“I’ll do that, you get the boxes,” Josie took the blanket from Cole, grabbed her sweater, and headed to the center of the clearing.
So much for hoping she’d want to skip the boxes and just make out. “Did anybody ever tell you that you got a one-track mind when it comes to books?”
“Sorry,” she said. She worked at sounding apologetic, but failed miserably.
He just chuckled. When he’d gathered the boxes, he joined her on the blanket. “Here you go. Which one do you want to go through first?”
“The books.”
“How did I know?” He set the box in front of her and said, “Go for it.”
She raised up on her knees, but instead of digging into the box, leaned across it and took his face in her hands. She kissed him, a gentle pressure against his lips that ended almost as soon as it began.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Then dove into the box.
Cole propped an arm on his bent knee. He rubbed his tingling lower lip with his thumb. He just watched her. The late afternoon sun bathed her in golden splendor. She took his breath away.
“Look! More Mark Twain.”
He leaned forward and peered into the box. “How many?”
“I don’t know. Two. No, three.”
“What else?”
“Several books of poetry, some Shakespeare. Fabulous.”
The scene rocketed him back, and he again found himself wishing she’d look at him the way she was eying those books. Just like old times.
“What about this one?” He tapped the other box that contained the old football and trophies.
She shifted her focus. “Didn’t you play football?”
He took the ball from her, tossed it into the air, then caught it. “I made the Varsity my sophomore year.”
“Did you letter?”
“Naw. I was second string.”
“Well, here. Now you have. Hey, it’s even from our old alma mater, Houston High.”
“No kiddin’?”
“Look at this annual.”
“How old is it?”
“Wow, it’s dated 1962.”
She flipped open the book in her hand. The binding crackled with the effort. A musty smell filled the air around them. “The owner’s name was Charlie Craig.”
“Come on.”
“See for yourself.” She handed him the annual. “Do you think you’re related?”
“Probably a cousin.” He flipped to the ads in the back and read an inscription:
“Charlie,
You’re a great guy and a pretty good football player. Have a great summer. Hope we have some classes together next year. Judy.
“Don’t you hate those things?” Josie said.
Cole just shrugged. “I think it’s kinda nice.” The truth was, he’d never had an annual. His parents hadn’t been able to afford one, and he couldn’t see spending the money he made from his paper route on anything that wasn’t necessary.
“Oh, look. An old wooden box.”
She lifted it out, pushed the cardboard box aside, and set it carefully on the blanket between them.
“Looks like a man’s jewelry box.”
She glanced up at him. A light danced in her eyes. “Really?”
“Open it up and see what’s inside.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears and carefully raised the lid to the old oak box. It was lined in worn green velvet. Several items sat in the compartments of a divided tray. “Look. Medals.”
Cole examined them. “They’re for track.”
“The two of you had more than a name in common. You were both good athletes. Can’t say much for his taste in cufflinks.”
She held up a pair with black and white cows on a green enamel background. “Whoa. Must have gotten those in 4-H.”
“Or Future Dairymen of America.”
They both laughed. She lifted the tray and looked underneath. “Oh, Cole . . .” she breathed.
“What is it?”
She held up a tarnished chain with a medallion hanging from it. “It’s a senior key.”
He swallowed hard.
She delved back inside. “And a class ring.” She lifted it out and turned it so she could look at the inside of the ring. “I just realized something.”
“What?”
“His initials were C.C.”
“So?”
“The same as yours. Hold out your hand.”
“Why?”
She grabbed his right hand and before he figured out her intent, she’d slipped it onto his finger. “It fits!”
Cole looked down at the gold ring. Its red stone twinkled back at him. A knot formed somewhere in the region of his gut.
“What’s wrong?” She squeezed his hand until he looked at her. “Cole?”
“It’s nothing.”
She laced her fingers with his. “Tell me.”
He lifted one shoulder, then admitted, “It’s stupid.”
“Come on. You told me I could tell you anything. Now, it’s your turn.”
“It just brings back old memories. Some, not so good.”
“Memories of your dad’s illness?”
“Yeah. That and . . . other things.” Memories of a young girl he’d wanted to get to know, but who’d always been out of his reach.
“You missed out on high school.” She paused, then added, “You were pretty popular. Good at sports, too. You may have gotten an athletic scholarship if . . .”
“If Dad hadn’t got sick?”
Josie nodded.
Cole hadn’t thought about that time in his life for years. He didn’t particularly want to rehash it now, but she wouldn’t let it go.
“Did he ever get any better?”
“He recovered, but the doctor said he’d never be able to do hard labor again.”
“How is he now?”
“He died a couple of years back.”
Josie squeezed his hand again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. He was a good man, Cole.”
“Thanks.”
“What about your mom. How is she?”
