Chapter 11 #2
“Can’t you go back into your book?” Was that what she really wanted? After all these years of dreaming about Jack Mathis and
finally being able to talk to him, she was telling him to leave? Maybe it would be better if he left since she’d made a fool
of herself. He’d have to leave soon anyway.
“It’s not that easy,” Jack said. Then he walked away from the circulation desk.
“Is anything?” she mumbled.
Jack stopped and glanced at her over his shoulder. “Attraction. Hope. Anticipation. For you? All easy.” His half grin was
enough to cause her pulse to beat thick and hot.
Stella knocked lightly on the hospital door as she pressed the cold silver handle against her palm and the door clicked open.
Sunlight slanted through the partially open blinds and striped the tile floor. The room smelled like soap and blooming lilies,
but she also caught the faint lingering scent of astringent cleaners.
Vases of carnations, lilies, roses, and daisies had colorful ribbons tied around them attaching Get Well Soon and Thinking
of You balloons to their shiny glass. An assortment of greeting cards had been propped open to display their illustrated fronts
toward Arnie. The gifts weighed down the small square end table beside Arnie’s bed and the round dining table near the windows.
Stella had been so distracted with her own issues that she hadn’t thought to send anything, but word had obviously spread
quickly through town. He’d been in the hospital for less than a day, and already there wasn’t much room for more well-wishes.
An attractive news reporter with a bouffant hairdo and flawless makeup beamed from the TV screen mounted high on the wall
opposite the bed.
Arnie’s gaze found Stella’s, and he lifted the TV remote and pressed the Mute button, then pushed himself up into a more seated
position, straightening his back and adjusting his nasal cannula.
Seeing him alert sent an avalanche of relief through her. She released a trembling breath. “Easy now, tiger.” She dropped
her purse in a chair that looked like it had been in style in 1960. There was a concave depression in the burnt-orange bottom
cushion that made Stella think it had likely been in the room since the sixties as well.
Arnie smiled. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
She crossed the small room and leaned against the bed, careful not to tangle herself in the tubes and wires coming from the
machines. “I want to scold you for doing this to me, but it’s so good to see you. I prefer you in the library rather than a hospital room, but I’ll take seeing you anywhere for now.”
Arnie reached for her hand, and she let him take it. He squeezed lightly. “Sorry for the scare, kiddo.”
Stella swallowed past the tightness in her throat. She dropped a brown paper sack on the rolling overbed table pushed against
the wall. “I picked up healthy breakfast muffins from the coffee shop. These were made especially for you with bark and twigs
and hippie love.”
Arnie chuckled. “I’ve been pestering the nurses to call you for hours.”
“I had to get the library settled before I could leave Vicki and Dan alone.” She paused to consider if she should mention Jack straightaway, but she opted to ease into that drama.
“Vicki is completely capable of handling it, but she likes a to-do list, and she isn’t as good with the patrons, so Dan is working at the circulation desk while I’m gone.
They both said to tell you that they’re thinking about you, and they hope you’ll be back soon. ”
Arnie shifted, and his gaze drifted toward the window. “I appreciate them coming in to help out. Thanks for keeping an eye
out, kiddo. And thanks for the change of clothes. The gown was a bit breezy, if you know what I mean.”
Stella walked over to the window so she could open the blinds more. “Better?” she asked. “Seems a shame to block out so much
of the light. Percy hated it when the nurses closed Dad’s blinds when the sun was out, saying Dad needed to rest. He argued
that Dad could rest while still admiring the sunlight. If he couldn’t be out in it, then Percy wanted him to at least know it was there.” But her dad had never walked out of the hospital, had never stepped into the sunlight again.
She went back to the bed and hopped up to sit near Arnie’s feet, tucking one leg beneath her. “You’re welcome for the clothes,
and we’re handling the library.”
Arnie cleared his throat. Weariness rolled his shoulders forward as he exhaled in rhythm with the machine. Seeing him wearing
a plain white T-shirt, rather than his usual sharp attire, seemed to intensify his tiredness. He stared down at his hands
when he asked, “How is everything at the library?”
Stella had come to see Arnie with the intention of a peaceful conversation, possibly peppered with a few questions, but her
need for answers burned like coals in her stomach. Like the words that often came to her, she couldn’t keep her questions
inside for long. She decided not to mention using the ink pad. First she wanted to hear his version of the truth. She inhaled
a slow breath before catching his gaze. “Arnie, I need you to be honest with me.”
