Firefly Hollow

by Haddix, T. L.

  “What all skills do you have? Can you use a typewriter? Answer the phone? Reshelve books? Do you know the Dewey Decimal System?”

  “Yes to the typewriter and phone. Shelving books? I know how to find titles when I’m looking for something in particular. I figure filing them back where they go is a similar process, only in reverse. And I know how the Dewey Decimal System works. I had to use it for research in college.”

  Shirley filled out the book cards and handed back Sarah’s library card. “We don’t pay as good as teaching does, but it’s a steady job. It’s Monday through Friday, nine to five, with half days every other Saturday. We take turns working those. Would you be interested in signing on to stay, or just until Mr. Napier calls you in to work for him?”

  “I-I don’t know. That’s something I’d have to answer when and if the time came.”

  The older woman’s indecision was clear on her face. With a put-upon sounding sigh, she turned and went to a filing cabinet, where she pulled out a piece of paper. She returned and handed the paper to Sarah.

  “Fill this out. I’m not making you any promises.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do that right now.” With a sunny smile for the woman, she picked up her books and went to one of the small round tables situated throughout the open area of the room. She read the application carefully before she filled it out. When she was finished, she double-checked all the information to make sure it looked right, and she sent a quick prayer heavenward. “I need this job. Please let this work out.”

  Books and purse tucked under one arm, Sarah went back up to the desk and gave Shirley the application.

  “If you were hired on, you’d be a library assistant. Basically, anything that needed doing, you’d be responsible for it. Whatever we asked of you, within reason. It’s not as glamorous as teaching.”

  “I understand.”

  “How soon are you looking to start, if you were to be offered the job?”

  “As soon as possible,” Sarah answered. “I knew when I came home that I’d be staying and that I’d have to get a job. I’ve been helping my mother with everything that needed done after we lost Daddy, but it’s time for me to go to work.”

  The older woman gave her a kinder look than before. “It isn’t easy to have to give up something we want for family.”

  “I don’t… I don’t feel like I’m giving up anything, necessarily. It’s more that my life has changed, and this is the path I’m traveling now. It wouldn’t do me any good to wish for what my life used to be. I can’t focus on the past. I have to move forward.”

  “Moving forward doesn’t mean the past doesn’t hurt.”

  “No, ma’am.”

  With a decisive nod, Shirley laid her hands on the counter. “I’ll tell you what. I still have to get the library director’s approval and put calls in to your references, but if you’re serious about wanting this job…”

  “Oh, I am. I promise you,” Sarah said.

  “Good. Then why don’t you plan on being here tomorrow morning at eight-thirty? Do you have a car, or do you have to get a ride to town?”

  “I have a car.”

  Shirley smiled. “Good.” She told Sarah how much they’d pay starting out, an amount lower than she would have made as a teacher, but not bad, all things considered. After a few more minutes of discussion, Sarah bid the woman farewell and left. She deposited the books in her car and went into the drugstore to tell Gilly the good news.

  “You’re kidding,” Gilly said, her eyes wide. “They offered you the job on the spot? Oh, Sarah, that’s wonderful! Are you excited?”

  Sarah laughed. “I am. I didn’t expect to be, but I am. Hopefully, this will make Mama smile.”

  “How is she?”

  “As well as you would expect. She has good days and bad. I think she’s going back to cleaning one day this week.” Sarah crossed her arms. “I can’t imagine what she’s going through.”

  Gilly’s smile was sad. “I can, at least a little. I worry so much about Jack, that we’ll never get married, that we’ll never be together. He’s such a huge part of my life; I can’t imagine who I’d be without him. And if we’d been married for what, twenty-five years like your parents were? Losing him would kill me.”

  Sarah gave her friend’s hand a squeeze. “Before we both start weeping in the middle of the dining room, how would you like to go to the movies with me this Saturday? Assuming I do get to keep my job, that is. I think we could both use a little time to catch up with each other. We hardly get to talk anymore.”

  Gilly agreed. “I’d love to. Operation Petticoat is still playing, and I know how you feel about Cary Grant. Get up with me on Friday, will you?”

  Promising she would, Sarah said her goodbyes and left. As positive as the day had turned out, she was exhausted. No, she wouldn’t be teaching. Not now, and perhaps not in the future. But she would be working in a library and would hopefully have the chance to help others, to share her knowledge. When all was said and done, perhaps not being able to teach wasn’t the end of the world.

  Chapter Ten

  SARAH QUICKLY SETTLED INTO HER job at the library. Much as Shirley had described, she did a little of everything, floating around to help out whichever department needed her. The building was state of the art, two stories with bathrooms on each level. The adult department was downstairs, and a large, expansive children’s section took up most of the second floor, along with two meeting rooms and a genealogy room. It was much larger than the previous library, and the patronage had increased to match the new facility’s size.

  To her surprise, Sarah found that she really enjoyed the work. She started to think she could accomplish the same goals at the library as she had wanted to through teaching, only with a broader base of the population. She remarked as much to Shirley one day as they were shelving books.

