The House on Serpent Lake (Ghost, Romance, Fantasy) (6 page)

Why she should sense such feelings, especially after what she’d experienced in the attic, she couldn’t explain, but Eric’s happiness made it all worthwhile.

Strolling the property, they paused to gaze at the water. “Just look at it, honey,” Lindsay said. “I never thought I’d be living on a lake, especially such a beautiful one.”

Today the cerulean water sparkled with golden reflections of the sun. The air felt heavier and moist and was alive with the buzzing of horseflies and mosquitoes. Perspiration drops beaded Lindsay’s forehead and around her bra. She slapped a mosquito on her damp neck.

Eric smiled.

“Humidity gets pretty thick here in late summer, you know. Doesn’t usually last more than a few days, but you just might want to turn around and head back to the desert.”

“No way. Moist air will be great for my complexion, especially after living all my life in dry heat.”

Arm in arm they climbed the porch steps and entered the house through new oak and glass double-doors.

Inside, the rooms smelled like lemon oil from the cleaning products, and on her tour, Lindsay couldn’t detect the elusive spicy scent she had smelled before. The oak floors gleamed. Satin drapes in soft gold graced the squeaky-clean windows. New covers concealed the damask furniture. Even the wallpaper had been scrubbed.

“Oh my God, I don’t believe it,” Lindsay said, stepping through to the new kitchen.

Where warped cabinets and a rusty old sink with exposed pipes stood before, everything was now stainless steel and granite. New oak cabinets and a double-door refrigerator graced the kitchen. Someone had even placed a little round breakfast table with two chairs in the corner.

“It’s like a new house,” Lindsay exclaimed. “Later we can remodel the bathroom and get a new gazebo by the beach where the old one used to be.”

Eric laughed. “Whoa, tiger. I have to make sure my business doesn’t suffer before we do anything else.”

Inside the fridge, a bottle of Dom Perignon stood, a card and a red ribbon tied around the neck.

“Welcome,” Mathews had written. “May you find joy in your home.”

“How thoughtful,” Lindsay said. “We can have some tonight to celebrate.”

Just as he was unloading sacks of groceries into the fridge, he paused and looked at her with a puzzled frown.

“What makes you think there used to be a gazebo? I don’t ever remember seeing one here.”

Lindsay shrugged. “Must have seen it in an old photo.”

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of unloading the truck and returning it, then emptying the boxes of necessities. Eric placed his office furniture in the third bedroom instead of the attic.

“It stinks up there,” he told Lindsay. “I just don’t like it.”

Although she didn’t understand his aversion, she loved the thought of having the entire space as a studio where she could play music while painting and wouldn’t have to worry about disturbing him. She also wanted to get some comfortable furniture, perhaps an overstuffed chair or sofa, so she could take short breaks instead of coming downstairs.

That evening, she stepped onto the front porch. Eric sat in the glider they’d picked up at a used furniture place and she eased down beside him. Her hair hung in her face and her cotton blouse stuck to her damp skin. She yawned.

“Some vacation this is turning out to be. I’m more tired than if I’d worked all week.”

“The hard part’s done now. And it’ll be worth it. Just look at that moon.”

A breeze from the lake rustled the leaves on the maple trees. Crickets chirped and mosquitoes whined. In the night, the lake stretched out like a black silky ribbon, and the full moon rose high in the sky, creating a kaleidoscope of indigo and gray patterns as it passed through the night clouds. Strips of silver reflections shimmered on the water.

“It’s beautiful here,” Lindsay said, burrowing close to Eric. “And so peaceful. But I’m too tired to appreciate it.”

Eric kissed her forehead. “Poor baby. I’m all sympathy.”

“I can hear how sympathetic you are. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I married a heartless bastard.”

“Hmmm, maybe I’d better persuade you to keep me around.”

“You could try.”

Eric brushed her lips, more like a brother than a husband. Instead of allowing herself to feel hurt, she decided to approach the problem in a different way. If she showed him how much she loved him, was patient and understanding, maybe she could help him overcome whatever was troubling him. Then they could begin their new lives together.

“Mmmm,” Lindsay murmured. “We should christen our new home like we did our apartment.”

