The Nearness of You

by Dorothy Garlock

  “I’ll be right back,” Garrett said before grabbing Ken Hickman’s forgotten meal and heading into the crowd.

  As he went, Lily watched the way people greeted Garrett. As a police officer, cutting a fine figure in his uniform, he commanded a certain amount of respect, but it was more than that. Lily saw it in the smiles, shouted greetings, and pats on the shoulder that her lifelong friend received.

  But then she noticed something else.

  Patsy Vowell looked up from where she’d been painting a sign to hang above her family’s booth of baked goods, and noticed Garrett. A couple of years younger than Lily and only recently graduated from high school, Patsy’s face instantly lit up; a grin blossomed across her pretty face as her eyes focused on Garrett before darting away, then back, and then away again. Her feelings for him were as obvious as if they’d been written on her sign. She was smitten with Garrett.

  And why shouldn’t she be? He was a handsome, friendly, charming young man who had a bright future ahead of him as a police officer. If Garrett played his cards right, there was no reason to think he wouldn’t someday become chief. Any girl would be lucky to have him for her husband. Surely Patsy Vowell wasn’t the only potential suitor he had in town.

  So why was he still single?

  When Garrett returned after receiving a hearty thanks from Ken Hickman, Lily decided to find out.

  “Did you see the way Patsy Vowell was looking at you?” she asked.

  Garrett peered through the windshield even as he backed the squad car into the road. “No,” he answered. “Should I have?”

  “It would’ve been awfully hard to miss,” Lily joked. “She was practically sizing you up for a tuxedo to wear at your wedding.”

  “I thought she was going with Shane Gritton,” Garrett said, gaze steady on the road. To Lily, it felt as if he was deflecting the conversation, like the subject made him a little uncomfortable.

  “Maybe, but I don’t think Shane would stand a chance if you wanted to take Patsy to the festival.”

  “What about you?” he asked, finally turning to look at her, pouncing on what she’d said. “Are you going with anyone?”

  Oddly, Lily’s first thought was of the man she’d spoken with in front of the bank. Even though he was handsome enough, there was something about the stranger that had bothered her from the start. Maybe it was that his smile was too bright, his words too polished, as if he had used them dozens of times before. Later, as her mind had wandered while she sat in front of the card catalog, she’d even wondered if their meeting hadn’t been an accident, if he hadn’t bumped her on purpose. Regardless, Lily was glad she’d likely never see the man again.

  “No, I don’t,” she answered.

  “Well, neither do I, which got me thinking,” Garrett said. He paused to lick his lips. “What would you say if I picked you up Friday night, we got a bite to eat, played a few games at the festival, and then maybe danced a little in the square? Would that interest you?”

  Listening to her oldest friend, someone she considered the brother she’d never had, Lily felt something tickling at the edge of her thoughts, a kind of suspicion. She couldn’t be hearing him right, could she? In the end, there was only one way to find out for sure.

  “Are you…are you asking me on a date…?”

  For as long as Garrett could remember, he had been in love with Lily Denton. He didn’t know when it had happened, not exactly. It could have all started out on the playground at the Hooper’s Crossing Elementary School, the two of them racing around among the other kids. Maybe his feelings for her had suddenly sparked to life as they sat side by side at the drugstore’s soda counter, sipping chocolate milk shakes. Or it was possible that it went all the way back to the beginning, as Garrett stood in his grandparents’ front yard, scared and nervous to start a new life, staring across the street at a little girl, his heart beating a little faster as she raised her hand to wave. In the end, it didn’t matter. All he knew was that he couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t completely smitten with her.

  After all, what was there about Lily that wasn’t to like? Without question, she was the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on. Her long blond hair, the intoxicating depth of her eyes, the gentle sweep of her smile, the smattering of freckles across her cheeks; to Garrett, no Hollywood starlet could hope to hold a candle to Lily. But it was more than that. Much more. She was fair and honest, kind and considerate. He could listen to the sound of her voice for hours. Whenever Lily laughed, Garrett couldn’t help but smile; strangely enough, on the few times he’d heard her cry, there had been a sort of beauty in that, too. He wanted nothing more than to be by her side, to hold her hand, to love her and be loved in return.

  But there was a problem. A big one.

  Garrett had never been able to tell Lily what was in his heart.

  Over and over, he’d practiced the things he wanted to say to her. He rehearsed his lines while lying in bed at night, unable to sleep. He daydreamed about conversations they might have while sitting at his desk in school. He paced back and forth on the sidewalk, muttering to himself, his hands waving through the air, probably looking like a crazy person to anyone passing by. He did it so often that he thought he had an answer for any response Lily might give.

  But whenever Garrett told himself that today was the day, that he would confess his feelings for her after school or sitting in the park or as soon as the movie was over, his courage failed him. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

  Though one time, he had come awfully close…

  It was the January when both Garrett and Lily were fifteen. They’d been sitting on the railing of the Dentons’ porch, their feet swinging above the white-capped bushes, watching as snowflakes fell from the dishwater-gray clouds. A big storm had blanketed the area with so much snow that school had been canceled, which was rare for their neck of the woods. The street was still and quiet save for the scrape of a neighbor’s shovel. Garrett watched as Lily, blond hair peeking out from under her wool hat, stuck out her tongue to snag the drifting flakes, the snow melting the very instant they landed. He couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she was. He was still staring when she turned and caught him.

