. How can I help?” a perky female voice asked.
“Hi. My dog fell down some steps. I think he’s badly hurt.”
“Are you a current patient?”
“No, I just moved to the area. Is there any way you can fit me in?” Lauren pleaded.
“Please hold,” the young woman said. She came back a few moments later. “Dr. Kelly will see you at noon. Can I have your name, address, phone number, and the name and breed of your dog?”
Lauren provided all the information, her gaze never leaving Billy’s face. He was perfectly still, lying there as if unconscious. “I’m afraid to cause him more pain,” Lauren said to the receptionist as she considered the logistics of getting him to the vet.
“Is he bleeding?”
“No, but he’s not moving.”
“Pick him up very carefully and settle him in the back seat,” the woman advised.
“Okay. Thank you.”
Lauren glanced at the clock on the phone. It was almost eleven and the drive wouldn’t take longer than fifteen minutes. There was no sense disturbing Billy twice, so she sat on the step next to him and waited, hoping he’d miraculously come around, but Billy didn’t stir. At eleven thirty, she picked up the puppy and carried him to her car, settling him in the back seat. He whimpered but never opened his eyes and put a paw over his face as if to block out the light.
“We’ll be there very soon,” Lauren told him as she got in the driver’s seat and put the key in the ignition. “You’ll be all right. You’ll see.”
Lauren drove to the vet’s office, parked, and carried Billy inside. The young woman at reception looked even younger than she’d sounded on the phone. She had to still be in her teens. She checked them in, took down Billy’s medical history, since in her agitation Lauren had forgotten to bring along his medical records, and asked Lauren to have a seat.
There was no one else in the waiting room, so Lauren looked around, studying the framed prints on the walls. Some of the prints were black and white, and the light made the subjects leap off the paper, particularly a photo of a lighthouse in a gathering storm.
“The doctor usually takes lunch at twelve,” said the young woman, whose name plate proclaimed her to be Merielle Kelly. “But he could never leave an animal in pain.”
“That’s very kind,” Lauren said, wondering if Merielle was the doctor’s wife or daughter. Daughter, most likely.
“He’s really sweet,” she said, nodding toward Billy. “I’m more of a cat person myself, but I can appreciate a cute puppy. Oh, you can go in. First door on the left,” she said when a woman with a French bulldog came out into the reception area and approached the desk.
Lauren cuddled Billy as she followed the corridor to an examining room. The doctor smiled as she walked in and asked her to place Billy on the examining table. He appeared to be in his mid-to-late thirties, with unruly dark-brown hair that brushed the collar of his doctor’s coat at the nape, and dark green eyes, so like Merielle’s. He was tall and fit with strong, capable hands, Lauren noted as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and bent over Billy.
“Hello, little guy,” he said gently. “Let’s see what’s wrong with you.”
Lauren waited anxiously while Dr. Kelly examined Billy. He was thorough and didn’t waste time on small talk, but asked several questions, which Lauren answered to the best of her ability. Billy, displeased at being prodded, opened his eyes and glared at the doctor, who took the opportunity to shine a light into his eyes, making him growl.
“I’m sorry, Billy,” Dr. Kelly said as he shut off the light. “I know that’s bright.”
Billy relaxed once the offending light had been switched off and rested his head on his paws, lying quietly and watching the doctor with obvious suspicion.
“Will he be all right?” Lauren asked anxiously.
“He’ll be just fine. Nothing is broken. He’s bruised and has a mild concussion. He’s scared himself silly more than anything,” Dr. Kelly said, pulling off the gloves.
“Concussion? What should I do?”
“Nothing. Allow him to set his own pace. He might be a little lethargic for a few days and will probably be in some pain from the bruises, but he’s young and strong, and his body will heal itself. I’d like to see him in about three days to make sure he’s recovering.”
Lauren nodded, relieved Billy hadn’t broken anything or suffered serious brain damage. “Thank you for seeing him. And giving up your lunch hour.”
Dr. Kelly shook his head. “Merielle talks too much,” he said with an indulgent smile. “So, you moved into Holland House?” he asked, his surprise evident.
“Are you going to warn me that it’s haunted?” Lauren quipped, noting the amusement in his eyes.
