“You ain’t gonna have to worry about Lily cryin’ at your funeral,” Randall growled as he rubbed his jaw, then pointed the gun at Boone. “I’ll give her somethin’ to bawl about right—”
Two quick gunshots made Lily jump out of her skin. Instantly, a pair of bloody flowers blossomed on the back of Randall’s shirt. The criminal tried to look over his shoulder as if he wanted to see them, as surprised by their appearance as anyone. It was then that Lily noticed Garrett. The policeman had raised himself up on an elbow. Smoke rose from the barrel of his gun. Randall’s mouth moved but nothing came out. He dropped first onto his knees, then pitched forward on his face as his own weapon dropped harmlessly from his hand.
Lily ran to Boone and knelt beside him, wanting to see if he was all right. The cut Randall’s gun had caused was ugly and dripping blood, but he waved her off. “Check on Garrett,” he said.
The policeman had managed to sit on the pavement, his service revolver on the ground beside him. The hand pressed against his shoulder was stained crimson with blood. When he saw her, he tried to smile but Lily could see that he was in tremendous pain.
“You’ve been shot!” she exclaimed.
“I’ll be all right,” Garrett said. “It could have been worse.” He looked toward Boone. “I think your boyfriend saved my life.”
Lily didn’t know what surprised her more: Boone’s heroism or the fact that Garrett had acknowledged their relationship. She took off her Little Red Riding Hood cloak and gently pressed it against the wound, trying to stanch the bleeding. She helped Garrett to his feet just as Boone arrived.
“That doesn’t look so hot,” he said, nodding at Garrett’s wound.
“Neither does your cheek.”
“I’m just happy to be alive.” Nodding at the policeman’s gun, he added, “Looks like I have you to thank for that.”
“I was just returning the favor,” Garrett said.
Lily looked at the crowd that was slowly forming, drawn by the sound of the gunshots. As if on cue, Clive finally showed up, his costume now in tatters, only a piece of cardboard here and there to show he’d been a robot earlier in the evening. His cheeks were bright red and his forehead was dotted with sweat. When he saw Randall’s crumpled body, he asked, “Is…is he dead…?”
Before Lily or Boone could answer, Garrett said, “I need to go find another officer.” Looking at the photographer, he added, “Take good care of her.”
Watching Garrett walk away, Lily’s heart ached. Their friendship had hit a bump in the road when he’d revealed his feelings for her, and she didn’t know if things could be mended. But she was determined to try. Only time would tell, but just then, she allowed herself to be optimistic.
“Is…is this one dead, too?” Clive exclaimed. He’d moved away from Randall and was now staring at the thief’s partner, sprawled in the grass.
“No. I coldcocked him,” Boone answered.
“What do I do if he wakes up?” the writer asked, worry in his voice.
“Knock him out again.”
“Punch him?”
“Sit on him for all I care, just don’t let him go.”
The sudden enormity of all that had happened finally began to weigh down on Lily. She stepped toward Boone, wanting to feel his touch, his warmth. The photographer wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close.
“You saved me, too, you know,” he said. “If you hadn’t screamed when you did, that bastard would have shot me.”
She shook her head. “We all saved each other.”
Boone thought about it, nodded, but then started to chuckle.
“What’s so funny?” Lily asked.
“When I was first given this assignment, I didn’t want to come because I thought it’d be the most boring town on the planet, and I’ve been to some really dull places in my travels,” he explained. “Instead, I wind up meeting you and getting mixed up in more excitement than you can shake a stick at.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Not in the slightest,” Boone said. “As long as I have the girl of my dreams at my side, there’s nothing I wouldn’t take on.”
Lily smiled. Boone was right. Their time together had been quite the ride. And soon they’d be going to New York City to start a new life.
As far as she was concerned, the excitement had only just begun.
Epilogue
New York City
April 1953
OH, LOOK AT THIS! Isn’t it beautiful?”
Lily joined Jane at the boutique’s window and stared through the glass at an exquisite, and no doubt expensive, summer dress. Behind them the city continued about its day. Countless people poured down the sidewalk on their way to work, school, or wherever else it was they needed to be. The streets were clogged with trucks, cars, and taxis honking their horns, everyone in a hurry. Skyscrapers lived up to their names, rising high toward the cloudless spring sky.
“You’d look great in that,” Lily said.
“I was thinking more about you,” her friend replied. “Wouldn’t Boone’s eyes fall out of his head if you walked into the room wearing that?”
“They’d fall out when he saw the price tag.”
Jane laughed. “Let’s at least go in so you can try it on.”
“I can’t,” Lily answered. “If I do, I’ll be late to meet Boone at the park.”
“Next time, then.” Jane slipped her arm in Lily’s and they set off, just as they’d done when they were kids growing up in Hooper’s Crossing.
But now, six months after both of them had left, neither of them was the same girl she’d once been. Not exactly.
