At First Sight

"Tell me how it happened," Lexie finally said.

Rachel sat up straighter; when she spoke, it sounded as if she'd been rehearsing her words for days.

"You know that Rodney and I have been having problems, right?"

Lexie nodded.

"That's where it started," Rachel said. "I know that you and Rodney always saw your relationship differently. To you, he was just a friend, but to Rodney... well, you were like some kind of fantasy, and even now, I'm not sure whether he's ever going to get over you. When he looks at me sometimes, it's like he really wants to be seeing you instead. I know that sounds crazy, but I felt it every time he showed up at my door. It's like I was never quite good enough, no matter what I was wearing or what we planned to do. And then, one day when I was running something into Doris's office, I found Alvin's phone number, and... I don't know... I was feeling depressed and lonesome, and I just decided to give him a call. I didn't know what to expect--I really didn't expect anything--but we just got to talking, and I started telling him about the troubles that Rodney and I have been having in our relationship and how he can't seem to get over you. Well, Alvin got real quiet and then told me you were pregnant. The way he said it let me know that he wasn't sure Jeremy was the father. And that maybe Rodney was."

Lexie felt her stomach sink.

"I want you to know that I never thought it was Rodney's baby. Never, not once. I knew that you and Rodney had never slept together, and I said something to that effect. I didn't think twice about it. Honestly, once I hung up, I didn't even think we'd talk again, but then Alvin called me sometime later, and all I could think was that it was nice to hear from him. And after Rodney and I got into another fight, I just wanted a break from it all... so on a whim I decided to head to New York for a few days. I can't explain it other than to say I had to get out of town and it was a place I'd always wanted to go. So I called Alvin when I got there, and we ended up spending most of the night talking. I was upset and maybe I drank too much, but somehow you came up again and I let it slip that you'd been pregnant before and that it was even noted in Doris's journal."

When Lexie raised her eyebrows, Rachel hesitated before going on.

"Doris kept the journal in her office and I was looking through it when I saw your initials and Trevor's name in there. I know it wasn't any of my business and I know I shouldn't have said anything, but I was just talking. I didn't have any idea that he was sending Jeremy e-mails and trying to break you two up. I didn't find out about that until this past weekend, after Jeremy was already back here. Alvin called me in this panic on Saturday and blurted out everything, and I got this sick feeling. Not only because of what I'd helped to set in motion, but because he'd been using me all along." Her voice wavered as she stared at her shredded tissue. "I swear, I didn't mean to hurt you, Lex. I thought we were just talking."

Rachel's eyes filled with tears. "You have every right to be angry with me, and I wouldn't be surprised if you never wanted to see me again. If I were you I don't know that I would want to see me. It's taken me this long to even work up the courage to come here. I haven't been able to eat for the last couple of days. I know that probably doesn't matter, but I wanted you to know the truth. You've been like a sister to me over the years, and I'm closer to Doris than I am to my own mother... It breaks my heart to think that I hurt you or even to think that I might have played a part in what Alvin was doing. I am so sorry. You'll never know how sorry I am for what happened."

When she finished, silence settled between them. Rachel had spoken without pause, and the effort seemed to have drained her. The tissue was in tatters, small pieces raining onto the floor, and Rachel bent over to pick them up. As she did, Lexie tried to figure out whether Rachel's story diminished her responsibility, and how she wanted to respond. She was ambivalent. She felt justified in telling Rachel that she never wanted to see her again, but overpowering her anger was a growing sense of sympathy. She knew that Rachel was flighty and jealous, insecure and occasionally irresponsible, but she also knew that betrayal wasn't in her nature. Lexie sensed that she'd been telling the truth when she said she had no idea what Alvin had been up to.

"Hey," she said.

Rachel looked up.

"I'm still angry," Lexie said. "But I know you didn't mean it."

Rachel swallowed. "I'm so sorry," she repeated.

"I know you are."

Rachel nodded. "What will you tell Jeremy?"

"The truth. That you didn't know."

"And Doris?"

