Unexpectedly, defensiveness rose in Emmett’s chest. He slid his hands in his pockets and forced himself to speak amiably. “Oh? Why’s that?”
Kermit gawked as if he thought Emmett had lost all sense. “ ’Cause she spends nights at Nanny Fay’s cabin, that’s why. All the brews an’ such that woman stirs up, the new book gal prob’ly carries the smell of ’em on her. Might not be healthy for Russet to breathe it in, if you catch my meanin’.”
Emmett coughed a disbelieving snort. “Aw, c’mon, Kermit, you don’t really think that old woman’s soups and herbal cures could do any harm, do you?” His hands were a lot better after Maw applied the oil she got from Nanny Fay. Not that he was supposed to tell anyone. Paw didn’t like it when Maw visited the herb lady. Not for the first time, Emmett questioned Paw’s attitude.
Kermit planted the tines of the fork in the ground at his feet and turned on Emmett. “I sure do. An’ I ain’t the only one. There’s somethin’ tetched in that ol’ lady’s head, the way she walks through town a-smilin’ like she knows things the rest of us don’t. An’ always prowlin’ in the woods, diggin’ up this an’ that. She ain’t—”
A scuffle at the barn’s opening brought Kermit’s words to a close. Emmett turned around as Addie came in, pulling Russet by her reins. His knees went quivery. He hadn’t realized how worried he was until the concern was put to rest. He released a sigh of pure relief. “There you are.”
Kermit let go of the pitchfork and grabbed the horse’s reins. He glowered at Addie. “Almost dark again. Didn’t I tell you last week to get her back here before the sun goes to bed? I’m gonna charge you extra if you can’t bring her in at a decent hour.”
Like the other girls, Addie had flopped the book satchel over the horse’s neck just above the pommel. She slid the satchel free and draped it over her arm. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gilliam. I would’ve been here earlier if she would have let me get back in the saddle.”
Kermit rubbed Russet’s neck, sending Emmett a knowing frown. “Like I said, she prob’ly smells somethin’ she don’t like.” He led the horse to its stall, murmuring to the animal.
Emmett guided Addie onto the street. “What do you mean the horse wouldn’t let you in the saddle?”
Addie flung the satchel over her shoulder and held one hand toward the barn. “She wouldn’t hold still for me. I got down at the Donohoo place because of the steep rise, and I never got on again.”
Emmett drew back, his jaw going slack. “You mean to tell me you walked your route from the Donohoo place on?”
She nodded. “And when you look in my pack, you’ll see I didn’t distribute a single book. No one would take them from me. Mrs. Cissell pointed a gun at me, someone at the Donohoos threatened to send the hounds after me, and”—
Emmett shook his head, certain he was hearing incorrectly.
—“Mrs. Clinkenheard said to tell you if you send me again, she won’t ever take another book from the library.”
He wasn’t unfamiliar with the community’s distrust of newcomers, but Addie had gone on routes with the other girls, who’d been instructed to introduce her to the hills folks. Even after introductions, they might still be standoffish. That was common. But outright threatening? “Did she tell you why?”
“No friend of Nanny Fay is welcome on her property.” Addie spoke flatly, but the hurt flickering in her eyes spoke volumes.
Emmett gripped Addie’s upper arms. “I’m so sorry. I wish I knew what to say.”
Tears winked in her eyes, and she blinked them away. “There’s nothing you can say. I’ve never encountered such a narrow-minded group of people in my life.” She slipped free of his grasp and balled her hands on her hips. “But if they think I won’t come back, they need to think again.” She shoved the pack at him, whirled on her heel, and stomped off.
Emmett watched her go. He appreciated her determination to return to the hills folks’ homes and try again. But she might never be allowed onto their land if she didn’t find a different place to lodge. With Addie’s satchel on his shoulder, he returned to the library, weighted by concern more than by the books in the pack. He flopped the satchel onto the table, and his stomach rumbled.
