He’d hoped to break it to her gently. He searched for the right words, but as was typical when he was speaking with a pretty woman, they were nowhere to be found. He should’ve texted it to her—the written word was his friend. But that seemed so cold.
“You found something, didn’t you? Something bad. What is it? Did Benjamin die in the war? Tell me.”
He had to put her out of her misery. “It’s not Benjamin. It’s Lizzie. But yes, she appears to have died.”
The dread on her face was instantly extinguished, replaced by despondency, the depths of which seemed remarkable given that she’d never even met the woman. But he’d fully expected this reaction. He wondered how, when he’d only known Molly for a week.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed. I am too.”
“Are you sure it’s her? Maybe it’s someone else.”
“I found the cemetery where she’s buried. Once you have a birth date, it really narrows things down.”
Her shoulders sank two inches. “We’re too late. If only I’d found the letter earlier.”
He shook his head. “She passed away a long time ago. Before you were even born.”
“Oh.” Her eyes became glassy. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why this is hitting me so hard.” She pressed a knuckle at the corner of her eye. “Who am I kidding? I’ve always been a bleeding heart.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.” It was one of the things he liked about her. “I couldn’t find out much about her life, but she died when she was only thirty-five.”
“So young!”
Across the way, another patron gave them a look over the top of her readers.
Molly lowered her voice. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I’m sorry it’s not better news, Molly.”
“She probably died thinking he didn’t love her.”
“We don’t know that. He could’ve gotten in touch with her on his own before he left for war.”
“That doesn’t seem likely.” Molly might be an optimist, but apparently not at the expense of reality.
“If not, she probably fell in love again and got married. She had sixteen years between writing the letter and her death. She may have had many happy years after Benjamin left.”
“That’s true, I guess.”
“I could probably find out a lot more about her life, but as soon as I realized she was gone, I switched to researching Benjamin. I was hoping to find some good news there before I had to tell you about Lizzie. Would you like me to find out more about her? Would it set your mind at ease?”
Molly shook her head adamantly. “No. I—I think I’d rather move on to Benjamin. I’d still like him to know what happened to Lizzie—that she’d changed her mind and tried to let him know. If he’s still living, that is.”
“That’s what I thought.”
She looked like a child who’d just dropped her ice cream cone on the pavement and didn’t have enough coins for another.
“Listen, Molly, I know this isn’t what you’d hoped to find, but all is not lost. Maybe we can still help Benjamin find some closure.”
After a thoughtful moment Molly gave her head an abrupt shake, and just like that her countenance changed. It wasn’t the beaming expression she wore as comfortably as yoga pants and a T-shirt. But there was a resolve to maintain a positive outlook. It showed the kind of inner stuff every heroine came equipped with.
“You’re right,” she said. “You’re exactly right. We’ll focus our efforts on Benjamin. He deserves to know the truth.”
“Thata girl,” he said, feeling unreasonably proud of her. His face grew warm at his unwarranted familiarity. He started to put his hands over his keyboard.
But before he could move, she set her hand over his. “Thank you, Adam. Whatever we find isn’t your fault; it’s just what happened. You can’t change the past. And whatever happened, I’m sure God has His reasons for it.”
“Exactly right,” he managed, though the warm softness of her hand on his muddled his brain and made the words more air than substance.
She gave his hand a squeeze before releasing it. “So have you been able to find anything else about Benjamin?”
“Unfortunately, I haven’t. There are a lot of Benjamin Schwartzes out there. It would be helpful to find a middle name, birth date, or place of birth. We know he was here in Bluebell for at least one summer in ’64, and we’re reasonably sure he went to war that same year, but we don’t know which branch. I’ve been looking at military records—we have an approximate age—but I’m not finding much.”
“What can I do?”
“You could continue looking through old newspapers for his name. I left off on the third week of May 1964.”
“Good idea. Back in the day they put all kinds of personal and social events in the paper. Even when and where people were going on vacation and when somebody was moving from one address to another.”
“Well, maybe you’ll stumble across something then.”
And there was that beaming smile. “I’m on it.”
* * *
Ordinarily, Molly could happily read old newspapers for hours. But Adam’s news had left her unreasonably depressed. She felt stupid for shedding tears over a woman she’d never even met. What was wrong with her?
She got settled at the microfilm reader and forced herself to the task at hand, starting where Adam had left off. Back then Bluebell’s paper ran twice a week, and she skimmed article after article looking for Benjamin’s name.
As she read she delighted in all the delicious details of the daily lives of Bluebell residents, occasionally recognizing business names or surnames. The Randalls were going to Florida on vacation to visit Mrs. Randall’s family. The Dorsetts were celebrating the birth of their first grandbaby—a girl. Pastor Frank was adding another weekly service to accommodate the summer people.
Molly got so swept up in the stories she had to keep reminding herself to focus on the task at hand. She found no mention of Benjamin through the end of May, but he likely hadn’t come until Memorial Day weekend.
