Sometimes he hated this town.
Lexie could talk all she wanted about the beautiful scenery and townsfolk she viewed almost as family, but he supposed he should have expected that. As an only child and an orphan to boot, she’d never been part of a large family as Jeremy had been, and he sometimes felt like telling her that she had no idea what she was talking about. Granted, most of the people he’d met in town were gracious and friendly, but he was beginning to wonder whether that wasn’t just an attempt to keep up appearances. Behind the facade, there were secrets and machinations, just like everywhere else, but folks here tried to hide it. Like Doris, for instance. While he was asking questions, Doris and Lexie were passing hidden signals, all with the intention of keeping him in the dark. Or Mayor Gherkin. Instead of simply helping Jeremy get the permits, he’d had his own agenda. There was, Jeremy thought, something to be said about New Yorkers. When they were angry, they let you know, and they didn’t try to sugarcoat it, especially when it concerned family. People just said what was on their minds.
He wished Lexie had behaved more like that. Driving around, he couldn’t decide whether his anger was growing or dissipating; he didn’t know whether to head back to her house and try to get things sorted out or try to figure it out on his own. He suspected she was hiding something, but for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. Despite his anger and the evidence, he couldn’t bring himself to believe that she had a secret affair going on with Rodney. Unless he’d been completely hoodwinked by Lexie, which he doubted, the idea was ridiculous. But something was going on between them, something that Lexie felt uncomfortable talking about. And then, of course, there was the e-mail. . . .
He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. After circuiting the town for the third time, he headed into the country. He drove in silence for a few minutes, then turned again, and a few minutes later pulled to a stop in front of Cedar Creek Cemetery—home to the mysterious lights and the place that had brought him to Boone Creek.
This was where he’d first seen Lexie. After arriving in town, he’d come here to take a few photographs before beginning to research the article he’d intended to write, and he could still recall how she’d appeared suddenly, catching him off guard. He could still visualize the way she’d moved and how the breeze rippled through her hair. It was also in this cemetery that she’d told him about the nightmares she’d had as a child.
Getting out of the car, Jeremy was struck by how different the place was without fog. On the night he’d first seen the mysterious lights, the mist-shrouded cemetery had seemed unearthly, as if lost in time. Tonight, under a clear April sky and a glowing moon, he could make out the shapes of individual headstones and was even able to retrace the route he’d once taken while trying to capture the lights on film.
He moved past the wrought-iron gates and heard the soft crunch of gravel underfoot. He hadn’t been here since returning to Boone Creek, and as he made his way past the broken tombstones, his thoughts turned again to Lexie.
Had she told him the truth? Partially. Would she really have told him where she’d gone? Maybe. And did he have a right to be angry? Yes, he thought again, he did.
He didn’t like arguing with her, though. And he hadn’t liked the way she’d looked at him when she realized that he’d been following her. Nor, he admitted, did he like that aspect of himself, either. Truth be told, he wished he had never seen Lexie and Rodney together in the first place. All it had done was make him suspicious, and he reminded himself again that there was no reason to be suspicious. Yes, she’d gone to see Rodney, but Rachel was missing, and Rodney was without doubt the one she should have talked to.
But the e-mail . . .
He didn’t want to think about that, either.
In the silence, it seemed that the cemetery was beginning to grow brighter. It wasn’t possible, of course—the ghostly lights appeared only on foggy nights—but when he blinked, he realized he wasn’t seeing things. The cemetery was growing brighter. As he frowned in confusion, he heard the unmistakable sound of a car engine. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw the headlights of a car rounding a curve. He wondered who would be driving out this way and was surprised when he noticed the car slowing, then pulling to a stop right behind his car.
Despite the darkness, he recognized the car as Mayor Gherkin’s, and a moment later he watched the shadowy figure emerge.
“Jeremy Marsh?” the mayor called out. “You out there?”
Jeremy cleared his throat, surprised for the second time. He debated whether or not to answer before realizing that his car gave him away. “Yeah, Mr. Mayor, I’m over here.”
“Where? I can’t see you.”
“Over here,” Jeremy called. “Near the big tree.”
The mayor started toward him. As he approached, Jeremy could hear him going on.
“I’ll say, you do come to the strangest places, Jeremy. It was all I could do to find you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, though, knowing your history with this place and all. But still, I can think of a dozen better places to go if a man wants to be alone. I guess a man feels the urge to go back to the scene of the crime, don’t he?”
By the time he finished, he was standing before Jeremy. Even in the dark Jeremy could make out what he was wearing: red polyester pants, a purple Izod shirt, and a yellow sport jacket. He looked something like an Easter egg.
“What are you doing here, Mr. Mayor?”
“Well, I came to talk to you, of course.”
“Is this about the astronaut? I left a message at your office—”
“No, no, of course not. I got your message, so don’t you worry about that none. I had no doubt you’d come through, being that you’re a celebrity and all. What happened was that I was working in my office, just finishing up some paperwork at my store downtown, and I happened to see your car passing by. I waved, but I suppose you didn’t see me, and I said to myself, I wonder where Jeremy Marsh could be going in such a hurry.”
