Book Lover, The (39 page)

She imagined next a wide chest, shimmering with crystal beads of water, and she wasn’t disappointed. As he continued to rise up out of the water, Catherine wondered if she hadn’t crossed a dimension as she watched this man-god swim to the lake’s edge. Instead of walking out of the water, he began to push himself with his hands and a moment later his withered lower half emerged and the beautiful man became…a beast. And damn her, she couldn’t turn away. She sat there and stared, wondering what life was like for this man who was like a creature from a fairy tale.

The page fluttered to the floor. She’d kept insisting to Jenny that she had to be wrong, but now Jenny’s angry insistence roared in her head. “Mom, she’s going to leave one day soon. Gloryanne loves him and wants to marry him. They belong together. But he won’t listen to her.”

She leafed through more pages, skimming lines, stopping suddenly.

He came out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel across his lap. A moment later, he pushed himself onto the bed and gathered her into his arms. They began to kiss and then he took both her hands, clasping them tightly, lifting her above him, and she couldn’t help but think of the eagles for a brief instant, clasping talons in their aerial ballet as they plunged to earth, and she felt him filling her, miraculously, their own fingers entwined as they soared and circled, then tumbled, falling, falling toward the earth.

Dear God, Jenny was right. Lucy was having an affair with Colin, right under her nose. She’d been too stupid to see a thing. Even worse, Lucy was using him to write this modern day fable of two lost souls, which thank God Jenny knew nothing about. And Colin, what was he thinking? Was he so flattered by the attention that he turned his back on someone who truly cared for him? She looked around the cabin, the scene of her own betrayal, and a familiar flash of anger raged up in her throat.

She was trembling so badly she had to sit. She stared out the window, determined to wait for Lucy for as long as it took.

                            
45

C
OMING DOWN THE MOUNTAIN BEHIND THE CABIN after a long hike, Lucy stopped where the trees began to thin and looked at the world below. Above her branches swayed, the wind swishing through the leaves and blowing her hair in front of her face again. She held it back with both hands as she sat on a rock, catching her breath. At the bottom of the hill, on the far side of these woods, was her cabin, and to the right of it across the grass, Colin’s. Just beyond that stretched the lake, looking like a shimmering blue jewel ringed by mountains, as it reflected the sky and hills around it. Closing her eyes, she sighed as the wind seemed to caress her face. She’d only been gone for a few days, but truly missed this place. And Colin.

She was completely wrung out from the convention, feeling like David pitted against the Goliaths of the publishing world. Although she came away with some sense of accomplishment, overall she was completely overwhelmed. Yes, little by little she was getting more bookstores on board, and readers, but there wasn’t anyone in the publishing industry paying any attention to her book. And maybe they never would.

But as she sat there now, surrounded by such beauty, she consoled herself with this—if it never happened, if she completely gave up on the books, because she was nearly finished with a draft of the second-she would still have this. She could sit here and feel her soul soothed by the sounds of the trees in the wind, the smells of the ferns, the wild roses, and the earth itself. She could lay back and let the sun warm her face. Continue to dabble in poetry and write stories, for her own pleasure and no one else’s. She was a writer, and always would be. Maybe she’d just continue in anonymity, like so many thousands of others. And that would be enough. Here, with Colin, she believed it could be.

Ironically, the best moment at the convention had to do with Ruth, who wasn’t even there. And she couldn’t wait to tell her about it. Heading back down the trail, finally, she spotted a car in her driveway, then realized it was Ruth’s. What an amazing coincidence! She began to run.

When she rounded the cabin, she found Ruth sitting on the porch and stooped to give her a quick hug. “What a surprise! Come on in, I’ll make tea.”

“No, please don’t go to the trouble. I can’t stay long. I needed to get out and so I brought you something I promised you long ago,” Ruth said, following her inside.

The moment Lucy walked in, her hand flew to her mouth. She hadn’t finished painting, but everything else was in place. She turned, and saw Ruth looking at her.

“Oh, Ruth, I wanted to surprise you. It’s not finished.”

Ruth looked around, but her face barely changed. There was no look of appreciation, or joy, and Lucy realized in that moment perhaps she’d been presumptuous, and gone too far. Maybe Ruth wanted to keep the cabin just the way it was. The way the family remembered it.

