The Librarian of Boone's Hollow Page 27

  Emmett gave a start. “You think somebody did this because Addie stays with Nanny Fay?”

  Preacher Darnell aimed a frown at Emmett. “Isn’t that what you’re thinkin’?”

  Emmett licked his dry lips, his gaze drifting across the carnage. “I don’t know for sure.” Righteous indignation filled him. “But I can tell you one thing. When I find out who did this, no matter who it is, I’ll file charges of vandalism and destruction of government property. I won’t be turning the other cheek.”

  * * *

  EMMETT SAT ON the edge of one of the crates sent from Georgetown and stared at the stacks of books and magazines covering the table. He needed to open the crates and organize the new materials so he’d have packs ready for the girls to take tomorrow, but his heavy heart held him in place.

  He was pretty sure Preacher Darnell’s fiery sermon about letting God be the judge instead of taking retribution into one’s own hands was a last-minute switch, but his words had poured as eloquently as if he’d practiced them for weeks. A part of the man’s emotional talk roared in Emmett’s memory.

  “ ‘Dearly beloved, avenge not yourselves, but rather give place unto wrath: for it is written, Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.’ Feuds and violence have no place in the Christian’s heart or actions! Repent of your hateful attitudes, an’ if you’ve wronged a neighbor, seek their forgiveness an’ ask how you can make things right!”

  After the service, Emmett had expected half the congregation to flood to the back pew, where Nanny Fay and Addie sat together, but not a one of them even looked their way. A few came to him, though, and pointed their fingers of blame.

  Barney Shearer clapped Emmett on the shoulder. “Heard about the mess. Prob’ly someone from Tuckett’s Pass done it. They don’t got a lib’ary over there, an’ the ol’ green-eyed monster convinced one of ’em to ruin ours. You know how them Tuckett folks are.”

  Baylus Landrum shook his gray head and puckered his lips in a sorrowful frown. “Sure sorry ’bout what happened to them books, Emmett, but reckon it shouldn’t come as a surprise. I can’t figure why that ol’ woman don’t take herself to Tuckett’s Pass an’ let Boone’s Holler have some peace.”

  Even Juny Faulkner, the doctor’s wife, approached with her nose in the air. “Just goes to show those hills people don’t appreciate anything they’re given. If I was you, I’d close the doors an’ let ’em find a way to buy books for themselves an’ their youngsters. That would teach ’em.”

  They needed teaching, all right. As did nearly every person who called Boone’s Hollow home. He puffed his cheeks and blew, wishing he hadn’t lost Addie’s story. He didn’t know a single person from the area who didn’t enjoy a good tale—well, except Paw, who didn’t have patience for storytelling. That’s why some who weren’t exactly religious showed up at church every Sunday. Preacher Darnell had a way of weaving biblical truths into story form. Even Jesus told parables, which were the same as stories. If Emmett picked an evening and made it read-aloud hour at the library, he’d get swarmed. And if he could have read Addie’s tale, maybe experiencing ostracism through the eyes and feelings of a book character would finally reach the stubborn, prideful folks.

  But sitting here ruminating wouldn’t get his work done. He rose and grabbed the hammer he’d borrowed from Kermit and pried the lid off the first crate. As the nails screeched from the wood, someone tapped on the doorframe. He didn’t need one more piece of unsolicited advice. He hollered, “Library’s closed.”

  “It’s me, Emmett—Addie.”

  He dropped the hammer and bounded to the door. He flicked the latch and swung the door wide. She’d changed from the pretty yellow-and-white-striped dress she’d worn to church into her overalls, and she held a squat jar of purple jam on her palms the way a crown bearer carried the king’s headpiece.

  “I brought a peace offering. May I come in?”

  “You don’t owe me a peace offering. But please come in.” He took the jar and gestured her over the threshold. She entered with greater hesitation than he’d ever witnessed, then planted herself near one of the empty shelves and hung her head. She still felt guilty, and she shouldn’t. This guilt wasn’t hers to carry. He put the jar on the dresser in his living quarters, then faced her, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets. “Listen, Addie, put it out of your mind that you’re responsible for what happened here. Because you aren’t.”

