For a moment, neither of them seemed able to move, until Lexie drew a long breath and glanced away. Still shaken, she raised her bottle slightly.

“I think I need another one of these,” she said with a tentative smile. “Would you like one?”

Jeremy cleared his throat. “I already got one. Thanks.”

“I’ll be back in a minute. I should check on the sauce, too.”

Lexie headed for the kitchen on unsteady legs, and she stopped before the stove. The wooden spoon had left a smudge of tomato sauce on the counter after she had picked it up to stir, and she put it in the same spot when she was ?nished. Then, opening the refrigerator, she took out another beer and set it on the counter, along with the olives. She tried to open the jar, but because her hands were trembling, she couldn’t get the grip she needed.

“Need a hand with that?” Jeremy asked.

She looked up, surprised. She hadn’t heard him come in, and wondered if her feelings were as obvious as they felt.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she said.

Jeremy took the olives from her. She watched the sinewy muscles of his forearms as he twisted the cap off. Then, eyeing her beer, he opened that as well and handed it to her.

He wouldn’t meet her eyes, nor did he seem to want to say anything more. In the stillness of the room, she watched him lean against the counter. The overhead light was on, but without the fading light of dusk streaming through the windows, it seemed softer than it had when they started cooking.

Lexie took a mouthful of beer, savoring the taste, savoring everything about the evening: the way she looked and felt and the way he’d stared at her. She was close enough to reach out and touch Jeremy and for a ?eeting moment almost did, but instead, she turned away and went to the cupboard.

She took out some olive oil and balsamic vinegar and put some of each in a small bowl, along with salt and pepper.

“Everything smells delicious,” he said.

Finished with the dressing, she reached for the olives and put them into another small bowl. “We still have an hour before dinner,” she said. Talking seemed to keep her steadier. “Since I didn’t plan on having company, these will have to do for an appetizer. If it was summer, I’d say we could wait on the porch outside, but I tried that earlier and it’s freezing. And I should warn you that the chairs in the kitchen aren’t too comfortable.”

“Which means?”

“Would you like to go sit in the living room again?”

He led the way, paused at the easy chair to pick up Doris’s book, then watched as Lexie took a seat on the couch. She put the olives on the coffee table, then shifted slightly trying to get comfortable. When he took a seat beside her, he could smell the sweet, ?oral scent of the shampoo she’d used. From the kitchen, he heard the faintest strains of the radio.

“I see you have Doris’s notebook,” she said.

He nodded. “She let me borrow it.”

“And?”

“I just had a chance to look over the ?rst few pages. But it has a lot more detail than I thought it would.”

“Now do you believe that she predicted the sex of all those babies?”

“No,” he said. “Like I said, she might have recorded only the ones she was right about.”

Lexie smiled. “And the different way the entries look? Sometimes pens, sometimes pencils, sometimes it looks like she was in a rush, sometimes she took her time.”

“I’m not saying the book doesn’t look convincing,” he said. “I’m just saying that she can’t predict the sex of babies by holding someone’s hand.”

“Because you say so.”

“No. Because it’s impossible.”

“Don’t you mean statistically improbable?”

“No,” he said, “impossible.”

“Fair enough, Mr. Skeptic. But how’s your story going?”

Jeremy began picking at the label of his beer with his thumb. “Good,” he said. “If I can, I’d still like to ?nish looking through some of the diaries at the library, though. Maybe ?nd something to spice up the story.”

“Have you ?gured it out?”

“Yes,” he said. “Now all I have to do is prove it. Hopefully, the weather will cooperate.”

“It will,” she said. “It’s supposed to be foggy all weekend. I heard it on the radio earlier.”

“Good,” he said. “But the bad part is that the solution isn’t nearly as much fun as the legend.”

“Was it worth coming down, then?”

He nodded. “Without a doubt,” he said, his voice quiet. “I wouldn’t have missed this trip for the world.”

Hearing his tone, she knew exactly what he meant, and she turned toward him. Propping her chin on her hand, she put a leg on the couch, liking how intimate it felt, how desirable he made her feel.

