The Book of Candlelight

by Ellery Adams

  June squeezed Hester’s hand. “I get it. I feel a physical pain every time someone asks if I have kids. What can I say? Yes, I have a son. But I don’t know him anymore. I’ll love him until I die, but he hates me and never wants to see me again.”

  Hester turned to her. “Something can still bring you two together. Don’t give up.”

  June’s lips quivered. “I won’t. Don’t you give up either. Be straight with your man. Tell him while you’re all snuggled up in bed and he’s holding you close.”

  When Hester didn’t reply, Estella’s mouth fell open. “You haven’t made it to the bedroom, have you?”

  Hester’s face blazed with color. “I’ve tried. And Jasper has been so patient. I just freeze up when we get to a certain point. I go all stiff and—”

  “He’s supposed to be stiff, not you,” Estella said. “Listen to me, sweetheart. Your past is keeping you from your future. Give yourself permission to kiss your guilt and shame good-bye. Have your man kiss you all over instead.”

  “You’re our resident Dr. Ruth,” June said to Estella. “Can you help our girl?”

  Estella held out her hand. “Come with me, Hester. I’m going to loan you some goodies.”

  Hester gulped. “Right now?”

  The rest of the women laughed at her stricken expression.

  Nora wished this moment could go on and on. There, in the peaceful garden with her friends, she’d been able to forget about death and grief and all the questions that had no answers.

  But it was time to go home.

  Estella said good night and led Hester out of the garden. June watched them go before focusing on Nora. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  June nodded. “I used to think of rain as this purifying element that washed the world clean. Pollen. Dust. Dirt. The water washed it away. But the rain we had? I feel like it brought something with it. Something toxic.”

  Nora felt the weight of June’s words. And the truth of them. So much had changed with those days of endless rain.

  “If the rain was toxic, we need to help find the antidote,” Nora said. “If we don’t, people are going to keep dying.”

  * * *

  On her way back to her moped, Nora glanced into the diner. Jed was gone. So was Deputy Wiggins.

  Driving through the starlit town, Nora thought about Jed’s Curious George living room, and of all the effort he’d put in just to please her.

  The moment she was home, she called him.

  Jed answered on the third ring, and Nora was immeasurably relieved to hear his voice. “Hey, stranger,” she said. “I’m sorry about the other day. I’d really love to see you. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to talk about . . . us. Do you feel like coming over?”

  There was a pause. It felt interminable to Nora. Holding the phone to her ear, she couldn’t help but wonder if Jed had company.

  “Yes, I want to come over,” he finally said. As Nora let out the breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, Jed asked, “Should I bring anything?”

  “Just you,” Nora said softly. “You’re all I need.”

  Chapter 15

  Bookstores remind me that there are good things in this world.

  —Vincent van Gogh

  Saturday dawned, bringing clear skies and mild temps. Ideal conditions for a sidewalk sale.

  Downtown Miracle Springs was festooned in color. Shop stoops featured flowerpots of impatiens and daffodils. Silver pinwheels spun in every pot, refracting the sunlight and throwing rainbows onto the sidewalk. Flags with dogwood tree designs flew from the lampposts. Bouquets of pink, blue, and purple balloons danced in the breeze.

  Sheldon met Nora at the bookshop at nine. He was dressed in an old-timey, black-and-white prisoner costume. It took ten minutes and every ounce of his charm to convince Nora to don a matching costume.

  “We want to sell tons of books, but we also want to raise awareness about banned books,” he said, smoothing the front of his costume. “Horizontal stripes are not flattering. Ever. But we must make sacrifices for the sake of literature. Climb in your jumpsuit and get ready to do what you do best: match-make books with readers.”

  Nora indulged Sheldon because he needed a pick-me-up. Micah’s parents had driven up from Atlanta to identify their son’s body, and they’d made it clear that they wouldn’t leave until his death was thoroughly investigated. Micah’s parents were both politicians and they’d placed phone calls to all their influential friends to put a rush on their son’s lab tests.

