True Believer

Two minutes later, Jeremy's phone rang, and he recognized the number on the screen of his cell phone. Though not in the mood, he knew he had to answer, or the man would probably burst an artery.

"Hey there," Jeremy said. "What's happening?"

"Jeremy!" Nate shouted. Through the static, Jeremy could barely hear him. "Great news! You can't believe how busy I've been. It's been a madhouse! We've got a conference call with ABC at two o'clock!"

"Great," he said.

"Hold on. I can't hear you. This reception is terrible."

"Sorry . . ."

"Jeremy! Are you still there? You're breaking up!"

"Yeah, Nate, I'm here . . ."

"Jeremy?" Nate shouted, oblivious to his answer. "Listen, if you can still hear me, you've got to use a public phone and call me here. At two o'clock! Your career depends on this! Your entire future depends on this!"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Oh, this is ridiculous," he said, almost as if talking to himself. "I can't hear a thing you're saying. Hit a button if you caught everything I'm saying."

Jeremy pressed the 6.

"Great! Fantastic! Two o'clock! And be yourself! Except for the sarcastic part, I mean. These people seem pretty uptight . . ."

Jeremy hung up the phone, wondering how long it would take for Nate to realize that he wasn't on the line anymore.

Jeremy waited. Then waited some more.

He paced the library, he wandered past Lexie's office, he peeked out the window for signs of her car, feeling a growing sense of uneasiness as the minutes ticked by. It was just a hunch, but nothing about her absence this morning seemed right. Nonetheless, he did his best to convince himself otherwise. He told himself that she would come in eventually, and later he'd probably laugh about his ridiculous feelings. Still, now that he was finished with his research--other than possibly finding anecdotes in some of the diaries, which he hadn't finished going through yet--he wasn't sure what to do next.

Greenleaf was out--he didn't want to spend any more time there than he had to, even though he was beginning to like the towel hangers. Alvin wouldn't be here until the evening, and the last thing he wanted was to wander around town, where he might be corralled by Mayor Gherkin. Nor did he want to hang around the library all day.

He really wished Lexie had been a bit more specific in her note about when she might show up. Or even where she'd gone. He couldn't make sense of the note even after reading it a third time. Had the lack of detail been inadvertent or something she'd done on purpose? Neither possibility made him feel any better. He had to get out of here; it was hard not to think the worst.

After gathering his things, he went downstairs and paused at the reception desk. The elderly volunteer was buried in a book. Standing before her, he cleared his throat. When she looked up, she beamed. "Well, Mr. Marsh!" she said. "I saw you come in earlier, but you looked preoccupied, so I just let you go. What can I do for you?"

Jeremy adjusted the notes beneath his arm, attempting to sound as casual as he could.

"Do you know where Ms. Darnell is? I got a note that said that she was out, and I was just wondering when she might be coming in."

"That's funny," she said, "she was here when I came in." She checked the calendar on her desk. "She doesn't have any meetings scheduled and I don't see any other appointments. Have you checked her office? Maybe she's locked herself in. She does that quite a bit when the work starts piling up."

"I have," he said. "Would you know if she happens to have a cell phone where I can reach her?"

"She doesn't--that I know for sure. She's told me that when she's off and about, the last thing she wants is for someone to find her."

"Well . . . thanks, anyway."

"Is there anything I could help you with?"

"No," he said, "I just needed her help on my story."

"I'm sorry I can't be more help to you."

"That's okay."

"Have you thought about checking Herbs? She might be helping Doris get things ready for the weekend. Or maybe she went home. The thing about Lexie is that you can never predict anything about her. I've learned not to be surprised by anything she does."

"Thanks, anyway. But if she comes in, will you tell her that I was looking for her?"

Feeling more agitated than ever, Jeremy left the library.

Before heading to Herbs, Jeremy swung by Lexie's house, noting the drawn curtains in the window and the fact that her car was gone. Although there was nothing out of the ordinary about the scene before him, it again struck him as wrong somehow, and the uneasiness only deepened as he retraced the roads back to town.