"That I'll have to think about. I haven't told Doris anything yet. To be honest, I don't know that I will, either."

Rachel exhaled, her relief evident.

"That goes for Rodney, too," Lexie added.

"What about us? Will we be able to stay friends?"

Lexie shrugged. "I suppose we have to, being that you're my maid of honor."

Rachel's eyes brimmed over. "Really?"

Lexie smiled. "Really."

Fourteen

On their wedding day, the sun rose over a calm Atlantic Ocean, casting prisms of light across the water. A light mist lingered on the beach as Doris and Lexie cooked breakfast for the guests at the cottage. Doris met Jeremy's parents for the first time and hit it off particularly well with Jeremy's father; Jeremy's brothers and their wives were their normal, boisterous selves and spent most of the morning leaning over the railing of the porch, marveling at the brown pelicans that seemed to ride the backs of porpoises just beyond the break line.

Because Lexie had been so insistent about limiting the number of guests, his brothers' presence was a surprise. When he saw them getting off the plane in Norfolk the day before, he wondered whether they'd been hastily invited in the last couple of days because of the situation with Alvin. But he knew better when his sisters-in-law rushed into his arms, chattering about how Lexie had invited each of them personally and how much they were looking forward to getting to know her.

In all, there were sixteen guests: Jeremy's family, along with Doris, Rachel, and Rodney; the final guest was a last-minute fill-in for Alvin. Hours later, as Jeremy was standing on the beach waiting for Lexie to appear, he felt Mayor Gherkin pat him on the back.

"I know I've told you before," Gherkin said, "but I am truly honored to have been chosen as your best man for this wondrous occasion."

Clad in blue polyester pants, a yellow shirt, and a plaid sport jacket, the mayor was a sight to behold, as always, and Jeremy knew that the ceremony wouldn't have been the same without him. Or Jed, for that matter.

Jed, it turned out, in addition to being the local taxidermist, was an ordained minister. His hair was combed, he was dressed in what was probably his best suit, and it was the first time he'd ever been close to Jeremy without wearing a scowl.

Just as Lexie had wanted, the ceremony was both extremely intimate and romantic. Jeremy's mother and father stood closest; his brothers and sisters-in-law formed a small semicircle around them. A local guitarist sat off to the side, playing quiet music, and a narrow path had been lined with seashells--something his brothers had done right after lunch. With the sun descending in the sky, the flames from a dozen tiki torches amplified the golden colors of the sky. Rachel was already tearing up, clutching the flowers in her hand as if she would never let them go.

Lexie was barefoot, as was Jeremy; on her head was a small crown of flowers. Doris beamed as she walked beside her; Lexie wouldn't consider letting anyone but Doris give her away. When Lexie finally came to a halt, Doris kissed her on the cheek and made her way to the front. From the corner of his eye, Jeremy saw his mother loop an arm through Doris's and pull her closer.

Lexie seemed almost to glide as she moved slowly toward him. In her hand was a bouquet of wildflowers. When she reached Jeremy, he could smell the slightest trace of perfume lingering in her hair.

They turned to face Jed as he opened the Bible and began to speak.

Jeremy was startled by the soft, melodic timbre of his voice, en

tranced as he listened to Jed welcome the guests and read a few passages from the Bible. Fixing them with a serious expression from beneath his heavy brow, he spoke of love and commitment, of patience and honesty, and of the importance of keeping God in their lives. He told them that life wouldn't always be easy, but that if they kept their faith in God and each other, they would always find a way to overcome anything. He spoke with surprising eloquence, and like a teacher who had long ago earned the respect of his students, he led them deftly through their vows.

Mayor Gherkin handed Jeremy the ring, and Lexie gave him one as well. As they slipped them on each other's fingers, Jeremy could feel his hands shaking. At that moment, Jed pronounced them man and wife. Jeremy kissed Lexie softly, taking her hand in his. In front of God and his family, he'd promised his love and devotion for all eternity, and he'd never believed it could feel so natural and right.

