by Ivy Sinclair
“That’s kind of cool,” I said. I felt a pang of jealousy at how affectionately Reed spoke about his former classmate. “Guess she knew her calling from way back then.”
“It helps pay the mortgage on this old place,” Reed said, leaning onto the table. “There’s not much else to do around here at night other than go to the bowling alley or Lula’s. I think the folks who aren’t into drinking the hard stuff appreciate the alternative.”
I really only caught half of what Reed said because I was admiring his perfectly formed forearms. I blushed when I caught his raised eyebrow. I cleared my throat. “I will probably end up coming here a lot then. I don’t really do the drinking scene anymore.”
“Can’t hold your liquor?” Reed’s eyes glinted in the soft porch light.
I felt my body tense, but forced myself to relax. If we were going to be friends, I couldn’t stuff my demons back into the closet altogether. “Far from it. It’s just that I don’t make very smart decisions when I’ve been drinking, and there’s some short circuit in my brain that doesn’t seem to know when to stop. So my therapist recommended that I avoid it altogether until I get my other issues sorted out.” There. I pretty much put it all out there on the table. Now I’d see if Reed still wanted to entertain this idea of a friendship or not.
Reed reached out and set his hand over mine, and for a second I forgot to breathe. I looked up and found his eyes searching my face. Had I said too much too soon? It was a relief to be honest, but I didn’t want him to think I was entirely broken. I was tired of hiding behind the wall of shame.
“A lot of people don’t figure their issues out until it’s far too late, you know,” he said softly. “Sounds to me like you learned whatever lesson you were meant to learn and are doing your best to move on. I respect that.”
I wanted to throw my arms around his neck in gratitude. I smiled instead and was rewarded with a wink from Reed. I pushed an imaginary hair back behind my ear and reminded myself that this wasn’t a date. It was just coffee and conversation. “Thanks. Maybe you could talk to my mother. She hasn’t been quite so understanding.”
“Parents are quick to see the negative and usually the last ones to recognize it when their kids change,” Reed said, withdrawing his hand. “You’re better off working to please yourself instead of your mother.”
His smile had faded away, and it wasn’t hard to guess that I stumbled onto a topic that appeared equally sensitive for him. He turned to his bag and pulled out a stack of file folders and a laptop. I stared. “What’s all this?”
“You said that you wanted to research the locations in Where My Heart Breaks,” Reed said. His tone was flat, and I hoped that my pathetic confession hadn’t completely killed the mood.
I held up my notebook and the area map. “This was what I brought. What did you bring?”
“My research notes,” Reed said. He powered up his laptop and didn’t meet my eyes. “I did my thesis work on Walter Moolen and the impact of Bleckerville and its folklore on Walter’s novel.”
My mouth fell open. “Are you kidding me?”
A ghost of a smile crossed Reed’s face. “I don’t kid about my thesis project. It was the most hellish semester of my entire college career. I think I still have nightmares about it.”
“You have a Master’s degree?” I tried not to sound surprised. Every time I felt like I had a beat on Reed Black, he pulled out another wild card.
“I finished it last year. Then I picked up the only job I could find with such a sorry excuse for a degree as a Master’s in English. I teach contemporary literary fiction at the community college over in Cheshire,” he said. “So I get all of the freshman who have no real interest in the subject matter but are just filling a checkbox on their general course requirements.”
“I thought you said you were a handyman?” I winced at the high pitched squeak that was currently my voice. I wasn’t playing it cool at all.
“Believe it or not, teaching a class two nights a week at the smallest community college in the state doesn’t pay enough to cover my rent,” Reed said. He started tapping away at the keys on his laptop. “I pick up odd jobs like helping out your aunt at the Willoughby to cover the gap.”
He finally met my eyes over the laptop cover. He seemed uncomfortable, and I realized that he was expecting me to judge him. Again. There was more to the story than he was telling me. I didn’t understand how a guy like Reed would have a reputation like he apparently did without a pretty damn good reason. I wanted to know, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to come out and ask. I’d have to figure out a way to slide it in somewhere without being too obvious.
“Okay.” It seemed the safest response.
“Okay?”
There was that crooked eyebrow again. He was suspicious of my simplistic answer. Over the arch of the wire rim glasses, he looked even more devilishly handsome than before, which I would have said was impossible until I saw it.
“I can’t think of a better person to help me out with this project,” I said with a nonchalant shrug. “Since you apparently know everything about this book and you are an English teacher. My parents always told me never to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
Reed’s shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled. “I’m guessing they never actually said anything like that, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
“Just one thing though. Hopefully you aren’t as boring as my last English professor. I’d fall asleep in his lectures even on days when I had plenty of sleep the night before.”
“I’ll try my best to keep your attention, Ms. Spivey,” he said with that drawl that I found irresistible.
Hot damn. Sexy teacher. I gulped. He’s just a friend. If I repeated those words enough in my head, maybe I could erase every lustful thought that crossed my mind whenever my eyes drifted up his biceps to his muscular torso. I desperately wanted to be the piece of thin fabric that clung to those muscles.
