What had he done this weekend? The question flittered across my brain for the dozenth time this evening.
“I need you to check the history section,” Trent said as I put the last stack of books away. “I’ll lock up when I leave.”
My heart did a little flip. Trent never asked me to check on his sections. Was Joseph here again?
I pushed the thought aside. There was no point in getting my hopes up.
Much to my delight, I found Joseph sitting at the square table for four in the center of the room. Instead of a basket, he had a paper bag. As I came closer to the table, he held a chair out for me and I sat. He reached into the bag and pulled out bottled British ale for each of us and then what I assumed was a sandwich wrapped in deli paper. It turned out to me a meat pie. I looked around, and it all started making sense. We were in the English History section.
He opened my bottle and then his own. To hell with rules against alcohol.
I took a sip. It had been so long since I’d had a beer, and I welcomed the fizzy, bitter taste on my tongue.
“So, why the fascination with Charles II?”
I nearly choked on my sandwich. “How did you know I was interested in him?”
A serious look crossed his face.“I was informed by a well-meaning library worker that you delved into my borrowing history.”
I was going to kill Beth. She was the only person who knew I had snooped.
“When did she tell you?”
“A few weeks ago.”
It was before he had asked me to dinner. Great. He probably only asked me out out of pity.
“I thought it only fair that I have the same information about you.”
Oh dear Lord. Until that moment I had no idea how intrusive I had been. I would die if anyone knew everything that I had read. And now someone did.
I wanted to die.
As delicious as the meat pie tasted, I couldn’t eat another bite. My stomach was in knots. Most of the books I didn’t care about, but the ones in the back section on the third floor, the room where you had to be eighteen years or older to enter, were listed there too. I had to think of an excuse. Something reasonable so he didn’t realize I had a fondness for the really naughty fiction.
“I try to read everything that comes into the library. I’ve barely scratched the surface, but I will read them all.” There, that sounded reasonable.
“I noticed a particular preference to Charles II and…another area of the library.” His eyebrows rose and I wanted to slip beneath the table and hide until he was gone.
“I happen to find the life of Charles II fascinating. Running off to live in France after his father was beheaded, returning years later and becoming King after Cromwell fell. The struggled with his marriage to the Spanish princess, or lack of a legitimate heir, though he had many other children with mistresses.” I was babbling. I knew it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I would discuss Charles II all night long if we could avoid the topic of my other reading material. From now on I would buy those books at a store not associated with the library. Or, perhaps download them to my e-book reader. I preferred paperbacks, but maybe it was time I joined the twenty-first century.
Joseph simply laughed at me, but thankfully he never brought up those books.
*
Three nights later Beth suggested I visit the section that housed the romance novels. My heartbeat increased with each step. I knew Joseph was there, and I couldn’t wait to see him. What would we have tonight?
A tea service sat on a small table between two overstuff chairs. On the tray were scones and biscuits. He was reading Pride and Prejudice.
“I don’t really care for Mr. Darcy,” he said as I sat down in the empty chair.
What? How could he not care for the most desirable hero in all of literature?
“In fact, if I had a favorite Jane Austen novel, it would be Emma.”
I loved Emma.
“A busy body, that is for sure, but a delightful character.”
He reached behind the table and procured a small CD player, which he placed next to the teapot and pressed the play button. Classical music filled the air. “I believe this is my waltz, Miss Barker,” he said, coming to his feet.
He held out his hand and I accepted. How would he dance with his leg? I guess I would find out soon enough.
He bowed and I curtseyed, glad that I always wore dresses and skirts. The feminine side of me, the one who wished to be a princess, was never comfortable in pants.
“I will apologize before we begin.” He slid a hand about my waist and I warmed at his touch. He grasped my right hand and pulled me close. “I’m out of practice, and with my injury, I don’t dance as well as I used to.”
I didn’t care. Being in his arms was enough. We could simply sway with the music and I would be happy.
The steps were small and not a full waltz. He couldn’t put that amount of pressure on his leg, yet he did turn me about the room. I was transported back in time, to a favorite era. The music filled my head and his hand burned an imprint at the small of my back. As we neared our seats again, Joseph sat, pulling me onto his lap.
His hands slipped up to cradle my face and a moment later his lips touched mine. I was lost. I melted, savoring each kiss, every caress, as one song ended and another began.
*
Joseph’s visits to the library became more frequent. He always managed to bring food and drink related to whatever section he was going to settle into. We talked a lot, but his kisses made me wish he would show up in the back section on the third floor so we could indulge in one of my many fantasies about him.
He began to fill my Saturdays as well. We rode in a horse drawn carriage through the park, ate in restaurants that fell into a much better class than the Grease Spot, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. Sundays he reserved for grading papers and preparing lessons.
I looked at my watch for the hundredth time that afternoon. Joseph would be wrapping up his last class of the year right about now. I hadn’t asked about his plans for the next three months—I didn’t want to seem presumptuous—but deep down it was killing me not to know if I figured into his summer.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Beth said, interrupting my thoughts. “Follow me.”