  Nora felt sorry for Sheriff McCabe. Between pressure from Micah’s parents, Danny’s wife, the media, and the locals, he was probably running on fumes.

  Plus, there was still the matter of the man in the white T-shirt. The hunt for him had proved fruitless and would likely take a back burner until the department resolved all questions surrounding Micah’s death.

  Despite her ridiculous jumpsuit, Nora was looking forward to the sidewalk sale. She welcomed the chaos and color of the festival atmosphere. By ten o’clock, the streets were crowded with shoppers. Local organizations like the Scouts, the Masons, and church groups had erected tents in the park. They offered children’s games and gave away trinkets or candy.

  Folk music tripped out of the grandstand speakers. The merry sounds of fiddles and banjos floated in air scented with fried dough and the sugary sweetness of cotton candy.

  Nora’s costume and the banned books displayed in the window and on tables along the sidewalk drew a crowd. People stared at the covers and turned to one another in shock. They purchased titles out of loyalty, feeling the need to defend their favorite books, while others wanted to find out for themselves why certain books were controversial.

  To serve her customers as quickly as possible, Nora raced from the sidewalk to the checkout counter all morning long. Sheldon couldn’t help because he was making coffee as fast as he could. With all the book, shelf enhancer, and beverage sales, Nora knew that it was going to be a banner day.

  Dashing outside again to man the tables, Nora took a moment to gaze back at her beloved store. She decided to spend some of today’s profits repainting the front door and shutters and installing new outdoor lighting.

  It was a pleasant respite to imagine how Miracle Books could be improved, but it was even more delightful to spend the morning talking about books, recommending books, and selling books. Each time Nora placed a book in a reader’s hand, she felt like she was giving them a door to a magical realm. In her mind, librarians and booksellers were the human equivalents of C. S. Lewis’s enchanted wardrobe. They could transport people anywhere, just by handing them the right book.

  Lunchtime came and went, and Nora was fantasizing about grabbing some food from inside when a teenage girl with long, lustrous blond hair approached the banned book table. Nora gave her a brief smile before turning to help a customer looking for a copy of A Wrinkle in Time.

  “My daughter hasn’t read this yet,” the woman said. “It was one of those books that introduced me to the idea of reading for pleasure. For the first time, I’d found a book about a girl who loved science. I felt like I’d made a new friend. Meg was a nerd, like me. And she was a hero.”

  The woman laughed, and Nora told her that she completely understood what it felt like to fall in love with a book. “Lots of us have a first book love. We never forget those books. The first book your daughter falls in love with might not be A Wrinkle in Time. It’s worth a try, but it might be something completely different.”

  “Probably,” the woman said. “I’ll be happy just knowing that it’s in her room.”

  After fetching the book, Nora left the woman to browse.

  “What’s up with the stripes?” asked the blond girl. She was still there, hovering near the end of the first table.

  Nora wondered if she’d come by to take advantage of the half-price beverage deal for high school students and faculty. “It’s the vintage jail look,” she said. “My coworker thinks it’s
cooler than Orange Is the New Black.”

  The girl smiled and ran her fingers over the cover of Robert Cormier’s The Chocolate War. She seemed like she wanted to ask a question but wasn’t sure if she could get the words out. Nora knew she’d either ask her question or walk away. There was nothing to do but wait.

  At that moment, a clown rode by on a bicycle. He tooted his horn and waved at the kids. The little dog in his bike basket barked with unrestrained joy.

  Nora said, “That dog’s cute, but all clowns make me think of Pennywise.”

  “That creepy clown from It?” the girl asked. At Nora’s nod, she kept talking. “The movie was crazy scary. But it was kind of fun being scared.”

  Nora jerked a thumb at the bookstore. “The book was way scarier.”

  The girl gestured at the display window. “This is cool and all, but I’m looking for something else. I’m not sure how to . . .” Trailing off, she fidgeted with the row of hair ties on her wrist.

  “It’s not always easy to figure out what you’re looking for,” Nora said. “This might help: Think of the last book that stayed on your mind days after you finished reading it.”

