The Weeping Books of Blinney Lane

by Drea Damara

  She set her hand on his forearm without thinking. “I’m sorry, Henry. I’m just not feeling very well, but I’ll be fine. I feel so drained today.”

  She was too tired to be nervous when she saw him reach his hand out and place his palm on her forehead. She closed her eyes, her body welcoming the comfort.

  “Sarah, you’re cold and clammy.”

  Through her foggy state, she caught the scent of Henry’s skin and cologne. His hand and arm felt comfortingly warm. Vasimus’s touch and scent had roused a feeling in her, but with his lack of kindness, it seemed less pleasing than what she had felt from Henry. Would Henry react the same had his and Vasimus’s situations been reversed? Somehow she didn’t think Henry was capable of bitterness. Vasimus had an intensity about him that made her think the potential for hostility may have always been there, in spite of how merry the people of Farwin Wood used to be. But Henry? No. Henry had always been consistent in his character—calm, compassionate, and almost too reasonable in his judgments.

  Sarah straightened up and let her hand fall from Henry’s arm. The motion brought his hand away from her head, and she looked into his eyes, now aware of their level of worry.

  “Maybe I’ll go lie down after the rush is over and Ricky can watch the shop for a while.”

  “Yeah, I think that might be a good idea.”

  Henry lingered for a moment, but then started to leave after she handed over the signed invoice. He stopped at the door and looked back at her once more.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Henry,” she said, knowing he wouldn’t understand why she was saying the words.

  “You too, Sarah. Feel better.”

  Sarah ignored the suggestion she’d made to Henry to go rest and muddlled her way through the rest of the day. That night, she woke to the chattering of her teeth. She was soaked in sweat yet felt like she was freezing to death. Even the thick blanket on her bed was saturated. She stood under the hot water of her showerhead until her chill was nearly gone. She tore the blanket off her bed and swaddled herself in a new one.

  The next day, she hadn’t improved. She blinked at her pale complexion in the mirror and the circles under her eyes. Great, she was officially sick. The depressing thoughts about Netta, Dergus, and Vasimus were enough to wear on her already. Battling off a flu bug would only be more difficult without a happy heart.

  THE NEXT morning, Ricky nudged his aunt as she lay in her bed. “Are you all right?”

  Sarah rasped out a cough, and it made a rattling noise. She sat up and appeared dizzy as she wobbled back and forth. Another coughing bout started, and he watched her shudder.

  “Maybe you should go to the doctor,” he said.

  Sarah waved a hand at him and pushed the covers back. “I’ll be fine. Maybe I’m just too old to go jumping into books…”

  “Can you contract sickness from people in Farwin Wood and bring it back here with you?” He wondered aloud. His aunt walked hunched over to the bathroom like an old woman.

  “What, like beetleburry disease?” Sarah muttered.

  “Seriously?” His alarm came fast.

  Sarah rasped against a laugh and pressed her hand to her chest. “No, Ricky. There’s no such thing.”

  “Hilarious,” he muttered.

  Franci came into the store with some coffee but returned straightaway to her shop upon seeing his aunt’s condition. She came back with yet another paper travel cup, this time filled with some Mentholatum-scented tea that she swore would alleviate Sarah’s congestion. By eleven o’clock, Sarah looked miserable again.

  Ricky came over and slammed a stack of books down on the counter with a thud in front of her. Her drooped eyelids and lowered head bobbed back up at the sound and slowly focused on him. “Huh? What?”

  “All right. Get out of here. I can watch the shop the rest of the day. You’re starting to scare the customers away,” he said with a grin to lift her spirits.

  “Ugh, I’m sorry,” Sarah said and grabbed a tissue to blow her nose.

  “It’s fine. Go upstairs and go to bed. I want to work on my inventory spreadsheet anyway.”

  Sarah sniffed and squinted at him. “Inventory spreadsheet?”

  “Yeah. I’m digitizing your entire stock list, so you can just search and look up whatever you want instead of flipping through your lists.”

  “I’ll help him watch the shop,” Shelby said with a smile, coming up to lean on the counter next to Ricky. It was great having her back.

