The Lady of the Lake

It's time for November's Portrait of Words challenge and I'm happy to participate once again. Please click on the link and go to Jeff's site to learn the rules and see the posted portrait credits. He works hard to give our minds a workout! I hope you enjoy my contribution...The Lady of the Lake.



It was so late into fall he worried that after all his promises they had left a trip to the lake to late. Snow would be flying soon, but he had promised her they'd make the trip as soon as business slowed down. Well, it had slowed down, no doubt about that. Their talks of retirement had ground to a halt, but now that scheme was wrapping itself around his brain again. It was no longer when, but how soon. He worried about her lately. He was home more and could see that she just wasn't the pep squad girl he'd claimed as his own thirty years ago. She wasn't depressed, he decided, just disappearing little by little. Day by day. She wasn't her normal effervescent laughing self. When had that changed? Why was he just noticing it now? He walked into the kitchen where she was doing the mundane...clipping coupons, storing them in the little nylon wallet made for that purpose. She had that little frown on her face that meant she was concentrating, tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. He remembered how after they had first married she loved to sit on the edge of the bathtub and watch him shave. It entranced her no end, and her bubbly self would overflow with questions about what they were going to do each day because it would map the rest of their lives. That was at the lake, he remembered. She had wanted to live there, it was after all where she had grown up. She was the "townie" and he was one of the "summer people". He had dragged her kicking and screaming into his world and he had thought she'd settled. Maybe that was the problem. She had settled. Settled for him, his way of life. Walking up behind her, he put his arms around her, clasped them at her waist and breathed into her ear..."pack a bag, we're heading for the lake. Today." He felt her relax against him and if possible he felt the joy fill her body. Turning into him, she laughed like a little girl. "Oh goody," she said. And her eyes were brimming with a sparkle of tears.

It had taken her all of half an hour to pack a bag. She had packed this bag so many times in her mind that it was just rote work now. Granted it was a large bag and half was filled with her clothes and half with his. In her nightmares it only contained room for hers. She had packed his shaving kit and her makeup bag, grabbed shampoo and conditioner, toothpaste and brushes and put those into a separate carrier. Food they could shop for at the lake. She felt years lift off her shoulders, knowing that they would be at the lake soon. They never spent that much time up there these days. Maybe a weekend or two in some distant summer, but other than that the cabin was rented out to "summer people." Wasn't that what she herself was, now? A Summer Person. She had chosen to follow Matt into his world. She had thought she could be happy there, as long as she was with him. For the most part she was, but sometimes, in the depths of winter, her soul longed for the woods and the water, the wind and the fire. A shiver went through her body and she hugged her sweater around her. Taking a deep breath, she opened her lingerie drawer and reaching into the froth pulled out the key to the cabin and tied the ribbon holding it around her neck.

The old Mercedes convertible hummed up the highway and Sheila was humming along with it. He looked over at her, sunglasses on, scarf covering her hair a smile teasing the corner of her lips. The car began to climb the mountain roadway, and she sat on her heels and spent a great deal of time watching the scenery. Her scarf was whipping in the wind and she grinned, pulling it from her hair and holding it with the tips of two fingers, let the road current drag it from her and fly along the wind stream. He couldn't believe the change in her. She seemed years younger, but then happiness had a way of wiping the fatigue of age away like an eraser on a chalk board. At the top of the peak, he pulled over and they sat in the curve of the Scenic View and watched the most spectacular sunset he'd ever seen. He felt her fingers along his jaw line. She was smiling. "I think you're actually happy to be back," she said, in wonderment. He didn't know if he was happy or not, but he kept that bit of information to himself.














They pulled back onto the highway and finally took the turn on Valentine Road. That had been her maiden name and he took it as an omen the first time he had met her. Sheila Valentine. He had even asked her on their first date if she'd be his Valentine. Corny. But he meant for life. He unloaded the car while she took the old key and unlocked the door. She glided happily through the house, the one she had grown up in, and walked out onto the large deck. She could see the lake from there, the huge expanse of water, the boathouse. She stretched out her arms, as if to capture the entire view and hold it close and never let it go. It had been three years since they'd been here. In Matt's mind, it had only been yesterday, but she had died a little each year they stayed away. She had to come here to revitalize herself, to embrace the compromise her life had become. Wandering back inside, she went into kitchen and opened the pantry door. Her eyes caught the blue tinted glass of the canning jars her mother had used. Pickled peaches...the memory of the taste caused her mouth to water and she smilingly grimaced and swallowed. She could taste them.
















They had slept like two contented cats, the window lakeside open and the cool breeze blowing through. He reached across and discovered that her side of the bed was empty. Not bothering with a robe, pulling his pajama bottoms more snugly about his waist he grabbed the shirt he had worn the night before. He wandered through the cabin looking for her. Going out onto the deck, as his eyes wandered to the lake, and he saw her. She was dancing. Twirling. Barefooted. She still had on her old blue flannel nightgown. She looked about eighteen. Surely she was cold. He called her name and started down the steps to the path. She saw him, raised her hand in welcome and ran to him. Throwing herself into his arms, she kissed him like she had when they were in love. When had they fallen out of love, he wondered. He didn't wonder long, he was just to glad to fall back in.