The Librarian of Boone's Hollow Page 24

  She slid the envelopes into the patch pocket of her overall bib. “Letters from a friend. But I came over to tell you some news I think you’ll like.”

  He could use good news. He gestured to the second chair. “Have a seat.”

  With a grin, she yanked out the chair and perched on its edge. “Miss West and I had an idea about how to make use of the magazines that are too tattered to lend. If we cut out the articles, recipes, and pictures, we could paste them into themed scrapbooks for people to check out like they do the books.”

  He rested his chin in his hand, envisioning the idea. “That’s smarter than throwing them away.” He grimaced. He’d never forgive himself for losing the story she’d written. If he hadn’t thrown away the stack of worn-out magazines, she might still have it.

  Addie nodded. “That’s what Miss West thought. The problem was we didn’t have any scrapbooks and Miss West said there were no funds to purchase some. So I wrote to my mother, and she and her church ladies organized a drive, and”—she flung her arms wide, triumph igniting her face—“tomorrow afternoon a crate of scrapbook materials and books will arrive at the Lynch depot.”

  Emmett sat up. “It will?”

  She laughed. “There might be more than one. Mother said she and her ladies collected a veritable mountain of scrapbooking items and books of all varieties. Do you think you’ll be able to borrow a wagon and go after them?”

  “Kermit Gilliam has a wagon I could probably use.”

  “Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “I should probably go, too, since my name will be on the boxes.”

  He chuckled. He’d never seen her so lighthearted. Not even at the bonfire at the university. He liked this side of her. “That seems fair.”

  “Wonderful!” With a bright smile, she rose and headed for the door. “What time should I meet you here tomorrow afternoon?”

  He scratched his temple. The thudding pain had departed. “Well…the afternoon train arrives at three thirty on Saturdays. So, by one? That’ll give us plenty of time to make it down the mountain. And before we pick up the crates, I’ll treat you to a soda at the drugstore to celebrate this wonderful windfall.”

  “Perfect.” She grinned, waved, and bounded out the door.

  He gazed after her, plans taking shape in his mind. If he assigned her the task of putting the scrapbooks together, she wouldn’t face another rifle barrel or be subjected to threats. And he wouldn’t have to fire her if she had a viable job to do for the library.

  Relief flooded him. He hadn’t wanted to fire someone who tried so hard. The stubborn folks who couldn’t see past the ends of their superstitious noses were to blame for her failure. Didn’t his business professors advise placing people where they could best use their skills? Even though he still believed someone with Addie’s passion for the written word should have the privilege of placing books into needy hands, her excitement about the coming materials told him she’d apply the same enthusiasm and determination to putting the scrapbooks together as she’d shown for delivering books. And she’d be successful with it.

  Of course, with her pulled from a route, he’d have to divide all the families between three riders again. He inwardly groaned, imagining the girls’ reactions. They’d sure enjoyed having their workdays trimmed down. But if he didn’t fix this mess, the report the committee in Washington expected every month—which would show how twenty-one families didn’t receive books over a two-week period during his first month of directorship—might mean the end of the program altogether. No program, no wages. The girls would have to understand and be supportive.

  A snide snort formed in his throat. Bettina, supportive? He’d better start praying now. Despite these worries, he could go to bed happy about one thing. He wouldn’t have to fire Addie.

  Bettina

  BETTINA HUNKERED BEHIND the bushes under the open library window. Ooh, that Addie. Getting her rich maw to send a bunch of books so she could make points with Emmett.

  When Bettina’d seen Addie skipping across the street from the telephone office straight for the library, she’d come real close to throwing the whole plate of cookies she’d brung for Emmett at her. That girl turned up all the time, like a bad penny. But she was gone now, so Bettina could go in. Still, she stayed put, balancing the plate of cookies on her knees. She’d wait a little longer. Make it seem like she’d only just got there. She couldn’t let Emmett know she’d heard every word. Including taking Addie into Lynch tomorrow so they could get a soda.

  A soda! If he was gonna take anybody for a soda, it should oughta be Bettina. Addie knew Emmett’d been spoke for. She should’ve said no. And why was she even still in Boone’s Holler? By now, any sensible girl would’ve packed her bags and gone home.

