Book Lover, The (11 page)

By early afternoon she finally passed a sign for Upper Greenwood Lake and immediately houses began to line the road. A few blocks later she spotted water ahead, and then a causeway, and stopped there a moment, getting almost a full view. The causeway separated the main lake on the right from a lagoon on the left. The lake was much smaller than the one she’d passed earlier, its mirrored surface reflecting blue sky and clouds, surrounded by a hilly shoreline that was heavily treed and littered with huge rocks. She could see houses peeking through the trees, chalets and log structures.

The lagoon on the left appeared more remote, the wide curved shoreline mostly barren of houses. Driving off the bridge, she pulled over on the side of the road, glanced at Ruth’s directions, then continued around the lake. The road narrowed, and when she was nearly halfway around the houses grew fewer and glimpses of the water became impossible as the elevation rose and the trees thickened. Up ahead she spotted the rounded boulder at the foot of a driveway and put on the brakes. There was the wall of hemlocks lining both sides. She turned in. The driveway was just a rutted dirt lane that had seen better days, but it reminded Lucy of fairy tales as she traveled through the dark green tunnel.

She came out on the other side into a wide clearing, squinting at the bright sun shining off the lake at the bottom of a sloping green lawn. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Stepping out of the car, she looked around, then turned to see a cabin behind her, tucked into the trees with the land rising behind it up the mountain. It was a small log structure with a stone chimney. In the front there was an open porch and beside it a wide window.

Beyond the cabin was a small open area and then the woods began, circling around the shore. On the other side of the drive, to the left, sat another cabin, bigger and freshly painted, more like an A-frame. There was no car in its driveway. No other houses were visible. All in all, it was quite desolate, surrounded by woods and water. She leaned against the car a moment, feeling the warmth from the metal through her jeans.

She didn’t like that she was afraid to stay alone. That her crazy imagination could take off at the littlest noise in the middle of the night. Something that, with David’s warm body beside her, she’d toss off as a house noise, or a neighbor’s cat. Here in this place she’d be spookily alone.

Walking up the two steps to the porch, she lifted the mat and found an old skeleton key, but the door was unlocked. The cabin was clean and tidy, but the furniture was decades old and there was that damp, musty smell of a house that had been closed up for too long. There was really the one rustic room, a living area with a kitchen to the rear, a tiny bedroom off to the side, and a loft above. But that one rustic room was so charming, the log walls a soft yellow, a stone fireplace rising to the roof, and a picture window overlooking the lake below.

She thought of what Ruth had said just before she left. Something that Betsy had told her when she’d first gone to work in the bookstore. “Right now your life is in crisis, but remember this, the Chinese word for crisis has two symbols. Danger, and opportunity.”

And here was an opportunity, if she had the nerve.

Ten minutes later, she had opened all the windows, although the screens had seen better days, and brought in her things. Then she drove back to a small general store a few miles back and picked up some staples to get through the night and morning. Once it was dark, she knew she wouldn’t be leaving.

Getting settled, she thought that the cabin had a lot of potential, and could even be fun to fix up. She loved painting and wallpapering. When she first moved into David’s house in Mendham after they were married, he’d been shocked when she told him she wanted to do all the decorating herself. And cleaning, too. He couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t rather hire someone. But David, who’d always had a nice home, who didn’t move around as a kid, had no idea of the pleasure she took in spending Saturday mornings with music blasting, candles lit, sprucing up each and every room of her own home until it was just the way she’d envisioned it.

Although the cabin looked clean at first glance, the refrigerator needed a good scrubbing, which she did before putting away her few things. The sheets were musty, but there was an ancient washer and dryer on the back porch, and she blessed Ruth for that, imagining that with the whole family here, it had been a necessity. While the sheets washed, she wiped down the bathroom, then stood in the middle of the living room, wondering if Ruth would mind if she moved the kitchen table from the corner and set it in front of the wide window. In the morning, she could have tea there and watch the sun rise over the lake.

Dragging the wooden table across the room, she decided Ruth wouldn’t care as long as she put it back later. Then Lucy walked around the cabin, looking out each window, amazed at how beautiful it was. She had one week until her signing at Ruth’s store. One week in this beautiful place.

She went to the fridge and pulled out the bottle of wine she’d gotten at the store, figuring it would cure her jitters when it got dark and ensure a good night’s sleep. She had resisted a pack of cigarettes, determined to stick to quitting this time for good. Walking out onto the porch, she sat down on the step and looked all around. It was late afternoon, the sun beginning to lower in the western sky to the right, casting the lake and the surrounding woods in a soft peach light. She’d probably never been so alone in her entire life.

“Here’s to you, Lucinda Barrett,” she said out loud, holding up her glass, “and whatever happens next.”

                            
9

O
N MONDAY RUTH WENT TO HANNAH MEEKER’S small Cape Cod just a few blocks from Main Street. It was another beautiful May morning, and if not for her shoes—the low heels she’d sworn she’d never wear again—she would have walked from the store.

