The House on Serpent Lake (Ghost, Romance, Fantasy) (20 page)

Lindsay’s voice was barely a whisper. “But what if my past life was better?”

“Was it truly? Was your former life better than the one you’re living now?”

Lindsay didn’t answer. While she longed for Galen in the flesh, she also remembered the heartbreak of clandestine meetings, of knowing he couldn’t be hers, and of finally, the agony of watching him die.

But wasn’t having him, even for a short time in her former life, better than enduring this life without him?

“I’m not sure.”

“If you’re that uncertain, I suggest you work to change your present life.” Her expression somber, Katie continued. “Life is a precious gift, not to be taken lightly. We all have a purpose, so work, study, try to find the meaning of this life you have today.” She paused. “I know this must be difficult for you, and I’ll try to help all I can. The spirit in this house desires communication with you, and through him, I see images of two people stealing moments together, two young people deeply in love. While I can’t promise results, perhaps I’ll be able to see more during a session. Then perhaps you will know what to do.” She handed Lindsay her card. “Call when you’re ready.”

Lindsay studied the card as if it alone could answer her questions.

“We all have a purpose in life you know,” Katie said. “Perhaps together, we can discover yours.”

Lindsay placed the card into the silverware drawer so she wouldn’t lose it. She already knew she’d make an appointment, but she needed some time to adjust to everything that had happened that night.

Later, after everyone had left, she poured a glass of wine and took it to her bedroom. If only she could relax and logically sort things enough to form a plan of action.

She decided to read everything she could on the subject, but at the moment she felt too consumed with the wonder of it all to worry about theories and whether they could be proven.

A former life in this house …

… as Berina.

Would she eventually remember everything about that life? She couldn’t answer that, and right now she wasn’t certain it was crucial to remember everything.

She thought of Frida, and for a heartbeat in her erratic memory, she could see the look on her sister’s face that terrible night when Frida realized whom she’d shot. And with that realization came the knowledge that she, Berina, had betrayed her.

Lindsay wished it had been different, and while she didn’t consciously remember, she knew from Eric and the attorney that Frida had cared for her, Berina, until she died.

Why? Shouldn’t it have been the other way around?

She sipped her wine and drew her bath, wishing she knew the answer. But knowing wouldn’t change her love for Galen, either in the past or today.

Adding lavender salts, she longed for his arms, and at that instant, she knew her relationship with Eric was over. When a woman prefers a ghost to her husband, there’s not much chance of a happy marriage.

She just hoped he didn’t come home before she could process everything, one way or the other.

She stepped into the tub, thinking of that evening Galen had begun to make love to her right after she and Eric had moved in. Before she’d realized it wasn’t her husband, she had become passionately aroused.

“Galen.” Even saying his name sent a delicious shiver through her body.

She was totally, madly in love—with a ghost.

Once in bed, she left on the lamp … just in case.

Would she dream of her lover tonight? If she did, please God, let it be of any time other than of that horrific last evening.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Something woke Lindsay and she opened her eyes to total darkness. The bedside light had gone out and the moon had disappeared.

All her senses alert, she lay wondering what had disturbed her sleep. Was it Galen? Would he appear to her tonight?

She sat up and scanned the blackness. “Galen? Are you here?”

Only silence answered her. And not a trace of Bay Rum.

After a few moments of waiting, hoping he’d appear, she lay back down and closed her heavy eyes. After such an emotional evening, she desperately needed sleep.

Still, something was wrong. But what?

She listened to the still night. And realized it was too still. No frogs, no crickets, nothing.

She sat up and strained to listen. But there was no sound except for her heart pounding in her temples.

Then she heard it. A soft splash from the lake, a sound different from a jumping fish or a turtle. Something unusually large was breaking the surface, yet it didn’t sound as if it were rising and flopping back into the water; instead, the splash was quieter, as if whatever it was could glide through the water without attracting attention.

The lake creature?

She rubbed her eyes. Was this strange sound part of a dream? Was she dreaming now?

The splash sounded again, so, dream or not, she padded to the front bedroom overlooking the lake.

Pushing the drapes aside, she searched the water below. The moon slipped behind streaked clouds, and all she could see were vague outlines in the dim light. But directed by a slight splash, she spotted a dark outline in the center of the lake directly in front of the house. Even while she watched, an elongated head with a slim neck rose about four to five feet above the surface, water dripping from its snout.

Kahnah’bek?

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

In only her tee and panties, she flew downstairs and down the porch steps to the shore, her bare feet racing over grass, sand, and pebbles. On the beach, she caught a slight fishy odor. The night was so dark she could barely make out features, but there, right before her, the creature of legends appeared. She stared in awe, too entranced to be frightened. It made a slight blowing sound as if it were clearing water from its nostrils, then turned its head and looked directly at her.

“Hello,” she whispered, then realized what a ridiculous thing to do.

The creature stared a moment more then soundlessly sank beneath the water. A large flipper appeared, then submerged as the creature rolled or turned in a different direction. Hundreds of bubbles rose to the surface, faded, then the water was calm again.