Eric drew back. Then, as if shrugging off doubts, he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go upstairs.”

In the bedroom, Lindsay pulled off the blankets on the new bed and they fell onto the crisp sheets together.

When he kissed her, sliding his tongue into her mouth, Lindsay closed her eyes and tightened her arms around him. This was where she was the happiest, melted against her husband with his arms around her. He kissed her neck and gently sucked her earlobe, caresses that had always sent tingles along her spine.

But now, she felt … nothing.

Slowly, he unbuttoned her blouse and kissed the skin above her breasts. Lindsay helped him strip off her bra, then she lay back and sighed, waiting for the delicious sensation of his warm mouth on her breast.

But something was wrong.

She felt the gentle sucking pressure of his lips on her nipple. But nothing else. She felt apart, almost as if she were standing at a distance and watching.

This had never happened before. She’d always responded to Eric, had loved feeling his body pressed against hers, had always gloried in their lovemaking.

So what was wrong now?

This was Eric, the man she loved more than life itself. She couldn’t let this happen. If she tried harder, it would work. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him and ground her hips into his.

Eric paused over her nipples, gently tonguing and sucking each pink nub.

Desperately wanting to respond, she opened to him, urging him close to her, welcoming the sensuous feel of his body pressed against hers. He rested his weight on his elbows, and she rejoiced in his warmth and the security of his arms.

It was going to be okay. She could get through this. If she didn't feel the sexual lust she’d hoped, that was okay. She would just relax and wouldn’t force it.

She slid her hand to his groin to caress him, but he changed position slightly so that she couldn't touch him. He seemed to renew his efforts at pleasing her, running his lips and tongue over her breasts, then lower, to her navel, then back up to the hollow of her neck.

She wanted to love him, to give him as much pleasure as he was trying to give her. She kissed him on the ear, gently sucking on the soft lobe, and ran her hands over his buttocks. She reached around to caress him, to capture the warm hardness that had always thrilled her before.

He was flaccid.

A cold wave of shock washed over her. Didn’t she arouse him at all?

She kissed him again, a little more deeply, a little more urgently.

A loud clanging noise sounded from somewhere downstairs.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“Probably the pipes.”

Just as they kissed again, the noisy racket increased and reverberated up the stairway and throughout the house. Heavy thuds followed, sounding like a giant hitting the house with a colossal hammer.

They sprang apart and sat up.

“Good God.” Lindsay held her blouse over her breasts.

Eric nearly leapt out of bed. “I’ll check it out.”

They trailed the sound to the kitchen and flipped on the lights. A large puddle of water was spreading on the floor in front of the sink and when Eric threw open the cupboard doors and crouched down, he was drenched by water spraying from the drainpipe. Lindsay ran to get some towels, dropping one on the floor and handing the other one to Eric.

“Oh hell! I have to turn off the water.” He turned off the water under the sink and grabbed a flashlight. After he went outside, the clanking gradually decreased until it was a dull thud. Lindsay mopped up the water and waited.

Hoping the noise would stop, she fixed coffee for both of them and sat down to wait, but it continued, a light sound barely audible. But she could still hear it.

After about twenty minutes, she wandered outside and met him returning from the brick pump house.

“Did you find the problem?”

“No, damn it.”

Back in the kitchen she handed him a cup of coffee. “What do you think happened?”

He brushed off the dirt from his face and clothes, then eased onto a chair.

“I don’t know, but something might be wrong with the pump or the well. That knocking sounded like it came from somewhere underground.”

“Can you fix it?”

“That’s a major project, way beyond me. They’ll probably have to dig up half the lawn to fix that old well. Hell, it’s been around since the house was built. How about some of that Jim Beam and Coke? I could use it tonight.”

She mixed the drink and he gulped it down.

“Another one?” she asked. He rarely drank, only having a couple of drinks when they went out to a nice place for diner or a cold beer after yard work.

Eric sipped his second drink. “I’ll call Mathews in the morning. Of all things to happen. New wells can run thousands of dollars and that’ll sure put a dent into our funds. If that happens, we’ll have to cut our vacation time short and head back home.”

