Book Lover, The

by McFadden, Maryann

  As her mother feasted on surf and turf, and Lucy picked at her flounder and rice, her mother began to talk about the book club she now belonged to. It was the perfect time to tell her about Lucy’s own novel, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Her mother had always thought her writing aspirations unrealistic. And after the first few years of rejection after college, she’d told her mother she’d simply packed it in.

  “You know, we all want to improve ourselves, but most of Oprah’s picks are depressing as hell,” her mother went on.

  Lucy thought her mother was doing a great job at improving herself. Her short curls were now a burnished auburn, her face dewy from the new Mary Kay night cream her neighbor sold to all the women in the complex.

  As soon as they finished their entrees, her mother brought up David again. Apparently she’d just been biding her time. Lucy was surprised to find out that he’d told her everything.

  “He was very quiet, very…somber. I’d never heard David like that before, except…”

  Except after Ben died, of course.

  “Mom, he’s a criminal, of course he’s somber.”

  “You should go back to Florida and try to make it work.”

  “Mom, I will be going back, but to finalize the divorce and get the rest of my things. David’s made it clear he wants a new life, without me. Besides…”

  “Besides?”

  She knew her mother wouldn’t like this. “Besides, I think that would be a mistake, even if he did.”

  “That’s ridiculous, you two have a wonderful life.”

  “Had a wonderful life. It’s over.”

  “He’s a good man, Lucy. He made some mistakes.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Listen, I wasn’t the best wife in the world. And your father wasn’t so horrible, really. You think I didn’t have regrets?”

  “But he left you.”

  “Maybe I could have done some things differently.”

  If her mother had stood on her head in the middle of the restaurant, Lucy couldn’t have been more stunned. In her entire life, this was the first time she could recall her mother taking blame for anything.

  “We were just…” her mother hesitated a moment, “too young? Too selfish? No one tells you how hard it’s going to be, you know? That first blush of passion doesn’t last, but no one tells you that. And then you have to try to hang on somehow, with money problems and kids, and…” She waved her hand, as if the rest didn’t need to be said. And it didn’t.

  The waitress came back with their coffees and her mother’s cheesecake. Lucy kept her mouth shut, afraid that whatever she said would be the wrong thing. She wanted her mother to continue. When the waitress left, Lucy looked at her mother, surprised to see her eyes glistening.

  “Look, Lucy, I know you got a raw deal as a kid. I heaped too much responsibility on you when you were so young. I couldn’t keep your father here, and I wasn’t the best mother, either.”

  “Oh come on, Mom. You raised three good kids on your own.”

  “I didn’t do such a hot job with Charlie. It was awful what we went through for a while there.”

  “Charlie’s fine now. Lots of kids get mixed up in drugs, and he’s over it. He’s got a wonderful life in Australia.”

  “Except no one has seen him in ten years.”

  “Maybe you should go with Artie.”

  “Do you know what that would cost?”

  This was when Lucy would usually offer to help, or say let me talk to David. But she said nothing now, because she couldn’t.

  “Look, we’re getting off the subject. What I was trying to say was that what you and David had was worlds different than what your father and I had. That’s the kind of love that lasts. You’re going through a rough patch now and I think that’s not surprising after what the two of you went through, all those miscarriages, then losing a baby. I’m amazed it didn’t happen sooner.”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “Sometimes I think I should’ve tried harder. Don’t make that mistake. You two have respect, common interests, shared values. And you had security. That’s way more important than the fireworks.”

  “Is that what you have now with Artie?”

  “Yes. And you know what? We don’t fight. There’s none of that constant struggle like I had with your father.”

  “Mom, it doesn’t matter anymore, it’s over.”

  “He’s ashamed, Lucy. I could barely get him to talk at first. But you know David. He’s too polite to just tell me to go away.”

  “Well, he wasn’t too polite to tell me he wants me out of his life.”

  “That’s what he thinks. You need to convince him otherwise.”

  “You’re not listening to me, Mom. Maybe this is all for the best. It’s been months. I’m stronger now, and I’m healing. I’m starting to see things about not just David and our marriage, but even about myself, a lot more clearly.” The problem was, she wasn’t sure they were things she really wanted to face.

  When they got back to the condo, Lucy went in her room, got a copy of her book and brought it into the kitchen, where her mother was on the phone with Artie, smoking a cigarette. She set the book on the counter then went to bed.

  * * *

  IT WAS LESS THAN A TWENTY MINUTE DRIVE from Warwick to Pine Island. As Ruth pulled onto the county road, her cell phone rang. She saw it was Jenny. Her daughter, she was convinced, had some kind of radar. She opened the window for noise, then turned on her favorite classical station to drown out the ring.

  The smells of summer drifted in as Ruth’s mind wandered over the years and visits she’d had with Thomas. One in particular came to her now, probably not more than a year ago at most. Thomas was sitting across from her and they’d just finished going over the final numbers due from each prisoner for that day’s book orders. There were still a few moments left before the guard realized their time was up, and Thomas began discussing a book he’d just finished that she’d recommended, Outlander, a story in which a nurse from 20th century England travels back in time to 18th century Scotland, and falls in love. She began telling him about Time and Again, which she had discovered back in the seventies after Bill died. It was still one of her top five favorite books, and the most realistic version of time travel she’d ever read.