“So what is it?” she asked, leaning forward slightly. “Can you tell me the answer?”

The lamplight behind her gave her the faintest halo, and her eyes glowed violet beneath dark lashes.

“I’d rather show you,” he said.

She smiled. “Since I’m bringing you back, anyway, you mean. Right?”

“Right.”

“And you want to go back . . . ?”

“Tomorrow, if we can.” He shook his head, trying to regain control of his feelings, not wanting to ruin this, not wanting to push too hard, but wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms. “I’ve got to meet Alvin. He’s a friend of mine—a cameraman from New York. He’s coming to get some professional footage.”

“He’s coming to Boone Creek?”

“Actually, he’s probably arriving in town as we speak.”

“Right now? Shouldn’t you be there?”

“Probably,” he admitted.

She thought about what he’d said, touched by the effort he had made to come today.

“Okay,” she said. “There’s an early ferry we can catch. We can be back in town around ten.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“And you’re going to ?lm tomorrow night?”

He nodded. “I left a note telling Alvin to go to the cemetery tonight, but we have to film elsewhere, too. And tomorrow’s going to be a full day, anyway. There are some loose ends I have to tie up.”

“What about the barn dance? I thought we had a deal that if you solved the mystery, I’d dance with you.”

Jeremy lowered his head. “If I can make it, I will. Believe me. There’s nothing I want more.”

Silence ?lled the room.

“When are you going back to New York?” she ?nally asked.

“Saturday,” he said. “I have to be in New York for a meeting next week.”

Her heart sank at his words. Though she already knew it was coming, it still ached to hear him say it. “Back to the exciting life, huh?”

He shook his head. “My life in New York isn’t all that glamorous. For the most part, it’s about work. I spend most of my time either researching or writing, and those are solitary endeavors. Actually, it can get pretty lonely at times.”

She raised a brow. “Don’t try to make me feel sorry for you, because I’m not buying it.”

He glanced at her. “What if I mentioned my creepy neighbors? Would you feel sorry for me then?”

“No.”

He laughed. “I don’t live in New York for the excitement, no matter what you might think. I live there because my family’s there, because I’m comfortable there. Because it’s home to me. Just like Boone Creek is home to you.”

“I take it your family is close.”

“Yeah,” he said, “we are. We get together almost every weekend at my mom and dad’s in Queens for these great big dinners. My dad had a heart attack a few years back and it’s tough on him, but he loves those weekends. It’s always a real zoo: a bunch of kids running around, Mom cooking in the kitchen, my brothers and their wives standing around in the backyard. Of course, they all live nearby, so they’re over there even more often than I am.”

She took another drink, trying to picture the scene. “Sounds nice.”

“It is. But it’s hard sometimes.”

She looked at him. “I don’t understand.”

He was quiet as he rotated the bottle in his hands. “Sometimes I don’t, either,” he said.

Perhaps it was the way he said it that kept her from saying anything; in the silence, she watched him closely, waiting for him to continue.

“Did you ever have a dream?” he asked. “Something you wanted so badly and just when you think you’re about to reach out and grab it, something else takes it away?”

“Everyone has dreams that don’t come true,” she answered, her voice guarded.

His shoulders slumped. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to tell me,” she said.

“There’s something you don’t know about me,” he said, turning to face her again. “Actually, it’s something I’ve never told anyone.”

At his words, she felt her shoulders tense. “You’re married,” she said, leaning back.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then you’re seeing someone in New York and it’s serious.”

“No, that’s not it, either.”

When he said no more, she thought she saw a shadow of doubt cross his face.

“It’s okay,” she offered. “It’s none of my business, anyway.”

He shook his head and forced a smile. “You were close the ?rst time,” he said. “I was married. And divorced.”

Expecting far worse, she almost laughed aloud in relief, but his somber expression restrained her.