  “I love knowledge, always have, and that was one of the main motivations behind my becoming a teacher. I never expected to find something else where I could potentially share that love. But I’ve seen you all do it here. When you help someone find a book they’re looking for or show them how to use the card catalog, it opens up a new world for them.”

  Shirley smiled. “It can be a bit like holding the keys to a new kingdom. Oh, the job isn’t perfect; no job is. But it has its rewards. Plus, in a library, the people who walk in the doors typically want to learn something, more often than not. As a teacher? Some of your students are only going to be there because they have to.”

  “True,” Sarah said. “Do you think Ms. Cornett will let me help with the literacy program?” The new literacy program had started to gain a little momentum. In an area where a good number of the population was illiterate or barely literate, the program had the potential to do a tremendous amount of good.

  “She might. You should also ask her about going around to the schools with me when I go. With your background, that would probably be a good fit for you.”

  Callie Barger, the other library assistant, came around the corner of the bookshelf. “Excuse me, Ms. Combs. Owen Campbell is here, and I can’t find that book that came in for him.”

  “I’ll be right there, Callie.” Shirley handed the book she was holding to Sarah. “Owen’s one of the most voracious readers we have. I’m surprised he hasn’t been in since you were hired. He’s usually in here every week.” She headed for the front desk.

  With a frown, Sarah put the book in its place, then eased to the end of the row of bookshelves. She kept the rolling cart in front of her, but surreptitiously looked toward the front desk. Though she’d technically lived next door to the Campbells her entire life, she had never laid eyes on the man, and she was curious.

  Instead of the scrawny, wizened recluse she’d been expecting, Owen Campbell was tall. He stood straight, his shoulders looking as broad as a hundred-year-ol
d oak. Dark hair, left a little long, brushed his collar. Sarah knew she was staring, but she couldn’t stop. There was something very appealing about the way he stood, and as he moved to give Shirley his library card, Sarah caught a glimpse of his hand. It was a nice hand—long, tapered fingers, square palm—and Sarah would have given her eyeteeth at that moment to see if his face matched her impression of the rest of him. She didn’t glance away until Shirley sent her a questioning look.

  When Owen started to turn, Sarah quickly shifted her gaze to the cart and the one book that still needed shelving. She moved to put the book away, and by the time she came out of the stacks, he had gone.

  “Do you know Owen Campbell?” Shirley asked as Sarah parked the cart at the end of the front desk.

  “No, I’ve never met him. His property borders ours, though. He isn’t what I expected.”

  “Owen’s a complicated young man. What were you expecting?”

  When Sarah described what she had expected to see, her friend laughed. “Oh, my. No, that’s certainly not Owen. He causes a stir whenever he comes to town. Didn’t you know that? And it isn’t because he’s a recluse.”

  Perplexed, Sarah shook her head. “No. What do you mean?”

  Callie sidled up to the desk. “You’ve really never met him?”

  “No.”

  The bottled-blonde sighed. “Well, he’s a dreamboat. Big brown eyes that make a girl melt. And he’s completely unaware of the effect he has. One of these days, I’m going to ask him to go for a root beer float.”

  Shirley frowned. “Callie, you know the director frowns upon that sort of fraternization with the patrons.”

  “I know. But one of these days, I’m going to do it. He’d be worth getting fired over.”

  Sarah blinked. One of the first rules Shirley had explained to her had been to respect the privacy of the patrons who used the library. That included asking them out socially.

  “People don’t want us commenting on or judging what they choose to read. If you’ve read a book and think it’s good, it’s fine to share that opinion. But if you don’t like it, or if you don’t think the patron should be reading it, keep your opinion to yourself. Also, don’t bother the patrons about their personal lives.”

  “How do you mean, ‘bother’?” Sarah asked.

  Shirley responded, “It’s simple. We live in a small town. We work with the public. We’re going to hear and see things that are private. Part of our jobs is respecting that privacy. It’s an obligation we have to our patrons. We don’t intrude on their lives, and we don’t gossip about them, especially not to other patrons.”

  “That has to be a hard rule to enforce at times. I’ll do my best to respect the patrons,” Sarah had promised.

  Now, Sarah could almost see the older woman’s aggravation with Callie. Before Shirley could call her out, though, the phone rang, and two patrons walked in.

  “We’ll discuss this later, Ms. Barger,” Shirley said.

  That night, as she drove the fifteen miles home, Sarah thought about the glimpse she’d gotten of Owen Campbell. When she arrived, she went up to change out of her work clothes, then made a beeline for the kitchen to help her mother with supper.

  “I got a look at our neighbor today,” she told her mother as she sliced a head of cabbage.

  Eliza frowned. “Which neighbor?”

  “Owen Campbell. He came into the library and checked out a big stack of books.” She eased the cabbage into a cast-iron skillet waiting on the stovetop. The thin slices sizzled as they hit the hot bacon grease in the pan.

  “Owen. I’ve not seen the boy since his mother died, I don’t reckon.” Eliza opened the oven door to check on the pone of cornbread. Seeing that it was golden brown, she pulled it out and sat it on an empty burner. “How is he?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t talk to him. But he…I didn’t expect him to be so…” She stammered to a halt, her cheeks heating, as she tried to figure out how to explain her reaction to the man.

