The Librarian of Boone's Hollow Read online

  Alba and Glory shook their heads. Bettina ground her teeth together and stared at her knuckles.

  “All right, then. Grab your packs and head out. I’ll see you this evening.”

  Glory and Alba snagged their packs and scuttled out the door. Bettina reached for hers and took a little sideways glance at Emmett. He was watching her, his lips set in a line that wasn’t smile nor frown. With them glasses on, his hair combed straight back, and wearing his Sunday suit, he sure didn’t look much like the Emmett she used to know.

  Her stomach did another whirl. She swung her pack over her shoulder and hurried after Glory and Alba. They were already in their saddles. Bettina’d hoped to talk a little bit before they all set out, maybe see if they was as upset about going back to the long routes as she was, but they seemed eager to go. She waved and heaved herself onto Mule’s back.

  Nanny Fay

  THE SMELL OF blueberries hung heavy on the porch, covering the smells of grass and earth and the wild wisteria blooming at the edge of the woods. Even though she liked all those smells, Nanny Fay didn’t mind them playing second fiddle to the blueberries. Eagle used to get tired of the smells when she’d been canning. Would sometimes grumble that after smelling the food for so long, it didn’t even taste good. But Nanny Fay loved the smell of blueberries. Blueberries smelled like happiness.

  Rosie’s daughter ought to be riding in any minute, and Nanny Fay was ready for her. The books she needed to return waited in a stack on the bench next to her, and she held a jar of jam in her lap. She’d topped the jar with a circle of pink-and-white-checked fabric held in place with a pink ribbon. Rosie’d been fond of pink, and Nanny Fay used to tease her that’s how come she’d been named Rosie. She didn’t know if Bettina liked pink, but she hoped the color would remind her of her mama.

  A pair of turtledoves stopped their pecking and took flight, and moments later Bettina’s old mule broke through the brush. Nanny Fay stood, cringing at the catch in her back, and hobbled to the porch railing. She put on a smile, even though Bettina wore her usual frown.

  “Mornin’. Ain’t it a purty day?” She greeted Bettina like she always did, knowing full well she might not even get a grunt in answer.

  Bettina dug in her pouch and pulled out a pair of books. She shoved them at Nanny Fay.

  Nanny Fay held out the jar of jam. “Trade you.”

  Bettina pulled the books back. “Huh?”

  Nanny Fay bounced the jar. “Blueberry jam. I figure since you bring me books as reg’lar as clockwork, I should maybe give you a little somethin’. As a thank-you.”

  Bettina stared at the jar the way little children stared at a Christmas pudding. “I gotta bring you books. It’s my job.”

  “Oh, I know.” Nanny Fay wasn’t gonna get rattled. She’d got so used to people’s scowls and grumbles she didn’t hardly see or hear ’em anymore. Besides, wasn’t it fine that the girl was actually talking? “But that don’t mean I ain’t grateful. Here. You have some o’ that on your breakfast biscuits.” She leaned over the railing and dropped the jar into the pouch draped over the mule’s neck, then took the books. “Lemme get you the ones you’re s’posed to take back.” She shuffled to the bench, grabbed the books, and returned to the railing. “Here you go.”

  Bettina took them. The button on her cuff popped loose, and her sleeve slid up an inch or so. A circle of purple marks showed on the girl’s wrist.

  Nanny Fay got whisked backward in time so fast dizziness struck. She closed her eyes. Pictures flashed behind her eyelids. Bettina’s wrist, then Rosie’s arms. Bettina’s wrist, Rosie’s legs. Back and forth, back and forth. Bruises. So many bruises. She grabbed the railing and prayed for her head to clear. The images faded. Her balance returned.

  She opened her eyes. Bettina was gone. Nanny Fay gripped her throat and moaned, “Oh, Rosie, your little gal…”

  Bettina

  WHO’D SHE THINK she was, giving her presents? Bettina urged Mule up the narrow passage, away from Boone’s Holler. Away from Nanny Fay. If it’d been anything but blueberry jam in that jar, Bettina would’ve throwed it at the old witch lady. But she couldn’t throw something made from blueberries. Maw’d liked blueberries best of all the wild fruits growing on the mountain.

