True Believer Part 14

Rodney breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks."

"I'm sure Lexie would love to have seen you, though."

"Lexie?"

"Well, of course. She runs the library, so that makes her one of the dignitaries that will attend. Why, I was just coming by to tell her about it. But I'm sure she'll enjoy visiting with our guest, even if you're not there." The mayor straightened up. "But all right, like I said, I understand."

"Wait!" Rodney said, his mind moving quickly, trying to recover. "You said it's tonight, right?"

The mayor nodded.

"I don't know what I was thinking, but I think Bruce is already scheduled, so I just might be able to work something out."

The mayor smiled. "Glad to hear it," he said. "Now, let me head inside so I can talk to Ms. Darnell. You weren't planning to head inside and talk to her yourself, were you? I mean, I'd be happy to wait."

"No," Rodney said. "Just tell her I'll see her later."

"Will do, Deputy."

After retrieving some additional information for Jeremy and making a quick stop in her office, Lexie found herself surrounded by twenty children, some nestled in their mothers' laps. Lexie was sitting on the floor, reading her third book. The room was boisterous, as it always was. On a low table off to the side, cookies and punch had been set out; in the far corner, a few of the less engaged children were playing with some of the many toys she kept on the shelves. Still others were finger-painting on a makeshift table she'd designed. The room was decorated in bright colors-the shelves were like crayons, with no apparent theme other than vividness. Despite the protests of some of the senior volunteers and employees-who wanted children to sit quietly as they were being read to, as had always been done-Lexie wanted children to have fun in the library. She wanted them to be excited about coming, even if that required toys, games, and a room that was less than quiet. Over the years, she could remember dozens of kids who played for a year or more before discovering the joy of stories, but that was fine by her. As long as they kept coming in.

But today, as she was reading, she felt her mind wandering back to the lunch she'd shared with Jeremy. Though it couldn't be described as a date, it almost had that feeling, which made it a little disconcerting. Thinking back on it, she realized that she'd revealed far more about herself than she'd intended, and she kept trying to remember how that had happened. It wasn't as if he'd pried. Instead, it had just happened. But why on earth was she still dwelling on it?

She didn't like to think of herself as neurotic, but this endless a.n.a.lysis wasn't like her. And besides, she told herself, it hadn't even been a date as much as a guided tour. But no matter how much she tried to stop it, Jeremy's image kept popping up unexpectedly: the slightly crooked smile, his expression of amus.e.m.e.nt at things she said. She couldn't help wondering what he had thought about her life here, not to mention what he'd thought about her. She'd even blushed when he said he'd found her charming. What was that all about? Maybe, she thought, it was because I spilled my guts about my past and left myself vulnerable.

She made a note not to do it again. And yet . . .

It hadn't been so bad, she admitted. Just talking to someone new, someone who didn't already know everyone and everything going on in town, was refreshing. She'd almost forgotten how special that could be. And he'd surprised her. Doris had been right, at least in part. He wasn't what she thought he'd be. He was smarter than she'd first a.s.sumed, and even if he held his mind closed to the possibility of mystery, he made up for it by being good-humored about their differing beliefs and way of life. He poked fun at himself, too, which was also appealing.

As she continued to read to the children-thank goodness, it wasn't a complicated book-her mind refused to stop whirling.

Okay, so she liked him. She admitted that. And if truth be told, she wanted to spend more time with him. But even that realization didn't change the little voice in her head warning her not to get hurt. She had to tread carefully here, for-as much as they seemed to get along-Jeremy Marsh would indeed hurt her if she allowed it to happen.

Jeremy was hunched over a series of street maps of Boone Creek, dating back to the 1850s. The older they were, the more written detail they seemed to have, and as he watched how the town had changed decade by decade, he jotted additional notes. From a sleepy village nestled along a dozen roads, the town had continued to expand outward.

The cemetery, as he already knew, sat between the river and Riker's Hill; more important, he realized that a line drawn between Riker's Hill and the paper mill would pa.s.s directly through the cemetery. The total distance was a little more than three miles, and he knew that it was possible for light to be refracted that far, even on foggy nights. He wondered if the factory had a third shift, which would necessitate keeping the place brightly lit, even at night. With the right layering of the fog and enough brightness, everything could be explained in one fell swoop.