  She kept her head low but peeked at him through her eyelashes. “That’s kind of you to say, but you know it isn’t true. I’ve made an enemy of Bettina by becoming your friend”—

  His pulse skittered.

  —“and of the rest of the town by becoming Nanny Fay’s friend. They all want me to leave. It makes perfect sense that if the library program has to close, I’ll be sent away. So I…” She held her hands to the empty shelves. “I caused this.”

  He hurried to her and took her hands. “No, you didn’t. Ignorance did this. Hatred did this. Jealousy did this.” He squeezed her hands and dipped his knees, meeting her uncertain gaze. He sent up a silent prayer for her to hear and accept the truth. “Addie, you are none of those things. You’re intelligent and caring and giving. Don’t blame yourself for someone else’s foolish choices, please?”

  She sucked in her lips and stared into his eyes for several seconds. She stood so still he wondered if she’d stopped breathing. Then she gave a little nod. “All right. I’ll try.”

  He stood straight and released her hands. “Attagirl.”

  She grinned. “Do you need some help? Nanny Fay always sleeps on Sunday afternoons, and she works so hard the rest of the week that I don’t like to disturb her. I tried writing in my room, but I’m too restless to sit and write today.” She wrinkled her nose. “Besides, I really want to know what’s inside those crates.”

  Emmett laughed. Never had a laugh felt as good as this one. He beckoned with a twitch of his finger. “I was just fixing to open the first one. Come peek.”

  She skipped to the crate and leaned in as he lifted the lid aside. She yanked away a wad of rumpled paper and squealed. “Picture books!”

  He couldn’t resist another laugh. Her delight was contagious. He opened the second crate, which contained novels, textbooks, cookbooks, and a variety of nonfiction books, and finally the third, where they found the promised scrapbooking materials, as well as dozens of magazines.

  Addie lifted out a blank scrapbook and sank onto the floor. She laid the cloth-covered cardboard book in the crook of her bent legs. “I hope you haven’t discarded the magazines we had before. I know they were in pretty sad shape even before they got thrown around like confetti”—

  Her choice of words inspired a grin, even though the circumstances weren’t funny at all.

  —“but that doesn’t mean the pages can’t be salvaged.”

  Emmett gestured to the table and the stacks of damaged books and magazines. “I haven’t thrown out anything yet. I want to try to fix as many as possible, but some are probably beyond repair.” The thought made him sick to his stomach, but a seltzer tablet wouldn’t cure his ache.

  She flipped the top cover back and forth between her hands and gazed at him, her expression thoughtful. “Before I came here, I stayed with a woman who cut up old clothes and made quilts for the destitute and downtrodden. She taught me to utilize every possible inch of the clothing pieces. If we apply the same technique to the magazine pages, we could fill every one of these scrapbooks and have unique instructional yet fun books to share with the hills people.”

  Emmett squatted in front of her, his elbows on his knees. “Would you want to take on the project? Be the…scrapbook lady?”

  She chewed the corner of her lip. “You mean I would spend the whole day making scrapbooks instead of taking books around to folks?”

  He nodded.

  She lowered her head and traced cir
cles on the scrapbook’s cover with her finger. “As much as it pains me to concede defeat, I can’t let my stubbornness stand in the way of people receiving items that could educate, inform, and inspire them. They won’t take materials directly from me. But I could still have a hand in what they receive if I make the scrapbooks.” She looked up and shrugged, a grin quivering at the corners of her rosy lips. “If the boss assigns me to scrapbook duty, I guess I’ll become the scrapbook gal instead of a book gal.”

  “Consider yourself assigned.” He stood, took the scrapbook, and set it on top of the closest crate. Then he grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet. “But for now, since you’re willing to help, let’s unload these crates, catalog the titles, and fill the shelves. Monday’s gonna sneak up, and we need to be ready for it.”

  Addie

  A LITTLE SHIVER of delight rattled down Addie’s spine. “We,” he’d said, as if they were partners. Most likely he meant nothing by it, but the word rolled in the back of her mind while they emptied the crates and categorized the books into neat stacks on the floor. Addie suggested recording the titles, authors, and classifications of the books as they removed them, but Emmett said he’d find it simpler to record them from their alphabetized positions on the shelves. Such a smart idea. She told him so, and his smile of appreciation warmed her from the inside out.

