True believer - Nicholas Sparks [76]
“Yes?”
“I know you may not believe it, but the last thing I want to do is hurt you or do anything that would make you regret that we’ve met.”
Though she smiled briefly at his comment, she turned away without a word. The lack of response spoke volumes, and for the first time in his life, Jeremy was not only disappointed in himself but suddenly wished he were someone else entirely.
Eleven
Birds were chirping, the fog had begun to thin, and a raccoon scurried across the bungalow porch when Jeremy’s cell phone rang. The harsh gray light of early morning passed through the torn curtains, smacking him in the eye like a prizefighter’s punch.
A quick glance at the clock showed it was 8:00 a.m., way too early to talk to anyone, especially after pulling an all-nighter. He was getting too old for nights like that, and he winced before groping for the phone.
“This better be important,” he grumbled.
“Jeremy? Is that you? Where have you been? Why haven’t you called? I’ve been trying to reach you!”
Nate, Jeremy thought, closing his eyes again. Good God, Nate.
Meanwhile, Nate was going on. He had to be a long-lost relative of the mayor, Jeremy thought. Put these two in a room, hook them up to a generator while they talked, and they could power Brooklyn for a month.
“You said you were going to keep in touch!”
Jeremy forced himself to sit upright on the side of his bed, though his body was aching.
“Sorry, Nate,” he said. “I’ve just been tied up, and the reception isn’t too good down here.”
“You’ve got to keep me filled in! I tried calling you all day yesterday, but I kept getting put through to your voice mail. You can’t imagine what’s going on. I’ve got producers hounding me left and right, coming to me for ideas about what you might want to discuss. And things are really moving. One of them suggested that you do a piece on these high-protein diets. You know, the ones that tell you that it’s okay to eat all the bacon and steaks you want and still lose weight.”
Jeremy shook his head, trying to keep up.
“Wait? What are you talking about? Who wants me to talk about what diet?”
“GMA. Who did you think I was talking about? Of course, I said I’d have to get back to them, but I think you’d be a natural at this.”
The man sometimes gave Jeremy a headache, and he rubbed his forehead.
“I have no interest in talking about a new diet, Nate. I’m a science journalist, not Oprah.”
“So you put your own spin on it. That’s what you do, right? And diets have something to do with chemistry and science. Am I right or am I right? Hell, you know I’m right, and you know me—when I’m right, I’m right. And besides, I’m just tossing out ideas here—”
“I saw the lights,” Jeremy interrupted.
“I mean, if you have something better, then we can talk. But I’m flying blind here, and this diet thing might be a way to get your foot—”
“I saw the lights,” Jeremy said again, raising his voice.
This time Nate heard him. “You mean the lights in the cemetery?” he asked.
Jeremy continued to rub his temples. “Yeah, those lights.”
“When? Why didn’t you call me? This gives me something to run with. Oh, please tell me you got it on film.”
“I did, but I haven’t seen the tapes yet, so I don’t know how they turned out.”
“So the lights are for real?”
“Yeah. But I think I found out where they’re coming from, too.”
“So it’s not real . . .”
“Listen, Nate, I’m tired, so listen for a second, will you? I went to the cemetery last night and saw the lights. And to be honest, I can see why some people consider them to be ghosts, because of the way they appear. There’s a pretty interesting legend attached to them, and the town even has a tour planned for the weekend to capitalize on it. But after I left the cemetery, I went looking for the source and I’m pretty sure I found it. All I have to do is figure out how and why it happens when it does, but I have some ideas about that, too, and hopefully, I’ll have it figured out by later today.”
Nate, for a rare moment, had nothing to say. Like the trained professional he was, however, he recovered quickly.
“Okay, okay,