  “What is it?” Lily asked.

  “Nothing…” Garrett muttered then looked away, hoping she’d think his cheeks were red from the cold rather than embarrassment. “I was just daydreaming.”

  Lily nodded, then said, “Days like this make me think of my mother.”

  Garrett froze. Sarah Denton had died shortly before he’d come to live with his grandparents and in the years since, he had only heard Lily talk about her mother a handful of times. “Really?” he asked tentatively.

  “All the memories I have of her are in the spring and summer,” she explained, staring off into the distance as snow swirled around her face. “I remember chasing fireflies in the backyard, helping her tend to the flower beds, standing together in the driveway at night as she pointed up at the stars, but there’s nothing in the winter.”

  At that, Lily fell momentarily silent. Even if Garrett had had an idea of what to say, he would’ve held his tongue.

  “I mean, I know we had to have baked cookies, sat in front of the fire, or built a snowman,” she continued, “but I don’t even remember Christmastime, hanging decorations or opening presents. Nothing.” Lily paused, then took off her mitten and held her bare hand out to the snow; flakes peppered her skin, melting much as they had on her tongue, though some lingered for a second before disappearing. Garrett saw tears in her eyes. “So whenever it snows I think about her. About all the memories that are gone for good no matter how bad I wish I could find them.”

  Garrett knew exactly what Lily was talking about. He’d lost both of his parents and his own memories were just as scattered, a piece here, another there. In the end, maybe that was why Lily confided in him, because he alone could understand.

  “Do you think about your parents much?” she asked.

  �
��Sure,” he answered with a shrug. “Usually around my birthday and during the holidays. Times that I can remember us all together.”

  “Does it ever make you cry?”

  For a second, Garrett thought about lying, about pretending to be tougher than he was, but it quickly passed. “Every once in a while.”

  “Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever stop,” Lily said as one of the tears that had been building broke free and slid down her cheek.

  “Maybe it gets easier when we grow up,” he suggested hopefully.

  “I’m scared of getting older.”

  “Why?” Garrett asked, surprised by her words.

  “Because it’s so easy to get hurt,” Lily answered.

  “What do you mean? How?”

  “Look at my dad,” she explained, glancing over her shoulder toward the house; Morris was inside, working in his office. “He loved my mom with all his heart, enough to marry her and start a family, but one day she was just gone and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Now he’s all alone.”

  “He still has you,” Garrett said, trying to cheer her up.

  But she shook her head. “It’s not the same.”

  They fell silent as a car struggled down the snow-covered street, its back end fishtailing, the driver pushing the engine too hard.

  “Do you think you’ll ever get married?” Lily asked.

  The suddenness of her question caught Garrett completely off-guard. Without thinking, he nearly answered. The words were right there on the tip of his tongue.

  I want to marry you.

  For so long, Garrett had been searching for the perfect time to tell Lily how he really felt about her. Should he just blurt it out? He’d considered writing her a letter or saying it over the telephone. But right here, right now, was the perfect opportunity, the one he’d been waiting for.

  But when he opened his mouth, nothing came out.

  In that moment, Garrett told himself that because of the quiet of the snowy afternoon, his declaration would be heard all over town. But that was just an excuse, a pathetic one at that. Staring at Lily, Garrett understood a painful truth. Deep down, he knew that if he uttered those fateful words, all he’d get in return was disappointment. Lily didn’t look at him the same way. She saw him as a brother, not a boyfriend. He was as close as family, but there would always be a distance between them.

  “Someday, maybe…” he mumbled as he looked away, the inside of his head a mix of confusion and sadness, with a touch of anger for being such a coward added for good measure. “What about you?” he asked.

  Looking back on that long-ago conversation, Garrett couldn’t remember Lily’s answer. Another man, or in this case boy, might have paid closer attention, attempting to glean some pearl of wisdom from her words, but he’d been overwhelmed, struggling to make sense of his weakness. Eventually, he had returned to pining for her, doing his best to convince himself that his assumptions were wrong, that they could be together, that someday they would be married. And so the question remained the same it had always been.

  Could he tell Lily the truth? Could he confess to loving her?

  Slowly, Garrett turned to look at her. Lily watched as his mouth opened as if he was about to say something, but then it abruptly shut. His expression seemed conflicted. Finally, his eyes returned to the road. “No…it’s nothing like that…” he said. “I just thought that if you didn’t have anything planned…” Garrett’s voice trailed off, leaving an awkward silence behind.

  Staring at him, something teased at the edges of Lily’s thoughts. Surely, he hadn’t been asking her on a date. Not Garrett. The idea was ridiculous. They had been neighbors for as long as she could remember. Garrett was one of her oldest friends, her partner in mischief, as close as a shadow, the brother she’d never had. There weren’t any romantic feelings between them. There couldn’t be.

