Book Lover, The (40 page)

“I was waiting…until it was finished.” Another sin of omission.

“You’re not even divorced, you just admitted it. You’re in no shape to make a commitment to Colin. Gloryanne is ready to give him a future. Do you want to destroy that chance? Are you that selfish?”

Hot tears slid down her cheeks as she shook her head.

“Please Lucy, he doesn’t even know you’re back yet. Just leave. I’ll tell him that you’re sorry, that things changed. Don’t ruin this for him. He has the chance to be with the woman he’s always wanted. She’ll care for him. Your life is in turmoil right now. What if you change your mind next week, or next month? Gloryanne has been through it all and she’s making this commitment with the full knowledge of what it entails. And if it weren’t for you, they’d no doubt be planning a wedding right now.”

“I would never do anything to hurt him, Ruth.”

“But Lucy, you already have.”

And then she was gone. Lucy sat on the couch, her breath coming in spurts, tears dripping onto the manuscript that lay on her lap, the words blurring until they were unrecognizable.

                            
46

L
UCY HAD KNOWN WHEN SHE MOVED INTO THE CABIN all those months ago that her stay there would be temporary. A stopping over on the uncharted road to her new future alone. How could she have had any idea how much would change during those months on this beautiful lake? Despite her initial anguish when she arrived, and all of the creature comforts she’d lived without, she couldn’t remember a time she was happier.

Driving away, she knew she could return to Florida and pick up the frayed thread of her old life with David. It would have been so easy, because it’s what he wanted. But she didn’t. She drove to her mother’s, surprising herself, and was in turn surprised to find them packing once again. Charlie, her mother told her with shining eyes, had invited them to come to Australia for six weeks. He even sent plane tickets. It was the trip of a lifetime, Artie chirped in. Two days later they were gone and she had the place, blessedly, to herself.

She tried to bury herself in work, as in the past, but it was impossible. The guilt over Ruth’s accusations ate away at her at night when she lay in bed unable to sleep, imagining Colin’s face when Ruth told him she’d gone. All she could remember was the look on his face when he said that their time together seemed like a dream. The more Lucy thought about it, the more she realized there was some truth in what Ruth said. With her, there was nothing for Colin to lose. With her, he discovered that intimacy could exist again. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to take that step with Gloryanne, and now he could.

Then she remembered him asking, “Can you see a future for us?” Maybe he wanted her to say no. Perhaps that was the real reason he didn’t want anyone to know about them.

In the long moments after Ruth walked out, she’d debated what to do. Wondering if she had the nerve to defy her and wait for Colin. It began to occur to her that perhaps she had been selfish, as Ruth accused. Colin filled the empty places inside of her, and she had come alive again at the lake. She’d been selfish in marrying David, knowing in the beginning she didn’t really love him as she should have. But she’d wanted and needed him, and grew to love him. What if she’d done the same thing with Colin, without regard to his own future?

Images of him haunted her all hours of the day and night, the muscles in his arms and shoulders as they sliced through the water, wheeling himself up and down the ramp stacking wood or filling his bird feeders, those light blue eyes blazing at her as they made love. And most haunting of all, Colin sitting quietly in his wheelchair, staring at the wounded eagle in his cage.

Ruth’s accusations had punched holes in every certainty she’d had. She was riddled with doubts, and her dishonesty to Ruth tortured her. There was so much she needed to say to her that she didn’t have a chance to. She had a million excuses for everything she’d kept from her, but she was beginning to realize her own justification was beside the point. The fact that Ruth thought so badly of her was gut wrenching. A week after leaving, Lucy sent her an e-mail in the middle of another sleepless night.

Dear Ruth,

I had to write and tell you once again how sorry I am. I am sick at heart that I’ve hurt you, and that despite my best intentions, I was less than honest with you. I’m spending every waking moment, it seems, reliving my life, examining why I do such things. I now recognize a pattern of avoiding the truth. I came back from Florida so determined not to make any more mistakes, because as much as David was in the wrong, I wasn’t blameless.

I made the worst mistake of all with you, Ruth, and with Colin. I hope one day I can earn your forgiveness. I realize there’s a lot of truth in what you said. I haven’t been separated all that long. And I wasn’t there for the really bad times with Colin. But one thing I can tell you with complete honesty, and certainty: I will never forget your kindness, or everything you’ve done for me. I love you, Ruth. And I love Colin.

I hope everything works out for you with the store. You deserve only the best.

Lucy

Once she sent the letter, it wasn’t as hard to get back to writing because she needed to finish the new book. She needed to someday have Ruth see the entire story, not just the bits and pieces she must have scanned that day. Her hope was that she would understand what this was: a love story, a tribute to a man who others might see as someone different—like the beast in the fairy tale—but who inside was tender, caring and strong. A beautiful man she’d come to love, and whose loss she now grieved. Once she read it, hopefully Ruth might forgive her.

