Chapter Twenty-Four
Twenty-Four
A Pearl of Wisdom
from Maeve Hearnshaw
“Sometimes, honey, hope is found in the most unexpected places.”
Juliet
“Are we late?” Katy asked, clutching a thin paperback book to her chest as we headed up the ramp toward the library doors. “I hope we’re not late.”
“We’re not late,” I said, smiling at Mary Joy as she slapped at a toy chain attached to the stroller handle. She looked especially adorable today in her two-piece short set patterned with dinosaurs and foliage. “The program goes until the library closes at six.”
“What if they run out of books?”
She hopped over a puddle, left over from yesterday’s rain. It had come, thank goodness, without a storm.
“Then we’ll just borrow one instead,” I said.
She made a face as though she didn’t like that answer and skipped ahead of me, through the automatic doors, her pigtails bouncing.
It was coming up quickly on five o’clock, and our visit was serving two purposes.
One, I wanted to take advantage of today’s library program.
And two, I was going to hand over the girls to Tallulah at five.
She’d take them home with her, and I’d head off to Juneberry for my first volunteer shift.
She’d promised she didn’t mind starting our Pride and Prejudice viewing a little late tonight, since my shift went until nine.
It was the last episode of the miniseries, and I had to begrudgingly admit that I was enjoying it more than I’d thought I would, considering my love of the other version—which we had yet to watch.
Time was flying by, and I wished it would slow down. Just a bit. Or, maybe, a lot. Every time I thought about leaving, going home to Michigan, I felt queasy.
As I passed through the doors, enjoying the blast of air-conditioning, I heard Katy say, “Are we late, Mama?” and I nearly laughed.
To say she was excited was putting it mildly. There was no measuring her love of books.
“Hello, hello!” Tallulah kissed the top of Katy’s head and flashed me a smile as I made my way to them. “And you’re not late. Not at all.” Then she said to me, “How was today? Okay?”
“It was a great day. Mary Joy especially enjoyed helping her papaw weed his garden.” I wiggled the baby’s bare foot, which stuck out of the stroller. “Didn’t you?”
She cooed, as if telling her mom that she’d barely lifted a finger, as she was snuggled up against my chest the whole time.
Katy woefully said, “They didn’t find any snakes in the garden.”
“Thank goodness,” I put in. “My heart might not have been able to take that.”
“I like snakes,” Katy said, then added in a very proper tone, “They play an important role in our ecosystems.”
Tallulah said, “Maybe so, but I prefer that role is undertaken in someone else’s garden.” She leaned down to give Mary Joy noisy kisses, and the baby squealed happily.
It was a cloudy day, yet somehow the library was still filled with light, with life.
Computers hummed. Voices carried. Laughter floated along the bookshelves, coming from somewhere near the windows that faced the back garden.
In the children’s area, I spotted Nettie sitting at her desk, chatting animatedly with a small boy, maybe three or four years old.
Jed, the building’s custodian, was replacing a carpet tile in the reading area.
To Katy, Tallulah said, “Which book did you bring to swap?”
Katy held up a well-loved Pony Pals book.
“I’m sure someone will love it as much as you have. Come, come.” She waved for us to follow her into the community room, where the die-cut letters placed on the windows stated today’s program: NATIONAL PAPERBACK BOOK DAY SWAP!
Who even knew there was a National Paperback Book Day? I didn’t, that was for sure.
Inside the room, paperbacks were scattered across three conference tables. Several patrons were browsing titles and smiled when we came in, offering hellos.
Tallulah said, “The rules are pretty simple. Bring a book, take a book. The children’s books are over there.” She pointed to the end of the third table, and Katy immediately darted off.
“Do you think she’ll choose quickly or take her time?” I asked.
“Depends,” Tallulah said. “If there’s an animal book, the decision will be quick. Otherwise, it might take a while.”
“Good thing the library closes at six.”
She laughed. “Definitely, or we might be here all night.”
It was then that Deckle sauntered into the room, his tail high in the air. In one smooth leap, he landed on the table next to Tallulah. She narrowed her gaze on him and said, “Don’t you dare.”