He nodded. “Doin’ great. She moved to Maryville a few years back to live with her sister. I’m gone so much of the time, I guess she got lonely. Aunt Shirley has a condo in one of those retirement communities.”
He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.
“So you’re all alone out on your farm now?”
“Yep.”
She quieted for a moment, and he figured she was about to ask him why he would say he was gone most of the time. But instead, she asked, “What would you have done?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you hadn’t had to quit school, what would you have done? What were your goals? What did you dream of becoming?”
Her question hit a little close to home. He didn’t want to get into any of this right now. It was too soon.
“I don’t know. Doesn’t really matter. A body can’t go back and change things, and there’s no use wonderin’ what might have been.”
“But it doesn’t have to be about what might have been. Tonight, it could be about dreaming a little.” She looked up at him, a starry look shining in her pretty eyes. “Don’t you ever dream, Cole?”
Seemed he’d been dreaming about her most of his life. He wondered what she’d say if he told her that.
“What’s that grin about?” she asked.
“Memories. They weren’t all bad.”
“Tell me,” she encouraged softly.
“Well, you know, I was only sixteen when dad . . . when he had his first heart attack. I was just finishing my sophomore year. I didn’t have any big plans for the future. My goals were more immediate.”
“Like what?”
“I was looking forward to you moving up to the high school in the fall.”
“You were?”
He nodded slowly, watching for her reaction.
“Why?”
“I planned on asking you to the homecoming dance, a
nd the junior-senior prom.”
“Me?” she asked. The word came out as a high-pitched squeak. “Why?”
He hadn’t expected that question. “You don’t believe me?”
“I’m wondering what kind of an impression a sixth grader with no social skills could make on an eighth grader.”
He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheeks. “Even then, there was just something about you. Something special and intriguing.”
She shook her head. “There was no intrigue. I didn’t have friends because I didn’t fit in.”
“There was that, too. You always seemed lonely to me.”
Her laugh sounded false and nervous. “It may have seemed that way when we were in middle school, but after you moved up to the high school—”
“Nothing changed. Come on Josie, I saw you. With the schools side by side, I saw you ever now and then. You still sat by yourself at recess and read.” He paused before continuing. “I wanted to get to know you. Keep you company. Talk about the books you loved so much.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He laughed. Time to lighten things up a little. “Boys were supposed to play at recess. Not read. I had my rep to consider.”
She pushed at his shoulder and he fell backwards against the blanket. He propped himself up on one arm.
“Were you really going to ask me to the homecoming dance?”
“Yep.” He looked down at the heavy, unfamiliar ring on his finger. “I would have gotten one of these my junior year. I’d been savin’ up for it.”
Josie stretched out beside him on the blanket and ran her index finger around the stone in the ring, but she didn’t speak. He tipped her chin up until their eyes met. A sudden sadness filled her golden gaze. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
She shook her head. “I was just thinking about how our lives might have been different. You know, if you hadn’t been forced to quit school.”
He cradled her warm, soft cheek in his hand. “You would have still been valedictorian.”
“Maybe.”
“For sure. You’d probably have just seen me as a dumb jock.”
“I doubt that. Those boys who used to call you that awful name, they were the stupid ones. I bet between them, they didn’t have a 2.0.”
He laughed at her characterization of them. Her hair fell across her shoulder to the blanket. He couldn’t resist testing its texture. It felt soft and silky as it glided through his fingers. He remembered again the time she’d tripped that boy in Town Square who’d been calling him “coal bucket.” She must have been about fifteen. A freshman in high school. But by then, he’d already dropped out.
A silence ensued. She rolled onto her stomach and pulled up some grass, then let it fall through her fingers. “I have a confession.”
“What’s that?”
“I thought you were pretty cute back then. In guess I had a little crush on you after you rescued me from Bobby Jones.”
“Seems I was destined to be your knight.” He sat up. “Come here.”
She pushed herself up and scooted over until he could pull her close. With her back pressed against his chest, he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“What about now?” He teased her temple with a kiss. “Still think I’m cute?”
She nodded.
“So, you had a secret crush on me.” That tidbit of information surprised him. “I never would have thought you noticed anything outside the pages of those books you read.”
She sat straighter and said, “I noticed a lot of things. Who knows, if you had still been at the high school when I got there, maybe we would have dated.”
“I doubt it.”
She looked back at him. “What makes you say that?”
“Come on, Josie.” He tried to pull her back into his arms, but she resisted. He sighed. “You know your folks wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“Why not?”
“Like I said, no use wastin’ time on ‘what ifs’. I’ve done okay for myself.”
Looking into her wide, trusting eyes, he felt more than a twinge of guilt for the game he was playing. But if he told her the truth now, when she seemed ready to give them a chance . . . He just couldn’t risk messing it all up. Not now.
“No. I want to know. Why do you think my parents wouldn’t have allowed me to see you?”
