The Bibliophile (The Librarian Chronicles Book 3)

by Christy Sloat

  Dear Adam,

  I hope this letter reaches you in a time that you have finished your grieving for me and are in a happy place in your life. If not, well what are you waiting for? Death comes to us all baby boy, and it came for me. I was not immune to its hands, and while I hated to leave you, I had no choice in the matter. But you, Adam, you have a choice. You can sit around and grieve or you can live. And if there is one thing I learned in my life, it’s to live. Life is full of adventures and possibilities, and I want that for you. You were born in the summer but loved the winter; such a wonderful baby. And we were so happy to have you in our lives. Your father always called you Big Adam, but to me you were my little Adam, and I think your father wanted you to grow up too soon. Please don’t. Please be young for as long as you can.

  Now to explain this package. It includes some books that are very precious to me and our family heritage.

  You already know your father’s family, the Giordano’s, well enough but as for my side, the Bailey’s, you aren’t as acquainted. You know that I didn’t take your father’s name when we married. That’s because I loved my family so. And our importance in this world. While I didn’t get to do all the things my family offered me once I got married, I was still proud that I played a small part in what you could call the family business, when I was younger. When I was just eighteen, I was able to start working, and these books were my job.

  It’s going to be hard for you to understand, which is why I sent the scrolls, they explain so much. When I was younger, my best friend, Angela, helped me. She was what you could call my guide. She taught me and helped me through some tough times and she can help with the scrolls. When I met your dad, I decided to give it all up. I regret that decision, let me tell you. I am sitting here writing this letter to you and all I can think of is all the places I visited. The Bailey family’s history is long and can be confusing.

  Adam, you won’t be able to fulfill the job I did, because it was a job only the Bailey women were able to master. As I sit here, I wonder why not the men? Why not send the men on the job? Maybe you’ll be able to get the answer for yourself. You’ll need my brooch, it is precious Adam, be careful with it.

  It’s important that you know I wanted this for you, Adam. I wanted you to go on the adventures, because I know out of all my boys, you are the most adventurous. Whatever you do, be careful, and know that my heart beats for you all. Even when it stops, somewhere out there in the universe, it’s still beating.

  Love, Mom

  I managed to read the letter without tears, which wasn’t easy, but just hearing her voice in my head as I read it, kept me from breaking down. It was like visiting her for just a moment.

  Digging inside the box I found the jewelry box that contained her brooch. She wore the thing everywhere she went. Always on her scarves, or her lapel. She always had it on her. I remember as a young child touching its red rubies and thinking that it was the most beautiful thing ever.

  I opened the box and there it sat in its red ruby glory, just like when she was alive. So the Bailey family owned a business, huh? This was news to me. My father never mentioned the family and when we had the funeral, he insisted it just be a small gathering; just us. We didn’t hold a memorial for family, and to me that always seemed so messed up. How had they felt about that?

  I picked up the scroll that read “one” and untied it. Inside it held a ton of papers with names and addresses as well as numbers to reach guides, whatever that meant. Circled was Angela’s number. I remember meeting her once or twice when I was older. From what I understood, Dad hated Angela and didn’t want her around Mom. So, she saw her in secret. I never cared; I wanted Mom happy and Angela made her happy. In red letters it said: When in doubt call Angela.

  I set the scroll down just as confused as I was when I first unrolled it and I picked up a book that grabbed my attention instantly. The aged cover had me believe it was a first edition, as well as the wear and tear. Someone loved this book so much that they destroyed it. The spine felt cracked as I ran my thumb over it. The store had a few first editions and they sold for a pretty penny, so I kept them locked up. One never took too many precautions in life.

  The book I held had no title, which was very intriguing. I rated books like I rated women. The average male liked a girl who had a lot going on on the outside; nice hair, great lips, tan skin, big chest, and so on. But me, I chose women who were a blank canvas. I couldn’t wait to see what they were like on the inside, almost like opening a package. At times, it was the way a girl smiled, or how she tucked her hair back, or laughed nervously. It was easy to find a beautiful girl in New York, and sure, I’ve brought a few home to play with. But the minute, and I mean the absolute minute most of these beautiful women opened their mouths, I was not attracted for long.

  The same went for books. A cover with too much flare turned me off. This book was going to be perfect. My hands got sweaty at the thought of opening it.

  Chewing my lip, I cracked the book open, and before I knew it, my mind was blown.

  Seven

  Rose 1765

  If I had a horse, I’d pack it to go on my small adventure to see Mrs. Winthorp, but because both Mother and Father had our horses, I had only the legs God gave me and the pack that was left in the house. One might think you’d be fine to go on a day’s trip to see a neighbor and not need provisions but here on the ridge we needed them.

