Chapter 15
I hate to admit it, but Mayor Breckenbridge had done good. Maybe I should take back my curse on him.
Mrs. Fieldman looks behind her when she reaches the bay doors and gives me a little wave with the hand not clutching the first two books of the Lunar Chronicles series.
I smile and wave back, dropping my hand once she’s rounded the corner and is out of sight.
The diner owner is the last patron on a rather successful series of days.
I don’t know if it’s the novelty—the bookmobile’s maiden voyage and all—or the fact that everyone is stuck in Turkey Grove at the moment, or if the residents here have been waiting for library services to be a possibility in their lives all this time.
Whatever the reason, I’d call the last week a triumph.
Not only have I been able to help people sign up for library cards, check out books for them, and show the new patrons how to work the library’s webpage in order to put holds on other titles they’d like me to bring next time, but I was also able to lend a hand to Jack’s nephew in filling out his FAFSA application, then point him to an ACT study guide.
I’d also overheard Jack talking to Levi about a small business meeting they were planning to have.
I’d then been able to pull Jack aside and show him the research tool that allowed patrons access to databases with industry-specific information curated for businesses and entrepreneurs.
All in all, I couldn’t imagine things having gone any better.
Levi had been gracious to allow me to use his garage in the afternoons to open up the bookmobile.
We’d developed a sort of rhythm that seemed to work well.
He never stuck around too long after his neighbors started showing up, but he didn’t act put out either.
Assured me he was staying busy getting ready for winter.
I still felt a little bad, but seeing all the good the bookmobile was doing for the people of Turkey Grove assuaged most of my guilt.
I dig my thumbs into the muscles on either side of my spine, then arch my back. Even though this week has been good, it’s also been long. I’m ready to lock up and call it quits for the evening.
I finish putting everything in the bookmobile away and turn off the tablet, though I plan to bring the device with me.
Signal is spotty, but Jack was right that the General Store parking lot is one of the more consistent places with a strong signal.
Because of that, I’ve been setting up there in the mornings, creating a Wi-Fi hotspot for anyone needing to use the internet.
One thing I’ll talk to Mayor Breckenbridge about when I get back is investing in satellite internet for Cletus.
Leveling the playing field, bridging the gap, and building community hubs are all values that libraries stand for, and we can’t do that successfully without connectivity.
Double-checking that I have everything, I shut Cletus up for the night, then engage the deadlock on the office door.
My shoes make soft slapping noises on the hard concrete beneath my feet, echoing in the large space.
The sun has dipped behind the tops of the trees, casting long shadows across the parking area.
I push the button on the wall to lower the sectional garage door, the gears and moving metal clattering in the otherwise quiet country air.
With a thud, the door finishes its descent and I secure the padlock.
“Meow.”
The pathetic cry comes from somewhere behind me.
I think of Anna Leigh traipsing all over the woods looking for Jolene.
What’s with everyone’s pets running away lately?
I look up the mountain to Levi’s house longingly but turn on my heel with a sigh.
Someone is probably worried about their lost kitty right now.
No matter how much I want to get up that mountain, I can’t let a pet spend the night out in the cold.
“Here, kitty kitty kitty,” I call.
Another plaintiff meow rips into the air, followed by two more. Three missing cats? Oh dear. I hunch down and search the bushes alongside Levi’s building.
“Meow.”
There, among the brambles, is a small cardboard box.
I reach in, careful not to get scratched by the branches, and gingerly pull the box out.
Inside lay three tiny newborn kittens, one gray, one brown, and one a creamy blond color.
Their eyes are closed, and they wobble on their legs anytime they try to stand.
“You poor little dears!” I pick the box up and cradle it to my chest.
These aren’t lost pets. These kittens have been purposefully dumped here. Who would do such a thing?
I hold the box tighter. “No one is going to hurt you now.” My gaze returns to the top of the mountain, and I nibble on the inside of my cheek.
Newborn animals are a lot of work. Feedings every few hours, constant attention.
But I’m basically a stray and Levi took me in.
