“What about what’s-her-name? The one in Maryland? I thought she was the girl of your dreams?”
“The one who’s married to another guy? The girl whom I never had the courage to tell how I felt?” The writer shook his head. “If I spend all my todays pining for what happened yesterday, I’ll miss out on tomorrow.”
“That’s pretty deep, Professor.”
Clive shrugged in answer.
“Take it,” Boone said, holding out the money. “Buy yourself something to eat, or better yet ask some pretty girl if you can buy her a drink.”
His partner shook his head. “Keep it.”
But Boone made no move to put the bill back in his wallet.
“Can I ask you a question?” the writer said.
“Shoot.”
“Would you have made me pay up if I’d lost?”
“Absolutely,” Boone answered with a chuckle, then stuffed the cash into Clive’s shirt pocket, where it remained.
With that, the two of them silently watched the crowd for a while longer, until Boone decided to broach a sensitive subject.
“Speaking of kisses,” he began. “Back at the room—”
“I still feel terrible about what happened the other night,” Clive interrupted. “How was I supposed to know that the two of you were in there? I was so embarrassed I could have died!”
“I’m not talking about then,” Boone explained. “I mean tonight.”
“Wait…you mean that…oh…” the writer stumbled along, finally putting it all together. “You’re thinking that tonight you and Lily might…”
“I’m not assuming anything,” he said emphatically. “For all I know, I’ll only be lucky enough to hold her hand, which would be fine. I’m just saying that if the evening does head in that direction, our room is the only place we can go.”
Clive nodded. “I understand what you’re saying.”
“I’m sorry to put you out.”
“Don’t be. Look at all this,” he said, sweeping an arm across the crowded festival. “There’s more than enough here to keep me busy.”
“Thanks,” Boone told him, and meant it. “You know, I’m not the kind of guy who easily admits he was wrong, but I didn’t have you pegged right. I may not have been thrilled to get this assignment, but I’m glad I got the chance to know you a bit. You’re a good guy.”
Clive chuckled.
“Something I said funny?”
“I was just thinking that you’re not quite what I was led to believe, either.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Walter told me that you were a conceited horse’s ass who probably wouldn’t give me the time of day.” Clive flashed a thin, teasing smile. “But he was wrong about you. You’re not all that conceited.”
“Still a comedian,” Boone said, then playfully slugged the writer in the arm.
The way that friends sometimes do.
Just then, as the two of them laughed, Boone noticed Lily. She stood fifteen feet away, there one moment, gone the next, then visible again among the moving people. He couldn’t get a good look at her, not really, but from what he could see, she was more beautiful than ever. A smile spread across his face, every bit as bright as the one she was flashing at him.
“That’s my cue,” Clive said, seeing her and pushing off the bench. “Have fun,” he added, then clapped the photographer’s shoulder and melted into the crowd.
Not for the first time, Boone was glad he’d listened to Marjorie, that he hadn’t assumed anything about the dance, that he had bought new clothes.
Tonight was going to be special.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LILY MOVED AS IF the music was controlling her, like she was a puppet on a string. She raised her arms, shook her hands, and tossed back her head, seeing the artificial lights blend in with the thousands of stars filling the nighttime sky. She twirled around and around, the hem of her skirt spinning. Her feet pounded out the rhythm, dancing in time to the beat until sweat glistened on her forehead and chest, quickly growing cold in the October air, though she hardly noticed. She was far too busy having fun to pay it any mind.
And so was Boone.
He was a much more experienced dancer than Lily; it was there in the confidence of his movements, how he snapped his fingers in perfect time, the way he knew just when to take her hand, pull her close, and then let her go again. Boone seemed tireless, letting one song lead straight into another, making no move to leave the dance floor. The bright smile on his face was intoxicating.
But time and again, ever since she’d spotted him leaning against the bench with Clive, there was something about Boone that kept drawing her attention.
The clothes he was wearing.
Lily knew that Boone had come to Hooper’s Crossing without much more than a few things tossed into a suitcase for a trip he hadn’t wanted to make in the first place. Nowhere had that been more evident than on the night of their movie date. Boone had looked nice enough but he’d been wearing the same shirt as on the day they had met. Tonight was a different story altogether. He looked stylish, like a model in a magazine. She had already noticed quite a few of the other ladies in the crowd glancing Boone’s way. Clearly, he’d gone to some effort to get what he was wearing. Lily was touched, not just because it made him look that much more attractive, but because it said that he cared about her, that he’d wanted to make a good impression.
The song ended and everyone clapped.
“I need a breather,” Lily said, finally feeling a bit tired.
Boone led the way to the long table of refreshments that had been set up beside the dance floor. He poured her a glass of punch that she quickly drank.
“Are you having a good time?” he asked.
“I am,” she answered. “It’s been a long time since I’ve gone dancing and it doesn’t hurt that I have a partner who knows what he’s doing.”
He smiled and shrugged. “I’ve picked up a thing or two over the years. I’m just glad I haven’t stepped on your toes once,” he joked.
“And I appreciate it,” Lily told him. “But what was that dance step you were doing? The one where you tapped your foot, then went backward.”