It wasn’t until the first edition in June when her eyes stumbled upon some familiar names. Her eyes became greedy, taking in the article and the grainy photo. She jumped up from her chair and rushed to Adam’s table, her heart pounding.
Somehow it hadn’t felt quite real until now. Until she’d seen the names in the paper, in black and white. Benjamin had really been here in Bluebell. Had really fallen in love with Lizzie. The fire that had already kindled inside became a raging inferno. They had to see this through. Even though Lizzie was gone, they still had a responsibility to find and tell Benjamin.
Adam looked up at her approach, his expression turning hopeful as his eyes lingered on her face. “Find something?”
She couldn’t hold back the smile. “Come take a look.”
twelve
June 1, 1964
Lizzie had been looking for Benjamin since she’d arrived at Gibby’s Dance Hall. The building, located across from the beach, was the place to be on summer weekend nights.
The zippy strains of “Runaround Sue” played from the speakers, couples spinning and twirling on a dance floor so crowded you could hardly tell who was dancing with whom. The smells of Chantilly and Tabu left only a hint of the earthy aroma of perspiration.
Lizzie’s yellow party dress hugged her trim waist and flared generously over her hips and legs. It was perfect for dancing. She’d just worn it to her graduation party, and it was too soon to wear it again. But the person she’d worn it for had yet to see her in it.
Nonnie sidled up to her, sipping her fresh Coke. She looked exotic tonight, her black eyeliner turned up on the ends and her dark hair flipping up with meticulous precision.
“Have you seen him?” Nonnie yelled over the music.
“Not yet.” Lizzie tried to appear nonchalant. But if he didn’t show up tonight she was going to be so bummed. She’d thought about him all week and had gone back to the be
ach every day hoping for a glimpse of him. She’d taken such care with her appearance tonight—or rather Nonnie had.
“It’s early yet. Did you see Earl? He’s dancing with Cheryl Faulkner. I don’t stand a chance.”
“He’s saving the best for last.”
“Well, if he doesn’t get around to it soon I’m going to find some other cat to hang out with, and then he’ll be sorry.”
“Well, look out for Charlie Watson. He’s on the make tonight and he’s blitzed.”
Nonnie shuddered. “Of course he is.”
Lizzie scanned the dance floor and found Earl’s auburn hair, half a head above all the others. “You know he can hardly take his eyes off you—even when he’s dancing with someone else.”
Nonnie frowned. “Charlie?”
“No, silly. Earl.”
“Really? Truly?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you.”
Nonnie pouted. “Well, why doesn’t he just ask me to dance then?”
Just then Lizzie saw Benjamin near the entrance. Her breath caught. He wasn’t but twenty feet away, and another boy she recognized from summers past accompanied him.
Benjamin was decked out in a dark suit and narrow black tie like most of the other boys. And yet something about him set him apart. It was those eyes, she determined. Those tilted-down eyes that might look sad if not paired with his crooked smile.
He started turning her way, and Lizzie whipped the other direction, not wanting to be caught staring.
Nonnie startled at her sudden movement, almost spilling her Coke. “Take it easy.”
“He’s here.”
Nonnie looked over Lizzie’s shoulder. “Who? Benjamin?”
“Don’t look!”
Nonnie was smiling as her eyes returned to Lizzie. “Don’t freak out, but he’s spotted you. I think he’s coming this way.”
“Are you sure? Don’t look!”
“I don’t have to look. I have excellent peripheral vision, and he’s definitely coming this way. And my oh my, doesn’t he look boss tonight.”
“What do I say? What do I do?” Her brain was suddenly mush, and her heart felt as though it might explode from her rib cage.
“Just play it cool.”
A laugh came from her tight throat. She was anything but cool. She could tell how close he was getting by the tightening clamp of Nonnie’s hand around her wrist.
“Excuse me,” a baritone voice said over the music.
Lizzie tried for a casual expression as she turned and met those brown eyes. He was taller than she remembered. She only reached his lapel.
“Hi there.” He was smiling at her, that crooked grin.
Lizzie couldn’t help but return the smile. “Hi yourself.”
“I was hoping to see you tonight.”
She nearly swooned. No games. No dancing with other girls to make her jealous.
Nonnie prompted Lizzie with a nudge.
Her face went warm. “And here I am,” she said a full five seconds too late.
The song ended to applause, and the familiar of notes of “Let’s Twist Again” began.
Benjamin held out his hand. “Would you like to dance?”
“I’d love to.” She put her hand in his and followed him to the dance floor. Halfway there, she looked over her shoulder to see Nonnie all but jumping up and down.
The floor was crowded, but they claimed a spot in the middle and began twisting to the popular song. It was too loud to talk, but she was delighted to see Benjamin was a good dancer. He swiveled his hips to the beat, working his arms like a pro.
Lizzie had been born with good rhythm, too, and matched his every move. Halfway into the song, he took her hands and led her in a few turns that had her dizzy and laughing. And happy. She couldn’t ever remember feeling so euphoric.