“Kate?”
Shit, he caught me gawking at him again. I shook my head to clear the cobwebs and took a sip of cappuccino. I needed to cool it, or this non-date was going to be a disaster. “Hmmmm?” Having liquid in my mouth helped, but then I flinched when I burned my tongue. I bit back a yelp. Just like that I had been turned into a slobbering idiot.
“I asked you how far you were in the book. I don’t want to ruin the ending for you if you haven’t finished it yet.”
“Chapter ten,” I said, trying to hide the fact that I thought I might have disintegrated the tip of my tongue. “Jackson just told Camilla that he thought that he might be in love with her.”
“Let me see that map,” Reed said.
I quickly opened it up and found that it covered the whole table. Reed didn’t seem to mind, and he moved his laptop off the table and set it on the chair next to him. He pulled a black sharpie out of his bag and then searched the map for whatever he was looking for. Then he circled a spot. I scrunched down to see it better. Working on the porch had its disadvantages.
“That’s the Willoughby,” I said.
“Seventy percent of the book takes place on the Willoughby grounds,” Reed said. “We can start there. Do you remember the other location that appears in chapter six?”
Had I known there was going to be a quiz I would have studied. Fortunately, I did know the answer because I had written it down five minutes before I walked out the door to meet Reed. “Bleckerville Presbyterian Church. It’s where Camilla sees Jackson’s ailing wife and realizes that his marriage isn’t quite the sham that he told her it was.”
Reed nodded his head in approval, and I felt a warm flush of pleasure. “That’s right. Except in real life, that’s the old Bleckerville Town Hall. We’ve never had a Presbyterian Church in town.” He circled another location on the map. This one looked to be about a mile or two outside of Bleckerville.
“I would have thought a town hall would be in town,” I said, staring at the map.
“Bleckerville Township was established in 1
812, and the original town was burned to the ground during the Civil War. All of the buildings except the town hall, which was eventually restored before falling into ruin again in the early 1900s. The families who stayed in the area decided to move the town a bit further inland to avoid the river flooding that was common back then.”
I had to admit that I was impressed. “Why did Moolen use the town hall instead of an actual church in town then?”
Reed smiled a wry smile. “That’s an excellent question, Ms. Spivey.” He dug through his stack of files and pulled one out before flipping it open. I saw a couple of old newspaper clippings inside on top of a sheaf of papers. Reed handed them to me.
“Camilla Landry Donates Town Hall Structure To The City of Bleckerville.” I read the headline out loud. The subtitle mentioned that Mrs. Landry’s generous donation came on the heels of her husband’s passing. The other newspaper clipping announced funeral services for one Jackson Landry. I blinked and looked at Reed. “Jackson and Camilla were real people?”
“I believe that Moolen plucked their names from the obituary and donation announcement during his visit to the library here in town when he stayed at the Willoughby that summer. It may have even precipitated the idea for the novel. Now, the real Jackson and Camilla don’t bear any real resemblance to the couple he wrote about in the story, but there’s the connection.”
I watched Reed’s lips move as he explained the facts to me, and felt like swooning. He appeared to be the epitome of the perfect man. He had the body and the brains. It was an explosive combination, and one that I would have a hard time resisting if he ever did decide to turn his charms on me.
For the next two hours, I let Reed guide me through the main locations around the Willoughby property and show me his research from his thesis. I was entranced, not only with the story but with the man explaining its intricacy to me. I was sucked into all of it, and now I couldn’t wait to read the rest of the book.
When the “Open” signed blinked off in the window behind Reed’s head, it was as if I emerged from a trance. I instantly felt regret that our time together was over. We had done nothing but talk, but I felt as if the more I understood about Walter Moolen’s novel, the more I understood Reed. He had to have chosen his subject matter for his thesis for a reason, and I wondered what that reason was.
He was intense and passionate on the topic, but patient with my endless stream of questions. We bantered several times over a plot point that made absolutely no sense to me, but he assured me that if I had lived during the early twentieth century in Bleckerville, I wouldn’t have batted an eye.
As we poured over the map and Reed’s notes, several times our arms touched and we were within inches of each other. I smelled his musky cologne and wondered what it would be like to sink into his arms. Then he would move away, and I had to remind myself for the millionth time that we were not there as a couple. It was like a book club, except I had the misfortune of being in a book club with one of the hottest guys on the planet. It was as if fate wanted to clock me over the head with how unfair life could be to me just to prove a point.
As we started to put our papers away, I watched the other people file through the picket fence and out into the street. Even then, the night around us was quiet. Life was certainly different in a small town. Then again it was a weeknight. Maybe Bleckerville was livelier on the weekends. Somehow I doubted it.
“So I was thinking,” Reed started. Then he stopped mid-sentence as if reconsidering his words.
“You were thinking…?” I prompted.
“This was fun,” he said, slipping his computer into his bag.
“This was fun,” I agreed. My heart started to beat faster against my chest.
“Since you said you only get a couple of nights off a week, seems a shame to have to head home so early.”
