Paradox Lake Page 12

  Anna scoots back into the house where she’ll take the stairs two at a time to her bedroom.

  “How about some leftover apple pie, Tim?” I ask.

  “I’d love some,” he says.

  I head inside, retrieve the pie and a couple of coffees, which I take back outside on a tray. As I’m setting the tray down on the picnic table, he comes to me and kisses me tenderly on the lips.

  “Couldn’t wait to do that,” he says.

  “Neither could I,” I say, feeling a hard lump on his left hip.

  “What’s that?” I say, patting the lump.

  He opens his jean jacket.

  “Told you I’d come packing,” he says, revealing a pistol.

  I’m not sure why, but it more than takes me by surprise.

  “The shadow,” I say, recalling our conversation of this morning.

  “Hopefully that’s all it is,” he says. “A shadow.”

  I feel a wave of warmth wash over me. I am most definitely falling hard for this man.

  “Tim,” I say, “can you do me a favor?”

  “Name it,” he says, taking hold of both my hands.

  “Kiss me again,” I say.

  We make out to the sound and the heat of the roaring fire.

  CHAPTER 25

  BY THE TIME our desert is finished, complete darkness has enveloped Paradox. Some lightning can be seen flashing off the opposite west side of the lake. The thunder rumbles moments later. We both occupy our respective Adirondack chairs, our hands wrapped around our coffee mugs, which are set in our laps, our eyes staring not at the fire but into it.

  Shifting my eyes to the Paradox trailhead, I somewhat nervously await the nightly dark figure that always seems to emerge from the woods not long after full dark. This time, I’ll have Tim here to tell me precisely who or what the dark shadow belongs to. If it’s something dangerous or threatening, I guess Tim will have no choice but to shoot it. I’m praying something like that doesn’t happen. How would I explain it to Anna?

  “See anything yet, Tim?” I ask.

  His eyes are focused on the trailhead.

  “Not yet,” he says, his voice lowered to little more than a whisper. “But don’t worry. If it’s out there, I’ll see it.”

  “Probably just a deer, right?”

  He turns to me, smiles devilishly.

  “Or a monster,” he says. “Like a big bad wolf, only worse.”

  “Thanks,” I say, reaching out for his hand. “Way to scare me.”

  He takes my hand, squeezes it.

  “Just having a little fun with you, Rose.”

  I’m just about to tell him about the cross I found this morning, when my eyes catch the shadow coming from the trailhead, quickly scooting past the woodpile and disappearing around the side of the house.

  “There,” I say, jumping up. “Did you see it?”

  Like always, it appears to be an animal on all fours.

  He stands. Dumping what’s left of his coffee, he sets the mug onto the picnic table.

  “Stay here,” he says, pulling out his gun.

  “If you insist,” I say.

  He disappears around the side of the house. My heart is pulsing in my neck, precisely because I’m not sure what to expect right now. Is there going to be a scuffle? Man versus animal? Maybe I’ll hear a shot and see a bright muzzle flash. Anna will be scared out of her wits. But that never happens. Instead, Tim returns, walking nonchalantly around the woodpile. His pistol is no longer gripped in his hand, but returned safely to its holster.

  Placing both his hands on my shoulders, he purses his lips.

  “Just like I expected,” he says. “It’s a deer. Good-sized buck, too. Something to keep in mind come November because me and my thirty-thirty have definitely got our names on it.”

  “Deer hunting season?” I ask.

  “Do you hunt, Rose?”

  I laugh.

  “I’m an art professor from Albany,” I say. “I’m supposed to hate guns. But my father and brothers used to hunt.”

  “Well, if you’d like to learn,” he says, “I’d be happy to teach you. One buck can provide you with enough venison for a whole year. And it’s delicious.”

  “I’ll think about it, Daniel Boone,” I say.

  He looks at his watch.

  “I really should be getting back,” he says. “Long day tomorrow. But I hope I’ve put your mind at ease.”

