I don’t know what you ever saw in her, Dahlia once said to me after Clem told her sister about the expectations for her behavior at her mother’s house. I didn’t see then. I’d been led by my one-eyed monster. I got Margie pregnant shortly after meeting her. It’s a trend.
Still.
“What’s a secret?” I ask stepping up to Clem and Naomi. When Naomi’s silvery eyes look up at me, I find my breath catching. Her hair is woven into some intricate braid, hanging long and twisted over her shoulder. She looks a little otherworldly and I want to give it a pull, yank her head back, and kiss the crap out of her until she responds to me. I swallow back the moisture in my mouth and lick my lips while I wait for an answer.
Her eyes follow the line of my tongue over my bottom lip and then her brows pinch as she glances between Clem and me.
“Clementine is your daughter?” Was I not clear about this when I checked out the books? “The books for …” The books I needed for my daughter. My daughter Clementine. It’s as if Naomi is slowing piecing things together. She looks down at Clem and then back up at me, only her eyes roam the length of my body, taking me in as she bites the corner of her lip.
I want those teeth on me. I want those lips on mine.
I nod once to acknowledge the family tree. “Emma Rae is my mother. Clem here is my Dandelion, and my other daughter is named Dahlia.”
“Dad,” Clem groans as if I’ve embarrassed her while Naomi stares at me, processing my family.
“And you’re not married?” she blurts as if she forgot, and I chuckle.
“No wives. Ever.” My eyes narrow on her and a strange thought fills my head. I wonder what Naomi would look like dressed in white with that braid over her shoulder. Immediately, I erase the thought and focus on another.
“What secret?” I ask, shifting my gaze from Naomi to Clem and back.
“Girl things,” Naomi clarifies, shaking her head as if clearing it. She slips an arm around Clem, and my heart skips a beat. It’s such a motherly gesture. “I’m so happy you came to see me today.” She stares down at my child before she swipes a finger under her eye and blinks several times. Then she sniffs and offers Clem a weak smile with an extra squeeze of her shoulder.
Something isn’t right.
“Hey Dandelion, check out all your books?”
“I’m all set.”
“Can you give Miss Naomi and me a second?” I riffle through my pocket for some change and point her to a box of fundraiser candy on the counter. Clem takes the money and skips away.
“What’s wrong?” I ask stepping forward, drawing closer to Naomi. I inhale. She smells like honey today and I want a lick, but something tells me she won’t play along. Glistening eyes look up at me and then away.
“Naomi,” I plea, cupping her elbow. She wears a deep purple, long-sleeve T-shirt dress with thick leggings and her black lace-up boots. She looks a little sexier than the previous times I’ve seen her, and I’m distracted. She has legs, my brain screams. “Was it something with Clem? Did something happen?”
“No, no. Clementine is great.” She pauses, avoiding my face with a few more rapid blinks. “It’s nothing,” she says, but it’s not true as she swipes at the corner of her eye. I press her back until her backside hits the check-out counter.
“Speak to me.”
Her eyes shift around my shoulder to Clem who found a seat near the front windows and shuffles through a book.
“We got word on Monday from the state that library funds have been cut.” Naomi’s lip trembles and she bites down hard. She deeply inhales. “We don’t know exactly what that means yet, but Julianne …Mrs. MacIntyre says we should prepare for the worst. She’d recently read how the state is closing small town libraries to save money. They’re reallocating funds to improve larger ones in bigger cities instead.”
I stare at her. This doesn’t sound good. In fact, it sounds downright unfair. We don’t have a local bookstore. Without the library, we’d have to drive to Knoxville for reading material. Not to mention, the library has programs for local kids, like my Clem, who struggles making friends outside of places like this.
“What will you do?” I ask, suddenly realizing the gravity of budget cuts. Naomi could lose her job. She doesn’t dismiss me like I thought she would. Instead, a tear fills her eye. Briskly, she pulls at the corner of her eye, forcing the tear to disappear.
