Today's blog is going to be a short story again. This one is called The Lake and is a story of moving on, however difficult it might be...
Michael
looked out across the lake. The deep blood red of the dying sun illuminated the
water and the mountains overshadowing him. Next to him, the old tree was
creaking in the gentle wind, almost as if it spoke to him. Michael closed his
eyes for a moment, the orange of the sun still there, even behind his eye lids.
His other senses awakened. He could hear the
birds
calling to one another their final calls of the day. Insects were buzzing
around him. He could smell the strong perfume of the pine trees around him,
their fresh scent awakening within him an urge to stay here forever. The breeze
lifted the hairs on his arms, tickled the back of his neck, made him shiver
slightly. But the memories of the day crept up on him, forcing him to open his
eyes again, to once again see the dying day.
“Michael, are you coming?” called Louise.
“Where are you going?” he asked, looking up
from his book. She appeared in the doorway, already dressed in her coat and
boots.
“Taking Shep for a walk. You want to come?”
“I guess I could,” he said, placing the
bookmark carefully in his book. He heaved himself out of the chair and smiled
at her as he stretched. “Is it still raining?”
“No, it’s beautiful out there. I thought we
could go down to the lake? I haven’t been there yet and you always promised to
take me.”
Michael thought about this for a moment, a
moment too long as it happened. She scowled at him and then turned away,
grabbing Shep’s collar and putting his lead on.
“Right,” she said. “Not the lake then. For
somewhere that was so important to you, you sure seem reluctant to take me
there.”
“It’s not important, Louise, it’s just
that…” She looked at him expectantly and the words froze in his mind. How could
he explain it? He shrugged.
“Oh forget it,” she snapped. “Go back to
your book. I’ll take Shep out by myself.” With that, she stormed out of the
house, slamming the door behind her. Michael’s dad had come into the room, to
see what the noise was about.
“You ok, son?” he asked. Michael was still
standing, looking towards the door.
“Fine, Dad, fine,” he said, sitting down.
“Cup of tea?” said his dad. Michael nodded,
numbly and picked up his book. Fred went into the kitchen and did what he knew
he shouldn’t; watched the kettle boil. When he took their teas through to the
lounge he watched his son, who was staring at the open pages of his book. Five
minutes later he was still staring at the same page.
“You know, son, it is just a place. When
your mum died, I didn’t think I’d ever get over it and I guess in some ways I
never have, but then I am old. I’ve had my life and been very privileged to
have a beautiful wife and a good son. You are still young and Louise is
wonderful. She doesn’t deserve to be shut out like this.”
Michael closed his book and picked up his
cup of tea, agitated.
“I’m not shutting her out, Dad,” he said.
“It’s just that she doesn’t understand. How could she? That place is… well, I
don’t want to take her there. It would be too much.”
“But you still go there,” said his dad,
softly. Michael looked up, sharply. He had thought his nocturnal wanderings
were a secret. “Michael, you know I’m a light sleeper. Someone stamping round
the house at gone twelve is bound to wake me up. You don’t even take the dog
down there with you. Can’t you let it go?”
“Just tell me how to let it go,” he
replied, in a whisper. Fred put down his cup of tea and leaned across towards
his son, his eyes suddenly bright with tears.
“You have to work that out for yourself,
Michael. This is not how it should be though. You should let go. You certainly
should not turn the lake into some kind of prison for yourself where you can
dwell in the past and ignore the more pressing concerns of the present.”
“Like Louise?” he said.
“Like Louise,” replied Fred, with a nod.
Several hours had passed and Louise had not
come back. She had telephoned and spoke to Fred, telling him she was at a
friend’s. When he tried to pass the phone to Michael, she hung up. Michael
sighed and looked out across the still waters. The past caught up with him,
suddenly.
Claire was beautiful. Her hair was deep
auburn and shone like the sun. Her eyes were green and always sparkled with
mischief. She was perfect for him, fiery and passionate, but she could be so
gentle. When they were together, the world faded away, until there was just the
two of them. The lake had been their special place. The place where they could
hide from all their problems, from their ordinary everyday lives. Michael loved
being here with her.
One day they had taken the boat out. It had
been windy when they went out onto the water, but not too much so. As the hours
passed, the wind got up, so much so that a storm blew up almost from nowhere.
She had been fearless though and had laughed at his agitation. Then suddenly,
the boat had lunged upwards and she had staggered and fallen overboard. He had
dived in after her, but could not find her. The rescue services pulled him out
and found her some time later. She was already dead when they brought her to
land.
Michael closed his eyes. He could see her
in his mind, a siren of the water. Somehow, her spirit seemed to live on in
this place. He could sense her presence all around him when he was here. But he
loved Louise. She was dark haired, dark eyed, gentle, caring and as passionate
as Claire had been. She loved him too, deeply and had never been afraid to show
it. That was why she was so hurt that he would not show her the lake. He had
told her how beautiful it was and how special it was to him, but never what had
happened there. She knew his fiancée had died, but not how. What if she left
him now, because of their silly misunderstanding earlier on?
Suddenly he heard a yap behind him. He
turned round, wiping his eyes hastily. Louise smiled at him, a little
sheepishly.
“No sneaking up on people with him around,
eh?” she said. Michael walked towards her and flung his arms round her. She
held him close to her, as Shep trotted round them, sniffing at their legs,
jumping up until they paid him some attention too.
“I’m sorry, Louise,” he murmured.
“I know, sweetheart, I know. I wish you’d
told me. Fred said you’d be here. He explained things. She must have been very
special.”
“She was,” he said. He kissed her gently.
“But you are too.”
Across the lake, something stirred gently
in the air, watching as Michael and Louise walked away towards the house, arm
in arm. Something watched and smiled, before vanishing into the mist.
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