The Library
Karen A. Wyle
Copyright 2013 by Karen A. Wyle
ISBN No. 9781301687091
Cover design by Karen A. Wyle
Cover photograph by Robert S. (Shutterstock)
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This story is set in the same afterlife as my novel Wander Home,
and takes place before that novel begins.
Nobody was sure, any more, whose library it had been. Those who discovered it shared it with new friends, or with old friends newly arrived. The original owner might be the elegant lady perusing the bookshelves, or the child surrounded by precariously tall stacks of picture books, or anyone; might be looking on, inconspicuous, enjoying the delight of each new visitor.
Most came as children. The armchairs and sofas and window seats were just the right size for a child to curl up in. Of course, one need not choose the same age every time. The white-haired gentleman dozing over Dickens in a corner chair, his polished walking stick resting against the nearest bookcase, was more often seen lying on the floor with his heels in the air and his hair in his eyes, excitedly flipping the pages of an illustrated mechanical encyclopedia.
Outside might be mild summer, with the smell of sun-warmed grass carried through the windows on the breeze, along with now and then a dandelion seed or even a butterfly. Another day it would be winter, with the windows closed, snow gathering on the sills, and deep drifts of snow outside, and indoors the slightly bitter smell of the wood in the fireplace.
It was winter the day that Rachel first came, but she had not chosen the season, and barely noticed it. She came with Dana, her mother's sister. Dana had been there to greet Rachel when she awoke, or appeared, or found herself, in this strange new place. "I thought Lori -- your mother -- would come first," Dana had told her. "My poor baby. . . . Well, we'll get to know each other, this way." Rachel had been staying with Dana ever since.
Dana brought Rachel directly inside the library, to the smallest and coziest room. The room was shaped like some kind of flower, with connecting curved alcoves all the way around, lined with low wooden bookshelves in honey-warm wood. The room had a window seat and only one chair, an armchair upholstered in pale violet with large blue roses. Next to the chair stood a little wooden table.
The chair looked wonderfully comfortable – if only it had been a little larger. Dana saw Rachel's wistful expression, reached for her hand and patted it. “It's all right. Go a few years younger! Then you'll fit just fine.”
Rachel shuddered. Younger and smaller meant more vulnerable.
Dana moved closer to the chair and pressed down gently on the seat, luring her with its softness. “Do you remember a time, maybe, before you were afraid?”
Rachel had taught herself not to reminisce. Memories could distract you at a dangerous moment; and sometimes they hurt, all by themselves. But she looked at the chair, clutched her elbows with her hands, and tried.
Nothing happened, at first. Dana came back toward her and gently pried Rachel's hands loose from their grip. Then she stepped behind Rachel and slowly placed her hands on Rachel's shoulders. “I'm going to give you a back rub. It might help you relax, and relaxing will help you remember. Once you start, it'll be easy – easier than it ever was before.”
No one had ever probed and stretched her muscles like this. It felt wonderful. An unaccustomed smile crept across her face; she took a deep breath, and then another.
Remember.
Once, long ago, her mother had smiled, even laughed. She had noticed when Rachel wanted her, or even just that Rachel was in the room. Sometimes she had picked Rachel up and hugged her. And one special day, they had gone to a park, and Mommy had pushed Rachel on the swing --
"Wheeee!!!"
"Hold on tight, precious!"
Rachel held on tight. The wind chilled her hands, as it always did in the wintertime, but this time she didn't envy the other children with their bright fuzzy mittens. Mittens might make it harder to hold on, and she wanted to swing high, as high as she could go.
"And up in the air!" Mommy sounded so happy --
Rachel looked around, disoriented. She was back in the library. She was little, and the chair was big. So was Dana. Dana picked her up and hoisted her into the chair. It was just as soft and comfy as it had looked, but Rachel wanted to know what had happened.
"It's OK, honey. You just remembered a little harder than I thought you would." Dana was smiling. "You went all the way into the memory, didn't you? I hope it was nice there. You can do it again, you know -- any time you want. But for now, why don't you stay a while?"
Now Dana was holding a large picture book. "Here!" She handed it to Rachel. "This is one of my favorites. I bet you'll like it."
