She stripped out of her now-dry jeans and tank top, unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor. She kicked the heap into the pile with her other clothes, then pulled on a soft cotton V-neck shirt and thin plaid cotton pajama bottoms, which she’d grabbed from her duffel bag in the great room.
She flicked off the bathroom light behind her, and she was immediately swallowed by darkness. She had never found the switch for the hall light, she realized. What little illumination had lit the hall had come from sunlight drifting in from the great room and the two bedrooms. Now the sun was down, and the hallway was pitch-black.
Holding a hand out in front of her for protection, Kris carefully crossed toward the faint glow of Sadie’s bedroom night-light.
Sadie was still awake, but her eyes looked as heavy as Kris’s felt. The sleepy little girl scooted closer to the wall to make room for her mother on the narrow mattress.
The bedsprings squeaked faintly as Kris slid under the covers. Instantly, Sadie’s arms were around her, the girl’s small body conforming to hers. Kris could feel the ends of Sadie’s curls tickling her cheeks. She gently brushed the hair aside, running her fingers through her daughter’s twisted locks.
Sadie sighed, content, and nuzzled even closer.
Except for the weak sphere of amber light cast by the angel night-light, the entire house was dark. Kris could barely see the back of the bedroom door, still open a few inches, but beyond it there was nothing. The lake house ceased to exist. It had been swallowed by an abyss. Kris wished she had left one of the lamps on in the great room, just enough light to give dimension to the space outside the bedroom door.
From high up in that darkness, something creaked.
Beside her, Sadie sucked in a sharp breath.
“It’s just the house settling,” Kris said.
Sadie pressed her lips close to Kris’s ear. Her breath was hot and wet.
“Why does it do that?” she whispered.
“The wood. During the day, the heat makes it expand, you know, get bigger. When it cools down at night, it shrinks a little, which makes the whole house sort of … shift.”
Sadie did not respond. The explanation, while certainly confusing for an eight-year-old, must have at least seemed reasonable coming from her mother.
For a few minutes, they lay in silence, listening as the random sounds, the pops and creaks and groans, echoed through the house. Outside, the wind picked up and whistled over the roof.
Suddenly Kris was aware of a new sound—the steady rhythm of air drawn in and out, in and out, like the lazy lapping of rippled water against a lakeshore.
Sadie was asleep.
Closing her eyes, Kris imagined her daughter’s breaths to be the gracefully sweeping hands of an orchestra conductor. And then she was sailing into an empty, dreamless slumber. Her breaths fell into perfect sync with Sadie’s as mother and daughter drifted away together, bodies side by side.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SHE WOKE TO find the pink room bathed in pale light.
Rolling onto her back, Kris stretched her arms and legs to each corner of the bed and felt the comforting tingle as her muscles pulled taut and then relaxed. She had slept hard but well. She had no idea what time it was, but she knew it was morning. She was ready to take on the new day. She was—
Confusion rippled through her as she realized she was taking up the entire bed.
She sat up, blinking away the last remnants of sleep as she glanced around.
The bedroom door was wide open.
She was alone.
“Sadie?” she called out.
Her voice was swallowed by the empty house.
Kris tossed back the covers and swung her feet off the bed. Her naked toes touched the cool wood floor and the board—like so many other boards in the old house—creaked under the weight.
She waited, listening for any sign of movement.
There was none.
She called again—
“Sadie …”
—even though she knew there would be no answer.
The invisible arms of sleep tried to pull her back toward the bed as she shuffled to the doorway. She wandered out of the bedroom and through the entryway at the mouth of the hall.
A cool breeze curled around Kris’s ankles, gently rubbing against the bottoms of her cotton pj’s like an invisible cat. The French doors were wide open again. Sadie was on the back deck, staring out.
The lake was gone.
Even as her mind tried to make sense of what she was seeing, something drew her forward, a command that did not seem to come from her brain. Yet her legs obeyed, the involuntary action moving her across the room, to the open doorway.
She stepped over the threshold and onto the deck. Tiny splinters of wood bit at the bottoms of her bare feet.
You’re dreaming, her timid voice insisted.
But she knew this was not true. She was awake. What she was seeing was real.
The lake had disappeared in the night, replaced by a layer of drifting cloud. Or else the lake was still where it should be and the house itself had moved, had somehow lifted into the sky and was now resting precariously on a foundation of mist thirty thousand feet above the earth.
She stepped up behind Sadie. Her daughter did not seem to sense her presence. Sadie was lost in thought, staring out at the thick fog that swirled over the spot where the lake should be. She was still dressed in her pajamas. Her hair was matted on one side, giving her head a misshapen look as if some blunt impact had caved it in.
Like she’s been in a car crash. Like the mushy side of Jonah’s skull—
Kris stopped the thought cold, refusing to let it go further.
“Sweetie?” she asked. “What are you doing out here?”
Sadie’s body flinched, the sound of her mother’s voice startling her. She glanced back over her shoulder, the hair cutting down across her face so that only one green eye glimmered amid the red tangles.
“We’re floating,” she said. She raised a single finger and pointed out toward the lake.
Realization washed over Kris, the strangeness of waking alone and wandering through the dreamlike rooms fading away as her mind began to make sense of what they were seeing.
“It’s the mist, remember? It was just starting last night, but now … now it’s covering the whole lake.”
Sadie gave a small nod, although Kris doubted she fully understood what had happened.
For a few minutes, Kris stood at her daughter’s side, staring out at the thick white fog drifting over the lake’s surface and listening to the breeze slip through the treetops. From within that earthbound cloud, a single bullfrog called out in its deep, throaty voice, mourning the end of the night. Then it fell silent.
They said nothing as they watched the sun rise higher behind a thin veil of morning clouds. Already the temperature had risen a good five degrees since Kris first stepped out onto the deck. The fog was beginning to burn off, bare patches revealing the rippling waters of the lake. The dark head of a turtle peered up from the shallows, then ducked down, out of sight, sending a ring expanding in all directions.
Kris placed a hand lightly against Sadie’s back.
“You hungry?”
Sadie shrugged unenthusiastically.
Well, we’re up, Kris thought. Our first official morning here. So what now?
Her gaze drifted away from the lake, up the bluff to the stone path that led to the deck. Just before the back steps, there was the faintest hint of a part in the weeds. Her eyes followed this across the yard, past the overgrown garden and the rickety swing set, toward the edge of the forest.