The Forget-Me-Not Library

Chapter Twenty-Five

Twenty-Five

A Pearl of Wisdom

from Renny Russo

“No one ever really grows up. You just get old.”

Tallulah

There was a makeover underway in the community room.

“If we lop off the horn, we can use it as the base of the tail,” Vera said. A pair of reading glasses was perched atop her head, nestled snugly amid the curls.

“Sparkles,” Aunt Maeve said, eyes wide with enthusiasm. “I should’ve brought sparkles.”

Isabel pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to her bony elbows. “I’m sure we have glitter around here somewhere.”

Nettie added, “Who has the box cutter?”

Two conference tables had been pushed together.

Gone were the leftover paperbacks from yesterday’s swap, which had been stored away, awaiting the next book sale.

Now on the tables were pots of paint. Papier-maché.

Wire mesh. Newspaper. Cardboard. Wire hangers.

Tissue paper. Glue guns. And the victim: a unicorn pinata.

I stood just outside the doorway, trying to stay out of sight and not butt in.

Jed stood behind me. He whispered, “What’re they doing?”

“They’re on a mission to transform a unicorn pinata into a dragon pinata.”

“Was buying a dragon pinata not an option?”

I kept my voice low and stepped away from the door. “I suggested it, but Aunt Maeve insisted she could turn a unicorn into a dragon, no problem. On her lunch hour, no less. Vera volunteered to help. They needed space to spread out, so here they are.”

Juliet had offered to lend a hand, too, but Mary Joy had other thoughts. She’d started fussing and crying not too long after they arrived, and Juliet ended up taking her outside. Every so often I’d see them pass by the window and smile.

Tonight Juliet and I would start her preferred version of Pride and Prejudice, which would last us two nights, since we’ve been watching in one-hour increments.

I hoped we could find something else to watch after we were done.

I’d come to enjoy our couch time each night.

At some point, it had evolved from just watching the show to also talking about our lives.

I’d shared with her about possibly going back to college.

And she shared with me that she was thinking of withdrawing from the grad program she was enrolled in.

I told her about my childhood, the traveling, and she shared with me what she’d remembered of hers so far.

We found we liked many of the same things.

Popcorn with extra butter. Jane Austen and Agatha Christie and thick fantasy novels.

Stationery. Sunny skies. Funny memes. Cozy blankets. October leaves. And so much more.

What had started as a test of our friendship, even jokingly, seemed to have cemented it.

I tried not to think about her leaving. Tried really, really hard.

Jed motioned with his chin toward the community room. “And Isabel and Nettie? What’re they doing?”

I grinned. “They’re supposed to be working but couldn’t help themselves.”

We both glanced toward Evanthe’s office. The door was closed. She was working on cataloging, which was best done without interruption.

Deckle was strutting around the Flour Festival table, probably looking for a book to drop at my feet.

I nodded that way. “Are you ready for the festival next weekend?”

Jed was a baker at heart and in years past had lured a crowd to the library’s vendor booth with his legendary bourbon-pecan bars.

While people waited in line, they were pitched branded tote bags, water bottles, mugs, T-shirts, all for sale, the proceeds going to a good cause: the Forget-Me-Not Library.

“As I’ll ever be,” he said.

“You’ll save me a pecan bar, right?”

He crossed his arms, blocking the library’s embroidered name on his polo shirt. “That there depends.”

His response took me aback, and I gave him a good, long look. “On what?”

“On whether you’ll put in a good word for me with Evanthe.”

“Me?” I scoffed. “She’s not going to listen to anything I have to say.”

“Not true. She has a soft spot for you.”

He could’ve knocked me over with a feather. “Are we talking about the same Evanthe?”

He chuckled. “Of course. She’s one of a kind.”

It was my turn to laugh. “That she is.”

Behind me, I heard the doors slide open as Jed said, “All I’m saying is I can use all the help I can get. Now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s break time, and a cup of tea is callin’ my name.”

I turned to welcome whoever had come in and found Jake walking toward me. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and jeans, and I tried not to notice how handsome he looked. But have mercy. I had eyes.

I wasn’t the only one to notice.

A catcall came from inside the community room, and he laughed and waved.

When I glanced into the room, all the ladies had their heads down, their hands busy. Yet I knew only one of them could whistle like that.

Isabel.

She looked up, caught me staring, and winked.

