Chapter 9
With the staff seated around a table in the back of the library, Josie had Malcolm present his idea to the group the following week. A lull usually fell over the library in the middle of the afternoon and that day was no exception. Sybil was working the desk.
“I think that's a great idea.” Eileen dove right into the idea of taking some of the Christmas children's books to Open Hearth. Josie was not surprised at all by her enthusiasm. The older woman had been with the library way before Josie had joined it, and she always backed fresh ideas.
“But what if our books get lost? Or messed up?” Known for her cross-referencing skills, Hillary posed the question.
“We have a budget for new books.” Josie wasn't going to let one objection derail her. “And so often we have duplicates of a book that people have donated.” Donated books were constantly being shoved through the book return slot. Finally she’d put a large barrel inside the front door.
The staff emptied it about once every two weeks.
“What titles would you suggest?” Josie asked.
For the next fifteen minutes suggestions flew.
Of course How the Grinch Stole Christmas was at the top of the list, along with some old-time favorites like the Night before Christmas.
Charlie Brown Christmas was also right up there.
One of Josie’s personal favorites was The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.
She was happy to see that Eileen was jotting down notes.
But at one point, Eileen stopped writing. Her brow furrowed and she tapped her pen on the pad of paper.
“What is it?” Josie asked. Was her colleague having reservations?
“I was just thinking,” Eileen said slowly. “If we’re promoting the idea of the library and Amblebury is too small to have their own, maybe we could go over and read to the kids.”
“What a great idea.” Malcolm was quick to jump on that idea. “Then the kids and parents would know what’s inside the books. They would realize how fun the stories would be.”
Josie could picture Malcolm reading stories to the children. He would probably be very dramatic. The kids would love him.
“We could take turns,” Eileen suggested. “I would love to get to know the children.”
“The more, the merrier.” Of course she would offer the opportunity to all the staff.
But Josie sensed that some of the librarians might not be too enthusiastic about reading to children.
Hillary could be kind of shy. By the time they finished throwing out ideas, they had at least twenty books on the list.
After the meeting, Malcolm went back to the front desk and Sybil headed home.
It was Wednesday night and they had evening hours.
Although she wasn't technically on the schedule, Josie was eager to begin working on the books for the clinic.
From time to time she could hear Malcolm talking with one of the visitors.
His infectious laughter soared over the stacks.
That made her happy too. Eileen had also stayed to work on the project.
Together they pulled books from the stacks and placed them on the cart behind them.
“It's fun having Malcolm back, isn't it?” Eileen cast a glance toward the front desk where Malcolm was charming Charlotte Whipple. Emily's next-door neighbor was a frequent visitor at the library.
“Yeah. It is fun.” And he’s making me a nervous wreck.
“Oh, I think it's more than fun between you two.”
When she looked up, Eileen was looking at her with a curious smile. “What is it?”
Taking Madeline's Christmas from the shelf in front of them, Eileen added it to the pack. “Oh nothing. I just always thought you two had a special relationship.”
What was this? A special relationship? Josie was glad that they were too far away for Malcolm to hear that comment. And there was absolutely no reason for the shimmery nervousness in her stomach. “Friends,” she said firmly. “We've always been good friends. Jogging buddies.”
Tilting her head to one side, Eileen looked full of mischief. “Really? I'd always hoped the two of you would, you know, get together.”
“But he was dating my friend Bryn.” Josie's voice had dropped to a whisper. No way did she want Malcolm to overhear this conversation.
“Yes, and now she's married to someone else and Malcolm's back.”
“And he's engaged,” she hissed. Why didn't people get that?
“Engaged is not the same as being married.” Eileen was looking very pleased with herself.
Her face burning, Josie clutched the end of the cart. “I think I'm going to store these in my office so that no one gets them mixed up.” And Josie emphasized “mixed up” because certainly Eileen was confused about Malcolm. Wasn't she?
Crutches tucked under her arms, somehow Josie got the cart into her office. She stayed there until her cheeks had stopped burning and her breathing had returned to normal.
That night Malcolm called Darcy. Their last conversation had ended on a sour note. He wanted to clear the air, but she hadn't answered when he called her during his lunch hour. Finally she answered. “Hey, Darcy. I've been trying to get you but you're never home.”
“Christmas shopping. You know.”
Hadn't they already had this conversation? When he thought of the people at Derek’s clinic and their obvious need, it made him sick to think of money being spent on frivolous stuff for him. He didn't need one more shirt or golden engraved cufflinks that he'd never wear.
“Darcy, I thought we already went over this.” Maybe calling her today was a bad idea. “I really don't want you to spend a lot of money on me this Christmas.”
“But it's Christmas, silly.” Her voice had an edge. Maybe she was just stressed out. Planning the wedding alone might be a bummer. Feeling guilty, he decided not to ask about that either.
