Chapter 19 Una
Una
Una spread blackberry jam on Kristofer’s toast and transferred three sausages from the frying pan to his plate.
Her husband appeared in the kitchen as if magicked there by the scent of coffee and grease. He gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“You’re up early, love.”
Una pointed at the rain-freckled window. “The thunder woke me.”
Kristofer poured coffee into his favorite Cornell mug and held out the carafe. “Would you like some?”
“I’m having tea this morning. This gray day reminds me of home.”
If Kristofer found it strange that she still referred to Iceland as home after all this time, he didn’t show it. “It’s a good
day for reading, eh?”
Una sat down at their little table. “Reading and baking. I think I’ll make enough Rúgbraue for us and the Scotts.”
Her husband’s eyes creased at the corners as he imagined slathering butter over a slice of his wife’s hearty rye bread.
Rúgbraue was a staple in Iceland, and though there was plenty of rye bread available in New York, none of them tasted quite right.
They lacked the density and mild sweetness of Una’s bread.
“I’ll stop by the library while I’m in Greenlawn,” Una said. “Do you have books to return?”
“I haven’t finished any yet. Too much baseball watching.”
Thunder rumbled low in the sky and Una glanced out the window. “No one will be sailing today. They’ll all be safe at home.”
Kristofer studied his wife over the rim of his coffee cup. “How are the children?”
“J.J. seems fine, but I’m worried about Jill. She’s been very quiet. I told you about that cut on her hand? Well, it’s not
healing right.”
“I’m sure her parents will keep an eye on it this weekend. If it gets worse, they can take her to the doctor.” Kristofer licked
a spot of jam from his finger. “Speaking of things getting worse, the tap in the bathroom is dripping again. I’ll fix it today.”
The hardware store was next to Kristofer’s favorite pizza place, and he often looked for an excuse to pop into the former
so he could patronize the latter. Una smiled. “So, you’re having two slices of pepperoni for lunch. I should go to the library
early because you’ll need the car.”
“You know me too well. Want anything from the market while I’m out?”
“Some cod? I thought we’d have baked fish with our bread tonight.”
Kristofer removed a little notepad from his pocket and turned to a fresh page. “Any fruit? You haven’t had a nectarine yet
this summer.”
Una laughed. “You know me so well. Pick whatever looks good. A little sunshine on a rainy day.”
After breakfast, Una folded the laundry she’d started in between her first and second cups of tea. When all the clothes were put away, she glanced at the clock. The library would be opening in fifteen minutes, and Una planned to be there the moment Mrs. Stapleton unlocked the door.
She packed her library books in her tote bag and zipped up her raincoat. After tying the strings of her rain bonnet under
her chin, she rooted around in the hall closet for her umbrella, then shouted good-bye to Kristofer.
The wipers of her VW Bug swished furiously as she drove from Cold Harbor to Greenlawn. She pulled into the library lot, parked
the car, and hurried to the front door. Though the library had been open for only three minutes, Una was not the first patron
inside. That honor belonged to a twelve-year-old girl in a dripping yellow slicker, wet jeans, and soggy sneakers.
“Jill!” Una cried. “You’re soaked.”
Jill passed a hand over her damp forehead. “I rode my bike here.”
That’s almost three miles, thought Una. Why would she make such a trip in the rain?
Mrs. Stapleton came out from behind the circulation desk carrying a towel. She handed it to Jill. “It’s not pretty, but it’s
clean.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Stapleton. Sorry about the carpet.”
Una looked down and saw shoe prints dampening the smoke-gray carpet.
“That’ll dry in no time. The carpet can handle anything except for gum, and I haven’t caught you with a piece of Bazooka since
you were Justin’s age.” Mrs. Stapleton cocked her head. “Are kids still chewing Bazooka? Or am I hopelessly out of touch?”
“I like Bubble Yum, but J.J. likes Bazooka because of the comic.”
Mrs. Stapleton grinned. “Me, too. Now, is there something I can help you find or are you just browsing?”
Jill fidgeted with the zipper pull on her jacket. “I’m looking for books on Medusa.”
The librarian’s gaze slid over to the wooden card catalog drawers. “I think you’ve already read most of our Greek mythology
books.”
“What about monsters like her? From other places besides Greece.”
The librarian nodded enthusiastically. “Sure, sure. You can check out myths from other cultures first and then see what we’ve
got in the fables and folklore section. So, you’ll start in 291 and end up in 398.2.”
“Okay.”
Jill was about to move off when Mrs. Stapleton grabbed her arm. “Why don’t you leave your jacket with me? I’ll hang it on
the coatrack, and by the time you’re ready to head home, it’ll be nice and dry.”
