Boo

by Rene Gutteridge

  “That’s because it’s rare.”

  “Ah.”

  She swallowed as if to gather herself and then said, “Well, I shouldn’t waste my time looking here. All this store cares about—” She stopped suddenly and glanced up at him. Her eyes reflected something different than her demeanor, but he couldn’t tell what. “I’m late for work, actually, so I’d better go.”

  Wolfe tried not to let his face show disappointment. “Okay. Well, good to see you.”

  “Yes,” she replied, then started to walk off. As she passed him she said, “By the way, that’s a great book.” She pointed to the one he was holding.

  “I know. I’ve read it five times.”

  She stopped. “You’ve read Great Expectations five times?”

  “Yes. I decided I should actually buy it instead of going to the library and checking it out every time.”

  Though her lips never curved into a warm smile, her eyes reflected a certain sentiment that Wolfe recognized as somewhat friendly. He grinned at her as best he could and said, “Have a good day.”

  “Oh. Thanks,” she said, as if suddenly aware that she was just standing there. “You, too.” And then she left.

  Wolfe leaned against the bookshelf behind him and sighed in relief. He looked down at the book in his hand. “Thank you, Charles Dickens.” Then he made his way to the front of the store where Dude had his nose in a book.

  CHAPTER 5

  “HERE’S A T-BOONE steak for you,” Ainsley said, setting the platter down carefully in front of the young man. “And the Turkey Sand-Witch for you.” She smiled at the young woman, whose eyes seemed bright with life.

  “Thank you,” the girl said.

  “Anything else?” Ainsley asked.

  The young man spoke up. “We’re on our honeymoon,” he said. “I’m looking for some fun places to take us. Any suggestions?”

  “Congratulations!” Ainsley gushed. “You two look so in love.” The couple glanced at each other and grinned. “Well, let me tell you, you’re going to have to get out of this town to find somewhere romantic. I’d suggest going about ten miles—”

  The man interrupted. “We purposely came here, to Skary, for our honeymoon.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes,” the girl answered. “We thought we’d have a lot of fun! We’re staying in that little bed-and-breakfast down the road. What’s it called?”

  Ainsley sighed. “Arsenic and Old Lace.”

  The girl squealed. “Yes! That’s it! It’s just the cutest little place!”

  “Yeah. Just try not to get murdered,” Ainsley replied.

  The couple laughed heartily, but Ainsley could only manage to smile mildly. The man said, “We loved all the axes hanging from the ceiling.”

  “You can’t get much more romantic than axes, can you? Can I get you anything else?”

  The girl leaned forward on the table. “Do you know him?”

  “Who?”

  “Wolfe Boone, of course.”

  “Oh. No. I mean, yes. I mean, not really. Sort of.” She closed her mouth to stop rambling, took a deep breath, and finally answered, “I’ve met him.”

  “Is he creepy? He looks like he would be.”

  As much as Ainsley wanted to answer that question with yes, she had to be truthful. “No. Not really. He could use a haircut, but that’s about it.” She tapped her pencil on her pad and said, “I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.”

  Ainsley found Marlee reading a magazine behind the counter. “Don’t you have customers?”

  Marlee smacked her gum and didn’t look up. “They’re fine. They’ll yell if they need anything.”

  Ainsley shook her head and leaned against the counter to take the pressure off her already aching feet. “The point of being a good waitress is that your customers don’t have to yell for you, you know.”

  Marlee smiled and nodded but continued reading about the latest fall lipstick colors.

  “I ran into him today.”

  Marlee looked up. “Who? Garth?”

  Ainsley rolled her eyes. “Running into Garth isn’t worth reporting.”

  Her eyebrows raised. “Well, then who is worthy of reporting?”

  Ainsley swallowed. She didn’t mean it that way. Did she? “Wolfe Boone.”

  “Boo?”

  “Yeah. At the bookstore.”

  “The bookstore? He’s not known for venturing out much, is he?” She stood upright and closed her magazine. “What happened? Did he seem, you know, converted?”

  Ainsley popped her knuckles and frowned. “Look, it’s more than what you look like on the outside. Who can say if his heart has changed?”

