Nothing from Faith, who appeared to be in a deep coma. “Faith. Come on.” Jeremy was practically shouting at her now.
“Maybe a bucket of ice water?” Levi suggested.
“What? I heard that. Don’t throw anything at me,” Faith muttered. “I’m here. What day is it?” She struggled into a sitting position, frowning. Then she saw him, and her face softened. “Hi.”
That urgent feeling of wanting he’d had at his father’s house, the need to be with her—not necessarily to sleep with her, though that would be nice—but just to touch her, have her close...that feeling was back. “Ready to go?” he asked.
“Okay.” She leaned over and kissed Jeremy on the cheek. “Thanks for dinner. Sorry I fell asleep.”
“Oh, don’t worry. It was like old times.” He smiled. “Levi, let me pack up your food.”
When they got back to the Opera House, Levi followed her into her place. “Hi, handsome!” she said to her leaping dog. “Who’s a good boy? Hmm? Give me two minutes, and we’ll take a you-know-what.” She went to the kitchen and got a glass of water, then scootched up onto the island counter, swinging her feet. “I take it you’re staying over?” she said, pink staining her cheeks. She didn’t look at him.
Levi didn’t answer. Instead, he walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her and just lay his head against her chest. Felt some of the tension drain from his muscles as he breathed in her warm, sweet smell.
“You okay, Levi?” she asked softly.
“Yep.”
“What took you so long tonight?”
He imagined telling her about his father’s other kids, the happy little family he wasn’t part of. Maybe throw in some of the jealousy thing with Jeremy. Didn’t really see the point, all that talk about problems and issues and whatnot.
And, to be honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted her to know. Her, or anyone. “It just took a while, that’s all,” he said. He could stay here all day, against Faith’s gorgeous rack, listening to her breathe. Kinda perfect.
Except for one thing. “Faith?”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“Your dog’s trying to impregnate my leg.”
She laughed, the sound rich and warm. “You’ll make beautiful puppies together.”
“Let’s take him for a walk.”
“And come back here and fool around?”
“Sounds like a plan.” He looked into those dusk-blue eyes. “You want to go out with me tomorrow? On a date?”
Her smile was a sight to see.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THE MANNINGSPORT PUBLIC LIBRARY was closed on Saturday afternoons, but Faith had the code. Levi probably did, too, but he stood back and let her punch it in.
There was something magical about being in a library when no one else was around, she thought as they went through the darkened rooms to the children’s section. That, and Levi’s strong, calloused hand holding hers as the rain pattered on the roof. Holding hands for the first time. Funny, the sweet shock of such a small gesture.
“So it’s all done, then?” Levi said as she opened the back door to the courtyard.
“All done. The dedication is Wednesday night.” She paused. “Maybe you’ll be there?”
“I hope so,” he said.
His answer, while noncommittal, made her cheeks prickle with a blush just the same. “Well, here it is. Take a look around.”
The courtyard had been a bit of a challenge, since the space was so small. Previously, it’d had a cement bench and an anemic flower bed of red geraniums (cemetery flowers, Faith always thought), as well as a germ-laden birdbath. Few people had ever used the space.
Now, watching Levi take in her work, Faith felt a warm swell of pride. In each corner was a Japanese maple tree, chosen for their manageable size and gorgeous foliage. Next week, Julianne had said, the kindergarten reading group would be making wind chimes to hang in the branches, and Topper Mack had already made four birdhouses, miniatures of the library.
In between each tree sat four mahogany and chestnut benches, made by Samuel Hastings. Faith had kept the carpenter busy this fall. Each bench had been donated by a founding family of Manningsport—the Hollands, of course, the Mannings, the Meerings and the van Huesens. The southern wall had no window and, since it got the sun all day, had made the courtyard stifling; this was the wall where Faith had designed a sleek waterfall that ran in a smooth, fluid sheet, the sound soft and soothing.
In the bulk of the space, Faith had created a circular path lined with low boxwoods and paved with old brick, which led to the object that, in Faith’s opinion, made the courtyard great: a life-size, bronze statue of Dr. Seuss, reading a copy of The Lorax as the furry little creature looked on.
Levi stood there now. “Dr. Seuss, huh?” he said. His hair had darkened in the light rain. “Why him?”
“Because he’s the greatest children’s author in the world,” she said. “In my opinion, anyway. The library board seemed to agree.”
“Happy Birthday to You was my favorite,” Levi said, brushing a fallen leaf off Dr. Seuss’s foot. “I used to read that after—I read that a lot.”
“After what?” Faith asked, pulling her jacket closer.
He glanced over. “After my father left,” he said after a pause, looking back at the statue.
Right. She’d always known Levi’s dad wasn’t in the picture, but he’d never mentioned it before. Her heart tugged, picturing Levi as a little boy, reading the joyfully exuberant book to counteract the misery he must’ve felt. “How old were you?” she asked.
He didn’t answer. “This is really nice, Faith,” he said after a minute. “The kids’ll love it.”
Looked like the subject of his father was off-limits. “Thanks.” She paused. “The idea was to take a space that no one really saw and make it beautiful. Get people to appreciate what nature has to offer, get them away from their phones and computers and take a breath and listen to the birds and the water and just...be.”
“Is that what all your projects are supposed to do?”
She shrugged. “I guess so. Yes.” Now that she’d said it out loud, it sounded a little dorky. Dorktastic, maybe. Hopefully.
Levi was looking at her steadily. “You hungry?”
“Sure,” she said. “Want to go to O’Rourke’s?”
“Nope,” he said, coming back to reclaim her hand. “A picnic. I checked with Honor, and she said the Barn at Blue Heron was free.”
Twenty minutes later, they were hiking up the hill. Levi held a good-sized brown bag with “Lorelei’s” stamped on one side, as well as a blanket. The late October rain had petered off to a drizzle, and it was incredibly romantic, a Saturday afternoon picnic on a chilly autumn day.
Despite the fact that she’d worked on the barn for six solid weeks, the sight of it was still a small shock. The plants had withered from the cold—it’d been thirty degrees last night—but it was still beautiful. Leaves had gathered on the roof in one corner; she’d have to come up with a ladder and take care of that.
Levi spread out the blanket on the floor of the barn, then got to work, grabbing kindling from the little alcove next to the fireplace. Once the fire was blazing, he sat down. “Hungry?”
“Starving.