Haunted (Wolf Lake) (2 page)

Amelia tried to emotionall
y detach herself as she cleared Jake’s toiletries out of the medicine cabinet.  She tried not to remember the way his face felt scratching against hers in the mornings, the rough stubble tickling her sensitive skin when they kissed.  She tried not to think about the fact that his toothbrush was still there waiting for him as though one day he’d come back. 

But she did dab some of his aftershave onto the inside of her slender wrist.  She clo
sed her eyes, inhaled deeply and pretended Jake was right in front of her.  Sometimes if she imagined hard enough, it was almost as though he was.

Amelia opened her eyes and, unsurprisingly, found herself staring at the wall.  Letting out a defeated sigh, she made a mental note that the paint was beginning to peel a little. 

“I should do something about that,” she whispered to herself and wondered if the tiny hardware store in town would be open on a long weekend.

It was only
early evening but the heat had Amelia absolutely beat.  She wished the cabin had air conditioning.  The ceiling fans in every room helped some, but she nonetheless felt worn out.  The constant battle to keep her emotions in check was probably more to blame than the high temperature.

“I should have stopped in town for groceries,” she muttered to herself
as her stomach growled, annoyed with her lack of preparation.  She grabbed her car keys and headed toward the door but stopped in her tracks when she saw a pair of eyes staring back at her from the woods.

A lone wolf stood there, calmly staring right at her.

A chill went up Amelia’s spine. 

She set the keys down and checked to see that the door was locked.  Then she laughed at herself for being so ridiculous.  Was she expecting the wolf to open the front door and walk in? 

Shaking her head at her foolish reaction, Amelia decided she’d go for groceries a while later.  That would give the wolf time to wander off so she could walk out to her car without fear of being mauled.

A yawn caught Amelia off guard and she realized she could really use a nap. 
She shuffled into the tiny bedroom and unbuttoned her denim shorts, discarding them in a pile on the floor.  She peeled off her t-shirt as well and tossed it on top of her shorts.  Then, clad only in her underwear, Amelia eyed the bed warily.

It had been over a year since the bedding had be
en washed – yuck!  She had visions of flopping down on the patchwork quilt that covered the bed only to be overtaken by a massive cloud of dust.  It would be like something out of a dumb sitcom…or at least that’s how the scenario played out in Amelia’s head.

“Laundromat tomorrow,” she murmured to herself. 
She wasn’t impressed that her to-do list seemed to be getting longer instead of shorter.  But, she figured, that was her own fault for neglecting the cabin for so long.

Amelia wearily
trudged back to the tiny living room and sprawled out on the couch she’d vacuumed earlier in the day.  She was out like a light.

The slumbering redhead’s dreams were filled with chaos. 
Giant, elephant-sized spiders chased her through a maze of mirrors.  Her heart pounded in her chest as they advanced on her, snarling.  Apparently dream-spiders have fangs – who knew? 

Right before her eyes, the spiders turned into wolves.  Amelia’s breath caught in her throat as she slowly backed away, trying to remain calm.  She didn’t dare turn her back on them for fear that they’d attack her from behind.  She inched her way backwards as she frantically tried to think of an escape plan.

Then her shoulder blade hit a mirror in the never ending maze.  Amelia’s heart sunk and she could feel herself beginning to hyperventilate as panic set in.  There was no way out.  She was trapped. 

Just as she was sure she was dead meat, Jake emerged from behind one of the mirrors.  He took her hand and led her to safety.  Amelia found herself standing in an exquisite
, predator-free garden with her husband at her side.  His presence calmed her. 

“Where are we?” she asked, looking around.  No one else was in sight.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said dismissively, leaning down to plant a feather light whisper of a kiss on her forehead.  “We’re together.”

Amelia felt her nipples
stiffen at once as her husband stood close to her.  His green eyes sparkled with passion and his sandy hair fell across his forehead haphazardly.  She could smell his aftershave and hear his heartbeat.  If she really concentrated, she could swear she could feel the heat from his body.  She reached up to touch his face, wanting to feel his rough stubble against her soft skin. 

Her hand went right through him.

It was around that time Amelia realized she was dreaming.

Amelia
didn’t experience lucid dreaming often.  Usually the second she realized she was dreaming, her eyes popped open and the opportunity to control and actively participate in her very own private fantasy was gone.  But this time, perhaps due to sheer will, she managed to hang on to the edges of her fictitious world.

Trapped on the border of reality and her subconscious, Amelia fought to remain in the dream.  Why return to a world devoid of her husband when he was right there in her dream, standing right in front of her?  True, she couldn’t touch him…but he was still there.   She
felt
him. 

The image of her husband standing in front of her was fading.  It was as though he was becoming less and less by the minute, evaporating like water droplets on a hot day. 

“Come back!” Amelia cried out desperately, reaching for Jake.  “Don’t leave me again!”  Once again, her hands slipped right through him as though he was made of fog.

“I’ve never left you.”

Amelia awoke with tears dampening her eyelashes. 

She simultaneously loved and hated the dreams in which Jake visited her.  Being able to spend a few brief, fleeting moments with him – even if only in her mind – was precious.  But it was also torture.  When she woke up from a dream about her dead husband, Amelia’s grief was always magnified tenfold. 

“I miss you so much,” she said to the smiling groom in the wedding photo on the wall. 

Amelia’s stomach chimed in with a loud growl.  She looked outside and was surprised to see it was getting dark. She’d slept for longer than she
’d intended. 

She switched on a nearby lamp and noticed goose bumps all over her slender arms.  She shivered.  The cabin had really cooled down while she was sleeping and she was clad only in underwear.  No wonder she was cold.

