Chapter Sixteen
THE SUN WAS already a couple of hours above the eastern horizon when Garrett left the police station and headed for home. Steering his squad car through the waking streets, he yawned, feeling tired all the way down to his bones. He was looking forward to getting home, having a quick bite to eat, and then sleeping the afternoon away before getting up and doing it all over again.
In most ways, his shift had been ordinary. Garrett had written up a fistful of parking tickets, many of them to cars with out-of-state license plates. He’d broken up a fight outside the pool hall. He had even sped along behind the Hooper’s Crossing fire truck on its way to a blaze that turned out to be nothing more than a bonfire that had gotten out of hand.
But even with all of that to keep him busy, Garrett had spent the night distracted, unable to get one event in particular out of his head.
The break-in at Marjorie Barlow’s place.
Even though such a crime was unusual in these parts, it should’ve been a routine call for him, just another of the many things he had to confront as an officer of the law. Most times Garrett dealt with a tragedy or crime, he prided himself on being friendly, understanding, and as helpful as he could be. But when he pulled up to the house and saw Boone Tatum standing in the driveway, lit by the squad car’s headlights, all that went right out the window.
Listening to the Life magazine photographer explain what had happened, Garrett couldn’t stop seeing the man with Lily, the two of them smiling and laughing together on the sidewalk. It made him feel so uncomfortable, so angry, that he couldn’t see straight. He hadn’t wanted to ask any questions or jot anything down in his notebook. He had just wanted to leave.
Boone had known it, too. It had been written on his face, in the harsh words he’d spoken. Garrett wondered if his jealousy was that obvious. But it couldn’t be changed. It was how he felt, for better or worse.
Garrett parked at the curb in front of his home and got out, stretching his sore muscles. He looked across the street at Lily’s place, a habit as far back as he could remember, one he couldn’t have changed if he’d wanted to. Incredibly, at that moment Lily stepped onto the porch to grab the newspaper. His heart beat even faster when she noticed him and waved. Tired as Garrett was, he knew that he should just wave back, then go inside and get some much-needed sleep, but he’d never been able to resist Lily; he was drawn to her, like metal to a magnet.
Walking over, he smiled as he looked at her, drinking her in. Lily stood in the early-morning sunlight, its shine making her blond hair glow as if it was gold. She was dressed as if she was about to head to the library. Garrett swore that she got more beautiful every time he saw her.
“Long night?” she asked.
“Every one of them is at festival time,” he answered. “I’m glad that I only have to make it through tonight and then I get a day off.”
The night of the big dance, remember? he almost added, but didn’t.
“You look pretty tired.”
“I am,” he admitted, then stifled another yawn.
Lily laughed, a sound that was music to Garrett’s ears. “You’ll be asleep before your head hits the pillow.”
“Have you talked to Boone this morning?” he asked.
“No, why?” Lily asked, her smile faltering, her expression curious.
Garrett sensed he was making a mistake. He knew that there was still time to fix things, but he felt powerless to stop himself and instead stepped over the edge of the cliff. “Someone broke into the room he’s renting from Marjorie Barlow last night,” he said. “They stole a few things and made one heck of a mess.”
Lily looked dazed, her eyes widening.
“It’s no big deal,” Garrett continued, digging the hole deeper, clueless as to how to go about filling it back up. “Nobody was hurt, well, not really. That other guy, Clive, got walloped on the chin, but it shouldn’t be—”
Before Garrett could say more, Lily was down the stairs and past him, heading for the sidewalk. “I’ve got to go,” she said, looking both determined and worried.
“Lily, wait! There’s nothing you can…” he shouted but then trailed off since she was already a house away and not listening.
There was no doubt in Garrett’s mind as to where she was going: to be with Boone. No one, certainly not him, was going to stop her; this realization was powerful enough to make his heart ache.
Garrett sighed, then shook his head. How in the heck had this happened? Only a few minutes had passed since he’d parked his squad car and all he had managed to do was make a royal mess of things. Seeing how Lily had reacted, he understood that he’d been right to worry about her and Boone. Somehow, the photographer from New York City had cast a spell on his favorite small-town gal. Whatever it was between the two of them—he couldn’t bring himself to call it a romance—was growing fast and picking up speed as it went.
A sudden, sickening truth revealed itself to Garrett.
If he didn’t tell Lily how he felt about her soon, he ran the risk of losing her forever.
By the time Lily arrived at Marjorie Barlow’s house, she was out of breath and beside herself with worry. The whole way over, her legs churning just as fast as she could make them go, her imagination had run wild, conjuring up one terrifying outcome after another. She worried that Boone’s dog had been injured or all his things stolen. Worst of all, she feared that he’d been hurt, beaten and bloodied by criminals operating under the cover of darkness.
“Someone broke into the room…”
Everything after that had been lost, her mind a swirling mess. Lily kept telling herself that Garrett hadn’t seemed concerned, but then again, he was a police officer who was probably used to all sorts of horrible scenes. The moment he had mentioned what had happened to Boone, she had reacted without thinking, compelled by a feeling deep inside of her to act.
