I paused on my way out the door.
She cleared her throat. “I had Dad pick you up some turkey, provolone, and even some eggs. But I refuse to have beef or pork in my kitchen. I’ll make you a turkey sandwich. Sam called and said you need your protein and he thinks you might be allergic to soy. So no tofu for you.”
It was all I could do not to laugh. God bless Sam. I owed him big for this one.
“That’ll be great, Mom.”
I dumped my bag in my room, but I was more restless than tired. I put on my yoga pants and shirt and did a few postures in my room. It felt good to relax the muscles and I stretched out onto the rug on the floor. As I moved through each pose I could feel the tension leave my body.
Afterward I showered and found the turkey sandwich my mom had left for me in the fridge. I could hear everyone in the conference room toward the back of the complex. My dad was giving a speech about herbs and their healing powers. I stood there listening for a long time. He was a good speaker, erudite and even funny.
I laughed softly as I made my way back to my room. For the first time since I left for college, it felt good to be home.
I wasn’t sure what to wear. The day of the memorial service I had to dress quickly in order to make my meeting at the lawyer’s office. I couldn’t choose between navy and black but decided to go with the black Carolina Herrera suit. It was appropriate without being stuffy or harsh.
An elderly woman who looked like someone’s great-grandmother greeted me in the reception area of Mr. Pierce’s office. Turned out she was Mrs. Pierce. She handed me a cup of tea and seated me in a small conference room. “He’ll be right with you, dear,” she informed me.
A few minutes later Mr. Pierce came in. He was a small, wiry man, slightly stooped, with gray hair that tumbled onto his forehead. He shook my hand and then sat across the table from me.
“First, let me say how sorry I am about Mrs. Canard. She was a dear woman and one of the finest librarians I’ve ever known.” He opened a file folder.
“She left a good portion of her savings to her family, along with many of her antiques and belongings. But her most prized possession she left to you. She wanted you to read this before I explain everything.”
He pushed a sealed envelope toward me. I hadn’t known what to expect. I thought maybe she’d given me a first edition book or one of her art collections.
The seal was a red wax stamp with a C. I opened the envelope and pulled out two sheets of typewritten paper. It was a letter.
Dear Kira,
You are a special young woman and it’s important you understand that. I’ve known that fact since you first walked into my library. You were a messy five-year-old missing her front teeth and I fell in love with you on that day. You might as well have been my own child. The love ran that deep.
You may not realize it, but you have a passion for books that rivals my own, and I tried to feed that as much as I could. I worried sometimes that helping you escape what you thought were difficult times might have been a mistake.
I know growing up in this town was hard for you, that you felt like you never fit in, but I beg you to look around. It’s a town of oddballs. None of us really fit anywhere but here in Sweet. For all of its faults, this is a place of peace and of love. There are people who care about you here, and as you move forward in the world, I want you to remember that.
At the beginning of this letter I mentioned that you are special, and you are, more so than you might have ever believed. There are people like you and I who see things that others don’t. I know you’ve probably heard the voices. It usually happens not long after you turn twenty-five.
No, you aren’t going crazy. They are real. They are dead, but they are real. It will take you a long time to get used to what is happening, but you will make it through. I’d hoped to prepare you more. To help you understand that this is a gift that only a few of us truly share. It is a glorious and wonderful thing and will allow you to do great good in our world and others.
It is because of this that I have bequeathed my most prized possession to you: the library. Few people in Sweet know the truth, but I own the building, the books, and everything within its walls. It is a privately owned collection that I have shared with the town for more than thirty years.
Before I took ownership, Mary Elizabeth Barnes was the proprietor and she bequeathed it to me. Yes, she was “special” too. The library is something beyond what most people see, and you’ll soon understand. I couldn’t possibly explain it all in this letter, but there are books in the library to help along the way. That is, should you choose to follow this course and follow the conditions Mr. Pierce will explain to you.
Kira, it’s so important that you understand this is your choice. Do not take on this opportunity out of guilt or for any other reason. You must follow your heart and your dreams, and if they aren’t in Sweet, then that’s the way it is meant to be. It’s a calling, and if you don’t feel the pull, then it isn’t the right choice for you.
I love you, dear girl, and will always be with you.
Mabel Canard
The tears had puddled around my chin. Mr. Pierce handed me a tissue. I dabbed and tried to catch my breath between sobs.
“She left me the library?” I looked up at the kindly old man.
“Yes.” He pushed the file toward me. “Should you choose to accept her offer, the library and its contents become yours. There are some provisions. Only you can run the library. If you choose not to become the new librarian, the building and the contents will be sold at auction and the proceeds donated to charity.”
I pushed my hair behind my ear. “Wait. If I don’t open the library, then the town must go without? That’s crazy. She wouldn’t want Sweet to be without a library.”
I thumbed through the papers.
“That is the way she has the will worded and she was very precise.”
Sitting back in my chair, I read the words. He was right, but it didn’t make sense.
“She loved this town and the books. I—why would she do this?” It was a rhetorical question and Mr. Pierce didn’t bother answering.