Amelia picked up her car keys and peeked out the front window.  Satisfied that no one was around, she dashed out to her car to retrieve the backpack she’d forgotten in the trunk.  At least she’d remembered to pack a change of clothes, she thought wryly as she slung the bag over her shoulder.  Then she returned to the cabin for a quick shower.

****

In Amelia’s experience, small towns could be notorious for having unusual business hours.  As she drove down the narrow, winding road, she wondered if anything would even be open.  Either every place would be closed early for the long weekend or they’d all be open for business in the hope of attracting a bunch of cottagers.

Thankfully, it was the latter.

The small town was bustling with tourists – well, as much as a tiny place like that
can
bustle.  Amelia parked her car in the center of Main Street.  It was the only place to park in town and, as a matter of fact, Main Street was the town’s only street. 

But it had everything she needed.

Amelia stopped at the lone fast food joint.  It boasted a walk-up window and a small patio area.  She bought a burger and sat at one of the umbrella-topped tables, savoring the juices from the beef patty and sliced tomato as they ran over her tongue and dribbled down her chin.  She was eating like a pig but she didn’t care. 

The famished young woman swiped her hand across her mouth and looked around.
 

Directly in front of her was a family of four.  The parents were quietly arguing as they looked over a map.  The
two young children, meanwhile, were devouring ice cream cones that were nearly as tall as them. 

The little girl noticed Amelia looking.  Amelia offered a smile.  The cute pigtailed child
grinned back, proudly showing off her missing front tooth.  It appeared she was getting just as much ice cream on herself as she was eating.  Amelia had to stifle a laugh.

Then Amelia noticed the wind was getting up, seemingly with no warning whatsoever.  It whipped Amelia’s
fiery hair wildly around her face and threatened to topple the children’s ice cream cones.  Their parents put the map away and ushered the kids to the car, warning them not to get the interior of the vehicle sticky with ice cream.

Amelia knew they would.  After all, that’s what kids do, right?

She fumbled in her purse in search of a hair tie.  She usually kept one in there for those days when her shoulder length red hair had too much volume for its own good.  She located the black elastic and quickly pulled her windblown locks back into a messy ponytail.

She stood and threw the wrapper from her burger in the garbage.  She wished she’d worn something different.  The strapless yellow sundress she’d put on
after her shower would be the perfect attire for a hot summer day.  But tonight it just looked silly as its skirt whipped around violently in the strong wind, threatening to blow up right there on Main Street.

Holding her dress
in place as best she could, Amelia dashed across the street and into the town’s grocery store.  It sold the basics – milk, bread, hot dogs and marshmallows – and not much more.  But that was okay.  With options being so limited, it made grocery shopping a breeze.  Amelia quickly loaded up a basket with enough food to get her through the next few days.

“We’re gonna get a nasty storm tonight,” the middle aged man behind the cash register predicted as he made change.  “We’re in for a real doozy.”

Amelia peered out the window.  The evening sky was full of black, ominous clouds and big, heavy raindrops were beginning to fall.  The street, which had been crawling with tourists only moments earlier, was all but deserted.  It appeared everyone had taken cover.

“Have a good night,” she replied as the cashier handed her some coins and her bag of groceries. 

Amelia hurried out to her car and deposited her groceries in the trunk.  Then just as she was about to climb into the driver’s seat the hardware store across the way caught her eye. 

“Paint,” she remembered with an upward glance at the sky.  The heavens had yet to open up although it appeared a downpour was imminent.  But Amelia really didn’t want to bother having to come back to town again in the morning just to buy paint.  She’
d just have to hurry and try to beat the storm.

She ran across the street.

Just like the rest of town, the hardware store was pretty much empty. 

A dark haired, flannel-clad guy
stood at the till.  He had a small mountain of paper spread out on the counter in front of him.  He held a calculator in one hand and a pencil in the other. 

“I’m just about to close up,” he called out without so much as looking up when the door jingled. 

“I’ll be quick,” Amelia promised.  “I’m just looking for paint?”

“Over there,” he replied, pointing.  He still hadn’t looked up.  He seemed engrossed in his paperwork, apparently determined to make the books balance.  Either that or he was just really, really bad at customer service. 

“Um, thanks.”

She was somewhat amused to find there were exactly two options:  eggshell white indoor paint or eggshell white outdoor paint.  Had she wanted something crazy like blue or red paint, she’d have been out of luck.  She picked up two cans of the indoor paint and, grimacing a little, carried them over to the till.

The guy finally looked up.  He made a face as his gaze fell on the paint and then looked at Amelia.  His piercing blue eyes were intense.  “You don’t want that,” he informed her.

“What?” she asked in confusion.  “Why’s that?”

“It streaks.  Buy the outdoor paint.”

“But I’m painting inside.”

“I don’t care.  Buy the outdoor paint.”

There was something a little abrasive about the blue eyed, dark haired guy’s personality.  He seemed impatient and, well,
bossy
.  With a sigh, Amelia turned back around and headed toward the paint aisle. 

The guy came out from behind the counter and took the heavy paint from Amelia.  He set it down on the shelf, grabbed two cans of the outdoor paint and returned to the till. 

“That will be eighty bucks,” he told her.

The price was high, but everything was expensive in the tiny resort town.  Since there were no big box stores and no competition, the local shopkeepers could charge whatever they liked and people would pay it.  Amelia pulled out her credit card and tried to hand it to the guy.

“Cash only,” he informed her, refusing to take the plastic card from her outstretched hand.

“Seriously?” she grumbled, digging through her purse.  “I don’t keep much cash on me.
  What kind of store doesn’t take plastic?”