  “You have, Tim,” I say. “Whatever would Anna and I do without you?”

  “Ha-ha,” he says with a grin, “you’d get along fine.”

  Then, something dawning on me.

  “Hey, you came by boat,” I say. “How are you getting home?”

  “I can call a friend to pick me up.”

  “Nonsense. I can give you a ride back into town. Anna will be fine for a few minutes.”

  “You sure, Rose? I hate to be a bother.”

  “After everything you’ve done for us,” I say, “it will be my pleasure. Besides, now that I know the shadow monster is only Bambi, we have nothing to fear.”

  “Okay,” he says with a happy face. “If you insist, Rose.”

  Back inside, I lock the kitchen door behind me, and then head up to Anna’s room. I tell her I’m dropping Tim back off at his house in town and that I’ll be back in a few minutes. Everything is locked up, I assure her.

  “Have fun, Rosie,” she says, with yet another one of her winks.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean, young lady?” I beg. “Excuse me … young, inexperienced-to-the-ways-of-the-world lady.”

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she says.

  “Let’s hope you don’t do anything.”

  I head back downstairs to my daughter’s laughter.

  “All set?” Tim says.

  I grab my car keys off the small table that’s set between the front door and the old leather couch. That’s when I notice he’s placed the keys to the boat there as well.

  “Let’s rock n’ roll,” I say.

  I remember to grab my phone and lock the front door on the way out.

  Tim slips in the passenger seat and I get behind the wheel.

  “Mind if I adjust the seat?” he asks. “Damn my long legs.”

  I can’t help but be reminded of Tony’s short legs.

  “Knock yourself out, Tim.”

  I start the car, throw it in drive, and pull out of the driveway, hooking a left onto the country road that will take me to the two-track that leads to the Paradox Lake Road. We’re not driving for more than a minute, when I feel his hand on my thigh.

  “Is this okay?” he asks.

  I could tell him to remove it, but it feels so damn good, I don’t dare. I squeeze his hand with my free hand.

  “It’s more than okay,” I say.

  “Question,” he says. “I overheard Anna speaking about a man named Tony. She referred to him as ‘Mom’s boyfriend.’ Am I intruding on something I shouldn’t be, Rose? Because I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

  It’s time to fess up with the truth. Maybe Tim doesn’t want to cause me any trouble, but I don’t want him to think of me as a liar and a cheat either.

  “Tony and I have been together since my husband, Charlie, died,” I say. Then, realizing what I just said, “Correction. Tony came into my life not long after Charlie died. He was a friend of Charlie’s going back to their college days together at Providence College in the mid-’80s. When Charlie passed, Tony just sort of started hanging around, making sure Anna and me were okay, and just being our helpful friend.”

  “Like he would fix things around the house, mow the lawn, stuff like that?”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Tony fix something or mow the lawn? I took care of all of that. He’s a writer, and trust me when I say his writing comes first. But then at the end of the day, he’d show up and drink some beers at the kitchen table while we went about our evening. He would just sort of be there, and eventually I …”

 
My thoughts trail off because I’m genuinely not sure how to explain how Tony and I first became lovers.

  “And eventually you, ummm, what?” Tim presses.

  “Well, you know,” I say, slowly removing my hand from his. “One thing led to another and we got intimate.”

  “Oh,” he says. “Intimate.”

  He gives my thigh a pinch.

  “Okay, now you’re making fun of me.”

  We both have a laugh.

  “I’m sorry,” he says. “Couldn’t resist. So where do things stand now? Do you love Tony? Should I back off, Rose?”

  I inhale and exhale.

  “The truth?” I say. “I’m not sure if I ever actually fell in love with Tony. Like I said, he was just there. But I do have love for him. So does Anna. He’s been very good to us over some pretty hard years. I lost my first daughter and then Charlie, and Tony came into our lives when we needed him the most.”

  “You lost your daughter? I’m awfully sorry to hear that. What was her name?”