  His mother, accompanied by Dusty, knocked on the door at suppertime. Surprise registered on her face when she spotted Addie, but then she chuckled and patted the side of the large woven basket she carried on her arm. “Sure am glad I brung extra. Reckon the Good Lord knew how many mouths needed fed. Didn’t reckon Emmett was comin’ to the house for supper or goin’ to the evenin’ service, considerin’ what all needs doin’ here. I won’t pester you none about the service. I think the Lord’ll understand. But you do need to eat an’ keep up your strength. That goes for you, too, Miss Addie.”

  Addie might have felt embarrassed or as if she were in the way with anyone else, but Damaris Tharp had such a sweet spirit she put Addie at ease. The table was still cluttered with damaged books, so they sat on the floor, stacks of books standing silent sentinel around them. Emmett offered a short word of grace, and they ate the cheese sandwiches, pickles, and brownies.

  Dusty took the last brownie from the basket, and Addie nudged him with her elbow. “I’m glad your tummy’s all better. I figured you’d stay away from sweet stuff for days after that licorice gave you such a stomachache.”

  Damaris’s merry laughter rang. “Oh, law, ain’t nothin’ gonna keep Dusty away from sweets. I tell him he better be careful in a rain shower ’cause sugar melts.”

  Dusty grinned around a huge bite. “I’m fine. Paw is, too. Said them seltzer tablets did the trick.”

  Damaris gathered up the plates and wadded napkins and stacked them in her basket, chuckling. “I think he was doin’ better even before you brung those tablets to him, ’cause he was spry enough to go traipsin’ in the woods a bit. ’Course, bein’ out in the trees, huntin’ squirrels or castin’ a line for trout, always has done Emil good.” Her face puckered. “The money from his coal-minin’ job has sure blessed this family, but I worry sometimes about what it does to his soul. Bein’ underground so much…wouldn’t that wear on a person?”

  Emmett wiped his mouth with his muslin napkin and tossed it into the basket. “I wouldn’t worry too much about him, Maw. When he took me to Mine Thirty-One to look around, he told me he appreciates the fresh air and the sun more now than he did before because of his time in the tunnels. Seemed to me being a miner makes the world look brighter to him.”

  A smile broke over the woman’s face. “Well, now, that is a good thing. Not only that he feels it, but that he told you about it. It sure tickled him to share that part o’ himself with you, Emmett. He seemed to walk a little prouder them days, bein’ able to teach his boy.” She stood and scooped up the basket by its twisted handle. “Come along now, Dusty, an’ we’ll let these two get back to work.”

  Addie walked Damaris and Dusty to the door, then turned to Emmett. “Your mother is wonderful. She—”

  He was sitting on the floor, blue eyes seemingly locked on one of the shelves, his forehead scrunched.

  She hurried to him. “Are you all right?”

  He blinked twice, as if waking up, and looked at her. “What?”

  “Do you have a headache? We have been working for a long time. Maybe you need a break.”

  He shook his head and stood, his frown intact. “No, I’m fine. Was thinking is all.” His chest expanded with a full breath, and the furrows in his brow eased. “Would you mind putting the ruined books in one of the empty crates? I’ll decide what to do with them later.”

  “Of course.” Addie crossed to the table and lifted a stack of books. As she turned to place them in the crate, she spotted Emmett in her peripheral vision. He stood still as a statue, staring out the window, as forlorn as if he’d lost his best friend.

  Bettina

  BETTINA DUCKED BEHIND THE BUSHES next to the library and unrolled the sleeves on her blouse. She bumped the bruises on her wrist and cringed. Mercy, Pap’d squeezed her hard. Probably bruised her all the way to the bone. It’d be days before the spots faded enough to wear a short-sleeved blouse again. She gritted her teeth, holding in a groan. She had to get out of that house.

  The clip-clop of shoed horses came up the street—Glory and Alba. Bettina zipped around to Mule and fiddled with his reins, like something needed fixing, and smiled at the pair. “Hey, gals.”

