by Hunter Shea
They passed a roadside mailbox shaped like a birdhouse. Andrew consulted the chicken scrawl of directions he’d made. “I think this is it.” The narrow dirt and gravel road meandered through a thick umbrella of trees, plunging them into near-total darkness. Kate rolled down the window, took a long, deep breath, and started coughing.
“Smells great,” she said.
Andrew laughed. “You’ve been cooped up so long, you can’t handle nature.”
The aroma of pine cones, old leaves, and the mineral tang of the nearby lake was intoxicating. She hung her arm out of the window. It was a lot colder up here, or maybe that was just because they were under such dense shade. Buttons twanged the bars of his crate with his tail. He was up and looking out the window with her.
“Look at all that territory you get to mark, But-But,” she said.
He gave a few quick, happy yips.
“You can pee and poop anywhere you like, but you’ll still need your leash, buddy,” she said, slipping her fingers into the crate to touch his wet nose.
“A leash? He’ll be fine,” Andrew said.
“With my luck, he’ll get eaten by a bear. He’s a city dog. He has no country sense.”
“That makes three of us.”
They turned a bend and the world suddenly opened up to them. Kate gasped. Andrew hit the brakes. Even Buttons whined to get out of the crate.
“It’s beautiful.”
“I think the old shack will do,” Andrew said, smiling wider than she’d seen him do in years.
The house, described by the realtor as a dreamy lakeside cottage retreat, was more than she could have hoped for. A break in the trees allowed sunlight to bathe the blond wood cottage as if it were spotlit by God himself. The small but immaculate front lawn was bordered by perennials. There were only two steps to get onto the porch, a pair of Adirondack chairs flanking the door. A wind chime that looked to have been made by a local crafter, burnished metal cut and pounded into spirals, tinkled in the soft, cool breeze. Behind the humble house was the lake, the pink rays of the sun stippling its serene surface. It was like stepping into a dream, or a Thomas Kinkade painting. Kate wanted to wrap her arms around the cottage and hug it.
“Hold on a sec,” Andrew said, jumping out of the car and running to open the front door.
He came back and lifted Kate out.
“What are you doing?” she said, giggling.
“I’m going to carry you over the threshold like a proper gentleman.”
“You know, guys carry their brides over thresholds so they can be very improper later.”
Andrew wriggled his eyebrows.
She could tell the instant they went inside that the house had been cleaned just that day. The scent of lemon and pine cleaner, along with a fresh bowl of potpourri on the shelf by the door, instantly put her at ease. She’d secretly worried all week that it was too good to be true. The pictures were a lie and the place would be a roach motel.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
With the kitchen on their left, the open living room was spread out before them, sliding doors leading to a raised porch with a stunning view of Round Lake. The furniture looked comfortable and relatively new. Everywhere she looked there was blond wood, accentuating the fading light of day.
Andrew set her down on the couch and kissed her.
“So, what do you think?”
“I think the owners are going to have a hard time getting me to leave.”
He propped Mooshy behind her back. “Now, you just sit back while Buttons and I unpack the car.”
“I’m sure he’ll be a big help.”
“He’s good with the little things. At least I hope.”
Even though she’d slept most of the ride, Kate was exhausted. Her body ached more than she was going to let on, a dull throb in her chest. And her stomach felt as if it had folded in on itself. She knew whatever she ate was going to come right back up. Still, she was, for a change, hungry.
A few minutes in the country and I’m already on the mend, she thought with a smile.
While Andrew made round trip after round trip, Buttons at his heels, Kate got up to explore the house. She poked her head into the bedroom, the floor covered in their luggage. The room seemed small because it was filled with two double beds. The wood paneling shone like glass. A lone window had a nice view of the lake.
Just across the hall was the bathroom.
Kate was a stickler for bathrooms – she often had made them switch hotel rooms back when they could pick up and get away at will – if she spotted the slightest smudge of mold or grime. Bathrooms were a big make or break for her. She needn’t have worried today. The recently refurbished bathroom was nicer than their own in Jersey, with a brass claw-foot tub and a shower with a built-in bench that was a huge plus. All of the molding and grout work was spotless.
Kate felt the ground shift under her feet and grabbed the sink. After steadying herself for a couple of minutes, she ran cold water on her wrists, dried off, and went back to the couch. Her hip popped along the way but stayed in the socket. Andrew was in the kitchen, unloading some of the groceries she’d made him bring along.
“I’m almost afraid to ask about the bathroom,” he said, reading the label on a bottle of wine.
“I give it a gold star.”
“No kidding?”
“It’s cleaner than ours.”
“I guess technically, at least until after Labor Day, it is ours.”
She craned her neck and stared at the slatted ceiling. “I love the sound of that.”
Kate pulled a chair out from under the dining room table and sat down. Everything about the cottage screamed quaint. It was perfect, a thousand times better than she’d imagined. The maid service had done a hell of a job. She couldn’t even find a speck of dust.
“Promise me we can stay here forever?”
“You might change your mind after being cooped up with me for a whole summer,” Andrew said, checking the kitchen cabinets and finding a pair of glasses.
