The House on Serpent Lake (Ghost, Romance, Fantasy) (24 page)

What was she going to do? How could she let Galen go?

Eric’s footsteps on the porch alerted her he was home. She jumped up, then faltered. Although she had felt stronger this morning, the day’s events had sapped what little reserves she had.

Eric walked through the door, looked around, and flicked on the parlor lights. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

“Oh, I didn’t notice,” Lindsay said, her voice weak.

“Are you ill? Is that why you didn’t pick me up?”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I forgot.”

“You
forgot?”
He set down his suitcase and strode to the sofa, sat beside her, and studied her face. He groaned, then he took her into his arms.

“My God, Lindsay. I knew something was wrong, but this proves you’ve had some sort of breakdown. We have to get you to a doctor.”

She allowed his embrace, but she remained passive in his arms. He still didn’t believe her, so that meant she had to go through it all again. She prayed for strength, and the enormity of the entire situation brought tears.

“Don’t cry, love. I’m here.” He held her again.

He had been a strong influence in her life, and he really was a nice man. She hoped he could put his life back together after this was all over.

“Have you had anything to eat?”

She told him about Shirley’s delivery. He stood and took her arm. “I haven’t eaten yet, so let’s see what’s left. We can both have something.”

Maybe something more in her stomach would help her get through the next few hours, critical hours that would determine the rest of her life. She let him lead her to the kitchen.

He warmed up the soup and goulash. Knowing how he loved goulash, she took the soup. He chatted about the business while they ate, telling her he needed to get back to California as soon as he felt she was okay, that he thought he and Mark could save the business.

She nodded and made nice noises, all the while wondering how to tell her husband she wanted a divorce.

Once they’d finished their meals, Eric took the dishes to the sink and made coffee. Lindsay wandered to the parlor window and stood looking at the moon’s reflections on the lake, entranced by the endless rows of silver strips undulating on the water. Even after all this time, they still looked magical to her. From across the lake, the haunting cry of loon echoed back to her.

Eric silently joined her.

“It’s so beautiful here,” she whispered. “I’ll hate to leave.”

“Why should you leave?”

She turned to him. “Let’s sit down. I have a lot to tell you.” Once they had seated, she began the story again. She didn’t get far until Eric interrupted.

“You told me this ridiculous story—”

“Ridiculous story.” She smiled. “Funny. I used that same word with Linda. It’s even more poignant now.”

“Linda? What are you talking about? Honey, I’ll call Mathews in the morning and find out who can help you with these delusions.”

“We’ll call Mr. Mathews in the morning, but for a different reason. Now I want you to listen to me and don’t interrupt until I’ve finished. If you’ve ever felt anything for me, you’ll do as I ask—for one last time.”

“One last time? You’re not making sense.” He rose and picked up the cordless phone. “Maybe his answering service can get in touch with him tonight.” He punched some numbers into the phone.

Lindsay reached over and took the receiver from his hand, threw it against the wall and smashed it. Eric’s astonished gaze traveled from the pieces of the phone scattered on the floor back to Lindsay.

“I’m not violent,” she said. “Or dangerous, but you must listen to me. All I’m asking is for you to sit down, shut up, and listen. When I’m through, I’ll answer any questions you may have.” Staring at her, he silently slid down on the sofa.

She began telling him more details about the stories she’d told as a child, stories of life as a young woman in the Peterson house, although she hadn’t known the house by that name at the time. She then skimmed through her adult life, only slowing down when she and Eric met. She finished by telling him everything the medium had told her, continuing even though his expression told her he thought she had lost her mind.

When she grew quiet, Eric sat back. “I don’t know what to say, except of course I don’t believe it.”

“What part?” she asked wearily. Even though the telling had exhausted her further, she felt relieved, as if a heavy burden had been lifted.

“None of it. Okay, maybe you told stories when you were a child, but they couldn’t have been of this house. I’ve never heard of anything so absurd.”

Lindsay stood. “I was afraid of that.”

“You expect me to believe you made love to a
ghost
? And that you were Berina, my aunt?”