“It’s a swing step but I have no idea what it’s called,” Boone explained. “The last time I was in Hollywood, I saw a fella doing it and it looked like fun. I tell you, things go in and out of fashion so fast that I can’t keep track of it all. By the next time I’m out there, everyone will be on to something else.”
Lily smiled on the outside, but inside she felt uneasy. Boone hadn’t meant anything by it, but by mentioning Hollywood she was reminded of all the exotic places he went for Life. Doubt nagged at her. What could a girl from Hooper’s Crossing have to offer him? But Lily fought her worries down. He was here. Now. With her. That that was all that mattered.
“Well, will wonders never cease,” Boone suddenly declared, his attention drawn to something in the crowd.
“What is it?” Lily asked.
“Clive found himself a girl to dance with.”
“Really? Where?”
“There,” Boone said, and pointed. While the two of them had been taking a much-needed break, the band had resumed playing and the dance floor was again packed with couples. Lily looked and looked but there were too many people.
“I don’t see him,” she said.
“He’s right there,” Boone insisted, then pulled Lily closer, pressing their bodies together as he pointed straight ahead. She was no closer to noticing Clive, her view still obscured by the crowd, though she was enjoying the nearness of the photographer.
But then, just like that, she saw the writer. Clive was dancing, or at least Lily supposed he thought he was, his moves as awkward as he was, all odd angles and jutting elbows and knees. It took a little longer for Lily to see who he was with, but when she did it was a recognizable face.
“He’s with Missy Lanham,” she said. “She’s a nice girl.”
Boone paused, then asked, “
Do you think she’ll give him a kiss before the night is out?”
Lily considered it, then said, “Probably. The festival can be a romantic time of year, and it’s not like Clive is ugly.”
“Looks like he was right to give up on what’s-her-name after all.”
Before Lily could ask what he was talking about, the song ended and the next one began. This time, instead of a faster tune, the band began to play a slow melody.
“May I have this dance?” Boone asked and held out his hand.
“Of course,” Lily said as she took it.
Boone led the way and Lily followed. With the change in the music’s tempo, many couples had taken the opportunity to rest or get some refreshments, leaving plenty of room on the dance floor. When Lily placed her hands on Boone’s shoulders, then took a deep breath as he put his on her waist, it felt like a spotlight was shining on them, as if everyone was watching.
But she didn’t mind. Not one bit.
They moved in unison, one step at a time, their eyes locked on each other, smiling as the band played on. To Lily, it felt like a dream, one of those fantasies that she never wanted to wake up from. But she knew she didn’t have to worry. This was real. Boone Tatum was here, with her, dancing. She hoped that she’d always remember the soft feel of the hair at the back of his neck, the almost-mournful wail of the clarinet, the sensation of his hands on her waist, the way the light danced in his eyes, all of it, every last detail. Even as Lily reveled in the moment, she wondered what tomorrow might bring, or the day after that, a week from now, a month, a year, a lifetime. Right then, anything seemed possible. It didn’t matter if they were in Hooper’s Crossing, New York City, or Rio de Janeiro; as long as they were together, everything would be all right.
“Tomorrow’s Halloween, isn’t it?” Boone asked, leaning down so that his lips brushed against her ear.
“Did all the pumpkins give it away?” she teased.
“You and Clive should start a comedy act,” Boone said with a chuckle. “Just like Hope and Crosby.”
“Why did you ask?”
“Because I’m convinced you’re a witch.”
Lily was a bit taken aback. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Boone’s expression grew serious. “Don’t take it the wrong way,” he told her. “But you’ve cast a heck of a spell on me.”
He put his thumb beneath Lily’s chin and gently lifted her face to his. Their kiss was soft, not as passionate as the one in front of the bakery and an even farther cry from those they’d shared in the darkness of his room, but it shot through Lily like fireworks all the same. She didn’t care that there were other dancers swaying to the music beside them or that people in the crowd could be watching. To Lily, it felt as if she and Boone were alone beneath the twinkling stars, kissing.
No one else mattered.
Garrett walked toward the park with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets and his spirits much lower. All around him, people were celebrating, enjoying the fall festival, but he was miserable. Ever since the previous night, when he’d driven off and left Lily standing in the street, his head and heart had been in turmoil. He’d learned the hard way that his fears about revealing his romantic feelings for her had been well founded.
Lily didn’t love him.
All day, Garrett had thrown himself into his job, desperate to keep the memory of his rejection at bay. Not having much of an appetite, he’d worked right through lunch, fielding every call he could, and then staying on a couple extra hours until the chief had shooed him out the door.
But it had all been for nothing. He’d heard Lily’s words over and over again in his head, like a needle skipping on a scratched record.
“I care about you…but not like that…”
It had left a bitter, angry taste in Garrett’s mouth. So then why was he walking toward the park? Why, when he knew that Lily was there with Boone, the man who’d succeeded where Garrett had failed? Hadn’t he suffered enough already?
As usual, he had no answers, and so he kept on walking.