“Her name was Maria. We were ?re and ice at ?rst, and no one could understand what we saw in each other. But once you got past the surface, we shared the same values and beliefs about all the big things in life. Including our desire for children. She wanted four, I wanted ?ve.” He hesitated when he saw her expression. “I know that’s a lot of kids these days, but it was something we were both used to. Like me, she’d come from a large family.” He paused. “We didn’t know there was a problem right away, but after six months, she still wasn’t pregnant, and we went in for some routine tests. She turned out to be ?ne, but for whatever reason, it turned out that I wasn’t. No reason given, no answer possible. Just one of those things that sometimes happen to people. When she found out, she decided she didn’t want to stay in the marriage anymore. And now . . . I mean, I love my family, I love spending time with them, but when I’m there, I’m always reminded of the family that I’ll never be able to have. I know that sounds strange, but I guess you’d have to be me to understand how much I wanted kids.”

When he ?nished, Lexie simply stared at him, trying to make sense of what he’d just told her. “Your wife left you because you found out that you couldn’t have kids?” she asked.

“Not right away. But in the end, yes.”

“And there was nothing the doctors could do?”

“No.” He seemed almost embarrassed. “I mean, they didn’t say it was utterly impossible for me to have a child, but they made it clear that it would most likely never happen. And that was enough for her.”

“What about adoption? Or ?nding a donor? Or . . .”

Jeremy shook his head. “I know it’s easy to think she was heartless, but it wasn’t like that,” he said. “You had to know her to fully understand. She grew up thinking that she’d be a mother. After all, her sisters were all becoming mothers, and she would have been a mother, too, if it wasn’t for me.” He glanced up toward the ceiling. “For a long time, I didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t want to think I was defective, but I was. And I know it sounds ridiculous, but after that, I just felt like less of a man. Like I wasn’t worthy enough for anyone.”

He shrugged, his voice growing more matter-of-fact as he went on. “Yeah, we could have adopted; yeah, we could have found a donor. I suggested all of that. But her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted to be pregnant, she wanted to experience childbirth, and it went without saying that she wanted it to be her husband’s. After that, things started going downhill. But it wasn’t just her. I changed, too. I was moody . . . I started traveling even more for my work . . . I don’t know . . . maybe I drove her away.”

Lexie studied him for a long moment. “Why are you telling me all this?”

He took a sip of his beer and scratched at the label on the bottle again. “Maybe it’s because I want you to know what you’re getting into with someone like me.”

At his words, Lexie felt the blood rush to her cheeks. She shook her head and turned away.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

“What makes you think I don’t mean them?”

Outside, the wind began to pick up, and she heard the faint tones of the wind chime near the door.

“Because you don’t. Because you can’t. Because it’s not who you are, and it has nothing to do with what you just told me,” she said. “You and I . . . we’re not the same, as much as you want to think we are. You’re there, I’m here. You have a big family that you see frequently, I only have Doris, and she needs me here, especially now, considering her health. You like cities, I like small towns. You have a career you love, and I . . . well, I have the library and I love that, too. If one of us is forced to change what we have, what we’ve chosen to make of our lives . . .” She closed her eyes brie?y. “I know that’s possible for some people to do, but it’s a hard row to hoe when it comes to building a relationship. You said yourself that the reason you fell in love with Maria was because you shared the same values. But with us, one of us would have to sacri?ce. And if I don’t want to have to sacri?ce, I don’t think it’s fair to expect you to sacri?ce, either.”

She lowered her gaze, and in the ensuing stillness, he could hear the clock above the ?replace ticking. Her lovely face was clouded with sadness, and he was suddenly gripped by the fear that he might be losing any chance he had with her. Reaching over, he used his ?nger to turn her cheek toward him.

“What if I don’t think it’s a sacri?ce?” he said. “What if I tell you that I’d rather be with you than go back to my old life?”

His ?nger felt electric against her skin. Trying to ignore the sensation, she held her voice steady.

“Then I would tell you that I’ve had a wonderful time in the last couple of days, too. That meeting you has been . . . well, amazing. And that yes, I’d like to think that there was some way to make this work. And that I’m ?attered.”

“But you don’t want to try to make this work.”

Lexie shook her head. “Jeremy . . . I . . .”