  “What was he doing there?”

  “Reading Charles Dickens, apparently.” Ainsley glanced over to her latest customers and noticed they both needed a refill on their drinks. She grabbed the tea pitcher, but before she could step out from behind the counter, Bob came through the doors of the kitchen.

  “Ainsley, phone call.” Bob held the phone up in the air. “They’ve taken your Aunt Gert to the hospital.”

  Ainsley walked as fast as she could down the sidewalk toward Sbooky’s. She didn’t feel like smiling, but she did to those who smiled first. Bob had let her take the lunch hour off, and she had to get to the hospital. She’d visited Gert at home yesterday, spent the evening with her, and knew she did not look good.

  Please, God, she thought as she wrapped her scarf around her neck to block the cold wind, please let me find that little book.

  Once there, she made a beeline to the back of the store and for ten minutes searched the shelves for the little book.

  “May I help you?”

  Ainsley turned around to find a middle-aged, short and round man standing near her. His eyes were bright and his smile was friendly. “I hope so.”

  “I’m Hardy Bishop. I own this store. I don’t know that we’ve ever met. I know all my customers.”

  Ainsley tried to sound pleasant. “Yes, well, I’ve only been in here a couple of times.”

  “Oh? Not a big reader?”

  “Not of what you sell.” Ainsley lowered her head, hoping she didn’t sound too crass. But it was true, and she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t. She looked up at Hardy, who was still smiling, apparently unfazed by the comment. Ainsley took in a deep breath and continued, “I’m looking for a children’s book by Frank Baum.”

  “Ah. Mr. Baum. Yes. I’m a big fan of The Wizard of Oz.”

  The tightness in Ainsley’s chest released, and she even smiled. “You know his work?”

  “Why yes.” He pulled a book off the shelf. “We always stock The Wizard of Oz.”

  “I’m looking for a rare children’s book he wrote. You see, my aunt, the only relative I have left on my mother’s side, is dying of cancer, and this was a book that they shared together as children, and it would just be awfully wonderful if I could find this book for her. She adored it and speaks of it today, but her copy burned in a fire.” Ainsley felt her eyes moisten with emotion as she spoke. “It’s called The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus.”

  The bright smile Mr. Bishop had worn only moments before faded with each word Ainsley spoke, until the corners of his mouth drooped with a certain sadness. “I’m sorry, sweet lady,” he said. “But you won’t find that book here.”

  “You don’t carry it?”

  Mr. Bishop shook his head and guided her to the front of the store. “No, it’s extremely rare. In fact, I can’t say that we’ve ever carried it. It is a wonderful story, though.” He smiled eagerly at her as he made his way behind the counter. “What is your name?”

  “Ainsley. Ainsley Parker.”

  “Ah, Sheriff Parker’s daughter, I presume. Well, Miss Parker, let me call someone for you. They own a bookstore that specializes in rare books. They’re in Indianapolis.” He picked up the phone and dialed the number. Ainsley listened intently and gathered the news was bad. Mr. Bishop hung up the phone and shook his head sadly. “They had o
ne copy. But it sold. I’m sorry.”

  Ainsley felt a lump in her throat. “Oh my. What terrible timing.”

  Mr. Bishop nodded. “Apparently went for a pretty hefty price tag, too. The owner of the store said he sold it for more than a thousand dollars.”

  “What?”

  “Yes. Apparently it’s very sought after. The buyer paid what old Harrison was asking. First edition in prime condition. I guess it was worth it.”

  Ainsley nodded, trying to hold back the disappointment that flooded her heart. She had no idea the book was that rare. Her voice quivered when she spoke, and she was embarrassed. “Well, thank you so much. You were so kind for going to the extra trouble—”

  From the corner of her eye, Ainsley noticed a Polaroid snapshot of Wolfe Boone hanging on the counter. She glanced over at the life-size cardboard replica of him near one of the bookshelves. It was as if she were looking at two different people. The cardboard man she thought she knew well. The small Polaroid man she was beginning to realize she didn’t know quite as well as she thought.