Upon reflection, he realized he should have noticed the straight-line relationship between the paper mill and Riker's Hill when he was up there. Instead, he'd been caught up in enjoying the view, looking over the town, and spending time with Lexie.

He was still trying to figure out the sudden change in her behavior. Yesterday she wanted nothing to do with him, and today . . . well, today was a new day, wasn't it? And d.a.m.ned if he couldn't stop thinking about her, and not just in the usual, clothes-heaped-at-the-foot-of-the-bed sort of way. He couldn't remember the last time that had happened. Maria, probably, but that was a long time ago. A lifetime ago, when he was someone else entirely. But today the conversation had been so natural, so comfortable, that despite the fact he should finish studying the maps, all he really wanted to do was get to know her even better.

Strange, he thought, and before he realized what was happening, he stood from his desk and began making his way to the stairs. He knew she was reading to the children, and he had no intention of disturbing her, but he suddenly wanted to see her.

He walked down the steps, rounded the corner, and moved to one of the gla.s.s walls. It took only a moment for him to spot Lexie sitting on the floor, surrounded by children.

She read in an animated way, and he smiled at her expressions: the wide eyes, the "O" she made with her mouth, the way she leaned forward to emphasize something that was happening in the story. The mothers sat with smiles on their faces. A couple of the kids were abolutely still; the others looked as if they'd taken wiggle pills.

"She's really something, isn't she?"

Jeremy turned in surprise. "Mayor Gherkin. What are you doing here?"

"Why, I came to see you, of course. And Miss Lexie, too. About the dinner tonight. We've got everything just about set up. I think you'll be quite impressed."

"I'm sure I will," Jeremy said.

"But like I was saying, she's really something, isn't she?"

Jeremy said nothing, and the mayor winked before going on. "I saw the way you were looking at her. A man's eyes give him away. The eyes always tell the truth."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The mayor grinned. "Well, I don't know. Why don't you tell me?"

"There's nothing to tell."

"Of course not," he said.

Jeremy shook his head. "Look, Mr. Mayor . . . Tom-"

"Oh, never mind. I was just teasing. But let me tell you a bit about our little get-together this evening."

Mayor Gherkin told Jeremy the location, then offered directions that, somewhat unsurprisingly, were heavy on local landmarks. No doubt Tully taught him everything he knew, Jeremy thought.

"Do you think you'll be able to find it?" the mayor asked when he was finished.

"I've got a map," Jeremy said.

"That might help, but keep in mind that those back roads can get kind of dark. It's easy to get lost if you're not careful. You might consider coming with someone who knows where it is."

When Jeremy looked at him curiously, Gherkin glanced knowingly through the window.

"You think I should ask Lexie?" Jeremy asked.

The mayor's eyes twinkled. "That's up to you. If you think she'd agree. A lot of men consider her the prize of the county."

"She'd say yes," Jeremy said, feeling more hopeful than certain.

The mayor looked doubtful. "I think you may be overestimating your own abilities. But if you're so sure, then I suppose my business is through here. You see, I came to invite her myself, but since you're going to take care of it, I'll just see you tonight."

The mayor turned to leave, and a few minutes later, Jeremy watched Lexie finish up. She closed the book, and as the parents rose, he felt a jolt of nervous adrenaline. The sensation amazed him. When was the last time that had happened?

A few mothers called to those kids who hadn't been listening, and a moment later, Lexie was following the group out of the children's room. When she saw Jeremy, she headed over.

"I take it you're ready to start looking through the diaries," she surmised.

"If you have time to get them," he said. "I still have a way to go with the maps. But actually, there's something else, too."

"Oh?" She tilted her head slightly.

As he spoke, he noticed the b.u.t.terflies in his stomach. Weird.

"The mayor came by to tell me about the dinner tonight at the Lawson Plantation, and he's not sure if I can find the place on my own, so he suggested that I bring someone who knows where it is. And, well, since you're pretty much the only one I know in town, I was wondering if you'd be willing to accompany me."

