“But you said it. And you said it because you meant it.”
She buried her face in her hands for a moment. “At the time, to be with you would have meant staying in Troutville. That was your dream. Mine was to leave. Back then, it was so black and white. Stay or go.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You marry a person because you're in love, because you belong together. I'm not so sure it matters where you are.”
“It is if your spirit dies in that place,” she whispered.
He looked at her.
“The divorce rate is awfully high, Jake. Marriage starts out about love. And then life intrudes on that private happiness. Troutville would have intruded on us. Of that, I have no doubt.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, not sure how he felt about what she was saying. Much of what she said was realistic.
“Let's say I asked you to leave Troutville and follow me where I was going,” Holly said. “Would you have?”
Would I have left Troutville if you asked? I would have bought a bus ticket to anywhere to be with you.
It didn't matter to him that she wouldn't have stayed in Troutville for him. He knew how much she hated the place. He never would have asked such a thing of her. But he'd never gotten the chance to ask to come with her. And just when he'd worked up the courage to do just that, he'd discovered her real feelings for him.
She hadn't said:
Troutville is the last place I'd spend my life.
She'd said:
Jake is the last man I'd ever marry.
The whole thing was complicated. Jake's dream had been to stay in Troutville, join the police force the way his father and grandfather had. Overcome the obstacles. Live where he wanted to live, which was right here in Troutville, despite how the Up Hillers treated him. He'd had big ideas to build up Down Hill, contribute to making the area a nicer place to live, safer for children and the elderly. And he'd done so.
But Holly hated Troutville. He never would have asked her to stay.
He shook his head. What was the difference?
She glanced into his eyes. His expression was unreadable. “I ... I felt terrible about what happened. . . how things ended.” She looked down at her feet. “Oh, Jake, I don't know what to say. There's so much I want to tellâ”
His cell phone interrupted her. He pulled it out of his pocket with a mouthed
excuse me,
then glanced at the incoming telephone number.
Dylan.
“Dylan? What's up?”
“Jake, Lizzie and I just got to her houseâwe took a long, soothing drive and then walked the Troutville Bridge, her favorite spotâand we found another note in her house. This time written on Lizzie's bedroom wall, over her bed. Part of it is in Magic Marker, and part is in what looks like blood.”
“Blood?” he repeated.
Holly whirled around. “What's happened?” she asked, her voice panicked. “Did something happen to Lizzie?”
“Another note,” he whispered. “Dylan,” he said into the phone, “we'll be right there. Hang on, okay?”
“Lizzie locked herself in the bathroom and won't come out,” Dylan said. “She's crying, terrifiedâI can't get her to open the door or calm down. Oh, God, Jake, I'm really worried. I've been able to calm her down before, but now I can't.”
“What did the note say?” Jake asked.
“You'll see,” Dylan said. “I'd rather not even repeat it.”
Â
During the four-minute drive to Lizzie's house, Holly was barely able to think.
Please let Lizzie be all right,
she prayed.
She's been through enough!
Before Jake had fully parked in Lizzie's driveway, Holly was out of the car, racing up to the porch to ring the bell.
“Thank God you're here,” Dylan said, gesturing for Holly and Jake to come in. “Holly, you're probably the only person who can help calm her down.”
“Is she upstairs in her room?” Holly asked.
“In the master bathroom,” Dylan said. “She locked the door.”
Holly ran for the stairs, but Dylan gently took her arm.
“Wait, Holly,” Dylan said. “I think Jake should go with you.”
She looked at Dylan, then at Jake, and then she nodded, understanding setting in. The note had to be that bad.
Slowly, Holly pushed open Lizzie's bedroom door. The bed faced the door, so the large Magic-Markered letters could be seen from the doorway.
Lay Me Lizzie Is Pregnant!
It was underlined in blood.
Holly felt her knees wobble. She grabbed onto the doorway for support.
“I've got you,” she heard Jake say from behind her, and she could vaguely feel his arm around her shoulder.
“Lizzie, honey?” Dylan was saying. “Holly's here, sweetie.”
