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 ‘no 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 packages—all 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 ‘steady’ and chase your passion.”
She glanced at him, clearly surprised. “I wouldn’t think you’d take me for a ‘chase 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 reason—kids 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 Hoboken—you 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 any—”
“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.
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.
“Sounds great,” she said. “I’m starving. And I could use an entire pot of coffee.”
“Good thing I ordered three cups each,” he said with a smile.
They sat, they ate, they drank. In silence.
“I’m dying to call Lizzie,” Holly said. “But it’s so early. I think I should wait till at least nine.”
Jake nodded. “I’ll call Dylan in an hour and he’ll put Lizzie on the phone for you.”
“Thanks.”
He looked nervous. Uncomfortable. Unsure. “So, I think I’ll hop in the shower. The newspaper’s on the coffee table.”
She nodded. They looked at each other for a moment, each waiting for the other to say something, perhaps. Neither did.
How could you be so intimate, as physically intimate as two people could get, and be so emotionally distant the next morning? she wondered. She wanted to know what he was thinking. How he felt about what happened between them last night. But instead of asking, instead of being as direct as she should be, she sat back, unable to say anything.
“Um, so just make yourself comfortable,” he said and then disappeared into the bathroom.
Holly sighed and stared at the ceiling.
No, don’t think, she told herself. Don’t think. Concentrate on something.
She drummed her fingers against her thigh, stared at the ceiling, sipped her coffee.
Part of her wanted to rush into the bathroom and join him in the shower, to show him how she felt.
How do you feel? she asked herself.
I don’t know. I only know I feel like I belong. When I’m with Jake, when I’m with Lizzie, I feel like I belong. Like I’m home.
But how was it possible to feel that way here in Troutville, a town she hated perhaps even more than when she left a decade ago?
Because no matter where you are, when you’re with Jake, when you’re with Lizzie, when you’re with Aunt Louise or Gayle or Flea, you’re home.
Home is where they are, where the people you love are.
Tears came to her eyes and she blinked them back. She didn’t want Jake to come out of the shower and find her crying on his couch. These feelings were all so new that she wasn’t ready to share them.
Especially with Jake, who clearly wanted to forget last night had happened.
I loved you in high school ...
Perhaps last night had been about unfinished business for him. Perhaps he wanted to take what he wanted for the boy he once had been.
Again she stared up at the ceiling, confused.
Stop thinking, Holly. Read the newspaper instead.
She picked up the Troutville Gazette, a paper she used to despise, and leaned back against the couch. The Gazette was a local paper, pretty small-time, but had a certain cachet in town and was read religiously by almost everyone. Holly had avoided it because of the coverage of Bride Under Peril. According to Jake, the two reporters covering the “incidents” were more interested in the whodunit aspect than in reporting the facts. Jake had hoped the reporters might help shed light on the case, but instead there was a tabloid quality to the coverage.
Her heart beating a mile a minute, she looked for coverage of last night’s “incident,” and was relieved to see there was none. It must have occurred too late for the paper’s deadline. Besides, they hadn’t reported it to the police, and she and Jake had combed the house and the grounds for clues and had found nothing.
Nothing. Always nothing. How could the culprit be so careful?
Holly was about to toss the paper to the coffee table when the Town Tattler column caught her eye. The Town Tattler was just a gossip column written by a wealthy sixty-year-old woman whose husband had once owned the paper, but it was read and discussed gleefully in town. The headline read: “So That’s Why He’s Marrying Her.”
Holly sucked in her breath and prayed what she was about to read had nothing to do with Lizzie. But there, in the first line, was her name. Her heart sank and she crumpled up the page and threw it. Then she imagined Lizzie hearing about it if not reading it herself, and she ran over to pick up the page so that she’d know how to counterattack.
Bile rising in her throat, she sat back down on the couch, smoothed the page and read:
Word has it that Dylan Dunhill III and Lizzie Morrow are marrying because Lizzie is pregnant with his child and forcing him into the union. What she has over his head is anyone’s guess. Or perhaps Dylan, the most eligible bachelor in the county, is a stand-up guy.