“It’s lovely,” she said then, almost as an afterthought. “Now here, open this.”

They sat on the couch and she opened the bag.
Max Perkins: Editor of Genius.
Thank you so much, Ruth. I remember you telling me how he helped some of the greatest writers of the last century. I’ll start it tonight.”

“I think you’ll find it very enlightening,” she said, and then smiled.

Lucy looked at her for a moment. Her face was flushed and Ruth seemed as if she was waiting for her to say something else.

“I also want to thank you for giving me your ticket and your room for the convention. I actually have some surprising news for you.”

“Well, so do I, but you go first.”

She had to stand so she could pace, suddenly filled with nervous energy again as she relayed everything. “Oh, Ruth, I was just terrified at first. But after a while, after I went in and just walked around, I realized everyone was doing the same thing, all the big publishers and authors—they were just hawking their books, like me. Of course the booksellers waited in long lines to meet the big authors and get signed copies of their books, and that’s when it really hit me—I was way over my head. There was no way I could compete with that. I mean, the big publishers must’ve given away hundreds and hundreds of books.”

“Yes, they do, because if the booksellers read them, they’ll hopefully order them.”

“So, I just kept walking around, right by the big displays, introducing myself to every bookseller that passed me, asking if they’d like to read my book, and showing them my brochure, with all of my quotes and statistics, especially that it was a book club pick in ten states and that I was the top selling paperback at your store.”

Ruth was sitting there listening intently, her fingers twisting the straps of her purse, as if she were full of nerves herself.

“Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t easy,” Lucy went on. “There were booksellers that barely acknowledged me and others who thought I was gutsy. Then I met one of my mother’s favorite authors, Adele Gray, and finally got up the courage to give her a book, figuring maybe she’d actually read it, or even give it to her agent—you know, that I’d finally make that connection I was hoping for. But after she took it, I actually saw her hand it off to someone else, laughing, and I felt kind of sick for a while. But then I saw the bookseller from Mendham, where David and I used to live, and who I’d e-mailed a handful of times with no response. He remembered me coming in and buying books years ago and invited me for a signing. I think I’ll get others, but again, at least a handful asked me to send them copies and they’ll put them out.”

Ruth nodded. “That’s wonderful.”

She didn’t tell the rest of it, how she’d been so down a few times she nearly left. How she imagined her book lost in the sea of tote bags, buried under bestsellers and the latest new works. She was too grateful to Ruth for the opportunity to sound like sour grapes.

“When I was alone in my room at night, I finally sat down and figured out how many books I’ve sold so far. Ruth, I’ve sold more than two thousand books already.”

Ruth blinked, clearly surprised.

“That’s a lot, isn’t it?”

“Yes, considering that’s not far from what the average literary novel does in a lifetime.”

“But still, I couldn’t get one publisher to take a copy there. They all kept saying to get an agent first. I keep thinking maybe I should try to find an agent again, but I can’t bear the thought of another rejection. Although now I’ve got proof that my book has an audience. Plus all of these readers are waiting for my next book. I get e-mails all the time asking me when my next book is coming out.”

“So tell me, what is your next book about?”

She stopped pacing then and turned to Ruth. She had a funny look on her face, and it occurred to her suddenly that Ruth was hurt. They’d shared so much and talked about all the books they read and loved, but Lucy hadn’t told her a word about the new one; the book she’d been writing right here in the cabin that Ruth had been kind enough to let her use. If it weren’t for Ruth, she knew there wouldn’t be a new book.

“Well, the new book is very different from
A Quiet Wanting,”
she began, suddenly really nervous, because she needed Ruth to know her relationship with Colin first, for her to understand the story. And she’d been planning to tell Colin as soon as he came home that night that it was time. She didn’t want to hold back anymore, especially with Ruth. But in the excitement of seeing her, and of the big news she was about to tell her, she’d simply forgotten all of that. “Anyway, it’s kind of a modern day fairy tale. I don’t have a title yet, although I’ve been thinking about
Confessions of a Poet,
because my main character dabbles in poetry. And I want you to read it, Ruth, but not until it’s done, okay?”