“No. Is it?” he asked, smiling down at her.
“I couldn’t say. I’ve only just arrived.”
“I’ve heard the stories, of course, but I was always more interested in Hog Island myself.” He pointed to one of the pictures on the wall. The island was nothing more than a heavily forested clump of land rising from the sea, with nothing on it to attract attention.
“Did you take these photos?” Lauren asked.
“Yes. I love photography and history, so I spend my free time photographing places of historical interest. Or at least I used to,” he amended.
“You’re very good,” Lauren said, suddenly realizing that one of the photographs behind him was of Holland House. “So, what’s so special about Hog Island?”
He was about to reply when the intercom buzzed and Merielle’s voice announced that his next patient had arrived. It seemed Dr. Kelly didn’t take long lunches.
“Thanks, Merielle.” He laid a gentle hand on Billy’s head. “Don’t hesitate to call me if you have any concerns, and I’ll see you in a few days. Bye, Billy.”
Lauren thanked him and carried Billy back to the waiting room, where she paid for the visit and made a follow-up appointment. She stole another peek at the wall, noting that there was a picture of Hog Island in the reception area as well, taken from a slightly different angle, which didn’t make the island any more photogenic.
Having returned to the house, Lauren settled Billy on his bed in the living room and sat down on the sofa, watching him sleep. She’d picked up a breakfast sandwich on the way from Boston early that morning but hadn’t had anything since, and she was getting hungry. The plan had been to run out to the grocery store and pick up some supplies after she unpacked. There was nothing to eat in the house except for the bag of dog food she’d brought for Billy. Lauren went to the kitchen, shook some puppy chow into a bowl, refreshed Billy’s water, then returned to the living room. Billy was still asleep.
“I’ll be back soon,” she said softly, and left him to rest.
She drove to the nearest supermarket, stocked up on the basics, and returned to the house. She’d expected Billy to start barking when she unlocked the door, but he still lay on his bed, his gaze brightening when he saw her. Lauren glanced at his bowl as she came into the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten or drunk any water.
Not a great first day, Lauren thought as she put away the groceries. With Billy so quiet, the house was silent around her, and she suddenly wished she had a TV to keep her company. At home in Boston, there was always noise. She could hear the hum of conversation from neighboring apartments, the blare of a TV from across the hall, and the traffic beneath her windows, but here, it was eerily quiet.
She looked out the window, her attention fixing on the island in the distance. Was that the sa
me island she’d seen a photograph of in Dr. Kelly’s office? Hog Island, he’d called it. She really couldn’t understand the fascination, so she filled a pot with water and set it to boil, took out some chicken, and began to slice celery and carrots. She’d make a big pot of chicken noodle soup, she decided. She needed comfort food but didn’t want to have anything too heavy like mac and cheese, or fried chicken. Soup would do her very nicely.
“Tomorrow will be a better day, buddy,” she told Billy as she ate her soup on the sofa in the living room to keep him company. He still hadn’t moved, so she brought his bowls of food and water closer to the bed in an effort to tempt him. Billy lifted his head and sniffed at the food but didn’t touch it.
“Come on, you have to eat,” Lauren pleaded with him. “Just a little bit.”
Billy closed his eyes and went back to sleep, leaving a worried Lauren to eat alone.
Chapter 3
Lauren came awake slowly, her thoughts crowding in long before she opened her eyes. Her first concern was for Billy, whose warm body was pressed to her side, his breathing even in sleep. He’d finally eaten a little last night, a hopeful sign, in her opinion. Lauren lay very still, taking a moment to recall exactly where she was and why. A gusty wind blew off the Atlantic, and the house creaked, the wooden walls sighing like an elderly woman pining for her youth. A soft half-light crept toward the bed, its gentle fingers stroking the comforter and caressing Billy’s round bottom.
Lauren turned toward the window, hoping to watch the sunrise, but the sight that greeted her left her breathless with terror. Her heart pounded in her chest as she clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the scream that caught in her throat. She sank deeper into the mattress in order to make herself less visible, but she needn’t have bothered.
The Lost (Echoes from the Past Book 9) Page 34