How do we know Miss Morrow is with child? Hmmm ... It’s been reported from three Troutville locales that she has been requesting decaffeinated coffee and cappuccinos, when the woman’s coffee consumption—the real stuff—is well known. And, according to sources who attended the lavish engagement party hosted by her future mother-in-law, Victoria Dunhill, Lizzie didn’t have a single glass of wine or champagne. Plus, she clearly has cravings—or perhaps she’s always been a very good eater. Sources say she consumed an entire platter of fries and two hot dogs with the works at a recent charity baseball game for The Troutville Boys’ Center for which her handsome fiancé kindly volunteers time out of his busy schedule.
It’s a good thing Lizzie is a strong and sturdy Down Hill girl, because the terrible events plaguing her and her friends must be causing her a great deal of stress, and we know that stress is not good for a baby.
Holly heard the shower stop running. “Jake!” Holly called. “I have to go see Lizzie right away!”
Jake rushed out of the bathroom, a green towel wrapped around his hips. Water dripped down his chest. She thrust the page at him, and he read it, his expression similar to Holly’s own.
“What garbage!” he muttered. “Complete garbage. How dare she write this trash!”
“I can only hope Lizzie dismisses it as the usual mean-spirited nonsense,” Holly said. “But I’m afraid this might be the last straw. I don’t know how much more she can take.”
“Give me two seconds to throw on a shirt and jeans and we’re out of here,” Jake said.
Moments later, they were at Dylan’s house, located just a quarter mile away. But Dylan and Lizzie weren’t there.
And the Troutville Gazette was torn in half and lying in the garbage can awaiting pickup.
Both Lizzie and Dylan were unreachable by cell phone, and Holly and Jake had no idea where they’d gone. They sat in Jake’s idle car in the parking lot of the Cooper County Park, Lizzie’s favorite. They’d hoped to find Lizzie and Dylan walking along Lizzie’s favorite trail by the dog runs or by the lake, tossing bread to the ducks, but the couple was nowhere to be found.
Jake glanced at Holly. She looked so worried that it was all he could do not to turn to her and take her into his arms.
But why? Why was he acting this way?
He’d woken up early, overwhelmed to see her in his bed. He’d lain there for a while, unable to think, or to process his feelings. He’d been so overwhelmed that he’d closed up and acted like a jerk.
“I don’t know where else to try looking for them,” Holly said, breaking into his thoughts. “We’ve tried everywhere I can think of.”
He hoped he wasn’t adding to Holly’s worries. She had enough to think about with her cousin without having to try to figure out what was going through his mind.
But what was he supposed to say? he wondered. That last night meant more to him than he could ever express, so he was closing up and acting like it never happened?
“Can you think of somewhere Dylan would go to get away? A favorite place he likes to go to think things through?”
“He often shoots hoops when he has to think,” Jake said. “At the Boys’ Center. But I’m not convinced he and Lizzie would be playing basketball right now.”
“Perhaps they’re walking the grounds? The surrounding woods?”
“It’s worth a try.”
Ten minutes later, they arrived at the Boys’ Center. Dylan’s car wasn’t in the lot. But Jake found it parked in a deserted stretch by the woods.
“Oh, thank God,” Holly said. She turned to him. “Is it possible they want to be alone? I mean, us included? Maybe they’d rather not have us barge in? I didn’t even think of that until just now.”
“Well, they did turn off their cell phones,” Jake said. “Since you can see who’s calling, it might mean that they want to be alone, just the two of them. Our hearts were in the right place by trying to find them, but perhaps we should give them a little space.”
“Maybe I should head back to Lizzie’s and just be there,” Holly said. “So when she comes home, she can talk to me about it if she wants.”
“Good idea,” he said.
He felt her stiffen for a moment. Because you can’t wait to get rid of me? she was no doubt wondering.
Hardly, he told her silently.
Jake turned the car around and headed toward Lizzie’s. They drove in silence.
Four hours and much pacing later, Holly heard the front door open and slam shut. A moment later she heard a crash—the sound of breaking glass.