The morning rush at Herbs had died down, and the restaurant was in the twilight period between breakfast and lunch, when things were cleaned up from the last rush and preparations were being made for the next. The staff outnumbered the remaining patrons four to one, and it took only a moment to see that Lexie wasn't here, either. Rachel was wiping a table and waved a towel when she saw him.

"Morning, darlin'," she said, approaching. "It's a little late, but I'm sure we can whip up some breakfast if you're hungry."

Jeremy slipped his keys into his pocket. "No, thanks," he said. "I'm not that hungry. But would you happen to know if Doris is around? I'd love to talk to her if she has a moment."

"Back for her again, huh?" She smiled and nodded over her shoulder. "She's in the back. I'll tell her you're here. And by the way, that was quite a party last night. People were talking about you all morning, and the mayor dropped by to see if you'd recovered. I think he was disappointed you weren't here."

"I enjoyed it."

"Do you want some coffee or tea while you're waiting?"

"No, thanks," he answered.

She disappeared into the back, and a minute later, Doris emerged, wiping her hands on her apron. Her cheek was smudged with dough, but even from a distance, he could see the bags under her eyes, and she seemed to be moving more slowly than usual.

"Sorry about looking like this," she said, gesturing at herself. "You caught me mixing dough. Last night set me back a little for the weekend, and it's going to take a bit to catch up before the crowds tomorrow."

Remembering what Lexie had told him, he asked, "How many people are you expecting this weekend?"

"Who knows?" she said. "Usually, a couple of hundred come in for the tour, sometimes a bit more. The mayor was hoping for close to a thousand for the tour this year, but it's always a wild guess for me to figure out how many will come in for breakfast and lunch."

"If the mayor's right, that's quite a jump this year."

"Well, take his estimate for what it's worth. Tom has a tendency to be overly optimistic, but he's got to create a sense of urgency to get everything ready in time. And besides, even if people don't do the tour, folks still like to come to the parade on Saturday. The Shriners will be here zooming around with their cars, you know, and kids love to see them. And there'll be a petting zoo, too, this year, which is new."

"Sounds great."

"It would be better if it wasn't in the middle of winter. The Pamlico Festival always draws the biggest crowds, but that's in June, and we usually have one of those traveling carnivals set up shop that weekend. Now, those are weekends that can make or break a business. Talk about stress. It's about ten times what I'm going through now."

He smiled. "Life here never ceases to amaze me."

"Don't knock it till you try it. I have a funny feeling you'd love it here."

She sounded almost as if she was testing him, and he wasn't quite sure how to respond. Behind them, Rachel cleared a table while jawing with the cook, who was half a room away. Both were laughing at something one or the other had said.

"But, anyway," Doris said, letting him off the hook, "I'm glad you came by. Lexie mentioned that she told you about my notebook. She warned me that you probably wouldn't believe a word of it, but you're welcome to look through it if you'd like. It's in my office in the back."

"I'd like

that," he said. "She told me you kept quite a record."

"I did my best. It's probably not up to your standards, but then again, I never thought anyone but me would read it."

"I'm sure I'll be amazed. But speaking of Lexie, that's part of the reason I came by. Have you seen her around? She wasn't at the library today."

She nodded. "She came by the house this morning. That's how I knew to bring my book. She told me you two saw the lights last night."

"We did."

"And?"

"They were amazing, but like you said, they weren't ghosts."

She looked at him, satisfied. "And I take it that you've already figured everything out, or you wouldn't be here otherwise."

"I think so."

"Good for you," she said. She motioned over her shoulder. "I'm sorry I can't chat more now, but I'm kind of busy, so let me get my notebook for you. Who knows, maybe you'll want to do a story about my amazing powers next."

"You never know," he said. "I just might."