“Your adopted aunt, Eric. Your grandparents took me in when my mother—Berina’s mother, abandoned her.”

“I want to believe you. After all, you’re my wife, and I don’t want to think you’re … you’re—”

“What, Eric? Insane? You might as well say it. That’s what you think.”

“Lindsay, I spent several summers in this house. If anything was here, I would have noticed it, but I never saw or felt anything. It's just a bunch of superstitious old coots with nothing else to do but spread gossip. Happens all the time. Please, let me call the doctor. He’ll prescribe something to help these delusions. That’s all they are. Surely you can see that. Perhaps the stress of moving …”

Lindsay tuned out the rest of his words. He was truly convinced she was insane. How could she convince him of the truth? What could she do? Whatever it was, she had to do it quickly before he had her committed.

She could ask Galen to appear. But what if he were in some other place, the place he goes when he wasn’t with her? Eric would hear her calling to a ghost that never appears and be more convinced she was insane. That was too risky. So what else?

Suddenly, she knew what to do.

“Eric, get a shovel and the most powerful flashlights we have. Then follow me.”

He stared at her as if she had sprouted two heads.

“Look,” she said. “I’ll make a deal. If this doesn’t work out, I’ll go willingly to whatever doctor you choose. But you must follow me now. I promise it won’t take long and it’s not dangerous.”

Reluctantly, he gathered the equipment, even adding work gloves.

“If I’m going to dig, I might as well be prepared. I just hope it’s not my own grave.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Lindsay carried a flashlight and led the way to the boathouse, walking confidently on the soft lawn. Eric trailed a few feet behind her. The next few moments would decide her fate: he would either be a total believer and they’d make decisions together, or he would have her committed.

She breathed deeply of the familiar humid air and listened to the night. Insects whined, and from the shore, a soft splash as something, probably a frog, jumped into the water. From above, a multitude of stars twinkled in the velvet sky, a sight so rare in the dense Southern California atmosphere that she still marveled at how close they seemed. And how a part of the universe they made her feel.

How she loved this place, and how she dreaded leaving. She only hoped it would be on her own volition and not strapped in a straightjacket. Everything depended on the next half hour.

“How much farther?” Eric asked irritably, packing a flashlight and two shovels.

“Almost there.”

She found the site she wanted near the boathouse, an area of barren grass within the triangle of three pine trees. She wasn’t sure of the exact spot as time had erased the guides—the white rocks surrounding a shade garden of wild ginger, purple hepatica, white bloodroot. But she eyed the trunks and stood where she thought they should dig.

“Here.” She placed her flashlight on the ground and angled the beam to illuminate the spot.

“Now what?” Eric said, joining her. He dropped the shovels onto the ground.

“We dig.” She picked up one of the shovels and cut into the lawn. He watched a few moments, his expression clearly showing his skepticism.

“You promised you’d give me a chance,” she reminded him. He muttered something, a curse probably, but he began to dig with her.

After some time, her muscles screaming, sweat running from both their faces, she wondered if she truly were insane. They’d been digging for quite some time and had found nothing. Were they at the right place? She had been sure, but obviously she was wrong.

“Lindsay,” Eric said, thrusting the edge of the blade into the ground so the shovel stood upright. He propped an elbow on the handle. “This is madness.”

“Please, Eric, don’t stop now. It’s got to be here. Try a little to your right.” She dug almost frantically now. Her future depended on it.

“It’s late, I’m exhausted, and—”

Just then her shovel clanked against something metal. Thank God! Eric looked in astonishment at her, then helped dig out the object.

About seven inches long and five wide, the metal chest was so heavily corroded from dirt and weather they couldn’t even tell what kind of metal it was. Even without the greenish tint, she knew it was brass.

Lindsay placed it on the ground and wiped it the best she could. An old-fashioned lock secured the latch.

She sat back on the grass. “Do you acknowledge this box has been buried for a long time? Long before you and I moved here?”

“That ground hasn’t been disturbed in a lot of years,” Eric concurred. “Maybe since my grandparents lived here.”