  Sarah looked from Shelby back to him. “Who are you and what have you done to my nephew?”

  “Hey, Lord Ricky can handle this,” he whispered to her. “Now go on.” He nodded toward the stairs.

  “Oh, brother,” Sarah muttered and peeled herself off the stool.

  Ricky watched his aunt trudge up the stairwell, her coughs echoing down as she went. He felt bad that she looked so miserable given what she’d already gone through in Farwin Wood. He felt better than ever, and the difference in their states of health didn’t seem fair to him. The marks on his back had begun to fade since they’d returned from the book. He was grateful it meant he didn’t have to worry about not being able to leave Blinney Lane, but now that the marks were diminishing, he no longer wanted to leave. He enjoyed helping his aunt. It gave him a sense of pride to work in the shop. It had been in his family for generations, after all. He felt productive, and with Shelby back, it made the task seem less like actual work.

  Ricky had even spoken with his father yesterday on the phone and surprisingly had an actual conversation with him, without either of them yelling. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the journey into Farwin Wood, nor did he feel like doing so unless they were face-to-face. He’d like to learn more about his father’s past but hoped that could happen one day when they were together again to truly appreciate the moment.

  Shelby helped Ricky man the shop all day, and they closed up for the night together. He lingered against the door as she stepped outside to leave.

  “Thanks for the help.” His gratitude was much easier to give since returning from the book. He was no longer embarrassed to express himself around her and found the contentment with that fact suited him just fine.

  “No problem. See you tomorrow?” she queried, rocking up on her toes.

  “You’d better,” he said.

  Shelby smiled at the demand for her presence and took a dainty step toward him, looking at her sneakers. She brought her head up slowly and gazed into his eyes.

  Ricky brought his hand down from the doorframe the second he saw her eyes shift to his mouth and clasped her arm. He held his breath and leaned in slowly until their lips touched. Her fingers touched his wrist and sent a tingling sensation down his arm. When he drew, he rested his forehead against hers, both of them smiling shyly.

  “Well, good night,” Shelby whispered.

  “Good night.”

  He watched her go and she looked back, flashing a blushing smile at him. He laughed in delight and went back inside to lock up.

  Once upstairs, he called out, “All locked up for the night,” assuming his aunt would hear him.

  There was an empty coffee cup on the kitchen table, surrounded by a cluster of wadded tissues. He walked to her open bedroom door and saw her face half-buried in the pillow. He could hear the faint sound of congested snoring. Ricky shook his head and tugged her blanket up to cover her shoulders. He flipped the lamp on the nightstand off and closed the door behind him. He didn’t want her cooties floating around the entire apartment.

  WHEN RICKY came out of his room the next morning, there was no sign of his aunt in the kitchen. He had a feeling she wasn’t likely down in the shop yet.

  “Man, how did I become the responsible one here?” He chuckled to himself and started toward her room to wake her for the third time that week.

  “Aunt Sarah?” he called loudly, but she didn’t even flinch. The litter of wadded tissues on the floor by her bed had grown in size. Her head was buried under the covers.
“Man, forget this.”

  She’d just mope around the shop looking pathetic all day if he did wake her up. He grabbed her alarm clock and set it for noon. He’d deal with her later if she was angry about sleeping in. She obviously needed the rest. He shut the door and went downstairs to open the store.

  Shelby came in around ten and sidled up next to him to inspect his spreadsheets on the computer. He nonchalantly placed his arm around her as though it were the only position the limb would be comfortable in given their close proximity. When some customers came in, they parted, and Shelby cheerfully greeted the shoppers.

  Everything went smoothly throughout the morning with Ricky and Shelby taking turns at the register and helping customers. Around noon, Henry walked through the door with a small box under his arm.

  Ricky overheard Shelby tell Henry, “No. Sarah’s still not feeling well. Ricky let her sleep in late. We’ve got it covered for her though.”

  “She’s lucky she’s got such good helpers,” Henry said.

  Ricky came up beside him and added, “I’m going to have to dock her pay soon, though. Missing work two days in a row like this. That’s just unacceptable.” He smirked at his own joke.