And so she had run and run and run.
Lily raced up Mrs. Barlow’s drive, then pounded on the door where she knew Boone was staying. Standing there, her heart beating hard as she wiped sweaty strands of hair from her face, it felt as if the seconds were crawling by. When the door finally opened and Boone appeared without any cuts or bruises, looking exactly like she’d last seen him, Lily let out a deep breath.
“Oh, thank heavens!” she exclaimed. There was more that Lily wanted to say, a flood of joy and relief, but the words no longer seemed necessary. Instead, she put her hand on Boone’s whiskered cheek, as if she couldn’t quite believe her eyes and needed further proof that he was unhurt. She was reminded of the kiss they’d shared only the night before, a moment that had kept her awake for hours. Yet in some unexplainable way, this touch meant just as much.
“I’m all right,” he told her. “More angry than anything else. Come on in and I’ll show you what happened.”
Boone held the door open and Lily stepped inside. She’d expected to find the room a disaster, a chaotic mess of their belongings and broken furniture, but everything was neat and tidy, as if nothing had happened.
“You should’ve seen it last night,” he said as if he’d understood her confusion. “It took half the night to clean up.”
“I’m just glad you weren’t hurt.”
“Me, too,” he said, then absently rubbed his stomach.
“Do you have any idea who—” Lily began but was interrupted when the door opened behind her; she was so startled that she jumped.
A thin, awkward-looking man stepped into the room, a newspaper in one hand, a paper bag in the other. “I hope you don’t mind but I got doughnuts. They didn’t have any—” he said before noticing Lily. He glanced at Boone, then back at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company. I’ll go and—”
“Just shut up and give me the bag,” Boone said. “I’m starving.”
Boone introduced Lily to Clive, a writer at Life and his partner on this assignment. Listening to Clive describe the events of the previous night, Lily couldn’t stop herself from staring
at the ugly welt on his mouth and chin; seeing it made her feel a little guilty for being so happy Boone hadn’t been hurt.
“I’m just thankful Daisy was here,” Clive said.
Lily looked around for the dog. “Where is she, anyway?”
“With Mrs. Barlow,” Boone explained, taking another doughnut out of the bag. “She might be a tough old bird, but having two guys break in like that would’ve frightened anyone. Daisy makes her feel safer.”
“You don’t have any idea who those men were?” Lily asked Clive, unknowingly echoing Garrett from the night before.
The writer shook his head. “Not a clue.”
“At least you interrupted them before anything valuable was taken.”
“Depends on what you mean by ‘valuable,’” Boone answered, then popped the last bite of his sugar doughnut in his mouth.
“You said they only took a bag and some pictures.”
“None of which could be pawned for more than a handful of coins,” he explained. “But to me, they’re worth a hell of a lot more than that.”
Boone led the way into the small kitchen he’d converted into a darkroom. His camera and all its lenses were laid out on the counter beside several bottles and trays, as well as a small stack of photographs.
“That pile used to be five times as high,” he said, pointing at the pictures.
Lily shook her head. “Why would someone want to steal them?”
“Beats me,” Boone answered with a shrug. “Maybe it was like your police officer friend said, and they’d tossed back a few drinks and just grabbed whatever they could get their hands on. Odds are, when they sobered up and realized what they’d taken, they tossed them in the trash figuring they were worthless.”
Lily suddenly thought of one photograph in particular, one that had angered her when it was taken, but that she now saw in a very different light. “What about the picture you took of me?” she asked. “Is it…is it gone, too?”
“Yes and no,” Boone answered.
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, the copy that I showed you was taken with the others,” he explained, “but I still have the negative so I can develop another. It’s the only sheet of negatives left. I didn’t keep it with the rest. I set it aside because it was special to me.”
Lily understood what he was telling her. That particular sheet of negatives was special because of her. He’d set it aside because her picture was in it, therefore making it more valuable than the others. That fact made her happy.
“Unfortunately,” Boone continued, “I still have a big problem.”
“What’s that?” she asked.
“All of the other pictures that were stolen were for the feature in the magazine. Without them, I’m back to square one.”
“So just take them again.”
Boone chuckled. “It’s not that easy.”
“Why not?”
“Look, I’m not trying to sound like a snob or a know-it-all, but taking pictures is a lot more complicated than pointing a camera at something and clicking a button,” he explained. “You have to consider the lighting and the angle, and I almost never want my subjects to even know I’m there. I take pride in what I do. I’m a perfectionist. I can’t just replicate the shots I’ve already taken. It’s impossible.”
Lily thought of the story Boone told her about the photograph he had tried to take on the New York City dock, about the pains he’d taken to get it right, about how his failure had resulted in his being sent to Hooper’s Crossing as punishment. He was right. He’d have to start all over.
But then she had an idea.
“What if I could guarantee that the new pictures you took would be even better than the ones that were stolen?” she said.
“How could you possibly do that?” he asked skeptically.
“Easy. We go back to the festival and I show you things that only a local could. You’ll have more good shots than you’ll know what to do with.”