“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s suppertime.” He opened the satchel, and the books slid out across the tabletop. He reached to gather them. “I’ll get fed when I’m done with—”
He stared at the table, at the spot next to the burning lamp. That spot hadn’t been empty when he’d left the library. What was missing? Chills attacked his scalp. The story Addie had written was gone.
Addie
FRIDAY EVENING, AFTER A FULL two weeks of being turned away from one cabin after another and not delivering even a single book, Addie needed her mother. She trudged into the post office-telephone office and asked Mr. Landrum if she could use the telephone.
“Twenty-five cents,” he said.
She dug the coin from her pocket and handed it over. Then she eased past the counter to the corner. She took down the earpiece, jiggled the cradle up and down, and waited. An operator’s voice crackled through the line, requesting the number.
Addie recited the number for the Georgetown boardinghouse, then waited.
“Fee boardinghouse.” The woman on the other end sounded aggravated. The same way every person Addie had encountered over the past weeks had sounded. Were it not for Mother’s instruction to treat others the way she wanted to be treated, she might grouse at this unknown person. But she wouldn’t dishonor her dear mother in that way.
“Hello. This is Adelaide Cowherd. May I speak to Fern Cowherd, please?”
“Everybody’s sittin’ at the dinner table right now, young lady. Call back later.”
Panic gripped Addie. “I can’t call later. The telephone office here will close. Please…I’m sure she won’t mind leaving the table.”
No reply came, but a dull thump followed by mutters indicated the person had placed the receiver on a hard surface instead of hanging up.
Addie held the earpiece tight against her head and counted the seconds until—
“Adeladybug?”
Tears filled Addie’s eyes. She leaned against the wall and cradled the earpiece with both hands, wishing she could reach through the line and hug Mother. “Hi, Mama.”
A trickle of affectionate laughter came through the phone. “You sound like my little girl again, calling me Mama.”
Addie wished she could be a little girl again. To curl in her mother’s lap and be rocked and sung to. She forced a strangled laugh from her dry throat. “I miss you.”
“Your daddy and I miss you, too, honey. He’s standing right here if you want to say hello.”
Addie’s heart turned a little cartwheel. “Oh, I do!”
Muffled whispers, unintelligible, met her ear, and then, “Hey, sugar dumplin’.”
A smile automatically pulled on her lips. “Hi, Daddy. How are you?”
“I’m doing fine. How are you? Mother says you sound a little sad.”
“I guess I’m homesick. Missing everybody. And…” She’d intended to tell her parents about her difficult weeks, but was it fair to dump her problems on them when they had their own burdens to bear? She cleared her throat. “I wanted to hear your voice.”
Daddy’s soft chuckle, so comforting in its delivery, soothed Addie’s bruised heart. “It’s good to hear yours, too, honey. But I’m sorry you’re feeling sad. Maybe this news’ll cheer you up a little bit.”
Addie jolted. “Did you find a job?”
“I did. At Kennedy’s marble and granite company.”
Addie cringed. Kennedy’s made headstones. A necessary item, certainly, but so unpleasant to consider needing one. “Are you their bookkeeper?”
“No, I’ll be sweeping up in the workshop.”
She almost dropped the earpiece. “Sweeping up? You mean you’ll
be a…a janitor?”
“Is there something wrong with being a janitor?”
“Well, no, of course not. Janitors are important. But, Daddy, you’re…”
“I’m…what?”
She gulped. “Old.”
His laughter rang in her ear.
Addie hung her head.
“Honey, I’m grateful to Mr. Kennedy for hiring me when he could have hired a younger, stronger man.”
She knew she should be thankful. Daddy was drawing a wage. With both of them saving up money, her parents would be able to leave Fee’s boardinghouse in no time at all. That is, if she didn’t lose this job due to her ineptitude. But more than anything else, sadness weighted her. She bit the inside of her lip, imagining her gentle daddy, who’d never done physical labor, cleaning up after younger workers who might make sport of him. “Are you sure it won’t be too hard for you?”
“I managed the first two days without a wrinkle. I work seven to ten every night after the stone masons have gone on home, so I’m not in their way.”