“Wow, Ruth, you look really nice,” Hannah said as she opened her front door.

“I have an appointment later today.” Before Hannah could ask questions, she continued, “Now, I can’t wait to see this outfit you got.”

“Pour yourself some coffee, I’ll be right down,” Hannah said as she headed for the stairs.

“What is that heavenly smell?”

“I just baked muffins,” Hannah said, her voice fading as she climbed.

Instead of getting coffee, Ruth stood in the living room looking in a mirror over the couch. She didn’t look half bad. She’d put on mascara and dabbed on pink lipstick, which was supposed to be a more youthful shade. Her hair was plaited into a French braid, something she hadn’t tried in years.

Lucy had done a pretty good job. Her hair was even all the way around, no easy feat. She wondered now how Lucy had fared during her first night at the cabin. Ruth had gone into the store for a few hours after yesterday’s brunch to make up for the time she wouldn’t be in today, and was surprised when she got home to hear Lucy’s message on her machine.

“Oh,” she said aloud, her hand flying to her mouth. She should have called Colin. Someone staying in the cabin would no doubt be a shock to him. But last night there had been only one thing claiming her thoughts. That in less than twenty-four hours, she’d be seeing Thomas.

“Did you say something?” she heard Hannah call out, and a moment later she was coming downstairs.

“No, I…” but her words trailed off as Hannah reached the bottom step and twirled around.

The dress was a vivid orange, with a deep V-neck and an A-line skirt that came just above Hannah’s knees. She wore a pair of black strappy heels.

“Whoa, Hannah. You have great gams, as my mother used to say. Why have you been hiding them?”

“You like it?” Hannah asked, her face like an excited child’s.

“I love it, the color is gorgeous. It lights up your face.”

“I know it’s kind of different for me. You don’t think it’s too much? That I look… ridiculous?”

“In this case, different is good.” Hannah almost always wore brown or gray, or some drab color that simply made her disappear into the woodwork.

“So it’s a keeper?”

“Oh yes. Definitely a keeper.”

“I can’t wait to surprise Eddie. Be right back. Go get a muffin.”

Ruth went into the tiny kitchen and sat at a round table, barely able to slide the chair out. A plate piled high with muffins sat in the middle and she couldn’t resist taking one, peeling the paper off, and biting into it as Hannah came into the room.

“Umm, Hannah,” she said, her mouth full, then took a moment to chew and swallow. “My God, what are these?”

“Well, I’ve been calling them,” Hannah paused a moment, “are you ready for this? Better Than Sex Muffins.”

Ruth nearly spit out her bite as she began to laugh. “Are you kidding?”

Hannah shook her head.

“They’re sweet yet salty, with a bit of crunch, and cinnamon, right?”

“My secret ingredient is crushed potato chips.” Hannah sat with her own coffee. “When I get bored I experiment and this one is my favorite, I think.”

Ruth took another bite.

“Speaking of bored,” Hannah said suddenly, “I think Eddie’s bored with me.”

“Why do you say that?”

Hannah shrugged and Ruth saw her eyes fill with tears, but she grabbed a napkin and wiped them quickly. “I’ve been telling him that we don’t spend enough time together, and as usual he tells me he’s really busy at the store, times are tough, and…that I’m too needy.”

“Oh, Hannah.”

“If I had a better job, he wouldn’t have to work so hard. Maybe he’d be interested in what I do, you know? As much as I love Elaine, I’m tired of working there. I want—I’ve always wanted—something of my own. Eddie has his appliance store, you have The Book Lover, Elaine has the restaurant. I’ve always been kind of tagging along behind everyone. Still trying to figure out what I’m meant to do. At sixty years old, what a joke,” she said, with a laugh that held no humor.

Hannah got up and brought the coffee pot over, refilling their cups.

“You love baking,” Ruth said. “And you have a real knack for it, I can honestly say that.” This wasn’t the first time Hannah’s muffins had impressed her.

Hannah set the pot back on the counter. “I do love it. When I’m in the kitchen and it smells so good, and then someone takes a bite and I can see the pleasure on their face, I’m really happy.”

“So…” Ruth said, smiling, “maybe
this
is it, that thing you’re meant to do.”

But Hannah waved a hand in the air, dismissing the idea. “I can’t afford to open a bakery or anything, and… forget it.” She shook her head and sighed. “I’m sorry, Ruth. I always seem to be dumping my problems on you.”

“That’s what friends are for, right? To listen?”

Hannah looked up at her and smiled. “Do you ever feel like you never live a day in the day, or a moment in the moment? All these books have got me thinking about that, how I’m always worrying ahead. Do you do that, too?”

“Are you kidding? Me worry? It’s my middle name.”

“You’d never know it. You always seem so calm, so together.”