“Aren’t you supposed to work today?”
Lily coughed, then put the back of her hand against her forehead, frowning theatrically. “I think I might be coming down with something.”
“You’d play hooky to spend the day with me?” Boone asked.
“I’d be doing my civic duty,” she answered.
He gave a thin smile but still hadn’t agreed to it. “I don’t know. Seems like you could end up in a heap of trouble.”
“I don’t think you have a lot of choice in the matter,” Clive piped up from the other room. “No pictures, no story, that’s what Walter would say.”
“I couldn’t have said it better,” Lily added.
“Shut up in there,” Boone barked at his partner. His face creased in concentration, then he shrugged. “All right, but if you end up getting grief from your dad or that sourpuss at the library, remember that this was your idea.”
“It’s a deal,” she agreed.
“But before we go, there’s something we need to talk about.”
“Okay,” Lily said, waiting for it.
“Not here,” he said, thumbing toward the door; whatever it was he had to tell her, he didn’t want Clive to overhear.
“What’s it about?” she couldn’t keep from asking.
Boone paused, then leaned closer, his voice low. “I want to talk about us.”
Lily followed Boone outside into the late-morning sunlight. She should’ve been happy, excited about the prospect of spending the day with him taking pictures, but something about his tone and mannerisms worried her. So it was with no shortage of unease that she asked, “What do you have to say to me?”
Boone didn’t answer right away, running a hand through his hair. Whatever it was, it clearly weighed on him. “I want to be honest with you.”
“All right,” she replied uneasily, bracing herself for what was to come.
“I need you to know that I like you. A lot. I’d be surprised if you had a clue how much,” he told her. Lily disagreed—the passionate kiss they’d shared had told her plenty about Boone’s feelings—but she didn’t contradict him. “But I worry you might think I don’t have the right intentions or that I’m leading you on.”
“I’ve never thought that,” she reassured him.
“I’m glad,” he said, then took her hand. “But I still worry.”
“Don’t.”
He shook his head. “I can’t help it. Part of it’s because whenever we’re together, something reminds me of how different our lives are. I come from the city, you live here. I’m a photographer for Life and you’re—”
“A librarian,” Lily finished for him. “All of that’s true, but I don’t care,” she explained, meaning every word as she squeezed his hand. “What matters is that I like spending time with you, listening to your stories about all of the places you’ve been. I wouldn’t have run across town to be here if I didn’t. I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m glad one of us does,” Boone said with a weak smile.
Lily bit her lip; it was odd to see his normal self-assurance slip, if only for a second. “I thought you were having a good time…”
“I am,” he answered emphatically. “I’m having more fun than I’ve ever had before, which is no small order.” He came a step closer, their bodies almost touching. “You have to believe me when I say that I’ve never felt this way about someone before. Not in the city. Not anywhere in the world. Not this fast. Never.”
Lily held his gaze, measuring the truth of his declaration; it took only seconds for her to believe him. “I feel the same way about you.”
“I don’t want this to be a fling,” he told her, his voice soft yet firm.
“Me, either,” she answered, as honest as she had ever been.
“The problem is, I don’t know if what the both of us want is enough.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Because I’m supposed to go back to New York City in a couple of days,” Boone answered. “And when that happens…”
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He didn’t finish the thought, but Lily knew what he meant: when he left Hooper’s Crossing, he was gone from the town, and her, forever. It was then that she decided to give voice to something that had started to take root in her head ever since he’d placed his lips against hers in front of the bakery.
“Maybe that doesn’t have to be the end of anything.”
“I can’t stay here. My job is—”
“That isn’t what I meant,” Lily cut in, taking a leap of sorts.
Boone stared at her for a moment before speaking. “Wait, are you…are you saying that you’d come with—”
“I don’t know, not for certain,” she interrupted again, not yet ready to hear the full thought spoken out loud. “But I don’t have to choose just yet. You said it yourself. We still have a couple of days together before then. The time will come soon enough to make decisions, but until then, why can’t we keep enjoying each other’s company and see where it takes us?”
She wondered if he might disagree, but instead Boone smiled. “You’re right,” he said. “Besides, by the end of the week, you might be champing at the bit to get rid of me.”
“Maybe,” Lily said, playing along, “but I wouldn’t bet on it.”
The two of them laughed, making her think that they had made the right choice: take nothing for granted, enjoy the moment, and let things shake out as they were supposed to. Wherever they ended up, the joy would be in the journey.
“Now go get your camera,” she told him. “We have work to do.”
Chapter Seventeen
LILY STRETCHED HER LEGS on the cool grass, crossed her feet at the ankles, and arranged her skirt. Birds held a musical conversation in the elm tree above where she and Boone had chosen to eat their lunch, adding their voices to the festival’s many other sounds. Sunlight shone through the bare branches, making a mottled pattern on her skin and clothes. A soft breeze whispered through the air, making strands of her long blond hair dance before she tamed them, pulling them behind her ear.
The Nearness of You Page 17