  Bettina’s knees were starting to cramp. She stood real slow, holding the plate steady. She didn’t want even one of these cookies to slide off into the dirt. When she was all the way upright, she wriggled a little bit to shake the wrinkles out of her skirt. She’d put on the blue-checked dress she wore the day Emmett came home. Addie’d still been in her overalls. Bettina’s dress would look like a breath of fresh air compared to them clay-colored overalls.

  Real quiet, she slipped around the bushes and onto the street. Then she set her feet hard, giving Emmett good warning that somebody was coming, and walked up to the door.

  “Knock, knock!” She made her voice singsong and cheerful. Emmett wouldn’t ever know how much mad burned inside her chest. A shadow fell across her—Emmett in the doorway. She smiled big and held up the plate. “Brung you some fresh-baked oatmeal-raisin cookies. From my maw’s recipe. I recollect how much you liked ’em when you was a little feller. Figured you still might.”

  He took the plate and gave her a soft smile that made her knees go wobbly. “Why, thank you, Bettina. That’s real nice of you. I’ll enjoy these.” He turned and walked beyond the doorjamb.

  She followed him, swinging her hips so her skirt would sway. He put the plate on the table and sat down. She looked real close at the papers scattered all over the table. Didn’t none of them look like Addie’d been writing on them. She’d spent plenty of hours studying Addie’s writing on the story pages, so she’d know the girl’s hand if she saw it again. Took some doing, snatching them while Emmett was over at the livery. He hardly left the library, except for meals and visiting the outhouse. But she’d been clever enough to not get caught. “You still workin’?”

  “I’ve got lots of reports to fill out, Bettina.” He unscrewed the lid on a fat little inkpot.

  “Ain’t you gonna have a cookie?” She pushed the plate a little closer to him. “I put chopped walnuts an’ cinnamon in ’em. Them walnuts come from a tree growin’ up the mountain some behind our place.” Pap was out wandering, but he could smell Maw’s cookies from a mile away. If Emmett didn’t get these ate fast, Pap might bust in and take them.

  “I’ll have one before I turn in. It’ll be my reward for finishing these reports.”

  If Pap didn’t get to ’em first. She roamed up and down the shelves, searching for anything with Addie’s writing on it. “Too bad you ain’t got a cookie jar.” She’d ask to take Maw’s when she married and moved out. Pap’d probably let it go. “You should ought to put ’em in somethin’, keep bugs off. Pests’ll find a way in every time if you ain’t careful.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He scritch-scritched his pen against the page. “I’ve experienced that myself.”

  He was busy with his notebooks, not even looking her way, so she peeked behind the blankets hiding the living quarters from view. She’d never snooped when Miss West lived in the library, but since this might end up being where she lived with Emmett for a while until they found a decent place, she needed to know what all was there. A narrow cot, a bureau with four drawers, and a chair. Not even a rug on the floor. She huffed out a little breath. Not much. This place needed some fixing, but she could s
ee to it, if he’d let her.

  She’d put a rug on the floor, the quilt Maw’d made on the cot, some framed pictures or a little ceramic figurine on the bureau, and her Dionne quintuplets calendar on the wall. Those things would make a heap of difference.

  She walked back to the table. She turned her hands backward and leaned on the edge. She’d figured out holding her arms that way pushed her shoulders back and made her chest seem a little bigger. She hoped he noticed. “What you thinkin’ on doin’ tomorrow? Now that you don’t gotta go to the mine on Saturdays, you should oughta plan somethin’ fun.”

  He glanced at her. Did a little bit of guilt show behind them spectacles? “I’m going to Lynch tomorrow, to the depot. I need to pick up a delivery for the library.”

  A prickle made its way up Bettina’s back. He’d spoke the truth, but he was leaving an awful lot out. “That right? I ain’t been to Lynch in a good long while. I hear they got two movie houses now. Me an’ Glory, we’ve visited the Lyric Theater four, maybe five times. Her an’ me went with Shay one time.”