For Jane, the change was pronounced. In the big city, she had blossomed into the woman she’d always wanted to be. Within days of arriving, Jane had landed a job as a typist in a secretarial pool, which had put enough money in her pocket that she could begin enjoying some of what New York had to offer. She went to parties and dances, movies and the theaters, out shopping and to fancy restaurants. Somewhere along the way, Jane had attracted the attention of an advertising director and she was scheduled to have her first photo shoot next week. Maybe Jane would end up on that billboard after all.
“Seven o’clock,” Jane whispered to Lily, nodding toward a businessman leaving an office, decked out in a charcoal-gray suit. “Just my type, too.”
One way in which Jane’s life differed from Lily’s was that she’d yet to find a man to share it, not that she wasn’t looking. Hard. She still turned the heads of plenty of potential suitors, but she was being picky, hoping to land the big fish. The first time Jane had met Clive, the writer had been so tongue-tied by the dark-haired beauty that he’d introduced himself by the wrong name; unfortunately, Clive was the minnow who didn’t stand a chance and was tossed back in the water.
“Are you sure you know the way?” Jane asked when they’d reached her subway station. “I can walk with you some more if you want.”
“I’m fine,” Lily said. “It’s straight up Fifth. I couldn’t miss it if I tried.”
“All right,” her friend said, her heels clicking down the steps. “Now, remember, there’s a party on Saturday. Don’t be late!”
Lily headed for Central Park, moving among the crowd. Even after the months she’d lived in New York City, it still felt strange, like a dream. So far, it had been everything she’d hoped it would be and more. Every day had been a new adventure. So far, she had only returned to Hooper’s Crossing twice. Once for the holidays, the second time for the trial.
In the aftermath of the failed bank robbery, Leo Burke had faced a court of law to be sentenced for his crimes. He was accused of shooting Garrett, a police officer, and planning to make off with bags stuffed with money, much of it originating from the festival. Sitting in the courtroom, waiting for her turn to recount the events of that fateful night, Lily had learned that Leo was a lifelong criminal with a list of offenses longer than her arm. When he was eventually found guilty, the bank robber was sentenced to sevent
y years behind bars. He would never know freedom again.
As for Randall Kane, whom she had known as Mike Detmer, with no family to claim him his body had been buried in an unmarked grave. Strange as it was, Lily had felt a shred of responsibility for the man’s death. If Randall hadn’t been so interested in her, if she hadn’t mistaken him for Boone and thrown her arms around him that Halloween night, he might still be alive. That was an awful lot of “ifs.” Too many. Besides, the criminal had made his own choices in life, most of them bad, and it had all come to an end before her very eyes.
Being back home, even if it hadn’t been under ideal circumstances, had been fun and familiar, like curling up in a favorite blanket. Lily had been happy to discover that her father was doing well. Though Morris still fretted about his daughter, sending a steady stream of calls and letters to see if she was doing well, checking to see if Boone was keeping her as safe as he’d promised, he had succeeded in letting Lily chart her own course for the most part. Word around town was that he crowed over each postcard she sent, proudly telling anyone who would listen about what she had seen, where she had gone, or who she had met. Though letting go had been hard, it seemed have been good for the both of them.
While she hadn’t gone to the library on either visit, Lily had heard that Ethel remained as much of a sourpuss as ever. She still complained about everything under the sun, chastised patrons for the smallest of infractions, and ruled her “kingdom” with an iron fist. Whatever change Lily’s tongue-lashing might have brought about in the older woman, it was short-lived.
As for Marjorie Barlow, Boone’s premonition had been right. For Christmas, the landlady had gotten herself a dog to share in her days, a golden retriever she’d named Betsy. At their first meeting, Daisy and the puppy had sniffed each other warily, but then seconds later become the best of friends, barking and chasing through the snow.
But without question, the person Lily had been the most nervous about seeing on her return was Garrett. In those crazy days after he had been shot, understandably delaying her leaving town, the two of them had talked, a conversation that had continued even after Lily had moved away. By the time Christmas had rolled around, their fences seemed to have been mended. They exchanged gifts and Lily had been happy to see the police officer and Boone getting along, their tenuous bond growing stronger on account of each saving the other’s life. Still, deep down in her heart, Lily knew that things between her and Garrett would never be the same. They couldn’t. She couldn’t help but wonder if he still loved her. It colored everything he said, each glance he gave her, every move he made. But because she didn’t want to lose Garrett in her life, Lily had to hope that things would change with time.
When Lily reached Central Park, she smiled. The huge expanse of nature inside a city of concrete and steel never failed to brighten her mood. Now, in the early springtime, buds were popping on the trees, the grass was growing greener by the day, and an occasional flower was tentatively opening its petals to the sun. Blankets had been spread on the lawn as city-dwellers said good-bye to another winter. Horse-drawn carriages weaved through the park carrying tourists or couples who wanted a romantic moment together.
And speaking of two people in love…
Just as Lily came within sight of her and Boone’s favorite bench, the photographer appeared from around a curve in the walk. He had Daisy on a leash, the Labrador pulling hard, wanting to go this way then that, overjoyed and overwhelmed by all of the smells the park produced. When they reached each other, Lily threw her arms around Boone and hugged him tight, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck, acting like she hadn’t seen him for a month instead of only that morning.