  For instance, I needed my bow and arrows, my knife for protection, and the spear that I made when I was ten. My spear was my favorite for fishing and hunting small game like rabbits and squirrels. Of course, I packed enough food for my walk there, and the walk back. One never knew if they were going to be delayed in the woods alone or for how long. So, it was important to pack as if you were going to be delayed for some time. This was life in the mountains, and it has taken some getting used to. I for one did not enjoy having to go to such extremes to go see a neighbor but my parents taught me well. And I was Rose Bennett, daughter to a formal general in the English Army. Being smart and able to defend myself was very important to Father. He had trained me since I was able to walk. Mother trained me too but Father was the one who knew the most about combat fighting. Mother had seen much in her tribe. Serving the medicine woman of her tribe, her mother, had given her experience in helping others and she was educated when it came to reading signs of animals in the forest. No one knew the forest like my mother.

  I left the animals with plenty of food and water; there was no need to let them suffer because I was detained.

  As I started my walk south, I realized this could take three hours, maybe four if it rained. I prayed the rain held out but as I looked up at the sky, I knew that a morning rain shower was entirely possible.

  Birds sung in the trees around me, keeping me company as I took the road to Mrs. Winthorp’s house. She lived at the very edge of Raven’s Ridge, hiding from society, as she called it.

  I myself missed society, at least the company of people, even though those people weren’t always so kind to me. But the chances of marrying someone in Raven’s Ridge were slim. I often wondered if my parents thought about my future at all when we moved here. Did they not think me fit to be a wife and mother someday? Was I to be an old maid? Or would they marry me to one of the Cherokee who lived just north of us?

  The thought of marrying a Cherokee wasn’t horrible but I’d have to learn the ways, and change everything about who I was. It was better than being alone.

  I felt a drop on my face and knew instantly a downpour was coming. I took cover under a large magnolia and waited for it to pass.

  Once the storm blew by, an hour later, I made my way south again. I had eaten my lunch at hour two, and at hour three, I stopped to drink from the stream that we fished. I saw many fish hiding under the bank, regretting not taking a stab at them for tonight’s feast. My stomach grumbled at the thought of dried
meat and corn fritters again.

  Perhaps Mrs. Winthorp would ask me to stay, and I wouldn’t have to make myself dinner. She was always kindly and welcoming to me whenever I visited. Her son, Arthur, was younger than me by five years, and I heard her ask Mother if he would be too young to marry me. Being nineteen I shuddered at the thought of marrying a fourteen year-old boy. He was not a man yet. And while he was sure to grow up handsome, I would sooner marry a Cherokee man.

  It was now hour four, and I could see her homestead in my sights. Ah, the thought of getting off my feet was a mere delight in itself. I stopped to rest by the river, and took my shoes off and placed them inside. The cold water soothed them and before I knew it, the rain had come again.

  Eight

  Adam …

  I felt like I was falling except I was standing still. A cold wind blew past me and rain poured down on me as I stood there in nothing but boxer shorts.

  “Whoa,” I said to no one, as I was absolutely alone. Yet, I felt someone near. A presence of some sort was nearby, and I felt it inside me as I felt my very bones. I wiped the rain from my face, confused as hell right then because I was not in my kitchen like I had been a minute ago. I was standing in the woods. Lots of woods.

  “Something’s not right.” I looked at my surroundings and still felt the feeling of free falling into nothingness, and that was when my feet gave out. My knees hit first and then my body but I didn’t pass out. Even as the pain took hold, I just laid there waiting for the feeling to pass. It was too much to handle and after a few minutes of closing my eyes, it did pass. But then came the nausea.

  I clutched my mother’s brooch in my fingers and wondered if this were a dream, then why did I have it in my hand? Dissolution was the word to describe how I felt, and then I saw someone. I turned my head and saw her, this wild woman with terrified eyes. She grasped a spear tightly in her arms pointed directly at me. Looking like she wanted to kill me and run from me at the same moment, her wet hair clung to her tan face, and she let out a slow grunt as she shoved the pointed end of her weapon in my direction.

  “Whoa! Watch where you point that thing. Where am I?” I asked, hoping she had the answers I so desperately needed.

  “How indecent you are sir! How crass and rude. You are in Raven’s Ridge, and if you do not belong here, you are trespassing. Get up!”

  Wow, she did not like me, that was apparent.

  “You’ve never seen a guy in his underwear before?” I asked, realizing that I was in the same clothing I wore in the privacy of my own kitchen.

  She shoved the spear at me again as she said, “No! And I would be obliged if you did as I said so I did not have to kill you.”

  She was polite about threatening me but there still held a sense of dread about her words.

  I sat up onto my elbows and felt the pain in my knees as I tried to sit halfway. I screamed out in sheer agony, and grabbed my left knee. In high school I played rugby, and after the last game in which I was hit pretty hard in that knee, it was never the same again. The only good thing about that game was winning the championship. But the thought of that game quickly passes as the wild woman screamed at me again, and actually poked my chest with her stick.

  “What the actual fuck woman! That hurt. And dammit I can’t get up, my knee is messed up.”

  “You’re a liar. You’ve come here to trick me and to seduce me with your… your naked body. Well, you’ve not found a woman who can be easily tricked. I am half-Cherokee, and I can fight you all by myself. Now up on your feet or I’ll stab your flesh straight through!”

