Ruth felt the breath sucked out of her lungs. Lynn handed her a piece of paper.
“The doctor recommended this, but I figured you know what’s best.”
She looked at the title. “Lynn, this book is, well…” she was going to say kind of negative, but that didn’t sound good. “Let me show you something more positive.” She guided Lynn to the far bookshelf. “I know, you’re probably thinking, what’s positive about this?”
She handed Lynn Still Alice. “I think this will help. It’s a wonderful book. In fact, the author got rejected by everyone because publishers didn’t think anyone would want to read about Alzheimer’s. Guess what? She published it herself and it did so well, a big publisher scooped it up and it went on to become a huge bestseller.” She made a mental note to tell Lucy about the book. She’d totally forgotten about it.
“Okay then.” Lynn held the book, nodding.
“Oh, Lynn. I’m so sorry.”
“I know. It’s just…” she didn’t finish.
Ruth wouldn’t let her pay for the book, although Lynn was insistent. “Absolutely not.” She slipped it into Lynn’s oversized purse. “Now, when you finish, let’s talk about it, okay?”
Lynn nodded, gave her a hug, and left. Ruth went and sat on the little table in the children’s corner, sick at heart. Lynn was in her early fifties. She had been hoping to be the first woman president of her bank. Soon she wouldn’t be working at all.
Life. It always seemed to throw curve balls when you least expected it.
* * *
AT THREE O’CLOCK HANNAH WALKED INTO THE STORE, her gray-blonde hair slipping from her ponytail, and with a decided limp.
“I don’t how much longer I can work there,” she sighed. “Guess I’m gettin’ old.”
Ruth came around the counter and gave Hannah a sudden hug. “I know what you mean.”
Hannah looked at her curiously. They’d been friends for years, but they also had a history few in town would probably remember.
“So, do you have a new book for me?” Hannah asked.
“No, actually I have an idea,” she said, then took Hannah’s arm and led her toward the back of the store.
“Did Hazel empty out this corner last night while the store was closed?” Hannah asked with a laugh.
“No, Harry did earlier today because I’ve had something brewing in my mind for a while and I wanted to see if it’s possible. In fact, it all started that morning I came to your house.”
“To see the dress?” Hannah looked at her skeptically.
“Yes, but it wasn’t the dress. It was the muffins.”
“Oh, right, my Better Than Sex Muffins,” Hannah said with a little laugh. Then she looked at the empty corner again. “I don’t understand, Ruth, what are you saying?”
“Well, I need to diversify, to get more people into the store and I thought maybe you could open a little café in this corner and have your own business here, selling muffins and coffees and teas.”
Hannah looked at her and blinked.
“No one I know bakes like you, Hannah. And you said it makes you happy, so maybe that’s the thing you should be doing.”
“Oh, Ruth!” Hannah’s hand flew to her mouth as she began to laugh, her eyes filling with tears at the same time. “It’s…it’s so…”
“Brilliant?”
“Yes! Oh yes.”
As they stood there, as the idea began to really sink in, Ruth felt such pleasure at the look on Hannah’s face as she began tossing out ideas. There was still a lot to discuss, and Ruth hoped that Hannah wouldn’t get excited and change her mind in a few days, as she’d done so many times before about things she was going to try.
“It’ll be fun trying to come up with a clever name,” Hannah said.
“Why not just Hannah’s Café?”
“I don’t want to use my name.”
A book fell behind them and they both turned.
“Wow, that’s weird,” Hannah said picking it up. “Oh my God, Ruth, this is Starting a Small Business for Dummies. Is Hazel calling me a dummy?” she giggled.
“Maybe we should call it Hazel’s Café.”
“I love it! I love it all! I can’t wait to tell Eddie.”
That was the real worry, Eddie. Hopefully he would be happy for Hannah, and not put roadblocks in her way.
“Ruth, I think you found it.” Hannah turned and gave her a hug.