Her tone caused alarm to shoot through me, but I held my silence as I followed her into my office.
“Joseph was here today.”
“Today? It’s Friday. He only borrows on Tuesday.”
“Yes, I know.” She grinned from ear to ear. “Wait until you see what he checked out.” Beth punched a few keys on my computer.
I held back. It was intrusive, as I well knew. I hadn’t looked at his list since that night I found out he had looked at mine. Not that I needed to look at his list since I always managed to be the one stamping the books he wanted.
“Come on, look,” Beth insisted.
I bit my lip, looked over her shoulder and tried to keep my jaw from hitting the floor. “He had checked out ten books, all ones I had read, all from the back room on the third floor.”
“This is not Joseph’s normal reading material,” she giggled.
No, it’s mine. What did it mean? Did he want to take our relationship further? More physical? Of course I had no objections, but he always treated me like a lady, never letting his hands stray further than my back or shoulders. Or maybe he just wanted to know what I found so fascinating about the books? Would he be appalled? Maybe he didn’t desire me as I did him. What if he needed books to help him find me more desirable? That was a sobering thought.
“I’m sure it means nothing.” I closed down the screen. I wouldn’t think about it. If I did, I would go insane.
*
He didn’t call that day and I wondered if we would see each other over the weekend. He was done with school, but my schedule would remain the same. I left my office and checked the locks on all doors leading in and out of the library. Beth and Trent should be done with their sections soon. Maybe th
ey would want to get a drink or dinner. I was feeling a bit anxious and depressed. Knowing that Joseph had borrowed those books made me horribly uneasy.
What if he decided I wasn’t the girl for him? After all, I had seen his reading list and there was nothing remotely close to those books.
My stomach churned at the thought of what he may think of me.
Beth came bounding down the stairs and Trent walked more casually behind her. Both stopped before me.
“Are either of you interested in getting a bite to eat or grabbing a drink?”
“We are,” Beth nodded.
Thank goodness. Relief flowed through me. I didn’t want to be alone tonight to contemplate my future—or possible lack thereof—with Joseph.
“But you aren’t,” Trent continued.
I looked at him, confused. Was I uninvited after I was the one who did the inviting?
Beth grinned and gave me a wink. “Someone’s waiting for you on the third floor.” She grabbed her purse and headed for the door, Trent close on her heels. “Enjoy your night.”
Third floor. Joseph was on the third floor? My pulse raced and my hands shook at the thought.
I slowly walked up the steps. The elevator would have been quicker but I needed time to gather my thoughts. There were other sections on the third floor—art, music. It could be either of those. Just because he was on the third floor didn’t mean he was in that section.
I paused at the landing. What if he was in that room? What would I do?
I knew what I wanted to do, but not in the library.
I slowly stepped onto the floor and scanned the area. The light was off in the back room. Thank God. I began to search the main area. The art and music sections were empty. On the other side were travel brochures and books. I would look there first before I looked anywhere else.
Finally, I found him. Seated in a comfortable chair, Joseph thumbed through a book on Italy. I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or excited.
“I’m sure you’re wondering what I plan on doing this summer,” he said without looking up. “I think I’ve decided.
I wandered over and settled into the seat next to him.
“I’ve always wanted to see Italy.” He looked up at me. “Do you have a passport?”
My heart skipped a beat. “No. I’ve never had a reason to have one.”
He frowned. “Pity. You should see about getting one.”
If he wished to take me to Italy I would begin working on the process as soon as I got home, but I suspected it probably took months and I wouldn’t have the passport before he began teaching again.
Joseph set the foreign travel books aside. “That leaves these.” He held up booklets for California, Alaska, New York, Florida and Hawaii.
“I think you would enjoy any of them,” I said.
“Which would you like?” His eyes bore into mine.
“Any of them, really.” I hadn’t been to any of those places, so they all sounded exciting to me.
He looked down at the pamphlets. “I want to relax and if I were here, I would want to visit museums and such.” He tossed the New York booklet to the side. “I prefer beach to tundra.” Alaska joined the New York pile. “As much as I wish to visit the islands, I don’t care to spend that amount of time in transit.” There went Hawaii. “That leaves California…or Florida.” He held them up and waved them in front of me. Both were equal in distance. “I don’t know.” I shrugged.
“Florida it is.”
He put the book aside, away from the others and leaned in to kiss me. “We leave in three weeks.”
“We?” I squeaked. As much as I wanted to go—as much as I had hoped he would invite me—it was too soon. I hadn’t put in for vacation time. I needed to get someone to cover my shifts and responsibilities.
“Beth has taken care of everything.”
“Beth?”
“She has been most helpful.” He winked. “And I know you haven’t taken a vacation in at least two years, so I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll book the best spot on the beach. One with lots of privacy.”
“Privacy?” What kind of vacation did he have planned?
“Then we can discuss those other books you enjoy so much.”
My face heated and I tried to pull away, but he held on tightly to my waist.