“Ma’am?” Jake said, stepping up next to me. “I heard you had a puppy-training book on hold for me?”

My heart was doing a happy dance. Sometime during this past week, it had stopped asking me, What if him? It was as though it knew the answer already and was simply waiting for me to get on board.

I smiled. “What’d Daisy eat now?”

He was shaking his head woefully. “The TV remote. I’m just glad she never seems to do damage to herself, only the things around her.”

Deckle, the devilish little thing, hopped up on the book cart and started flapping his tail.

I knew what that meant, and I was waging an inner battle about it.

On the one hand, I didn’t want the memory.

On the other, I also wanted to stop holding grudges, to set a good example for Katy.

I’d almost given in to the bibliosmia of it all yesterday when Deckle flung that cookbook at me during the paperback swap. Just one sniff was all it would take. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Not yet.

I tried to ignore Deckle as I led Jake to the circ desk. “Let’s get you a guest pass, and the book is all yours. Well, for fourteen days. Then you’ll have to renew.”

“If Daisy doesn’t eat it before then.”

“That’s a big if,” I said.

“The biggest.”

When Deckle hopped up onto the counter, Jake reached over to pet his head. “How’d the doctor’s appointment go this morning?”

I heard purrs almost immediately. The audacity.

Jake knew about Katy’s early appointment because we’d chatted about it last night, while we walked to the park and back.

It was quickly becoming one of my favorite things to do.

During that half hour, I’d learned his favorite foods were fresh cherries, pizza, and shortbread cookies.

We also talked about my Trivia Night presentation and how I was going to put an offer on the Library House—though I didn’t tell him about the dreams I’d had.

The ones that kept on coming, the images a bit clearer each night.

I also didn’t mention something else that was bothering me. On the second viewing of the house, the one where Papaw and Katy had come along, the coffee can in the kitchen had disappeared.

Simply vanished.

Ever since, I’d been wondering if I’d imagined it being there at all.

A trick of the mind.

A trick of the memory.

“It went okay,” I said. “If the nightmares don’t stop in the next month, then we’ll be referred to a pediatric sleep specialist.”

In the meantime, the doctor wanted us to work on a sleep routine—as if Katy hadn’t had one since she began sleeping through the night as a baby. But Katy was also supposed to get plenty of relaxation. That was harder these days. I knew that missing her dad took a toll on her tender heart.

“She hasn’t had a nightmare in a few days, though,” I added. Not even after the phone call from Scott. “So maybe she’s through the worst of it?”

“We can hope,” Jake said.

With a nod, I tore my gaze away and looked at Deckle, who was rubbing his face against Jake’s palm.

“He likes you.” I pushed the guest pass across the counter for him to fill out.

“The feeling is mutual.”

I swear the purrs got louder.

Then, in a flash, Deckle turned around and kicked a book off the counter. It fell, face up, at Jake’s feet.

As Jake bent to pick it up, Deckle stared at Jake expectantly, unblinking.

There was a memory in that book for him.

I glanced around to see if anyone else was nearby who could explain the whole bibliosmia thing to Jake, but Evanthe was still in her office, and everyone else seemed to be hard at work on Frankenstein-ing the pinata.

“I guess he doesn’t like The Wonderful Wizard of Oz,” Jake said as he put the book on the counter and reached for a pen.

I wrung my hands and Deckle meowed loudly at me.

Fine.

I reached out and put my hand on Jake’s, felt a zap of electricity from my head to my toes. Sparks. A whole electrical surge. “Before you do that…”

His gaze lingered on my fingers. “Something wrong?”

I couldn’t seem to pull my hand away—in fact, I wanted to slide my hand up his arm—so I left it where it was.

“No, not wrong, necessarily.” In one big breath, I told him about Deckle and book scents and long-forgotten memories.

“It’s supposedly always been this way. Ever since the first stray library cat showed up. ”

I finally, reluctantly, pulled my hand off his and then found I didn’t know what to do with it. Out of desperation, I scratched Deckle’s ears.

He didn’t purr. Not even a rumble.

“So,” Jake said, “I’m just supposed to sniff the book?”

“Open the book, let the pages fall where they will, then sniff.”

I once again glanced toward the community room. For all their collective nosiness, the ladies were oblivious to what was going on out here. Just when I needed them the most.

“You’re not making this up, right? Pranking me?”

