Book Lover, The (25 page)

She hung up and sighed, suddenly exhausted from the adrenaline crash. Her daughter had gone through hell, but Emma was just fine. And now Thomas was gone, his shift obviously over. The timing of it all seemed uncanny. Or maybe not.

She put her blinker on and pulled out, heading back to Warwick.

* * *

IT WAS LATE MORNING WHEN LUCY’S MOTHER finally came into the kitchen. Lucy was at the table with a cup of tea, her laptop opened, working on a poem she’d been tinkering with for days now. She heard a sniffle and turned.

“You made me cry,” her mother said, standing in the doorway in her pink robe, a tissue in her hand.

“I’m sorry, Mom, I don’t—”

“No, not you,” her mother said, waving her hand, “your book. I started it last night because I couldn’t sleep. I just finished it.”

“You read the entire book? You never slept?”

“I couldn’t stop. It’s wonderful, Lucy, the ending just beautiful, but so sad. Why didn’t you tell me you had a book published? I thought you stopped writing a long time ago.”

“I did stop writing for a while. And I didn’t really get my book published.”

Her mother held the book up. “Then what do you call this?”

Lucy sighed. “Why don’t you start your coffee and sit down. It’s a long story.”

Thirty minutes later her mother sat across from her shaking her head. “I can’t believe you couldn’t get it taken. And who knew what you were going through? David?”

“Most of it. I skipped a few rejections here and there. And when I decided to self-publish I didn’t tell him until it was in the works. But a few friends aside from that.”

“And was any of this based on truth? Things in your own life? Because Hope’s mother, who was never home, seemed a bit familiar, if you know what I mean. And how Hope couldn’t wait to get out of the house, so she married Matthew despite her doubts.”

“Mom, the mother isn’t you, Hope isn’t me. It’s just what writers do, take bits and pieces of their lives, and those around them and mix it all up like a cake. The end result is something entirely different.”

“And what about Matthew, who turns out to be gay after twenty years of marriage. Did you just think that one up?”

“It’s not so uncommon, you know.”

“Of course I know. I have some lovely gay friends here in the complex, both men and women.”

Her mother got up and poured another cup of coffee. “He reminded me a little of that boy you dated when we lived in Dover, the one who broke your heart. Jamie?”

She stared at her mother, stunned. “I can’t believe you even remembered him. The book was just a ‘what if.’ You know, what if we had gotten married.” Because for a while there, she thought they would.

“I knew how devastated you were. My heart was breaking for you but you would never let me in. Never let me even try to help you.”

He was her first love, her first kiss. He also introduced her to her first cigarette, and her first drink. Then he gave it all up to hang out with the Jesus freaks. When he broke up with her a few years later, telling her he was really gay, she’d hoped it was just another lifestyle he was trying on. Ten years later she heard he died of AIDS.

“I guess I was just a bitchy teenager, but I really hated that high school, too. And I’m sorry I didn’t let you in.”

Her mother reached over and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “How could you let me in? I was a train wreck then. And you were always just trying to make things easier for me.” Her mother hesitated a moment. “That scene when she’s a kid, when her father comes up to the attic to say he’s leaving? That was real, wasn’t it?”

Slowly she nodded.

“I’ve changed, Lucy, and if your father had lived longer, maybe he’d have too. I wish I could go back and live those years over because I’m a helluva lot smarter now. And you don’t have to protect me anymore.”

Lucy smiled. “I can see that, Mom.”

“I know we haven’t seen a lot of each other in years. Part of that was because I knew you needed time and distance after Ben. But the other part was, well, I finally saw that I needed to make some adjustments to me. And I think that’s how Artie happened into my life. The universe realized I was ready for him.”

“He seems like a great guy.”

“Anyway, enough about me. Let’s get back to your book. I have an idea. Do you remember Adele Gray? She’s my favorite author and she’s doing a signing downtown at Moravian Books today. I was going to surprise you and take you there. Let’s give her your book! Maybe she’ll love it, too, and give it to her agent.”