  “Two days? Didn’t she work yesterday?”

  “She tried, but I sent her upstairs when she started nodding off at the register,” Ricky said. “It’s all right. I figure she never gets a break, so she might as well take advantage of it while I’m here.”

  IT WAS one thing for Sarah to close the shop once for a trip out of town, but Henry had never seen her miss a day of work since he’d been coming to the store. She didn’t have anyone to look out for her other than the rest of the shopkeepers on Blinney Lane. However, they were all busy with their own stores. He hated that—a wonderful, hardworking woman like Sarah left to do everything on her own.

  “Do you mind if I go up and check on her?” Henry asked Ricky.

  “No, not at all. I set her alarm for noon, so hopefully she’ll be up by now. Maybe you can calm her down in case she’s mad at me for letting her sleep in.”

  Henry slapped Ricky on the shoulder. “I’ll do my best.”

  Henry went up the stairs and felt a little nervous as he stood before the door to Sarah’s apartment. He’d only been as far as the landing once before, when she’d asked him to change the light bulb in the fixture of the high ceiling. As silly as it was for him to remember when he’d changed that light bulb, Henry felt silly now being nervous to knock on her door. After five years he should have asked her out to dinner by now and somehow perfected the question so that she wouldn’t be able to refuse. He knocked and waited, but he didn’t hear anything.

  With a sweaty palm, Henry swallowed and slowly opened the door. He winced as it creaked and called through the narrow opening.

  “Sarah?”

  With no sound of a reply, he carefully guided the door open. He leaned in as far as he could without actually taking a step.

  “Sarah? It’s Henry!”

  Feeling uncomfortable in his frozen position, he stepped inside but left the door open behind him. He looked around the empty kitchen and then through a wide archway to the living room. There was no sign of Sarah, and the only few rooms left to inspect were likely bedrooms. He heard the faint sound of an alarm clock as he stepped into the living room and followed the noise to an open door.

  He called again to the void. “Sarah? Sarah, I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

  The sound of the alarm continued with its obnoxious beeping as he crept closer to the doorway, feeling like an intruder. He sighed uncomfortably as he approached and wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He reached up and rapped lightly on the half-open door and waited. Lord, don’t let her be in the bathroom. He’d die of shame.

  Inhaling a breath of confidence, Henry pushed the door and stepped inside. A small mound bulged underneath a comforter on the bed, and Henry could see a mess of brunette hair on the pillow that poked out from under the blanket.

  “Sarah?”

  She didn’t rouse. He walked over to the nightstand and switched off the alarm. He reached for her, but then hesitated. Deciding it wasn’t a good idea to startle her from behind, he walked to the other side of the bed.

  All he could see was the top of Sarah’s forehead down to her nose, but he didn’t like the look of the view. Her skin was so pale it nearly matched the cream-colored blanket that was pulled up to her face.

  He rested a hand on the mattress and called to her. “Sarah? Sarah?”

  Henry pressed down on the bed and then relieved the pressure to bounce the mattress, but she didn’t budge. He frowned and leaned forward. Grasping the top of the blanket, he slowly pulled it away from her face. He froze at the sight of her.

  Her lips were a gray-lavender color, her skin pale. Her fingers were clenched into a fist and pressed against her chest, as though she had been shivering in her sleep. Henry reached down and felt her cheek. She was ice cold, and her skin was damp. Looking at the bulky New York Giants sweatshirt she wore, he could see a ring of sweat had soaked through under her arm. He flung the blanket aside and kneeled on the bed, clasping her icy hand.

  He shook it as he spoke. “Sarah? Sarah!”

  Henry watched in anticipation, and then he saw her chest slowly rise. He grasped her shoulder and shook her several times.

  “Sarah! Can you hear me?” As his panic escalated so did his feelings of helplessness. He pulled her torso up and shook her several times. Her head slumped back, and her clenched fist fell limply onto the mattress.

  “Oh, no. Oh, no,” he muttered and brushed her hair away from her face, knowing it would do nothing to help the situation.