The house suddenly became quiet. Even the crickets no longer chirped.

“Hear that?” she asked.

“What? I don’t hear anything.”

“It stopped! Maybe that’s a good sign. Maybe it won’t be so bad after all,” Lindsay said. “After all, it worked fine all of those years for your grandparents and aunts.”

“Yeah, but look how long the place has been empty. Who knows that could’ve happened in that time.” He held up his glass. “Fix me another, would you? Damn, I guess you were right about this place. Maybe I shouldn’t have jumped at it after all.”

She mixed another drink and handed him the glass. “Now that we’re in,” she said, looking around the newly scrubbed kitchen, “I’m loving the homey feel of the place.”

Although outdated, she had begun to enjoy the comfortable feel of the large room—the soft golden walls with the apples and pears wallpaper, the shelves on the walls holding old mason jars and cookbooks from the Lutheran church’s Ladies Auxiliary. Even the freshly washed ruffled curtains looked just right, something she never thought she’d tolerate for a moment. It all felt homey, somehow, and comfortable, as if she were right where she belonged.

“Ah ha! I knew thish,
this
,” he repeated carefully, “old place …” His words trailed off and he grinned. “Shouldn’ta had that lash drink. Been awhile.”

“Well my goodness,” Lindsay said with a grin. “Are you a little tipsy?”

“Reckon so.”

“C’mon, big boy.” Lindsay pulled him to a standing position. “Let’s get you into bed.”

Eric grinned agreeably and arm in arm, they climbed the steps. Upstairs, he stripped off his clothes, dropped onto the bed and promptly fell asleep. Lindsay got him under the covers and within a few moments he was snoring softly. She quickly checked the house, making sure the doors were locked, then undressed and cuddled next to him, tucking the blankets around both of them.

The house seemed to sigh and the air shifted around her. The upstairs landing floorboards creaked as if someone were walking, but she wasn’t afraid. She knew from locking up that no one was in the house. It was simply the sounds of the old house settling.

Just as she was drifting off to sleep, the spicy scent wafted gently to her, something familiar lying just underneath the furniture oil. A subtle aroma, yet something her senses recognized and welcomed. A kitchen spice? And perhaps something else she couldn’t quite name. But she didn’t care.

Somehow, the scent comforted her.

She slept.

Chapter Nine

A home inspector and a well-driller contractor spent the next morning testing the water system, and no irregularities were found.

After the last workman left, Eric and Lindsay sat at the kitchen table with some coffee.

“I don’t understand it,” Eric said. “Everything’s working fine.”

“Well thank goodness for that.” Lindsay stirred a sweetener into her own cup. “Maybe now we can think about remodeling the bathroom. That pull chain toilet has to go.”

“What’s the matter?” he teased. “Don’t you like roughing it? At least you don’t have to visit the privy in the woods.”

“That’ll be the day.”

Suddenly, Eric and the kitchen grew smaller and smaller until they faded completely, but she wasn’t alarmed. Instead, it seemed natural, as if she were watching a home movie and one scene faded out so the next could begin. She was outside in the night, wearing a long robe, tromping along a dirt path behind the house carrying a bulky flashlight. The outhouse, discreetly tucked behind pine trees was just a few feet ahead.

She’d sure be glad when the new bathroom would be installed. Papa said if everything went right, it would be installed next week and she couldn’t wait.

She wouldn’t let him know how excited she was, though. Other than her courtesy answers, she’d vowed she wouldn’t speak to him until he let her cut and style her hair in the short elfin style or even the poodle cut so popular with all the girls.

It was the only way; one didn’t argue with Papa. His word was law. She just hoped he’d give in soon; she didn’t know how long she could keep up the angry façade. She’d nearly smiled today when his booming Swedish voice teased and cajoled her again.

“Honey?” Eric asked, looking at her strangely.

Lindsay stared blankly at him. She blinked and the images were gone.
Outhouse? Poodle cut
? Where on earth had that come from?

Her mother had chided her for an overactive imagination, so that must have been what it was. Or maybe a story she’d read.

“You okay?” Eric asked. “I could’ve sworn you left me for a minute. Reminded me of what Aunt Berina used to do.”