Paradox Lake Page 15

  I turn the starter. The outboard engine sputters and sputters.

  “Come on, come on,” I repeat, while grinding my teeth.

  Then something miraculous happens. The motor roars to life. I gaze over my shoulder and see that the water spout can’t be more than fifty feet behind us. I give the throttle everything it’s got. The Whaler lunges forward, and we zoom across the rough water, smashing into what has to be four- or five-foot swells. It’s a hell of a rough ride with the rain pouring down on us and the severe winds whipping our faces. But at least we’ve got a chance of getting the hell home. At least we have a chance of surviving the severe storm.

  Turning to Anna, I can see that what was just seconds ago a face filled with terror is now a happy face. She’s crying tears of joy. She raises up her left hand and makes a fist. I’ve got both hands on the wheel, but I manage to release my right hand long enough to fist pump her. Then I make sure to place the hand back on the wheel.

  It takes maybe a couple long minutes, but soon the shore is in sight, along with the Moore house. We’re putting some distance between us and the storm now as it moves off in a southerly direction towards Schroon Lake. The lake calms down and even the rain stops. The lightning is still striking, but it’s now far enough off in the distance that we hardly even notice it, nor can we make out the thunder over the noise of the outboard motor.

  After a time, Anna pokes me on the shoulder.

  “Slow her up,” she says. “I’ll take it from here, Rosie.”

  She places her hand on the wheel, and I release it entirely. We exchange places, and I breathe a long sigh of relief. Anna shoots me a big sweet smile.

  “You did good, Rosie,” she says. “You did real good.”

  “Been a while since I piloted a boat,” I say. “For a while there, I thought we were in real trouble.”

  “Me, too, Mom,” she says. “But somehow I knew Allison and Dad would protect us.”

  She hardly ever refers to her deceased family like that. It takes me more than a little by surprise. But it also feels good to know she’s aware of their heavenly presence. She slows the boat to a crawl as we pass the red buoy. I make sure to keep quiet while she concentrates on parking the boat without slamming into the dock. Steering with her right hand, she uses her left to shift from forward to reverse and back again. For a girl who’s only had one lesson on docking a boat, she does perfectly.

  She kills the engine and then hits the control that raises the screw up.

  The bow line already in hand, I jump out and tie it off on the cleat. Anna hands me the stern line, and I tie that one off too. Gathering the bottles of spring water and the now soaked box of Ritz crackers, she hops up onto the dock.

  “That was something, wasn’t it, Rosie?” she asks.

  “I was never worried,” I say. “Not for an instant.”

  “Ha,” she says. “I seem to recall you screaming for your life.”

  I laugh.

  “Okay, okay,” I say, “I’ll admit it was a bit hairy there for a few minutes, especially when that water spout formed. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those before. Not in real life anyway.”

  Together we gaze out onto the lake, at the thick black and purple clouds that still persist and that are forecast to persist most of the weekend. Which reminds me of something.

  “Anna, why don’t you check the garage to see if there’s some kind of tarp we can put over the boat. Otherwise we’re gonna be bailing all weekend.”

  “Roger that, Rosie,” she says. “What are you gonna do?”

  “Do you want me to make you a sandwich?”

  “I’m a big girl now,” she says. “I can make my own.”

  “Well, if you’re sure,” I say, “then I’m gonna maybe steal myself a little nap. I got up way too early, and it’s gonna be a bit of a long night.”

  Anna shoots me a wink and one of her sly smiles.

  “This might come as a surprise to you, young lady,” I say. “But, believe it or not, I’m not that easy.”

  “Sure you’re not,” she says, heading across the back lawn past the woodpile towards the garage.

  I head into the house, knowing that it’s getting harder and harder to feed my only surviving daughter little white lies.

  CHAPTER 31

  I MAKE MY way upstairs and head immediately into the bathroom, not only to pee, but to towel dry my face and hair. I then head into my bedroom and collapse face-first on the bed. Before I know it, I’m in never-never land.