Lizzie's name shot a jolt of adrenaline through Holly's entire being. “Lizzie!” She ran to the bathroom door. Dylan was leaning against it, a hand flat on the door, as if he could communicate his feelings through the door.
He loves her,
she thought with absolute conviction.
“Should I try?” Holly asked.
He nodded, tears in his eyes. She watched him walk over to her bed and sit down, his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his face. He was crying.
Jake sat down next to him and slung an arm on his back. Dylan raised his head and took a deep breath, wiping at his eyes.
“Lizzie, honey, it's Holly. Will you open up and let me in?”
No answer.
“Lizzie, I just want to hold you. We don't have to talk. I just want to hold you and tell you everything's going to be okay.”
She heard a sniffle. And then a few movements. And then the door lock sliding.
“It's open,” Lizzie said softly.
Holly turned to offer a reassuring glance to Dylan, then slowly opened the door and slipped inside. She shut it behind her. Lizzie, who was sitting on the floor, jumped up and fell into Holly's arms. They slid down against the wall until they were half sitting, half lying down.
Lizzie's sobs shook her entire body. Holly held her against her, stroking her hair, whispering, “Let it out. It's all right. Just let it out. Everything's going to be all right.”
In a few minutes, Lizzie was quiet. They continued to sit that way for another five minutes.
“It's true,” Lizzie whispered. “I am pregnant.”
Holly lifted Lizzie's face with both her palms. “Congratulations, Lizzie.” She smiled gently. “Congratulations, mom-to-be.”
Lizzie offered a weak smile. “I'm going to be a mom, Holly. Just like I always dreamed.”
“And you're going to be a great mother,” Holly said. This little one is sure lucky to get you,” she added, very gently touching Lizzie's tummy.
Lizzie smiled and touched her stomach. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. “I wanted to, butâ”
“It's okay, Lizzie. I'm just so happy for you. Getting married, having a baby. All your dreams are coming true. This psycho”âshe gestured toward the doorâ“isn't going to get his, her, whoever's, hands on your dreams. Do you hear me?”
Lizzie bit her lip and nodded. She took a few deep breaths. “Oh, Holly, I feel so much better. Someone is out to get me, big-time, and it's so damn scary not knowing who it is.” She froze. “Oh, my God.”
“What is it?” Holly asked.
“I haven't told anyone I'm pregnant, except for Dylan, of course. No one else knows. Not my mother, not you, not Dylan's family. No one. But clearly someone
does
know.”
“Is it possible you were overheard talking about it with Dylan?” Holly asked. “Or maybe someone saw you at your doctor's office? Where were you when you told him?”
Lizzie thought for a moment. “I went to surprise him at the Boys' Center. That's where he happened to be when I found out. He has an office there, and that's where I told him. There were some boys walking in the halls, one was dribbling a basketball, one was listening to a portable CD player. But there were no adults around. And I didn't recognize anyone there.”
“So you and Dylan were alone in his office when you told him?” Holly asked.
“Yes. And we were very careful to talk about the baby only when we were absolutely sure we were alone. I know how gossipy this town is, and we don't need to add any fuel to the fire about why we're getting married so quickly.”
Holly let out a deep breath. “Could the culprit be guessing?”
“Maybe,” Lizzie said. “But it's a pretty good guess.”
“The âLay Me' part could be a good clue,” Holly said. “That's from high school. So that can hopefully narrow things down.”
“I've heard the âLay Me Lizzie' crap around town for the past ten years, Hol. It didn't stop with graduation. And I heard it from a few people who didn't go to our high school. I guess it's just catchy.”
Holly shook her head with disgust. “Well I've got an assignment for you for tonight. You're to do nothing but think happy thoughts about the baby and your wedding. Okay? Leave the junk to Jake and me.”
“You two are spending a lot of time together,” Lizzie commented, the twinkle coming back in her eyes.
“It's nice,” Holly whispered.
Lizzie squeezed her hand. “Shall we go let the boys know everything's all right in here?”
Holly nodded. “Dylan's a wreck out there. He was crying, Liz.”