  “Hey yourself.” Alba looped Biscuit’s reins on a straggly branch. “Where was you last night? Everybody else came to my place after service. Maw gave us chocolate cake an’ fresh whipped cream.”

  Bettina’s mouth watered.

  “But you didn’t even come to service.” Alba’s blue eyes glittered. “Emmett didn’t neither. Was the two o’ you off sparkin’ someplace?” She and Glory giggled.

  As if she’d tell them she was soaking her bruises in Boone’s Creek in a useless attempt to make ’em go away. She tugged at her cuffs and tossed her head. “Ain’t nobody’s business what I was doin’.”

  Both girls laughed again, and Glory looked up the street to the livery. “Wonder where Addie’s got to. She ain’t brung Russet over yet, an’ she’s gen’rally the first one here.”

  All at once Emmett was standing next to them. His face looked like thunder. “Girls, c’mon inside. We need to talk.” He turned around and went into the building.

  Glory and Alba exchanged nervous looks and followed Emmett, but Bettina stayed by Mule. Her stomach whirled. Everybody in Boone’s Holler knew about the library getting torn up one end to the other. If she went in there, would Emmett tell her the library was closing? That they wouldn’t have jobs no more? That Addie was going back to wherever she lived before? She’d stayed away from him at church yesterday morning, scared he’d read all the hope in her face and be mad. He liked his job. She didn’t want him to lose it, but neither did she want him to keep working with Addie. She shifted from foot to foot, but she couldn’t make herself go in.

  Emmett poked his head out and frowned at her, stern as Pap. “Bettina, we’re waiting for you.”

  She forced her feet to carry her forward. Glory and Alba sat on crates lined up along the front wall. Addie sat at the table. Bettina scowled. How come she was wearing a dress?

  Emmett pointed, and Bettina settled next to Alba. He folded his arms and stood in front of them. “First of all, let’s clear the air about the damage that happened here Saturday. Somebody wants this program to close, but that somebody isn’t going to win.”

  Why was he looking straight at her? Her tummy gave a flip.

  “A lot of books were ruined, but thanks to a group of people from Addie’s town, we got other books—books of all kinds—to replace them. That means you’ll get to go on your routes today like always.”
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  Alba and Glory let out happy little squeals. Bettina couldn’t decide if she was happier’n she was sad or the other way around. So she stayed quiet.

  “The only thing is it’ll be the old routes.”

  Alba jolted upright and bumped Bettina’s arm. Bettina hissed and pulled it against her ribs. Alba didn’t say so much as sorry. “How come the old routes?”

  Emmett’s face kind of said sorry. “I’m pulling Addie from deliveries. We all know that hasn’t gone so well.”

  Bettina leaned forward and looked at Addie. Glory and Alba did, too, and they almost bumped heads. Probably wouldn’t have hurt Glory. Her frizzy hair made a good cushion. But it would serve Alba right if it hurt after banging Bettina’s arm like she done. Addie watched Emmett the way a mama cat watched her kittens and didn’t even seem to notice the other girls.

  Bettina jabbed her thumb in Addie’s direction. “What’s she gonna do? Sit here an’ make sheep’s eyes at you all day?”

  Emmett’s scowl got even darker than some Pap’d made.

  Bettina shrank back.

  “Nobody is going to sit an’ make sheep’s eyes at anybody. Addie will be making scrapbooks from the torn-up magazine pages so they can still be used.” He pointed to three satchels lined up on top of one of the shelves. “Your packs are ready. I tucked in a note with all the stops of your former routes to help you remember. For instance, Bettina’s Monday note says Nanny Fay, Cissell, Froman, Neely, Day, McCash, and Toon.”

  Bettina toyed with the button on her cuff. He’d said them names to help her. But how she hoped Addie didn’t figure out why she needed the help.

  “To make it a little easier for you today, I only put in two books for each stop. I hope that’ll speed things for you while you get used to doing the longer routes again.” He took a big breath and let it out, and he seemed to lose some steam. “I’m sorry we had to go back to the longer routes, but the goal of this program is to put books in people’s hands. If that doesn’t happen, the government might close us down. I don’t want to lose my job. Do you?”