“You know why, Josie.”
She turned back around. Her head fit nice against his shoulder.
“I guess I know what you’re thinking. That they wouldn’t allow their little princess of the Ridge to date someone from the back side of town, right?”
She was getting defensive.
“You sayin’ I’m wrong?”
“Yes. My parents weren’t like that, Cole.”
He didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking. He stood and walked away a few paces.
Josie followed. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“There’s no point in this. We can’t rewrite history.”
She took in their surroundings. “Everyone says this place, this clearing in the tall pines, is magical. I’ve heard stories about it all my life. That this is where the angels live. That they bless the very ground we’re standing on.” She spun back to face him. “I heard someone say the stars up here come down so close that they almost touch the ground.”
“I never took you for the fanciful type, Josie Lee.”
She shrugged and looked away. “I always wondered about it. No one ever brought me here, so I guess I just let my imagination take flight.”
He ran his hands from her shoulders to her wrists. “I would’ve brought you here.”
She cast him a sideways look. “I only saw you a couple of times after you left school.”
“I tried to keep my distance.”
“Why?”
“Come on Josie, you know that my payin’ you the least bit of attention wouldn’t have gone unnoticed. And then there was the fact that you were so young, and I was a dropout.”
“You couldn’t help that. I wouldn’t have looked at you that way.”
“That’s easy to say now, when you don’t really have to make the choice.”
She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and raised her chin a notch. “You don’t give me enough credit. And while we’re on the subject, can I just say that I get really tired of having to live up to what people expect of me? I wish . . .”
“What?”
She crossed her arms and said a little defiantly, “I wish I could just be plain old Josie.”
He rubbed his chin. “And how is plain old Josie different from the Josie who was valedictorian and is now Dr. Allen?”
“Let’s just say, for starters, that I don’t really subscribe to the code of conduct expected of a librarian.”
“Is there a for instance in there?”
“Like being a member of the Association of University Women. I’d rather watch grass grow.”
Cole thought she’d probably fit right in with that group, but he asked, “What would you rather do?”
She walked back to the blanket, sat, pulled her knees up to her chest and started rocking back in forth. Cole followed.
“I have dreams just like anyone else.”
He could almost see the excitement pulse through her. She chanced a look at him.
“I’ve always wanted to own a little shop where I could sell old and rare books. Kind of like the ones we found in that box. A place where you could sit and drink coffee or hot tea and enjoy a good read.”
He stood looking down at her. “So what’s stoppin’ you?”
She focused on a spot across the clearing. It was as if someone had turned a light off inside her. “Mrs. McKay wouldn’t approve. She expects me to live, breathe, and sleep the library.”
He dropped down beside her. “Are you sayin’ you wish you could be something other than the town librarian?”
“Oh, no. I’ve wanted to be a librarian since I was a little girl.”
“But you want more.”
She nodded.
“So, what are you going to do about it?”
She shrugged. “What can I do?”
“Mrs. McKay and this town don’t own you, Josie Lee.”
Her laugh was harsh. “You have no idea. What about you? Are you happy being the town’s handyman?”
He paused, considering his response. “Keeps life simple when you live up to people’s expectations.”
“Sure. But does it make you happy?”
He scooted across the blanket so that he could bump her arm with his. “You make me happy.”
Her smile was a slice of pure heaven.
“I have an idea,” he said. “For the rest of the evening, let’s forget Mrs. McKay and the town’s expectations and just be ourselves.”
“Sounds good,” she said. “Let’s let this place work its magic. Let’s turn back time and pretend we’re both simple high school students.”
He slid his arm around her waist. “Come here.” He pulled her over so that she sat between his legs. She leaned back against this chest, resting her head on his shoulder as she looked up at the sky. A beautiful East Tennessee sunset painted it all blues, purples, and grays with a brilliant flash of red-orange.
“So, are you going to keep it?” she asked.
“What?”
She lifted his hand from her waist. “The ring.”
He looked at the class ring, then back at her. “Not if I can help it.”
Josie frowned. “I don’t see why not.” She traced the faceted cuts of the stone with the tip of her fingernail. “You said you always wanted one.”
“True, but you know, it’s customary for a guy to give his class ring to his girl.”
Her frown cleared. “Oh.” She turned back to the sunset, leaning against his chest again.
Cole hesitated. He felt just like a teenager. All nervous and uncertain. The girl of his dreams finally seemed within his reach, but just like in young love, one wrong move, and it could all be over. Still, maybe they could go back in time. Pretend she wasn’t the town’s golden girl, and he wasn’t just a Craig from the wrong side of the ridge, even if it was just for tonight.
He circled her waist with his arms and removed the class ring from his finger. Holding it in front of her, he took a deep breath. Just go for it.
“Josie Lee Allen, will you be my girl?”
Only You Page 10