Ruth couldn’t help giggling at the absurdity of Hannah’s statement.

“Well anyway, thanks for coming over. I guess I’ll keep the dress.”

Heading back to the store, Ruth couldn’t help thinking about the last revitalization meeting, with Eddie and Dee from the salon sitting a little too close, acting awfully chummy suddenly. Dee was recently separated. She hoped to God there was nothing to that little flirtation. She couldn’t imagine how Hannah would cope with
that.

* * *

LUCY HAD WOKEN DURING THE NIGHT TO TOTAL BLACKNESS, her heart pounding in terror. She’d gotten up, stumbling to find light switches. A moment later the cabin was lit in puddles of golden light and she leaned against a wall, cursing herself for being so stupid as to lie on the couch while it was still light out, and not have the foresight to turn a lamp on.

She’d gone into the bedroom, pulled on a nightgown, then got into bed.

Ironically, then sleep wouldn’t come. The earlier quiet had gone, replaced with a cacophony of crickets and tree frogs that rang through the night like an outdoor symphony. As she lay there, she’d tried to recognize the sounds outside the window. There was a swishing noise against the outer wall, no doubt a branch lifting in the wind. She’d recognized the lone honk of a goose making its way back to the flock. And then a mournful howl went on for a long moment. Her eyes opened wide. A wolf? A coyote? She began to wonder exactly what lived in the woods surrounding the house.

The earlier contentment had disappeared, replaced with a fresh surge of fury toward David, who she’d e-mailed earlier after her second glass of wine although she wasn’t sure he’d even get it. But he was the reason she was there, wasn’t he? She knew in that moment she’d leave first thing in the morning.

But she didn’t. She sat now in front of the big window with her tea, laughing at how she’d screamed out loud when she went to the bathroom during the night, pulling the shade down as if someone out in the woods might be watching, only to have it snap up and startle her. Pulling it down more slowly, she’d noticed a light on in the cabin across the way, and a car in the driveway. Relief had flooded through her and she’d climbed back into bed, thanking God that someone was nearby.

She hated that she was afraid of being alone. That she was afraid of life without David. Sipping her tea, she stared out the window, barely believing she was really here. A ring of small mountains encircled the lake, lush and green. The water lay still and dark, a fine gray mist hovering above the glassy surface. She realized the water must be warmer than the morning air. The deep quiet had returned, the singing insects of last night silent again. There was the occasional trill of a bird, or a sudden splash of something in the distance.

As she stared at the lake, ripples began to form suddenly, concentric circles that drifted outward. She wondered if a large fish was feeding in that spot. Then she noticed a few large bubbles as the flat surface of the water broke and a head rose up suddenly, a fine-boned face looking up toward the sky.

With a gasp she jumped, spilling the tea. Was she dreaming?

His eyes were closed, his long hair slicked back from a high forehead as he emerged. Now the shoulders broke free of the water, wide, muscled, as long arms stretched high, as if in prayer, or joy, his glistening flesh steaming in the cool morning air. He was beautiful, like shining marble hovering above the mist and the water, the entire palette the pale gray of early morning. It was like a mythical god coming back from centuries asleep in the depths of the lake.

Walking around the table, she pressed her face to the window, watching as he swam toward the shore. When he had nearly reached it, he lay there with only his head above the water. She waited for several long minutes.

And then, instead of standing up and walking out of the lake, this beautiful man-god used his hands and his arms to drag himself out of the water and onto the bank. As his lower half emerged, also naked, she gasped again. His legs were thin and withered, the flesh deathly white. It was so at odds with his torso, his arms, the wide V of his chest that tapered to a taut stomach. He rolled to a sitting position and then, using his hands to propel himself, he scooted across the sandy beach, toward a tree. Under it sat a wheelchair she hadn’t noticed before, and beside it a small bench. Somehow he hoisted himself up onto the bench, then into the chair and pulled a large towel around himself.

He turned the wheelchair and as Lucy watched him push it across the grass toward the cabin next door, his upper body muscled like a weight lifter, she thought there was something familiar about him.

All of a sudden the chair jolted to a stop. He kept pushing the tires, but the chair didn’t move. He was obviously stuck. She waited a moment, unsure of what to do. The morning was chilly, and he was wearing nothing but a towel. She should go and help him.

But as she opened the door, the chair began to move again, ascending the slope. He turned toward her cabin and looked up. She lifted her hand to wave, but he turned away. Closing the door, she stood by the side of the window where he couldn’t see her, watching as he made his way up a small ramp that she hadn’t noticed yesterday, onto his deck and then through a sliding glass door. She couldn’t imagine the strength it had taken to swim, and then get himself back up that long slope and into his house.

She wondered if he’d been born that way. She didn’t think so. He looked more like a man who’d been fit, and then perhaps had an accident of some kind, or a degenerative disease. What a shame, she thought, turning away from the window. He was such a handsome man.