After the ceremony, the guests lingered on the beach. Doris had prepared a small buffet, and the food was spread out on a nearby picnic table. One by one, Jeremy's family congratulated them with hugs and kisses, as did Mayor Gherkin. Jed vanished after the ceremony before Jeremy could thank him but reappeared a few minutes later, carrying a plain cardboard box the size of a small refrigerator. In the interim, he'd changed back into his overalls and his hair had reverted to its wild state.

Lexie and Jeremy walked up to him just as he was placing his gift on the ground.

"What's this?" Lexie asked. "You weren't supposed to bring any gifts."

Jed said nothing. He just shrugged, somehow implying that he'd be hurt if she didn't accept. She leaned in and hugged him, then asked if she should open it. When Jed shrugged again, Lexie took that as a yes.

Inside was the stuffed boar Jeremy had seen him working on; in his signature style, he'd made the boar look as if it were about to maul anyone who got close.

"Thank you," Lexie said, her voice soft, and though Jeremy believed it was the first time it ever happened, he swore he saw Jed blush.

Later, after most of the food had been eaten and the event was winding down, Jeremy wandered away from the guests toward the water. Lexie joined him.

"You okay?"

Jeremy kissed her. "I'm fine. Wonderful, actually. But I'm thinking of going for a little walk."

"Alone?"

"I want to let this--all of it--sink in."

"Okay," Lexie said with a quick kiss. "But don't be long. We're going back to the cottage in a few minutes."

He waited until Lexie had gone off to talk to his parents, then turned and walked slowly through the sand, listening to the sound of the waves as they rolled onto shore. As he walked, he replayed the wedding in his mind: how Lexie had looked walking toward him; the quiet power of Jed's oratory; the dizzying sensation he'd experienced only hours before when pledging his eternal love. With every step, he was struck by a growing sense that anything was possible and that even the sky, with its exquisite colors, seemed to be flying a banner of celebration. When he reached the lengthening shadow of Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, he noticed a group of wild horses congregating on the grassy dune before him. While most of the mustangs were grazing, there was one that stared back at him. Jeremy moved forward, noting the sturdiness of the horse's muscled haunches and the soft, rhythmic flicking of his tail, believing for an instant that he would be able to get close enough to the horse to actually touch him. It was an absurd notion, one he would never test, but when he suddenly slowed to a stop, he found himself raising his hand in a gesture of friendship. The horse's ears rose in curiosity, as if trying to understand, then just as suddenly he bobbed his head up and down in a seemingly friendly gesture of his own. Jeremy watched in silence, marveling at the idea that they were somehow communicating. And when he turned around and saw Lexie and his mother entwined in a tender embrace, all he could think was that he was experiencing the most wonderful day of his life.

Fifteen

The weeks that followed passed in a dreamlike state. An early summer heat wave blanketed Boone Creek, and the town settled into a slow, gentle rhythm. By mid-June, Lexie and Jeremy had also fallen into a comfortable routine, the traumas of the past weeks now behind them. Even the renovations seemed to be proceeding more smoothly, albeit slowly and expensively. The ease with which they'd adapted to their new life didn't particularly surprise them; what they hadn't expected were the many ways in which married life was so unlike being engaged.

After a brief honeymoon at the cottage, with lazy mornings spent lounging in bed and long afternoon walks along the sandy beach, they returned to Boone Creek, cleaned out Jeremy's cabin at Greenleaf, and moved into Lexie's bungalow. For the time being, Jeremy set up his office in the guest room, but instead of attempting to write, he spent most of his afternoons getting the house ready to show prospective buyers. He mowed and edged the yard, planted dianthus around the trees, trimmed the hedges, and painted the porch outside; inside, he also painted and moved a bit of the clutter into the storage shed behind Doris's. With only one or two people walking through the bungalow every couple of weeks and a sale necessary to help with the financing--and renovations--of the new house, both he and Lexie wanted the place looking its best. Other than that, life in Boone Creek went on as usual. Mayor Gherkin was fretting about the summer festival, Jed had gone back to his nonspeaking ways, and Rodney and Rachel were officially dating again and seemed much happier.

