The Lake House (44 page)

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Authors: Marci Nault

Tags: #Fiction, #Contemporary Women, #Literary, #General

BOOK: The Lake House
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“I think your loss of appetite has more to do with nerves about the wedding than the heat, and my cooking would make anyone lose their appetite. I’m calling Molly and having her fix something your stomach will appreciate. We’ll sit and enjoy a barbecue and you can relax.”

The child needed rest before the big day. Excitement had kept her up the last five nights as she continued to plan well after midnight. It didn’t help that she’d just finished six grueling weeks traveling and performing, and was now jet-lagged.

She needed time with Tommy. He could relax her to sleep, but their hectic schedules had kept them apart.

“Why don’t I make you a milk shake? It will cool you off,” Victoria said.

“Thanks, Grandma, but I’m okay. I think I’m going to go for a run.”

“In this heat?”

“Please, I dance and sing all night under the spotlights. I’ll be fine and it will relax me. I think the lack of exercise is what’s keeping me up at night.” Annabelle placed the binder down and took another long drink of the iced tea.

Victoria pulled the heavy binder onto her lap and flipped through the pages. Pictures of the wedding site made her smile. Annabelle and Tommy would marry at a seaside mansion in Newport, Rhode Island. Two hundred fifty chairs, covered in white silk, would be decorated with pale silver roses. As Annabelle walked down the aisle, a string quartet would play with the sound of the ocean in the background.

The search for the perfect wedding gown had taken Victoria and Annabelle on three shopping trips to New York, one to Paris, and another to London, but they finally found the dress at Priscilla’s of Boston, a local institution. Annabelle’s golden hair would flow around the fitted silk top, which had small Swarovski crystals sewn along the bust. Pearl-colored material would drape along her curves and sway when she moved.

“I forgot one more thing. Can I see the binder?” Annabelle said as she wrote on a yellow sticky note.

“I don’t know why you’re stressed,” Victoria said. “The wedding planner has everything under control.”

“It has to be perfect. I feel like I’ve waited forever for this day.” Annabelle took the binder and placed the note on the front cover.

“Well, it won’t be perfect if the bride collapses from exhaustion.” Victoria pulled the pen from Annabelle’s hand. “Go for your run. I’ll call the wedding planner and give her all your notes.”

“No, I have to do this.” Annabelle tried to grab the pen.

“You don’t. Your jobs are to rest, get a tan, and make certain you glow. Tomorrow you’re going to sleep late and then spend the day relaxing at the spa. It’s non-negotiable. I’m laying down the law,” Victoria said.

Annabelle stared at the pens and the binder. “Okay.”

“And I think you should call Tommy and invite him to dinner.”

Annabelle twirled the curl behind her ear. “He doesn’t have time. He needs to finish three sets of drawings and he wants to paint the downstairs bedrooms tonight. Trust me . . . I’ve been getting more sleep than he has.”

Annabelle went to her room and returned with headphones and tennis shoes. “I’ll see you in an hour.”

“You can’t run in this heat for an hour. At most twenty minutes and then I expect you to cool off in the lake, sit in the shade, and take a nap.”

“Okay, I promise.” Annabelle waved and was out the door running up the road without taking the time to stretch.

Victoria spent the next hour on the phone with the wedding coordinator getting her assurance that everything was under tight control. If the night air became too hot, misters were in place to cool things down. Refrigerator trucks would keep the floral arrangements looking fresh in the intense heat. The chef had begun the food preparation. Marinades were done; the meat would be soaked in vacuum-sealed containers. The hair and makeup artists knew the exact designs the girls wanted. No detail had been left to chance.

Victoria hung up the phone and drank the tea, now watered down by the melted ice. The heat felt like a brick oven. Victoria pulled her hair off her neck and fanned herself.

The air outside felt thick. Fragrant barbecue smells came from the Jacobses’ home as Victoria walked toward the beach in search of Annabelle. Molly had gone to work creating her magic in the kitchen. A good meal of potato salad, roasted chicken, corn bread, and fruit salad would give Annabelle’s cheeks color. The child looked pale today.

