they were a threat or not and had finally decided that they were. But this caught her eye for only a moment. She saw, just visible in the deep gloom, straight lines. At first, her eyes tried to make them be pine trees, but they refused.
They were walls.
If someone had built a house to hide in the woods, camouflaged to be almost part of the woods, they couldn’t have done better than this. Its state of decay made it blend in with the rough bark of the pines around it almost perfectly. She didn’t really think that she ever would have noticed it were it not for the deer moving. It was obviously old and vacant, and she wondered if anyone ever went there, or if people even knew about it.
“Tanner?”
“Yeah?” He said, turning from the engine hold to squint at her. What a cute squint! She thought.
“Can you see that house in there” She pointed to the near shore. With some scanning and “No, the other way”, and “I think you’re looking too far left. No, your other left...” He finally saw it. His reaction was similar. Surprise combined with a sort of awe. Awe? That seemed odd.
She watched the muscles in his back tense and wondered at the reaction.
The House
Tanner killed the engine and allowed the momentum of the boat with its following wake to glide them near the shore. It was so quiet here. They were almost 30 yards from the shore, and another 15 or so from the house. Jen suddenly knew exactly what had spooked the deer. It hadn’t been their boat. The animal part of her brain was responding the same way. Too still. Too quiet.
“What a creepy house!” she said.
“Yeah, no shit!” Tanner said, then catching himself “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to swear.”
“Tanner, it’s ok to swear. I actually swear, too.” They both laughed, surprised at just a hint of nervousness in their voices.
”If I were here with a couple of guys, I’d check the place out, but somehow I don’t think your dad would approve.”
“As far as I remember, we left him back at the dock.”
Tanner looked at her.
“You sure?”
Her tight-lipped smile was his answer.
“Ok. Hang tight. I’m going to run her up on the shore.“
The boat made a slight sliding noise as it brushed the lake bottom, slowed then stopped, gently coming to rest on the thin wash of sand at the water’s edge that gave way to a rock breakfront. From the front of the boat they could almost step straight into the forest. Jen felt the temperature drop, realized it was the natural cooling of the pines, but it felt like something more. Tanner reached for her hand and she noticed his forearm had goose bumps. He helped her jump down, not by holding her arm, but by grabbing her waist which put them in pretty close proximity; Quick, somewhat embarrassed eye contact. Jen had never had a man help her down like this, other than her father when she was little, and it was decidedly pleasurable. He smelled like summer boy – deep tanned skin with a trace of man smell from sweating, clean hair wet from lake spray, faint deodorant smell, but mainly just man-smell. She hoped she smelled one fifth as good to him as he did to her.
Taking her hand was as natural as holding his niece’s hand when they went to church. Tanner had walked two or three paces towards the house, noticing everything he could; smells, sights, sounds. He found himself on full alert before suddenly realizing they were holding hands. Hers was warm and soft; petite, yet strong. Delicate, and pressing gently back. Not forced, or feigned; just real, and soft, and natural. It belonged there, he thought.
They got to the porch by walking through piles of dead pine needles interspersed with patches of moss. The pine smell of the dark, cold trees combined with the light whisper that pines make in even the slightest breeze to make him feel that he was completely in nature. Not just near it or looking at it, but “in” it. His senses were heightened. He could feel his pulse in her hand – or was that her pulse? No matter, one or both of them were running their hearts at about 100 beats per minute. He was so glad she was with him, not just because he thought she was beautiful and cool, but because he knew, down in the well of his not-so-long-ago little boy heart, that he wouldn’t be doing this if he were here alone.
Why this feeling? He wondered to himself. It’s just an old lake house. What was so unnerving about this place? Was it the location? This side of the lake was as devoid of human impact as it could be save for the occasionally very distant boat motor. No cars, no voices, just the occasional bird chirp, and even these seemed short, abbreviated, nervous, hurried. There was a tension here that he couldn’t identify, but it was so strong that he felt a twinge of nausea. There was a sense of something stored up; something about to happen, or something that could happen. And not a good something, either.