Her heart racing, Lindsay stood several minutes to see if it would reappear, but when the moon came out of hiding, it revealed nothing unusual on the lake waters. The frogs, crickets, and insects resumed their nightly chorus, and a mosquito landed on her neck, another on her arm. Slapping them, she ran back to the house.

She had actually seen the fabled lake creature.

What should she do? Call the sheriff? Would they believe her? And if they did, would they hunt it down and kill it?

Is that what she wanted?

The creature had looked right at her and didn’t try to harm her. It simply disappeared below the surface.

The creature.
She’d call and tell Eric the legend was true, that she had actually seen it. He would be asleep, but this was too exciting not to share.

She headed for the house phone in the parlor, then hesitated. Oh sure, she’d could imagine his reaction to a call in the middle of the night. She’d tell him she’d seen the monster and then tell him not only did his ancestral home house a ghost, but she had lived before as his aunt.

He’d certainly believe all that.

Maybe she’d keep it all to herself just a little longer.

Just as she entered her room, she paused. The room was different, the air thicker. The hairs on her arms prickled.

Cautiously she entered, looking all around. Was it Galen? Would he finally appear?

She made her way to her bed, slowly, afraid to make a sudden move. If he were here, she didn’t want to startle him or force him away. When she reached to turn on the lamp, a spark of static sizzled and she jerked back.

Bay Rum filled the air.

“Don’t turn it on,” a male voice said,
his
voice, the voice her heart would know even if an eternity separated them.

“Galen?” Joyously, she turned around.

To an empty room.

“Noooo,” she cried. “I know you’re here. Why can’t I see you?”

“Berina, my darling. I’ve waited so long …” His voice sent delight through her body. Finally, they would be together. Nearly weeping, she whirled in the direction of his voice.

Still nothing.

“Where are you?” she cried in desperation. “Why can’t I see you? Please, Galen, I want to see you, see your eyes, your lips.” She felt the stirring of air, the sight shift in pressure and knew he was near. Her longing for him grew so intense she could barely breathe.

“I can’t allow that,” he said. “It is too dangerous for you.”

“What are you talking about? Please, Galen, I must feel you, hold you in my arms.”

“I want more than anything to be with you, but this must be enough for us.”

“What are you saying? I don’t understand.”

“Think, my darling, each time I came to you in dreams, you woke a little more exhausted. Being with me in this state is draining your life force.”

“I don’t care. You must understand how I feel, how I long to see you, to touch you.”

“As I long for you. Now I must go before I sacrifice your life for my own pleasure. It’s enough of a miracle to just speak to you. Goodbye, my darling, until I can return …”

She felt a whisper of touch on her eyelids, the tip of her nose, then her lips. The touch grew faint, and the air pressure wavered.

“No, don’t leave! Please!” The scent dissipated and she knew he had gone. “Galen,” she cried, falling onto the bed, weeping uncontrollably.

That couldn’t be all that was allowed. The heavens wouldn’t be that cruel. There had to be a way.

“Galen? Are you here?”

But there was no answer. She had to see him, so she headed for the attic.

God, she really was going mad, but she lay her cheek against the canvas, wanting with all her heart to take him into her arms.

When her cell phone woke her, the sun was flooding the attic with brilliant light. As before, she ignored it until it stopped, and again, the house phone rang. She rose stiffly from the floor, made her way to her bedroom where she listened to Eric’s voicemail about his move to Mark’s home.

Her eyes heavy, she listlessly carried the phone to the kitchen and made coffee. Once she had downed two cups, she returned his call. Not that she wanted to talk to him, but it was better than trying to explain why she didn’t answer or didn’t call.

“You sound strange,” he said after telling Lindsay about his move. She had responded very little. “You sick?”

“Just tired. A lot of things going on.”

“Anything I need to know about?”

She laughed. She hadn’t meant to, but she laughed, then the laughter turned to sobs. “Oh yes, I’d say you need to know. But not now.”

The line went silent. Then, “Have you been drinking?”

“Not yet, but I intend to do so.”

“What in God’s name is going on? You haven’t sounded right the last couple of calls. Lindsay, I’m trying like hell to save my business and I need your support.”

“Support. Yes. It is important, isn’t it?”

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

“Never mind. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

“You’re talking about that ghost business, aren’t you?”

“I don’t want to discuss it right now. I’m too tired and it’s too big a subject. We’ll talk about it when you get home.”

She hung up before he could respond. Ignoring the subsequent rings, she clicked off the volume and headed for the sofa. With thoughts of Galen and the hope he would appear again that night, she quickly fell asleep.

Chapter Thirty

When she woke, evening shadows filled the parlor. Good, maybe it wouldn’t be long before Galen returned—that is, if he did. He had to; she couldn’t bear another day if he didn’t.

Still in her tee and panties, she nuked day old coffee and checked messages on her cell—all from Eric demanding she call him.

Should she? Most likely he’d be at Mark’s home by now and could find a private place to talk. She owed him an explanation, but as before, the timing was in question.

She took her cup to the porch and watched the sun set over the far shore. Shrieking sea gulls circled over the water. Several motor boats buzzed by filled with people laughing, talking, or fishing, people with joy in their lives.