  “Miss Parker?” the owner asked.

  She turned back to him. “I’m sorry. I was just noticing your—uh, never mind. Anyway, thanks for your help.”

  She had to get to the hospital. She headed back into the cold.

  Missy Peeple’s crumbling old teeth chattered in the cold, which she supposed helped to disguise her voice, lest anyone would want to know who was really calling. She was on hold, but from the little phone booth near the hardware store, she could see Boo leaving the church and walking up the hill to his home. She sighed in disgust. He was spending time at the church. That couldn’t be good.

  “Are you still holding?”

  “Yes, I’m still here,” she said, putting a deliberate and hard-to-find chime in her voice.

  “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, ma’am. I’ll have to take a message. Mr. Tennison isn’t available.”

  “Oh, is that so? If he knew what I had to say, I think he’d be on the phone.”

  “He’s a very busy man—”

  “Listen,” Missy said. “I’ve got information. Do you know what information means in a business like yours, deary?”

  “Well—”

  “Wrong answer. The correct answer is ‘One moment, please. I’ll get him.’ ”

  A pause was followed by, “Ma’am, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but …”

  Missy held her breath. She’d only put three dollars’ worth of quarters into the pay phone, and the time it took for the little brat to make up her mind had ticked the minutes away. She could still see Boo climbing the hill to his house, carrying a paper grocery sack filled with something. Her curious mind played over what it might be. How could a man of such fame and glory give it all up so easily? And with such disregard for the town that practically made him famous.

  “Then I’ll leave a message. The message is this: ‘Wolfe Boone has become a Christian.’ I just thought his editor might like to know.”

  She could hear the girl writing. “Your name?” she asked blandly, as if it were a prank call.

  She paused, wondering if she should indeed gamble and give out her identity. She tried to guess what kind of man this Alfred Tennison might be. How would this news affect him? And what would he do with it? The call in and of itself was a gamble, but she had a feeling, a gnawing feeling, that Mr. Tennison would become quite useful.

  “Miss Peeple. That’s M-I-S-S,” she said calmly, then added her phone number, and just for kicks, gave her address, too. The operator indicated her time was up, so she hung up the phone, just in time to watch Boo shut his front door.

  Missy stood and pondered the phone call until something caught her eye. It was Oliver Stepaphanolopolis, the owner of a local used car business. She knew him from church. Had bought a car from him once, back when she was still allowed to drive. He passed Melb Cornforth, who was leaving The Haunted Mansion restaurant. He held the door for her, and she thanked him and continued on. But Oliver stood there and watched her walk down the sidewalk until he realized Thief, the sheriff’s cat, was about to make his way inside the restaurant. He shut the door quickly.

  Missy Peeple smiled. Greed could make a man do anything. Love could make him do the unthinkable.

  She made a mental note of it and then bundled herself up for the walk home.

  Ainsley held Aunt Gert’s hand as tightly as she could, trying to hold back her tears. Gert was slightly propped up on several hospital pillows, her face pasty and pale, but her eyes as bright as always.

  “Dear heart, don’t you cry. Why are you crying?”

  Ainsley wiped at her tears. “I’m sorry. It’s just … they’re saying you won’t leave the hospital this time.” Before she knew it, she was sobbing, her head in the arms of the fragile old woman she was supposed to be comforting.

  “There, there,” Gert said, stroking her head. “Death, where is thy victory? Where is thy sting?”

  Ainsley lifted her head as the tears continued to roll. “But Aunt Gert, you’re all I have left of Mom.” Ainsley covered her face and continued to cry. “This is so selfish of me! You’re the one who needs comfort.” She gathered her emotions and tried to smile at her aunt. “You’ll get better. I know it. You will.”

  Gert’s lips trembled a little, and she patted Ainsley’s face. Then she took a deep breath, as if that single motion drained all her energy. “Some people want to die at home. But I don’t. Everyone who would be at home knows Jesus. There are people here at the hospital I can still reach.”

  “God can always work a miracle.”

