he 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 time 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.

He spent every day trying not to dwell on it.

But every night he would crawl into bed and steel himself for yet another round of rejection, doing his best to convince himself that he wouldn’t let it bother him. Of course, not before making the passive-aggressive move of turning the thermostat back to sixty-eight degrees. As the weeks passed, Jeremy grew increasingly frustrated and confused. One night they watched a bit of television, eventually turned off the lights, and Jeremy spooned with Lexie for a while before moving to the other side of the bed to cool off. In time, he felt her reach for his hand.

“Good night,” she said, her voice soft, her thumb moving slowly over his skin.

He didn’t bother to respond, but when he woke the following morning, Lexie seemed perturbed as she headed to the bathroom. He followed her in, and they brushed their teeth and gargled with mouthwash before she finally glared at him.

“So, what happened with you last night?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I was in the mood and you just went to sleep.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“I reached for your hand, didn’t I?”

Jeremy blinked. This was how she made a pass at him?

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” she said, shaking her head, sounding as if it weren’t okay at all.

As she headed to the kitchen, he made a mental note about the hand-holding-in-bed thing.

Two evenings later, while lying in bed, she reached for his hand again, and Jeremy spun toward her so fast, the sheets got tangled as he tried to kiss her.

“What are you doing?” she said, pulling back.

“You’re holding my hand,” he said.

“So?”

“Well, the last time that happened, it meant you were in the mood.”

“That time I was,” she said, “but I was sort of stroking your palm with my thumb, remember? This time I wasn’t.”

Jeremy tried his best to absorb that. “So you’re not in the mood?”

“I’m just not feeling up to it. You don’t mind if I just sleep, do you?”

He tried his best to avoid a sigh. “No, that’s okay.”

“Can we cuddle first?”

He paused before answering. “Why not?”

It wasn’t until the following morning that everything finally became clear. He woke to find her sitting on the couch-or rather looking as if she were trying to lie down and sit at exactly the same time-with her pajama top pulled up to her breasts. The lampshade was angled, casting light on her belly.

“What are you doing?” he asked, stretching his hands over his head.

“C’mere, quick,” she said. “Sit next to me.”

Jeremy took his place beside her on the couch as she pointed to her stomach.

“Just watch,” she said. “Sit real still so you can see it.”

Jeremy did as he was told, and all of a sudden a small spot on her belly seemed to bulge involuntarily. It happened so quickly, however, he wasn’t sure what it was.

“Did you see it?” she exclaimed.

“I think I saw something. What is it?”

“That’s the baby. She’s kicking. In the past few weeks, I thought I felt her moving a little, but this morning was the first time I knew for sure.”

The spot bulged again.

“There! I saw it!” Jeremy exclaimed. “That’s the baby?”

Lexie nodded, her expression rapt. “She’s been active all morning, but I didn’t want to wake you, so I snuck out here where I could see it better. Isn’t it incredible?”

“Amazing,” Jeremy said, continuing to watch for it.

“Give me your hand,” she said.

When Jeremy reached out, she took it and placed it on her belly. A few seconds later, he felt it bulge and he grinned.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” she said, “it’s more like pressure or something. It’s hard to describe, except that it’s wonderful.”

In the soft yellow glow of the lamp, Jeremy thought she was beautiful. When she looked up at him, her eyes were shining. “Doesn’t this make it all worthwhile?”

“It’s always been worthwhile.”

She put her hand over his. “I’m sorry we haven’t fooled around lately, but I’ve been feeling nauseous again the past couple of weeks. It kind of surprised me, since I didn’t really get morning sickness. But my stomach’s been so woozy, I was afraid I might throw up if we made love, but at least I know why now.”

“That’s okay,” he said, “I hadn’t really noticed.”

“Yeah, sure. I can tell when you’re sulking.”

“You can?”

She nodded. “You toss and turn. And sometimes you sigh. It’s pretty obvious. But I’m not feeling queasy now.”

“You’re not?”

“In fact, I’m kind of feeling like I did right after our marriage.”

“You do?”

She nodded again, her expression seductive.

If there was one other downside to their first couple of months together, it related to work. Just as he’d done in May and June, in late July Jeremy sent another of his prewritten columns up to his editor in New York. It was the last one. From this point on, he knew, the clock would be ticking. He had four weeks to come up with something new.

Still, when he sat at the computer, there was nothing.

With August came a type of heat that Jeremy had heard about but had never before experienced in such an unrelenting fashion. Though New York was humid in the summer and had more than its share of miserable, sweat-inducing days, he realized that he’d dealt with them by staying indoors with the air conditioner blasting. Boone Creek, on the other hand, was an outdoor town, with a river and summer festival that lured people out of their homes.

As Gherkin had predicted, the festival drew thousands from all over the eastern part of the state. The streets, crammed with people, were lined on either side with dozens of kiosks that sold everything from barbecue sandwiches to shrimp on a stick. Near the water, the traveling carnival had set up rides, and kids waited in lines to ride the mini-roller coaster and a creaky Ferris wheel. The paper mill across the way had donated thousands of pieces of lumber-two-by-fours, squares, circles, triangles, blocks of various sizes-and kids spent hours constructing imaginary buildings.

The astronaut was a big hit with the crowds and ended up signing autographs for hours. Gherkin, meanwhile, had displayed an uncanny knack for playing up the theme of space. In addition to face painting-instead of animals, the offerings were of space shuttles, meteors, planets, and satellites-he’d somehow convinced the Lego Company to donate a thousand kits so kids could assemble their own space shuttles. This activity, spread out beneath a giant canopy, was a huge hit even among the parents, as it was in the only shady spot around.

Jeremy soaked through his shirt within minutes, but Lexie, now a little more than six months along, was even more miserable. Though she wasn’t large yet, she was definitely showing, and more than one of the older women in town who hadn’t known of her pregnancy until the festival didn’t bother to hide their surprise. Still, the general reaction after the obligatory raising of eyebrows was one of excitement for them.

Lexie gamely pretended to be far less miserable at the festival than she actually was, offering to stay as long as Jeremy wanted. Observing her flushed cheeks, Jeremy shook his head and told her that he’d seen enough and suggested they spend the rest of the weekend away from the crowds. After packing an overnight bag, they went to the cottage in Buxton. While it wasn’t noticeably cooler, the steady breeze off the ocean and the temperature of the water offered a refreshing break. By the time they returned to Boone Creek, they learned that Rodney and Rachel were engaged. Somehow they’d been able to work through their problems, and two days later, Rachel asked Lexie to be her matron of honor.

Even the house was coming along; the major renovations were completed, the kitchen and bathrooms were as good as new, and all that was still required were the finishing touches that would turn the place from a work in progress to a home. They were scheduled to move in at the end of the month. Perfect timing, as it turned out, since they had just received an offer on the bungalow from a nice retired couple from Virginia who wanted to take possession as soon as possible.

Aside from the continuing writer’s block, life was good for Jeremy. Though he sometimes reflected on the trials he and Lexie had gone through before marriage, he knew they’d emerged from them stronger as a couple. When he looked at Lexie now, he knew he had never cared for anyone as deeply. What he didn’t know, what he couldn’t know, was that the hardest days were yet to come.