Brushing back tears, Bit turned around and crept back to her bedroom.
⸙
"I CAN'T BELIEVE IT," Brad went on. "I go away for a few days and you turn into a whore."
"That's enough," Laura fired back. She sprang to her feet, walked over to the railing and stood there, arms crossed, fuming as she stared into the darkness. A few seconds later, she turned around and confronted Brad. "Now, I know you're upset, Brad, but you're just not listening to me. I don't even know Paul. I don't want to know Paul. After tonight, he might not ever come around here again."
"Suits me fine," Brad grumped. He got up and stormed for the door.
“Brad,” Laura called out. She got up and followed him inside.
Bit met her mom in the hallway. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “What’s wrong with Brad?” she asked.
Startled to see Bit up, Laura forced a smile and said, “Nothing, sweetheart, he’s just tired from the trip. What are you doing out of bed? You shouldn’t be up so late.”
Bit choked back more tears. "I…I couldn't sleep," she whimpered.
"Why, honey, what's wrong?"
Bit fidgeted. "I heard you and Brad arguing about Paul," she said softly. "Why is he mad at Paul, Mom?"
“Oh, honey, he's not mad at Paul,” Laura tried to explain. "He'll be all right in the morning. No need for you to worry about anything else tonight, okay?"
Bit sniffed.
“Come on, sweetie,” Laura said, taking her daughter by the hand. “Let’s get you back to bed. It’s way past your bedtime.”
“You always say that when you and Brad argue.”
Laura led her upstairs to her bedroom and pulled back the covers. After snuggling down with Anastasia, Bit asked, "Will you and Brad be all right, Mom?"
“Of course, we'll be all right, sweetheart. It's just that, well, he's been away a whole week, and he and Mommy have some things to talk about.”
Bit had a forlorn look in her eyes. “Mom, Brad doesn’t like Paul, does he?”
“Oh, honey,” she said, searching for words. “It’s not that…it’s…”
“I understand, Mom,” she said, kissing her mother on both cheeks. “Anastasia and I will go on to sleep now and let you and Brad work things out.”
Laura couldn’t believe her ears—how mature Bit could be at times. She patted her daughter on the bottom and said, “Thank you, sweetie. I needed that.” She brushed back her daughter’s hair. “Be sure to introduce Anastasia to Teddy. I think they’ll like each other a lot.”
⸙
AFTER PUTTING BIT to bed, Laura walked through the house turning off lights and locking doors. She knew Brad had already turned in because of the snoring sounds coming from the bedroom.
She went to the back door and looked out. She paused, savoring one final look at the silvery moon rising high and full over the water. A strange chill crept over her as she noticed a thick fog rolling down from the mountains. A flash of lightning, followed by the patter of rain, sent her scurrying back inside.
The last thing Laura did before going upstairs to bed was to hide the pair of paintings behind the sofa. No need for Brad to wake up in the morning and see those staring back at him.
Had she lingered another moment at the back door, she might have seen a group of shadows stepping out of the fog and moving quietly up the beach toward the house.
Twenty-Three
BRAD LAY ON HIS SIDE, staring at the knotty pine wall. Laura knew he was awake. She could hear him breathing, feel the warm intensity radiating from the rippling muscles in his bare back.
She hadn’t wanted his first night back to be like this.
Laura slid over next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Brad,” she said softly, “Are you asleep?" She waited. "Can we at least talk?"
When she got no response, she kissed the back of his shoulder and begged, "Please don’t be like this.”
He made a grunting sound. “Be like what?” he groused.
Laura pushed herself up on one elbow and stroked his shoulder. “There is no reason for you to feel this way,” she said, forcing herself to be calm. “That young man means absolutely nothing to me. I don't even know him. Like I told you, he was just trying to be nice to us, that’s all. Can’t you understand that?”
Brad rolled over, punched up on his elbows and glared at Laura. His face looked red and swollen. Raw anger flashed in his eyes, an anger Laura had never seen before. “Let me get this straight," he hissed. His breath was stale from having finished off the bottle of wine. "I come back home after a trip out of the country, only to have a strange man, some young punk, calling on my wife. And my own daughter throwing herself in his arms like he was her father or something.”
