His eyes twinkled. “So it is.”
“I don’t know if we can even be friends.”
He chuckled, a low delightful sound. “That would be a pity when we have so many other things in common.”
She nudged her chin up and gave a heavy sigh. “I suppose you’re right. I guess I can overlook your ridiculous propensity to read series out of order.”
“And I’ll overlook your absurd compulsion to be so inflexible.”
“I think I’m offended.” Humor laced her words.
“Then I must apologize.” He gave a mock bow, his eyes warm with laughter and something else . . . perhaps affection?
twenty-three
Molly rubbed the back of her neck. She and Adam had been leaning over the microfilm readers for almost two hours. They were slowly making their way through the summer of ’64, but they had to be thorough. And it was too easy to get distracted by the stories of the day. Every now and then one of them would read aloud an interesting tidbit.
Molly leaned back in the chair, giving her eyes and body a break from the task. The small room was stuffy and dimly lit to aid in viewing.
“Any luck?” She leaned toward Adam. He was on the July fourth issue of the Herald.
“Nothing yet. It’s rather tedious, isn’t it?”
“We don’t want to miss anything though.” She leaned in farther, peering at a photo of a bride and groom smiling at one another. “They look so young. They were probably just my age.”
“People got married younger back then.”
“That’s true. People are waiting longer these days. Especially in the city, I hear.” She caught a whiff of his cologne or soap, something manly and fresh.
He continued to scroll through the reel. “It’s true for the people in my circle. They want an established career before they settle down.”
“Not a bad thing, I guess.” She flickered a sideways glance at him, catching a glimpse of his profile, the light of the reader bathing his face in a silvery glow. “What about you? Any prospects in that department?”
He continued to scan the screen’s content, his fingers tapping the buttons to adjust the view. “Not really. Nothing serious anyway.”
She stared at his agile fingers for a moment. He had nice hands. His fingers were squarish, tapering down to nails that were clean and tidy, but not manicured. He wasn’t a rugged guy, but even so, he definitely wasn’t the salon type.
She wondered what Jordan’s hands looked like. She hadn’t noticed them last night except for the one thought she’d had early in their date—that those were the hands that wrote breathtaking stories.
“You?” he asked.
She looked at him, finding him closer than she’d expected. Her hand was on the back of his chair. She curled her fingers around the plastic back.
Was it warm in here? “I’m sorry, what?”
“I asked if there’d been anyone, um, special for you.”
“Oh. I haven’t really had time or opportunity to date since I returned from college. There was someone a couple years ago. We dated awhile but . . .” She lifted a shoulder.
“Didn’t work out?” he asked.
That overused phrase didn’t quite do it justice. “It ended badly. He just wasn’t who I thought he was.”
Adam cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Yeah, me too.” Her phone vibrated in her pocket with an incoming text.
She didn’t check her phone but leaned into the reader and continued on to the community section. She didn’t want to talk about Dominic. She may have gotten over him, but she lost a little piece of her dignity every time she recounted the story.
They’d met two summers ago when he visited her church. He was handsome and charming, and when he asked her out she said yes. He was easy to talk to and her family liked him. Skye was the only one with reservations, but Molly’s friend was particular. Molly had no reason not to believe he was who he said: CEO of a home health care company in Charlotte and owner of one of the new mansions on the lake.
For the first time in her life, she felt herself falling in love. It was an enthralling experience, just as the romance novels promised. She was dizzy with the feelings he evoked. She shared her heart, her thoughts, her vulnerabilities, and he shared his too. Or so she thought.
They were five months into the relationship when the real owner of the house, the real CEO, arrived and found them grilling out by the built-in pool. It had only taken a few minutes to realize Dominic was actually the property manager—and not even that by the time the homeowner was finished with him.
Molly and Dominic fought, and when she realized the depth of his lies, she walked away from him once and for all.
Afterward she was in shock. Levi had always called her idealistic, and she was beginning to think he was right. Still, Dominic had fallen so short of perfection, anyone would’ve been disgusted. She spent the next weeks sorting through the lies and wishing feelings could be blocked as easily as phone numbers. Skye had been a huge help in processing it all.
It took her a year to get over Dominic, but before her heart could completely heal, her parents died, throwing her into another tailspin. Who and what could she even count on? No wonder she was a bit of a mess.
“Hey,” Adam said suddenly. “Look at this.”
Molly leaned back over, her eyes following his index finger to the screen where there was a list in the sidebar.
She read aloud. “Benjamin D. Schwartz, 2nd place, smallmouth bass, 2.6 lbs. His middle initial!”
He shared a smile with her. “Bingo.”
twenty-four
July 4, 1964
Lizzie leaned forward in anticipation as Benjamin reeled in his fishing line. The small boat dipped with the movement.
“It’s a big one, I think.” His voice was laced with excitement.
“Look how your pole is bowing.”
He’d picked her up at the town harbor just as the sky began pinkening with dawn’s muted pallet. She was sleepy, having been out late with him the night before. They’d spent a lot of time together in the past month. Sometimes with Nonnie and Earl and sometimes with his group. Other times all by themselves.