“I’m not sure yet.” She pauses a moment, her eyes flitting back and forth between mine, and then her breath hitches. Slowly, she pulls back as if something occurred to her. Some thought. Her breath becomes more exaggerated. Is she going to hyperventilate?
“Naomi?” My hands cover her shoulders, holding her steady.
“This is all my fault.” Her eyes widen, the widest I’ve ever seen. Panic fills them.
“What do you mean?”
“I … I can’t believe this happened again.” Her hands come to my chest, and she gently pushes at me. “You have to get out of here.”
“What?” My brows pinch at the harsh tone.
“You need to go. I can’t be near you.” Her voice struggles to stay level.
Ouch. That stings a little.
“Why?” I take one step back under the force of her hands.
“I can’t be around you. This can’t happen.”
“Lady, what are you talking about?” My voice roughens.
“Bad things always happen after I’m with you.”
I stiffen, straightening to my full height. My arms cross and I glare down at her. Saying such a thing is just downright mean. Her head shakes as her fingers curl along the open edges of my work jacket. Suddenly, I feel like she’s tugging me to her instead of pressing me away.
What the …
“When I’m with you, something happens. Something bad.” Her breath catches. “Because we kissed, the library is closing.”
I stare at her. She can’t be serious, but I see the hysteria in her eyes, like a rabid, trapped animal. She actually believes what she says.
“Well, we didn’t kiss,” I remind her, my tone stern and condescending. “I kissed you, remember? And you didn’t kiss me back, so I don’t think it counts.”
She glares up at me, her fingers still gripping my open jacket. Her shoulders fall, her head lowers, and it’s as if I can visibly see her relax, like water cascading down a building, washing over her.
Exhale. Settle.
Exhale. Calm.
“I didn’t kiss you back?” she questions and then her head pops up again. She nearly shrieks with the hesitant realization. Commence inhaling, like she’s winding up again. Full steam ahead.
“I didn’t kiss you back,” she repeats, her excitement growing. Another exaggerated inhale.
“I didn’t kiss you back!” Now, she’s just downright gloating, and the engine’s ready to blow.
“You don’t have to sound so pleased,” I murmur. I glance up and notice Mrs. MacIntyre watching us through the window of the librarian’s office behind the check-out counter. Her eyes narrow and I’m certain we’re making too much noise for her liking.
“I … I’m so relieved,” Naomi admits, her head falling forward, her fingers loosening on my jacket. Then her face turns up again. Her lids lift, slow and lazy. Her mouth curls in sweet relief, and she pulls herself up on her toes by the open edge of my jacket and does the damnedest thing. She kisses me.
Chapter Nine
Dewey Decimal Classification: 306.7 Institutions Pertaining to Relations of the Sexes
[Naomi]
Nathan Ryder has the best lips in the universe.
If Litha, the summer solstice, consummated with the winter god named Yule, they’d have bright shiny baby solstices flitting through the sky like glitter in a snow globe, and that’s how my belly feels as my mouth collides with Nathan’s. His lips are soft, smooth, experienced, and within seconds he drags me into him. A tug of the bottom lip. A suck of the top. Our mouths open for one another and then … a throat clears behind us.
“Mrs. MacIntyre is watching us.” Nathan chuckles against my mouth.
“Sweet Goddess,” I mutter, pushing off him. Hands flatten on the firmness of his chest I’m becoming too acquainted with. I attempt a giant step back but kick the counter behind me. Shaky fingers swipe at my lips, which tingle with the pressure from his.
Mother Earth, what have I done? I just sealed the fate of the library—with a kiss.
“I’m so sorry.”
“I’m definitely not,” he says, his mouth curving and that damn dimple becomes a beacon within his silver scruff. “But making out with you in the library lobby probably isn’t permissible.” He nods, and I close my eyes. Julianne just watched me throw myself at Nathan. Nathan! Of all people.
This is bad. This is so bad.
