In the Shadow of Lakecrest(58)
Eva nodded solemnly. “I was in bed for weeks afterward. Barely able to walk.”
“No one ever warns you about”—Violet glanced around, then continued in a whisper—“what happens to your nether regions. I wouldn’t let Stewart touch me for months!”
The women burst into laughter, and I managed a nervous smile. Inside, I felt queasy.
“Stop scaring Kate,” Eva ordered. She turned and placed her hand on my arm. “You’ll be fine. My nanny has a friend looking for a place. Used to work for one of the Armors. I’ll send you her references.”
“You won’t need a nanny for the first year at least,” Lois interjected. “A night nurse and a day nurse for babies—that’s what works best.”
As the women’s chipper voices chattered on, I couldn’t help but remember an earlier version of myself, looking at a group like this and thinking I’d never belong. Now, these same women were welcoming me into their sisterhood.
I saw Matthew through the crowd and tried to catch his eye, but he was looking straight ahead, walking determinedly toward the lakefront path. I wouldn’t have thought anything of it if I hadn’t seen Marjorie scurrying after him, her expression pained. I’d been craving a cold drink, and I waved over one of the waiters Hannah had hired for the day.
I sipped my lemonade and wondered why Matthew would walk away in the middle of the party. Marjorie stumbled at the edge of the terrace and swayed as she tried to right herself. Had she been drinking? Matthew headed north; if he knew Marjorie was behind him, he gave no indication. I watched their figures drift out of view.
“. . . so generous,” Eva was saying. “What do you think, Kate? Will you join me and the children at the beach tomorrow?”
“Excuse me.” I put down my glass. “I’ll be right back.”
I told myself I wasn’t spying. I was just curious about where they were going. My tight shoes and bulky midsection slowed me down more than I expected, and by the time I arrived at the Temple, Matthew and Marjorie had disappeared. The baby wriggled inside my stomach, a sensation that always took me aback. I stepped inside the Temple and looked up at the carvings that ran around the perimeter. I thought of Dr. Rieger’s book, of crazed women who’d kill to protect their secrets. There was nothing sinister about the figures I was looking at: they were dancing, playing flutes, enjoying themselves. This, I realized, was the most joyous piece of art at Lakecrest.
I was about to turn back toward the house when I saw Matthew on the bluff; he must have walked up from the lake. Marjorie followed soon after, shouting his name. He stopped suddenly, and she careened into him, her hands reaching out to clutch his arm and waist. She pulled herself closer. She raised her face and pressed her lips against his in a passionate, ravenous kiss.
Later, the thought of it sickened me. But at the time, as I watched it happen, my first thought was how perfect they looked together. Artemis and Apollo, the golden twins. How could I ever compete with such perfection?
Matthew wriggled out of her embrace and ran a hand across his face. Marjorie was talking, and Matthew was shaking his head, stepping backward, trying to get away. The path they were on led past the Temple, and I realized with horror that they’d see me any minute. The only way to avoid them was to run in the opposite direction. Toward the Labyrinth.
I stumbled off, my thoughts racing. I told myself whatever I’d seen was Marjorie’s fault, that she’d tricked Matthew into it. He’d stopped her.
But not right away. Not nearly fast enough.
I began to run. The Labyrinth, for once, didn’t scare me. It was a refuge, welcoming me in. I careened along the passageways, all my effort spent on moving forward. To escape from what I’d seen. My shoes pinched my toes and cut into the backs of my feet. The baby wriggled, nagging me to slow down. All I could think of was reaching the center, resting on one of the benches until I could decide what to do next.
On I went, along paths that grew darker as the sky above turned an ominous gray. The ground was uneven and overrun with weeds; I stumbled into a wall, and the jagged brick surface scraped a bloody trail down my arm.
“Damn!”
The sound rang out, a jarring break in the silence. There was no buzz of insects, no birdcalls. No sign of any other living creature.
When the first drops of rain fell, I tried to walk faster, but the ground became more treacherous as it softened into mud. Soon I was drenched: hair flattened against my cheeks, soaked dress clinging to my legs. I pulled off my painful shoes and flung them aside, hobbling forward in my stockings. Each fruitless step brought me closer to panic. Surely I’d walked the entire Labyrinth twice over by now? At last, I saw an arched opening in the wall ahead. I passed through it into the clearing at the center, where the Minotaur beckoned me in.
I sank onto a bench. The narrow walls had offered some protection from the elements, but now that I was in the open, the ferocious wind made me gasp for breath. The violent gusts, the relentless rain, the pasty mud—it felt as if nature itself was raging against me. All that’s missing is fire, I thought, and in response a streak of lightning cracked across the sky. For a moment, the Minotaur lit up, its eyes staring straight ahead. Then, with a wrenching groan, it tore free from the ground and attacked.
Screaming, I slid off the bench and cowered like a child. It took a minute to realize the statue wasn’t moving; its base had crumbled after years of neglect, and one powerful burst of wind had been enough to topple it over. The wind howled in triumph and delivered its next blow: a massive onslaught that tore bricks from the crumbling walls and sent them toppling around me. I curled into a ball as the baby kicked. When the thudding stopped, I pushed the dripping hair from my eyes and saw that the entrance I’d just walked through was now blocked.