True believer - Nicholas Sparks [23]
Jeremy glanced toward his car, then back to Doris again, thinking about what she’d just said. It made perfect sense, but . . .
“You do realize that you’re changing your story from what you wrote in the letter.”
“No,” she said, “I’m not. All I said was that there were mysterious lights in the cemetery that were credited to an old legend, that most people think ghosts are involved, and that the kids from Duke couldn’t figure out what the lights really were. All that’s true. Read the letter again if you don’t believe me. I don’t lie, Mr. Marsh. I may not be perfect, but I don’t lie.”
“So why do you want me to discredit the story?”
“Because it’s not right,” she said easily, as if the answer was common sense. “People always traipsing through, tourists coming down to camp out—it’s just not very respectful for the departed, even if the cemetery is abandoned. The folks buried out there deserve to rest in peace. And combining it with something worthy like the Historic Homes Tour is just plain old wrong. But I’m a voice in the wilderness these days.”
Jeremy thought about what she’d said as he pushed his hands into his pockets. “Can I be frank?” he asked.
She nodded, and Jeremy shifted from one foot to the other. “If you believe your mom was a psychic, and that you can divine water and the sex of babies, it just seems . . .”
When he trailed off, she stared at him.
“Like I’d be the first to believe in ghosts?”
Jeremy nodded.
“Well, actually, I do. I just don’t believe they’re out there in the cemetery.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve been out there and I don’t feel the presence of spirits.”
“So you can do that, too?”
She shrugged without answering. “Can I be frank now?”
“Sure.”
“One day, you’re going to learn something that can’t be explained with science. And when that happens, your life’s going to change in ways you can’t imagine.”
He smiled. “Is that a promise?”
“Yes,” she said, “it is.” She paused, looking him in the eye. “And I have to say that I really enjoyed our lunch. It isn’t often that I have the company of such a charming young man. It almost makes me feel young again.”
“I had a wonderful time, too.”
He turned to leave. The clouds had drifted in while they’d been eating. The sky, while not ominous, looked as if winter wanted to settle in, and Jeremy tugged at his collar as he made his way to the car.
“Mr. Marsh?” Doris called out from behind him.
Jeremy turned. “Yes?”
“Say hi to Lex for me.”
“Lex?”
“Yeah,” she said. “At the reference desk in the library. That’s who you should ask for.”
Jeremy smiled. “Will do.”
Four
The library turned out to be a massive Gothic structure, completely different from any other building in town. To Jeremy, it looked as if it had been plucked from a hillside in Romania and dropped in Boone Creek on a drunken dare.
The building occupied most of the block, and its two stories were adorned with tall, narrow windows, a sharply angled roof, and an arched wooden front door, complete with oversize door knockers. Edgar Allan Poe would have loved the place, but despite the haunted house architecture, the townsfolk had done what they could to make it seem more inviting. The brick exterior—no doubt reddish brown at one point—had been painted white, black shutters had been put up to frame the windows, and beds of pansies lined the walkway out front and circled the flagpole. A friendly, carved sign with italicized gold script welcomed all to BOONE CREEK LIBRARY. Still, the overall appearance was jarring. It was, Jeremy thought, kind of like visiting a rich kid’s elegant brownstone in the city, only to have the butler meet you at the door with balloons and a squirt gun.
In the cheerfully lit,