For a long moment, Lexie said nothing.

"Figures," she finally said.

Her response caught Jeremy off-guard.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, it's not you. It's the mayor and the way he does things. He knows I try to avoid events like this whenever possible, unless it has to do with the library. He figured that I'd say no if he asked, so he finagled a way to get you to ask me instead. And here you are. And here I am."

Jeremy blinked at the thought, trying to remember the exact exchange, but only coming up with bits and pieces. Who had suggested he go with Lexie? He or the mayor?

"Why do I suddenly feel like I'm in the middle of a soap opera?"

"Because you are. It's called living in a small southern town."

Jeremy paused, looking uncertain. "You really think the mayor had all this planned?"

"I know he had it planned. He might come across like he's no smarter than a sack of gra.s.s, but he has a funny knack of getting people to do exactly what he wants and making them think it was their idea all along. Why on earth do you think you're still staying at Greenleaf?"

Jeremy pushed his hands into his pockets, considering it. "Well, just so you know, you don't have to come. I'm sure I can find the place on my own."

She put her hands on her hips and looked at him. "Are you backing out on me?"

Jeremy froze, unsure how to respond. "Well, I just thought that since the mayor . . ."

"Do you want me to come with you or not?" she asked.

"I do, but if you're not-"

"Then ask me again."

"Excuse me?"

"Ask me to come with you tonight. For yourself this time, and don't use the excuse about needing directions. Say something like, 'I'd really like to bring you to the dinner tonight. Can I pick you up later?'"

He looked at her, trying to decide if she was serious. "You want me to say those words?"

"If you don't, it'll still be the mayor's idea and I won't go. But if you ask me, you have to mean it, so use the right tone."

Jeremy fidgeted like a nervous schoolboy. "I'd really like to bring you to the dinner tonight. May I pick you up later?"

She smiled and placed her hand on his arm.

"Why, Mr. Marsh," she drawled, "I'd be delighted."

Minutes later, Jeremy was watching Lexie retrieve the diaries from a locked case in the rare-book room, his head still spinning. Women in New York simply didn't talk to him the way Lexie did. He wasn't sure if she'd been reasonable or unreasonable or somewhere in between. Ask me again and use the right tone. Ask me again and use the right tone. What kind of woman did that? And why on earth did he find it so . . . compelling? What kind of woman did that? And why on earth did he find it so . . . compelling?

He wasn't sure, and all of a sudden, the story and the opportunity for television were nothing more than minor details. Instead, as he watched Lexie, all he could think about was how warm her hand felt when she'd laid it ever so gently on his arm.

Nine.

Later that evening, as the fog thickened into a soupy mess, Rodney Hopper decided that the Lawson Plantation looked like it was about to host a Barry Manilow concert.

For the last twenty minutes, he'd been directing the traffic into parking spots and watching in disbelief at the procession excitedly making its way toward the door. To this point, he'd seen Drs. Benson and Tricket, Albert the dentist, all eight members of the town council, including Tully and Jed, the mayor and the staff from the Chamber of Commerce, the entire school board, all nine county commissioners, the volunteers from the Historical Society, three accountants, the entire crew from Herbs, the bartender from Lookilu, the barber, and even Toby, who emptied septic tanks for a living but looked remarkably spiffy nonetheless. Lawson Plantation wasn't even this crowded during the Christmas season, when the place was decorated to the nines and free to the public on the first Friday in December.

Tonight wasn't the same. This wasn't a celebration where friends and acquaintances got together to enjoy each other's company before the hectic holiday rush. This was a party meant to honor someone who had nothing to do with the town and didn't give a d.a.m.n about this place. Even worse, though Rodney was here on official business, he suddenly knew he shouldn't have bothered ironing his shirt and polishing his shoes, since he doubted that Lexie would even notice.

