Beautiful Day(3)

Doug hadn’t read the Notebook, although he had started out with that intention. He had meant to read the pages closely, as he would have a legal brief, before presenting it to Jenna, just after Stuart proposed. But Doug had found even reading the opening letter painful. Beth’s voice was too vivid on the page, and the emotion was too raw. My hand aches knowing that it will not be squeezing your hand just before you walk down the aisle. Doug realized there were stories and memories, bits of Carmichael family lore—some of which he might have forgotten—interspersed throughout. It would be excruciating for him to read the pages that he’d watched Beth furiously scribbling, right up until the very end, when hospice arrived and the morphine made it difficult for her to hold a pen, much less write anything. Furthermore, the Notebook hadn’t been meant for his eyes. It had been meant for Jenna; it was a mother-daughter document.

Doug had, however, stumbled across the following lines: Your father is going to be a cause for concern. Margot is married, Kevin is married, and who knows if Nick will ever get married. So you’re it, the last one, his baby flying from the nest. He will take it hard. But Jenna, he will have no prouder moment than escorting you down the aisle. I saw him with Margot before they walked out onto that cliff in Antigua. He could barely hold back the tears. You must promise me that you will (A) check to see that his tie is straight (B) pin his boutonniere and (C) please make sure he has a clean white handkerchief. He will need it. Even if your father has Another Wife, I want you to do those things. Do them for me, please.

Doug had welled up when he read that paragraph. Jenna had been present when this happened. She had said, “If you think that’s sad, you should skip ahead and read the last page.”

“What’s on the last page?” he asked.

“Just read it,” she said.

“I can’t. It’s too hard.”

“I think Mom would want you to see it.”

“No,” he said. And then he had closed the Notebook.

Now, Doug thought to panic. The Notebook was here, on the counter, at Pauline’s house (even now, five years after moving in, he still always thought of it as Pauline’s house). Jenna was on Nantucket. It was the Thursday before the wedding. Two days before.

He pulled his cell phone out of his briefcase. He had an iPhone, purchased for him by his children, all of whom used iPhones themselves. Doug had been a BlackBerry user for years, Edge was a BlackBerry user, all self-respecting attorneys were BlackBerry users. iPhones were toys. But the children had bought him this iPhone, and Margot had shown him how to use it and demonstrated how easy it was to text. Then Drum Jr. had gotten one, and Kevin’s oldest son, Brandon, had gotten one, and Doug liked the idea of being able to communicate with his grandsons. He found the iPhone made him feel younger than sixty-four.

The face of his phone was an emergency crash site. He had four missed calls from Margot, three missed calls from Jenna, a missed call from Pauline, two texts from Margot, two texts from Jenna, a text from Edge, and a text from Drum Jr. Doug didn’t know where to look first. He decided to just call Margot.

“I have it,” he said peremptorily.

“Dad?” Margot said. “We have a crisis.”

“No, you don’t. I have it.”

“Yes,” she said. “We do.”

“I have it,” he said. “It’s here. The Notebook. I have it here, I’m looking right at it. I’ll bring it with me tonight. She’ll have it in her hands by nine a.m.”

“Dad has it!” Margot shouted. To Doug, she said, “Thank God, oh, thank God you have it. Jenna thought she left it in a cab because the last time she remembered having it was at dinner with you and Pauline at Locanda Verde, when she took a cab all the way uptown. Yes, he has it, he has it! Can you imagine how catastrophic that would have been? Okay, Dad, I’ve gotta go, because now she’s having a reverse nervous breakdown that strongly resembles the nervous breakdown she’s been having for the past thirty minutes. She’s crying hysterically, but they’re tears of relief, I’m happy to say.” Margot paused, and Doug did indeed hear sounds of female hysteria in the background. “Jesus, can you imagine what would have happened if she’d left it in a cab? And it was gone forever?”

Doug swallowed. The thought was too awful to contemplate. Please make sure he has a clean white handkerchief. Had there ever been a purer declaration of love? he wondered.

“No,” he said.

“What is the Notebook doing there, anyway?” Margot asked.

“I…”

“Forget it, Daddy, I have to go. This place is a madhouse.”