The Pages We Forget (14 page)

“Dad.”

Alex looked at Trevor, whom he had not been able to see. Somehow he had missed Trevor, forgot he was there. While trying to emotionally detach himself from June, he had overlooked his main reason for staying with her during the turmoil. His son.

“Please don't be mad at her,” Trevor pleaded with Alex.

Alex choked back the tears as he stared into Trevor's eyes. “All right,” he said and unsuccessfully tried to force a smile. “I'll let it go for my boy.” He turned to June. “But I want you to know that I'm tired, Junie. Tired and fed up.”

No more words were spoken, but it was too late. Too much had been said, too much revealed. More than enough to make Lucy Kaye finally ask the question that had lingered in her mind since the day Kathryn called and told her that June was pregnant.

As soon as they arrived at the house, Lucy Kaye followed June into her bedroom. “Is Trevor my grandson?”

June wasn't caught off-guard by Lucy Kaye's question. She fully expected her to ask it after the remarks Alex made in the limo, but knowing she was going to ask didn't make answering any easier. Although she had rehearsed countless times how she would one day tell Keith and his mother the truth about Trevor, she wasn't prepared for the actual moment.

“Is Keith Trevor's father?”

June sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at Lucy Kaye, who stood near the door. For ten years, Lucy Kaye had allowed her to keep this secret. Surely, she knew all along that Trevor was Keith's
son. They had the same deep brown eyes, straight black hair, and caramel complexion. Their smiles were identical, too.

Lucy Kaye closed the door and walked over to the bed and sat next to June. Neither said a word but they both knew the other was thinking about that April morning ten years ago when Keith walked out of both their lives. They sat together in his bedroom for most of the day silently contemplating what happened. Neither said much. Every now and then one or the other would break their silent vigil and say something about the weather or their absence from the afternoon choir rehearsal. They only spoke when they felt it necessary to acknowledge the other's presence or to keep from crying.

“I need to know, Junie.”

June wasn't quite ready to answer. She was worried that the truth might be like her tears that morning seven years ago when Keith refused to speak to her. If she finally spoke the truth about Trevor's father to someone, would she be able to stop there? Or would answering Lucy Kaye's question today mean admitting the truth about that night tomorrow?

“I need to know the truth, Junie.” Lucy Kaye's eyes pleaded with June. “I've only seen my son once during the last ten years and that was when he came home for his father's funeral seven years ago. I don't know why he ran away. I didn't know then and I don't know now. You're a mother, Junie. Try to imagine Trevor walking out your front door and never coming back. Not because someone's holding a gun to his head, but because he chooses not to come back.”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Adams,” June sobbed. “I still don't know why he ran away. I don't know what I did to him.”

“I'm not blaming you, Junie. Lord knows I'm not blaming you.
All I'm asking for is the truth about your son. I've always believed and I always will believe that—”

“Keith is Trevor's father.” June finished for her, giving both a sense of closure. Before she realized it, something unexpected happened. She didn't know what it was, but she knew something had to have happened because everything was different now. The earth didn't tremble and the sky didn't fall, but the world had definitely changed. June could feel it. The truth had not crippled her. It felt good, better than good, to finally look into Lucy Kaye's plaintive eyes and say, “Yes, he's your grandson.”

“My grandson?”

“Keith's son.”

•  •  •

Trevor was unusually quiet as Kathryn helped him get ready for bed. It was easy to see that he was troubled by everything that had gone on. His mother had surprised everyone when she announced she was through doing what he felt she was born to do. He heard his dad say that about her during a television interview, and after going home and listening to her CDs later that day, he agreed. The argument between his parents on the way home did nothing to help matters. He heard what was bothering his father the most. His dad stated he was living a lie.

“Grandma, if you know something important and don't tell, is it a lie?” Trevor asked as she got ready to walk out the room.

“Well, let me think,” Kathryn replied and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Is it?”

“Give Grandma a minute. This is a tough one.”

