The Lake House (35 page)

A
bottle of Muscat sat on the wooden table, along with two wineglasses, cheese, and bread. Molly leaned across the double Adirondack chair and linked hands with Bill. Her head rested on his shoulder as they watched the sunset.

This time of day had been Molly’s favorite when her children were small. Bath time came at six o’clock. The boys, covered in sap and dirt, climbed into fragrant bubbles. With a soapy washcloth Molly revealed pink skin under the grime. Then she brushed the girls’ silky hair and planted kisses on their cheeks.
When everyone had on his or her thin summer jammies, they grabbed frozen juice pops and ran to this spot.

She and Bill would enjoy a glass of wine while the children lay in the cool grass watching for the first star. After the sun slipped behind the trees and the moonlight covered her babies with iridescent radiance, the lightning bugs blinked around the yard. Bill told bedtime stories as eyelids became heavy. Whenever his tales turned to dragons and monsters, Molly placed her hand on his arm, her sign that his stories would create nightmares.

Molly missed her babies. She was proud of her grown children, but she still longed for footie pajamas and bubble baths.

The intense humidity dampened her clothing and made the pressure behind her eyes intolerable. She wondered if it was time to call the doctor, but she didn’t want to worry anyone.

“Well, I need to get the dinner dishes cleaned,” Molly said as she stood.

“I can help you with those if you like,” Bill said.

They walked up to the house. In the kitchen he set the wine and cheese on the counter. His arms went around her waist. “You feeling all right?”

His blue eyes had worry in them. “Just a little headache. I’ll take some aspirin.” She touched his cheek. “Thank you for your offer to help, but I know you want to watch the game. I’m fine.”

Molly was finishing up when Victoria and Heather exploded through the sunroom door with loads of packages in their hands from their day in Boston. Victoria blocked Heather’s entrance into the kitchen. “Molly, I would like to introduce you to the new and improved rising star in travel writing—Miss Heather Bregman.”
Victoria moved aside and Heather came through the door with her hands in the air.

The girl glowed with excitement. Her hair had been colored a deep auburn and cut shoulder-length at a chic angle. She twirled to show off her new fitted black dress, cinched at the waist with a thin red belt.

“Well, don’t you look stunning,” Molly said as she pulled her into a hug. “But then again, you’re always beautiful.”

“Thank you, Molly,” Heather said with a big smile. “Victoria brought me to this incredible salon on Newbury Street and then we shopped all day. It was so much fun. You should’ve joined us.”

“I don’t know that I could’ve kept up with the two of you,” Molly said. “Plus, I needed to bake for the church. I have meat loaf and mashed potatoes I can warm up if you’re hungry.”

“No thanks,” Heather said. “We went out for sushi at my favorite place on Charles Street. I haven’t been there in months.”

“Molly, we have to take you. This place actually rivaled the restaurants in California.”

Molly took down the cookie jar from the top of the fridge and made up a plate of desserts. “Hot chocolate or port?” Molly asked.

“Port,” Victoria said.

“For me too, please,” Heather said.

Molly gathered glasses and napkins and moved them out to the sun porch. Heather curled onto the couch next to Victoria. “So, Molly, I need your opinion on something.”

“Okay.” Molly handed a glass to Heather along with a dark chocolate fudge cookie.

“I think that Victoria should ask Joseph on a date.”

“Not this again,” Victoria said. “She’s been at it all day.”

“She says that she’s not interested, but I know she’s lying. The two of them are like magnets for each other.” Heather sipped the wine and bit into the cookie. “Oh, God, this is orgasmic.”

“I’m glad you like it that much, dear,” Molly said.

“Sorry about that. I guess after all our sex talks I’ve gotten comfortable with the two of you,” Heather said. “Anyway, back to Victoria. Joseph lives on the left side of the beach, Victoria on the right, and I’m smack in the middle. I swear I can feel the tension between the two of them as they sit in their houses. There has to be some kind of history, but she won’t tell me anything.”

