Cradle Lake Read Online Free PDF Page A

fine. She even got her old job back at the art gallery. Just like that. As if it had all been a dream.
    The stabbing, burning pain worsening in his gut, Alan went to his own doctor who diagnosed him with an ulcer. The doctor prescribed misoprostol and antacid tablets and told Alan to cut back on the drinking and smoking and try not to be so stressed out, maybe take a vacation.
    Alan could only smirk and assure the doctor that he would try to relax.
    When Alan picked up the misoprostol from the pharmacy, the plastic bottle had one phrase mockingly printed across the label in all capital letters—PREGNANT WOMEN SHOULD NOT INGEST. The pharmacist looked at him as if he were crazy when he started laughing like a loon at the counter.
    With the medication lulling his ulcer into semidormancy and Heather seemingly back on track, the nightmare appeared to be behind them. (Just to be on the safe side, Alan collected all the pills from the bathroom medicine cabinet, including Heather’s antidepressants and an ancient tub of Tylenol, and hid them in the hallway closet behind a bundle of towels.)
    The doctors found nothing physically wrong with either of them, so there was really no reason they couldn’t try again, couldn’t eventually have children. There were all sorts of reasons why the body aborts a fetus—they were told this dozens of times—and, in the long run, it was usually for the best. Mother Nature’s way of righting herself, one doctor had said. Alan and Heather had mumbled to each other, “Mother Nature’s a whore. Mother Nature never did nothin’ for nobody” until their laughter filled the apartment.
    They went out to dinner and to the movies, read books in Central Park, visited their favorite café for Sunday brunch. When Alan got word that his uncle Phillip had died and he had inherited the old man’s house, he and Heather never even considered the possibility of leaving the city and moving to rural North Carolina. In truth, he was not only surprised that his uncle had remembered him from the few times they had seen each other when Alan was just a boy, but Uncle Phillip had two grown children, Maryanne and Keith, who would have been more appropriate recipients of the property.
    In an effort to do the right thing, Alan attempted to track down both cousins, a task that was difficult to say the least, and finally managed to locate Keith in Rhode Island. He offered Keith his condolences to which his cousin made a snuffling, snorting sound on the other end of the line that reminded Alan of hogs nosing through slop. There was a cold, distant air about his cousin. The distance only increased when Alan brought up the house. Of course, Keith had already known the house had been left to Alan.
    â€œI’m not quite sure why he left it to me,” Alanconfessed. “I didn’t think he remembered me.”
    â€œI’m not sure why, either.” Keith sounded like he wanted to get off the phone quickly. “Doesn’t matter. That dump is your problem now.”
    â€œI was going to see if you wanted it. I’ve got no use for a house in North Carolina.”
    â€œSo sell it.”
    â€œWhat about Maryanne? Do you think she’d have any interest in—?”
    â€œShe moved to London ten years ago. I’ve heard from her maybe a dozen times since then. She’s got no interest in that old place, either. Believe me.”
    When Alan got off the phone, he felt like he needed to take a shower. Something about talking to his cousin had left him feeling dirty. “I guess I’ll eventually have to take a trip down there and check the place out,” he said to Heather one morning over breakfast. “You know, before we can sell it.”
    Then one random night, Alan was jarred awake by a horrible nightmare, the details of which he could not remember the instant he sat up in bed.
    Heather’s side of the bed was empty.
    Through the darkness, he