A hot breeze blew across the sand. Where was Annabelle? She shouldn’t be running in this heat for this long. Victoria turned and saw Annabelle walk up the road and then stop at the beach. She shook her head and Victoria could see her eyes shut as if they were being forced closed. “Honey, are you okay?” Victoria called.

Annabelle’s body crumpled like she was a rag doll. She fell to the sand and Victoria ran to her side. “Annabelle!” Victoria shook her but she didn’t respond. “Annabelle!”

Someone called an ambulance and Victoria rode with the paramedics. She stared at Annabelle’s face, at her purple lips slightly parted under the plastic oxygen mask, willing her to be okay.

At the hospital they’d taken her baby through dirty white double doors marked with black scuff marks. “She pushed too hard,” Victoria said as she paced in the waiting room. “She’s exhausted, and it was so hot. I should’ve paid attention . . . not allowed her to go for that run. Oh, God, they kept saying something about an irregular heart rhythm. She’s a young woman, how can there be anything wrong with her heart?”

“We don’t know anything. It could be as simple as dehydration.” Molly patted Victoria’s arm and forced her to sit.

“Did someone call Tommy?” Victoria looked around the room for a pay phone. “He needs to be here. She’ll be okay if she sees Tommy. Nothing bad can happen when they’re together.”

“I left a message, but his secretary said he was out of the office,” Bill said as he sat and held Victoria’s hand.

“Bill, drive to Providence. Annabelle needs Tommy,” Victoria pleaded.

A doctor in blue scrubs walked through the white doors. “Annabelle Rose’s family?”

Victoria stood. “Here.” The doctor had kind, soft, Asian features. His black hair had begun to gray around the temples, giving him the look of competence, and Victoria felt comforted that he was taking care of her baby. “What’s wrong with my granddaughter? Is she okay?”

“Your granddaughter is in third degree heart block with an abnormal rhythm.”

“I knew she shouldn’t go for a run in this heat. Does she have heatstroke?” Victoria said in panic.

“We’re uncertain. Heatstroke can cause abnormal rhythms, but we want to rule out an underlying condition. Do you know if she’s ever been diagnosed with any kind of heart abnormality?”

Victoria clenched Molly’s hand. “When she was a young child, something was mentioned about an arrhythmia, but we were told it was nothing to worry about and that she would grow out of it.”

“Does your family have a history of heart disease?”

Victoria’s pulse began to race as she tried to catch her breath. “My mother died of a heart attack in her late forties, my father at fifty. Is my granddaughter having a heart attack? She’s in her twenties!”

“We need to run some tests before I can give you answers. We might have to put an external pacemaker in if we can’t stabilize her.”

“Can I see her?” Victoria pleaded.

“Not right now. I’ll come and get you as soon as she’s stable.”

The doctor left and a nurse led Victoria and Molly to a private waiting room. “This can’t be happening,” Victoria said as she paced. “She’s a young woman about to be married. She can’t be having a heart attack.”

“I’m going to call Tommy again,” Bill said.

“Please, Bill, find him. She needs Tommy,” Victoria said as she paced and tried to catch her breath.

“Victoria,” Molly said as she took her hand, “why don’t you sit? You need to breathe and try to relax. We don’t need two people passing out today.”

The minutes clicked past. People entered the room and sat in the chairs reading magazines. The doctor entered. The room’s white noise seemed to be amplified to the level of a rock concert. As he spoke, she allowed her thoughts to drown out his voice until his muffled words sounded as if they came from underwater. Cardiac arrest, fatal arrhythmia, nothing they could do. Victoria fell to the floor, Molly’s arms wrapped around her as she screamed.

V
ictoria grabbed the railings of the tree house and tried to catch her breath. Her hands and arms quaked as her jaw clenched until her head ached. She thought of the big maple near the family plots. The roses Annabelle had chosen for her wedding now grew at her grave. “It’s my fault.”

“Victoria? What are you doing up there?” Heather stood at the base of the tree, her hair and clothing damp. She placed her
feet on the rungs, tested her weight, and then climbed to the platform. “Why aren’t you at the hospital?”