  “The Hate U Give,” said the girl without a second’s hesitation. “I read the book and saw the movie. I want another book like that. You know, where a white girl is friends with a girl of color. And sometimes, she doesn’t know what to say to that friend. Like, is she insulting her friend without meaning to? Or does she not talk at all because she doesn’t want to sound racist? All the weird stuff keeps them from being close friends, which isn’t what the girl wants.”

  “Yeah, there are more stories like that,” said Nora.

  “I just want one for now. I’m pretty busy. But Gabriela and I have been friends since kindergarten, and things have gotten awkward between us. I’m not sure what to do.”

  Nora tapped her finger against her lower lip as she sorted through a mental catalogue of book titles. “I have an idea,” she said. “Follow me.”

  In the Young Adult section, Nora found a used copy of I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter by Erika Sánchez.

  “It doesn’t matter if your friend is Mexican or not,” Nora said, handing the girl the book. “This could be about any young Latina woman. It could be about anyone your age who’s dealing with the expectation to act a certain way because of culture and customs. You’ll like the main character. She’s sassy. She fights for what she believes in. Even when her family disapproves.”

  The girl took the book. “I know plenty about that. Disapproving parents come in every color.”

  Nora had to laugh. “True. But as bad as it might be now, there will come a day when you understand each other again. In the future, you might even see your parents as your friends.”

  “Maybe,” the girl said, sounding unconvinced. “You gave my dad some books a while ago. Things have been better.” She pulled a credit card from a case attached to her cell phone. “I’m Lily.”

  “I hope it’s okay that I’ve been using your moped.”

  Lily rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what I was thinking with those pink flowers. Anyway, I don’t want it back. I don’t want to go back to being the person I was when I rode that thing.” She held up the book. “How about a trade? This for a moped.”

  Nora shook her head, but Lily stuck the book in her bag, said a quick “thanks,” and left.

  Back on the street, Nora caught a glimpse of shiny blond hair. Lily had her phone pressed to her ear as she jogged over to the park. Lou and Patty passed by her, heading in Nora’s direction.

  Since she didn’t want to be caught staring, Nora began to straighten books on the table. She was incredibly pleased by how many banned books had been purchased so far, and she loved filling in the holes on the table with fresh titles.

  By the time everything was nice and neat, Lou and Patty had arrived.

  “We said we’d make it to your shop one day,” Lou said.

  Both women looked tired. Their eyes were puffy and their smiles felt forced. Sadness rolled off their bodies in invisible gray waves.

  Nora briefly touched each woman on the arm. “I’m so sorry about Micah.”

  Tears sprang into Lou’s eyes and she glanced away.

  “They found drugs in his system,” Patty said, a note of anger in her voice. “We don’t believe it. We told the sheriff that Micah was obsessed with avoiding chemicals. His food, his soap—everything was organic. He was trying to be as close to nature as possible. There’s no way he’d poison himself with drugs.”

  Nora thought of the compass tattoo on Micah’s wrist. “If he wanted to discover something about himself, maybe—”

  Lou cut her off. “He wouldn’t do it that way. The whole point of his journey was to cleanse himself of the taint of the modern world by escaping into the wilderness. He wasn’t looking for a shortcut. He wanted to take the long road.”

  “What drugs were found in his system?”

  Patty shook her head in disgust. “Something called GHB. I looked it up online. It’s trendy for teens to make their own liquid ecstasy and use it to decrease stress. As a prescription drug, it’s used to treat narcolepsy. It seems obvious to me that if GHB was in Micah’s system, someone put it there.”

  “Deputy Fuentes said that GHB is similar to Rohypnol. But why would Micah deliberately take a date-rape drug? It’s ridiculous.” Lou waved off the notion. “We don’t believe it. His parents don’t either. They’re adamant about Micah having no history of drug, tobacco, or alcohol use. He always avoided addictive substances. He wouldn’t even use aspirin.”