“I seriously doubt it.”
Buttons jumped up beside her and buried his nose in her armpit, his tail whacking her thigh. Andrew asked her if she wanted something to drink.
When she answered him, it was in a dream, the day’s excitement shifting into fragments, her body painless, weightless, flirting with bliss.
* * *
Kate awoke in the middle of the night, enshrouded in darkness so complete that for a moment, she panicked.
Am I dead?
Her arm flailed out and she cracked her hand on something hard and unyielding.
Guess not. Unless you can still feel pain in the afterlife. That would suck.
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness and her heart went from a gallop to a trot, she saw that she was in a strange room. Sitting up and looking around, she realized the bed wasn’t her bed. This wasn’t her house. This wasn’t her room.
She was about to scream when she glanced next to her and saw Andrew fast asleep.
Wait.
“Where the hell am I?” she whispered.
Buttons was at his spot by her feet. He groaned, one ear perking up.
Think, Kate, think. Where were you before you fell asleep?
Thinking was easier said than done. Her brain was dimmer and foggier than a London alley at night. Her mouth was so dry, her tongue stuck to her palate. Andrew had placed a bottle of water beside the bed. She struggled to unscrew the cap and took a big swig.
Her stomach gurgled as reality hit her. She was in the lake house in Maine. Moonlight trickled through the blinds covering the sliding doors.
The lake house.
It was no wonder she was confused. Sometimes she woke up in her own house disoriented and afraid.
But wait. She was in a bed. Hadn’t she fallen asl
eep on the couch, watching TV with Andrew?
She turned on her phone’s flashlight, waving it around the room. Now that she could remember settling into the house, she recalled the layout of the living room. It appeared Andrew had rearranged everything so the bedroom furniture was now in the living room, the bed facing the back porch and lake beyond.
And he’d done all of it while she slept, including changing her into pajamas and putting her to bed.
Sometimes it frightened her how deeply she slept. It was no wonder she worried about dying in her sleep, considering how close she must be to the diaphanous veil every time she drifted off.
She leaned over and tenderly kissed the top of Andrew’s bare shoulder. After driving all day and unloading the car, he’d still found the strength to rearrange the house so she had a prime spot to rest her head every day and night.
It was easy to feel guilty for trapping him in this existence of pain and doctors and illness. This was no picnic for either of them, but at least he was strong and healthy enough to walk away and start a new, normal life. She’d said just that to him on more than one occasion, offering him a heartfelt ‘get out of jail free’ card to run and never look back.
Of course, he’d told her every time she was crazy and the offer was this side of insulting. He’d say, “Wait until you see what I saddle you with someday. You’ll wish you were the one who left,” always with a wry smile.
He must really love her, because it wasn’t like he was in it for the sex. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been well enough to even contemplate getting busy under the sheets. She’d have to rectify that this summer. Maybe some good, clean air would do what doctors and meds couldn’t.
Doctors and meds and treatments and surgeries.
It was a toss-up whether they were doing more harm than good.
This summer, she’d find a way to feel somewhat better. Not just for her, but for Andrew.
And yes, she’d drink those miserable shakes by the gallon if Andrew insisted.
After everything, she owed that to him.
Buttons shifted on the bed, lying across her lower legs, his warmth making her sleepy.
At least there were no bad feels and lurking shadows up here. The cottage would replace them with good feels. She’d left her shadow peeper in Jersey.
Her stomach fluttered and she felt a stabbing pain in her back where Dr. K had stuck her over a month ago. The flare of agony was fleeting, but it left her strangely hot and weak.
It’s like walking through a ghost, she thought, wiping a fresh sheen of sweat from her forehead. Only ghosts are cold. This is…different. What the hell is it now? I can’t even catch a break for a full day? Shivering yet burning under the covers, she closed her eyes and rode it out, doing her best to ignore the unsettling sensation of being on a rotating dish in a microwave.
Chapter Seven
Andrew woke up a little after nine. He was normally an early riser, even on weekends, but yesterday had worn him out. He’d wanted to surprise Kate by setting everything up for her in the living room so the lake and evergreens were her constant companions.
She stirred a little when he got out of bed. Her skin was fish-belly pale, her hair plastered to her head. She had a nice fever going. He woke her to take something for the fever. She swallowed the pills and went right back out. He wondered if she was even aware she was in the bed in the living room.
He drank his coffee on the back porch, no shoes on his feet, the morning chill numbing his toes. An older couple of kayakers drifted past the dock – his dock, for the summer at least – and waved when they spotted him.
“You don’t see that in Jersey.”
It was way too cold to swim. The realtor told him the lake warmed up right around July Fourth. That was less than a month away.
He changed, attached the leash to Buttons’ collar, and headed out for a walk. Normally, he’d go for one of his punishing runs on Sunday mornings, but he was feeling far too content and relaxed to abuse himself.
Stacks of firewood were lined up under a small lean-to on the side of the house. He checked it to see if any was dry enough for a fire tonight. He was no campfire expert, but the wood seemed fireplace ready.
