11. Susan
Chapter eleven
Susan
I pushed through the community center's double doors, arms overflowing with cardboard boxes crammed with posters and metallic balloons. I'd arrived extra early, eager to get a head start on transforming the space.
With a huff, I set down the boxes, my thoughts drifting to Nate. He had encouraged me to step out of my comfort zone.
Two months ago, if someone had asked me to speak at the library fundraiser for literacy, there is no way I would have done it. Public speaking ranked right up there with root canals and IRS audits on my list of fears, yet today, I'd embrace that microphone with poise.
I turned to grab a few posters when I heard a familiar yet unexpected voice behind me.
"Do you need an extra pair of hands?"
Startled, I spun around to find Nate dressed casually in a T-shirt and jeans.
"Nate!" I greeted him, feeling self-conscious in my comfortable sweats and stained shirt. "Hey! I wasn't expecting to see you here so early."
"Well, you helped me make a huge difference at the hospital, and I thought I’d return the favor," he explained kindly. "I hope that's okay."
"Of course!" I beamed at him gratefully. "I'd love some help, thanks."
While arranging the display stands, we unpacked boxes of books and chatted about our favorite childhood books.
To my surprise and delight, Nate confessed his love for Anne of Green Gables – a sentiment I wholeheartedly echoed. "I can still remember sobbing when Matthew died," Nate chuckled softly.
"Me too!" I laughed in agreement. "I'm surprised. I wouldn't have pegged you for an Anne fan."
"Are you kidding? Anne was one of my first literary crushes," Nate quipped with a playful wink that painted my cheeks pink.
Frances sauntered over with an inquisitive look. She was wearing a flashy sundress that looked like a Picasso painting turned clothing piece.
"Where should face-paint lady set her stuff up?" she asked, motioning towards the lady in question who was struggling with a sizeable box of paints and brushes.
“Over there by the refreshments table should work,” Nate pointed with a chuckle. "Kids are bound to be thirsty after having their faces painted with dragons and butterflies."
"Epic idea, Doc!" Frances threw him an exaggerated salute and scurried off, her red curls bobbing behind her.
I turned my attention back to setting up the children's reading area. I had brought a few boxes of books from the library to encourage the children and parents to read together during the event .
I figured they could get an idea of what books they would like to purchase before buying one. As I arranged the piles of picture books into neat rows, I noticed Nate watching me out of the corner of my eye.
"You're really good with kids," he remarked. "Is that why you love working at the library so much?"
I smiled, touched that he'd noticed. "Partly," I admitted. "I also just love being surrounded by stories. As a kid, books were an escape for me. The library was a safe, happy place where I could get lost in imaginary worlds."
I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to talk about my dad, but decided to continue. "When my dad died, I was sixteen, and books helped me make sense of things and find comfort when I felt alone. I want the library to be that kind of refuge for others."
Nate was silent for a long moment, his eyes earnest. "I’m sorry about your dad," he said quietly. "I guess I was off at college when he passed away. I don’t remember Emily ever mentioning it."
His gaze was so intense and full of empathy and understanding that I found myself lost in it.
“Growing up, my parents were so busy working they never had time for me. Emily and I practically raised ourselves in between nannies. I’m sure Emily has told you stories."
His eyes took on a far-off look. "I spent a lot of time reading, too, letting other worlds fill the void of loneliness. It’s the real reason I’m an Anne fan. My mom liked the stories, and it was the one thing she would spend time with us doing. Reading."
Our moment was interrupted by a sudden excited bark. Baxter came bounding over, tail wagging eagerly. Laughing, I gave him a good ear scratch before grabbing another armful of books.
Nate changed the topic to something lighter. "So, the most important question—who's the best mystery author?"
I scoffed in mock offense. "Agatha Christie, obviously!"
"What?" Nate argued. "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle is the undisputed champion."
We volleyed back and forth good-naturedly as we worked. Finally, Nate held up his hands in surrender.
I took one last look at the room and then headed to change clothes. I had barely returned from the bathroom before kids started trickling in with their families. The community center buzzed with activity.
I relaxed into the role of event coordinator. With Nate's support, it was easier to chat with parents and keep everything running smoothly.
During a brief lull, Nate turned to me. "You're doing amazing, Susan. This whole day is a testament to you."
His praise filled me with pride. Together, Nate and I had turned my vision into reality.
Families gathered around tables, exploring collections of books while children took turns petting Baxter, who looked majestic in his donated doggy vest emblazoned with 'Library Dog' across the back.
Glancing towards the center of all the excitement, I spotted Frances helping a line of children choose colors for their face paints, her face mirroring their own excitement and anticipation as they decided between a rainbow butterfly, a roaring dinosaur, or a sparkling unicorn.
I had to pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. Just as the event seemed to be hitting its peak, the door to the community center swung open, and Mr. Johnson, owner of Johnson's Juices, a successful local business known for its fresh-pressed organic juice, walked in. Frances was the first to spot him and rushed over, her face painted like a tiger.
"Mr. Johnson!" she exclaimed, reaching for his hand. "So glad you could join us!"
Taken aback by her enthusiasm, Mr. Johnson chuckled. "I wouldn't miss it! Johnson's Juices is always ready to support their local community. I want to give a considerable donation to the library and the literacy program."