And then she heard someone clearing his throat and turned, her heart nearly stopping. Here was her own curveball, standing not ten feet away, thrown right at her heart. Thomas stood there smiling.
“I was wondering if you could recommend a good book for someone starting over.”
18
THE DAYS AFTER THE BOOK SIGNING DISAPPEARED IN A BLUR. Each day Lucy hit the road with a trunk filled with books. Each time she pulled up to a store, she sat in the car, rehearsed her words, then walked inside with a book and a stack of bookmarks with Ruth’s quote in bold italics, and printouts of her two wonderful reviews. Like on the long trip north, she felt like nothing more than a traveling salesperson.
She kept reminding herself that sales was a numbers game, and as Kate once laughingly said after a few glasses of wine: “Throw enough shit on the wall, and something’s bound to stick.” Maybe if she hit fifty stores, ten might read or carry her book. At the end of the week, her trunk was emptying and her hopes were up, despite the ups and downs of these visits.
At a store in Lafayette, which seemed to carry mostly used books, she went into her spiel once again, telling the friendly young man at the register about her signing at The Book Lover, and that A Quiet Wanting was now a book club pick. He was so nice at first that her enthusiasm took over and she even confessed her secret dream to get picked up by a publisher. His eyes widened and then he actually laughed and said her chances were better of getting struck by lightning. She left without giving him a book.
Walking into these bookstores, having no idea if she’d be welcome or just another pain in the ass, was one of the toughest things she’d ever done, and that included telling someone they owed more than they earned in a year in back taxes when she was still an accountant.
Her faith was rekindled at a lovely store in Sparta. The manager liked that she was originally from New Jersey, and was impressed with her passion and drive. She e-mailed Lucy just two days later that she had already read and loved the book, and agreed to carry three copies on consignment. And yet Lucy wondered how many of the books she’d left at stores up and down the east coast now would end up in the trash. Or on ebay.
On another round of bookstore visits one morning, her cell rang and when she saw it was her attorney, she pulled over quickly. Carter was calling to go over some financial information. David, apparently, still had some income, as payments for past services rendered were coming in. He was also due a third of an accident settlement he’d argued successfully.
“David’s agreed to give you half of everything, although it’s not going to be much, given the debts and fines,” Carter explained. “I want you to ask for alimony. Even if David never practices law again, he’ll have to get some kind of job.”
Lucy sat there thinking. He was paying off all the debts. Thanks to him, her mother had her own place, and a decent car. Did she really want anything more from him?
“No, I don’t want alimony. Just what he stole from me.”
“What about the furniture and other possessions once the house is sold?”
She thought about the battered old cabin. How much did a person really need, she was beginning to wonder. Because there was something about stripping your life down to the barest essentials that somehow felt gratifying. That if you had to, you could survive. Thoreau would be proud of her.
“I’ll take a few personal things. Let David keep the rest, or sell it and pay me half.”
“All right. David’s attorney called me this morning to tell me he’ll be out in a few weeks, although he still has a period of house arrest. He’
d like to stay at your house until the divorce is final, then put it on the market. He’ll continue to pay the mortgage. You don’t have to agree to this, though. I think it’s really pushing things.”
At some point, she’d have to go back. She had to get the rest of her clothes and her old writing files, as well as mementos of Ben, which obviously David wouldn’t want. And, as the petitioner, she was mandated to appear in court for the divorce hearing, when things were ready to be finalized. David wasn’t required to attend, but was permitted to.
“He can stay,” she told Carter, “under one condition. That he not come to the divorce hearing when the time comes.”
“Fair enough.”