Tanner’s hand was delicious. It was twice the size of hers. She couldn’t wait to sit next to him and play with the big squishy man-veins on the back of his dark man hands. He was delicious. She could feel his physical strength run through his arm to his hand to hers with every step they took leading gently upwards to the porch. It was like the tension one felt when placing your hand on a grand piano while it is being played. Perfect strength and harmony. Perfect.
They reached the porch. What was left of three steps leading up to it looked nowhere near stable enough to hold her, much less him. Tanner put a testing foot on the porch itself, then, placing his full weight forward and springing easily, he was up. Jen had watched this closely. He moved like a cat; like a feral cat. He reached down to her and again a moment’s eye contact took place. Oh, they were so blue. She remembered reading that it was not the color of fair eyes that make them universally desirable. It was the fairness surrounded by a contrasting dark ring of the same color. His eyes were china blue surrounded by a ring of silvery dark blue Sapphire. Exquisite. This time he pulled her up by her hand, and she felt the gentle yet firm touch, as if he would have been able to lift her with one arm. She’d better start paying attention to what they were doing, she thought.
Looking down with each step they inched towards the nearest window. The relative gloom of the pines was multiplied by the dark porch overhang, and it was hard to imagine a lake with full afternoon sun on it not more than 20 yards away. The windows were equally grimed within as without. Dust grayed the view from within and years of weather stained the glass from without. They peered in, but at first saw nothing. Then, with faces pressed close to the glass, what they thought were at first reflections from the brightly lit lake were actually patches of floor, countertop, or wall illuminated by sunlight. Instinctively, they both looked up to see the corresponding holes in the ceiling, surprised to find only rafters and patches of plywood serving as a second story. Like the place was never finished, they both thought. The resulting effect was like small spotlights illuminating random items in the house. Here, a tableau of fishing rod and ancient ball cap. There, a gaudy pink ashtray on some kind of table or counter. Over there, a license plate leaned up against a stone fireplace. Everything else resided in gloom, as if waiting behind the curtain for its cue to enter the spotlight. But nothing moved. The place was as dead as a mausoleum.
“Let’s try to get in.” Jen surprised herself by saying.
“Uh. Ok. I guess.” Tanner was reading the “No Trespassing” signs that had weathered to nearly illegible over some long span of time, and which hung crookedly outside.
“I don’t think anyone’s been here in a very long time.” Jen said, looking in again, face pressed against the glass.
Tanner was trying the doors, one in front, one in back, and circling the house. Jen followed, but the brush was heavier in back, and it was even darker and gloomier, so she hovered a few feet behind, trying not to act too “girly girl”. Tanner was trying windows too, and although a couple had broken panes, most were intact, and well closed and locked. Save for one. Close to the house some poison ivy had grown up substantially near the back West corner. Tanner could tell by looking at it that the vine was leaning inwards at an angle impossible were the window
closed. He looked around on the ground and found a longish pine bough, which he then used to pull and prod the mass of vine out of the aperture. Once open, he peered at the opening, judging how hard it would be to get in without touching the wood, covered with poison ivy toxin.
“It’s OK to get it on you as long as you wash thoroughly with soap within 12 hours” she said. “Here I’ll go first.”
Tanner looked at her mostly exposed body and said “Nah, why don’t you let me go in. I’ll open the door for you.
“I’m smaller. I bet I can get in without touching anything.”
She could and she did. Tanner noticed her smooth athleticism. Had it not been such a creepy setting he would just have drooled on himself. A snapping sound followed by some metal latches releasing and the back door was open.
“Welcome home, honey!” She braved the jest. He felt a little wimpy at not having been “the man” and gone in first, but having her greet him at the door drove all those thoughts out of his head. She had – jokingly, yes – called him “honey”. He liked that very much. Very much.
Once inside, their eyes adjusted to the relative darkness. It was truly a strange place. Jen began to experience a low level headache; very unusual for her. Dust and mold didn’t usually bother her. If it did,