  “I’ll have to check with Jane and see if—” she began before catching herself. Jane was far away in New York City and wasn’t coming back for the fall festival. Not a chance. But making plans with Jane was such a habit that Lily hadn’t thought twice before speaking.

  Garrett replied with a short nod, looking so dispirited that Lily couldn’t help but feel bad for him. So she decided to cheer him up.

  “But if I’m free on Friday, I’d love to spend some time with you.”

  His face instantly brightened. “You would?” he asked.

  “Sure. It’d be fun.”

  Just like that, whatever awkwardness there had been between them vanished and things went back to the way they’d always been. They spent the rest of the short drive home talking and laughing, both of them unaware that the next day, something would happen that would change both of their lives forever.

  Chapter Eight

  THE SUN WAS SINKING toward the treetops when Boone drove past the sign announcing their arrival in Hooper’s Crossing. The trip had been long, periodically broken by bathroom breaks, refills at gas stations, what passed for a meal at a roadside diner, and occasional stops so that Daisy could run into the woods to do her business. And through it all, Clive had never stopped talking.

  “Look at this place! Isn’t this exciting!” the writer gushed, punctuating his words with another sneeze, his allergy to dogs still as strong as ever.

  Boone stared out the Chrysler’s windows as they neared the center of town. He wasn’t impressed. It wasn’t all that different from dozens of other forgettable places he’d been to over the years. There was a department store, a barbershop, a post office, and on and on, although there were more cars and people than Boone had expected; the festival really did seem to be a big deal, not that it mattered. He already couldn’t wait to leave.

  But the way Clive was acting, it was is if he wanted to move here. “A bakery!” he said, pointing like a tourist. “And…and…” he began before dissolving into another fit of sneezes, “…and a movie theater, too!”

  “What are you getting so worked up about?” Boone asked, shooting the young writer a confused look. “You live in New York City. We’ve got everything this place has a thousand times over.”

  “I don’t know,” Clive answered with a shrug. “I just like it. It reminds me of those…those…” Another sneeze. “…towns you see in the movies.”

  “That’s all make-believe. Places like those don’t exist.”

  “Sure they do,” he said, pointing to the buildings as they drove past.

  Boone shook his head. What was the point in arguing with someone so naive? “So where’s the hotel?” he asked. Just then, all he wanted was to get out of the damn car, stretch his legs, grab a bite to eat, take a hot shower, and get some sleep. The sooner all of that happened, the better.

  But then Clive threw a bucket of cold water on his plans. “Hotel?” he repeated. “We’re not staying in one.”

  “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “Well, there are only two hotels in town and both of them are…are…” Sneeze. “…full up with all the people who’ve come to see the festival.”

  “So where are we staying?”

  The writer smiled. “Don’t worry. We won’t have to sleep in the car,” he explained, throwing a glance at Daisy as if he was thankful he wouldn’t spend the night sneezing. “The magazine rented us a room in a lady’s house.”

  “And you didn’t see any reason to tell me this before now?”

  Clive’s smile faltered. “You didn’t ask.”

  Boone struggled to hold back his temper, angry at yet another indignity to add to the growing pile. He was convinced that all Walter would’ve had to do was pick up the phone, call one of the hotels, explain that he was sending someone from Life magazine to cover the festival, and they would have been immediately booked in the nicest room in the joint. But Walter hadn’t done that. No, this was another form of punishment Boone was meant to suffer.

  “I hope you’re not mad,” Clive said, sensing Boone’s displeasure.

  “In the end, it doesn’t
really matter,” he replied. “We’re only going to be staying in this two-bit town for one night, anyway.”

  “Wait…what…but I thought we were going to…to…” More sneezing. “…be here until the festival was over. We’re supposed to interview the mayor and people around town. Walter said that we had to—”

  “I don’t care what Walter said!” Boone argued, his frustrations finally boiling over. “Listen close, because this is how things are going to be. We’ll get up tomorrow morning, I can take a few pictures, you’ll jot a few things down in your notebook, and then we’re getting the hell out of this nowhere town. You got that?”

  For a moment, Boone thought that Clive was going to argue, but instead the writer looked away. “Sure thing,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

  “Now, where’s this place we’re staying?”

  Clive gave him the address, explaining through another hail of sneezes that it was somewhere on the north end of Main Street.

  For the first time since they’d left the city, Boone drove on in silence.

  It took them a while to find the right address; Boone felt like he was driving in circles as he peered through the fading light at street signs. Clive continued to sneeze as he struggled to make sense of the directions he’d been given. But eventually Boone slowed in front of an impressive, two-story house.

  “That’s it,” Clive confirmed, checking the numbers on the mailbox.

  The home rose among a quartet of evergreens, as if it, too, was reaching toward the sky. There was a wraparound porch, gabled windows, a stand-alone garage, and well-manicured bushes. Boone turned into the drive and shut off the engine, the motor clicking as it began to cool.