Lake of Dreams Read Free

alone.”
    â€œI’ll be careful,” Thea promised. “Are there any supplies in the house?”
    â€œI think there are a few cans of soup in the pantry, but that’s about it. Check in when you get there, okay?”
    â€œCheck in” was code for what her father called Pick Up The Phone And Let Your Mother Know You’re All Right So She Won’t Call Missing Persons. Mrs. Marlow normally let her children get on with their lives, but when she said “check in” they all knew that she was a little anxious.
    â€œI’ll call as soon as I get to the grocery store.”
    Thea had kept her promise, calling in as soon as she arrived at the small grocery store where they’d always bought their supplies for the summer house. Now she sat in her car in front of the house, frozen with fear at the nearness of the lake, while bags of perishables slowly thawed in the backseat.
    She forced herself to breathe deeply, beating down the fear. All right, so she couldn’t look at the water. She would keep her eyes averted as she unloaded the car.
    The screen door creaked as she opened it, a familiar sound that eased the strain in her expression. The screened front porch ran all the way across the front of the house, and in her childhood had been occupied by a collection of mismatched Adirondack, wicker, and lawn chairs. Her mother had often sat on the porch for hours, sewing or reading, and keeping an eye on Thea and the boys as they frolicked in the lake. The porch was bare now; the Adirondacks and wickers were long gone, and she’d heard her mother say that the lawn chairs were stored in the shed out back. Thea didn’t know if she would bother to get them out; she certainly wouldn’t be looking at the lake if she could help it.
    No, that wasn’t true. She had come up here to face the fear the dreams had caused. If that meant forcing herself to stare at the water for hours, then that’s what she would do. She wouldn’t let this nighttime madness rob her of a lifetime of enjoyment.
    When she unlocked the front door, the heat and mustiness of a closed house hit her in the face. She wrinkled her nose and plunged inside, unlocking and opening every window to let in fresh air. By the time she had carried in the groceries and stored the perishables in the refrigerator, the light breeze had gone a long way toward sweetening the air.
    Out of habit, Thea started to put her clothes in the same bedroom she’d always used, but halted as soon as she opened the door. Her old iron-frame bed had been replaced by two twin beds. The room was much tinier than she remembered. A slight frown knit her brow as she looked around. The bare wood floors were the same, but the walls were painted a different color now, and blinds covered the window, rather than the ruffled curtains she’d preferred as a young girl.
    The boys’ room had always had twin beds—three of them, in fact—and she checked inside to see if that still held true. It did, though the number of beds had dwindled to two. Thea sighed. She would have liked to sleep in her old room, but probably her parents’ room was the only one with a double bed, and she knew she’d appreciate the comfort even more. She had a queen-size bed in her apartment.
    She felt like Goldilocks as she opened the door to the third bedroom, and she burst out laughing. Sure enough, here was the bed that was just right. The double bed was no more. In its place was a king-size bed that took up the majority of the floor space, leaving only enough room on either side to maneuver while making up the bed. A long double dresser occupied most of the remaining space. She would have to be careful about stubbing her toes in here, but she would definitely sleep in comfort.
    As she hung her clothes in the closet, she heard the unmistakable creak of the screen door, heavy footsteps on the porch, and then two short, hard knocks on the frame of the open