Laurie stole a glance at Delilah, expecting a look of shock. But all she saw was a look of concentration on her friend’s face, as if she were listening intently.
“But then I sensed someone watching me. There was movement at the kitchen window. I’m sure it was Jake’s sister. I immediately ran inside in shame, swallowed another sedative and took to bed. From that time on I convinced myself it was the drugs or the shock that brought on my relief. I’d convinced myself those weren’t my real feelings...” Her voice halted and she swiped at a tear in the corner of her eye. “But they were. I loved Jake. Truly I did, but I didn’t love being married to him. It didn’t feel right. I’m a terrible person, aren’t I?”
Delilah took her hand and squeezed it. “You are not terrible. Jake was a great guy, he just wasn’t a great guy for you. He wanted this conventional lifestyle, and although I think you convinced yourself you wanted that lifestyle too, it stifled you.”
Laurie sniffed. “How long did you know? The whole time Jake and I were together?”
“Pretty much. But you were so convinced. And everyone in town seemed to think you belonged together, and of course, you’d recently lost your grandmother. Naturally you craved a family. Who was I to make waves? But I think I really knew it on your wedding day, when you got claustrophobic in the church dressing room. The room was small, but not that small.”
“It didn’t matter. Nothing you could have said would have stopped me from marrying him. I really thought Jake was who I wanted.”
“Still, I was tempted to say something.”
“It’s not like I ever wished him dead.” Laurie guiltily glanced at his grave. “That thought never ever occurred to me.”
“Of course not.”
“But when he died, I couldn’t own the part of myself that felt freed up. And I think that’s why I plunged myself in a long funk. I was punishing myself. But somehow Dr. Flowers suspected.”
Delilah and Laurie finished the flask. Meanwhile, it started to sprinkle so they got up to leave. Laurie went to Jake’s grave and gently laid an envelope on it. Inside was a card with two words written on it: “I’m sorry.”
Thirty
Three months later
Laurie decided not to return to Swainsboro. Every time she entered the city limits she felt a tightness in her chest and wanted to turn her car around. Marvel was disappointed, but she was preoccupied planning a wedding. Kate had recently gotten engaged and she was crazy about her future son-in-law, who used to play football with Jake.
Laurie applied and was accepted to Metro Atlanta University. She wanted to continue growing as a writer and planned to major in creative writing. “The Story of the Hour” broadened her reading choices. She read all of Kate Chopin’s books, and after she exhausted Chopin, she asked the librarian for more recommendations. She suggested Joan Didion, Virginia Woolf and, believe it or not, Laura T. Leer.
Laurie reread Torpor in the Suburbs, this time a little bit more thoughtfully. She wished she could discuss the novel again with Aaron. Now, at least she knew what fabulism meant. It was a form of magic realism in which fantastical elements are placed into an everyday setting. Like when the main character turned into a couch.
One Friday afternoon she was working on a new novel, and the doorbell chimed the song, “Please Mr. Postman,” interrupting her. Laurie went to answer the door and discovered a large box on her porch. She took it into the kitchen and split it open with a pair of scissors. Underneath a nest of bubble wrap were several copies of Canine Cupid. The cover was a drawing of a dog who left heart-shaped paw prints all over the jacket. Her own name was printed prominently in red cursive, to match the paw prints, and below it…
No.
She gasped. Aaron’s name was on the cover.
Her editor made a terrible mistake, one that couldn’t be fixed, as her books had already started shipping to stores. How could Bridget let a blunder like that get by? It didn’t seem possible…Unless, of course, it wasn’t a mistake at all, and her editor had done it on purpose. Laurie remembered how disappointed Bridget seemed when she refused to involve Aaron in the book’s promotion. Perhaps her editor decided to go over Laurie’s head.
She picked up the phone to call Bridget but remembered it was after two p.m. on Friday. The office would be deserted. She’d have to wait until Monday.
Meanwhile, she needed to explain herself to Aaron. At the very least, she didn’t want him to think she had anything to do with this calamity. Laurie looked up Emma’s address on the internet. She decided to drive over to her house, hoping to see Aaron’s car. Emma would likely be at work.
When she arrived at Emma’s address, the driveway was empty of cars and the yard was so completely overgrown she couldn’t imagine anyone living there. A “For Sale” sign was barely visible with a sticker that said, “Under Contract.”
Laurie drove in a drizzling rain, trying to figure out her next move. She remembered Dr. Flowers’ condo. Maybe Aaron and Emma had moved in there.
By the time she reached the condo it was raining hard, and the sky was an ominous blue-gray. Laurie opened her umbrella against the deluge and dodged a couple of puddles on the way to Dr. Flowers’ former front door.
The heavy curtains were gone from the bay window and the lights were on inside. Aaron stood in the living room, doling out treats to three little black dogs. His hair was neatly trimmed and it looked as if he was wearing new glasses with fashionable frames.