“If I can tell you what’s in it, would you then believe my story?”

He shrugged. “That’s a lot to ask. Maybe I told you at some point—”

“How could you have told me? You didn’t even remember it was here.”

He nodded. “Guess you’ve got me there. Okay, what’s in it?”

Before she answered, she paused a moment, scanned the night sky, then faced him. “Do you remember the summer your father passed away,” she said, her voice gentle, “and your mother brought you here to stay with Frida and Berina while she worked? You were six.”

“Jesus, Lindsay, that was a long time ago.”

“Try to remember. It’s important.”

He shrugged. “I remember some of it.”

“You missed your father terribly and was so sad. Berina had lost someone she loved too, so you and she used to talk, to dream about a wonderful future where you’d both be happy again.”

“Now you’re getting too weird. I could’ve told you I talked to Berina a lot.”

“But did you tell me about the night after everyone was asleep, Berina woke you, and the two of you performed a little ceremony right here by the pine trees?”

Frowning, he said nothing.

Lindsay continued. “I asked you to select a favorite photograph of your father, and I chose one of Galen, and we wrote on the backs of the pictures about how much we loved and missed them, how we hoped one day we would be with them again.”

“Lindsay …” he trailed off, his voice ragged.

“We dated them, Eric. And in a little ceromony meant as a symbol to bury grief and sorrow, we put them inside of my favorite jewelry box. And we buried it. You and I, right here when you were six.”

He stared at her a few moments, realization dawning on his face.

“My God …”

Lindsay smiled and handed him the box. The lock was so rusted and packed with dirt that he had to use the shovel edge to break it open.

Inside, neatly wrapped in a light blue silk handkerchief, were two faded photographs, both of men from a long ago era. On the backs of each were words of love and loss—one from a woman who had lost the love of her life; the other from a small boy who wept for his father.

Chapter Thiry-Six

At nine the next morning, they were sitting in the attorney’s office. Eric had little to say except to answer Mathews’ questions about the proceedings.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Mathews asked again. “Just a short while ago, you two were excited about moving into the house. Now you want to divorce?” He looked from Eric to Lindsay.

“Yes,” Eric said shortly. “Let’s get it started. And I want her to have the house.”

Lindsay still couldn’t believe Eric could be so generous. After a sleepless night spent in the kitchen during which Eric said very little, he’d informed her of his decision.

“After all, it’s more your house than mine. It should belong to you.” All he wanted, he’d said, was to get away, that it was too much for him to handle.

Lindsay understood. After all, it had taken her nearly a lifetime. She wished she could help him, but she knew he’d have to process it all on his own.

Once the papers were signed, they descended the narrow stairway to the sidewalk.

The summer day was glorious. White puffy clouds floated in a azure sky, and the sun brightened the town with a promising day. Residents strolled the busy streets, stopping to greet each other with friendly smiles.

Crosby, Lindsay thought.
Home
.

She still couldn’t quite believe Eric had signed everything over to her. No longer would she have to worry about leaving the house—and Galen. She pushed away the thought that he might leave her.

She and Eric stood silently on the sidewalk, undecided as to the next step. Should they return to the house together? That would be awkward, but she couldn’t be so cruel as to suggest he stay at a motel. After all, if it hadn’t been for him, she would never feel such happiness.

“Want something to eat?” she asked. “It was a long night.” For the first time, she felt awkward with him. Maybe because he wouldn’t look at her directly or say anything beyond what was necessary.

“Look,” he said, his gaze bouncing from one direction to the other. “Let’s don’t drag this out. I believe you, I believe everything, but I don’t need to be in the middle of it. I’ll pick up my things and head for the airport. I told Mark I wouldn’t be gone long anyway.”

“Eric,” she began, emotion choking her.

“It’s all right, Lindsay.” For the first time, he looked into her eyes. And smiled. “It’s been an experience, hasn’t it? No one could say our life together was boring. But now I need some time to … to put my world together again. I know you’ll understand. That’s one of the special things about you—you always understand.”