Page 11 of The Beauty Who Loved Him

Vaslav didn’t hear her.

Or maybe he couldn’t.

Despite the windshield of clear, spotless plexiglass in the front, the wind still whipped in through the open doors, carrying her words away with the rushing wooshes. The ROV eventually came off the grassland and hit the road, but the suspension kept the vehicle from behaving as if the sudden change in terrain affected it more than a gentle rock from grass to rocky gravel.

His focus stayed on the path ahead, and the way it curved beyond the gate, rounding the bend in the tree line. The backdrop of tall trees whizzed by in a green and brown blur with specks of reds, yellows and burnt oranges from the fall. Overhead, the fluffy clouds of white painted a blue backdrop, but she couldn’t find any promise of rain in the sky.

Although she struggled to manage it, Vera was able to turn in enough time to see the very top of the Federal Colonial disappear beyond the rolling hill as they entered the midpoint of the turn in the road.

“Look.”

The only reason why she heard Vaslav’s shout was because he let off the gas for the side-by-side. Vera swung back around in her seat as the view ahead of them began to form.

Or rather, a lake awaited to greet them.

A good three football fields in length, and at least one across, the still, dark water was framed by a mountain of climbing trees just starting to change color for the autumn season. It was a shame that a person couldn’t see the sprawling, quiet lake from the main house, but as their off-road vehicle crept along the dirt road, she couldn’t look away.

Like the road curving along the bend of the tree line, so did the edge of the water. It continued beyond even where she could see that the turn started to end and where a fence line of natural post stakes made of logs began. The fence, clearly a work in progress as there were no connecting lines between each log post sticking out of the ground, wasn’t even stained or painted.

“Hell of a spot down here,” she heard Vaslav say beside her.

Vera couldn’t disagree. “The guesthouse is down here?”

“Da. Gets power by generator. I almost let Mira have the keys last year.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Vaslav tossed a grin her way. “She didn’t like the walk.”

Ah.

Vera didn’t get the chance to respond before Vaslav pushed hard on the gas again, sending her back flat into the seat and leaving a cloud of dust from the dry road in the wake. She wasn’t really paying attention to the arch of branches from trees where the road led through to a clearing because something out in the water caught her eye instead.

A black mass bobbing along the lake’s surface. It took her more than a couple of blinks to discern the figure swimming slowly from one side of the lake to the other.

Marrow.

The black retriever didn’t seem to be having any trouble doggy paddling his way across the lake. If anything, the dog was determined and focused.

Beyond the break in the trees where the branches swept high across the road like arches, a line of stake posts began every six feet. The unfinished fence also lined a small portion of the lake. Vera finally caught a glimpse of the front of the home Vaslav called a guesthouse where the break in the trees opened to a clearing surrounded in the colors of fall. Designed similarly on the outside to the main house, it featured gray bricks and crawling green vines that lined every long, rectangular window. Except it was like a mini version of the house on the hill. Instead of three levels, there were two, and it was barely half the size in length. She doubted it had more than two bedrooms. No towering birch trees welcomed them, and there weren’t any stone steps leading to the front door, but the likeness to the main house was unmistakable all the same.

And so was the man standing by tall posts where a dirt path led from the driveway to the docks for the lake.

Her father.

Vera hadn’t thought Vaslav lied to her about where Demyan was, but she didn’t exactly expect to see him holding a ten-foot post at the mouth of the dock, shirtless and sweating, and glowering their way.

“See,” Vaslav said over the rumble of the engine as their ROV slowed to a crawl again, “I told you he was probably getting impatient.”

At the sight of the all-terrain vehicle, Demyan let go of the tall log post with one hand, and gestured wildly in their direction. For whatever reason, he glanced back at the unmoved post stuck deep in the ground, and his brow furrowed with surprise and anger.

“You prick!” she swore Demyan shouted.

Vaslav heard it, too.

Because he laughed.

Cackled, really. Like he enjoyed whatever trick he’d successfully played on Demyan.