“They were in love as teenagers,” Molly said.

“Hah, I knew you liked one another.”

“Thank you, Molly. Now she’s never going to stop.”

“Well, Victoria, maybe she’s right. And as for you, Heather, I think it’s time for you to have some friends over to your house or maybe invite Tommy for another night of root beer floats. It’s not good for you to be stuck with us old biddies all the time.”

“See what you started?” Victoria said. “Now she’s going to meddle in your life too.”

As they spoke, Molly laughed. The two made her feel like a teenager at a slumber party. The pressure behind her eyes began to ease as the aspirin and wine took effect. Two hours later they left and she decided to turn in.

Bill, in a white sleeveless undershirt and striped boxer shorts, leaned against the brass headboard with pillows supporting his lower back, his bifocals balanced on the bridge of his nose as he read. Deep into his story, he didn’t look up. Molly stood in the doorway and regarded her husband of fifty-five years.

There were times in her youth when good-looking men had
flirted with her. No woman minded that kind of attention. Some asked for dates, but her heart had always belonged to Bill. She loved this man: the comfort of his touch, the security of his large build, and his playful spirit. A lifetime felt too short to spend with him.

“Are you feeling all right, hon?” she asked as she kissed his forehead. He wasn’t warm. “Nine is early for you to be in bed.”

He didn’t look up. “I was bored. The game ended and you were playing with that young thing. So I figured I’d get comfortable and enjoy my book.”

“Good idea. You fall asleep when you read in the recliner, and you’re a bear to carry.” She patted his shoulder and smoothed his hair.

As she entered the bathroom to begin her nightly routine, she hummed a lullaby. Her hair pinned into curls against her head, she washed her face with a soapy cloth. She rubbed Pond’s cold cream into her skin. Angel kisses, her mother had called the rosy coloring of her cheeks that graced Molly’s skin since birth.

Her mother’s body had been a cloud of bosom and belly, a never-ending warm embrace. Love had been unconditional and freely expressed. Molly had tried to pass this example on to her own babies.

She thought about Heather and Victoria and the possibility of love in their lives. They needed good men to care for them, to hold them at night. And Joseph and Tommy had been alone for too long.

It seemed like forever since she and Bill had shared the intimacy of their marriage bed. Tired and grumpy from being left alone, she was certain Bill was upset about her friendship with Heather. But he would cave. After a lifetime together, she knew every secret spot that made the man tick.

She undid the bobby pins and wiped the cold cream from her face. She slipped into the silk bathrobe Victoria had given her for her birthday. The material felt soft on her skin. She allowed the robe to flow open to showcase her beautiful body: soft rolls, curved thighs that created a big lap for small bodies, large breasts for tired babies to lay their heads on.

She turned off the light and walked to the bedroom. The room spun. Her eyes forced shut as the blood swooshed in her ears with loud ringing. She grabbed the doorway and sank to the floor before darkness called to her. Blue lights flashed behind her eyes. Bill was by her side in an instant, cradling her shoulders with his strong hands.

“I’m going to hit Lifeline. Just lie still,” he said.

Her lungs filled with air. The room came into focus. She shook her head to force out the cobweb feeling. “No, I’m fine. I had port tonight with the girls. You know me, I could never handle heavy wines.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I promise I’m okay. Can you help me to bed?”

With her arms around his neck, he pulled her to her feet and helped her to bed. Pillows cradled her head as he tucked the blanket around her.

“You look pale again. I think we should go to the hospital.” He traced her cheek with his fingers.

In the back of her mind she felt the tug of fear, but she pushed it away. It was the wine and nothing more. She’d call the doctor if it happened again. “I’m fine. Let’s go to sleep and we’ll see how I feel in the morning.”