When her brain was too fried to write, she continued promoting
A
Quiet Wanting.
Slowly she began to fill the hours, always checking to see if there might be some reply from Ruth. But there wasn’t. At night, she lay in bed exhausted, her mind continuing to go over the past, the puzzle still trying to work itself in her brain. Why did she seem to avoid the truth in some of the most important moments of her life?

* * *

ONE DAY SHE WALKED TO MORAVIAN BOOKS and introduced herself. They all knew her mother, and true to her word, she’d given them a book. It was a pleasure to stand there and hear how much they all loved it. They even asked her to do a signing, and she hesitated, then realized she had more than a month until her mother returned, so they set a date.

She was surprised when she got back to find an e-mail from her former workshop buddy, acid-tongued Regan, who’d come to her launch party.

Hey Lucy,

Just wondering how the book is doing. We talked about it in the workshop. It’s really a good book, although a few of us thought the husband could have been more sympathetic. Anyway, I’m writing because I’m thinking of doing it, too. I swore I’d never give in if I couldn’t get a real deal, but I’m at my wit’s end. Let me know as soon as you can.

Regan

P.S. Have you sent any more queries out since you self-published?

As she sat there staring at her
P.S.,
Ruth’s words from weeks ago came back once more, that maybe it was time to try again. “What do you have to lose?” she’d asked, her brown eyes so full of caring then. “If you get rejected, then you just keep plugging away, as you have been. But if you get a good agent who can sell it to a publisher, you’ll be able to get your novel into every bookstore in the country.”

That night while the TV droned, her mind numb and not even hearing the show, she grabbed her laptop and began typing up a query letter to agents about
A Quiet Wanting.
As much as she wanted to be “the real deal,” an author with a legitimate publisher, she wasn’t sure she had the stomach to face rejection again, especially now. But Ruth had a point. One by one she was adding stores, but it was tedious. After six months she had more than thirty stores on board, but there was no way to get the entire country by herself. And she was beyond exhausted, the months of effort suddenly catching up with her. But maybe it was time to give it one more try, and if it didn’t happen, then so be it. There was more to life than getting published, she’d realized that afternoon as she sat on the rock overlooking the lake. Maybe it was time to get back to that life.

A query was supposed to be just one page, a succinct sales pitch about your story to hopefully entice an agent to say
send me a chapter,
or better yet,
send me the entire manuscript.
Her query letter turned into two and a half pages, because she couldn’t resist throwing in everything—blurbs from reviews online and in newspapers, that her self-published novel was a book club pick in twelve states now, and she’d sold more than 2,200 books in mere months, what most literary novels did in a lifetime. Then she added her best reader and bookseller quotes.

Most of all, she wrote, all of this proved that her book had an audience, and now there were more than a few thousand readers waiting for her next novel, which was nearly done. When she finished the letter, she searched online for agents, copying and pasting their addresses, until there were ten query letters ready in her outbox. But then she closed the laptop, still uncertain she was ready to face this again. Just as she began to fall asleep on the couch, the house phone rang. Her brother Charlie’s name showed on the caller ID and she felt an instant jolt of alarm.

“Are you asleep?” her mother asked, when she picked up.

“I was just dozing on the couch. Is everything all right?”

“Yes, it’s great. But I’m worried about you.”

“I’m okay, Mom, keeping busy.”

“Did you stop in the bookstore yet?”

“Yes, I did, you were right, they’re lovely, and we’re doing a signing.”

“Then why do you sound so depressed?”

She sighed. “I’m just so tired. I’ve been doing this for how many months now? Plus, I’ve been working on a query letter for hours. I think my brain may have overheated.”

Then she had to explain what a query letter was.

“Oh, Lucy, just send the damn letters out. And picture it happening. You have to
feel
it. If you do the universe will feel it, too.”

“Okay, Mom,” she said, with a little laugh.

“I’m serious.”

“I can tell.”

Then her mother explained—no surprise here-that Artie had given her a copy of
The Secret
awhile back, and she’d been living by that philosophy. Lucy had to admit, after their last visit, that something good was definitely working on her mother.

“Besides, I’ve read six books since yours and none was as good.”

“Well…Mom, thanks, that really means a lot to me.”

“I’m going to light a candle and say a prayer right now. You go find a candle and I’ll hold on while you do.”

She knew better than to argue. It wasn’t hard to find one, her mother had candles everywhere, and a lighter in her kitchen drawer next to a pack of cigarettes. Lucy grabbed them both, then got back on the phone.

“Okay, Mom, my candle is lit.”

“Now go send the letters.”

She put the laptop on the dining room table beside the candle and opened her outbox, paused a moment, then clicked Send, watching the queries disappear as she whispered, “Please…please let it happen this time.”