When she hung up, the irony hit her—here she sat a few blocks from yet another bookstore, about to pitch her book again: the story of a woman who discovers that her husband has been lying to her for years; that the very foundation of their marriage was a sham. When she’d spent all those months confined to her bed, waiting for Ben to be born, it had taken her weeks to decide how Hope would handle her betrayal by her husband. Ultimately, she decided that Hope loved him, didn’t want to lose him. But what about her? Did she still love David? Would she still want to be married to him if he hadn’t insisted on this divorce? The numbness at what he’d done was wearing off. Even the intense bursts of anger were less frequent, now replaced by a simmering resentment. He had lied to her and stolen from her. And he had committed the most egregious crime an attorney could—stealing from his own clients. It was hard to imagine they could go back to a normal relationship after all this, even if he wanted to. Still, people did. Books were filled with such stories. But this wasn’t a book, where she could make a character do as she wanted him to. This was her life. Her marriage. And soon it would be over.
* * *
WHEN SHE GOT BACK TO THE CABIN THAT AFTERNOON, Colin was sitting near his bird feeders in his wheelchair. She watched, recognizing the bright yellow flash of a goldfinch as it flitted from one to the other. Birds were obviously a passion for him.
She walked over, just as he began writing in a book on his lap. He seemed as unpredictable a person as a writer could dream of for a character. She’d expect someone with his handicap, cut down in the prime of life, to be resentful. Cranky perhaps. But he seemed none of that, except for the brief moment when they were leaving The Raptor Center that first time. Apparently his friend Danny had gotten drunk that day and called Colin’s cell, he’d finally explained to her after Danny left his house that day.
“Anyway, I was just frustrated, and I had no business taking it out on you.”
“It’s no big deal,” she’d said.
“It was rude.”
“It must be hard. I can’t even imagine.”
“In the beginning, your life is in the crapper, and you make everyone’s lives hell. I did it, too.”
“Well, I can identify with the crapper part. But I’m sure you didn’t mean to.”
“I wasn’t thinking of anyone else. I was just thinking of the rest of my life, without the use of my legs. I thought I wasn’t a man anymore, which isn’t easy for a soldier to swallow.”
“You seem pretty good now.”
“Swimming saved me. But Danny found out that day that his ex-wife’s getting remarried and he was in a pretty bad way. They’ve only been divorced about six months.”
“He seems to be doing better.”
Colin had nodded then. “I’m hoping racing can give him some focus, you know? That he can start feeling good about himself again. He puts on a good act with the ladies, as you noticed, but he’s still pretty raw inside.”
“You’re a good man to help him like that.”
He shrugged. “Just doing what someone else did for me.”
Now he looked up as she came closer, then glanced past her and put a finger to his lips. Slowly she turned and saw a gorgeous bird about the size of a robin, black and white with a crimson patch on its breast. They watched for several minutes as the bird fed, then finally flew off. She turned back to Colin, who was writing again.
“That was a rose-breasted grosbeak.” He looked up then. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I’ve never seen one before.”
“Look at this.”
He handed her the book. It was the field guide, and on a page with a picture of that same bird, she saw rows of dates. “I don’t understand.”
“Every year the grosbeak comes back to these feeders within the same three days.”
“The same bird?”
“No, they don’t live that long. But generations of them. These feeders are on their migratory path back north. My dad started recording it back in the sixties, and then…after a while I took over.”
“That’s incredible.”
“Nature’s an amazing thing. When we don’t screw it up.”
“I agree.”
“So are you still up for another visit to The Raptor Center tomorrow?”
“Sure. I’m really looking forward to it.”
“All right, see you then.”
He wheeled himself back to his cabin, with seemingly effortless ease. She pictured him again at The Raptor Center. The huge wild birds, beautiful and haunting in their cages, awaiting freedom. Colin had said it was a cliché, a cripple helping to heal wounded birds. She didn’t think so. It was poignant, even sad. They might be healed and fly to freedom again, but barring some sort of miracle, she imagined he would be confined to his chair for life. Once again she felt the pieces of an incredible story swimming in her head. She’d actually written a few pages already. But she needed more research, on the birds, and on paraplegic soldiers like Colin and Danny.