She gnawed her lower lip. “You know, all this crap has been directed at me, so I've been getting all the comforting. I've forgotten how this affects him. How much comforting he could use. I'm the woman he's going to marry and the mother of his child, and I'm being threatened.”
“All right, then,” Holly said. “You two go comfort each other, and Jake and I will do some investigating. We'll get them, Lizzie.”
She nodded, then wrapped Holly into a hug, and opened the door. Then she flew into her fiancé's arms, and Dylan led Lizzie out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Jake and Holly followed behind.
“I'm going to take Lizzie to my house for the night,” Dylan said. “We'll call you both in the morning. Thanks for coming over.”
“You bet,” Jake said. “Lizzie, you take care. I'll call the police and make sure they conduct a thorough investigation.”
Lizzie offered a weak smile over her shoulder, and then they were gone.
Jake and Holly stood on the porch and watched as Dylan's car turned onto the main road. “I think we should start fresh in the morning,” Jake said. “It's late, and we're both so exhausted, there's no way we can do any good investigative work under these conditions. Let's let the police do their job first.”
Holly nodded. “I can't stay here. I can go to Flea's or Gayle'sâ”
“You'll stay with me,” he said.
He neither asked nor did she answer.
It was simply understood that she would.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Two hours later, Jake put cookies and two mugs of steaming tea on a tray and headed back into the living room of his apartment. Holly was standing by the wall of windows, looking out onto Troutville.
“You can see so much from up here,” she said, her arms crossed over her chest. “Even this late, between the stars, moonlight and street lamps, I can see the high school, the lake, the skating rink. The town center. Even the dividing line between Up Hill and Down Hill.”
“One of the reasons I love this view,” Jake said, setting down the tray on the coffee table, “is that from up here on the sixth floor, the line doesn't look like much of anything. Just a sloping hill, quite pretty and green. It helped me with perspective, that it's really just a hill, with no meaning.”
She glanced at him. “I wouldn't say âno meaning. '”
“People gave it meaning,” Jake amended. “Nature made it just a beautiful slope.”
Holly turned from the window. “I sure could use a cup of hot tea.”
“Come sit down, then,” he said. He patted the sofa, then sat on one end so she'd feel comfortable on the other. “I'm sorry I don't have much in the way of a late night snack to offer you.”
Holly smiled. “Your mom must go nuts when she comes to visit. I remember how she loved to cook. I'd never seen a pantry and refrigerator stocked like your mom's.”
Jake smiled back at her. “She still sends me care packagesâall sorts of healthy stuff. When she comes to visit, she doesn't even bother opening the refrigerator or cabinets. She stops at the supermarket before she comes and practically buys the place out.”
“It was your mom who taught me how to bake,” Holly said thoughtfully.
Jake could see Holly, at nine, ten, every age up to eighteen, sitting on a stool in his family's kitchen, her nose and apron dusted with flour and stained with icing. She loved helping his mom bake. And Jake loved gobbling down at least two huge portions of whatever delicious treat they whipped up, from cupcakes to lavish layer cakes. He'd stuff himself silly, then zigzag around exaggeratedly, patting his stomach, and fall on the floor. Holly would crack up, and no matter how bad his stomach ached from eating too much, he'd feel great.
“I was surprised you didn't become a pastry chef,” Jake said. “I know you were set on a super steady career, but somehow I always thought you'd chuck âsteady' and chase your passion.”
She glanced at him, clearly surprised. “I wouldn't think you'd take me for a âchase your passion' kind of person.”
“You're forgetting how well I know you,” he said.
She looked at him, but said nothing. Then she reached for a cookie.
“You're either uncomfortable or you
are
trusting,” Jake said, smiling.
“A little of both, I guess,” she said. She took a nibble. “The cookies are just fine.” She glanced around. He'd had it right with
uncomfortable
.
“So you didn't become a pastry chef,” Jake said. “You became a teacher instead. I can see that, too. I'll bet anything you're a wonderful teacher.”