  Entering onto the Paradox Lake Trail, I feel the rainwater soaking my face. The forest is very dark due to the thick, black cloud cover. But it lights up when the lightning flashes. I’m running, but it feels like my feet are stuck in hardening concrete. I’m not sure if I’m trying to save someone or I’m running away from someone. Maybe both.

  My oxygen comes and goes in shallow breaths. I feel like I’m drowning in my own air. Rainwater seeps into my eyes, burns them, makes it almost impossible to see. When the animal lunges out from the dark forest and tackles me to the ground, I feel my heart jump into my mouth. My pulse skyrockets. I try to scream but I can’t. It’s a wolf. A big black wolf, its furry hide is matted with fresh blood, its blood-covered claws pressing me down on the trail floor. It opens its big long jaws, exposes razor-sharp fangs covered in clear drool and red blood. I stare into its black eyes. I know that in just a matter of seconds, it’s going to bury its fangs into my neck. But I manage to kick it in the groin. It shrieks and jumps off of me, yelping as it disappears back inside the woods.

  Picking myself up, I about-face and make for the trailhead and my home. I can’t run fast enough; it still feels like my legs are trapped in thick, heavy mud. As I reach the trailhead, I come around the woodpile, and see that the back door has been left wide open. I also see that the ground beneath me is covered in blood. So are the steps leading up into the kitchen.

  I head into the kitchen, call out for Anna.

  No answer.

  I call out again.

  Nothing.

  That’s when I see a girl who looks a lot like Anna standing outside my studio. She has a silver cross hanging from her neck. It’s Sarah Anne Moore. Silently she raises her left hand, points with extended index finger towards my studio. Tears fill my eyes. My throat closes in on itself. Heart is pounding against my ribs.

  I can’t talk, but in my head, I’m whispering, “Oh no, oh no, oh God no …”

  Slowly, I make my way to my studio. When I look inside, the sculpted bust looks nothing like the tan/brown block of clay I’ve been working with. Instead, it looks like the head of a real human being. There’s blood everywhere. Blood on the floor, blood on the walls and windows, blood dripping off the sculpting platform. My head is buzzing with adrenaline and panic. When I come around the head to view the face, my worst fears are confirmed.

  “Anna,” I say.

  Her open eyes stare up at me.

  “Beware the Big Bad Wolf,” she whispers.

  I wake up with an electric jolt. I’m so sick to my stomach I run to the bathroom, drop to my knees before the toilet, and toss my cookies. What on God’s earth was that all about? Talk about the king of all nightmares. Am I that paranoid? Am I that afraid of losing Anna that my subconscious can’t help but toy with me? Correction—torture me?

  Standing, I flush the toilet, then come around to the sink and brush my teeth. I breathe in deeply and exhale slowly. Starting the shower, I take a look at Anna’s bedroom. It’s empty. Pulse lifts. I go to her bedroom window, look out onto the backyard. I feel a thousand times better when I see her placing a large tan tarp over the Whaler.

  “Everything is as it should be,” I whisper, as if this helps me believe myself.

  Should I go on my date and leave Anna alone for a few hours? As a mother, am I doing the right thing? Or am I overanalyzing things just because of a couple of bad nightmares? A couple of very vivid nightmares. As I undress and step into the shower, I recall the horrible nightmares I h
ad after Allison died. Also, the ones I had after Charlie killed himself. In the case of the former, I’d see her standing in the kitchen of our Albany home. She’d be the gaunt, long-haired, white-faced comatose little girl she was just moments before she died. She’d be wearing her red nightgown. It was the last nightgown I bought for her before she passed.

  “Don’t let me go, Mommy,” she’d say, before holding out her thin, bird-like hand. “I’m afraid.”

  In the case of the latter, I’d see Charlie coming through the front door, like he always did upon his arrival home from work at his architecture office. He’d be wearing a blue blazer over one of his button-down shirts with the top button undone, the ball knot on his tie hanging low. He’d set his briefcase onto the floor by the door and smile for me.

  “Charlie,” I’d say. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

  “What are you talking about?” he’d say. “I live here. Where’s Allison?”

  “Allison died, too.”

  “Nonsense. I’m going upstairs to see what she’s doing.”