“Dare what?” I asked, amused by the stare-down going on.
“Oh, he knows.” Then she added, “I’m going to grab my things. I’ll meet you back here?”
“Sure,” I said, just as Deckle knocked a book onto the floor. It landed at her feet.
He sat down, his tail swaying. His golden eyes glittery.
I heard Tallulah sigh deeply as she bent to retrieve the book. Without even looking at it, she set it back onto the table, then gently picked Deckle up and put him on the floor. “Go find Evanthe.”
He did no such thing. His feet had barely touched the ground before he once again leaped up onto the table and sent the book flying back onto the floor.
Tallulah’s jaw jutted as she picked up the paperback. This time, however, she didn’t immediately put it down on the table. She simply held it, looking at its cover.
I said, “Aren’t you supposed to sniff that?”
“That’s what the legend says I should do.”
“You don’t believe the folklore?” I asked.
“Oh, I do. That’s not it. It’s just—” She cut herself off, shook her head. “It’s just that I’m not interested in retrieving a lost memory.”
Before I could ask anything else, she put the book down, scooped Deckle up, and strode off with him as he meowed indignantly.
I glanced at the book in question.
It was a vintage spiral-bound paperback church cookbook, complete with a round coffee stain on the cover.
I picked it up, flipped through it, and even, yes, sniffed it.
But whatever memory of Tallulah’s it held wasn’t revealed to me.
If peace were a place, it would be Juneberry Cottage.
As soon as I’d walked in the doors earlier, I’d felt it immediately.
It felt, oddly, like where I belonged.
There were four guests currently at the cottage. Two were here until the end of the day—nine p.m. One was here for the week. Then there was Renny, who would be here until … well, until he wasn’t.
I didn’t really want to think about that day. I’d already grown fond of him.
He’d been asleep when I arrived, and every so often, I popped by his room to see if he was awake yet.
In between those times, I moved from guest to guest. I’d read to one, played albums for another.
One of the patients was an older woman who’d asked me to take her outside to the garden, which had paved trails, wide enough for her wheelchair.
For an hour, we discovered the hidden gems of the garden like the fountain and koi pond, and we talked.
Well, mostly I listened. She didn’t once mention the cancer that was ravaging her body.
Instead, she told me about her life. The things she loved.
Her family, mostly. Kids and grandkids and great-grands.
But also about sunbeams and morning glories and mimosas and bonfires.
“Juliet,” she said, “the little things aren’t always little. Pay attention to what makes your heart sing.”
Right now my heart was singing—and was humbled—because she’d trusted me with these little pieces of her of life.
She was starting to doze off by the time we made it back to her room. I helped her into bed, pulled down the shades, and wished I could do more for her. But my role as a volunteer was limited. As I left her room, I could only hope that I would see her again, but knew in all likelihood I would not.
I supposed when you worked in a field like this, you had to learn to be grateful for the right now. To live in the moment.
I felt the weight of that lesson as I once again ventured down the hall toward Renny’s room. As I thought about him asking me to visit, I was honored to know he wanted me to be part of his last chapter.
When I neared his room, I saw his door was wide open, and was surprised to hear voices within. I slowed as I recognized both straightaway.
Renny and Callum.
Callum was saying, “But Gran said Juliet is leaving soon. Has to get back to work.”
“So what?” Renny said.
Heat immediately rose up my neck. They were talking about me.
“I don’t do passing through,” Callum said. “I’m a settle-down kind of guy. You, of all people, should understand.”
“Walt might not have stayed, but he taught me what love should be. I wouldn’t give that up for the world.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s better to love and lose—”
“It is better to love and lose than never love at all.” Renny’s voice was a bit stronger than usual this evening. Probably because he’d been resting most of the day. “Good heavens, Callum. You’re much too young to be so rigid. Loosen up.”
“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all, “but I don’t like getting my heart broken.”
My breath caught at that. He thought I’d break his heart?
“Does anyone?” Renny asked. “Besides, you don’t know that she won’t stay.”
“You don’t know that she will.”
“Odds increase if she finds love in this town.”
