I hated to disturb him, he looked so peaceful but I knew first hand the effect of too many hours spent sleeping in a seated position.
Leaning into him, I quietly said, “Con... Con, why don’t you lie down? You’ll sleep better.”
His eyelids remained half-closed over his dreamy blue eyes, as he looked in my direction and replied, “If you’ll lay with me.”
I slipped the journal from underneath his hands and set it on the table. I considered reading more while he slept, but his offer was one I couldn’t refuse. Like my questions, the journal would be there to greet me in the morning.
Following the smell of onion bagels and coffee into the kitchen, I pulled out a chair and sat, watching Con awkwardly attempt to prepare a simple meal.
Pulling over-cooked bagels from the toaster, he said, “I told you I was no good at this.”
“I usually skip breakfast anyway.”
He offered a short nod and returned to his task.
“How did you sleep?”
He shrugged, “Okay, I guess,” and looked away, scratching the back of his head.
Bending in his direction, I tried to make eye contact with him as he turned and poured coffee. For whatever reason, he was avoiding looking at me, but that didn’t keep me from catching the concern in his eyes.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Seemingly nervous, he said, “You fell asleep last night.”
“So did you,” I said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.
He stood silently for a couple minutes, staring at the counter. “How much of the journal did you read?”
His question caused my heart to flutter, wondering how bad the remainder of the journal was.
“Only to the part where your grandmother confesses to killing your father. Why?”
His attention was on me for the first time since I awoke. He pulled a chair next to mine, took my hands in his and studied my face.
“I’m off today and I was going to take you to Wisteria Falls...”
Cutting him off, I said excitedly, “Oh, I would love that...”
“No,” he said, raising a hand between us. “I think you should clear your schedule and...”
He stood and let his words trail off, scaring me more every second he didn’t speak.
Worry filled my voice. “Con, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Facing me briefly, he continued to pace, as he said, “You fell asleep and I didn’t know how far you read, so I read the whole thing.”
I stood and met him at the sink. Holding him by both arms to keep him from turning away, I insisted, “Con, what has you acting this way? What’s in her journal?”
Letting his arms rest on my shoulders, he replied, “It’s not a journal, Meg. It’s a love story.”
Backing away slightly, I opened my mouth but no sounds came out.
Lifting my head with a finger under my chin, he looked deeply into my eyes, and said, “I couldn’t possibly paint the same picture my grandmother painted and it would be an injustice for you to learn the truth any other way.”
Tears blurred my eyes and my throat tightened. “What is the truth?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to leave now. Read the journal and then go see your grandfather.” Kissing my hand, he added, “You told me once that you haven’t always been the best granddaughter. Here’s your chance to make things right with him before it’s too late.”
Through my tears, my eyes questioned his but he offered nothing more, as he kissed my forehead stating that he’d call me later. Before I could organize my thoughts or form them into words, he was gone, leaving me with a million questions and one journal.
Twenty-Nine
...With a kiss and a hug, I was on my way back to the city feeling lighter in spirit. I thought about everything I had learned and the meaning of a lily white lie became clear...
I had wasted valuable time trying to guess what secrets lay between the covers of the journal instead of reading it. I suppose it was my subconscious effort to protect myself from a horrible truth, should that be what I learned. I had picked up the phone several times and hung it up without dialing just as many times. As much as I could use the support that the girls would be sure to bring to the situation, I knew I had to do this alone. I had to dig deep and find my own vein of strength in order to handle whatever I was about to face.
I bent and pulled the phone plug from the wall. Once I began to read I knew I had to read straight through. Depending how bad the truth was, I knew I would use any interruption to hide from it.
Sitting on the couch, I spent several minutes staring at the journal without touching it. Somehow, looking at the tapestry cover flooded my mind with visions of the past. I imagined Gayle, young and beautiful like she was in the picture Joker showed me and the way Gramp described her. She was sitting alone in a room, oblivious to her surroundings, a pen and this journal her only friends. It saddened me to know just how lonely she felt.