  She slid her hand inside the pack. Her fingers found the smooth jar and followed it up to the cloth. Pink-and-white-checked cloth. Maw’d wore a pink-and-white-checked dress to Sunday service pret’ near all spring and summer long. But it disappeared before Maw died. Bettina never did figure out where it went, though she’d hunted for it more’n once. She’d thought she could maybe wear it. Maw always looked pretty as a rosebud in that dress, and Bettina’d look that pretty, too, wearing it.

  Everybody in Boone’s Holler said she was the spitting image of Maw. Same build. Same long eyelashes. Same wavy dirt-brown hair and widow’s peak. Same freckles. She was proud to look like Maw. Proud to be able to see to the cooking and cleaning and washing so she’d be a good wife someday. If she put on Maw’s dress, would Emmett think she was pretty as a rosebud? Would he see her as all growed up and ready to be his wife? She’d look for the dress again after Pap went to sleep tonight.

  The Cissell cabin was across the creek, maybe another three hundred yards up the mountain, and already Bettina tasted the sweet apple cider Miz Cissell kept in a jug under the porch, where it stayed cool. “C’mon, Mule, hurry up.” She tapped Mule with her heels and kept running her fingers over that soft piece of cloth tied on the jar of blueberry jam. When noontime come, she’d put some of that jam on the bread and butter she’d packed for her lunch and have herself a feast.

  Blueberry jam and pink-and-white-checked cloth. How’d Nanny Fay know them were Maw’s favorites? Bettina shivered. Pap’d say it was ’cause she was a witch. Bettina wouldn’t tell Pap about her present. Nor nobody else. This would be her little secret. Well, hers and Nanny Fay’s.

  Addie

  ONE DONE. IT HAD TAKEN the better part of the day, but she’d filled an entire scrapbook with carefully snipped out pictures of birds. Addie corked the pot of glue, set the glue brush in a cup of water on the windowsill, and stretched her arms over her head. Her muscles went tight, then quivery, and her entire frame shuddered. A sigh eased from her chest. What a good feeling. Both the physical relief of stretching and the satisfaction of completing the first official scrapbook for the Boone’s Hollow library.

  She turned sideways in the chair and caught Emmett watching her. Heat filled her face. He’d taken one of the empty scrapbooks and used it as a lap desk for his work, giving her the table for her project. He sat with his ankle on his opposite knee, balancing the scrapbook on his bent leg. Given his height and the size of the chair, he probably needed to stretch more than she had.

  She stood. “Would you like to trade places for a while?”

  “No, this arrangement actually works well for me. I can pull the chair close to the shelf and record an entire line of books without having to get up and down.” He tapped his pen on the edge of the inventory page. “These books, Addie…I’m astounded by how many your mother and her friends collected. Especially in such a short amount of time. And for them to arrive the same day that so many of our books were destroyed.” He swallowed. “Thank you for asking her to organize the book drive. It saved our jobs. I’m sure of it.”

  Addie wiped away a spot of glue with her finger, her head low. “It’s the least I could do after—”

  His foot hit the floor with a thud, and Addie jumped. “Didn’t I tell you it isn’t your fault?”

  “Yes, but…” The way Bettina had glared that morning when she’d seen Addie sitting at the table was burned into her memory. “I can’t shake the feeling that if I’d been more cautious around you, less friendly, then—”

  “Look, Addie.” He stood and plopped the scrapbook and pen on the chair seat, then ambled to the table. “I’m all for being res
pectful, for treating people the way we want to be treated. But there’s a verse in Ephesians, something like ‘Put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbor, for we are all members of one body.’ Does it do Bettina any good for us to pretend we don’t like each other and let her continue to build a false relationship in her imagination? Isn’t honesty a better response?”

  Addie stared into his open, honest face. She liked Emmett. She’d liked him from the first moment she saw him at the bonfire. But how did he know? And what should she say now that she knew he liked her, too?

  His gaze drifted past her to the pages drying on the table. He inched forward, scanning the pages by turn, a smile lifting the corners of his lips. “Say, these are really well done. They’re as nice as any printed magazine pages.”