Nate and I smiled as we overheard the exchange, and I felt a rush of pride.
As the day was winding down, it was time for my speech. My palms were sweaty, and I felt a lump forming in my throat as I stepped onto the stage.
I took a deep breath and approached the microphone. A sea of expectant faces looked up at me from the crowd. Parents and children alike waited to hear my speech about the importance of literacy.
My hands trembled slightly as I adjusted the mic. Public speaking still didn't come naturally to me. But when I caught Nate's eye in the audience, he gave me a thumbs up.
Drawing strength from his presence, I began.
"Reading opens doors to new worlds for children. It fosters creativity, empathy, and a lifelong love of learning..."
I spoke from the heart about my passion for helping children discover the magic of books. The community center fell silent as I shared stories and statistics on literacy .
Slowly, my nerves melted away. I felt myself speaking with conviction about the library's essential role in our community.
I ended my speech with, "If we nurture their ability to dream, imagine, and explore through reading, think of the world we could create for our children and for us. Let's give them that power."
The applause that followed was deafening. A tide of pride washed over me as I looked out over the crowd, and then I saw Tiffany standing at the back of the room.
I don’t know what possessed me, but I suddenly found myself speaking, almost as if I was looking at myself from outside my own body. The words spilled out of my mouth, and I couldn’t stop them.
“Before we wrap up, I must give a special shoutout to my fiancé, Dr. Nate Reynolds. He has been my rock and my cheerleader through it all, and I am eternally grateful. Love ya, babe!”
The crowd erupted into wild applause and cheers as I gestured to a stunned Nate. His initial look of surprise quickly turned into a wide grin that lit up his entire face, his eyes twinkling with pride and maybe something more.
Looking down at my feet to hide the blush creeping up my cheeks, I exited the stage and glanced up in time to see Tiffany stomping out the exit door.
The applause faded as people began gathering their children and leaving. Frances helped the face-painting lady load up, and Nate and I started packing the books and decorations.
"You were amazing up there," Nate remarked with a sly grin. "That was some ending."
I cringed, biting my lip as I looked at him. "Was it too much? I just… I don't know what came over me. I saw Tiffany in the back and…"
Nate chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "It was unexpected. And it got Tiffany off our backs for now."
I forced a small smile and tried to say it lightly, "Yeah, gotta keep up the act." But deep down, I wished he would tell me it was no longer an act.
“Yeah,” Nate muttered and retreated to the other side of the room, resuming packing with noticeable intensity. The rest of the cleanup felt a little strained, the air between us thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension.
With a sigh, I gathered the last of the books, feeling both excited about how well the event had gone and confused about my relationship with Nate.
"Do you need some help carrying the boxes to your car?" Nate's voice echoed in the now-empty community center.
"Sure," I replied, my voice slightly shaky. I gathered up my courage and added, "Nate, can we talk... about what happened on stage?"
He paused for a moment, moving closer to me with a box in his hands. “Let’s get these boxes in the car first.”
Together, we navigated our way out of the community center and toward my little blue sedan in the parking lot. As we set down the boxes in the trunk, Nate turned to me. "Okay," he said, his voice low and serious. "Let's talk."
I leaned against the trunk of my car, suddenly feeling too close to him. Too aware of his proximity. My heart pounded in my chest, and I had to force myself to meet his eyes. "On the stage...I didn’t plan for that. And I mean, not that it was bad or anything. It felt right," I confessed .
"But it was just for show, wasn't it?" His eyes searched mine for an answer. We stood there, suspended in a moment that seemed to stretch into infinity.
"I… I don't know," I admitted, my heart thudding painfully against my ribs. "I need to know where we stand, Nate. I can't keep swinging between being your pretend girlfriend and having these... these feelings."
His eyes softened at my admission, and his strong hands gently grasped my shoulders as he stepped closer. His proximity was intoxicating and heady, as if he were both the question and the answer.
"Susan." His voice was sincere and steady. "I don't want you to pretend anymore."
My breath hitched at his words. I watched as a myriad of emotions played out on his face - uncertainty, apprehension, hope.
"Are you saying…?"
His mouth tilted up in a small, uncertain smile. "I'm saying that maybe we stop pretending. Let's see where this goes."
My hands instinctively went to his arms, feeling the solid warmth beneath his flannel shirt. "Will we tell Emily? What if it ruins everything? "
Nate’s hand came up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering in a way that sent a delightful shiver down my spine. "That's a bridge we'll cross. But for now," he paused, his thumb brushing against my cheek tenderly, "I want to explore this thing between us without an audience."
"Okay," I breathed, my voice barely a whisper. He smiled, a full ear-to-ear grin as if he had just won the lottery.
Just as we were about to lose ourselves in this unexpected moment of shared confession, Baxter's bark shattered the stillness. I had tied his leash around a post on the steps while we went to load the boxes in my car.
"Guess that's my cue," I chuckled, the sound slightly shaky as the adrenaline started to ebb away. "I better get Baxter and get home."
Nate nodded, his smile softening. "Yeah, it's getting late. I’ll see you at the festival tomorrow?"
"I wouldn't miss it," I breathed, my heart racing. As I walked away, his hand slipped out of mine, leaving me longing for more. I could feel my cheeks flush as I thought about the electricity between us, and I couldn't wait to see him again.