Rachel knew she would. She always liked books. She had been thrilled when she got to go to school for a while, and learned how to read them; but even before that, she had loved turning the pages and looking at the pictures, and slipping inside, away from everything.
The cover of the book showed a little girl, and a big full moon, and moonlight shining on rippling ocean waves. Rachel had never seen the ocean. She couldn't wait to look inside.
"I'll come check on you later. But you'll be fine. You're safe here. From now on, you're safe, anywhere you go." Rachel wasn't really listening -- she was too eager to be reading. When she looked around, a few minutes later, Dana was nowhere to be seen, but there was a stack of books on the little table, right where she could reach them. The next one had bunnies on the cover, bunnies all snuggled up together, soft and warm.
Something was pulling her out of the book -- pulling her out and making her hungry. It was a smell. She knew she'd smelled it before, maybe once or twice. She put the book down and slid out of the chair. Maybe she could find whatever smelled so good.
She did not have to search for long. In the next room, a bigger girl, a teenager with pretty light-blonde curls, was sitting on a couch and pouring something hot from a pitcher into a mug. Before, Rachel would never have approached a stranger bigger than she was, but she was starting to believe that things were different now. She let her nose lead her toward the girl and the something hot.
The girl saw her and smiled. "Hello! I was just having some cocoa. Would you like some?" Without waiting for Rachel to answer, she put the mug down on a long low table nearby. There was a plate on the table, piled high with muffins. Rachel's tummy rumbled.
Now the girl was holding a second mug, a big blue one with pink smiley faces on it, for Rachel to take. It looked heavy. Rachel wasn't sure she could hold it. The girl seemed to know what the trouble was: she asked, "Would you like a smaller one? Or would you rather get a little bigger?"
Rachel closed her eyes and concentrated, remembering how old she had been when Dana brought her to the library. She felt herself stretch taller, opened her eyes, and reached for the mug. She brought it close to her face and breathed in the heavenly smell. Could it taste as good as it smelled? She took a small, cautious sip.
It tasted even better. Rachel couldn't hold back the big, bold smile that took over her face.
The other girl laughed, but in a nice way. "Won't you sit down?" She gestured toward the other end of the couch. "Oh, and please have a muffin!"
Rachel hesitated, then sidled over to the table, looked at the girl again, and picked up a muffin. Mug in one hand and muffin in the other, she sat down carefully on the couch. Once safely settled, she took another, bigger sip of the cocoa and sighed in ecstasy. She nibbled at the muffin, then threw caution to the winds and took a big gobbly bite.
She concentrated on the wonderful food and drink, because it was wonderful and because she felt a bit nervous sitting next to a stranger, even a nice one. Whe
n the muffin was gone and the mug was empty, Rachel put the mug down and glanced over at the other girl. Should she say something? Of course -- back when her mother had taught her things, she had taught her about gratitude.
"Thank you for the food."
"Oh, you're most welcome! By the way, I'm Cassidy. Some people call me Cassie, but I like either one. Would you like to tell me your name?"
She did not exactly like to, but she liked even less the thought of snubbing this girl who seemed so kind. And it was supposed to be safe here. . . . "I'm Rachel."
"What a pretty name! And it suits you, with that lovely dark hair. Isn't this a wonderful place? I love to spend hours and hours here. How did you find it?"
"My aunt showed me." There was no need to mention Dana's name. She would be careful a little while longer, just in case.
"It's nice to have family here, isn't it? I have my grandma and grandpa, and Grandpa's mother too."
Rachel wondered about the people Cassidy wasn't mentioning. Did she and this girl, who seemed so confident and comfortable, have something in common? She wanted to know, but she didn't want to be rude and ask. She could volunteer information, instead, and see what happened. "My mama isn't here. She's back There -- alive. At least, I think she is. And I never had a daddy."
Cassidy looked sad for the first time. "I never knew my father, either. And my mother -- well, let's not talk about that right now." Cassidy seemed to be clenching her teeth. Was she going to cry? Rachel was appalled.
"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have -- I'm sorry!"