As Jeremy watched her vanish into the kitchen, he wondered about their conversation. It had been perfectly pleasant but curiously impersonal. And he noticed that Doris hadn't really responded to his question about Lexie's whereabouts. Nor had she even ventured a guess, which seemed to suggest that--for whatever reason--she viewed the subject of Lexie as suddenly off-limits. Which wasn't good. He looked up to see her approaching again. She wore the same pleasant smile as she had before, but this time it gave him a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Now, if you have any questions about this," she said, handing the notebook over, "don't hesitate to call. And feel free to make copies if you want, but bring this back before you leave. It's pretty special to me."

"I'll do that," he promised.

She remained standing silently before him, and Jeremy got the impression that it was her way of telling him their conversation was at an end. He, on the other hand, wasn't about to give up so easily.

"Oh, one more thing," he said.

"Yes?"

"Would it be okay if I return the notebook to Lexie? If I happen to see her today?"

"That's fine," she said. "But I'll be here, too, just in case."

As he caught her obvious meaning, he felt his stomach sink even more.

"Did she say anything about me?" he asked. "When you saw her this morning?"

"Not much. However, she did say that you'd probably be coming by."

"Did she seem okay?"

"Lexie," she began slowly, as if choosing her words carefully, "is hard to read sometimes, so I'm not sure I can answer that. But I'm sure she'll be okay, if that's what you're asking."

"Was she angry with me?"

"No, that I can tell you. She definitely wasn't angry."

Waiting for more, Jeremy said nothing. In the silence Doris took a long breath. For the first time since they'd met, he noticed her age in the lines around her eyes.

"I like you, Jeremy, you know that," she said, her voice soft. "But you're putting me on the spot. What you have to understand is that I have certain loyalties, and Lexie is one of them."

"Which means what?" he asked, feeling his throat go dry.

"It means that I know what you want and what you're asking, but I can't answer your questions. What I can say is that if Lexie wanted you to know where she is, she would have told you."

"Will I see her again? Before I leave?"

"I don't know," she said. "I suppose that's up to her."

With that comment, his mind began to absorb the fact that she was really gone.

"I don't understand why she'd do something like this," he said.

She gave a sad smile. "Yes," she said, "I think you do."

She was gone.

Like an echo, the words kept repeating themselves. Behind the wheel on the way to Greenleaf, Jeremy tried to analyze the facts with cool remove. He didn't panic. He never panicked. No matter how wild he'd felt, no matter how much he wanted to press Doris for information about Lexie's whereabouts or state of mind, he'd simply thanked her for her help and headed out to the car, as if he'd expected nothing different.

And besides, he reminded himself, there was no reason to panic. It wasn't as if something terrible had happened to her. It simply boiled down to the fact that she didn't want to see him again. Perhaps he should have seen it coming. He'd expected too much from her, even when she'd made it perfectly clear from the very beginning that she wasn't interested.

He shook his head, thinking it was no wonder that she'd left. As modern as she was in some ways, she was traditional in others, and she was probably tired of having to deal with his transparent ploys. It was probably easier for her to simply leave town than to explain her reasoning to someone like him.

So where did that leave him? Either she would come back or she wouldn't. If she came back, no problem. But if she didn't . . . well, that's where reality started getting complicated. He could sit back and accept her decision, or he could try to track her down. If there was one thing he was good at, it was finding people. Using public records, friendly conversations, and the right sites on the Web, he'd learned how to follow a trail of bread crumbs to anyone's doorstep. He doubted, however, that any of that would be necessary. After all, she'd already given him the answer he needed, and he was sure he knew exactly where she'd gone. Which meant that he could handle this any way he wanted.

His thoughts stopped again.

The thing was, it didn't quite help him with the idea of what he should do. He reminded himself that he had a conference call in just a few hours, one with important ramifications for his career, and if he headed off to look for Lexie now, he doubted he'd be able to find a pay phone when he needed one. Alvin would be arriving later this evening--possibly the last of the foggy evenings--and though Alvin could handle the filming on his own tonight, they had to work together tomorrow. Not to mention that he needed a nap--he had another long night ahead, and even his bones were tired.