They’d eat out at the diner and go dancing at Gibby’s on weekend nights. Sometimes they just sat on the swings at the park, talking, and other times they went out in the Lewises’ boat. Benjamin would fish, and she’d bring a book that she scarcely ever opened.
She couldn’t believe it had only been a month. She felt as though she’d known him her whole life. He was bright and kind, and he made her laugh. When he held her hand she felt as though her life was complete. And though he had yet to kiss her, she knew he wanted to. She was trying to be patient, but it wasn’t her best virtue.
Currently the sun was hiding behind the mountains, and the morning fog still hovered over the water. They’d settled in a quiet cove on the east side of the lake. He’d discovered this fishing hole the previous week, and this morning it was paying off.
“There he is.” Ripples sounded as Benjamin reeled the fish up out of the water, its fins smacking the surface.
Lizzie whooped as she grabbed the net and held it under the bass. “It’s your biggest yet! Just look at him.”
“It’s a smallmouth.” Benjamin lifted the fish from the net and removed the hook from his mouth. He held the bass aloft proudly. “Yep. He’s a keeper all right.”
“I’ll say. You might even win the tournament with him.”
His eyes flickered over her. “Win or no, I’m having a great time.”
She smiled broadly. “Me too. Even if I did have to get up before the break of dawn.” She couldn’t help teasing him.
He put the fish in the cooler and began putting away his pole, still smiling.
She checked her watch. “Are you stopping? We still have another hour.”
“I think I’ll quit while I’m ahead.” He leaned over the boat to rinse off his hands in the lake.
Li
zzie grabbed on to the seat as the boat dipped.
Benjamin straightened, dried his hands on a towel, and settled beside her on the bench. Their thighs touched, and the length of his arm felt solid against her shoulder.
“It’s so pretty out here,” he said, his voice rumbling. “So peaceful.”
It was quiet other than the gentle ripple of water against the hull. She’d put on a sweater to ward off the morning chill. But now she felt a surge of heat wash through her limbs at his closeness.
He glanced her way. “To be honest, I’m a little nervous about supper tonight.”
Her mother and father had invited him over. They’d met him briefly on several occasions, but they wanted to get to know the boy who was usurping so much of their daughter’s time.
“You needn’t be nervous. You’ve already met them.”
“I know but . . . this is different.”
“My parents are very nice people.” It was the absolute truth. But there was one subject she couldn’t help but hope would not come up tonight. She considered mentioning it Benjamin, but she didn’t want to make him even more nervous.
“I’m sure they are. But what if they don’t like me?”
She nudged him with her elbow. “Of course they’ll like you. What’s not to like?”
He turned toward her and caught her in his serious gaze. He was so close. His breath brushed her cheek, making a shiver race down her arms. The smile fell away from her face.
“I’ve really enjoyed the last month, Lizzie.”
“Me too.” Was that her hushed whisper? She couldn’t take her eyes from his. They simply mesmerized her.
His dark lashes swept down a moment before lifting again, stopping at her lips. “You’ve become very special to me.” Once again he was making her swoon with that straightforwardness of his. She loved that she never had to wonder how he was feeling.
She leaned forward, pulled by a force she couldn’t define, and brushed his lips with hers. The touch set off a ripple of awareness through her whole body. She swept her lips over his again, reveling in the way he responded.
He cupped her face softly, edging closer.
She slid a hand up the hard curve of his bicep. He was so strong. His job was physical, and she felt sure he was a diligent worker. But he had an old soul, a sentimental soul. The things he said sometimes made her wish for a pencil and paper. She committed the words to memory instead and let them play in her mind at night as she lay in bed.
Now she only wanted to think about what he was doing to her. She’d kissed other boys, but not like this. Never like this. Her head spun pleasantly, and her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest. A longing like she’d never felt before rushed upon her, leaving her helpless in its wake.
He drew back, a whisper away, his eyes hooded and focused on her. His breath was coming hard and fast too. At least she wasn’t the only one so affected.
But she had been the one to kiss him, drat it. She’d gone and jumped the gun.
But she couldn’t bring herself to truly regret it. Especially not now, with the way he was looking at her, those brown eyes filled with want.
“I could kiss you all day,” he whispered finally. “All night. The rest of my life, Elizabeth Van Buren.”
Her head swam with delight. She’d known he reciprocated her feelings, but this was the first time he’d spoken in terms of forever.
His head dipped down. He did this sometimes after revealing something personal, something that made him feel vulnerable. How did she already know this about someone she’d only met a month ago?
He stared down at fingers that twitched on his thigh.
She placed a finger under his chin and lifted until his eyes met hers. A shadow of fear flickered in the depths.
She couldn’t believe she’d found someone who set her soul afire. All those clichéd lines about love made sense now. Those feelings swelled inside her until she feared she’d burst with them.
Her lips curved of their own volition. But instead of telling him how she felt, she leaned forward and showed him.
Lizzie slid her spoon into the mashed potatoes. The clinking of silverware seemed loud in the silence. A light breeze fluttered through the kitchen window, cooling her heated skin.