  Thomas glanced over his shoulder then to check on the guard. The guard was engrossed in conversation with another guard a few feet out in the hall.

  “So, this author really had you believing that time travel was possible?” he asked in a playful tone.

  “It’s hard to explain how he did it, but yes, he made it seem so real. I wanted to somehow get myself into the Dakota, a very famous residence overlooking Central Park where his character traveled back to Victorian New York, and try it myself.”

  “Imagine if you could really do that?” he said, shaking his head in wonder. “Would you try it? I’d do it in a heartbeat, because I could undo every mistake I ever made.”

  She’d sat there a moment because it was exactly what she’d always thought, that if she could, she’d undo all her past mistakes. But she realized suddenly that if she did, she wouldn’t have married Bill, which meant she wouldn’t have her children, or grandchildren. It was unthinkable, really.

  “Would you really undo it all?” she asked him then. Because if he did, he wouldn’t be sitting across the table from her in that prison. They never would have met.

  The scent of the black dirt, or muck as locals called it, suddenly filled the car and brought her back to the present. Sure enough, within a few moments the rich residue of an old glacial lake that had long ago made Pine Island famous for its onions stretched on both sides of the county road. Rows of produce seemed to go on forever, bathed in the late day haze of a hot summer sun.

  Her cell rang again. It was Jenny. She reached over and put her purse on top of it, to muffle the sound. The speed limit dropped as she neared the village limits and up ahead she saw the sign for the first gas
station on her right. She slowed her car, glancing over as she came abreast of the gas pumps. There were cars at each one, and a few waiting. Quickly her eyes scanned the pumps, but she didn’t see anyone. She nearly came to a halt when she saw a large man coming out of the mini-mart, wondering if it was Thomas. A horn blasted behind her and she hit the gas, her face flaming in embarrassment.

  She pulled into a restaurant parking lot a minute later to get a grip, realizing suddenly how ridiculous she was being. Even if she saw him, he had no idea what her car looked like, so it was unlikely he’d notice her. Unless he’d been waiting, watching.

  She drove a few more miles and there was the other gas station, much smaller, with a two bay garage for repairs and windows above it, which might be where Thomas was living. On the other side of the road, slightly past, was a driveway that led to a farm set way back. Ruth put her blinker on and pulled in on an angle, so she could look across the road.

  There was only one car at the pump. As she watched, the door to the garage opened and there he was. Her breath caught. She watched him come around the car and hand the driver change. Her entire body seemed to be vibrating with anticipation. She hadn’t really thought further than just seeing if he was still here. She could drive over and get gas, as if she had no idea this was where he worked. As if she’d somehow forgotten. It was the kind of silly subterfuge she’d overheard popular girls whisper about a million years ago when she was in high school lunch, her head buried in a book.

  And that’s exactly how she felt right now, like a teenager who sneaked out without her parents’ permission, driving by the house of the boy she had a crush on. As if in response, her cell began to ring under her purse again. It was weeks since he’d come to her house. She owed him an answer, if nothing else.

  But he probably knew her answer by her silence. Perhaps he was no longer interested. Maybe he’d already found someone else.

  She put the car back in drive. A car was coming from the left, so she waited. Then another on the right. Her cell rang again, then stopped. She pulled it from under her purse and saw four missed calls from Jenny. Something, she suddenly realized, must be wrong.

  She threw the car back in park and pressed call. Jenny answered on the first ring.

  “Mom?” It was a pitiful wail. “Where are you? I’ve been trying—”

  “Just tell me what’s wrong!”

  “I didn’t want to worry you, Mom, so I never said anything but…” Jenny was crying now. “Emma had some tests last week, and I’ve been a wreck waiting for the doctor—”

  “What did the tests say?” A surge of dread roared up her chest, making it impossible to breathe. Sweet Jesus! Her little granddaughter!

  “I couldn’t stand the waiting, I thought I was losing my mind, that’s when I started calling you, but I just found out it’s all good. She’s fine.” And then Jenny began to sob.

  “Oh, honey…” Ruth closed her eyes as hot tears slid down her cheeks. “What a relief.”

  “What’s wrong with me, Mom? The doctor kept telling me it was probably nothing, not to worry. But I couldn’t help it, I just worry about everything. I think there’s something wrong with me, that’s all I do.”

  “Honey, there’s nothing wrong with you. I’m the same way. That’s what mothers do.”

  Jenny started to laugh, too. “So I’m not insane? Because Olivia’s starting to look at me like I am.”

  “Well she’s right about that age where you started doing that to me. Adolescence, it goes with the territory.” And Jenny had two daughters to get through it with, so she’d get paid back in spades.

  A pickup truck caught her eye as it pulled into the gas station and stopped at the pump. The garage door opened. It wasn’t Thomas.

  “So where are you, Mom? They said you’d left the store.”

  “Oh…I just went to get some produce,” she said as she glanced at the clock on her dashboard. It was after seven. “Do you want me to come by?”

  “No, it’s okay. And I promised the girls we’d watch a movie. But thanks, Mom.”

  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.�
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  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.