“Oh, Mom, she probably has people giving her their books all the time. I don’t think I have the stomach for that today.”

“Why not? Your book is just as good as any of hers, Lucy, and that’s the truth.”

“I think so too, but she’s got hundreds of thousands of readers, and…I’m nobody. I just got an email from a publisher’s sales rep this morning that I’d been really counting on. He read my book, but thought it was a bit too quiet to fit in commercial women’s fiction.” Another bullet hole. She wondered if Ruth knew.

“Then just leave me a book. I’ll take it to the store tomorrow and tell them that our book club is going to read it—and we will. That will hopefully get you some attention.”

“Thanks, Mom, I really appreciate that.” She stood up and closed her laptop. “Now I’m going to start getting ready, I’ve got a signing at Clinton Books later on my way back.” Which she felt like bagging now but didn’t have the nerve.

“Listen, Lucy, before you go, just think about what I said about David yesterday, okay?”

“Mom…” she started to protest.

“But do what you think is best.”

She drove away that afternoon thinking about the last twenty-four hours with her mother. Feeling lighter, happier, as if some burden had been lifted from her. Looking in the rear view mirror, she had to laugh, her writer’s mind envisioning the baggage of their past littering the highway behind her.

                            
26

L
UCY SMELLED THE LAKE BEFORE SHE SAW IT. Pulling down the long drive, the dank earthy dampness rose up to her, and with it, a sense of coming home. It was nearly ten o’clock when she got out of the car, still hot and sultry with cicadas and tree frogs echoing from the woods. For a moment, she toyed with a jump in the water.

As she pulled out her small suitcase, she noticed Colin’s house all lit up. There were no other cars in the driveway, which meant he was alone. Leaving her bag on the porch step, she walked over, longing to tell someone about her success. She climbed the ramp to his deck, then knocked on the screen door. He was sitting at the dining room table and waved her in.

Walking across the room, she knew immediately something was horribly wrong. He didn’t say a word, just stared down at the table where a bottle of Jack Daniel’s sat in front of him, and beside it a small tumbler.

“Grab yourself a glass,” he said.

She hesitated, then went to the kitchen and got a small juice glass from a cabinet. His light blue eyes were bright and his jaw kept moving, as if he were grinding his teeth back and forth. She sat across the table and he opened the bottle, pouring a small amount into each of their glasses. He lifted his, then waited for her to pick up hers.

“Salud,”
he said softly, then threw his head back and drank.

She did the same, but a second later was coughing, trying to catch her breath as the fiery liquid slid down. Neither of them said anything for a long moment. She’d never seen him like this and wasn’t sure whether to wait or break the silence. Before she could decide, he poured another finger in each glass. She almost protested, but something in his eyes stopped her. Again they drank, and again he poured. Already she was feeling warm and fuzzy and knew this could get dangerous.

“How many of these have you had?”

His lips curled into a smile. “Not enough.”

“Colin, what happened?”

They stared at each other and she was stunned to see his eyes fill with tears. He wiped them quickly with his hand, then picked up his glass and threw it across the room. It shattered and she stood up, suddenly frightened.

“Wait,” he said, pushing himself around the table to block her path. “I’m sorry. Don’t go.”

She hesitated. He took her hand, holding her there. “Please, Lucy, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”

“All right.”

He let go. “Let’s sit outside.”

The long day, the signing, the late drive back, and what must’ve amounted to about two shots of whiskey suddenly sloshing around an empty stomach all made her a bit woozy. He turned off most of the lights as she followed him out to the deck.

There was no moon, so they sat in near darkness, her eyes slowly adjusting to the night. Here, she realized, she wouldn’t be able to see the pain, the grief, that was all too apparent on his face inside.

“How was your trip?” he asked.

“It went well. My mother and I didn’t argue once,” she said with a chuckle, trying to instill some levity into the atmosphere.

“And your signing at Clinton Books?”