“It didn’t work out that way for you,” Callum said, not unkindly. It was spoken softly, gently, as if the words were bubble-wrapped.
“No, but I assure you, it’s a risk worth taking.”
“I just don’t think it’s a—”
“For the love of mankind, Cal. Just ask the girl out. Do it for me. A dying man’s last wish.”
Callum’s voice was tight, as if talking through clenched teeth. “Are you seriously playing the dying card on me right now?”
“Are you kidding? It’s the best card to have. Of course I’m playing it. I always say, use what you have, kid.”
It seemed like a good time to interrupt. To save Callum from the guilt trip he was being subjected to. And maybe save myself from eternal embarrassment. I found, though, that I was somewhat amused—and touched—by Renny trying so hard to set us up. It was sweet, in a way.
I made a show of jingling my keys, then breezed into the room. “Oh! So sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll come back.” I started to backtrack.
“Wait!” Renny widened his eyes at Callum and made a jerking motion with his chin. Then he coughed weakly.
Callum sucked in a deep breath. “Can I talk to you a sec, Juliet? In the hallway?”
It took everything in me to keep from smiling. “Sure. Something wrong?”
He glared at Renny. “No.”
“Attaboy,” Renny said.
As I turned, I gave Renny a little wink to show him I knew what was going on, and he chuckled.
Callum followed me out to the hallway, his footsteps loud and heavy, as if he were literally dragging his feet. He smelled of oil and cedar, and I clasped my hands together because suddenly I wanted to hug him for honoring Renny’s wishes, even though they were on par with emotional blackmail.
He was dressed for work in his usual uniform, his wavy hair hidden under a ball cap. Wariness filled his blue eyes, darkening them. He cleared his throat. “Juliet, have you, uh, been to the Lickety Split yet?”
I fussed with my lanyard and gazed at the word VOLUNTEER written in bold, block letters on my name badge. “No, but Katy raves about it.”
He crossed his arms. “You should go before you leave town.”
Loud coughing came from inside the room. Fake coughing.
“I mean,” Callum said, “maybe you could go. With. Me.”
The last two words were spoken as if they were being ripped from the depths of his soul. Then he jerked his head toward the room and widened his eyes and did everything he could to make me aware that he was being put up to this without actually saying so.
“What do you mean?” I asked, playing dumb. “Like, on a date?”
A chuckle came from beyond the door. A giggle, really. Renny was enjoying this.
So was I, I realized.
“I don’t think we need to label it,” Callum said.
“No?” I asked.
He shook his head and again motioned toward the room with his chin.
The cedar scent filled my head and scrambled my senses. It was the only explanation for why I said, “I didn’t realize you liked me that way. I, uh, like you, too. So yes, I’ll go on a date with you to the Lickety Split.”
What was I doing? That wasn’t at all what I’d planned to say.
Then I realized I was living in the moment.
And risking heartbreak, just like Callum was. Because I did like him. I just hoped Renny was right—that a chance at love was worth the risk. Because I was taking a big one.
I seemed to have knocked the wind right out of Callum. He stood there, staring at me, looking slightly dumbfounded. Suddenly his gaze narrowed, studying me closely.
Then he unfolded his arms. The wariness in his eyes was replaced with something lighter, brighter. Something amused.
“Saturday night?” he said.
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Seven o’clock?”
“Perfect.”
Abruptly, he reached out and pulled me into a hug. I was so caught off guard that I practically toppled into him. But once I was pressed against his chest, I all but melted.
He whispered, “Thanks for playing along.”
Then, after another moment, he let go and poked his head into Renny’s room. “I’ve got to get going, Uncle Ren. I’ll see you soon.”
“Looking forward to it!” Renny said. “Send Juliet in, will you?”
“Sure thing.” He gave me a smile. “I’ll see you soon, too.” Then he turned and headed for the front door.
My pulse was jumping like crazy, my knees were weak, my throat tight.
He thought I was playing along.
Just like that, my heart was already aching, before we even went on the stupid date.
And Juneberry didn’t feel nearly as peaceful as it had before.