J
oseph took shaky steps along the overgrown path through the trees that led to the private beach. He ripped ferns from the earth to clear the path as he walked and placed torches in the sand. It took five trips back and forth from his house to create the scene. A circle of white light crackled around the linen-covered table. Crystal candlesticks held glowing tapers, and two silver serving trays were flanked by champagne flutes. Satisfied with the setup, he returned to his house to shower and change.

Earlier that morning, he’d sat on the dock fishing when Heather had appeared beside him, jeans rolled up to her calves and her hair pulled into a ponytail. “I need to talk to you,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. “Would you like to try your hand at fishing while we have this discussion?”

“Sure.” He handed her the rod and she swung her bare feet over the dock’s edge as she held the line he’d already cast. With the proficiency of someone who’d taught many children how to fish, he showed her how to reel in her hook, place her hands in the right position, and then recast.

“Nicely done,” he said on her third try.

“Thank you,” she said. “Now, on to our discussion. I don’t normally meddle in other people’s business, but something needs to be said. And I don’t mean to be disrespectful or to tell you what to do, but I think you should ask Victoria on a date.”

Joseph laughed at the girl’s conviction.

“I’m serious. I don’t see you with anyone, and she’s alone. I saw the two of you in the coffee shop. You were sneaking looks at her every chance you had.”

“Heather . . .”

“No, just let me say this. Victoria barely shuts up, but when she’s around you she can’t speak. All she does is blush. Feelings like that are rare.”

“I guess you’re right,” Joseph said.

“Well, good. We agree,” Heather said. “Now are you going to do something about it?”

By noon, Heather’s words still rung in his ears, and he’d decided it was time. He tacked an invitation to dinner on Victoria’s door, and spent the next few hours pacing, watching her house. Finally, the car pulled into her driveway and Victoria emerged. She walked to the front door and Joseph watched her. She read the note, looked to his home, and saw him staring. With a nod she accepted his invitation.

It felt like hours until he heard her footsteps on the path leading to the private beach. He straightened his suit jacket as she came into the clearing. In the soft blue dress she looked breathtaking. Holding a bouquet of lilies, he greeted her. “For you.”

“Thank you.” She bowed her head into the fragrance of the flowers and he saw her flaming cheeks.

“You look stunning.”

She smiled and looked into his eyes with the same soft look
that had made his teenage heart burst with love. He extended his arm and escorted her to her seat.

The champagne cork popped and icy smoke wafted from the bottle. He poured them each a glass and lifted his hand in a toast. “To you, Victoria.”

She lifted her glass as he sat. “To you, Joseph, for making a woman feel incredibly special.”

As they drank, the sultry voice of Billie Holiday playing in the background, Joseph tried to find words or whit, urging his lips to move, but nothing came out. Finally he pulled the ornate silver covers from the plates that lay before them. “Shall we eat?”

Victoria picked at the food. “I can taste the hint of sherry in the lobster ravioli, Molly’s secret ingredient. I promise to give compliments to the chef.”

The lake’s small waves lapped against the beach, bringing with it the memory of the night they’d made love on this spot. Warmth flushed his face as he stole glances at her. She looked uncomfortable as she barely touched her food. A blue jay swooped over the table and grabbed a piece of bread.

“He certainly knows what he wants,” Victoria said.

Joseph looked at the downturned angle of her mouth and his heart sank. “Victoria, have I made you uncomfortable tonight?”

Victoria looked at her food. “I don’t know what to say. I’m surprised . . . and . . . speechless.” She pushed the ravioli with her fork. “With all that I’ve done, you plan this night for me?”

Joseph placed his hand on hers and laid her fork on the table. “I wanted to.” He’d wanted to give her Cary Grant tonight. Instead, he was a lovesick old man who felt like a twelve-year-old boy on his first date. Joseph lifted her chin and stared into her silver eyes. “Victoria, I’m seventy-six years old. I’m far from
being Cary Grant. I’m just a man who has loved a girl since he was a boy, and I’m asking her for one last shot at being with her.”