  If he was willing to switch to a more comfortable topic, she’d follow him. “Thank you. I kept thinking about the quilts Griselda Ann put together—balancing color and pattern. I think they came out pretty good, too, if you don’t mind me bragging on myself a little bit.”

  He chuckled. “Brag away. You know, I really hope you’ll be able to finish your degree. You’ll make a fine teacher.”

  She frowned at him. “Teacher?”

  He frowned, too. “Did I remember incorrectly? I thought you said you were enrolled in the College of Education at the university.”

  She couldn’t believe he remembered that. “I was, but…” They were friends. He’d admitted he liked her. Could she trust him with her secret? “I don’t really want to be a teacher.”

  He perched on the edge of the table and folded his arms, giving him a scholarly appearance. “Then why were you in the program?”

  “Because it was the one that most closely prepared me for what I really want to do.” A lot of people didn’t think women could be good writers. Would Emmett hold that view? “I hope to be A. F. Penrose, a published author.” The pen name honored her parents, but it didn’t divulge her gender. She searched his face for signs of humor or derision.

  “An author? That’s…that’s…” He laughed. “I don’t know what to say. Except you’d be wonderful.”

  Her pulse skipped a beat. “You think so?”

  “I do. When I read the story you brought in here, I was amazed at how you pulled me in, as if I were the one living it instead of the character. You’re an excellent writer, Addie. You should pursue it.”

  “Even though I’m a girl?”

  “Bosh.” He waved his hand as if shooing away her question. “What’s that got to do with anything? Do you think when God created humankind, He made a list of special talents for males and another for females? Oh, there are things for which one gender or the other is probably better suited, such as men for hard physical labor or women for nurturing. I think He did that so there’d be a balance in the husband-wife relationship. But I can’t imagine God would give you such a special gift and then say you can’t use it just because you’re a girl. That would be cruel.”

  No one, besides Mother and Daddy, had been so encouraging and understanding about her desire to write. Joy exploded in her chest and propelled her from her chair. She threw her arms around his neck in a hug of both gratitude and delight. “Thank you, Emmett!”

  His arms closed around her, warm and snug, and then he abruptly released her. He cast an apologetic grimace at her. “I’d better finish the inventory list for the nonfiction books. Reports are due the twenty-fifth of each month, and the girls will be back from their routes soon, and…” He walked backward to the chair as he spoke, his hands flying around in nervous gestures.

  Addie blinked back tears of embarrassment and regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. I only wanted to thank you for showing such confidence in me. It won’t happen again.”

  He reversed direction so quickly his soles skidded on the floor. He took her hands. “No, I’m sorry. I like you, Addie. More than I’ve ever liked a girl.”

  Her heart set up such a thrum it threatened to drown out his voice.

  “But we work together. I’m…I’m your boss. Every class I took at the university advised against forming relationships in a workplace. It creates conflict within the working environment and can cause not only a breakdown of morale but even bitterness between coworkers.” He sighed, letting his head flop back. “I wish I hadn’t taken those courses.”

  She had the same wish. She forced a soft laugh. “I understand.”

  He lowered his head and gazed earnestly into her upturned face. “Do you really? Because I don’t want to offend you.”

  “I’m not offended.”

  His shoulders slumped. “I’m glad.”

  “But, Emmett, I think there’s already bitterness between coworkers.”

  He nodded, one slow bob of his head. “You and Bettina.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “If she’s angry enough at me to come in here and destroy books, then morale has broken down completely.”

  Emmett released her hands and gently gripped her upper arms, leaning down slightly. “Addie, I’m not convinced Bettina tore this place apart.”

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise. If not Bettina, then whom? How many people were angry enough at her to sabotage the library? Did resentment toward Nanny Fay run so deeply they would demolish something beneficial to the entire community? Emmett had told her ignorance, hatred, and jealousy were behind the destruction. But it felt personal. As if she herself had been attacked. It had to be Bettina. She started to tell him so.

  “Addie? Emmett?”

