True believer - Nicholas Sparks [46]
“Like you’ve ever thought about things like that.”
She regretted the sharpness in her tone the moment she lashed out at Jeremy. He, however, seemed unfazed.
“I have,” he said. “And believe me, if I had kids, I wouldn’t live where I do. I have a ton of nephews and nieces who live in the city, and every one of them lives in a neighborhood with lots of other kids and people watching out for them. In many ways, it’s a lot like this place.”
She said nothing, wondering if he was telling the truth.
“Look,” he offered, “I’m not trying to pick a fight here. My point is simply that kids turn out okay as long as the parents are involved, no matter where they live. It’s not like small towns have a monopoly on values. I mean, I’m sure if I did some digging, I’d find lots of kids that were in trouble here, too. Kids are kids, no matter where they live.” He smiled, trying to signal that he didn’t take what she’d said personally. “And besides, I’m not exactly sure how we got on the subject of kids, anyway. From this point on, I promise not to mention it again. All I was trying to say was that I was surprised that you lived in New York and only a couple of blocks from me.” He paused. “Truce?”
She stared at him before finally releasing her breath. Maybe he was right. No, she knew he was right. And, she admitted, she’d been the one who escalated the whole thing. Muddled thoughts can do that to a person. What on earth was she getting herself into here?
“Truce,” she finally agreed. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You have to do the driving. I didn’t bring a car.”
He looked relieved. “Let me find my keys.”
Neither was particularly hungry, so Lexie directed Jeremy to a small grocery store, and they emerged a few minutes later with a box of crackers, some fresh fruit, various kinds of cheese, and two bottles of Snapple.
In the car, Lexie set the food at her feet. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to see?” Lexie asked.
“Riker’s Hill. Is there a road that leads to the top?”
She nodded. “It’s not much of a road. It was originally used for logging, but now it’s mainly deer hunters. It’s rough, though—I don’t know if you want to bring your car up there.”
“No big deal. It’s a rental. And besides, I’m getting used to bad roads around here.”
“Okay,” she said, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Neither said much as they headed out of town, past Cedar Creek Cemetery and over a small bridge. The road was soon lined with ever-thickening groves of trees on both sides. The blue sky had given way to an expanse of gray, reminding Jeremy of winter afternoons much farther north. Occasionally, flocks of starlings broke into flight as the car passed, moving in unison as if tethered together by string.
Lexie was uneasy in the silence, and so she began describing the area: real estate projects that had never come to fruition, the names of trees, Cedar Creek when it could be seen through the thicket. Riker’s Hill loomed off to the left, looking gloomy and forbidding in the muted light.
Jeremy had driven this way after leaving the cemetery the first time and had turned around about here. It had been just a minute or so too soon, he learned, because she told him to turn at the next intersection, which seemed to loop around toward the rear of Riker’s Hill. Leaning forward in her seat, she peered out the windshield.
“The turn is just up ahead,” she said. “You might want to slow down.”
Jeremy did, and as