Chapter 29
Kassi
The first few days at the library move slowly, as if the air itself is deciding whether it's ready to let me belong.
Candy showed me everything on the first day—the card system, the online catalog, how to fix a barcode that won't scan, when to waive late fees, and more.
It should be simple, routine, the kind of job that lets your heart rest. But every time someone walks in, my shoulders tighten before I can stop them.
Most folks are polite, and some even smile. But a few give me that look, the one that says they know exactly who I used to work for. The developers. The ones trying to tear the town apart.
I catch whispers when I think they don't know I'm listening.
"She used to be with them."
"Can't believe Candy hired her."
"I'd keep her away from the town records, just in case."
It's never loud, never direct. Just enough to sink under my skin with splinters I can't pull free.
Candy doesn't let it shake her. She keeps her head high, greeting every person the same as always, voice calm and warm, praising how I'm helping her out and talking me up to everyone.
By lunchtime, she brings me a mug of coffee and sets it down beside the return bin. "You're doing well, honey."
I manage a small smile. "You don't have to say that."
"I don't say anything I don't mean," she answers, leaning a hip against the desk. "They'll come around."
I shake my head. "I don't think they will. Not after what they think I did."
Candy's gaze softens. "You didn't do what they think. You did the opposite. That's the truth, and the truth has a way of surfacing. It just takes longer than gossip."
Her certainty should make me feel better. It almost does. But there's a heaviness in me that doesn't lift. "They'll never believe I was trying to help. Not until Asher tells them himself, and that's not going to happen."
Candy studies me for a moment, quiet and knowing. "You still love him."
The words land in my chest, loosening a sigh I've been holding for days. "Does it matter?"
"It always matters," she says. "And for what it's worth, I don't think that story is finished yet."
I look down at the stack of returns waiting for reshelving. "It is. He has his family, his land. He needs to keep that whole. I can't be the reason it falls apart."
Candy shakes her head, smiling a little. "You and the Hayes men sure do like to take the whole world on your shoulders."
I blink up at her. "You think I'm one of them?"
"I think," she says, "you care about that man and that family like you've been one of them all along. And that counts for something."
I open my mouth, but she changes the subject before I can answer. "Now stop worrying and take your break. You look like you've been holding your breath since sunrise."
"I probably have," I grumble.
She grins. "Good thing I've got a cure for that."
I frown. "What kind of cure?"
"The kind that comes with music," she says. "There's a dance at the hall tomorrow night. Live band, good food, even better company. You're coming."
I laugh before I can help it. "Candy, I can't."
"Sure, you can."
"I don't have anything to wear."
"I've got a closet full of things that'll fit just fine," she says. "And if you don't come for the dancing, come for the pie. Austin has got a new recipe she's too proud of. North and my dad can take Emma for the night. You know she’ll love helping with the evening chores."
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. "You're not going to give up, are you?"
"Not a chance."
Before I can protest again, the bell over the front door rings. A few women from town step inside, chatting low as they head for the checkout counter. One of them glances my way, then whispers something to the other. They both look at me and smile too sweetly.
Candy's eyes narrow enough to make me feel protected. "I'll take care of these," she says. "Go get some air."
I slip out the back door into the small courtyard behind the library. Sinking onto the bench under the oak tree, I press my palms together.
I should feel proud. I'm working again, Emma's happy, the cabin is safe and clean. But inside, I feel like a glass that's been dropped and glued back together—holding shape, but never quite whole.
Later that night Emma is sitting on the porch steps, drawing with chalk as I make dinner. Her hair glows in the setting sun, her knees streaked pink from the dust. She comes running in holding a piece of paper. "I drew our house!"
Kneeling beside her, I look at the crooked little outline on the walkway. It's got smoke curling from the chimney and a stick figure beside it holding what looks like a flower. "It's beautiful," I say.
"That's you," she says, pointing to the figure. "And that's me."
I help her gather the chalk, and she tells me all about her day at school. She's made friends with one of the barn cats that hangs around the playground, hoping for snacks, and named it Pancake. I let her talk until she's giggling, and for a few minutes, everything feels almost normal.
