“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 do 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 . . .
If he picked up the journal, suppose he learned something about Lexie, something he didn’t know or might not want to know? Would that affect the way he felt about her? Would it make him throw in the towel and storm away without ever looking back?
He tried to fit the pieces together. Whoever sent the e-mails not only knew that Lexie was pregnant and that Jeremy had Doris’s journal, but was also bold enough to suggest he would learn something Lexie had been hiding. The implication, again, was that someone wanted to break them up.
But who? Granted, anyone in town might know Lexie was pregnant; few, however, knew he had the journal, and aside from Lexie, he could think of only one person who knew the contents of the journal.
Doris.
But it made no sense. She was the one who’d pushed Lexie toward Jeremy in the first place; she was the one who explained Lexie’s behavior so Jeremy could understand Lexie better. Doris was also the one Jeremy talked to about his writer’s block.
He was so lost in thought, it took a moment for him to realize that someone was knocking at the door. He crossed the room and opened it.
Lexie forced a smile. Despite her brave expression, her eyes were red and swollen, and he knew she’d been crying. At first, neither of them said anything. Then:
“Hey,” she offered.
“Hi, Lex,” he said. When he made no move toward her, she stared down at the floor.
“I guess you’re wondering why I’m here, huh? I was sort of hoping that you would come back, but you didn’t.”
When Jeremy didn’t respond, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. You were right about everything. I should have told you, and I was wrong to have done what I did.”
Jeremy studied her before taking a step back from the door. With that tacit permission, Lexie entered his room and took a seat on the bed. Jeremy reached for the chair in front of the desk.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.
“I didn’t plan on going,” she said. “I know you might not believe it, but when I left Doris’s, I was intending to go home and . . . I don’t know . . . it just hit me that I should probably talk to Rodney. I figured he’d be able to tell me where Rachel might have gone.”
“What about before?” Jeremy said. “At the boardwalk. Why didn’t you tell me about that?”
“Rodney’s just a friend, and he’s going through a rough time. I know how it might have looked to you, but we go back a long way, and I was just trying to be supportive.”
Jeremy noticed the careful way she’d avoided answering the question. He leaned forward in the chair. “No more games, Lexie, okay?” he said, his voice steady and serious. “I’m not in the mood. I just want to know why you didn’t tell me.”
Lexie turned toward the window, but he could see the reflection of the lamplight in her eyes. “It was . . . hard. I didn’t want to be involved in the first place. And I didn’t want to involve you, either.” She laughed, sounding shaken. “But I guess I did, huh?” She shook her head and drew a long breath before going on. “The thing is, Rodney and Rachel have been arguing a lot lately because of me.”
Her voice grew softer. “Rachel has been having a hard time with the fact that Rodney and I dated. But more than that, she knows how Rodney felt about me. And that’s the thing. Rachel still thinks Rodney has feelings for me, and—according to Rachel, anyway—Rodney still brings my name up now and then, usually at exactly the wrong times. But if you talk to Rodney, he claims she’s exaggerating. That’s what we were talking about at the boardwalk.”
Jeremy brought his hands together. “Does he have feelings for you?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
When she saw Jeremy’s expression of disbelief, she went on quickly. “I know that’s a cop-out, but I’m not sure what else to say. Does Rodney still care about me? Yeah, I think he does, but we’ve known each other ever since we were little. The question you want me to answer is whether he would be seeing Rachel if we weren’t engaged, and all I can say is that I think he would. I’ve told you before that I always thought those two belonged together. But . . .”
She trailed off, her brow knit with concern.
“You don’t know for sure,” Jeremy finished for her. If he were Lexie, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to come up with an answer either.
“No,” she said. “But he does understand that I’m engaged to someone else. He accepts that it’s not going to work between us, and I know he does care for Rachel. But Rachel is sensitive about me, and I think that Rodney inadvertently makes things worse. He told me that Rachel got mad at him one afternoon when they were driving because he glanced up at the library. She accused him of looking for me, and they ended up arguing for hours. He was telling her that it was just a habit, that he didn’t mean anything, and Rachel kept saying that he was never going to get over me and that he was making excuses. The next day, he was still upset and dropped by the library to get my advice, so we went to the boardwalk to talk.”
She straightened up with a sigh. “And tonight, like I said, it just happened. Since I know both of them, since I care about both of them and want it to work out between them, I feel like I should try to fix it. Or at least listen when one of them wants to talk to me. I feel like I’m stuck in the middle of something, and I don’t know how to get out or what I’m supposed to do.”
“Maybe you were right not to tell me. These southern soap operas aren’t my thing.”
For the first time since she’d arrived, she seemed to relax.
“Mine either. There are times when I wish I were back in New York where everyone was a stranger. Things like this get old, and it’s even worse because I made you angry. I made you suspicious, and then I made it worse by trying to cover it up. You have no idea how sorry I am about that. It’s never going to happen again.”
Her voice had grown even softer and began to break; when she swiped at the corner of her eye, Jeremy rose from his chair and took a seat beside her on the bed. When he reached for her hand, her shoulders began to tremble and she drew a ragged breath.
“Hey,” Jeremy whispered, “it’s okay. Don’t cry.”
His words seemed to release her emotions, and she lowered her face into her hands. Her sobs were deep and heavy, as if she’d been holding them in for hours, and when he slipped his arm around her, her crying only intensified.
“It’s all right,” he whispered.
“No . . . it’s . . . not,” she choked out between sobs, her face still buried in her hands.
“I mean it,” he said, “I forgive you.”
“No . . . you . . . don’t. I saw . . . the way you were . . . looking at me . . . at the door . . . when I got here.”