Whatever he was thinking, I was in. One hundred percent. But I didn’t want to appear too eager. “I have to get up at five, but ten o’clock at night does feel early to go back to the Willoughby.”
Reed looked around as if gauging if anyone was close by. “Would you be interested in a field trip, Ms. Spivey?”
“Where were you suggesting?” My knees felt weak. If he asked me to go back to his place, there was a good chance I’d throw myself at his feet and beg him to kiss me. I could almost taste his tongue, and it made my stomach do a flip flop. I bet he was a world class kisser, and I wanted to find out.
“How about we check out the old town hall?” He lifted his computer bag onto his shoulder and pulled his glasses off of his nose. I suddenly got the whole Clark Kent/Superman thing.
“I thought you said the town hall is abandoned?”
“It is,” he said with a shrug. “I have flashlights. Handyman and all.”
I’d be alone in the dark with Reed. There was a good chance that our bodies would come into contact with each other. The visions of what would happen then made my skin tingle. It was suddenly very warm outside, but it wasn’t the humid summer evening getting me all hot and bothered.
“Okay.”
“I’ll drive,” he said.
I nodded. At the moment, I wasn’t in any condition to be behind the wheel of a car.
CHAPTER NINE
Reed held the passenger door of his truck open for me. I held my breath as my body brushed against his when I slid past him and pulled myself up into the cab. I put my hand out to close the door and saw that he had a strange look on his face. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said as he closed the door behind me.
I wasn’t sure what to do or say as he joined me inside the truck. I felt a giggle bubbling up in my throat. I let myself fall back against the seat and my shoulders relaxed. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was having fun and I wanted to enjoy every minute of it. Reed didn’t say anything else as he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot.
“Why did you decide to stay in Bleckerville after college? I bet you could find a better teaching position in Charlotte or Raleigh.”
“My mom needed my help,” Reed replied. He didn’t volunteer any further information, and I decided not press it.
As we cruised down Main Street, I saw that all the shops were dark except for the lights inside the bowling alley. The only other sign of life in the entire town was the neon beer signs of Lula’s as we passed it right before leaving Bleckerville behind.
I let the conversation lapse into an awkward silence.
Reed cleared his throat as if he sensed my discomfort. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
The question was so unexpected that, for a moment, I thought that I had imagined it. Was he asking for a specific reason, or just to make conversation? It killed me that I didn’t know what he was thinking. “No. I dated one guy, Trevor, on and off for about a year, but we broke up right around Christmas.” I wasn’t going to go into the fact that once my parents dragged me back home, Trevor lost all interest in me.
By the time I returned to classes after Christmas break, I found he had already hooked up with another girl. A freshman. I realized that Trevor liked his girls young and naïve. I was certain it was because it made it easier for him to talk them into some of his other more questionable habits. Months of therapy allowed me to see that clearly now. He played into my low self-esteem and then I was willing to do whatever he asked me to do. Dr. Kreger told me not to blame myself and that I was better off without him. I agreed with her now, but it was a bitter pill to swallow.
“What about you?” My curiosity was peaked, and I couldn’t resist the return question since he opened the door on the topic. I was also eager to turn the focus away from my history. I already shared enough dirty laundry for one evening.
“I don’t date, so no,” Reed said with a frown.
The truck slowed, and I didn’t see the narrow dirt driveway until Reed pulled into it. My body jostled around as Reed navigated the stretch of dirt until finally stopping underneath a large magnolia tree. The headlights revealed a
small building in front of us. At one time in its life, it had been white, but the peeling paint exposed gray wood underneath and it looked dingy and creepy.
“Well, I can see why you don’t date if this is where you bring all the girls,” I said sarcastically. I felt a small bit of anxiousness now seeing the abandoned town hall. I didn’t like Reed’s firm declaration that he didn’t date. Paired with the rumors I heard, that meant that Reed’s interest in women didn’t extend beyond the bedroom. I kept trying to reconcile that guy with the guy I spent the last few hours with and it just didn’t compute. There was still a lot that I needed to learn about Reed Black.
Reed chuckled at my quip and then he reached over to the glove box. His arm brushed against my knee and sent a firestorm of tingling sensations through my body right to my core. He pulled two flashlights out and handed one to me.
“Are you ready to do this?”
“Are you sure it’s safe for us to go in there?” I squinted again at the building. “That place looks like it should be condemned.”
“Where’s your sense of adventure?”
“I think I left it at home.” I didn’t want to be a spoilsport, but I felt seriously creeped out being in the middle of nowhere in the shadow of a building that was falling apart. If I were on a date, I’d no doubt be thinking of angles to score a little action. But since it wasn’t a date, I needed to focus on not getting in trouble and keeping my body in one piece.
Reed pushed open his door and got out of the truck. He turned back to me. “I promise, it’s safe. Plus I’ll be right next to you the whole time.”
I didn’t know him well, but nonetheless his reassurance made me feel better. I trusted him, and that’s what decided it for me. That alone should have set warning bells off in my mind, but I didn’t care. I was going to have an adventure. It was certainly better than sitting in my room back at the Willoughby alone.