  Eliza smiled. “So it’s like that, is it? If he looks anything like his father, he’s a handsome man. Best I recall, he resembled Hank quite a bit.”

  Sarah got down mugs for coffee. “I don’t remember much about Hank or Lucy. What kind of people were they?”

  “Good people. Your daddy went to school with Hank. I think Lucy was from down around London or Corbin, somewhere down that way,” Eliza said, waving a hand toward the west. “They only had the two boys, Owen and Harlan. Harlan died over in Germany, remember?”

  “Vaguely. So how come Owen’s a recluse? Do you have any idea?” Sarah had considered trying to hide her interest in the man, but with very few exceptions, she didn’t keep secrets from her mother.

  Eliza brow furrowed. “No, not really. They always kept to themselves for the most part. Hank worked at the hardware store with his brother, of course, but Lucy stayed home with the boys. We’d run into them every now and then in town, but not often.”

  “Hmm. Well, he apparently comes to the library pretty often.”

  “Maybe you’ll get a chance to talk to him, then,” her mother said, hiding her smile behind her coffee mug.

  Trying to act as though the idea didn’t cause her heart to flutter, Sarah shrugged. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

  She changed the subject, but after they’d gone to bed that night, the idea circled through her mind. She envisioned several scenarios, trying to figure out what she’d say, what he’d say, what his voice would sound like, whether or not his eyes were as dreamy as Callie had declared them to be. As she drifted into sleep, Sarah realized she was more excited than she’d been in several months.

  Sarah was on her hands and knees, searching for a card that had fallen under the counter, when she heard Shirley say, “Owen. How are you doing today? Has it warmed up any out there?”

  Sarah jerked in surprise, hitting her head on the shelf above her. “You dirty milk cow,” she muttered, repeating a curse her father had often used in front of her and her siblings.

  After a muffled laugh, a man said in a deep, smooth voice, “Callie, be careful or you might knock your brain loose.”

  “That’d be a pure miracle,” Sarah mumbled, mortified.

  Shirley coughed. “That wasn’t Callie. It was Sarah, our new girl and, I think, your neighbor. Isn’t that right, Sarah?”

  Shirley held out her hand, and Sarah reluctantly accepted it. Her face felt as though it were on fire. When she was on her feet, she thanked Shirley and sent an embarrassed smile in Owen’s direction. To her surprise, he wore a slight frown.

  “You’re Ira and Eliza Browning’s girl?” he asked.

  “That’s right.” Sarah held the library card she’d retrieved as if it were a lifeline. “How do you do?”

  He nodded. “I was sorry to hear about Ira. He was a good man.”

  “Yes, he was. Thank you.”

  Another patron came up, and Shirley directed Sarah toward them. By the time Sarah had finished helping them, Owen was gone.

  “Are you sure you don’t know him?” Shirley asked as they were setting the counter to rights before closing. “I’ve never seen Owen clam up like that.”

  “No, I’ve never met him that I can recall.”

  “Hmm… maybe he was having a bad day, then.”

  As Sarah finished her duties that day, her mind kept going back to Owen’s face. She’d never considered herself to be superficial, but she had to admit that she would be more than happy just to sit and look at the man. His features weren’t delicate, but they weren’t painted with a broad, blunt brush, either. Sarah could see why the women in town adored him. His eyes, a golden brown that reminded her of dark amber, were framed by impossibly long, lush eyelashes as dark as his hair. His jaw had been shadowed, the hint of a beard showing even though it was only earl
y afternoon. His skin had a honey tone that was surprising, given that it was still winter.

  All in all, she was looking forward to the next time he came into the library. However, she was disappointed by Owen’s reaction to her. She wondered if he knew she’d been sneaking onto his land and didn’t approve.

  That night, she tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. Adding to her restlessness was the fact that she’d not been able to go to the pool recently. The cold and nasty weather had kept her indoors.

  “I’ll ask him what his problem is next week when he comes in,” she promised herself with a yawn. “It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t know me.”

  Sarah didn’t get to speak to Owen at all the next week, or the week after that. He seemed to have an instinct for knowing when she was working or too busy to talk to him, coming in only when she was otherwise occupied. If he did happen to come across her, he’d frown and nod, then scurry away.

  “I swear, it’s almost like he’s afraid of you,” Shirley commented.

  Sarah was relieved that the other woman verified her own impression of his behavior. “Well, if he is, I don’t know why. I’m not the least bit threatening. I wish there were some way to pin him down. Have you asked him about it?”

  “I tried,” Shirley confessed. “But he turned tail and ran. Shut down just like he did that first day he saw you.” She turned and studied Sarah. “All the time I’ve known him, Owen’s been completely oblivious to all the girls I’ve seen him around. I think he might be sweet on you. Nothing else makes sense.”

  Sarah blushed. “No, I don’t think so. Surely that isn’t it.”

  With an affectionate pat on the shoulder, Shirley headed past her to lock the door. “Oh, I don’t know. That could be exactly it. As a matter of fact, the more I think about it, the more sense that makes. Anyhow, let’s finish up here and try to go enjoy this weather.”