  He let her back down on the bed and dashed out of the room all the way to the open door by the landing. He stopped for a second to calm himself. He didn’t want to cause a scene downstairs, but he knew he’d have to tell Ricky that they needed to call an ambulance. He stepped out onto the landing and traipsed down enough stairs, so Ricky could see him from down below.

  “Ricky!” When the boy spotted him, he tried to sound calm as he asked, “Can you come up here?” Ricky gave him a confused look and so he added with more force, “Now, please.”

  “WHAT’S THE matter?” Ricky panted from his trek up the stairwell.

  Henry grasped onto his shoulders. “Ricky, something’s wrong with your aunt,” he said low and steady. “She’s breathing, but she won’t wake up. She’s pale and cold. We need to call an ambulance.”

  Ricky looked from Henry to the open door several times. She won’t wake up? That sounded all too familiar. Henry was breathing heavy and looked like he was in pain. Ricky pushed past him and ran into his aunt’s bedroom.

  With a firm grip on her shoulders, Ricky rolled Sarah onto her back and stared as she flipped over without making a sound. Even yesterday, in her weakened state, she’d at least groaned when he nudged her.

  “Ricky, do you have a phone up here? We need to call an ambulance,” Henry said, having followed him into the room.

  “No! Just wait a minute.” Ricky studied his aunt’s face, his heart beating wildly.

  “Ricky! We can’t wait. Look at her!”

  Henry tried to pull him away from where he leaned over Sarah, but he pushed his hand away. “No! She didn’t look like this last time,” Ricky mumbled more to himself.

  “Last time? Has she been like this before?”

  Ricky panicked, trying to think of a way to stall Henry so he could process the cause of Sarah’s condition. Would Sarah have been foolish enough to go back to Farwin Wood to see Vasimus? He paced around the room, but he didn’t see the book anywhere. She had seemed out of spirits after she’d returned from Farwin Wood. Her lovers’ quarrel had clearly worked on her nerves. She’d been agreeable to him locking the book back in its cabinet. She wouldn’t go back on purpose; he was sure of that.

  “It’ll pull you back in,” she had warned him. Is that what this was? His mind whirled with the possibility. She h
adn’t looked this pale when he waited for her to wake after they’d brought Shelby back. What did someone look like if the book pulled them back in? Could she come back out again, or would her body die on Blinney Lane? Damn it, why hadn’t she told him more about this stuff? Why hadn’t he asked more questions?

  “Ricky? Has this happened before?” Henry repeated himself in a louder voice.

  “Yeah, she—” Ricky brought his hand over his mouth in worry.

  “She what?”

  “She…has a condition,” he said, blurting the words out. He needed more time to think without Henry prodding him to call an ambulance.

  “A condition? What kind of condition? Does she have medicine we should give her? Ricky, come on. We’re going to lose her.” Henry’s words came in rapid-fire.

  Lose her. Henry’s words reminded him of something his aunt had said. Make sure you didn’t lose anything, or the book will pull you back in. He caught his breath. She’d lost something! After all that worrying over Shelby and him, she hadn’t even paid attention to her own advice!

  “She lost something!” he said in excitement at his discovery, sure he was right.

  “Lost something?” Henry asked, fidgeting anxiously.

  “Uh, yeah. Her medicine,” he said, trying to think of more lies. “She lost the rest of her medicine, but Franci has something that will work. I’ll be right back. Will you stay with her?” He didn’t wait for Henry’s answer. He ran out the door.

  As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Ricky glanced back up to make sure Henry hadn’t followed. He rushed over to the counter where Shelby sat and whispered, “Get everyone out of the store and lock up. I think my aunt’s been pulled back into the book.”

  “Oh, no!” Shelby gasped.

  “I’m going to go get Franci, but Henry’s freaking out. He wants to call an ambulance. I think we’re going to need help keeping him away from my aunt so he doesn’t fold under pressure. Will you call Mary and tell her what’s going on? See if she can come over.” Ricky saw her nod, and then she reached for the phone. He sighed, grateful they could discuss the subject now without having to dance around explanations. Life on Blinney Lane was so much easier when you were part of the inner circle.