  That’s when he’d start up the stairs and I’d see how much of his cranial cap had been blown off when he stuck the barrel of a .45 caliber semiautomatic pistol in his mouth, and pulled the trigger.

  I wash my hair, then soap my body and shave my legs. I nick my calf with the razor. Blood drips down my leg and combines with the soapy water that circles the drain. I guess my hands are still trembling from my nightmare about Anna. This is not the frame of mind I wanted to be in when preparing for my date with Tim. Maybe the nightmares and the bad, ugly memories are an extension of my feeling bad about Tony. Or maybe I’m just overthinking this whole thing.

  Slipping out of the shower, I dry myself, and blow-dry my hair. I then straighten my hair with the curling iron. My hair is naturally straight, but the humidity from these storms is wreaking havoc on it. Soon as that’s done, I gaze into my face. A few new wrinkles have sprouted over the years. As I said before, fifty is right around the corner, and age happens. I’ve never been much for makeup, but I add a little foundation and some other junk, just to make me look at least somewhat attractive to Tim.

  Heading back into the bedroom, I put on a pair of my best black undies and matching pushup bra. Then I look in the closet for a summer-weight dress that might be perfect for both church and an upstate Italian restaurant. And that’s when I hear a truck pull up into the driveway.

  “Holy crap,” I say. “Is it that late?”

  I gaze at my watch sitting on the dresser. Holy crap is right. It’s already 4:10 p.m. Tim might be five minutes early, but I swear I thought it was only three thirty or so. I must have slept longer than I thought. Throwing on a white dress, I go to the window, open it, and stick my head out. Tim is just coming around the front from the driveway. He’s got a large plastic Ferguson General Store bag in his hand.

  “Hi, Tim,” I say out the open window. “Running a tad behind on my end. Feel free to let yourself in. Anna should be inside or down on the dock.”

  He smiles at me.

  “You got it, cutie,” he says. Then, holding out his hand, palm up as if to catch the rain. “Don’t forget your umbrella. It’s gonna storm all night.”

  Cutie … love it … he’s already cheering me up …

  He’s wearing cowboy boots, blue jeans, a clean button-down, and a dark blazer over that. Funny how he and Charlie have pretty much the same style. Maybe that’s part of the attraction. I’m just happy Tim doesn’t wear a bush jacket.

  I find a pair of leather gladiator sandals in the closet, slip those on, put on my watch, a couple of silver bracelets and a matching silver angel necklace, and I am finally ready to go. Gazing into the mirror, I realize I’ve made myself more than just attractive. I’m looking pretty darn hot, if I don’t say so myself.

  “Hey, own it, honey,” I whisper aloud.

  Grabbing my cell phone and my leather bag, I head down the stairs, the bad memories and nightmares a thing of the past.

  When I come to the landing, Tim is nowhere to be found. But I hear voices coming from out back. I go into the kitchen and spot the shopping bag set on the counter. Then, going to the back door, I can see that Anna is proudly showing Tim the job she did covering up the boat. He’s clearly happy because he’s patting her on the back, running his hand up and down her spine.

  “You sure know how to take care of a boat,” he says. “Looks like my instincts were right on, Anna.”

  I open the screen door.

  “Tell Tim about our afternoon adventure out on the water, honey,” I say.

  He turns to me quick.

  “Please don’t tell me you went out on the lake today, Rose. There were severe weather alerts going off all day warning boaters not to venture out. Every year boaters die in storms like the ones we’ve been having. You guys need a radio.”

  “I’ll look into it,” I say.

  But somehow, I’m thinking Tim will probably show up with one tomorrow. He turns to Anna.

  “Hey, kiddo,” he says, “you wanna see what I brought you to eat?”

  “I’m starving,” she says. “Let’s see.”

  We all head into the kitchen. Tim pulls out not just a couple orders of what he describes as his sister’s famous mac and cheese, but also two orders of spaghetti and meatballs, two orders of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and two turkey dinners.

  “Jeez, Tim,” I say, “we’ll be fat if we eat all that.”