Jeremy held up his hands to stop him. “Mr. Mayor, I’m really not in the mood—”
The mayor went on as if he hadn’t heard him. “But I didn’t think anything of it, of course. Not at first, anyway. But wouldn’t you know it, you drove by a second time and then a third, and I started wondering if maybe you needed someone to talk to. So I asked myself, Where would Jeremy Marsh go, and . . .” The mayor paused for dramatic effect, then slapped his leg for emphasis as he went on. “Like a bolt of lightning, it hit me. Why, he’d go to the cemetery!”
Jeremy simply stared at him. “Why did you think I would go to the cemetery?”
The mayor smiled in satisfaction, but instead of answering directly, he pointed to the magnificent magnolia tree in the center of the cemetery.
“You see that tree, Jeremy?”
Jeremy followed his gaze. With gnarled roots and sprawling limbs, the tree had to be well over a hundred years old.
“Did I ever tell you the story about that tree?”
“No, but—”
“That tree was planted by Coleman Tolles, one of the town’s most prominent citizens, back before the War of Northern Aggression. He operated the feed store and the general grocers, and he had himself the prettiest wife for miles around. Her name was Patricia, and though the only painting of her was destroyed in the library fire, my daddy used to swear that he’d sometimes go to the library just to take a gander at her.”
Jeremy shook his head impatiently. “Mr. Mayor—”
“Let me finish now. I think this might just shed some light on your little problem.”
“What problem?”
“Why, the problem you’re having with Miss Lexie. If I were you, I don’t suppose I’d be too thrilled to find out she’s been spending time with another man.”
Jeremy blinked in shock, speechless.
“But as I was telling you, this Patricia was one beautiful lady, and before she married Coleman, he had courted her for years. Pretty much everyone in the county w
as courting her—and she loved the attention—but old Coleman won her heart in the end, and their wedding was the biggest the county had ever seen. They could have lived happily ever after, I suppose, but it was not to be. Coleman was the jealous type, you see, and Patricia wasn’t the type to be rude to those other young men who’d been courting her. Coleman just couldn’t take it.”
The mayor shook his head. “They ended up having a terrible argument, and the stress was just too much for Patricia to bear. She took ill and spent two weeks in bed before the good Lord called her home. Coleman was brokenhearted, and after she was buried in the cemetery, he planted this tree in her honor. And here it grows, this living version of our very own Taj Mahal.”
Jeremy stared at the mayor. “Is that a true story?” he asked at last.
The mayor raised his right hand as if taking an oath. “May I be struck down if it isn’t.”
Jeremy wasn’t sure how to respond; nor did he have any idea how the mayor knew the source of his troubles.
The mayor shoved his hands in his pockets. “But as you can see, it’s quite appropriate considering your own circumstances. Like a flame draws a moth, this here tree must have drawn you to the cemetery.”
“Mr. Mayor—”
“I know what you’re thinking, Jeremy. You’re wondering why I didn’t mention the story when you were planning to write about the cemetery before.”
“No, not exactly.”
“Then you were wondering how on earth there could be so many fascinating stories concerning elements of our fine town. All I can say is that we’re a bastion of history here. Why, I could tell you stories about half the buildings downtown that would have you simply enthralled.”
“That’s not it, either,” Jeremy said, still trying to grasp what was happening.
“Then, I suppose you’re wondering how I knew about Miss Lexie and Rodney.”
Jeremy met Gherkin’s eyes. Gherkin simply shrugged. “In small towns, word gets around.”
“You mean everyone knows?”
“No, of course not. Not about this, anyway. I suppose there are only a few of us who know, but we know better than to go spreading gossip that might be hurtful to someone. The fact is, I’m as concerned as anyone about Rachel’s mysterious absence. Before you talked to Doris tonight, I spent some time with her, and she was a wreck. She loves that girl, you know. I was there, in fact, when Rodney came by, and I stopped in again after you’d gone back to Greenleaf.”
“But the rest of it?”
“Oh, that was simple deduction,” Gherkin said with a shrug. “Rodney and Rachel are seeing each other but having problems, Rodney and Lexie are friends, and I see you circling town and driving too fast, almost like a blind man was behind the wheel. It didn’t take much to realize that Lexie had gone to Rodney’s to talk to him and you were upset about it, what with all the other stress you’re under.”
“Stress?”
“Sure. What with the wedding and the house and Lexie being pregnant.”
“You know about that, too?”
“Jeremy, my boy, since you’re now a resident of our fine town, you’ve got to understand that folks are mighty perceptive around these parts. There’s not much to do other than try to figure out what’s going on in other folks’ lives. But don’t you worry; my lips will remain sealed until the official announcement. As an elected official, I try to stay above all the gossip that goes on in town.”
Jeremy made a mental note to hide out at Greenleaf as much as possible.
“But the main reason I came to find you was to tell you a story about women.”
“Another story?”