“I didn’t notice any time limit. How long do I have to decide?”
He slid another file across the table. “You have one month. She wanted, if possible, for you to live the life of a librarian, and to understand the responsibilities the position holds. If after that month you choose not to stay with the job, then we’ll proceed with the sale.”
I crossed my arms. It was too much to take in. I remembered the voices in my room, and the feeling that I was being watched the last few weeks.
Could it be real? The dead aren’t so dead? What, and now all of a sudden I’m psychic?
When things got out of hand at the office, I shut down and focused on whatever was in front of me at the time. Hence my ice princess persona. But my mind was in this weird fog, as if there were thoughts just out of reach that would clear this craziness up. Nothing made sense anymore.
There was a knock on the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt, dear, but you’re needed on the phone.”
Mr. Pierce nodded at his wife. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
Leaning forward I put my head in my hands.
Mabel Canard, what have you done?
Chapter 11
We surely know by some nameless instinct more about our futures than we think we know.
THE STARK MUNRO LETTERS
By Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859–1930
Call #: F-DOY
Description: xxxvi, 500 p.; 24cm
The memorial service passed by in a blur, and there were so many people in attendance that it was standing room only in the Methodist church. I’d sat outside in my car for almost twenty minutes trying to pull myself together before going in.
The wind howled, making the thirty-degree temperature feel much colder. The Canard family was in the narthex leading into the sanctuary. I made my way through the throng to pay my respect
s. Cheryl, Mrs. Canard’s daughter, was a younger version of her mother. It was easy to pick her out of the crowd. I introduced myself and she hugged me tight. “She talked about you like you were family. She loved you so much.”
I gave her a wavering smile. “She was like family to me—and I loved her.” The last few words came out a hoarse whisper.
Cheryl nodded and her eyes watered. I bit my lip on the inside to keep from sobbing. I can’t stand seeing other people cry and I was on the edge already. I hugged her again and went to find a seat.
Mom, Dad, Sam, and Caleb had gathered in a pew near the back. Caleb wore a dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt and a tie, and I was happy to see him there. The Levi’s-wearing carpenter I’d met a few weeks ago looked like he’d just stepped off of Wall Street. The suit he wore certainly hadn’t come off of any rack.
I felt so guilty because I couldn’t stop looking at him, and at the same time I wanted to know how he afforded such luxurious clothing on a carpenter’s salary.
After saying a quiet hello to everyone, I sat between Caleb and Sam. Their body warmth helped to take some of the chill from my bones. At one point, Reverend James talked lovingly about the many people who spoke to him about Mrs. Canard and how she was the one who had taught them to read. The sadness ate away at me until I felt raw and uneasy.
Caleb handed me a hankie and I gave him a watery smile. His deep blue eyes stared back at me, but he looked worried. He reached down and grabbed my hand, and the heat from his grasp gave me strength.
I needed it. His presence made everything a little easier and he was the perfect gentleman.
I, on the other hand, was a big mess. My mind kept going back to why she would do something so crazy. Mrs. Canard knew how much I loved law and that it was my future. I mean, I adored books, and had a great respect for the occupation, but a librarian’s life was not for me.
Mr. Pierce had given me the key to the library. It was one of those old-fashioned brass keys, which opened the large wooden doors. It burned in my pocket against my leg.
After the ceremony the attendees made their way to the Family Life Center for lunch and to visit with the Canard family. People in Sweet like to eat. For both happy and sad occasions, food is always at the ready. The very idea made me queasy, and the church had been so crowded that I craved air.
As soon as I could, I slipped out and hurried to my car. A few minutes later I sat in front of the library. The key still felt hot against my leg.
“Go in, girl. You won’t know unless you try,” a voice whispered behind me.
I yelped and jumped, looking around. No one was there. The message in the letter came back to me. They are dead, but they are real. Mrs. Canard might be right about the dead, but that wasn’t something I could deal with at the moment. I mean, how much is one person supposed to take? If dead people could come back and visit, then there was life after death…and I wasn’t in the mood to change my entire philosophy about life and death in that moment.
One step at a time, Kira.
Someone knocked against the car window and I jumped again. I saw Caleb peeking in. I pushed the button to roll down the window, my heart thumping so loudly I could hear it.
“Are you okay?” He stared behind me, probably to see what I’d been trying to look at in the backseat.
“I’m fine.” I cleared my throat. “You startled me.”
His eyes returned to my face. “Sorry. I saw you leave the church and you seemed upset. I just wanted to check on you.”
I nodded, not really sure what to say.
“Sam wanted to know if you were ready for lunch. He’s over at Lulu’s holding a table.”
I pushed open the door and he moved back. Rolling up the window, I had the sense to reach over and pull the keys out of the ignition. I grabbed my purse and I locked the door. “I forgot about lunch. I need to check on something in the library. Could you tell Sam I’ll take a rain check?”