Laura wanted to reply but found herself una le to open her mouth.
“And to top that off,” Brad continued, “this man … this young punk who means nothing to you wants to take her sailing.”
Laura swallowed hard. “You’re wrong…”
“It doesn’t matter,” Brad snarled, cutting her off. He settled back on his pillow. “I have to go away tomorrow anyway on another trip.”
Laura tensed. “But, you just got here.”
“I told you I had to leave. You can have your little boyfriend all to yourself, maybe let him paint some more pictures of you."
Laura felt herself withering. “Brad…”
“Just don’t let me come back and find him in this house again.” His eyes flared with anger. “If I do, angel face, I swear to you I’ll kill him.”
“Brad, stop it!” Laura jerked up. “You’re just not making any sense. This is not like you, not like you at all. You’re acting and sounding completely irrational."
Laura felt her eyes welling with tears. “I love you, Brad," she sobbed. "You’re my husband. You know I wouldn’t cheat on you. That’s not who I am.” She lay back, blinking back a flood of tears and staring blankly at the ceiling. “Think about Bit. She will be so disappointed if you leave again. You know how much she was looking forward to spending some time with you up here at the lake, remember?”
“I told you I have to go away.”
“But you promised to take her sailing.”
Brad rolled his eyes and said, “Let him take the Bitster”
Laura flung herself off the bed, threw on a robe and skittered wildly out of the room. She tottered into the living room, grabbed a throw and curled up on the sofa where she cried herself to sleep.
Twenty-Four
BRAD WAS GONE when Laura got up the next morning. She wasn't really surprised, considering the way he had carried on last night. His angry outbursts had left her more than a little shaken. She had never seen him so upset, so utterly out of control. Something dark and frightening had come over Brad she had never seen.
For the most part, Brad had always been a thoughtful and loving husband, even if a tad on the selfish side occasionally. In the past, he had exhibited flashes of jealousy. But those were mostly minor episodes that never evolved into rage. Last night's maniacal outburst had revealed a side of her husband she had never known. Her hope now was that, after a few days of sulking, he'd come slinking back to his senses.
She figured he had left sometime before dawn while she slept on the sofa. He had gotten up, packed his things—even the Ian Woosnam clubs—and left in the Mercedes without making a sound.
Exhausted and overcome with emotion, Laura sat down on the edge of the big bed and wept.
The tears felt good but accomplished little. She still had a daughter to take care of, so she decided to go downstairs and make breakfast. Some food might restore her spirits, get help get her mind off Brad. What she really wanted was a shot of whiskey, but a cup of Earl Gray would have to do.
She put on the kettle and got out a pack of bacon to heat in the microwave. As she fiddled with the stove, Laura couldn't decide whether they should pack up and drive back to Atlanta or just wait to hear from Brad. Maybe he had already come to his senses. Maybe he had alre
ady turned around and was on his way back to the cottage.
Maybe.
Laura cracked a couple of eggs, mixed them with milk and grated cheese and poured them in the skillet. While she stirred, she thought about their marriage. Next month would mark their sixth anniversary. They had planned a skiing trip to Aspen to celebrate. Just the two of them. She’d already made arrangements for Bit to stay with her sister, Cassandra, who lived on the outskirts of Atlanta.
She dropped a couple of slices of wheatberry bread in the toaster and got out the jam from the Fridge. Suddenly she remembered the basket of goodies Phyllis had brought. She found the basket, still unopened on the table. She removed the cloth and pulled out two jars—blueberry and blackberry—and unscrewed the sealed lids. When she looked inside, she was stunned to see white mold sliming the top of the jam. That wasn't the worst of it. Digging deeper with a spoon, she noticed what looked like maggots squirming around inside, all the way to the bottom. Disgusted, she threw both jars in the trash.