Arnie’s brows pushed together, but he said nothing.
“You want to talk about the library?” she asked. “Then I need you to tell me what’s going on. Tell me about the people who were with you in the archives last night. Who are they?”
Arnie looked away as though thinking, possibly debating what to say. He rubbed over the spot on the top of his hand where
the IV was placed. “Last night? I think it was Darcy, right? And Belle and the prince and Jack. It’s a little hazy at this
point, but I know Jack was there.”
Stella’s heart gave an unexpected squeeze. She clasped her hands together in her lap. “Arnie . . . this morning the others
were gone, but Jack is still there.”
“Darcy should still be there too,” Arnie said.
Stella shook her head. “Not that I saw.”
“He wouldn’t leave,” Arnie mumbled, looking fretful. “He wouldn’t.”
Stella tapped Arnie’s hand with one finger. “Arnie, focus for a minute, please. Jack told me he’s from Beyond the Southern Horizon. He said he’s been coming to the library for years. And he showed me your hiding spot in the bottom drawer, the one with
the stamp and ink pad—”
“He did?” Arnie asked, sounding alarmed. His heart monitor rhythm increased, creating taller spikes in the lines, and a beeping
noise increased in speed.
Stella reached for his hand, and Arnie’s eyes met hers. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”
“No, it’s not okay,” Arnie said. Another rush of spiking heart rate lines appeared. “He shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t
his place.”
“Arnie, you have to take some breaths and slow down your heart rate or the nurses will be in here stat.”
His gaze darted to the monitor, and he inhaled and exhaled a few times, slowly decreasing the annoying beeps and calming the
heart rate line.
When Stella felt it was safe, she said, “Arnie, the magic . . . It’s real? That ink pad and stamp can bring characters”—she lowered her voice—“to life?”
Arnie nodded and closed his eyes. Stella’s breath caught. Why hadn’t it worked for her?
“You should have told me.”
He inhaled slowly, held his breath for a moment, then exhaled. “I didn’t want to tell you. Not yet.”
A jagged shard of hurt pierced her. “Why not?”
Arnie opened his eyes. “Go get a cup of coffee, Stella, and let’s dig into that bag of goodies you brought. Then we can talk.”
Ten minutes later, Stella rolled the overbed table into place and set her Styrofoam cup of coffee on it, then arranged two
plates and set a muffin on each one. She picked at her muffin, causing it to crumble, as she waited for Arnie to talk.
He popped half of his muffin into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “I didn’t intend to be the keeper of the magic—”
Stella had taken a sip of coffee and choked slightly. “Seriously? Is that your title? The keeper of the magic?”
“Am I telling this story?” he asked sternly.
She waved a hand at him. “Proceed.”
“This wasn’t something I set out to do, but once I took hold of the magic, there was no turning back for me. No alternate
path. It was my duty to keep this knowledge within the library. From one angle, it looks like I didn’t have a choice with
my life, but from a different view, I can look at it like a perk, a chance to meet book characters I’ve loved or been curious
about.
“When I was a kid, my grandparents were always taking in overnight guests, people passing through town who needed a warm meal and a place to stay.
One night a woman came to stay with them, and I was there that day.
She was from Ireland, which sounded exotic and worlds away from here.
She carried a steamer trunk that looked like a relic from medieval times.
That night she found me reading and asked if I wanted to see her antique books.
Even as a kid I was fascinated by books, so of course I said yes.
“Her books were remarkable and peculiar. Like nothing I’d ever seen. Her trunk was also full of other oddities. Jars and apothecary
bottles, dark blues and greens and clouded glass. One particular bottle caught my eye. The liquid inside was cobalt blue and
sparkled and stirred like it was alive. The label read anáil na beatha.”
“Is that Irish Gaelic?” Stella asked. “What does it mean?”
“The breath of life,” Arnie answered. “She saw my interest, and that was where it all began. Because of my grandparents’ kindness
offering a place to stay and food to eat, she gave me this special bottle in return. She explained how to use the magic to
bring fictional characters to life, to let them walk with me for a short time. Only fictional characters. It doesn’t work
for real-life people mentioned in books.”
“So no bringing Cleopatra to Blue Sky Valley?”
Arnie frowned. “Absolutely not. Can you imagine?”
Stella clasped her hands together. “I’m having trouble imagining most of this, but continue.”