“I think there are people who are in greater need.” Malcolm chose his words carefully. He told her about some of the people who visited the clinic, including the families. “So we're getting together a pile of Christmas books to take over for the children.”
She gasped. “What if they get food all over them? What if they have covid and the books go back to the library and carry the virus?”
Did she realize how ridiculous she sounded? He would try again. “Darcy. I don't think the kids can get covid from books. I haven't seen any data on that.”
“Data,” she said with disgust. “Books for a clinic. So you're still bound and determined to stay at that library. Sounds like you're becoming firmly entrenched there.”
What was she talking about? “Of course I am. I thought we agreed that we would build a life here.”
Her silence made him nervous.
“And I thought you were going back to try it out,” she finally said. What had happened to the sweet girl who’d been so eager to share his life after he’d come home last summer?
“I didn't have to ‘try it out,’ Darcy. I loved being here before and I still love being here.
Sweetwater Creek is a much better place for me.
For us. I think you'd love it too, if you would just give it a chance.” But as he said the words, he wondered if that was true.
Had it ever been true? Picturing Darcy washing dishes Open Hearth was a stretch.
“But your mother assured me that once you saw your little town, you’d understand that it doesn't suit you anymore.” She sounded peevish. And what she was saying horrified him.
Malcolm’s stomach heaved. “My mother said that? Maybe those were her dreams, Darcy. Granted, she would love to have us live closer to her. But I thought she realized that New York isn't home for me. Not anymore. And it hasn't been for a long time. I thought you understood that.”
The silence stretched between them. He was so disgusted but he didn't want to hurt her feelings. If his mother had led Darcy to believe that at some point he would come back to New York, then she’d accepted his proposal under false pretenses.
And then there was his whole medical situation.
Was that a factor in her change of attitude?
“Look, Darcy. Maybe we should think about this whole thing.”
“Maybe we should.” Was she sniffling?
“Please don't cry.” Why had he rushed into this?
She had seemed so right for him last summer.
A girl from his past. But maybe not for his future since the coming year held some uncertainties.
Of course the Hightowers would expect them to produce a family to extend the dynasty.
“We were great friends in high school and I hope we’ll still be friends. I'm so sorry about this.”
“You never did give me an engagement ring.” More sniffles.
That was a low blow, but she was right. His mother had offered him her grandmother’s ring. He’d thought maybe he would give it to Darcy when she was here for the holiday. The ring had an old-fashioned setting with the square stone. Maybe not Darcy's taste. Was that why he’d dragged his feet?
They hung up shortly after that. Malcolm sank onto the ridiculous sofa.
Now what was he going to do? Well he didn't want to just sit here.
Jumping up, he walked to the back door. Taking the steps down, Malcolm burst into the alley outside.
His lungs felt tight and he sucked in the cool night air.
Thank goodness no one was around. No one to ask him what was wrong.
Right now, so much had gone wrong. Malcolm felt like an idiot.
His steps took him around the building and toward the square.
Fired up with lights and looped with garlands, the square looked ready for the holiday.
But he felt like a failure. Carols blasted through the night air from somewhere.
He imagined that some tech genius had suspended speakers from those trees.
The song “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” flowed over him.
The cheerful voices mocked him. Malcolm took a seat on the nearest bench.
A Merry Christmas indeed. Ever since last summer he’d felt as if he was careening from one thing to another.
First the doctors. Then Darcy. He'd been looking.
He realized that now. He'd been looking for something. A solution to solidify his future. And all he’d done was make himself more uncertain.
And doggone it, his mother might have figured that out.
She had probably suggested Darcy as an answer.
But she hadn't been an answer. Instead, she'd been a problem.
People slowly passed by as he sat hunched over like that famous figure by Rodin. What was it called? Thinking Man? Thank goodness he didn't know any of these folks. They merely nodded and said, “Merry Christmas.”
Yes, well he hoped they’d have a Merry Christmas. But he doubted that he would.
When the path had cleared, he pushed himself to his feet and wandered the trails that crisscrossed the square.
An owl hooted somewhere up in the trees and he found that soothing.
His breathing returned to normal. Soon he found himself near the gazebo.
The smell of hay alerted him to the nativity set.
The roughhewn boards of the structure and manger, plus the stacks of hay were so simple that he loved it.
If New York ever tried to stage something like this, the empty manger would be the first thing to be stolen.
Then the donkey and after that the lambs.
The figures of Mary and Joseph would be next, because of course they wouldn't have real people playing those iconic figures.
They would be made of plastic or paper-maché and they'd be gone the first night.
The young man and woman taking the roles of Mary and Joseph tonight merely nodded to him.
They probably wondered who this nut was.
Who was Malcolm Sutter? Looking at the empty manger, he felt his own heart echo with a similar emptiness.
Had coming back to Sweetwater Creek been a mistake?
But he knew that wasn't true. Turning, he walked home.
No more quick decisions, he decided. The answers to his questions? He had to find those for himself.