Then she got back on the phone and assured her mother it was done.

“Good. Now believe it is already happening.”

“Okay, Mom,” she said, although this part was a stretch for her. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe it should, she just knew what the odds were.

She stood there watching the candlelight flickering on her laptop and her chaos all over that table, and wondered about her mother. Maybe it wasn’t ever too late for someone to change. Maybe it was just a matter of surrounding yourself with the right people. With her father, her mother had always been depressed. With her three children, she’d been…overwhelmed. But with Artie, her mother had finally become someone she really liked.

Then Lucy said something she couldn’t ever remember saying. “I love you, Mom.”

She threw the cigarettes back in the drawer.

                            
47

R
UTH WOKE EARLY, WENT DOWNSTAIRS TO MAKE COFFEE, and let Sam outside. She stood on the back porch a moment, waiting for Sam to do her business. Sam was still showing signs of separation anxiety. Even going out in the yard caused her to glance at Ruth with long, anxious looks, as if asking,
you’ll be here when I come back in, right?

She wrapped her robe tighter and looked out at the yard, a fine glaze of ice crystals coating the still green grass, and lamented the regular frosts already. The sugar maple, always the first to blaze red in early fall, was now bare, although the oaks clung to their withered brown leaves.

Sam trotted back up the steps and Ruth opened the door, both of them entering the warm kitchen with a shiver. She set Sam’s breakfast on the floor, then poured her coffee and sat at the table, but she just looked at her food. The store’s 150th anniversary celebration was just weeks away now, as was the inaugural First Friday Downtown Walk, and she would finally be going out in public with Thomas.

She stared out the back window and told herself to cheer up. Two months ago she’d been sitting in the hospital worried about her life, her store, and Thomas. Sick with dread. Now it seemed as though she had worried for nothing. Her heart was fine, her energy was back. And the store was still open, and would be until she was really ready to retire.

Telling the children about Thomas hadn’t gone well, at first. When she had them all for Sunday brunch a few weeks ago and Jenny walked in, it took her daughter a moment to notice that most of the clutter was gone, furniture strategically rearranged, and the kitchen “refreshed,” as her realtor so aptly put it. Everything was neutral and airy and already it felt like someone else’s house to Ruth, which made the sudden emotional tugs as she walked through the rooms a bit easier to handle.

After brunch, while her grandchildren were playing in the yard, she’d sat Colin, Jenny and Alex down and told them her plans.

“My God, Mom, it’s about time. I don’t know why you held onto this old house for so long,” Jenny had said. “You should get a nice little ranch, or better yet, a condo.”

“Actually, I’m buying The Book Lover building, and I’m going to live upstairs for a while. It’s a beautiful apartment, very spacious.”

As Jenny’s mouth opened to protest, Alex and Colin both piped up that it was a great idea.

She looked at Jenny. “Listen, I know you worry about me, and I love you for that. But I’m not ready to retire, honey. I promise I’m going to scale back my hours. I promoted Megan to assistant manager. One day she’ll hopefully buy the store from me. Until then, I’m not only going to keep it going, I’m planning to expand, open the wall to the vacant space next door and bring in a used book section. And if Hazel’s Café takes off, that’ll allow me to give Hannah more space, too. I have a feeling her Book Lover Baskets are going to be a hit.”

“It’s a great idea,” Colin said.

“Now, there’s one more thing I have to tell you,” she said then, and had to stand because she was too nervous to sit still. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

Their faces said it all—shock, raised eyebrows, a smile from Colin.

“Would he happen to be the man who was conveniently painting your cabinets that day?” Jenny asked, with a teasing lilt in her voice.

“Yes.” She could feel her heart thudding in her throat.

“Now
I’ll
say it,” Alex said, laughing. “It’s about time, Mom.”

She took a deep breath, looking at their smiling faces, their happiness for her palpable. “Well, there’s something you need to know about him. I met him five years ago.” She paused suddenly, praying this ended well. “When I began selling books at the prison.”

Jenny jumped up. “Oh my God, Mom, don’t tell me—”

She put her hand up, stopping her daughter. “Yes, he was in prison, but now he’s out. I’ve thought about this long and hard. He’s a good man who made a bad choice, one he’s paid for. We all make mistakes, and hopefully we grow from them. Now, I’m giving this a chance. I’d like your support.”

“Jesus,” Jenny said softly, shaking her head.

Alex gave her a long look. “You really care for him?”

“I do.”

“You don’t need anyone’s permission, Mom.” Colin said, looking straight at Jenny. “We’re not going to stand in your way.”

A few days afterward Jenny had come back, looking so glum that Ruth waited for something awful as they sat in the kitchen.