  Would her having gone to the picture show with his friend make him jealous? She wanted it to. If he said he was jealous, then she could tell him what was good for the goose was good for the gander—let him know how she felt about him taking Addie to get a soda.

  He kept writing.

  She gritted her teeth and forced a little giggle. “Sure is somethin’, watchin’ them actors up on that big screen. You get to hear ’em talkin’, too, just like they was in the room with you. Yessir, it’s somethin’.”

  He blew on the ink, flipped a page, and wrote some more.

  She leaned closer. “You ever been to the picture shows, Emmett?”

  He ran his finger down the page and started writing in a little square. “Went to some in Lexington.”

  Jealousy struck as hard as Pap’s fist. “Oh, yeah? You go with a friend, like I did with Shay?” She nudged his shoulder with her elbow. “Didja?”

  He laid the pen down. “Bettina, I’m really sorry if I seem unfriendly, but if I’m going to catalog new books tomorrow, I need to finish this paperwork tonight.”

  “That’s all you’ll be doin’? Fetchin’ an’ catalogin’ books?” She waited for him to spill the other part of his plans. If he’d come out and tell her, she’d know he wasn’t trying to hide things from her. She’d feel a whole lot better about it if he’d say all his plans.

  He stood and took a real light hold on her elbow. “I appreciate the cookies. It was real nice of you to remember I liked them and bring some over.” He ushered her to the door. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy them if they came from your maw’s recipe. But right now, I have to work. I’ll see you Sunday, all right?”

  She perked up. “Sunday?”

  “At church.”

  Oh. He didn’t mean nothing special.

  “Good night, Bettina.”

  He left her on the stoop. She curled her bare toes over the edge of the rock and scowled across the gray-shrouded street. She wished she didn’t know what he was gonna do with Addie tomorrow. She’d never get to sleep with all this mad rolling around inside her. She stacked her fists and pressed them to her mouth to hold back all the words she wanted to yell.

  She wanted Addie out of Boone’s Holler. She’d never met a more stubborn girl. Folks had done exactly what Bettina expected after she told them how Addie had took up with Nanny Fay. She figured two days of getting shooed away from folks’ yards and Addie would turn tail and run for home, but nope. Ten days she’d took books and headed on the routes. Ten days she’d carried every book back. She must be dumber’n a rock if she thought them folks would change their minds about her.

  Bettina hopped off the stoop and started for home, dragging her heels. Addie was s’posed to meet Emmett at one o’clock to leave for Lynch. That give Bettina—she scrunched her face, thinking hard—around seventeen hours to figure out how to muddle their plans. She doubted she could keep Kermit Gilliam from renting Emmett a wagon. That feller was so money hungry he’d rent out one of his sons if somebody offered him a nickel. She doubted she could keep Emmett from going. He took to his job as library director like a duckling took to water. If there was a shipment waiting for him, he’d go get it. She might be able to keep Addie from meeting up with Emmett, though. Or, if nothing else, keep him from taking her to Lynch all by himself.

  The corners of her lips tugged, wanting to smile. She changed direction and broke into a trot.

  Addie

  FELICITY’S LETTERS WERE FULL OF sass and drama, and Addie heard her roommate’s voice in her head while she read, which made her smile. And made her lonesome. She’d hoped to find friends here in Boone’s Hollow, but so far none of the young people had taken much of a shine to her. Emmett was polite, but she really wanted a friend like Felicity. Someone to laugh, talk, and share secrets with.

  She glanced across the sitting room at Nanny Fay, who sat in her rocking chair reading Mark Twain’s The Prince and the Pauper by lamplight. At least she could call the old woman a friend. Every evening over supper they enjoyed long conversations. They had much in common—a sad early childhood, a love for reading, and a desire to please Jesus with the way they treated others.

  Nanny Fay was a better friend to Addie than Addie was in return, though. Addie leaned heavily on Nanny Fay for support. The woman always had an encouraging word when she felt discouraged, advice when she was unsure, and a hug and a prayer when she was sad. On whom had Nanny Fay leaned since her husband died? Her loneliness must have been overwhelming at times, yet she remained content and cheerful. The way Mother was even now, without her home and fine belongings. Addie sent a slow look around the cabin. Although holding a simple beauty, these were primitive surroundings. She missed running water and electric lights, but she was learning to be content where she was. Perhaps she wasn’t as different from Mother and Nanny Fay as she’d thought.