“Come on, buddy.”
Buttons went on a sniffing spree, the old dog’s dulled senses coming alive in the new environment. This was definitely going to be a slow amble. The beagle stopped every two feet to sniff around a tree or bush, lifting his leg to mark his territory They followed a slender trail, going deeper into the woods and away from the lake.
Was this a walking/hiking trail or a game trail? Andrew wasn’t sure. He knew that one was made by people and the other by passing animals. He did know he didn’t want to run into a moose. They were big and nasty and best avoided. He’d watched enough nature shows to understand that if he saw a moose, it was in his interest of self-preservation to skedaddle. He was pretty sure Buttons would have no problem beating a hasty retreat as well. The dog was no hero. Or maybe he was just old and wise.
Andrew recalled that their nearest neighbor was supposed to be a couple of acres away. Of course, he had no concept of how big an acre was, not in any real-world sense, but he assumed it was a lot.
Round Lake wasn’t large, nor was it deep, which discouraged most boaters and Jet Ski lunatics. The realtor said there were only about twenty houses built on the perimeter of Round Lake, the owners preferring the privacy and quiet that you didn’t find at most other lakes in the region.
He’d expected it to be too quiet to sleep last night, but the woods around the house had been alive with a riot of sound. The crickets up here must be the size of poodles for all the racket they made.
In the half hour he and Buttons were outside, they never strayed far from the house. Andrew could always spot at least a corner of it through the trees. Buttons barked, his signal that he was done, and padded back home.
“You sure you don’t want to explore a little further?”
Buttons barked again.
Nope.
A half hour away from Kate must have seemed an eternity to him. Andrew was happy they’d found the skinny, shivering dog in the shelter. Leaving Kate to go to work always left him feeling uneasy. At least with Buttons, he knew she had a companion to keep her company. Now if he could only teach the beagle to text or make a phone call in case of an emergency.
Kate was still asleep, but at least her fever felt like it had gone down. Buttons claimed his spot beside the bed. Andrew went out back, saw the fire pit had been cleaned and was ready to go. By the time he was done here, he’d be a true fire starter.
There was a mossy path leading to the small dock. The dock was just big enough for the two of them to lay a towel down and get some sun. There was also a tiny sandy beach, perfect for a few people to lie out. He saw that the sand extended into the water. At least they wouldn’t have to squish their way through the dark, damp muck that made up most lake beds. The realtor had told him it was the last of the sandy beaches in Round Lake. Importing sand had been banned a couple years after this one was laid down. Something about harming the ecosystem. He was just happy they had one.
Maybe I should find a place to rent a canoe or kayak, he thought. He loved being out on the water. Maybe some hard rowing would replace his pounding sprints. His back and legs would sure appreciate it.
He took off his shoes, rolled up his jeans, and sat on the end of the dock, feet dangling in the water. It wasn’t as cold as he thought it would be. A wandering breeze rippled the lake’s surface. There wasn’t another soul he could see on or near the lake. The old kayakers were probably home now, having their coffee and reading the paper. They’d make plans to go into town for a late lunch, maybe take a flyer for one of the bean suppers that were advertised everywhere. After an afternoon nap, they’d have a light supper, watch some TV, and turn in early so they could be up for an early mo
rning jaunt around the lake.
It sounded corny and routine and boring…and it was everything Andrew hoped for his and Kate’s future. Even something as mundane as that seemed so out of reach.
He walked to the reedy shoreline, found some rocks, and tried his hand at skipping them. It was like riding a bike, something he also had never been very good at. After sinking a dozen stones, he went back to the house, found the Robert Parker book he’d brought, and read on the porch, looking through the glass doors at Kate every ten pages to see if she was awake.
He should have been relaxed, but the ever-present knot of tension between his shoulder blades was still there, hunching his shoulders up and making him grind his teeth.
It’s not like flicking a switch, he thought. It’s gonna take time to unclench your ass.
As soon as the clock struck high noon, he went to the fridge and cracked open a beer.
When all else failed, a few beers would get him to exhale.
* * *
Kate saw the note on Andrew’s pillow.
Hey sleepy crippy – I went out to get some groceries. Be back soon. Love you. —A
A champagne flute filled with her favorite candy had been placed next to her mason jar of pills.
There was also a cold can of Pepsi ensconced in a maroon Koozie with a MAINE – THE WAY LIFE SHOULD BE logo on it. She wondered when he’d picked that up. Probably at that rest stop and visitor center back on I-95. Kate had opted to stay in the car with Buttons, the both of them woken from their naps when Andrew pulled in.
As she tried to sit up, her head spun and she settled back down. Under the can of Pepsi was another note, this one on a square Post-it. By the way, you have a nice fever going. Take two more pills at 2:00.
She had a fever?
Of course she did.
Why allow her a day to walk around the house, check out the lake, and absorb her surroundings? No, it was much better to be stuck inside…again, just like always.
She balled her fists in frustration, the tension bringing bolts of pain to her wrists, elbows, and shoulders.