He wouldn’t turn his back on these helpless creatures either, would he?
I look down at the mewling triplets. “You guys are going to have to be extra cute and win him over.”
On the off chance that I’m wrong and the bundle in my arms aren’t outcasts but have simply been misplaced by an irresponsible person who had been by for the bookmobile, I head across the street to the General Store.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that Jack MacDonald knows everyone and everything that goes on in Turkey Grove.
A little bell over the door jingles as I step in.
Jack is standing behind the counter and grins when he sees me. “Hey there. What can I do you for?”
I walk over to him and tilt the box toward him. “I found these kittens outside the garage. Any idea if they belong to someone and were accidentally left behind?”
Jack reaches up and adjusts the brim of his stained ball cap. “Left, you say?”
I nod.
His gaze lifts and meets mine. “Let me make a few calls real quick, but my guess is that whoever left them doesn’t want them back.”
My heart squeezes. These kittens are too young to be away from their mother. If I hadn’t found them, they probably wouldn’t have lasted through the night.
I mosey away from the counter to give Jack a little privacy as he makes his calls.
The store is smaller than it appears from the outside, only five aisles cutting straight paths down the middle of the space.
I weave between two shelves and peruse the items he has stocked.
Sarsaparilla candy in the shape of tiny wooden barrels, Slim Jims, and individual bags of potato chips on one side.
Fishing tackle, small garden tools, and mosquito repellant on the other.
Farther down are a few nonperishable food items next to household cleaning supplies.
I peek over and see that Jack is still on the phone.
The dog treats remind me that I’m going to need something to feed the kittens, but they’re too young for solid food and I don’t think straight cow’s milk is going to do it.
I doubt Turkey Grove has a feed store or pet store, which are the only two places I can think of that would have a kitten-specific formula.
Pulling up a new web browser tab on my phone, I search for what I can feed the kittens and find a formula recipe consisting of condensed milk, water, plain yogurt, and egg yolks.
Jack steps into the aisle, hands in his pockets. “If anyone knows anything, no one is saying.”
I look down at the bundle in my arms. The kittens are sleeping, their little bellies rising and falling peacefully. I look back up at Jack. “What about you? Will you take them?”
He holds his hands up, palms out like I’ve just told him this is a stickup. “I can’t. Allergic.” As if to prove his point, he sneezes.
My conscience pricks at forcing three helpless kittens onto Levi, but what else am I supposed to do? I can’t just let them die. I find a dusty can of condensed milk on a shelf and grab it and a carton of farm-fresh brown eggs. Hopefully Levi will have yogurt in his refrigerator.
I peer down again at my precious bundle.
These little angels need names. Something special and cute.
Evangeline has Kitty Purry, and Anna Leigh has Fancy.
Maybe something along the same lines, punny but bookish.
I run a finger lightly over the gray kitten’s back, then eye the other two. My lips quirk.
“You’re going to be Dumpurrdore,” I tell the gray cat, thinking of the Hogwarts headmaster’s long gray beard.
“And you”—I tickle the pale blond one under the chin—“I’m going to name Meowfoy, but no funny business, you hear?
” I turn my attention to the brown kitten.
“Which makes you—” I tap my chin, thinking. “Hermeowne.”
I pay Jack and thank him, then readjust my grip on the box and bags, practicing a speech in my head that sounds similar to that of a child trying to convince her parents to let her keep the pretty kitties.
I know Levi likes his solitude, and he’s already been more than hospitable, but how could he resist the cuteness of these little squishy bean toes?
Thwump, crack.
My gaze peels from the kittens in my arms and up the hillside, searching for the source of the loud sound that puts me in mind of a lumberjack.
My eyes widen as they land on Levi. His back is turned toward me, his feet spread about shoulder-width apart, with a pair of faded jeans slung low on his hips and showing off a pair of muscular legs.
An ax hangs from the grip of his right hand, and in a smooth, powerful motion, he swings the tool in a wide arc behind him, up over his head where his other hand meets to grip the handle.
Then he brings the sharpened head down with a crack on the log in front of him.