  Nanny Fay sighed and set her book aside. “This story is good, but it can’t top the one about Tom Sawyer. Oh, but that boy was a scamp! He worked harder tryin’ to get others to do his chores than if he’d just done ’em hisself. I reckon there’s a lesson in there.”

  Addie nodded. She’d thought the same thing when Mother read her the story years ago.

  Nanny Fay yawned, a little squeak emerging, then sent a sheepish grin in Addie’s direction. “Almost wish I hadn’t come upon them blueberry bushes this mornin’ when I went huntin’ mushrooms. I plumb wore myself out pickin’ the bushes clean. Tomorrow’ll get all used up makin’ syrup an’ jam out o’ the berries. But it’ll be worth it come winter. Nothin’ better’n wild blueberry jam on biscuits or blueberry syrup on hotcakes. Wait an’ see.”

  Addie loved being included in Nanny Fay’s winter plans. “I don’t have to meet Emmett until one tomorrow, so I can help you in the morning.” Over supper, she’d told Nanny Fay about the coming crates, and the old woman expressed such excitement that Addie had almost been moved to tears.

  “Oh, honey, this batch ain’t so much I can’t do it myself. Now, way back, that was a differ’nt tale. ’Cause back then I went pickin’ with Rosie. The two of us would gather so many berries one person couldn’t take care of ’em all. We’d work at the stove together, talkin’ an’ laughin’. I recall stirrin’ up berries while her little bitty gal slept in a basket on the floor or toddled around under our feet. Then we’d split the bounty, her carryin’ away for her family an’ me keepin’ what I needed for myself. Oh, lawsy.” A sigh left her throat, accompanied by a drowsy smile. “Those was good days.”

  Addie tipped her head, searching her memory. Had Nanny Fay ever mentioned Rosie before? “Who is Rosie?”

  Nanny Fay sent a confused look at Addie. “Rosie?”

  Had the woman already forgotten what she’d been talking about? “You said you and Rosie—”

  She waved her hand. “Took me by surprise, hearin
’ her name on somebody else’s lips after so many years o’ not seein’ her. She was a gal who grew up here in the holler. Her maw was a mean-hearted lady, had a whole passel of young’uns, an’ for a reason Rosie couldn’t help no matter what, the woman just never cottoned to her. I kinda took her under my wing. Did my best to love on her ’cause she sure needed it.”

  Addie’s heart rolled over. She could imagine Nanny Fay loving on a sad, neglected little girl. “How come I haven’t met her?”

  Sadness pinched the old woman’s features. “Rosie died some years back. Catched a bad sickness in her belly. But her an’ me had drifted apart before that. When her little gal got big enough to do some talkin’ about where she spent her days, Rosie couldn’t risk her tellin’ her pap they was with me. It would’ve caused trouble. So she stayed away, ’cept for now an’ then when her little gal was at school an’ her man was away.” She chuckled softly, and her familiar soft smile returned. “But I hold my memories of her. All good ones.”

  Maybe Addie should stay here tomorrow and help Nanny Fay with the berries. Let her relive the days when Rosie came and helped. “Nanny Fay, about your jam making…I’ll—”

  “No, no, I’ll see to it. You got plans to go into Lynch, get them books an’ things, an’ you’ll prob’ly wanna take your Saturday night bath in the mornin’ before you go. Make yourself all fresh an’ purty for the trip to town.” She winked.

  For reasons Addie couldn’t explain, heat filled her face. “Well, maybe…”

  Nanny Fay chuckled. Then she yawned again and pushed herself out of her rocking chair. “I reckon you’ll wanna write to your friend, so I’ll let you have some time to yourself.” She moved toward her room, pausing beside Addie long enough to squeeze her shoulder. “You sleep good tonight, Addie, you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am. You, too.”