Laura staggered to the sink and washed her hands. She wondered if she should march straight over to Phyllis's and let her know about the jam. The poor old gal would be embarrassed silly. Then she thought about the strange way the woman had acted yesterday—the foul language that had come out of her, the way she had kicked Lord Nelson—and decided it might be best to just keep her distance from the professor for a while.
She had more pressing problems anyway. What was she going to do about Brad?
Laura leaned over the sink, trying to fight back another rush of tears. Maybe Brad had a point. What if she had come home after a long business trip and some cute young friend of Brad’s had come knocking on their door late at night? What would have been her reaction?
But Brad had threatened to kill Paul. That was what troubled Laura most.
She wracked her brain, searching for answers—anything that might account for Brad’s explosive behavior. Perhaps he was sick. Perhaps he had picked up something in Paris or at the airport. Maybe it was jet jag. Jet lag did crazy things to people.
The shriek of the tea kettle snapped her back around. She ripped open a fresh bag of Earl Gray, dropped it in a clean cup and poured the steaming water. A cup of tea. That was all she needed to get through this mess.
⸙
CUP OF TEA IN HAND, Laura unlocked the glass door, slid it open and stepped outside onto the deck. A blast of cold air struck her full in the face. She took a deep breath, sighed. Yes. Cold air in the lungs and a cup of tea in the tummy was exactly what she needed right now to clear her head.
She stood on the deck several minutes before the stinging cold got to her. Shivering, she went back inside to get her jacket. She found her old hooded parka hanging by the door, slipped it on and stepped back outside. Scrunched up inside the parka, she sat down on the steps, still damp with morning dew, and stared aimlessly into the woods. The warm parka felt good, but she was still cold. She cupped her fingers around the hot mug and sipped.
The early morning sun felt glorious beating down on her back. She closed her eyes, trying as best she could to forget about last night so she could enjoy this glorious moment.
A sound down near the tree line caught her attention. Turning, she saw a pair of noisy squirrels chasing each other around. While the squirrels barked and squawked, a rabbit hopped out onto the lawn.
The little creature was gray and furred thick with winter fat and sat on its haunches twitching its button-like nose. Suddenly, a large shadow swooped low. Laura glanced up in time to see the outstretched wings of a massive, red-tailed hawk moving in for the kill. The doomed bunny never had a chance. The big hawk came in fast, sweeping up the rabbit with its curving talons, then soaring skyward amid a flutter of wings and fur.
Laura turned away quickly, sickened by the savage attack and by her own helplessness to intervene. It wasn't like Laura to swear, but she suddenly found herself cursing the cruel harshness of Mother Nature.
Back inside the house, Laura finished setting breakfast. She had heard Bit stirring around upstairs and knew she would be on her way down soon. Laura wondered how her daughter was going to react when she learned that Brad was gone. Would she be so upset she's want to pack up and go back to Atlanta? Or would she prefer to stay up here through Christmas so she could go sailing?
It seemed unfair to have her daughter’s vacation interrupted by the selfishness of her parents. Bit had been looking forward to this trip for months, ever since Uncle Danny had been kind enough to offer them the place for a few weeks, no strings attached.
"Miles and miles of empty forests and clean mountain air," Brad's older brother had told them. The lake was just icing on the cake. "You'll have the place all to yourselves," he had reassured them repeatedly. "No nosy neighbors within miles, no honking horns or trains to catch. Leave all your cares behind in the big, bad city. Don't worry about a thing up there in the quiet woods."
Quiet was the operative word. Laura had found the place so quiet, in fact, she sometimes yearned to do the unthinkable—turn on the TV. Thank God it didn’t work, Laura told herself over and over. It felt good to be away from the news and the silly soaps for a few days.
Danny had told them not to worry about bringing up any staples, insisting that the house had everything they’d need—food, firewood, booze and solitude—“all the solitude your precious little hearts can stand.”
He neglected to mention a few things, however—like how terrible the road was getting here, or how isolated the hideaway was. Even more intriguing, Danny had not bothered to mention the neighbors—Paul Wilson, the handsome young artist from Atlanta, or Dr. Coleman, the eccentric retired history professor who seemed to know a lot more about the secrets of Bear Gap Lake than she let on.