Garrett could hear the band from blocks away, the notes echoing off the buildings, sounding across town. Now that he was beside the park, it was loud enough to drown out conversations, which was fine because the last thing he wanted was to have to talk to someone. The song seemed familiar, although the name escaped him, the sort of tune he’d dreamed about, twirling under the lights with Lily in his arms. The closer Garrett came to the dance floor, the more he looked, unable to resist.
And then, just like that, there she was.
They were both well dressed, like a couple out on a big date, wanting everything to be just right. Lily had her arms around the photographer’s neck, while Boone had his hands on her waist. Garrett could see that they were talking, though he didn’t want to guess at what was being said. Pangs of jealousy tore through him, making him gnash his teeth in anger.
But as dark as this nightmare already was, it suddenly grew darker.
Garrett watched as Boone tilted Lily’s face to his, then kissed her. He stared, dumbstruck and numb, as the stark realization that he’d lost Lily forever slid inside him like a knife stuck between his ribs. He was frozen in place, unable to move, to blink, to breathe. Then he noticed an older woman standing just off the dance floor, smiling at the young couple as if she approved of the bold expression of their love. This, in some ways more than the kiss itself, made Garrett want to scream or be sick to his stomach. Maybe both.
Instead, Garrett tore his eyes away and pushed his way through the crowd, leaving more than a few people grumbling in his wake. Baring his heart to Lily had been a mistake. Coming to the park had been an even bigger one. Nothing had worked out the way he’d wanted. All his hopes and dreams were a shambles, broken into tens of thousands of pieces.
And he had no idea how to put any of it back together again.
The moon and stars looked down on Lily and Boone as they walked home, hand in hand, after the dance. Somewhere in the near distance, an owl hooted, which was followed by a dog’s bark, the symphony of the night. A gentle breeze had risen, stirring the tree branches above their heads, carrying with it a chill that made Lily glad she’d brought a sweater.
What a wonderful time, better than I dreamed it could be…
After Boone had kissed her, they’d continued to dance, four or five fast songs for every slow romantic one, only taking an occasional break. It had been a time of talking, laughing, and a few kisses, each of them basking in the other’s company. Hours had sped past like minutes until the clock was just shy of midnight.
“I’ll walk you home,” Boone had told her after the bandleader announced that they were playing their final song.
But Lily had shaken her head. “I’m not ready for the night to be over yet.”
He had looked at her for a while, the two of them having an unspoken conversation, then nodded. And so when they left the park, the large crowd slowly dispersing, they headed straight for his place.
Lily had no illusions about where the rest of their evening might be headed. Just because she was inexperienced didn’t mean she was naive. The last time they’d been alone together at Boone’s, they had ended up in his bed, sharing passionate kisses, their hands roaming across each other’s bodies; who knew what would’ve happened if Clive hadn’t interrupted them. Lily tried to convince herself that she had no reason to be nervous, that Boone was the man she’d been waiting her whole life for, but she was only partially successful. Still, if things went as she expected they would, if she ended up giving herself to him, she’d do so willingly, a young woman who made her own decisions.
When they reached Marjorie Barlow’s home, the window to Boone’s room was dark and the door locked. “Clive must not be back yet,” Lily said.
“Maybe he’s still with that Missy gal.”
“What if he stumbles in on us like last time?”
“He won’t,” the photographer said, so confidently that Lily was certain the two men had talk
ed about it beforehand.
That meant Boone was thinking the same way she was.
Inside, Boone turned on a light while Lily slipped out of her cardigan and wandered the room, unable to stay still. Her mind whirled, thinking about where the two of them had begun, as well as where they were going, both tonight and all of the tomorrows she hoped they would have. Walking past the table, she noticed a lone photograph; when she picked it up, Lily was a little surprised to discover that it was that first fateful shot of her on the street, the one that had started it all.
“I thought you gave this to Garrett,” she said.
“I made another copy,” Boone answered, coming to stand beside her. “I look at it all the time. Even when you’re not around, I can’t keep my eyes off you for long,” he explained. “The funny thing is, I used to think that this picture was unique, that it captured something I’d be hard-pressed to see again. But the more I think about it, the more I believe that I could take a dozen shots of you and all of them would captivate me.” He paused. “This shot isn’t one-of-a-kind. You are.”
Lily shook her head, her blond hair swinging. “I find that hard to believe.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I’m ordinary. I’ve never seen myself as pretty.”
Boone chuckled. “That’s not up to you to decide. My opinion’s the only one that matters and I say that you’re the most beautiful gal I have ever laid eyes on.”
She had been looking at him, but now turned away, embarrassed.
“You have a hard time taking a compliment, don’t you?” he asked.
“A little,” she admitted.
The truth of it was, Lily had never been on the receiving end of much romantic attention. With her glamorous looks and outgoing personality, Jane had always monopolized the boys’ interest, pulling them into her orbit as if she was the sun, leaving little left over for Lily. The only compliments she’d ever really heard had come from Garrett and up until a day ago, she had always thought them to be innocent, the kind of things said between friends. So much of this, the rituals of courtship, was new to her. Lily wasn’t entirely sure how she was supposed to act.
The Nearness of You Page 23