Ruth sat there, staring at her, her head tilted the way Colin always did, yet it was the first time she’d noticed.

“I’ve been running on and on about me, but Ruth, the really amazing part of the convention was you.” She went over to her purse and pulled out an envelope. “This is your prize. You won the essay contest.”

Ruth’s mouth opened, but no words came out, and Lucy could see was floored. She handed her the envelope and Ruth held it in her trembling fingers, her face full of emotion.

“Because I went in your place, they let me bring it back. I think they thought I worked at the store, too. It’s not a huge prize, but I know you’ve been trying to figure out a way to hang onto the store, and I hope it helps.”

Ruth swallowed, and seemed to compose herself. “Well, this is amazing, but yes, it is just a drop in the bucket.”

“Oh, Ruth, I’m so sorry.” She must be closing the store, after all. How ironic to win now.

Ruth stood and walked over to the big window overlooking the lake. “It doesn’t matter, really, because I figured out a way to make it all work. I’ve decided not to sell the store. I’m selling my house. And this cabin.”

“Wow…I’m really glad, Ruth. I can’t imagine the store without you, I…”

“There’s more good news,” she said, turning back now, a bright smile on her face. “Jenny and I are ecstatic because Gloryanne wants to marry Colin. Isn’t it wonderful? We’re all so relieved this is finally happening, because he shouldn’t be alone. And they’ve loved each other since they were in high school.”

She thought her legs might go out from under her. Lucy sat again on the couch, trying to maintain her composure. And her eyes landed on the manuscript for the new book, sitting next to her laptop. On the left of it, not the right, where she always set it.

“Ruth,” she said, going to the table and picking up the manuscript. “This isn’t what you think. Oh God, you can’t believe—”

But Ruth was shaking her head, her eyes narrowed with disappointment. “What I believe, Lucy, is that I trusted you, with my most intimate thoughts and feelings. I opened my home and my life to you. And my family. When I asked you to keep an eye on Colin, this wasn’t what I had in mind. But I think you know that.”

A sickening dread overcame her as she stood there facing Ruth, her voice full of hurt and anger, this woman she loved like an older sister, or a best friend. Or even, at times, like a mother.

“Ruth, I wanted—”

“You deliberately kept it from me that you were having an affair with Colin.”

“Ruth, I love him.”

“But your husband, he still wants you back, doesn’t he?”

“I…yes, he does, but—”

“And now it’s clear to me why we conveniently never finished talking about your trip back to St. Augustine.” There was a long pause. “You’re not divorced, are you?”

And there it was, not quite a lie, but another sin of omission. It had seemed inconsequential, a technicality, because emotionally she was as good as divorced from David.

“We will be, very soon. I have to go back one more time…David…he knows I don’t want to reconcile, and it’s taking time for him to accept.”

Her words died as Ruth picked up her purse. “Colin is at the VA and he won’t be back until late tonight. I’d really appreciate it if you’d leave before he gets back here.”

“But Ruth, I do love him, and I wanted to tell you. Colin didn’t want us to tell anyone yet.”

“Of course he didn’t, Lucy, because it’s a fling.”

“Oh, Ruth, it’s not like that, you have to believe me.”

For a moment her face softened. “Look, Lucy, what you’re doing here with my son isn’t real. You haven’t even been separated that long. You think I don’t know what betrayal does to your heart? One moment you hate his guts and the next you’d do anything to have him want you again. How do you know you’re over your husband so soon?”

She knew how painful this was for Ruth as her eyes filled with tears and she had to bite her lip to hold back hers.

“I was so foolish letting you stay here when you were nothing more than another wounded bird. How could he resist you? But Gloryanne has loved him for years, and he’s loved her. Maybe they’ve had some rough patches, but who wouldn’t under the circumstances? And here you come, an attractive stranger, someone who didn’t have to deal with the trauma of his life changing, or the realities of what his future now meant, and suddenly life is exciting for him again. It’s not that long since Colin’s accident. I don’t think he’s thinking all that clearly.”

“I was going to tell you everything, I swear.”

“Does he know what this book you’re writing is about?”