She forgot about the crowd pressing in on them. Forgot about the DJ and about Nonnie waiting on the sideline. They moved together like they were separate halves of a whole. They communicated only with their eyes and gestures, and it was enough.
The song ended with flair. Lizzie clapped along with the others, her breath coming quickly as the DJ began spinning another forty-five.
The slower strains of “Moon River” began, and her heart fluttered as her gaze met Benjamin’s.
His brows lifted, a question in his eyes as he held out his arms.
Without hesitation, Lizzie stepped into them. One of his hands settled on her waist and the other took her hand. She rested her palm on his stiff lapel and met his eyes.
“You’re a good dancer,” he said. The music was softer, allowing for conversation.
“So are you.”
“I’m torn between wanting to dance with you all night and wanting to know everything there is to know about you.”
Her face warmed. “We can accomplish both, I think. What would you like to know?”
His smile widened. “How old are you? What do your parents do? Do you have a boyfriend?” He ducked his head at the last question.
For all his confidence, he was a little shy too. She liked that.
“I’m eighteen—almost nineteen. I just graduated. My parents own the general store in town.” She paused until he met her gaze again, then held it for a poignant moment. “And no, I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment.”
“Must be something wrong with the boys around here.”
She arched a brow. “Maybe I’m just fussy.” She’d found her inner vixen, and she hadn’t even known she had one.
His lips quirked, and the stroke of his thumb along the back of her hand nearly made her knees buckle. She’d danced with dozens of boys. She’d had crushes before. She’d even had a boyfriend or two. But no one had ever made her tremble with a simple touch.
She met his eyes and nearly drowned in the chocolate depths.
He gazed at her with affection. “Would it be too forward to tell you I’ve been thinking about you since Monday?”
“Is that so?” Her voice was breathy.
“Tell me more about you,” he said. “Who’s your friend?” He nodded toward the other side of the dance floor where Nonnie finally swayed in Earl’s arms.
“My best friend since grade school, Nonnie. You’re here with a summer boy, right? Patrick something.”
“Patrick Lewis. His folks own a house out on Cottage Hill. They invited me to spend the summer with them.” It was an older section of the lake where turn-of-the century cottages stairstepped up the hillside.
“How old are you?” she asked. “And where are you from?”
“I’m nineteen—graduated last year—and I’m from a little town in Tennessee.”
Her heart sank a little. So far away. But it was only the beginning of June; they had the whole summer ahead of them. Anyway, they’d only just met. She was getting way ahead of herself. But somehow she knew. She just knew this boy had the power to melt her heart.
“What do you do in Tennessee?”
“Right now I’m a custodian at an elementary school. They only keep one of us on when school’s out, so I have the summer off. What are you planning to do now that you’ve graduated?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I have a scholarship to St. Anne’s. It’s a nursing school in Ohio.”
His eyes twinkled. “I knew you were a smarty-pants.”
“To be honest, I’m not sure I want to go.” She had no idea why she’d admitted that. She hadn’t told her parents or even Nonnie.
“Why not?”
“I like working at the general store with my folks. I like Bluebell. I can’t imagine leaving and starting over someplace else.”
“It’s a big world. You might find someplace you like better.”
She shrugged. “This is home. And what could be better than the Blue Ridge Mountains?”
“Well, I can’t argue with that.”
They’d grown closer together somehow. Their chests only inches apart. His freshly shaven jaw nearly touching her.
“Especially now,” he sai
d softly, stirring the tiny hairs at her temple.
thirteen
Present Day
“Look, right there,” Molly said before Adam could even get settled in front of the microfilm reader. “That’s them, Benjamin and Lizzie. See, it says right here, below the photo.”
Her finger trembled as she pointed to the dancing couple. The black-and-white picture included several people, but Benjamin and Lizzie were in the foreground. They looked as though they’d just completed a spin, her dress still flaring around her legs. Her head was tilted back, midlaugh, and Benjamin was grinning at her ear to ear.
Molly could almost hear the happy sixties music in her mind.
Adam read the caption aloud. “Local girl Elizabeth Van Buren and summer visitor Benjamin Schwartz kick off the summer season at Gibby’s Friday night. Good work, Molly.”
“Aren’t they a handsome couple?” Lizzie was a natural beauty with delicate facial features, and Benjamin looked like a movie star of the day.
“They look comfortable together,” Adam said. “Like they might’ve known each other a while.”
“But it says he’s a summer visitor, and lake season was just getting started.”
“I wish it said where he was from. Is there anything about them in the article?” He was already scanning it.
“I’m afraid not.” She was starting to come down from her momentary high. The article was only about the history of the dance hall.
He finished reading and, obviously familiar with the machine, used the buttons to center the page and print a copy.
Molly turned to the adjacent wall and pulled the oversize sheet off the copier, gazing at the grainy photo. She loved having a picture of them, of course. But she also realized it wasn’t going to advance their search.
“What’s wrong?” Adam asked.
“I feel silly. I guess I got a little overexcited. It’s just a picture, after all. There’s no new information. Nothing that’ll help us find Benjamin.”
Lake Season Page 8