He knew all about it. After Doris had gone back to Herbs to get the cooking under way, the mayor had rolled in and mentioned the awful news about Jeremy and Lexie, and Rachel had called him straightaway. Rachel, he thought, was sweet in that way and always had been. She knew how he felt about Lexie and didn't tease him like a lot of other folks did. Anyway, he got the impression that she wasn't all that thrilled, either, with the idea of them showing up together. But Rachel was better at hiding her feelings than he was, and right now he wished he were somewhere else. Everything about tonight left him feeling lousy.

Especially the way the whole town was acting. By his reckoning, folks around here hadn't been this excited about the town's prospects since the Raleigh News & Observer Raleigh News & Observer had sent a reporter to do a story about Jumpy Walton, who was attempting to build a replica of the Wright Brothers' plane, one he planned to fly in commemoration of the hundredth anniversary of aviation at Kitty Hawk. Jumpy, who'd always had a couple of screws loose, had long claimed to be nearly finished with the replica, but when he opened the barn doors to proudly show how far he'd gotten, the reporter realized that Jumpy didn't have the slightest clue about what he was doing. In the barn, the replica looked like a giant, crooked version of a barbed-wire and plywood chicken. had sent a reporter to do a story about Jumpy Walton, who was attempting to build a replica of the Wright Brothers' plane, one he planned to fly in commemoration of the hundredth anniversary of aviation at Kitty Hawk. Jumpy, who'd always had a couple of screws loose, had long claimed to be nearly finished with the replica, but when he opened the barn doors to proudly show how far he'd gotten, the reporter realized that Jumpy didn't have the slightest clue about what he was doing. In the barn, the replica looked like a giant, crooked version of a barbed-wire and plywood chicken.

And now the town was placing its bets on the existence of ghosts in the cemetery and that the city boy would bring the world to their doorstep because of them. Rodney strongly doubted it. And besides, he didn't honestly care if the world came or not, as long as Lexie stayed part of his his world. world.

Across town and at about the same time, Lexie stepped onto her porch just as Jeremy was coming up the walkway with a small bouquet of wildflowers in hand. Nice touch, she thought, and she suddenly hoped he couldn't tell how frazzled she'd been until just a few minutes ago.

Being a woman was challenging sometimes, and tonight had been rougher than most. First, of course, there was the question of whether this was even an actual date. Granted, it was closer to a date than what had gone on at lunch, but it wasn't exactly a romantic dinner for two, and she wasn't sure whether she would have even consented to something like that. Then there was the whole image question and how she wanted to be perceived, not only by Jeremy but by everyone else who would see them together. Add the fact that she was most comfortable when she wore jeans and had no intention of showing any cleavage, and the whole thing became so confusing that she'd finally just thrown in the towel. In the end, she'd decided to go with a professional look: brown pantsuit with an ivory blouse.

But here he comes waltzing up in his Johnny Cash look, as if he hadn't given the evening a second thought.

"You found the place," Lexie observed.

"It wasn't too hard," Jeremy said. "You showed me where you lived when we were on Riker's Hill, remember?" He offered the flowers. "Here. These are for you."

She smiled as she took them, looking absolutely lovely. s.e.xy, too, of course. But "lovely" seemed more appropriate.

"Thank you," she said. "How'd the diary search go?"

"Okay," he said. "Nothing too spectacular in the ones I've looked through so far."

"Just give it a chance," she said with a smile. "Who knows what you'll find?" She raised the bouquet to her nose. "These are beautiful, by the way. Give me a second to put them in a vase, grab a long coat, and then I'll be ready."

He opened his palms. "I'll wait here."

A couple of minutes later in the car, they were driving through town in the opposite direction from the cemetery. As the fog continued to thicken, Lexie directed Jeremy along the back roads until they came to a long winding drive, bordered on both sides by oaks that looked as if they'd been planted a hundred years ago. Though he couldn't see the house, he slowed the car as he approached a towering hedge that he a.s.sumed lined a circular drive. He leaned over the steering wheel, wondering which way to turn.

"You might want to consider parking here," Lexie suggested. "I doubt if you'll find something any closer, and besides, you'll want to be able to get out of here later when you need to."

"Are you sure? We can't even see the house yet."