Then I peek up at him.
He tasted so good. Cinnamony and hungry for me, and just yummy, yummy, yummy. My cookie crumble center is all gooey and soft, like fresh out of the oven, pipin’ hot. Why do I want him so much?
“That shouldn’t have happened,” I admit, waving a hand between us.
“But it did,” he reminds me, a smug expression gracing his face. My eyes flit to Clementine. Thankfully, she isn’t looking at us and I can only pray she didn’t witness what just happened. I kissed her father! Thank the Goddess for the concept of stuck in a good book. Julianne, on the other hand, will probably be making a sign about kissing in the library.
No fraternizing with the patrons.
No cavorting with the librarians.
No snoozling in the lobby.
Don’t make kissing a hobby.
I’d like to make Nathan a hobby, though.
Deny.
“I need to get back to my job, as long as I still have one.” I hastily excuse myself from him as the severity of the situation hits me again. The last time I was with this man something happened. My brother flits through my head but I quickly dust back thoughts of him. I need to focus.
The state of Tennessee was working its way through budgets cuts. One area they’d decided to snip-snip was small-town libraries. Why would us mountain people need books? I can almost hear some ill-educated yuppie sitting in a mid-state office asking this question. I pay taxes, though. This is where I want my money spent.
I’ve worked at the library since I was twenty-one and had nowhere else to go. Bethany Winston welcomed me with open arms though I didn’t have an education. After eighteen years of employment, I don’t have any other skills. I don’t just shelve books. I open the window of possibility to people.
Through books.
Adventure. Intrigue. Romance. Information.
In this fast-paced world we live in, people find answers at the drop of a fingertip. Yet books can still lead you to a valley, and over hills and dales, and into another dimension, and through the parallels of love.
I look up to watch Nathan exit the library with his daughter. He doesn’t look back at me. Like he didn’t look back the last time I was with him. My heart crashes to my feminine combat boots.
I’ve sold my soul to the devil again all for the taste of him.
And when I lose my job, and don’t know what to do with myself, Nathan won’t be around to Humpty-Dumpty me back together again. He’ll disappear like he did before.
That’s why I love books. Books are stable and steadfast. Reliable. Books are comfort from heartache and hope from despair. Maybe Julianne should put that on one of her signs.
I sigh. What will I do without my books?
After Nathan leaves, I hold my head high as I pass Julianne and collapse in the office.
Why did I kiss him?
“That was quite the display,” Julianne comments. She’s judging me, but lovingly, like the matriarchal figure she is. Twenty-plus years older than me, she welcomed me into the library but not quite as quickly as Bethany did. I had to prove myself to Mrs. MacIntyre—head librarian of the Green Valley Public Library.
Keep quiet.
Be diligent.
Stay orderly.
Not dissimilar from my parents’ rules growing up, and yet, completely different. Julianne MacIntyre takes her reign as queen librarian very seriously.
“I don’t know what came over me,” I say, as a shaking hand strokes down my single braid. Nathan stood so close. The concern in his eyes. The nearness of his body. The scent of cinnamon and sawdust. I latched onto him—and went a bit wild.
“It seems the Horned God gotcha.” She winks. Bless her heart, she’s trying to be funny. The Horned God is the counterbalance to my Goddess, as lord of the forest and god of fertility. I shouldn’t think of the implications of a fertile Nathan. Instead, I think it’s a case of just plain horny … on my part. Or maybe it was in desperation at potentially losing another piece of my life.
My brother.
My parents.
Nathan.
The library.
The list cannot get any longer.
“That was a bit embarrassing.” Heat courses up my neck and over my cheeks. I should tell Julianne my feelings, my frustration. Kissing Nathan could lead to the demise of the library. Being with him once before led to deadly things. I sigh with my own melodramatics. Maybe I should open up to her and ask her advice. Is kissing Nathan so wrong of me?
I don’t know what came over me.