  “We told the sheriff to search the inn from top to bottom,” Patty added wearily. “They even brought in a dog, but they didn’t find anything.”

  Lou pressed her fingers to her temples. “Let’s stop talking about this. We came out to try to enjoy the day, remember?”

  Patty went inside while Lou moved off to examine the banned books. Nora rang up a customer waiting at the checkout counter. Then, she wandered around the store until she found Patty paging through a book on regional gardening.

  “I’d like to restore the inn’s rose garden,” she said without looking up. “Lou would love that. Especially if I could grow something that looked like Rose Lattimer’s rose.”

  “Speaking of Rose, those candle wax stains from her journal can be removed. If you’re willing to part with it for a few hours, I’ll do it for you.”

  Patty clearly didn’t feel like she could accept Nora’s offer. “That’s really nice of you, but I’d have to ask Lou. She’s really protective of anything to do with the inn or the Lattimer family. It’s her heritage and her life. I’m just the best friend, happily sharing in her dream.”

  Nora decided that it was time to be direct. “Do you remember the night of the dinner party? You let me use your bathroom?”

  Patty slid the book back into its place on the shelf. “Sure.”

  “When I was leaving your room, I noticed a piece of pottery with black glaze. Do you know the one I’m talking about?”

  “Of course. I would have gone with something more colorful, but Lou said that the potter was local and that his pieces belonged in the inn.” With a shrug, she selected another book from the shelf. “Decorating is Lou’s forte. I’m all about the food. As long as I have dominion over the kitchen, I’m happy.”

  “So you didn’t know that Danny made that pottery?”

  Patty paled. “The man who drowned?”

  Whatever secret Lou is keeping, she didn’t share it with Patty, Nora thought.

  “Yes,” Nora answered. “Danny sold his pieces at the flea market.”

  “That’s so sad,” Patty said, lowering the book she’d been holding. “His work is beautiful, and now, there won’t be anymore.”

  It hadn’t been Nora’s intention to bring Patty down. She and Lou were still reeling from Micah’s death, but Nora needed to learn how Danny’s valuable pottery had ended up in their possession.

  “I think Danny
will live on forever through his pottery, just like Rose Lattimer will live on in your garden if you can grow her roses. You and Lou are already preserving the past by restoring the inn. You’re keeping memories alive.”

  This earned her a small smile from Patty. “Thank you for saying that. Other than Georgia and Bo, we haven’t met many people who understand our vision. Everyone else says that the inn will bleed us dry. But we saved her. She’ll take care of us and travelers will rest under her roof.”

  Patty spoke of the old building as if it was a family member, and Nora liked her for it.

  “Did you know that the bird carved into the hidden wall in the library is the same bird Danny etched into the bottom of his pieces?”

  Patty gaped. “But he couldn’t have seen our bird. The bookshelves covered that secret doorway for decades.”

  “Maybe someone else in Danny’s family saw it. Or even made it. Did Rose mention the bird in her diary?”

  Patty hugged the gardening book to her chest. “I’ll ask Lou about it, but not now. She’s too upset about Micah. I am too.”

  “Danny’s death bothers me just as Micah’s death bothers you and Lou,” Nora said in a hushed voice. “At first, I wanted to know what happened to Danny to put my own mind at ease, but now I want to help Marie. She’s Danny’s wife, and she’s having a really hard time.”

  Patty bit her bottom lip to keep her emotions in check. “Find me after work. I’ll give you the diary. If it can make sense of any of this madness, we need to share it. Rose would want me to give it to you. She devoted her whole life to helping others.”

  “Maybe she’s not done yet,” Nora whispered.

  As she passed the Local History section, she caught the faint scent of roses. She paused and took in another breath, but the air smelled of coffee and books. The hint of rose perfume had vanished.

  * * *

  After Lou and Patty left, Nora snuck behind the checkout counter to finish the second half of her lunch sandwich. She was too busy eating to notice June setting up a small card table on the sidewalk next to the bookshop’s front door.

  When the sandwich and a Honeycrisp apple were gone, Nora returned to her outside duties.