I sighed. “I know it sounds strange, but you just have to trust the process.”

I couldn’t believe my own ears. Was I lobbying for Deckle now?

Jake looked like he wasn’t sure he believed me; then he shook his head, chasing doubts away. “Well, I don’t know about trusting the process, but I’m choosing to trust you, so here goes.”

As he opened the book, I leaned across the counter and saw that it had fallen open to an early chapter of the story. The scene where Dorothy, in her silver slippers, is just starting down the yellow brick road.

Giving me an I can’t believe I’m doing this kind of smile, Jake lifted the book upward, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.

I was on pins and needles as I waited and didn’t realize I’d stopped scratching Deckle’s head until he bumped my hand impatiently. I resumed the scritches, secretly hoping for a purr. He owed me one, I felt, after I just convinced someone to do something I wouldn’t do myself.

But no. The little beast wouldn’t indulge me.

Jake tipped his head, as if trying to understand something puzzling; then his eyes opened. There was curiosity there, flickering in the pale brown depths. Wonder as well.

“Did you remember something?” I asked.

Nodding, he glanced at Deckle, then me again. “How…”

“No one really knows. It’s just part of what makes the library so enchanting.”

Jake closed the book, held it to his chest. “It was a memory of my uncle Dale, talking about Forget-Me-Not. I was ten, maybe eleven, and he and Aunt Ev were on vacation, visiting us in Florida. He was telling the story of how a detour led him here, to this town, to Aunt Ev. He joked that he felt a little like Dorothy from Wizard of Oz. Because, like her, fate had put him on a path he’d never expected. Yet somehow it led him home.”

Chill bumps rose on my arms, and a swell of emotion filled my chest, making it ache.

“I have so many questions,” he said, searching my face.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any answers. No one does. Nettie always says to treat the memories as a gift. Kind of like an unexpected present.”

After a moment, he nodded. “Okay then. Well, thank you”—he lifted the name tag on the golden collar—“Deckle.”

Deckle blinked slowly. And now that his work here was apparently done, he meowed, then jumped down. He strutted off toward one of the couches, his tail in the air.

Jake looked toward Evanthe’s office door. “Maybe I should go say hi. It’s been a few days since I’ve talked to her.”

“You’re not holding a grudge? I mean, she did kick you out.”

“It’s hard to be mad when she might’ve done me a favor. I’m pretty happy with where I landed.”

My heart was doing the happy-dance thing again, and I found I didn’t mind its celebrating.

Not even a little.

I said, “A gift basket might be in order.”

He laughed and headed for her office door. I didn’t linger. Instead, I pushed the book cart into the stacks. While I went about putting books back into their proper places, I kept thinking about what Jake’s uncle had said about Forget-Me-Not.

I told myself that was why, with each step I took, the word home echoed in my head.

Ten minutes before I was supposed to leave for the day, I found myself facing Evanthe’s closed office door, an envelope in my hand.

Nervous, I shifted from foot to foot, then knocked softly.

“Enter.”

Slowly, I pushed open the door. Evanthe sat in her desk chair, facing two computer monitors. A pair of glasses was perched on the tip of her nose. Today she wore beige linen, and her braid was coiled into a bun at the nape of her neck, the black tip tucked under, out of sight.

“Yes?” she said.

I practically tiptoed over to her desk and placed the envelope in front of her.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“An invitation.”

She suspiciously eyed the looping handwriting on the front. “To?”

“Katy’s birthday party. It’s on Sunday. We’d like for you to be there.”

I heard her inhale, as if she didn’t have the patience for this. “Katy wants me to be there?”

“Katy would invite the whole town if she could. But I’d really like for you to be there. Nettie and Isabel will be there, too. And Renny. And of course Papaw and Aunt Maeve.”

She didn’t open the invitation. She simply tapped the envelope against her blotter.

Instead of standing there waiting, hoping, I started backing out.

“You don’t need to RSVP or anything. Or even bring a gift.

I just … I think Mamaw would want you to be part of our lives, is all.

So, hopefully we’ll see you. But if not, I understand.

And I won’t keep pestering you.” Having said my piece, I gave an awkward wave and stepped out, closing the door behind me.

I leaned against it for a moment and let out a deep breath.

I’d done all I could do to establish a friendship outside of work.

Whatever happened next was now up to her.