“After reading a few, I have some excellent ideas on how we’ll spend our time.” His eyes smoldered. “Don’t pack too many clothes. You won’t need them.”
My entire body was burning. Partially from embarrassment, partially from desire.
“And make sure you have a passport by spring.”
“Spring?” What was it about Joseph that he often reduced me to one word sentences?
“Paris is lovely that time of year.”
THE END
***
Spring Cleaning
Jerrica Knight-Catania
Whoever decided that the first truly warm month of the year should be drenched in rain is so not my friend. I had been waiting for months for the chill to wear off so I could enjoy the great outdoors again, but when April came around with its seventy-degree temperatures, it brought torrential downpours with it. So there I was, facing yet another day inside. Another day staring at the dreary four walls of my studio apartment.
Not that I didn’t have anything to do. The dust bunnies were clearly planning a takeover and if I didn’t do something soon, I would be facing mutiny, I was sure. They obviously had it out for me.
I glanced to a bunny-filled corner and sneered. How could something so small and inconsequential, comprised of dust particles and cat hair, hold such power over me and my mood? It didn’t seem right, or fair.
I shook my head. “Snap out of it, Stacy! They’re dust bunnies, for heaven’s sake. Just clean them up already and move on with your day.”
With new determination, I picked myself up from the comfort of my couch and made a beeline for the bathroom, where I kept all my cleaning supplies. I would not be cowed by dust bunnies! However, on my way to the bathroom, I passed by the kitchen where a fresh loaf of cinnamon bread sat on the counter. Well, I couldn’t clean without having breakfast first, could I? The dust bunnies could wait, and my body would thank me for it.
And I certainly couldn’t have cinnamon toast without coffee, so I went to the cupboard, only to discover that I was out of coffee. Darnit! I rapped my paint-chipped fingernails on the counter as I contemplated my options. I could have the toast without the coffee, but I really needed coffee if I was going to win this war against the dust bunnies.
I could go to the store up the street and buy more instant coffee, then come home and make my breakfast. But that was going to take so much time, and I was hungry now. The only logical thing to do was to brush my teeth and head to my local Starbucks. If I was going to brave this horrific weather, it was going to be for my favorite drink, not just for a bag of ground coffee.
Fifteen minutes later, I emerged onto the street, my brown and pink flowered umbrella over my head and the matching rain boots on my feet, and began my trek to Starbucks. The ten-minute walk was actually enjoyable—there was definitely something romantic about the city in the rain—and I was glad I’d made the decision to get out of the apartment.
“Hi! Welcome to Starbucks,” the barista greeted me as I pushed through the door.
I smiled in response as I struggled to put my umbrella down without pinching my fingers. Once I’d successfully done that, I walked to the register and stared up at the menu board, though I’m not exactly sure why. I always ordered the same thing.
“Iced venti caramel macchiato with extra whip,” I said, and then as an afterthought, “with an extra shot of espresso, please. I have a date with some dust bunnies.”
The girl behind the counter laughed. “I completely understand.” And then she yelled out my order to the other barista. “Anything else?”
“Well, as long as I’m here … a bagel, toasted, with butter.”
While she left t
o toast my bagel, I looked around the shop. College students huddled in corners, books and coffee before them; a lady with a fussy baby was trying desperately to eat her breakfast before the child erupted; and—
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” In my assessment of the restaurant, I’d failed to realize there was someone in line behind me, and I’d managed to step right on his foot.
“No worries,” came the stranger’s winced reply. “I’ve got another one I can use.”
I was torn between feeling bad for having stepped on him and feeling offended that he was making such a big deal out of it. I wasn’t that heavy.
Once I regained my own footing, I turned around to face my victim. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t a 6-foot god. Of course, of all the people I could have stepped on, it had to be Adonis, didn’t it? I knew I was supposed to say something—apologize again or offer to buy his drink—but I was having trouble picking my jaw up off the floor. He was, by far, the most attractive man I’d ever seen in person.
The hint of a smile at the corners of his lips told me he had a sense of humor as well.
“Really,” he said. “I’m fine.”
“Ma’am?”
I spun around awkwardly to face the girl at the counter again. “Uh, sorry, I—”
“That’ll be six seventy-nine.”
“Oh, right, um … actually, I’d like to buy his drink, too,” I told her, finally gaining back my powers of speech, though I still felt horribly flustered. I must have seemed like a freak.
“That’s not necessary,” Adonis said over my head.
“Yes! Yes, it is. Please, it’s the least I can do for nearly breaking your foot.”
He laughed and it sent shock waves right down my spine. “I do hope it would take more than a waif of a girl to actually break my foot.”
Waif? I briefly wondered what he’d do if I dropped to my knee and proposed marriage right then and there, but I refrained.
“Look, I’m just starting my own business and I need customers.” He held out a small stack of business cards to me that read: SPIC & SPAN CLEANERS. “Just promise you’ll hand these out to your friends and we’ll call it even.”
Love Everlasting Page 3