  “Sure He can. But I doubt He will.” She squeezed Ainsley’s hand. “I know it’s hard for you to understand. You’re in the prime of your life. Dying seems horrible. But when you’re my age, and you’ve lived through love and loss and pain and joy, you get a little tired, and the idea of leaving this old bag of bones behind and going to be with the Father … well, it doesn’t seem all that bad.”

  Ainsley cried some more, all the while trying to stop herself.

  Gert coughed a little and then continued. “You’re a bright young woman, full of life. Full of light. I’m so proud of you. And your mother is too. She’s up in heaven looking down on you. I’ll tell her hi when I get there.”

  Ainsley laughed a little. “Okay.”

  “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and I don’t want to see you waste any time crying over me.” Her gaze focused directly on Ainsley. “Besides, I know when I’m gone, you’ll be leaving. You have a whole other world to find out there.”

  “I’d rather have you. You know that. I’d stay here forever if it meant you’d stay with me.”

  “I know,” she smiled. “This isn’t such a bad town, you know. It’s not big and flashy, but there’s something to be said for—”

  “I don’t hate this town. You know that. I love it. It holds the dearest memories of Mom. But I hate what it has become. And I think it’s time I let Dad go too. For me and for him.”

  “Yes, well, all things happen for a purpose.”

  Ainsley stroked Gert’s hair. “I wish I could see the good in everything like you do.”

  “So be happy for me, that the pain’ll soon be gone and that I’ll be free from all the bad things on this wretched earth.” Her eyes looked up at the ceiling, as if she were seeing the very glory of God and His angels. “And old Wilbur’s up there. Can’t believe it’s been twenty years since the old fogy passed on. I’ll be glad to see him. He was the love of my life, you know.” She cracked a smile. “ ’Course, he was much more romantic in his younger years. The older he got, the crankier he got. But I still loved him.” Her eyes shifted to Ainsley, and she patted her on the arm. “You’ll find that someday, you know. The love of your life.”

  Ainsley laughed out loud and shook her head. “At the rate I’m going, I’ll die an old maid. And Daddy is no help. Remember when Oliver Stepaphanolopolis set me up with that nice young man, Billy Hanover, who lived two
counties over?” Gert nodded. “Daddy greeted him at the door with a shotgun. There’s nothing that kills romance like the idea that your date’s father is going to shoot you dead.”

  “What about that vet? What’s his name?”

  “Garth?!” Ainsley snorted. “Hah. Never in a million years.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “Many things, not the least of which is that he smells like a horse all the time.”

  Gert laughed, and Ainsley finally realized her tears had dried up. She felt a strange peace and knew God was comforting her.

  “Well,” Gert said, “you’ll find the one. I know it.”

  Ainsley sat back in her chair. “How will I know? How do you know who is the right person?”

  Gert chuckled. “Well, from my experience it’s usually the last person on earth that you’d expect.”

  “No kidding. Why do you say that?”

  “Mostly because God has this funny sense of humor. But also because God wants us to find the person that complements us, so when we become one, as they say, we’re a whole person. If you marry someone just like you, then when you become one, well, there’s too much of one personality, let’s just say that.” She tried to sit up a little, as if excited about the topic. “You’ll find you have a few common interests. Enough so you can get to know each other.”

  Ainsley listened carefully. Aunt Gert had always been wise, the wisest woman she knew. Still, in her heart she was skeptical. She tried to imagine what the exact opposite of herself was, and the thought scared her to death. Gert laughed, as if reading her mind.

  “Don’t you worry about it, honey. It won’t pass you by. You’ll know.”

  Ainsley blinked and looked at her aunt. “How will I know for sure?”

  “There’ll be this little flutter to your heart. And when you look in his eyes, you’ll see a little sparkle, and it’ll tell you that he has eternity in mind.”

  Ainsley shook her head. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Aunt Gert. By flutter, do you mean a little hiccup in your heart rhythm, like when you’ve had too much caffeine? Or more of a thump, thump, like when you’ve had the daylights scared out of you? And I’m sorry, but seeing someone’s eye sparkle with thoughts of eternal love seems a little hard to read. Maybe they’re just standing near a light bulb or something.”