Addie found a small blessing in his words. At least the others wouldn’t be able to poke fun at him if he was too slow or had trouble scooping up the chipped remnants of stone. “I’ll keep praying for an office job for you. I know you’d be happier with a pen than a broom in your hand.”
“I won’t argue with you there. Now, I’m going to give you to your mother. She’s standing here, all wiggly and impatient.”
Fern Cowherd was never wiggly and impatient, but the thought made Addie smile. “Bye, Daddy. I love you.”
“I love you, sugar dumplin’.”
A brief pause, then Mother’s voice came on again. “All right, Addie, tell me all about delivering books. I want to know every detail.”
“Oh, Mama…” All thoughts of withholding her heartaches whisked away like a flower petal tossed on a breeze. She told her mother about being ordered from properties, threatened with guns and dogs, and flayed with ugly words. “They treat me like I carry the plague. All because I lodge with Nanny Fay.”
“The feelings against the woman are that strong?”
Addie sighed. “I’m afraid so.”
“But why?”
“For ridiculous reasons, really. It has to do with the person she married over fifty years ago and the herbal medicine cures she learned from her husband’s Cherokee grandmother.”
“What?”
Addie nodded at Mother’s aghast tone. “Rather senseless, isn’t it? Emmett told me I might have a better chance of being accepted by the community if I find someplace else to lodge. He even offered me the little room at the back of the library, where he’s staying. He said he’d move into his folks’ cabin again. But—”
“Who’s Emmett?”
Addie inwardly groaned. She hadn’t told her parents about Miss West’s departure and Emmett’s taking over the director’s position. She offered a quick explanation. “He’s doing a fine job with the library side of things, but I think he’s having some trouble with…er…” How could she define his seeming inability to mold the four female riders into a cooperative team? Were it not for Bettina, he might find success, but the girl seemed bent on stirring conflict. “Human relations.”
A soft grunt sounded from behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. Mr. Landrum sat with his back to her, but his head was cocked in her direction. No doubt trying to catch every word. How much had he already overheard?
Addie cupped her hand around the mouthpiece. “I’ll tell you all about it in a letter, Mother.”
“I must confess, Addie, I’m less confident about you remaining there under the direction of a young man. And I’m not at all comfortable with the thought of people threatening you.”
Addie closed her eyes. She shouldn’t have said so much. “Please don’t worry. Emmett is a perfect gentleman, and I hardly see him at all. A few minutes in the morning and again in the evening.” Odd how much it stung to admit how little time they had together. Besides Nanny Fay, he was the only person she saw on a regular basis who was kind to her. “The rest of the time, I’m either trying to deliver books or at Nanny Fay’s. As for being threatened, Emmett’s mother—her name is Damaris, and she’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met—talked to me at church Sunday and assured me the hills folks would never follow through on any of the threats. There’s an honor system that prohibits them from physically hurting a woman. They only hurt my feelings.”
And Nanny Fay’s.
She sucked in a breath. “Mother, what do you think about Emmett’s offer for me to stay in the library building instead? Should I consider it?”
“Absolutely not.” Her firm tone lifted Addie’s spirits. “If you’re certain the threats are idle, then these people need to see someone standing up for Nanny Fay. Perhaps it will inspire them to change their ways.”
Addie’s story was supposed to inspire them. But now it was gone. After searching for days, Emmett remorsefully admitted he’d probably discarded it by accident. He apologized, and she forgave him, but she couldn’t help but mourn the loss. She’d sat down every evening since it disappeared and attempted to re-create it, but so far, the words had emerged flat and emotionless. Tonight she would start a new story, and perhaps she would regain her passion.
“Then I’ll do as you suggest and stay where I am.” Addie sighed. “Oh, Mother, I wish you and Daddy could meet Nanny Fay. She’s such a remarkable woman.” Other faces flashed in her mind’s eye—Emmett, Damaris, little Dusty, Brother Darnell, even Jennie Barr, who’d hesitantly accepted a copy of Ladies’ Home Journal from Addie on the street and then scuttled off, hugging the periodical the way a child hugged a teddy bear. “There really are some fine people here.”