“I checked up on Thomas, and did some digging. I even called my friend Andrea’s husband, Carl. Remember he’s the one who got you into the prison to sell books?”

“Of course I remember him.”

Jenny began shaking her head. “I couldn’t find one person to say a negative thing about your Thomas.”

Ruth let the breath she’d been holding out of her lungs.

“You’re a big girl, Mom, and it looks like you know what you’re doing.”

“So I’ve got your blessing on this?”

Jenny nodded.

“Thank you for caring about me, but I have to tell you, I’d already made up my mind to see him, whether you kids agreed or not.”

“Okay, Mom. I’m glad you’re finally making some changes in your life. You seem…different. Happier, I guess. And I’m sorry to be such a pain in the ass.” Jenny flashed her a rueful smile. “The girls keep telling me I should change my middle name to ‘worry.’”

Ruth got up and gave her a hug. “It’s nice to be cared about, honey. And I hate to tell you, I think I passed that middle name down to you.”

She was blessed to have children who worried about her. She felt blessed by everything in her life these days, right down to the books on her shelves.

Now the house was under contract, as was the cabin. She’d said she was selling the cabin that day out of anger, but afterward, she realized she was being a fool for not selling the cabin as her accountant had often suggested. It was that final piece of the past she needed to let go, once and for all. She told herself she would do it, no matter what the kids thought, but in the end, they didn’t seem to mind that, either. And it had made all the difference for her financially.

She’d gotten a decent price, not for the cabin really, although it showed much better thanks to Lucy’s redecorating, but because of the land, that wide swath of lakefront on the private cove. A young couple just starting out put an offer on it within days. Her hope now was that they’d be good neighbors, and hopefully become friends with Colin when they moved in after closing.

At the thought of Colin, she put her cup down. He’d been so quiet since Lucy left. And then there was another jab of guilt when she got Lucy’s e-mail, apologizing. But Jenny kept assuring her that he’d get over it, and that Glory-anne was willing to wait.

The day she confronted Lucy, she’d driven away shaking so badly she had to pull over on the other side of the lake. Sitting there, she looked across the water, thinking of the months that Lucy and Colin were lovers, and how Lucy said absolutely nothing. Because of Colin’s handicap it had never even occurred to her that something like that could happen. But looking back, she’d thrown two wounded souls together. Naturally they’d tried to comfort each other. She’d been such a fool. And then, of course, there was the secret manuscript.

She was very careful in telling him afterward. She wasn’t supposed to know about the affair, so she tried to be casual. When he came into The Book Lover the next afternoon, when it was just the two of them, she’d simply said, “By the way, I heard from Lucy. It seems she packed up her things and left.”

He didn’t even look at her, he’d simply sat in his wheelchair staring out the front window, his face not revealing a thing.

“Apparently her husband won’t give up.”

A muscle in his cheek quivered, as if he were grinding his teeth. “I hope it works out for her,” he’d said, then wheeled his chair to the back of the store.

In the following weeks it was so easy to think she’d done the right thing. Neither of them brought up Lucy again, and then Colin and Gloryanne began spending more time together. When Gloryanne stopped in last night, Ruth was certain it was with news, and she was right. But the news wasn’t at all what she expected.

“I came to say goodbye,” Gloryanne said, standing in the doorway with a bright smile. “I’m moving to Colorado.”

Ruth was stunned. Instead of planning a future, as they’d all thought, she told Ruth as they sat in her kitchen that she and Colin had spent the last weeks rehashing their past.

“He made me realize that it was over a long time ago. With him being in the service and gone so much, it was so easy to ignore our problems because when he came home, we were just so happy to see each other. It was like a continual honeymoon, but…” and then Ruth saw a glitter of tears fill her eyes, “sometimes it’s just hard to let go.”

“I know, honey.”

“I think if that writer hadn’t come, I wouldn’t have gotten so confused. I have to admit it, I got really jealous. But that’s not a reason to marry someone, just because you can’t bear the thought of him being with someone else. Anyway, we’ll always care deeply for each other—how couldn’t we, after all our history? But it’s time for me to move on.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

Gloryanne nodded. “I’m going to live with my cousin in Denver for a few months and try to start over. Actually, I’m kind of excited.”

Ruth gave her a long hug, and a short while later Gloryanne was gone.

After that, the uneasy feeling she’d been trying to ignore began to plague her night and day. She’d been wrong to meddle in Colin’s life. Even if he was having an affair with Lucy, even if Lucy was writing about him, it was Colin’s business, not hers. Of course she’d always want to protect her children, but she knew now that if she’d given herself some time to digest what she’d learned, she probably wouldn’t have acted as she had. But Jenny had planted the seed, and she’d let her anger take off, once again causing her to do something she regretted.

And that, really, was why she felt sick to her stomach this morning. Because much as she dreaded it, she needed to tell Colin the truth.