True believer - Nicholas Sparks [87]
On the porch, Lexie tugged the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She was a big girl and she’d get over him, just as she’d gotten over the others. She was certain about it. But even with the comfort of that realization, the roiling sea reminded her again of her feelings for Jeremy, and it took everything she had to keep her tears in check.
It had seemed relatively simple when Jeremy set out, and he’d rushed through his room at Greenleaf, making the necessary plans as he did so. Grab the map and his wallet, just in case. Leave the computer because he didn’t need it. Ditto his notes. Put Doris’s book in his leather satchel and bring it along. Write a note for Alvin and leave it at the front desk, despite the fact that Jed didn’t seem too pleased about it. Make sure he had the recharger for his phone—and go.
He was in and out in less than ten minutes, on his way to Swan Quarter, where the ferry would take him to Ocracoke, a village in the Outer Banks. From there, he’d head north on Highway 12 to Buxton. He figured it was the route she would have taken, and all he had to do was follow the same path and he’d reach the place in just a couple of hours.
But while the drive to Swan Quarter had been an easy one on straight and empty roads, he’d found himself thinking about Lexie and pressed the accelerator harder, trying to ward off the jitters. But jitters were just another word for panic, and he didn’t panic. He prided himself on that. Nonetheless, whenever he was forced to slow the car—in places like Belhaven and Leechville—he found himself tapping the wheel with his fingers and muttering under his breath.
It was an odd feeling for him, one that only grew stronger as he drew nearer to his destination. He couldn’t explain it, but somehow he didn’t want to analyze it. For one of the few times in his life, he was moving on autopilot, doing exactly the opposite of what logic demanded, thinking only about how she’d react when she saw him.
Just when he thought he was beginning to understand the reason for his odd behavior, Jeremy found himself at the ferry station staring at a thin, uniformed man who barely looked up from the magazine he was reading. The ferry to Ocracoke, he learned, didn’t run with the same regularity as the one from Staten Island to Manhattan, and he’d missed the last departure of the day, which meant he could either come back tomorrow or cancel his plan altogether, neither of which he was willing to consider.
“Are you sure there’s no other way that I can get to Hatteras Lighthouse?” he asked, feeling his heart pick up speed. “This is important.”
“You could drive it, I suppose.”
“How long would that take?”
“Depends on how fast you drive.”
Obviously, Jeremy thought. “Let’s say I drove fast.”
The man shrugged, as if the whole topic bored him. “Five or six hours maybe. You’d have to head north till you get to Plymouth, then take 64 over Roanoke Island, then into Whalebone. From there, you head south into Buxton. The lighthouse is right there.”
Jeremy checked his watch; it was already coming up on one o’clock; by the time he got there, Alvin would probably be pulling into Boone Creek. No good.
“Is there another place to catch the ferry?”
“There’s one out of Cedar Island.”
“Great. Where’s that?”
“It’s about three hours in the other direction. But again, you’d have to wait until tomorrow morning.”
Over the man’s shoulder, he saw a poster displaying the various lighthouses of North Carolina. Hatteras, the grandest of them all, was in the center.
“What if I told you this was an emergency?” he asked.
For the first time, the man looked up.
“Is it an emergency?”
“Let’s just say that it is.”
“Then I’d call the Coast Guard. Or maybe the sheriff.”
“Ah,” Jeremy said, trying to remain patient. “But what you’re telling me is that there’s no way for me to get out there right now? From here, I mean.”
The man brought