people I’ve met in years.”
“Should I be jealous?” Ree tried to mimic his earlier tone.
They were at his car now and Hayden did something very surprising, something Ree would never have predicted. He bent and kissed her. Not a mere peck, but a real kiss, one that deepened almost instantly. The birds stopped chirping and the breeze died away. Everything became very still. At least it seemed so to Ree. Nothing existed for her but Hayden…the scent of him, the feel of him. The slight hitch in his breath… She put her hands on his chest as she tilted her head and parted her lips. She could feel his heart thudding beneath her palm and her own breath quickened as she started to remember things about that night in Oak Grove. How she had gone to him without hesitation. How she had undressed for him without inhibition.
Tunneling his fingers through her hair, he pulled away and gazed down at her. “Does that answer your question?”
“Yes,” she said in a shaken voice. And very eloquently.
As it turned out, Hayden wasn’t quite so footloose and fancy free after all. A call from someone at his firm sent him scurrying back to the office, leaving Ree to tackle the Emerson library alone. The archives room was located in the basement, a dim, musty area of overflowing shelves and drafty alcoves. One of the librarians upstairs had given Ree a vague suggestion as to where to find the Oak Grove records, but everything was so disorganized, the search was needle-in-the-haystack tedious.
Ree was muttering to herself in frustration when a man popped out from behind one of the shelves and gave her a stern shush .
“Sorry. I’ll try to keep it down.”
“It’s not for my sake, but for the other students,” he said almost apologetically.
She nodded and glanced around. The place was deserted except for the two of them and she felt a little tingle of alarm as he approached her. He looked harmless enough, though, in his corduroy jacket and khaki.
“Perhaps I can be of assistance. This place can be a bit overwhelming if you’re not familiar with the system.”
“You can say that again. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the way things are stored.”
“I’m Professor Meakin, by the way.”
Ree noticed that he didn’t offer his hand. “The historian?”
“Why, yes. I’m flattered that you recognized my name. Hardly anyone ever does.”
“Oh. Well, I read one of your books a few years back.”
This seemed to please him a great deal. “I take it you have an interest in local history. Are your people from Charleston?”
“No. I came here to attend Emerson.”
“Ah.” A curious smile tugged at his lips. “You have a bit of a Lowcountry drawl so I don’t think you’re too far from home.”
“I’m from Trinity. It’s just north of here.”
“A lovely little town. I used to visit a friend there on occasion. Your family still lives there, I take it?”
“Yes.”
He was starting to creep her out a little, but Ree tried not to telegraph her distaste because she suspected the poor guy’s worst crime was social ineptness.
His gaze darted to the book in her hand. “May I?” He glanced at the spine.
“I’m doing some research on a local family,” she explained. “I wonder if you could point me to the birth and death records, circa 1920.”
“What’s the name?”
“Tisdale.”
He thought for a moment. “Would that be the John Braxton Tisdales?”
“I have no idea. I don’t even know who that is…was.”
He gave her a reproachful look. “John Braxton Tisdale was one of General Lee’s most trusted civilian advisors during the Civil War. His son, James rode with Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders and was later elected to the U.S. Senate. The family still lives in the East Bay house from which John Braxton and young James watched the firing upon Fort Sumter.”
Would that be the same house in which Jared Tisdale had been found murdered that morning? Ree wondered. “Did James
“Should I be jealous?” Ree tried to mimic his earlier tone.
They were at his car now and Hayden did something very surprising, something Ree would never have predicted. He bent and kissed her. Not a mere peck, but a real kiss, one that deepened almost instantly. The birds stopped chirping and the breeze died away. Everything became very still. At least it seemed so to Ree. Nothing existed for her but Hayden…the scent of him, the feel of him. The slight hitch in his breath… She put her hands on his chest as she tilted her head and parted her lips. She could feel his heart thudding beneath her palm and her own breath quickened as she started to remember things about that night in Oak Grove. How she had gone to him without hesitation. How she had undressed for him without inhibition.
Tunneling his fingers through her hair, he pulled away and gazed down at her. “Does that answer your question?”
“Yes,” she said in a shaken voice. And very eloquently.
As it turned out, Hayden wasn’t quite so footloose and fancy free after all. A call from someone at his firm sent him scurrying back to the office, leaving Ree to tackle the Emerson library alone. The archives room was located in the basement, a dim, musty area of overflowing shelves and drafty alcoves. One of the librarians upstairs had given Ree a vague suggestion as to where to find the Oak Grove records, but everything was so disorganized, the search was needle-in-the-haystack tedious.
Ree was muttering to herself in frustration when a man popped out from behind one of the shelves and gave her a stern shush .
“Sorry. I’ll try to keep it down.”
“It’s not for my sake, but for the other students,” he said almost apologetically.
She nodded and glanced around. The place was deserted except for the two of them and she felt a little tingle of alarm as he approached her. He looked harmless enough, though, in his corduroy jacket and khaki.
“Perhaps I can be of assistance. This place can be a bit overwhelming if you’re not familiar with the system.”
“You can say that again. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the way things are stored.”
“I’m Professor Meakin, by the way.”
Ree noticed that he didn’t offer his hand. “The historian?”
“Why, yes. I’m flattered that you recognized my name. Hardly anyone ever does.”
“Oh. Well, I read one of your books a few years back.”
This seemed to please him a great deal. “I take it you have an interest in local history. Are your people from Charleston?”
“No. I came here to attend Emerson.”
“Ah.” A curious smile tugged at his lips. “You have a bit of a Lowcountry drawl so I don’t think you’re too far from home.”
“I’m from Trinity. It’s just north of here.”
“A lovely little town. I used to visit a friend there on occasion. Your family still lives there, I take it?”
“Yes.”
He was starting to creep her out a little, but Ree tried not to telegraph her distaste because she suspected the poor guy’s worst crime was social ineptness.
His gaze darted to the book in her hand. “May I?” He glanced at the spine.
“I’m doing some research on a local family,” she explained. “I wonder if you could point me to the birth and death records, circa 1920.”
“What’s the name?”
“Tisdale.”
He thought for a moment. “Would that be the John Braxton Tisdales?”
“I have no idea. I don’t even know who that is…was.”
He gave her a reproachful look. “John Braxton Tisdale was one of General Lee’s most trusted civilian advisors during the Civil War. His son, James rode with Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders and was later elected to the U.S. Senate. The family still lives in the East Bay house from which John Braxton and young James watched the firing upon Fort Sumter.”
Would that be the same house in which Jared Tisdale had been found murdered that morning? Ree wondered. “Did James
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