“I do love teaching,” Holly said. “I love my kids, love seeing eyes light up with learning. But I think I became a teacher to try to inspire those kids who seemed a little less motivated for whatever reasonâkids who were picked on, or who seemed to have problems at home. Kids who are having a tough time.”
“Like we had,” Jake said.
She nodded. “One of our English teachers was so wonderful,” Holly said. “Do you remember Mrs. Vogel, junior year?”
Jake nodded. “I sure do. She managed to get me interested in reading Shakespeare.”
“Exactly. Because she cared about us as individuals, not just a lump of eleventh graders. She tried to find in each of us the spark that would relate to the text we were studying. That's what I try to do with my kids. And it really works. It helps them see in sixteenth-century plays or nineteeth-century novels what's relevant to their own lives right here in the twenty-first century. And suddenly, they want to read. They want to think. They want to write their papers. Not all of them, of course. I don't mean to say I'm Miss Perfect Teacher, but every little bit helps.”
“Your students are lucky to have you,” Jake said. “And Hobokenâyou like it there?”
Holly nodded. “It's a great place to live. So close to New York City, just across the river. And there's so much to do right in town. It's a really bustling place. And then there's Miss Ellie and Herbert.”
“Miss Ellie and Herbert?” Jake asked.
“They're the most romantic couple I've ever met. Miss Ellie is in her seventies and Herbert is in his eighties, and they fell madly in love at the senior center where Herbert lived and Miss Ellie was volunteering. They married right before I left for Troutville.”
“Newlyweds, at their age!” Jake said, smiling. “That is romantic.”
Holly nodded and grinned at the thought of the special couple. “I lived next door to Miss Ellie for years, and then Herbert moved in with her after their wedding. Miss Ellie made me feel like I had family right next door. I don't know that I would love living there quite so much if she weren't my neighbor.”
“She sounds like a very special person,” Jake said. “I'm glad she found herself a groom.”
Holly smiled at the memory of Herbert and Miss Ellie kissing on the platform as they waited for the train to take her away to Troutville. And then the thought of Troutville turned her mind back to Lizzie.
“I hope Lizzie's all right,” Holly said, her brows furrowing. “I'm so worried about her.”
“She's in good hands with Dylan,” Jake said. “You did such a great job of calming her down.”
“It was heartbreaking to see Dylan cry,” Holly said. “Ten years ago, I wouldn't have thought he had tear ducts.”
“Not every rich Up Hiller is a bad person, Holly.”
“Dylan does seem true-blue,” Holly said. “He seems to really love Lizzie.”
Jake nodded. “He does. And he told me while you were with Lizzie before that she's pregnant. He's going to be a great father. I have no doubt about that. He cares so much about the kids we mentor.” He smiled. “And you're going to have a baby cousin.” He raised his mug of tea to her. “Congratulations.”
“I'm so happy for Lizzie,” she said. “She's always wanted to be a mother. And she'll be great at it.”
“Do you?” he asked.
“What?”
“Want to be a mother,” Jake said.
She stiffened. “Sure.”
“And?”
“And what?” she asked. “I'm not even dating anyâ”
“Why?”
“Is this twenty questions?” she asked, annoyed.
“Yes,” he responded with a smile.
She wrapped her hands around the mug. “I just haven't met the right man. It's that simple.”
“I was in love with you in high school, Holly,” Jake said quietly. So quietly he wasn't sure he'd said it aloud.
She blushed. “I didn't know.”
“I took great pains to hide it,” he said.
“Why? Why didn't you tell me how you felt?”
“Because I knew I wasn't what you wanted,” he said. “You wanted out. I was Troutville. I wasn't the great beyond, I wasn't something new, I wasn't possibilities. I was just plain old Jake Boone you grew up with, as Down Hill as you could get, and you wanted to escape that.”
“I loved you, too,” she said softly. She glanced up at him shyly, then put down her mug. “I did, Jake. I loved you very much.”
He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to continue the conversation. He didn't want to ask why he was the “last man on earth she'd marry” if she loved him so much.
He just wanted to believe it, to soak it in.