“You didn’t have to wait, did you?” he asked.
“No, I just got here,” she answered, giving Daisy a scratch hello.
“Good,” Boone said, then kissed the top of Lily’s head. “I got hung up at the office and had to race to get Daisy and then back here.”
“Trouble at work?” she asked.
“Yeah, but there shouldn’t have been. Walter had Clive and me in for a chat about our trip to Mexico City. You know, the usual stuff about hotel reservations, how we’ll be getting around, what he’s looking for in the article, but then Clive starts asking every question under the sun and then some.”
Lily smiled. “He’s excited. It’ll be his first international assignment.”
“He wanted to know whether they sold his brand of toothpaste in Mexico,” Boone explained with a shake of his head. “He’s worried he’ll run out.”
“What did Walter say?”
“That he should bring an extra tube.” When Lily laughed, he added, “It’s not funny. With the way Clive packs, we’re going to need an extra plane.”
In the aftermath of the failed bank robbery and shooting, Clive’s star had soared. Being first on the scene, he’d written an account that had been picked up by newspapers and radio stations across the country. His and Boone’s article on the Hooper’s Crossing Fall Festival had gotten a prominent place in Life magazine; Boone’s photo of the boy blowing a bubble of gum had even made the cover. Clive was still just as awkward as ever but he was getting better, like a turtle slowly coming out of its shell. His partnership with Boone had grown to the point that they were being paired together more and more often. Walter called them his “dynamic duo.”
“Like Batman and Robin!” Clive had exclaimed.
“More like Superman and Jimmy Olsen,” Boone had joked. “One of us is doing all the work while the other keeps tripping over his own feet.”
“Jimmy Olsen’s a photographer, you know,” the writer had pointed out, then laughed so hard he started coughing.
“Still a comedian.”
Lily had smiled. Against all odds and expectations, the two of them were becoming the best of friends.
“When do you leave for Mexico?” Lily now asked.
“The day after tomorrow.”
“That means we still have a little time together. What do you want to do?”
“Anything and everything,” Boone said, pulling her close to give her a tender kiss on the lips. “Do you have something in mind?”
“Not really.”
Boone chuckled. “If only this place wasn’t so boring,” he joked. “All these people and buildings but nothing to do.”
“If only it was as exciting as Hoover’s Crossing, right?”
“Or whatever its name is.”
In the months that they had been together in the city, Lily truly believed that she’d come to love Boone more and more with every day. She had moved into his tiny apartment, almost entirely without furniture, and set about turning it into their home. Plants decorated the windowsills. A fresh coat of paint livened up the kitchen. She framed some of his pictures and hung them on the walls against Boone’s protests; he didn’t want it to seem like he was conceited. They hauled groceries up the flights of stairs. They went out with Jane, Clive, and other friends. They made love in the middle of the afternoon when Boone wasn’t away on assignment. Though he made a good living taking pictures for Life, Lily was determined to do her part and had set about getting a job; with her experience, she’d been hired at the New York Public Library within a week. When Boone was off snapping photographs, she took Daisy out for walks, counting down the days until his return. Step by step, they set about starting a life.
And through it all, they had loved and laughed and learned.
Lily was convinced that it wouldn’t be long before Boone proposed; Jane guessed that it would be before he left for Mexico. She didn’t know if he would pop the question when they were on the observation deck of the Empire State Building, get down on bended knee in front of their Central Park bench, or blurt it out one morning while they were brushing their teeth in the bathroom. Whenever it happened, Lily would say yes. She would want to get married in Hooper’s Crossing so that she could be surrounded by her family and friends. She’d wear her mother’s pearl earrings. Her father would
give her away. She hoped that Garrett would attend. Jane would be her maid of honor, Clive the best man. Daisy could even be the flower girl.
Somebody else would have to take the pictures.
About the Author
Dorothy Garlock is one of America’s—and the world’s—favorite novelists. Her work has consistently appeared on national bestseller lists, including the New York Times list, and there are over fifteen million copies of her books in print translated into eighteen languages. She has won more than twenty writing awards, including an RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award for Best Historical Fiction for A Week from Sunday, five Silver Pen Awards from Affaire de Coeur, and three Silver Certificate Awards. Her novel With Hope was chosen by Amazon as one of the best romances of the twentieth century.
After retiring as a news reporter and bookkeeper in 1978, she began her career as a novelist with the publication of Love and Cherish. She lives in Clear Lake, Iowa.
Books by Dorothy Garlock
After the Parade
Almost Eden
Annie Lash
By Starlight
Come a Little Closer
Dreamkeepers
Dream River
The Edge of Town
Forever Victoria
A Gentle Giving
Glorious Dawn
High on a Hill
Homeplace
Hope’s Highway
Keep a Little Secret
Larkspur
Leaving Whiskey Bend
The Listening Sky
Lonesome River
Love and Cherish
The Nearness of You Page 28