“I didn’t want to go because I was feeling really down about the whole book thing, but it turned out wonderful. Harvey and Rob were so welcoming and supportive, just like your mom. So we had a great turnout, and I got a few more book club invitations. They all seem so excited to have me come and discuss the book with them.”

“That’s great.”

“Oh, and Harvey’s mother is considered the Oprah of Clinton and it turned out she loves my book! So it’s a ‘Mom Pick,’ which is about the highest praise you can get there. I signed more than twenty copies.”

“You’ve worked hard. You deserve it.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” When he said nothing she finally worked up the nerve to ask, “So do you want to tell me now what happened?”

She could hear him sigh, and it was a long moment before he spoke again. “Do you remember that first time you came with me to The Raptor Center? I told you I was upset about Danny calling me all drunked up, that’s why we left so abruptly?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t tell you the rest of it. He overdosed on pain pills that day, said it was accidental.”

“Oh, Colin.” That day she’d met Danny he seemed so…together, so friendly and nice. But what did she know?

“Danny was paralyzed about a year after me. It’s a tough thing for a man to swallow, that you’ll never walk again. Never make love to a woman, perhaps. Never have the rest of your life the way you thought the rest of your life would be…”

He looked up at the sky, scanning the stars as if there might be some answer up there. In the ambient light she could see that his face was filled with such sadness, and she reached over, took his hand, and squeezed. He squeezed back, but didn’t let go.

“Danny was twenty-four years old, and maybe that’s what made the difference. To him, I’m an old man at forty. Isn’t that middle-aged?” he asked with a little laugh.

“Not by my accounting. And I used to be an accountant. I don’t think middle-aged starts until fifty.”

“And you are?”

“Still thirty-nine.”

“Hmm. I’d have sworn not a day over thirty.”

She smiled, but his disappeared and he turned away, quiet again for a while. She waited.

“They give you lots of painkillers in the early days. It’s kind of a paradox, you know, you’re paralyzed, but there’s still pain. And after a while, if you’re not careful it’s hard to live without the stuff. Danny was a good soldier, but he was always a hard drinker and after that, well, he began having addiction issues.”

“Is that common?”

He shrugged. “It’s not uncommon. When I came to in the middle of that road in Iraq, everyone screaming, blood and smoke everywhere, and I couldn’t move, I knew in that instant that I was never going to walk again. But even so, in those early weeks there’s such denial, you think if you just find the right thing, acupuncture, or Reiki, or maybe when the swelling finally starts to subside, you’ll start to feel something. Because you can’t imagine things otherwise. It took me a long time to swallow what I knew in that first moment. But Danny spent months and months trying anything he could find, even experimental crap down in Mexico. He just couldn’t face it. And now…he doesn’t have to anymore.”

“Oh, Colin, he died?” He squeezed her hand so hard she nearly cried out.

“Early on I told him that if he focused on what he still had then—a wife, a family that loved him, a lot of good years ahead of him—that he could still do something worthwhile with his life. But…he couldn’t be a soldier anymore. His personal life just fell apart, his wife couldn’t take the drinking, the anger…” He sat there, shaking his head.

Although weeks ago Colin had told her the same abbreviated version of what had happened to him as Ruth had, this was the first time he ever really talked about how difficult it had been. Because of his outward strength and confidence, she never really put much thought to the hell he’d gone through. The difficult moments that must still come at him when he least expected it.

“I understood everything Danny went through, the anger, the frustration. The waste. I was about to retire from the military, get married, have the life I’d waited a long time for. It would have been so easy to lose myself in some altered state. But I just kept thinking of my dad, dead so young. I would have taken him paralyzed, over not having him at all. And I thought of my mom, losing a husband, then a son. I decided if I was going to live, I wasn’t going to make everyone else around me miserable. I was going to do something worthwhile with my life.”

He gave a long, ragged sigh. “Danny was a good soldier. I thought when I persuaded him to be my relay buddy for the games, that might do the trick, you know—give him a goal, a purpose each day. And damn, he was good. He could push that chair like no one else I ever saw. Yesterday he apparently found out his ex is pregnant.”