“It’s okay,” he said, “I understand.”

“No,” she said, “you don’t. Because you heard what I said, but you didn’t listen. It means that, of course, I’d like it to work between us. You’re intelligent and kind and charming . . .” She broke off, hesitating. “Okay, maybe you’re a little too forward at times . . .”

Despite the tension, he couldn’t help laughing. She went on, choosing her words carefully.

“The reason I’m saying this is that the last two days have been incredible, but I have things in my past that left me wounded, too,” she said. Quickly and calmly, she told him about Mr. Renaissance. When she ?nished, she looked almost guilty. “Maybe that’s why I’m trying to be practical about this. I’m not saying that you’ll disappear like he did, but can you honestly say that we’ll feel the same way about each other if we have to travel to spend time together?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice ?rm. “I can.”

She looked almost sad at his answer. “You can say that now, but what about tomorrow? What about a month from now?”

Outside, the wind made a whistling sound as it moved around the cottage. Sand blew against the windows, and the curtains swayed as the air forced its way through the old panes.

Jeremy stared at Lexie, realizing once again that he loved her.

“Lexie,” he said, his mouth going dry. “I . . .”

Knowing what he was going to say, she raised her hands to stop him. “Please,” she said. “Don’t. I’m not ready for that yet, okay? For now, let’s just enjoy dinner. Can we do that?” She hesitated before gently setting her bottle of beer on the table. “I should probably go check on it and get the linguine going.”

With a sinking feeling, Jeremy watched as she rose from the couch. Pausing in the doorway of the kitchen, she turned around to face him.

“And just so you know, I think what your ex-wife did was terrible and she’s nowhere near as great as you tried to make her out to be. You don’t leave your husband for something like that, and the fact that you can say anything kind about her at all says that she’s the one who made the mistake. Believe me—I’ve seen what it takes to be a good parent. Having kids means taking care of them, raising them, loving and supporting them, and none of those things have anything to do with who makes them one night in the bedroom or the experience of being pregnant.”

She turned in the direction of the kitchen, vanishing from sight. He could hear Billie Holiday singing “I’ll Be Seeing You” on the radio. With his throat tightening, Jeremy rose to follow her, knowing that if he didn’t seize the moment, it might never come again. Lexie, he suddenly understood, was the reason he’d come to Boone Creek; Lexie was the answer he’d been looking for all along.

He leaned against the doorway of the kitchen, watching as she set another pot on the stove.

“Thank you for saying what you said,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” she responded, refusing to meet his eyes. He knew she was trying to remain strong in the face of the same emotions he was experiencing, and he admired both her passion and her reserve. Yet he took a step toward her, knowing he had to take a chance.

“Will you do me a favor?” he asked. “Since I might not make it tomorrow night,” he said, reaching out his hand, “would you mind dancing with me?”

“Here?” She looked up, startled, her heart racing. “Now?”

Without another word, he moved closer, taking her hand in his. He smiled as he raised her hand to his mouth and kissed her ?ngers before lowering it into position. Then, with his eyes locked on hers, he slipped his other arm around her back and gently pulled her toward him. As his thumb began to gently trace the skin of her hand and he whispered her name, she found herself beginning to follow his lead.

The melody played softly in the background as they began to rotate in slow circles, and though she felt embarrassed at ?rst, she ?nally leaned into him, relaxing into the warmth of his body. His breath warmed her neck, and as his hand tenderly skimmed her back, she closed her eyes and leaned further into him, dropping her head onto his shoulder and feeling the last of her resolve slip away. This, she realized, was what she had wanted all along, and in the tiny kitchen, they moved in rhythm to the gentle music, each of them lost in the other.

Beyond the windows, the waves continued to roll, washing toward the dune. The cold wind whistled around the cottage, vanishing into the ever-blackening evening. Dinner simmered quietly on the stove.

