The Lake House Read Online Free PDF

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    Those dreams had been lost when Annabelle died. After Victoria buried her granddaughter, she left Nagog—run away, as she had many times throughout her life. Now she was home to try to reconcile with the only family she had left—to find forgiveness and to come home somehow. There had to be more to life than loss and grief, and Victoria hoped that this place could help her to heal.
    Molly came into the room and placed a wicker tray on the ottoman. “I have fresh-squeezed orange juice, coffee, eggs, and blueberry pancakes. It’s time for you to eat.” Molly’s plump body, clad in a jogging suit, bustled around the queen-size bed. Her soft hands tucked the Egyptian cotton sheets into the mattress. With one swift movement, she fluffed the brown duvet over Victoria.
    “Not hungry.” Victoria rolled onto her back and stared at the cherry ceiling beams. Molly forced Victoria to sit up.
    “Feed a cold, starve a fever. And you no longer have a fever. I still can’t believe you stayed out in that weather and made yourself sick.” She placed the tray over Victoria’s lap. “Sooner or later you have to get up. You can’t hide forever.” She placed a glass of juice in Victoria’s hand. “I’ll be downstairs cleaning if you decide to move.”
    The orange juice no longer stung Victoria’s throat, and she gulped the sweet, pulpy liquid. Her stomach awakened and growled for more. The pancakes oozed cooked blueberries as she cut through the three thick layers. She could feel herself salivating as she sank into the first forkful.
    Soul food. That’s what the people from the South called it. If only Molly’s cooking could lift the emotional boulder currently weighing on her shoulders. Instead it would likely just add pounds to her hips.
    Downstairs, Molly turned on the vacuum cleaner. Molly had already washed the linens and cleaned the bathrooms in preparation for Victoria’s arrival. She’d vacuumed the soft carpet. The oak bureau, nightstands, and vanity table that had once been her parents’ bedroom set had been dusted and polished. But the rest of the two thousand-square-foot house needed attention. It had satempty for five years, and sheets that Molly had draped over much of the furniture after Victoria’s sudden departure still remained. The built-in woodwork customary to an Arts and Crafts bungalow needed to be treated with kindness. Though Victoria had thought about hiring a service, she knew Molly would insist on doing it herself.
    Boxes had been delivered weeks before from the home she sold in Malibu, and they still needed to be unpacked. It was time for Victoria to stop hiding and make this her home again. Yesterday she’d felt well enough to get out of bed but had decided against it. She’d been acting like a child afraid to go to school after the boys had seen her underpants.
    As she stood, she knocked over the glass of water on the nightstand. Water splashed onto the brass lamp and the curtains. The glass rolled under the bed and the water soaked into the carpet. Too stiff to bend, she left the mess.
    In the master bathroom, she looked at the unused jetted tub. It had been meant for dirty, giggling great-grandchildren to play in with bubbly euphoria.
    She disrobed and opened the glass shower door. Hot water pulsed onto her back as she leaned against the stone tile. Steam filled the room and fogged the metal-framed mirror. She turned off the taps and wrapped her body in a fluffy purple towel.
    For the last week, Victoria had kept everything in her suitcases, as if she were in a hotel. Part of her feared moving forward uncertain of what her life would be now that she’d returned. She grabbed underwear from the smallest case, along with a pair of tailored slacks and a fitted green button-down shirt. Then she pulled out a curling iron from the vanity’s wooden drawer.
    With quick, practiced skill she curled her hair into soft waves,not allowing the heat to scorch her fragile locks. In her youth,