Trevor sat up in bed and eagerly awaited his grandmother's response. “So, is it?”

“No. No, it's not a lie,” Kathryn answered and scooted closer to Trevor. “If a person knows something that might help someone and doesn't say anything, that person wouldn't necessarily be telling a lie. I mean, why would the person not want to help someone?”

“What if the person promised he wouldn't say anything?”

“Well, that's different because a promise is a promise.”

That wasn't the answer Trevor was looking for, and Kathryn could tell by the discouraged look on his face.

“I guess you're right,” he said.

“But you won't be breaking your promise if you told me who asked you not to say anything,” Kathryn said.

“I won't?”

“No, you won't,” Kathryn answered. “As long as you don't tell what she asked you not to tell.”

“Please don't tell her I told you, Gramps.”

“I promise,” Kathryn vowed, even though she already knew he was talking about June.

“Ma made me promise.”

“When was this?”

“A few weeks ago,” he answered. “Right after Dad and I came to Hampton Springs for Easter. Ma has been acting real strange since then, Gramps.”

“Your mom looks a little thin,” Kathryn said. “Has she been eating right or has she been acting sickly?”

Trevor hesitated before saying, “Sometimes.”

“That's enough. You promised,” Kathryn said and pulled the cover over him. “Don't worry. Grandma's here now, and everything's going to be fine. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now, it's way past your bedtime. I'll talk to you in the morning.” Kathryn kissed Trevor on the forehead. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Trevor said and rolled over. He felt better now. If anyone could straighten things out, it was his grandmother.

Kathryn overheard Alex, Bernard and Leatrice talking downstairs.

“She's scheduled to start filming
For His Love
in two weeks,” Bernard said. “Does this mean she's backing out on the film?”

“I don't know,” Alex answered. He turned the glass of brandy up and emptied it. “You'll have to ask her.”

“Well, my phone's already ringing off the hook, and I have absolutely no idea what to say since I don't know what the hell she's doing. Somebody needs to talk to me. Leatrice, what's going on?”

Leatrice's hesitation in answering caught Kathryn's attention. Kathryn closed Trevor's door and walked over to the stairway so she could better hear the conversation.

“Well, Leatrice? I mean, she did tell you ahead of time what she was planning to do,” Bernard said. “Did she say anything else?”

“No,” she answered. “She didn't say anything.”

“Did she tell you why she was quitting?”

“No.”

Alex walked over to the window and stared out into the night. There wasn't much to see. A fog bank had crept from the lake across the estate and the only things visible were the lights along the driveway and the one on the dock. He thought about how much June liked the fog and the countless nights they spent sitting out on the dock in the midst of it. They were barely able to see each other, which meant there was a lot of touching and spontaneous lovemaking.

“I need you to talk to her tonight, Alex,” Bernard said.

Alex couldn't hear him. Not now. The dock. The fog. The darkness. It had taken him back to the last time they made love under the misty cover. He recalled the chill in the air.

“Alex!” Bernard called.

“I'm sorry. What were you saying?” Alex turned to Bernard.

“I need you here with me, man.” Bernard walked up to Alex and whispered, “I know what you're going through. Believe me, I do. But right now I need your help and I need you to be completely focused on what's happening.”

“Alex,” Kathryn called as she descended the stairway. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

“Can it wait, Mrs. Thomas?” he asked.

“No,” she replied and started toward the parlor. “This will only take a minute.”

“Excuse me. I'll be right back,” Alex told Bernard and Leatrice. He stopped at the bar and refilled his glass with brandy before following Kathryn into the parlor.

“Close the door behind you,” she said. She walked over to the couch and sat down. Alex closed the door and turned to Kathryn. “Have a seat.”

“I thought you said this would only take a minute.”

“Sit down.”

Alex walked over to Joy and sat on the stool. He turned and faced the piano.

“Look at me, Alex.”

Alex hesitated before turning around. “I'm as lost as you are, Mrs. Thomas,” he looked up at her, not knowing what to say. “There's nothing I can tell you. You'll have to talk to Junie.”