Victoria shook her head. “I couldn’t be in that room.”

“Victoria, you need to go back. Molly’s probably going into surgery; you should be with her.” Heather scooped up the extra sleeping bag and hugged it around her damp clothing.

Victoria closed her eyes and let the night air fill her lungs. In her mind, she heard the psychiatrist’s words,
The only way out is through.

“It’s all my fault.” Victoria’s hands shook. “I didn’t pay attention. Molly was sick, but I was too self-absorbed trying to rectify my own guilt to do anything about it. I saw the signs, but I brushed them off. Every woman I love dies from my mistakes.”

Heather sat and rubbed Victoria’s back. She pulled the sleeping bag around Victoria’s shoulders. “It’s not your fault. They think it’s an aneurysm. If Molly had symptoms, she should’ve called the doctor. Or Bill should’ve taken her.” Heather placed her hand on top of Victoria’s. “Let me take you back to the hospital.”

“I can’t.” Victoria shook her head and the tears fell onto the old sleeping bag, making wet splotches on top of the moldy spots. Victoria’s neck shook until she felt her head might come loose. “My granddaughter died in that hospital. I can’t lose my best friend in the same place.”

Victoria rocked and Heather tightened her grip around her.

A distant look glazed Victoria’s eyes. “I wasted so much time. I focused on all the things that were unimportant. And every time I needed Molly, she was there. I could’ve been here the last five years, but I ran away like I always do.” Victoria closed her eyes and stilled her body. “After my granddaughter died, life went
on. I was supposed to eat, do laundry, and get dressed. People got together and played cards. I couldn’t do those things. Emptiness had taken over my soul. I almost killed myself, but I couldn’t tell anyone, so I left and checked myself into a psychiatric hospital. I couldn’t admit to anyone that the perfect Victoria Rose needed help.”

“Victoria, I didn’t know.” Heather rubbed her palm over Victoria’s back. “You always seemed . . .”

“Elegant? Successful?” Victoria laughed. “I’m a master at hiding what I don’t want people to see. Molly was the only one who saw the truth.”

Heather put her hands in her lap and picked at a loose string on her shirt.

Victoria spoke in a strained whisper. “My granddaughter went into cardiac arrest because she decided to go for a run. When they did the autopsy they reviewed her medical records and found that eight months before, she’d been diagnosed with hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. It’s a genetic disease that causes thickening of the cardiac walls. The doctor told her that she should avoid strenuous activities since she’d become symptomatic. Annabelle was a stage performer and I assume she didn’t want to quit dancing, so she didn’t tell anyone.” Victoria was silent as she stared at the sky. “When I spoke to her friends, they confirmed that Annabelle had dizzy spells, but she explained them by saying she was dehydrated. All I do is create pain. It’s my fault Annabelle died. I passed down that unquenchable ambition, that drive for success and absolute perfection in everyone’s eyes . . . I couldn’t show weakness or ever stop moving, and neither could she. Now Molly might die because she was so busy taking care of me that she didn’t tell me she wasn’t feeling well.”

Heather looked at the indigo sky where the first star of the evening had appeared. “I’m going to say something and I hope it doesn’t sound disrespectful.” She bit her lip. “You’re not God.”

Victoria stared with a blank, confused look. “What?”

“Listen, I don’t know if I even believe in God. For most of my life, I’ve never really thought about it. But I do know that there are things beyond our control. I can’t change how I grew up. You aren’t the master of the universe. People don’t die so that you can be punished.”

“I told Annabelle she was perfect and beautiful. I didn’t let her know it was okay to be anything else.”

Heather shook her head in disbelief. “Wow, you’re a horrible person. You made certain your granddaughter knew you were proud of her and that she was loved.” Heather closed her eyes. “We all make mistakes. We all have crap happen in our lives. Yours didn’t happen because of who you are.” Heather paused. “You have a choice . . . be there for your family or hide away and sulk about the past. You may never know why Annabelle did what she did, but
she
chose to go on that run.”

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