Shucking off her jacket, Jill flashed Una a small, apologetic smile before hustling away.
“That child and her creatures. Gorgons. Sharks. Dragons. I remember when she was obsessed with unicorns.” A wistful expression
came over Mrs. Stapleton’s features. Then, she sighed and beckoned for Una to follow her to her office. “I hope you didn’t
ride a bike because I’ve got a whole box of stuff for you, which you’re welcome to take home. All I ask is that you’re gentle
with my father’s papers. They were very important to him.”
“I’ll be very careful. Thank you for trusting me with his things.”
In her office, Mrs. Stapleton pointed at a cardboard box marked dad’s research—cold harbor and said, “I don’t know what you’re looking for, and I don’t think anything in here will explain what happened to those boys, but if there’s the slightest chance it can help, then it’s worth the effort.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back on the floor.
I’m by myself until noon and I have a pile of returns to process. ”
Picking up the box, Una trailed after the librarian. When they reached the circulation desk, Una said, “May I leave this here
for a minute? I want to see if I can give Jill a ride home.”
“Please do. She and the books will both be drenched if she goes back out in this deluge.”
Una walked past bookshelves, peering down the 200s–300s aisle without seeing Jill. She found her in the 500s, sitting cross-legged
on the floor, books spread out all around her. It looked almost ritualistic, the way the books formed a circle around the
girl, especially considering most of the illustrations featured snakes or dragon-like lizards.
“There you are,” Una said. “Are you still hunting for Medusa?”
Jill refused to meet her gaze. “No. Something else.”
“Another monster that’s part snake?”
Jill kept her eyes glued to the book in front of her, which had a double-page illustration of a horned viper. Just looking
at it made Una’s skin crawl. There were no snakes in Iceland, and Una had yet to encounter one in her garden. Hoping to keep
it that way, she’d planted extra garlic, onions, and marigolds around the perimeter and routinely sprayed vinegar on the ground
to deter them from slithering into her yard.
As far as Una knew, Jill wasn’t afraid of snakes. However, her red cheeks were pink with embarrassment, and she was on the
verge of tears. Una knelt down and laid a hand on Jill’s shoulder.
“What it is, sweetheart?”
Jill’s fist hovered over a book page filled with photographs of reptile scales. The patterns were characterized as tubercular,
imbricate, or overlapping. Under these headings were more categories like rhomboid, polygonal, juxtaposed, or granular.
“I was looking for a match for this.” Jill opened her fist to reveal a diamond-shaped object. “This is what cut me. I think it’s a scale. Like this one.”
She pointed at an illustration under a caption reading mucronate scales. Una glanced between the scale and the illustration. According to the book, a mucro was a sharp point. The scale from Mrs.
Smith’s garden had sharp points at both ends.
“But it’s also shaped like this one.” Jill tapped a photo labeled ganoid scales. “Diamond-shaped. Some reptiles have these, but this book says they’re also on a fish called a gar. It’s a really old fish.
It has teeth and it eats other fish.”
Jill picked up another book and showed Una a photo of a gar’s mouth. Its jaw was loaded with dozens of needlelike teeth.
“Oh, my,” Una whispered. “That mouth looks like two saws coming together.”
“Gar eggs are poisonous. To humans, anyway.” Jill picked up the scale and held it out to Una. “This is too thick to be a fish
or snake scale. It’s more like a crocodile’s, but the shape is wrong.”
Una gingerly poked one of the sharp ends into the soft flesh of her finger. “Imagine a whole body covered with these.”
Jill didn’t answer. She frowned at the stack of mythology and folklore books. She wouldn’t be able to fit them all in her
bike basket, which meant she had to skim through several of them before she left.
Una regretted that she hadn’t been able to convince Natalie to keep the kids away from Mrs. Smith’s yard. She’d used the only
reasons she could think of—poison ivy and wasps—and her attempt had failed. If only she’d taken the kids to the movies, Jill
wouldn’t have gotten hurt.
“How’s your hand today?” she asked.
“It still hurts, but the soaking helped.”
They fell quiet, listening to raindrops pummel the roof. At one point, Jill seemed on the verge of speaking, but then her gaze fell on the strange scale, and she bit back whatever she was going to say.
Una heard murmuring from other patrons and knew she couldn’t leave the box at the circulation desk much longer. She also couldn’t
leave Jill. The girl had ridden her bike in the rain in search of answers. The scale had cut Jill’s skin like a scalpel and
Una didn’t think the wound was healing properly. She understood why Jill was trying to identify it.