  Shit. This girl meant business. I had landed in the absolute worst nightmare ever. The one where a hot girl is an actual psycho, and tries to kill you.

  Nine

  Rose 1765

  I was terrified at the moment but letting the naked man see my fear would only make him feel like he had the advantage. He most certainly did not. My spear had made him bleed, which meant he was human like me, even though he had almost come out of nowhere. His false excuses weren’t going to save him from my wrath, being the devil or not.

  “Miss,” he said, eyes downcast. “I really can’t get up. There’s no other way to put it. My knee is blown out. It’s an old rugby accident, you know. And I must have landed straight on the thing and it’s killing me. So if you would please not stab me, I’d appreciate it.” He pointed to his swollen leg and I did notice a purplish bruising begin to blossom. “I’m cool. You can trust me.”

  “Cool? What is this meaning?”

  He laughed, and then shook his head. His shaggy hair rippled as he did so. It was nice hair. It looked clean and he did smell very good. Not a scent I’d ever encountered before. Usually Father would smell of the earth and the animals. And bathing came once every few weeks. In the winter, Father bathed less than Mother and I. This man must have bathed recently because his scent was intriguing.

  “Cool means like, I’m nice. Wait, you said we were in Raven something, right? Where is that? New York?”

  How had the man gotten his colonies so confused? New York was nowhere near here. I had never met anyone who’d lived there myself but in town there were people who had family there. I heard that it was a bustling place, with wild people, and too many Irishman for my taste. One must become used to living in such an area, and growing up in the Georgia Colony only made me long to be where the peace was.

  “Raven’s Ridge,” I corrected him. “This is the colony of Georgia.”

  His eyes grew wide, so wide they almost looked like they’d burst. He was truly lost, and in his undergarments, which might mean he was telling the truth. But it could still be a trap. He could want to ravage me, and for that reason, I didn’t let go of my spear.

  “How in the world did I end up here?” he asked himself. “I was sitting at the table in the kitchen, and then, wait, what was I doing? Oh… yes the book.”

  “Book?”

  “Yes, a book my mother sent me. That’s it. It must have been so boring that I fell asleep. And this is a dream. Except they say you don’t feel pain in dreams. But damn I feel this.” He grabbed his leg, and with his thumbs he pressed down hard. This made him scream in pain and his eyes rolled back. “Yeah, yep, I can feel that for sure. Not my finest moment.”

  I shook my head at this man. He was most confusing, and I was stuck here with him for the time being. My options weren’t great; I could leave him here and go to get help, or I could try to help him myself. Both left me open to attack, if he chose to do so.

  I knelt down, still holding my weapon, and grabbed my pack with my free hand.

  “I can try to help your injured knee,” I began, as I searched for something to wrap it with. “But to do so means I need to trust you. Can I do that, sir?”

  He nodded slowly as his face broke out in a sweat. The pain was hard for him to bear.

  “How did you say you got this wound?” I asked, to keep his mind off of the pain.

  “Rugby,” he grit out through clenched teeth. I gave him a puzzled look. “It’s a sport, you know, a game. Ahh, ow!”

  “Sorry, but I have to place pressure on the wound in order to wrap it. I’m dreadfully sorry. You did give me a fright, you know?”

  He nodded and bit his lip. “My name is Adam Giordano. Do you have a name?”

  Adam. That was a nice name. Not one I’d ever heard before. His last name wasn’t familiar. It sounded Italian but I’d only met an Alfonsi, who lived in Italy, and they were from New York and moved to Georgia some years back. They were a nice family. I wondered if Adam’s family were like the Alfonsi’s.

  “My name is Rose Bennett. Where did you come from?”

  I wrapped his leg tightly, but not too tight. And tied it off, giving him support with a stick, so it would keep it straight.

  “New York City. Although, something tells me that I
am not where I belong. Judging from your clothes, the cabin over there, and the way you talk, I think something’s really wrong.”

  I gave him a puzzled look. “Wrong? How so?”

  “Like… and this sounds crazy, but like I’m from another world from yours.”

  I smiled, thinking of how different New York was from Georgia. He wasn’t wrong there.

  “I do think that you have a point, sir. I thought you were the devil come straight from hell when you first appeared. But I know now you are just misplaced.”

  Ten

  Adam 1765

  Rose went away to the cabin that I saw in the distance. She promised me she would come back but it had been at least an hour since she left me. I was lying under a large but very stunning tree. She had actually drug me over to it, with my help of course. She was surprisingly strong and her nursing skills weren’t half bad. The splint she made for me worked well, taking pressure off of my knee. The ache that I felt right now had only been from the actual injury, not from pressure.

  She promised she’d return with transportation and food. Although, I wasn’t hungry but she insisted on feeding me.

  I wondered what time it was. My watch had stopped working; must be due to the fall.

  There were some strange things going on. I had no explanation for how reading a book and arriving in Georgia had happened. It was possible that I hit my head when I fell, causing me to have a concussion, and memory loss. Maybe it had nothing to do with the book except that it was the last memory I had.