Of course she could just tell him about all this, even do a formal interview or two, which might help answer some of the questions she had. But that would change the dynamic of their friendship. And they were definitely becoming real friends.
For now, Lucy decided that was more important.
19
RUTH’S MOUTH OPENED, BUT THE WORDS STALLED in her throat. Thomas’s smile began to fade.
He looked so nice in a white oxford shirt and pressed jeans—fresh-scrubbed, as if he’d just showered. She’d never seen him in anything but the drab prison jumpsuit.
She heard Hannah say goodbye and leave. Then the bell tinkled and in the corner of her mind that was hyperaware, she realized it was Megan arriving for the late shift. But then she heard Harry say hi to Jenny and the girls. Oh shit! Quickly she wrote her address on a slip of paper and whispered, “This isn’t a good time. Come see me tonight, and we’ll talk.”
A moment later, Jenny came into the back with her daughters: Emma, eleven, and Olivia, thirteen. “And who was that?” she asked, with a big curious smile, as the girls gave Ruth a kiss, then wandered off to poke through the young adult novels.
“Oh, no one, just a customer asking for a recommendation.” She could feel the heat rise from her chest up her neck and across her cheeks.
But Jenny’s raised eyebrows said she wasn’t buying it. “I don’t know, he looks like a professor from the college maybe? He certainly left looking happy. And he didn’t buy a book.”
“No, he’s not from around here, just passing through, and I don’t have the book in stock.” Her face felt as if it were on fire, so she turned and straightened a few books, her back to Jenny, while adding, “It was The Sun Also Rises, which I’m out of at the moment.”
The rest of the day was torture. Sandy from Scrub-a-Dub Doggie brought in the promised box of papers from her grandmother’s attic, which was so moldy Ruth began sneezing immediately. Megan was nearly beside herself with excitement that the store could possibly be older than they thought. As she began to dive into the box, babbling away, Ruth could barely focus, between thoughts of Thomas and sneezes. She finally told Megan she could take it home with her as long as she put it out in her car right now. Megan skipped out with it a moment later. At five, Ruth grabbed her purse and left early, pleading a headache.
Now, as she puttered in her house, having no idea what time Thomas might arrive, Ruth was excited and terrified. She changed into a long floral skirt and a blue top that gave her much-needed color. Although her skin was in pretty good condition from not spending much time in the sun, she was also pale because of it. She pulled her hair back and braided it because with the humidity it was impossible to tame. Then she put on a bit of makeup, slipped earrings on, and suddenly stopped. “What are you doing?” she muttered out loud. This wasn’t a date. A convicted felon was coming to her house. Sam cocked her head. “I’m not talking to you,” she told the dog.
Jenny would go insane if she knew, and no doubt call Alex and Colin and stage an intervention. They thought she was an innocent, that the roles had somehow reversed as she aged and now they needed to protect her from the world. Then she heard a knock at the door and her stomach lurched. She ran downstairs, Sam still at her heels, not wanting to leave Thomas standing on the porch for her curious neighbors to see. She opened the door and there he stood, holding a bouquet of yellow roses.
“Hello, Ruth.” He gave her a shy smile and his face flushed. “I remember once you said these were your favorite flowers.”
She took them, opening the door wider. “Please, come in.”
They stood in the foyer a moment, neither speaking. Sam, who always barked at strange men, was silent, watching. “I’m sorry,” they said then at the same time, uttering the same words. They both laughed, but the awkwardness grew.
“How about a cup of coffee?” she asked. “Or tea?”
He nodded. “Coffee would be nice.”
He followed her to the kitchen. She stuck the flowers in a cup of water in the sink to arrange later on. As she made coffee, she was aware of him behind her, standing in the middle of her kitchen as she’d once fantasized, looking around.
“Your house is just as I imagined it would be.”
“What, tired and dumpy?” she asked with a nervous laugh.
Book Lover, The Page 17