The condo looked completely different from the last time she saw it. Clutter was cleared away, and the front room was painted a cheerful daffodil color. Several bright throw pillows dotted a salmon-colored sofa, and a vase of daisies graced a glass coffee table.
Her gaze swept the room. In a corner, Emma was talking animatedly. A cozy domestic tableau unfolded behind the window glass. Emma smiled at Aaron and ruffled the hair on one of the dog’s heads. A ring glinted from the appropriate finger. Laurie’s stomach dropped. Aaron? Married?
But that was only the beginning. The pair chatted for several seconds, and Emma patted her slightly rounded midsection and glanced down at it with a dreamy look on her face. It was clear she was in the early stages of pregnancy. Laurie startled and dropped her purse. Several items rolled out but she scarcely noticed.
Thunder muttered in the distance, and Aaron’s glance drifted in direction of the window. Laurie ducked out of sight. She scrambled to pick up her purse and then ran to the car, accidentally stepping into a puddle that filled her shoes with cold water.
She drove away. Rain walloped the roof of her VW bug. It seemed almost angry, and the wipers couldn’t keep up with the downpour. Inside the car, Laurie sat almost motionless, watching the water sluice down the windshield until tears blurred her vision.
Thirty-One
The rain had stopped, and Aaron was walking Emma out to her car. He happily splashed through one of the puddles.
“What are you doing?” Emma said.
“Just having a little fun.”
“Oh brother.”
Aaron paused, noticing something swollen and water-logged lying on his doorstep. He leaned down to pick it up and discovered a book of daisy-patterned checks belonging to Laurie Lee.
How strange.
“What is it?” Emma asked.
“It’s Laurie’s checkbook.”
Emma glanced at it. “Daisies. Just the kind of checkbook I would expect her to choose.” Her tone wasn’t unkind. Marriage and pregnancy seemed to have softened her.
Emma’s old house had been sold and while she was clearing it out, she came over to give Aaron some things he’d left there, including his father’s ashes. She didn’t seem the least bit angry with him anymore, but then again, Aaron was ancient history to her. She was now expecting Frank Zenn’s baby, and they recently got married. And yes, according to Emma, Zenn was
still bitter about the papyrus comment.
“I wonder how this got here,” Aaron said, referring to the checkbook.
“It doesn’t take a CSI detective. Your bottle blonde obviously paid a visit.” That sounded more like the Emma he knew.
“But I’ve been home all day. I wonder why she didn’t knock.”
“Maybe she saw me through your picture window and it scared her away. Who could blame her? I almost killed her with a price gun once.”
“What?”
“She came to the shop looking for you months ago. We were still together.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
She snorted. “Does that sound like something I would do? Jesus, Aaron, all these years and you still don’t know me very well.”
He rifled through the checkbook. Most of the checks were so wet they were useless but a couple weren’t soaked through and could be salvaged.
“I hope you’re planning on returning it. It’s obvious you still have feelings for her. And you’re looking pretty sharp these days. Maybe she’ll take your sorry self back.”
“Maybe,” he said softly.
“Gotta run.” Emma clapped him on the back, a little harder than necessary. “Have a nice life, Aaron Mite.”
No matter what happened, that was his new intention.
Aaron’s heart twinged when he arrived at Laurie’s familiar rose-vine-covered cottage, and the site of countless pleasant memories. Her car was not in the drive; instead Ramona’s hearse was parked out front.
He walked up the flagstone path and knocked on the door. It opened, and Ramona appeared. Her face was Kabuki white and she was garbed in a black Morticia-like long dress—a specter of gloom and doom on an otherwise cheerful sunny day.
“Help you?”
“I was looking for Laurie. She left her checkbook on my step and—”
She snatched the book from his hand. “I’ll see that she gets it…” Ramona rifled through it and narrowed her eyes. “Did you use any of these?”
“Of course not…I don’t suppose Laurie’s here? I didn’t see her car.”
“She was here earlier and seemed depressed, which is not like her. Did you upset her?”
“Not that I know of. I don’t suppose you know where she went.”
Ramona shrugged. “She said she was feeling blocked and needed some inspiration. Any more questions?”
“No. Will you please—”
Too late. Ramona had already shut the door.
Aaron stood on Laurie’s porch, feeling an urgency to see her as soon as possible. But where would she have gone? For several moments his mind was blank and then an idea occurred to him. Of course. She had to be there. Where else could she be?
He jumped into his car and got on I-285. After driving for over ten miles he took the exit to Hartsfield International. Jets were flying so low they seemed to be almost on top of his car. He drove to the international terminal and parked in short-term parking. Once inside the terminal, he strolled for several minutes among the crowds, glancing about, wondering if his trip was a waste. Then, several yards away, he spotted someone garbed in hot pink, sitting on a bench. It was her. A book was by her side: The Peculiar Sadness of Lemon Cake.
“Laurie.”
She was so startled she nearly fell off the bench. Her eyes were swollen and the rims flared red. Frankly, she’d never looked worse, and yet, in some ways, she’d never seemed lovelier.