When at last she lifted her head to meet his eyes, he wrapped his arms around her. He brushed his lips against hers once, and then twice, before pressing them close. After pulling back slightly to make sure she was okay, he kissed her again, and she kissed him back, reveling in the strength of his arms. She felt his tongue against hers, the moisture intoxicating, and brought a hand to his face, tracing the stubble on his cheek. He responded to her touch by kissing her cheek and neck, his tongue hot against her skin.

They kissed in the kitchen for a long time, both of them savoring the other without hurry or urgency, until Lexie ?nally pulled back. She turned off the burner behind her, then, taking his hand again, she led him back to her bedroom.

They made love slowly. As he moved above her, he whispered how much he loved her and breathed her name like a prayer. His hands never stopped moving, as if proving to himself that she was real. They stayed in bed for hours, making love and laughing quietly, savoring each other’s touch.

Hours later, Lexie rose from the bed and slipped into a bathrobe. Jeremy put on his jeans, and joining her in the kitchen, they ?nished cooking dinner. After Lexie had lit a candle, he stared at her over the small ?ame, marveling at the lingering ?ush of her cheeks, as he devoured the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted. For some reason, the act of eating together in the kitchen, him shirtless and her naked beneath the thin robe, seemed almost more intimate than anything else that had happened that night.

Afterward, they went back to bed, and he pulled her close, content to simply hold her. When Lexie eventually fell asleep in his arms, Jeremy watched her sleep. Every now and then, he brushed the hair from her eyes, reliving the evening, remembering it all, and knowing in his heart that he’d met the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

Just before dawn, Jeremy woke and realized that Lexie was gone. He sat up in bed, patted the covers as if to make sure, then hopped out of bed and put on his jeans. Her clothes were still on the ?oor, but the bathrobe she’d worn during dinner was gone. Snapping his jeans, he shivered slightly in the chill and crossed his arms as he made his way down the hall.

He found her in the easy chair near the ?replace, a cup of milk on the small table beside her. In her lap was Doris’s notebook, opened near the beginning, but she wasn’t looking at it. Instead, she was gazing out the dark window toward nothing at all.

He took another step toward her, the floorboards squeaking underfoot, and she started at the sound. When she saw him, she smiled.

“Hey there,” she said.

In the dim light, Jeremy sensed that something was wrong. He

sat on the armrest beside her and slipped his arm around her. “Are you okay?” he murmured. “Yeah,” she said, “I’m okay.” “What are you doing? It’s the middle of the night.” “I couldn’t sleep,” she said. “And besides, we have to be up in a

little while to catch the ferry.” He nodded, though he wasn’t completely satis?ed by her answer. “Are you mad at me?” “No,” she said. “Are you sorry about what happened?” “No,” she said, “it’s not that, either.” She didn’t, however, add

anything else, and Jeremy pulled her closer, trying to believe her. “It’s an interesting book,” he said, not wanting to press her. “I hope to spend a bit of time with it later.” Lexie smiled. “It’s been a while since I’ve looked through it.

Seeing it here brings back memories.” “How so?” She hesitated, then pointed down at the open page in her lap.

“When you were reading it earlier, did you get to this entry?” “No,” he answered. “Read it,” she said. Jeremy read the entry quickly; in many ways, it seemed identi

cal to the others. The ?rst names of the parents, the age, how far along the woman was in her pregnancy. And the fact that the woman would have a girl. When he ?nished, he looked at her.

“Does it mean anything to you?” she asked.

“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” he admitted.

“The names Jim and Claire don’t mean anything to you?”

“No.” He scrutinized her face. “Should they?”

Lexie lowered her eyes. “They were my parents,” she said, her

voice quiet. “This is the entry that predicted I would be a girl.” Jeremy raised his eyebrows quizzically. “That’s what I was thinking about,” she said. “We think we know each other, but you didn’t even know the names of my parents. And I don’t know the names of your parents.”

Jeremy felt a knot beginning to form in his stomach. “And that bothers you? That you don’t think we know each other that well?”

“No,” she said. “What bothers me is that I don’t know if we ever will.”

Then, with a tenderness that made his heart ache, she wrapped her arms around him. For a long time, they sat in the chair holding each other, both of them wishing they could stay in that moment forever.