Still, there were some things that took getting used to. For example, now that theirs was a permanent arrangement, Jeremy wasn't sure how much cuddling he was expected to do. While Lexie seemed content to cuddle constantly, Jeremy could think of other more gratifying forms of intimacy. Still, he wanted to keep her happy. Which meant... what? How much was enough? Did they have to cuddle every night? How long? And in what position? Was he supposed to nuzzle, too? He was doing his best to figure out all the intricacies of Lexie's desires, but it was confusing.

Then there was the temperature of the room when they were sleeping. While he was happiest with the air conditioner blasting and the overhead fan whirring, Lexie was always cold. When it was ninety degrees and humid outside, with the outer walls and windows warm to the touch, Jeremy might set the thermostat to sixty-eight degrees, crawl into bed with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, dressed only in underwear, and lie completely uncovered. A moment later, Lexie would exit the bathroom, turn the thermostat up to seventy-four degrees, crawl under the sheet and two blankets, pull them up to her ears, and shiver as if she had just crossed the arctic tundra.

"Why's it so cold?" she'd ask, getting comfortable.

"Because I'm sweating," he'd answer.

"How can you be sweating? It's freezing in here."

At least they were on the same page when it came to making love, he thought. In the weeks immediately following the ceremony, Lexie seemed to be endlessly in the mood, which--in Jeremy's opinion, anyway--gave definition to what a honeymoon was supposed to be. The word no wasn't in her vocabulary, and Jeremy chalked it up to the fact that her inhibitions were loosened not only because they were officially a couple, but because he was, in fact, irresistible to her. He could do no wrong, and he was so intoxicated by the feeling that he would daydream about her while working around the house. He would visualize the soft contours of her body or remember the sensation of her touch against his naked skin; he'd draw a deep breath remembering the sweetness of her breath or the luscious feel of her hair as his combed his fingers through it. By the time she'd return from work, it would be all he could do to offer a friendly kiss, and he'd spend the dinner hour staring at her lips as she ate, waiting for the opportunity to make his move. He was never turned down. He might be reeking and dirty from working in the yard, and still it seemed as if they couldn't get their clothes off fast enough when they entered the bedroom.

Then, out of the blue, things changed. It was as if the sun rose one morning and by the time it set, the Lexie he knew had been replaced by a nonresponsive twin. He remembered it clearly, since it was the first ti

me he'd been rejected: It was June 17, and he'd spent the rest of the morning alternately convincing himself it was no big deal and wondering whether he'd done something wrong. Later that night, it happened again, and for the next eight days, that was the story of their relationship. He'd make his move, she'd say that she was tired or simply not in the mood, and he'd lie beside her sulking, wondering how on earth he'd come to be viewed as simply a roommate who was still required to cuddle before falling asleep in a room that felt like a furnace.

"You woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning," she remarked the morning after the first rejection.

"Didn't sleep well."

"Bad dreams?" she asked, sounding concerned.

Despite hair that was askew and long pajamas, she was strangely seductive, and he didn't know whether to be angry or ashamed of himself for thinking about sex every time he saw her. This, he knew, was the danger of habits; where the previous weeks had become a pattern he welcomed, she was obviously of a different opinion. But if there was one thing he'd learned from his first marriage, it was never to complain about the frequency of sex. In this, men and women were different. Women sometimes wanted; men always needed. Big difference, one that in the best of circumstances reached a sort of reasonable compromise that fully satisfied neither but was somehow acceptable to both. But he knew he'd sound as if he were whining if he complained that he wished the honeymoon had lasted just a bit longer. Say, for instance, for the next fifty years.

"I'm not sure," he finally responded.

His confusion during those next few weeks was underscored by the fact that during the day she seemed the same as always. They read their newspaper, shared the appropriate tidbits; she asked him to follow her to the bathroom while she got ready in the mornings, so they could continue their conversation.