Read Online The House on Serpent Lake (Ghost, Romance, Fantasy) by Brenda Hill - Free Book Online
Authors: Brenda Hill
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pristine beauty that surrounded her, the lush greenery of the untamed forest bordering sections of the water, the puffy white clouds set against the deepest blue sky.
Farther down the lake, some of the newer log homes as well as older frame houses nestled between trees, some with a sandy beach, others with lawns that simply ended at the water. Lindsay noted boats of various sizes anchored to private docks and felt in awe over life around the lake, how certain things had changed—the newer log and glass homes, larger and sleeker trucks pulling boats, yet other things had stayed the same—the wildlife, the sun’s rays glistening on the water, the sadness and nostalgia for something she couldn’t name.
Chapter Ten
Back at the house, the first thing she noticed was that spicy scent lingering just under the furniture polish. It wasn’t as strong as her first time in the house or even the night before, but it was there, so familiar yet so elusive. It was almost as if it welcomed her home.
“What is that smell?” Sniffing the air, she wandered from the foyer and into the kitchen.
“What smell?” Eric trailed her.
“You don’t notice anything?”
He shrugged and opened the refrigerator door. “You want to have dinner here?” he asked, pulling out some cheese. “Or do you want to try that fancy place north of Brainerd? One of the guys told me they have great seafood there.”
Lindsay was opening cupboards and sniffing inside. “Makes me think of a kitchen spice.”
Munching on a chunk of cheddar, he watched her. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to find where that scent is coming from. Did your aunt have a garden? Perhaps I’m smelling traces of that.”
“Most people had them, but I doubt anything’s still there, though. It’s been too long.”
Lindsay straightened and sniffed the air. “Oh well. It’s gone again.”
Later that afternoon the mortuary called and said the cremains were ready. They decided to go ahead and pick them up instead of waiting.
After sunset, Eric carried the octagon oak urn to the beach and Lindsay carefully stepped directly behind him. Although the porch light and the high round moon helped to illuminate their way through the blackness, she had never before seen such black nights as she experienced on the lake. Her eyes began to adjust and she could make out Eric’s outline next to her.
“Come on,” he told her. “Let’s find a better spot.” He moved to the far end of the property where the sand ended into the brush. Finding a spot on the bend, almost on a point, he stopped.
“Shouldn’t I say something? I’m not particularly religious, but I can’t just dump her ashes without anything.”
“Say whatever’s in your heart.”
They silently stood looking out over the water and listened as it gently lapped the shore. In the distance the faint buzzing sounds of a boat motor carried over the water.
Eric opened the urn and held it upside down over the water. Just then the moon slipped from behind the clouds to light the water with shimmers of silver.
“Goodbye, Aunt Frida,” Eric whispered. “Thank you for sharing your life and showing me that even when my father was taken away, I could still have family and love. May your journey to the heavens be a wonderful one. I wish you love.”
Lindsay’s eyes misted. “That was beautiful.”
Just then his phone rang. Cursing softly, he let it ring.
“Who could that be?” Lindsay asked.
“Mark, probably. Remember it’s two hours earlier on the coast.”
Although he didn’t answer the phone, the mood was broken and they headed back to the house. She heard him sigh before punching in Mark’s number. Once again she wished he could get away for good.
That evening while Eric busied himself in his office, Lindsay soaked in the bathtub, luxuriating in the steamy hot lavender-scented water. Her favorite novel and a glass of champagne sat on a tray next to tub. She tried to read a few pages but was too exhausted
Farther down the lake, some of the newer log homes as well as older frame houses nestled between trees, some with a sandy beach, others with lawns that simply ended at the water. Lindsay noted boats of various sizes anchored to private docks and felt in awe over life around the lake, how certain things had changed—the newer log and glass homes, larger and sleeker trucks pulling boats, yet other things had stayed the same—the wildlife, the sun’s rays glistening on the water, the sadness and nostalgia for something she couldn’t name.
Chapter Ten
Back at the house, the first thing she noticed was that spicy scent lingering just under the furniture polish. It wasn’t as strong as her first time in the house or even the night before, but it was there, so familiar yet so elusive. It was almost as if it welcomed her home.
“What is that smell?” Sniffing the air, she wandered from the foyer and into the kitchen.
“What smell?” Eric trailed her.
“You don’t notice anything?”
He shrugged and opened the refrigerator door. “You want to have dinner here?” he asked, pulling out some cheese. “Or do you want to try that fancy place north of Brainerd? One of the guys told me they have great seafood there.”
Lindsay was opening cupboards and sniffing inside. “Makes me think of a kitchen spice.”
Munching on a chunk of cheddar, he watched her. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to find where that scent is coming from. Did your aunt have a garden? Perhaps I’m smelling traces of that.”
“Most people had them, but I doubt anything’s still there, though. It’s been too long.”
Lindsay straightened and sniffed the air. “Oh well. It’s gone again.”
Later that afternoon the mortuary called and said the cremains were ready. They decided to go ahead and pick them up instead of waiting.
After sunset, Eric carried the octagon oak urn to the beach and Lindsay carefully stepped directly behind him. Although the porch light and the high round moon helped to illuminate their way through the blackness, she had never before seen such black nights as she experienced on the lake. Her eyes began to adjust and she could make out Eric’s outline next to her.
“Come on,” he told her. “Let’s find a better spot.” He moved to the far end of the property where the sand ended into the brush. Finding a spot on the bend, almost on a point, he stopped.
“Shouldn’t I say something? I’m not particularly religious, but I can’t just dump her ashes without anything.”
“Say whatever’s in your heart.”
They silently stood looking out over the water and listened as it gently lapped the shore. In the distance the faint buzzing sounds of a boat motor carried over the water.
Eric opened the urn and held it upside down over the water. Just then the moon slipped from behind the clouds to light the water with shimmers of silver.
“Goodbye, Aunt Frida,” Eric whispered. “Thank you for sharing your life and showing me that even when my father was taken away, I could still have family and love. May your journey to the heavens be a wonderful one. I wish you love.”
Lindsay’s eyes misted. “That was beautiful.”
Just then his phone rang. Cursing softly, he let it ring.
“Who could that be?” Lindsay asked.
“Mark, probably. Remember it’s two hours earlier on the coast.”
Although he didn’t answer the phone, the mood was broken and they headed back to the house. She heard him sigh before punching in Mark’s number. Once again she wished he could get away for good.
That evening while Eric busied himself in his office, Lindsay soaked in the bathtub, luxuriating in the steamy hot lavender-scented water. Her favorite novel and a glass of champagne sat on a tray next to tub. She tried to read a few pages but was too exhausted
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