On the other hand, he didn't want everything to end like this. He wanted to see Lexie, he needed to see her. A voice in his head warned him not to let his emotions govern his actions, and rationally, he couldn't see how anything good could come of him traipsing off in search of her. Even if he found her, she'd probably ignore him or, worse, find it creepy. And in the meantime, Nate would probably have a stroke, Alvin would be stranded and furious, and his story and future career might just go down the tubes.

In the end, the decision was simple. Pulling his car into the spot in front of his cottage at Greenleaf, he nodded to himself. Putting it in those terms made his choice clear. After all, he hadn't spent the last fifteen years using logic and science without learning something along the way.

Now, he thought to himself, all he had to do was pack.

Thirteen

Okay, she admitted, she was a coward.

It wasn't the easiest thing for her to own up to the fact that she'd run away, but hey, she wasn't exactly thinking clearly these past couple of days, and she could forgive herself for not being perfect. The truth was, if she had stayed around, things would have become even more complicated. It didn't matter that she liked him and that he liked her; she woke up this morning knowing that she had to end things before they went too far, and when she pulled in the sandy driveway out front, she knew she'd done the right thing by coming here.

The place wasn't much to look at. The old cottage was weathered and blended into the sea oats that surrounded it. The small, rectangular white-curtained windows were coated with salted mist, and the siding had streaks of gray, remnants from the fury of a dozen hurricanes. In some ways, she'd always considered the cottage a time capsule of sorts; most of the furniture was over twenty years old, the pipes groaned when she turned on the shower, and she had to light the stove burners with a match. But the memories of spending parts of her youth here never ceased to calm her, and after storing her bags and the groceries she'd picked up for the weekend, she'd opened the windows to air out the place. Then, grabbing a b

lanket, she settled into a rocker on the back porch, wanting nothing more than to watch the ocean. The steady roar of the waves was soothing, almost hypnotic, and when the sun broke through the clouds and beams of light stretched toward the water like individual fingers from above, she found herself holding her breath.

She did that every time she came here. The first time she'd seen the light breaking through this way was soon after her visit to the cemetery with Doris, when she was still a little girl, and she remembered thinking that her parents had found another way to make their presence known in her life. Like heaven-sent angels, she believed they were watching out for her, always present but never intervening, as if they felt that she would always make the right decisions.

For a long time, she'd needed to believe in such things, simply because she'd often felt alone. Her grandparents had been kind and wonderful, but as much as she loved them for their care and sacrifice, she'd never quite gotten used to the feeling of being different from her peers. Her friends' parents played softball on the weekends and looked youthful even in the soft morning light of church, an observation that made her wonder what, if anything, she was missing.

She couldn't talk to Doris about these things. Nor could she talk to Doris about the guilt she felt as a result. No matter how she phrased it, Doris's feelings would have been hurt, and even as a young girl, she'd known that.

But still, that feeling of being different had left its mark. Not only on her but on Doris as well, and it began to manifest itself during her teenage years. When Lexie would push the limits, Doris would frequently give in to avoid an argument, leaving Lexie with the belief that she could establish her own rules. She'd been a bit on the wild side when she was young, made mistakes and had too many regrets, but somehow turned serious during college. In her new, more mature incarnation, she embraced the idea that maturity meant thinking about risk long before you pondered the reward, and that success and happiness in life were as much about avoiding mistakes as making your mark in the world.

Last night, she knew, she'd almost made a mistake. She'd expected him to try to kiss her, and she was pleased by how resolute she'd been when he wanted to come inside.

She knew she'd hurt his feelings, and she was sorry for that. But what he probably didn't realize was that it wasn't until after he'd driven off that her heart had stopped pounding, because part of her had wanted to let him inside, no matter what it might have led to. She knew better, but she couldn't help it. Even worse, as she tossed and turned in her bed last night, she realized she might not have the strength to do the right thing again.