“Lizzie?” Holly called, hurrying down the stairs. She peered into the living room. It was empty. “Lizzie, are you okay?” she called out.
No response.
Holly headed into the kitchen. Lizzie was kneeling in front of a broken mug, a broom and dustpan in her hands. But she was just staring at the red pieces of ceramic. “Lizzie?”
No response. And then tears.
“Lizzie, honey?”
“Did you read the Troutville Gazette today?” she asked. “I’m canceling my subscription, that’s for sure,” she added before bursting into tears.
“Oh, Lizzie,” Holly said, pulling her cousin into her arms. Lizzie sobbed against her.
“I’m trying to be strong about this,” Lizzie said. “Dylan said it’s my—our—best defense. But it’s so hard. It was just so mean. And so personal. Because of the baby, I guess. This innocent, sweet baby shouldn’t have to be the center of this disgusting animosity. I won’t stand for it.” Her anger chased away her tears. “Oh, Holly, you had the right idea by leaving this town!”
“You have every right to live in this town in peace,” Holly said. “Troutville is your home.”
“But I’m completely helpless against these horrible attacks—if it’s not the culprit, it’s a gossip rag or Pru Dunhill attacking me.”
“So let’s fight back.”
Lizzie turned to her. “How?”
“Write an editorial,” Holly suggested. “At least you’ll be able to say what you want, get your side told. If no one chooses to believe you, that’s their problem. But you might feel better.”
Lizzie liked the idea. She jumped up and grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil and sat down at the kitchen table. “What should I say?”
Holly smiled and sat down beside her. “Tell this town who you are and how you feel. That’s it.”
“I’m going to do just that,” she said, heading to the refrigerator. She pulled out ajar of pickles and a bottle of ketchup. She sliced two pickles, arranged them on a plate, and then squirted ketchup all over them. She popped one in her mouth, then added more ketchup to the pickles on the plate.
“You’re pregnant, all right,” Holly said, winking at Lizzie.
Lizzie laughed. “For the past few weeks, I’ve been doing my best to ignore my strange cravings,” Lizzie said. “Just in case anyone was paying too close attention—which they were! If I’d known I’d be outed in that gossip rag anyway, I would have been eating my ketchup-pickle slices and cheddar cheese cubes all over town.” She popped a couple of gooey pickle slices in her mouth. Then she shoved the plate away and burst into tears.
“If you’d found out by reading the column ... I would have been devastated. I’m so glad I got to tell you first—well, sort of, anyway. At least I told my mom before she heard about it in town. I had to call her at the crack of dawn. Oh, God, Holly, everything is so crazy.” She placed her hand on top of Holly’s. “Oh, hell. I’m doing it again. I’m pregnant, Holly-Molly! That’s what’s important. I’m so happy. And Dylan, he’s beside himself with joy. We’re going to have a baby!”
“I’m so happy for you, Lizzie.”
“And this means a little first cousin once removed for you,” Lizzie said. “Or is that second cousin?”
Holly laughed. “I have no idea!”
“If it’s a girl, Dylan wants to name her Lizzie, after me. Isn’t that sweet?”
Holly nodded, her heart too full to speak. “And if it’s a boy?”
“Dylan Dunhill IV,” Lizzie said.
“I’m so happy for you, Lizzie,” Holly said, squeezing her cousin into another hug.
“I know you are, Hol,” Lizzie said. “I’m sorry for not telling you sooner than I did. There’s so much I haven’t told you, so much I’ve been keeping to myself.”
“You can tell me, anything, Lizzie. And I promise I’ll never judge you again.”
And she wouldn’t.
“I wonder what Dylan’s mother is thinking right now,” Lizzie said.
“She’s going to be a grandmother,” Holly said. “I’m sure she’s thrilled.”
“Well, my mother was thrilled, that’s for sure. But my mom loves me. Dylan’s mother doesn’t even like me,” she added with a frown. “And she might not be too thrilled about my being pregnant before the wedding.”
“I have a feeling she’ll be so happy about her little grandchild-to-be that she’ll forget about the timing,” Holly said.
Lizzie didn’t look convinced.