  “I’ll take the mac and cheese,” Anna says.

  She’s already putting one of the orders in the microwave and heating it up.

  “I figure you can freeze them and eat them when you don’t feel like cooking,” Tim goes on. Then gazing at his watch. “We’d better go if we’re gonna get to church on time.”

  “Church?” Anna says. “My mom’s like a total pagan.”

  “Bite your tongue, young lady,” I say. “I’m still a believer.”

  She laughs. “Ha, I don’t ever remember you going to church. Not even once.”

  “There’s a first for everything, right, Tim?” I say. “And actually, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about making a return. Maybe Tim is an angel sent by God to help me make my decision.”

  Anna makes a gesture with her index finger like she’s gagging herself.

  “Wow,” Tim says, “that’s quite the compliment. But man, oh man, I’m most definitely no angel. Angels don’t have nearly as much fun as devils.”

  He winks at me.

  “Go have fun, you kids,” Anna says. “I won’t wait up.”

  “Actually, we’ll be home no later than eight o’clock. If we’re going to be later, I’ll text you.”

  “You can stay out later,” she says, as the microwave dings now that the heating cycle has ended. “I’m not a little kid, you know.”

  “But we’re still strangers in a strange place, and I’d feel better if we make it an early night.”

  “Can’t agree more, Rose,” Tim says. “But I do believe Anna will be more than safe. This is Paradox, after all.”

  As reassuring as he sounds, I still don’t like letting my guard down. I give Anna a kiss on the cheek. When Tim kisses her cheek, too, it kind of takes me by surprise. I guess he’s just being sweet. As we exit the kitchen for the front door, I can’t help but gaze at the cross hanging on the wall. I can’t help but wonder if the Moores felt safe in Paradox on the day their daughter was abducted.

  CHAPTER 32

  WE’RE NOT ALL the way to the Paradox Lake Road when Tim slows the pickup truck and comes to a stop along the side of the road. Throwing the transmission into park, he leans into me and plants a long, hard kiss on me. He runs his hands through my hair and presses me into him, not like he lusts me, but like he’s falling in love with me as fast and as hard as I am falling for him. What the hell is happening here? I’m beginning to think my decision to take a sabbatical on behalf of my art in Paradox was determined by fate.

  Our tongues play and he shifts his hands t
o my breasts, gently squeezing them and, in the process, making me entirely damp. I lower my hand and press it against his hardness.

  “Take me,” I say. “Take me right here, right now.”

  He doesn’t hesitate to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans. He presses me back against the door. Placing his hand on my soft inner thigh, he slowly moves his fingers upwards until he’s touching me outside my panties. When he slips the fingers inside, he feels the wetness and I feel an electric excitement rush throughout my entire body.

  Outside the truck, the rain starts to fall again. Lightning strikes in the near distance. Pulling my panties down, Tim enters me slowly, thickly, and deep. A new round of thunder pounds and rocks the truck. He breathes heavily as he begins to thrust himself against me. I try and work with his rhythm, my cries and moans filling the truck along with the pounding rain. I can feel him swelling and filling, and I know he can feel my hot wetness. When we both release at the same time, I can’t control my scream. He bites my shoulder and the pain is both deep and wonderful.

  When we’ve caught our breath, he lifts himself up and begins to get dressed. I pull my panties up and inhale a deep breath.

  “So that just happened,” I say.

  He looks at me with his very handsome smile.

  “You realize what’s happening here, don’t you, Rose?”

  “I do,” I say. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Tim.”

  He shifts himself back behind the wheel, starts the truck.

  “What about Tony?” he says. “Your boyfriend.”

  “I need to tell him,” I say. “He’s coming up next Saturday. I’ll tell him then.”

  He pulls back onto the gravel road in the direction of the two-track and then the Paradox Lake Road.

  “Are you sure this is what you want?” he says. “I feel sort of bad about barging into your life and taking over.”

  “I’m a big girl,” I say. “I knew what I was doing when you came into my life and I know what I’m doing now.”

  He reaches for my hand, squeezes it. It is as much a gesture of love as is his lovemaking.