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I have a lightbulb moment, reflecting on my whole college class, even my professors who always lamented the biggest obstacle in becoming a recognized journalist… getting that big story.
More importantly, having exclusive access to it.
I love Blake, and I’ll only ever do what he’s okay with… but hang it all, he’s just spent a half-hour telling me the story of the year is mine if I want it.
Just like him, he’s all mine.
I just have to reach out and grab it.
Blake bounces back in, looking more energized than ever, looking like he’s worked out every day for a year and never missed a game.
“Good news?” I ask, feeling pretty happy with things now myself.
“How attached are you to your car?” He asks, and I shrug.
“What’s the alternative?” I ask, sensing we’ll have to leave her behind.
“Just for a while, long term parking opposite the railway platform once we get there,” he says, looking worried I might not approve.
“I love you, Blake Barnes,” I tell him, and watching him flush and then stand taller, I walk over to him and wait for him to bend low enough so I can kiss him.
“I know you’re doing this for all of us,” I whisper to him. “For me, for you, for Mrs. B.”
He creases a smile, and for the first time, I notice a dimple on his chin when he smiles like that.
Making me sigh.
“I hoped you’d catch on,” he says softly. “But I really am doing it for you, Lois, for us.”
He gets another one of those faraway looks again, then smiles to himself.
It makes me tingle inside when he does that.
And I tell myself I don’t even know why.
Chapter Eighteen
Blake
For the first time ever, I take great care to lock up the old place, making sure the lock stays locked and we can get back in… without any unwanted visitors in the meantime.
Haunted house…
If I thought Lois looked nervous, I admit I have to hide my own shivers by the time we reach the station, park her car, and get aboard. All just moments before the train leaves.
It’s a vintage line, restored and run for tourists. Expensive as hell for where it takes you, but it’s better than flying.
I’ll admit, I still have a thing about planes, even cars.
Most importantly, it’ll take us right through overnight and give Lois and me some privacy.
And a real dinner, I hope. My own hunger has been woken up with a hot meal and now I’m famished.
For food, and for more of Lois.
Like a princess in a dream, she holds my arm as I guide her through the train station, to the first class compartments. A whole car to ourselves.
She’s shaking her head in disbelief, and I explain my thing with planes, travel in general.
“What about the sheriff?” she asks. “Weren’t you supposed to report to him before leaving town?” she asks, a sly grin curling the corner of her mouth, which I kiss.
“Oops,” I murmur, ushering her into a section of the car laid out for dinner.
“A second dinner!” she exclaims excitedly, and I feel a moment’s hesitation. Right before she turns to kiss me again.
“It’s just perfect, Blake. I’m starving.”
The whole carriage is timber-lined, carved oak, and heavy velvet drapes. Rich fittings and deep colors. The whole feel, touch, and even smell of an era long gone. It could be the twenties or it could be the forties.
“It’s just so beautiful,” she says out loud, and without looking up from her behind, I have to agree.
“It sure is… It most certainly is…” I murmur.
The shrill chime of Lois’ cellphone in unison with the carriage phone brings us right back to the twenty-first century.
“I was hoping all this could wait until after dinner, until after we-” I start to say but a crisply uniformed steward suddenly brings Lois her laptop, making her frown and look up at me.
I can only shrug, taking my call, as she looks at her own phone, her eyes wide with disbelief, and then shining with amusement.
I was hoping for a menu, but it looks and sounds like the circus has come to town before we’re even there.
I have a call from my lawyer, Hal. He’s itching about the press, but it seems the injunction went through quicker than he thought.
“If anyone breathes a word of your ‘discovery’ without your say so? We got a case. As for your former team contract? That’s a whole different bag of cats,” he says, sounding serious.
“What do you mean?” I ask. “They stopped paying me the day I went missing.”
“Sure they did. But you gotta realize, these contracts they’re like six thousand pages long, Blake. Just sayin’. Be careful who you piss off or talk about when you make your re-entry into this world... alright?"
I nod like he can see me, knowing he’s right. Hell, he’s always right. It’s why I hired him in the first place.