Gherkin raised his hands. “Well, less of a story than a lesson. It’s about my wife, Gladys. Now, she’s as fine a woman as you’ll ever come across, but there have been times when she’s been less than truthful during the course of our marriage. For a long time it bothered me, and there were times when we actually raised our voices at each other, but what I eventually came to understand was that if a woman truly loves you, you can’t always expect her to tell the truth. You see, women are more attuned to feelings than men are, and if they’re not being truthful, more often than not it’s because they think the truth might hurt your feelings. But it doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”
“You’re saying that it’s okay for them to lie?”
“No, I’m saying that if they do lie, it’s often because they care.”
“What if I want her to tell me the truth?”
“Well, then, my boy, you better be prepared to accept the truth in the spirit with which it was offered.”
Jeremy thought about that but said nothing. In the silence, Mayor Gherkin shivered. “It’s getting a bit chilly out here, ain’t it? So before I go, I just want to leave you with this. You know in your heart that Lexie loves you. Doris knows it, I know it, the whole town knows it. Why, when folks see you two together, it’s almost as if we expect you to break out in song, so there’s no reason to be concerned about the fact she went to see Rodney in his time of need.”
Jeremy glanced away. Even though the mayor was still standing beside him, he suddenly felt very much alone.
Back at Greenleaf, Jeremy debated whether or not to call Alvin again. He knew that if he talked to Alvin, he’d end up rehashing the entire evening, and he didn’t want that. Nor was he ready to accept Gherkin’s advice. Occasional lies might work in the mayor’s marriage, but that wasn’t what he wanted with Lexie.
He shook his head, tired of his troubles with Lexie, tired of wedding plans and house renovations, tired of not being able to write. Ever since he’d come down here, his life had become one misery after another, and for what? Because he loved Lexie? Then how come he was bearing all the stresses and she seemed just fine? Why did he have to be the fall guy?
No, he admitted, that wasn’t completely fair. She was under stress, too. Not only with the wedding plans and the house, but she was the one who was pregnant, she was the one who woke up crying in the middle of the night, and she was the one who had to watch everything she ate or drank. She just seemed better able to handle it than he did.
At loose ends, Jeremy gravitated toward his computer, knowing he couldn’t write but figuring he could at least check his e-mails. When he came to the first message, however, all he could do was stare.
HAS SHE TOLD YOU THE TRUTH? READ DORIS’S JOURNAL. YOU’LL FIND THE ANSWER THERE.
Nine
I don’t know what to tell you,” Alvin offered, sounding at a loss. “What do you think it means?”
After reading the message a dozen times, Jeremy had finally reached for the phone.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Have you checked Doris’s journal?”
“No,” Jeremy answered, “I just got the e-mail. I haven’t had time to do anything. I’m just trying to make some sense of it.”
“Maybe you should do what the message says,” Alvin suggested. “Look through Doris’s journal.”
“For what?” Jeremy asked. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be looking for. And I can guarantee that Doris’s journal has nothing to do with what’s been going on lately.”
“What are you talking about?”
Jeremy leaned back in his seat, then got up to pace, then collapsed into his seat again as he related the events of the last few hours. When he finished, Alvin was quiet.
“I just want to make sure I heard you right,” Alvin finally said. “She was at Rodney’s?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy said.
“And she didn’t tell you?”
Jeremy leaned forward in his seat, trying to figure out the best way to answer. “No, but she said that she was going to.”
“And you believe her?”
That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it? Would she really have told him?
“I don’t know,” Jeremy confessed.
After a brief pause, Alvin said, “Again, I don’t know what to tell you.”
“What d
o you think it means? Why is someone sending me e-mails like this?”
“Maybe they know something you don’t,” Alvin pointed out.
“Or maybe they just want to have us break up,” Jeremy said.
Alvin didn’t respond directly. Instead he asked, “Do you love her?”
Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. “More than life.”
As if trying to make his friend feel better, Alvin spoke cheerfully. “Well, at least you’ll head into the next phase of life with one heck of a party next weekend. Six days and counting.”
For the first time in what seemed like hours, Jeremy smiled. “It’ll be fun.”
“Without a doubt. It’s not every day that my best friend gets married. I’m looking forward to seeing you, too. And besides, a little trip to the city will do you good. I’ve been down there, remember? I know for a fact there’s nothing to do other than watch your toenails grow.”
And study people, Jeremy thought. He said nothing, however.
“But listen, you call me if you learn something from Doris’s journal. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m beginning to live vicariously through your adventures.”
“I wouldn’t consider these e-mails adventures.”
“Call them what you will. But you’ve got to admit they’ve been making you think, right?”
“Oh yeah,” Jeremy admitted. “They’ve been making me think.”
“In the end, if you’re going to marry her, you’ve got to trust her, you know.”
“I know,” Jeremy said. “Believe me, I know.”
For the second time that evening, Jeremy found himself wondering what it meant to trust someone. That’s what it came down to. Most of the time, yes, but lately it hadn’t been easy.
But the e-mails. Not one, but two. And the second one . . .
Nicholas Sparks Page 12