“Why don’t you let me close up tonight?” I offer instead, knowing Julianne feels the sting of possibly losing the library as much as I do. She’s old school librarian, around since the days of wooden card catalogs with typewritten library cards and hand-stamps for due dates. Over the years, she’s rolled with the technological advances as best she could, but her black and white copy paper signs are her attempt at controlling a spiraling climate change when it comes to libraries.
The internet is still a net. Don’t get caught up in it, one of her signs read.
No longer a place of quiet solitude, some people want the library to be more like a coffee shop. A place to hang out for meetings. A spot for teens to stay out of trouble. A haven for children to discover a love of reading. The struggle has been real for Julianne, and as she nears retirement age, the idea of shutting down a place she’s devoted her life to is a hard pill to swallow.
“I refuse to think it’s all been for naught,” she says as if reading my thoughts. “We’ll find a way. Sister Bethany will look out for us.”
Julianne holds different beliefs than me, but when she wants to call on a higher power, she calls on the deceased Bethany—our personal patron saint of the library. I always considered Bethany more of a fairy godmother. We hung a picture of her in tribute over the drinking fountain where a sign once hung on how to properly use the fountain, complete with Julianne’s detailed description on how to hold the handle at a forty-five-degree angle to obtain the perfect water arch. You know the drill, so you don’t spill, one sign read. Bethany’s picture is a definite improvement to the alcove but hanging outside the bathrooms doesn’t seem like a place of honor. Either way, I know what Julianne means. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Somehow. Maybe.
“Maybe it won’t happen to us,” Julianne adds, and I appreciate her positivity. It’s wishful thinking that we won’t be one of the libraries to close. A little niche in a valley, the state wouldn’t possibly shut us down. Sarcasm drips inside me. However, the initial announcement we received listed a rather large number of cuts coming without naming any specific libraries. Yet. More good times to come.
“I’ll close up,” I say standing. She deserves to go home and spend time with Seamus, her husband. Maybe being away from here will take her mind off our potential predicament.
“What I need to do is shelve those books,” she states in her this-conversation-is-over voice.
“I can do it.”
“Are you sure?” A hint of teasing judgment falls in her tone.
“I’m positive.”
“You’ll be okay?” Julianne lowers her head, eyeing me over the rim of her glasses. I wave her off with a f
lick of my wrist.
“I’ll be perfect,” I lie. Once I close the library for the night, I might be. In the solitude of dimmed lights and lined shelves, I’ll wander the stacks, touching the spines as if reaching out to old friends. Which one of you will go home with me tonight? I’ll ask as if I’m picking up a one-night stand. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, this one will make a lover so … I’ll scan the shelves, my fingers tip-toeing over the spines.
Julianne does go home a few minutes early, and I close promptly at nine. I’m walking back to the shelving cart, thinking I’ll just finish up the last returns, when a knock comes to the glass front door.
“We’re closed,” I mutter aloud although I’m alone in the library. The doors rattle and for a moment my heart stops. I stand still at the endcap of a shelf, using it to hide me. I might have wanted to play girl spy a few times in my life, but I’m not certain I like the adrenaline rush as I worry someone’s going to break into the library and take me.
Capture the witch. Teasing, taunting voices skitter through my head.
I close my eyes and concentrate. It will never happen again.
Craning my head to the side, sleuth-like, my heart roars back to life, thudding against my chest. My eyes narrow on a large man in a camel-brown construction jacket shielding his eyes with his hands peering through the window.
Nathan?
I turn and roll off the shelf endcap at my back and rub my hands down the skirt of my dress. Taking a deep breath, I walk toward the glass barrier.
“We’re closed.” I point to the sign which says such.
“Let me in.” Surprisingly, I hear him through the panels. His eyes meet mine and I can’t turn away. Let him in, my heart whispers and my chest heaves with excitement. We have cameras and I could lose my job for allowing him entrance after hours. Then I stop. I might lose my job anyway. I step forward and twist the lock.
Love in Due Time Page 7