After dinner, when she's in bed, I sit on the porch with a cup of tea and stare out at the trees. The crickets start up, soft and steady. The moon rises slowly. The cabin smells faintly of soap and pine, the air cool against my skin.
It's a good life. It's everything I said I wanted.
So why does it still feel like half of me is missing?
The next afternoon, Candy comes in humming as usual, a stack of returned books under her arm. She drops them on the counter and looks me up and down. "You ready for tonight?"
I blink. "What?"
"The dance," she says, pretending to be scandalized that I could forget. "Jenna's coming by after supper to watch Emma. She asked since they have a horse that just had a baby and wants to show Emma."
"You already arranged it?"
"Of course I did. You'd have found an excuse otherwise."
I laugh. "You're impossible."
"Persistent," she corrects. "There's a difference."
When I try to argue, she shakes her head and goes back to sorting books.
By closing time, I've given up.
Jenna shows up at the cabin just as the sun starts to sink, her hair pulled back and her smile warm. "You look like you need this," she says.
"I don't even have anything to wear," I protest, but Candy pulls into the drive just then all done up and ready to go. Once inside she pulls a dress out of a bag. Soft cream cotton, simple but pretty, with a faint floral pattern.
"It's perfect," Candy says, holding it up.
I laugh. "You're determined to make me do this, aren't you?"
"I am," she says. "Because you've been working and worrying and pretending you're fine for too long. You need to remember what it feels like to be alive."
Jenna nods in agreement. "Go. Have fun. I've got Emma covered. We'll head to my place, and she’ll help with the evening chores. Then we will make popcorn and watch movies."
Emma pops her head around the corner, eyes bright. "You're going dancing?"
"Apparently," I say.
She grins. "You should. You never do fun stuff."
I put a hand over my heart, pretending to be offended. "Excuse me?"
She giggles. "Not like this! Go dance, Mom."
Candy claps her hands once. "You heard the boss. Let's get you ready."
Half an hour later, we're driving toward the dance hall.
Candy taps the steering wheel in time with a country song playing low on the radio. "You nervous?"
"A little," I admit. "It's been a long time since I went to the dance hall. Last time was when Asher's mom gave me Asher's number, trying to set us up."
"Good," she says. "Maybe this time you will walk away with even better memories."
The dance hall sits on the edge of town, an old wooden building with wide double doors and light spilling out into the dust. Music drifts through the open windows, laughter and footsteps, and the faint slide of a fiddle.
Inside, the air smells like sawdust and sugar. Couples move across the floor, boots tapping in rhythm. I hang back near the wall, heart thudding.
Candy loops her arm through mine. "You're not going to stand there all night."
"Watch me."
She laughs, and before I can protest, she tugs me into the crowd. The music shifts to something slow and sweet. People sway, the floorboards creaking under their weight. I don't know the steps, but Candy doesn't seem to care. She spins me once, and I can't help but laugh.
"See?" she says. "You're a natural."
"I think you're just good at dragging people into trouble."
"Same thing," she says, grinning.
We move with the music until my cheeks ache from smiling. When the song ends, she guides me back to the edge of the floor. I grab two lemonades and hand her one.
Across the room, I catch a few glances from people who still look at me like they're trying to place where I fit. Some smile, some don't. But for the first time, it doesn't sting as much.
Candy follows my gaze. "Told you. Give it time. They'll see who you are."
I nod. "You think so?"
"I know so," she says. "This town's got a long memory, but it's got a good heart. You just keep showing up. Keep being kind. That's how you change it."
Her faith steadies me. I sip my lemonade and let the music roll through me. For the first time in weeks, I let myself feel something that isn't fear.
Maybe she's right. Maybe I can belong here. Maybe I can rebuild.
The band starts another song, faster this time. Candy whoops and heads back to the dance floor, waving for me to follow. I stay where I am, watching the swirl of movement, the bright lights, and the laughter that fills the room.
For a moment, I close my eyes. I imagine Asher here—his hand finding mine, his steady warmth against my back, the way he'd smile when he caught me looking at him. It's enough to make my throat tighten.
I open my eyes again, blinking away the ache. The song picks up, while the crowd claps along.
Candy's right. I can't stay stuck in what I've lost. I have to keep showing up.