“Supper’s delicious, Mama.” She turned to Benjamin, whose leg was bouncing under the table. “She makes the best meatloaf on the planet.”
“I agree, Mrs. Van Buren. Best meatloaf I’ve ever had.”
Mama gave her Sunday-best smile. “Well, thank you, Benjamin. It’s my mother’s recipe.”
Another awkward silence hung over the table. Benjamin had been unusually quiet. Her father was never much of a conversationalist, tending toward brief statements of fact that sometimes bordered on brash.
“Benjamin won second place in the tournament this morning,” Lizzie announced.
“Is that a fact,” Daddy said.
“Do you fish often?” her mother asked.
“No, ma’am. Not much time for that back home.”
“Lizzie said you’re a janitor,” Daddy said.
“Um, yes, sir. At least for the time being.”
“What other aspirations do you have, dear?”
Benjamin shifted in his seat, his eyes bouncing off Lizzie. “I haven’t quite figured that out, ma’am. I like what I do well enough, but I’d love to go to college eventually.”
Benjamin was very smart, and Lizzie knew he’d do well in an academic environment. He just didn’t have the money for it. He’d confessed that he’d thought about joining the armed forces to afford him the opportunity.
“What would you like to study?” her mother asked.
“I’m not sure. I like the sciences, but I also enjoy history and literature.”
“Hard to make a living off that, isn’t it?” Daddy said.
“He’s thinking of being a teacher,” Lizzie said, a bit of censure in her tone.
“A noble profession, to be sure,” Mama said. “What does your father do, Benjamin?”
“He’s a mechanic. He works at a local garage.”
“How handy to have a mechanic in the family. And your mother?”
“She’s been gone now for several years.”
“I’m so sorry. You’re awfully young to have lost a parent.”
Lizzie squeezed his clammy hand under the table. He’d been close to his mother, and her death—the result of a fluke fall—had been a terrible shock. He’d been the one to find her on the kitchen floor when he returned home from school one day.
“Yes, thank you, ma’am.”
“Where does your family attend church back home?” Daddy asked.
Lizzie stiffened, her grip tightening on Benjamin’s hand. He glanced at her briefly before answering.
“Well, my father doesn’t attend anywhere, I’m afraid. But I attend First Baptist Church there in Jasper.”
“Schwartz is a Jewish name, isn’t it?”
Lizzie’s face heated. “Daddy.”
“Yes, sir, it is. Actually, though, my folks never practiced Judaism. And I became a believer during high school.”
“We’re of the Catholic faith,” Daddy said. “I’m sure Lizzie has shared this with you.”
“Of course.” Benjamin took a bite of meatloaf, his eyes on his plate.
Another awkward pause ensued, and Lizzie felt a trickle of sweat go down the back of her shirt.
Her mother changed the conversation, and the rest of the supper was uneventful, her dad mostly keeping quiet and her mother making a valiant effort to keep the conversation rolling. Lizzie couldn’t wait until she and Benjamin could leave.
Benjamin spread out the quilt on the shoreline behind the Lewises’ lake cottage. Bluebell’s fireworks were one of Lizzie’s favorite events of the year, and this year’s were supposed to be spectacular. But since leaving her house she hadn’t been able to think of anything but the tension at supper.
Benjamin had been quiet on the drive over. She’d trie
d to keep up the conversation, but she could tell he was distracted too. Her mother had been friendly enough, and Lizzie hoped Benjamin hadn’t read her father so easily.
She was scared to death he’d pull away from her if he knew the truth. If he knew how loyal they were to the Catholic church, how her dad looked down on other religions. If he knew of her father’s bigotry. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Ben when she’d only just found him. She didn’t want to think of any of that right now.
She plopped down on the blanket as if she hadn’t a care in the world. Benjamin sprawled beside her. It was growing dark, the sun having set behind the mountains. The stars were just becoming visible beyond the canopy of trees above them, and the muted sounds of firecrackers and laughter carried across the lake. The peppy melody of “Please Mr. Postman” filtered from someone’s radio down the shore.
Lizzie gave Benjamin a sideways glance. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, Benjamin Schwartz,” she said lightly.
He turned on his side, propping his head on his elbow. It was impossible to read his expression in the waning light. “I don’t think your parents like me, angel.”
“What? Nonsense. Of course they like you.” It wasn’t entirely untrue. It wasn’t him they disliked after all, but his heritage, and he could hardly help that.
“They don’t like that I’m not Catholic.”
“We believe in the same God, don’t we?”
“They don’t like that I’m Jewish either.”
“Jesus was Jewish, and we like Him very much.”
“Lizzie.”
“What matters is who you are, down deep.” She flopped over on her side and leaned in close. “And you, Benjamin Schwartz, are a very good man.”
Fireworks sizzled in the distance. A cool breeze brushed her sensitive skin, chilling her.
“Yeah?”
The somber note in his voice turned her heart into mush. She hated seeing his confidence waver. Hated that her parents were the cause. She’d do anything to reassure him. “Yeah,” she whispered, leaning closer, and then she brushed his lips with hers, all else forgotten for the moment.
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