True Believer Part 12

You’re reading novel True Believer Part 12 online at LightNovelFree.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit LightNovelFree.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy!

"I've never noticed, to tell you the truth. I'm sure it would be easy to find out, though."

"Do you know how many trains use the trestle?"

"Again, I'm not sure. Sometimes I hear the whistle at night, and I've had to stop more than once in town at the crossing to let the train pa.s.s, but it's not as if I could tell you for certain. I do know they make a lot of s.h.i.+pments from the mill, though. That's where the train actually stops."

Jeremy nodded as he stared at the trestle.

Lexie smiled and went on. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that maybe the light from the train s.h.i.+nes as it goes over the trestle and that's what's causing the lights, right?"



"It did cross my mind."

"That's not it," she said, shaking her head.

"You're sure?"

"At night, the trains pull into the yard at the paper mill so they can be loaded the following day. So the light on the locomotive is s.h.i.+ning in the opposite direction, away away from Riker's Hill." from Riker's Hill."

He considered that as he joined her at the railing. The wind whipped her hair, making it look wild. She tucked her hands into her jacket pockets.

"I can see why you liked growing up here," he commented.

She turned so that she could lean back against the railing, and stared toward the downtown area-the neat little shops festooned with American flags, a barbershop pole, a small park nestled at the edge of the boardwalk. On the sidewalk, pa.s.sersby moved in and out of the establishments, carrying bags. Despite the chill, no one seemed to be rus.h.i.+ng at all.

"Well, it is a lot like New York, I have to admit."

He laughed. "That's not what I meant. I meant that my parents probably would have loved to raise their kids in a place like this. With big green lawns and forests to play in. Even a river where you could go swimming when it gets hot. It must have been . . . idyllic."

"It still is. And that's what people say about living here."

"You seem to have thrived here."

For an instant, she seemed almost sad. "Yeah, but I went off to college. A lot of people around here never do. It's a poor county, and the town has been struggling ever since the textile mill and phosphorous mine closed, and a lot of parents don't put much stock into getting a good education. That's what's hard sometimes-trying to convince some kids that there's more to life than working in the paper mill across the river. I live here because I want to live here. I made the choice. But for a lot of these people, they simply stay because it's impossible for them to leave."

"That happens everywhere. None of my brothers went to college, either, so I was sort of the oddball, in that learning came easy for me. My parents are working-cla.s.s folks and lived in Queens their whole life. My dad was a bus driver for the city. Spent forty years of his life sitting behind the wheel until he finally retired."

She seemed amused. "That's funny. Yesterday I had you pegged as an Upper East Sider. You know, doorman greeting you by name, prep schools, five-course meals for dinner, a butler who announces guests."

He recoiled in mock horror. "First an only child and now this? I'm beginning to think that you perceive me as spoiled."

"No, not spoiled . . . just . . ."

"Don't say it," he said, raising his hand. "I'd rather not know. Especially since it isn't true."

"How do you know what I was going to say?"

"Because you're currently oh for two, and neither was particularly flattering."

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"Yes, you did," he said with a grin. He turned around and leaned his back against the rail as well. The breeze stung his face. "But don't worry, I won't take it personally. Since I'm not some spoiled rich kid, I mean."

"No. You're an objective journalist."

"Exactly."

"Even though you refuse to have an open mind about anything mysterious."

"Exactly."

She laughed. "What about the supposed mysteriousness of women? Don't you believe in that?"

"Oh, I know that's true," he said, thinking of her in particular. "But it's different than believing the possibility of cold fusion."

"Why?"

"Because women are a subjective mystery, not an objective one. You can't measure anything about them scientifically, although, of course, there are genetic differences between the genders. Women only strike men as being mysterious because they don't realize that men and women see the world differently."

"They do, huh?"

"Sure. It goes back to evolution and the best ways to preserve the species."

"And you're an expert on that?"

"I have a bit of knowledge in that area, yes."

"And so you consider yourself an expert on women, too?"

"No, not really. I'm shy, remember?"

"Uh-huh, I remember. I just don't believe it."

He crossed his arms. "Let me guess . . . you think I have a problem with commitment?"

She looked him over. "I think that about sums it up."

He laughed. "What can I say? Investigative journalism is a glamorous world, and there are legions of women who yearn to be part of it."

She rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease," she said. "It's not like you're a movie star or sing in a rock band. You write for Scientific American. Scientific American."

"And?"

"Well, I may be from the South, but even so, I can't imagine your magazine is deluged with groupies."

He gazed at her triumphantly. "I think you just contradicted yourself."

She raised an eyebrow. "You think you're very clever, Mr. Marsh, don't you?"

"Oh, so we're back to 'Mr. Marsh' now?"

"Maybe. I haven't decided yet." She tucked a blowing strand of hair behind her ear. "But you missed the fact that you don't have to have groupies to . . . get around. All you need is to hang out in the right kind of places and pour on the charm."