Then she thought about the mysterious underwater bells and the ghostly little phantoms roaming the beaches late at night.
What else had Danny not told them about this place?
⸙
IN THE END, LAURA concluded it would be wrong to just pack up and flee over a silly quarrel with Brad. She and Bit would stay in this house and enjoy their vacation together, with or without Brad, ghosts or no ghosts. They'd spend a happy Christmas here, just the two of them, with or without snow.
⸙
AFTER BREAKFAST, LAURA went upstairs and took a shower. While making the bed, she found a folded copy of the Atlanta Constitution tucked underneath the headboard. She picked it up, assuming Brad had left it behind by accident, and tossed it on the table. Maybe she’d look at it later. It had been a long since she'd actually held a newspaper in her hands. Like most people, she got her news primarily from the internet these days.
After dressing, she went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and popped open a Diet Coke. She took a sip. Sadly, she had been addicted to the beverages for years, ever since a colleague at the college where she used to teach had introduced her to the stuff. The caffeine had done the trick, helping her get through long, dreary lectures. Then one day she found herself hopelessly hooked.
Twenty-Five
BIT SAT ON THE SOFA bouncing Teddy and Anastasia up and down on her lap. She pretended they were arguing with each other over who was the smartest. “I am far more clever than you will ever be,” she said, mimicking a thick Russian accent in Anastasia’s voice, “because I am descended from great European royalty.”
She lifted Teddy up with the other hand and growled in a deep voice, “No way, Madame, I’m the smartest one on this island because I can smell food a mile away…”
From the kitchen, Laura listened to her daughter doing play-talk. At least it wasn't television, thank God. It was amazing how easy it was to get along without the idiot box blasting away all day long like it often did back in Atlanta. Bit seemed perfectly content with her dolls instead of those brain-dead cartoons.
Earlier, when Bit had asked about Brad, she simply told her he was called back to Atlanta on business.
“He said to tell you he was sorry,” Laura had lied.
Predictably, Bit had not taken it well. "But why? He promised to take me sailing!”
Bit finally calmed down after Laura reassured her Brad would be back up in a couple of days. He'd take her out on the boat and show her the ropes. Meanwhile, it would be just the two of them. They could go for long walks along the beach in the morning searching for more treasures washed up from the lake. And in the afternoon they could sit in front of a roaring fire roasting marshmallows and sipping hot chocolate. What could be better than that?
Laura walked into the living room and sat down on the floor next to Bit. "Did you sleep okay last night?"
Bit hesitated before nodding.
"No bad dreams? No weird sounds or visits from your little friends down on the beach?"
"They're not my friends," Bit snapped. "They're ghosts, in case you haven't been listening."
Laura flinched. "Ghosts?” She reached down and touched her daughter’s hand. “Sweetheart, why do you think they're ghosts?"
"You know that's what they are, Mom."
Laura let out a sigh. She didn't want her daughter to doubt that she believed her, but neither did she want to encourage this preposterous idea about ghosts. "Maybe that's what we just think they are," she said. "I'm sure there's a perfect and reasonable explanation, and we'll figure this all out in time."
Bit suddenly looked up at her mom and asked, "Did Brad leave on account of Paul?"
Laura hesitated, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "No, sweetheart, it wasn't Paul. Not exactly, anyway."
"Then why did he go?"
"Like I told you, he had some work to do."
"He always has work to do," Bit pouted. "He promised he'd take me hiking last summer. He lied. He promised to take me sailing. He lied about that, too."
Laura recalled that Brad had offered to take her hiking along a stretch of the Appalachian Trail near Dahlonega, then had to cancel at the last minute because of work. She pulled the girl toward her and gave her a hug. "No, darling, Brad didn't mean to lie to you. He really does want to do all those things with you. I'm sure he will take you sailing as soon as he gets back from Atlanta.”
The People in the Lake Page 12