“I plan to,” Kathryn said. “But I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Why?”

“First of all, why did you pretend to wholeheartedly support this album when you were in Florida for Easter?”

Alex shrugged his shoulders.

“It's okay. We're past that now. I'm more concerned about what Junie's hiding. I think she's hiding something from everyone.”

“In case you haven't noticed, she isn't hiding it anymore,” Alex said and took a sip of brandy. “She's told the whole world how much she still loves the guy.”

“This isn't about Keith,” Kathryn replied. “This is something far more serious.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don't know what it is, but I know my daughter. And I feel it every time I look at her and every time I talk to her. I feel it, Alex. Something's not right.”

“Listen, Mrs. Thomas. I made excuse after excuse for Junie, like you're doing now. But I'm through doing that. If it's Keith she wants, I'll let her have him.”

“Trust me, Alex. This isn't about Keith.”

“Well, what else could it be? Why else would she turn her back on who she is? She loves her life. So why would she just walk away?”

“I don't know,” Kathryn answered. “But I plan to stay here until I find out.”

“That's fine,” Alex said. “I hope you have better luck getting her to talk to you than I've had.”

“I'll get her to talk.”

“I hope so. Now, if you're done, I need to help Bernard straighten this whole mess out.”

“That's all I wanted.”

“Well, I'll talk to you in the morning,” Alex walked out of the parlor, prepared to tackle the debacle at hand.

He, Bernard, and an out-of-it Leatrice spent the next two hours on a conference call with Cynthia. They discussed the few options they had for dealing with the impending broken contracts and bad
publicity. It was late when they finished, so, Alex suggested they spend the night. Leatrice took the empty upstairs bedroom and Bernard slept in the guest cottage.

The lights were on in Alex and June's bedroom. June wasn't in the room, but there was a packed overnight bag and an envelope on the bed. Alex picked up the envelope. His name was written on the front and it was in June's handwriting. She was the only person he knew who couldn't write a single word without using both the cursive and print styles of writing. And it was her stationery.

Alex exhaled, realizing the possible meaning of the words on the pages in his hands. It was time to face the truth, look it in the face and accept the fact that the woman he loved was leaving him. He didn't know how he was going to handle her leaving. She wasn't his wife, but he had made plans to spend the rest of his life with her. They were supposed to grow old together, become grand-parents, retire in Florida and learn to play golf. They were supposed to grow closer over the years. So close that people would say they looked like one another. All those dreams were fading away now and there was nothing he could do about it.

He rubbed the envelope's seal. Slowly, he picked at the seal. The gold parchment paper didn't budge. He placed his index finger underneath the corner of the seal. His finger stiffened. He willed his finger up, and a corner of the envelope ripped. “No,” he suddenly said as though he was talking to her. “I want to hear it from you.”

The light was on in the bathroom. “June!” There was no answer. He knocked on the bathroom door. Still, no answer. He put his ear to the door. Still, nothing. He turned the doorknob. It was stuck. He thought the worst. “June!” He ran into the door, and the door flung open. She wasn't there. “Stupid ass,” he scolded himself. “You know her better than that. June, killing herself? Not if she was the last person on Earth.”

He walked out the bathroom and immediately noticed the balcony door was unlocked. He was prepared to make her tell him what was inside the envelope, but now, he had to psyche himself up all over. During the fourteen steps between the bathroom and the balcony, his heart changed his mind. He was going to fight for her. He wasn't going to simply let her walk out of his life. Keith did it to her, but he was not about to let her do it to him.

He opened the balcony door intent on telling her, “You're not going anywhere.”

She wasn't there.

Alex was starting to worry. Could she have already left and forgotten the overnight bag? Where would she go? He felt weak, leaning against the door to keep his legs from buckling. That's when he noticed the light on the dock was out. He remembered the light being on when he looked out earlier. “Either the bulb has blown or…”