I headed up the stone steps, stopping for a moment to take in the gargoyles hanging over the door. “The watch guards of the beauty inside,” Mrs. Canard used to say. When I was a kid I named them Jones and Pete.
I could have sworn Pete gave me a wink as I stood there.
Maybe I need to rest after all.
“Are you sure I can’t help?”
I turned to see Caleb standing behind me with his cell phone in his hand.
Shrugging, I turned back to the library. “No, but thanks.” I moved forward and put the key in the door. The brass made a large scraping sound and then a loud pop. I pulled down on the handle and the heavy door opened.
“Sam, Kira has something to do at the library. You want to pick up some burgers and meet us over here?” I heard Caleb but my attention was already captured by the darkness within. It was almost as if I could hear the voices. “Come in, Kira. Come in.”
I knew stepping over that threshold meant something, I just wasn’t sure what.
Turning so I could see Caleb, I told him, “I need to be alone for a little while.” He tried to interrupt but I held up a hand. “This is important to me. Tell Sam I’ll catch up with you guys later this afternoon.”
He had a hurt look on his face, as if I’d snubbed him. At first I didn’t think he’d taken me seriously, but then he backed down a step. “Okay, but I’m calling to check on you in an hour or so,” he said quietly.
“What?” All I could think about was getting inside. Out of the bone-chilling cold and into—I wasn’t sure what.
“You’re pale and your hands are shaking. I’m worried about you.”
It was sweet. It had been a long time since any man, besides Justin, Sam, and Dad, had cared anything about me.
I reached out and touched his arm. “I’m fine. I’m just cold.”
He looked at my hand and then patted it with his own. “Just the same, I’ll be calling to make sure.”
“I’m not going to wig out on our date. I promise.”
He sighed, the cold air curling around his head. “I’m not worried about the damn date. I just want to make sure you don’t pass out or something.”
Geez, who knew he was so bossy?
I waved a hand. “Sorry, I’m a little distracted today. Sure. I’ll talk to you later.” I paused. “It meant a lot to me that you were there today. We haven’t known each other very long, but I appreciate that you care enough to look after me. I just need to do this on my own right now.”
He nodded, and then watched me walk in. I shut the heavy door behind me and locked it.
There was a small vestibule with a scrolled-iron hat and coat rack and an umbrella stand on one side. Shelving with various flyers for Texas tourism and classes varying from art to rock climbing, and other advertising brochures, lined the other wall.
The floors, even in the entry, were a deep mahogany wood.
The large arched entryway led to the main library hall. I paused for a moment and watched as the only light in the room filtered through the high windows. Shadows from the trees outside danced along the marbled front desk and wooden tables in the front of the room.
Moving to the right, I found the long row of light switches and flipped each one on.
“She’s here. She’s here,” I heard, but chose to ignore the whispers around me. It was easier for now.
My breath made puffy clouds. The next mission was to find out how to turn on the heat. My best guess was a large panel I’d seen in the break room in the back. I walked among the tables, gazing at the long rows of books.
It was a two-story room with the second-story books on shelves along the wall. There were staircases leading up to those rows on both sides of the main floor. The balcony area extended about eight feet along the back and sides of the room, so that most of the main floor was open to the second story.
I took a moment to turn in a circle, looking at the entire building as if I were seeing it for the first time. I love books. I have since I was a child.
“Kira, you are one of the few people
who truly understands the real joy of books,” I heard Mrs. Canard’s voice whisper. Only this time it wasn’t one of the voices surrounding me, it was a memory.
Staring at the hardbacks and paperbacks I finally realized what she had given me—her heart. These books spoke to her, were a part of her being. No one loved them as much as she did. She took the “knowledge is power” phrase to the nth degree.
This place was hallowed ground for her. The place where gods were born and angels sang. Where a prince could sit next to a pauper and a fairy next to a gremlin. As I passed the front desk I noticed some photos. There were a few framed ones of her family—her daughter and grandchildren, all of whom had been at the service a few moments ago. By the computer I saw something that surprised me. A picture of a towheaded child missing a front tooth, thoroughly involved in whatever book she was reading. A smile of complete and utter joy lit her face. It was me. I didn’t remember the photo being taken, but I couldn’t have been more than five. I was so happy, and I didn’t even remember ever being that happy as a child.
The cold air whipped around my shoulders, and I pulled my black coat tighter around my body.
It’s definitely time to find the heat.
As I made my way back to the break room, the air grew colder. “Brrrr.” I stuck my hands in my pockets.
I flipped the switch in the darkened room and found the thermostat on the wall. It was set on sixty-eight, but I swore the building was at least twenty degrees cooler. I turned it up to seventy-two and made myself a mental note to turn it back down when I left. There was no telling how much it cost to heat this place, and for now I had a feeling those bills would be my responsibility.
Curiosity soon turned my attention from the temperature. I’d never ventured past the break room, where I had shared more than one cup of tea and a number of cookies with Mrs. Canard.
There were two doors, one on the back wall, the other to the left of the sink. I opened the back door and was surprised to find a large storeroom of boxes.
Like a Charm Page 9