“Aaron! What are you…? How did you…?”
He sat beside her.
“I was looking for you, and Ramona said you went off to seek inspiration, and I had this wild idea you might be at the airport. And I’ll be damned if you aren’t.”
“You were looking for me?”
“I found your checkbook on my step.”
“And you came all the way out here to give it to me? That wasn’t necessary.”
“I left the checkbook with Ramona. I came here to see you. Have you been crying?”
“No! I mean...maybe a little. Airports always make me sentimental. I still don’t understand why you came here to see me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
She jutted her chin. “I can think of two very good reasons. Your wife and your baby.”
Aaron struggled not to smile. How ironic that he and Laurie were presently engaged in the most common of rom-com tropes, the silly misunderstanding. He didn’t imagine such situations happened in real life.
“I’m not married.”
Laurie gasped. “Is this a Knocked Up situation? Aaron Mite, shame on you. You need to do the right thing by Emma. I thought I saw a ring on her finger.”
“Emma is not carrying my child. She and I aren’t together anymore.”
“But I saw her at your house.”
“Emma’s moving and she stopped by to give me some things I’d left behind. She’s happily married to another writer.”
“But if Emma’s not your wife then…” She looked him up and down. “Who’s been taking care of you?”
“No one.”
“You’ve been taking care of yourself?” Her voice was tinged with disbelief.
“Correct.”
“And now you have three dogs?”
“Yes. Sadly, Dusty died.”
“Oh no!” She grimaced. “That’s awful. I loved Dusty.”
“Me too. I missed him so much I decided I needed three dogs to take his place. I was jogging, and I saw a sign that said, ‘Free puppies’—”
“Back up a second. You were jogging? As in doing exercise? As in sweating?”
He nodded.
“I’ve taken it up recently out of necessity. I was gaining so much weight from all the cooking I’ve been doing. I’ve learned to make a somewhat palatable version of your chicken and dumpling dish, but I prepare it far too often.”
Laurie stared at him like she didn’t recognize him.
“Enough about me. Why did you come by and see me today?”
Her forehead bunched. “Something awful happened. You’re going to hate me.”
“I doubt that very much. What is it?”
“Your name’s on the cover of my book. I swear on a stack of Harlequin Blazes, I had nothing to do with it.”
Aaron smiled. “I know.”
“You do?” She honked into a tissue. “How so?’
“Because I was the one who requested my name on the cover.”
“You did what?”
“You seem upset. Would you rather not have my name on your book?”
“Of course not. But it’s a crippling career move. Did you discuss it with your editor?”
He nodded.
“And he was okay with it?”
Aaron paused before answering, “No. He wasn’t.”
“I’m confused. Surely you care what your editor thinks?”
“Not anymore. Featherstone canceled my contract. They won’t be publishing my novel after all.”
“No!”
“It wasn’t unexpected. My editor warned me it would happen.”
“And you asked to have your name on my cover anyway? I’m confused. Why would you do such a crazy thing?”
“I suppose it was my way of saying I admire all the improvements you’ve made in the Craft.”
“But you sacrificed your book contract. That’s all you ever wanted.”
Aaron shrugged. “Hopefully there will be other book contacts. This seemed more important. I was very proud of you.”
“Proud?” Laurie said.
Aaron nodded. “You’re an accomplished writer.”
“That’s very sweet of you to say but I have to confess something: I changed your ending.”
“You did? Why?”
“What did the letter say?”
“He asked me to read ‘The Story of An Hour.’ Are you familiar with it?”
“I am. I teach it in my composition classes. It’s about a woman who thinks her husband....” Understanding suddenly dawned on Aaron. “Oh,” he said softly.
“Your ending was great, but Lucy ended up with the wrong guy. Drake, sweet as he is, would have kept Lucy in the same place, physically, spiritually and intellectually, for the rest of her life. There was a time Lucy thought that’s what she wanted, but she was wrong. She needs someone like Art who will inspire her to grow.”
“But Art can be such a snob.”
“Sometimes. But underneath the snobbery is a fine, decent human being who Lucy loves dearly.”
“Really?”
Laurie nodded.
“That’s a relief to know, because Art is so crazy about Lucy he can’t think straight.”
“He is?”
“Perhaps Art needs to show Lucy just how crazy about her he is.”
Aaron was about to zoom in to kiss Laurie, when he noticed a little girl with saucer-sized eyes watching them.
“We might need to find a more private place for the Art and Lucy reunion,” Aaron said. “Shall we go to my house?”
Laurie squeezed his knee. “I don’t think I can wait that long.”
Aaron glanced in the direction of the gate. “We could always join the mile-high club.”
“Aaron, how very rom-com of you.”
He shrugged. “I’m trying. But you might get claustrophobic.”
“I’m never claustrophobic with you, and that’s a fact. But I think Art and Lucy need a little more room. You know another great thing about airports?”
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