  Emmett let go of her so quickly she almost stumbled. She turned to the door. Nanny Fay stood just inside the doorway. She held a rumpled bundle of pink gingham in her hands. Anguish contorted her face.

  Addie rushed to her. “Nanny Fay, what’s happened?” She gave the woman a quick head-to-toe examination and didn’t spot signs of blood or trauma.

  Nanny Fay held out the wadded-up cloth, her hands trembling. “I been huggin’ this all day, prayin’, thinkin’, stewin’, prayin’ some more. An’ I come to realize I can’t carry it all myself. I need help. So here I am, comin’ to you.”

  Emmett reached them in two long strides and took hold of Nanny Fay’s elbow. He guided her to the table and eased her into the chair. He braced his hands on his knees and peered into her face, concern creasing his forehead. “What is it? If I can help, I will.”

  Tears winked in the old woman’s faded blue eyes. She hugged the fabric to her chest. “It’s about Bettina. We gotta get her out o’ that house. ’Cause if we don’t, someday Burke’s gonna do her in.”

  Chills attacked Addie’s frame. She skittered close and sat on the edge of the crate closest to the table. “You really think her father would hurt her?”

  Nanny Fay nodded grimly. “I know he would.” She snapped the wad of cloth and held it out, and it took the shape of a dress. The fabric bore rips, grass stains, and brownish smears.

  Addie’s stomach churned. “Is that blood?”

  Another nod.

  “Is it Bettina’s dress?”

  Emmett shook his head. “No. It belonged to Bettina’s mother. I remember because my maw always complimented it—said it made her cheeks glow.”

  A sad smile tipped up the corners of Nanny Fay’s lips. “Your maw was right. This dress…it was Rosie’s favorite. She come to me late one night, a-staggerin’, hardly able to stay on her feet. She was wearin’ this dress, an’ she was bruised from head to toe.” Her chin quivered, and tears rolled. She hugged the dress to her chest. “Burke had come home late, drunk as a skunk, an’ beat her near senseless ’cause supper’d grown cold.”

  Nanny Fay’s entire frame trembled, and Addie slipped her arm around her shoulders. Nanny Fay leaned in, tipping her head to Addie’s temple. “I had her strip down so I could tend to her bruises. Whilst I was seein’ to her, my door busted open an’ Burke come in, ravin
’ like a madman. He…he knocked me down an’ threw her over his shoulder like she was nothin’ more’n a sack o’ taters. Stormed out with her. I didn’t see her after that. But I won’t never forget how she was shiverin’, part from shock, an’ part, I think, ’cause he’d hurt things inside o’ her.”

  Addie gasped.

  “I ain’t no real doctor, as folks in these parts are all-fired quick to point out, so I can’t say for sure. But it only makes sense to me. After that night, folks talked about a hurtin’ in her gut that wouldn’t go away. Then she sank into a sleepful state, an’ she died. Burke blamed me, but…” Tears rolled down the old woman’s face. “She was such a little gal. Hardly bigger’n a child. An’ he beat her with his fists.” She sat up and wiped her eyes, sniffing hard. “Now he’s doin’ it to Bettina.”

  Emmett drew back. “How do you know?”

  “I seen the bruises on her wrists. Seen ’em this mornin’ when she brung me my books. They’re fresh, as bold purple as—” Her face crumpled, and she began to sob. “As ripe blueberries.”

  Addie embraced Nanny Fay. Emmett jolted to his feet and paced the length of the library, one fist pressed to his chin. Addie held her friend and followed Emmett with her eyes. Fury pulsated from him, and she didn’t blame him. A man who abused his wife and child deserved to be beaten until his body was covered in bold purple bruises. Until his insides caused him pain.

  “Emmett, what are you going to do?”

  He came to a stop so quickly it appeared he’d collided with a wall. He stood for several seconds, tense as a taut spring, then lowered his hand. A harsh laugh burst from his throat. “To think the people in this town watch Nanny Fay, a harmless elderly woman, and fear what she’ll do, but they turn a blind eye to an able-bodied man who batters his family. I can’t fathom a father—” He shook his head hard, as if scattering his thoughts. He muttered, almost to himself, “What is wrong with him?”