“Do you think that was the catalyst?”

He shrugged. “It couldn’t have helped. That’s my one regret, too. I’d have liked kids.”

“I understand. I’ll never have them either.”

He turned to her. “But you’re still young enough, there’s probably still time.”

“It just wasn’t meant to be. And I’ve learned to live with it.”

“I’m sorry. And I’m sorry to dump so much on you.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Maybe it’s because you didn’t know me…before. I find myself telling you things I haven’t shared with anyone.”

“Me too.”

She knew what it was. They were friends, pure and simple. There was no need for pretense, because there also wasn’t that delicate mating dance between a man and a woman. But as she stood to leave, he took her hand again and gently pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her. Without hesitation she laid her head on his shoulder.

After a moment he whispered, “Thanks for listening. I have to admit, I was a bit put out when you moved in next door, but I’m glad you’re here.”

She stood up then and smiled. “So you wouldn’t mind it if I stayed on a few more months while I figure out my big picture?”

He shook his head. “You’re a tough lady. I have to give you credit, that cabin’s pretty rustic and I don’t know a lot of women who would’ve stuck it out.”

“Well, I didn’t have much choice at first, but now, I’m kind of shocked to admit it, but it’s starting to feel like home. And I don’t mind the cabin, or the fact that I wear the same clothes all the time, have just a handful of toiletries, a few pair of shoes…” She laughed suddenly. “It’s kind of liberating to do without and realize you can do just fine. Maybe even focus on the things that are way more important than the
stuff.”

He was smiling at her, his head tilted.

“But you know all that, of course.”

“I do, but the average person doesn’t.”

“It’s funny, I grew up pretty poor, always moving around, always wanting the things I thought would make me happy, but…I realize now that real contentment comes from within, not from other people or…”

“Stuff?”

“Right,” she said, and they both laughed. “Sometimes I feel like I’m living a novel, or maybe a Lifetime Movie, you know? This woman who was somehow sleepwalking through her own life until she loses everything and goes after this dream of being an author one last time. I just hope I can be the plucky heroine who somehow pulls it together for a happy ending.”

“I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Thanks.”

“I almost forgot,” he said. “I won’t be swimming in the morning. A few of us are going to visit Danny’s family.”

“All right.” She turned to go, then turned back to him. “That reminds me, I do have to leave soon to go back to St. Augustine to finalize my divorce. It’ll just be a few days, but you promise you won’t swim alone while I’m gone again?”

“I’ll miss you,” he said after a moment.

“I’ll miss you, too.” She smiled. “And?”

“And I promise.”

* * *

SHE SLEPT LATE THE NEXT MORNING, and it was after ten when Lucy sat down at her laptop with her first cup of tea. She couldn’t stop thinking about her conversation with Colin the night before, Danny’s tragic story, and the scene she was now writing. What was war to the average person? To her, and millions of others, it was something far away, removed from your daily life. You forgot about it after you put away the morning paper. Or you avoided it altogether by refusing to read gruesome articles. But men like Colin and Danny, and women, were just like characters in a novel, living with the consequences of their choices. Enduring the scorching after effects for the rest of their lives.

It was powerful stuff, and she wanted to do it justice as she worked it into her story somehow. She’d tried last night, just putting down thoughts and snippets of their talk when she got in. But it just wasn’t coming. Erasing the last few lines now, she swallowed the last of her tea and decided to let it go and take a walk in the woods. If she let her mind relax, it would hopefully come to her.

She put on shorts, laced up her sneakers, and headed out the door. Rounding the cabin toward the path, she noticed a man in a soldier’s uniform pushing himself in a wheelchair from Colin’s house. She realized it must be another friend going with him to see Danny’s family. But when the soldier reached the grass and turned the chair, coming toward the driveway, she was stunned to see that it wasn’t a stranger. It was Colin.