He stood and moved down the couch, then sat down next to her. He took her hand and brought it to his lips. He cupped her chin in his palm and tilted her beautiful face to his and kissed her.
Warm. Sweet. Stirring.
He deepened the kiss and she stiffened at first, then he felt her relax and go limp against him. One kiss. That was all it took. Ten years, he'd waited for that kiss, this moment. He scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bedroom, laying her down on the soft blanket covering the bed.
He lay down beside her and kissed her again, passionately. He knew she could feel his response to her. He pressed against her, then rolled on top of her and lifted up on his arms to look down at her. “I've wanted you for so long, Holly.”
“Make love to me, Jake,” she whispered.
Her soft moan was all he needed. He undid the zipper of her dress and slipped the sides apart, exposing an expanse of skin and her lacy white bra. He made quick work of removing the bra, then ran his hand over her breasts, so full and beautiful and pink tipped. She moaned again, arching her back, and he took her nipple in his mouth and teased it, suckled until she was arching her entire body against his. He pressed against her, and she slid a hand between them to reach his zipper. In moments, his pants were off, joined by his shirt and her dress.
She now wore only white cotton panties, and the sight of them drove him wild in his desire for her. He slid them off, down her long, slender, silky legs, and then caressed every inch of her, from her feet to her knees to her velvety thighs, until he found the center of her womanhood.
“Now,” she breathed in his ear.
He entered her, slowly, looking into her eyes. And as he fought for control, she shuddered and moaned, and it was all he could do to keep from exploding. He made love to her, hard, then slow, then fast, then hard, until she screamed his name and he could hold on no more.
He lay against her, listening to her heart beat, listening to her catch her breath. He grasped her hand and she tightened her fingers around his, and then he closed his eyes.
Â
He was sleeping.
Holly stole a glance at Jake, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath. God, he looked beautiful. The early morning sunlight played on his silky brown hair, and she wanted to run her fingers through the strands, but she feared waking him. For a few moments, she wanted to study him, commit every inch of him to memory.
I loved you in high school ...
She knew he didn't love her now. Couldn't and wouldn't. But last night, for a little while anyway, he had.
Thoroughly. Completely. And very well.
Holly stretched luxuriously. She wasn't a virgin, but she had never experienced anything like last night. She had been in a few relationships, nothing long-term, and she'd tried to fall in love, willed herself to fall in love with the perfectly fine men she'd met or been set up with. And though she enjoyed male companionship and dating and sex, she never felt her heart move. Not the way it had in high school for Jake Boone.
Last night, her heart had stirred.
And now he had stirred. He stretched beside her, the blanket lowering to reveal six-pack abs. His eyes opened slowly, and then he quickly glanced at her, as though suddenly remembering she was there.
He said nothing.
She said nothing.
Awkward silence.
“Um, did you sleep well?” she asked, feeling stupid. She had no idea what to say, what she was supposed to say.
“Just fine. You?”
“Just fine,” she echoed.
“Great. Uh, why don't I go order in some breakfast from Doreen's Diner, and we'll go over the case.”
He reached for his pants and slipped them on, then hopped off the bed, throwing his shirt on over his shoulders as he left the bedroom.
Talk about uncomfortable.
Holly felt tears prick the backs of her eyes.
Her cheeks burning, she reached for her clothes and quickly dressed, then headed into the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth with her finger and some toothpaste. The moment she turned on the faucet, her own waterworks began. Gripping the sink for support, she cried into the water. Finally, she smushed her face into a towel and calmed herself down.
At the bedroom door, she hesitated, feeling like a nervous thirteen-year-old about to enter the school dance. One deep breath later, and she pulled open the door and affected what she hoped was a nonchalant expression as she stepped into the living room.
Jake was at the front door, paying a delivery boy. He placed two white bags on the dining room table. “Omelets and coffee okay? I remember you loved omelets.”
He could bring up the past, yet he couldn't face what they did last night? Holly wondered what he was thinking. She wanted to just ask, be as blunt as he had last night, but she saw he needed space and she wanted to give it to him, no matter how much it hurt.