  “Allison,” I say. “She would be eighteen now. Leukemia took her. Charlie couldn’t take the grief and he took his own life while I was still pregnant with Anna.”

  “My God, Rose, I’m so sorry. You’ve been through hell and back.”

  “We got through it, Anna and me, and Tony was there for us. That’s why I love him.”

  “But you’re not in love with him.”

  “There’s a difference,” I say. Then, pausing for a few long beats, “Which is why if you and I … if we do something more than just kiss … I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Tim. I’m not the kind of girl who sleeps around or cheats on her husband or anything like that. I truly consider myself loyal to the core.”

  He squeezes my thigh again like he gets it. Or what the hell. Maybe I’m just naïve and he’s super horny. The town lights are visible just up ahead.

  “I understand completely,” he says. “My guess is you haven’t married Tony after all this time for a reason.”

  “Exactly,” I say. “We don’t even live together. And to be even more truthful, if we have, well, you know what, three times a year, that’s a lot. Tony is more interested in his writing, his drinking, his working out, and his traveling.”

  “He sounds like the boy who never grew up.”

  “Well, the boy who never grew up is now pushing sixty,” I say. “He’s got high blood pressure, or so he just found out.”

  “Poor guy.”

  “Well, he should be okay if he takes his meds and keeps up the exercising.”

  “I wish him the best,” Tim says. “You should know that. And thanks for sharing your story, Rose. It means a lot that you can trust me.”

  Once more I wrap my fingers around his and squeeze. The more I reveal to him, I swear, the more I’m falling in love with him.

  “Okay, Mr. Ferguson, we’ve arrived in Paradox. Where to?”

  The general store is coming up on our right-hand side.

  “Right here,” he says. “Just pull into the store.”

  “Here?”

  “Yup,” he says. “I live in the apartment upstairs. It’s actually quite nice. Why don’t you come up for a quick drink and I can show you the place. That is, if you don’t have to get back to Anna right away.”

  Heart beats a mile a minute. Mouth goes dry. Stomach cramps. I also feel a little something happening in what my mother used to refer to as my private area. A certain tingling sensation.

  Go for it Rosie. You only live once. Trust me on that.

  You really think I should, Allison?

  I know so. Pops, what’s your opinion on this matter?

  You have my blessing, Rose darling. Just spare me the details later on.

  Thanks, Charlie. I still love you the most.

  So that’s it then. I’m going up to Tim’s apartment. I park the Mini Cooper along the side of the building. Together we get out. Tim leads me around back to a wood staircase that accesses the second floor. We climb the stairs like we’re ascending the stairway to heaven.

  CHAPTER 26

  PULLING OPEN THE old rusted Bilco doors that access the Moore house basement, the Big Bad Wolf stares down into the cobweb-covered black hole. The metal doors aren’t locked. It’s Rose’s bad luck that she never bothered to inspect this side of the house. But then, a whole bunch of overgrown brush covers almost the entirety of that side of the house, and you’d only make out the Bilco doors if you were looking for them. He descends the old wood steps to the cold, damp, dark basement.

  He has better than 20/20 vision. The basement is pitch dark, but somehow, he can see his way along the packed dirt floor.

  What big eyes you have.

  The better to see you when I spy on you in your bed, Little Red Riding Hood.

  Spider webs cling to his face and arms. He feels a spider scuttling across his forehead. He slaps it off before it bites him and lays its eggs under his skin. He recalls waking up one morning in his bedroom inside the house in the woods. He’d been bitten on the arm by a big brown wolf spider during the night. That afternoon, when he was cleaning out the chicken coop, he noticed a big purple lump growing on his forearm. The lump was tender, and it itched liked nobody’s business. By the end of the day, the lump was as big as a golf ball. The itch was so bad, so unrelenting, he had no choice but to pull out his pocketknife and poke a hole into the tip of the lump.