Cassidy sat up straighter and shook her head so the curls bounced. "It's all right. I'm fine. Why don't you show me what you've been reading? And I could show you some of the books I like best."
Cassidy helped Rachel build a truly impressive pile of books -- and then rearranged them into smaller piles after the big pile toppled over. There were picture books for when Rachel felt like being little, all the way up to the classics Rachel had only begun to read in life.
Cassidy brushed her hands together in a gesture of completion. "There you go! You can bring those back any time you want, any time you come here."
Rachel beamed. "Thank you so much! I think I'll be spending a lot of time here."
Something like a frown flitted across Cassidy's face, just for a second. Then Cassidy reached for her hand, slowly enough that Rachel wasn't startled. Rachel let Cassidy take her hand and squeeze it before letting it go.
"Rachel, honey, may I check in on you from time to time? I can do it just by thinking about you, if you wouldn't mind."
Overcome with shyness, Rachel looked down at her shoes and nodded.
"Thank you! I'll do that. And until then -- may I hug you goodbye?"
Rachel could not look at her. She could barely make herself nod again, just enough for Cassidy to see. She held very still while Cassidy came to her and put a gentle arm around her shoulders. For a moment there was warmth, and touch, and someone close. Then it was gone, and Cassidy had disappeared.
Rachel sat very still, remembering the feel of Cassidy's arm around her. Then she took a deep breath and reached for the book on top of the nearest stack. She read, and read, and read, until the light outside the window turned pink, and dimmed, and faded away to night. By the time Dana came to fetch her, stars glittered like chips of ice in the cold winter night, and a storybook sliver of moon sailed above. Rachel wished the moon good night as they headed back to Dana's house.
The next time Rachel saw Cassidy, it was spring outside the library windows. A warm breeze played with the curtains, carrying the odors of growing things, while all kinds of birds -- she didn't know what kinds -- sang from the trees and hopped on the grass.
Rachel had spent some long, uncounted time on a couch near an open window, reading A Little Princess, when she heard a noise – a whistle, high and sweet as a bird's, but louder. She looked up to see Cassidy on the grass outside the window, under a tree covered in delicate pink blossom, bouncing on her toes and waving.
Rachel picked up one of the many bookmarks that lay on tables and shelves throughout the library. This one showed a bird she recognized -- a robin -- on the bending tip of a branch, a branch that looked much like the flowering tree outside. Rachel laid her book carefully on the nearest table, went closer to the window, and stuck her head out. Cassidy waved again and called out, “Come join me!”
Rachel looked left and right, along the outside walls. She did not see a door nearby. Cassidy saw her looking, and must have guessed why. “You don't need doors any more. Just picture yourself here.”
Rachel took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and imagined herself standing next to Cassidy, under the tree. Right away, she felt the difference. Instead of the slightly yielding smoothness of wooden floor under her feet, she felt the soft unevenness of grass; and the breeze came now from one side, now from the other, tapping and teasing her.
As she opened her eyes, Rachel heard a buzzing from up in the flowery branches. Was it yellow jackets? There had been yellow jackets in summer, hanging around the trash bins near their apartment, eager to sting. But the sound was not quite the same: lower, lazier, less metallic.
She hunched over and took a quick glance upward. The fuzzy yellow and black shapes drifting in and out of the blossoms looked something like yellow jackets, but shorter and rounder.
“Don't be afraid.” Cassidy gestured toward the buzzing. “They're honeybees. They help the flowers bloom. They wouldn't have wanted to bother you, even back in the world, as long as you didn't bother them. And here, of course, they'll never hurt you.”
Rachel straightened up, put her head back, and gazed into the bright backlit canopy of pink and white, breathing the perfume of sun and grass and flowers.
Looking up so long made her a little dizzy, and she staggered. Cassidy caught her, and they both sat down on the grass. There were dandelions here and there, and Cassidy plucked one of the bright yellow flowers. "Do you know what these can do?"
Rachel shook her head. Cassidy brought the dandelion up to her own nose and rubbed. "See?"