"And you think I'm charming?"

"I would say some women would find you charming."

"But not you."

"We're not talking about me. We're talking about you, and right now you're doing your best to change the subject. Which probably means that I'm right but that you don't want to admit it."

He stared at her admiringly. "You're very clever, Ms. Darnell."

She nodded. "I've heard that."

"And charming," he added for good measure.

She smiled at him, then glanced away. She looked down the boardwalk, then across the street toward the town, then up at the sky before she sighed. She wasn't going to respond to his flattery, she decided. Nonetheless, she felt herself blus.h.i.+ng.

As if reading her mind, Jeremy changed the subject. "So this weekend," he started. "What's it like?"

"Won't you be here?" she asked.

"Probably. For part of it, anyway. But I was just curious how you felt about it."

"Aside from making a lot of people's lives crazy for a few days?" she asked. "It's . . . needed at this time of year. You go through Thanksgiving and Christmas in a rush, and then nothing is on the schedule until spring. And meanwhile, it's cold and gray and rainy . . . so years ago, the town council decided to do the Historic Homes Tour. And ever since then, they've just added more festivities to it in the hope of making for a special weekend. This year it's the cemetery, last year the parade, the year before that, they added a Friday night barn dance. Now it's becoming part of the tradition of the town, so most of the folks who live here look forward to it." She glanced at him. "As small-town forgettable as it sounds, it's actually sort of fun."

Watching her, Jeremy raised his eyebrows, remembering the barn dance from the brochure. "They have a dance?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

She nodded. "On Friday night. In Meyer's tobacco barn downtown. It's quite the s.h.i.+ndig, with a live band and everything. It's the only night of the year that the Lookilu Tavern is pretty much empty."

"Well, if I happen to go, maybe you'll dance with me."

She smiled before finally eyeing him with an almost seductive look. "I'll tell you what. If you solve the mystery by then, I'll dance with you."

"You promise?"

"I promise," she said. "But our deal is that you have to solve the mystery first."

"Fair enough," he said. "I can't wait. And when it comes to the Lindy or the fox-trot . . ." He shook his head, drawing a long breath. "Well, all I can say is that I hope you can keep up."

She laughed. "I'll do my best."

Crossing her arms, Lexie watched the sun trying and failing to break through the gloom. "Tonight," she said.

He frowned. "Tonight?"

"You'll see the lights tonight. If you go to the cemetery."

"How do you know?"

"The fog is coming in."

He followed her gaze. "How can you tell? It doesn't seem any different to me."

"Look across the river behind me," she said. "The tops of the smokestacks on the paper mill are already hidden by clouds."

"Yeah, sure . . . ," he said, trailing off.

"Turn around and look. You'll see."

He looked over his shoulder and back, then looked once more, studying the outlines of the paper mill. "You're right," he said.

"Of course, I am."

"I guess you peeked when I wasn't looking, huh?"

"No," she said. "I just knew."

"Ah," he said. "One of those pesky mysteries again?"

She pushed herself from the railing. "If that's what you want to call it," she said. "But c'mon. It's getting a little late, and I have to get back to the library. I have to read to the children in fifteen minutes."

As they made their way back to the car, Jeremy noticed that the top of Riker's Hill had become hidden as well. He smiled, thinking, So that's how she did it. See it over there, figure it must be happening across the river, too. Tricky.

"Well, tell me," he said, doing his best to hide his smirk, "since you seem to have hidden talents, how can you be so sure the lights will be out tonight?"

It took a moment for her to answer.

"I just am," she said.

"Well, I guess it's settled, then. I should probably head out there, shouldn't I?" As soon as he spoke the words, he remembered the dinner he was supposed to attend and he suddenly winced.

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"Oh, the mayor is setting up a dinner with a few people he thought I should meet," he said. "A little get-together or something."

"For you?"

He smiled. "What? You're impressed by that?"

"No, just surprised."

"Why?"

"Because I hadn't heard about it."

"I only found out this morning."

"Still, it's surprising. But I wouldn't worry about not seeing the lights, even if you do go to dinner with the mayor. The lights don't usually come out until late, anyway. You'll have plenty of time."

True Believer Part 12

You're reading novel True Believer Part 12 online at LightNovelFree.com. You can use the follow function to bookmark your favorite novel ( Only for registered users ). If you find any errors ( broken links, can't load photos, etc.. ), Please let us know so we can fix it as soon as possible. And when you start a conversation or debate about a certain topic with other people, please do not offend them just because you don't like their opinions.


True Believer Part 12 summary

You're reading True Believer Part 12. This novel has been translated by Updating. Author: Nicholas Sparks already has 526 views.

It's great if you read and follow any novel on our website. We promise you that we'll bring you the latest, hottest novel everyday and FREE.

LightNovelFree.com is a most smartest website for reading novel online, it can automatic resize images to fit your pc screen, even on your mobile. Experience now by using your smartphone and access to LightNovelFree.com