The Pond

Marjorie wondered if the pond was natural or man-made. The vivid autumn reds and oranges of the trees were reflected in its tranquil surface and a couple of ducks glided across the water towards the far bank. She admired the beauty of the scene, although crossing the rickety wooden bridge which spanned the pond had been terrifying. Its wooden planks were cracked and sun-bleached with age and creaked alarmingly with every step. Neil was in a good mood for once this afternoon, and she did not want to spoil the atmosphere by complaining. She hurried to catch up as he called her name impatiently, stumbling more than once over roots and rocks concealed under the fallen leaves on the path. Her hair was damp with sweat, her shirt was pasted to her back and a persistent horse fly kept zooming into her face. Neil grinned as she labored up the hill and gratefully sat down beside him on a rock ledge.

“You should lose ten pounds,” he said, prodding her ribs. “You’re out of shape.”

Involuntary tears rose to Marjorie’s eyes. He shook his head.

“Aw, for God’s sake, don’t be so sensitive. I’m teasing. Why do you have to get so emotional about everything?”

He got up from the rock and walked away from her. She could hear him talking on his phone as he went.

“Mike? Hi, yes, doing well. Just checking out that property I was telling you about. The Barnwell place. The old lady finally died, and the family want to get rid of it. It’s a steal. Knock it down and throw up a few homes…”

His voice faded as he turned the corner. Marjorie wiped her eyes and followed him. Now she understood why he had suggested going for a walk here. It was always business of one kind or another, usually financed by her money. A familiar pang of fear struck as she looked at him, his tall muscular figure silhouetted against the late afternoon sun. How was she, plain, short and dumpy, supposed to compete with all the beautiful women throwing themselves at him? She still found it hard to believe that he had chosen to marry her. He beckoned her forward excitedly, handing her the binoculars.

“Look over there. No, there. At the house.”

Marjorie finally got the binoculars in focus and peered in the direction that he indicated. Situated on the top of a gentle slope overlooking the pond was an imposing house, almost a mansion. Even from this distance she could see it was neglected, but the proportions were elegant, and it was surrounded by stately old trees.

“Demolish that and put up a dozen executive mansions and we’ll have made a killing in no time.”

Marjorie handed him the binoculars.

“It seems a shame to knock it down and destroy all those trees. Couldn’t you convert it into apartments? I imagine there’s a market for people who want the atmosphere of a historic house like that.”

He scowled.

“Leave all that to me. There'd be all kinds of historic preservation rules to follow if you're trying to renovate it. Much easier to get rid of it.”

“Have you talked to the bank?”

“Yes, well, there’s a little bit of a hitch there. That’s why I thought you’d like this opportunity to invest.”

Marjorie stared at him, suddenly feeling her usual desire turn to revulsion. It was as if something had snapped within her. 

“You mean that your credit is shot and so you thought you’d talk me into it. Like the technology start up and the music festival and…”

He hugged her close to him and smiled ingratiatingly.

“We were just ahead of the curve on those. The timing wasn’t right. It’s hard to be a visionary.”

“Were we? I was the one who was out of pocket, and lucky not to be charged with fraud if I remember correctly,” Marjorie said, pushing him away.

Handing the binoculars back, she turned and marched back down the path, ignoring his pleas.

“Wait, hon, wait. I know I’ve screwed up before, but this is a real opportunity.”

“I’m done with all your schemes,” she said, slapping his hand away. “It’s not rocket science. You thought I was so desperate that I’d put up with anything, and I was, for a while. I can’t believe how stupid I was. You married me for my money.”

She strode across the bridge over the pond, too furious to be afraid, and was almost halfway over when she was jerked backwards by the collar of her shirt.

“Don’t you ever walk away from me,” Neil said, his face red and contorted, eyes narrowed in fury. “I’ll tell you when you can leave.”

Choking and gagging, Marjorie writhed in his grip, kicking at him in a desperate attempt to free herself. There was a sudden snapping sound as the planks beneath them broke and they both fell into the murky water. She found herself completely submerged with no sign of reaching the bottom. A dark shape sank past her in the green gloom, trailed by ribbons of inky liquid. Frantically kicking, she emerged into the sunlight and grabbed a lichen-covered piling. Hauling herself up onto the bridge, she lay coughing and gasping like a stranded fish for several minutes. She finally scrambled slowly to her feet and scanned the pond. The ducks had fled, but other than a large red stain on the broken planks, the scene was peaceful. She frantically patted her pockets, but her phone was long gone. There was no one else in sight. She would have to fetch help herself.

She cautiously navigated her way around the broken section of the bridge as fast as she could, exhaling in relief when she reached the intact planks. As she started to run, she saw what looked like a sodden bundle of clothing floating on the water. She stopped, an icy calm suddenly settling over her. No need to hurry. Now that she thought about it, renovating that old house really would be a great investment opportunity.