  Blood and yellow puss not only oozed from the lump, but so did something else. Thousands of baby spiders came crawling out of his arm. So many, they covered his arm and hand entirely. He was so horrified he screamed bloody murder. For a second or two, he considered cutting his arm off entirely just to rid himself of the spiders. Instead, he ran into the house, went to the kitchen sink, and poured hot tap water over them until every one of them circled the drain along with his blood.

  Was that the day he became the Big Bad Wolf ?

  Maybe.

  Or maybe he was always a wolf.

  But that was then and this is now. The Wolf makes his way across the basement floor until he finds the single bare light bulb that hangs from a wood ceiling beam. He pulls on the string and the stonewalled basement lights up in an eerie yellow glow. To his right, a bunch of old furniture is stacked up against the wall. The furniture used to belong to the Moores. Now it’s all covered in green mold and spider webs. To his left is the breaker box. For a brief moment, the Wolf considers killing the power in the house. He’s not ready for that, however. A time will come very soon when the darkness will work well for him. But not now.

  He faces the old wood staircase. Acting on instinct, he drops to all fours, and begins taking the stairs like a hungry wolf. It’s the same way he traverses the woods and the opening between the Paradox Lake trailhead and the Moore house. It’s something he has not lost during his many years in prison. He hasn’t lost his speed, nor his hunger, nor his desire to feed.

  What great speed you have.

  The faster to catch you and tear you to pieces, my dear.

  He enters into the kitchen, quickly trots his way into the living room, and then up the stairs where he pauses right outside the open door to Anna’s room. Or should he say, Sarah Anne’s room. He hears her talking to someone on her phone. She’s telling whoever is on the other end that she loves him. He breathes in deep, smells her fragrance. It’s the smell of a budding young woman. A fresh young woman, just waiting to be ravaged.

  What a big nose you have.

  The better to sniff you up and down.

  He knows that, at any moment, she can get up off the bed and discover him in the hallway. But he won’t allow that to happen. He’s too fast for her. Too swift. Too stealthy. His wolf-like powers make him superhuman. He only grew stronger in prison. Smarter. Hungrier.

  For now, he is satisfied with listening to his prey and inhaling her scent. Because, in a matter of hours, he will be devouring her.

  What big teeth you have.

  The better to eat you all up.

 
CHAPTER 27

  THE RAIN IS finally beginning to fall as Tim gives me a quick tour of his apartment over the general store. It’s nothing too big. Just a living room, a small galley kitchen, a vestibule, and a bathroom. Beyond that is the bedroom. Tim lives simply, with not a lot of furniture or amenities. I mention this to him.

  “I like to live an uncomplicated life,” he says, while removing his jean jacket and setting his pistol on the small table in the vestibule. “Or, as uncomplicated as I can possibly make it.”

  Hanging on the wall in the living room are pictures of his two sons during their teenage years. They are handsome kids like their dad. I can’t help but wonder what their mother looks like, but I can bet she’s very attractive.

  “How about a drink?” Tim says.

  I look at my watch.

  “It’s after eight,” I say. “I really should be getting back.”

  “Just a half glass of wine?”

  His question surprises me.

  “Thought you didn’t drink?” I ask.

  “Well, truth be told, I still enjoy a glass or two, now and again. Right now, I have a nice red going.”

  His words come as a bit of a shock. I wonder why he felt the need to lie about his drinking before. He said he becomes a different person when he drinks, so he had to stop. Or, maybe he wasn’t lying at all. Maybe he was simply not telling me the whole truth. We are just getting to know one another after all. Even people who appear to live simply can have complicated personalities.

  “Okay,” I say, “I guess a small glass can’t hurt. But let me text Anna, let her know I’ll be a few minutes more.”

  “Good idea,” he says, heading into the kitchen to grab the wine.

  I pull out my phone. Thumbing the text icon, I write: Having a quick drink with Tim. All okay? I’ll be back very soon unless you want me to come right now.

  Not bothering to put my phone away, I continue to hold it in my hand since I expect her to answer me right away. Knowing she’s talking to Nicole or Jake, I can almost count the seconds until she responds.

  Then: All good Rosie Take your time.