Ellie found a five-dollar bill and slid it across the counter, then tucked the package beneath her arm and headed for the door. “Thanks again, Sam.” Zora opened the door. “And give me a call if anything else comes in you think I might be interested in.”
“Will do. You ladies have a nice weekend, and be careful out there. Believe it or not, they’re calling for more snow.”
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Zora asked as they set off for campus.
Ellie glanced at the package. “Eventually.” She held the book tight and stepped onto the slushy sidewalk that wound along small shops between tall gray office buildings. “But it will have to wait until later. Otherwise, I’m going to be late.” She walked on a few steps. “What’s with you today anyway? I’m sure it’s just another catalog.”
“I don’t know,” said Zora. “I have a funny feeling. What if it’s a gift from a secret admirer?”
Ellie rolled her eyes. “You’ve been reading too many romance novels.”
“Very funny. Listen, I’m going to leave a little early today and meet Trey for dinner and drinks. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course. With all the work I’ve had you doing over the past few weeks, you’ve earned it. I appreciate it though. I wouldn’t have been able to finish the application without you.”
“You’re welcome. So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night, right?” Zora moved out of the way of a sudden splash of mud from an impatient driver.
Ellie drew a blank. “What’s tomorrow night? Oh, Bill. I almost forgot. I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try my best.”
“Please don’t bail on me again. Bill is a good guy, and he’s dying to meet you. Besides, you already know he’s a patient man, which is difficult to find.”
“And how do I know that?”
“Because”—Zora arched an eyebrow—“any man willing to give you another chance after standing him up twice must have the patience of Job.”
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
Out of theBlue
Ellie swayed to a Miles Davis tune as she reached into the kitchen cupboard for a wineglass. She glimpsed the package sitting on the counter.What if Zora’s right?It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that Ellie could have a secret admirer. After all, there was much—intelligence, beauty, eloquence—to admire. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she told herself as she poured the wine.
Nevertheless, her curiosity had gotten the better of her, so she sat down at the table and unwrapped the package. Inside was a book with a note taped to the front cover. She glanced at the signature and caught her breath.
Dearest Ellie,
I hope this letter finds you doing well. I suspect you remember me, but in case you don’t, I’m the devilishly handsome man from Sims Chapel who one summer taught you how to fish and ferried you across the lake in search of arrowheads. Once upon a time, I told you my dream was to write the next great American novel. I’m not sure how great it is, but it’s nonetheless a published work. Since I credit you as the inspiration for this story, I wanted you to have a copy as something to remember me by.
It's hard to believe nine years have come and gone since I last saw you, and while I realize we didn’t part on the most pleasant of terms, I can only hope life has been as kind to you as you were to me that summer. And despite everything, I think of you often and wish you health, happiness, and love.
Sincerely,
Jack
When she finished reading, Ellie put down the letter and wiped her eyes. She was shocked at how easily his words stirred emotions she thought were nonexistent. Over the years, Jack had crossed her mind more than a few times, especially on warm summer nights. She often wondered what he was up to and if he had ever settled down with someone. Even once she’d considered a trip to Sims Chapel to see if he was still navigating the points and channels or scouring the islands. But something, be it her mother’s voice in her head, her own stubbornness, or life itself, had always held her back. Suddenly all the loneliness and regret she’d been ignoring for years came over her in a flood. Ellie reached for the wine.
After composing herself, she cracked the cover and read the dedication.
To the one who holds my destiny in her hands, my keeper of stars.
Helpless against Jack’s words, tears—the tears Ellie had been holding back since that night her mother had torn her away from Aunt Clara’s house, from Jack—streaked down her face. She turned over the book and, through blurry eyes, examined his picture.
He was a man now. Hard lines had replaced the soft, rounded features of his youth, and his once long, windswept hair had been cut and styled to fit his face. Upon closer examination, she noticed a small scar above his left eye that made her wonder what he had been up to for the past decade.
But despite all that had changed about him, his eyes—those beautiful blue eyes—remained unblemished. If possible, he was more handsome now than the last time she saw him, making her wonder what he would think if he saw her.
She got up and examined herself in the mirror. She was older, of course, thirty now, and had filled out in the places most women do, but aside from her hair, which was a shade darker, and a few tiny lines on her forehead, her appearance was much the same as it had always been.
Physical appearance aside, Ellie had changed in other ways. After graduating college, she’d earned a PhD from Ohio State, then returned to Bloomington as head of the astronomy department following the retirement of her mentor, Dr. Stevenson. In terms of her career, Dr. Elizabeth Spencer was a smashing success, regarded as a trailblazer by her contemporaries and admired by faculty and students alike.