“Ahem!”
Addie gave a start and looked at Mr. Landrum. Scowling, he pointed to the clock on the wall. She grimaced and faced the phone again. “Mother, the telephone office needs to close, so I have to go.”
“One more thing, and then I will hang up. My church ladies and I have gathered up a veritable mountain of scrapbooking items, novels, picture books, cookbooks, and magazines. Mrs. Fee is quite eager to have them out of her parlor, so Daddy and another man who lives here will crate them and deliver them to the railroad tomorrow morning. Will someone be able to retrieve them from the Lynch depot?”
Excitement roared through Addie’s chest. She gave a little hop of joy. “Oh, yes, I’ll make sure of it! Thank you so much, Mother!”
“You’re welcome, my Adeladybug. We’re happy to contribute to your ministry.”
Her ministry? She’d never considered her job in such a light. A lovely shiver coiled through Addie’s frame.
“I will pray you’ll find the strength to show Jesus’s love to those who are unkind to you.”
“I need those prayers, Mother, because some of the people here”—she risked a glance at Mr. Landrum, who scowled at her with his arms folded tight across his skinny chest—“are very hard to love.”
“All the more reason they need it. Now, let’s say goodbye, and you call again next week, all right? I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Addie hung the little earpiece on its hook and scurried to the other side of the counter. Remembering her mother’s words, Addie aimed a smile at the glowering postmaster. “I’m sorry to hold you up, Mr. Landrum. It was so good to hear my mama’s voice that I didn’t want to say goodbye.”
His expression didn’t clear, but he lowered his arms. “Reckon I can’t fault you for that. Get your mail now”—
She had mail? She darted to the cubbies and peeked in Nanny Fay’s box. Two envelopes waited.
—“an’ skedaddle. My missus has got supper waitin’, an’ I’m not keen on cold suppers.”
Addie removed the envelopes from the box and stepped outside. The door slammed behind her. Boone’s Hollow didn’t have a single lamp
post to light the street, and the evening shadows made reading the dark writing on the envelopes difficult to decipher, but she recognized the handwriting. Both were from Felicity, and they would certainly cheer her as much as her chat with Mother and Daddy had. Across the street, lamplight glowed behind the library’s windows and flowed from the open doorway.
She gave a little skip that set her feet in motion toward the smokehouse building. Emmett needed to be made aware of the coming delivery.
Emmett
WHAT WAS HE GOING TO do about Addie? Emmett stared at the log of her deliveries and pickups. Except there were none. In ten days of heading out, she delivered only one item—a magazine to Jennie Barr, who wasn’t even on the route. So, of the twenty-one families to whom she’d been assigned, she didn’t deliver a book. She didn’t retrieve a book.
Every business class he’d taken had taught if an employee didn’t perform her job to expectation, she should be fired for the betterment of the organization. He rubbed his throbbing temples. Could he really fire Addie? Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be a business director after all. Which would prove Paw right. He might even start talking to Emmett again if he resigned from his position as library director.
Someone tapped on the doorjamb.
He slapped the log closed and looked toward the door. “Who is it?”
Addie peeked around the corner, her face alight. She hadn’t smiled much over the past two weeks. Not that he could blame her. Between being chased from people’s yards and facing Bettina’s criticism at every turn, she didn’t have many reasons to smile. And if he fired her, he’d wipe off the one she now wore. He prayed he wouldn’t have to do that to her.
He waved his hand. “C’mon in.”
She entered and half walked, half pranced to the table. Something had sure put a bounce in her step. “Am I disturbing you?”
“Working on some record keeping.” Her inactivity made part of it easy. He glanced at the letters she held. Maybe they were the cause of her good mood. From a beau, possibly? A beau who wanted her to return to Lexington? That’d simplify things for him. But it wouldn’t make him happy. He shook his head and dispelled the strange thought. “What’ve you got there?”
The Librarian of Boone's Hollow Page 23