Rachel stared at Cassidy. The flower had left a soft yellow stain. Cassidy laughed, picked another dandelion and held it out toward Rachel. Rachel took it, and rubbed it tentatively on the back of her hand. The tiny yellow grains made a smudge of color, but they didn't hurt. Slowly, she moved the flower toward her nose. Cassidy stayed her hand. "Here, take a fresh one."
Rachel took the new flower, rubbed it in small circles on the tip of her nose, and put it down. "Is that right?"
Cassidy looked sad for a moment, then smiled. "Just right. See for yourself!" Suddenly she was holding a mirror. Rachel leaned toward it. There was the dot of yellow, right on Rachel's nose. Rachel felt an unfamiliar sound working its way up and out of her -- and then, she giggled.
Cassidy sat down and made a sweeping gesture. "Let's have a picnic!" At once, a blue and white checkered tablecloth appeared on the grass. Rachel clapped in sudden glee, and squatted down to stroke the tablecloth, then glanced up at Cassidy. "I like blue and white."
"Well, that's lucky!" Cassidy squatted as well. "You know, you can wear whatever you like, here. You could make a shirt to match the tablecloth!"
Rachel stood up again and looked down at her clothes. She had paid no attention to clothing, so far, except for sometimes putting on the pajamas that Dana had given her. Now that she looked back, she thought Dana had glanced once or twice at her threadbare jeans and over-large t-shirt. She looked back at Cassidy, hesitant. Cassidy stood up as well.
"Shall I make one for you, this time?"
Rachel gave a tiny nod. Suddenly, she felt the soft warmth of cloth along her arms, to the elbows. She was wearing a blue and white checked flannel shirt, the same color as the tablecloth but with smaller checks, rolled up part-way. She stroked the cloth, and felt herself smile.
"There, now! . . . How about some food for our picnic?" The tablecloth acquired a closed wicker basket. Cassidy looked up at Rachel, her
eyes wide with exaggerated curiosity. "What's in the basket?"
Rachel couldn't help but laugh again. Then she tried to remember foods she had particularly liked. The muffins Cassidy had given her had been wonderful, but she wanted to come up with something new. She thought hard. "How about . . . applesauce? And . . . those curly rolls, the ones that fall apart --"
"Crescent rolls? Mmmm, yes! With butter!"
Rachel's mouth watered. "Yes, those! And . . . tuna salad sandwiches?"
Cassidy smiled and nodded. "I know some really good bread we can use. And would you like lemonade to drink?"
Greatly daring, Rachel whispered: "Could it be root beer?"
"Of course! Root beer for you, lemonade for me. OK, let's see it!" Cassidy opened the basket. Rachel knelt down on the tablecloth and looked inside. It was all there.
She felt her heart beating faster as she reached in, took a sandwich and a bottle of root beer, and plopped on the tablecloth to eat.
Rachel came to the library several more times before she saw Cassidy again. She had checked, every time, looking around in a few different rooms, and then -- at Dana's suggestion -- trying to sense Cassidy's presence. She sometimes managed to catch some trace, but it never felt as if Cassidy were nearby. The day Cassidy did appear, Rachel was so absorbed in her book -- an exciting, troubling book about a boy's escape from a prison camp -- that she was thoroughly startled to look up, stretch, and see Cassidy smiling at her from a sofa across the room. She jumped, dropping the book on the floor. Cassidy rose quickly and retrieved the book, laying it on the arm of Rachel's chair.
"I'm sorry I snuck up on you. And I don't want to interrupt you, when a book has you in its grip like that! But will you call me when you're done? Just think about being ready, and I'll be here."
Rachel opened her mouth and closed it again.
"It's perfectly all right! I won't think you're rude. See you later!" And Cassidy was gone, leaving Rachel embarrassed but relieved. She picked up the book and dove back in.
When she had finished, Rachel looked longingly at the last page, wishing the experience hadn't had to end. As always happened when a book was truly fine, she felt disoriented, suspended between the book's reality and her own. Finally, she put the book down, stood, stretched, and wondered how to do as Cassidy had suggested. She looked back at the closed book, concentrating on the image. At once, Cassidy appeared in the doorway.
The Library (a short story) Page 1
